Recently we entertained some insurance company executives from Syracuse, New York. Rather than taking them out to eat, hubby wanted to have them come to the house for a more relaxed, social event. We decided to include the office, some local agents, and make it a real party. I love to get out the little used "good" dishes and silver so I agreed to "cater" the dinner.
Knowing, from past visits, that the execs were food lovers, I decided to give them a true "southern" meal. Over the years I have discovered that each section of the country has its own distinctive cuisine. In the south you will find dishes that are unique to the area. Paula Dean has probably done more to spread the lure of southern cooking than anyone. She has labeled herself the Queen of Butter, but it is a fact that southern cooking is a little heavy on the fats and sugars, but oh, so good. I wanted to present a typical southern meal but also keep it easy to eat.
Meat was the biggest problem. I wanted to have country ham but knew that it is an acquired taste and they might not acquire it quick enough. So, to be sure, I decided to have city ham too. Now for the uninitiated, country ham is salt cured and hangs to age for 6-12 months. The salt pulls the moisture out of the ham and seals the ham against spoilage. The result is a rich, dark ham with an intense flavor. Southerners can't get enough of it. City ham on the other hand, is sugar cured and is the pink, delicate ham you find on most Easter tables. To make eating easier, I decided to serve it on biscuits that could be eaten out of hand.
Now the fun begins. In the south there are biscuits and then there are beaten biscuits. Regular biscuits are just what you think they are. Light, fluffy, quick breads, cut into little rounds and baked to golden deliciousness. However, die-hard southerners think that country ham just has to be eaten on a beaten biscuit. These are not your typical biscuit. The recipe for beaten biscuits goes back to colonial times. I don't know why they were developed except maybe to come up with a biscuit when leavening agents were in short supply. Most recipes use very little, if any, baking powder. Maybe it was because of their keeping qualities, since they remain about the same for days on end. Whatever the reason they are a uniquely southern item.
To make them you need a dough made from flour, lard, (yes, lard) and milk and water. Originally, they were then beaten 100 times with the flat of a hatchet, folding and turning as you beat. Let me tell you, women back then weren't weak sisters! The beating builds the gluten in the flour until the dough becomes very smooth and elastic. They are then rolled out, pricked with a fork and baked to a delicate golden brown. The resulting biscuit is like a thick cracker but slightly softer. Split it becomes the perfect receptacle for a tender piece of ham.
Sometime around 100 years ago, someone developed a machine to help in the beating process. It is called a biscuit brake and looks a lot like the ringers from an old ringer washer attached to a table. Except the ringers are metal clad and turned by a large crank handle. With this, instead of beating the dough you put in through the ringers, folding it each time. You still have to do it 100 times, but it's a lot easier. At the end of the process the dough has become slick and will pop from the trapped air in the turned fold. Then you know you are done.
I had made beaten biscuits as a child for a neighbor lady. A friend and I were the crank turners for her biscuits. We would spend a whole afternoon cranking for all the hot biscuits we could eat. I spent the first 20 years of our marriage, looking for a biscuit brake of my own. Finally, I found one, which is what we used to crank out these unique southern delicacies.
The good news. There is hope for the north yet, The folks from New York were intrigued with the little hard bisucits and decided they were delicious. In fact they ate more than the locals did. Success!
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Monday, March 7, 2011
I'm Back
My hubby and I recentely attended a banquet and annual meeting of the Angus Association. Since the kids had grown up and we were no longer showing cattle, we had not attended in several years. It was wonderful to see so many old friends, some grown older, some just grown up. As we made our way to our table we were greeted by a friend who had been one of the first to welcome us to showing cattle and help us learn the ropes. At the time, he had been a young man and now he was at the banquet with his own grown sons. Lately, our only contact has been through greetings on Facebook.
To my surprise, his greeting was, "You've quit posting on your blog!" I muttered something to the effect that we'd been busy, etc. "Well, don't give up," he returned, "I've enjoyed reading your history stories. However, if you want to include some more recent ones you can tell about getting a ticket in Perryville." (Sorry, Sammy. Maybe at a future date!)
I think I must have looked stunned. In fact I was busy processing the idea that someone is reading my blogs and actually enjoying them. All along I had thought of them as an exercise only for my benefit. I knew that I wanted the stories of our families to be passed on and remembered. I guess if I thought of it at all, it was that maybe my kids would someday read them. I enjoy writing and sharing my thoughts but I just hadn't given my readership much thought.
I am humbled. I will continue and hopefully provide some entertainment to someone. Maybe a story will trigger a memory that will mean retelling an old family story to your children. Maybe it will touch your heart. Who knows, maybe you will even laugh. If you do, please let me know.
To my surprise, his greeting was, "You've quit posting on your blog!" I muttered something to the effect that we'd been busy, etc. "Well, don't give up," he returned, "I've enjoyed reading your history stories. However, if you want to include some more recent ones you can tell about getting a ticket in Perryville." (Sorry, Sammy. Maybe at a future date!)
I think I must have looked stunned. In fact I was busy processing the idea that someone is reading my blogs and actually enjoying them. All along I had thought of them as an exercise only for my benefit. I knew that I wanted the stories of our families to be passed on and remembered. I guess if I thought of it at all, it was that maybe my kids would someday read them. I enjoy writing and sharing my thoughts but I just hadn't given my readership much thought.
