racheld
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Posts posted by racheld
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Speshly the ones inside Hoosier cabinets
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This is probably old news to long-time members, but it's the story of the midnight birthday cake---I knew just where to get my hands on the tale, as my little gift book to the children went to the printer today, and I have all the little stories right here in one spot.
I used to go home from my regular job and make cakes for people, as a little sideline. Sometimes, late at night, the kitchen a kill-zone of sticky sweetness and unwashed pots and pans, I re-thought my plan and unwished it.
One birthday cake can involve as much mess and confusion and sifting and frosting as would a dozen, especially in a home kitchen with three children doing homework and helping cook supper, besides. Not to mention the neighbor's child, a forlorn young girl who magically appeared at the door at suppertime, about three days a week. This particular cake, however, was for a sweet little boy we all liked, and his was to be a baseball diamond, to honor his participation in the Little League.
So the layers were baked, the frosting made, the supper cooked and eaten, and the homework finished. The four teenagers settled at the dining table for a rousing game of Yahtzee while the frosting and decorating were going on. In order to clean the LOOONNNG kitchen counter properly, and to guard the safety of the finished cake from flying mists of antibacterial sprays, and since the table was occupied, the finished cake was removed to the living room, to the safety of the coffee table.
Had there been a family dog, care would have been taken not to put the cake in such a vulnerable spot. Since there was just the one fat-as-mud old ladycat, which seldom emerged from beneath the bed to blink warily in the daylight, and since cats are known for hating sugar, anyway, no thought was given to any danger from that quarter.
During the final counterwipe, a fresh pot of decaf brewing and an easy chair and a nice cozy mystery for resting mind and body in the offing, there was heard in the house an odd sound. Even over the raucous cheers and jeers of the four Yahtzee-heads, came the sounds of "smick-smick-smick" from the living room. All peeked in to see the cat, roused from her hibernation and magically levitated onto the coffeetable, energetically licking second base clean off the field. And a couple of the outfielders hadn't fared too well either.
Wide, wary eyes turned toward the cook. "You ARE going to scrape that off and fix it, aren't you?" in chorus, as if rehearsed.
"No, I am NOT!!" was the emphatic answer, as rattling of cupboards, melting of butter, sifting of flour began afresh at 9 p.m. The table of players erupted in joyous yells, as they scrambled for plates, forks, a carton of cold milk. They incised that yukky section away as skillfully as a surgeon cutting a wart, and consumed about three slices apiece---and right at bedtime.
Second Cake was baked, cooled, frosted and decorated, finished about 1 a.m., with a thorough sanitizing cycle in the dishwasher for all the little plastic nine.
My children have told me for years how much they appreciated that I did start over, not just for the unexpected snack, of course, but that I had standards far above foisting damaged goods onto trusting clients. And the kids are the reason that I spent so much time on other people’s parties, sweeping up the midnight rice from weddings not my own.
PS---I just LOVE Emma!!!
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I too have never heard of hotdogs with cream cheese before either, but as they are supposed to be Lincoln logs maybe it was Carm's idea to use the cream cheese as the chinking......something to entertain and educate the kiddies???
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Cold dry salad, an Elvis diorama and a mountain of mesquite!!! What's not to love in that? We still have about a third of the pickup load Daddy drove up here from Texas the year before he passed on.
Always glad to hear from the canyon. Always.
Your Freak Friend in the Heartland
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Another group of four teenage boys approached, and the first three were looking over the merchandise, blocking the view of the last to arrive. Being taller than the others, he towered over and took a look, with an astonished, "Sh!t! They're REAL!"
The funny thing is if I were handing out full size bars I would probably give out one a piece, whereas I give a big handful of mini ones which most likely is overall more candy.
With anywhere from 150 to 175 kid traipsing up to our front door, a big handful of anything, even minis would get very costly very fast.
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Onion dip. Celery stuffed with Paminna cheese. Bugles stuffed with Cheese-in-a-can. Cheese puffs/crab puffs.
Shrimp mold---the one involving tomato soup, cream cheese and a fish-shaped Jello mold.
Shrimp toast. Party rye with corned beef topped with Durkee's and stuck under the broiler.
Edam in the red wax cut like a tulip, the cheese taken out, mixed with other stuff, and put back in.
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From the sig line of fou de Bassan, who may have originated it. Someone had a series of cookery mishaps, and this is the quote:
If only Jack Nicholson could have narrated my dinner, it would have been perfect.
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This is absolutely WONDERFUL!! You and Daniel do the BEST Road-Trips!!
I LOVE all the pictures of places I've visited only through the page and screen---can't wait for the rest.
rachel
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Jaymes, that sounds like George Washington's axe, which belonged, you know, to my children's Great-Grandfather.
He'd bring out the trusty, rusty old instrument, worn and chipped, and tell them that it was TRULY the axe. It HAD had to have the handle replaced three times, and the blade twice, but it WAS the one used by George himself.
