
My mother’s recipe for banana pudding involves instant pudding mix and Kool-Whip. My husband thinks that it’s best when cooked with meringue. Today was my first attempt making it the old school way. Turned out pretty tasty.

My mother’s recipe for banana pudding involves instant pudding mix and Kool-Whip. My husband thinks that it’s best when cooked with meringue. Today was my first attempt making it the old school way. Turned out pretty tasty.
My pie will be strawberry. But, it will not have a heart because I’m not putting a crust on top. And I didn’t save out berries to make a shape.
This pie is 44 years in the making.
When I was a sweet, young thing in Florence, South Carolina, I was a frequenter of the Venus Pancake House. It was open 24 hours a day, only closed on “significant holidays” like Xmas, New Year’s and, maybe, Thanksgiving. It was owned by a couple of Greek men. I was never sure what their relationship was. I don’t think they were brothers because they looked nothing alike. Maybe brothers-in-law. Maybe just friends. Pretty sure they weren’t sweethearts.
They had a $2.50 lunch special that was a meat and 2 with bread and your drink. I often got fried fish, double cole slaw, corn bread and unsweetened tea. When the little theater crowd went in after rehearsal, I got pancakes, eggs over medium, bacon and enough coffee to float me home.
Every once in a while, Steve would make a strawberry pie. I LOVED that pie. And, of course, he wouldn’t give me the recipe. He preferred to sell me slices. When he got around to making it.
Decades later, a beekeeper brought a variation to a potluck. Her’s was blueberry and she shared the recipe. I have made it several times with blueberries and it is absolutely delicious. But, I keep forgetting to make pie when I have strawberries at hand.
Today, my loving husband brought home fresh, local, pesticide-free, ripe-from-the-garden strawberries.
And I am making a pie.
My father was the only coffee drinker in our house until the summer I worked at a sleep-away camp and began drinking heavily sugared cafe au lait. My dad was delighted to finally have someone to share his love of coffee with. I needed to drop 15 lbs to fit into my mother’s wedding dress 4 years later and took out the sugar. It tasted wrong that way so I took out the milk, too.
My maternal grandmother drank it black, too. And so hot that she said she would drink it straight from the spout of the percolator if it wouldn’t burn her lips.
Sometime in my early 20s, my dad discovered Community Kitchens coffee. I expect it was when he was actually in Louisiana. He started ordering it by mail and they had a starter pack in the catalogue they sent him. It was a grinder with 3 different roasts of the same beans. So, you could taste the difference the roast makes. This was the early ’80s, so Starbucks hadn’t taken off yet and the only coffee most people ever had was from their kitchen or whatever drip was available at a restaurant or gas station.
I gave that coffee starter set to a couple of friends for wedding presents. Then, CK quit selling it. I guess they figured enough people had had opportunity to try it.
I did their subscription service for a while. We got 1 pound each of beans from 2 different locations each month. Pop thought that was fun, too.
One year I got him a pound of Jamaican Blue Mountain beans for Xmas. He broke out the silver coffee service and the good china for that. My mother rolled her eyes but we thought it was fun.
The first time I went into a coffee shop in Charleston, SC I was overwhelmed by the espresso options and asked for just black coffee. She gave me French roast. It was amazing.
My sister left me a couple of Meyer lemons when they visited 2 weeks ago. A friend had given her several and she brought 2 thinking we might use them for cocktails and then forgot they were in her cooler until she was leaving. I used one of them for a chess pie and it is fantastic. It’s the first time I’ve ever had a Meyer lemon. So, I had no clue that they are actually different from a regular lemon. I’ve known a couple of people who have kept them in pots. But, they have never shared the fruit with me.
After tasting the pie and discovering how different the flavor is, I looked them up and learned that they are not, in fact, lemons. They are thousands years old Chinese hybrids of citron, mandarin and pomelo brought to the US in 1908 by a man named Frank Meyer.
They do taste citrus-y and there is a floral note that I find delightful. But, not exactly lemon. More similar to lemon than anything else, though.
I’m going to make lemon bars with the other one and take them to work this weekend. Chuck is begging me not to leave them here. He says he has no control over his sweet tooth and my baking is a trial for him.
I would be tempted to grow one. But, it would have to stay inside through the winter and I am cautious about adding another plant that has to have floor space in the house. They can thrive outside in zones 8-11. But, we’re still a 7b. 8a is creeping up on us with climate change. But, it isn’t here yet. Additionally, they grow to 8′-10′ and moving that in and out would be a real pain in the back.
I have 3 kinds of blue cheese in my fridge. I got Roquefort, Gorgonzola and Stilton at Trader Joe’s to see if I can tell them apart and/or care about the differences.
So, of course, Chuck prefers one and I prefer another.
I really only have a preference when I’m eating them at the same time. Individually, I like them all.