Saturday night right after Shabbat ended I made two pies. Both were pumpkin pies. Because I don't want to kill my nut-allergic son, I made a plain pumpkin pie. That pie is now cut up and in our freezer. My son in law's late mother used to bake pumpkin pie topped with lots of pecans. Her family called it a pecan pumpkin pie. My son in laws' mother is no longer alive but perhaps eating something that reminds him of home will be a comfort to him. besides, pecans make pumpkin pie extra delicious. As I laid out all of the pecans I kept thinking about S, one of our virtual guests who is a really spectacular baker. I kept thinking that she would have figured out a prettier way to arrange all of the pecans. Both pies are now all cut up and wrapped and in our freezer. Each year as I make pumpkin pie I think about my late inlaws. Every year before Thanksgiving they would declare "We don't like pumpkin. We don't like pumpkin pie." Every year they would take a slice...
A blog, mostly about my work making Jewish ritual objects, but with detours into garment making, living in New York City, cooking, and other aspects of domestic life. A note about comments: I love comments from readers, from spammers, not so much. I approve comments before posting them so comments are not cluttered with junk. It may take a few hours before your posts appear. Be patient. If you are a real person with a real comment it will be posted.