There is a time, when stores start to put up their Christmas decorations, that is the wonderful period between when your kids are already bored of their Halloween outfits (you know, two weeks before they actually wore them on Halloween) and the festivities of gluttony where we sacrifice turkeys to worship the god of pig skins (and watching a sport called football where the foot is the part of the body that touches the ball the least). I call this time Hallowsgiving and the staple of this time period is, of course, the Costco pumpkin pie. Now those who are novices in celebrating Hallowsgiving might think any pumpkin pie would do, but those people are stupid and wrong. Home made pumpkin pie is for Thanksgiving, for Christmas, or for people you love. Costco pumpkin pie symbolizes my need to just eat pumpkin pie. As a result, the sanctity of the season requires further anointment in the blood of spicy chickens, and the combination can only be classified as a religious experience. A velvety smooth pumpkin coats the tongue while sharp tines of flavor attack your taste buds like so many "mea culpas." I give it 3 hail Mary's of awesomeness.
