Compartmentalized

I was born a snob. I'm not sure how it happened, but even as I child I had a very clear idea of 'how things should be.' Of course, bending the world to your will isn't always easy, especially when you're young. Enter Mam-ma. I have written a lot about the food she prepared and all of the delicious treats I remember, from Hummingbird Cake to store-bought biscuits. But, what I haven't talked about is how she served them.

I'm not trying to degrade the memory of my Mam-ma, or her methods. I'm just trying to be honest: I never liked to eat out of divided plastic trays. For her, it was easier and when you are trying to serve a large number of people a great variety of foods, what could be better than providing them plates with spaces for everything from cutlery to a mug. These could be slipped into the dishwasher and voila. Generally, we didn't even dirty serving dishes unless it was a special Sunday supper, you simply made your way from the salads and cold dishes on the counter to the right, to the stove where the main courses (turkey and ham and noodles and dumplings) and side dishes were kept warm on the left I've already discussed in length the placement of the pies and the dessert.

This was about convenience; she wanted to get the people fed, but she absolutely did not want to be bogged down with piles of dishes to do after. She wanted to enjoy the company of her family and share a meal with them. Period. But trays? It felt so school cafeteria. To me, it lacked specialness: all of the time and effort spent shopping and chopping and cooking deserved a better frame. A nicer frame.

I don't ever remember eating off of the white china decorated with blue roses in the china cabinet. My brother has it now along with her silver plate, but I'm not sure he uses it. (And his wife's grandmother had the same pattern. China kismet!) But, this was what I wanted: actual dishes, not plastic trays or Corelle; nice flatware in a variety of shapes and sizes; cloth napkins folded prettily at each place; covered serving pieces; crystal glasses from tiny to large; cocktails in the library before dinner was served; little salt and pepper shakers; maids from France to serve the hors d'oeuvres; glass coasters; English butlers to announce dinner; wine glasses; champagne flutes; caviar; souffles; and GOLD-PLATED EVERYTHING! Basically, I wanted life to be a dinner party from a 1930s romantic comedy. Even at the age of ten.

Sigh. This isn't the way things were, but it is a lot of the reason behind the way things are.

Enter bento. How can the Japanese make me reconsider the presentation problem of my youth? How can the dissatisfaction with the plastic trays be transferred to the beautiful faux-lacquer black and red boxes used at Japanese restaurants? Compartmentalized dishes filled with rice; a simple salad; tempura vegetable; pickled ginger; sushi and many other savory treats. But why does it hurt my feelings? How can I love it so, but still feel the same about the plastic trays? I know in reality you cannot equate the two, but in my mind there is a Ninja battle between them.

So now, twenty-some-odd-thirty years later, I reverse my position. I say: bring on the divided plastic tray in all of its iterations, from bento box to TV tray to standard cafeteria fare! I declare my Mam-ma the Avatar of Ease and Convenience for her forward-thinking and international lessons on making sure everyone got what they wanted to eat and not spending two hours setting the table and another two hours cleaning up.

Let everyone have a tray filled with delicious food and be happy, from prisoners to princesses!

Recipe: Sloppy Joes

Sometimes you just want something comforting, simple and delicious for dinner and after Ellie or Jimmy had mentioned Sloppy Joes the a couple of weeks ago, I couldn't think of anything better. I used my mom's recipe which she thinks she got from her mother. It's simple and why mess with something that tastes this good? I like to use toasted wheat buns and serve the sandwich open-faced, and I added some sliced radishes for a little spicy crunch and topped with a bit of 'cheese.' Of course, I use burger crumbles instead of ground meat, but otherwise this is just how momma used to make it. Perfection!

Recipe: Barbara's Sloppy Joes
1 medium sized onion, finely chopped
2 tbsp olive oil
1 12-oz package burger crumbles
1 tsp salt
1/3 cup vinegar (Use white if you like a pungent vinegar flavor, but you also use an apple cider like I did tonight.)
3 tbsp. brown sugar
1 cup ketchup
1/2 cup water
2 tsp prepared mustard (I used a sweet and spicy)

Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat; add the onion and cook until it begins to soften. Add the burger crumbles and cook for three more minutes until the crumbles begin to thaw. Meanwhile, in a two-cup measuring cup combine the rest of the ingredients and whisk to blend. Add to the onion-crumble mixture and simmer until it thickens, five to ten more minutes.

Serve on toasted buns (if you like) either sandwich style or open-faced. Add radish or cucumber for some crunch, or top with a little cheese. What goes with Sloppy Joes? BBQ beans, (sloppy) broccolini with cheese sauce or maybe even a little potato salad!

Queen of Country Pies

Mildred in her early twenties. When she first showed me this photo, I remember
her telling me that her coat and hat were red, which was always her favorite color to wear.

