Way Down South, Heavenly Rolls, and Finally a Daughter

At 22 years old and pregnant with my first child, I wanted a daughter.  As a child, my goal was not to own my own company, or break any records, or blaze new trails. No women’s-lib for me. I wanted to be a Mom and a homemaker.  My favorite toys were always baby dolls and kitchen toys and ironing boards with clothes irons… anything related to home-making.   So here I was in college accounting classes, working full-time, married, pregnant, and in a home of my own.  Life was good.

My Dad and Ryan 1994

A healthy baby to add to our small family and life would be perfect.  And I was sure, this baby was to be a girl.  But, alas, a girl was not in God’s plan. Ryan Alan Williams came on Sunday evening around 7pm and was ALL BOY.  He was, however, the most beautiful baby I had seen to date.  As my first pregnancy, I really wasn’t sure I was in labor that day.  I was “uncomfortable” and “crampy,” but was it labor?  I didn’t know.  So I paced.  

Our home was tiny, so it didn’t take long to walk from one end to the other.  I would walk to the back and into my bedroom, standing there for a moment considering if I should try straightening up a little.  But, once I stopped walking, the cramps would start again, so I would turn and walk to the front.  The 2^nd bedroom was at the very front and had a large window where I would stop to gaze at the shop to be sure this baby’s Daddy was still there – we might be taking a trip to the hospital….but not yet.  So I would turn and pace back to our bedroom.  Back and forth I paced for what seemed like hours.  By noon, when I had to stop in the kitchen and hold on to the table in the middle of most trips, I decided we might need to go to the hospital. 

There was really no big hurry, because Ryan wasn’t born until 7pm.  And guess what?  He was a boy!  I had brought a beautiful pink and yellow sundress for this much anticipated baby to wear home.  These days it seems like pregnant women have sonograms every week, and even though they were very common when I was pregnant that first time, we didn’t have insurance.   Without insurance, we just couldn’t justify the cost of a sonogram, so we did it the old-fashioned way.  And here I was with a beautiful baby boy and a pink sundress not at all fitting for a first trip home.  Luckily, my boss, Gwen McKee, came for a visit to the hospital and brought a gift of an adorable blue jumpsuit.  It was so big it practically swallowed Ryan whole, but at least it was not pink and yellow with cute purple flowers. 

Daddy & Nic 1999

Six years later and pregnant with my 2^nd child, I was sure it was a girl.  This time, however, I was smart enough to bring two outfits.  After being induced because this stubborn child was more than a week late, and spending all day waiting and waiting for the baby to come, it was finally time.  It wasn’t long before Dr. Ingram announced, “It’s a boy!”  Wait.  Back up.  I managed to raise myself up, look at him, and say, “You better look again.”  He laughed and said, “Honey, I don’t have to look again. It’s a boy!”  

Ryan, Nicholas, Me --
Family Vacation in Florida 2008

Nicholas is now 15 and Ryan is almost 22 – about the age I was when I had him.  And though I wanted a girl all those years ago, I wouldn’t change anything.  My boys have brought so much joy to my life that I can’t imagine a single second without them.  Yes, there have been tough times…  four wheeler wrecks, emergency trips to the hospital, lots of “boy attitude,” ball games won and lost, girlfriend heart aches, and so much more.  But, as you know, the good times far out-weigh the bad.  And for as much as I love my two boys, it feels great knowing how much they love me.  Being a Mom truly is the best job in the world. 

Ryan & Shelbie 2014
Such a cute couple. 

This year, I’m getting to experience another joy of having boys… the daughter-in-law.  Ryan and Shelbie were engaged in December and plan to wed this October.  I’m already infatuated with the idea of a daughter-in-law.  We progress cautiously, the beautiful girl and I… still unsure of our roles as this is a first for both of us.  I look forward to the years going forward and learning more and more about Shelbie, because I like the things I already know… she’s caring and sweet and a hard worker and smart and tough enough to reign in the head-strong guy when necessary.   I know we’ll make it work because we both love the same guy.  And I love the way my son is when he is with her.

If I didn’t already love her enough, this past weekend, Roger and I were traveling – no surprise there – in South Louisiana and decided to tack on a few days on the Mississippi Gulf Coast.  Our sweet Shelbie, who works for a major hotel chain, went out of her way to be sure we had the best room.

When we travel, the two things Roger and I love best are stopping at antique stores and eating at locally owned restaurants.  On this trip, we were headed to an antique store and saw a sign for Prejeans Restaurant.  I could remember Gwen talking about how good it was so we decided to stop.  It was outstanding!  We had gumbo and shrimp, but the best part was the hot fresh rolls.  I’ve never had anything quite like them – I thought they were almost biscuit-like, but Roger disagreed.  They were slightly crusty on the outside and tender on the inside.  I tried, unsuccessfully, to track down a recipe for their roles so if anyone has one, send it to me!  In the meantime, we’ll have to make do with my favorite home-made roll recipe.  

