In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Food for the Soul (and the Stomach).” Tell us about your favorite meal, either to eat or to prepare. Does it just taste great, or does it have other associations?
It doesn’t matter what I am preparing in the kitchen, if I’m with one of my grandchildren the results are guaranteed to be memorable. Their innocence adds the right amount of spice, their laughter mixed with their enthusiasm provides the proper texture and their joy at the results encourages a hearty appetite … whether sweet or savory, edible or not, appealing or appalling, it is food for my soul.
This morning 6-year old Rebekah and I made chocolate bird nests for Easter candy as gifts for her family and her teachers (and two for herself). There was melted chocolate smeared on the counters, under our fingernails and on our elbows (don’t ask). Jellybeans were rolling around the floor as she traded me the black ones for the red ones that we tried to pitch into each others mouth. We laughed and giggled and didn’t even try the end result because it just didn’t matter. We wrapped them individually in plastic wrap and tied each one with a purple ribbon and hope that the recipients will enjoy eating them as much as we enjoyed making them.
Chocolate Bird Nests
12 oz. package chocolate chips
12 oz. package butterscotch chips
12 oz. package chow mein noodles
Carefully melt the chocolate and butterscotch chips in the microwave. Pour the melted chocolate mixture over the chow mein noodles in a large bowl and mix. Spray a muffin tin with cooking spray and glop a big spoonful of the mixture into each muffin hole. Smoosh the mixture to form a “nest” and refrigerate until set. Remove from the tins and add candy. We used jelly beans and robin eggs.
How to check if the pasta is al dente if you’re a member of my family!
Family
Chocolate on My Elbows and Jelly Beans in My Teeth
It’s All Fun and Games Until Someone Loses Their Weenie
We’ve all seen the movie where a man builds a fire by rubbing two sticks together to create a life-saving blaze when he’s lost in a frozen wasteland. Think Buck, the sled dog, and John Thornton in the Call of the Wild. They’d both have been frozen popsicles if that blaze had been my responsibility.
My sister, the Princess, and I arrived at the Myakka River State Park in Sarasota, Florida mid-afternoon. By the time we got the Casita backed onto the site (don’t ask), unhooked and set up we were starving. So, we had cocktails and appetizers and discussed starting a campfire to cook hotdogs. Grilling hotdogs on an campfire is the epitome of “roughing it” according to the Princess and something she’s always wanted to try. She brought kosher hot dogs, buns from the bakery, charcoal and lighter fluid, long expandable forks and a Bic lighter. I was supposed to provide the expertise.
We must have erased from our memories our previous attempt to start a fire. The Princess and I were having cocktails (notice a common theme?) by the fire pit at my cottage. We gathered leaves, twigs and some pieces of wood and made a teepee of them in the pit. It smoldered and smoked. We didn’t have any charcoal lighter so we threw rum on the smoldering mess. Embers started floating through the air and the leaves around the fire pit caught fire.
A successful fire built by my husband, The Man.
I ran to get the hose from the side of the house but it was about 20 feet too short. I was running in such a panic that I landed on my hands and knees when the hose suddenly played out. I ignored my scraped and bleeding knees and palms, jumped up and ran to help my sister stomp out the burning leaves around the pit. I yelled at her to stop stomping because she was wearing my purple Crocs and I didn’t know if they would melt onto her feet. I visualized purple plastic webbing fusing her toes together. Actually, there was no danger of setting the woods on fire. The whole sodden mess was due to damp leaves and wood.
Back to the present and oblivious to our miserable history, we put charcoal in the campfire pit, sloshed it with lighter fluid and lit it. Then we waited for the coals to turn white hot while we had another cocktail. The Princess speared the hotdogs onto our new forks and after a few minutes of holding the forks over the hot coals she began complaining that her back hurt from bending over the campfire. I told her to just put the hotdogs on the grill and turn them occassionally. You guessed it. One fell into the coals and one flipped into the dirt. I told her to rinse them off. 
When she returned to the fire, she said, “I don’t think that was such a good idea.” Huh? Turns out she rinsed them in the dishwater bucket that had Dawn soap in it.
I gathered up the surviving weenies. “You make us another vodka tonic and I’ll plug in the microwave.”
The Princess and the Pee
I recently introduced you to my sister, the Princess. However, I neglected to tell you about the laughing disorder specific to the females in our family. Simply put, we laugh til we pee. It’s uncontrollable, we can’t help it. I believe it is psychological rather than physiological; a form of hysteria rather than bladder dysfunction and similar in nature to the snorting laugh syndrome that causes the liquid you’re drinking to spurt from your nose.
