I’ve had Mom’s pecan pie, so now it’s time for Dad’s pecan pie. How different can it be, right? Same ingredients, same process, right? Right. So, you can imagine my shock when I wasn’t transported anywhere with my first bite of Dad’s pecan pie. There were no reminders of pineapple, coconut, or even cake. No, Dad’s pecan pie creates no questions: it’s pecan pie in the here and now.
Who knew a pie could make you feel so present, perhaps even relevant? But this pie does. The pie crust is a mere vehicle for holding the filling, which overpowers any flavor the crust might have had. The filling is dense, thick, and set so that a piece can be picked up and eaten without a fork. The taste? Obviously it’s sweet, but it’s also bold and seems to have a presence all of its own. I guess it would have to if it has the power to make someone feel present in their own life. It too has to be present in its own existence.
Why is there such a difference in texture and flavor between Mom’s pie and Dad’s pie? My sister (the Pie Goddess) and I poured over the recipes and couldn’t find the answer. We assumed that someone had a secret ingredient, but we found none. Dad admitted that he finely chops the nuts with a knife; whereas, Mom uses hand broken pieces of pecans. While they use the same measurement of pecans, Dad’s pie probably has twice the amount of pecans than Mom’s because they are so much smaller.
So…maybe the power, the presence really is in the pecan. I’m available for taste tastes!
