Wish Upon A Chef

No matter how old you get, there are times when only your Momma can make you feel better.

When you're down with a bad cold, only Momma can make chicken soup just the way you like it.

A scraped knee?  Momma will make the boo-boo all better with nothing but a kiss and a Snoopy band-aid.

When your first (second, third or twentieth) true love breaks your heart, Momma is there to help you pull yourself up by the bootstraps and make you feel loved again.

And so it is that after I've been in a blogging/cooking rut for almost a year, only Momma could get me started again.

This time last year Boy Toy and I were getting ready for vacation in Mexico and the folks were on safari in Africa.  It was the last week of "normal" as we would know it until very recently. After months, days and weeks of watching my mother struggle to get her strength back, I was very pleasantly surprised when she showed up and dropped five dozen ears of corn at my doorstep.  Things were definitely getting back to normal.


My hometown in Tennessee has long been known for fruit and produce grown by the Scott family - namely strawberries, tomatoes, and corn.  There is a world of difference between real farm-grown food and the mass-produced food in the grocery store but most people never have the chance to experience the difference. Nor have they experienced the satisfaction of "putting up" food to be enjoyed long after it's out of season.

As a child, I can vaguely remember most all of my family members sitting on the porch at some point in time stringing and snapping beans from the garden or "working" tomatoes into pints and quarts.  It was a family affair - a time to be together, talk, laugh and tell stories.  It was a joint effort to do the work and a joint effort to enjoy the bounty for the rest of the year.  It was a way of life.  Sadly, the art of canning and preserving food has been lost on alot of today's population.  Invite a bunch of friends over for a bean stringing party or a corn shucking soiree and see how many show up!  I'm still a farm girl at heart because, even after years of being removed from it,  I still love the satisfaction of "working" real food. 


The folks and I spent Friday evening shucking and plucking 60 ears of corn (some of us even clowned around) from Scott's farm and planned to prepare it on Saturday for the freezer.  Once you get past all the shucking, it's really a pretty easy thing to do.  

























Once the corn is clean of all the silks and the ends are trimmed, fill the largest pot you have with water (about halfway) and bring it to a slow simmer.  Add the corn in batches and give the water a few minutes to return to a simmer.  Cook the corn for about 4 minutes, making sure to push the corn down to the bottom a few times because it floats to the top. 


Remove the corn from the pot and put it into an ice bath to stop the cooking process.  Once the corn is cool, use a sharp knife and cut the kernels from the cob.  Bag the corn in freezer bags - it works best if you make the filled bags lay flat so you can stack them in the freezer and take up less room.  We bagged the corn in both pint and quart bags and got 10 pints for me and 9 quarts for Mom. 

When you're ready to use the corn, defrost it and cook however you please.  I like to saute it with a combination of olive oil and butter along with fresh garlic, diced red or green bell peppers.  Add fresh herbs like parsley, thyme or basil at the end of cooking and season with salt & pepper. 

With a little bit of time and effort this summer, you can enjoy fresh corn all year long!

Here at Wish Upon A Chef we talk mostly about food and recipes, but I want break from tradition for just a few minutes and talk about life.  And we can't really talk about life without also talking about death. 

I started this blog in 2006 during a rough patch in my life.  Cooking and blogging gave me something to look forward to and be accountable for and I blogged like hell during those days.  Things eventually worked out for the best and I've thanked my lucky stars for the joy and happiness I've experienced since those dark days.  But I think we all know it can't be roses and rainbows every single day and blogging or cooking can't always cure what ails you.

My blog has been without words for the last 3 months.  My meals have consisted mostly from the stock of frozen prepared foods in my freezer.  There has been no creativity or desire.  No words would come. 

My mother has been battling stage III cancer since September.  She is preparing for a bone marrow transplant in March at Vanderbilt hospital.

We tragically lost my 16-year-old cousin to suicide in November.

Jesse James, my furry four-legged companion of nearly 12 years, died in February. 

My job has caused a great deal of anxiety and stress over the past several months. 

I look at myself in the mirror and I hate what I see - the dark circles under my eyes, hair badly in need of coloring.  I hate the way I feel - lethargic, unmotivated, depressed.  My thoughts have been dark and brooding.  I've been going through the motions and nothing more, but it's time to change all of that and the only way I know how is to dive right back into life. 

