Merry Chistmas

Wishing all of you a Merry Christmas and a very Happy New Year!

Holiday Traditions

My brothers and sisters and I, Christmas circa 1959

Most family have traditions around the holidays that they carry on year after year and even generation after generation.  In my family growing up we had quite a number of them.  I don't know how many, if any, were passed on from my grandparents to my parents though. 

As Christmas approaches I have been thinking about some of those uniquely ours traditions.  On Christmas Eve we always had tuna noodle casserole.  Now some might think "How mundane."  But we all loved it. Particularly because my mother served it in chafing dish with a small candle lit underneath to keep the food warm. It seemed so elegant and to the best of my knowledge that chafing dish was only used on that one night a year.

Posing for a Christmas Card, circa 1965ish

Christmas dinner was a very traditional English dinner including roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, roasted potatoes, the ubiquitous trifle and Christmas pudding to be lit afire and brought to the table flaming away.  It rarely flamed and no one ever ate it but my mother, but we went through the ritual anyway.  We also always had English Christmas crackers we would open, share the riddles, and then wear the goofy hats included in the cracker throughout our meal.  Inevitably getting through this process meant the meal would be nearly cold but it never mattered.

My father's favorite cookie, the Snowball

Another tradition was cookies.  Lots and lots of cookies. We would start baking Christmas cookies the weekend after Thanksgiving and they would go into the freezer to be pulled out by the plateful during the holiday season. My 80 year old mother is still baking lots and lots of cookies to share with her ever growing family.  And the most special cookies of them all were the angel cutouts for each of us. Always decorated in a light blue frosting dresses, blonde hair, food color drawn faces, and our names written down the cookie.  Of course there were many other holiday shaped cut out cookies but the angels always tasted the best.  Then there were a large variety of other cookies, some tried and true favorites with  few new recipes each year, some hits, some misses.

Another always present cookie at Christmas, Orange Slice Bars

The Christmas trees in our home had ever-changing decorations.  Early on as seen in photos, my parents had the traditional green fir tree with lots of colored ornaments and copious amounts of tinsel hanging from the boughs.  As we grew older they experimented with flocked trees decorated with different shaped gold ornaments or a green tree with red velvet ornaments and ornate red velvet birds.  When we were young we would also have a tree in our basement "rumpus" room that was left to the whim of my sibs and myself to decorate. As my younger sister and I got older we often had our own little tree and decorated our bedroom as festively as we could.

Christmas decorations also always included a nativity scene set up on top of the big stereo which was usually playing Christmas carol records (any one remember Sing Along With Mitch?), a mistletoe ball hanging between the dining room and living room, the tree topper angel I made when I was a Campfire girl, and all the stockings hung on the mantle.  There were lights hung on the outside of the house and wonderful smelling candles and fir boughs on the fireplace mantle top and Christmas china and the good silverware was brought out for our holiday feasting. 

I think back on all of this with great fondness and appreciation for all the work it must have been for my parents. I recall no complaining from either of them as they made Christmas a magical time of year for all of us.  For that I am forever grateful.

Grandma's Pie Crust

As promised on my Thanksgiving blog, I said I would post my grandma's delicious pie crust recipe.  When I made my pumpkin pie, it was in a deep dish pie pan so I doubled the recipe and there wasn't much left as far as scraps go.  The recipe card says this makes an 8" pie crust.  It also makes approximately 16 muffin pan size crusts for tarts.

Grandma's Pie Crust

3 Tbsp cold butter, cut into small cubes
2 Tbsp cold Crisco shortening, cut into small cubes
1 cup all purpose flour
1 pinch of salt
2-3 Tbsp ice water

Cut the butter and Crisco into the flour and salt.  Add the water, one tablespoon at a time and combine until a ball forms, but not sticky.  Wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate for a minimum of 30 min before rolling out.

I do this in my food processor and with just a few pulses, it's done. Very simple.  Happy Pie Baking!

A Change of Season

Fall has never been my favorite time of year, but after the most wonderful walk recently, I've had a change of heart. 

I started off early on a Sunday morning walk and I turned right instead of left.  Being a creature of habit, I always turn left on my neighborhood walks. That morning something pulled me to the right and what a delightful change of pace and walk of discovery it turned out to be.

It was cool and there was a light fog shrouding the tree tops. The sidewalks were covered with the last of the falling leaves still holding on to their vibrant colors.  The air was filled with the earthy, musty smells of decaying vegetation and wood smoke from house chimneys.  Overhead flock after flock of honking geese flew by, making their amazing annual migration south to warmer climes.

I found myself walking down one of my favorite streets in town.  It is in a well-established neighborhood and nearly every home is unique and charming. The flower gardens were put away until Spring, and all of the yards were neat and tidy.

