A Deer, a State Trooper, and the Big Game

I've never been very interested in sports. When Ryan or Nicholas were on the baseball or football field, I would watch and yell and find myself total engrossed. Beyond that, no thank you. I can barely tell you the name of a professional football team and if my life depended on knowing which college team is on top, I'm done for.

Recently, however, I watched every minute of a college football game. It was the recent Alabama vs LSU game. For a week before, I heard about this game from most everyone. It was all the buzz... two great teams, both undeafeted, some conference something up for grabs, maybe.

Finally, I, too, caught the fever. Ryan and Nicholas were home that weekend and anxious to watch the game, too. I hurried home so we could all watch it together. Of course, by half time, Nic had lost interested and was outside playing with his dog. Ryan had left to visit a friend up the street.

Nevertheless, I watched every minute of the game pulling for Alabama because it is Nic's favorite team (sorry, Barney). Unless you live in a sports-free world like me, you probably already know Alabama lost in what turned out to be a very close game... a nail-biter even for someone who was only mildly interested going in.

Who knew that having watched that game would come in handy weeks later as I'm sitting in the back seat of cop's car?

First, let me say, that before this day I had never (did I say, NEVER) been in the back seat of cop's car. The closest I've ever been to a police man is having one stand outside my car window coldly writing me a speeding ticket.

So, this night, I was more than a little nervous sitting in the back seat of an Alabama Trooper's car. When I told him as much, he was nice enough to chat a bit to me at ease. It didn't take long for the talk to come around to the fact that LSU and Alabama have challenged each other to rematch to determine once and for all who is the better team.

I was very excited to be able to converse--from the back seat, through the bars, through the bullet-proof sliding window--with this stern, assuming, yet so nice and polite, trooper about a game that I had actually watched!

When Mr. Alabama Trooper finally walked around to my side of the car, opened the door, and I was able to climb out, I have was very relieved. One would think my purpose for being there was ominous, but, in actuality, it was just a deer that brought me there.

While traveling South on Highway 25, just outside of Citronella, Alabama, two Northbound cars were heading our direction. Roger commented that the car in back had his lights on bright. They were blinding me and I knew they had to be blinding the car in front. So, as the first car passed, I quickly blinked my lights to bright to let car in back know to dim his lights.

The very second I did, we saw her. A does was calmly standing (not running, just standing) in the middle of the Southbound lane of Highway 25. By the time I saw her, we had already hit her! It was less than a split second; I never even had time to hit my brakes. We were lucky, I guess, that the speed limit on that stretch is only 55 miles per hour, as I hit her at full speed. Thankfully, I was only going 55 (I already mentioned the previous speeding tickets!) and we both had our seatbelts on, so no one was hurt. My car, however, didn't get off so easy.

We were able, after spending an hour with the state trooper, to continue on our way, but it looks like my little car suffered about $3,000 damage. All I can say is, thank goodness for car insurance... and state troopers... and a football game usually ignored.

If you plan to watch the latest big game between Alabama and LSU on January 9th, here are some recipes you might want to serve! ENJOY! (And don't forget to count your blessings.)


Hobo Sausage Kabobs

1 pound smoked sausage, chunked
1 package hot dogs, chunked
1 onion, thickly sliced
1 green bell pepper, thickly sliced
1 bottle barbecue sauce
Toothpicks
Combine all ingredients in a large bowl and evenly coat with sauce. On a toothpick, place 1 piece of sausage, one slice of onion, 1 piece of hot dog, and 1 slice of pepper. Repeat until all ingredients are used. Bake on a nonstick cookie sheet at 400° for about 15 minutes or until sauce and edges brown. Serve warm.


Party Ham Sandwiches
These fun, little sandwiches taste great and are the hit of any party. They can be made the day before and refrigerated until ready to cook. If cooking for a crowd, the small party rolls are terrific or try it on your favorite bun as a special lunch treat.

1 (24-count) package small party rolls (or preferred bun)
1/2 cup butter, softened
2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
1 1/2 tablespoons poppy seeds
1 1/2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce
3 tablespoons finely grated onion (or more to taste)
1 pound ham luncheon meat, chopped
8 slices pepper jack (or Swiss) cheese
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Split rolls; set aside. Combine butter, mustard, poppy seeds, Worcestershire, and onion; spread on both sides of rolls. Place ham and cheese on bottom rolls and replace tops. Wrap in aluminum foil and cook 10 to 12 minutes or until cheese melts.