It's time to breathe life back into Wish Upon A Chef and resurrect a few other projects that I've been working on.  It's time to be thankful for the times we've had and make the most of the time still yet to come. 

I chose a Caramel Apple Cheesecake from Pinterest as my inspiration for getting back into the kitchen.  The recipe that I found was based on Mimi Hodges' Candy Apple Pie, which won the Pie of Emeril's Eye contest, but I tweaked it just a bit more and came up with the perfect blend of sweetness to celebrate a friend's birthday this past weekend.

It's life.  It's death.  It's all going to get in the way at times.


Caramel Apple Cheesecake
adapted from Mimi Hodges, winner of Good Morning, America’s “Pie of Emeril’s Eye” Contest, 2000


Crust
1 1/2 cups ginger snap cookie crumbs
3 tablespoons granulated sugar
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
5 1/3 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
Apple Filling
5 tablespoons unsalted butter
1/4 cup packed light brown sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon cinnamon
3-4 Granny Smith apples, peeled, cored and thinly sliced
Cheesecake
16 oz. cream cheese, at room temperature
1/3 cup granulated sugar
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2 large eggs, at room temperature
2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
Caramel
8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter
1 cup packed light brown sugar
1/2 cup heavy cream

1/2 cup chopped pecans, for garnish

To make the crust: preheat the oven to 375 F. Line the bottom of a 9-inch springform pan with a circle of parchment paper. Combine the cookie crumbs, sugar, cinnamon and melted butter in a medium bowl. Use a fork to stir until the crumbs are evenly moistened. Transfer the mixture to the prepared springform pan and press into an even layer over the bottom and about two-thirds of the way up the sides of the pan. Bake for 6-8 minutes, or until golden in color. Transfer the pan to a wire rack and let cool for about 10 minutes.  Reduce oven heat to 350 F. 

To make the apple filling: Melt the butter in a large skillet set over medium heat. Add the brown sugar, salt and cinnamon, stirring to combine, and cook until gently bubbling, about 1 minute. Add the apples and toss to coat. Cook until the slices are tender, and most of the liquid in the pan has been reduced, about 15-20 minutes.  Add the cooked apples to the cooled crust.

Refrigerate the crust while you make the filling. 

To make the cheesecake layer: In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat the cream cheese and sugar on medium speed until smooth. Add the vanilla, egg and lemon juice and beat until incorporated and smooth, about 1-2 minutes. Pour the cheesecake batter over the apples in the crust and spread into an even layer. Bake until the cheesecake is set, about 20-30 minutes. Transfer the pan to a wire rack and cool to room temperature then refrigerate for at least 4 hours before making and adding the caramel.

To make the caramel sauce: Add the butter, brown sugar and heavy cream to a medium saucepan. Bring the mixture to a boil over medium heat, stirring constantly. Lower the heat to medium and continue boiling until the mixture thickens slightly, about 7-8 minutes. Turn off the heat and let cool slightly.

Remove the sides of the springform pan, then gently pour the caramel over the cheesecake. Garnish with chopped pecans, if desired. Store, covered, in the refrigerator.

The "C" word.

It's a nasty, terrible word. 

A word no one wants to hear uttered, especially in reference to themselves or someone they love.

It's amazing how one filthy word can (if you let it) strip you of your decency and self-respect.  It will also change your outlook on so many things - about life, about yourself, about your family.

I want the "C" word banished forever and I never want to hear it again.

One month ago this week, my parents were finishing up a 21-day safari trip of a lifetime in Africa, the Boy Toy and I were relaxing for a well-deserved week in Mexico and all was right with the world.  Less than 3 weeks later, the terrible "C" word would blindside us. 

Cancer.

That's the word I'm talking about.

Anaplastic Large Cell Lymphoma to be exact. 

No one knows exactly when the stage 3 cancer manifested itself into my mother's body and no one will ever know exactly what caused it, but I've long believed that the chronic health issues we face today - Alzheimer's, ADHD, autism, obesity and numerous cancers, just to name a few - are ultimately caused/aggravated by the processed foods we eat.  The government regulated, FDA approved, heavily marketed and targeted foods that populate our grocery store shelves. 

