Potlikkery

Jesus' birthday cake

I've never baked and frosted a birthday cake for Jesus, or known anyone to do so, either. That is, until this year. Sure, it makes sense to bake a birthday cake for Jesus, if you're a practicing Christian, or just want any excuse to make a cake, since Christmas celebrates Christ's birth, even though, he was likely not born on December 25th.

Aleda, my sister-in-law, made one this year. Her first. But she's determined to start a precedent and bake one every year. Hers was chocolate with white frosting and one candle on top. We all sang Happy Birthday to Jesus, then Mick and Rem did the honors of blowing out the candle.

Then we ate. Yum. Nothing better than chocolate cake with cream cheese icing. She also had a pecan pie and something else... Can't quite recall all the dessert offerings on Christmas Day, though I sampled each.

But where did the tradition of Jesus;s birthday cake begin? And what kind of symbolism resides in this cake's layers and decoration and very shape? Is it native to certain regions of the country, or world, or celebrated by specific denominations? It's a favorite tradition in Columbia, SC, but elsewhere, too?

Aleda got the idea from her cousin on her Dad's side. They're from the midwest. I think she was born in Nebraska or Kansas. Her cousin is really religious and started her family's tradition when her children were two or three years old, a few years ago. Before you start thinking this is some kind of southern evangelical Baptist practice, let me ease your mind that my sister-in-law is Catholic and as I mentioned earlier, not a native of this region. But, Amy Sullivan writes in the Washington Monthly (5.9 (Sept 2003): p52(3).) about growing up in a Midwestern Baptist church where they "baked a birthday cake and sand a rollicking tune called 'Happy Birthday, Baby Jesus.'" Just suppose it's a Midwestern thang.

I asked my step-mother whether her fourth-generation (at least!) highly-devout (Baptist) Southwest Virginia family celebrated Christmas with a Jesus birthday cake.  They've bought a sheet cake at the bakery and had "Happy Birthday Jesus" written on it. She promised to ask around her family and church whether anyone has a specific recipe for it.

And what about you? What's your experience with Jesus' Birthday cake? Have you baked one? Eaten one? Or know someone else who does?

Stories Behind the Great Traditions of Christmas (2003) is a Google book that popped up as a result of my search for Jesus' birthday cake. Ace Collins writes that there are no written records indicating the exact origin of this tradition, but he suspects it began only a few hundred years ago possibly in England, but more likely in Germany because Christ's birthday was celebrated overtly in that country. The baking of the cake was significant because resource for cakes, like sugar, and butter, were scarce. Cakes were a treat.  Those Jesus bc of the past were baked with special treats inside for children like marbles, small metal animals, or coins. And then the actual rising of the cake batter takes on religious significance when we think of Christ's rising from the dead on the third day. Easter, I guess, but my catechism is weak anymore. See, I'm more likely to bake a banana bundt for Buddha's birthday.

Those cakes of yore, according to Collins, were white inside, symbolizing Christ's purity, and iced with red to symbolize his shed blood. And a single candle adorning the cake signified the light Christ brought to the world. It wasn't until the 1800s that the tradition was commonplace in England and America. Collins attributes the modern resurgence of Jesus bc to churches and Christian schools who are horrified by the consumer/consumptive identity the holiday shoulders and wish to re-emphasize the religious significance of Christmas.

Some folks find the entire idea of a birthday cake for Jesus funny, or peculiar.  Or foreign. Or perhaps a slap at the way someone is raising their children.

At cooks.com they direct bakers in this way:

Make a round chocolate cake (to symbolize our sins). Cover with white frosting (his purity covers our sins). Top with a yellow star and angel (bearer of the first glad tidings). Place 12 (Christ, our light through the 12 months of the year) red candles (red for his blood shed for us) on top. Encircle the cake with evergreen icing leaves (symbol of everlasting life).

Another cake at the same site uses angel food cake, strawberries, and whipped cream. The number of red candles placed on the cake should mirror the number of people attending the birthday party.

