Thanksgiving dinner is so much more than the food on the plate, but it is important. Who is sitting around the table is more important, but even that isn't all of it. To me, the meaning of a Thanksgiving day celebration is the cumulative total of it all. It is all the years and all the combinations. The overlapping layers of sensory experiences. Some things are core - like the turkey, and going around saying what you are most thankful for, but I suppose if you had enough of the other pieces, you could have a traditional Thanksgiving dinner even without these.
As I was preparing the big, bald bird last night, I thought about how I used to watch my Grandmother do exactly what I was doing. I was fascinated and disgusted by her reaching her hand in and pulling out the neck and that bag of grossness. As I stuck my hand in to that carcass, it could have been her hand, or my mother's hand. All of us, over the years, over the decades and the generations, doing the same things, creating the same meal, the same celebration for our families. I like feeling that connection to the past, the connection to where I came from.
I woke up early today and baked a pumpkin pie, then got the stuffing going, and eventually the turkey in the oven. The combination of those smells, brought up memories of Thanksgivings of the past. It was almost like the ghost of Thanksgiving past was there, taking me on a tour. Those times when I was a kid, and all I had to do was watch, wait and eat, my first Thanksgiving on my own, when I had to work at the theater, the Thanksgiving at my grandparents right before we got married, those years when we were in St. Louis, then Colorado, and Utah, and now here in Hawaii. Thanksgivings as a child, then with small children, and now the children grown and half way across the world in different directions, all of them rolling together. All those locations, and the rotation of people at the table, yet they were somehow, fundamentally the same. They have a common thread - gratitude for the wonderful blessing of family, and freedom, the ability to pursue our individual dreams of happiness with a good chance of success. Thanksgiving in my world has always been about love and gratitude for God, family and freedom. My commitment to those ideals is strengthened by the cumulative memories carried on the traditional scents of the day.
Traditions are important, it's how we pass along our values, culture and faith to the next generation. We keep doing things the way we always have so that those core values are strengthened, and the meaningful things of life are not lost.
Showing posts with label Memories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Memories. Show all posts
Thursday, November 28, 2013
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
The Sound of Memory
Why do I often feel like writing when I can barely keep my eyes
open? When my rational, organized, motivated mind gets sleepy, my
creative mind has a few moments where it can sneak in and take control
before the entire system shuts down.
Today I was thinking about how music is so tied to memory, and then I thought about how it is more than just music, it is sound. The sound of your mother's voice, the sound of your baby's cry, the tornado siren, the school bell, the sound of caulk on the board, the vibration of the diving board, the phone ringing - all bring a vivid picture to mind, an instant reaction, an automatic time travel, mental teleportation to another time and place. If you indulge your imagination, you can drag it out for a few more moments and experience again times gone by. The unpleasant ones are a shock, a startling emotional jar that you can't slam the door shut on fast enough.
I listen to a lot of audio books. It's funny how the sound of the stories become attached to the location where I heard them, or the activity I was doing. For example, I was listening to this book I didn't really like, but was persevering to at least finish it while I was helping my husband do a final clean on a wood floor job of his. I was on the floor, scraping bits of dried glue while I listened to that lame story. Every time I drive by that house, I think of that stupid book! It's stuck. That memory is all tied up in the sound of that story. Too bad it wasn't a great book that I would love to remember. When I mop a certain hallway I think of this fantasy novel about fairies. It's kind of nice to be reminded of a pleasant little story while doing such a boring household chore.
I can't tell you how many times I have been in a store and snapped to attention when I heard a child call out , "MOM". It's not my child, but the sound of a distressed child calling my "name" gets my attention. It's an automatic reaction. A baby crying will do similar things to me. It's a deep response, at my core, the need to respond to that sound.
There is the song one of my yoga teachers used to play during the final relaxation phase. Five notes in and I'm relaxed. It's awesome. I should keep that song cued up and ready to play when the day gets too tense and I'm ready to scream. Instant relaxation.
Kashmir, that takes me back to one of the most enjoyable times of my life. Band practice, in the basement of our house in Utah. I hear that song and I am happy. It's pretty awesome that song is as long as it is. Keep the good vibes rollin' ...
