Chocolate Fried Pies

I didn't get to visit my little granny very often but when I did, time seemed to move backward. The name of her town was Paris and it may as well have been in France. The culture was exotic and the pastries were out of this world.

My great grandmother wore an old apron as she rolled out the dough for her chocolate fried pies. How did she do it? Was it magic? What was her secret? And how had she been doing it for more than 70 years? My mother and grandmother helped her with everything, but it was my little granny that was without question the master chef.

If only I could have realized how truly blessed I was in getting to enjoy the labors of three generations of home cooking. The experience was so good that it is indelibly etched into my psyche. “Get out of the kitchen or we will put you to work”. As a boy that scared me, but if I had to do it all over again I would gladly take them up on the offer.

Supper was simply a stepping stone we got to enjoy as we journeyed to the land of chocolate fried pies. The day slowly drifted by until my watch said 4, but my stomach screamed 5. The aroma that filled that old wooden house was punishingly delicious. I loved my little granny and I loved to smell those fried pies but I sometimes wondered if she would finish cooking while we were still alive.

“Supper’s ready”, someone announced and I don’t ever remember it being announced twice. While I crafted my mashed potatoes and counted my beans, my mind drifted back to a day when butter was churned and people used cream. I look back now and it all seems like a vapor of steam.

Golden brown with the sporadic dark spot, the crust was different than anything I have ever seen in a store. Oddly half mooned, the best part was hidden within. As soon as you bit into that chocolate center you knew this was no ordinary treat. Darker than milk but lighter than dark it was the perfect chocolate middle ground.

To try and describe the marvelous taste of theses little wonders would be like trying to describe the beauty of the Texas night sky. My little granny will never be forgotten. She may not be listed in any history books but that’s only because history wants to keep her fried pies all for itself.