I don’t know a thing about angels.

12 Thursday Jun 2014

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It’s Throwback Thursday and about to be Father’s Day, so I am going to shake up the blog a bit. Usually a post includes a story and a recipe. There is no recipe this time. Just a story about the man who influenced my sense of adventure when it comes to food and who I inherited my sweet tooth from: my Dad.

David Malone- 1st grade Livingston, TX

I have often hoped that when I am no longer around, people will forget all the bad I have done and temper all the great things. My hope is there is just one really good story about me that stands out. One story to be told that sums up who I was.

So for Father’s Day, here is the one story that sums up my Dad, David A. Malone. All the great things and all the bad things just fall to the wayside, and this is the way I remember him.

Dad telling a story to me and my bear

In third grade, we had a bully. For the sake of anonymity, I will call the bully John Smith. John Smith terrorized everyone including the teachers. We still got paddled in school, but a whipping had zero effect on John Smith. One day I had just come to the end of what I could take. John had slapped everyone in line before music class and since we lined up shortest to tallest, I was next to him in line which meant he saved the hardest slap for the last–ME!

I came home crying and my Dad wanted to know what was going on. I told him “I hate John Smith. He picks on everyone and hits you and slaps you. Then he calls you names. I am just tired of it. He is such a pain.” My Dad asked “well why do you think everyone picks on him?” Still crying I squeezed out, ” well everyone hates him. They make fun of him. He doesn’t have any parents and his clothes never fit. His jeans are all high waders and his toes stick out the end of his shoes because they have holes and are too small. He is just a bully.” Then I explained what had happened that day and that I always got the biggest hit or slap because I was the next to the tallest and had to stand next to him in line. My Dad asked “so he is about your height?” I said “well we are the same but of course he cheats by standing on his tip toes. I don’t understand why that matters. Can’t you do something about him hitting me?” My Dad said “let me think about it and I will figure out what you should do ok?”

A week later John Smith comes to school in new clothes. New shoes. New shirt. New jeans. New attitude. He wasn’t walking hunched over but straight like he owned the world. And smiling. That was the first day I don’t remember him getting in trouble in school. Finally someone asked while we were in line “so John did your grandma buy you some new clothes because those tennis shoes are so cool.” John Smith said “well my granny said she went out on the front porch and there was a box with my name on it and it was full of presents. My granny says it had to be an angel.” And the way John Smith said angel, you knew he believed he had this guardian angel bringing him gifts. I, however, was a bit skeptical.

As soon as I got home, I ran to my Dad who was working at his desk and blurted out the whole story as fast as I could. All about John Smith and the new clothes and angels. I demanded to know what my Dad knew about angels and of course this box of clothes. My Dad stopped what he was doing and took off his glasses (which was always a sign things were about to get serious). He said “Aine listen very carefully and I want you to think about this. I don’t know a thing about angels. But what I do know is that some people have very hard lives and no one may ever say a nice thing to them or give them anything. So when something nice does happen to them it can seem like a miracle…or like an angel did it. There is nothing wrong in them thinking that. What you should think about is that you don’t add to their hard lives by being mean or cruel. You should look for ways to be nice. Now go do your homework, and make sure you are never part of John Smith’s problem again.”

I don’t know what happened to John Smith. I only went to school with him for 5 more grades. But every now and then my Dad would ask if John had outgrown me yet or if he was the same height, and a week later John Smith showed up with new clothes and new shoes. John Smith never got into trouble after that. And as we got older, of course it was uncool for 6th graders to talk about angels and boxes. My Dad never admitted to anything, and I prefer it that way. Nice deeds don’t need boasting about. They are just done…and sometimes they seem like miracles.

Dad and me

The three stages

28 Wednesday May 2014

Posted by recipesofthingspast in Main Dish, Uncategorized

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Christina Vigil-Thompson, weenies en salsa

Sometimes my words don’t do another’s loved one and their food justice. This is one of those times. Christina Vigil-Thompson had written this very moving tribute to her grandmother. After I read it, I printed it and pasted it in my journal. I nicknamed her writing the “three stages.” It reminded me of why I started this blog–not to wow anyone with recipes but to remind us all that food is often the story of our memories.

So here are Christina’s own words as I combine two of her writings–first ‘THE THREE STAGES’ and then the food and story of her grandmother, Arnulfa Gonzales Vigil. Her recipe is one that evokes not only her grandmother’s kitchen but the stories of her life. These stories ensure that the third stage will never be met. Enjoy and if your eyes ‘make water’ like mine did reading this just remember that is the seasoning of life.

Arnulfa Gonzales Vigil

THE THREE STAGES by Christina Vigil-Thompson

They say there are three stages of dying. The first is when your heart ceases to beat & the last breath is drawn. The second, when the body is lowered to the ground. The third & final death is when there is no one to speak your name. I will fight off her third death as long as I am able.

This obit represents the last page of the last chapter in my grandmother’s life but it’s here in the epilogue that she lives on.

This obit tells you when her life ended. It doesn’t tell you how she lived it or who she was. It doesn’t tell you that when I came home, soaked from getting caught in the rain, she would dunk me in a tub to keep me from getting sick. It won’t tell you that when my brother died, I got home & collapsed in her arms. She sat in a chair, my head in her lap, cradling me until I could breath. It won’t tell you about the estafiate tea she swore would cure you of anything. It won’t tell you about her devotion, her integrity or her love of orange slices & pansies. Or even how she grew roses or only wore Gloria Vanderbilt cologne. It won’t tell you about the night before she died, in a lucid moment when she told me I was beautiful & that she loved me. It won’t tell you that she was my touchstone & that not a day goes by I don’t carry her with me.

She wasn’t the Alzheimer’s that robbed her. She wasn’t the cancer that advanced. She wasn’t the pneumonia. She was my any and everything.

