This Was Never Just a Pie
A nostalgic birthday dessert inspired by one of my dad’s childhood stories.
Inspired by my dad’s childhood memories and vibrant stories about growing up in the Honduran jungle—this pie was my way of saying: I remember.
Some stories linger like flavor—rich, unexpected, and impossible to shake.
This one belongs to my dad.
He was born and raised in the mountains of Honduras, where his days were shaped by both responsibility and wild possibility. As the oldest of his siblings, he was put to work young—his father, a hard-edged vaquero, believed in discipline and duty, even for little boys. But maybe that’s what made my dad even wilder when he did break free. He was a scrappy, slingshot-wielding Mowgli, always slipping through trees and chasing adventure in the shadows. His childhood was a patchwork of hunting trips, animal encounters, and surreal magic—yelling matches with spider monkeys, surprise jaguars, and once, a legendary showdown with a giant anaconda.
This pie was never just dessert. It was an homage to the man, the myth, the legend—one of the earliest sparks to the imagination that shaped my creative world. I wanted to make something that showed him what his stories have always meant to me… how they’ve lived in my heart, scene by scene, all these years. This was pie as canvas, heart on a plate—every detail imagined and created just for him.
Sketches & Storylines
Every dessert starts with a story. Here's how this one took shape.
Pulling from images of the lush Honduran jungle—my dad’s tropical homeland—I started piecing together the scene with bits of foliage, a flower or two, and a healthy dose of childhood imagination. I brightened the colors to match the way I always pictured his stories growing up: vivid, enchanted, and just a little larger-than-life—like something out of an old storybook animation.
For the final design, I imagined him in a fishing boat drifting across a dreamy (pie!) lake, encircled by a frame of cookie-cut jungle leaves—and even a snack-sized snake. His cookie counterpart, a barefooted boy with one brown arm outstretched, reaches toward a glimmering school of fish, while a single star-shaped sprinkle dangles from his forgotten fishing pole, casting a little magic into the pie-filling water.
Lemon, blueberry, almond, and spirulina—each chosen to tell a piece of the story.
Flavor Notes
This pie was designed entirely with my dad’s taste buds in mind—he’s a lemon dessert loyalist (a trait I definitely inherited). I wanted the filling to echo that bright, citrusy zing he loves, while also visually reading as a shimmering lake. To get the right look without compromising flavor, I combined a lemon-forward base with fresh blueberries, a swirl of blue spirulina, and just a touch of blue food coloring for that dreamy, storybook depth.
The crust and all the decorative toppers were made from an almond cookie dough—sturdy enough for detailed cut-outs, but still buttery and tender. I finished the foliage and character details with lemon royal icing and hand-painted accents using food coloring, building up layers of color and personality, one brushstroke at a time.
One enchanted lake, a boy in a boat, and a story that still ripples.
Serving the Story
When I brought the pie to the table, my dad took one look and grinned—“That’s me!” he exclaimed. Then came “Ohhh, Sisi,” the kind of parental exhale that holds pride, surprise, and a little bit of happy disbelief.
We all dug in, forks clinking, passing slices and retelling some of our favorite stories from his childhood. The boisterous ones, the vibrant ones—the kind that made me believe, as a kid, that my dad had somehow stepped straight out of a storybook and into real life.
He was thrilled with the flavors (as expected, he nommed and nommed), but for me, this was about more than pie. It was the first time I tried to turn one of his memories into something edible—something layered and lovingly made. A way of saying, I heard you. I remember. I see the story in you still.