Today was my Mam-ma's birthday--one week and a day before mine. She has been gone for almost five years, but I still like to recognize her birthday by baking something. I often make her hummingbird cake, which I always say was her 'best cake,' but it didn't sound right for some reason. I thought about making a Jewish pound cake she loved. I remember calling her for the recipe and writing it on the inside back cover of one of my cookbooks. But, I couldn't find the book and I imagine it's still in storage in a box, so perhaps I'll make that next year. Or sooner! So, after a little more thought I finally decided: pie! While Mam-ma could make a fantastic cake, it seems her baking ran more to sweet and delicious pies. Miles and miles of pies!

I remember holidays when the console record player would be covered in pies. Or, if it were an especially large family gathering, there might even be a special table set-up in the cold garage to store the pies and other desserts. Pecan pie (dad's favorite), pumpkin pie, apple pie and more pies. I always loved the pumpkin and she always remembered to make real whipped cream for me to put on top, which I preferred to the more ubiquitous Cool Whip. I was not a picky eater, just a particular one. Ask my mother about rice, if you doubt me.

And chess pie. What the heck is chess pie? It is a simple, country creation, a custard of the most basic proportions. My father gently mocks his younger cousins who remember the wonderful, chess pie their Grandmother Stevenson would make. He says, 'it's just poor people pie.' The pie you make when there is nothing else left in the larder: no fruit, no nuts and no nothing. You may not have anything to make a real good pie, but you certainly have eggs from the chickens that you are storing in a box under your bed. And of course you traded some of those for a little sugar and flour last week when you 'went to town.' The cow will probably give up enough milk for some butter. And if you don't have a tablespoon of corn meal, I'm sure you can probably send one of the kids up the road to borrow some from the neighbor.

That is what separates a chess pie from a regular custard pie. The nubbiness that the cornmeal gives to the custard elevates the filling from merely delicious to sublimely comforting. Of course, you can adorn a chess pie with fruit or whipped cream, but it is best in its simplicity. Why is it called chess pie? No one really know, but there are a million guesses. It has nothing to do with the game, that is for sure. The cutest explanation is when asked what was for dessert, a wife responded, 'jess (just) pie.' Interesting.

While mam-ma enjoyed chess pie, I don't think she liked it anymore than she liked any other pie. Until Bill Clinton became president. What does Bill Clinton have to do with chess pie? Well to start, Lora Mildred Marie Stevenson Whisenhunt Thomas (Mildred to everyone, but Mam-ma to her grandchildren and many other people) was a devout Democrat. Now, when I saw devout Democrat I mean the story is that on her father's deathbed she promised him she would never vote for a Republican. Seriously. Because of the Depression. Likewise, she was a devout Southern Baptist who was at church for a service, program or social more times a week than anyone could ever count. Church supper? She planned it. New Sunday school class? She organized it. Visitors on Sunday? She went by to visit them on Tuesday and invite them back for next week.

But the Lord Jesus help that Southern Baptist minister who ever started talking politics in the pulpit! You can believe she would be waiting for him at the back of the church to make sure he knew where she stood on the subject of mixing politics with the Bible. I imagine that when she arrived at the Pearly Gates, if St. Peter had said, 'Sorry, you'll have to leave your Democratic Party card at the door,' she would have definitely have stopped and thought about that for a moment. Believe it.

But when William Jefferson 'Bill' Clinton became the 42nd President of the United States of America, I tell you that woman did die and go to heaven for the Inauguration Ball given by Mary Magdalene. She thought Bill Clinton was the greatest thing since canned biscuits! She and her best friend Evelyn Rutledge would talk on the phone for hours about what was happening in Washington and the White House. She loved it every moment of it.

And when she learned that Bill Clinton's favorite pie was a lemon chess pie that his mother made, you better believe that she loved him all the more. I think it gave her a sense of pride that her president was so down-to-earth and from such good country people that he even loved chess pie. And she began to make his recipe.

Now, you can Google 'Bill Clinton's lemon chess pie' and find the recipe on about 326 million sites, so I'm not going to reproduce it here. But, you should definitely make this pie. It is simple, delicious and the perfect end to just about any meal. The lemon, eggs, butter and milk undergo some sort of alchemic transformation, with the cornmeal as the catalyst. Perfection! Now my pie isn't going to win any awards at the State Fair for looks, but I promise you it will get a blue ribbon for flavor!

Enjoy!

Recipe: Perfect Buttermilk Biscuits

Why mess with perfection? This is the buttermilk biscuit recipe my mother made and her mother before her and her mother before her. Who knows where it originated, but we can give credit to my Great-grandmother Allie Pierson. I posted her jam cake recipe before and a photo of her---not a very friendly-looking woman, but apparently a hand for baked goods. I'm sure Allie used lard instead of vegetable shortening, but we can all breath easier with that subtle change. Otherwise, these are the same as they have been for over one hundred years.

I remember my grandmother explaining how Allie put this recipe together, mixing the dough right in the pan and serving hot biscuits from the oven. These biscuits were a star of meals when I was growing up. I recall for most Sunday dinners, and some other meals, we had biscuits hot from the oven. Barbara always put them in last so that once everyone was seated and serving themselves, there was no delay in getting them from the platter to your mouth. If she was feeling ambitious or it was a special meal, we would have both fresh biscuits AND mashed potatoes. Otherwise, it was usually one or the other.