Potato Skins

4 large baking potatoes, baked
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon parmesan cheese
1 1/2 teaspoons seasoned salt
1/8 teaspoon pepper
8 bacon strips, cooked and crumbled
1 1/2 cups cheddar cheese, shredded
1/2 cup sour cream
4 green onions, chopped
Preheat oven to 450 degrees. Cut potatoes in half length-wise; scoop out pulp, leaving 1/4-inch shell. (Reserve pulp for another use.) Place potatoes on sprayed baking sheet. In small bowl, combine oil, parmesan cheese, salt and pepper. Brush both sides of skins and bake 7 minutes. Turn with tongs, and bake 7 more minutes until crispy around edges. Sprinkle bacon and cheese evenly inside skins. Return to oven 2 minutes longer until cheese is melted. Top with sour cream and onions. Serve immediately. Serves 8.

Hide and Seek, Santa Clause, & Family Tradition



My brother, Mickey, playing with his
gift at Mamaw's Christmas Party,
Christmas Eve 1975.

Tradition...  Merriam-Webster defines tradition as: an inherited, established, or customary pattern of thought, action, or behavior (as a religious practice or a social custom).  Until recently, I've never given a lot of thought to the traditions that grew out of my childhood.  They are and have always just been there.
 
Because the traditions of my family have always been a part of my life, it feels like they have been steady and unchanging.  Looking back, I realize these traditions have actually been subtly ever changing over the years.  

Throughout my childhood and as a teenager, we spent every Christmas Eve at my Grandmother's house.  Mamaw had eight children, all with children of their own, so there was a plethora of cousins running around.  Each year, we would gather, eat, play and later in the night Santa Clause would make an appearance and distribute a present for every child.  At the time, I just accepted that this was the way we spent Christmas Eve.  It never occurred to me how much thought and preparation and work went into this night.  It seemed that everything just magically appeared for the enjoyment of my cousins and me.  And I have to say that we made great use of it. 

My oldest son Ryan at Mamaw's
(he calls her "Big Ol' Mamaw")
Christmas Eve 1998.

Another tradition I enjoyed as a child was, of course, that Santa came to visit on Christmas Eve and left presents for us to discover Christmas morning.  It was generally understood that this happened in every house throughout the world --  I never doubted it as a child.  In my childhood home, the presents that Santa left were all unwrapped, out of any original packaging, with batteries in them, ready to use.  (No Walmart packaging from Santa's elves.) 

When my own children were born, I continued that tradition, never stopping to think that it may be done differently in other households.  I realize now, of course, that some people wrap the presents from Santa and some put it out in the original packaging, and the sad fact is that there are some children that just don't have packages under the tree at all. 

As a young child, I really never stopped to consider if we were rich or poor.  When my parents had to struggle to buy our Christmas, it was not something they shared with me.  One particular year, Christmas tradition was changed drastically for us.  The year before, just after Christmas, our house had burned.  We were out of town at my Granny's house at the time and lost everything including the beloved toy kitchen complete with stove, refrigerator and kitchen sink that Santa had brought me.  I can only imagine, looking back, how terribly hard that must have been for my parents, but I don't remember feeling anything but secure and that everything was okay.

Me, with my Christmas Kitchen,
Christmas 1976. 

When the next Christmas came around, we were still living in a tiny (and I mean tiny) trailer.  My Papaw had used the trailer at his fish camp, and allowed us to live there while rebuilding.  The trailer was no wider than my Daddy was tall.  He could lie down in the main room and touch both sides.  My brother and I shared a bedroom, no bigger than the bathroom in my house now.  With bunk beds on one side, there was just enough room left to stand up beside them. 

Even in that small space, I can remember my parents lying in their bed at the front of that trailer (that was actually the only place to sit, no room for a couch or even a kitchen table and chairs) and play hide and seek with Mickey and me.  They would have me lay down on the bed with them and hide my eyes while they helped Mickey find a place to hide, then we would repeat it again with me hiding from him.  Such a simple game. I can't tell you how long the game actually lasted, but the memory of it has lived with me for a lifetime.

