Washington Cherry Pie

The doorbell jangled as a couple walked into the Smith Family Farms Cafe and took a seat at the crowded bar counter. Vera handed them menus and greeted them cheerfully, “Happy Independence Day!” 

“Hi,” the man replied. “We’re only having dessert. What have you got?”

Vera recited the list of ice cream flavors, shakes, cakes, and pies to the couple. “Oh, and we have a July 4th special today,” she added, her eyes twinkling. “Our famous and very special Washington Cherry Pie.”  

“I’ve heard your cherry pies are great,” the woman exclaimed. “Why is it special?”

“We bake our pies fresh on-site, and we use cherries from a special tree. A tree that grew from a seed from the cherry tree that George Washington himself cut down when he was a little boy.”

“Really?” exclaimed the woman, her eyebrows raised. “That’s incredible!”

“It is incredible,” Vera agreed. “I’m sure you know the story about little George cutting down his father’s cherry tree with a hatchet when he was 6 years old.” She scrunched her face and mimicked a young boy’s voice: “Honest Father, I cannot tell a lie; I cut down the cherry tree.” 

“Yes, I’ve heard it,” laughed the man, “but I thought that was a legend and didn’t really happen.” 

“Oh, it’s a true story alright,” Vera said. “You see, many years later, Washington gave some cherry pits from that tree to his friend James Smith, a Founding Father and signer of the Declaration of Independence. James Smith was the ancestor of the family who owns the farm and café today. He told the story to his family, who passed it down from each generation to the present day. He’s in the history books; look him up.”

Everybody sitting at the counter bar had stopped talking, and they listened to Vera with wide eyes. A couple of people scrolled on their phones, looking for online references to James Smith. 

Vera continued, “There are a few cherry trees grown from those seeds in the Smith family orchard, and we use the cherries for our pies during late Spring and Summer, for as long as the cherries hold out. But this is probably the last week; when the cherries are gone, the pies will be too.”

The woman looked at the man, and he nodded. “We’ll take two slices of cherry pie à la mode and coffee,” he said. “If we really like it, we’ll buy a pie or two to go.”

“Coming right up,” Vera said as she filled their cups with steaming coffee. “You’re gonna love it.” 

Another man at the bar piped up, “ma’am, you sold me. I just looked up James Smith, and he was a Founding Father. So I know your story must be true. I would like some cherry pie à la mode too, please.” 

“Funny…I can’t find anything online about cherry pits,” chimed a woman peering at her phone screen. She was seated with a man and little boy, who Vera supposed must be her husband and son.

Vera winked. “Most family stories never make it into the history books. Would you like your pies with or without ice cream today?”

The woman glanced at her husband, who shrugged, then looked back at Vera. “Sure… I guess… we’ll try it. Two slices, with ice cream, and three forks. I’ll share mine with my son.”

Vera gave them a thumbs-up and headed into the kitchen to prepare the desserts. She chuckled as she heated the pies and dolloped a big scoop of vanilla ice cream onto the plates. What an epic day this was going to be. Her boss, Joey Smith, had promised the servers a $2 bonus for every slice of cherry pie they sold this month, and a $100 bonus for whoever sold the most. 

The bonus was practically earning itself as she sold slice after slice of cherry pie. Customers were already sharing the story with their friends and neighbors, and people were coming to the little café from miles around, eager to taste a sweet piece of American history.

Truth be told, the cherries in the pies weren’t from Washington’s tree at all; they were just regular Bing cherries from some random orchard nearby. 

Vera returned from the kitchen and placed the plates in front of the customers at the bar, and watched them enthusiastically dig in with their forks. “Mmm…” one patron mumbled through a mouthful of pie. “Best cherry pie ever!” gushed another.

Vera grinned and silently counted the bonus money she had just made. Maybe George Washington could never tell a lie, but she certainly could. Especially when it came to selling cherry pie.