I am humbled. I will continue and hopefully provide some entertainment to someone. Maybe a story will trigger a memory that will mean retelling an old family story to your children. Maybe it will touch your heart. Who knows, maybe you will even laugh. If you do, please let me know.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
New Car
Just before Christmas, actually on the day my daughter arrived with her family, I wrecked my car. Fortunately, no one was seriously injured, but my car was totaled. I made it through Christmas by borrowing cars and keeping moving. (Not injured does not mean not sore!) My daughter kept nagging us to get out and get a new car. However, with a house full of company it just didn't happen. The truth of the matter is that we just weren't ready to buy a car and our hearts just weren't in it.
Car shopping is vastly different now. It used to be that you would go to the local dealer and see what he had. Then you made a choice based on his inventory and your finances. Deal done. It's not nearly so simple now. First off, the local dealers have been closed down. That means you have to shop further away from home. Also, now the Internet has opened up the possibilities of price checking, car shopping, and comparisons. No longer are you bound by the dealers you have locally but can reasonably seek out any make and model. That means researching and comparing hundreds of cars to even decide which type you want.
Once you narrow down your search to the make and model that you want, all you have to do is find that car at the price you want. This involves checking dealers, Internet sites, auto auctions, and private sales. Poor hubby spent night after night glued to the computer checking for cars. He had decided on the make and model but was having trouble finding the color he wanted. The one we liked came in 8 shades of gray (80% ), black and white (15%) and red (5%). Guess which one we wanted? Yep, the red one. You would think it wouldn't be that hard to find but we spent weeks trying to find the perfect one. Several times we gave in and decided to go for the black one (I really didn't want another gray car!) but the price would be wrong or it wouldn't have the features we wanted. Then back to the computer.
Finally, one night he found two really great cars. The price was right and they were red!! One was in Jacksonville, FL and the other in Milwaukee, WI. I was holding out for the one in Florida, seeing as how we were cold and snowy here. However, the one in Milwaukee was the better deal. Through all of this, a friend who is a car dealer had been helping us find the perfect car. He was wonderful and placed the call the the dealer in Milwaukee and made the deal. Now all we had to do was get it home.
Two days later we flew into Milwaukee to pick up the car and drive it home. We left on a sunny morning looking forward to a nice little "get-away" time. The pilot announced that the weather was about 25 degrees and cloudy in Milwaukee. Moments later the stewardess came on and announced, "Your pilot has not been entirely honest with you. It is 25 degrees and it is cloudy. However, it is also snowing and they are under white-out conditions. However, they are plowing a runway for us to use. Have a good trip." That sounded a little different.
We landed on the newly plowed runway with no problems and dodged the snowplows to our gate. We were met by a driver from the dealership who assured us that this was just a little snow and would quit soon. I was reassured, after all we were in the north where everyone knew how to deal with a little snow. Unfortunately, the four wrecks we passed on the interstate didn't reassure me of this much. The driver was right in that the snow quickly ended.
Two hours later when we left with our shiny, spotlessly clean car the roads were wet, but cleared of snow. They really do know how to handle snowy roads. Now we were on our way--only 8 more hours to go. Everything was fine until we got to Chicago. Nothing would do but for hubby to go straight through downtown (it's shorter). About halfway through the snow started up again. By the time we had gotten through Chicago the roads were covered and traffic slowing down. After one rather slick snow covered ramp, hubby looked at me and suggested we stop for the night. Fine with me---there is nothing more nerve wracking than driving on slick roads in a new car!!
The next morning we continued our trip on clear dry roads (they really do know how to deal with snow). The fun part was watching the landscape change. We left Milwaukee in a snow covered world of deep drifts and pure white scenes. The further south we came the more ground we saw. By the time we arrived home the snow was gone and we could see grass again.
The first thing we did was go through a car wash!! My pretty red car was mostly gray. Then on to show off the new purchase to hubby's office. They are delighted that he has finally gotten a car so they can get something done besides listen to his car hunt. I think everyone had been helping search for the "perfect car".
Thanks guys! It is perfect.
Car shopping is vastly different now. It used to be that you would go to the local dealer and see what he had. Then you made a choice based on his inventory and your finances. Deal done. It's not nearly so simple now. First off, the local dealers have been closed down. That means you have to shop further away from home. Also, now the Internet has opened up the possibilities of price checking, car shopping, and comparisons. No longer are you bound by the dealers you have locally but can reasonably seek out any make and model. That means researching and comparing hundreds of cars to even decide which type you want.
Once you narrow down your search to the make and model that you want, all you have to do is find that car at the price you want. This involves checking dealers, Internet sites, auto auctions, and private sales. Poor hubby spent night after night glued to the computer checking for cars. He had decided on the make and model but was having trouble finding the color he wanted. The one we liked came in 8 shades of gray (80% ), black and white (15%) and red (5%). Guess which one we wanted? Yep, the red one. You would think it wouldn't be that hard to find but we spent weeks trying to find the perfect one. Several times we gave in and decided to go for the black one (I really didn't want another gray car!) but the price would be wrong or it wouldn't have the features we wanted. Then back to the computer.
Finally, one night he found two really great cars. The price was right and they were red!! One was in Jacksonville, FL and the other in Milwaukee, WI. I was holding out for the one in Florida, seeing as how we were cold and snowy here. However, the one in Milwaukee was the better deal. Through all of this, a friend who is a car dealer had been helping us find the perfect car. He was wonderful and placed the call the the dealer in Milwaukee and made the deal. Now all we had to do was get it home.