So, we are living in this tiny little camper, and it is Christmas time yet again.  Mom and Dad both have full time jobs to keep the bills paid and are working on building another house for us in their spare time.  Yet, they found the time and the money to buy Christmas for me and Mickey.  There was still the problem of where to hide it, however!  As you can imagine, a trailer that size has very little closet space.  And two active children were all over the place.   So, one day a couple weeks before Christmas two presents showed up.  They were wrapped and had a tag.  One said, "To Mickey from Santa."  The other, as you can guess, said "To Sheila, from Santa." 

Mickey and I were extremely curious about why Santa was leaving wrapped presents at our house two weeks before Christmas was even here.  But Mom explained it, "There are many, many children that Santa has to visit on Christmas Eve," she said. "Sometimes it's hard for him to get to them all, so I told him that you would understand if he brought your presents early."  We did understand, and I never questioned it.   It was that way because Momma said it was so. 

Nicholas, my youngest, with Santa 2002.

Many of the traditions in my family center around food.  Mother's Macaroni Casserole at every family gathering, the fact that we always serve Fried Pork Chops and Turnip Greens with Hot Tamale Pie, Chocolate Cake with 7-Minute Icing, the Pineapple Cake Roger's Aunt Louise always makes, my Granny's Seven-Layer Chocolate Fudge Cake, the Divinity my Papaw Cantrell loved so much, Chocolate Pinwheel Cookies that Momma always made because her Momma always made them, too...  so many dishes that have been handed down through generations in my family. 

I bet you have a few food traditions in your family, too.  If so, share them with us by commenting on this blog.  And, in the meantime, enjoy these recipes from my family to yours...

Seven-Layer Chocolate Fudge Cake
1 Duncan Hines Cake Mix (plus ingredients to prepare per directions)
4 cups sugar  
4 tablespoons cocoa
2 teaspoons white vinegar 
4 tablespoons white Karo (corn syrup)
1 cup milk
1 stick butter  
2 teaspoons vanilla
Prepare cake according to directions, baking in 3 even layers.  Cool, then cut each into 2 layers, making 6 total layers.  Cook sugar, cocoa, vinegar, Karo and milk over medium-high heat, stirring constantly, to soft ball stage on a candy thermometer (or until a small amount dropped in cold water, form a soft ball).  Remove from heat and add butter and vanilla.  Beat with an electric mixer until thick. Spread between layers and on outside of cake. 

Chocolate Pinwheel Cookies
1/2 cup shortening  
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup peanut butter
1 egg
2 tablespoons milk 
1 1/4 cups flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon soda
2 (8-ounce) packages chocolate chips
Mix shortening, sugar, and peanut butter until creamy.  Add egg and milk; mix well.  In a separate bowl, sift together, flour, salt and soda.  Combine the 2 mixtures into a soft dough.  Roll out on floured waxed paper to 1/4-inch thick.  Melt chocolate chips and spread over dough.  Roll up and refrigerate 1 hour or longer. Slice cookies 1/4-inch thick when ready to bake.  Place on treated cookie sheet and bake at 350 degrees for 10 minutes or until light brown.  Cool 3 minutes on cookie sheet them remove to serving dish.  

Note from my Mom says, "This recipe was given to my mother in the early 1950's. It still is the best cookie ever."

Note from me says, "My mom would keep the large roll in the refrigerator and slice off just enough to eat at one sitting, so they were always hot and delicious." 

Momma Nita's Macaroni and Cheese Casserole

1 (16-ounce) package elbow macaroni
1 stick butter, melted
Salt and Pepper
2 1/2 cups shredded cheese, divided
2 cups milk
2 eggs, beaten
Cook macaroni in boiling salted water to al dente (macaroni should still be firm and not completely cooked); drain.  Combine with melted butter and salt and pepper to taste.  Add 2 cups cheese and mix well.  Pour macaroni mixture in a treated 9x13-inch casserole dish.  In a separate bowl, combine milk and eggs; mix well.  Pour evenly over macaroni.  Top with remaining 1/2 cup cheese.  Cover with aluminum foil and bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes.  Remove foil and bake an additional 5 to 10 minutes or until set and top is lightly browned.

Swamp People, Rice Every Day, and Alligator in the Road

Alligator Road

It’s no secret that Roger and I love to travel. Our favorite thing to do on any given weekend is to load up computers and clothes and hit the road going anywhere within driving distance.  This weekend, we have business in the Prentiss, Mississippi area and so decided to take advantage and drive a little further South for the night and get a room close to the water in Louisiana.