She’s not in the words of her obit or in any pictures I could post. She isn’t any of those things. She is in my every heartbeat & every breath.

I celebrate her life, not by laying flowers on her grave, or wishing her happy birthday on a social media site. I celebrate her by sharing her memories, by saying her name, by never, ever forgetting. She lives on because I will fight her Third Death telling her stories with every word I have. I will not forget.

Her name is Arnulfa Gonzales Vigil. She is my grandmother

Christina Vigil-Thompson

Weenies en salsa by Christina Vigil-Thompson

My grandparents were amazing, my grandfather working multiple jobs to make ends meet and my grandmother working miracles to keep everyone fed, clothed and in school. And it worked. Some of the things she did to save money were the odd little things she did in the kitchen.

My grandmother was a proud woman, but not too prideful. I remember when she would go to the grocery store and negotiate a lower price on fruits and vegetables just past their freshness date & bones “for the dog”. We’d go home and she would cut the bruised parts out of the vegetables and boil the bones for soup. Another thing she did was make weenies en salsa, a recipe born of necessity after my grandfather was laid off his primary job. Years later, she was still making it, usually Saturday morning, served with eggs and retried beans.

Weenies en salsa

1 package of hot dogs, sliced

Vegetable oil, maybe a tsp

Diced onions, amount depends on how much you like onions

Garlic, (minced, sliced, whatever) to taste

Comino (or cumin for you non-Spanish spice speakers)

Tomato sauce

Optional, jalapeño or serrano pepper

My grandmother sliced the hot dogs (she really did call them weenies) diagonally, I guess it’s what I’m used to. My mom slices them in rounds. Sauté them in a small amount of oil with the onions until the hot dogs are browned and the onions sweat. You can add the garlic at the end with the comino cumin, if you’re brave enough. My grandmother always toasted her comino, it just tastes better that way. Adding it with the garlic for a short time accomplishes the toasting without the extra step. When the garlic softens, add the tomato sauce. Opinions differ here – mom likes a thicker sauce, my uncle not so much, so use as much tomato sauce as you like. Add water to thin it a bit and then simmer, this is where you can add the peppers of choice, add them whole or chop in rounds. Simmer until the sauce is the consistency you like.

Serve with rice, beans and tortillas

In the vein of open and honest communication, my mother browns the hot dogs, adds a can of Rotel and then uses comino and garlic to taste and let’s it simmer. Not as good but works in a pinch.

There is always a package of hot dogs in the freezer. We make it on Saturday morning or after mass on Sundays, sometimes with eggs but not always. I think of my grandmother stirring the saucepan while this cooked and I wonder what went through her head – resolution, sadness, acceptance, hope or relief knowing that no one would go hungry that day. So now, during the hard times, and during the good times, making this dish reminds me to be grateful because no matter what, this too shall pass

And the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time. -t.s. eliot

10 Saturday May 2014

Posted by recipesofthingspast in Dessert, Uncategorized

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Katholine Callahan Slusher recipe, Kuykendall, Nolen, teacakes

Teacakes. Mother’s day. Little did I know when I started this blog that I would end up with a recipe that would symbolize the strong women on my paternal side of the family and bring me back to where this blog started. Journeys are surprising like that.

I have always had my maternal grandmother’s teacake recipe. It’s the first recipe I ever shared on this blog. When my mom made them, my dad would always say “my grandmother’s were better.” But to imagine a cookie I could never taste was worthless to me as a kid. All I could enjoy was the teacake in front of me not the one I had never eaten. Since my great-grandmother passed away years before I was born, the thought of a better teacake was the intangible. Until now.

Last week, I visited my great-aunt Katholine Callahan Slusher and being the family history nerd that I am, I asked question after question. She answered every question and more. I wanted to know if she remembered each set of her grandparents, and if so, what they were like. She explained that she didn’t ever remember eating at her maternal grandparents’ house possibly the result of my great-grandmother ‘marrying down’ when she chose an Irish boy with a head of red hair and a name to match, Red Callahan.

Eva Ruth Kuykendall Callahan holding Mildred Callahn

My great grandmother Eva Ruth Kuykendall Callahan holding her daughter Mildred. My grandmother Pauline is to the left, behind the chair.

But her paternal grandparents were a different story. What follows are my Aunt Kat’s stories as well as the stories of others as they remember my great great-grandmother Callahan. Then I will share a very special teacake recipe with you. My Aunt Kat mailed me a copy right away. It is the teacake recipe of her mother Ruth Kuykendall Callahan and her grandmother Frances Ann Nolen Callahan.

My great-granmother Eva Ruth and her brother Jack

A special thanks to my Aunt Kat, my Aunt Gayle, Dianna Carol Callahan Martin and everyone else who shared a memory or story with me. It takes some pretty strong women to set the path upon which we travel. I consider myself lucky to have that. So on Mother’s Day…celebrate not only the strong mother you have but also the women in your life who helped put you on life’s path for they lead by example, listen, offer advice, challenge us, tell us stories and help us discover who we are. And then enjoy a teacake or 3!

Frances Ann Nolen Callahan was born in Bienville Parrish, Louisiana in 1870. Her father survived a cannonball wound to the leg at the battle of Missionary Ridge and a Civil War hospital to bring his family to Texas in 1879. Grandma Callahan would tell stories of them coming to Texas in a wagon, and going as far as camping on the Brazos river. It is believed they turned back at this point because her mother got ill. They headed back to East Texas where they settled.

Me: What do you remember about her?

Dianna Carol Callahan Martin: I remember getting up from my naps, and mother letting me go over to her house to see her. I had dresses with sashes, and mother always tied them too tight. So as I was walking over to grandma’s house I would untie my sash, and grandma would not tie it back tight! I was a stinker!

