More pies than people: How a town of 249 people prepared for 20,000 RAGBRAI cyclists

Nearly 200 pies, some still steaming and others oozing filling through their crusts, fought for cooling space on almost full folding tables when Shirley Perrett finally locked up the Quimby Community Center Friday night.

She and eight other women had gathered before sunrise to assemble and bake more than 50 pies in a furious 10-hour final push before bikers rolled through Sunday on their way to Storm Lake. Today’s batch was a few peach pies, made from a fresh lug Shirley brought, and dozens and dozens of rhubarb.

“We were told that RAGBRAI people really like rhubarb, so people froze a lot of rhubarb this spring,” says Corliss Simmons. “This is all the frozen rhubarb out of our patches here in town.”

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“They bought us out of pies last time,” Perrett adds. “When they came through in 2015, they bought us out completely.”

By the time all the bakers using their personal ovens brought in their goods (and a few donated store-bought confections), there were more pies than residents in Quimby, Iowa. The community of 249 as of the last census had produced 290 pies ― some 1,700 individual pieces, each bagged complete with plate, fork and napkin.

“People say, ‘Oh, you only have 250 people in your town, how could you do this?’” says Heidi Taylor, Quimby’s mayor. “We’re small, but we're mighty.”

“I'm just proud of everybody that jumps in and gets the job done,” adds Heidi, who before buying a home in town three years ago lived in Las Vegas, California and Colorado. “These ladies get a project, and they are 100% in.”

RAGBRAI depends on rural communities to support riders passing through on their long days between overnight stops. For these tiny towns, most without even a stoplight, the ride offers a financial boon second to none ― but it also stretches their resources.

The Quimby Pie Stand is a partnership between the community center, the local Methodist, Baptist and Lutheran churches, the American Legion and the American Legion Auxiliary, and Town and County, a general community-building organization.

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“When you have seven organizations in a small town, there's probably several of us that are on three or four of those organizations ― or more,” says Deb Christofferson, whose mother, Shirley, is Quimby’s matriarch and the community center keyholder.

There’s so much overlap in community organizations' membership ― and so much of the membership is older ― that there wouldn’t be enough workers for each individual group to have a stand, says Cathy Smith.

“So why not just come together and put this on and split the profits?” Cathy adds.

No one can remember just quite when the seven-organization group came together, but for at least the past handful of years, they’ve partnered on all the big events in town: the Memorial Day luncheon; the Watermelon Day “taverns,” which is Quimby-speak for sloppy Joes; the July Fourth breakfast; and the Thanksgiving Day turkey dinner.

And this year, RAGBRAI, too.

Basically, the ladies say, when the time comes around to start planning again, word goes around: You in or you out?

“But everybody stays in,” says Corliss.

That’s just the way Quimby is, Cathy says. That’s just the way small towns are, Deb adds quickly, like she's completing the thought.

“My parents are gone. My brother is gone,” Cathy says. “My church is my family. My town is my family. I know I can call anyone in town when I need something, and someone will help.”

Stick together. Be of Service. Always bring dessert. That’s Quimby.

“This town is very magical to me. I really, literally feel the magic and the love,” Heidi says.

They’ve heard that the last stop on the route before the overnight is the “party town.” And the Quimby fire station ― No. 1 in the county, they say ― has the beer garden on lock. Cornhole, too, they hear.

It’s fitting the town’s RAGBRAI slogan is “Party like it’s 1973” because Heidi heard from a guy at Home Depot the other day that Quimby was a party town back then. The place for a real country Friday night. Those bars have all since closed. Same with the restaurant.

But all those closed doors are why Heidi is so excited about RAGBRAI. Quimby could grow. Quimby could grow a lot, she’s convinced. It already has pickleball, a park, a golf course, a convenience store.

And the community center, of course, with its tables of pies.

“I’m hoping maybe a rider comes through and they want to buy a building and redo it,” she says. “Bring some new blood into town. Because some of these people, they've just turned their buildings into storage units.”

“It's cheaper to put junk in a house than to rent a storage unit, and that's what they're doing to us.”

The quietness of those buildings betrays the town, Heidi says. Because ― she gestures around the room, buzzing with women ― "we are well alive."

By the time the final pies were headed into the oven at 2 p.m. ― eight hours after the first pies had been baked ― the rhubarb was juicy, having marinated for hours, basically, in sugar and thick juice and flour.

Deb Clark, whose grandmother’s pie crust recipe was included in the Quimby Centennial Cookbook published in 1987, crimps the pie’s edges using the pads of her thumb. Her grandmother may have used more of the side of her thumb, she says, but her grandmother also didn’t have to wear these pesky food-service gloves.

The secret to great pies, everyone agrees, is fresh ingredients, but their Quimby crunchy topping ― achieved by drizzling on half-and-half and coating that with sugar ― was a close second. And maybe third are the strips of tin foil they gingerly place on the crusts to make sure the edges don’t burn.

As to when the pies are done, well, that’s Shirley’s call and she stands with the focus of a surgeon, her knife at the ready. The key is making sure the rhubarb is soft, she says.

With a poke and a nod, the pies are out of the oven and onto the folding tables, organized by flavor: rhubarb, strawberry-rhubarb, apple, blueberry, cherry, peach, razzleberry (a combination of raspberry and blackberry) and two very special apricot pies.

On Saturday, Deb and Cathy were headed to the RAGBRAI campgrounds in Sioux City to hand out some flyers about Quimby’s plans — especially the pie stand.

“People say you have Facebook, you have the website, but I like to meet people,” Cathy says. “I like to talk to them and hear their stories.”

With the cooking done, Deb grabs up her binders ― she’s the master planner in the group ― and tells those gathered that coffee will be on at 5:30 a.m. She moved closer to Sioux City to be near her daughter some years ago, so she’ll probably be up at 4 a.m. to get ready and make the drive.

“Hopefully, we'll be ready for them at 7,” Deb says. “Because we have had bikers here at 7 for their breakfast pie.

“One year we weren’t ready and we just said, ‘Help yourselves.’ We took their money, of course, but they helped themselves.”

Oh, and remember, Cathy says, RAGBRAI means church has moved. Methodists are gathering Saturday night.

For Quimby, it's pies instead of pews this Sunday.

COURTNEY CROWDER, the Register's Iowa Columnist, traverses the state's 99 counties telling Iowans' stories. She co-directed, "Shift: The RAGBRAI Documentary," which is currently playing in movie theaters across Iowa. You can reach her at (515) 284-8360 or ccrowder@dmreg.com. Follow her on Twitter @courtneycare.

This article originally appeared on Des Moines Register: RAGBRAI 2023: Small town makes more pies than it has residents