racheld

JCD, How precious---queasy-making, but sweet. And at that tender age, you were settling for nothing less than the real thing. Welcome!!

Bread pudding for two, in a small gratin dish. I sliced off the tops of two of those bought "honey diamond" rolls, cut them to fit, and arranged them tops-up for the pretty of it. We had bought a bag of the purplest, almost-black fresh cherries, so-dark-they-stained-my-fingers, and they were so huge, it took only four to punctuate the gaps between the bread. When I poured in the custard (one egg, one yolk, cup of half-and-half, sugar, vanilla), the cherries bled their burgundy juices, and made the most beautiful lines and swirls. It turned out to be luscious, sort of a clafudding, I guess...just perfect after our spicy meal of ribs and salad.

re airline food: This is just HILARIOUS!!!

I have recently ruthlessly pruned my roomful of cookbooks---mostly acquired just because they could be lumped under the category of "cookbook" and numbers somehow counted at the time. I Goodwilled one Betty Crocker "cake" book which I remember receiving as a consolation prize after I wrote an irate letter to the company for printing their recipe for "Silver Cake" on about seventeen separate pages of the same book. They'd offer a new frosting, and then print the cake recipe again. They sent a letter of apology and another book when I castigated them for thinking their readers were either too stupid to notice the repetitions or not bright enough to return to page 7 if they were in need of a mouthful of styrofoam. And my only regret in all the years of acquisition and sharing and losing and moving and leaving in great boxes in the garage---I too-generously and unthinkingly gifted my Sis's then-MIL, a home-ec teacher, with my copy of Mrs. Beeton's Cookery Book, worn leather binder, yellowing pages, a few former-owner-written-spidery-notes in the margins and end pages---circa 1860 or so. I'd love to have it back, just for the OLDTH of it, the HAVING of it. But we had recently become "family" and she should like that sort of thing, etc. And my favorite of all is not for recipes, not for pictures, not for any value other than that it was a gift from a realtor charged with selling the contents of a house we rented for a while when we were first married. The elderly owner had gone into a nursing home, leaving all her worldly goods in her little frame house (how I coveted those cut-glass sherbet dishes and that incongruous Murano chandelier). The real value in the book, a slim, spiral-bound little church-published item, lies in the lovely Spencerien script on the flyleaf: Butter Scot Pie. Look on page where pie are.

We ate the grapes at Midnight. But only a dozen---Chris and I shared each one, in a touching-but-ultimately-hilarious little ceremony all our own, with everyone else in the family off on their own celebrations. The three of us at home dressed for dinner, had a lovely meal with Duke Ellington on CD setting the mood, then DD went her own way for the evening. We two watched TV, then a tape of "Hitch"---just the goofy, romantic movie for a nice evening. Then, at about 11:30, I got fourteen big red seedless grapes from their bowl in the fridge (raisins rouge sans pepins, it says on the label). Two went cold into our chilled crystal glasses, the other twelve into a pretty little white lotus bowl. I related the custom, telling of Daniel's first encounter with it in Spain, and we said a dozen wishes/virtues, one for each piece of fruit, just before midnight. Then we stood together, watching the big gaudy ball drop as he filled our glasses. The two submerged grapes floated and fizzed, riding the currents of bubbles up and down the tides of the champagne, in a lovely New Year's dance of their own. We sipped a toast, then he held the bowl and as our old arthritic clock began to chime, he bit half of each grape, handing the other piece to me. At first I accepted each piece gravely and solemnly, befitting a solemn rite, a sweet form of communion to welcome the new year. Then the chimes got away from us, and we were reaching and biting and holding, with the juice running down our chins and seeping between our fingers. We were laughing and chewing and finally holding on to each other as we finished the bowl, full of good wishes and hopes for wonderful things and moments and times together as the New Year progresses. Thank you Daniel. This will become a family custom, including all who are present on New Years to come. We did not name Luck for one of the grapes. That's for tonight, when we will share the peas.