Old Fashioned Holidays makes a three layer cake. The first is brown for our sins, the second is red for the blood Jesus shed for our sins, and the third layer is green to signify life. Then it's covered with white icing which symbolizes Jesus' purity and righteousness. They decorate the cake sides with hearts which represents Christian witness for Jesus. A gold star marks the middle of the cake. This is the star of Bethlehem. A yellow border around the star signifies God's love. And a big red candle in the middle of the yellow star represents Jesus himself. Others like a bit of scripture to accompany each layer.

Leslie Ratliff's explanation is essentially the same as the others, but she specifies a round cake because it shows that God's love is never ending. She adds an angel to her cake so that we remember the angel's role in spreading good tidings of His birth. She explains the twelve candles each represent a month so that Jesus' light may shine each month and not just once in December. She places evergreens around the cake, possibly at the base, to remind us of Jesus' everlasting love for us.

Instructions at Beliefnet recommend reading the Christmas story from the Bible before lighting and blowing out the candle.

Alanna Kellogg's sister introduced the tradition to their family and they've celebrated it ever since. And Tara makes a jello poke cake which serves as Jesus cake in her family.

Many families include the celebration of Jesus' birthday with their Christmas Day traditions as a way to reduce the secular and consumer emphasis placed on the holiday by our popular culture, media, advertisers, and retailers. It's especially popular among families with small children so that the "reason for the season" is reinforced in their young minds.  But some Christians think it's a a way to have fun, be silly, and celebrate  a happy occasion.

Not all of them go to great lengths to ensure that their cake is imbued with proper symbolism. Some make a lemon bundt cake and others pick up a cake from their grocery store and decorate it with the words "Happy Birthday Jesus."

Willie Crawford seconds those reasons for celebrating "the true meaning of Christmas." His recipe calls for three boxes of cake mix: White, Strawberry, and Chocolate. Willie makes an extra cake to take to church for his pastor to give to a needy family. He tints portions of his icing yellow, green, red, and reserves a bit of white, as well. He decorates his cakes with a bright yellow star, leaves, holly berries, and a plastic baby Jesus. He pipes hay colored icing around the figure. His instructions are precise, and I appreciate  his symbolism best of all, especially the first one:

1. The colors of the inside of the cake represents all God's children, the people of all nations.
2. The star represents the Star of Bethlehem that led the Wise Men to Our Savior.
3. The holly vine represents the everlasting life we recieved when we accepted Jesus into our lives.
4. The red candle represents the blood that Jesus Christ shed for all of us.
5. The flame of the lit candle represents the light of Jesus that shines from within of all who believe in Him.

And some bake Jesus birthday cakes to defy the ban on religion in public schools. Julie West brought a Jesus bc to her son's holiday party because a school note requested that students bring in food that their family traditionally ate during the holiday season.  And, in the comments on that story I learned another reason why we might use twelve candles on the cake: To symbolize the twelve points on Our Lady's crown, whomever Our Lady may be. The Virgin Mary, perhaps?

Redneck Diva writes about a Come to Jesus cake, but that's a whole 'nother kettle of fish, but certainly a great new tradition in celebratory cake baking.

holiday meals

There were so many dishes I wanted to try for Christmas Eve dinner. But I marked one of two of my list because I didn't want to offer too many starches, though in the end, I did. Didn't want sweet potato souffle AND mustard-roasted red potatoes. Also wanted to offer a plethora of colors instead of going with a dominant white/yellow/brown palette.

Ian deep fried a ham. It was a pre-cooked spiral sliced ham that he immersed in peanut oil for 5-7 minutes. This was well-away from the house, out back in our driveway. Every time we tell people that we deep fried a turkey at Thanksgiving and a ham at Christmas they mention statistics about how many people burn down their homes by using deep fryers. But Ian is careful, just not mindful enough with the ham. He kept it in the oil a minute or so too long. Parts of it were black, but once you got past that, the innards were tasty. He wasn't so thrilled with it. We're always our own worst critic, no?