Do you really look at the ingredient label on the "food" you are consuming? Does it even register with you that you are not, in fact, actually eating food?

Chemicals. 

Preservatives.

Additives. 

Growth hormones. 

Genetically modified organisms. 

Things you cannot even pronounce.

POISON is what you are actually consuming.  Plain and simple. 

I'm not going to sit here and say that the reason my mother has cancer is because she ate convenience foods from a box or a can. But who's to say that isn't part of the underlying reason? I will say that from the point of October 1, 2013 on I won't give processed foods the chance to repeat history with me personally. 

Since the beginning of the year I have been working to change my diet to more organic items, less refined sugar and no processed items. It's been a work in progress and even after 9 months, I'm still not completely there. So when I ran across the Unprocessed October 2013 challenge, it seemed like the final step in getting myself over the hump of ridding my pantry and recipes of poison and I vowed to take the challenge.  I promised to dedicate 23 of the 31 days to not eating processed foods. The reason for the 8 days of non-participation is because most times on the weekend I am not in charge of my own cooking and I wouldn't dare turn up my nose or impose my standards on someone who took the time to prepare food for me.  And who are we kidding to say that we are NEVER going to indulge in something that doesn't meet the kitchen test or be in a position where we are served food that we have no control over.  But even in these types of situations, I will do my best to make better choices.

It's not too late for you to take the challenge either wholeheartedly or just in an effort to change one small thing about your eating habits.  You have to start somewhere and Eating Rules is a great resource to get you started in the right direction. 

Let's ultimately rid our society of that "C" word one box and one can of processed crap at a time!

My favorite photo from this summer, taken during our trip to Litchfield Beach.

Where does the time go?

It seems like only a few days ago I was excited for the beginning of summer and here I am doing an end of summer recap.  I can remember as a kid thinking the summers seemed to fly by and school started way too soon and now that I feel that way even as an adult, I wonder if I'm going through my second childhood?

It has been a month since I've posted here at Wish Upon A Chef and while I never want to feel like this blog is an obligation and something that I absolutely have to do, I do always feel better when I write here and for my various other online sources.  But it's been a busy summer and while there has been alot of activity in my kitchen, other things sometimes take precedence over styling my food for a pretty photo and keeping up with the recipe to be recounted here.  I know everyone else is in the same situation trying to juggle summertime activities, vacations, and getting ready for back-to-school. 

I've spent a great deal of time this summer bonding with the Boy Toy's children and I'm pleased to report that things seem to be going well.  Food always seem to bring people together whether they are preparing it together or gathering around the table to enjoy the final product.  I'm lucky that Boy Toy's daughter likes to work as my sous chef and he and his son love indulging in the fruits of our labor.  Cooking with kids can be so rewarding - I believe that when children see what goes into their food and make an effort to help prepare it, they have a much better appreciation of what goes into their bodies.  A couple of weeks ago, we prepared these beef tips which are loaded with mushrooms and I was nervous because I've never met a kid yet that claimed to like them.  When my sous chef  spotted the shrooms in my frig, she immediately wanted to know if they were going into our recipe and I got the obligatory "Yuck!" when she found out the answer.  The same thing happened when we mixed up the milk, mustard and cornstarch - it was deemed "gross."   But imagine my delight when, as she was pushing the fungus around on her plate and I reminded her how hard she worked to slice them, she agreed to try one and decided it "wasn't that bad."  She also went into great detail telling her brother (who had two generous helpings minus the shrooms) about how we made gravy out of milk and mustard.

It was a beautiful moment.     

We also made Rachael Ray's sloppy joes and while I got some up-turned noses at the mere mention of sloppy joes, there was absolutely nothing left over to photograph.  We've done No Bake Cookies which contained dreaded oatmeal but were declared a winner and peanut butter cookies which disappeared rather quickly too.  I've made alot of pimiento cheese for their dad as it seems to be his favorite for parties, beach trips, and any day that ends in "Y."  And I did knock his socks off one date night with my shrimp and grits.  It pretty much sealed the fate of him loving me forever! 

Now that school has started its regularly scheduled program, hopefully I'll get back to pumping some new and exciting things out of the kitchen to share with you and I hope you enjoyed Summer 2012!