In true Roger-Sheila fashion, we saw a road and said, “I wonder where this goes?” Then we just took it to find out,
and I’m so glad we did. For about 45 minutes, we drove down this beautiful, small highway that ran right along the water. Every few miles or so was a small marina with boats and cars and signs advertising everything they had to offer. But it was the houses between the marinas that really fascinated me.

Each home was built on stilts about 12 to 15 feet high – or more – to protect against rising waters. The look of each unique house gave an idea of what the owners might be like if you had the opportunity to meet each character in person. Then we hit a stretch where each house-place had a sign out front with a fun and creative name -- like Go Fish, A Shore Thing, and Coast on Inn. Now we could really get an idea of the personality of the owners!

Louisiana is a state rich in history, culture, and food. The “always ready to party” spirit of the people of South Louisiana is one of the things we love most about the area. The other thing we love best is the food. To me, almost everything about Louisiana cooking is delicious… gumbo (my absolute favorite), etouffee, maque choux, bread pudding, beignets, hot and spicy everything.

The fact that rice is a staple in Louisiana dishes makes the food more appealing to me. I think I could eat rice every day and never tire of it. You can’t hear the words Louisiana cooking without thinking of sausage and rice recipes like jambalaya and red beans and rice.

Our friend James makes frequent trips to Louisiana. Not to eat, but to hunt alligators. He has shared alligator meat with us more than once, and while it’s not my favorite, I think the idea of hunting alligators is exciting. Nicholas and I have had more than one occasion to discuss this idea because he loves the television show, Swamp People. We have spent many an evening discussing what it would be like to actually hunt alligator, and he was surprised to hear that I had never actually seen an alligator in the wild. (Personally, I don’t think that is so surprising, but then I’m not adventurous, 13-year-old boy.)

I couldn't resist taking this picture while
traveling through Pearlington MS.  We
didn't take the road.  We weren't sure
we had time to drive all the way to SPACE
and back before work on Monday!

On this particular weekend trip, I was able to fix that situation. As Roger and I were driving down this quiet highway beside the water, I dodged to miss something on the side of the road. Then hollered out when I realized what it was. This caused Roger to look and he, too, hollered and jumped when he saw it – an alligator. With his head just over the line on the side of the road and the rest of his 8-foot-long body stretching across the side of the road and into the edge of the foliage, he appeared to be quietly and patiently waiting to cross the road.

Roger and I were neither patient nor quiet as we realized what we had seen and I made a quick (and almost certainly illegal) u-turn in the middle of the road so we could go back and take a picture. Alas, an alligator is obviously faster than a u-turn because when we got back to the spot, he was gone. I was disappointed to not have a picture to show Nicholas, but was excited, just the same, to call and tell him that I had, finally, seen an alligator in the wild. His first question, “Did you try to catch it?” Um, No. But I did eat some really good Cajun food while we were there.

I hope you enjoy these delicious, cook-at-home, Louisiana recipes from our Louisiana Hometown Cookbook including one for alligator in case you’ve been hunting lately.

Angies Mock Shoe (MAQUE CHOUX)
Alligator Stew
Bananas Foster

Girls Over the Shoulder and the Boy with the Orange Head

My son Nicholas is a typical pre-teen boy, I think. He doesn't come home every afternoon and expound on his day. As a matter of fact, he's outside like a shot the minute his book bag hits the couch. If I do want to have a conversation, I'm forced to chase him down out of doors. Even then it's a one-sided conversation, at best.

"How was your day?" "Fine."

"What did you learn?" "Nothing."

"Well, what were they TEACHING?" "MOM!"

If you have children, you probably know the drill. But some days, a miracle happens. Nicholas will arrive home from school with nothing but talking on his mind. I might as well drop everything and listen because he expects my undivided attention. And frankly, I'm just so happy he's talking to me, he usually gets it.

So, one of these miracle days happened this week. On this day, I was picking Nicholas up from school instead of him riding the bus home. He got into the car talking. He was excited about a speaker who visited his class that day. "This man got a room full of BOYS to like reading," he said. (In our world, getting active boys to read is also a miracle.) I heard stories about his friends and a girl he likes and what happened on the playground and who said what at lunch and on and on.

His favorite story that day was about how he picked one of his good friends up and slung her over his shoulder and carried her around the playground. Oh, I was sure this should have gotten him in trouble, but he assured me that the playground monitor thought it was funny, too. We'll chalk it up to boys will be boys.

