214 replies to this topic

[Daniel]

I see it, but I am still trying to believe it.. Miss Rachel D blogging, taking photos, and starting things off with a Corned beaf sandwich at a Deli... I am really such a fan of your writings and just of you! So I am really looking forward to following you this week.. Great grab and recovery on the cake by the way

Edit to Add: I had a Mom-Mom and a Pop-Pop on one side and a Poppy and a Nana on the other..

Edited by Daniel, 20 November 2006 - 09:35 AM.

[nakji]

I'd love to hear what EVERYONE called their Grandmothers

I call my grandmother "Nanny".

She raised nine children on her own in Labrador, having buried two husbands, on the wage she made from cleaning the base hospital in Goose Bay.

She made fresh baked bread every week for all the children, and to this day makes bread by hand by up-ending a 5 kilo sack of Robin Hood flour on the table and adding water and everything else until she says "it feels good". My mother has memories of always eating fresh food, even though it was extremely hard to come by that far north back then. They had no running water, and heat came from a wood-stove that burned all day. My mother chopped the wood for it. To this day, Nanny makes Newfoundland boiled dinners, baked beans from scratch, homemade donuts, caribou stew, pan-fried trout, and knows how to butcher and cook a seal. I don't think she knows how to cook for less than a dozen people at a time.

When she was young, it was her job to make the booties for the sled dogs, so their paws wouldn't get covered in ice. Her father ran the Hudson's Bay trading post in Nain. She still makes beautiful deer-skin slippers, lined in rabbit fur, and hand embroidered in wool and beads, every Christmas for us, if we ask for them. I have my latest pair here with me in Hanoi, in case it gets cold and I need them. (We had hail today, so it just might.) My mother has my shillipuk that she made for me in storage at home in Nova Scotia.

She still drives, and has a 1980 VW Rabbit, in mint condition, as it's too cold to salt the roads up there.

My grandmother, in other words, is hardcore.

Racheld, thanks for calling this all to mind. You have me sniffling at my computer.

As for me, my Thanksgiving is far from home. Although I'm Canadian, and we celebrate in October, the last couple of years when I lived in Korea, I hosted a multi-country Thanksgiving Day at my house. I had roast turkeys (hard to find in Korea), and all the trimmings (and some kimchi on the table, as well). This year, I'm in a new country, stove-less, and all my friends are now from the UK. Fortunately, there's an old dead-head who runs a tavern in town, and he's doing a full US Thanksgiving. We may have to watch the Ashes instead of the football, though.

I look forward to seeing what you dish up.

[Pontormo]

Look at how much you've given us and it's not even noon on the first day of your blog!

...And now, we’ve been transplanted for some fifteen years to this Northernmost of Southern states.  ..

I've only just learned Indiana is your home, Rachel. I can't remember the last time I heard anyone refer to Lafayette! As someone who's only lived in semi-Southern parts of the U.S., I'm wondering what signs of the south you recognize in this part of the midwest.

I also didn't know your family includes (a) culinary professional(s) and am looking forward to more proud and lively news of your world.

Since this is a full week ahead, I hesitate in requesting a tutorial in a proper batch of perfectly golden fried chicken, but I would be grateful were you to teach us a thing or two about a southern favorite during your trip at the end of the week.

And, finally, would you mind explaining this "Moire non"? Cajun? Not an allusion to the Italian names of the siblings of Zeus, nor watered silk, nor optical scanning devices, I am guessing.

Edited by Pontormo, 20 November 2006 - 09:50 AM.

[FabulousFoodBabe]

racheld, I'm so excited to see you bloggin'! I grew up in SW Ohio, moments from the Indiana border. I wonde what else will seem familiar to me.

Looking forward to your handwritten instructions, and more beautiful photos.

[srhcb]

Thank you, Shaya---that is one of the loveliest compliments of my life.

And your Grandmother---what did you call her?   I love hearing the pet names families use for grandparents.

Both of mine were Mammaw---the one who DIDN'T cook had her last initial tacked on to her title, to tell who I meant.

But the other---she was my guide and mentor, though she would never let my Mother near the kitchen.   I'll be making her coconut cake and sweet potato casserole again this year, by her own recipes.

In this time of family and celebration, I'd love to hear what EVERYONE called their Grandmothers, and which one was the defining influence.  And in some instances, we may need a little translation, which would just round out the experience.