My Favorite Yeast Rolls

2 (¼-ounce) packages dry active yeast
1 quart warm water1 cup sugar1 cup powdered milk1 tablespoon salt7 to 9 cups all-purpose flour1 cup oil

Add yeast in warm water combined with sugar, and set aside 10 minutes until yeast is completely soft. In a separate bowl, combine powdered milk, salt and about 5 cups flour.  When yeast is ready, add oil and mix well.  Combine with powdered milk and flour mixture.  Add additional flour, a little at a time, until it gets to the right consistency -- not too sticky (needs more flour) but not too heavy (too much flour). Treat inside of large bowl with oil.  Add dough and turn to coat with oil.  Set in a warm, dry place to rise to double in size.  Pinch ping-pong-sized portions of dough and place on a treated baking pan.  Set aside to rise again, about 30 to 45 minutes.  Preheat oven to 350° and bake 15 to 20 minutes or fully cooked and golden brown.  Makes about 3 dozen large rolls.  

Nicholas and Me - 2002

Ryan and Nic - 1998

Ryan and Me - 2004

Summertime Mysteries, Bigfoot and Sauerkraut

The big ceramic crock sat a dark corner of our crowded and dusty utility room.   It was a mystery unsolved by my eight-year-old mind.  I was forbidden to ever lift the lid and could only stare at it, imagining how it would sound and smell if I broke the rules and raised the top.  What would I find inside?  Would it be something good that my parents weren’t sharing with me?  Or maybe it would be something bad — a tragic family secret long hidden away from prying eyes.  I didn’t learn until many years later what exactly was in that crock.

I’m older now (wink, wink).   I know sauerkraut is made with cabbage and salt and tastes best when cured in a ceramic crock in a damp, dark place.  The pieces of those long ago summer days are falling into place.  

Mom (left front) with her
sister-in-law (The Aunts).

As my Mom and my aunts would chop endless heads of cabbage, us kids played outside – where summertime kids belong. There was a shallow creek with a sandy bottom on the property next door to our house. My brother and I and any number of first cousins would walk up and down the creek.  I made pies for everyone out of sand, watched the little minnows swim and basically made an annoyance out of myself. 

My brother is two years older, and I was pest.  Ask him. He’ll tell you.   I wanted to be a part of their games and their fun, but I couldn’t keep up.  And when they didn’t include me because I was too little, I found endless reasons to go tattle.  Any minor infraction was made huge in my mind.  I would tell my Mom about it with indignation and authority and stand by just waiting for them to get a spanking – they never (okay, rarely) did. 

Easter the year I turned 4 (pre-bigfoot
days).  That's me left front, Annette
on the right, Mickey is in the back
behind me.  (You may remember
Aunt Alice from another  post, that's
her carrying the basket and my cousin James just behind Annette. 

When my cousin Annette, who is older than Mickey, was at our house, the two of them barely tolerated me at all.  Mom would make them let me tag along so they would begrudgingly take me on their walks around the neighborhood.  When I became too much them to bear, their fun really started. 

Everyone would suddenly STOP!  “Did you hear that?” 

“What?” I would ask with my eyes big. 

“Listen!  Mickey, did you hear it?”

“I heard it,” he would say looking all around like something was going to jump out of the trees any second.  “What was it?”

“I don’t know, let’s look.” 

I didn’t know what was going on.  I would try to hold Mickey’s hand and then Annette’s, but they would just shake me off.  They needed their hands free to solve this new mystery.  

 A big production was made of searching around, looking in bushes, watching the ground.  “Oh No!”  Mickey would suddenly say.

And as Annette and I came running, I would see it there on the ground.  “What is it?” I whispered.

“It’s a big foot track!  RUN!”

And off I would run as fast as eight-year-old legs would take me.  By then, the shredded cabbage had been layered in the crock with salt.  It had been pushed down as tight as possible with a heavy plate and something of weight on top.   No clues to the mystery remained.  Everything was cleaned up in the kitchen with hot dogs and Kool-Aid waiting for lunch.  

When, about two weeks later, my Mom and my Aunts were enjoying the fruits of their labor  — Homemade Sauerkraut, I never linked it to the mystery of the crock. Sauerkraut stinks!   As a child, I tried to stay as far away from the stuff as possible. 

These days, I love good sauerkraut, and homemade is the BEST.    A few months ago, we had an abundance of cabbage from the garden, so I recruited my Mom to come over and show me how to make my own sauerkraut.  I got to see all the secrets that crock contained.    

That's one mystery solved, but I wonder if anyone ever found that Bigfoot creature?

