Last week
we got back from a 10-day trip to Washington and Oregon. We drove up Interstate
5 to Seattle in two days, spent a long weekend visiting my sister, who lives in
the University district, then took the long way back. That involved cutting
over to the ocean and taking U.S. 101 down the Oregon coastline and through
California redwood country before getting home.
The most
interesting thing about the drive down 101 occurred when we left it for a bit
and went inland. Isn’t that how it always happens — the detour becomes the
highlight of the trip.
And it all
started with a really simple concept. We decided we didn’t want to stop at a
Starbuck’s or other espresso joint for a latte and pre-fab pastry. Instead, we
decided to seek out an old-school bakery or café that served fresh homemade pie
and coffee — preferably the kind sitting in clear, institutional pots on
warming burners.
You Could Always Ask
Pie patrol
began Tuesday afternoon, and for a while there, it didn’t look promising. We
stopped at several places along the 101, but none had pie. Finally, though, a
waitress at one recommended the Otis Café, at a small town just down the road
and slightly off the highway.
It was
good, and we’d go back in a heartbeat, but it just whetted our appetite for more.
So the next afternoon we were driving south of Coos Bay, looking for pie again.
Figuring that going inland had worked once, I suggested we try the town of
Coquille, 11 miles east of the main road.
It was set
in a rich and picturesque valley along the river of the same name, and I’m
guessing most of its few thousand occupants earned a living related somehow to
farming or logging. Just outside the town proper, we stopped at a fruit stand
and bought a jar of locally made raspberry preserves and a larger jar of local
blackberry honey.
Then it was
back to town in quest of pie. We drove around the streets while Linda searched
to no avail on Yelp, and finally stopped in front of the Chamber of Commerce
office, which was open. Linda went in and asked about a pie place, which is
what we used to do all the time before the advent of smart phones.
Of Course There’s Pie
After a bit
of misunderstanding, we hit pay dirt. When Linda said she was looking for
coffee and a piece of pie, the woman at the chamber heard pizza pie instead and
referred her to a place with a name like Luigi’s.
Fortunately the error was
self-evident and we end up being sent to Frazier’s Café and Bakery, which had a
formidable array of pies in a clean, well-lit establishment with décor from
around the 1950s. We each ordered a slice, with a cup of coffee, and each of us
got the first piece cut from a fresh pie.
Linda had a
plain cherry pie, and I had the razzle-dazzle: a combination of blackberry,
blueberry, cherry, strawberry and raspberry. It was without a doubt one of the
finest pieces of pie I’ve ever eaten. The waitress, a young local woman, told
me that the bakery has a customer in California who periodically orders a
razzle-dazzle pie shipped to her overnight. I’m surprised there’s only one such
customer.
We ate
slowly, savoring it all, and when we were done, the check arrived. It was $8
for two slices of pie and two cups of coffee — about what one slice of pie
would cost where we live — if you could get it. The décor wasn’t the only thing
old-school about Frazier’s.