My favorite part of our talk was my attempt at teaching a lesson while I had Nicholas talking. He was complaining about some character trait he wasn't happy about or maybe that he thought a teacher was picking on him. I used the opportunity to talk about faith in God, trusting that things are just as they should be, and couldn't resist commenting that things can always be worse. My intent, was to talk about children with physical affliction, people who don't have the same daily comforts we have, etc etc. But Nicholas beat me to it.

Before I could say anything more, he piped in with, "Yeah, Mom, I know. There is this boy on my bus who has an orange head."

I couldn't help but laugh, so I think maybe he thought I didn't believe him.

"I'm serious," he said. "This guy not only has an orange head, it's ROUND. You're right, things could always be worse." Not exactly the message I was looking for, but I will consider that one lesson-learned!

So, in honor of the boy with the orange head, here is my favorite recipe for Creamy Orange White Chocolate Fudge from Georgia Hometown Cookbook.

Creamy Orange White Chocolate Fudge

2 pounds white chocolate, melted
2 (8-ounce) packages cream cheese
6 cups powdered sugar
1 tablespoons orange juice
1 tablespoon flour
1 cup chopped nuts, optional

Combine all ingredients; spoon into mini muffin/candy cups. Top with chopped nuts, if desired. Chill to set.

http://www.greatamericanpublishers.com/html/cookbooks/recipes/creamyorangewhitechocolatefudge.htm

Sweet Aunt Marie and Sweet Potato Pie

Eating watermelon at Aunt Alice's house
with Rebekkah (right).  ~1980.

My middle name is Marie—Sheila Marie. A name any good Southern girl can be proud of and I always have been proud of the name. Why? Because it came to me by way of my favorite aunt—Alice Marie.

Aunt Alice was just the kind of woman any young, and somewhat rebellious, girl could look up to. For all of my childhood, she remained unmarried. But best of all, she had her own house! Going to Aunt Alice’s house as a child, was akin to the wonder of going to Disney World. There were no traces of a man in the house she owned. Everything was hand-picked for a girl.

My cousin, Rebekkah, and I are less than a year apart in age so we often spent the night together. We had many great times over the years, but the best times were when we spent the night together at Aunt Alice’s house. Why? Because Aunt Alice has a small foot.

There were racks and racks of shoes in Aunt Alice’s closet and each one was just about small enough for a little girl’s foot. Close enough in size that we could do a great job imagining the shoes were our shoes. When I put those shoes on, I was transformed. I was wearing them to work as a secretary in a big office with a boss, or on an exotic date with a man that adored me… anywhere I wanted to go because, like Aunt Alice, I was GROWN and single and owned my own house.

If you get right down to it, Aunt Alice probably gets partial credit for my current occupation—cookbook author and cookbook publisher. She instilled in me, while I was still very young, a love of cookbooks. Aunt Alice also fostered my love of cooking. She makes the best sugar cookies in the world and when you are at Aunt Alice’s house, it doesn’t matter how big the mess becomes, we’ll just clean it up later.

Aunt Alice with Rebekkah.  1978

Aunt Alice gave me first cookbook – a Brand Name Recipe Book that was hardcover with a jacket. The first recipe I ever cooked from it was Porcupine Balls. At around 11 years old, I was amazed when, after following the recipe step by step, a great-tasting dish emerged. My life was changed forever. Okay, maybe that is a bit melodramatic, but, in truth, from that day forward, I had a love of cookbooks, and recipes, and yes, cooking. I still own every cookbook Aunt Alice gave me over the years and each one is still among my favorites.

Aunt Alice and I also share a love a sweet potatoes. Each year, when the season is perfect, she buys a case of sweet potatoes and I always get to share in the bounty.

There are so many delicious things to do with sweet potatoes – bake one in the oven and smother it in butter then maybe add some cinnamon and sugar on top, slice another into skinny chips and deep fry them, shred one into a cake to make it super moist, or make sweet potato casserole. My favorite way, by far, is to make a home-made sweet potato pie!

Aunt Alice and I agree that best sweet potato pies are “sweet” not spicy. I can appreciate a hot, spicy sweet potato pie on a cool, fall day sitting on the back porch with a cup of hot chocolate. But, when I’m making a sweet potato pie to please myself, I leave out the spice, and make it plenty sweet with eggs to make it rich and so that it sets to just the right texture.