On my way home I meandered through a city park which is one of my favorites.  It is called Englewood Park and it's the last of what was known as the Englewood Forest.  In our back yard we have a huge, beautiful cedar tree that is part of this old forest.  The park has paths covered with fallen pine needles and the scent of the pine trees lining the path was intoxicating. The grey squirrels appeared to be on hyperdrive as they scampered up and down the trees getting ready for the cold weather ahead.

As I came home and walked in my front door, I felt relaxed and peaceful with a new found awareness of the beauty that is Fall.

Happy Thanksgiving

I am thankful that my pie crust turned out beautifully on this Thanksgiving Eve.  I have fooled around with many, many recipes for the perfect pie crust and tonight I had an epiphany.  There is no better pie crust than my grandma's.  I use it for tarts, I use it for pies, and it is perfect.  The search has ended as of tonight.  I will never try a new pie crust recipe again.

As I had to work all day today and then come home and bake a pie, I don't have the energy to post a recipe.  But I will post this wonderful pie crust recipe very soon.  My pumpkin pie filling was courtesy of the back of the Libby's pumpkin can.  My mother always made her pumpkin pies using this recipe and it was always a hit growing up.  Tried and True.  That's the motto of the day. 

P.S.  I hate pumpkin pie.   Happy Thanksgiving to you all.

A Tale of Two Pianos

I have two pianos in my home. The first one, pictured above, is an antique inherited from my two English great aunties who resided in Vancouver, B.C. This piano was made in England by a London company, Chappell and Company. Amazingly the company is still in existence today and located at the same address as is listed on my piano. Using the serial numbers found inside the piano, I was able to e-mail the company and found that the piano was built between 1880-1890. 

My sister Linda at the piano at the great aunties house

It is not playable due to stuck keys and grossly out of tune strings but I love it nonetheless.  I love that it has been a part of our family for many, many years. I love that it came from England, a country for which I feel such an affinity. And lastly, I love how it looks in my living room.

The second piano I obtained as a total impulse on an Easter Sunday, eight or nine years ago. I attended an estate sale in the neighborhood late in the afternoon when the sellers were anxious to close up the house.  There was this perfect Howard spinet and its matching bench with a charming embroidered seat cover, marked from $600 to $350.  On a whim I said "Would you take $300?" They said yes and it was mine, much to The Husband's chagrin.  For it was he, with the help of our friends, who had to transport said piano from that house into our house. He claims it is the heaviest piano in the world, a claim I quesion.  His efforts are still appreciated to this day.

The piano is my first musical love.  Though I spent many more years playing the flute, I first learned to appreciate and play music on the piano. As a very young girl, I would listen to my mother playing magnificently moving pieces by Beethoven, Rachmaninoff, and Chopin. I was in awe of her talent.  Her music books were a mystery to me, with page after page filled with lines of black notes I didn't understand.

I soon began taking piano lessons given by Sister Amy, a quiet, serious nun at the church we attended.  She gently taught me to read music and play songs and I have fond memories of her. These memories come to a screeching halt with recollections of the recitals that were inevitable.  Being a shy, introverted child, it was more than I could cope with, so the piano lessons came to an end. A year later in the fourth grade I started playing the flute and never looked back at the piano. Until I brought home the estate sale find. 

I immediately went to a music store and purchased some books and started playing again. It is one of the most relaxing and enjoyable pastimes I now have.  I practiced one piece enough that I even felt confident enough to play it for a group of friends one evening when we had "An Evening of Enlightenment" where we all had to bring something cultural to share with each other.

I know I will never play the piano like my mother, but I have returned to my first musical love and hope to continue tickling the ivories for years to come.

West African Chicken Peanut Soup

It is raining and grey with nothing ahead but the same in the forecast and I have a killer cold that won't go away and I want soup. I want soup that will warm me from head to toe with a little kick to try and clear the sinuses that seem to be clogged with cement. 

I ran across this wonderful recipe from a fellow Oregonian's blog, Wives with Knives.  The author speaks of having a rendition of this soup at a local McMenamins restaurant, which is exactly where I first tried it.  And let me tell you, the first bite I had knocked my socks off, it was so good.  For you non-Oregonians, McMenamins are a chain of establishments including restaurants, pubs, funky hotels, and entertainment venues around the state. The ones I've been to are all amazing.  Check out their website if you are interested in reading more about this interesting corporation.

This soup went together in no time and the results were fantastic and very much like the restaurant version I have had many times.  This will definitely be a go-to recipe in my soup repertoire.  It was everything I needed and I do believe I can breathe a little more clearly now!
 
