I’ve made several recipes recently that call for corn syrup, which is unusual because sometimes I go for a long stretch without using it directly in cooking. Those of us who have a sweet tooth never get very far away from it, though.

We have corn syrup to thank for the goo in candy, the transparency in peanut brittle and the caramel quality in a pecan pie. Read the label of any food that is even remotely sweet, peanut butter, for example, and corn syrup is probably listed there. In short, corn syrup is one of the linchpins in the American diet.

I first became aware of corn syrup when I was about 5 years old and we made Christmas candy as a family project. I was extremely interested in the way in which the corn syrup could be stirred into a ball over the heat and then stretched apart, sort of like Silly Putty — or, in this case, taffy.

A few months later I got into deep, deep trouble because of corn syrup. My mother had bought a gallon of the stuff for the candy-making activity, and afterward she stored the half-full can in the basement. At some point, wallpaper hangers came to steam the 1940s-vintage wallpaper off the dining room wall and then hung new paper by slopping paste on the back of it with a brush.

This was fascinating to watch from the doorway and suggested all sorts of spin-off activities. I made May baskets from the leftover wallpaper and, using the sort of logic possessed only by small children and cocker spaniels, attempted an extreme makeover of the family room — by pasting newspapers to the wall using a paint brush and the leftover Karo syrup.

Some 40 years later, I don’t pull corn syrup out of the cupboard without clearly seeing my poor mother, with a bucket of warm, sudsy water and a big sponge, scrubbing that mess off the wall.

Despite my personal awareness of the pitfalls of corn syrup, I’ve managed to salvage an appreciation for its usefulness in cooking. Nowhere is the value of corn syrup more apparent than in the following simple recipe from an old Craig Claiborne cookbook. Corn syrup clearly is the binder here — the one ingredient without which this pie is not possible.

Use your favorite crust for this one. Be careful not to overbake this pie, as it will be dry and overly firm. Serve it with whipped cream or vanilla ice cream.

Mississippi Mud Pie

Pastry for a 9-inch pie

1/4 pound butter

3 ounces unsweetened chocolate

3 eggs

3 tablespoons light corn syrup

1 1/2 cups sugar

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Line a 9-inch pie plate with the pastry.

Combine the butter and chocolate in a saucepan. Heat gently, stirring often, until melted and blended.

Beat the eggs until light and frothy. Stir in the corn syrup, sugar and vanilla. Pour in the chocolate mixture, stirring.

Pour the filling into the prepared crust. Bake 35 to 40 minutes, or until the top is slightly crunchy and the filling is set. Do not overcook. The filling should remain soft inside.