After spending a (not nearly) long (enough) weekend at the beach, I now have a craving for all things seafood.  My family rented this gorgeous beach house in Georgetown, SC for a week as a surprise for my grandmother's 80th birthday and we all traveled from near and far to spend some time with her.  We had worked really hard to keep it all a secret so she would think she was going to enjoy a leisurely week at the beach with just my parents, but even at that we worried that maybe she was on to us and was really just pretending she didn't know what awaited her.  I mean, after raising my mother and her three siblings and dealing with the antics of all us grandchildren, she has to be a pretty smart woman.  Needless to say, we pulled one over on her. 

As Boy Toy, his daughter and I headed to Georgetown, we were oblivious to the fact that tropical storm Alberto was swirling around out in the Atlantic and even though we didn't get to do typical beach activities once we got there, we still had a fabulous time.  Check out these awesome photos of our little one enjoying the turbulence of the waves crashing onto the deck of the house. 



Dude, I have a 13-year-old brother...this tropical storm is NOTHING!



She didn't get to go to the beach, so the beach came to her!

Halibut is one of my favorite types of fish to prepare because its flavor is mild and you can dress it up with almost any kind of sauce or topping.  I love this recipe for Halibut with Pineapple Salsa because it's super easy and the jalapenos give it just the right amount of zestiness.  Even better is the fact that this entree can be prepped and ready in about 15 minutes.  The salsa is also great spooned over grilled chicken or you could make it in a larger quantity and scoop it up with tortilla chips as part of a Mexican feast.



Halibut with Pineapple Salsa
Serves 4

1/2 cup dried pineapple, diced
1/2 cup red bell pepper, diced
1/4 fresh cilantro, chopped
2 teaspoons jalapeno pepper, minced
1/8 teaspoon salt
1/4 cup fresh lime juice
1 teaspoon vegetable oil
4 halibut steaks (4 oz each)
1 teaspoon vegetable oil
salt and freshly ground black pepper
Non-stick cooking spray

Combine first 7 ingredients in a bowl and stir well.  Let stand for about 15 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Brush fish with 1 teaspoon oil and season with salt and pepper.

Place fish on a grill pan coated with cooking spray and cook about 5 minutes on each side over medium high heat until fish flakes easily with a fork.

Serve with salsa.

Everyone has a story. A story about where they came from. A story about what they've accomplished. A story about who or what inspires them. My story starts here ~ in the house that Grandpa built.

My playhouse sat adjacent from our house, next to the driveway, with a flower garden on each side and forsythia bushes growing in front. Custom-built by my grandfather, it was painted tan and trimmed in white and when the door opened, you were immediately transported into the land of make-believe.

There was a couch, a chair and a coffee table all handcrafted by my grandfather in his work shop. There was a shelf to hold all of the miniature cans and boxes of play food that Santa was kind enough to bring the year that I was good. And of course, there was a refrigerator and a stove but the absolute best part ~ and what made me the envy of every other playhouse owner ~ was the sink. My grandfather built the double sink with two recessed plastic tubs that I could fill with water. He had cut holes in the tubs and a vacuum cleaner hose ran from the hole in each tub down through the floor and drained under the house. I would carry water from the big house in a little silver bucket and wash my fine plastic china.

This is where I first learned to make biscuits and pies, albeit from Play-doh and mud. My first dinner party was hosted in this little house with such VIPs as Raggedy Ann and Ballerina Barbie at my table. This is where I gazed out of the curtain-clad window and conjured up new recipes. The make-believe that happened in this little house would eventually give way to a successful catering business, two blogs, and numerous real life dinner parties with friends and family.

On October 25th, the greatest playhouse builder ever was called home to walk the streets of gold. I'd like to think that he has dusted off his wood-working skills and has already started building the grandest playhouse ever imaginable behind those pearly gates. And while my grandfather had a huge hand in helping my story get started, it is far from over but when it finally is, I hope he'll be ready to enjoy a fresh batch of Play-doh biscuits together in the sky!