I also remember mom getting her feelings rather hurt after my brother and I started asking for canned biscuits. My mam-ma was a country cook who moved to the city as a young wife and mother, quickly embracing the post-war convenience foods of the 1950s. She would serve us canned biscuits for breakfast and I'm sure the added sugar and preservatives hit just the right note on young, under-developed palates. Of course, I know better now and would turn my nose up if you tried to serve me a store-bought biscuit, even if the NYTimes reports that purchased biscuits and rolls are now rather commonplace in the South. The work of carpetbaggers, I say.

How to eat a biscuit? There are many ways. I like mine spread with butter and jam, right on top of the biscuit, but other people prefer to split theirs open and dress the insides. Another treat that is très provincial is to mix molasses with softened butter and slather the rich, sweet spread over the biscuit. If you have gravy, that's another way to top these treasures and hot biscuits with cream gravy are the perfect accompaniment to a platter of scrambled eggs in the morning. My dad likes to tear up the leftover ones , put them into a mug and top with buttermilk and my brother will eat them cold from the fridge. But for me, there is no such thing as a leftover biscuit--they are either hot and fresh from the oven, or they are a treat for the dog.

Recipe: Allie's Buttermilk Biscuits

This is a double recipe and also the basis for my family's dumplings. I haven't tried it, but some recipes suggest you can freeze unbaked biscuits and bake from the freezer with a slightly longer cooking time.

4 cups flour
3 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 teaspoons salt
2-4 tablespoons shortening
2 cups buttermilk

Sift the flour and mix with the dry ingredients. Cut in the shortening using a pastry knife, the food processor or you hands. And the buttermilk and mix well, but don't over mix. Pat out on a floured board or wax paper, then cut into rounds. You can add a dab of shortening to the top of each biscuit or spray lightly with cooking spray to give a less-floured look to the tops.

Bake at 450 degrees for 15 minutes.

Worldview: Spaghetti

The Family, 1974 from left

Barbara, Eric, Sam and Brian

When you're young, you understand the entire world to be just like your family. Good or bad, strange or benign, it seems impossible to think that your small universe isn't reflected in the international ideal. I was no different.

Born into a typical, suburban family, we lived on a street with two large maple trees grounding the front yard of every house. I walked with my friends and neighbors to a small school named for, and celebrating, Christopher Columbus. (Go Explorers!) We all knew one another and spent hours playing in each others homes and yards.

My mother is an amazing cook who learned from her mother, an amazing cook, who learned from her mother, who I assume was an amazing cook (my great-grandmother's jam cake is here), and so on and so on. Both she and my father were (and are) passionate about fresh fruit (especially blackberries) and vegetables. Dad had a small plot in the backyard where he raised all kinds of wonderful things. He also helped tend my grandparent's larger plot behind their house. At my Mam-ma's, I remember the peach tree, green beans, mustard seed (for pickling), at the far end of the garden and crowns of asparagus like an army marching to battle. And okra for days. Lots of okra, that I was born to eat. But that is another story.

Food was important to us. Mom and dad would "put up" vegetables in the summer that we would eat all winter long. My favorite were the pickled beets to which no store bought brand can ever compare. Mom made the best dumplings, as mentioned before. But her spaghetti sauce was like nothing else. It's actually my Great-Aunt Viola's recipe, one of my grandfather's six sisters. My grandmother made this sauce and it was apparently the traditional Christmas Eve meal for her non-Italian family--a tradition we have revived. Needless to say, I never had Prego or Ragu until I was in college and fending for myself, but this sauce, while delicious, is completely unorthodox. It is simple in nature, yet complex in flavor. Some have called it "a sweet and sour" spaghetti sauce. It is superb.

At some point in elementary school I befriended a new boy named Alex who was from England. We became best friends and did everything together, bonding over a mutual love of and obsession for all things Egyptian. One afternoon, playing at his house, his mother (a skinny, peculiar woman with those stereotypically bad English teeth) said "We're having spaghetti, would you like to stay for dinner?" Spaghetti? Of course! It's one of my favorite foods: simmered for hours, filling the house with it strong perfume! Served with a crisp salad and lots of garlic bread? Count me in.

Imagine my surprise, as I sat at their welcoming table and was served: a giant bowl of cooked spaghetti, ultra-crisp bacon to crumble over it and a bottle of ketchup. Yes, ketchup. At that point, I had an instant revelation that my family and the rest of the world, whether from England or elsewhere, were not exactly alike. It was a revelation. And as Brillat-Savarin said, "Tell me what you eat, and I will tell you what you are." Ketchup on spaghetti? Definitely British.

