Bob Webb, Mimi’s Dad, came to stay at La Posada Milagro for a few days. He’s 83, with both a mind and sense of humor as sharp as a cactus thorn, and he loves pie. Because last night was his last night in Terlingua I promised I’d make him a pie, any pie, he could choose. So we sat down with an ancient and tattered copy of the old Better Homes & Gardens cookbook (1953 edition, the same one my mom has) and flipped through the pie recipes. Banana Cream, he decided. Ha! My dad’s favorite too. So while Bob, Mimi and everyone else in Far West Texas were taking their afternoon siestas I set to work in the kitchen preparing his special pie.Here we are, Bob with the pie baker. But how would it taste? Would he like it?
I grabbed my flashlight and my dogs and ran back to Mimi’s house (each bedroom here is like a separate house). “Mimi!” I said breathlessly. “I have a tarantula in my room.”
“I was proud of myself for not screaming,” I told her. “But my heart is racing pretty fast.”