Homemade Sauerkraut

5 heads shredded cabbage

6 tablespoons plain salt (not iodized)

Large ceramic crock

Wash, core and shred cabbage.  As each 1 or 2 heads have been shredded, mix the cabbage well with salt.  Layer the cabbage in the crock, a little at a time, pushing it down as tightly as possible.  When all cabbage is in the crock, press it all down as tightly has possible.  Cover it with a heavy plate, keeping it under pressure while you add a weight on top (a gallon jug of water works well).  Cover with a cloth then wrap with a band or string to hold the cloth tight.  Cover it all well with plastic wrap and allow to sit for 10 to 14 days or longer.   (We generally do 14 days.  But research shows that it can sit for as long as 6 to 8 weeks.  It depends, it seems, on how long you can wait and your taste preference – the longer it ferments, the more sour your sauerkraut.)

A Lifetime of Fiscal Cliffs

Francesco Santalucia - bigstock.com

When I think about the fiscal cliff looming in front of our country... and I have to admit I try to think of it as little as possible...  it makes me realize how many times my personal finances have faced the same issue. 

The United State's fiscal cliff may be a bigger drop, but I'm here to tell you that when you are young, pregnant with your first child, going to college, working full time, and headed toward your own fiscal cliff, it feels much more personal.  

There is really no telling how many of these fiscal cliff fiascos I've managed to avoid over the years.  Moving out of my parent's home, getting married, and starting a family...  A divorce, single mom, buying a new house for my little family... a second marriage, building a house from scratch, starting a business... Each time, when things felt truly hopeless, that's exactly when they worked themselves out.  For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11

The one thing that gets me through these difficult times is faith.  I worry, I cut expenses, I agonize over the budget, my husband and I enter into our own committee talks about budget cuts to make...  But it's the faith that gets me through.  I read my bible more.  I pay closer attention to the promises God gave me. And I pray.  These are the times that I'm on my knees earnestly asking for guidance... help... solutions. 

And, because I know putting your faith in God works, this is my wish for our country.  That as a people, we can come together and get past this fiscal cliff with prayer and faith.   Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. Philipians 4:6   

Of course, when faced with fiscal problems of any kind, spending less is never a bad idea (for a country or a household).  One of the first things I always cut is eating out.  It simply costs less to eat at home, and when you live as far out of town as we do, it saves considerably more with fuel and those convenience trips by the supermarket, too.  But cooking at home every day can be time-consuming so I always turn to easy, time-saving recipes like these:

Busy Woman's Roast

1 (3-pound) roast
1 can cream of chicken soup (also good with cream of mushroom or cream of celery)
1 envelope Lipton's Dry Onion Soup Mix
2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
1/2 teaspoon each garlic powder, seasoned salt and black pepper

Place roast on a large sheet of aluminum foil. In a small bowl, combine soup, onion soup mix, Worcestershire and seasonings. Spread over roast. Seal foil well so gravy doesn't leak out. (I usually stack two pieces of foil.) Bake at 200 degrees for 8 to 10 hours. Put it on the morning and it's ready by dinner time.

Candied Sweet Potatoes

2 large sweet potatoes
1 tablespoon baking soda
3/4 cup sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
3 tablespoons butter

Peel sweet potatoes and cut in circles about 1/2-inch thick. Cover with warm water; stir in baking soda. Soak 10 minutes; drain in colander and rinse. Combine sugar, salt and 1/2 cup water in a saucepan; bring to a low boil. Add potatoes and continue to cook, stirring syrup over potatoes, until syrup is thick and potatoes are done. Melt butter over potatoes, stir and serve. Serves 3 to 4.

Southern Style Greens

3 1/2 to 4 pounds collard, turnip or
mustard greens (or a mixture)
1/2 pound lean salt pork or smoked ham hock
1 tablespoon sugar
3 beef bouillon cubes
8 cups water
1 tablespoon margarine
Salt and pepper

Wash greens repeatedly until all grit is removed–it will take a lot of washing. Drain. Remove and discard large stems. Combine pork, sugar, bouillon cubes, water and margarine in a large soup pot. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Boil 5 to 10 minutes. Add greens. Reduce heat and simmer, covered, for 1 1/2 hours or until greens are tender.

Contrasting Saturdays, a Surprise Visitor, and Bacon for Breakfast

Contrasting Saturdays,
a Surprise Visitor,
and Bacon for Breakfast

Not so many years ago, Saturdays at my house were mass chaos.  Two boys in the house can make a lot of noise. Combine that with friends over and televisions on and slamming doors and music coming from a bedroom or two and you have the formula for a not so relaxing Saturday.  As a single mother with a very demanding job, I wondered if I would ever have even a minute to myself again.  If there is anything you learn as you get older, it’s that everything will change with time.

These days, most Saturdays at my house are very quiet.  As often as not, it is only Roger and me home at our separate computers taking advantage of a little extra work time.  The biggest excitement of these Saturdays is loading Lacey (Nic’s beautiful black lab) in the truck for a ride to the store after we drop the garbage at the end of our driveway. 

