My favourite kind of cookbooks are the ones that include personal reflections and anecdotes about a person’s life and their relationship with food.  I have received one such collection this Christmas from my Mom-in-law and I wanted to share this Christmas story with you.

“If everything special, warm, and happy in my formative years could have been consolidated into one word, that word would have been Christmas.  So, by the time the building blocks of my days had piled themselves into something as formidable as late adolescence, Christmas had a lot to live up to.

Christmas, by then, meant fireplaces and the bustle of a big, excited family complete with aunts, uncles and cousins.  It meant great smells from the kitchen, home-made bread, and cranberries bubbling on the stove, pumpkin pies and turkey. It meant Grandma’s cheery voice raising to be the first to holler “Christmas gift!” as we came in the door.  It meant real cedar Christmas trees, handmade foil ornaments, and lots of secrets.  It meant unfolding in the arms of our great family the lonely or forsaken of our village who had no place to go.  It meant all the good and lovely things we said about Christmas being in your heart and the joy being in giving.

Then came another year.

There were many things that conspired to bring me to the situation in which I would test all my glibly accepted theories.  Grandma was gone, leaving in my heart a vacuum that wouldn’t go away.  My sister was married now and had the responsibility of sharing her holidays with her husband’s family.  The other relatives were far away …… I wasn’t there when they moved from the parsonage to a tiny cottage at the lake that a concerned businessman had helped them build.  Nor was I prepared that winter day for the barrenness that can be found only in resort  areas build for summer fun.

There was no fireplace.  There was no bustle of a big excited family.  Gone was the sense of tradition and history that only the aged can provide, and gone was the thrill of the immediate future that comes with the breathless anticipation of children.

The dinner was going to be small, just the three of us, and there just wasn’t any ring in the brave attempt at shouting “Christmas gift!” that Mother made as I came in the door.  Daddy suggested that because I’d always loved it, he and I should go to the woods to cut our own tree.  I knew that now, of all times, I could not let my disappointment show.  I put on my boots and my cheeriest face, and off through the knee-deep snow we trudged into the Michigan woods.  My heart was heavy, and I knew that Mother was back at the stove fighting back the tears-for all that was not there. 

There was a loveliness as the forest lay blanketed in its heavy comforter of snow, but there was not a comforter to wrap around the chill in my heart.  Daddy whistled as he chopped the small cedar tree.  (He always whistled when there was something bothering him).  As the simple tuneless melody cut though the silent frozen air, I got a hint of the quiet burdens adults carry, and for the first time felt myself on the brink of becoming one.  So as I picked up the end of the scraggy, disappointingly small cedar, I also picked up my end of grown-up responsibility.

I felt the times shift.  I was no longer a child to be sheltered and cared for and entertained.  My folks had put good stuffing in me.  Now, as I trudged back through the snow, watching the back of my father’s head, his breath making smoke signals in the morning air, the weary curve of his shoulders, I vowed to put some good stuff back into their lives.  The day was somehow different after that.  We sat around our little table, stringing cranberries and making foil cut outs.  This time it was not the activity of a child but sort of a ceremonial tribute to the child I somehow could never again afford to be and the people who had filled that childhood with such wealth and beauty.”

Excerpt from Gloria Gaither “He started the whole world singing”

Kath’s quote:“There is nothing sadder in this world than to awake Christmas morning and not be a child.”-Erma Bombeck

Our first family Christmas of the season has come and gone.  It was a whirlwind of embraces, teasing, laughter and more embraces.  D’s family is knit together by one amazing women. 

Grandma J came home one day from her son’s basketball game to find that her husband had packed a bag and left.  She had no job, very little education and seven kids to fend for.  So she went looking for a job doing the only thing that she really knew how to do-cook for a crowd.

Fast forward thirty years and J is now remarried, spending her summers visiting various family members, kids and  grandkids and her winters in Texas.  If anyone deserves a quiet retirement it is Grandma J.  But J is not yet retired-she makes Christmas her full-time occupation.  She will start shopping for Christmas 2012, today.