There is nothing like the sound of a good rain storm to put me to sleep. It can be 2pm, and I am in the middle of a project, if the rain starts, I want to go to sleep. It's auto pilot, rainy day, sleep mode for me. Riding in a car has that effect on me too. If I am a passenger I will likely fall asleep. I think that might have less to do with sound, and more to do with all the Dramamine induced sleepy car rides of my childhood.
When I fly I often fall asleep to the sound of the flight attendant's voice telling us about seat cushion floatation devises and wake up to the sound of the wheels dropping. More sound induced conditioning. Just like that dog of Pavlov ....
Often as I work I listen to music. It keeps me company. The memories the songs evoke bring old friends along to hang out while I sit here at my desk. Without them, the silence is deafening, the solitude suffocating.
Today I was thinking about how music is so tied to memory, and then I thought about how it is more than just music, it is sound. The sound of your mother's voice, the sound of your baby's cry, the tornado siren, the school bell, the sound of caulk on the board, the vibration of the diving board, the phone ringing - all bring a vivid picture to mind, an instant reaction, an automatic time travel, mental teleportation to another time and place. If you indulge your imagination, you can drag it out for a few more moments and experience again times gone by. The unpleasant ones are a shock, a startling emotional jar that you can't slam the door shut on fast enough.
I listen to a lot of audio books. It's funny how the sound of the stories become attached to the location where I heard them, or the activity I was doing. For example, I was listening to this book I didn't really like, but was persevering to at least finish it while I was helping my husband do a final clean on a wood floor job of his. I was on the floor, scraping bits of dried glue while I listened to that lame story. Every time I drive by that house, I think of that stupid book! It's stuck. That memory is all tied up in the sound of that story. Too bad it wasn't a great book that I would love to remember. When I mop a certain hallway I think of this fantasy novel about fairies. It's kind of nice to be reminded of a pleasant little story while doing such a boring household chore.
I can't tell you how many times I have been in a store and snapped to attention when I heard a child call out , "MOM". It's not my child, but the sound of a distressed child calling my "name" gets my attention. It's an automatic reaction. A baby crying will do similar things to me. It's a deep response, at my core, the need to respond to that sound.
There is the song one of my yoga teachers used to play during the final relaxation phase. Five notes in and I'm relaxed. It's awesome. I should keep that song cued up and ready to play when the day gets too tense and I'm ready to scream. Instant relaxation.
Kashmir, that takes me back to one of the most enjoyable times of my life. Band practice, in the basement of our house in Utah. I hear that song and I am happy. It's pretty awesome that song is as long as it is. Keep the good vibes rollin' ...
There is nothing like the sound of a good rain storm to put me to sleep. It can be 2pm, and I am in the middle of a project, if the rain starts, I want to go to sleep. It's auto pilot, rainy day, sleep mode for me. Riding in a car has that effect on me too. If I am a passenger I will likely fall asleep. I think that might have less to do with sound, and more to do with all the Dramamine induced sleepy car rides of my childhood.
When I fly I often fall asleep to the sound of the flight attendant's voice telling us about seat cushion floatation devises and wake up to the sound of the wheels dropping. More sound induced conditioning. Just like that dog of Pavlov ....
Often as I work I listen to music. It keeps me company. The memories the songs evoke bring old friends along to hang out while I sit here at my desk. Without them, the silence is deafening, the solitude suffocating.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Sugar Cookies
When I eat these cookies it is like I am a child again, sitting in my
Grandma's house waiting for Santa to arrive. They are light and fluffy
and in my opinion, don't need the icing to be good. Heck, I don't even
think they really need to be baked!
This recipe makes a TON of cookies! Depending on the size of
your cookie cutters, usually around 100. Just enough to share with all
your friends and neighbors (and make your back hurt from all the leaning
over).