Recently, the quiet of just such a Saturday was broken by the sound of tires on the driveway and a closing car door.  We had a visitor.  A long-time friend was traveling through from an archaeological expedition, and what a surprise we enjoyed to discover he arrived with a surprise gift in hand.   We carried the package, wrapped in thick white butcher paper, to my kitchen counter.  As it was unwrapped, the smell was unmistakable.  It was fresh-sliced thick-cut bacon from a local general store.  Yum.

Because Sunday always follows Saturday, the next day was destined for homemade pancakes with bacon and eggs for breakfast.  We enjoyed a delicious breakfast before church that brought back memories of livelier pancake breakfasts with young boys and more recent memories of a friend who took the time to drop by on quiet Saturday.   Perfection. 

Best Ever Homemade Pancakes

¾ cup milk

2 tablespoons white vinegar

1 cup self-rising flour

2 tablespoons sugar

1 egg

2 tablespoons melted butter

Combine milk and vinegar and set aside about 5 minutes (the vinegar will sour the milk).  Combine flour and sugar in a large bowl.  Whisk egg and butter into sour milk; add to dry ingredients.  Whisk until batter is smooth.  Coat a large skillet with nonstick spray and heat over medium heat.  Add ¼ cupfuls of batter to hot skillet.  Cook until you see bubbles in the pancake.  Flip and continue to cook until browned on the other side.  Serve hot with your favorite syrup. 

Spinach Omelet

3 large eggs

1 tablespoon milk

1/8 teaspoon salt

1 tablespoon butter

½ cup baby spinach

1/3 cup shredded cheddar plus more for topping, if desired

Whisk eggs, milk and salt just until blended.  Heat an 8-inch nonstick skillet over medium-high heat about 1 minute.  Add butter and tilt pan to coat evenly. Pour egg mixture into pan and swirl to spread out to edges.  As omelet begins to set on bottom, lift edge and tilt pan to let uncooked mixture flow underneath. Continue lifting edges of omelet and tilting pan, working your way around all sides, until no more uncooked egg mixture will flow underneath and the top is just a little moist, about 2 minutes total.  Spread spinach evenly over ½ omelet then top with 1/3 cup cheese. Tip pan to slide omelet, cheese side first, onto warm plate; flip bare half over cheese as omelet leaves pan.  

The View from My Kitchen Window

The View from My Kitchen Window

Sometimes, when looking out my kitchen window, I see grass that needs to be cut, a dog to feed, a porch to sweep… in other words… responsibilities.  There are times, too, when I look at life as a whole in that same way.   It’s all drudgery and responsibilities.  I focus on all the things that are not working exactly as I planned.

Today is a beautiful almost-Fall day in Mississippi.  After a few cooler days, the temperature is back up to the low 80s, but there is a constant breeze and just enough clouds to keep the sun’s heat at bay.   

On days like this, I am ashamed of the times I see only the bad.  Everywhere I look today there is something and something else and something more to make me thankful.  I am truly an imperfect child of God who is blessed has absolutely no room to complain.

Cooking, for me, can go this way too.  There are times that it is pure drudgery and other times that I love every minute of cooking – particularly for my family.  I come from a long line of cooks.   When I think of childhood, I think of gravel roads, wood burning stoves, the smell of wood as my Daddy worked on one thing or another, and my Mom in the kitchen.  I think of Granny Sis (my Mom’s Mom) and her seven-layer chocolate fudge cake.  I remember Big Ole Mamaw (my Dad’s Mom) and a big pan of homemade biscuits. These are the things that make me smile. 

Will Nicholas (my 14-year-old) have these same fond memories of eating at home with family?  I really don’t know.  But he recently gave me a very good memory.  One of Nic's favorite meals is ham steak with red eye gravy, scalloped potatoes, and yeast rolls.  One day this week, I made chicken salad for supper which he doesn’t really like.  So, I had left-over ham steak and served him that with some left-over macaroni and cheese plus sliced cucumber with a little cup of ranch dressing for dipping… such a simple meal.  And his simple response, “Mom, you are awesome,” made my heart soar. 

Today, when I look out my kitchen window, I see hope.  A beautiful 30-foot tall gum tree blowing in the wind, sunshine that seems to light each leaf individually, and wide open spaces... all this gives my heart a reason to remember the good things.  Lord, I pray, that I can see more of the good in every single day, every single person, ever single situation, for You told me, “all things work to the good of God’s chosen.”  With that, there is no room for complaints.

Red Eye Gravy – Is more of a method than a recipe.  Basically, once you cook the ham steak, use some left-over black coffee to deglaze the pan.  Pour over steak.  (Some people add butter and water or beef stock; I find that totally unnecessary!) 

