pretzel crust french silk pie + thankfulness
When I was five years old grief came heavy like rain on my family in the form of my brothers death. I know that this is a strange way to begin a blog post about french silk pie but it all comes together somehow- I think. The day before he died my sister and I were feeling a little too cool to play with our little brother. We locked him out of our bedroom while he sat outside the door in his cartoon diaper and oversized t-shirt. The sound of little fists on the hollow white door.
That moment shot white hot pain through my heart in the hours, days, months, after his death and if I am completely honest – it still does. I would give anything to be that five year old again, open up the door, scoop him up in my little arms, hug him and tell him how much he is missed and how sorry I was we didn’t appreciate every single second he was here. Obviously, thats a joy that eternity has reserved and thats okay because the pain of that regret taught me something I am realizing sometimes only that level of pain can teach. Thankfulness. Not only for the shining souls around me but for the way the sun is slanting through my blinds and the taste of my coffee and the sound of laughter seeping in from the living room. Thankfulness abounds if you can learn to look for it.
Not long after my brothers death there was a phrase that I heard my parents repeat time and time again to whoever heard their story, “So much good has come from it.” At first when I heard them say it I saw the desperate hopefulness behind the phrase. Their voices said it with confidence but their eyes had this plea of “Right? Good has to come from this, it has too.” After months and years passed that phrase faded from wishful thinking to concrete fact. So much good has been woven from that same thread of grief with one single attribute standing above the rest. Thankfulness. An unexpected gift to gain from loss and pain but one that I always come back to as the source to so much joy.
In my family, we love each other- like a lot. And we love each other because we are beyond grateful that the person next to us, that person we love so dearly is still there. Breathing. Laughing. Smiling. Crying. Being a total jerk. It doesn’t really matter because they are there and its now and when you wrap your head around that you can’t help but feel thankful. And from a thankful heart so much beauty can grow. Forgiveness comes easily, grudges fade fast, appreciation and love overflow.
So this Thanksgiving as I sit around my moms old wooden table before the Turkey comes steaming from the oven and the potatoes get passed around and the pie gets sliced into I’m going to sit and feel the weight of joy that comes from a thankful heart. Because so much good can come from that feeling.
- 1.5 cups of gluten free pretzels, crushed
- ½ cup of pastured butter (1 stick), melted
- ¼ cup of honey
- 6 oz of semi-sweet chocolate, melted
- 1 cup of pastured butter (2 sticks), room temperature
- ¾ cup of granulated sugar
- 1 tbsp of vanilla extract
- 4 pastured eggs
- In a medium sized bowl combine the crushed pretzels, ½ cup of melted butter and ¼ cup of honey and stir until well combined.
- Press pretzel mixture into a 8-9 inch pie pan then place in the refrigerator until pie filling is ready.
- In the bowl of an electric mixer that is fitted with the whisk attachment whisk the 1 cup of room temperature butter and sugar on high speed for 2 minutes until light and fluffy.
- Next, pour in your melted chocolate and vanilla and whisk for a minute until well combined.
- Lastly, set the mixer speed to medium and over a 20 minute time period crack in 1 egg every every 5 minutes.
- Once the pie filling is smooth and creamy, take the pie crust out of the fridge and pour the chocolate filling to the top of the crust. Smooth out and allow to set in the refrigerator for 2-3 hours or overnight.
- Top off with whipped cream or coconut cream.
Recipe generously adapted from CUP OF JO