One of my friends posted on Facebook today about something that inevitably happens to many of us during the holidays.
She was preparing a dessert, and she realized she didn’t have one very important ingredient. It happens. More often than not around here, if you want to know the truth. When I wrote her that I hoped all would work out, she shared that she had already looked up how to adapt the recipe on-line and was going to give it a shot.
That’s when I told her my Daddy’s mantra about cooking.
She replied that he was wise and must have been very good to have in the kitchen.
She was correct on both of those.
Not that my Daddy cooked much. I don’t remember that happening much at all actually. He could make a sandwich like nobody’s business and the way he slathered peanut butter on vanilla wafers, saltines, pound cake, whatever–well, he had it down to an art.
But cooking? I do seem to remember a pan of burnt toast when Mama was at the hospital having my baby brother. But then–maybe that was the excitement and distraction of the birth of his fourth child and not so much an indication of his skill set.
No, my Daddy was great to have in the kitchen because he knew just what to say.
Or not say.
After all, his mantra was based on my Mama’s self-doubts about her creative concoctions in the kitchen. On more than one occasion when she’d start questioning what she had thrown together or how this or that would turn out, Daddy would say, “Look, you put enough butter and sugar in anything, it’s going to be good.”
This would make Mama laugh. The grace in those words could work magic.
Never mind that they were TRUE.
I made the Poor Man’s Pecan Pie for today, which is very similar to the Mock Pecan Pie I made in June. It’s the one with no nuts at all. Or pretzels. I saw a lot of Faux Pecan Pie pictures today–the ones made with pretzels instead of pecans, and they really looked delicious. So yes, we’ll be trying that one soon too.
We took the pie over to Mess Cat’s for our family Thanksgiving dinner together. When I finally cut into it, it was a bit soupy in the middle still. Of course it was. Because I FOLLOWED THE RECIPE. Last time, I had to substitute for the Karo syrup I didn’t have, and it turned out beautifully.
Still the one who requested it was pleased. “Mama, it is so good. I like it better than the last one, ” Aub said. (The last one which was perfection itself and not soupy at all? Huh. Okay then.)
That was when I thought of my Daddy. And how much he would have loved this pie. Because when you put enough butter and sugar in anything…..
Tonight I am thankful for hearing my Daddy’s words in my heart just when I needed them. I am grateful for the example he set in loving the cook and appreciating what was put on the plate. He indeed had a grateful heart, and he let my Mama know it. He and I shared an affinity for the sweet things, and I sure do miss bringing him sweet, buttery things that would make him smile.
Hoping you all had a day of sharing all the best stories and of merry memory-making with those you hold dear.
Love to all.