Mrs Smith's Pies Discontinued

If you’re reading this through a veil of tears, possibly while clutching an empty, crumb-covered cardboard box, I get it. The news hit the pastry-loving world like a cold, soggy bottom: Mrs. Smith’s Pies are officially discontinued. Yes, the company that single-handedly convinced millions of Americans that “homemade” could be made in a factory in Pennsylvania has pulled the plug on their entire pie line.

Let’s be real—these weren’t grandma’s pies. They were the pies you bought at 10 p.m. on a Tuesday because you needed to bring something to a potluck and your only other option was a bag of sad, half-eaten tortilla chips. But we loved them anyway, with their suspiciously perfect lattice crusts and filling that tasted vaguely of “artificial apple” and destiny.

The Gory Details (Or, How We Lost the War on Frozen Dessert)

According to the company, the decision was purely financial. Sales had been dropping faster than a pie dropped by a clumsy toddler. Apparently, millennials and Gen Z have betrayed us all by deciding they prefer fresh-baked pies from boutique bakeries—or, even worse, keto-friendly pies made of almond flour and pureed insects. (I made that last part up, but you’d better believe it’s coming.)

But here’s a surprising fact: Mrs. Smith’s wasn’t always a pie company. The brand started in 1918 as a flower shop. Yes, you read that right. For decades, the company sold daisies and chrysanthemums before someone had the brilliant idea to freeze a fruit-filled crust. Which raises an important question: Did they ever try to combine the two businesses? Imagine a “Floral Apple Pie” made with edible roses. I’d buy it. In fact, I’d buy ten.

Wait, What About the Pumpkin Pie Apocalypse?

The greatest casualty of this discontinuation is, of course, the holiday season. For years, Mrs. Smith’s frozen pumpkin pie was the official dessert of “I forgot to thaw the turkey.” It was a lifeline. If you hadn’t defrosted your store-bought pie by Thanksgiving morning, you were in serious trouble. Now, you’ll have to resort to making actual pie from scratch—which, let’s be honest, is just another form of baking anxiety.

Rumor has it the company is now focusing entirely on their Mrs. Smith’s Cinnamon Rolls, which are basically the same thing but with a sugar coma instead of a fruit coma. The cinnamon rolls are safe, but they are not a pie. They are a cylindrical impostor, and I refuse to accept them as a substitute.

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The Emotional Fallout (It’s Sticky)

Social media, naturally, is in shambles. One user tweeted, “Mrs. Smith’s pies were the only reason I pretended to be a functional adult at family gatherings.” Another wrote, “The day my freezer runs out of Mrs. Smith’s apple pie is the day I finally commit to becoming a hermit in the woods.” (I worry for that person.)

And let’s not forget the childhood nostalgia factor. For every millennial who grew up in a house with a microwave, Mrs. Smith’s was the taste of a hastily defrosted after-school snack. It was the pie you ate while watching SpongeBob and wondering why your mom’s “homemade” pie came with a cardboard baking ring. That ring was a work of art, people. A structure.

The Conspiracy Theory Angle (Because Why Not?)

Okay, I’m not saying Big Baking was out to get Mrs. Smith’s, but I’m also not not saying that. Some corners of the internet claim the closure is a secret plot by Big Produce to force us all to buy fresh fruit. Others whisper that it’s actually a government plot to reduce the national sugar intake so we can all be healthier—and therefore, easier to tax. I just think someone in the boardroom ate one too many “Dutch Apple” slices and realized it was made of 80% corn syrup and 20% regret.

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In a final twist, the company has announced that the last batch of Mrs. Smith’s pies will be donated to a museum of processed food history. They claim it’s a “tribute to American culinary innovation,” but I suspect it’s just an excuse to clear out the warehouse. You’ll find those pies in a glass case next to a jar of Spam-flavored Jell-O and a can of New Coke. It’s a hall of shame, really.

What Now? (A Practical Guide)

If you’re reading this and your hands are shaking, fear not. There is hope. First, check your freezer immediately. You might still have a hidden stash of Mrs. Smith’s from the 2021 holiday sale. Guard it like a dragon hoarding gold. Second, consider hosting a “Pie Wake” where you and your friends share the final slices in a ceremonial, tear-filled brunch.

Alternatively, you could do what I’m doing: dig out a recipe and try to replicate it at home. The secret, apparently, is to use twice the butter the recipe calls for, and to add a teaspoon of “fake butter flavor” for authenticity. Good luck. I’ll be in the corner, mourning with a single frozen miniature egg roll—because at this point, anything with a crust is fair game.

So long, Mrs. Smith. You were never the best, but you were always there. And for many of us, that was enough.