Just like they did in ye olden times
The first cold front of the season came blowing in early Monday morning. And I do mean blowing in.
The winds were howling out of the north causing the pecans in our pecan trees to come raining down on the roof. I woke up out of a dead sleep at 4 a.m. thinking we might be under siege. It sounded like we were being shelled.
Blame it on watching “Band of Brothers” too many times, but I think I had some WWII flashbacks.
Anyway, by the time I picked Caroline up from school, the sun was out and it was a better-than-lovely 65 degrees outside. We came home and went OUTSIDE to play, instead of doing what we’ve done since last June and curling up under an A/C vent while cursing the heat.
The pecans that caused me to yell out “WE’VE BEEN HIT!” around 5 a.m. were scattered all over the yard. Three pecan trees, plus a rainy summer, equals a plethora of pecans. Some might even call it a bushel.
We began to collect them in a pile on the front walk. It seemed like a good way to pass the time, plus I pretty much just sat down in the yard and collected about fifty of them within a one foot radius while I let Caroline do the serious hunting and gathering. Our pile got bigger and bigger, in spite of the fact that Bruiser and Scout are huge fans of the pecan.
You know, the pecan is America’s nut.
I don’t know if that’s true, but it could be.
And this is completely off-topic and ever so embarrassing to admit, but as I searched for pecans I started singing a song with the lyrics, “You’re just a squirrel, trying to get a nut”. Ultimately I realized the song I was thinking of was “In the Rain” by Oran “Juice” Jones and I was equal parts amazed and horrified that a bad 80’s rap song came to mind so quickly.
My mind is a vault containing mass amounts of useless information.
Anyway, Caroline would crack the pecans by stepping on them and then feed them to the dogs. I think, after 4 long years, they finally saw her as a valuable ally, instead of the thing that replaced them and now sleeps in the bed they used to call their own.
She won them over with the pecan goodness.
Finally, it was time to go inside. So we left our big pile of pecans on the front walk and I told her we’d find more the next day. She has a phenomenal memory and sure enough, we were out gathering pecans again yesterday. And since it was Bop’s birthday and Bops loves pecan pie, I decided it would be a great idea to make Bops a pecan pie using pecans from our yard.
After all, how many pecans do you have to crack to find enough for a pecan pie recipe?
As it turns out, enough to make your thumbs start to bleed.
Scout and Bruiser must be living right because they were able to procure pecans from the reject pile. Then at one point, an elderly gentleman drove past our house, slowed down and yelled out his truck window, “Don’t let them dogs eat too many of them pecans! It’ll plug them up for days.”
And interestingly enough, all I could focus on was how I thought pecans would serve as roughage. A natural laxative, if you will. I was so busy thinking about this that it didn’t dawn on me that it was a little odd to have someone yell at me out their truck window about the bathroom habits of my dogs and their possible constipation due to massive pecan consumption.
I mean they’re pecans, not a cheese log.
Anyway, bottom line is we gathered our pecans, went inside and made a pie.
With our own pecans.
Just like Ma Ingalls might have done.
And I make a mean pecan pie. If Martha Stewart were to compete with me in a pecan pie contest, I would dismantle her.
Here are our pecans. One cup of pecans, otherwise known as the reason I have a Barbie band-aid on my thumb.
Here is the butter as I’m browning it. This is the key to a good pie. Brown the butter, but don’t burn it.
Caroline gets more joy than should be allowed just by cracking eggs. That’s a blow-pop in her mouth, by the way, not a cigarette. I don’t let her smoke while we’re baking.
The prepared pie crust. Which I totally made from scratch and by scratch I mean that I took it out of the freezer and opened the Pillsbury package that it came in.
Y’all didn’t really think I’d make my own pie crust, did you? Keep in mind, I’m the same person who bought pre-made Rice Krispy treats earlier in the week.
Pouring the pecan mixture into the pie crust.
And what do we have here? A beautiful pecan pie.
Somewhere Martha Stewart is weeping with envy.
And my dogs are trying desperately to have a bowel movement.