But a rude awakening via strange spaghetti isn't necessarily a bad thing. It's good to realize the world is a big place and even better to realize said world is filled with different ideas about food, taste, how things are served, flavors, foods that are important to health and a myriad of other ideas about cuisine. It's good to see how other people eat; it's better to eat with them. Open mouth and open mind. Because of that, I am always onto something else: an obsession with curries lasts for only few fiery week; a gratin prepared in a myriad of ways is returned to occasionally; and how many hot sauces are in your refrigerator door? There are very few staple meals in my kitchen, but always a new pile of recipes to try.

And to Alex and his family, wherever you are, I hope you met someone who served you a better spaghetti sauce and inspired you to make a switch! (Sorry, I couldn't help it. Spaghetti and ketchup just isn't a good idea. I tried it, therefore I can say that.)

Shopping: Fresh Market

Last weekend, I went to three grocery stores in Indianapolis: Whole Foods, Trader Joe's and Fresh Market. I was excited because the Whole Foods was a newer, flashier one than where I usually shop in the city and I had never been to a Fresh Market before. You might remember it from Top Chef Miami, it's where they bought all of their groceries.

Visually, Fresh Market is very much like Whole Foods. It was kind of like, "what store am I in?" It's very green and white, with a dash of the organic, natural. They have their own store brand and lots of wonderful produce included great buys on blood oranges and pencil thin asparagus. I was surprised to find an array of Southern delicacies including several varieties of pimento cheese and some Southern vegetables you don't see everywhere, including Silver Queen corn. Yes, Silver Queen. It's really a family joke, which won't be funny to anyone but me: my family could have an entire dinner table conversation about corn, its varieties and the subtle differences in flavor and sweetness. When I was a child, Silver Queen was one of the preferred corns.

It was a fun shopping trip and I got some delicious things: chocolate-covered pretzels with toffee bits; an indulgent chocolate coffee which is the most aromatic I have ever had; a black and white cookie; tiny, thin asparagus; and blood oranges.

Recipe: Hummingbird Cake

Mildred and Brian, Summer 1971

Today would have been my Mam-ma's (Lora Mildred Marie Stevenson Whisenhunt Thomas) 90th birthday. She was very important to me and we were very good friends, so I miss her often and think about her always. But, on her birthday, which is one week and one day before mine, I think about her a lot and all of the fun we had together. From her I got my love of junk shops and antiques; my obsession with cookbooks and recipes; my enjoyment of teaching others; and my big blue eyes and great hair.

So, I am making one of her best cakes, her hummingbird cake, today and thought I would share the recipe with you and hope that you enjoy sharing it with friends and family.

Recipe: Mildred Thomas' Hummingbird Cake
This cake is moist, delicious and decadent. Since it uses vegetable oil instead of butter, it comes together easily and quickly. I usually cake it as 9x13 cake, but you can also make 9 inch round cakes or even cupcakes if you wish.

3 cups flour, sifted
2 cups sugar
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
1 tsp cinnamon
3 eggs, beaten
1 cup vegetable oil
1 ½ tsp vanilla
8 oz can crushed pineapple (undrained)
1 cup chopped pecans
2 cups (3-4 large) bananas (mashed)

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. In a big yellow bowl, whisk together the try ingredients. Stir in the eggs, oil and vanilla by hand. Add the pineapple, pecans and bananas. Still until combined. Pour into a greased, 9x13 cake pan and bake at for 50-55 minutes.

Icing:
8 oz cream cheese
½ cup butter (1 stick)
16 oz box of powdered sugar
1 tsp vanilla

Using a hand mixer, cream together the butter and cream cheese until fluffy. Add the powdered sugar and vanilla, beating until light and creamy. Ice the cooled cake with the cream cheese mixture.

Weekends of Eating Well

I had some fun dining adventures the past two weekends:

Weekend before last, I went to the Terre Haute farmer's market for the first time which was a nice surprise. There were quite a few purveyors selling tomatoes, squash, eggs and about everything you could expect this time of year. I bought tomatoes and squash, tossed them with pasta and the next day with fresh mozzarella. I was also glad to see a stand for a Terre Haute food co-op, which my pal Annie in Arcola had mentioned to me in an email. I signed up for their mailing list and hope to get involved this fall as they put things in motion.

Mom and Dad visited from Tulsa this past weekend, so we saw all the sights in the city that we could manage. Saturday morning we had breakfast at the Clabber Girl Bakeshop. Clabber Girl Baking Powder is produced in Terre Haute (Do you have some in your cupboard?) and was the signature product of the Hulman & Company Empire. They still own it as well as the Indy 500, and now have a bakeshop that serves breakfast, lunch and baked goods. We had a yummy breakfast and then perused their displays illustrating the history of the company and family.

Sunday morning, we headed to Saint Mary-of-the-Woods (aka Our Lady of Scrambled Eggs) for brunch. After a stroll across campus for a peek at all the beautiful and historic building, we had a great meal in the dining hall, choosing from table after table of breakfast items, salads, desserts and pastries.