God created Sundays as a day of rest but in this fast paced world that we live in today, very few people slow down long enough to even know what day it is let alone to take the time to rest and relax. Finding myself home sick this weekend and tired of staying in the house, I ventured outside to take up residence in the hammock. It was a gorgeous day - no humidity, a light breeze and just a hint of impending Fall in the air....perfect for relaxing and recuperating. My thoughts started wondering and soon I found myself reminiscing about times past.

A few weeks ago, my friend and I took in the sights and sounds of Chicago for what was my first time there. I invited all of my friends and family to view the photos from my trip on my Flickr account. A few days later, my grandmother sent me an email because it seems that my photographs evoked some memories of her first trip through Chicago with my grandfather and his sister. Back in 1952, my grandparents were in their mid 20's and newly married. Being from a small rural town, my grandmother hadn't traveled all that much herself but my grandfather made frequent trips between their home in Tennessee and his job in Michigan. I'm positive this was not my grandmother's very first trip out of her hometown, but it was quite possibly one of the first through a major metropolitan city such as Chicago. She said my grandfather didn't want to take the time to stop so she snapped photos from inside the car while they passed through the city streets. I can just imagine her bouncing from side to side in the car snapping photos, pointing and being amazed at the scene before her. Ironically, one of the photos that she snapped was very similar to of one of mine at Buckingham Fountain in Grant Park. Seeing the picture gave me an odd sense of comfort knowing that we both had been in the same place for the first time, but certainly a different time.



It has been two years since my grandfather left us for a better place and his memories still bring tears and sadness but I have great comfort in knowing that later in his life he found the time to enjoy a Sunday such as this one today. Taking time to relax, to stop along those city streets and take in the view. My grandmother told me that one evening, when they were much older, they had a conversation about the fact that he had pretty much seen and done everything that he had set out to accomplish and experience in life. If we could all only be so lucky!

So, just take a moment and remember what it is you're here to do and what it is that you want to do.....

It's not very often that I eat dinner at a restaurant and immediately feel compelled to run home and re-create something from my dining experience. In fact, I don't think that has ever happened, but they say there is a first time for everything. A few weeks ago, while I was visiting my family in Tennessee, we had dinner at a quaint little out-of-the-way bistro with an awesome menu. My dinner was great - shrimp with cheese grits - but it was the dessert that had me running back to my own kitchen to recreate.

Maybe it was because I was feeling nostalgic by being back in the town where I grew up, back to my roots.  Or maybe it was just because the slice of Orange Creamsicle cheesecake was so darn good. Either way, each luscious and creamy bite conjured up images of when I was a kid riding home from school on the bus that was driven by my grandfather.

After he finished driving his route, he would stop at the little gas station/convenience store close to his house and let me buy a treat. Sometimes it was a pack of Elvis Presley trading cards and sometimes it would be a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup but more often than not, it was a Creamsicle. Even knowing that my grandmother had a big dinner waiting for us as soon as we darkened the door, I was allowed to eat my treat right away (yeah, I was spoiled. Big deal. I turned out okay...well, sort of, but that's a whole different story).


As soon as I darkened my own door after devouring this sinful dessert, I searched the internet for a recipe and came upon this blog by someone named Charles French. Seems like Charles also has a fondness for Orange Creamsicles and posted his version in the form of a cheesecake. Take his advice and don't increase the amount of Cointreau and take my advice and let this jewel sit overnight. I was dying to try it so Captain Sturm and I had some friends over for dinner and decided to cut into it only a few hours out of the oven. It had an overpowering, bitter taste from the residual alcohol but by the next day it had mellowed out and I was once again taken to way back when.......


Orange Creamsicle Cheesecake

6 Tablespoons unsalted butter
1 3/4 cups graham cracker crumbs
1 1/4 cups sugar -- divided
2 pounds cream cheese at room temp.
1 1/2 Tablespoons vanilla extract
1/2 cup Cointreau (do not substitute)
1 teaspoon orange extract
4 large eggs at room temp.
4 T heavy cream
zest of one orange finely minced (couple of teaspoons)
1 pinch salt
8 oz Sour Cream
Orange food coloring

Preheat oven to 350.

Combine graham cracker crumbs, 1/4c sugar, orange zest, and 6 tablespoons butter into the bowl of a food processor and blitz, about 30 seconds until you have crumbs.

