Ned nods, because he knows what Ginsberg is talking about. He'd actually, for a moment or two, expected him to be one of those people, to judge him for just liking what he thought was beautiful and not really looking for anything more complicated than that. Ned's willing to entertain the notion that there are more layers of meaning in some works of art, he's just never seen the appeal in leaving people to puzzle them out on their own. Why did it have to be a challenge? So that there could be an in-crowd and an out-crowd, so that the elitism was built into the art itself? That's not the kind of art he enjoys at all.

"I'm not an artist," Ned says, though it's with a little laugh. "Baking is baking, and art is art. They might both involve making something, but the result is completely different. I mean. Art's supposed to last, right? That's the whole point. It's supposed to be something that goes on after the artist is gone and their name is on a plaque. It's about preserving. But... cooking can't last. Food goes bad. Sure, you can pass on recipes and techniques and traditions, but as for the pie itself, you've got to eat it while it's hot."

He has an endless capacity for pie-related wisdom, Ginsberg. You have only scratched the surface.

"As far as human nature goes, I'm not exactly an expert. I know that people with low blood sugar get cranky. I know that some people always order the same things and other people don't. I know that there are people who hate when people watch them eat and people who can't stand hearing other people eat. I know that everyone likes pie, and anyone who doesn't shouldn't be trusted."