The secret is vanilla.
There. I told you. That's all you get. Because I'm not sharing this pie. It's mine. You may not have a piece. You may just beg and drool and cry and be jealous and hate me because I'm not sharing.
I'm going to eat the whole thing all by myself. In the dark. With a large spoon. Where my family won't find me. Then I'll wash the dish. And dry it and put it away. And they won't know that the whole pie is gone until they find me in a near-coma, belly swollen, little dribble of cinnamon on my chin, babbling "oh. oh. oh. must eat pie. must not tell anyone. need more apples."
And then they will cry and beat their heads with their fists and scream at me and collapse in anguish.
Cuz I ate the rest of the pie.
It's that frickin' good.
And I'm not even going to have a glass of (soy)milk with it. Not even a scoop of vanilla So Delicious soy cream. Not a single thing gets between my lips and that pie.