My roots run deep with the grand old maritime city of Liverpool.
It being my paternal grandmother's birth place and despite moving away as a young adult, the allure and vibrancy of the city always drew her home.
Each Monday we would board the bus, and take the trip into the city to take care of the banking business for her bakery, and inevitably would always take the time to enjoy a ferry ride on the River Mersey.
Last October when I was home, my brother shared those nostalgic memories with us, by spending the afternoon at the Royal Albert Docks, a once vibrant, seafaring port importing and exporting goods and passengers to the 'new world' and beyond. The old warehouses have now been converted for modern day use, housing shops, cafes, office space and the city's tribute to their famous sons.....The Beatles Museum.
Liverpool remains a bustling metropolitan city, with breathtakingly beautiful architecture, that so effortlessly blends the old with the new.
Almost as popular as traditional Pecan Pie, this delicious Japanese Fruit Pie graces many dinner tables here in the South.
The combination of pecans, raisins, and coconut suspended in a chess-pie type of filling is wonderfully rich and toothsome.
Japanese Fruit Pie
1 deep dish 9 inch unbaked pie shell
1 stick of melted butter ( 1/2 cup )
1 1/2 cups of white sugar
1 tablespoon distilled white vinegar
1tsp. vanilla extract
3 large eggs ( slightly beaten )
1/2 cup each of raisins, shredded coconut, (I like a little more) chopped pecan pieces.
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C).
In a medium mixing bowl combine eggs, butter, sugar, vinegar and vanilla extract.
Beat until smooth. Stir in pecans, coconut, and raisins.
Pour mixture into pastry shell.
Bake in preheated oven for 40 minutes. Cool before serving.
Serve topped with vanilla ice cream or whipped fresh cream.
We could benefit from a gentle rainfall, nary a drop in the past three weeks, and the trees are beginning to show signs of stress.
Subtle signs of changing seasons are all around, summer flowers hang limp on the vine, songbirds now silent or departed.