We sat the dining room with three banquet tables (another 12 were sat up on the 2nd floor)

Six members of the family were not present this year and I am sure that she mailed those off to Phoenix last week.  The rest of us (32 to be exact) each opened a very large box and inside were a number of other little wrapped packets.  Mine included a book and book mark, a scented candle, bath gel, an embroidered nightgown and an aloe plant with a hand carved hovering hummingbird.  Imagine going to this much trouble with this much thoughtfulness, for 34 people! 

Part of the gang filing downstairs for grace

Another amazing thing about this year’s Christmas story was that we all fit into our just purchased 100 year old house.  I think D saw us gathered there before we had even signed the offer to purchase.

So this year it wasn’t so much about the secret ingredients in the stuffing (pecans and apricots) or the pumpkin, apple and pecan pies that Grandma J bakes and drives in from the county in a specially designed pie rack.  It was about being together in one place, each of us opening packets of love and remembering the reason for the season.

Kath’s quote: “This aniversary is memorable (apart from all religious significance) because it evokes a great slaughter of turkeys, geese and all kinds of game, a wholesale massacre of fat oxen, pigs and sheep; they envisage garlands of black puddings, sausages and saveloys . . . mountains of plum-puddings and oven-fulls of mince-pies….       On that day no one in England may go hungry …. This is a family gathering, and on every table the same menu is prepared. A joint of beef, a turkey or goose, which is usually the pièce de résistance, accompanied by a ham, sausages and game; then follow the inevitable plum-pudding and the famous mince pies.”-Alfred Suzanne

A gift of love was delivered to all mankind 2000 years ago

Our evening at Sydney’s was near perfection, right down to the soft fluffy snowflakes that were falling on the courtyard of the Forks, when we were the last satisfied patrons to leave that night.

When I say “near” perfection,  Laura had done her utmost to reserve a round table six weeks prior to this special evening and when she was escorted to a rectangular table which is not as conducive to inclusive conversation, she was told that someone would come to speak to her.  Well, that someone never materialized and the request was ignored or forgotten.

But no matter, I anticipated that the evening would be stellar as I had recently followed the Gold Medal Plate competition and knew that Chef Michael Schafer had taken the bronze.  So we were in for an award winning evening.

We started the merriment off with the Ceasar that the server suggested.  We detected the addition of horseradish and I noticed as we raised our glasses for a festive toast, that my glass was reducing in contents more quickly than the others.

You may already know that Sydney’s provides a seasonal menu for one price of $55. per diner (with the option of a couple of more expensive choices), which capitalizes on the fruits of the local harvest.  The offerings are a fusion of Asian, French and Italian influences.  Since these are my personal favourites (with the exception perhaps of Mexican), I knew that I would well pleased with everything that came my way.      

Some started with split pea soup which tempted me as I spotted the inclusion of truffle and house-made ham.  But I opted for something lighter to start and was satisfied with my gorgonzola and walnut topped, beet salad.  Statisfied until I tasted D’s prawn and veggie kakiage……

Kakiage is a tempura of mixed vegetables and often includes shrimp or prawns as this one did.  The was a pocket of wasabi powder in the mix which was well balanced by the citrus ponzu sauce.  I was coveting D’s choice.

The next course included a gorgeous beef liver pate sampled by some and a pumpkin risotto that caught my eye.  The pistachio crumble, sage oil and parmesan crisp were delightful and I was content.  That was… until I tasted D’s savory bread pudding. 

The choice, which I thought was unusual at first, was the perfect blend of seasoned bread and a savoury sausage.  It might have been the surprize hit of the evening.

The courses were divided by a cleansing sorbet and then the “mains” began to arrive.  This double lamb shank, pictured above was enhanced by a rosemary, dijon crust.

Laura and Sue opted for the spicy garlic rock lobster tail and tiger shrimp.  I had a nibble and was duly impressed.  D enjoyed his salmon with warm olive salad and I, my bone-in pork chop with an apple stuffing.  Perfectly cooked to a medium rare with juices still flowing, it was gorgeous.