Sugar Cookies (Grandma Teusink's Recipe)
1 cup margarine or butter
2 cups sugar
2 eggs
1 cup sour cream
1 tsp vanilla
1/2 tsp baking soda
4 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
4 1/2 cups of flour
cream butter and sugar together - add eggs one at a time and mix well - add sour cream and vanilla -
combine dry ingredients and blend them in
chill dough for 1 hour or overnight
roll dough 1/4 inch thick and cut out
bake at 350 for 8 minutes until underside is golden brown
Icing:
wilton cookie icing
1 cup powdered sugar
2 Tbs milk (start with a small amount and work up to the consistency you like for decorating.)
2 tsp light corn syrup
stir then add corn syrup
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Gifts
A few posts ago I wrote about accepting presents from an enemy, and how that is not really such a good idea. Those presents are offered with BIG strings attached. They are not gifts, as they are not freely given. They are a trade. When we accept them we trade our future and even our freedom for immediate gratification of our desires.
A true gift is given without strings, without requirements, asking nothing in return. You don't have to do anything to qualify for a gift. Gifts are given and they are received. They can be rejected, returned or even re-gifted.
A mother's love is one of the first and most precious gifts we receive in this life. From even before the moment of birth our mother's love us. They love us completely when we are unable to give anything in return. We benefit greatly from this love throughout our life, but in the beginning, it is essential for our survival. Because of her love we have our very existence. It is many sleepless nights and years of selfless giving before a child is able to begin returning that love. As we grow, that love provides us with so many other necessary things in life, and even as an adult, a mother's love can make all the difference. A mother's love is truly a gift.
The ability to learn is a glorious gift. From the moment of birth our minds begin to learn. This process of exploring and learning need never stop. Our minds are capable of expanding and changing on a continual basis. A formal education may come at some expense, but learning is free. The world around us offers continual lessons, if we take the time to notice.
The gifts of sight, sound, smell, taste and touch are magnificent and together they fill our lives with rich experiences. Most people born on this earth have had the use of their 5 senses. Each morning when I walk I start out in the dark. The air is a little cool with the faintest hint of the sea mist in the breeze. The feel of it on my skin is invigorating. Watching as the night sky of moon and stars gives way to the sunrise never fails to impress me. The ocean sounds alive and the sight of it's vastness is humbling. Comfort to the soul arrives in the sweet scent of the plumeria trees.
Just remembering the taste of home made Christmas divinity candy transforms me into my 10 year old self and transports me to my Grandmother's kitchen. It has been decades since I have had that candy in my mouth, but my mind can recall it to perfection. Taste is a powerful gift. Imagine the joy that would be lost if our food had no flavor. Where would be the celebration in a Thanksgiving feast, or the excitement of a birthday cake without the gift of taste?
Our memories are a wonderful gift. All of the joys in life can be experienced over and over again in our memory. The lessons learned need not be forgotten. We can replay the voice of a loved one who is gone, or the giggle of a baby who is all grown up. Loved ones can live on in our memories, long after they are gone. Treasured memories make the past ever present and those joys continually experienced.
All of these gifts come from God, our Creator, our Heavenly Father. Life is wonderful and rich because of these, and many other gifts from Him. The greatest gift is that of His Son. The world celebrates the birth of Jesus Christ for a reason. Many people in the world today may not have a deep understanding of why Christmas is so important, yet they do celebrate. Jesus Christ is the Savior of the world. The ancient people understood the significance of His arrival and the traditions of celebrating this magnificent event have endured to this day. We give gifts because He gave us the greatest gift - Eternal Life.
The gift of Eternal Life is freely give to all. We will receive this gift even if we are unaware of it in this life. No qualification is necessary, it is a true Gift. Life is a gift and the lessons and experiences we have here prepare us to live eternally. We do not end, we are eternal. Our minds, our hearts, our bodies and our relationships are eternal. Because of the sacrifice of our Savior, we are able to experience this life complete with all the mistakes required for true learning, yet return and live with Him.
A true gift is given without strings, without requirements, asking nothing in return. You don't have to do anything to qualify for a gift. Gifts are given and they are received. They can be rejected, returned or even re-gifted.
A mother's love is one of the first and most precious gifts we receive in this life. From even before the moment of birth our mother's love us. They love us completely when we are unable to give anything in return. We benefit greatly from this love throughout our life, but in the beginning, it is essential for our survival. Because of her love we have our very existence. It is many sleepless nights and years of selfless giving before a child is able to begin returning that love. As we grow, that love provides us with so many other necessary things in life, and even as an adult, a mother's love can make all the difference. A mother's love is truly a gift.