There was no recipe about it, although I found scant information online somewhere that told how long to cook it.

My macaroni and cheese recipe came from the James Villas cookbook, The Glory of Southern Cooking (2007) I've scoured for months. It was great. My stepmother asked for the recipe and doled out huge helpings, seconds, and thirds, on the mac n cheese.

Peas with goat cheese and bacon came from Cook's Country, the December issue, I think. It's my new favorite cooking magazine, then again, I've paid closer attention to Gourmet and Bon Appetit of late than I have in the past. . Haven't subscribed to it, yet. My postal carrier creases every magazine arriving at my mailbox down the middle and CC is oversized. But back to peas: Easy, quick, and delicious. Made with a bag of frozen peas, bacon grease drippings, and either half and half or heavy whipping cream. A few scallions, and the goat cheese. Maybe salt and pepper to taste. Yum. As someone who never liked peas, I must say that it was lovely and a dish I'll repeat again and again.

Sweet potato souffle is the standard I make for every holiday and I got its recipe from  Consuming Passions:  A Food-Obsessed Life  (1999) by Michael Lee West. I've made the topping incorrectly for several years and when I tried to make it the "correct" way once, it just wouldn't do. I cook the sweet potatoes in the microwave add the butter, evaporated milk, nutmeg, and cinnamon, and then add the topping and pop it into my oven.

Also tried Alabama Biscuit Muffins from the Villas cookbook. It's just a wealth of recipes, many that I'm aching to try. These biscuits came out well. Crunchy on the outside and tender on the inside. When Ian's Dad stopped by later, he snacked on a cold one and raved.

Tried the Vidalia onion and goat cheese pie from Villas' cookbook. It was fine and I got several requests for its recipe. I whipped it up Christmas morning so we could bring it to Ian's brother's home for our Stokes family gathering. They weren't vidalia onions, but they were still, slightly sweet, and tasty.

Finally made the Sandra Lee bark. It was okay. I never ate a bite of it though. Strange, but true. I hold a grudge.

We had Christmas Day lunch at my sister-in-law's house. She sets a pretty table. The menu was atypical, but much appreciated: Prime Rib, green beans with mushrooms, mashed potatoes, my onion pie, and bread.

Then that evening we went to my mom's house for slightly lighter fare. She cooked her ham in a mixture of pineapple juice and something else. Can't quite recall what exactly she did, now. But I think her table, her whole dining room, in fact, personifies the idea of a Southern dining room table; food and decor.

And then another recipe I tried of Villas' was for bleu cheese straws. A few nights prior to Christmas I doubled the recipe and combined the ingredients in my mixer. I moaned about not having a food processor. Later, after opening gifts Christmas morning, Ian admitted that he almost caved, almost gave me my food processor early so I wouldn't struggle with that cheese straw dough. The recipe was simple. I rolled out the dough and used a fondant embosser to cut my dough into appropriate-sized pieces. We took them along to Aleda's for Christmas lunch and everyone loved them. And hated me because they were so addictive. Then later, Josie stopped by on her way back home to Atlanta. She said they looked professionally done and couldn't believe I made them. I bagged up a batch for her to take to her mother. Seems like each time Josie comes to town I end up sending something home with her to her mother to apologize for the scant thirty minutes or an hour that Josie visits with me. At least Peggy gets cake, or bleu cheese straws, as the case was, this time.

holiday desserts disappoint

Where to begin?

Constructing a Christmas Eve dinner menu took a few days.  I pulled together all the books and magazines I'd looked at recently and decided what to make. Wrote it all out on my list, and then decided what to mark off.

On the twenty-third we baked. Well, we shopped at the grocery store, and then baked. We made a gingerbread cheesecake; the same that we had at Thanksgiving. I must make a note to cook it longer than what the recipe calls for. It was undercooked and too runny in the middle after a good 12-to-24 hours' chilling in the fridge.

