I became a pecan-lover sitting under a tree. When I was growing up on a farm in Arkansas, we’d gather pecans by the bucketful every November. I’d sometimes take a break, back against the trunk of our enormous pecan tree (the biggest in the state, according to my dad), and squeeze two pecans in my hand until the shells cracked, sneaking a snack. Every year my grandma would turn some of this bounty into a pecan pie for Thanksgiving dinner.
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