I wake with pie on my mind. It’s quite simple: Derby pie for breakfast or no Derby pie at all – isn’t it terrible, these tests of respectability one must face whilst forever moving on the road? And what a test this is. Bacon ice cream accompanies a feast of pumpkin, chess, apple, meringue, key lime and peach pies, but alas, no Derby. Bourbon pecan pie is the closest match and it’s nothing short of heaven.
Goodbye Louisville, your pie has impressed, but Nashville awaits. The Greyhound falls further South and the city rises into life with the darkening sky. It’s takes no time at all to discover that this is our kind of town. The men at the hostel reception desk play guitar and the night never grows cool.
To The Table 