The Princess has the most severe symptoms of this genetic laughing disorder. She laughs, cries and pees at the same time. I have seen a room full of strangers gasping with laughter because hers is so contagious and outrageous; none of them knew why they were laughing. Her daughter brings a change of clothes to family gatherings and my daughter runs around with her knees locked and her legs crossed when she starts laughing. Our nieces have the same symptoms and there appears to be little hope for our granddaughters.
We began her latest visit with vodka tonics on my dock peacefully watching the fish, turtles and birds. The next morning I introduced her to my favorite exercise routine, a walk along the Peace River. It was a leisurely walk because the Princess does not like to perspire. When we passed the playground, I took a picture of her with the cow statue. I have no idea why there is a statue of a cow in the playground next to the river. A manatee I could understand.
The Princess is a beautiful woman and very particular about photos only allowing posed shots. Every photo must be above the waist — the perfect angle (“Don’t show my butt!”), the perfect pose (“Don’t make me look fat!”), the perfect lighting (“Don’t make me look old!”), the perfect props (martini glass). She and the cow looked great.
She took a picture of me at the top of the children’s slide. Beyond reason I decided the fastest way back down was to slide.
The last time I went down this particular slide was on a hot afternoon with my granddaughter when I was so sweaty and sticky that my butt and thighs slowly stuttered down the slide. However, this ride was on a dew-covered, slippery as goose shit, wet slide. It happened so fast that I didn’t realize I was airborne until I made a five point (two heels, two hands and my ass), bone-jarring landing at least three feet past the end of the slide. And, if that wasn’t ignominious enough … I bounced on the foamy, squishy artificial turf.
I was stunned from the impact and the Princess was stunned by the swiftness and absurdity of the situation. “My camera wasn’t ready, can you do it again?” We started laughing. I’m talking fall down on the ground, rolling around holding our stomachs, can’t catch your breath howling. Two wet, broad beamed, mid-century girls screaming and hiccuping with laughter. The Princess gasped, “Stop, I’m gonna wet my pants!” We hooted like loons.
When we were finally able to stand up, I asked the Princess if the back of my pants looked wet. “Looks like you peed your pants”, she said. “I did”, I responded and we lost control. Too bad our daughters, nieces and granddaughters weren’t with us because then we’d have had enough panties and shorts to make up a full load of laundry.
It’s all fun and games until someone starts laughing.
Home Ec 101 – Peanut Butter Cookies
Still the best after all these years!
1 egg
1 cup sugar
1 cup peanut butter
Stir together & place tablespoons of dough on parchment paper-lined cookie sheet. Smoosh each mound of dough with a fork (I dip mine in sugar because, why not?) & place in a 350 degree oven for 10 – 12 minutes or until the edges turn brown. The cookies will harden as they cool. Makes 18 large cookies.
This is not a fancy recipe but quick & easy. Use chunky or smooth peanut butter & add anything else you like I added butterscotch chips to my last batch & my man enjoyed them.
This is a perfect recipe for making cookies with grandkids or for mid-century girls who are sick to death of cooking & baking and just want to fill up the cookie jar!
Linguine with Clam Sauce for World Peace
Daily Prompt – Time Capsule What would you put in this year’s time capsule to channel the essence of our current moment for future generations?
With the food channels, food blogs, Facebook and Pinterest recipes; gluten free, Paleo, South Beach, low fat, heart healthy, raw, green smoothies, sugarless; take your pick, there’s recipes for everyone on social media. They circumnavigate the globe in a (healthy) heartbeat! A good mac and cheese recipe can be enjoyed in Paducah, Kentucky or Mumbai, India. So, although I don’t normally blog about food unless it benefits the health and welfare of the general public (see Grandma Bernstein’s Chicken Soup), I have something I want to say.
If included in this year’s time capsule, my recipe for Linguine with Clam Sauce has the potential to promote peace and prosperity in the future. Warlike factions will be clamoring to get to the peace table if my clam sauce is being served. The aroma of garlic and onions simmering in butter speaks to a universal language of home, hearth and family. There can be no arguing or dissention with a mouth full of linguine covered with a rich, creamy, savory clam sauce. The culture of every country demands a certain etiquette when breaking bread. And, speaking of bread … this recipe should be served with fresh garlic bread (Cuban, French, Italian, naan, pita, who cares?) made with additional garlic, butter and romano/parmesan cheese.
There will be nothing left but goodwill and the slick memory of the clam sauce on the bottom of your serving bowl. Your guests at the peace table will throw down their butter stained napkins instead of the gauntlet and will join in singing your praises. Satiated and mellow from the fat, carbs and gluten, peace talks can continue over cups of espresso and a dessert tray.
Please spell my name correctly when you nominate me for the Nobel Peace Prize.