When perfected, a sweet potato pie, after being allow to properly cool, should hold together when sliced. This allows for ample opportunity to sneak by, cut a very small, bite-size sliver, and savor it for that beautiful moment… before continuing on with the day.

One of our favorite customers, Lisa Luckett, shared her Sweet Potato Pie recipe with us and I’ll share it with you! Enjoy.

Sweet Potato Pie
1 cup cooked mashed sweet potatoes
1 cup canned milk
3 teaspoons flour or cornstarch
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 cups sugar
1 stick butter or margarine (softened)
3 eggs
Dash salt
2 pie crusts, baked until bottoms are not soggy

Mix together all ingredients with an electric mixer. Pour into the 2 pie shells. Place on a baking sheet and place in a preheated 350 degrees oven, bake until firm (about 45 minutes or so). Yum!

Submitted by Lisa Luckett, Vicksburg, MS
Lisa says, "This is a very old recipe that my husband's grandmother, Ione Luckett Leist used for years that was given to her by a very dear friend. His grandmother is no longer with us but this recipe carries her memory on with us because it was such a favorite!"


Editor's Note:
The week Lisa sent me this recipe, my Aunt also sent me a case of sweet potatoes... what timing! So, of course, the first thing I made was this pie. It was delicious! This recipe uses less sweet potatoes than my usual recipe, so that the filling is not as thick. But it set-up beautifully and tastes great. I definitely recommend that you try this recipe. -- Sheila

Comparing Apples to Oranges and Peach Cobbler for Dessert

My husband, Roger, and my son, Nicholas, share no blood. My marriage to Roger is my second and he is Nicholas' Step-Dad. They came together when Nicholas was 4 years old, and they get along together now about as well as any adult male and 13-year old male possibly could living in the same house.
Nicholas and Roger like so many of the same things that I often forget they don't come from the same line of people. They both love animals, particularly horses. Both Nic and Roger are collectors. (I jokingly call them hoarders though it's not really that bad.) I guess, though, the thing they relate to each other best about is their love of anything that grows from the Earth.

I have to admit that while I am a tree lover, I've never particularly enjoyed planting things and watching them grow. With the exception of a corn plant that I have kept alive for more than 10 years, I've really never been successful with plants. And flower beds... no thank you. I am quick to tell you that I enjoy watching the grass grow right up to the edge of the house.

When Roger and I married, it was an adjustment for me to be with someone who loves plants so much. We would be driving down any lonesome road in any sleepy town and he might say, "Pull over." Next thing I know, he's out of the car, talking to a lady working in her yard and he's back with clippings galore to plant in the yard. My yard looks infinitely better for his fascination with plants, and I am grateful that I'm not the one who has to plant them and make them grow.

Each year, Nicholas plants a watermelon patch, and sells the watermelons for extra summer cash. This past year, he planted strawberries, carrots, garlic, and onions in the boxes in the backyard. I don't even KNOW what all he and Roger have growing in the hot house out back.

Both Roger and Nicholas particularly love fruit trees. They enjoy growing the trees, picking the fruit, and, of course, eating the fruit. Nicholas' dog, Lacey, even enjoys eating the fruit they grow. It didn't surprise me, therefore, when Nicholas quickly spotted fruit today that he had never seen.

It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon here in Mississippi so we decided to take a drive down south on the Natchez Trace. The Natchez Trace Parkway is a 444-mile drive through exceptional scenery and 10,000 years of North American history. Used by American Indians, "Kaintucks", settlers, and future presidents, the Old Trace played an important role in American history. (http://www.nps.gov/natr/index.htm)

One of our favorite things to do as a family is to drive the Trace stopping at the sights along the way. There are some terrific wooded trails to walk down and each stop gives you some history of the area which we enjoy reading. One of our favorite places is Cypress Swamp. There is a beautiful wooden walkway right through the swamp. The cypress trees growing out of the swamp will take your breathe away. We never tire of walking through this serene place that reminds you there are things that last for hundreds of years.

But today, we decided to go South. One of our first stops was Cowles Mead Cemetery. Cowles Mead owned a tavern on the Old Trace near Natchez in the 1800s. After moving closer to Jackson, he built a beautiful home called "Greenwood" close to where we stopped. The only thing that remains of his home place is a tiny family cemetery. As we followed the trail back to the cemetery, Nicholas spotted some fruit that he didn't recognize. He asked Roger about it and Roger said they always called them "horse apples."