The ability to learn is a glorious gift. From the moment of birth our minds begin to learn. This process of exploring and learning need never stop. Our minds are capable of expanding and changing on a continual basis. A formal education may come at some expense, but learning is free. The world around us offers continual lessons, if we take the time to notice.
The gifts of sight, sound, smell, taste and touch are magnificent and together they fill our lives with rich experiences. Most people born on this earth have had the use of their 5 senses. Each morning when I walk I start out in the dark. The air is a little cool with the faintest hint of the sea mist in the breeze. The feel of it on my skin is invigorating. Watching as the night sky of moon and stars gives way to the sunrise never fails to impress me. The ocean sounds alive and the sight of it's vastness is humbling. Comfort to the soul arrives in the sweet scent of the plumeria trees.
Just remembering the taste of home made Christmas divinity candy transforms me into my 10 year old self and transports me to my Grandmother's kitchen. It has been decades since I have had that candy in my mouth, but my mind can recall it to perfection. Taste is a powerful gift. Imagine the joy that would be lost if our food had no flavor. Where would be the celebration in a Thanksgiving feast, or the excitement of a birthday cake without the gift of taste?
Our memories are a wonderful gift. All of the joys in life can be experienced over and over again in our memory. The lessons learned need not be forgotten. We can replay the voice of a loved one who is gone, or the giggle of a baby who is all grown up. Loved ones can live on in our memories, long after they are gone. Treasured memories make the past ever present and those joys continually experienced.
All of these gifts come from God, our Creator, our Heavenly Father. Life is wonderful and rich because of these, and many other gifts from Him. The greatest gift is that of His Son. The world celebrates the birth of Jesus Christ for a reason. Many people in the world today may not have a deep understanding of why Christmas is so important, yet they do celebrate. Jesus Christ is the Savior of the world. The ancient people understood the significance of His arrival and the traditions of celebrating this magnificent event have endured to this day. We give gifts because He gave us the greatest gift - Eternal Life.
The gift of Eternal Life is freely give to all. We will receive this gift even if we are unaware of it in this life. No qualification is necessary, it is a true Gift. Life is a gift and the lessons and experiences we have here prepare us to live eternally. We do not end, we are eternal. Our minds, our hearts, our bodies and our relationships are eternal. Because of the sacrifice of our Savior, we are able to experience this life complete with all the mistakes required for true learning, yet return and live with Him.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Just Dance
Ever since I can remember, I have loved to dance. My first solid memory of dancing is very specific. I was a very small girl, only 3 or 4 years old. I was with my Grandma Edlyn at the Rainbow, yes a bar, but it was during the day. She would go there and talk with her friends, play pool, and drop quarters in the juke box for me. They served food and I remember eating cheeseburgers and french fries with her there. I think that is probably where I first started to love fountain Coca Cola. Coke is great out of those soda guns they have, the syrup rich and the carbonation just right. Anyway, it was a hot summer day in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. It was too hot to play outside or sit in her house, so we went to the Rainbow for lunch and friends.
Grandma handed me a quarter and I walked over to the juke box on the other side of the room. It was dark and quiet. The place was pretty empty during the day. I reached up, on the tips of my toes and dropped the quarter in the slot. Magically the juke box came to life, bright colors and the whirring motor. I had to find the right buttons to push to play the songs I wanted. I could reach, just barely. There's the "A" button, all the way to the left, on the top row, and then go down to the numbers and count over, 1, 2, 3, 4. That's it A4. The rack of single records started to rotate, and the arm reached over and pulled it out. The needle hit the vinyl, and crackled to life. "Rain Drops Keep Falling on my Head" filled the silent air and I began to twirl and dance and sing along. "Just like the guy who's feet are too big for his bed, nothing seems to fit ..." I thought that line was really funny. I imagined Abraham Lincoln, in his top hat, trying to sleep in a twin bed.
I was alone in my little corner. Alone in the pure joy of music and air conditioning on a hot summer day. I was free - I was happy - I was completely unaware that there was a right way to dance or a correct way to sing. I was dancing and belting it out in complete oblivion. "Because I'm Free ... Nothin's worrying me".