Two days later we flew into Milwaukee to pick up the car and drive it home. We left on a sunny morning looking forward to a nice little "get-away" time. The pilot announced that the weather was about 25 degrees and cloudy in Milwaukee. Moments later the stewardess came on and announced, "Your pilot has not been entirely honest with you. It is 25 degrees and it is cloudy. However, it is also snowing and they are under white-out conditions. However, they are plowing a runway for us to use. Have a good trip." That sounded a little different.
We landed on the newly plowed runway with no problems and dodged the snowplows to our gate. We were met by a driver from the dealership who assured us that this was just a little snow and would quit soon. I was reassured, after all we were in the north where everyone knew how to deal with a little snow. Unfortunately, the four wrecks we passed on the interstate didn't reassure me of this much. The driver was right in that the snow quickly ended.
Two hours later when we left with our shiny, spotlessly clean car the roads were wet, but cleared of snow. They really do know how to handle snowy roads. Now we were on our way--only 8 more hours to go. Everything was fine until we got to Chicago. Nothing would do but for hubby to go straight through downtown (it's shorter). About halfway through the snow started up again. By the time we had gotten through Chicago the roads were covered and traffic slowing down. After one rather slick snow covered ramp, hubby looked at me and suggested we stop for the night. Fine with me---there is nothing more nerve wracking than driving on slick roads in a new car!!
The next morning we continued our trip on clear dry roads (they really do know how to deal with snow). The fun part was watching the landscape change. We left Milwaukee in a snow covered world of deep drifts and pure white scenes. The further south we came the more ground we saw. By the time we arrived home the snow was gone and we could see grass again.
The first thing we did was go through a car wash!! My pretty red car was mostly gray. Then on to show off the new purchase to hubby's office. They are delighted that he has finally gotten a car so they can get something done besides listen to his car hunt. I think everyone had been helping search for the "perfect car".
Thanks guys! It is perfect.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Zipper Problems
I have discovered that trying to get dressed to be presentable in public has become a real challenge. Like a lot of people I am discovering that I have a little zipper problem. It seems that my zippers don't want to close properly. They keep getting caught on my tummy or sometimes they don't even meet! I have lots of excuses but you've heard most of them. The long and the short of it is that I've been eating more than I need and not making very good choices.
Hubby has joined me in the search for bigger slacks, so we are trying to both be a little more careful in what we eat. I think maybe we need to be a lot more careful. I looked at the kitchen counter and discovered part of a batch of chocolate chip cookies (made for the grandkids), the last of a birthday cake (made for my son's birthday dinner) and part of a jam cake (from Christmas, for heaven's sake!). Naturally we have been munching contently on these "left-overs". What is it that makes it impossible for my generation to just throw it out? My refrigerator is full of little bowls, cups and cartons containing a serving of this, and a serving of that--why can't we throw it out!!!
I am a product of a generation that was raised by a generation that actually knew what it was like to not have enough. They knew hard times and food shortages. They didn't waste anything. I still marvel at how my mother-in-law would even save the water from rinsing vegetables to put on her flowers. They also didn't waste food. They cooked enough but not so much that they had tons of left-overs. No one ever starved in my mother's kitchen but she didn't have to clean out the refrigerator every week or so to get rid of all the left overs either.
I read the other day where the "average" serving size has increased by 200% in the last 40 years. The old "basic four" food model was set up on 1/2 cup servings. Put three 1/2 servings on a plate for a meal and most of us would think we were at a "fat farm". We have grown accustomed to eating way more than our bodies require. According to this article, today's small hamburgers are the same size as the regular of just a few years ago. Everything is larger, so why are we surprised that we are too?
Even the clothing stores work to make us eat more. Take for example I wear the same size jeans now that I did in my twenties. Do you think I am the same size--not hardly. The clothing manufacturers have gradually increased the sizes of the clothing so we won't feel upset that we have to keep buying bigger ones. I guess they think we won't realize that we are becoming bigger if the clothes do too.
The sad part is that when it all catches up with you then you have to give up eating the things that you love. When if we had only been eating smaller amounts and made some more sensible choices along the way, we could still be eating what we want. It's all about moderation and compromises. You can eat your cake but not three times a day!
Hubby has joined me in the search for bigger slacks, so we are trying to both be a little more careful in what we eat. I think maybe we need to be a lot more careful. I looked at the kitchen counter and discovered part of a batch of chocolate chip cookies (made for the grandkids), the last of a birthday cake (made for my son's birthday dinner) and part of a jam cake (from Christmas, for heaven's sake!). Naturally we have been munching contently on these "left-overs". What is it that makes it impossible for my generation to just throw it out? My refrigerator is full of little bowls, cups and cartons containing a serving of this, and a serving of that--why can't we throw it out!!!
I am a product of a generation that was raised by a generation that actually knew what it was like to not have enough. They knew hard times and food shortages. They didn't waste anything. I still marvel at how my mother-in-law would even save the water from rinsing vegetables to put on her flowers. They also didn't waste food. They cooked enough but not so much that they had tons of left-overs. No one ever starved in my mother's kitchen but she didn't have to clean out the refrigerator every week or so to get rid of all the left overs either.
I read the other day where the "average" serving size has increased by 200% in the last 40 years. The old "basic four" food model was set up on 1/2 cup servings. Put three 1/2 servings on a plate for a meal and most of us would think we were at a "fat farm". We have grown accustomed to eating way more than our bodies require. According to this article, today's small hamburgers are the same size as the regular of just a few years ago. Everything is larger, so why are we surprised that we are too?
