A Motley Crew and a Terrifying Tale

These are our Thanksgiving pies, a sad display, I know. We were a sight to behold, Moose strumming on the guitar, Boss Moss teasing Nutmeg, Commander C stirring the lemon Pudding at the stove, Boba Fett stirring the pecan pie, Grandma Whitehouse making the meringue and Samurai Mom getting ingredients for two pies at once. Mom put the crusts in the pans so they looked much nicer than when I do it and I thought that was an auspicious start. But alas it was not to be.
The pumpkin had this funny bubble in it that split and then sunk, the lemon meringue has questionable pudding and a flat split meringue. And the Chocolate pecan, well it boiled over in the oven making the pie look very sad indeed and in smoking up the kitchen right now and the corn syrup burn on the bottom of the oven as the turkey roasts.

Let us hope that they taste good and that the smoke alarm does not go off.

Before I tell the terrifying tale I will mention that I made a Chocolate Pecan for the ward pie contest this year and I was robbed. First, I looked at my pie after the judging and there is NO WAY 3 judges tasted the pie, there was a half teaspoon sized bite taken out, that is all. Secondly, the judges were all men and the winners were all fruit pies, obviously they were not qualified to judge a chocolate pie. I had sufficient praise from others however. Now, on to my tale.

It was Thanksgiving 1997, London.
Our abroad program was an American school, with American students and British instructors.
Happily, the director of the program arranged a Thanksgiving day feast at a small French restaurant. We all convened and while the dinner was not quite a traditional feast the basics were there and it was acceptable. Then it was time for desert. The servers went around the room taking orders apple or pumpkin pie. Some ordered the apple but most drooled at the prospect of some pumpkin pie and ordered that in their southern drawl (most of the girls at Hollins abroad were from the south.) The instructors did likewise on our recommendation. The pies arrived and those who had ordered pumpkin were a bit perplexed. The pumpkin was not a custard pie but a pie like an apple pie, with little slices of pumpkin in a syrupy filling! I am not joking people! We were appalled but tasted the pie with trepidation followed by disappointment, it was gross. No rich velvety delight for us. We vehemently declared to our British Instructors that THIS was not pumpkin pie and tried to explain it though none of us knew enough about baking one to do it accurately.
Ironic that in England we could not get a custard pie.

(Proof I was there at the infamous Thanksgiving feast, I have no idea who these people are, but the woman in the center was our Shakespeare instructor and the man sitting was her partner. I thought that was SO shocking and metropolitan.)