When pie means war

Q: Every Thanksgiving, my partner’s cousin -- an obnoxious Realtor who preys on aspiring starlets -- comes to our house and brings a skinny date and a dented pumpkin pie from Vons. He doesn’t even take off the price tag, and it’s like $4.99. Nevermind that he sucks down all our single-malt Scotch; he also makes a big deal about his cheap dessert.

Every time, he asks, “Where’s that pie I brought?” And so I have to serve it alongside our homemade chestnut pudding, pecan pie and chocolate souffle. This year, can I ask him to bring a homemade pie instead?

-- P.H., Cheviot Hills

Dear P.H.,

If only your Realtor guest could help you to relocate to the South. “Where I’m from, you wouldn’t be caught dead showing up with something that you didn’t bake. Especially, not on Thanksgiving,” says Ryan Patterson, South Carolina native and supervising producer of “Access Hollywood.” Here in the big city, however, many folks don’t cotton to breaking eggs and creaming butter in their free time. They have HBO and acpuncture appointments.

Contrary to what you may think, requesting a “homemade” specialty is as risky as a turn at baccarat. Who knows what this clown could whip up? In my favorite cooking tome, “The Art of War,” Sun Tzu says: “If you know your enemies and know yourself, you will win a hundred times in a hundred battles.” Your enemy, gracious host, is that store-bought pie.

I suggest that you enhance that dessert with some culinary surgery. Verite Mazzola, formerly the pastry chef at Table 8 on Melrose Avenue, recommends that you whip up a topping that will surely amp up the flavor of a bland dish. “Fold bourbon and powdered sugar into mascarpone cheese, and add a dollop,” she says. “It’s very rich.”

If you simply can’t bear to do that, here’s another thought: Drop the pie -- face down, of course -- on the kitchen floor and yell, “Whoops! There goes that pie that you brought.”

And then write a check to Oxfam, to restore the karmic balance.

Q: My friend’s older sister is a TV writer on strike, and I am an aspiring sitcom scribe. For months, I have been bugging my pal to pass along a spec script or two. I was thinking I would head over to where she’s striking in front of the Fox lot and maybe schmooze a bit. That’s cool, right?

-- S.A.Venice

Dear S.A.,

Why not bake your business cards into a pan of brownies and pass them around? Networking at a picket line is about as cool as hitting on a woman in a body cast. Or sealing a deal at a funeral. Case in point: Even NBC waited until after Anna Nicole Smith’s burial to negotiate a deal with Larry Birkhead for exclusive rights to his story.

Odd though it may sound, the picket line “is more about socializing than talking business,” says Ken Levine, an Emmy-winning veteran TV writer who’s been blogging from the front lines. “I haven’t seen anyone handing out spec scripts, which is surprising.”

Of course, that doesn’t mean there aren’t more subtle maneuvers happening, often involving carbs. CAA agents have sent churros. Eva Longoria handed out slices of pizza. Jay Leno brought doughnuts.

“Can you wrap a Subway in a spec script?” Levine asks.

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Do you have a social woe or an etiquette issue? Send questions to the Mannerist at monica.corcoran@latimes.com.