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Little teensy square Midnights.
We've found wonderful sales on full-size bars near Halloween for the past two years, and they've been VERY popular with our big crowd of costumed troopers-by. We line them up neatly on big trays, by kind and color. (This does not excuse the four HUGE Vidalias that Chris wandered out into the yard and circled nicely around the vase of dead roses---you'd be surprised how many kids asked if they could have an onion). I'd love to have seen the parents' faces when the T or T bags were opened.
This year, we learned from a group of four teenage girls that we're "awesome" and "tight."
Another group of four teenage boys approached, and the first three were looking over the merchandise, blocking the view of the last to arrive. Being taller than the others, he towered over and took a look, with an astonished, "Sh!t! They're REAL!"
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I know how much work this was, with a holiday to cover, and you did it splendidly!!
Thank you for all the lovely photos and visits to places we may never see save through another's eyes. It's been wonderful.
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And if the cassoulet were as gorgeous and gorging as that prose. . .
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And an indispensible ingredient in REAL Paminna Cheese.
Was there ANY cheese in that topping as well? I've never tried broiling Durkee's before, but didn't know it would glaze like that. Must be the eggs and xanthan gum.
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This is so nice to catch up on late at night, after guests have departed and the dishwasher is the only sound in the house.
I'm not a wine person, but just the colors and shadows and the gleam of the bottles---lovely photos. And your Thanksgiving dinner!!! Everything from that gorgeous table (I AM a burgundy person, though not the bottled one) to the beautifully presented dinner itself---just wonderful.
I love your pets and their charming little personalities, especially Riley---he's quite a suave one---I'll bet he's a smooooth talker, too.
Oh, by the way---my ketchup says that your ketchup wants you to turn it rightside up---they live on their lids, you know. On the bottom shelf. It's the law.
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Right now though, I've got stock going in the oven. It's an experiment since it was a smoked bird. I removed all the skin and hacked it up and covered with water per Ruhlman's blog. I figure I might at least get a nice smoky soup base out of it and if not, what have I lost? At least I tried, no?
We ALWAYS have a smoked turkey for Thanksgiving, and quite a few times during the year, even in Summer. The soup in Winter is always a celery/onion simmered stock, with a late addition of a few broad noodles, some one-minute-from-the-table-added snow peas, and a few drops of toasted sesame oil, which rounds out the whole bowl into a smooth, breath-of-smoke/hint-of-toasty dish which is one of our favorite soups.
It is so enticing that once a guest left the cocktail gathering as I was setting the filled bowls on the table, sat down at her place, and had eaten about half of hers before the others left the living room.
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HCD Contingent reporting in. We went to DS#2 and DDIL's new home for the day, and it was wonderful. Discounting that I had a blur of a Wednesday, in that I really didn't know where to BE without getting out Mother's china and the gold damask napkins, or having a flurry of cooking and walking around the entire area, twinking this and Swiffering that. I just put a couple of pots on the stove, chopped a few things, went out to the garden for herbs, and wrote for a bit.
We took the devilled eggs, the gravy (thickened there, with two bowls waiting---one with chopped softly-boiled eggs and some rough-chopped butter-sauteed chicken livers for the hearty Southern group---Chris, DS, Caro, and DDIL's Grandmom, a lifelong Hoosier, but a G.R.I.T.S. Girl in heart and mind. Just the eggs in another, both bowls to be filled brimming with the steaming thickened chicken stock made with onion, celery and several sprigs of the thyme which has held its own against a small snowfall and the covering of maple leaves.
A platter of steamed brocco-flower and baby carrots, with just salt and lemon, an asparagus casserole, and a dish of coconut pudding, with another container of whipped cream and a box of leaf tuiles (none of this dessert was touched---DDIL had made brownies---she said you GOTTA have chocolate SOMEWHERE
and her Mom brought a pumpkin pie, a banana cream and a coconut pie). In the rush of hugs and good-byes, I left everything but the egg platter---more guests came in for visiting middle of the afternoon, and would stay for a later dinner, so the leftovers were handy.Our estimable hosts (DS has been cooking since he was WAY young) had made cornbread dressing, a separate pan made with oysters and dressed with oyster liquor before baking, snap beans from our Summer garden, creamed sweet corn, broccoli/cauliflower salad, sweet potato casserole with pineapple and pecans, cranberry salad, mashed potatoes, and a KILLER deep-fried turkey with lots of salty, garlicky, New Orleans-style rub.
We played with babies, talked for hours with the Great-Grandmother, made loads of pictures, and gathered eagerly at the windows for the wonder of the first few flakes of snow. Caro went upstairs to the guest room and slept the rest of the afternoon, for she had to go to work at ten, and we wended home just before dark, wanting a nap ourselves.
WAY later in the evening, I fried up the other half of the chicken livers for Chris, made a pilaf with the rest of the chicken stock and sprigs of thyme, and made myself an extra-chunky peanut butter and peach jam sandwich on Wonder bread.
