Many years ago, in a distant land with a name I do not bother to remember, there was a humble metal smith who, despite his aforementioned humility, had many enemies who despised both him and all of his creations. One day, an idea sprung into his mind! "I should take dough and fill it with something delicious!" I do not know why he thought this, but such a reason is irrelevant; his idea spread quickly as all ideas do, and it took no time at all for his enemies to catch wind of it. Their scorn for him grew ever stronger in spite of the brilliance of his idea. One could even say that this concept itself had been given enemies with the vile words that spewed from the mouths of these people.

So he murdered them.

And from their mangled bodies, he snatched away many things, hearts, stomachs, tremendously beautiful vocal cords, all these things he took and, in his new-found fey mood (his sanity obviously effected by the pointless bloodshed) decided that these would be the delicious something he would add to dough. For many days and many more nights he slaved over his anvil and his fire, forging the ill-gotten entrails into a suitable filling and, filling a crust he made from his victims's skin, he crafted the ultimate pastry. He made me.

I am Pie Prime. I am the one who came before flavor. I am the one who came before cooking shows ruined the culinary world. I am the Original Pie.

Pleased to meet you.