Pie Every Day

Wayne Thiebaud’s Pies

“No New York wife knows her husband until she has studied him in an Automat.” –America Eats, the book that is a compendium of articles written for the unpublished WPA guide on food across the country.

If I was not going to invent a time machine already, I would do it now so that I could spend nickels on the automat’s “piping-hot corned beef hash, made of honest lean beef and never too sharply flavored,” its “little pots of slow-baked beans,” its “beloved cinnamon bun.” And of course, its pie.

3 Comments

Filed under Art, Cooking, Jean Zimmerman

3 responses to “Pie Every Day

  1. Anonymous

    If I knew the cake would appear on line, we would have had a slice that was holding its head up. Loved reading your blog. Next weekend I will head straight for the Met Museum.
    Nancy

  2. Darko
    January 23, 2012 at 4:09 pm (Edit)
    re the automat, I remember distinctly Horn & Hardart’s establishment on West 57th street, on the south side with the side walk rising towards Carnegie Hall. In the very early 1970′s I would eat there when I could afford to as it was very near to the Art Student’s League which I attended evenings for some years reviewing naked models with my pencil. The food always looked very distant behind the glass doors, and so was the taste upon eating. I once thought of asking one of the models to dinner there, but then changed my mind.

  3. Darko

    re the automat, I distinctly remember Horn & Hardart’s establishment on West 57th street, on the south side with the side walk rising sharply towards Carnegie Hall. The grand cafeteria was slightly below street level and one could look into the long picture window from the street and see patrons eating, talking, reading, smoking. In the very early 1970′s I would eat there when I could afford to as it was very near to the Art Student’s League which I attended evenings for some years reviewing naked models with my pencil. The models would sprawl themselves out on a decrepit wooden pedestal for hours. The food always looked very distant behind the glass doors, as was the taste upon eating. The food tasted slightly worse on the occasion of seeing the cropped face of the replenishing server framed at the other side of the food compartment when opening the spring-loaded door to slide your pie out. I once thought of asking one of the models to dinner there, but then changed my mind.

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