I made a brown sugar pound cake. Took the recipe from Southern Cakes (2007) . It's a Chronicle publication that I solicited a copy of for review in Tennessee Libraries. After browsing it and sending it off to my reviewer, I bought a copy myself. It's just that lovely of a book. The worst part of it was having to bend open its spine to make the Caramel Icing to top the pound cake with. The cake was good, and different. Ian said that my mom and I love our regular old pound cake too much. That means that we bake it far too often. Apparently he craves variety and this brown sugar pound cake sated him. The icing was way too sweet and thick. Four cups of confectioner's sugar poured on top of it. Must blame him for that. I would never have poured the whole batch on the cake, but Ian went for it. I broke off the icing and tossed it in the trash each time I cut a piece of cake for myself.

Banana pudding was a staple at my mamaw's house. I had a mamaw, two in fact. And I used to refer to them as grandmothers because mamaw is so pejorative, such a damning class indicator. Extended members of a family I married into joke about mamaws and papaws from Kentucky or West Virginia, as if being called mamaw or papaw is a bad thing. Nope, it just shows where you're at, or where you came from class-wise.

Anyway, my mamaw showed me how to make banana pudding. I wanted to learn because it's my father's favorite dessert. A few years ago at Christmas I went to elaborate lengths to make a banana pudding pie that ended up falling out of the fridge and spattering all over the floor. Broke my glass pie plate, too. This year, I found a recipe from Jean Anderson's A Love Affair with Southern Cooking: Recipes and Collections (2007). It bombed. The pudding never set up.  My banana pudding was more like banana pudding soup. Yuck.

Making something completely from scratch and then having it bomb is the worst feeling. Next time, I'm using Jello vanilla pudding from a box because I know it works. And, I even tossed my bananas in lemon juice so they wouldn't turn brown. That wasn't anything that Jean Anderson mentioned doing, either. Of the three desserts we made, I so wanted this one to be good. It's the one I wanted to try most.

Almost forgot the Brownie Thins we made. They were right good and topped with chopped pistachios. Got the recipe in the December 2007 issue of Bon Appetit, but it's here online, too. We took them along to Ian's family's gathering on Christmas day and seeing several folks walking around chewing them was gratifying. I just wanted to offer something chocolate to those in need.

giving gifts of food. or not.

An improper feeling of confidence filled me and made me decide to bake gifts of food for several people with whom I work this year.  One night last week I spent an hour grocery shopping and another four in the kitchen pulling things together.

 

The first item I tried were Benne Bits, a recipe that James Villas included in The Glory of Southern Cooking (2007). They're a snacky sesame and cayenne thing. I didn't have a small round cookie cutter, but I pulled out a miniature holiday cookie cutter set I bought on a whim a few years ago. These Benne Bits were in the form of a tree.

 

Next I worked on another item from Villas' cookbook: Orange Cocktail Pecans. I've never made any spiced nuts, but they seem like an easy thing. With this recipe you melt a stick of butter in a large saucepan, add orange zest and Cointreau or Grand Marnier. I had Cointreau on hand. Once everything melts, you toss the pecans with the sauce, then transfer it to a baking sheet and bake for 30 minutes at 300.

When I tasted them straight out of the oven I was disappointed. Angry, really, because pecans don't come cheap and I used up my "special" supply that I order each autumn from a lady with whom I work. Normally I parcel those out a few times over the span of the year in my pecan pies, but I went for broke on this.

But really, it was the Sandra Lee Semi-Homemade recipe that threw my cooking into a tailspin. I've always been skeptical of her products, but saw her make the white chocolate and macadamia bark on her show and liked the combination so well that I wanted to give it a try. The thing about Sandra Lee is that she takes so many shortcuts that her approach fails to lend the meditative and careful qualities to cooking that I seek. And if you've watched her show, many of her products are shoddy and haphazardly put together. They're not anything I'd want to give to anybody. However, despite her style not being for me, I think she appeals to others who don't have the amount of time, or the same feeling about the process as I do.

 

Microwaving the semi-sweet morsels sounded like a shortcut I didn't want to take, but I did. And it turned out horribly. My morsels overcooked and turned into something akin to fudge. Out came my double boiler, but that was after another trip to the grocery store for more semi-sweet morsels.