After mom and dad left, I drove over to Bloomington to meet my friend Stephanie from the Blanton in Austin (who is from Bloomington) for dinner. We had a great meal a FARM Bloomington, the new restaurant of Chef Daniel Orr who was executive chef at La Grenouille and Guastavino's in NY before opening his own place. FARM exemplifies the very hot 'eat local' philosophy by created an amazing menu sourced from the area. On Sunday night they have small plates and pizzas, so we sampled them all: a minted pea guacamole (sans any avocado at all) was spicy and delicious; pizza with goat cheese, spinach, walnuts and grapes; and possibly the best french fries ever, loaded with garlic and served with a turmeric aioli. It was all delicious.

Céréales du Petit Déjeuner

Vintage Tupperware cereal container, available on Ebay. Buy it now for $4.95.

Cereal had a special place in the home I grew up in, literally. Sam, my dad, had built drawers in the cabinets for easy access and one of those drawers was loaded with Tupperware containers filled with a variety of choices. Barbara would occasionally buy a sweet cereal, like Captain Crunch with Crunch Berries, but it had to be rationed against 'plain' cereal to which we added at least the same amount of sugar that was in the Captain. Probably more. Most likely, there was some secret equation or ratio, like one box of sweet cereal to every 4.25 boxes of unsweetened cereal, but I never cracked that code.

Perplexing cereal to children? Grape nuts. It was a like a never ending bowl that just kept sucking up and absorbing the milk. It probably takes at least a half-gallon of milk to eat one bowl of Grape Nuts. Who knows. Another secret equation.

• Cereals I would eat as a child: Cheerios, Corn Flakes, Rice Krispies.
• Cereals I would prefer not to eat: Grape Nuts, Bran Flakes, anything with raisins.
• Cereal involved with disgusting story I will not repeat here: Captain Crunch with Crunch Berries

Cereal was really the only breakfast food I liked as a child. I always preferred it to a hot breakfast, but would of course indulge in pancakes or French toast on Saturday morning. When we would go on vacation, breakfast had to be at a restaurant with cereal on the menu. A little like Andy Warhol and his lunch of Campbell's tomato soup, I had to have cereal for breakfast. Of course, the morning meal was not free of family politics. As the only manic morning person in our family (I guess Sam is a morning person, but not as...talkative as myself?), I was always ready to begin the day with inquisitions and conversations. Sadly, my younger brother Eric was not, and refused to eat breakfast with me because I talked too much. Moi? I'm sure you believe, as I do, that he was simply being overly sensitive.

My grandmother, Ruth, also had an array of Tupperware cereal containers. (In fact, I think Ruth invested all of her mad money in Tupperware. When she finally acquiesced to an apartment close to my parents, Barbara told me that everyone had already gone through her collection, but I could look at the remainders. Three yard-size garbage bags left! After everyone had taken what they wanted!) She didn't see these cereal containers as simply a place to store cereal, but as a starting point and outlet for creativity. In each, Ruth would create a custom blend of cereals, every changing and always intriguing. You might find Cheerios combined with Raisin Bran or Corn Flakes mixed with your Rice Chex. If you wanted cereal straight, you had to get it from a fresh box opened from the pantry. Otherwise, it was take your chances with one of grandma's cereal cocktails.

Reader, you're probably wondering where Ruth kept her custom cereal blends. In a special sliding drawer built by my dad? No, she had those of course, but Ruth kept her cereals in an appliance above her stove that was either an old microwave or extra oven. It's true. It heald at least six containers of the magical, cereal potions easily. In her defense, I should say that my grandmother rarely fed her children or grandchildren cereal for breakfast. She would make waffles in an ancient waffle iron my uncle had saved his money to order from Sear's in the 1950s, my Aunt Sally's bran muffins (That, dear reader, is another story about aging and the demise of cooking skills.), or leftover blackberry cobbler my uncle would top with heavy cream and my mother with skim milk.

What is in my new cereal container? Kashi's Heart to Heart. What's in yours?

All of this to say, cereal is probably still my breakfast of choice, with breakfast tacos as a very close second.

Holiday 2007 Rehash

This year, we did the tour of the 'ahs' for the holidays--Wichit-ah, Omah-ah and Tuls-ah. Here are some dining highlights from the long, long....LONG (but fun) trip.

Wichit-ah
In Wichita, we saw lots of friends. It was a super-fast visit, but we squeezed every bit of friend-time in we could. Sorry if I missed you this visit, but you're top of the list next time I'm in town! Wednesday night we went to N&J Bakery which is one of the best Lebanese restaurants in the city--and there are many. I think they have the tastiest fattoush salads in Wichita, crisp and perfectly seasoned. Barb was planning on having a few people over on the following night and ordered their hummus, homemade pita and pistachio cookies. I love the pistachio cookies, but more on that later.

When we got back to Barb's, we kept her company as she began some of the prep for her Thursday night menu. One of the sweet treats was 'crispy crackers' which involves baking club crackers that have been topped with nuts and a buttery caramel. They are like crack, once you start you are hooked. Barb and I are carefully watching them in the over as they bake.

