I made macadamia nut pie for Thanksgiving this year. It went over well, but I’m still craving pecan pie. Or just pecans. I was re-reading the saddest Christmas story ever, Truman Capote’s “A Christmas Memory,” and came across this description of pecans the two characters are shelling for fruitcake:
A cheery crunch, scraps of miniature golden thunder sound as the shells collapse and the mound of sweet oily ivory meat mounts in the milkglass bowl.
(I highly recommend the story, in spite of it being sad. This is the first Capote I read as an adult [I remember reading “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” and being disappointed it wasn’t like the movie] and it’s really, really well-done. The last line is perfect.)