When Nicholas brought one of these horse apples to show me, I realized I had never seen them before. They are round, and about the same color as a green apple, but they are bumpy on the outside. The bumps make a very interesting pattern. They look a bit like a round, green brain. After we finished the walk back to the cemetery, we stopped at the car and did some quick research to see what we could find about horse apples. (Googling from your smart phone while standing in at a historic site from the 1800s really makes you appreciate technology.)

It didn't take us long to learn that these horse apples are quite the interesting fruit. For one thing, there are male and female flowers on different plants. Before today, I didn't even realize there was such a thing, but Roger explained it's more common than I thought.

What we call a horse apple is better known as a hedge apple. Hedge apple is the fruit of the Osage Orange tree. The name hedge apple derives from the fact that early settlers used the tree as a hedge plant on their farms to create fencing for their fields.

In addition to horse apple and hedge apple the fruit is also called hedge ball, monkey balls and mock orange. To make matters more confusing, the fruit is neither an orange nor an apple. The plant is most closely related to a mulberry. Wikipedia says, "The fruit has a pleasant and mild odor, but is inedible for the most part. Although it is not strongly poisonous, eating it may cause vomiting. However, the seeds of the fruit are edible" Our research showed the smell of the fruit to be compared to an orange, but Nicholas and I both agreed that it smells more like a pear.

The wood of the Osage Orange tree is popular for making primitive bows. When we mentioned to Roger that one website (http://hedgeapple.com/) says it "has the highest strength for primitive bows used in archery." He was surprised because he understood that designation to belong to the Bodark tree. So, we were not at all surprised to find out that the Osage Orange tree is also known as Bodark.

We were most intrigued with the fact that hedge apples act as a repellant to insects, including mosquitos and spiders. Supposedly, the fruit will keep 2 to 3 months inside and will keep all insects away. Nicholas took one to his room tonight to test the theory on the mosquitos that have recently been invading his room at night. We'll see how that goes.

All this walking and research made us hungry so we dropped off the Trace to find something for lunch. It wasn't long before we saw the Old Country Store at Lorman off to our right on Highway 61. I've always heard about the place, but never visited so we decided to give it a try. Fascinating to see the history in the old building, with its wooden porch and antiques and knick knacks lining the walls. A very good description, with pictures can be found in this post: http://www.cynicalcook.com/2009/06/old-country-store-lorman-ms.html.

As we walked in, the owner, Mr. D (Arthur Davis) was serenading the customers. It surprised me at first, but Mr. D was so obviously enjoying himself, we couldn't help but smile along with him. If you want a "taste" Mr D's singing, check out this video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vlljb2DnrLI.

The buffet lunch was good and the peach cobbler at the end was great! It was the perfect ending to a beautiful day.

Here is an old-fashioned peach cobbler recipe that you can make at home, but be sure to eat it "Mr. D-style" with vanilla ice cream on top!

Quick and Easy Peach Cobbler1 cup self-rising flour
1 cup sugar
1 cup milk
1 stick (1/2 cup) butter
2 cups sliced fresh Georgia peaches

Preheat oven to 350. Mix together flour, sugar and milk. Melt butter in microwave oven and pour into disposable baking pan. While butter is still hot, add batter and top with fresh peaches. Bake 25 to 30 minutes until golden brown. If you can't get fresh or fresh frozen peaches, use 1 large can of peaches.

Georgia Hometown Cookbook

Swimming, Cell Phones, and Scalloped Tomatoes

My husband Roger and I are soul mates. The two of us connected by email and phone for about four weeks before we ever met for the first time.

One of my favorite stories to tell is that the very first time we saw each other, in the parking lot of the place we decided to meet for drinks, Roger was on his cell phone. I saw him standing there, looking very handsome, beside a classic corvette. He intrigued me at that point. We had been talking for weeks, as I said, and already knew that we had many interests in common. He didn’t know, at that point, that I have a love of classic cars. And I didn’t know before that time that he drove one.

However, I was not the least bit intrigued that as I parked, he didn’t get off the cell phone. As I got out of my car, grabbed my pursed, locked up, and gave him the “hello there” smile, he still didn’t get off the cell phone! Standing there for what felt like a millennium, I was running through my options. Should I go inside, let him follow if he wants to, and just enjoy myself? Should I get in my car and leave? Should I walk over and plant a kiss on him that would surely get him off that phone?

