An Apple Pie for Julie

Dear Julie,

It might seem odd to have written this for you rather than telling you face to face but it is easier for me this way.

When you told me your family thought my gift of an apple pie was delicious and Michael had asked who this Robert was who had baked it, I was immediately overcome with remorse and regret at the stupidity of my thoughtless gesture. You see, your husband's enquiry as to my identity indicated to me that he was intuitively aware of the significance of apple pie giving.

He could have coped quite easily if I had given you flowers or chocolates but when I by passed these and went straight to the pie he sensed the potential seriousness of the situation. From deep in his mind, from, the recesses of his masculine, chromosomal memory, the warning bells began to ring out against this impending threat to his security. He felt exposed. That is why it is very important for you to reassure him at this time and try to convince him my intentions were entirely honourable.

To explain adequately what can happen when a man cooks an apple pie for a lady means I have to break certain male taboos and reveal hitherto sacred rituals. Because of my high regard and affection for you and my concern for your happiness and the welfare of your family, I will take this risk. I, will freely commit this act which other men may call treachery. Please do not let anyone else see this note and, if possible, please do not talk about it.

I fully expect to be shunned and ostracised by all men and be excommunicated from their manly pursuits. Never again will I be exposed to the warmth and charm of a dirty joke in poor taste. I will be banished from every beer and prawn night in the land and I will wander in the wilderness never to breast a public bar not even in the lowliest or remotest of places.

But I will make this sacrifice for you, Julie and I will do it cheerfully and with dignity. For I will be, above all, my own man.

It is, therefore, with a trembling hand and a somewhat fearful heart I begin my truth on apple pies and other secrets.

I will recount events from our past, some not widely known, which will illustrate the mysterious power of apple pie. You will then, I hope be able to place certain incidents in the historical development of mankind into perspective.

It is probably obvious to you that the nexus between apples and recreational activity was established when Eve tempted Adam with forbidden fruit. Later, over a period of time, men came upon the opportunity to exploit women's subliminal guilt over banishment from the Garden of Eden. Before handing it back, they wrapped the apple in dough and applied heat to it. They discovered women were quite unable to resist a pie. You might ponder the consequences for men if Eve had at the time available to her a convection oven and a Tupperware cake container. It would be men’s weaknesses which could be used against them, as it is women are the ones who receive their just desserts.

The first case I will tell you about is not a positive one. I refer to the sad and tragic example of Queen Elizabeth the First. Also known as the Virgin Queen. The reason she remained in this intact, pristine and childless condition was simple. Throughout her entire life she was denied pie! Despite being surrounded by numerous Earls and Dukes and Officers of the Court not one of the mongrels gave her one! Please, Julie, forgive my intemperate language but it makes, my blood boil to think of this poor, solitary woman living in the days of chivalry with those so called men in attendance and not one of them able or willing to rise to the occasion. Not one offered up to her what I consider every man's natural courtesy. They did not even have to get their own hands dirty. They could have ordered a donor pie from the Palace kitchen and served up a surrogate slice. As it was she died deprived and barren. Pieless and unfulfilled.

On a more pleasant note I want to assure you that not all women's happiness depends on a man's prowess in the kitchen. The Amazons lived full and complete lives without men at all. Of course they acquired the knowledge of apple early on in the piece and served and satisfied each other to their heart's content.

On the other hand there can be seen in the phenomenon of male homosexuality, a quirky trick of nature. Homosexuality has nothing whatsoever to do with environmental or genetic influence.

Mothers can dress their sons in girl's clothing and fathers can be weak role models and it will have absolutely no detrimental effect. A man is gay simply because he is allergic to apple pie. It is purely a matter of taste and something beyond his control. The attitudes of homophobia and intolerance are therefore both unfair and extremely cruel.

Now, Julie, I want to speak of one of history's most famous cases.

Famous because of its excessive nature. Perhaps I should say infamous. The notorious rogue and scoundrel, Casanova, who, during his life of debauchery, seduced thousands of women all across Europe , is popularly thought to have possessed some special physical or personality attribute but this was not true.

There was one feature common to all his conquests. As he leaned suggestively against each quivering, unsuspecting victim, he reached into his heavily embroidered silken garment and drew out his offering. Through moist and sensuous lips, swollen with passion, he murmured seductively, "Signorina, won't you have a slice of my apple pie?"

And it worked. Every single time it worked!

Of course it must be acknowledged that Cassanova was an exceptionly good cook.

You might think that what I am telling you is far fetched and incredible but after you listen to my evidence and consider the irrefutable facts I place before you there will be only one conclusion you can reach. The implication of what I am saying, are chilling and horrifying. Unless you are a man and then life's a ball.

My next example, and one particularly relevant to us, is the fact Australia >’s discovery and subsequent settlement by the British is entirely due to the fact that James Cook couldn't.

If he had been able to bake and serve up an acceptable pie to Mrs Cook, Australia as we know it would not exist.

He tried so hard to please her. He experimented for years with various ingredients, different temperatures and assorted cookware but he never could get it right. His best efforts were always culinary calamities.

