THE HOLLY AND THE IVY - MANNHEIM STEAMROLLER

Today’s selection, “The Holly and the Ivy” is a song dating back to the 15 or 16 century. I love this arrangement. I have added another recipe below using herbs…sort of an old idea that taste great.

I love Rosemary. In Southern California the shrub form of this herb is grown as a ground cover. I live it ‘s little blue flowers, not to mention its aroma. I cut sprigs’ some from the rosemary bush in my yard and bring it in, just like cut flowers. The language of flowers came to England in the 1700s. Each plant had a different meaning. Rosemary is for remembrance. In December we remember our friends and family, following are a couple of recipes in which rosemary can be used and send a delicious message to your loved ones that they are remembered.

From the book “The Pleasure of Herbs.” By Phyllis Shaudys

2 tablespoons of crushed dried rosemary can be added to any angel food or pound cake batter. Add the same amount to any white frosting or whipped cream.

Last spring I was lucky enough to judge a 4-H food fair. The winner had submitted rosemary shortbread cookies. They were delicious. Here is her recipe:

Rosemary Shortbread Cookies.

1 ½ cups unsalted butter

2/3 cups white sugar

2 tablespoons chopped fresh rosemary ( 1 tablespoon dried rosemary)

2 ¾ cups all purpose flour

¼ teaspoon salt

2 teaspoons white sugar for decoration

1. In a medium bowl, cream together the butter and 2/3 cup of sugar until light and fluffy. Stir in the flour, salt and rosemary until well blended. The dough will be somewhat soft. Cover and refrigerate for 1 hour.

2. Preheat the oven 375 degrees F. line cookie sheets with parchment paper.

3. On a lightly floured surface, roll the dough out to ¼ inch thickness. Cut into rectangles 1 1/2x2 inches in size. Place cookies 1 inch apart on the lined cookie sheets. Sprinkle the remaining sugar over the tops.

4. Bake for 8 minutes in the preheated oven, or until golden at the edges. Cool on wire racks, store in an airtight container at room temperature

Makes 36 cookies. Flavor improves with age. Best after 2 days, Will keep for a week.

Food for the Soul.

I know what you are thinking…Oatmeal? Yes oatmeal. On those long awaited and far too few snow days, my mom always made Oatmeal for breakfast. I can still see her at the stove stirring the oatmeal, the kitchen extra bright from light reflecting off the snow outside. My brothers and sister and I would be anxiously sitting at the table pestering her by asking over and over again, “Is it ready yet?” When the oatmeal was done, we wolfed it down, burning our tongues in the process. We jostled each other trying to get our empty bowls to the sink so we could run out the door and play in that snow!

On Christmas morning we were allowed to open our Christmas stockings but had to wait to open the presents under the tree until after breakfast. Yep, you guessed it; we had oatmeal and toast, so I am a little mushy over oatmeal.

Following is a great recipe for Oatmeal. I like it because you can tweak it anyway you want. I leave off the pecans. You can sub in dried cranberries or blueberries for the raisins, add fresh fruit, whatever. The vanilla and nutmeg add a really interesting pop of flavor. Only takes about ten minutes to make. So below find the recipe for Vanilla Spice Oatmeal. Enjoy!

Vanilla Spice Oatmeal (serves 4)

½ cup pecans

3 ½ cups water

2 cups old-fashion rolled oats

½ cup raisins

¼ teaspoon salt

¼ teaspoon vanilla extract

Pinch of ground nutmeg

2 tablespoons firmly packed dark brown sugar

1 cup low-fat milk, or to taste

1/8 teaspoon ground cinnamon

Toast the pecans in a dry skillet over medium high heat, stirring frequently, until golden and fragrant, 3 to 5 minutes. Chop them coarsely

Combine the water, oats, raisins, and salt in a medium saucepan. Bring to boil, reduce heat to low, and simmer, stirring a few times, until the oats are tender, about 5 minutes.

Remove the pan from the heat and stir in the vanilla and nutmeg. Swirl in the brown sugar and place the oatmeal in serving bowls. Sprinkle with toasted pecans and cinnamon. Add milk to taste.

The little things do count.

In the winter of 1983-84 the state of Iowa saw the 10th highest snowfall in a winter season, a total of 57 inches. This also happened to be my first winter in the state. My roommate Nancy and I lived in a trailer park near the Skunk River on the very southern edge of Ames Iowa. Nancy was a graduate student at Iowa State University and over the winter break she was flying home to Seattle to plan her upcoming June wedding. Her last words to me as she went out the door were, don’t let the pipes freeze and keep the bird feeder full.

The feeder hung in a 10 foot tall maple tree, growing in the grass strip between our trailer and the neighboring trailer. The feeder must have been the talk of the bird world in Ames; it did a brisk business, patrons waiting for their turn in the branches of the tree.

I was working a split shift at a Pizza Hut about a mile up the road. I went in at 10a.m and worked till 1p.m., then back for the dinner shift from 4pm to 7pm. I made a habit of checking the bird feeder when I came home from the lunch shift. Even though I kept the feeder full, from time to time the wind and cold would be too much for the smaller birds, I found their tiny little body’s in the drifts up against the trailer.

