Cherry pie dreams cut short
I went to the Skagit County Fair with a calm, respectable plan: check in on our booth, say hi to our fearless editor, and go home. No chaos. No drama. Just a peaceful community newspaper day.
Me and my almost 16-year-old daughter saw it, a sign posted on the side of the main stage: “Pie-Eating Contest.” It was 3 p.m. I asked her how she thought I could enter. She laughed like she already knew I was going to do it.
Two hours later, at 5 p.m., we came back to the stage to watch. The contest was set for 5:30. By then, the idea had gone from a passing thought to a full-on destiny situation.
Competitor profile: Casey Lynn
Cherry Pie Challenger, Skagit County Fair 2024
- Hometown: La Conner
- Event specialty: Cherry pie (no hands)
- Bite rate: 14 bites per minute (estimated, unverified, fiercely disputed by the half-ounce winner)
- Favorite technique: The Face Plant and Sweep — maximum filling coverage in minimum time
- Training method: Running steps with hands behind back, neck stretches, and precision head tilts
- Pre-event meal: None (saving room)
- Pie nemesis: That guy to my left
- Most feared opponent: Rogue cherries
- Post-event recovery: Googling pie-eating strategy while muttering “half an ounce” for three days straight
- Comeback strategy: Crust-first, speed rotation, unwavering eye contact with both opponents
Let me state for the record. I am a pie fanatic. Two days earlier, I had willingly driven an hour and a half out of my way to buy hand pies from a bakery in Concrete. Was I bringing them to share? Not really. These were my pies. If pie is not my love language, then my love language is probably just pie, but louder.
As the magician on stage wrapped up, the announcer called for contestants. My daughter, who has the same “why not” energy I do, did not hesitate. “Mom, you HAVE to do it.”
I turned toward the table. Three men were lined up, chests puffed, looking like they had already claimed victory. In my mind, the crowd at the fairgrounds went silent. Somewhere in the distance, “Eye of the Tiger” started playing. I could see it all, the training montage, me running on stage with my hands behind my back, diving face-first into practice pies, doing neck stretches like a boxer, perfecting the head tilt for maximum bite angle. Equality matters, especially when baked goods are involved, but this was more than equality. This was pie war.
I asked the rules, signed up, and took my spot at the table. Truth be told, this was not my first full pie, but it was definitely my first full pie at competitive speed. And it was cherry pie, my favorite, so I knew I knew the pie gods were on my side.
The announcer started yelling, “This woman can eat, she is ahead.” To my right was a 16-year-old boy. I was crushing him. To my left was a grown man. Also behind. I was so far ahead in my mind that I was already imagining my photo on the Pie-Eating Champion Wall of Fame.
And then, betrayal. I never checked my competition on my left again.
Final weigh-in: I lost. By half an ounce. HALF. AN. OUNCE. That is not a loss; that is one more bite of crust. That is a spoonful of cherry filling. That is failure.
I was furious. Still am. The competitive athlete in me, and yes, I have been one my whole life, kicked in hard. Within minutes, I was Googling pie-eating strategies: crust-first technique, bite rotation, speed intervals. I am ready to run pie-eating drills. I am ready to hire a pie-eating coach.
So here is your warning. If you see me at next year’s fair, do not expect mercy. There will be pie crust in the air and no survivors at my table. Because I am not losing by half an ounce again. Not to anyone.
Casey Lynn is the creative director of La Conner Community News.
