Crush of the Harvest
(Food • Garden)
“Who will help me pick up the pecans?” asked Bob the Bear one morning.
“Not me,” said Fred the Fox. “I need to find a good strong stick.”
Not me,” said Henry the Hawk. “It is too boring.”
“I might,” said Regina the Rabbit. “But first I have to swing.”
So Bob the Bear picked up pecans himself until he felt twinges in the cords of muscles running along his furry lower back. He loaded the pecans into his nice blue sack, and carried them through the woods to his cottage on the edge of the forest.
“Who will help me crack the pecans?” Bob the Bear asked the next day.
“Not me,” said Regina the Rabbit. “My best cartoons are almost on TV.”
“Not me,” said Henry the Hawk. “I am drawing a chalk picture on the driveway.”
“Not me,” said Fred the Fox. “Unless I can crack them by throwing them very high into the air to see what happens.”
So Bob the Bear emptied the blue sack full of pecans onto his patio table and cracked each one with his little wood-and-metal cracking device. Then he took all the cracked pecans and piled them to the very top of a large brown basket, which he set in the refrigerator to retard spoilage.
The next day, Bob the Bear set the basket of cracked pecans on his wooden kitchen table. “Who will help me shell the pecans?” he asked.
“Not me,” said Henry the Hawk. “I have to shoot lizards with my squirt gun right now.”
“Not me,” said Fred the Fox. “I’m too hungry, and might eat them by mistake.”
“I would,” said Regina the Rabbit. “But it hurts my paws when I pull the shells apart.”
So Bob the Bear piled the cracked pecans on the table and carefully pulled them apart, using his long claws to clean the bitter-tasting red stuff out of the grooves on the bigger pecan pieces. It seemed to take forever to pull all of the bits of nut meat from the shells in the large brown basket. But finally, just before the sun went down, Bob the Bear finished the last one.
“Who will help me eat the pecans? he asked the next morning.
“I will,” said Regina the Rabbit. “If you sprinkle some on my lettuce salad.”
“I will,” said Henry the Hawk. “I prefer mine roasted.”
“I will,” said Fred the Fox. “Just pour some into my bowl, please.”
But Bob the Bear just growled, and bumped around his kitchen gathering:
→ 6 tablespoons of softened butter
→ 1 cup of dark brown sugar
→ 3 eggs
→ 1 teaspoon of vanilla extract
→ 1/2 tsp salt
→ 3/4 cup light corn syrup
→ 2 cups of the pecan pieces
→ 2 unbaked 9-inch pie shells, and
→ 2 tablespoons of Russel’s Reserve Kentucky Bourbon, which he kept around only for very special occasions such as this.
Then Bob the Bear blended everything together in a bowl except for the pecans, adding the eggs one at a time and using an electric mixer that Aunt Polly the mouse lady had purchased for him on this 30th birthday. He rolled out one pie shell and used it to line the bottom of his favorite blue glass pie plate. Then he spread half of the pecans along the bottom of the pie. Then the old bear stirred the rest of the pecans into the pie filling, and poured all of it on top of the layer of pecans in the pie shell. Then he rolled out the other pie shell, cut some of it into strips and laid the pieces criss-cross over the top of the pie.
Then he popped the pie into a 350-degree oven for almost an hour, until the edges of the pie crust started to turn a golden brown.
After the pie was done baking and had cooled a bit, Bob the Bear cut three small pieces, one each for Fred the Fox, Henry the Hawk and Regina and Rabbit. He also cut a very large piece for himself. But he gave his friends a second piece once they stopped their grumbling.
→ B.Dunn, Oct 25, 2009, 11 36 am