I have to admit, some days it was all I could do to force myself to check and fill the feeder. I walked to and from work, four times a day six days a week. Some days I just wanted to get inside, put my feet up and get warm!

On Christmas Eve I came home after the lunch shift to find a bag of wild bird seed, adorned with a red ribbon, a note attached, leaning against the door of the trailer. The Note read, “Thank you for thinking of our feathered friends, even on the coldest days.”

So to all my friends who are donating to food drives, toys for tots, taking used blankets and towels to animal shelters, dropping 50 cents into the Salvation Army bell ringers kettle, or keeping the feeder full, thank you, every little bit helps.

Pine cone bird feeder, remember these??

Big pine cone

Bird seed

Crisco shortening

String for hanging

Plate

Put some bird seed on the plate. Tie the string on the end of the pine cone. Slater on the Crisco. Roll the cone in the bird seed. Hang the cone and watch the birds feast!

Curly Cooper

My brothers and sister and I always knew it was really Christmas time when we saw Curly Cooper walking past our house, heading toward town. To me, a kid of 8 or 9, Curly was a man of indeterminate age. He walked by our house often going to and from town. The signal my siblings and I were watching for in early December was Curly walking by in his Santa suit. When the Curly sighting occurred, we ran from the front window to the kitchen yelling, Mom, Mom, we saw Curly in his Santa suite it is time to go Christmas shopping!!!!

In 1967, shops such as Rexall drug on one corner next to it Thriftway grocery store, the Mans Shop which sold dress clothing as well as logging gear and cowboy hats, the dime store , and Coast to Coast hardware store, were thriving in our small town . Curly in his Santa suit and cowboy hat, often with a backdrop of an idling, snow covered log truck, could be found on the corners at the four way stop in town, or visiting the shops , handing each child a candy cane from the burlap sack in his hand, wishing everyone a Merry Christmas.

Now years later, living in an area of the country famous for excess, I have seen some gorgeous Santa costumes. Beautiful Santa houses, elaborately decorated, with Santa enthroned in front of them. Santa even parachuted in to our local mall this year. None of them can hold a candle to the memory of Curly.

In 1985 or so, my mom sent me the figurine of Curly you see in the photo. Enclosed was a card with facts that, as a kid, I didn’t know about Curly. He saved all year to buy the candy that was in that burlap bag. He bought it. Not the city. Not the merchants in an attempt to attract shoppers. Curly bought the candy with his own money to give the kids of the town as a gift.

The closing line on the card that accompanied my figurine reads …”here in Molalla, Santa will always be known as Curly”…as one of the kids that received a candy cane from him, I know that is true. Curly meant Christmas.

Southern California Christmas

My Granny’s peanut brittle makes me think of Mary, Joseph, and the donkey.

Christmas 1989, Mike and I were expecting our first child, Brenda; she was due on the 24^th of December. We were living in Richland Washington, a town in southeast Washington on the Columbia River. I had a craving for my grandmother’s home made peanut brittle so I called my granny and got the recipe, I still remember the clipped way she read a recipe, staccato voice. She told me to make it in the biggest pot I had because it foams up when you put the soda in.

There was a Fred Meyer, a department/grocery store chain in the Pacific Northwest, about a mile from our apartment. I figured I could just walk along the access road that ran beside the freeway up to Freddie’s, get the ingredients I was missing and come home. It would be good exercise for me. I walked every day in our apartment complex so I thought it wouldn’t be a problem. I got my coat, hat and gloves and set out.

It was cold and fogy that day, temperature around 35 degrees. I walked along looking at the frost forming on the tall dry grass and sagebrush humming “Walking in a Winter Wonderland”. Halfway to the store, I quit humming. For some reason I thought of Mary and the donkey and the trip to Bethlehem. I thought if I were Mary I would have kicked Joseph’s butt, there is no way he would have got me on a donkey in my ninth month. Anyway, I made it to the store and did my shopping. It wasn’t until I was in the checkout line that it occurred to me not only did I have to walk back but I had to carry the grocery bags too. I was feeling better by then and I knew it was a downhill walk so; off I went in to the fog again. I must have been going at a snail’s pace or doing the very pregnant lady waddle or something because a black and white police cruiser pulled up beside me. Slowing to a crawl the trooper rolled down his window and asked if I was ok. I, of course, said I was fine. He just looked at me for a second and said, well be careful out here, put his window up and drove on.

I made it home fine and the peanut brittle came out perfect. To this day peanut brittle makes me think of Mary and Joseph. I wonder if the story would have turned out different if Mary hadn’t had the chutzpah to get on that donkey. I am sure Joseph heard about it the whole trip to Bethlehem if Mary was anything like my coffee lady friends and me, but in the end there was a sweet reward.

And I got my peanut brittle.

Below is Granny’s Peanut Brittle Recipe. DO USE A LARGE POT. It does foam up quite a bit when the soda goes in. Enjoy!

Peanut Brittle

1 ½ cup sugar

1 cup white Karo syrup

2 cups raw peanuts

2 table spoons margarine

1 teaspoon soda

Mix all the first 3 ingredients in a pan, high heat, until light brown, stirring constantly. Turn off heat. Add the soda and margarine mix well. Pour out on buttered cookie sheets. When cool enough to handle break into small pieces.