Custard Pie

I have a crystal clear memory from my childhood of the whole family loading into our great, white Suburban and driving to a local "greasy spoon" called Peach City for ice cream.  I remember seeing my little feet on the linoleum floor and looking up at the menu above the cash register, trying to decide what flavor I should order.

"What's Custard?" I asked my dad.  He immediately made a very non-grown up "Eeeeewww" face that I rarely ever saw.  In fact, there are only a few foods that I can remember my dad not liking: liver & onions, tuna casserole, and in that moment, Custard, even as an ice cream flavor.

But just the other day, I was looking through a book of my grandma's old recipes, and I stumbled upon one for Custard Pie.  I decided it was time.  I owed it to my adult self to finally give Custard a try.  Here was the result:

Looks good, right?  Nice flaky crust, caramelized filling...

...well, it tasted like mucous with a hint of nutmeg.  Which is why I have decided, with all due respect to my amazing grandma, to name this recipe, "Booger Pie."

I am not one to complain about the texture of food.  In fact, I tend to think "texture" people can be a little annoying.  (It's just gelatin, people, get over it!)  But Booger Pie was an extreme case.  It actually reminded me of trying the traditional Mexican dish "Menudo" while on my mission in Texas.  And that involved cow intestine.

So, after not being able to finish even one piece of this thing, I would like to take the opportunity to give some props to my dad.  For when he stuck his tongue out like a three year old and wrinkled his nose at the very mention of Custard, it turns out he had a point.  I love you, Dad.  And I don't love Booger Pie.