Pour this mixtures into a 9" cheesecake pan and press down with your knuckles so the pan is fully covered on the bottom and about 1/2 inch up the sides and well pressed.

Bake at 350 for 12-15 minutes until set. Remove from oven and place on cooling rack.

Lower oven temp to 275.

Place 1 package of cream cheese in the large mixing bowl (or your stand mixer bowl) along with about 1/4 of the remaining cup of sugar, beat until well combined, add in about 1/4 of the sour cream and beat until whipped well. Make certain you scrape down the bowl from time to time while doing this.

Repeat this process until all packages of cream cheese, the sugar and the sour cream are incorporated and well mixed, scrape the bowl down often.

At this point add the Cointreau, add the vanilla and orange extracts, and the heavy cream then add the salt. Slowly add the eggs a little at time while continuing to mix & scrape the bowl. Once all of this has been added whip another minute or two. Reserve 2 cups of the batter and then pour the rest into the spring form pan. With the remaining 2 cups of batter add orange food coloring until you get a tangerine color. When you get the color right, pour it in 4 dollops on top of the batter in the pan. Using a skewer swirl the orange batter into the rest don’t over do it or you’ll lose the swirls. Start with the upper right dollop swirling clockwise. Then down to the bottom right swirling counter-clockwise, bottom left, clockwise and upper left counter-clockwise. When you’re done you’ll see that all the swirls move towards the center of the cake.

Open oven, on lowest rack set the baking dish with the water. On the middle rack place the cookie sheet and set the filled spring form pan in it. Close the oven and bake at 275 for about 1 hour 45 minutes. (could take 10 minutes longer due to the alcohol content). The edges should be set but the center should still be wiggly (like jello) when done cooking. There may be some cracks around the edges up to 3/4 of an inch. Don’t worry these will settle beautifully.

Place cake on cooling rack, allow to cool for 30-45 minutes then go around edges with the offset spatula (or a thin knife) to loosen. Allow to continue cooling for 3 more hours. Refrigerate overnight to chill.

Source:
"charlesfrench.com blog"
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

NOTES : Has a bitter aftertaste if not chilled overnight.

Having moved nearly 700 miles away from my parents several years ago, I often worry about how they’d fare as empty-nesters. Would they be lonely? Would they eat well? Would they stay active in their retirement years? I think it’s funny how, as both myself and my parents have grown older, our roles have reversed and I find myself worrying about them so much.

Last week, I managed to clear my work schedule and travel home for a much needed visit with my family. I asked Mom to be my “tour guide” and line up a few trips and special projects for me to do while I visited – since she probably needed something to keep her busy in her spare time, you know. My week long itinerary included spending some time with friends and family members, shopping, dining out, and tagging along on a Saturday drive with the Tri-Cities Miata Car Club. Mom and Dad have been members of the club for a couple of years now and I thought it would be fun spending the day riding along with the “seniors” in the slow lane.

Early Saturday morning, we met the other club members at the designated meeting place, lowered our tops (car tops, that is), and all the cars – about 11 in all - lined up and headed out to our final destination of Backbone Rock near Damascus, VA . I was riding shotgun with Miss Wanda, a friend of my parents, and we puttered along the scenic drive chatting and laughing. We were the third car in line as we started up a steep, curvy mountain incline and the next thing we knew, we were lagging behind no doubt because we were busy talking. The minute Miss Wanda realized she was getting left behind, my Driving Miss Daisy experience quickly turned into what seemed like the final lap of the Daytona 500 NASCAR race. She grabbed the gear shift, shifted into overdrive, and our little toy car sped up the mountain slinging rocks and dust all the way. We quickly (very, quickly) met up with the others and also happened up on Farmer Brown who was out for a Saturday drive on his tractor. Not content to be behind a slow mover, my driver (is that really Dale Earnhardt, Jr. in the drivers seat??) pulled out, drafting behind the car in front of us in true NASCAR fashion, passed Farmer Brown, and sped on down the mountain road.