Thursday morning, Mitchell and I had breakfast at the Beacon Restaurant with an old friend from work and his new bride. The Beacon is the greasy spoon of all greasy spoons. It's located right next to the newspaper office (Which used to be the Eagle-Beacon back in the day) and is decorated with a lighthouse theme. Many of the very artistic items are for sale. If you eat meat and find yourself 'dining' at the Beacon, be sure and order the Beacon Traditional which is an open-face, lightly toasted English muffin topped with 2 eggs cooked to order, your choice of bacon or ham, and cheese melted over the top.

Thursday night at Barb's was fun and we got to hang out with many of our Wichita friends. I even got to have Molly sit in my lap, which is something I really miss being so far away from her. Barb made tons of delicious treats and served her wonderful mulled wine, but I think everyone enjoyed the pumpkin biscuits more than anything else. They're a classic and even better served with the maple pumpkin sauce which Barb had never tried before. Make them, but don't even think about serving them without the sauce!

Recipe: Barb's Pumpkin Biscuits with Pumpkin Maple Sauce
Biscuits 2 ½ cups all-purpose baking mix (like Bisquick) 1/3 cup instant non fat dry milk ¼ cup packed brown sugar 1 ¼ teaspoon pumpkin pie spice ¾ cup 100% pure pumpkin 1 tablespoon water

Sauce
1 cup maple syrup 1 cup 100% pure pumpkin ¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon

• Preheat oven to 425 degrees.
• Combine baking mix, dry milk, sugar and pumpkin pie spice in medium bowl. Stir in pumpkin and water until just moistened.
• Knead 10 times on lightly floured surface.
• Roll dough to ½ inch thickness; cut into 12 biscuits.
• Place biscuits on ungreased baking sheet about 2 inches apart.
• Bake for 8-10 minutes or until golden brown.
• Heat syrup, pumpkin and cinnamon in a small saucepan until warm.
• Spoon sauce over warm biscuits.

Of course, no visit to Wichita would be complete without a trip to the Nifty Nut House. They have all of my favorites, so I stocked up. Plus, it's always fun to be there during the holidays because there is so much electricity in the air. People are crazy for nuts! I bought:

• Double-dipped chocolate covered peanuts (the size of gum balls)
  
• Dark-chocolate covered pistachios
• Bridge Mix (with fruits)
• Yogurt-covered pretzel Christmas trees. (I swear their's are the best!)
  

Omah-ah
Old Town Omaha is filled with lots of great shops and restaurants, and we were sure to hit several of our favorites. We stayed at the Magnolia Hotel (which is in a converted office building and very nice if you're looking for a place to stay in Omaha) and it was easy walking to breakfast or dinner. Plus, the Magnolia has a complimentary continental breakfast, cocktails in the evening and a milk and cookie bar at night. Not kidding. Milk and cookie bar.

Zio's pizza is always a special treat and by the slice. You can order whatever toppings you wish and they're happy to oblige with piping hot slices right to your table. We had broccoli and onion (I won't apologize. I love broccoli on pizza.) and tomato and spinach. They have so many topping choices it will boggle your mind.

Even though we live right smack dab in the epicenter of Indian culture in Austin, TX, that doesn't keep us from ordering it when we're out of town. The Indian Oven, also in Old Town, serves all of your favorite Indian treats and has a great wine list to boot. Cold night? Fresh curries and a glass of wine will warm you right up.

Reader, are you eating your lunch at your desk while you catch up on my blog? Are you using a plastic spoon? I thought so! Do you know how it's made? Well a visit to the Omaha Children's Museum will cure you of that ignorance. Push a single button and moments later, a fresh plastic spoon emerges from the injection machine. Like magic.

Sammy and Jakalee (two and three respectively) were more interested in the car and the balls and the millions of other things you can do at the Museum.

Of course, I had to stop and pay me respects to Quan Yin while I was in Omaha. Driving down the Sorrenson Parkway, you just kind of come across her, perched on a hill and surveying the white, snowy world. The gate was locked, but I hopped it easily and trudged up the snow-covered steps to the top. I guess there were rabbits nesting behind because when I reached the top they ran quickly away in that breathy, panicked rabbit sort of way. I left Quan Yin an offering of four pistachio cookies that Barb had sent us away with, piled at the base of her feet. I didn't stay long because I thought since the gate was locked, some angry Buddhists might come after me from the temple in the distance. I spent the rest of the day with the Smith's song Stop Me if You've Heard This One Before running through my head. "And the pain was enough to make a shy, bald Buddhist reflect and plan a mass murder."

Tuls-ah

In Tulsa we ate and gorged ourselves on Christmas fare at the parents, including our traditional dinner of fried chicken. It's a long story, but tasty nonetheless. We still found time to join Paula, Brennan and Loren for a little pizza at the Hideaway. Probably the best pizza in Oklahoma, the Hideaway is a Stillwater/OSU tradition, but we don't hold that against them. Good pizza is good pizza!

I Hate to Cook....

