by Jackie
King
Thanksgiving is the perfect time for reminiscing and for remembering
family stories. These generational memories are often centered around cooking
and good food, and these special tales of family history should be treasured
and never forgotten.
Here is a yarn spun for the pleasure of all gathered at a festive Thanksgiving
meal celebrating God’s abundance and goodness. Such true stories cry out to be
told and retold.
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| June Butts with Sofia her Great Granddaugter |
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| June Butts with her grandson, Jamie Horn |
Memories of Papa Peeling Pecans for
the Grandkids
“We called our grandfather, Papa,”
June Butts, now a great grandmother herself, said. “Back in those days
different generations of the family lived in the same house, and it was
wonderful to grow up with an older person who had the time to tell stories and
to teach us kids about the generations past. I think maybe that’s one reason
why families were closer back then.”
The comely woman smiled and the
faraway look that came into her blue eyes told me she had transported herself
back to South Texas and a simpler life sometime in the 1950’s.
“We had a pecan tree and Papa peeled
pecans for the kids. We’d sit in a circle at his feet, listen to his tales, and
eat the perfectly shelled and halved nuts as he passed them around.”
“Peeled pecans?” I asked, trying to
imagine how such a feat might be possible. “How could he peel pecans?”
It was Thanksgiving Day and I had
been invited to join June’s family for a traditional dinner of turkey, dressing
and all of the trimmings. We were sitting around the table drinking coffee and
savoring that mellow sated satisfaction that fills a group of friends during
happy times.
“With his pocket knife,” June said.
“His pocket knife?” I asked. “You’re
kidding.”
“I’m not!” June’s robust laugh was
typical of a woman who was Texas born and bred. “He peeled those pecans just
the same way you’d peel an orange. He’d slice off the top and the bottom, cut
slits around the nuts and then just peel off the hulls. Those pecans came out
in perfect halves and he’d hand them to us kids.”
“That must have been one sharp
knife,” I said, wondering how he kept from cutting off his fingers.
“That it was,” June said. “And he
could peel those nuts really fast. Sometimes he’d peel enough for Mama to make
us some pies.” She sighed with remembered pleasure. “Mmm—mmm—mmm, those pies
were good! We never had much money, but we had happy times, anyway. God was
always good to my family.”
“I’ll bet you learned to cook from
your own mother,” I said.
“Sure did. Mama and Daddy had eleven
kids, and I was helping stir up dinner as soon as I could hold a spoon and
stand on a stool to reach the table.”
It happened that we were drinking
Texas Pecan flavored coffee. I took a sip of the hot brew and savored the rich
flavor. Pecans, family and holidays equal
pure pleasure, I thought. Everyone sitting at the table owned their own
cell phones and computers, but some things never change. The memory of “peeled
pecans,” outranked any of the electronic pleasures available to the diners.
Only the delicious food that we
shared stayed the same.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Loretta Carson’s Pecan Pie
1
Scant cup sugar
1
cup dark Karo Syrup
3
eggs
3
Tablespoons melted butter or margarine
Pinch
salt
1
teaspoon vanilla
1
cup pecans
Beat eggs and sugar until
blended. Add Karo syrup and mix well, then add melted butter, salt, vanilla and
pecans. Mix well and pour into 9 inch unbaked pie crust. Bake at 400 degrees
for 8 minutes. Turn heat down to 325 degrees and bake for 35 minutes. (Center
will be set.)
Happy Thanksgiving to All
