She's Back! Also, Pie.

Oh, hey y'all! It's been a hot minute.

Chocolate chess pie from my very first visit.
photo | Dallas Anne Duncan

Before I delve into the Best Pie Shop On The Planet (or, at least in my humble opinion, the best pie shop north of I-285), let me explain why the Meatetarian went MIA for 14 months ... and share with you my plan going forward!

I took on too much. I had a full-time job. I started a magazine. I added volunteer duties. I wanted to be creative. I wanted to knit; to become a director for my direct sales company; to freelance to help support the magazine. At some point I lost my way and stopped writing completely and wondered what on Earth was wrong with me that I couldn't make things work. Kind of happens when you give 2,500 percent of your time, your heart, your drive and your dreams to a business plan that is not successful (or, at least, successful in terms of what you'd like to see). At one point this year, I even began avoiding finding fun places to eat out because every second away from my computer was a second I felt I should be working, and I guilted myself into believing that was the reason my dream business was going stagnant.

I lost my drive. I did the bare minimum at work and writing seemed a burden. I forgot why I wrote in the first place: because I love writing, because I want to teach people about food and farming and why journalism matters.

On Sunday, I made a decision. I needed to make a mental shift forward, away from all the "what-ifs" and "woulda, coulda, shoulda." I needed to make focused, small efforts each day ... each week ... each month, until I was in a place where I enjoyed all of the hats I wear versus dreading putting them on. One of the ways this will happen is weekly Meatetarian Eats updates, every Thursday during my lunch hour, which will go live on Fridays.

This week, I want you to close your eyes and open your pie hole.

I heard about Pie Hole, a fabulous, eensy-weensy cottage bakery in Roswell, Georgia, long before I knew where it was. My aunt and uncle brought a couple of pies to family Christmas a couple years ago, and back in March, I accidentally stumbled upon it while taking myself on a window-shopping excursion down Canton Street. You can't see the bakery from the road; there's only a small sign with a clip-art pie image, the words "Pie Hole" and a giant arrow pointing up a narrow dirt drive.

"Oh heck yes," thinks me, who just got done eating a relatively healthy meal of a salad and sandwich. "I think I'll have dessert."

For $5, I sampled a hefty serving of chocolate chess pie (see top photo). Bestill my heart, y'all. It was decadent. So moist! So rich! So perfect to slowly lick off a fork, eyes closed, hoping no one is watching you savor this sweet moment.

S'mores pie. Coke bottle for scale of the toasted marshmallow
topping. photo | Dallas Anne Duncan

Pie Hole became a regular stop. When my family came up to visit, it's where we took Nanny for her birthday (I highly recommend the s'mores pie — a thick, chocolate filling atop graham cracker crust, slathered with gooey toasted marshmallow fluff). The lovely owner of Pie Hole knows me as "the girl who takes pies to Augusta" on account of me stopping in before every birthday and major holiday to pick up at least one of her incredible creations.

Mom got peanut butter pie for Mother's Day and key lime for her birthday. The homemade whipped cream topping on the key lime pie, by the way, isn't just homemade. It is made for you when you pick up the pie. While you wait. Whoever happens to be in the kitchen when you walk in stops what they're doing, pours some potion ingredients into a mixer and whips up some magic. No one does this anymore!

My most recent foray to Pie Hole was for this weekend's "Fakesgiving," the adorable moniker I gave to the super-early Thanksgiving celebration my family hosted. Two pies came back to Augusta this time — one, a pecan, to celebrate Daddy's birthday, and the other apple. I'll tackle the pecan first by saying I am not a pecan pie fan. The pecans never seem seasoned right, so you end up with these flavorless nuts on top of a sugary, syrupy filling and gross, crumbly crust. But Pie Hole did it up right: the pecans were the best part!

They were big, seasoned with cinnamon and all those warm fall flavors, crisped together almost like a streusel topping. The filling was sweet but not overly so, and it had a nice tackiness to it — no runaway syrup here! We ate it at room temperature moments after arriving in town, but I can only imagine it would be even better heated up and served with ice cream on the side.

But the star of the weekend was, undoubtedly, The Apple Pie Gifted From Gods.

The half-devoured apple pie at "Fakesgiving." photo | Dallas Anne Duncan

Layer. Upon. Layer. of thin-sliced, north Georgia apples, baked perfectly so they are soft yet not falling apart; still with just a hint of crispness. The flavor is a perfect lightly sweet apple-cinnamon. It's like you're eating a bite of pure fall. Oh, and how tall this pie is! The beautiful crust is sky-high, and that's not much of an exaggeration. And each millimeter of that beautifully rustic, hand-formed crust is stuff with those apples. Leaving that pie on Nanny's kitchen table to drive back to Atlanta was not an easy life choice (but we would have devoured it on the way home, so we decided to sacrifice our sweet tooth to share with everyone else). Even our relatives from Australia, who were in town to visit, got to try this magnificence.

In the entire six days since Pie Pick-Up Day, it's been really hard to resist the nine-minute drive to get more pie. Did I mention how ridiculously affordable these handmade pies are? Seriously. A slice and a Coke'll cost you maybe $8, and whole pies are less than $30.

Now the decision remains: which one do I take home for Christmas next month?