But what if I went inside and he didn’t follow? What if I left and didn’t have the satisfaction of him calling me back so I could ignore the phone call? What if I kissed him and HE left? Those second guesses of mine saved him, because suddenly, he was off the phone and quickly walking my way with an apology. Later I discovered that he was helping a very good friend through a tough divorce. At the time, however, I didn’t know that and I wasn’t impressed at all with his manners.

After a bit of small talk, we decided on dinner before drinks. The restaurant is what I would call a “hole in the wall,” with booths that have the occasional split, tables that rock and decor that was out of style in the 50s. It is also one of the best known restaurants in Jackson (Mississippi) and absolutely the best seafood in our area. They sat us in a booth in the back and I was immediately mesmerized with the man.

Let’s face it, first dates are almost always uncomfortable as you find your feet on what to talk about while gauging the other person’s beliefs and hang ups and expectations. For this date, there was none of that. From the moment we sat down, I felt like I was talking to my best friend. It felt as though I had known this man forever. Truth be told, I fell in love there in the back booth at Mayflower Cafe.

That was eight years ago and Roger and I are still soul mates. This wasn’t the first marriage for either of us. We are both more than a little set in our ways and we definitely have butt heads in our journey together. The things that keep us grounded are our mutual love of my children and the fact that we have so much in common.

Roger and I both have a love of cookbooks. He was a cookbook collector before I ever met him, and I’m sure that my job, at the time, as Associate Publisher of Quail Ridge Press (well-known cookbook publisher) may have been part of why he was interested in speaking to me in first place. Over the years, this love of cookbooks has grown between us into our own business publishing cookbooks. Much of our free time is spent reading, talking about, and cooking out of cookbooks of all kinds – including, now, our own cookbooks.

This past weekend, Roger and I took our youngest son, Nicholas, and two of his friends to a local swimming resort. The boys were happy to swim and paddle boat and canoe on their own, so Roger and I did what we do best... collaborate on cookbooks. This particular day Roger was building a new website for ebooks and I was researching cookbooks as ebooks. I discovered a great site called scribd.com that has scores of ebooks available for reading online. As a lover of books of all kinds, I was immediately obsessed.

Eventually getting around to searching for cookbooks, I discovered one called Grandma Rogers Cookbook. It’s a cookbook from the 1950s uploaded by Lisa Welsh Ritter. Everything from the layout, to the ads, and of course the recipes, immediately intrigued me. In another post, I’ll tell you what I discovered, that I never knew, about wedding cakes reading this book, but for now we’ll talk about Scalloped Tomatoes.

Before looking at this antique cookbook, I had never made, eaten or even heard of Scalloped Tomatoes. It took only reading the title to know I would love it, and so would my family. It just so happened that I had a healthy supply of tomatoes, fresh from the garden, on my kitchen counter. So as soon as we got home, I started cooking. I changed the recipe up a good bit to meet the style and taste of our cookbooks.

It was delicious... my soul mate agreed... and well he should after I forgave him for that day so long ago that he wouldn’t even get off the cell phone long enough to meet me for the first time!

Here is the recipe... I hope you enjoy it too!

Scalloped Tomatoes
1 medium sweet onion, peeled and sliced
Salt and pepper
1 stick butter, divided
1 cup milk
1/4 cup plain flour
3 ripe tomatoes, sliced
1 1/2 cups breadcrumbs
Add sliced onions to a skillet; salt and pepper to taste. Add 1/2 stick butter and cook over medium-low heat until onions are soft (not brown). Layer onions in a glass baking dish. Melt remaining ½ stick butter in small saucepan over medium heat. Add milk and heat. Whip in flour and heat until thick; remove from heat. Whisk in 1/3 cup water (omit if sauce is not thick) and 1 teaspoon salt, set aside. Layer tomato slices over onion and cover with white sauce. Top with breadcrumbs and bake at 350° for 40 minutes.

South Carolina Hometown Cookbook (coming soon)---- Sheila Simmons is publisher at Great American Publishers and author of the State Hometown Cookbook Series. She lives in Lena, Mississippi with her husband Roger and two sons, Ryan and Nicholas. In addition to publishing, cooking, and collecting recipes Sheila enjoys family, reading, collecting first edition books, and classic cars