The Parable of the Purple Raspberry Pie

I don’t like to brag, but I haven’t had a slice of purple raspberry pie today.

Normally, this is not a brag, but a tragic summation of life’s bittersweet realities. On the one hand, this past week the universe provided us with purple raspberries, which, when baked between two pastry crusts, become the most perfect foodstuff known to man. Firmer and less sweet than the red raspberry, less aggressively tangy than its cousins in the blackberry family, it has a subtle perfection that no other berry pie can match. I cannot claim to know much about heaven, but I can be sure of one thing: if there is such a place, purple raspberry pie will be on the menu every day.