I cook for my family just about every day, but I do not like to bake and I don’t do desserts. I didn’t say I couldn’t, I said I don’t. However, I do make sweet potato pies, once a year on Thanksgiving. But for whatever reason my momma made a special request for her February birthday for a sweet potato pie. Since she doesn’t ask for much, I decided to get my mind right and make an exception.
In the past, I have always taken my time with my pies. I mean you can’t over cook the sweet potatoes, you need to whip and mash them just right and mix until all your ingredients are equally distributed. Well with two babies and a request in the middle of the week for pie, there was only one way to get this job done. So I made it a family affair.
Now, Morgan helps in the kitchen all the time. She has several aprons, chef hats and gloves. She knows the rules about sharp utensils and heat. But I forgot that my now 18-month old son wants to do everything his sister does. It started when Morgan was blending the sweet potatoes. The noise of the blender got his attention and he politely pulled up a chair, stood up in it and watched her hit the button. And every time it would stop, he would cheer “yeah sissy” and clap loudly. Must be nice to get such accolades just for hitting a button.
Next, it was time to mix the ingredients and Baby G insisted on being apart of the action. So I tied a too big apron around him and gave him a spoon and let them duke it out for space in the bowl. After a few pushes and spoon fights, they worked it out and true mixing began. It was at that moment that I stepped back to admire my work. No, not the pies, my babies. Just a few years ago there were no babies and now here were two in my kitchen, with my recipe, making my momma a pie. My, my, my life has changed.
But the real fun at least for my son was licking the pie-filling residue from the bowl. He was like a kid in a candy jar. It was everywhere, all over his face. Now, for whatever reason, you can’t make just one pie, so we made two. We gave grandma one and we kept one.
By the time it cooled and I cut a sliver for them to try, Garrett looked at me and said clear as a bell “pie is good.” And he wasn’t lying, I don’t know if it was the special kid sugar they both added or the love they put into it, but it was one of the best pies I’ve had in a long time.
So, as usual I am stuck contemplating one of my erroneous rules…maybe pies are not just for Thanksgiving, something this good can’t wait until November.