I am sure that Grandma and her friends watched and listened, yet they did not say a word. I am grateful for that. The world of harsh criticism would come soon enough. In those moments I felt alive and free and full of wonder at the world. Music makes me happy.
My mother was always singing and dancing at home. I loved our home full of music. I loved my singing mommy. I remember asking her one day how she could make her voice sound just like all the people who sang on the radio. She laughed, and said, "I do?" I think she sings just like Karen Carpenter, only better.
On Saturday's we always watched American Bandstand with mom. Mom and Rik and I would dance with all the people on the show. They would play the top hits of the week, and sometimes there would be a live performance. It was so much fun. It was the heart of the 70's - Disco was the rage, and we could DO the hustle. I wasn't allowed to know that that meant, because it was not nice for children, but we could do the dance!
At slumber parties with my friends we would have dance competitions, ala Saturday Night Fever. One friend lived in a house with open stairs and landings on multiple levels. That was our favorite place to have these dance parties. It was almost like American Bandstand right there in Nancy's entry way.
We used to go to the skating rink as often as possible. That was almost like dancing. The music was loud and I could really skate. I had big pom poms on mine - white with blue tips, of course. I would skate everyday if I could. "I Like that Old Time Rock N Roll" I could roll and roll and roll. Just keep that music playing!
By the time high school rolled around we were all trying to learn to moon walk. Carol Cuellar could do it. She had this stretch of really smooth, painted concrete out in front of her house that was the perfect place to practice. If I could put on a pair of Keds I might be able to do it today! There were school dances and church dances. It was El Paso so there were Quincineras, and oh, the weddings! The wedding dances were the best! Live bands and records. "Where did you come from where did you go? Where did you come from, Cotton Eyed Joe?"
I started taking real dance classes in 9th grade. I wanted to be a dancer. While I was dancing to Neal Diamond at the Rainbow, the girls who were really good had been in ballet and tap class. What I lacked in traditional training and skill, I made up for in enthusiasm. I was just happy to be there.
By my Junior year I was taking a couple of dance classes a day, was on the flag team and was an alternate on the school dance team, Orchesis. I went to every dance I could, and literally danced every day of my life, except maybe on Sundays, sometimes.
When we lived in Utah, Carl was part of a band. They practiced in our basement a couple nights a week. I LOVED that! I loved our house full of music. I would be up in the kitchen, making dinner, and singing and dancing away. Everyone was downstairs and the music was so loud that no one but the kids had any idea of what I was up to. I loved our happy music house! The live performances with the band were awesome! Now I love it when Carl and Ryker play. I am not a musician, I am a musician lover. I marvel at the ability to produce music. Music is magical, it can stir me deep inside like nothing else.
I have no grand delusion that I am or ever will be a serious, professional, dancer. But I am a dancer, as in one who dances. I love to dance, and I love the way music makes me feel, deep in my bones, in my heart, in my soul. Music makes me happy, music makes me want to move. When I am dancing, "nothin's worrying me, because I'm free".
Grandma handed me a quarter and I walked over to the juke box on the other side of the room. It was dark and quiet. The place was pretty empty during the day. I reached up, on the tips of my toes and dropped the quarter in the slot. Magically the juke box came to life, bright colors and the whirring motor. I had to find the right buttons to push to play the songs I wanted. I could reach, just barely. There's the "A" button, all the way to the left, on the top row, and then go down to the numbers and count over, 1, 2, 3, 4. That's it A4. The rack of single records started to rotate, and the arm reached over and pulled it out. The needle hit the vinyl, and crackled to life. "Rain Drops Keep Falling on my Head" filled the silent air and I began to twirl and dance and sing along. "Just like the guy who's feet are too big for his bed, nothing seems to fit ..." I thought that line was really funny. I imagined Abraham Lincoln, in his top hat, trying to sleep in a twin bed.
I was alone in my little corner. Alone in the pure joy of music and air conditioning on a hot summer day. I was free - I was happy - I was completely unaware that there was a right way to dance or a correct way to sing. I was dancing and belting it out in complete oblivion. "Because I'm Free ... Nothin's worrying me".