Scalloped Potatoes

5 medium red potatoes
4 tablespoons butter
4 tablespoons flour
2 cups milk

Salt and pepper

Preheat oven to 350°.   Wash potatoes well; peel and slice thin.  Melt butter in a saucepan over medium heat; stir in flour.  Add milk and whisk well.  Continue to cook until thick and bubbly.  Layer ½ potatoes in a 3-quart glass baking dish separating potatoes.   Season to taste with salt and pepper and cover with ½ sauce.  Repeat layers.  Bake covered for 40 minutes.  Uncover and make another 15 to 20 minutes or until potatoes are tender. 

Note: When I’m in a hurry (when am I NOT in a hurry?), I boil the potatoes until they are just slightly soft, but not cooked through.  Then I slice them with skins for this recipe.  It cuts the cooking time by about 20 to 25 minutes. 

Yeast Rolls

1 cup milk
2 tablespoons butter
1 tablespoon sugar
¾ teaspoon salt
1 package active dry yeast
2 tablespoons water
1 egg, beaten
2 2/3 cups all-purpose flour
Melted Butter

Scald milk; stir in 2 tablespoons butter, sugar and salt until butter is melted and sugar is fully dissolved.  Set aside to cool.  Sprinkle yeast over 2 tablespoons lukewarm water.  When milk mixture has cooled to lukewarm, stir into yeast mixture.  Stir in egg.  Stir in 1 to 1½ cups flour then turn onto floured board.  Knead in more flour using just enough to form a dough that can be easily handled.  Coat a bowl with melted butter.  Place dough in bowl, then flip over and cover.  Let dough rise in a warm place until  it has doubled, about 1 hour.  When doubled, pinch 1-inch balls from dough.  Make a tight circle using your thumb and index finger.  Force dough through the hole making a smooth round ball.  Place on greased cookie sheet.  Repeat until all dough is used; allow to rise again until doubled (about 40 minutes).   Bake in a 425° oven about 20 minutes.  Remove from pan immediately.  Serve hot.  

Unconditional Love, a Boy and his Dog, and Breakfast for Supper

One of the great joys of living in the country is ambling down our long driveway then turning left to walk along our little country road.  It’s barely wide enough for two cars to pass, but that’s okay because there are rarely two cars there at the same time. 

There are hundreds upon hundreds of trees lining both sides of our country lane, and as you walk, there is always something to see.  A rabbit hopping quickly across the road in front of you, a tree changing its colors from summer into fall, or maybe even random bones from some animal or another will all keep mind and eye entertained and occupied.  And as you walk and watch, the smells are changing with the view… here, the neighbor is cutting grass, then the muskiness of an animal close by, or the smell of muddy creek water.

Last night, I had the privilege of walking with company.  With the distraction of having another person there, I missed some of the usual sites and subtleties of the walks I love.  However, on this special evening, I witnessed something better—unconditional love.

It was actually too cold to be walking outside, but the sun was shining and I was craving the walk so Nicholas and I went anyway.   And, of course, Nic’s black Labrador, Lacey, followed along with us.  We started slow as Nic brought along his rock crawler (RC truck), but I enjoyed watching him maneuver it in and out of the ditches, over rocks, and across gulleys.  What I consider just a game, he takes very seriously.  He’s planning his route as he goes and concentrating on ensuring that his truck makes it successfully over and through every hurdle.

I’m getting running commentary on what it takes for a vehicle to cross over a “mountain” without flipping backward, or how to back out of it if it looks like you might flip, or how to get your four wheel drive out of a deep mud hole without digging yourself in deeper.  I’m pretty sure I won’t have the opportunity to put this knowledge to practical use, but  I listened and I learned anyway. 

When the batteries gave up on the rock crawler, Nicholas stashed it in the woods and we kept walking.  This is the part I enjoy most because now he’s talking about his days and his feelings and his dreams.  My heart doubles in size with my love for this 13 year old boy, then grows to almost breaking when I hear him say my name, “Momma.”  Then he grabs my sleeve, pulls me to the other side of him, and places himself between me and the oncoming car.  Unconditional love?  For sure. 

I had the pleasure of witness unconditional love again as Nicholas suddenly bolts into the edge of the trees, jumps across the creek bank, around a tree, back across the creek and sprints across a tree that has fallen across the bank.   All the while, Lacey is following, just as Nic knows she will.  They come out of the woods simultaneously, both jumping and happy and both knowing, unconditionally, that the other will be right there.  It is amazing and a true blessing to witness that kind of love and devotion.

I’ve walked this road hundreds of times in the eight years we’ve lived here, but this was no ordinary walk.  On this day, I heard the voice of God and it said to me that unconditional love is real and it is for me to give… and receive. 

So, what could a family possibly have for dinner after such a special walk?  Its breakfast for supper, of course.  Growing up, breakfast for supper was always special to me.  For whatever reason, it made me feel happy and secure and like all was right in the world.  On this day, when I feel that all is right in my world, I’m feeding my family breakfast for supper with a side of unconditional love!