I also remember that she had chickens that ran loose in the yard. Mother would go to hand out her clothes on the line, and she had a mean white leghorn rooster and it spurred mother several times. Then one day the rooster spurred me. Grandma heard me crying, and ran out her back door. I still think I remember hearing the screen door slam and grandma writhing that rooster’s neck right then and there. She said we would have dumplings tomorrow. Mother always said the darn rooster spurred her many times, but when it did it to me Grandma killed him!

I also remember people coming to Grandma Callahan’s to play cards. Grandma got mad at one of them for cheating, and she chased them out of the house and threw her shoe at them. As a kid, I thought it was hilarious. She was indeed a character.

Me: So Aunt Kat, your grandmother Callahan was quite a character no? What was she like?

Aunt Kat: You could certainly say that. Well we loved to go there. She always had food. And this giant tin of teacakes that you could just reach in and grab a teacake. That’s how I learned to make them. I make them like her and my mama. Now this recipe makes a lot but you just put them in a container. They don’t get old, they just mellow. Now just get your hands in there and mix them. When I make them, I have dough everywhere and under every fingernail but you have to do it that way to mix them. And then roll them out. You can roll them out thin, but I don’t do that. I like them to be a bit fluffy. And make sure you set out your eggs before you start. Don’t use them cold.

Callahan/Kuykendall Teacakes

Ingredients:

-5 cups flour

-4 cups sugar

-6 eggs

-1 cup butter NO OLEO

– 1/2 cup buttermilk

– 1 tsp baking soda

– 1 tsp baking powder

– 2 tsp vanilla

Directions

-Oven at 350 degrees. Bake 12-15 minutes

– In a large mixing bowl put the 5 cups flour. Make a “well’ in the middle of the flour and add all the ingredients.

– Mix well with your hands

– Add flour as needed until the dough looks like “cookie dough”

-Roll out to thickness as desired. If you roll thin, they will be crisp.

“NEVER gets old, just mellow”

Fruit Lizzies. A Christmas search for a recipe’s origins in tribute to my Uncle Charlie.

14 Saturday Dec 2013

Posted by recipesofthingspast in Dessert

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Charles Malone, fruit lizzies, Merle Mitchell, Pauline Malone

Fruit lizzies. In our family you either love them or hate them. When I started this blog, this was the only recipe I had from my paternal grandmother, Pauline Callahan Malone. Little did I know that it wasn’t her recipe. So what follows is my search for the recipe and the stories that come with each step of the search.

FIRST STOP: the recipe box of my mother, Merle Mitchell

My mother loved fruit lizzies. Every year for as long as I can remember she would make batch after batch for the holidays. The recipe calls for whiskey, however my mom was raised strict Southern Baptist which means no alcohol amongst other things, Every Christmas my Dad would bring her a fifth of whiskey to make lizzies. When my Dad was gone, then the task fell to either my sister or I. We used to laugh that our grown mother would ask us to go to the liquor store for her as no respectable church woman can be seen buying alcohol. My favorite story about lizzies is once my mom was staying at my house for the holidays and baking. She asked for whiskey and I handed her a bottle of Jack Daniels and she said “now I know you have Maker’s Mark and that is much better in the lizzies than Jack so hand that over.” When I suggested that maybe it was time for her to start buying her own whiskey if she was going to get picky she said “oh no I could never.”

I found my grandmother’s recipe for fruit lizzies in my mother’s recipe box. This started me thinking about where my grandmother got this and so I started asking around.

SECOND STOP: memories of my Grandmother Malone

My Grandmother Malone in the white hat and white shirt in the ‘Our Gang’ photo

As a kid I remember going to my Grandmother Malone’s house and the sideboard being covered with desserts and metals tins. I would sneak the lids off the metal tins looking for peanut brittle or fudge but 2 of every 3 tins I opened were filled with fruit lizzies. This was a huge let down for me as fruit lizzies were not my favorite as a child. So I thought I would start by asking my cousins, aunts and uncles about grandma’s fruit lizzies.

Callie Malone Bertaud: Well Aine, i’m not a fan of those Fruit Lizzies, but my Mom loved them!!! Every time we would visit for Thanksgiving, Grandma Malone would load my mom up with those in one of those pretty tins! She couldn’t never get enough of them! blah! I don’t think any of us kids liked them. My mom also loved grandma’s fruit cake.. very similar. I think one must be of a SEASONED age to appreciate the taste of aged alcohol soaking into fruit.

Anne Malone Abbott: I remember those lizzies and fruit cake…I agree…blahhhhkkk. I don’t know that I will ever reach that seasoned age to acquire that taste…now all the pies…bring them on!

Martha Johnson Malone: I love fruit Lizzie’s and fruit cake !!!! I think it is a generational thing! When we went to Grandmas for Christmas I couldn’t wait to see if there were Lizzie’s waiting! Yummmm. I ate myself sick and went home 10 pounds heavier! The ingredients for fruit cake and fruit Lizzie’s are costly and time-consuming but Grandma always had the patience and the ingredients thanks to your Aunt Millie a lot of the time.

And then my cousin Bart provided the next clue to the puzzle with this:

Bart Malone: Daddy still makes the lizzies at Christmas and after 50+ years I still don’t like them!!

THIRD AND FINAL STOP: Charles Malone…Uncle Charlie to me.

Charles Malone…Uncle Charlie

First let me explain that if you needed to know anything about family history, you could ask my Uncle Charlie. He was the best story-teller, and I should have asked him first about the lizzies but we kids have to do things the hard way. SO this is what my Uncle Charlie explained about where fruit lizzies come from:

I still make them each Christmas. The original recipe came from “Mama Ruth” Michaud, in fact JoAnn has a hand written copy from Mrs. Michaud. Mrs. Michaud is your Aunt Suzanne’s mother. She was from Louisiana. But she gave that recipe to my mother, and since then we have all made them and love them.

