Every year at Thanksgiving and Christmas, my mom makes an extra pumpkin pie for me to take home. It’s one of my favorite things about the days after the holidays, just knowing that there’s a pie in the fridge. And one of my favorite things about having that pie is I get to eat pie for breakfast for a few days after the holidays.
It’s hard to explain why I enjoy eating pie for breakfast so much. Part of it must be that I’m a pumpkin pie fan. I’m also a general breakfast fan. So, putting two things that I like together just enhances both.
But it’s more than that. There’s something luxurious about it. For a few wonderful days pie is an actual meal. It’s not special food for a special occasion, it’s breakfast. I must be a big time success in life to be able to eat pie for breakfast. It’s not cereal or scrambled eggs. It’s even above French toast and pancakes. This is pie. Real work went into making it, and I’m eating it for breakfast. How decadent.
Of course, there’s also the little thrill of doing something wrong. Breakfast is supposed to be the most important meal of the day and I’m eating pie. I can tell myself that pumpkins are quite healthy, full of fiber and vitamin A, but there’s no getting around the fact that this is pie. It’s sweet, creamy deliciousness. Nutrition is completely beside the point. Instead of taking the most important meal of the day seriously, I’m doing something simply because I enjoy it.
I’m not even sure how this pie for breakfast tradition even started. I didn’t start getting my own pie until I was an adult, living on my own. So it’s not a childhood memory thing. It probably started because I was afraid the pie would go bad before I finished it. Whatever the reason, it has become one of my most cherished holiday traditions.