In 2009, while studying abroad, my mother sent me an email. At the time, I was pretty good at making buttermilk pies and had a slight obsession with KC Masterpiece barbeque sauce. Read on.
“Becky,
So you’re eating at the cafeteria, that’s good. You can cook in the apartment 🙂 Buttermilk pie becomes famous all across Spain because of Becky Strohl; families demand buttermilk pie at all their meals. The craze spreads. She has to drop out of the University and start her own dessert and bbq restaurant. Supplied by KC Masterpiece as an incredible advertising phenomenon she is launched into the dizzying stratosphere of 5-star restaurants. People take one bite of her incredibly awesome pies and swoon from the amazing sugar overload. Men throw themselves at her, cabs stop for her, women emulate her. Buttermilk pie sweeps the world. (Well at least where they have buttermilk) Becky becomes an icon of tastiness.
But someone else comes up with some second-rate, fly-by-night dessert made from recycled tires and cardboard. Becky’s empire collapses. The last time Becky Strohl is seen, she is eating buttermilk pie with her fingers and swigging KC Masterpiece. A sad end.
Better stay in school.
Love, Mama”