I am sure that Grandma and her friends watched and listened, yet they did not say a word. I am grateful for that. The world of harsh criticism would come soon enough. In those moments I felt alive and free and full of wonder at the world. Music makes me happy.
My mother was always singing and dancing at home. I loved our home full of music. I loved my singing mommy. I remember asking her one day how she could make her voice sound just like all the people who sang on the radio. She laughed, and said, "I do?" I think she sings just like Karen Carpenter, only better.
On Saturday's we always watched American Bandstand with mom. Mom and Rik and I would dance with all the people on the show. They would play the top hits of the week, and sometimes there would be a live performance. It was so much fun. It was the heart of the 70's - Disco was the rage, and we could DO the hustle. I wasn't allowed to know that that meant, because it was not nice for children, but we could do the dance!
At slumber parties with my friends we would have dance competitions, ala Saturday Night Fever. One friend lived in a house with open stairs and landings on multiple levels. That was our favorite place to have these dance parties. It was almost like American Bandstand right there in Nancy's entry way.
We used to go to the skating rink as often as possible. That was almost like dancing. The music was loud and I could really skate. I had big pom poms on mine - white with blue tips, of course. I would skate everyday if I could. "I Like that Old Time Rock N Roll" I could roll and roll and roll. Just keep that music playing!
By the time high school rolled around we were all trying to learn to moon walk. Carol Cuellar could do it. She had this stretch of really smooth, painted concrete out in front of her house that was the perfect place to practice. If I could put on a pair of Keds I might be able to do it today! There were school dances and church dances. It was El Paso so there were Quincineras, and oh, the weddings! The wedding dances were the best! Live bands and records. "Where did you come from where did you go? Where did you come from, Cotton Eyed Joe?"
I started taking real dance classes in 9th grade. I wanted to be a dancer. While I was dancing to Neal Diamond at the Rainbow, the girls who were really good had been in ballet and tap class. What I lacked in traditional training and skill, I made up for in enthusiasm. I was just happy to be there.
By my Junior year I was taking a couple of dance classes a day, was on the flag team and was an alternate on the school dance team, Orchesis. I went to every dance I could, and literally danced every day of my life, except maybe on Sundays, sometimes.
When we lived in Utah, Carl was part of a band. They practiced in our basement a couple nights a week. I LOVED that! I loved our house full of music. I would be up in the kitchen, making dinner, and singing and dancing away. Everyone was downstairs and the music was so loud that no one but the kids had any idea of what I was up to. I loved our happy music house! The live performances with the band were awesome! Now I love it when Carl and Ryker play. I am not a musician, I am a musician lover. I marvel at the ability to produce music. Music is magical, it can stir me deep inside like nothing else.
I have no grand delusion that I am or ever will be a serious, professional, dancer. But I am a dancer, as in one who dances. I love to dance, and I love the way music makes me feel, deep in my bones, in my heart, in my soul. Music makes me happy, music makes me want to move. When I am dancing, "nothin's worrying me, because I'm free".
Sunday, March 29, 2009
A House of Music
I love a house full of music. Tonight Ryker and I are watching a show about the top hits of the 70's. In the last hour I have said, "I remember dancing with my Mom to that song", and "I remember my Mom singing that song", countless times. As a child the radio was always on, and Mom was always singing. Unless she was behind the wheel, she was usually dancing as well. I specifically remember learning to do the Jitter Bug to Blackwater by the Doobie Brothers. All that music made for very happy days. The memory of it is very sweet.
I am glad that I married into a musical family. I've been in awe of Carl's guitar playing for years. When he had his band, our house was always rockin', it was awesome! I wish I had recordings of them. Now that Ryker plays, there is hardly a day without some sort of live music in our house. Most recently it's been the ukulele for Ryker.
I am what every musician needs - an appreciative audience.
I am glad that I married into a musical family. I've been in awe of Carl's guitar playing for years. When he had his band, our house was always rockin', it was awesome! I wish I had recordings of them. Now that Ryker plays, there is hardly a day without some sort of live music in our house. Most recently it's been the ukulele for Ryker.