Linguine with Clam Sauce
3 tbsp. olive oil
3 tbsp. butter
1 small diced onion
4 cloves of garlic, minced
1 pinch red pepper flakes
1 tbsp. lemon juice
1 tsp. oregano
1 tsp. basil
1 tbsp. Old Bay Seasoning (I substituted Italian Seasoning)
3 cans minced clams with juice
1 tsp. parsley
1 lb. linguine (I used 1-1/2 pounds)
Supposed to serve six, but only served 4 in my family (they’d rather eat than fight)
Melt the butter & oil in large pan. Saute onion and garlic and add red pepper. Cook until translucent. Add lemon, oregano, basil and Old Bay Seasoning (or Italian Seasoning), stir and add clams and juice. Simmer for five minutes. The onions and garlic will become almost creamy.
Meanwhile, cook your linguine as usual. Drain but do not rinse keeping back about a cup of linguine water. Add the drained pasta to a serving bowl and add the clam sauce & mix well. Add some of the pasta water to help the sauce adhere to the pasta.
Hey, Caesar Augustus … I Needed That Extra Day in February!
There’s an old story that the month of February used to have 29 days but Caesar Augustus took a day from February to add it to August, a month that was named after him. Well, I suppose if I had a month named after me I’d make the most of it too. Really, I understand why February has 28 days, the Roman calendar and the reforms in the Julian calendar, leap year, Sadie Hawkins day, blah, blah, blah … but I really could have used that extra day in February and maybe borrowed one from May and July, too.
I reviewed my calendar for February: Super Bowl, recover from Super Bowl, doctor visit, mail order prescriptions, color hair, ship eBay sales, meet with attorney, babysit for granddaughter, dinner with friends, clean and re-supply travel trailer, drive 150 miles to Orlando, three days camping at Anastasia State Park in St. Augustine, quilt tops for customers, three days in Orlando, taught nieces to make burlap wreaths, made a huge linguine and clam sauce dinner for family, Valentine’s Day, met daughter and grandson in Orlando and had them follow me 150 miles home for three days of fun and games, granddaughter’s 6th birthday party with dinner afterwards at my house, drove back to Atlanta with daughter & grandson for 5 days of fun and games, flew home from Atlanta, hair cut, grocery shopping, laundry, paid bills and cleaned out the travel trailer.
Not fair, Augustus. If I’d had a couple more days I could have had some real fun.
Here He Comes to Save the Day, Mighty Mouse is on the Way!
Daily Prompt – Me Time What’s your ideal Saturday morning? Are you doing those things this morning? Why not?
Mr. Trouble never hangs around, when he hears this mighty sound, “Here I come to save the day!” That means that Mighty Mouse is on the way!
What could be better than watching Mighty Mouse on Saturday morning and eating dry cereal out of the box? Tom and Jerry, Heckle and Jeckle, Chip and Dale, Betty Boop, Popeye, the Road Runner, Sky King and Roy Rogers. Those were happy days.
My dad worked out of town. He arrived home Friday night after our bedtime, so Saturday morning was quiet time until he awoke. Then there were hugs and kisses, playtime, pancakes and chocolate milk, and lots of surprises. My sister and I were little spoiled princesses because our mother was dead so we were given the world on the weekend when Daddy was home.
Saturday morning was the prelude to an entire day of pleasure; just Daddy, my sister and me. We formed our own magical Technicolor universe until Sunday night when he had to catch his plane and we were left alone again with our cold, demanding nanny for another black and white week.
When my children were small the cartoons changed but not the Saturday morning mood. We’d sit on the floor in front of the tv with pillows and blankets, making forts and playing with Barbies while watching Fraggle Rock, Huckleberry Hound, Josie and the Pussycats, and the Smurfs. Sometimes our neighbors and their kids would come over to watch cartoons with us. We’d laugh, talk, play and drink Bloody Marys and chocolate milk.
This morning I woke up and went for a walk then came home and did laundry, paid the bills, cleaned the kitchen, chemically treated the toilet and water tanks in the camper and changed the bed linens. “But aren’t you retired?” you ask.
Sure, but for the past six weeks I’ve been traveling and having entirely too much fun with my grandkids (is that possible?), watching cartoons and videos and having adventures, so I had to give up this Saturday morning to get my black and white world back on track.
Now I’ll be free for another month to watch cartoons, eat dry cereal and drink Bloody Marys during my Technicolor Saturday mornings.
My Plot of Earth
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “A Plot of Earth.” You’re given a plot of land and have the financial resources to do what you please. What’s the plan?
I received my forested plot of earth surrounding a large blue lake atop a ridge in the Allegheny Mountains. We gifted our four children with acreage on my mountaintop and built them each a small cottage near the lakeshore with outbuildings for their workshops. My son-in-law has an art studio and a dark room; my daughter a quilting studio. Her brother has an exercise studio with space for his bonsai and other passions and his wife received a sewing and design studio. Our other son-in-law’s workshop is used to design his outdoor line of products while our other son produces natural ginger beer and vinegars in his workshop. Guest quarters are located above each workshop and the cottages are designed for easy expansion.