West African Chicken Peanut Soup

1 cup diced cooked chicken
2/3 cup diced onion
1-1/2 teaspoons minced garlic
2 tablespoons dark sesame oil
2 1/2 teaspoons curry powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/4 tsp cayenne pepper (or more to taste)
1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (or more to taste)
3 cups chicken broth
1 cup coconut milk
1/4 cup tomato paste
1 cup chopped stewed tomatoes, drained
1/3 cup chunky peanut butter

In a large pot, saute the chicken, onion and garlic in the sesame oil until the onion is tender, about 10 minutes. Add the curry powder, salt, pepper and red pepper flakes, and saute 1 minute more.

Add the chicken broth, coconut milk, tomato paste, stewed tomatoes and peanut butter, stirring until well combined. Heat until very hot, but not boiling. Serve immediately

A Genetic Disorder

My very first tea cup

It starts out with a simple tea cup.  A seemingly benign purchase.  A pretty china cup and saucer picked out amongst all the many delightful cups and saucers on display in the china department in the big, beautiful department store in Vancouver, B.C..  The young girl and her sisters, led by their mother, select their pretty little vessels for purchase and therein begins the disorder.  It's called Dishitis. It is a genetic disorder passed on in my family through the maternal side.  We all have it and it's terminal and we will never be cured.

One shelf of my china cabinet

I was visiting my mother not long ago and we had a discussion about this infliction.  I suppose there are far worse burdens to bear.  But there is no more room in our china cabinets. Our dish cupboards runneth over. Another piece of glassware or vase will be the straw that broke the camels' back. 

Some of my glassware

But there is always that "Just one more" moment when a dessert plate beckons with a pattern you've never seen before or that adorable egg cup shaped like a cute little chick peeps out your name.  It's like a drug.  You can't resist. There is always room for one more item.  The Husband jokingly says when I die he will be selling my dishes for 25 cents a plate.  It would seem he doesn't appreciate the seriousness of Dishitis and the inability of the women in my family to resist adding to our collections.

My mother's good china (inherited from her mother)

I have included just a small sampling of the collections of my mother and I.  Mind you, she has a very large family, what with her own five children, our spouses, six grandchildren and their various spouses, and three great granddaughters.  One needs a pile of plates to serve that brood.  I, on the other hand, have only myself and The Husband to feed.  Why do I need 10 place settings of everyday dishes and 8 place settings of china, and countless glasses, many teacups, etc, etc?  Because I love them.  Every last piece.

My mother's Blue Onion china (she has 3 other complete sets of dishes)

Both of my sisters have been stricken with this genetic disorder.  They too have cupboards and cabinets full of lovely dishes that they have obtained as wedding gifts, inheritances, and their own purchases.  I know if I asked them if they could part with any of it, they would be hard pressed to say yes.  Time will tell if this dish curse passes on to their daughters and granddaughters.  If it does, I know to whom I can leave my treasures!!

So now the world knows about our family disorder. I will no longer live in shame and I will hold my head up high the next time I walk out of the antique or collectors store with my newly purchased tea cup.

A Change Of Pace

I have been giving a lot of thought to this blog which is now four years old.  I have decided that I need to make some changes, both to energize my creative juices and to energize my desire to lose some weight.  One of the problems with having a food blog is that there is always something to cook and then in turn, there is always something that needs to be eaten. 

As much as I enjoy trying new recipes, my leaning has not been toward the most healthy, low cal foods.  What fun is it to blog about celery sticks??? Well, my waist line has paid the price and it's time to pay attention.  I will still be blogging recipes from time to time, but I am going to use this blog to post photos and writings of whatever strikes my fancy.  I'm not going to feel tied to the kitchen every weekend cooking, but instead I am hoping to get myself outside and moving again. 

Those of you who follow me on a regular basis are much appreciated and I hope I will still keep you as an audience as I venture on to new arenas, as I have subtitled my blog, A Slice of Life.  Above is a picture I took last Saturday on a sidewalk on my block as I started off on a walk in between rain showers, with the sun peeking through the clouds.

On Vacation

Beautiful yellow plums in our back yard

I'm taking a little vacation from my blog for a week or two or three.  I am working on a couple of time-consuming projects that require my undivided attention on the weekends.  Because of this, I have no time to plan, cook, fashionably plate, photograph, write, and post my blog.  As much as I love doing this blog, it does require a lot of time and effort.

So....I'm taking a break.  Check in occasionally. I may need a change of pace from my projects and I often do get the itch to get in the kitchen if I'm away from it too long.  I just can't promise anything!  I leave you with a few pictures from the past glorious summer.

A lovely sampling of microbrews in Cannon Beach, Oregon

And speaking of Cannon Beach, its famous monolith

Calla Lillies in our yard