When Sara Moulton did an eG Spotlight last January we touched upon the topic of Grandmothers, including some wishful thinking about a Food Network or PBS series based on them and their cooking.

Of my own grandparents, my Father's mother and father, who lived only four blocks away, were called simply Gramma and Grampa. My Mother's father died when I was 2 1/2, and her mother was known as Gramma Chisholm, distinctly named after the city she lived in, five miles away.

Many kids in our neighborhood were of Italian descent, and their grandmothers were Nona. One of my cousins raised her family in The Netherlands, and just last year she became Oma.

Due to people living longer, and the increase in non-traditional households, my three-year old ersatz grandson, Zack, (GF's daughter's son), like many of his generation, has so many "grandparents" it's confusing for us, let alone to him.

We've dealt with this by having him call all the women "Nana Barbie, JoAnn etc" and the men "Poppa Stevan, Peter etc", regardless of their actual legal or genealogical relationship.

SB (Zack, I hope, will always remember "Poppa 'Tevan's" cooking)

Edited by srhcb, 20 November 2006 - 10:06 AM.

[tejon]

My Grandmother is also Gramma. She's still around, but unable to cook any longer which is a sadness to the whole family. Thankfully, her recipes carry on and we'll all have Gramma's rolls this Thanksgiving. She was the inspiration for all things food for me, so it is with great honor that I'll get out the rolling pin and bake today.

Thanks for the reminder and the tribute.

[racheld]

AWWWWW, Y'all!!! You're gonna have me in happy tears in a minute. The Grandparents' names, all the kind words, and that wonderful saga of the Labrador Grandmother---Nanny was a formidable woman, and a lady of many talents.

And the impressions made on us when we were children are imprinted for life---we cook, we care about our families, we remember the ones who cared about us. The fact that those who are so far from home for Thanksgiving are still carrying on the traditions of their youth---that's a wonderful thing, an impressive thing, in this wide-scattered world.

Holding close the remembrances will make our futures sweeter, and making memories for our children will send down a legacy that will reverberate. Forty years from now, what descendants of this group will be sharing their Grandma names and the old family recipes with each other? And all because of the ones before us---that's the best Pay It Forward there is.

We'll try to work in some fried chicken this week; Daughter just offered to run get some and photograph the process for me.

I feel as if I should check this site every five minutes---it's like keeping up with Thank You notes!!! This is just the most wonderful experience, and I thank you all for the pleasure of doing this.

re: Moire non ---"And more anon" is a phrase out of usage now, denoting, "There's more to come."

My best high-school friend and I carry on a correspondence via these lovely netwaves, and since she is a sempstress of great renown and talent, I one day signed my letter "Moire non," for the beautiful fabric. I've never left it off since---it sort of paid homage to her gifts, plus it was memorable and fun. Feel free to borrow, if you like it.

I just say again---Thank you all.

And I am Ganjin. Chris is Ganner.

[Priscilla]

Rachel, this is almost too good for words. But, more words, please, and lots of 'em. And the loveliness your blogging provokes in people is beeyootiful.

[Ling]

A glimpse into Miss Rachel's life and a southern Thanksgiving to boot! Who could ask for more.

[Lori in PA]

I feel as if I should check this site every five minutes---it's like keeping up with  Thank You notes!!! 

Yes! Yes! And, yes! That is exactly how I felt during my own blog -- afraid I would forget someone, anxious to convey just how much his/her comments meant to me but very aware I was saying the same things again and again, and just a wee bit overwhelmed keeping up with it all. Enjoy your week.

[Chufi]

I called both my grandmothers oma, which is simply the Dutch word for grandmother.
One was always happy and cheerful, but in bad health - she was already in a wheelchair and nursinghome when I was born, so I never saw her in a kitchen. But from the family stories, I gather she was not much of a cook! But she was smart, and creative, and kind. Whenever I made a lifechange (move abroad, go to university, whatever) she wrote me a card with the words "I hope it will bring you what you expect from it".

My other oma could cook, but suffered from depression, and when I was growing up, she was already leaving all the cooking to my grandfather and 2 of her daughters. But my mother speaks with fondness of the food that was prepared at the farm when she was young, and some of my oma's recipes were transported to me via my mother.
I am always sad though that I did not know my mothers mother when she was still in reasonable good health - I bet we would have had fun in the kitchen!