Even the clothing stores work to make us eat more. Take for example I wear the same size jeans now that I did in my twenties. Do you think I am the same size--not hardly. The clothing manufacturers have gradually increased the sizes of the clothing so we won't feel upset that we have to keep buying bigger ones. I guess they think we won't realize that we are becoming bigger if the clothes do too.
The sad part is that when it all catches up with you then you have to give up eating the things that you love. When if we had only been eating smaller amounts and made some more sensible choices along the way, we could still be eating what we want. It's all about moderation and compromises. You can eat your cake but not three times a day!
Monday, January 10, 2011
The Look
I don't do a lot of work on the farm anymore, but back when the kids were little everyone had a job. Over the years I have helped fence, bale hay, spray thistles, work cattle, tag calves. You name it and I got a chance to try it. However, one of my favorite memories came when we were showing cattle.
Show cattle are the pampered pets of the farm. The kids would get up early and let them into the barn and feed them their breakfast. Then they would tie the heifers up for an hour or two to get them used to being tied. This was essential since when we took them to shows they would be tied in the barns during the day. My job was to go to the barn after they had left for school and untie them and put them back out in the lot. Not a difficult chore if everything went according to plan.
However, we have limited barn space and hubby being one to never pass up a good opportunity, he kept adding to the morning routine. Before long I had a cow and calf to let into the barn when I let the show heifers out, so mom could have a little extra feed. This was working out pretty well, since everyone knew what they were doing and all were glad to switch places. Then he added two weaning bulls to the mix.
Now things started to get a little tricky. The cow and calf had to come in, the heifers had to go out. Then the process was repeated with the bulls coming in for a bite after the cow was penned up. Cattle are pretty easily trained with a feed bucket so most of the time the process went smoothly with everyone meekly going to their stall. Then came the morning when nothing was going right. The kids were late to school, we were rushed, I had a cold and felt rotten and had an early appointment in town. That meant that everything had to work just right or I would miss my appointment.
I went down to let the show heifers out and one of them decided that it was fun to swing her head away just as I was grabbing for her halter to slip it off. Finally, I got them hustled out and the door open for the cow and calf to come in. This morning the calf decided she wanted to go into a different stall. Then mama wanted to come with her. A little bribing and yelling finally had them contentedly munching feed in their spot. However, the clock was ticking and time was running out. Now to hurry and get the bulls in for their turn. I opened the door and the bulls run to opposite ends of the lot. Great! Trudging and fussing over the time lost and contrary males of all species, I started to gather them up and herd them to the door.
Suddenly one of the bulls dropped his head, stomped his foot and did a little "mini-charge" in my direction. Just as suddenly my control snapped. I had had it with late children, husband designated chores, feeling rotten, and especially ornery males! Without giving it a thought I stared him straight in the eye, propped my hands on my hips and gave him the "look". Yes, the "look". The same look perfected over years by mothers to quell sibling fights on the back pew in church from the choir loft. The same one that would turn a teen aged girl around and back upstairs to change clothes with no words exchanged. The look that has been used by teachers for eons to stop the class cut-up in mid-antic. Every mother has used it-- the"look" that says "You have pushed me as far as I'm going, so you'd better shape up right now!"
It seems that even bulls know the "look" because with that his head came up, he turned peacefully and walked straight into his stall. It's good to know some mothering skills are always effective.
Show cattle are the pampered pets of the farm. The kids would get up early and let them into the barn and feed them their breakfast. Then they would tie the heifers up for an hour or two to get them used to being tied. This was essential since when we took them to shows they would be tied in the barns during the day. My job was to go to the barn after they had left for school and untie them and put them back out in the lot. Not a difficult chore if everything went according to plan.
However, we have limited barn space and hubby being one to never pass up a good opportunity, he kept adding to the morning routine. Before long I had a cow and calf to let into the barn when I let the show heifers out, so mom could have a little extra feed. This was working out pretty well, since everyone knew what they were doing and all were glad to switch places. Then he added two weaning bulls to the mix.
Now things started to get a little tricky. The cow and calf had to come in, the heifers had to go out. Then the process was repeated with the bulls coming in for a bite after the cow was penned up. Cattle are pretty easily trained with a feed bucket so most of the time the process went smoothly with everyone meekly going to their stall. Then came the morning when nothing was going right. The kids were late to school, we were rushed, I had a cold and felt rotten and had an early appointment in town. That meant that everything had to work just right or I would miss my appointment.
I went down to let the show heifers out and one of them decided that it was fun to swing her head away just as I was grabbing for her halter to slip it off. Finally, I got them hustled out and the door open for the cow and calf to come in. This morning the calf decided she wanted to go into a different stall. Then mama wanted to come with her. A little bribing and yelling finally had them contentedly munching feed in their spot. However, the clock was ticking and time was running out. Now to hurry and get the bulls in for their turn. I opened the door and the bulls run to opposite ends of the lot. Great! Trudging and fussing over the time lost and contrary males of all species, I started to gather them up and herd them to the door.
Suddenly one of the bulls dropped his head, stomped his foot and did a little "mini-charge" in my direction. Just as suddenly my control snapped. I had had it with late children, husband designated chores, feeling rotten, and especially ornery males! Without giving it a thought I stared him straight in the eye, propped my hands on my hips and gave him the "look". Yes, the "look". The same look perfected over years by mothers to quell sibling fights on the back pew in church from the choir loft. The same one that would turn a teen aged girl around and back upstairs to change clothes with no words exchanged. The look that has been used by teachers for eons to stop the class cut-up in mid-antic. Every mother has used it-- the"look" that says "You have pushed me as far as I'm going, so you'd better shape up right now!"