...not really!
Over the break, I was perusing Barbara's (aka my mother) cookbook shelf which is located in one of the kitchen cupboards, when I found a long lost treasure: Peg Bracken's I Hate to Cook Book. This tiny tome, a mainstay from the 1960s convenience kitchen, is probably the beginning of my cookbook collection. My grandmother gave it to me when I was in high school or college, but I had misplaced it and couldn't find it anywhere. How it ended up in Tulsa, I'll never know.

The book was originally a gift to my grandmother from my mom's cousin Annie during a stay in Pecos, TX during the summer of 1964. Strangely enough, the New York Times published a story about Peg Bracken, her four marriages and the success of this strange little book just a couple of weeks ago. Ms. Bracken just passed late last year, her obituary is here.

Friday Night Fun

Jennie and Paul came over Friday for what is my latest entertaining recipe of choice, so don't be surprised if you come over and I make it for you too: lemon gnocchi with spinach and peas from the December issue of Gourmet. It's terrific served with a big salad and chocolate cake from Central Market's bakery for dessert. Who could ask for an easier and more delicious evening with friends?

Since it's the holidays, I did decide to throw a little bit of a table together....even though we were being super casual. I got out the winter dishes (They're not Christmas or Holiday dishes, since the poinsettia is appropriate during all of the winter months. Ask Emily Post if you don't believe me.) which are from Martha Stewart's Everyday line at K-mart a couple of years back. I dressed them up with my grandmother's silver plate (which I had to polish) and used some vintage elves, with pine cone bodies, to hold the place cards. My mam-ma's kissing Santa and Mrs. Claus salt and pepper shaker were also on the table, as was her little Star of David pitcher. It's nice to remember those who aren't with us during the holiday season and I enjoyed using their things for dinner.

I even enjoy the little bit of hand washing that follows a small gathering--as opposed to the loads and loads involved for a big event. I'm not shy about putting things in the dishwasher, but there are certain items I just won't trust it with. I find the sight of the dishes inverted on the counter amusing. I'm not sure why?

It was a lovely evening with clever conversation and good wine. Have people over for dinner!

Recipe: Lemon Gnocchi with Spinach and Peas

1 cup frozen baby peas (not thawed)
1/2 cup heavy cream
1/8 teaspoon dried hot red-pepper flakes
1 garlic clove, smashed
3 cups packed baby spinach (3 ounces)
1 teaspoon grated lemon zest
1 1/2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice
1 pound dried gnocchi
1/4 cup grated Parmesan

Simmer peas with cream, red-pepper flakes, garlic, and 1/4 teaspoon salt in a 12-inch heavy skillet, covered, until tender, about 5 minutes.

Add spinach and cook over medium-low heat, uncovered, stirring, until wilted. Remove from heat and stir in lemon zest and juice.

Meanwhile, cook gnocchi in a pasta pot of boiling salted water (3 tablespoons salt for 6 quarts water) until al dente. Reserve 1/2 cup pasta-cooking water, then drain gnocchi.

Add gnocchi to sauce with cheese and some of reserved cooking water and stir to coat. Thin with additional cooking water if necessary.

Serves 4. More like, serves two hungry people. I doubled it for the four of us!

Back to the Cucumber Salad

My paternal grandmother, Lora Mildred Marie Stevenson Whisenhunt (almost Thomas) and me, a few days before my third birthday. (Called Mildred by most, she was Mam-ma to many more people than her grandchildren.) She was to be married the day before my third birthday and would miss my party while on her honeymoon, so we celebrated early.(shown here) Ever year on my birthday, she would call and remind me of how she had missed my third birthday and how we had a special party.

This summer, we have received piles and piles of really exquisite Asian or English cucumbers. These are the very long and slender ones you often find wrapped in plastic at the supermarket and marketed as burp-less or seedless. There are some small seeds, but these are easily scraped out and discarded.

I like to make a crisp, refreshing salad by combining them with onion and some sort of dressing. I usually just use a vinegar and water mixture, but as mentioned a few posts ago I also like to use sour cream and dill which turns them into crunchy/creamy combo.

When I was growing up, I don't think we every had a meal at my Mam-ma's that didn't involve a bowl of cucumbers and onions. She would slice peeled cukes thinly, not bothering to remove the seeds, and mix them with some white onion, white distilled vinegar and a little bit of sugar. Their sharp, astringent taste was always a perfect complement to the casserole or macaroni she had prepared to go with the steak, roast or chicken that was the centerpiece of the meal.

I remember when I was in college, I called her to ask how to make them.

She said, "Just slice up the peeled cucumber, add sliced onion, vinegar, water and a little salt and a little sugar."

I said "How much vinegar? How much water?"

She replied, "Enough."

I inquired again, "But, how much do you start with?"

She stated what would be obvious to someone with experience in the kitchen, "It depends on how many cucumbers you have."

"And what about the sugar? A little or a lot?"

She said, "Until it tastes right."

I admit that occasionally I do use plain white vinegar with my cucumbers, simply because I enjoy the nostalgic taste. (Not Proust's madeleines by any means, but a trip back to my childhood table.) More likely, I use some sort of fruity vinegar, which has a softer flavor. If there is sour cream, I'll mix that in. And I always enjoy a little bit of dill sprinkled over it with some freshly ground pepper. Regardless of what I mix in, I always think about my Mam-ma and our conversation about cucumber salad.