Thanks Rachel for bringing up some memories.

[racheld]

Y'all are just beyond kind. Coming from the Doyenne of the Dinner Thread, those are appreciated words.

[maggiethecat]

Nana and Grandad on my mother's side, Gammy and Kellar on my father's (My grandfather's first name was McKellar,named after Duncan McKellar, a Canadian artist/poet who died in the first world war, a friend of my great-grandfather's. It was shortened to Kellar, and even his children called him that.)

Rachel, you know how I feel about your magical writing. It's a gift to have you blogging this week.

P.S. For all you Rachel fans, check The Daily Gullet in the next few weeks or so.)

[M. Lucia]

Rachel, I always enjoyed your posts, but I never realized what a treasure was behind them. You are truly articulate and your writing demonstrates a unique ability to pull stories and emotions through the medium of food.
Having returned to the U.S. after a year abroad, I can't tell you how excited I am to have a Southern Thanksgiving, tomato aspic, cornbread dressing, pie and all. I am so pleased you have chosen to share your holiday with all of us, and I will be checking in regularly. Just as you have made us guests at your table, I will consider you part of ours...

[srhcb]

Unofficial Notice to eG Foodbloggers, past, present and future:

No need for you to thank us. We're the ones coming out ahead on the deal.

Your job is hard enough. If you must, a generic "Thanks" at the end of the project will more than suffice.

SB

[racheld]

I'd better get back onto the mundanities of the day: Breakfast was three cups of Senseo, S&L & Skim. I'll post a picture later---they all look alike, but I love to watch it burble from the little spouts, making that lovely creamy top.

Lunch was LOVELY, done by Daughter, who is off tonight, and thus could cook something she was craving:

Bhindi Masala. It's close to downhome Southern, with a bit of exotic flair---the smalltown girl all gussied up with every spice in the cupboard:



It was DEEEEE---Licious!!

Also a little side slice of a wonderful spinach pie that Daughter made yesterday; a simply wonderful copy of creamed spinach, but made with skim milk, low-fat cheese, Egg Beaters, a little flour, a bit of garlic powder, a breath of nutmeg, a handful of minced raw onion, and a few grinds of pepper. A two-pound bag of frozen spinach, squeezed dry, combined with above, then pressed into a deep 9" cake plate. Baked for a bit more than an hour, as it was really thick, and never did sink after cooling.
It was a bit firmer than creamed, and could be neatly sliced. It tasted REALLY good.

Today was to be fudge-making day, as we have one guest who would pass on the turkey and head straight for the candy-stand. He starts hinting mildly in August, proceeds to mentions in September, and by October is downright asking if I'm going to start fudging early this year. I've just been so busy with little household chores and bed-changing day and just LIVING in this chair for the past hours---no chocolate smells coming from here today, no Sir.

I'm using my Mother's never-fail recipe, the old marshmallow cream thing, made with Hershey's Extra-Dark chunks, Pet milk, sugar, butter and a jar of the cream. It takes eight minutes to cook after it boils, and is always super-creamy after it solidifies. We make it in several flavors: Chocolate, peanut butter, dark, Espresso and Latte.

Toasted pecans, macadamias, peanuts, what-you-will on top. Or feathered strings of ganache.

We always pour it into the Pam-sprayed pan as soon as the gloss begins to change. It's just something you know to look for, and it seldom fails to pour properly. I would NEVER be able to do actual CHOCOLATE, however. The idea of tempering and pouring and all the attendant chemistry of the process---that's an art that I don't possess.

Mother always "dropped" hers like pralines. They would begin to change midway through the dropping cycle, and the first would be smooth, rounded patties, worthy of being cellophaned by Miss Martha herself; the next group would be firming up on the spoon, still with rounded sides, but maybe a little roughness to the tops where one spoon scraped them off the other.

The pieces I liked best were the rough, pebbly ones, the last ones of the making, with tiny cracks and smidgets of scrapings giving them a personality and character both different and better. The last scritches out of the pan, licked warm off the spoon, are the best of all.

