ABriTooMuch
Pie Birds Anonymous
Pie birds, or pie funnels, originated in Europe in the 1700s as simple cylindrical or hourglass-shaped ceramic vents to prevent pies from boiling over by releasing steam. These early “pie chimneys” became popular in the 19th century, particularly in the UK, and were sometimes even used as promotional items.
The whimsical bird shape we know today? That popped up in the 1930s in the United States—likely inspired by the nursery rhyme “Sing a Song of Sixpence” and older royal baking traditions. From there, pie birds became both practical little kitchen tools and quirky collectibles.
And then came Le Creuset.
Le Creuset makes the most gorgeous ones I’ve ever seen. Granted, I had been making pies since my grandmother taught me at age seven—without a pie bird. But suddenly I needed one. The problem? What color?? They came in so many beautiful shades, and the more I found, the more I justified. After all, what harm is there in just one little pie bird?
Did you know some Le Creuset colors are only released in certain countries? Nope, me either. But pie birds taught me that as I doggedly hunted down an entire collection of these dang things. And I loved it. Every single bird that entered my house earned a proud spot in my cabinet. For once, I was going to be a “collect them all” person.
Here’s the funny part: not one of my birds has ever seen a pie. Not one. Instead, they became the poster children for my hoarding problem, dragged out as Exhibit A during family interventions. And now? They’re listed for sale.
Does it bother me? Honestly, no. There’s freedom in letting go. While I plan on keeping a bird or two, I don’t need—or even want—fifty of them. I’d much rather funnel that obsessive energy into my current and longest-running passion: dolls.
Many of you reading this have asked when I’d finally confess to the overwhelming doll collection. Well, here’s your mention—haha. A full confession will come later.
Off to rehome some birds before they unionize.
Step aside, Marie Kondo. These birds spark judgment, not joy.