kw: musings, holidays
We managed to foist off hosting a huge Thanksgiving dinner onto a friend. There were about forty folks in attendance, about a third of them noisy youngsters and teens: most of the church and then some. Since there were plenty of turkeys and hams promised, we mainly brought pies, plus some side dishes. Our apple tree bore huge, luscious fruit in abundance this year, so those pies were especially yummy. The pumpkins I grew were another matter; they'd somehow crossbred with a cucumber (think of a smooth orange gourd the size and shape of a watermelon), so I used canned pumpkin. But I know how to make a memorable pumpkin pie even with store-bought ingredients. The secret is in the crust.
(A background note: We eat together after the Sunday meetings, and the church is very international. English is the mother tongue for only six of us. A careful listen around the room during the meal will bring to your ear at least three Chinese languages, sometimes Japanese or Korean, and until recently, Telegu (from around Hyderabad, India)...that couple has moved to Boston. Our Nigerian newlyweds could speak Ibo, but only do so with their grandparents.)
So perhaps it is no surprise that among the leftovers we had with our brunch this morning, my wife and I had pumpkin pie and sushi.