I am what every musician needs - an appreciative audience.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Antique Frosting Recipes
My Grandma Teusink baked and cooked lots of yummy things. I have many fond memories of Grandma and food. I LOVE her canned tomato sauce/juice! Especially made into goulash. She grew those tomatoes, canned them, and than cooked them up with ground beef and noodles. I am afraid that I will never taste that again.
In an effort to rescue these memories and share them with future generations I have asked my Mom to scan all the recipes she has from Grandma. A few weeks ago a large envelope arrived with photo copies of many of these recipes. I love it that they are in Grandma's hand writing. I want to create a something with color scans of them so they are preserved in a digital format.
Today Quincie made a chocolate cake. She frosted it with Grandma's White Frosting. It tastes just like I remember - like fluffy marshmallow! It is a great frosting, and so easy. Grandma gives credit to Yvonne Domogalski for this recipe. I have transcribed the recipe exactly as it is on the hand written card.
White Frosting
In an effort to rescue these memories and share them with future generations I have asked my Mom to scan all the recipes she has from Grandma. A few weeks ago a large envelope arrived with photo copies of many of these recipes. I love it that they are in Grandma's hand writing. I want to create a something with color scans of them so they are preserved in a digital format.
Today Quincie made a chocolate cake. She frosted it with Grandma's White Frosting. It tastes just like I remember - like fluffy marshmallow! It is a great frosting, and so easy. Grandma gives credit to Yvonne Domogalski for this recipe. I have transcribed the recipe exactly as it is on the hand written card.
White Frosting
1 unbeaten egg white
3/4 cup white sugar
1/4 tsp. cream of tarter
1 tsp. vanilla
1/4 cup boiling hot water
Mix well with electric mixer til stiff.
Makes a big batch.
(tastes like 7 minute frosting)
A couple weeks ago I made a yellow cake and frosted it with Grandma's chocolate frosting. It was so great! It made me feel like I was a kid again, sitting in Grandma's kitchen, licking a beater.
3/4 cup white sugar
1/4 tsp. cream of tarter
1 tsp. vanilla
1/4 cup boiling hot water
Mix well with electric mixer til stiff.
Makes a big batch.
(tastes like 7 minute frosting)
One Minute Frosting
1 cup white sugar
1 stick oleo
1/4 cup milk
1 tsp. vanilla
2 Tablesp. cocoa
Put all ingredients together in pan, bring to boil. (stirring constantly). Boil over med. heat for one minute. Remove from heat - cool to lukewarm. Beat until stiff enough to spread.
I didn't have any "oleo" on hand, so I used real butter. It tasted great, but I think the texture would have been more like Grandma's if I had used oleo. The taste is very similar to fudge. Just awesome!
1 stick oleo
1/4 cup milk
1 tsp. vanilla
2 Tablesp. cocoa
Put all ingredients together in pan, bring to boil. (stirring constantly). Boil over med. heat for one minute. Remove from heat - cool to lukewarm. Beat until stiff enough to spread.
I didn't have any "oleo" on hand, so I used real butter. It tasted great, but I think the texture would have been more like Grandma's if I had used oleo. The taste is very similar to fudge. Just awesome!
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Merry Christmas
I have been pondering how to get in the Christmas spirit. It is just odd here in Hawaii where it is 80 degrees most of the time. A winter storm, like we had this weekend, means rain and wind. The leaves are still green, even though lots of them are now on the ground. The physical conditioning of Christmas past is not working for me.
It takes enormous imaginative effort to recall the sharp, exhilaration of taking a deep breath of cold, crisp December air, and feeling my nose try to retreat. Or the way fresh fallen snow holds your weight for the briefest moment before crunching under foot. The scent of a real, fresh Christmas tree eludes me. I have been wandering around stores sniffing pine scented candles. If I found one that was right, I would buy a cart full. With Christmas music playing over the store sound system, eyes closed, and a pine candle at my nose, I can almost, if the store is well air conditioned, believe it is the week before Christmas.
Tonight Ryker and Quincie went caroling with the youth from church. I snapped this photo of them on the way out the door. Christmas carols and my kids - that is my ticket to feeling the Christmas spirit. Tonight my heart is full of the love that is Christmas. Merry Christmas!
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