Abby and I spent many summers in southern Indiana, aka Hillbilly Heaven. One of our relatives, actually a second cousin by marriage, twice removed, on our grandmother’s uncle’s brother’s cousin’s side, made a special dessert called persimmon pudding. Most people in the civilized world have never heard of this tasty dish. We only had it when we were in the south.
The saving grace for this pudding was all the sugar. You know if you add enough sugar to almost any ingredient, you can get it to taste good.
Ina Mae would serve this delectable treat with whipped cream on top which made it taste even better. She would ask in her southern drawl:
Who all would like some persimmon puddin’?
Abby and I were first in line since we were actually guests and didn’t want to appear rude. Truth be told, we wanted to make sure there was enough for us and if the rest of the guests were at the end of the line, and lost out, well too bad! Persimmon pudding tasted so good to us for a variety of reasons. Mainly it tasted so good because dessert was not served at our home.
Mother was too tired, lazy, disinterested, drunk, disorganized or any number of other excuses to ever bake or make some delicious, sugary treats. Besides, she would always say she was on some sort of diet and sugar was not allowed. Thus, if she could not have it, no one would!
Several years after I was married, I received a very drippy and rancid smelling package from Mother. Lo and behold, she had found a woman (a hillbilly) who sold the persimmon pulp and Mother bought several pounds. Apparently it was frozen when it began the journey to my home. To say it did not travel well would be an understatement. I thought there might be a little dead varmint in the package due to the horrific smell emanating from the package!
I would not have been surprised to have Mother send a dead squirrel through the mail for me to fry up. Instead, it turned out to be persimmon pudding pulp that had thawed and began to rot. I am surprised the post office didn’t fine me for ruining the rest of the mail that day!
Mother inquired about the special package and when I asked her to never send any more food products to me through the mail, of course, she took offense.
You and Abby are such snobs! I try to do something nice for one of you and you both make such a big deal out of a little problem! It certainly wasn’t my fault that the post office took its own sweet time to get it to you!
Once again, Mother accepted no blame for a disastrous event. She’s just lucky the post office doesn’t hold grudges!