I’m not sure when ‘The Season’ begins.
Is it Thanksgiving into Christmas, then into New Years? Or do we back it up to Halloween? Halloween into Thanksgiving into Christmas into New Years?
And why do we say ‘new years’ like there are several of them?
All I know is I eat a lot in ‘The Season.’
I’ve made pecan pies before, but making them this year was different. For some reason, this year I paid attention to what actually goes into making a pecan pie.
It may be because I’m trying (in vain) to reverse the slow trend of becoming a slightly larger person every year. I’m still trying to get my brain wrapped around this notion that what I put in my mouth has some direct correlation to the size of my midsection.
So... pecan pie:
That’s your pie: liquid sugar, granular sugar.
The sugars need something to hold them together, so let’s toss in a few eggs.
Of course there are pecans, but it could be anything. Want a peanut pie? Walnut pie? Use dill chips and it becomes a pickle pie.
The point is, we’ve named the pecan pie not after the mainingredients but after the only healthy ingredient in the thing. Rightfully, it should be called a sugar pie.
“Oh, you’re making sugar pies for the holidays? Do you do anything special?”
“Well, I like to top mine off with pecans. Adds a little crunch to the sugar.”
Years ago, I made a ‘dark’ version of pecan pie. Instead of a light corn syrup, I used molasses. Instead of white sugar, I used dark brown sugar.
I called it Pecan Mud Pie. I should have called it Pootie Pie. It hung around for days in unfavorable ways.
Pecan pie is hard to turn down, especially if you know the reputation of the person or restaurant that is offering it. Once you become known for making a good pecan pie, you are considered an excellent cook for anything else you make.
You could prepare an entire meal from canned food, nuke it in the microwave and serve it on plastic plates, and it would be the best meal ever.
Because we’re all just waiting on your delicious pecan pie at the end of the meal.
My pies this year were a failure. While they looked good coming out of the oven, apparently, I did something wrong. Serving them was serving a soupy, syrupy mess. With pecans.
They had good pecan pie flavor and got eaten (with spoons), but I doubt I will be asked to make them again for the family gathering.
I’m OK with that.
Maybe it’s just to discourage myself from eating something that will only make me a little rounder in the middle, but next time I’m serving pecan pie, I’m gonna call it like I see it.
“Alright now, I’m serving diabetes for dessert. Who wants Cool Whip on theirs?”