Ingredients:
1 piece of apple pie (the kind with the apples still crisp and coated in only cinnamon, with the kind of crust that you imagine when you imagine baking a whole pie crust to eat by itself and by yourself. I prefer pie a day old, when the flavors have become friends and the warmth left is a result of the pie and not the other way around)
1 half-piece of bacon (the kind of bacon that is leftover from breakfast and is lovingly split between you and your brother. The last piece of bacon is usually the best, but this is difficult to prove. Any good real bacon will do in a pinch, but sharing always adds to the satisfaction)
1 drizzle of homemade caramel sauce, also a day or so old (the kind made with heavy cream, real butter, love and vigilance: “watch the sugar carefully but do not stir or touch it!” is a difficult triumph)
Lastly, 1 splash of coffee. Note that this coffee should be at least a few hours old, preferably from the fourth or fifth cup of the day, the one you have been nursing for the better part of the morning or even afternoon. The first coffee of the morning, the kind you reach for zombie-like before you can think of or muster anything else, should be savored by itself and in hearty quantities. The coffee used for this pie should have been sitting on a desk while you have written or on a windowsill while you have read. It should have heard at least a few conversations, perhaps been microwaved once or twice to be fully matured. It’s purpose here is not to lift the spirits, but to remind them why they are lifted. It is more sacramental than foundational: the communion rather than the salvation.
Note: Apple pie, all pie rather, is exceptional cold or lukewarm, but I like this mixture warmed, once all the components have met in a sprinkling of introductions. If weather permits, eat the pie outside, observing the both the earth and the Creator you are enjoying.