Banana Caramel Pie and Mama Bear

When I first began dating John, he lived at home with his parents in a big, beautiful house along the East Mountains in Albuquerque. I lived in Santa Fe, about an hour's drive from there, but was working at Macy's only a couple of miles from his house. After work, I would stop to pick him up and whisk him up to Santa Fe. Whenever I stopped, I pulled into the driveway, called him on his cell and he would emerge from the house, usually with someone peaking through the window to see who was picking him up. I hadn't met anyone else who resided in the house.

After dating John for about a year, I pulled up to the house, as usual and John came out and waved me to come inside. I walked into this giant house and his beautiful mother greeted me. We went out onto her deck and had a cigarette together. After talking with her for awhile, I knew that this woman was special and somehow, someday, we would become very close. But it wouldn't be anytime soon because shortly after that visit, I was transferred to Las Vegas and hopes of forming a relationship with John's Mom were a long shot.

Little did I know how often John's parents frequented Vegas. They poured into town a couple of times a year and stayed at New York, New York, my favorite casino. We would visit with them each night they were there as if we, too, were on vacation. There was a rock band there called Phoenix and the lead singer, Danielle was one of the best voices I have ever heard live. She sang Fleetwood Mac, Pat Benatar, Grace Slick, and Heart as if you were seeing all three, live, in-person. John's Mom and I would sip our drinks and smoke our cigarettes while listening. We bonded over the music, as each song Danielle sang had a special memory for both of us. We became fast friends.

Once we left Vegas onto Sacramento, I was disappointed that we would have little time with John's family, so we made arrangements to visit Albuquerque that summer. We stayed with his parents and spent little time with friends as we were so happy to see them. We cooked beautiful dinners, went to great restaurants and hung out by the pool at home. I began dreaming of returning to New Mexico someday, although I knew there was little hope for me to secure a promotion while simultaneously transferring to Albuquerque. The odds were probably astounding.

Well, my dream came true. When my boss contacted me and asked if I would be interested in returning to Albuquerque in a new position that I had been after for 5 years, I jumped at the chance and interviewed.

After a four year hiatus from New Mexico, John's parents offered us the opportunity of a lifetime: to stay with them while we looked for a new place, save some money and spend some time with them. When we arrived at their house after a long, dreadful trip from California, I felt as if I was home. Never in my life have I felt more comfortable. I felt as if they had made me a part of their family and that I had lived there forever. They made things so easy.

On our first night back, John's Mom had cooked an amazing meatloaf with mashed potatoes, which was at John's request. This was one of the many meals we would share together, as a family at the dining room table. One of many that John had remembered when he was growing up.

John's Mom and I had become even closer. In my new position, I was off of work by 3:30pm and she was off at 4pm. We would come home, mix a drink and smoke out on the deck while we planned what was for dinner. We did crosswords together on Sundays and then she would cook breakfast for everyone with her husband, Rick. We did word jumbles, we read our horoscopes, and we perused through Cooking Light magazine, which we both have subscriptions to.

When we were in Vegas and Sacramento, John would tell me about his Mom's Banana Caramel Pie. He could never really explain it in full detail, didn't know how to make it and just told me it's the best pie ever. Finally, I asked her to make the pie for me. She told me the story about how it was her aunt's recipe. Something that she always remembered her aunt making for her. It was a beautiful story. I couldn't wait to try the pie and even more so, couldn't wait to get the recipe so I could make it for John.

She told me that she needed to put pecans at the bottom of the pie shell, cover it with sliced bananas and then pour two cans of boiling condensed milk over the top and then chill. Serve with whipped cream. So imagine my face when I saw her boil a pot of water. I didn't understand. Nowhere in the recipe did it say you had to boil water.

What she did next made me laugh in disbelief and I thought she was crazy. She placed the two unopened cans of condensed milk directly into the boiling water. She let the cans boil for about an hour! When she opened the cans, it was a smooth, shiny, delicious caramel sauce that she poured into the pie shell. Sweet, but not too sugary. Who knew you could boil a can like that and get a pie filling?!

The pie was amazing and I have never tasted anything like it before. I haven't attempted to make it myself because I am lucky enough to live close by to John's Mom and she will make it whenever I ask.

As time went on, John's Mom nicknamed me "Kitty Bear." I don't know how or why she came up with the nickname, but she constantly refers to me as her little "Kitty Bear." She tells people "Kitty Bear cooked me dinner last night, so I have leftovers for lunch." Or "Kitty Bear took me to the Greek Festival on Saturday." She often asks John how her Kitty Bear is doing and in turn, I have asked how my Mama Bear is doing. So now, she is Mama Bear to me, as she always will be. I love my Mama Bear and her recipes. I look forward to eating her Banana Caramel Pie for years to come.