We've been picking up pecans. I don't know if it qualifies as a "bumper crop," but today I had to go get a hat because I kept getting plunked on the head while I was gathering them. Last year we had lots, but half of them turned out to be rotten. My guess is that since nobody had been picking up the pecans for several years, there were bunches of old ones on the ground, and it's impossible to tell which is which when you're gathering. We cracked a bunch to see, and so far almost no rotten ones.
It's amazing--lots of food just drops on the ground. We don't do anything to cultivate it except pick it up. Well, okay, then we haul the nuts to the cracking machine place, stand in line and pay the fella for the cracking service, haul them home, then spend inordinate amounts of time picking the nuts out of the shells. But then there's pie, and cookies, and pan-roasted nuts with butter, and more pie, and bags of presents for people, and pralines, and seasoned roasted nuts for salad, pecan bread, and more pie, and whatever we can get out of John Folse's wonderful book. And more pie.
The former occupant of Grey Gardens LA was Mrs. Chaudoir who taught home economics, among other things. Her daughter and our neighbor, Cindy, gave us her pecan pie recipe. I like it because there's none of that dreadful gooey Karo syrup in it--it's not so sweet. I will post the recipe if I can pry it out of Gary.
Tomorrow is Sugarfest at the West Baton Rouge Parish Museum. As he has done ever since I've known him, Gary will be doing smithing demonstrations. I love this little festival. It's as sweet as its name. Some bittersweet too: Mr. Sedotal who used to come every year and who made Gary's pirogue is gone, and Mr. Tippit the broommaker is gone too. I have one of his brooms on the porch and another for inside. I almost hate to use them, since I'll never be able to replace them, and they are the best brooms. And the two gentlemen who used to boil the syrup down, "Cajun Gold"; I never knew their names but loved to watch them argue in a friendly way. They're gone, too.
Meanwhile, we have been named "Countrypolitan" in this month's "Country Roads."
I'm not exactly sure what "countrypolitan" means, but we think maybe "eccentric" and living in an old house with pecans raining down. At any rate we are slightly mystified yet deeply flattered by this word and intend to use it often to describe ourselves.