Tomorrow, maybe. I'll make the ambrosia cake tomorrow, as well. It needs a two-day chill for all the flavors to cozy up to each other. It's an orange velvet layer, with sour cream frosting and coconut that's been soaked in sweetened milk and a few drops of coconut extract, then squeezed dry before applying.

And Thanksgiving is the TIME for memories. I'm glad everyone can share, especially the kitchen ones.

Moire non,
r

Edited by racheld, 20 November 2006 - 12:19 PM.

[racheld]

No need for you to thank us. 

For taking up space and being repetitive, I'd agree with you. But try telling that to a G.R.I.T.S. with five boxes of monogrammed notecards, a Shaeffer pen and nine pairs of white gloves put away in sachet.

Now where DID I put those floral stamps?

[Carrot Top]

a Shaeffer pen and nine pairs of white gloves put away in sachet.

Now where DID I put those floral stamps?

Photo op here, r. Photo op. Get those gloves out, grrrrl. Put 'em to good use.

White gloves, grits, and a blank page to write upon. Yeah!

P.S. Does your daughter mostly love spicy food? And does she love to bake too?

[mizducky]

In this time of family and celebration, I'd love to hear what EVERYONE called their Grandmothers, and which one was the defining influence.  And in some instances, we may need a little translation, which would just round out the experience.

My maternal grandmother was Bubbe--her husband had passed away long before I was born. My paternal grandmother, however, we called Grandma--which was odd only because we called her husband Zayde, the Yiddish term for grandpa, so I never knew nor questioned why we didn't follow suit with his spouse.

Anyway, as I think I've mentioned elsewhere on eGullet, only one of my grandmothers lived up to the legend of the Jewish Grandmother as Fabulous Cook. We saw my mother's mother but seldom, but I still harbor fond memories of watching Bubbe make crepes for blintzes, spellbound by how thin she was able to get them without tearing them. My paternal grandmother, however, could not cook her way out of a wet paper bag. We used to joke (in private) about her boiled-to-death chicken and always-burnt-on-the-bottom bread pudding. But Grandma, who we saw often, had a sweet and loving personality that more than made up for her mediocre cooking. Plus ya gotta love a woman who collects every last windfall apple from under the trees in her yard and then painstakingly peels and trims them all for applesauce.

[miladyinsanity]

I called my maternal grandma Ah Ma, which simply Grandma in the Hokkien dialect. My other grandparents died before I was born--my parents are 9th of 14 and 6th of 7th, you see.

My grandma could cook, but it is my maternal grandpa who truly shone in the kitchen. My mother likes to tell the story of how they would fight (both of them born in the year of Tiger) because my grandma would simply roughly chop up the vegetables, but my grandpa insisted on even slices.And then there's the story of the Chinese New Year Eve reunion dinners, and how grandpa/Ah Gong would cook fabulous dish after dish, serving them dish by dish restaurant-style.

But you asked about grandmothers. I don't remember my Ah Ma cooking. Partly it was that it was my mother's kitchen--we lived in different countries though she'd come to visit for a few weeks at a time. Later, she was older, and after breaking her wrist twice, she simply didn't have it in her.

What I do remember is that she would go to the market every morning to buy fried dough sticks for her black coffee, and she would bring me a type of sour plum that's sweet and used to be really hard to find here. It's the little things we remember about our loved ones, and the little things we remember that bring a smile to our faces, instead of leaving tear tracks behind.

(sorry this is long)

[shellfishfiend]

I called my maternal grandmother Gramma and my paternal one Grannie.
It was Gramma who had the biggest influence on the way I think about food and feeding people.
my sister and I would spend a few weeks each summer on my grandparent's farm in east Texas. I remember padding down the dark hallway each morning, barefoot and in my nightgown. We would open the door to the kitchen and there my Gramma would be, dressed in her housecoat and wanting to know what we wanted for breakfast. The sky was the limit. I would usually ask for suasage and fried eggs and toast. My sister would ask for scrambeld eggs, bacon and biscuits. Gramma would fix it all and serve it so lovingly. The very few times( and I do mean very few) we asked for "just cereal," she would look almost heartbroken at not having the opportunity to cook for us. She gave us more than food at that kitchen table, she gave us so much love.

[Nina C.]

Yankee-raised girl here with a completely Southern family. I claim both heritages as it suits me, thank you very much. Although I must confess I am much more like a northerner when it comes to writing thank you notes, fortunately those who taught me how to cook knew the southern secrets.

