The Pie Lady is Back!


You all may remember a wonderful baker on Burd Street in Nyack who was known as The Pie Lady. Her pies were fantastic, but they became so much in demand that she couldn’t keep up and had to go dark. Thanks to this poster on the Nyack Social Scene, I’ve got great news: She’s back.

Hi all

Nyack had, a decade or so ago, a Pie Lady who lived on Burd St. and baked
pies from heaven……

She stopped when the business became too overwhelming what with young kids
to raise, and she moved north. WELL, this weekend at the St. Ann’s Holiday
Bazaar, I felt my heart jump several beats when there, among the jewelry and
craft tables, a charming young man stood behind a pastel colored sign which
I immediately recognized:




and next to the sign, a magnificent apple pie. The young man, it seems, is
the Pie Lady’s son. He offered me a generous slice, which I gratefully
accepted. Wow, as great as ever. It seems that they are trying for a
comeback in Nyack. If you love pie as much as I do, I urge you to give The
Pie Lady & Son a call to order a pie. At the moment, they’re doing apple
and apple variants. It’s a good sized pie, sixteen bucks, free delivery.
They would like to open a little pie store right here. Be still, my heart.

845 512-8926

After the jump, an exerpt from our archives — Pascale Le Draoulec wrote about the Pie Lady back in 1998.

Several people at the newspaper suggested the ” The Pie Lady of Nyack ” as my last pie of the trip. On Burd Street, we followed the handpainted signs for homemade pie leading to her back porch. Children’s laundry and kitchen towels hung out to dry above potted pink geraniums and petunias.

Deborah Tyler had just returned from a trip to some local orchards to buy apples and peaches.

The single mother of three told us she started her small pie-baking porch business, a true cottage industry, after a divorce left her struggling financially.

She had learned to bake as a small child and perfected her craft working at at a college cafeteria in England.

” For many people, making pies is very traumatic and mysterious, ” Deborah said, her grandmother’s ribbed ceramic bowl full of apples resting on her hip. ” You have to stop your whole life to make a pie. ”

” The secret is more in your attitude than in your technique, ” she went on to say. ” You can’t intellectualize pie. You can’t ask too many questions. ”

She learned that from an English baker who never danced around her dough.

” It’s like raising children, you have to be fearless. ”

” Children, by the way, are great pie makers, ” she added, precisely ” because they have no fear. ” And then Deborah told us something that gave us even more hope for the future of pie.

Turns out a boy in the neighborhood, Darrell Mickele, 12, wants to become a pie baker. He’s been coming over after school and summer camp and tackling peach and plum and apple pies, some with double crusts. She calls him ” my apprentice. ”

” The hardest part, at first, was rolling out the dough, ” Darrell told me, a few days later. ” But I kept watching Deborah, the way she rolled the dough, back and forth, and the way she patched up the cracks and made a perfect circle. ”

” Now it’s pretty easy. And it tastes so much better than storebought. ”

Like Elva Twitchell, in Utah, Darrell said baking gives him a sense of accomplishment. ” It makes me feel like I have a talent, ” he said.

What’s the best advice he would give to a novice baker?

” Take your time, ” the boy said. ” You can’t rush a pie. ”


About Author

Liz Johnson is content strategist for The Journal News and, and the founding editor of lohudfood, formerly know as Small Bites. As food editor, she won awards from the New York News Publishers Association, the Association of Food Journalists and the Associated Press. She lives in Nyack with her husband and daughter on a tiny suburban lot they call their farm — with fruit trees, an herb garden, and a yardful of lettuce, tomatoes, onions, shallots, cucumbers, zucchini, radishes, cabbage, peppers, Brussels sprouts and carrots and four big blueberry bushes.

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