And like that the mystery was solved. Grandma Pauline’s fruit lizzies were really Mama Ruth’s fruit lizzies.

Now the hardest thing about the holidays is that my Grandmother Malone, my mother Merle Mitchell and for the first time this year, my Uncle Charlie aren’t with us anymore. But the great thing about recipes is that they are capable of bringing back all these wonderful memories of things you thought you had lost.

I am about to pour that cup of whiskey into my own batch of fruit lizzies and imagine the smells from my grandmother’s kitchen, my uncle telling me his favorite story about how our family was almost rich, and my mom asking me to go to the liquor store for her. I am sure you have one of those recipes too. The kind that floods your being with memories. But if you don’t, you can borrow mine. There’s a whole lot of love in these fruit lizzies. Enjoy and happy holidays.

Mama Ruth’s Fruit Lizzies

Ingredients:

-1 lb butter or oleo

-4 eggs

-2 lbs cherries ( 1 red 1 green)

-2 lbs candied pineapple

-2 lbs raisins

-3 Tbsp milk

-5 c. flour

-1 c. whiskey

-1 1/2 c. brown sugar

-6 c. pecans

-3 tsp baking soda

-2 tsp salt

-1 tsp each cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, allspice, vanilla

Directions:

Cream butter and sugar. Add eggs. Add whiskey, milk and vanilla. Sift all dry ingredients. Add 1 cup flour to fruit and pecans. Add to creamed mixture and mix well. Drop by spoonfuls onto greased and floured cookie sheet. Bake at 325 degrees for 15-20 minutes.

It’s the birthday of the best cook I know…and she may never forgive me for telling the world.

08 Tuesday Oct 2013

Posted by recipesofthingspast in Uncategorized

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Aunt Kat

The stylish beautiful lady in the photo is my Aunt Kat. Katholine Callahan Slusher to be exact, and she is my great aunt if I am to be technical. Today is her birthday.

When I spoke to her the other day, she said she didn’t want anyone to make a fuss. So if she sees this I will probably be in some hot water. I usually do exactly what she says to do, but this once I made a fuss for two reasons. She is the best cook I know, and I have new stories about her that I want to share. First we will share stories and then we get some of her amazing recipes…well the ones she would share.

Aunt Kat holding my Dad, David Malone

The Stories:

Teal Masson: I always remember all the candy she made for Christmas. It was everywhere you looked and so good. My personal favorite was her creamed corn casserole she made in the black skillet. I could eat just plates of that. Of course what I always remember is her chocolate pie. NO ONE makes chocolate pie as good as she does. She always made it for Dad. I think she only made it for him. Whenever he went to visit there was a pie sitting there for him. I think the joke was that Uncle Fossil (Aunt Kat’s husband) knew Dad was coming to visit when Aunt Kat made a chocolate pie.

Aine Malone: I know my cousin Katy and I were named for her and I consider that quite an honor. When I was growing up Aunt Kat was unlike any woman I knew. She wasn’t like my mom or my grandmothers or anybody else. Aunt Kat was much cooler. She could ride a motorcycle. She loved sports from football to boxing. She loved to fish and she had traveled to all these amazing places. Plus she had been to a honky tonk or a few. My Uncle Charlie once said “Your Aunt Kat was a modern woman before there was such a thing.” I think that has always stuck in my mind as the perfect description of her.

A classic story about Aunt Kat involves my mom, Merle. My mom was raised conservative Southern Baptist so no drinking, dancing, etc. Once Aunt Kat was talking about pickled eggs. She said “every honky tonk had jars of pickled eggs on the bar to eat with your beer.” Then Aunt Kat paused and looked at my mom and said “Well Merle never mind because we all know you know nothing about honky tonks.” I never laughed so hard with my Mom.

Recently I found out why she is called Aunt Kat. She told me that when she was a child her mama said she was always under her papa’s feet. So he would come home from work and put a feed sack on the old horse and throw her up on it’s back. Her papa would say “Go Nellie and take Kat to the pea patch.” Off they would go and pick peas until her mama rang the dinner bell at dark. When my Uncle Charlie was born, her dad told my uncle “now this is your Aunt Kat.” The name stuck and my dad and all my aunts and uncles have called her that since.

Now about doing what she says. That is an understood. For example as long as I remember she told my Dad and thus us: “You had better send me flowers when I am alive. Don’t send them to me when I am dead and can’t enjoy them.” You just do what Aunt Kat says. SO this blog post doesn’t really go with her saying she didn’t want anyone to make a fuss but maybe I will slip by once.

Gayle Slusher Riley (her daughter):

Well you know Mother never gives up a recipe. Most of the things she makes she has no recipe for anyway. For example those hush puppies you love there is no recipe for that. Now for cakes and cookies she uses recipes cards. They will be right in front of her. She has so many recipes. For example, her Divinity candy recipe she has made her whole life. She can’t remember who gave her the recipe but I do know she always says the secret to making Divinity is “the sun has to be shining. If the sun isn’t shining the Divinity won’t make because the egg whites won’t fluff up.”

One of my favorite things to eat is her dressing. One year she turned making the dressing over to me for Thanksgiving. I made it and she said it wasn’t right and asked me how I had made it. When I told her I bought cornbread stuffing she informed me that for her dressing she made the cornbread. And then she made biscuits the week before and let them sit before she crumbled them into the cornbread. Store bought cornbread stuffing was like an outrage. I do know she never used eggs in her dressing so Daddy and I used to love to eat it “raw” (before it went into the oven). We could do that because it had no eggs. It was the cornbread, biscuits, a pound of sausage and broth from cooking down a hen plus the onions and whatever else she put in it. So good.