My father's mother is a bit of a cold woman and has always been called Grandmother. But my cousins who grew up in Texas and had ten years of knowing her before she got too lost in the bottle, call her Granny Goose. My father learned to cook from her, and Thanksgiving was something she excelled at. So now I have the family recipes for cornbread stuffing rich with bits of celery and egg, and good gravy, and smothered pork chops.

My mother's mother didn't think she was old enough to be a grandmother, and always insisted we call her by her first name, Peggy. She had a maid for most of her married life named Crezette (apparently a cousin of Lightning Hopkins, for those of you who know the name), and thus never became much of a cook. Crezette was famous for her biscuits, and big breakfast spreads, and taught my mother many recipes. Peggy only knew how to cook tuna fish cassarole with potato chips on top, or meatloaf with "fancy" green peas from the can along side. And though I've become a snob about lots of things, I still get big eyes at the very idea of that creamy casserole with the salty crunch on top.

I also have the gift of my great grandmother's recipes. She was named Granny and I'm told that she was a fantastic cook. My mother had many fond memories of learning to cook at her knee. Her family was from Alsace Lorraine, and had come to New Orleans when she was just a small girl. Her handwritten recipe book, titled "All the Good Things", occupies a place of honor on my bookshelf.

Thanks for the trip of memories - so appropriate on this nostalgia filled week!

[shellfishfiend]

I just saw the Bhindi Masala upthread. It looks alot like one of my alltime favorites: okra and tomatoes! How similar are the two dishes?

[Swisskaese]

Both sets of grandparents were known as Mama and Papa. My paternal great-grandparents were Oma and Sandwich Opa because they opened a deli when they came to the US in 1937. My maternal great-grandparents were Mamoo and Papoo.

I never knew my maternal great-grandfather, but Mamoo made the best cream of wheat I ever tasted. Creamy, with just enough milk and a hint of sugar. I was 4-years-old when she died.

Oma was an excellent cook. She never used measuring cups and we all struggled to learn how to make her amazing butter cookies. Oma also made fig and plum compote and homemade vanilla pudding. Her plum cake was to die for and she made this sticky chicken that I still can't figure out how to make.

Until now only my grandmother has been able to make the butter cookies, but she is 95-years-old now and can't see to bake anymore. The rest of the clan is still struggling to make them. My Dad and Uncle videotaped her making them, made her measure everything and then tried to make them themselves. They failed. I am been too afraid to try, but I have decided to try and make them next month.

I learned most of my baking skills from my paternal grandmother. She was an excellent baker up until a few years ago. She taught me how to work with pastry and how to make matza balls, chicken soup, roasted chicken and German yeast cakes. Her house always smelled of wonderful baked goods.

My maternal grandmother is also an excellent cook and she makes delicious stuffed cabbage, cherry cookies and my favourite coconut cake.

Sorry for the rambling. Now I have to go and wipe the tears away from my keyboard. I haven't seen my grandmothers in 3-1/2 years. I am going to see them next month. I can't wait to give them a hug.

[Pam R]

Oh my. I haven't been online all day and I feel like I've missed days of your foodblog but it's just beginning! What fun.



I kid you not, my Baba and especially my Zaida (grandmother and grandfather) Shapiro would have approved of this sandwich. (Really, my mother was a Shapiro). Hot mustard?

[hathor]

What a wonderful blog...and who better to celebrate Thanksgiving with than Rachel?? I've been feeling like a fish looking for water since we came back to the States, and your blog is helping me re-assimilate. Thanks!
We called my paternal grandmother Nana. I don't remember much about her cooking, but she ALWAYS had a can of YooHoo for me in the fridge. I never drank YooHoo anywhere else, but I couldn't wait to drink it when I got to her house. Do they still make YooHoo?
My mom's Mom was called Busia. She came from the Old Country: Poland, and her cooking I remember! She made the absolute best pumpkin pie, it was only about an inch thick and it was pale orange in color, with little brown baked flecks, with a slightly sweet, off white, crumbly pie crust. The pumpkin wasn't too sweet, and it was light and fluffy, and actually tasted like pumpkin. There would be 7 or 8 pies laid out in the basement kitchen, ready for Thanksgiving dinner, but she always kept one whole pie for me, one I didn't have to share. We lost her unexpectedly and the recipe went with her. I could kick myself for thinking that I could get the recipe next Thanksgiving....


