A confession. I don’t care for pumpkin pie. Never have.
I found myself nodding in agreement this week with a person on Twitter who wrote, “The best piece of pumpkin pie I’ve ever had was not all that much better than the worst piece I’ve ever had.” It’s a simple recipe with a pretty narrow range of outcomes, it seems.
If you love it . . . more power to you. You can have mine. But the fact that most people feel compelled to ladle copious quantities of whipped cream on every slice they consume isn’t exactly a ringing endorsement of how it tastes on its own. Just sayin’, as they say.
Pecan? Coconut Cream? Buttermilk? Chocolate? Include me in.
In fact, heading to the kitchen now for some pre-emptive eating. Why wait for hunger?
Blessings to you here at Thanksgiving. I’m grateful for the patient, long-suffering readers of this blog.
I’m with you on the pie David. The only thing worse than pumpkin is rhubarb. I have to calculate pi in my head while swallowing just to keep it moving in the right direction.
My favorite: fresh peach, served warm.