I was too busy cooking and baking to post yesterday and I am happy to have two days during which to recover from all the festivities (and accompanying gluttony). I baked two of these pecan pies - one to take with us to our hostess and the other to remain here. I barely had a sliver of the one we took with us and haven't had any of this one (although the other household member has already had two pieces, starting last night when we got home from a non-stop banquet - go figure). Pecan pie is my favorite but I am always disappointed when I order it in a restaurant. Mine is less sweet than all the others in the world and except for Ms. Parrot's pie, it is the best I have ever had. For me, akin to Proust's madeleine; one taste and it brings back memories. Ms. Parrot was a cook and baker who cooked for a doctor. She and her sister (each of whom seemed to be 100 years old in the 1950's and 60's) lived together in a house on Hartley Street, across the street from the parking lot behind my father's store. When Ms. Parrot asked my father whether she could pay to park her car in his lot at night the answer was "of course you can park but I will not accept any money." So, periodically, Ms. Parrot would come to the store bearing gifts of her baked goods, which daddy brought home to us. Brownies. And at Thanksgiving, always a pumpkin chiffon pie and a pecan pie. Her brownies were dark and buttery and not overly sweet. Not fans of pumpkin, we nevertheless loved her chiffon pie because it was light and not overly pumpkin-y. And the pecan pie was to die for, pure and simple. As a professional baker, she refused to divulge her recipes, but I was determined to find their equals and make them myself. I have never been able to duplicate the pumpkin chiffon pie and have given up trying. But I now make brownies that are taste like hers -- and I kept trying pecan pie recipes till I found one that puts me back sitting around the table in my mother' 1950's kitchen. And I see my father's face.