It seems that even bulls know the "look" because with that his head came up, he turned peacefully and walked straight into his stall. It's good to know some mothering skills are always effective.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Congo Squares
Growing up, my mother worked full time. It was a time when most mother's didn't work outside of the home and society wasn't as structured for the care of all these children. Some of the time mother would hire a local teen to be my sitter during school breaks and after school. However, summers created another problem. When sitters couldn't be found, I got shipped off to stay with my grandparents in Bardstown. Sometimes this meant I would be living with them for some while. I thought it was a great plan.
My grandparents lived in a tiny little house on a quiet street. Next door lived a family with four daughters, one just my age. Two doors up the street lived a little girl just a little younger. Then across he street lived a family with five boys and one teen girl. (She grew up to become a nun, but that is another story.) I was in kid heaven. We three girls and the three youngest boys spent hours playing, fighting, teasing and generally getting into trouble. It was a kinder, gentler time and while we were complete hooligans, the neighbors were tolerant of most of our antics.
My grandmother wasn't your typical cuddly grandmother. She was more likely to soothe a skinned knee by telling you to quit squalling, no one ever died from a little lost skin. She was a fiery redhead covered, much to my fascination, with freckles from head to toe. At just a little over five feet she was a human dynamo that could do anything. Everything she did she did exceptionally well. She tailored coats for her friends, made up her own patterns, covered furniture, painted rooms, made drapes, and cooked. My, oh my, how she could cook. She cooked for fun, for giving away, for the challenge, and for eating. She loved to eat almost as much as she loved to cook. The constant battle was to keep the pounds off her diminutive frame while indulging her culinary experiments.
As kids we knew that messing around in her kitchen wasn't a great idea. Not only did she have a short, red head temper, but an ingenious method of dolling out odious chores as punishments. However, we also knew that her cooking experiments often resulted in great "left-overs" for us. The compromise was the utility room. If there was a snack for us it would be placed on a plate on a counter just in the back door. You know we checked that counter a dozen times a day.
The best days were the ones she made congo squares. She was famous for these chewy, blond brownies chocked full of nuts and chocolate chips. Think a soft, gooey chocolate chip cookie about 1 inch thick. Eaten warm they are the best in the world. I think this recipe is the one that won my husbands heart. I've made them for years for my kids (big and small). I never make them I don't think of my grandmother. Beneath her growly disposition was a heart that remembered to make cookies for all the neighborhood kids.
Thanks Wawee.
Congo Squares
3/4 c. margarine, melted
2 1/4 c. brown sugar, packed
3 eggs
2 3/4 c. flour
2 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
1 c. chopped nuts
1 (6 oz.) pkg. chocolate chips
Melt margarine, add brown sugar and mix well. Add eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Add flour, baking powder, and salt. Mix well. Add nuts and chocolate chips. Bake in a 9x13 inch baking pan in a 350 degree oven for 40-45 minutes. Do not over bake. They should be very moist and chewy.
Enjoy.
My grandparents lived in a tiny little house on a quiet street. Next door lived a family with four daughters, one just my age. Two doors up the street lived a little girl just a little younger. Then across he street lived a family with five boys and one teen girl. (She grew up to become a nun, but that is another story.) I was in kid heaven. We three girls and the three youngest boys spent hours playing, fighting, teasing and generally getting into trouble. It was a kinder, gentler time and while we were complete hooligans, the neighbors were tolerant of most of our antics.
My grandmother wasn't your typical cuddly grandmother. She was more likely to soothe a skinned knee by telling you to quit squalling, no one ever died from a little lost skin. She was a fiery redhead covered, much to my fascination, with freckles from head to toe. At just a little over five feet she was a human dynamo that could do anything. Everything she did she did exceptionally well. She tailored coats for her friends, made up her own patterns, covered furniture, painted rooms, made drapes, and cooked. My, oh my, how she could cook. She cooked for fun, for giving away, for the challenge, and for eating. She loved to eat almost as much as she loved to cook. The constant battle was to keep the pounds off her diminutive frame while indulging her culinary experiments.
As kids we knew that messing around in her kitchen wasn't a great idea. Not only did she have a short, red head temper, but an ingenious method of dolling out odious chores as punishments. However, we also knew that her cooking experiments often resulted in great "left-overs" for us. The compromise was the utility room. If there was a snack for us it would be placed on a plate on a counter just in the back door. You know we checked that counter a dozen times a day.
The best days were the ones she made congo squares. She was famous for these chewy, blond brownies chocked full of nuts and chocolate chips. Think a soft, gooey chocolate chip cookie about 1 inch thick. Eaten warm they are the best in the world. I think this recipe is the one that won my husbands heart. I've made them for years for my kids (big and small). I never make them I don't think of my grandmother. Beneath her growly disposition was a heart that remembered to make cookies for all the neighborhood kids.
Thanks Wawee.
Congo Squares
3/4 c. margarine, melted
2 1/4 c. brown sugar, packed
3 eggs
2 3/4 c. flour
2 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
1 c. chopped nuts
1 (6 oz.) pkg. chocolate chips
Melt margarine, add brown sugar and mix well. Add eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Add flour, baking powder, and salt. Mix well. Add nuts and chocolate chips. Bake in a 9x13 inch baking pan in a 350 degree oven for 40-45 minutes. Do not over bake. They should be very moist and chewy.
Enjoy.