We introduced our DDIL to Bugles and cheese-in-a-can this Christmas---we had teased her about it for quite some time, waxing eloquent on the great charm of a plateful of little horns, each bearing a glump of the red-spotted clotty cheese mixture--always to an averting of the eyes and a pained expression on her sweet face. DS, her husband, is the cook in their family, and has jokingly referred to the combination as a Redneck Gougere on several occasions, though we had never actually SERVED a plate of it since they've been married. So, this year, we made them each a "New Year's Kit"---a gift bag holding a big bag of Bugles and the charming little can, all nested into festive tissue. I haven't heard from them this morning yet, and I wonder if they munched on that wonderful old Southern delicacy. My bet is on No. But she's having a Mary Kay party soon, so perhaps she'll spring a new taste sensation on the ladies. And their dog has quite an adventurous palate.

I can make baked beans with the best of 'em. I can do the bacon and brown sugar and sauteed onions and peppers, baking the long pan until crusty and brown and caramelly. I even have one of those big brown 70's pots, which came with a recipe for "authentic" baked beans, calling for navy beans (dry, but soaked) with water and seasonings and a bit of salt pork nestled just so before baking for enough hours to get through night school. But we used to take an unopened can of Showboat Pork 'N' Beans on picnics, open that lid, and serve them out right onto those paper plates with no apology to anyone. (And a scoop of French's glopped right on top of mine). Don't think I ever even tasted them au naturel INDOORS, however. One must have SOME standards. And my Mom used to make "her" baked potatoes for company; the process involved no baking, as she would make mashed potatoes, smooth them out perfectly into little half-footballs on small oval plates, the kind you encounter in meat 'n' three diners, and top them with crumbled bacon and shredded cheese and sliced onion tops, with a little topknot of sour cream standing proudly above. Sometimes for a quick dinner, I do the same, but sneak in the Idaho buds, made with butter and cream. I figure with all that extra decor on the outside, the insides will just go along for the ride. (Where DO y'all get those blushing smilies?) And BOTH our grandmothers cursed us with this one, and we MUST have it now and then: A drained can of LeSueur peas, tossed with chopped pickles, some diced tomato, a boiled egg, and a little mayo. Redneck sallid at its finest. Then there's my own sneaky vice, especially in Summer: A couple of chopped tomatoes, salted and left to get the juices flowing. Meanwhile, crush a dozen or so Zesta saltines, stir a teaspoon of mayo into the tomatoes, toss in the crackers, and eat from a soupbowl with a spoon and a big glass of 40-weight iced tea. (And maybe watch Dr. Phil).

That's our dear Chufi---finding truffles in the mud. I still cannot imagine putting one of the cactusy little garum-marinated strips into food. But then I'm an okra, grits and hominy afficianada with distinctly plebeian taste. And I put a bit of powdered sugar into chicken salad. So now, strip off my epaulettes and rip loose my insignia---I'm definitely going to be drummed from the corps. And chocolate mints are an abomination, Girl Scouts and charity notwithstanding. Is confession really THAT good for the soul? If so, I'm cleansed and shriven for the New Year.

This thread's been active for FOUR years and no one has mentioned splintery, slimy pungent fishy ANCHOVIES??? bleh. And yeep.

Wonderful pictures, all! MSE---that bird could win the turkey trot in any competition. Beautiful. And Bordelaise---WELCOME!! Your words painted a lovely picture of all your family's comings and goings and all the family time centered on your cooking skills. Our last night's dinner was hamburgers right off the grill---we had planned them as a total departure from all the bird-based meals we've had for days...yesterday's lunch featured the last forlorn Cornish hen, simmered in another two quarts of the chicken stock from the freezer, with hunks of celery, onion, and a whole bag of baby carrots tossed in to simmer sweetly tender. Then the last couple of cups of broccoli and cauliflower, with their remaining lemon butter still clinging, were slid in to warm through, along with all the bits of bird boned and cut small, and the cold rice from the night of the bean supper. So leftovers, begone from my fridge!!! The soup was heavenly, with a sprinkle of my homegrown thyme and parsley, and all that array of fancy party crackers alongside. Then, the back doorbell rang at five, and a friend came merrily down the stairs, bringing down the chill air and the Spirit of later-than-never Christmas in his wake. He is a retired bachelor friend who seems to survive on takeout meals, immense bowls of M&M's which grace every surface of his apartment, and occasional visits to friends for a touch of home and family. The two guys grabbed beers and went out to fire up the Weber; I went up to retrieve the stove clicker and found them huddling on the back porch, hatbrims tilted to keep out the sideways rain, laughing and talking as the fire reached toward the lower limbs of the biggest tree. The wet chill did not deter them, and they stayed out there til the meat was smoky and deliciously cooked. I cut sweet onion slices, got out dill pickles and the little Tupperware of dill dip and a fresh bowl of thick, chunky blue cheese dip to go with the Crunchers. We sat down at the glass-topped table, bowing to the season with a bowl of the steamy soup all around, then the nice juicy toasty-bun burgers. We heard of his travels for Christmas to elderly relatives, his Volksmarch plans for the coming year (he's a 12,000 k or so by now, I think, and travels the world to meets---next month, Alaska) and just enjoyed catching up. For dessert, we cut the huge, juicy caramel apple which had been in my Christmas stocking--DD had ordered it from a lady on the Food Network, and it was just lovely, with creamy caramel and good rich chocolate, and the crispest, meatiest pecan halves surrounding the crisp, tangy apple. Perfect dessert for a candlelight burger supper with an old friend.

