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Monday was Thanksgiving here in Canada, a full month earlier than our American counterparts, which gives us an extra month to work off the pounds before the Christmas stuffing season. We had two separate dinners this weekend, one with Lisa’s mom on Monday, and the other with a group of our friends Saturday. Colin had a hankering for a good roast and some Yorkshire pudding, so six of us sat down for dinner, plus some marathon games of Settlers of Catan. Dinner was excellent, of course, as any dinner is when I’m not required to cook anything – Colin did all the work this time. I’ve decided it’s important to pick friends who are willing to come cook you dinner at your house.
I do like pumpkin pie, don’t get me wrong. I like it best warm and covered with whipped cream, and I’ll certainly consume it cold and leftover the next day, but you know what? I would actually pick nearly any other pie first. And let the hate mail begin. Perhaps it’s because I never had pumpkin pie as a kid. I think my father wasn’t a fan of it – he never was big on any sort of squash – so we never had it. I never even tasted it until after I moved out, so somehow pumpkin pie was never metabolized into my genetic code. Apple pie is my thing. A good, thick, sweet slice of apple pie, with a big chunk of rich cheddar cheese on the side (in the English style). That was always our big treat on Sunday dinners at Grandma’s house. If she hadn’t made an English Trifle, there would be a homemade pie fresh out of the oven. Of course, Lisa is allergic to apples, so opportunities for consumption of my personal favorite are limited at best. And when it is served, my request for a piece of cheese is usually met with looks of abject horror. If it isn’t a dollop of vanilla on the side, most people react as if I asked that my pizza come with, I don’t know, rusty nails and broken glass as a topping. But I digress. One study I heard about suggests that no aroma sexually arouses men more than a combination of lavender and pumpkin. Maybe that’s it. Pumpkin, mixed with cinnamon, nutmeg and ginger is some sort of home-brewed holiday aphrodisiac. Perhaps heavy and regular consumption of pumpkin pie through your formative years keys certain chemoreceptors in your body to its unique chemical signature. The consumption of pumpkin pie could activate peripheral sexual responses, setting up a “psychosomatic circle”, which is where a feeling is heightened by awareness of that feeling, thus causing a response far beyond the simple stimuli. Say a young boy looks at a naked picture of a woman. He is conditioned by environmental and cultural factors into regarding it as a sexual image. His body begins to react, and his awareness of that reaction increases the stimulation. Makes sense to me. The consumption of pumpkin pie relates to the human sexual impulse, so long as you were conditioned to that reaction from birth. As for myself, lacking that early conditioning, I can view pumpkin pie from a much more platonic perspective. I don’t disagree that there are not some strong psychological associations for people. The security of home, the love of your family, the joy of the holiday season…they all combine into a powerful emotional response. But after years of watching nearly everyone experience near-orgasmic delight over what is, to me, a quite unremarkable confection, I can’t believe that is the entire reason for the reaction. But combine that mental conditioning with the semi-sexual stimulation of pumpkin consumption, and the cumulative effect must be overpowering. I almost feel sorry for you folks, trapped in a Pavlovian response of such staggering magnitude. But I do have my own strange epicurean compulsions – my need to eat large amounts of peanut butter every two days for example – so I can certainly commiserate. You know, I feel much better now. Now that I’ve taken the time to work out my theory, I feel I have reached some level of understanding with the pumpkin pie lovers of the world. I will never be one of you, but I comprehend your predilection. I empathize with your position. I grok you. Happy Thanksgiving! |
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