Page 139 - United States of Pie

them was just right. Luckily, Andy Case at the Cherry Hut restaurant
was more than happy to offer me a few pointers.
Just forty minutes southeast of the relative hustle and bustle of

Traverse City, the Cherry Hut is a true piece of Americana. Nestled
in the tiny village of Beulah (population 395), the restaurant started
life as a seasonal pie shack. When the Kraker family opened the
Cherry Hut in 1922, it sold only one thing: cherry pie. In 1935 the pie
shack moved to its current location and launched an expanded menu
to match its expanded facilities: besides pie, you could order a turkey
sandwich and drip coffee.
In 1959, after managing the restaurant for two years, Leonard

Case Jr. bought the establishment from the Krakers, and it’s been in
the Case family ever since. Leonard was a local Beulah boy who had
worked in some capacity at the Cherry Hut since 1946. These days,
Leonard’s son, Andy, manages the restaurant, and the Cherry Hut is
a one-stop cherry emporium: they make their own cherry jelly, jam,

and preserves, and, of course, their famous sour cherry pie.
It’s early in the season when I arrive at the Cherry Hut. The sky is
vast and heavy. There’s still a nip in the air, indicating the passing of
a long and brutal winter. The rickety farm stands along Route 31 are
selling mounds of strawberries and piles of local asparagus that look
like helter-skelter stacks of pick-up-sticks. I know I’ve reached my
destination as soon as I see the Cherry Hut’s elevated sign—there’s

no way I could miss it. A huge image of Cherry Jerry the Pie-Faced
Boy, the restaurant’s mascot (imagine a jack-o’-lantern face with
scalloped edges, painted cherry red, and you have the right idea),
greets you as you exit the highway. The interior of the Cherry Hut is
decked out in cherry paraphernalia: wallpaper featuring bunches of
cherries hangs above red leatherette banquettes, the rose-colored

carpet resembles cherry-stained clothes, and Cherry Jerry smiles
back at diners from the placemats-cummenus.
As I sit at a table with Andy, he graciously slides a glass of crimson
house-made cherry ade—a beverage made from the macerating
liquid of sour cherries—in front of me. Andy tells me a little bit about
the history of the restaurant, and specifically the pie, as a waiter
brings me a warm slice. “It’s a good pie,” he says modestly, “but I

think we’re selling more of a memory … nostalgia.” I can see what