Pie for breakfast

In Vermont, a Yankee is someone who eats pie for breakfast--EB White

Thanksgiving is a great holiday. There are no presents to buy, no decorations to dig out of the attic, and no need to answer the December-long question from well-meaning folks, "Are you ready yet?" While there can be great production values in a Thanksgiving operation, you can also lie around all day in your PJs or go out to dinner (if you can find an open restaurant) without it seeming to be a major federal crime. Of course, having lots of food, especially pie, makes it seem more festive.

But the really festive part of Thanksgiving is the aftermath. And I'm not talking about the shopping spree that retailers want you to undertake. I'm talking about leftovers. They start with pie on Friday morning. I make Thanksgiving pies with Friday morning in mind. The best pies for Friday morning breakfast are fruit pies, although anything will do in a pinch. As a pie-crust challenged cook (I don't use Crisco, so I'm doomed to failure), I focus on the fillings and take perverse pride in the very "home-made" look of the crusts. Today I had apple pie. The crust had kind of fallen apart, making the concoction into a kind of apple crumble. It was very good, going well with the French Roast coffee OLGS had made. If there's any left tomorrow, which I doubt, I'll have the blueberry.

And I've already blown my goal of gaining no weight during the holidays--I was going to just drink coffee all day today, with maybe a little side order of carrot sticks.