“I Would Be Proud to Partake of Your Pecan Pie”

I’m from the north – Buffalo to be exact. So, when Thanksgiving rolled around, my typical favorite part of the meal – dessert – was usually a disappointment. For Christmas, there would some sort of fancy gingerbread cookie or my mom’s delectable Black Forest cake to look forward to. My birthday would entail chocolate cake in one format or another. Easter was a bunny-shaped coconut covered cake or chocolate cream pie. For Thanksgiving, we didn’t have as much luck with something that appealed to my palate. Our options were usually pumpkin pie (something my father, for some reason, could devour solo if he so chose), or some other form of fruit pie and ice cream. Typically, I would eat the dry, crusty tart out of politeness and then grab another serving of stuffing or turkey when possible since, to me, the real star of the day was the main meal or even the appetizer of tortellini soup my aunt’s mother would serve.

And then I married a Louisiana boy. He introduced me to pecan pie. Not “pee-can” pie as many of my fellow northerners would say it, but “puh-Kahn” pie. One of his go-tos was a recipe for lemon pecan pie that his grandmother used to make that she had gotten in a mailer from her bank years before. He wouldn’t do Thanksgiving without a pecan pie. Since I had no allegiance to Turkey Day dessert, I acquiesced and conceded to follow the directions offered, becoming both intrigued and mildly disgusted by the clear corn syrup as it plopped into the mixing bowl and enjoying the tangy sting of citrus that hit my nose coupled with the ability to take out my frustrations when grating the lemon zest.

Curious, but still wary, I cut myself a sliver of the pie after stuffing myself full of the delicious meal my husband and I had made together. After all, he had convinced me of the worth of the green bean casserole once he had been the person concocting it, perhaps he was right about this, too. I scooped up a forkful of pie and whipped cream, sniffed the syrupy sweet bite and placed it on my tongue.

Chewed.

Swallowed.

Okay. He’s not wrong. This is actually pretty damn good. Now I have a dessert I can look forward to during Thanksgiving.

I’ve since expanded my holiday options. My husband is the cook and I am the baker in the family so we assume those roles every Thanksgiving. My current go-to is a Chocolate honey-bourbon pecan pie that I make alongside the lemon one. Also, since the pie is SO sweet and it’s so hard to eat a whole piece, I’ve started making them as mini tarts in muffin tins instead. The bonus is that they’re more portable and you don’t need a fork, making the leftovers grab-and-go. I’ve even converted my other “pee-can” cautious friends to come over to the dark side.

Now, if I could just convince them to work on their pronounciation…

If you'd like to try this recipe, here's a link to one version of it!