Prodigal Pie

I assume that anyone who has a sibling has probably had some form of argument, tongue in cheek as it may be, over which child is Mom’s favorite.  I have two older brothers, making me the baby of the family and the only girl.  I am sure I was the most spoiled child with both my parents and also two brothers to protect me from the world.  But I have proof that I was not Mom’s favorite.  That proof is in the pudding and that pudding is in the pie, chocolate cream pie to be exact.

The proof is in the pudding is an old phrase that means something has to be experienced in order to prove how good it is and is an altered version of the original English phrase, “the proof of the pudding is in the eating.”  In this case, I mean it both figuratively and literally.

My oldest brother, eleven years my senior, went to college and got married when I was still a teen.  My other brother was eight years older than me but lived at home for a little while after he graduated high school, so we were always a little closer in time and experience.  It wasn’t until he moved away that I realized who was the favorite and developed my own interpretation of the tale of the prodigal son.  In reality, this has very little to do with the biblical definition of the prodigal son and has only to do with the killing of the fatted calf but religious studies were not a strong suit for me and I somehow made connections of my own.

My mother makes a terrific chocolate cream pie with a scratch piecrust and chocolate filling cooked on top of the stove.  It is rich and creamy and far removed from the instant pudding made from a box.  The pie was my favorite but we only seemed to get it when my brother came home for a visit, a special treat for a special son.  I looked forward to his visits for more than just family bonding.  I don’t even know if he realized that this was the only time we had chocolate cream pie.

 After I pointed out the co-incidence of the pie timing to my mother, I stopped calling it chocolate cream pie and each time my mom woudld let me know my brother was coming for a weekend I would ask if she would be making “prodigal pie.”