I discounted her instructions to use a "fine" white chocolate because c'mon, this is semi-homemade, not Barefoot Contessa. Like there's a difference between white chocolate? Oh, there is. My Nestle white chocolate chips never melted to the state where I could "drizzle" it over top of the chocolate base on my wax paper-protected cookie sheet. Said cookie sheet remains in the freezer until I find time to get better white chocolate and finish that up.

Somewhere amongst all the holiday baking articles in various cooking magazines I encountered a pistachio nougat thing that I wanted to make. Couldn't recall where, so I went to the foot network, searched, and found Mario Batali's recipe for Torroncini.

I thought this went well. I used my candy thermometer for the first time. But the nougat never set up, or hardened, so I have no clue why this failed so miserably. I tossed it into the trash the next day.

This year's food as gifts did not work well. I'm still up for making Villas' bleu cheese straws though. And even though I think the pecans weren't orange tasting enough, Ian cannot keep his mitts out of the container. He doesn't know why I don't like them, he said. He thinks they're great. I may set them out on Christmas eve for company. And I'm still working on the menu for that. Oh what fun!

another holiday potluck

This is the third year I've blogged about our library holiday party, as well as the third year I've written about the Jbo Progressive Dinner; such a year for threes! The party snuck up on me this year. The people who organized it chose to have it early, on December 6, ostensibly so that the student workers were here and could get their grub on. Or so I imagine. The date arrived way too early for me, because I'm slammed with personal and professional commitments that make doing anything extra a major drag.

After an hour at the grocery store, because, really, I love grocery shopping, and I invariably end up with way more in my cart than I went for, I came home and cooked from 7 p.m. until 11 p.m. Anymore, trips to the grocery store are fun-filled because I run into Doug Burgess, a history professor at ETSU who also lives in the same neighborhood as my parents-in-law. Last week Doug and I almost bumped carts several times at Food City. This week, we rolled by each other like two buggies in the night at Kroger.  Then, there were at least two other folks from the university that I recognized at Kroger as well, but don't know personally.

I mention Doug for two reasons. First, I love being connected to the university and my community to the extent that I run into people I know on a regular basis. Call it the small city effect. And second, the reason Doug is always at the grocery store is that he cooks. He compiled "Doug's So You're Over Forty, Can't Cook, and Can't Get a Date Cookbook," but what he's really known for is the hot sauce he bottles and offers to faculty, staff, and students across campus. I've not tried it, but I should. Ian collects hot sauce every chance he gets, and we have gallons of it, an abundance, and so adding another mason jar to the collection is overkill.

Last night I spent four hours cooking. I loved it, but am still wiped out this afternoon. I started with Nigella's Guinness Chocolate Cake.  Once that was in the oven I sliced my squash and set them to cook on the range. Then I turned to my salad. I had ideas for three or four things to make and bring, but it's not until I'm in the kitchen and I gauge my ingredients and my stamina that I decide what to make.

Originally I'd planned on bleu cheese straws, chocolate cake, and Manchego cheese and walnut stuffed dates. And maybe a Vidalia onion and goat cheese pie. But there were no Vidalia onions at the grocery store. I bought a bag of sweet onions, but I'm sure they're not the same. Also contemplated a cardamom-buttermilk pie, but only had one pie crust left in the fridge and forgot to pick up another set of those pillsbury rolled up pie crusts that are almost as good as scratch.

But since I don't have a food processor (Santa, are you reading?), I quickly ruled out the bleu cheese straws. I had picked up a couple packages of Ramen at the store because I still have cabbage left from the first batch of salad/slaw I made and was ready to try a second batch. This time it came out more how I wanted it to. The difference was a lot more Ramen noodles and the  rice vinegar and peanut oil substitution. Plus, I added ground ginger and one of the roast chicken flavor packets from the noodles. And then there were grated carrots. Its taste is much improved. I made notes of the changes I made to the recipe and shall share those later, along with the original recipe. Also chopped the cabbage instead of grating it, and like the latter texture much better.

