More importantly, October brings around my sweetie's birthday, my dad's birthday, my third grandmother's birthday (she's honorary), and Halloween. I'm going to be a pirate this year and my costume is delightfully slutty. What's Halloween for, anyway? (Note: I know what it's for. Let me have this one).
Anyway, in celebration of my dad, I asked him if he would teach me how to make his signature pumpkin pie. See, my mom is usually the primary chef, but there are two occasions when my dad takes over the kitchen: 1) to cut pineapples, and 2) to make pumpkin pie. He gladly set aside some time on Saturday afternoon to make one with me. We ended up making two, the only differences being that he pressed the crust on one and I did the other. It took A LOT longer than I anticipated--not that I minded--because we worked from scratch, meaning we took two whole pumpkins, sliced them up, scraped out the seeds and steamed them for an hour to make the puree.
I would readily give the recipe, as it turned out delicious, but in the process of making this pie I learned that it was not really mine to give. This recipe is not just my dad's; it belongs to both my parents. They have tweaked the traditional recipe (hint: the crust is very low cholesterol)and improved it and have used it for years, and it is always a hit. Only my parents make this pie. And now, so do I.
This just reaffirmed my belief that my family is the best family in the world, and that my parents' marriage is exemplary, for lack of a better word (perfect? enviable? unique? happy? functional?). Why? Because this is not just my mother's recipe, handed down from her mother in a traditionalist fashion. This is not a store-bought pie, lacking in love, time, and teamwork. This is not just any old pie out of any old cookbook. My parents created this together, lovingly, happily, through many years of steadfast commitment. They created a pie that they both loved (and apparently lowered their cholesterol intakes by doing it), regardless of what "grandma's recipe" called for(although don't tell my grandmas I said this!). They worked together to create a recipe that worked and produced delicious results, and have used it ever since. My parents are a perfect team.
What is this all a metaphor for? If it isn't already obvious: their marriage and our family. My parents are self-sufficient, open, caring, and though they come from drastically different backgrounds, their core values are the same. They built our family from the ground up through hard work and teamwork and an unconditional love for each other. They created an ideal recipe and constantly make improvements to it, which in my opinion is the perfect recipe--one that is delicious, but always open to betterment. Someday, hopefully, I'll follow in their footsteps and make my own.
And there is my delicious pie. Or rather, my parents' delicious pie. Or maybe--our family's delicious pie.
As we were laying down the crust, the trickiest part, my dad told me: you won't get it right the first time. I messed up plenty of times when I first made it, and had to start all over. But with practice, you'll get it. I like to think he was talking about something bigger than pie.
Happy October, everyone. I love my family. ♥
No comments:
Post a Comment