No leftovers, but we're having the usual Thanksgiving guests over tomorrow night for Smoked turkey and several other traditional dishes; we'll have OUR turkey sandwiches on Sunday, and start decorating the trees.
And so the world moves on, measured out in Tupperwares and tinsel, calories and Kugels. Lovely holiday.
Chris spent the evening printing out pictures, and has run off now to meet DDIL and her Mom and Sister with big prints of all the children.
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Just got back from having the BEST General's chicken in town, and it's a tiny walk out the back gate. They also have a down-home, rubbed-with-everything huge roast of pork, just sitting there with a big knife and fork---carve yourself a slice.
I'm finding it hard to know where to BE today. We're going to DS#2 and DDIL for one o'clock dinner tomorrow, taking several dishes. But I haven't gotten out Mother's china and the big turkey platter or a gravy boat or. . .
The torch passes. Not to say it won't be relayed back next year, or for Christmas, for that matter. They just moved into their new home, and wanted to have us two sets of parents as guests
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I do and I did, and I said it like I say everything.
Now I gotta get some sleep. I have a date tomorrow to go cloud-watching with Charlie Brown.
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Peabody (named, of course, for the ultra-swanky hotel of Memphis fame in my Youth, and where all of us Delta girls aspired to be taken to dinner on dates) is a perfect gentleman. I've been known to run myself, when too many loud people show up at the door. It's just that pesky bed is just so LOW to get under any more.
And LOVE your Pickles!!! I crave a Marmalady cat, so I can name her Cornbread.
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That's how it felt to read it. Like stepping back between the pages of a familiar, friendly book, seeing new words and phrases, taking another look at a meaning, finding more to see and learn.
I read cookbooks like novels, and this one had a bit of that feeling---not a cold reference book, not a cookbook, not a lesson, but some of all put together full circle, like the round of an apple or a neatly-finished plot.
And for some silly reason, during all the paeans to veal stock, I had the same warm-kitchen feeling as reading Farmer Boy, the Laura Ingalls Wilder story about the childhood of her husband, Almonzo Wilder, with the big farm kitchen the hub of the home, and a constant parade of good, solid homey dishes cooked on that big old wood stove. Just the breakfasts alone would gladden the heart of any eGullet member.
And that's mostly why and how I cook.
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I thought someone might say "You do it better then."No, Hon. The real danger is when they say, "You do it FOREVER, then."
I've done our traditional dinner since I was a teenager, having family and guests and all sorts of add-ons and lonely-but-fors, and last year we cooked for eight, a huge traditional Southern Thanksgiving meal, with cornbread dressing, home-canned snap beans with bacon and onion, eggs-in-the-giblet-gravy-just-like-Mammaw's, a black skillet of baked creamed corn from the several hundred ears that we had tailgated, shucked, cut and put in the freezer back in July, devilled eggs, and a dish of bright tomatoes, snugged into newspaper before first frost, and ripened in the dark to save for the holiday table. And two kinds of cranberry, both of which I forgot and had to go rescue from the fridge halfway through dinner.
I cooked the food, wrote about the food, took pictures of the food, and blogged it all for a week on eG, while Chris was in the hospital with a kidney stone and I was running back and forth to the hospital. He was dismissed on Wednesday, got in the car, and his first words were "Did you get a fresh turkey?" He spent Thursday morning smoking it, and it was wonderful, as usual.
The meal was wonderful as well. But for the first time in all my hostessing life, I counted the minutes between the end of dessert and the time I could decently rise and bid them good night. I know I stifled several yawns, and did not offer to go make that second pot of coffee.
I'm a good cook. I love the preparation and the meditation and the decoration almost as much as the celebration.
This year, we're invited to dinner with DS and DDIL in their new home.
Hallelujah.
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I'm SO glad---it was like getting a new playmate, and then her family moved away in the night.
Brooklyn grocery stores, please!!
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I'm a lurker only, as well as an admirer; my cake decorating days are far in the past, and were a clumsy, small-town thing.
I hadn't heard of this poster, but she sent me a PM with a question and I followed her link to this:
http://www.mirabellecatering.com/pf12.htm
I cannot tell you how GORGEOUS her work is---the cabbage alone is prize-worthy.
Have you all seen this site? Wow.
rachel
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I can count on one hand the number of times I've had a beer and a hot dog in the last decade and I have spent the last three days craving both.
I need to do some quick area hot dog research.
*blushes in advance lest anyone mistake her meaning* I really do mean sausag...er, meat, er......you know what, never mind.
LOL do tell us the outcome of your erm, research. 
There's more than CORRRRRNNNN in In-di-a-nah!!!
The greatest food quotes ever
in Food Media & Arts
Posted
Mrs. Blatherwick, serving a gristle/turkey neck/potato peelings broth to the seven recalcitrant children trying in vain to get rid of Nanny McPhee:
"Smell that. That is the smell that forged this empire.
That pong is the pong of conquerors!"