I learned two things in culinary school:
1️⃣ Butter fixes almost everything.
2️⃣ So does grace.

That’s not exactly what they wrote in the textbook, but it’s what stuck.

Back then, I was the student who took laminated recipe cards a little too seriously. My uniform was spotless, my measuring cups were organized by size, and heaven forbid someone used a “pinch” when the recipe clearly said “⅛ teaspoon.”

I believed perfection was the only way to prove you belonged in the kitchen. Until one day, the butter had other plans.

💛 The Meltdown (Literally)

We were assigned to make pâte brisée — a fancy French pie crust. Mine started beautifully: chilled butter cubes, flour sifted like snow, the whole Martha Stewart vibe. But halfway through, my butter decided to revolt.

It melted.
It clumped.
It made my dough look like a toddler’s art project.

And in my panic, I heard my instructor’s voice float over the chaos, “You’re working it too hard, Natalie. Let it rest. You can’t rush the good stuff.”

At the time, I thought he meant pastry. Now I realize he meant me.

🥧 The Recipe (and the Reminder)

Somewhere between culinary school and home kitchens with mismatched mixing bowls, I stopped chasing flawless. These days, my pie crust sometimes cracks, my timer sometimes lies, and occasionally Samuel tries to “taste test” before the cooling is done.

And still — the pie always turns out sweet.

That’s what grace is like. It fills in the cracks. It softens the hard spots. It holds everything together even when it shouldn’t.

So in honor of butter and grace (two things I’ll never be without), here’s a recipe straight from my Southern soul to yours.

🥄 Texas Pecan Pie (the Honey Way)

(And before we go any further — it’s pe-cahn, y’all. Not “pee-can.” One is dessert. The other belongs in a gas station restroom.)

🧈 For the Pie Crust

• 1 ¼ cups all-purpose flour
• ½ teaspoon salt
• ½ cup (1 stick) cold, unsalted butter, cubed
• 3–4 tablespoons ice water

Directions:

1. In a large bowl, combine flour and salt.
2. Cut in butter with a pastry cutter or fork until it looks like coarse crumbs.
3. Add ice water, one tablespoon at a time, just until dough holds together.
4. Shape into a disk, wrap in plastic, and chill 30 minutes.
5. Roll out and gently press into a 9-inch pie dish. Don’t stress if it tears — grace fixes crusts too.

🥧 For the Filling

• 1 cup light corn syrup
• 1 cup packed brown sugar
• 3 large eggs
• 2 tablespoons melted butter
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1 ½ cups chopped pe-cahns

Directions:

1. Preheat oven to 350°F.
2. In a bowl, whisk corn syrup, brown sugar, eggs, butter, and vanilla until smooth.
3. Stir in pecans, then pour into unbaked crust.
4. Bake 50–60 minutes or until the center is set but still a little wobbly.
5. Cool completely before cutting (or don’t — I support warm slices and melty whipped cream moments).

Every time I bake now, I think about that melting butter. How I used to panic when things didn’t go perfectly. How I thought control meant success.

But grace — like butter — works best when it’s soft. It seeps into the rough edges and somehow turns your mess into something beautiful.

So the next time life starts to crumble a bit, don’t rush. Don’t overwork it. Just breathe, rest, and trust the process. The good stuff takes time to rise.

📖  “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”
— 2 Corinthians 12:9 (NIV)

From my messy kitchen to yours — may your butter be soft, your crusts forgiving, and your grace abundant.

Love & Light (and lots of butter),

Natalie🥧