The Pecan Pie Incident

To continue with the "un-obscured gems" theme, I'd like to go back to Thanksgiving for one minute.

Mom makes a pecan pie, that every year doesn't set. It never has. Not in 29 conscious years of pie-eating on my part. It's always gloppy and runny, and still pretty yummy anyway.

This year Jill and Dave and I made the turkey, stuffing, potatoes, biscuits, pumpkin pie, cranberry bread, and basically everything else necessary for a Thanksgiving dinner. My Mom made the pecan pie.

After dinner we went to the kitchen to cut the pies. Everyone wanted some of everything. She cut into her pecan pie, realized it hadn't set, and as she does every year said, "I'm so sorry, I don't know why I bother, the pie is ruined."

As I do every year, I said, "What matters is that it tastes good, it will be fine, no need to apologize."

We served the pies and everyone started eating. I think a few people even complimented her on her pie.

Next time I looked around, she was in the kitchen running the water. My Dad was saying, "What are you doing? I liked it," plaintively.

She'd washed the pecan pie down the garbage disposal. Without asking anyone. And if she wasn't quite crying, she was pretty damn close.