(and now I'm craving vanilla pudding!! These memories are just a wonderful thing to share!)

[Kouign Aman]

One more thing to be grateful for this year.... Rachel is blogging!
Lucky lucky me! Good food and beautiful thinking / writing.

I had 2 "Nan"s, 1 "Nanna", and 2 "Grandad"s.
When referring to the Nans or Grandads in 3rd person, their last name was appended. Nanna was appended with her first name.

I have no idea if Nanna K could or did cook.
Nan W made big English fried breakfasts. I feel guilty for loving fried sliced bread, but there it is. Also bread & drippings. She introduced me to sharp cheddar and to green grapes, and made us "milky coffee": instant coffee, sugar and hot milk, even tho we were very young.
Nan C taught me to make jelly and jam the summer I was 5, when I picked clean the giant blackberry bramble in their backyard.
The grandparents all lived an ocean and a continent away, so visits were few and far between. I saw each Nan maybe 5x in my life that I can remember. Funny how food forms such strong memories.

In addition to Gramma and Grampa etc, the munchkin has a Granty B (Great Aunt B, that would be, to normal folk). Soon we will know how the paternal Aunties & Uncles will be termed.

As for that thankyou card thing.... its a compulsion. I cant rest til I send the darn things out either. But special STAMPS????? Woman, have you no pity? You do realize that I now have a mission at the post office.

[BarbaraY]

All the tales of grandparents makes me nostalgic, too. My maternal grandparents were Grandma and Grandpa. I don't remember him ever cooking and she was mediocre at best.
My paternal grandparents were Grandma and Skipper. He was the Skipper since my dad started referring to him on a long auto trip. He was the Skipper and Dad was the Navigator with Grandma as First Mate.
Grandma was an excellent and curious cook. They had had boarding houses in the boom towns of Nevada at the turn of the last century. She cooked and he worked as a millwright in the stamp mills.
No recent family members from any old country so it was mostly American home cooking unless Grandma G got recipes from our neighbors from other lands. She was using fresh herbs long before it became fashionable.
She made Pasta e Pesto but as the neighbor called it Basilico Macaroni, that was what it was called by all of us.

[racheld]

Sorry for taking a break; there was a little emergency this p.m. and I had to dash off. Just got home thirty minutes ago.

Daughter had made a nice skillet of fried rice, mostly from leftovers; there was an extra pork tenderloin in the fridge, baked yesterday with its anointment of soy sauce and garlic. Slivers of that, little pearls of leftover Calrose, onions, peppers and bean sprouts---she's a genius.

She also made a dish of broccoli and snow peas, with a bit of Hoisin, some soy, garlic, fish sauce and a few fried shallots. It was wonderful to come home to a good hot dinner on this cold night. Somebody (probably online) is teaching her some GREAT dishes.

She can tell you the recipe for the Bhindi Masala tomorrow---I know it's okra, tomatoes, and lots of lovely air-perfuming spices.

I forgot to mention: I was so excited that this was about to begin, and Susan said to post after midnight---I woke shortly before then, and I've been enthralled and haven't been to sleep since. The sillies are about to set in, and since today's posts were so long and wordy, I think I'm going to bid all good night and gently fade away.

It's been a WONDERFUL day, a SUPERLATIVELY great day, with so much interaction and interplay and all the absolutely priceless Grandma stories. I did not imagine such a response, and am just awed at the memories and emotions that flowed from that one simple question.

Tomorrow: A little trip to a German Bakery, perhaps to the Hispanic one just here near our house, and friends to dinner!!! Our best friends have always celebrated Thanksgiving with us, but this year, this IMPORTANT year, they are invited to the home of their lovely daughter's Intended, with all the import of that gathering and meeting. I'm glad for them and they will join us for a good old Southern dinner tomorrow night.

Good Night, my lovely friends. It's been one of the most memorable days of my life.

Moire non,


rachel

[Meez]

Yayyyyy Rachel! I've been wondering when you would do a blog. Looking forward to a great week.

Speaking of great Southern writers, I actually thought of you when I read that William Styron had died.

Say on, Sister.