Friday, January 7, 2011
The Weaker Sex
I sure am glad that God has a sense of humor. When God created Adam's help-mate he made her smaller, more delicate, softer, and gentler. Then to balance things out he made her tougher than old shoe leather. If he hadn't who would take care of the males of this world?
It seems that I have been taking care of sick males since before Christmas. The middle grandson came down with a mysterious fever and eye infection just before Christmas. The sitter can't have a sick one with all the other kids, so guess who showed up at my house. "Uh, mom, I know this is short notice" mumbled my son with his drooping little one on his shoulder. Short, as in 8 am the day before Christmas Eve and 17 people coming. OK, put him on the couch, we'll just clean around him. He was still sick Christmas morning, but enough better to enjoy the goodies under the tree. I haven't had the nerve to poll the families attending Christmas Eve to see if anyone else turned up sick.
Within a day or two my son is wandering through the house wondering what he can do for an awful sore throat. Try the doctor, I advise. He droops around for a day then consults the doc and gets a prescription. Of course, he doesn't stay home, he keeps wandering in and our of my house, looking for sympathy and comfort.
Then on the first day back at school son shows up again. This time it's the oldest grandson and a stomach virus. Yea. That one manages to run a fever for two more days while slurping up chicken noodle soup and looking pitiful. We actually spent a couple of neat days watching rented movies. I can recommend "The Last Airbender" and the "Sorcerer's Apprentice".
About this time I had a routine dental appointment. At the end of the check-up the dentist asks "Does your throat feel funny?' "Well, now that you mention it, it has been scratchy feeling". "Well, get ready because it's blistered and you'll probably be feeling a lot worse shortly". That figures, if you nurse enough sick men, you eventually will catch something.
I told the assembled crew that night that I was probably coming down with something and not to expect much out of me for a few days. It didn't make much impression. "Listen", I said, "I really am getting sick, so don't bring me anyone else to nurse".
The next morning, hubby rolls over and croaks, "I'm sick. My throat is killing me. I couldn't sleep all night. I'm running a fever. My throat hurts!" "NO!!" I whined, "You can't out-sick me! It's my turn. I get to lay on the couch and have someone bring me meals." Unfortunately, the truth of the matter is that I was already feeling better. I guess God knew I didn't have time to be really sick. So, out comes the chicken soup and the remote. One more to wait on.
Like I said. It's a good thing God created women to take care of men.
It seems that I have been taking care of sick males since before Christmas. The middle grandson came down with a mysterious fever and eye infection just before Christmas. The sitter can't have a sick one with all the other kids, so guess who showed up at my house. "Uh, mom, I know this is short notice" mumbled my son with his drooping little one on his shoulder. Short, as in 8 am the day before Christmas Eve and 17 people coming. OK, put him on the couch, we'll just clean around him. He was still sick Christmas morning, but enough better to enjoy the goodies under the tree. I haven't had the nerve to poll the families attending Christmas Eve to see if anyone else turned up sick.
Within a day or two my son is wandering through the house wondering what he can do for an awful sore throat. Try the doctor, I advise. He droops around for a day then consults the doc and gets a prescription. Of course, he doesn't stay home, he keeps wandering in and our of my house, looking for sympathy and comfort.
Then on the first day back at school son shows up again. This time it's the oldest grandson and a stomach virus. Yea. That one manages to run a fever for two more days while slurping up chicken noodle soup and looking pitiful. We actually spent a couple of neat days watching rented movies. I can recommend "The Last Airbender" and the "Sorcerer's Apprentice".
About this time I had a routine dental appointment. At the end of the check-up the dentist asks "Does your throat feel funny?' "Well, now that you mention it, it has been scratchy feeling". "Well, get ready because it's blistered and you'll probably be feeling a lot worse shortly". That figures, if you nurse enough sick men, you eventually will catch something.
I told the assembled crew that night that I was probably coming down with something and not to expect much out of me for a few days. It didn't make much impression. "Listen", I said, "I really am getting sick, so don't bring me anyone else to nurse".
The next morning, hubby rolls over and croaks, "I'm sick. My throat is killing me. I couldn't sleep all night. I'm running a fever. My throat hurts!" "NO!!" I whined, "You can't out-sick me! It's my turn. I get to lay on the couch and have someone bring me meals." Unfortunately, the truth of the matter is that I was already feeling better. I guess God knew I didn't have time to be really sick. So, out comes the chicken soup and the remote. One more to wait on.
Like I said. It's a good thing God created women to take care of men.
Friday, December 31, 2010
It's Over
Today I started taking down the Christmas decorations. It's a melancholy undertaking for me. I love Christmas and the decorations. I spend hours listening to Christmas music and putting up the old decorations and remembering the years past. They are always put up with the feeling of anticipation for the festivities to come spiced with the hustle and stress of many things yet to do. I linger lovingly over the placement of each piece in the manger scene, hunt the perfect place for the special ornaments on the tree, tenderly unwrap the little figurines that my mother painted only to wrap them back up until the little ones are bigger and less likely to demolish them. The house always looks so beautiful to me in the glow of the candles in the windows and the twinkle of the lights on the Christmas tree.
I have friends that just can't wait to get all the decorations down and put up. The day after Christmas everything is tucked away and all signs of the season are gone. For me the days after Christmas are the best ones of all. The pressure is off, everyone slows down, and I can finally just enjoy the seasonal finery. I love taking my coffee into the sunroom, turning on the lights on the tree, and enjoy a little early morning reflection. Hubby even commented on how much he was enjoying the tree and wondered if we could just leave it up until February. Considering that it was nearly March one year before I could stop anyone long enough to help me get it out of the sunroom and stored that was a particularly scary thought.
