Julian, California.
Famous for pie. It’s fall. I need PIE.
Do you ever have one of those days where you think like the dog in the Disney movie “Up”? Sort of scattered, easily distracted, with limited grammar? These are my exact thoughts on a recent trip to Julian, California with my family. My only excuse? It was early. And I was hungry. And I was tired of the gloomy beach weather. And… and, I am simple, like a dog, when it comes to pie …
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How to get to Julian:
Start on foggy, gloomy, gray morning. Bad Drizzle! Bad Dark Clouds! Go away! Grumpy face at you.
Head down the 5 freeway to Oceanside, turn left. Zigzag out highway 76 past Pala Indian Casino. Oooh! The sun is breaking through the fog. Go! Sun! Pass wholesale nurseries, orange groves, along oak covered road and up into hills. Look back, down at blanket of fog curling in to foothills. (Ha ha, fog! You can’t get me here!) Level out to rolling hills covered in soft light brown grass dotted with California Live Oaks gleaming in clear bright sun…
It’s sunny here. I like it. Smile.
Oaks and Sycamores with shining yellow leaves press up against gently curving road. Keep going. Scattered houses. How does one make a living way out here?
I digress…
Drive, drive, drive. Lake Henshaw. That’s a surprise. Road ends. Hmmm? Oops! Go right. Not left. What’s that noise? Grumbling tummy ?! Oh, hello cow. You’re very close to the road.
Ten miles to Julian. Green grassy plateau speckled with houses. Very “Little House on the Prairie.” Very pretty.
I see signs for PIE! Are we here?! Santa Isabel: general store, antiques, Pie Company. Nope. Awww. Sad face. Another “T” intersection, another left turn. Seven more miles. Ugh. Tummy does not like being teased.
Very curvy road. Hard cider sign. Hmmm…maybe later? Apple stand! Keep going…
Cute old western shop style buildings–> Julian! Let me out of the car! Ahhh. I smell bacon! and I smell pie!
( Notice my thoughts devolve as I get hungrier, not unlike my dogs…)
What to do In Julian:
FIRST: Breakfast at Granny’s Kitchen. No crowds. Skip the toast and hash browns: save room for pie!
SECOND: Visit Cider Mill (honey) store.
Holy cow!!! Pretty, pretty light shining through honeys.
So many varieties of honey and jam. I want everything! Settle for gingerbread pancake and waffle mix, blood orange marmalade, mango jam, and a quart of fresh pressed cider. Yum! Yum! Yum!
THIRD: Walk past Mom’s Homemade Pies. Hmmm…. Long line outside. Must be good…Keep going…
FOURTH: Walk around more. Cute shops, antiques, restaurants.
FIFTH: Can’t stand it anymore. I Must have pie!!! Getting in the pie line at Mom’S Pies, Etc. The Mr. waits patiently sitting on a curb…
Looking through windows that line sidewalk out front…at workers make apple dumplings…peeled apples rolled in brown sugar mixture than stuffed with large chunk of butter, set on apple slice and wrapped in fresh pie dough…
Did I almost drool? Get it together, Woman!
I’m in! Mom’s Pies! Smells heavenly, like apples, cinnamon, brown sugar and butter. All baked into a warm caramelized feast for the nose. Breathe it in! Remember this smell! Long drawn breath. Fresh baked apple pie smell can’t be duplicated. Still long line. I’ll wait. Sold by slice and served warm with ice cream.
I want to roll in it.
It smells like home, mom, childhood, happy. Happy has a smell. It is fresh apple pie.
No slice for me. For now my taste buds settle for a glass of fresh cold cider. Perfect sweetness: no sugar needed. Incredibly refreshing.
Instead of a slice... I am holding a whole homemade apple pie with crumble topping. Smells like heaven. Sounds… like lunch…
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Like I said, a little scattered, but I got my pie. Simple, like my dogs, I was happy.
The Pie made it home in one piece until after dinner, and came out again for breakfast the next morning…
For more rational thoughts about visiting Julian and getting your own Mom’s Pies click here.
Disclaimer: I really wanted pie, waited in a long line and paid full price. I would love it if I had an affiliation with Mom’s and got paid for sending you there because I could be a buzillionaire! Sadly, I don’t.
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