Canadians and Butter Tarts
My mother didn't cook much and she baked even less, but, once a year, she would make butter tarts. Christmas baking. She would make butter tarts and that dessert made with coloured marshmallows and peanut butter. I don't know if we made them together, but I was present when she made them. While making the crust for the tarts, my mom passed down to me her one and only baking secret. While making pastry crust, she would substitute 7-Up for water. The carbonation contributed to a flaky and light crust with just a touch of added sweetness and flavour. It was a big deal to me. My mom had knowledge about cooking to pass down to me. So, once a year, my mom would make a lot of butter tarts. They were stored in one gallon empty ice cream containers separated by wax paper and placed in the freezer downstairs. Butter tarts are always a happy memory of me and my mom.
Also, as I found out, butter tarts don't take very long to thaw and they also taste very good frozen as well. I know because I used to sneak downstairs in the evening and take one or seven out of the container for my own personal snack. And it turned out, I wasn't the only one who enjoyed the solitary indulgence. Both of my parents also sampled from the empty ice cream containers. What are the odds that three people would have the same guilty habit? I felt like we were all connected somehow, like we were family or something. The ties that bind. It didn't make much sense that we all enjoyed our guilty pleasure in solitude instead of together, but, I guess that was the point of a guilty pleasure.
Then, butter tarts were part of another important lesson in my self-development. In grade 9, we took home economics for half of the year and Metals for other half of the year. Home economics meant cooking in grade 9 and it was very well done. We learned recipe reading, label reading, budgeting, recipe increasing, recipe decreasing, cooking techniques, etc. Really a cool class. We were in groups of four and once a week, we cooked as a team and were able to eat what we cooked. During the first class, we made pancakes. I remember a group of four boys put a whole bottle of vanilla in their pancakes because they thought it would make them drunk. It made them very sick.
And the, as it would happen, we were making butter tarts. I raised my hand and proudly shared my tip about 7-Up. The teacher politely nodded and said that was interesting but 7-Up was not stocked in our Grade 9 Home Economics pantry. But, as it turned, one of my team-mates, Kris, had a family secret about butter tarts of her own. Instead of adding raisins into the filling mixture, her mom would put five raisins in each pastry shell and then pour the mixture over it. This would ensure that everyone got an equal about of raisins in their butter tart. Quite frankly, I thought this was one of the most ridiculous things I had ever heard. I had never once heard anyone complain that someone got an extra raisin in their butter tart. This was taking equality and fairness to the extreme. Plus, raisins were sticky and messy. Who could be bothered to tears them apart and put them into each individual tart shell? Much ado about nothing.
I was just about to argue this point when I looked at Kris. She was counting raisins with the same look of pride in her eyes that I had when I shared the 7-Up tip. It wasn't about the raisins, she was sharing a part of her bond with her mom. And, when I looked at her, I matured a little bit.
Even though I was obviously correct, I was not going to argue with her. It was something important to her and it didn't really make a significant difference in my life. I was going to let her have that one. Being a good team member was more important than being right. Also, it was not worth the energy to address. Definitely not the hill I wanted to die on, and in order to have credibility for the ones that do matter, I had to let the odd thing go. Relationships are more important than things, even when those things are butter tarts.
My relationship with butter tarts remained strong until I was an adult. You see, when I was a child, everyone had a freezer full of Christmas baking for when people would just stop by in December. People actually did that. Stopped by unannounced with or without a Christmas present but with an expectation of baking. Then, your neighbours would notice you had company and they would drop by and then there was a party. I don't know if that was life everywhere, but that was certainly life in my small town of Dauphin.
By the time I was an adult, people didn't do that anymore. People were busy all the time doing activities or taking their kids to activities. Nobody was home anymore. Nobody stopped by unannounced. Everything was organized. No need for Christmas baking. Also, grocery shopping and meal preparation changed. You could buy a family sized lasagna for less money than it would cost to make it yourself. Significantly less money. People were always in a rush, looking for quicker and easier. Thaw, heat, and serve became the recipe that was passed down to the next generation.
At one point, I thought my poor children wouldn't have any cooking memories with me. They would have no idea what I could or couldn't cook. Granted, it wasn't a big list. They would never be able to pass on my 7-Up tip and they would never have the pride in their face that Kris did when she shared the equal number of raisins in the pastry shell tip.
Somehow on a Saturday afternoon, it became important to me to cook butter tarts with my children. I had to google a recipe and I was saddened that I didn't even have butter or brown sugar on hand. I had a brief thought that buying all the ingredients would lead to a lot of waste. Seriously, what was I going to do with a whole bag of raisins minus one cup.
My children were less than thrilled but off we went with our shopping list. As we were shopping, I noticed tart shells. They were already made and had nice little pinches on the edges that I would never be capable of doing. I made the decision that we would buy the shells but we would still make the filling so it still counted as home-made. And, then, I saw them. 6 pre-packaged butter tarts for $2.99. It was going to cost me about $20 to make the same butter tarts plus time. It was a no-brainer and we abandoned our baking time together.
But, I thought a lot about those pre-packaged butter tarts a lot and what it represented. For me, it represented that we value convenience over family time. Also, in our society, we have started to do a cost-benefit on everything including human interaction. It is sad. Pre-packaged butter tarts started to represent a lot of what I thought was wrong with society. Plus, they were now packaged with big pecans on them. Who likes pecans on butter tarts? If you wanted a piece of pecan pie, then get a piece of pecan pie. Don't ruin a butter tart by putting pecans on them. I suggested this as a dissertation topic for someone's Sociology Masters Thesis, but it never went anywhere.
And that is another thing. Why do we have to change everything? Why does everything have to be new and improved? Why can't things just stay the same. What is wrong with us that we want to change something so perfect and simple as a butter tart?
So, last night, I got thinking of my complicated relationship with butter tarts. I am going to a pot luck event this weekend and I thought I would honour my mother by making butter tarts and using the 7-Up trick. Of course, I had to google a recipe.
And that is when things became more complicated. I did not know that butter tarts were a Canadian only thing. If we had a national dessert, it would be butter tarts. Well, that and Nanaimo Bars. Except, nanaimo bars are also called New York Slice so that puts a damper on the Canadian aspect. And, it turns out the original recipe does not even contain raisins. That was something added a few decades ago. And, now, butter tarts have even more of an identity crisis. Not only pecans, but walnuts, you name it, they are adding to my butter tarts trying to spice it up.
Much like our identity as Canadians. We struggle to find what that means. What is it to be a Canadian? The one thing that we all seem to agree on is what makes us Canadian is that we are not Americans. We are simpler, we don't have the need to be ostentatious. We value a simpler, kinder life filled with compassion. We are peace-keepers. Yet, why isn't that enough? Why are we always comparing ourselves with our neighbours to the south. Why can't we just be satisfied with who we are?
In short, why can't we just accept that a simple butter tart is perfect and doesn't need any modifications?
Happy Canada Day !!
the o
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