Once we arrived at Back Bone Rock, everyone got out to admire the beautiful scenery and have a Kodak moment. There was a group of young adults repelling down the side of the rock and as I stood there on the ground below watching them, I realized that yes indeed that was my father hanging off the side of the rock above snapping photos of them as they scaled down. How in the world did he get up there, I wondered, and then I saw that our little group was hiking up the side of the rock. I fell in line with them and tried to hide the fact that I was actually feeling a little winded as I headed up the elevation. I was, after all, the youngest person in the group and I couldn’t be outdone by these so-called seniors. After a few more photo ops, we jumped back into our cars and headed into town for lunch at The Old Mill in Damascus.
The food was good and the company of the other club members was nice.

As we started on our journey back home, I began to reflect on the events of the day. Here I had been worrying that my parents were spending their days sitting at home staring at the walls when in fact they were out behaving like teenagers, driving in the fast lane, climbing rocks, socializing with friends and then it dawned on me that I was exhausted and needed a nap. Talk about role reversal!!

Easter is right around the corner and every year about this time, I start getting homesick. Of course, I'm homesick almost all of the time but it usually becomes a bit more intensified this time of year. Easter always reminds me of my maternal great-grandmother, known to us as Granny. Easter was her holiday and no matter how old you were, it was always your sworn family duty to gather in the kitchen on Good Friday and color eggs with Granny. She did it with my mother and her siblings when they were young and the tradition carried over into my generation. Since I'm the only female of my generation, my male cousins and I would congregate in the kitchen and wait for our instructions. The boys' attention span would soon waiver and they would spend most of the afternoon outside in the yard and leave us girls to the work at hand. We would boil the eggs - about 10 dozen or so - and wait patiently for them to cool. In the meantime, we'd gather all the coffee cups in the cupboard and start mixing the colors. We always bought several boxes of the PAAS tablets and we'd put more than one of the same color tablet in the cup to make the color more intense. To this day, the smell of vinegar still evokes memories of coloring eggs and of course, my Granny. We'd carefully dip the eggs in the colors and let them drain and dry on kitchen towels. Now, gather 'round little readers because I'm going to share my Granny's secret to shiny Easter eggs.....she'd get a little dab of Crisco shortening and rub over the eggs with a paper towel and those eggs would perk up and shine like the sunlight!

On Easter Sunday, the whole family would gather at my grandmother's house for dinner and an Easter egg hunt. In addition to being the Master Easter Egg Colorer, my Granny was the Queen of Potato Salad. She would make it for every family gathering and we would always make such a big deal about how delicious it was. We wouldn't do it just to make her feel good, and we wouldn't do it just because you're always supposed to brag on other people's food. No sir! We'd do it because it was truly the best potato salad. EVER. I suspect in the later years of her life, my grandmother was actually the one who made it, but we never let on like we knew.

A few weeks ago I was craving a burger on the grill. What goes better with a burger than potato salad, I ask you?? If you do a search on Google for "mustard potato salad", you'll get about 17,000 results. I can tell you now not to waste your time because there's only one...my Granny's potato salad! This salad is better if made the day before you need it, but in my humble opinion it's really the best the second day after it's made. It makes quite a bowl full and usually after I've eaten something once or twice, I lose interest and out it goes with the week's trash. Not this. NEVER, EVER would I dream of throwing away the best potato salad. EVER. So eat it all, I did, enjoy it all, I did, and think of my Granny and those Easter eggs, I did!



Granny's Potato Salad

6 potatoes, peeled
4 eggs
4 stalks celery, finely chopped
1/2 cup dill pickles, chopped
pickle juice, as needed
1/3 cup mayonnaise
3 tablespoons prepared mustard
salt and pepper, to taste

Bring a large pot of salted water to boil. Add potatoes and cook until tender, but still firm, about 15 minutes; drain and chop.

Place eggs in a saucepan and cover with cold water. Bring water to a boil; cover, remove from heat and let eggs stand in hot water for 10-12 minutes. Remove from hot water; peel and chop.

In a large bowl, combine potatoes, eggs, celery, pickles, mustard, mayonnaise, salt and pepper. Gently mix together. Use pickle juice to reach the desired consistency. Chill before serving.

In a society where broken homes are as common as the common cold, I realize how truly fortunate I am to be able to say that not only have my parents been married to each other for 37 years, but I have had the pleasure of knowing all four of my grandparents as well as three of my great-grandparents. There aren't too many people who can match even one of those statements. Family means different things to different people and the word means far too many things for me to delve into here, so I'll just stick with what the word means to me in relation to food.

