The first time meeting my now fiancé’s family in his hometown of Green Bay, Wisconsin, was not under the greatest circumstances. His grandmother had recently been ill and we raced across the country from California to Wisconsin in my tiny Kia Forte, only stopping for gas and food. We received an incredible welcome from his family, but I still felt nervous around everyone, hoping they would like me.
On one of our first nights there, we decided to cook dinner (Daniel and I had met each other while attending culinary school). We decided to cook Spaghetti Bolognese with pasta from scratch, and sauce simmered all day. While looking through some of their family recipes that Dan’s mom keeps in a vintage tin in her cabinet I came across a hand-written recipe for pecan pie. Apparently, Daniel’s grandfather (who had passed several years before) had often made this recipe. I went to work and put together the pie that afternoon. At dinner that night his Grandmother was there and was thankfully feeling better. The meal went well and everyone complimented us on the wonderful dinner. When it was time for pie Daniel’s mother grabbed his Grandmother’s hand and said “This is Papa’s pecan pie recipe.” Everyone loved the pie and I breathed a sigh of relief.
I am forever thankful to you Mr. Fiedler for the pecan pie recipe that helped me introduce myself to your family. I wish I could have met you because I also love Christmas, pecan pie, and your grandson.