By the time dessert arrived, we should have been linking arms for a stroll in the snow but picked up our spoons once again.  D let me taste his satisfying chocolate crepes with a marscarpone fig cream.

I was over the moon for my apple tart with blue cheese ice cream and a brandy snap.

What could enhance this circle of friends, celebrating Christmas?  Well did I mention that Santa is one of my friends?  Here he is making his selections of the evening’s fare. 

And again, just before we departed for the evening.

I truly hope that your festive season, gets off to as good a start as mine.

“What I don’t like about office Christmas parties is looking for a job the next day.”-Phyllis Diller

I was searching for recipes to fix for Sunday’s Grey Cup Game and my own blog entry came up!  I wrote this when the Olympics were on and we were all eating suppers in front of the TV.  I recommend making some crunchy bread from scratch for the dipping.

Pizza Fondu

This is a very simple and delicious comfort food to enjoy while watching a movie.  Serve with a side salad and a nice bottle of red wine.  Totally to die for.

 1 lb. Lean ground beef and/or Italian sausage

1 small onion

10 oz cheddar cheese (shredded/cubed)

1 ½ tsp garlic powder

1 tsp. oregano

1 ½ tsp fennel seed or Italian seasoning

Fresh cracked pepper

20 oz can of Meat or Spaghetti sauce

10 oz. mozzarella cheese (shredded/grated)

1 French baguette cut into 1” bite-size pieces.

Sauté the beef/sausage and onion until cooked and drain.  Now transfer to an electric fondue pot.  Add all seasonings, cheddar and sauce and stir well.  Turn onto medium to heat everything up and melt the cheddar cheese.  Once it’s all nicely warm and blended, add the mozza cheese and continue stirring occasionally until all bubbly and melty.  Stick your bread cubes onto fondue fork, dip, twirl and enjoy.

Kath’s quote:  “Do not move back and forth on your chair. Doing so gives the impression of constantly breaking, or trying to break, wind.”-Desiderius Erasmus (1466? – 1536)

Thanks again Wal.

Perhaps the food with the potential to hold the most love is… pie.  D and I sing a silly song about pie that goes like this:  “gonna make a pie from heaven above, gonna be filled with (butterscotch) love”.  In the song, butterscotch can be changed to any ingredient and in this case it would be sausage and spinach and ricotta cheese.

When I am writing here, I refer to the beau of Daughter #2 as the Frenchman.  I know that he is proficient in the kitchen because he whips up amazing things at our place with whatever ingredients he can muster up in the fridge.

This dinner was an invitation to see his newly shared house.  We had set the date more than a week in advance and I think that he used the entire time to plan the evening.  This meant calling his Mom back home for a family recipe, taking the bus to shop and borrowing pans and bowls from our place. 

The meal itself was absolutely wonderful and you could literally taste the love and attention that was baked into the main course pie.  Here is his Mom’s recipe.  It was in my email “in” box even before I had arrived home. 

Italian Pie

The crust:

5 c of flour

¾ c of butter

pinch of salt

1 egg

½ c of sour cream or plain yogurt

½ T of  lemon juice

1 t of sugar

Mix flour, butter and salt together.  Add the egg, the sour cream, lemon juice and sugar. Delicately mix together and add warm water until a ball can be formed. Make sure you don’t work the dough to much or it will become hard when it bakes. Roll out.  Makes enough for the bottom, sides and lid.

Pie:

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.  Mix 5 eggs, 500 gr of Ricotta cheese, 1 c of Mozarella cheese and 1 c of Parmesan cheese.  Take the skin off of 3-4 Italian sausages, break apart and brown in pan. Cool and add to mix. Add 1 cup of defrosted and drained frozen spinach, and 1 c of Italian ham like Prosciutto. Add the mix in the pie crust and place the upper crust on top. Put of a bit of yellow egg on lid and Parmesan. Bake for 1 hour. 

He even sent extra pie home with us to feed Daughter #3 who is under the weather.  Yes, he’s a keeper.

Kath’s quote:  “Pie, pie, gonna make a pie, gonna make a pie with a heart in the middle.” -from The Waitress