Country Ham and Easy Red Eye Gravy 
Country ham slices, 1/4-inch thick
Pepper
Butter
Brown sugar
Prepared coffee
Cook ham slices (do not trim fat) in a hot skillet for a few minutes each side. If needed, add some butter. Chances are the ham is already pretty salty so just sprinkle with a bit of pepper. When ham is cooked, remove to a plate. To make gravy, keep all bits and pieces along with ham grease and butter in the skillet. Add water by the spoonful to make a sauce. Sprinkle with a bit of brown sugar and a few drops of coffee. Serve ham hot
over biscuits with a spoonful of gravy over the top.
Recipe from: Georgia Hometown Cookbook


Quick Biscuits 
2 cups self-rising flour
¼ cup margarine, softened
½ cup milk
Dash salt
Large dash sugar
Melted butter (optional) 
Combine all ingredients, except melted butter, and pat to ½-inch thickness. Cut with cookie cutter or floured small glass. Place on greased cookie sheet and bake at 400° for about 15 minutes.Top with additional melted butter last 3 minutes of baking if desired.
Recipe from: Tennessee Hometown Cookbook


Cheese Grits 
1 1/3 cups quick grits plus ingredients to prepare per package directions 
1 pound Velveeta cheese
1 stick butter
1/2 cup half & half
4 eggs, beaten
Salt and pepper to taste
1 teaspoon cayenne pepper or to taste
Prepare grits per package directions. Add Velveeta, butter and half & half. Pour small amount of grits into eggs (so as not to "cook" eggs), and then return all to pan, stirring well.Add cayenne pepper. Place in 9x13-inch buttered dish and cover with foil; bake at 375° for 25 minutes. Remove foil and continue to bake 10 minutes. Serve warm.
Recipe from: Mississippi Hometown Cookbook

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.

Let her eat Cake... It's Tradition

In our family, it is traditional for a child to have their very own cake when they turn one year old. Of course, there is a nice big cake and ice cream for all the guests, but the birthday girl or boy gets a smaller cake which they are allowed to eat any way they please – usually with their hands getting it all over themselves.

Last week, my niece, Morgan, had her first birthday and everyone gathered at Mom and Dad’s for a party by the pool on Memorial Day. After enjoying some delicious barbecue sandwichs Mom had made and a sausage-stuffed beef brisket my brother had on the grill plus, of course, deviled eggs and potato chips, we gathered close to watch Morgan open her presents. In true one-year-old style, she cared very little about the actual gifts, but had a glorious time playing with the all the pretty bags. It took a lot of help from her big sister Brooke, but eventually every present was open and it was time to blow-out the candles and cut the cake.

Once everyone else had their piece of cake (a store-bought party cake with green and pink icing and butterflies on it), Morgan took her seat of honor in her high chair and was presented with her pint-sized cake. She was very hesitant at first, reminding me of Nicholas (my youngest) who refused to eat his cake without a fork on his first birthday. We couldn’t help but reminisce about how big brother Ryan (six years old at the time), had taken Nicholas’ hand and placed it in the cake in an attempt to show him how it was done, but Nicholas promptly removed his hand and held it up until someone came along and cleaned it. He then, very properly, ate his cake with a fork and very little mess. Likewise, once my brother Mickey gave his youngest daughter a spoon, she started eating and eventually did make a bit of a mess (which is the best part of the tradition).

She didn’t, however, make nearly the mess Ryan made on his first birthday. In usual Ryan-form, he did the tradition justice and ate his cake with gusto – and his hands!

Over the long weekend, I made a cake any one-year-old would love to put his hands in. My father-in-law raved that it was the "best cake he ever tasted" which surprised me because I thought it would appeal more to the children than the adults. In actuality, we all enjoyed it. The best part... it was super-easy with just a cake mix and a traditional powder-sugar icing – with a twist.

Cotton Candy Cake

Pulled Pork for a Crowd (my Mom made this for the party and it was a hit!)

Facing Fears

I can back our green Ford F150 from here to the city if I had to. And for us, "here to the city" is a very long way. I haven't always had the confidence or the skill to back a vehicle, however.

As a teenager, all my friends couldn’t wait to get their driver’s license. They begged exasperated parents to take them on their birthday so they wouldn’t have to wait one extra day. Not me. I had an older brother and a boyfriend. They both had their own vehicles and would take me anywhere I needed to go.

The summer I turned 16, my Mom made me get my license. My brother had graduated high school and she was not about to drive me to school every day. I passed the written test with no problem. I was so nervous for the driving test, that drove right past a stop sign without stopping. Despite that one small (?!) mistake, I managed to get my license on my first try (what was that guy thinking?).

Several months later, I drove myself to a birthday party. The party was at my uncle’s new house which sits far off the road at the end of a narrow gravel driveway. It was dark by the time I left, and, as I opened the door to my lime-green maverick (that’s another story!), I realized I would have to back all the way out of that driveway. I briefly considered asking one of my uncles to come back the car out for me. In the end, my pride won over fear. I started the engine, put the car in reverse, and began my backward assent up and out of the driveway.