For my girls Katy and Stephany, she got them these recipe books and wrote down their favorite recipes. For example Stephany has her corn casserole recipe and her fruitcake cookie recipe. So if you have a recipe, you had better hang onto it. She doesn’t give them out to anyone and again lots of things she makes are ” a pinch of this and a dash of that.”

And I know I have told you before but yes she always made a chocolate pie for your Dad. In fact my Daddy would joke and say “David must be coming because you don’t make a chocolate pie for anyone but him.”

The hobo bread recipe she has made forever. It’s a good one. And the orange slice cake recipe. Well if you can’t get her chocolate pie recipe, that is a good one to have.

HOBO BREAD

Part One:

2 cup raisins

2 TBSP oleo

2 tsp baking soda

2 cups boiling water

Part Two:

2 eggs

2 c. sugar

1/2 tsp salt

1 tsp cinnamon

4 cups flour

1 1/2 cup chopped nuts

Mix Part One together and placed in a covered bowl. Put in refrigerator overnight. Next day combine Part One with Part Two. Mix well. Pour mixture in 3 well-greased and floured one pound coffee cans. Bake for one hour and 10 minutes or until tested done at 350 degrees.

ORANGE SLICE CAKE

1 8 oz pkg orange slice candy

1 8 oz pkg dates

1 8oz can coconut

2 cups pecans

1 cup flour

2 sticks butter

2 cups sugar

4 eggs

1/2 tsp soda

1/2 cup buttermilk

2 1/2 cups flour

1/4 tsp salt

Grease and flour 10-12 cup Bundt pan. Heat oven to 300 degrees. Cut up first 4 ingredients and add 1 cup flour. Mix well. Cream together butter and sugar. Add eggs one at a time. Add soda and salt with flour. Add buttermilk and flour alternately. Mix well. Remove from mixer. Add first 4 ingredients that were mixed with flour. Mix well. Put in pan. Bake for 90 minutes or until done.

Find a photo. Clear up a love story. Get a recipe. Mission accomplished.

05 Saturday Oct 2013

Posted by recipesofthingspast in Dessert

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Annette Clement INkster, Debbie Masterson, Estelle Mitchell Clement, Fruit cake cookies

Usually when I start looking through photos, it leads to some story. This photo led to a story and a recipe. Those of you who know me will know that this photo is obviously the BEGINNING and END of my “rodeo” career. I think I am around 6 years old and the man in the hat is my Uncle Watts.

I spent a lot of time as a child at the house of my Uncle Watts and Aunt Estelle. We would fish. My Uncle Watts had bookshelves crammed with books that he would let me read. And my Aunt Estelle made the best chicken and dumplings, teacakes, and fruit cookies.

When I found this photo, I sent it to my cousin Annette, who is the daughter of my Uncle Watts and Aunt Estelle. What follows is: Annette clearing up my aunt and uncle’s loves story, my cousin Debbie sharing memories of living next to door to Watts and Estelle and then the fruit cookie recipe from my childhood. Enjoy. 60 year love stories are a rare thing these days.

Estelle Mitchell Clement and Watts Clement

Aine: Annette, as you know we loved to go to your mom and dad’s house. Your mom would make teacakes for us and your dad had all those great western novels that he would let me read. But please clear something up for me. My dad always kidded your mom that she met and married your dad the same day. She would just laugh but she never said otherwise. So what is the true story as I know they were married 60 years?

Annette: In May of 1947, Watts noticed a pretty girl across the street at his Uncle Buford Sonnier’s home and went across to meet her. Estelle was visiting her Aunt Jewel. They rode together to see the aftermath of the Texas City explosion that had happened back in April. Three days later, Watts and Estelle were married. They were married 60 years on May 12, 2007 just before Estelle passed away on May 31.

Aunt Estelle and Uncle Watts

Aine: Debbie, I know you and Audie (Debbie’s husband) lived next to Aunt Estelle and Uncle Watts. Can you share some memories you have of that time?

Debbie Masterson: Yes. I have good memories of those 10 years being neighbors with Aunt Estelle and Uncle Watts. Audie and I both talked about our good time there! They had a pasture a few miles down the road from their house and had cows there too. We had bad weather related to hurricane in Gulf, I think..it washed away part of culvert and Uncle awaits couldn’t check his cows in his truck…I told him hop on my 3-wheeler and I’ll get you there! We made it and he saw all his cows were okay , but I laugh at that memory now 20 years ago.

Aunt Estelle would call me early morning or I would call her and we would talk about how cold it was or how windy. She made the best chicken & dumplings, beside her Christmas cookies. Loved her okra, onions,and tomatoes that she would put up. When they were putting their honey up, we went and watched them at work…it was so delicious. I remember when we first moved to Dawson, we had to lay a 1700 ft water line across the pasture..Uncle Watts , kindly brought his tractor over and it must have been in the 20’s, but Aunt Estelle and all of us were bundled up warm with insulated coveralls and he dug that water line for us! They were happy to help us and we appreciated them so much. Loved the time we spent being neighbors…it was a bonus that they were Aunt & Uncle!!

Aine: Oh yes her Christmas fruit cookies. My mom has this date cookie recipe of hers that she would make, but do you mind sharing her fruit cookie recipe?

Debbie: Not everyone likes fruit cookies, but warm out of the oven..yum…that’s why I asked for her recipe.

Annette: Momma’s recipe for the fruit cookies actually came years ago from the mother of Debbie, my brother AW’s wife. Let me know how they turn out. And Ron (my husband) is jealous now so I may have to make him some.