Conecuh Sausage, both regular and HOT, from Evergreen, Alabama. We pick up ten pounds every time we go to the Coast. (NEXT WEEK!!!) One year we didn't make it there for several months, and Chris' Daddy had them ship us one of those little styrofoam coolers full. Most of it was still frozen solid when it arrived next day. Can't have Chris' birthday brunch without it and homemade beignets.

It was, Megan---it was nice just to be home together and have a quiet evening. But all these lovely pictures and meals and all your own outings and access to that New York cuisine and atmosphere---we pale to grits and chitlins by comparison. I love to hear all about everyone's cooking and serving, and especially the great pictures---I scarcely look at BA or G anymore---I'm so spoiled to this incomparable gallery of delights. And everyone is like a friend, recounting a pleasurable adventure and the wonderful moments of the caretaking and sharing and art which goes into the planning and creating and plating and enjoying. I can dine in New York one evening, in Amsterdam another, and look my eyes full of glorious displays of lovely creations, new and rare foodstuffs and techniques and recipes. What a fun community, and a daily treat. And y'all are a hoot, as well. Better'n vitamins. Or maybe Prozac.

Last night's not-quite-so-cold-night dinner was chicken livers, gently cooked in an oil/butter skillet with a handful of onion curls and a bit of seasalt. Just pinkly done, and served in wide gratin dishes over a crisp crouton of sourdough toast, to catch all the lovely juices. Pilaf of long-grain, oil-slicked for a moment with a mirepoix of onion and celery, simmered tender with chicken stock, saffron, and a few raisins and sliced almonds added at the last toss. Cold kidney-bean salad with minced sweet onion, celery, boiled eggs, celery seeds, and Duke's mayonnaise; sticks of English cucumber with dill dressing. A dip into the still-stuffed stockings for candy bits for dessert (three Lindt truffles for me).

I tried to read the menu---it lost me on the first microscopic line, which reads something like: Trio of Mouthwash Mulled Spiced Winter Durian They SHOULDA known better.

If you had never posted all those rich, wonderful dishes, if you never posted again, this would be enough. This picture and description win the Best in Show, and will remain in our minds for a long time. Tongue-curling, eye-filling perfection on a plate.

These compositions are like eye-music. And there's porch peeking in from the side.

I'm slowly rediscovering parsnips. They're such a humble vegetable but so delicious and complex. ← Me, too!!! I have a dozen of the pencil-size ones roasting in the oven this minute, with a little slick of olive oil and a bit of seasalt. They'll go nicely with our 5 o'clock dinner of: Salade Composee' of Hearts of Palm, lemon-simmered artichoke hearts, button mushrooms, avocado and the last two homegrown tomatoes from our Summer bounty (homemade tomatoes for Christmas!! YAY!!!). Relish tray; Cornish hens rubbed with soy sauce, thyme butter and garlic, roasted with more butter inside; Cornbread dressing; Giblet gravy; A platter of steamed broccoli and cauliflower florets, tossed in lemon butter and topped with strips of roasted red peppers; Pineapple au gratin; Cranberry sauce; Powderpuff rolls; Chris' obligatory green Jello stuff. Lovely dinners and a wonderful holiday season to all!! rachel

ALL the components: Jello (especially lime), cream cheese, crushed pineapple, 7-up, and a glump of sour cream, in the traditional 9x13!!! And mandarins, just like for the Grand Matron's visit. Well done, Hon. You could hold your own in a Dixie kitchen, ANYTIME. PS: And that layered mold above is GORGEOUS!!! Do you know how many HOURS that took?