It means remembering how good my Granny's homemade potato salad tasted and how mile-high the meringue was on her coconut pies. It means slathering butter onto one my grandmother's homemade yeast rolls and closing my eyes while the flaky, warm goodness takes me away. It means trying to replicate Maw's fried pies that everyone was so fond of. Emma was lovingly referred to as "Maw" and was my grandfather's mother. She was the epitome of great-grandmothers and even though she left us when I was about 8 or 9 years old, I still have vivid memories of seeing her dressed in her "duster" and puttering around in her farmhouse kitchen.

My grandmother recently compiled a story book of our family history and in the back of the book she included a number of our secret family recipes. I ran across the book not long ago and while flipping through the recipe pages, I began to wax nostalgia about past family dinners. One of the recipes included was Maw's Fried Pies. I don't remember ever eating one of her pies, but as the story goes she made and sold these pies for 10 cents each as a fund-raiser for church projects. Her family bought and ate most of them just as they came off the stove.

Maw's fried pies became my conquest for a rainy Monday afternoon. Here is the recipe as handed down by my grandmother....

1 quart all-purpose flour
4 teaspoons baking powder
2/3 cup shortening
8 oz. can of cream (evaporated milk)
2 eggs
1 quart fruit

Mix dough, refrigerate overnight. Roll small amount out at a time. Cut in rounds (about the size of a saucer). Add about 2 tbsp. fruit, fold over, press edges together. Fry in deep fat until brown, turning once. Dried apples, peaches, apricots etc. may be used. Fruit should be warmed slightly before using. Makes about 25 pies.


I used fresh peaches in my pies and a few other modern conveniences that surely weren't available to Maw. I mixed the dough with my Kitchenaid and I used a dough press to cut and seal my pies. The recipe didn't quite yield 25 pies for me - more like only 12 - which indicates that I probably didn't roll the dough thin enough. I also used canola oil for frying and while that food staple wasn't even available in her day, I'm absolutely certain it would not have been her preferred way of frying anyway. My pies lacked in taste what I'm sure could only be imparted by good old fashioned lard. Finding commercially available real lard is extremely rare, maybe even nonexistant, these days. I'm sure if it were to be found, it would be locked behind the grocers counter and available for purchase much like our nasal decongestants are these days. Show a photo ID, purchase the minimum quantity, sign on the dotted line and hope they don't report you to the American Heart Association for artery abuse.

As I bit into the warm peach-oozing pie, I could just imagine Maw standing in her kitchen, finding it hard to fry enough pies to keep up with the demand of greedy little kids and grandkids hovering around her stove. And while my fried pie technique needs a little fine tuning, I can imagine the answer to my question of would she be proud of my attempt? would be a resounding Yes! Yes, she certainly would.....

It is with a heavy heart that I blog tonight. Just last week, as I was preparing to leave New York, I received the news about the passing of my grandfather. It was devastating news and even a week later, I still find myself unable to sleep, not eating well and moody. I've had no desire to return to the kitchen just yet, so I appreciate your patience during my absence.

Food and family....the two were always a huge presence in my life. The two went together like milk and cookies and peanut butter and jelly. When I thumb through photographs of family events, a lot of times we were gathered around the table. In my bio on the website, I speak of my deep rooted appreciation of food and of my family. They are synonymous. Our family table will never be the same. We will never celebrate with food without missing the presence of our beloved family member.

I am so fortunate to have fond memories of my grandfather. The time we all went to New York and had bagels for breakfast. He didn't eat his but instead felt it was more suitable to be used as lawnmower tire. When I was little, my great-grandmother would treat me with fig newton cookies each time I visited her. I didn't have the heart to tell her that I didn't like them, so instead I gave them to my grandfather to eat. My last meal with him was not so long ago. I went home for a much needed visit and he and I enjoyed a nice lunch with my mother and grandmother at the Olive Garden. I often wonder if I had known at the time that it would be the last time that I did something, would I do anything differently? Had I known that it would be my last meal with him, I would have stretched it out to last an eternity.

I love and miss you, Papaw and I will return to the kitchen soon and continue to make you proud with my accomplishments.