Did you catch the premiere of David Simon's Treme?
I thought it was a fine start, even if with its hints of Simonized tropes (hello, lovable rapscallion!). But what was most interesting to me was that pie that the restaurant owner pulled out of her purse.
In the letter, Simon makes what can be deemed a sort of sweet-natured preemptive strike against criticisms and charges of inaccuracies from New Orleanians.
True, the Hubig's bakery in the Marigny did not reopen until February 2006, and true therefore, any such pastry found in a woman's purse should by rights be a pre-Katrina artifact and therefore unsuitable for anyone's dessert.
But what you fact-grounded literalists clearly fail to understand is that the pie in Janette DeSautel's purse is a Magic Hubig's. Much in the manner of certain loaves and fishes in the New Testament, or several days worth of sacramental oil in the Old, this Hubig's somehow survives months of post-Katrina tumult and remains tasty and intact for our small, winking moment of light comedy. We know this because we, the writers, imbued the pie with its special powers. We created it. We stuck it in the purse — or more precisely, the propmaster did. We left it there, waiting for its special moment.
And here's the thing: It won't end with one chunk of pie.