Seems like the thing that took the most time was the dates. I had that stuffed date at the Jbo Progressive Dinner and its simplicity amazed me. Luckily I found Mancheno cheese at the grocery. I was also worried about dates. The first ones I ever ate were this summer, or maybe last summer when Kellie brought home a bunch from the Middle East. Yum. I love dates. Who knew!?

But Dole sells dates in re-sealable bags in the fruit/raisin section. And walnut-availability is no biggie. I sliced the cheese into tiny bits and sliced open the dates (they were pitted), and tucked cheese and walnut inside. Easy peasy! So good, too. Surely this is a dish that people rave about. I foisted one on Ian this morning. He got home around 4 a.m., peered inside the fridge and thought the dates were something chocolate. What a disappointment for him. Then he asked me about them later this morning. I told him what it was and brought him one to eat even though he said he hates dates.

The trouble was the cake. Normally I use my larger springform pan, but I tried following Nigella's instructions to use the 9 inch pan instead of the 10 inch. Mistake! There was overflow and a muffin top. And after cooling it a good hour or so, I popped the springform latch, and a lot of the cake came away with the tin. Sad, sad cake. I frosted it anyway and thought I'd keep it at home for me and Ian. But really, we cannot consume an entire cake alone. So I brought it, bugs and all, to work for the party. It may look very homemade, which could be a good thing next to all the store-bought desserts, but one thing I know for sure is that it rocks.

Oh, and then I decided after making the squash casserole that I wouldn't bring it. Heating dishes and keeping the refrigerated is always tricky at the library. And so I wanted to bring things that didn't need either. The top of my squash casserole was rather dark. It looked unpleasant. I didn't want to share it. Then, too, I changed the recipe a bit to incorporate a medium-sized sweet onion (of the not-the-Vidalia-kind) and was afraid the taste might be too oniony.  Eighty percent of the time I'll share a new dish with folks without tasting it myself because I'm confident that it's good. This squash casserole I am still unsure about. Might warm it up for dinner and see how it is.

As for all the other goodies at the holiday party, man, there was too much stuff. I tried corn pudding, beef stroganoff, hot german potato salad, sausage balls, deviled eggs, ratatouille, what else? Oh, there was way too much food. Sadly, I was forced to take a break because I worked the reference desk from 12-1. Had to eat quickly, then assume my position. But, that allows for a good hour's break for my food to settle and process and then I'll have room to sample desserts.

Last year there was some talk about compiling our recipes. One of my co-workers asked me to take on the job, but I didn't follow up. So this year, I think I'm following up. It's a shame not to have all those divine recipes at one's fingertips. Come next year, I may be compiling an in-house cookbook.

third time yum yum

Saturday evening my mother and I drove to Jonesborough for the 30th Annual Progressive Dinner. It's our third time. Ian spoke of childhood Progressive dinners he attended with his family when they returned home each holiday season to Canton, Ohio, where his parents originated. He said they'd go around to his relatives' homes, gobble something good, and then move on. But I'd never participated in one until three years ago. It was a slightly foreign concept for me.

In Jonesborough this means that you board a trolley, hear fascinating tidbits about the town's history from Deborah Montanti, Director of the Jonesborough Heritage Alliance. There's an emphasis on architecture and town history and we stopped at several of the town's finest historic homes to eat a portion of the meal and socialize with other diners. And, each home hosts live music.

The h'ourdourves were fabulous and were my favorite part. Clockwise beginning at the Wassil we had Dates with Manchego cheese and walnuts, Bleu cheese filled radicchio and endive, and bacon-wrapped scallops. The toast was at Hawley House, perhaps the oldest home in the Territory South of the River Ohio by virtues of its establishment about 1793.

Mushroom and brie bisque and cheddar melting morsels were at Hedberg Home. Both were okay, but didn't knock my socks off. The home was the first built in town after the Civil War. My favorite space was the octagonal section, but I have no idea what it's proper name is.

