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.  

Yums

YUMS

I call these YUMS because they are made with all the things I love best -- YUM! Even better, they are SUPER EASY.

2 flour tortillas (the small ones)

1/4 cup sugar
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon

Butter, softened (or use spreadable butter)

Cool Whip (about 1/4 cup)

Preheat oven to broil. Quarter tortillas to make 4 triangles each. Combine sugar and cinnamon on a saucer. Spread butter over 1 side of 1 triangle. Place in sugar and press to coat. Butter other side then flip and press into sugar/cinnamon so that both sides are coated. Pull 2 corners together and hold with a toothpick. Repeat with remaining tortilla triangles, placing each on a cookie sheet as you go. Place in oven to broil about 5 minutes. (Watch closely and remove when they are toasted; they go from perfect to over-cooked quickly.) After broiling, they may flatten out some. Don't worry. Allow to cool slightly so they are easier to handle then gently squeeze from the sides to plump them back out. Allow to cool completely. Fill with Cool Whip (plump them up again before filling, if needed). YUM!

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

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.

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