Beans, beans, beans (and Jennie and Paul)

Jennie and Paul!

Jennie and Paul got married on the islands last fall, but had a wonderful celebration of their nuptials a few weeks ago at the Salt Lick BBQ here in Austin. Friends from across the globe were in attendance and it was a blast. The bus driver had great stories about Stevie Nicks and Rufus Wainright, which I can repeat here. Anyway, it was a ton of fun with many, many great people. Congrats guys!

Jennie asked me to prepare some veggie friendly BBQ for the vegetarians, so I prepare my famous seitan BBQ style and made my Mam-ma's baked beans. Angie asked for the recipe, so I thought I would post here.

Recipe: Mildred's Baked Beans

I changed this recipe slightly, but all for the better.

3/4 cup molasses

3/4 cup ketchup

3/4 cup brown sugar

3 tablespoons mustard (I used a spicy brown.)

2 small onion, finely chopped
3-4 cloves of garlic, minced
Salt & pepper to taste
4, 16-oz cans of pinto beans (drained and rinsed)*

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Combine the first seven ingredients in a big yellow bowl and stir to combine. Fold in the beans and then transfer to a large casserole. Bake until they sauce is thickened, about an hour. Cover and let stand for about 15 minutes. These are wonderful hot, room temperature or cold from the fridge.

It you 'eat the meat,' feel free to top with bacon. You don't really need to, but you can. You can also top the beans with facon, but cook it separately and then add to the top of your casserole before serving.

The REAL Jennie and Paul!

Mangez!

*7.20.09, The last time I made these I used Bush's mix of Great Northern and Pinto beans, which made for a great combination of textures in the dish. If you can't find the cans of mixed beans, you could always do two cans of each.

Let Them Eat (Jam!) Cake...

Homer Henderson Pierson and Martha Allie Pierson on the front porch of their home in Braxton County, West Virginia.

This recipe has an old pedigree, it comes from my Grandmother Ruth Barbara Pierson Johnson Decker from her mother Martha Allie Pierson (went by Allie) who passed away in the late 1940s, so it was perfected decades ago. The photographs of Allie correspond with my mother's memories, not a happy-friendly type of grandmother, slightly serious and dour. Mean? The cake recipe says otherwise, as it is a masterpiece of brightness and spring.

The finished cake, decorated with flowers for spring. I painted the bunny with my grandmother when I was younger and staying at her house. I think she did most of it, but I must claim responsibility for the pink eye that give it a slightly evil look.

Many recipes utilize jam as a filling between layers of sponge, but this one combines it in the batter along with spices that yield an incredibly moist and delicious crumb. My grandmother said one of her sister-in-laws or cousins or someone made it with store bought jam, a derision aimed at the fact the culprit possessed store bought jam to use rather than any marked difference in the cake. As the recipe states, you can use a combination of the leftover jams from jars in the fridge or a single flavor of your choice. Store bought or homemade, I recommend blackberry.

There was no recipe for an icing, but Grandma mentioned something with brown sugar. I did a little research and found one utilizing both brown sugar (to complement the spices in the cake) and orange juice concentrate (to complement the fruitiness of the jam), and it is perfection.

Recipe: Great-Grandma Pierson’s Jam Cake

1 cup sugar
1 cup butter (2 sticks)
1 cup jam (any flavor, or mixed scraps)
1 cup buttermilk
3 eggs
1 teaspoon soda
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon cloves
½ teaspoon nutmeg
½ teaspoon allspice
2 cups flour
1 ½ teaspoon baking powder

Preheat oven to 325 degrees and grease and flour two 8-inch round cake pans.

In a small bowl, sift dry ingredients together. Place jam in a medium-sized measuring cup and slowly add buttermilk, stirring together. In a big yellow bowl, beat sugar and butter together until creamy and light. Add eggs one at a time, beating with each addition.

Alternate mixing in dry ingredients with buttermilk mixture, beginning and ending with dry ingredients until just combined. Divide batter between two pans, bake for 45 minutes or until tester come out clean (the top of the cake will remain fairly moist)

Cool in pans for ten minutes then remove and cool completely. Frost with caramel frosting. You can also put a layer of jam between the cakes, if you like.

Recipe: Orange-scented Brown-sugar frosting

12 ounces cream cheese, room temperature
3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature
3/4 cup (packed) golden brown sugar
2 1/4 cups powdered sugar
1 1/2 tablespoons frozen orange juice concentrate, thawed
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract

Using electric mixer, beat cream cheese and butter in large bowl until fluffy. Add brown sugar; beat until well blended. Add powdered sugar 1/2 cup (scant) at a time, beating well after each addition. Beat in orange juice concentrate and vanilla. Chill until firm enough to spread, about 30 minutes.

Makes about 3 1/2 cups

Mangez! (and Happy Spring!)