Don't just dangle a congealed salad recipe in front of a Southern cook and then go away!! Come on!!! I've bared all---recipe, please.

I re-read my Red Hat post, feeling guilty for being so wordy in my usual way. But I DID mention tea and sandwiches. Does that count?

Oatmeal, left with the lid off the last few minutes of cooking, to make it thick and clumpy, perfect for a melty pat of butter, a big sprinkle of Turbinado sugar, and a tiny moat of cold milk around the bowl. The contrast of sweet cold milk and a bite of warm, buttery oatmeal in the same spoon---one of life's treasures. Crisp bacon and a slice of moist, raisin-rich banana bread, made by my Mom's recipe. Kona in the presspot.

It's an oddly Southern (or Southernly odd--a redundancy of great proportions--or what's the opposite of oxymoron?) dessert/salad/concoction of painstakingly- layered Jello, each one allowed to set in the obligatory 9x13 (a piece of kitchen equipment handed down for generations, and the absolute BASE of a Delta Deb's Hope Chest, along with crochet-edged pillowslips, two dozen napkins and a devilled egg plate). And there are other layers, involving draining crushed pineapple and saving the juice---pineapple goes into one layer or the other, juice is cooked with flour, I think, maybe an egg, resulting in a viscous, gray substance quite like spreading Elmer's glue between the two quivery layers of Jello. More chilling and setting, then the whipping of cream, mixing with cream cheese, spreading THAT while trying not to break up the jiggly, jewelly stuff beneath. A final scattering of FINELY shredded very sharp cheddar (the sawdust of the title--a nom de dish of the Better than Sex Cake persuasion). Chill, Saran Wrap, and carry forth to any and all Church Suppers, Barn Raisings, Shrimp Boils or Dinners on the Ground. It can compete with almost all Bean casseroles, Angel Biscuits and Macaroni salads (but not devilled eggs or Paminna Cheese). I have the recipe somewhere in the big box of clippings, magazine pages, hand-written notes and shards of cooking history which I retrieved from the kitchen drawer when Daddy sold our family home. I Googled the title, and found one online, but it uses toasted coconut for the "sawdust." Sacrilege. Cut in squares, serve it out with an egg turner, and gild that lily with a dollop of Blue Plate Mayonnaise. Generations of slow-talking, kitchen-proud cooks will smile.

This one looks as if it's just boated, with the gaff marks intact...yuk!!! The one I've made for many years, for Southern showers and weddings and "cocktayul suppahs" is pretty---shiny and pink and chock-full of chopped shrimp, big ole juicy ones, simmered just til pink in a pot with lovely seasonings and lemon slices, then mixed with cream cheese, with the faintest thought of Old Bay and horseradish. And an olive slice for the eye...so no one will think it's dessert. And my dear late Mother would have been looked at askance had she arrived at a church supper without her famous Sawdust Salad. And lest anyone seek to drum me out of the corps, I came by this honestly, through a lifetime of DAR, WMU, Eastern Star and a sister who's a card-carrying member of the DOC. (Well, not really CARRYING, exactly. It's in a frame on the wall. In the living room). (Chris LOVES "that green Jello stuff"---has requested it for Christmas dinner).

We had nibbles for dinner with our two best friends. They always have Christmas Dinner at home, so we get together one evening of the holidays, just the four of us. We had a little buffet of Spanakopita triangles (spinach, bacon, Feta, garlic in phyllo) with tsatziki; snow peas and celery sticks; a hot dip of flaked salmon, cream cheese, scallions, Old Bay and garlic, with a cup of strands of fresh Parmesan to provide lovely long, stringy, cheesy warm bites. Roasted baby potatoes with creme fraiche and chives; egg-and-olive dip in Bibb leaves; wheat, sesame and butter crackers; a cheese tray with smoked Gouda, a crumbly deep-orange wedge of Cheddar, Brie en Croute with crisp Fuji apple wedges. Trays of the sweet goodies I made yesterday: Kahlua fudge, Latte Fudge, Macaroon bars, lemon bars, and banana bread. Snow-chilled Mead for the guys, an Oliver red for the lady guest, decaf iced tea for me. Port all around with the cheese; macadamia Kona in the presspot.