The entree was at the Parson's Table a former church turned restaurant that closed in the early 1990s. The roasted pork loin was supposed to have Jezebel sauce on it, but I couldn't tell whether it did. And i was excited at my first taste of jezebel. But I'll likely have to throw together my own jezebel for a taste of that. There was a vegetarian option listed on the menu, but we were not offered it. Frankly, it sounded better than pork loin: Butternut squash, portobello mushroom & tomato spinach lasagna. The pesto green beans were good, but too plentiful. The creamy spinach and Parmesan cheese orzo was my favorite. Country rolls and your choice of white or red wine rounded out the meal. This year though, our server wasn't prompt with refilling wine glasses. I only had two glasses this year, whereas last year I might have had four.

The couple at our table were in their seventies and eighties. The gentleman was dapper and an excellent conversationalist. He was a retired chemist from Eastman who served under Patton during World War II. I could have talked to him all night. I absolutely love men and women in their eighties. There's something about that age that draws me in. I love hearing the stories they tell about their lives and experiences.

He regalled us with stories of his grandson who lives in Madison, Wisc. and all his techie gadgets. Sadly, I cannot recall his name. His companion was Alice. She's an artist who paints mainly with oils and watercolors. I wasn't certain if they were friends or something more.

Why must dessert always be something I don't care for? Last year was tiramisu, which I find over-rated, though it was quite good. This year was chocolate cake with raspberry stuff drooled alongside. It wasn't terribly rich and was quite palatable, so I ate most of it. I've mostly been a good eater all my life. I eat what is offered.

Chocolate, while a lovely thing, and friend to millions, is just DONE for dessert, as far as I'm concerned. I am terribly atypical because I don't love coffee, either. And that's all that was offered to drink at Floyd Home, a gorgeous 1907 Colonial Revival whose interior and exterior were Mom and my's favorite hands down. Floyd Home used to belong to Jonesborough's premier historian, Paul Fink. The iron fencing surrounding the house was delicate and lovely.

My photos were not so good. That was unfortunate. The lighting was subdued and I am not a lover of flash photography. All in all a delightful time was had by Mom and me. As we ate dessert a woman commented about us being mother and daughter. She said my mom didn't look old enough to have a daughter my age. I replied that I looked a lot younger than I am. She guessed my age at 28. When I revealed my age she was shocked and said I didn't look that old. I pointed to mom and said, "I've got good genes."

turkey lurkey

Thanksgiving is my second favorite holiday overall, but my most favorite for its food. Oh how I love turkey. I could eat turkey every day. All day. Standing over the turkey leftovers and nibbling those refrigerated bits is a certain kind of bliss. And turkey sandwiches? I won't go on.

Ian and I spent the day alone, together. It was lovely. Intimate holidays are the best and I love them for their simplicity. We get along so well together that spending the day puttering around in the kitchen is the best thing ever. It's mostly stress-free. This year I didn't mess up any recipe or run out of ingredients. Staying home is wonderful, as is feasting on the fruits of our labor.

We bought a deep fryer and at least a vat of peanut oil to fry it in a few weeks back. Ian bought our turkey around the same time as well. Then for the past few days I've heard about how he was rooked at Kroger because their price on Butterballs was higher than anywhere else. Not a big surprise to me about Kroger.

Our twelve pound turkey cooked in just under forty-two minutes. It was heavenly. Ian said it tasted, the skin, that is, like bacon. And I agreed. Yum. I've always been a skin-lover. That's the best part. Forget the meat inside. Yet, the meat was juicy and tender and remained hot even after we'd eaten and were picking the carcass clean of its meat.

Before easing it into the fryer, I rubbed the turkey with a mixture of sea salt, pepper, cayenne, and garlic salt. No injections here. I read about them online, but figured since this was our first deep-frying experience we'd keep it simple. The fryer was set up outside and fueled by a propane tank. Ian heated the oil to 325 and then we were set. The day was cold, windy, and wet.