However, today it is 68 degrees out and the decorations must come down. Far better now than waiting a few days until it is rainy, cold and miserable. Actually, I'm only one day early. Traditionally I spend all of New Year's day taking down the decorations and putting them away. It keeps me entertained and I have a house full of men to help carry everything up to the attic. All I have to do is remember to ask during half-time or between games. That is all but one year. That year I decided to host a coffee for all the "ball widows". I invited everyone I knew to come and hang out. They did!! They arrived about 11 am and the last ones left at 4 pm. We sat in the floor, on chairs, and steps and ate stale Christmas cookies and drank coffee and had a ball.
I only got to do that one year, then hubby wanted his house back for the ballgames.
Maybe next time I undecorate early I'll plan another "widows" day.
Happy New Year!
I have friends that just can't wait to get all the decorations down and put up. The day after Christmas everything is tucked away and all signs of the season are gone. For me the days after Christmas are the best ones of all. The pressure is off, everyone slows down, and I can finally just enjoy the seasonal finery. I love taking my coffee into the sunroom, turning on the lights on the tree, and enjoy a little early morning reflection. Hubby even commented on how much he was enjoying the tree and wondered if we could just leave it up until February. Considering that it was nearly March one year before I could stop anyone long enough to help me get it out of the sunroom and stored that was a particularly scary thought.
However, today it is 68 degrees out and the decorations must come down. Far better now than waiting a few days until it is rainy, cold and miserable. Actually, I'm only one day early. Traditionally I spend all of New Year's day taking down the decorations and putting them away. It keeps me entertained and I have a house full of men to help carry everything up to the attic. All I have to do is remember to ask during half-time or between games. That is all but one year. That year I decided to host a coffee for all the "ball widows". I invited everyone I knew to come and hang out. They did!! They arrived about 11 am and the last ones left at 4 pm. We sat in the floor, on chairs, and steps and ate stale Christmas cookies and drank coffee and had a ball.
I only got to do that one year, then hubby wanted his house back for the ballgames.
Maybe next time I undecorate early I'll plan another "widows" day.
Happy New Year!
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Game Time
My husband loves football. He also loves basketball. He even likes baseball, soccer, tennis, golf and has occasionally watched rugby! What he doesn't like is to watch them alone. That means our den is constantly draped in long, lanky forms cheering or groaning as the games progress. My role is part waitress, bartender, and short-order cook.
Since these gatherings seem to be a little impromptu (probably everyone knows about them but me), I have learned to keep the freezer stocked with goodies. Thank goodness for Sam's. I've really gotten very good at producing munchies and goodies on short notice. Of course they are a little long on fats and calories, but who is counting. At least who was counting until the year the doctor told hubby he had to lower his triglycerides. That meant a real change in munching habits.
The guys gathered as usual to watch the home team play. They all settled in and began eyeing the kitchen door to see what would appear. Drinks were prepared and the coffee table cleared off for the hoped for food. The game started and one by one the guys appeared at the door to see if there was anything they could do to "help". Smiling, I told them to get comfortable that I had everything under control. The first hint that things were changing came when I placed a big bowl of air-popped popcorn on the table. One of the guys poked it gently and inquired "what's this". "Popcorn, silly" I replied. "Oh, I guess you forgot the butter", he smiled. "Nope. It's better for you plain." I smiled back. Looking a little pitiful they munched away determinedly.
However, when I arrived with a big relish tray with low-fat dip they were not amused. "You don't expect us to eat this do you?" "Those are carrots!" "How about some chips to use with the dip" "Surely, this isn't all we are going to get?" "Don't you have some cheese and crackers at least". I held firm, knowing that hubby would never be able to resist if I set it out.
This lasted for most of the football season and all of the basketball. I varied the offerings with other low-fat selections and they manfully tried them all. A few resorted to trying to sneak in chips and pizza but I soon discouraged that. Come spring hubby's visit to the doctor was a time of tense waiting for all. Cheers erupted when the news came back. Everything was normal!! They could eat again!!
They still gather to watch the games and eat. We are eating more "game foods" now but I try to keep them balanced with low fat offerings. We still eat pizza and sausage and cheese dip, but we also eat turkey sandwiches and salsa dip. One thing we don't eat is popcorn and relish trays!
However, every now and then, just for fun, I'll set out the celery and carrots. You should see their faces!
Since these gatherings seem to be a little impromptu (probably everyone knows about them but me), I have learned to keep the freezer stocked with goodies. Thank goodness for Sam's. I've really gotten very good at producing munchies and goodies on short notice. Of course they are a little long on fats and calories, but who is counting. At least who was counting until the year the doctor told hubby he had to lower his triglycerides. That meant a real change in munching habits.
The guys gathered as usual to watch the home team play. They all settled in and began eyeing the kitchen door to see what would appear. Drinks were prepared and the coffee table cleared off for the hoped for food. The game started and one by one the guys appeared at the door to see if there was anything they could do to "help". Smiling, I told them to get comfortable that I had everything under control. The first hint that things were changing came when I placed a big bowl of air-popped popcorn on the table. One of the guys poked it gently and inquired "what's this". "Popcorn, silly" I replied. "Oh, I guess you forgot the butter", he smiled. "Nope. It's better for you plain." I smiled back. Looking a little pitiful they munched away determinedly.
