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!

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: 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.

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.