Butter Pecan Syrup

The house has a rhythm. Monday morning breakfast, Tyler and Justin to school at 7:15, Josie to school at 7:30, me to the truck by 8. Thursday afternoon home for dinner. Friday night football — or an Amber phone call, depending on the week. Sunday family dinner. The rhythm is different than it was three weeks ago, and somehow familiar. Three kids in the house, three meals at the table, three homework routines. The math works out.

Drove an Omaha run Tuesday, a Kansas City run Thursday-Friday. Ate at the Joe's in Kansas City on my way home. Brought a bag of barbecue to the house. The boys demolished it. Dave ate a single rib, slowly, with his eyes closed, which is Dave having a religious experience at a kitchen table.

Amber came home Friday. She drove the Taurus. She brought a laundry basket of clothes (dirty; she said she did not know how to work the dorm machines yet, though Dave and I both know she does; she just wanted a reason to drive home). She ate four plates of dinner Friday night. She slept in her own bed. Saturday morning I made pancakes. Justin had two stacks. Amber had one. Josie climbed in her lap and did not move for thirty minutes. Tyler told Amber a long story about a brake job he had done at the dealership that she pretended to understand. She left Sunday at 4 with clean clothes and a Tupperware of frozen casserole and a plate of cookies Gayle had made. She hugged me at the Taurus. She said, "Thanks for the weekend, Mom." I said, "Anytime, baby." She said, "I mean it." She drove away. I went inside. Dave was in the kitchen washing dishes. He said, "She's okay." I said, "She's okay." I was still a little dizzy from watching her back out of the driveway. Dave said, "Brenda. She's going to come home a lot." I said, "I know." He said, "This is what it's supposed to look like."

I wrote for an hour Sunday night. I interviewed a woman trucker on the phone — her name is Karen Dahl from Michigan, 58, widowed, lives in her truck. We talked for ninety minutes. She gave me more material than I can use. Women on the road. My second book. I am doing it. I am doing it slowly. That is the right way this time.

Saturday morning I made pancakes for a full table again — Justin with his two stacks, Amber home from college with Josie in her lap, all of us pretending it was just a normal weekend. When I make pancakes for that crew, I don’t reach for the store-bought syrup. I make this butter pecan syrup, the kind that fills the whole kitchen with something warm and sweet before anyone even sits down. It’s a small thing, but small things are what hold a weekend like that together.

Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 10 minutes | Total Time: 15 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

1 cup packed brown sugar
1/2 cup water
1/2 cup light corn syrup
3 tablespoons butter
1/2 cup chopped pecans, toasted
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon salt

Instructions

Toast the pecans. Spread chopped pecans in a dry skillet over medium heat. Stir frequently for 3–4 minutes until fragrant and lightly browned. Remove from heat and set aside.
Combine the base. In a medium saucepan, stir together the brown sugar, water, and corn syrup over medium heat. Bring to a gentle boil, stirring until the sugar dissolves completely.
Simmer. Reduce heat to low and let the mixture simmer for 3–4 minutes, stirring occasionally, until slightly thickened.
Add butter and pecans. Remove from heat. Stir in the butter until fully melted and incorporated. Add the toasted pecans, vanilla extract, and salt. Stir to combine.
Serve warm. Pour over pancakes, waffles, or French toast. Store any leftover syrup in a jar in the refrigerator for up to two weeks. Reheat gently before serving.

Nutrition (per serving)

Butter Pecan Syrup — Saturday Morning Pancakes for the Ones Who Come Home