I was sitting at my sister, Kathy's, house listening to her talk and talking to her back, no, I was talking to her face. Better. We were eating triangle pieces of a very delicious, yes, it was verified by others, not just me, homemade raisin pie I made for her. The box of raisins came from someone who gave them to my husband, who really hates raisins, with these words, " We think you need to poop." That is another story. All is well on that front. Your guess. Kathy and I never really talk of things too important, unless you think politics, family, recipes, and true-life stories are important. If that is the case, then our conversations are definitely of great value. Sometimes we sit around her overflowing dining room table and talk when Jack, now fully bedridden, is sleeping, which is more often lately. Other times, we sit in the living room and talk over and around Jack. He likes to lay in bed reading his newspaper, which takes hours, and just listen. Sometimes, not so often, he chimes in with an anecdote from his past. It seems like our own private scene, but I think it is very familiar and far more prevalent across the nation than we tend to think. Back to the table and our pie. We finished our pie, which led us to talk of recipes, so Kathy pulled out the best treat of the morning. I mean that, and you, too, will see why I call it a treat.
Kathy, I am putting this nicely, is a gatherer. That is all that needs to be said. Because of that, she has a most interesting and eclectic collection of "stuff." One of the items she has gathered is a wonderful, I am sure, one-of-a-kind, collection of cookbooks from every facet of and most eras of the north, south, east, and west. It was on the morning of the raisin pie day that she remembered to share with me the most entertaining recipe I think I have ever seen. I probably wouldn't look at it that way if I had been born in the bayou, but I was not, and so I am enthralled by this recipe and feel I must share it with you. This is where I stop. I will be back after I have stopped by her house and taken a picture of it with my phone, so I can share it with you in all of its glory. To be continued...
RIP this story. The cookbook containing the recipe was misplaced. Too bad. It was such a cool recipe. I should have copied it the first time I saw it. Oh well.