I immediately turned too far to the left. I over-corrected and the car lunged too far to the right. I pulled back in straight and tried again... and again... and again. I finally decided it would be daylight before I got out of there if I didn’t do something. So, I did something. I backed off the driveway into the yard so I could turn around and drive out the way I knew how. Unfortunately, it had been raining. So, of course, I got stuck. I mean really, really stuck.

Pride or no pride, I had to go back in the house and ask my uncles for help. They waded into almost knee-deep mud to push my little maverick out of the predicament. The entire situation was incredibly embarrassing and I swore I would never get caught like that again.

So, I practiced driving in reverse every chance I got. I drove backwards even when it was totally unnecessary. Now, reverse is a breeze but I still practice frequently. While I was backing down my own very long driveway just the other day, my youngest said, "A girl shouldn’t be able to back like that." I wonder where he heard that?!

Another fear of mine is making cheesecake. I’ve never had faith that the mixture of cream cheese, eggs, and other ingredients would rise and set into such a delightful cake. Not for me, anyway. I always leave the cheesecake making to my friend Cyndi. But, just like driving in reverse, when it comes to making cheesecake, the only way to do it is to do it.

So, today I made a Kahlua Cheesecake. Not only did it turn out perfect, it was delicious. I guess I’ll have to make cheesecake every chance I get. What’s next on conquering my fears? Maybe one of these scary-sounding french recipes from Julia Child (egads)... Or driving my husband’s 1965 pickup (it has a on-the-column standard-shift transmission) in town!

Share your food/cooking fears and/or success stories...

Click here for Kahlua Cheesecake recipe.

What's in your refrigerator?

When I was young and newly married, I would look inside my refrigerator and think, "I do not know how my Mom has so much stuff in her fridge." I thought mine would never be full. I can remember going to the grocery store with a $100 dollar bill and fretting over everything I put in the cart. I even carried a calculator with me so that, as each item was finally chosen, I would enter the amount plus a little more for tax into the tiny calculator.

At the checkout counter, I would, again, mentally add every item as I put it on the belt. The dollar total would climb and climb as the person checking me out scanned each item. I would fret and fret thinking, "Did I forget to put that in the calculator? Did that milk scan for more than I thought it was? What if it goes over $100?" By the time my groceries were all scanned and it was time to pay, I was a nervous wreck. Still, with these $100 trips to the grocery store, my fridge was never full like my Mom’s and my Mother-in-law’s and my Grandmother’s.

The years passed (quickly, I might add), and one day as the leftovers were being put away, someone said, "There’s no room in the fridge!" It took more than 15 years of living outside my parents home, but, finally, my refrigerator is full.

It seems that anytime my sons or their friends walk past the kitchen, they open the refrigerator to have a look. They may or may not actually get anything out of it. Maybe it gives them comfort just to see what’s inside. Yes, life is good, because the fridge is full. It makes me realize that when I go to Mom’s house, I just about always have a look in her fridge. I may or may not actually get anything out of it, but, I guess, it makes me feel like I’m home to see her refrigerator full. Besides, I have to see if she has any left-over macaroni and cheese I can snatch.

It’s funny to me that we can both have refrigerators so full yet have such different things inside. My Mom has blocks of cheese, liverwurst, Blue Plate mayonnaise, whole milk, apple jelly... while we have pre-shredded cheese, ham, Kraft mayonnaise, 2% milk, grape jelly... and, of course, a lot more. I’ll bet money that Mom doesn’t have worms in her fridge, but, yes, the worms that Ryan and Nicholas use to fish are there in the bottom of my fridge safely tucked away from the food. One thing Mom and I do have in common... Our fridge just about always has a supply of left-overs inside.

The left-overs in my fridge today are from dinner last night -- Fancy Filet Mignon, Coconut Pasta and Shrimp, and sliced cucumbers -- plus the last slice of Coconut Cake from Sunday. Someone will come along and eat those, but more will soon take their place.

The fridge is full... Life is good.

For more recipes, visit the online database at Great American Publishers.

Comfort Food

When I hear the term "Comfort Food," I’ve always thought of a hot bowl of chili on a cold winter day... or grits, eggs, and biscuits for breakfast when you have to get up extra-early... or a piece of my Mom’s chocolate pie made special when I come to visit.

This past weekend, changed my perspective of "comfort food." My sister-in-law suffered a great tragedy when her husband was killed in his place of business during a robbery. He also left behind a daughter in her late teens and a son in his early twenties. Danny’s death was so sudden, that it left us all in shock. But, not surprisingly, the family quickly rallied behind Cindy, Jenny, and Jeremy to do everything we could to help.

