When we were kids, dad would load us up in the back of the pickup, throw some big 5 gallon buckets in with us and we would head out to find some plum trees loaded with big, juicy plums that mom would use to make jelly.  I remember how amazing those buckets of plum would smell sitting out in the entry way and how wonderful they smelled while they were cooking.  My sister and brother-in-law remembered this too and one year, they decided to toss a few plums in the freezer to use as potpourri on Christmas day.  They thought the smell of plums cooking would surely fill their kitchen with a very good memory for all of us.  What they didn’t know is that it would “create” a great memory rather than spark one from our past.

Christmas day arrived and the plums were extracted from the freezer and placed in a small saucepan with a little water and put on the stove to simmer.  Once they began to cook they popped open and the bright yellow pulp inside of them began to fill the pan and they took on a much different appearance than a pan filled with plums.  What transpired as the evening went on still makes me hysterical.

The family began to show up and once we are all present and accounted for we were told it was time to get in line and load up our plates.  There were tons of delectable choices and as we walked along, I spotted the pan on the stove and my brain said, “Aw look, sweet potatoes!” and proceeded to tell my husband he better not forget to take some as they’re one of his favorite dishes.  He listened and we headed to the table to enjoy the wonderful Christmas supper my sister had prepared.  There were conversations spilling from the corners of every food filled mouth and laughter all around but none that would compare to the laughter that was about to transpire.  We had all reached a point where we were in that “should I go back for seconds?” or “I think I’m ready for dessert” phase when my eyes caught sight of something quite unusual.  My husband’s plate didn’t have that “completely empty and licked clean” look like it always did when he ate.  It had a tiny pile of pits on it.  I asked him where he got the pits and he said, “They were in the sweet potatoes.”  Unfortunately my laughter could not be contained and before long everyone knew he had consumed a rather substantial amount of the “potpourri!”