However, when I arrived with a big relish tray with low-fat dip they were not amused. "You don't expect us to eat this do you?" "Those are carrots!" "How about some chips to use with the dip" "Surely, this isn't all we are going to get?" "Don't you have some cheese and crackers at least". I held firm, knowing that hubby would never be able to resist if I set it out.
This lasted for most of the football season and all of the basketball. I varied the offerings with other low-fat selections and they manfully tried them all. A few resorted to trying to sneak in chips and pizza but I soon discouraged that. Come spring hubby's visit to the doctor was a time of tense waiting for all. Cheers erupted when the news came back. Everything was normal!! They could eat again!!
They still gather to watch the games and eat. We are eating more "game foods" now but I try to keep them balanced with low fat offerings. We still eat pizza and sausage and cheese dip, but we also eat turkey sandwiches and salsa dip. One thing we don't eat is popcorn and relish trays!
However, every now and then, just for fun, I'll set out the celery and carrots. You should see their faces!
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Holiday Havoc
I apologize for my lengthy absence. I'm not sure what happened but the days in November and December quit having 24 hrs and were reduced to about 12. That's the only thing I can figure out to explain how I have managed to get to Christmas without getting anything done. For the first time in history I have not sent a single Christmas card, much less a thoughtful handwritten note. The grandkids have all but disowned me because there is not a single piece of candy or a cookie in the house (even the Halloween candy is gone!) The meals have leaned a lot more toward McDonalds than Gourmet and you know what....we've still had a great Christmas!
Surprise! Christmas isn't about beautiful packages or 50 kinds of cookies. It's about family, kids, giggles, secrets, whispers, and love. That much we have had in abundance.
However, I have noticed that as I winged my frazzled way from upheaval to disaster, my daughter has begun to give me worried looks. You can tell she is remembering days when I entertained with everything organized, done ahead and looking easy. I think she is pretty sure that the old show horse is about ready to be put out to pasture. Of course, in those days my kids were younger but they knew better than to interrupt when I was deep into cooking and would never have yelled for Jo-Jo to come work a puzzle with them. When I hear that call I can't help but think "Now what do I really want to do. Cook or play with the grandkids?" What do you think happens? We can eat at McDonalds--again.
I know I am getting older. I know I am slowing down. I know it's harder every year to get everything done. However in my defense I am working with a slight handicap. I had two kids. Now I have two "visitors" and five grandkids. My normal routine is shot all to ____! Every time I turn around there is another pile of stuff on my counter, more shoes in the entryway, more coats on the chairs, and toys everywhere. Someone is always eating or rummaging in the refrigerator. Towels and washcloths start to multiply in the utility room.
But you know what the real show stopper is? You know what really keeps me from getting all my chores done? I just can't resist sitting down with a cup of tea for a quick chat with my daughter or running out to the barn to see the newest baby calf with my son. I had no idea it was such fun to work giant floor puzzles with my grandson or read books with my granddaughter. Who would have thought it would take so much time to tell the grandkids the stories about all ornaments on the Christmas tree....from our first little plastic ones to the ones our kids made?
The long and the short of it is that our Christmas wasn't a Hallmark moment. However there were a lot of hugs, stories, laughter and tears. My Christmas cards will be done after Christmas (although I swear, I will write notes to all my dear friends), we'll gain less weight due to less cooking, the presents were in bags instead of elegantly wrapped boxes, but we had a lot of fun! After all, now that they are all gone I have until next Christmas to get ready for 2011!!
Next year they are all getting summer clothes because I am starting in JULY!!
Surprise! Christmas isn't about beautiful packages or 50 kinds of cookies. It's about family, kids, giggles, secrets, whispers, and love. That much we have had in abundance.
However, I have noticed that as I winged my frazzled way from upheaval to disaster, my daughter has begun to give me worried looks. You can tell she is remembering days when I entertained with everything organized, done ahead and looking easy. I think she is pretty sure that the old show horse is about ready to be put out to pasture. Of course, in those days my kids were younger but they knew better than to interrupt when I was deep into cooking and would never have yelled for Jo-Jo to come work a puzzle with them. When I hear that call I can't help but think "Now what do I really want to do. Cook or play with the grandkids?" What do you think happens? We can eat at McDonalds--again.
I know I am getting older. I know I am slowing down. I know it's harder every year to get everything done. However in my defense I am working with a slight handicap. I had two kids. Now I have two "visitors" and five grandkids. My normal routine is shot all to ____! Every time I turn around there is another pile of stuff on my counter, more shoes in the entryway, more coats on the chairs, and toys everywhere. Someone is always eating or rummaging in the refrigerator. Towels and washcloths start to multiply in the utility room.
But you know what the real show stopper is? You know what really keeps me from getting all my chores done? I just can't resist sitting down with a cup of tea for a quick chat with my daughter or running out to the barn to see the newest baby calf with my son. I had no idea it was such fun to work giant floor puzzles with my grandson or read books with my granddaughter. Who would have thought it would take so much time to tell the grandkids the stories about all ornaments on the Christmas tree....from our first little plastic ones to the ones our kids made?
The long and the short of it is that our Christmas wasn't a Hallmark moment. However there were a lot of hugs, stories, laughter and tears. My Christmas cards will be done after Christmas (although I swear, I will write notes to all my dear friends), we'll gain less weight due to less cooking, the presents were in bags instead of elegantly wrapped boxes, but we had a lot of fun! After all, now that they are all gone I have until next Christmas to get ready for 2011!!
Next year they are all getting summer clothes because I am starting in JULY!!
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