Fruit Cake Cookies (from Deb’s Mom, Evelyn Clark)

1 lb candied cherries
1 lbs candied pineapple
1 8 oz dates
1 lb pecans
3 c flour
½ tsp soda
½ c butter
1 ½ c sugar
3 eggs
½ tsp salt
2 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp vanilla
1 tsp lemon extract

Cut fruit in small pieces, chop pecans. Sift flour, soda and salt together, sift gain over fruit and pecans. Cream butter and sugar until light. Combine all together

Bake by dropping by spoonfuls on to greased baking sheet

325 degrees

Thank the lord for church cookbook recipes

07 Saturday Sep 2013

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some of my favorite Baptist church cookbooks

Church cookbooks…I have a friend who seeks them out in used bookstores, and I have 5 or 6 myself. They are much more interesting than anything the Junior League could put together. I might be a little prejudice, but the ones from Baptist churches are especially great (it might be the corn flake casseroles that separate the Baptists from the Methodists or Presbyterians).

So when my cousin Maudine sent me some of my Grandmother Pauline Malone’s recipes from a church book, I was thrilled. The recipes come from a cookbook put together by the Gum Springs Christian Church near Longview, Texas. And since it is canning time of year, I’ll share one of my Grandmother’s pickle recipes from that cookbook and also a recipe I found tucked away in my mom’s recipe box that was marked “from a lady at Gum Springs Church. Given to Pauline Malone.”

I don’t ever remember seeing my grandmother Pauline Malone canning pickles. I do remember her and peaches…jars, more jars and freezer bags full of them. I didn’t eat peaches for the longest time after peeling and slicing bushels of peaches with her and my Aunt Millie.

So first here are two of my cousins sharing memories about my Grandmother Malone’s house, and then we’ll get to two amazing pickle recipes.

My grandmother, Pauline Malone on the right with hand on hip

Eric Malone: The Malones knew what family gatherings were all about. The food, more like a buffet, the awesome baseball games in the front yard. Let’s not forget about the cow patty fights Little Andy would start. I can remember the clay fort where we played to my dad chasing us at night playing some game that I can’t remember. I just remember that all my cousins begged to play it.

Anne Malone Abbott: I remember “IN OR OUT…DON’T LET THT SCREEN DOOR SLAM!” (hahahaha) Crawfishing in the springs or remember when we played games the bird bath was “safe.” Or what about cheese toast that grandmother made us for breakfast? Texas toast, slabs of cheddar cheese and then a tomato on top. Or all her Avon perfume bottles on that dresser in the bedroom?

PAULINE MALONE’S GREEN TOMATO PICKLES

Ingredients:

– 2 qt quartered green tomatoes

– 1 c. chopped onion

– 12 chopped green peppers

– 2 c. sugar

– 2 c. vinegar

– 1 tsp salt (to each qt)

Directions:

Heat sugar and vinegar to boiling. Pour in tomatoes, salt, onions and peppers. DO NOT BOIL. Keep stirring until tomatoes turn lighter color. Put in jar and seal in hot water bath.

LIME CUCUMBER PICKLES FROM A LADY AT GUM SPRINGS CHURCH

Ingredients:

– 7 lbs sliced cucumbers

– 1 cup lime juice

– 3 pints vinegar

– 2 1/2 pints sugar

– 2 tbsp. salt

– 1 tbsp. pickling spices

Directions:

Soak cucumbers in lime water overnight (lime water is 1 cup lime juice to one gallon of water). Wash the cucumbers the next day in clear water. Soak the cucumbers for one hour in ice water. Cook cucumbers for one hour in vinegar, sugar, salt mixture. Put the pickling spices in a cloth bag and put it in the cucumber/vinegar mixture to cook. Put in hot jars. Seal and then they are ready to eat. No waiting period to eat.

Yes m’am my grandmother could can

24 Saturday Aug 2013

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After reading (and admittingly mocking) a New York Times article about the hipness of pickle making, I decided to make good on my word and give out some canning recipes from my maternal grandmother. It is good to know my grandmother was ‘HIP’ 100 years before her time.

Grandma Elsie Mitchell & Aine

Elsie Mitchell’s Bread & Butter Pickles

These pickles are my favorite which is why I am sharing. But my grandmother would do pickles more than one way. The shelves in her kitchen would be packed with pickles.

When she was canning, we were told in no uncertain terms not to run in the house or slam the screen door, less the pressure cooker explode. As kids, we were so terrified of the pressure cookers, we would tiptoe through her house. For years, I really thought the house would explode if we slammed the screen door. Imagine my surprise when an older cousin explained that yes the pressure cooker could explode, but more than likely it would mean broken glass and hot pickle juice on the kitchen ceiling.

Ingredients:

– 6 qt clean thinly sliced cucumbers

– 6 medium size onions, sliced

– 3/4 cup salt

– 2 cups water

– 1 qt vinegar

– 4 cups sugar

– 2 tbsp. each celery and mustard seed

Directions:

– Alternate layers of cucumbers and onions in earthenware bowl

– Sprinkle with salt and cover

-Combine sugar, water, vinegar, celery and mustard seed and bring to boil

-Stirring the whole time, boil 3 minutes

-Add cucumber mixture and again bring to boiling point

-Pack immediately into hot sterilized jar. Seal at once.

Grandma Elsie Mitchell, Aine and Jonathan

Elsie’s Dill Pickles

These pickles are a close second in my favorite. My mom always made these but as everyone knows, no one (not even Mom) makes them like your grandmother. These are super easy to make…just like the New York Times promised pickle making should be!

Ingredients:

-20 to 25 4-inch cucumbers

– 1/8 tsp powdered alum

– 1 clove garlic

– 2 heads dill

– 1 red hot pepper

-grape leaves

– 1 qt vinegar

– 1 cup salt

– 3 qt water

Directions:

– Wash cucumbers

-Let cucumbers stand in cold water overnight

-Pack cucumbers into hot sterilized jars

-To each qt jar add the above amount (1/8 tsp) alum, garlic (1 clove), dill (2 heads), and 1 red pepper.

