We’re making this pie from scratch at the suggestion of Lloyd, a hard-core home cook who, between studio work and rigorous touring, documents his ambitious kitchen experiments via social media.

Right now, they’re less concerned with their next single than with the proper amount of brown sugar to toss into a bowl of hulled and halved strawberries and that Ardmore Farmers Market rhubarb, which Gongol has lopped into hunks the size of Legos. These theater geeks create disarmingly catchy, groove-heavy R&B that bloggers clamor to characterize with various synonyms for “sexy” - Lloyd is the meticulous producer, Gongol the sizzling voice. The band name is a nod to the pair’s middle-school production of The Music Man, in which they played the leads, Marian Paroo and Harold Hill. Jeremy Lloyd and Samantha Gongol, both 27, are 2008 graduates of Haverford High, a 10-minute walk from Lloyd’s childhood home, which is serving as our pop-up bakery. I’m here, prepping a perfectly safe pie in a Havertown kitchen, not with a single chanteuse, but with a couple of seventh-grade choir friends who flipped a post-college collaboration into a main-stage slot at Made in America this month. While rhubarb leaves are toxic, the fibrous stalk uncooked is a harmless, if exceedingly tart, snack choice.Ī common mistake people make about Marian Hill concerns its membership. After some quick Googling, I receive heartening news: I’m going to live. Photograph by Justin James MuirĬan you gnaw on raw rhubarb? Marian Hill doesn’t know the answer offhand, but that doesn’t stop me from chomping a chunk like it’s crudité. Marian Hill with friend and collaborator Steve Davit (left).

Down by marian hill on the piano