I learned pretty quickly that in Kentucky, recipes aged better than trends. While the rest of the world chased the next big thing, these pie shops stayed loyal. Same counters, same ovens, same hands quietly doing the work. It felt a little Justified energy, minus the crime and plus a lot more butter.
I stepped into places where time slowed down and muscle memory took over. The kind where pies weren’t reinvented, rebranded, or explained. They were just made.
Again. And again…