– Combine vinegar, salt and water and heat to boiling.

-Add this mixture to each jar and then seal and process jar immediately.

Rachel Sue’s Mean Pies

27 Saturday Apr 2013

Posted by recipesofthingspast in Dessert

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apricot pies, mean pies, Rachel Lee Waldrop, Rachel VanZandt

I am not even sure how to explain how I know Rachel Lee. To keep it simple, she’s one of the many great people I met in New Orleans. She lives in Santa Fe now, but we share a love of our Texas roots and stories. Rachel just got back from a Texas road trip to see her grandmother Jane. So we sat down and she shared stories about her namesake, her great-grandmother Rachel Sue, and MEAN PIES.

Rachel Lee Waldrop

Aine: Tell me about your great-grandmother.

Rachel: I was named after her. We called her Grannie. She died when I was 17. Rachel Sue was born in 1897 and raised on a ranch near San Angelo, Texas. She was half Cherokee and half Van Zandt. When she married my grandfather, it was a big deal. I am not sure his family ever really accepted her because of her being Cherokee.

Rachel Sue Van Zandt (middle) with mother (right) and sister

If you want to talk about how things come full circle, when she was 17 she went on a road trip in a Model T Ford from San Angelo to Santa Fe which of course is where I live now. It was 1914, so can you imagine that road trip. There were hardly any cars and women just didn’t do that. The amazing thing is she kept a journal of the trip and took photos, and I have a copy. She talks about how bad the roads are in New Mexico which I guess some things never change. But I want you to read it because it is really amazing this 17-year-old girl seeing these things. They talk about going to Jemez Pueblo and Soda Dam. She calls the road trip section “How We Forded It.”

Rachel Sue & her great granddaughter Rachel

Excerpts from Rachel Hendrick’s Journal-section HOW WE FORDED IT:

Outside of Clovis, NM “we inspected a fruit orchard. The trees were loaded with peaches, apples, and plums. Also grapes. This is not the only orchard in this country however, although the crops as a rule are late the orchards are up to date. There are very few houses. Most of them are half dugouts made of mud.

After leaving the plains we came upon cap rocks. The scenery was beautiful, some of the places reminded us of cliff dwellers. We crossed the Pecos (River) and camped. The night like the other nights on the plains are much cooler than those of West Central Texas.

Finding Santa Fe an odd and old town which has many interesting places that were unexpected. There were many small houses, of which had flat tops and are all jammed up together on very narrow streets. Learning of the many places of interest, we have decided to spend two or three days here where we are close to the Indian village.

We visited the Palace of the Governors. There were relics of every kind from Prehistoric up to present day. The cliff dwellers were well represented. The pictures painted on the wall were very artistic. We visited the capital, the deaf and dumb asylum, the Indian school, the penitentiary, the old catholic church, and curios shops. Then deciding we had seen enough of the city we decided to take up our journey.”

Aine: Wow. She sounds like quite a lady.

Rachel: She was. I mean I guess she was raised on a ranch and was pretty adventurous. My great-grandfather was Wallace Hendricks, but his nickname was “Spot”. My daddy is named after him. Wallace raised registered Rambouillet sheep. He was known for those sheep, and was well-respected. I guess in that area people would said “if Spot said it, you can count on it.”

Rachel Sue & Rachel

Aine: So tell me about your Grannie’s pie recipe.

Rachel: Well first let me say I had the recipe, but when I visited my grandma Jane last week I made sure I had it right. But you know how our grandmas are…they will say “well you put some flour in a bowl.” And then you ask “well how much flour?” and they will say “well just some flour.” and you ask “well like 2 cups?” and they say ” yeah about two cups.” (laughter) So that is exactly how this went, so as with any pie crust, you know they say do it until it feels right.

Aine: How did these pies get their names?

Rachel: Well my grandma Jane said that her Daddy Wallace loved pies. But since they had this ranch, they had to feed not only their family but the ranch hands as well. And they almost always had apricots. They had other fruit too, but usually apricots the most. My Grannie would make these pies and Wallace would say ” Rachel Sue, those sure are some MEAN PIES. So that just stuck and we have always called them mean pies. When I was a kid we would ask her to make her mean pies.

Rachel, her Mother Kathleen, Grandma Jane and Grannie Rachel Sue

Grannie’s Mean Pies

Filling:

Use dried fruit or fresh. If using dried, use about 1/2 a pound ( 2 to 3 bags). Put in a saucepan with just enough water to cover. Add a cup of sugar. Bring to boil, turn down and simmer, then add about 1/4 cup brown sugar. Cook on low about 30-40 minutes. Let cool.

Crust

– Put some flour in a bowl, about 2 cups

– Add a couple of teaspoons of sugar

– Add a tsp or so of salt

– Cut in a half a cup of shortening or butter (Crisco works the best)

– Mix it in with a pastry cutter

– Add 3/4 cup buttermilk or heavy cream

– Beat an egg. Add it in and mix well.

– Add about 1/2 a cup of ICE water (it has to be ICE water. My grandma made that plain and clear) Mix.

– Should be a little sticky

Turn out the crust dough onto a floured surface, roll out with floured pin. Should be about 1/8 inch thick. Cut into circles, maybe about 4-5 inches round. A small bowl or mug works well as a cutter.

Add 2-3 tablespoons of filling onto the middle of the circle. Dip your finger into a glass of water and run it around the rim of the circle. Press sides together, making a half circle. Crimp edges with a fork.

Deep fry in at least 3 inches veggie oil, turning only once. Make sure oil is hot at least 350-370 degrees. or Bake in medium oven (325ish) until done.

Sprinkle with sugar before cool.

