It had to be. The American symbol of the cult of Momism is today’s pie. Apple pie. The humble apple pie is pretty staple here as well. My grandmother used to let the spare room to exchange students. A French student who went on to become a firm family friend extended his stay picking fruits at a local orchard (yes, that included apples) always found it odd that she served hot apple pie with a dollop of cold ice cream. Not that he complained about eating it that way, but he associated cold ice cream with cold pie. The things us crazy Brits do, eh!
I had a steak and kidney pie for lunch. At least that’s what I ordered but it was a very yellow steak and kidney. Ah, hang on it’s cheese and onion. They swapped it over but a few minutes later I noticed a lady in the chippie eating a cheese and onion pie. I hope she got a fresh one.