Pornokitsch

Cherry pie. My sweet tooth is only matched in strength and commitment by my, erm, sour tooth. Cherry pie combines the best of both worlds - tart red cherries and sugar and butter and perfect flakey pie-crust. This one definitely needs vanilla ice cream on the side, to help even out the tartness.

I grew up in Los Angeles and once a month my folks would get up early, toss me into the car, and drive for close to two hours to spend a day at the Pasadena flea-market, one of the biggest flea markets in Southern California. And every time we'd get the same thing for breakfast: Natchitoches meat pies from these two tiny old ladies who operated out of the trunk of their tiny old car. Think Cornish pasty, only amazinger. Meat pies, yo. The kind you can hold in one hand and gnaw on. They're pretty much the perfect food.

Cottage pie. And it'd better have a lot, and I mean a lot, of cheese on top.

Honorable mention: stargazey pie. Who doesn't want to try a pie that watches you eat it? I've never had one... but one of these days.

Jared 

Apple pie. I know! We're such classicists! I like the sub-genre of pie that doesn't have an open top, but has lots of stuff crumbled on top - brownsugarycrunchbles. Piepunk!

Sweet potato pie. Might as well get all the repetition out of the way (glares at Anne). I too like cream on my sweet potato pie except when it is being served as a side dish. Side potato pie eaten alongside BBQ? Yum. And one of your five a day! 

Steak and kidney pie. Two of your five a day!

Blackberry pie. If I'm not going piepunk and want a pie-shaped pie with a conservative crust-top or post-revisionist open-faceing, I want blackberries. Sweetish, tartish and an utterly inviting deep purple colour. Did you know the Carthaginians used to make a purple dye from crushed snails so they could pretend to have blackberries? One of the unsung heroics of the Roman Empire was setting up a trade route so the little Phoenician children could finally have candy that wasn't mollusc-flavoured. Salt our ground, they cried, but please don't make us eat the snailberries again!

Steak and Guinness pie. When I moved to the UK, I had to work my way across the beer platform. First I went to extravagent measures to order American beers (and put up with the mandatory "fnar, fnar, when are you drinking a real beer? fnar fnar you don't kick the ball in football fnar"). Then I developed a taste for lager-y things. With more time, ales. At about the seven year point, I could drink bitter and enjoy it. Now, after a decade in? I can finally drink a pint of Guinness without immediately erupting forth a fountain of brackish goo. I suspect we'll never fully see eye to tar, but at least we've made our peace. BUT THAT SAID, Guinness's asphalty, nutrient-packed goodness is amazing in a pie. Were I a cow, and ready to face my destiny as a tasty meat-pastry, this is the way I'd choose to go. 

Also, American beer is fine. It is just different. 

Pie! Fnar.