"I am not putting up with this anymore!" screamed the frustrated and long suffering Mrs Cook. "Go away, James. Leave me and Don't come back until you can satisfy my needs!"

And so Captain Cook set off to sail the world and search the seven seas for the perfect apple pie recipe. He really loved his wife.

During his epic and lonely voyage, unparalled in the annals of gastronomic endeavour, he made many important discoveries. He charted new lands and made contact with the native population all over but it was not until that fateful day in the North Pacific he found in the dwelling of the Royal Hawaiian Chieftans the jealously guarded recipe he was looking for. He hastily quilled the sought after formula onto a scrap of parchment. He couldn't wait to get back home and try it but was not to be. It is a tragic part of recorded history how he was killed fleeing back to his boat with the prized document clasped tightly in his hand.

The United States Of America later assumed dominion over the Islands and the recipe and, in the fullness of time, became known as the land of Mom and apple pie. A title, but for a cruel twist of fate and an Hawaiian spear, that could and should have been carried with pride and relief by Mrs. Cook and England

Julie, all down the years men have been driven by the innate desire to give to women. It is not something they can help.

Even I succumbed. It is clear to me now that my gift to you was really a subconscious, pathetic attempt to indulge my base instincts. My actions disgust me and cause me consternation. I thought I was above all this. I had managed to fool myself into believing I was merely demonstrating to you an easy to make and tasty biscuit pastry. Now I will never again be able to touch an apple pie in mixed company. I will be guarded and I will treat them with respect and the caution they demand.

I could get all formal and intellectual with you and discuss the philosophical and anthropological indicators of apple pie to the cultural aspects and mores of a society. The pie index is a little known but very accurate device used to indicate a patriarchal or matriarchal complexion of a group.

It is perceived, rightly or wrongly that some sections of American society are matriarchal. I have previously mentioned, and there is perhaps no need to elaborate on, the universally used phrase, "Mom and apple pie."

Conversely, in Australia, a tough, masculine land of mateship and individuality, where any overt display of behaviour considered feminine is regarded as a sign of weakness, the meat pie holds sway. This bold, unsubtle, highly seasoned concoction is the very antithesis of soft, spicy, fruity sweetness. But this note is meant only as a personal message to you and not a general discussion. Suffice to say that by now you are becoming aware of the danger that some foods can be. Especially, in ruthless or unscrupulous hands.

I come now to the final part of this letter and it is very difficult for me to write.

I can feel about me the wings of condemnation beating down. The wrath of ages past and centuries of secret lore, attempt to chain me in silence. But my voice cannot be stilled. I think only of you. I cannot let someone for whom I care go through life unprotected any longer. Right now I feel reckless and out of control. I have abandoned all caution. My revelations to you have placed me beyond redemption. I may be damned but, oh, you can be saved!

I want to tell you, I will tell you, I must tell you about Hot Buttered Scones!

Every decent man fights against the animal urge to offer a lady hot buttered scones with, sometimes, raspberry jam. It is something almost impossible to control because I think it may be hormone related but fight against it we do. Valiantly. Some of us falter and stumble into a state of disgrace but most men can restrain themselves. I know from personal experience that to succeed constant vigilance and mental alertness at all times is required.

Almost every month I focus my mind onto the path of righteousness wi th words like, "You will not offer Julie a scone. This is a most precious lady. Your admiration and respect for this woman has no limits. You will behave with decorum and thoughtfulness." Most of the time I can easily restrain myself but I think you should heed my warning. If you ever see me arrive at work with a plate of scones (covered with a tea towel so they won't get hard) please, run like hell! I mean, don't hesitate. Don't take any risks. It is not worth it. Just run! You might be powerless and unable to fight. Unable to resist temptation. Flight is the only answer, my friend. The consequences if you do not I really can't describe.

Let me only say there is a distinct possibility of your reputation being left in tatters and my purity and innocence shattered. And why? For a scone!

Not that it would be your fault. Not for one minute. You would be completely blameless. Because, just as it is part of every man's nature to give, so it is part of every woman's to receive. Although I must say, even if this behaviour is a response to basic human instinct, I am still modern man enough to agree with a prevailing feminist point of view that regardless of what sort of shameless glutton a woman might be she still has the right to choose which man's scones she fancies.

I hasten to add, in case you are feeling worried about the safety of a future visit to a restaurant, male waiters will pose no threat to you. You may order any dish you please. They sold their birthrights for monetary gain and, as callous, insensitive mercenaries, are unable to offer you anything more adventuresome than a thumb in your soup.

I have come to the end of this letter and I feel spent and exhausted yet, at the same time, strangely liberated. I feel a freedom of spirit. I have shaken off the shackles and put aside the burden of chauvinistic dogma and ideology.

Julie, I have tried to arm you and make you strong with-knowledge.

You can now be discerning in your choice from the smorgasbord of life. And you can more easily decide with whom you share your dinner table.

My final message to you is this, just remember as you go past a hot bread shop or patisserie, not all cakes are harmless. Not all pastry is innocent!

Bon apetit,

Robert.