Besides being Thanksgiving, it was Ian's birthday, and my step-sister-in-law's as well, though I didn't see her until today (Saturday). And it started out kind of crappy because Ian messed up the first batch of deviled eggs. We think the mayo was bad.

He likes Miracle Whip, I prefer Hellman's. We both like his mother's deviled egg recipe and it's usually what we go by. Exact amounts are not important and for the most part I usually don't pay attention to how much of something I use. Making things to taste is just intuitive. Anyway there's mayo, mustard (or mustard powder), vinegar, salt, pepper, and sugar in Barb's deviled eggs. I'd love to try something more frou frou with the deviled eggs, like a caviar stuffing, but Ian wouldn't go for that.

Deep fried turkey, stuffing, deviled eggs, roasted veggies (mushrooms, pearl onions, carrots, brussel sprouts, garlic, and yellow potatoes), sweet potato souffle, green bean casserole, cranberry-pecan bread, and gingerbread cheesecake.

Now we have leftovers that I was told to take care of. That means either scarf it all down by the time Ian returns from his latest train trip, or toss it into the garbage. No way I'm eighty-sixing the turkey. It'll go into the freezer.

New recipes I tried this year were the gingerbread cheesecake (from MSL, 12/07), the cranberry-pecan bread (from Bon Apetit, 11/07), and the roasted veggies since I saw something similar on Healthy Appetite with Ellie Krieger a few days ago. I so missed the mashed potatoes and swear I won't go without them again. But, sweet potato souffle and mashed potatoes? Too much starch. It's potato overkill.

ladies love Paula

With holidays zooming up in no time, I've managed to kill three birds with one book: Paula Deen's latest book Christmas with Paula Deen: Recipes and Stories From My Favorite Holiday (2007). My copies arrived a few days ago. Haven't cracked a spine on a one of them to see what awaits the mothers in my life. Got one for my mom, step-mom, and mom-in-law. I hope they have sense enough not to go buy a copy for themselves. Paula is a perfect gift for Christmas. I've relied on her books and magazine subscriptions for several years now.

a different kind of turkey

Ian has a taste for whiskey and bourbon. I don't. Still, he compelled me to taste from a bottle of Wild Turkey American Honey. He found it extraordinary. As soon as the taste hit my tongue, there went my gag reflex. It's not a pleasant taste to me. I prefer clear liquors like vodka and gin. I appreciate the lovely colors of whiskey and bourbon and all those amber liquors, but can't stomach them. Must only admire them from afar. If there was any doubt, not a drop of Wild Turkey American Honey touched my hot tea.

Speaking of turkey, we're on our own for T-day. And that's perfectly alright with us. Last year was low-key, just me and Ian at home, feasting on our turkey with trimmings. And this year will be a repeat. We can't wait. Holidays are anxiety-filled for me because there's so much to do and so many personalities to tolerate.  We scoured the latest issues of Saveur, Bon Appetit, and Gourmet for all their t-day suggestions and found lots of dishes that appeal to us individually. So making a decision on our final menu will be tricky.

we ate cake

Yesterday Jerry took Marie and me to Daisy Mae's. It's a newish cafe on the Milligan Highway located in the former Kuykendall's sewing machine repair shop. Had not eaten there, but I pass by it at least eight times each week.

My BLT was one of the best. On toasted sourdough, ample bacon, lots of mayo, ultra fresh tomato that had not seen the inside of a refrigerator. Marie's egg salad, on pita, looked good, but I didn't taste it. And Jerry declared that to be the best chicken salad he's ever had. And, while I didn't foot the bill, seeing as how it was a meal celebrating the birthdays of two Leos (both with Scorpio rising), Jerry was pleased at how low it was; thought it was an excellent deal.

For delicious, fresh comfort food, I'll be sure to return. Last but not least, for dessert Marie and I split a piece of lemon cake. The cake was quite good. Very soft and tender. The icing was butter cream and it was too sweet and rich for both me and Marie, but we aren't big on overly sweet things. Photo taken with my camera phone. I was pleased with its resolution.