I am straying from my general blog theme of seeds and seedsmen. But, so what! I have to follow my heart, which belongs to pumpkin pie.
THE SEASON OF PUMPKIN-PIE.
What John said was that he didn't care much for pumpkin-pie; but that was after eating a whole one. It seemed to him then that mince would be better.
The feeling of a boy toward pumpkin-pie has never been properly considered. There was an air of festivity about its approach and fall. The boy is willing to help pare and cut up the pumpkin, and he watches with the greatest interest the stirring-up process and the pouring into the scalloped crust. When the sweet savor of the baking reaches his nostrils, he is filled with the most delightful anticipations. Why should he not be? He knows that for months to come the buttery will contain golden treasures, and that it will require only a slight ingenuity to get at them.
The fact is that the boy is as good in the buttery as in any part of farming. His elders say that the boy is always hungry; but that is a very coarse way to put it. He has only recently come into a world that is full of good things to eat, and there is on the whole a very short time in which to eat them; at least he is told, among the first information that he receives, that life is short. Life being brief, and pie and the like fleeting, he very soon decides upon an active campaign.
It may be an old story to people who have been eating for forty or fifty years but it is different for a beginner. He takes the thick and the thin as it comes, as to pie for instance. Some people do make them very thin. I knew a place where they were not thicker than the poor man's plaster; they were spread so thin upon the crust that they were better fitted to draw out hunger than to satisfy it They used to be made up by the great oven-full and kept in the dry cellar, where they hardened and dried to a toughness you would hardly believe. That was a long time ago, and they make the pumpkin-pie in the country better now, or the race of boys would have been so discouraged that I think they would have stopped coming into the world. —Charles Dudley Warner.
The Chautauquan, Volume 14 -1899