Pumpkin pie in Mexico…

My family lived in Mexico for awhile when I was a teenager. My dad bought an old grayhound bus, ripped all the seats out and hand made table and bench built-ins. It was epic. People use the word epic alot, but in this paticular case, it was. Before we went to Mexico my dad drove us all to Tennessee to his hometown. That was epic too. It was the first time I saw a firefly. And chiggers.
Its easy to get off track with these kinds of stories, but back to Mexico. So when Thanksgiving rolled around in our new, hot, sticky casa, we were so homesick and depressed. We were all the way down in the Yucatan and let me tell you something, they have NO pumpkins down there. Or turkey. Well, you could probably sell a child and find a pretty decent turkey. Even though there were 9 of us girls and 1 very annoying little brother, we knew we would not be forgiven if we sold our family’s only male heir. So we bought a scrawny little chicken. My older sister bought some green little gourd/squash looking things to try to make a pumpkin pie. I didn’t even want to TRY it. I knew it wouldn’t even begin to touch the wonderfulness of a pumpkin pie back in our “real” home. But hunger will make you do crazy things. I tried it. Bless her soul, she made it taste like home in that green, humid, foreign jungle. Ever since then I have appreciated pumpkin pie like a fat kid loves cake….and everything else. I love pumpkin pie and everything it stands for. Thanksgiving is coming y’all…….

Photos from Tumbler