We have cleared pathways between the cottages for our grandchildren. They can easily find their way to the communal building with the large country kitchen where there’s usually someone baking something. A vintage wooden table can seat 18 or can serve as a craft table for the kids. Our children are extremely competitive and enjoy cooking, and out-cooking each other, so we often enjoy wonderful meals together with lots of sarcasm, puns, sick jokes and occasionally arm-wrestling. A family room with a large fireplace, comfortable seating and a huge flat screen TV overlooks the play area with gaming tables and toys. A stock of my favorite books provides entertainment when the TV is turned off.
There’s a dock on the lake for fishing and boating. No motor boats; just kayaks, canoes and paddle boards. We built a campfire circle with lots of Adirondack chairs. Hammocks are strung between the trees and plenty of tire swings are available for the grandkids. A large shed holds our toys — sleds, skis, snowmobiles, snowshoes, rafts, badminton sets, volley and soccer balls, skates, hula hoops, tents, sleeping bags, fishing poles, life vests, paddles and oars.
The most fun part of this fantasy is the tree house we built in the large oak tree behind my cottage and the zip line that runs from the treehouse down to the lake. The shrieks and laughter gladden my heart, and that’s just from the adults. The grandkids aren’t old enough to use the zip line yet.
If I was given a plot of earth and unlimited resources I would create a Walton’s Mountain for my family. A place of security, serenity, safety and love; a place where my children and their children could support and protect each other. We would call it, Jodi’s Mountain … or we could call it heaven.
Good night John Boy.
I Never Thought I’d Come Back From That One
Daily Prompt Use It or Lose It – Write about anything you’d like, but make sure the post includes this sentence: “I thought we’d never come back from that one.”
Steak and Thai Noodle Salad, cheese garlic bread and a Cosmo
The first sip was ambrosia. The first bite was savory, crunchy, smooth, a little bit tangy and absolutely exquisite. Each additional forkful was a burst of heaven. My daughter and I were having lunch at Houston’s in Atlanta. She ordered Cosmos (made with Tito’s vodka, of course) while we studied the menu and then she recommended the Steak and Thai Noodle salad. I have never tasted quite that combination of flavors … my palate wept with pleasure. And the Cosmo was pretty damn good, too.
French dip made with prime rib, horseradish sauce, fries and a Cosmo
And then we talked. And we talked. And we talked – about the past (I thought we’d never come back from that one), the present and the future. Remember when you were young and could talk to your best friend all day about anything and everything? Well, that’s what it was like and what a delight to realize that I was, in fact, having lunch with my best friend.*
*Note to my son: No, Matt, that does not mean that I like your sister better.
Sisters Camping Trip … Get Ready!
My sister has never been camping. She’s somewhat of a princess. Just kidding … she IS a princess. She puts on makeup and fixes her hair to take the garbage out. Just kidding … she NEVER takes the garbage out. That’s what husbands are for.
She’s beautiful, I’m a tomboy. She has an outfit for every occasion; I borrow her clothes. She enjoys shopping, I borrow her clothes. She has beautiful jewelry to match every outfit; I borrow her jewelry to match my borrowed clothes. She is a fantastic cook and hostess and loves to entertain; I love to attend her parties. She vacations at beautiful condos and cute cabins in the mountains; I go camping with my travel trailer and get stuck on the top of mountains. She is funny and effervescent; I am, ummm – droll?
We are opposites in so many ways but adore each other and have fun adventures (although we did almost kill each other in Costa Rica a few years ago). She’s an “un-packer”; I’m a “throw your suitcase on the bed and let’s go” traveler. We had great adventures on our road trip last October but this camping trip could be a game changer. Setting up a campsite can be hard physical work, not to mention having to back the camper into the site. I told her I absolutely forbid flip-flops with wedge heels at the campsite. I don’t care if she did just get a pedicure and a new toe ring. I warned her that camping means a minimum amount of outfit changes, little or no makeup and flat shoes or sneakers. She thinks I’m bossy.
I explained to her that the most important thing when camping is to pack light and consolidate your belongings. So, we agreed that to save space we will forego her bottles of rum and coke and my bottles of red wine. We figure one large bottle of vodka, a couple of bottles of diet tonic water and a half dozen fresh limes should do it. See how nicely we play together when we compromise?
Tomorrow I’m loading up my Casita and Saturday will drive 150 miles to Orlando to pick up the Princess, then we’ll leave for three days of camping on a beach on the east coast of Florida.
Pray for us.
Adventures
Wander Woman 