My mother had a special dessert for each of her eleven children's birthdays. So every year we would look forward to particular birthdays when we would be sure to savor certain of her specialties. On October 23, there would be coconut cake for Ciro; October 28 brought butterscotch pie in celebration of Elena. For my birthday, it was a dense chocolate walnut brownie topped with a scoop of coffee ice cream, her homemade fudge sauce (which is the real star here) and whipped cream.
Two of my five brothers were born in July, a day and several years apart. Mom always made the same birthday pies on July 26 & 27, at least two of each. We would always debate which one was better. Yes, they were different, but not nearly so different as to encourage yearly heated debates over whether a Chocolate Cream Pie with Fresh Whipped Cream slathered on top was better than a plain Chocolate Cream Pie alone with no further adornment required.
Believe me, in my family, these heated debates drew virtual lines down the dinner table (and through the pies!) There were the purists amongst us, those who valued precision and simplicity, and then there were our embellishers who liked to add on and laugh without reserve.
My mom's Chocolate Cream Pie was the best. It was the highlight of those hot July nights in Rhode Island, with all the windows open, sheer linen curtains billowing with the faint breeze, lights dimmed to reduce the heat and welcome the birthday pies loaded with birthday candles. My family was always big on belting out a lively chorus of an off-key happy birthday, as the pies with their bright flames were placed in front of my brothers. Neither would take but a moment to blow out the candles because pie was at hand. On this, there was never a dispute. Let's get to it!
My mother did not make her pudding from scratch, but rather relied on a very expensive and delicious pudding mix from Droste's, an European company that was family-owned until fairly recently. Mom always used Droste's cocoa to make hot chocolate for us in the winter, of course. But in the summer, she would search for the Droste's chocolate pudding mix; they were hard to find even then, this Dutch imported chocolate pudding mix. I can still remember the red boxes they came in. There was a store up on Hope Street near Rochambeau Avenue called Miller's. They usually stocked it, as they were a sort of gourmet shop, "Miller's International Specialties" was on the sign outside. It was really a fine Jewish deli, sort of like Zabar's in New York. They had a smoked fish counter, some other deli things, pastrami, pickles. These things looked so exotic to me, as we'd walk past them to the packaged foods. Fancy jams, sardines in olive oil, capers, all sorts of cans and jars and boxes filled with all sorts of thing, hearts of palms! What is that? As a young girl who was taught not to ask many questions, I was always happily bewildered when I got to go with my father to Miller's. (I was also usually guaranteed a fancy lollipop or a cherished Perugina chocolate bar if I was very very good, which of course I always tried to be!)
I loved watching my mother make the pudding using a big double boiler. She would stir it slowly and patiently with a long wooden spoon while standing by the stove in her high heels and silk stockings. It seemed to take forever to me because I was waiting for that spoon she was stirring with. That spoon was mine before it hit the sink or one of my other siblings would run in and snag it! The spoon was the best, coated with warm thick chocolate. My sister Barbara could have the bowl, the spoon was for me!
By the time she had made the pudding, her pie shells were always nicely cooled and sitting by the windowsill just waiting to be filled. She'd make four pies at once. Two and two. Two with the whipped cream I'd help her beat and two plain. The plain ones would always have that thin "skin" that happens to pudding if you don't cover its surface directly. That was part of the attraction of the plain one, I think, or perhaps just a need to be different somehow.
However it's sliced, embellished or not, I cannot resist a good Chocolate Cream Pie! And there is something quite wonderful to be said about Birthday Pie ... or perhaps Birthday Pies. Really, why just have one?
Two of my five brothers were born in July, a day and several years apart. Mom always made the same birthday pies on July 26 & 27, at least two of each. We would always debate which one was better. Yes, they were different, but not nearly so different as to encourage yearly heated debates over whether a Chocolate Cream Pie with Fresh Whipped Cream slathered on top was better than a plain Chocolate Cream Pie alone with no further adornment required.
Believe me, in my family, these heated debates drew virtual lines down the dinner table (and through the pies!) There were the purists amongst us, those who valued precision and simplicity, and then there were our embellishers who liked to add on and laugh without reserve.
My mom's Chocolate Cream Pie was the best. It was the highlight of those hot July nights in Rhode Island, with all the windows open, sheer linen curtains billowing with the faint breeze, lights dimmed to reduce the heat and welcome the birthday pies loaded with birthday candles. My family was always big on belting out a lively chorus of an off-key happy birthday, as the pies with their bright flames were placed in front of my brothers. Neither would take but a moment to blow out the candles because pie was at hand. On this, there was never a dispute. Let's get to it!
My mother did not make her pudding from scratch, but rather relied on a very expensive and delicious pudding mix from Droste's, an European company that was family-owned until fairly recently. Mom always used Droste's cocoa to make hot chocolate for us in the winter, of course. But in the summer, she would search for the Droste's chocolate pudding mix; they were hard to find even then, this Dutch imported chocolate pudding mix. I can still remember the red boxes they came in. There was a store up on Hope Street near Rochambeau Avenue called Miller's. They usually stocked it, as they were a sort of gourmet shop, "Miller's International Specialties" was on the sign outside. It was really a fine Jewish deli, sort of like Zabar's in New York. They had a smoked fish counter, some other deli things, pastrami, pickles. These things looked so exotic to me, as we'd walk past them to the packaged foods. Fancy jams, sardines in olive oil, capers, all sorts of cans and jars and boxes filled with all sorts of thing, hearts of palms! What is that? As a young girl who was taught not to ask many questions, I was always happily bewildered when I got to go with my father to Miller's. (I was also usually guaranteed a fancy lollipop or a cherished Perugina chocolate bar if I was very very good, which of course I always tried to be!)
I loved watching my mother make the pudding using a big double boiler. She would stir it slowly and patiently with a long wooden spoon while standing by the stove in her high heels and silk stockings. It seemed to take forever to me because I was waiting for that spoon she was stirring with. That spoon was mine before it hit the sink or one of my other siblings would run in and snag it! The spoon was the best, coated with warm thick chocolate. My sister Barbara could have the bowl, the spoon was for me!
By the time she had made the pudding, her pie shells were always nicely cooled and sitting by the windowsill just waiting to be filled. She'd make four pies at once. Two and two. Two with the whipped cream I'd help her beat and two plain. The plain ones would always have that thin "skin" that happens to pudding if you don't cover its surface directly. That was part of the attraction of the plain one, I think, or perhaps just a need to be different somehow.
However it's sliced, embellished or not, I cannot resist a good Chocolate Cream Pie! And there is something quite wonderful to be said about Birthday Pie ... or perhaps Birthday Pies. Really, why just have one?
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