It was the two days Roger and I spent at Cindy’s house (she lives about 100 miles away from us), that I learned what a comfort food can actually be to a family grieving. Early Saturday morning, the phone started ringing with friends and family offering their condolences and thoughts and prayers... and to say they were bringing food. Around noon, the food started coming in carried by friends and business acquaintances and even friends of friends that Cindy and her family had never met. There was roast and vegetables, butter beans from someone’s garden, a meat tray with bread for making sandwiches, sodas in a cooler on ice, a chocolate pie, sweet potato casserole, hamburgers hot off the grill, corn, coconut cake, the list goes on and on and on.

With each delivery, there would be hugs and words of comfort and the same information related again and again. What should have been monotonous and more than a little irritating, eventually became comforting. At one point in the day, someone said, "What in the world will we do with all this food?!?" The idea of turning some of it away was even passed around. It was then that my wonderful Mother-in-law made me realize that the food not only brought comfort to people who were on the receiving end. She quietly said to us all, "Please don’t ask people not to bring the food. It makes them feel better to do something for you." And she was right.

I got some great recipes from these men and women, but also some good hints for the next time I’m on the giving end: 1) bring the food in disposable dishes so there is no worry about returning dishes 2) several people brought sodas and tea which was great to go with the food 3) one person brought paper towels and even toilet paper 4) several people put a return address label on their food which was great because we were making an effort to capture that information each time for thank you notes.

Here are some recipes that are terrific for taking to a family in their time of need. Start the roast before you go to bed and let it cook all night then add the vegetables first thing in the morning; it will be ready to delivery just before lunch. The 4 Ingredient Butterscotch Cake is super easy; I keep the ingredients on hand for anytime I need a last minute dessert. Cook it in one of those disposable aluminum pans on a cookie sheet so there will be no dishes to return.

Onion Soup Pot Roast & Veges
4 Ingredient Butterscotch Cake

--Sheila

Sheila Simmons is Publisher at Great American Cookbooks • Their newest publication Game for All Seasons Cookbook has just arrived from the printer.

Bicycles, Honeysuckle, and Supper

Do you remember Honeysuckle? I do, but until yesterday I had not thought about it in years. Roger, Ryan, Nicholas and I were enjoying a late-evening bicycle ride down the “main” (they are all country roads where we live) road beside the house. It was a warm, but not too hot, 70 degrees with a light wind – perfect for a bicycle ride.

As man of the house, Roger was out in front and yelled back with “can you smell that?” Just as I was about to ask “what,” I caught the scent, too. That aroma of honeysuckle growing beside the road brought back many, many memories at once.

I can remember being just about my youngest son’s age (Nicholas is 8) and riding my bicycle down the gravel roads around my house. I was always barefooted wearing shorts and a t-shirt and more often than not at least one of my many first cousins was riding along with me. We’d take frequent breaks to sit along the side of the road in the shade of the big trees, and, of course, taste the honeysuckle. I don’t think I’ve had a single gourmet meal in my adulthood that tasted as good as that honeysuckle did when I was eight years old.

Back in the present, Roger and Ryan had ridden ahead in a competition to see who could ride fastest. Nicholas and I were riding slow and easy, enjoying the weather, and talking about our day. Nic suddenly pulled off, dropped his bicycle in the grass, and asked, “Have you ever tried these, Momma?” as he reaches a honeysuckle bush beside the road.

It makes me happy to know that a new generation is enjoying the small pleasure of honeysuckle. So, we sat, Mother and son, in the shade of the big trees beside the road and tasted honeysuckle. I noticed that Nicholas would pick the delicate flower, break off the bottom, and suck the nectar as through a straw. This is, of course, a legitimate way to taste honeysuckle.

However, I earned a few “mommy points” by showing him the way I learned as a child. You pick the flower and gently break off the bottom keeping the little stem in the center intact. You then gently pull that stem out the bottom and the “ball” at the top brings the nectar through. When you gently touch this to your tongue, it’s honeysuckle heaven.

If you don’t know the pure and simple pleasure of honeysuckle, it’s not too late. Take your kids or grandkids (or a neighbor’s kid if you have to) on a bicycle ride (or a walk or even a car ride), locate some honeysuckle, and take time to sit beside the road and taste the sweet nectar. You won’t regret it.

We spent so much time on our bicycle ride, that I had to do a quick supper when we returned to the house. I had some catfish fillets in the freezer, so I thawed them quickly and made this Hot and Sweet Baked Catfish. We enjoyed it over rice, with corn nuggets (most of which the kids, mine and three or four neighbor boys, ate right out of the bowl while everything else was cooking), and Okra & Tomatoes (frozen, sliced okra with a can of petite-dice tomatoes, a touch of sugar, and a little thyme... and a little time). It was delightful follow-up to an enjoyable evening.

Sheila Simmons, Publisher • Great American Cookbooks • Visit our database for more great recipes. • Submit YOUR recipe to be considered for publication.