Sunset at the ranch

Nanny’s Apricot Fried Pies

20 Saturday Apr 2013

Posted by recipesofthingspast in Dessert

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Angela White-Tragus, Billie Jean Waddle, fried apricot pies

What’s the saying? You can learn a lot about someone by just listening. Well when my friend Angela speaks, I listen.

She’s one of those people in life who knows how to do some really amazing things. So when the talk of fried pies came up, Angela spoke. I listened. And we all get her grandmother’s recipe for fried apricot pies plus Angela’s take on her nanny’s pies. That is a pretty great reward for just listening. (By the way, I made both. While they are both amazing, I have a weakness for Angela’s filling. It’s the touch of bourbon that got me. Try them both and you be the judge.)

Angela and her Nanny

Angela Tragus:

I don’t remember my first indulgence of a fried pie. It was one of those treats that just came with growing up in my family. I do however remember helping make them with my mom and my grandmother, well maybe not always helping but being in the kitchen when they were made. I spent many hours in my grandmother’s kitchen and just as many out on their farm in East Texas.

My grandmother or Nanny, Billie Jean Waddle (and yes, my grandfather’s name was Billy Bob Waddle) passed away almost two years ago and I still have so many questions for her. But a few years ago, I asked her about the fried pies and where she learned to make them and why it was such a staple in our family. She told me they were a “poor-man’s” food, or at least it was for her family– 8 of them living in a two room house in Celeste, Texas. They were a poor, hardworking, self-sufficient family but not underprivileged or unhappy. Her family had gardens and fruit tree orchards. The kids hand-picked cotton during harvest to afford books and school clothes, which usually meant for her buying a sack of flour and then her mother making a dress.

My nanny by a fig tree in Celeste, TX

And speaking of flour, that along with butter, milk, eggs and sugar was much of what they ate. Meats were a luxury. Vegetables were seasonal and they ate what was available. She was mostly raised on biscuits and gravy and until the day she died, that was still one of her favorite foods to eat.

Her mother, Nan, made sugar filled fried pies when fruits weren’t in season. We couldn’t find a recipe but guessed she made the filling with cream and sugar. They had apricot trees in the orchard so I guess that was a favorite which stuck with the family palate. She told me her mother made fig, peach and chocolate fried pies. She spoke of her mother’s tiny hands rolling out the dough, so much work for such small hands but the most important when making the pies.

Angela as a baby, her mother, grandmother and great grandmother

Learning to make fried pies was almost a maternal rite of passage. I remember myself, grandmother and mother all making them together at times. One rolling out the dough, one adding filling and one frying. Having a touch of the wayward child in me, I changed the recipe a bit from the original my grandmother used. Perhaps this is the reason I only received the green Participant Ribbon in the cut-throat State Fair of Texas pie contest. Yes, I entered my fried pies and was a loser but next time I know to bring my pies in a wagon and not a cardboard box. I’ve often thought of starting a business selling fried pies but my grandmother would say, “Oh honey, you would be so good at it but it’s just so much work going into the food business. Just stick to your welding.”

Angela’s fried pie entry

Just a few weeks before she passed away, I made apricot fried pies. She put a few in a box by her bed, just in case she needed a midnight snack. And for the record, you can not eat just one.

Nanny gardening..a few days before she passed away

Nanny’s Apricot Filling for Fried Pies

Dried Apricots (size of package depends on how many pies you want)

1/4-1/2 cup of sugar (to your taste)

water

lemon juice (optional)

Cover apricots with water and bring to a boil. Cook until tender. Drain, reserve 1/2 cup of liquid. Cool, mash apricots and combine with reserved liquid, sugar, lemon juice (optional). Apricots refrigerate well. Follow directions on Nanny’s Fried Pie Pastry recipe to fill.

Nanny’s Fried Pie Pastry

2 cups flour

1/3 cup Crisco

1 tsp. salt

Ice water

(may double recipe if need more)

Add flour, salt and cut in shortening. Add ice water to get the right consistency. Roll out pastry real thin, and cut into circles (whatever size pies you want). Fill circles with filling (2-3 tbsp.). Brush water around edges of the circles and fold pastry over, making sure edges are even. Using a fork dipped in flour, press edges firmly together. Fry on both sides, in about 1-1/2 inch of oil until golden brown (375 degrees). Transfer to paper towels.

Angela frying some pies

My Apricot Filling for Fried Pies

2 cups dried apricots

1/2 cup of water or more to cover apricots

2 tbsp of bourbon (optional)

In a medium saucepan, bring apricots and water to a boil. Adjust heat to low, cover and simmer 20 mins, stirring occasionally, until liquid is absorbed and apricots are soft. Mash apricots with a potato masher, add bourbon and cool. (The apricot filling really does last in the fridge for months).

My Fried Pie Pastry

2 cups of flour

2 sticks of salted butter (I freeze mine), cut into small pieces

Ice water

Canola oil

In a bowl combine flour and cut in the butter. I use a stand mixer for this. Add ice water with a spatula until you get a pie crust consistency, not too wet and not too dry. Divide dough in half and put half in refrigerator. On a floured surface roll out dough to about and 1/8 inch or less. Cut into 4-5″ circles using whatever you have, a can or a dish. (They don’t have to be circles). Place 2 tbsp of cooled apricot mixture on pastry circle, fold over and mash edges together. You can use water to seal the edges if you want but I usually don’t.

Have your skillet on medium-high heat about 375 with about an inch or so of oil or even better, a deep fryer. Place pies in the hot oil and cook 3-4 minutes each side until golden brown. If you have a deep fryer just 4 minutes total. Remove to a wire rack or a plate lined with brown paper or paper towels to cool. You can sprinkle with powdered sugar if you want. This recipe usually makes around 15-20 fried pies.

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