03/21/2021
Rule of Pie is permanently closing. We're trying to do right by gift card holders. 1308 Walnut St and everything in it is up for sale. It's a turnkey place in a great location in the heart of a good town full of kind and faithful people.
If you have an unused gift card from RoP that was purchased on or after December 1, 2019 FB message us w/ a picture or screen shot of the details. We'll put a check in the maill because we think it's the right thing to do. Or, If you're into collectables and finely designed t-shirts, we'll send you RoP shirt to always remember us by. We'll hold out this offer for exchange of unused gift cards until Monday, April 3rd. We understand not everyone has internet access, and not everyone has a FB account, so do us a favor, friends, and tell everyone you know who is holding a card.
Serious inquiries on the building and its contents only please.
______________________________________________________________________
Exactly one year to the day of Illinois's stay-at home order, we are, in fact, doing more staying at home. And are, in a few words, relieved and happy to announce this, though I never wanted to write this post. Not because of never wanting to shut down, but because I didn’t care to write a postmortem on what Miranda, our lead baker and my wife loved and I’ll never be able to use the right order of words to help insulate her from a world of folks who’ll never understand her vantage point. Truth be told, I’ve wanted to shut down RoP almost from the moment it became one of Southern Illinois’ most beloved businesses. It was recently awarded a Southern Illinois Reader's Choice designation for the area's best dessert place in a year RoP was hardly open. That his me in the feels, guys. Because I knew, almost instantly—from the moment that she wanted to open a public s**ce—that she’d be loved.
RoP was a success. It was—in one word—successful. Full stop. I want to say that clearly and proudly. It made money and had a sterling reputation. Those are facts. In light of them, the popular question is: why would you close a thing that made money and was well-received? I have never felt compelled to explain myself—I want to make that clear too. But nevertheless:
We opened RoP in 2014 after taking her pies to various farmers markets and observing that new customers almost always turned into repeat customers. We bought some buildings on Walnut St. on a prayer to use as bake sites after thinking we might cater B2B and to larger events. Those s**ces quickly turned into a storefront and operationalized s**ce, and they quickly, almost haphazardly, turned into the RoP people love and want more of.
But owning a small business is hard. I know that's not a profound point, but the business becomes your world, and if not your world your sky. It hangs over everything. She’s had to manage putting out something beautiful consistently, she’s had to deal with public s**ces inviting public criticism, she’s had to deal with a payroll, people she’s loved coming and going, hiring and firing; she’s had to deal with working with me (God knows that’s worthy of holy canonization), she’s had to deal with feeling neglectful of things close to home, and—from my view—she’s worked her small, careful fingers into near dust. I’ve seen her taken advantage of one too many times, I’ve seen her in various states of despair, and I’ve wanted to make a burning lantern—a path unto others’ feet--out of things like Yelp and Grubhub. Some days I wanted to light a stick of dynamite and put it under my hat.
What others saw as a light on Walnut St. was to me always something with a shelf-life, something to be used up. A lit cigarette, smoldering and always burning toward its end. That end is right now.
In my view, Miranda has made a market for artisanal pies, desserts. I’ve always viewed her as a pioneer woman. She’s the best there is at what she does and she can do anything she puts her mind to. Not in some kid show, use your imagination kind of way. I don’t need any one’s faith for what I know as fact. I know, for a fact, that we didn’t invent pie when we opened up shop. But we invented RoP. That thing was ours. And it was a reflection of Miranda’s best traits, and it was universally well-received. In the spirit of transparency, as a person who is usually full words, I don’t know how to be more concise in saying that I’ve never been as proud of any person for anything than I am of her for her work—for taking on oncoming traffic, for opening her self up to the world, and for, like a beautiful and powerful thunderstorm, lighting s**t up.
You lit it up, mama.
Over time, our staff had some folks who were singularly the best people on the planet. You all were pretty good, too.
t;ldr: RoP is permanently closed. FB message us re: gift cards or the property itself. The building and everything in it is up for sale. RoP is dead. Long live RoP.
