Text 26237, 67 rader
Skriven 2015-04-22 17:09:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
     Kommentar till en text av NANCY BACKUS
Ärende: secondhand 550
======================
 ML> reasons. Climbing Everest, winning the Pulitzer, having
 ML> dinner with Raquel Welch. There are even foods that I won't
 ML> ever have the opportunity to taste, but I can't think of
 ML> any offhand. Reading helps bring the impossible into one's
 ML> realm.
 NB> Quite so.

I've always liked reading; that's the only reason I like
writing.

 ML> I hope not. With luck hearing aid technology is not easily
 ML> highjackable. Otherwise think of the havoc that could be
 ML> wreaked with malicious people planting weird ideas into
 ML> people's heads by whispering into their hearing aids.
 NB> True... that could be scary.  One tends to forget that technology can
 NB> be used for both good and ill...  whichever side one does think about
 NB> first...  ;)

The easiest thing would be to make the technologies less
feature-laden and thus less highjackable. Cheapest, too.

 ML> Title: Tyler Pie
 NB> It's reminiscent of a pecan pie without the nuts... or a shoofly
 NB> pie... or maybe more just a custard...  ;)

Or just generic pie - I posted this to one Sammy Finkelman
22 years ago and reposted a year later to Burt Ford who asked
the same question "what is chess pie?"
--- begin repost ---
This southern staple is basically a very sweet custard baked in a
pie shell. I've seen recipes that call for raisins and nuts and one
that even asks for rhubarb. Lyn has run into one that includes vinegar
as an ingredient.

Musing: If vinegar or rhubarb had been an ingredient in the original,
perhaps the filling's texture might have been curdled or "cheesy," and
the name might have been a corruption of "cheese pie."

Amusing: If the ur-chess pie had been the smoothish sugar custard we now
know it as, perhaps [and this is made-up on the spot - don't hit me, please]
it might have come about as follows: One spring afternoon in the early 1820s,
Oneata had just put in the roast and had started rolling out the dough for
her famous apple custard pie. "Marcus, go down to the apple barrel and
fetch me some them apples," she shouted to one of the children who spent
their days running little errands in the kitchen and the garden. She
started breaking eggs for the custard when Marcus came to the back stoop.
"An't no apples left there, Miz Neata," he said, "peaches neither." "You
boys better be shamed of yourselves, chunking them apples at each other,"
the cook replied. She picked up a broom to take a swipe at Marcus, then
forgot her anger in her musings. Master Will would be back in an hour,
and he'd be wanting his supper. No time to have a rider go down to the
Greers' and borrow some fruit. Perhaps carrots - but no; Master Will might
not like that. Well, better think of something, fast. She opened a canister
and threw a handful of corn flour into the eggs and then stirred in a pint
of that good sorghum molasses. Better 'n nothing, she thought. She dumped
the mixture into the dough and slid the pie into the oven. Then she picked
up the broom and ran out of the cookhouse.

After supper, the planter sat picking his teeth with a pocket knife. He
stretched and called out to no one in particular, "Fetch Oneata." Shortly,
the cook appeared in the doorway. "Yes, Master Will?" Will smiled and
patted his belly. "That was a mighty fine pie you made today. What do you
call it?" "Why, Master Will, that was chess pie."
--- end repost ---
Posted by me 9/20/93 in RIME-Cuisine
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