Does anyone else believe that pecan pies are magic? The first time I baked one, many years ago, I mixed all the ingredients and wondered if I was supposed to arrange a layer of pecans on top. The recipe said to stir them in, but all the pecan pies I’d ever had featured a lovely layer of pecans sitting atop the ooey goodness of the pie filling.
In spite of my misgivings I followed the recipe and didn’t add the extra pecans. Lo and behold, those wonderful nuts rose to the occasion and my first pecan pie was as perfect looking as any I’d ever seen.
Over the years I’ve baked a few pecan pies that weren’t perfect–usually because Studly Doright was supervising and he believes in baking them until they surrender to the heat, shrinking the filling and rendering it almost leather-like in texture.
The trick is always to cook them when he’s otherwise occupied. Tonight I have him running hither and yon on meaningless errands. Oh, and to have a glass of wine or two during the baking process. Then, even if it doesn’t turn out picture perfect, I don’t really care.
Peace, and happy Thanksgiving, people! I’m so thankful for you all!
Update: This pie turned out beautifully; however, Studly found its hiding place and helped himself to a generous slice on Wednesday evening. Sigh.