Rodney said he would have Thanksgiving at his house. He said he would cook the turkey, and I could cook the sweet potato pecan pie. Ever since we went to Louisiana and ate at K-Pauls, the sweet potato pecan pie has been a staple at all of our holiday meals. However, Dad usually cooked it. He would let me buy the ingredients, and wait maybe 15 minutes before he would make the dough. As soon as the dough was done, he would start on the taters, and before you knew it we had pie!
This year, I was going to have to cook it. 'Kay.
The wheels in my head started turning. This, by the way, is usually never a good sign.
While making the sweet potato filling, my mind drifted to the cabinet above the stove, where I stored chipotle powder. Visions of that smoky flavor drifting through my mouth kept distracting me. Before I knew it, I had opened the cabinet, opened the chipotle seasoning and sprinkled in about 2 teaspoons. No one, I thought, will notice.
As I finished assembling the pie, I kept tasting the filling. Slowly I realized that my mouth was tingling.
The pie was hot!
Mom was gonna be pissed!
Anyway, I made the pie. One for Thanksgiving and one for us, since I made too much filling.
I had hoped the heat would have mellowed while the pie sat, but it didn't. The pie wasn't flaming hot, mind you. It was a heat that built and left a lingering sensation in the mouth. I warned Mom, who said the pie didn't taste anything like sweet potatoes. After that first bite, she never had another. I took the pie to work, and one of the girls said she couldn't decided if she liked it or not. She asked me if I had ever had hot pepper ice cream. I said I hadn't but I had tried Ed's Cave Creek Chili Beer and I knew what she meant.
Well, long story short, Rodney admitted the pie had a kick, but never said if he liked it. Come to think of it, I don't think I ever said if I liked it.
I guess I won't be making the pie next year.