Comparing Apples to Oranges and Peach Cobbler for Dessert

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Georgia Hometown Cookbook

Swimming, Cell Phones, and Scalloped Tomatoes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

Santa Rosa Sunshine

I’m desperately trying to re-adapt to the real world after a week on Santa Rosa Island (Pensacola, Florida). It isn’t easy, let me tell you.

My family has spent a week at the same condo (Soundside) for the last 13 years. It’s now like a 2nd home to us. We see many of the same people every year and seeing each other only once a year gives us plenty to talk about.

We look forward to this week “on the island” all year long. We'll usually walk across the street to the Gulf one or two days, we visit the local restaurants (Peg Leg Pete’s is our absolute favorite and Flounders is good, too), and, of course, we do some souvenir shopping. However, Ryan and Nicholas can enjoy the entire week without ever leaving the property. They spend hours (and hours!) fishing and crabbing off the long pier; they enjoy the swimming pool, too.

This year, the boys caught a good many crab the first night and one of our “yearly” friends, Wild Bill, cooked them along with the fish they had caught. It was a delicious impromptu dinner.

We also went shark fishing with Wild Bill and his family. Just after dark, we set-up camp on the Gulf-side. Bill and Ryan would wade into the surf, cast the line, then walk the poles back to the beach. Then it was time to sit and talk and wait for a bite. I was a little concerned about allowing my 15-year-old to walk into the water when they were desperately trying to bait shark, but I let him go anyway. This night, there was obviously no need to worry because they didn’t get a single bite. I didn’t know wether to be disappointed or relieved.

On Tuesday, Brenda cooked a delightful breakfast for all of us staying at the resort. Around 9 am we gathered in the lobby where she had a table piled high with eggs, pastries, fruit, and her famous Nassau Grits. All the food was really good, but the Nassau Grits were outstanding. So, of course, I asked her for the recipe. After we discussed cooking and cookbooks for a while, she reached behind the counter and handed me a copy of the recipe (obviously I was not the first to ask for it). She did, however, share with me the changes she made and the shortcuts she takes, so now we have the even-better recipe for Nassau Grits.


Brenda suggested that, in addition to breakfast, the grits were really good with fried fish. So, when I got home, I pulled out my favorite recipe for fried catfish and my favorite recipe for hushpuppies (both Harold Webster’s recipes as featured in our Game for All Seasons Cookbook) and we had a feast. Brenda was definitely telling the truth; Nassau Grits are a great side dish to fried fish. Try it, I’m sure you’ll love it too.


Recipes:
Nassau Grits
Deep-Fried Louisiana-Style Thin-Sliced Catfish
Pappy's Hushpuppies (I cut the recipe to 1/4 for my family)
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Sheila Simmons is Publisher at Great American Cookbooks and co-author with Kent Whitaker of the Hometown Cookbook Series

15... 37... and a Birth Day

June and July are big birthday months in my family. Maybe they are in most families; I don’t know. What's really hard for me to believe is that my oldest son Ryan has turned 15.

His 15th birthday is a big one for Ryan... A milestone. It means he can get his learner’s permit – the first step to an official driver’s license. Here, when you are at least 15 and have passed the written test, you get a permit that allows you to drive with a licensed driver in the car. In 6 months and after passing the driving test, you are eligible for an intermediate license that allows you to drive alone but only until 8pm. Ryan is already a very good driver and I’m looking forward to him driving Nicholas and himself to school each day.

Other June and July birthdays for my family include my Aunt Nedra, sister-in-law Frankie, niece Jenny, niece Brooke, Uncle Wayne, Pamela... and my birthday. I’m strange when it comes to birthdays. Roger (my hubby) is notorious for giving presents early. He gets so excited about giving it, that he just can’t wait. I hear some of you saying, “at least his gets you something; my husband always forgets.” You are right. I should be thankful.

 But... I like for the actual day to be something special. An early birthday present, to me, is a let-down when my birthday arrives. This year, however, Roger did not give me my present early. You could say that means he’s learning what I like best. Except... This year he gave it to me a week late!

We celebrated another birth day in June. My niece, Morgan Ryleigh, was born the end of May. We celebrated her birth with a Sip ‘n’ See in our home so that family and friends could meet her. I was not familiar with the idea of having the baby shower after the baby was born and calling it a “Sip ‘n’ See” until my cousin mentioned it to me. I immediately liked the idea. Baby showers are a terrific excuse for getting everyone together and a great way to help out new parents. The “Sip ‘n’ See” also allows everyone to meet the new baby and you know for sure if it’s a boy or girl which helps out with present-buying.

We had Mickey and Frankie’s (my brother and his wife) Sip ‘n’ See on a Saturday afternoon. We all gathered in my living room, passed the baby around (and around and around), visited, opened presents, and, of course, ate.

Around the time of the party, I was feverishly working to get our Tennessee Hometown Cookbook finished and off to the printer. So, it stands to reason, that the recipes I cooked came from that book. We had: Pineapple Chicken & Shrimp Bites, Hobo Sausage Kabobs, Sunday Brunch Monkey Bread, and Chocolate Eclair Cake with Graham Crust. The food was delicious, the company was good, and the baby was sweet... what more could you ask for?

--Posted by Sheila Simmons, publisher, Great American Publishers and co-author with Kent Whitaker of Tennessee Hometown Cookbook. Visit the website and enter to win a free cookbook.

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.