Monday, November 07, 2005

Do you hear that noise?

It's the sound of me getting fatter.

I've made a very dangerous discovery: I actually like the pies from the HEB bakery. I mean, I really like them. You know, the ones that call your name every time you're innocently trying to walk past them to get to the produce? Well, they've recently claimed another victim.

I grew up with a mother that puts Marie Callendar's pies to shame. I never liked store-bought "imposter" pies, and I even turned my nose up at most other homemade pies, since people rarely make their crusts from scratch these days. I should've left well-enough alone; it would've been better for my figure.

Now, I've found that Mr. Butt makes a mean Lemon Meringue, as well as an addictive Chocolate Meringue. I'll console myself with the fact that these are two types of pies that neither my mother nor I would try to make at home...meringue is not worth the hassle, and it's hard to get it right. So I suppose I can justify needing to buy these from an outside source, right?

For the time being, I'll still be turning up my nose at their apple, cherry, peach, pumpkin....

10 comments:

Grandfather said...

Heh...not for nothing was he always known as Mr. Butt.

Personally, I don't fancy HEB's pastry section; but there is a place here in Laredo called Pano's Bakery... Mr. Pano's creations will just knock your hat in the creek (as they say here on the ranch). Mr. Pano does things to pastry that render them...well, sinful.

I find myself repenting every time I turn round...I know that noise of which you speak, child; the din is killing me! And this, just weeks from Thanksgiving feasting!

I shouldn't wonder if I can't make space on the board for myself, very much in the manner of old Mr. Butt, alas.

Grandfather said...

I notice you've not mentioned Mom's "apple cherry triple-berry" pie, with the cranberries, raspberries, and blueberries added to the apples and cherries. For the split second that the Blue Bell vanilla scoop remains perched on its warm roost atop the generous slice of that bit of heaven...the world is perfect indeed.

There are few who can culinate like your mother. Very few.

Jer said...

Could she be called one of the original culinizers of our land?

Jer said...

If she could do something in the way of a mincemeat pie with rodentia...something on the line of a 'mousemeat pie', perhaps?

Oh, meowzer!

Kim C. said...

The girls and I figured out how butter got its name:
"er" is the comparative form of a word, meaning "more".
bigger = more big
happier = more happy

You're with me so far?

so...
you have a butt.
you eat butter.
now you have more butt

Jer said...

Hey Kim,

I am a cat. I'm not as smart as people (according to some people) but you didn't have to carry the whole thing out. At, "you are with me so far", I got it. Butt-er!

OK, so if I see a retriever that is lavend-colored...if he's the MOST lavend-colored dog I ever saw, would he be a Lavender Retriever?

What is this that I'm preening on my face? Oh! It's a whisker! Very whisk...oh, so whisk, whisker!!

So you see the theory doesn't work. Or did I draw this out too far? (We do that, we cats; we draw stuff out. Which reminds me, there's a certain hole over in the baseboard that I really should go inspect...)

Signed,
Jer (the beautiful yellow cat, not the horrid black-and-white one)

Rej the Garage Mouse said...

Yeah, mister Butterball...YOU can't draw ANYthing out! You haven't had much success with ME, mister big-shot, Mister BUTTER! Nanny-Nanny Boo Boo!

Jer said...

Next time they open that garage door, BAM! You're history, rat.

Rej the Garage Mouse said...

In your dreams, fur-ball. Hey guys, do you hear that noise? It's the sound of Jer getting fatter! HA!

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