It is hard to believe how fast Christmas comes around these days. When I was a child, it was 10 years from one Christmas to the next, or at least if felt like it in my perception. Now it comes every 3 months in ripe adulthood. I do my best to make it last. I have the same idea as the local retailers –start in October and keep on ‘til January. That is the only way I have enough time to notice it in my busy, overflowing life. Anybody who thinks that we who live in the rural world don’t have a fast paced life has never been here. The living is easy – but only when we can slow down enough to enjoy it. The way we live life comes from the inside out, it is not dictated by geography. Geography is like the stage set, the players determine the dialogue.
It is not the shopping that causes the bustle in my life, it is the socializing. You’d think that people who live in places like rural southwest Alabama would have limited activities available. Again, this is a misconception. We learned two hundred years age that if we were going to have fun, we‘d have to make so. We learned to share the joy of living by entertaining ourselves and each other. It may be a vibration thing, but those of us who love a good party stick together. We have a code of honor that what happens when we get together is never told outside the group. We only talk about it when we look back on it with the other participants and reminisce. It’s not that we do anything illicit or illegal, but we just don’t want everybody knowing all our business. Knowing people’s business is entertainment in itself. It is for those who choose to live vicariously, rather than actually participate. If there’s a good entertainment, I want to attend it, not hear about it secondhand.
Food is a central part of all celebrations here. This is the co9mmon thread that runs through it all. Libations occur at many gatherings, some up front and some on the sly. We recently had a wet/dry vote in our town. I know that even contemplating a place where liquor is not available is unbelievable for most of the world. It is a hold over from the time when we were either too Christian (according to the narrowest interpretation) or too drunk to be responsible. It also has a lot to do with our ancestry. Our Irish and Indian ancestors did not handle liquor very well. The families of the affected thought they could control intake by making it illegal, and theoretically harder to get. Also, it became a control factor for those who didn’t drink and didn’t care to have others do so.
Consequently, drinking went underground as a group social activity. There was this petition in the paper that listed a whole slew of men from one church who said they morally opposed the legal sale of liquor. The whole town enjoyed looking at the list and telling which of those upright men they had shared a drink with. One man said “Old So and So (One of the signers of the declaration of moral temperance) better not come down to my camp looking for a bottle of whiskey anymore.” Consequently, to avoid further sinning on the part of the signing drinkers, we keep our libatiounary entertainments to ourselves.
Drink divides us, food unites us. Each family has its own traditions of what to serve, but there are certain foods to be found on every holiday table. One is dressing. That is a southern term for stuffing, which we in the south do no put in the turkey, but along side it. Even vegetarians know it’s not Christmas or Thanksgiving or maybe even Easter without dressing. We always make it out of cornbread, too. No soggy white bread stuffing will suit us. It also has lots of celery and onions in it. Some people add a bit of bell pepper to flavor up the broth. If we put in sage, it is only a pinch. We don’t like to taste it, rather have it as a subtle underpinning.
We must also have sweet potatoes. They can be mashed with various things in them. They can be topped with a praline/pecan topping (my personal favorite) or have marshmallows on top. My grandmother went through a couple of trendy sweet potato phases. One was orange rind cups with marshmallows on top. That was handy when you used the orange sections in ambrosia. The other was to mash the sweet potatoes, mold them around a marshmallow and then roll in cornflake crumbs and bake the balls.
No holiday table is ever complete without pecan pies and most have the aforementioned ambrosia. It is a dish made with orange sections and fresh grated coconut. Some people add crushed pineapple. It is not as popular now as it once was because for some reason, children no longer eat coconut. It seems to be a generational thing. That also eliminates Japanese fruitcake, once a dessert staple, from many tables, I’ve always wondered if it was invented during WWII when candied fruit was hard to get. It may have been called Japanese fruit cake as a derogatory term. Anyway, now it seems to be as ancient as WWII.
If you have access to them, butterbeans also seem to show up on most holiday tables. They are fresh tomatoes, rare and valuable when you don’t have a garden. If freezers have one package left, they go on the holiday table.
Presents are part of the holiday celebration, but entirely secondary to the foods/ entertainment aspect of the holiday. In fact, as we age, many of us treasure food as a suitable gift. My aunt told me that when a person reaches 60, there is a good rule to follow in gift giving, “If you can’t eat it, can’t wear it, and can’t spend it – don’t give it.”
Foods are the first in order with that rule. My requests for gifts include pound cakes from my relatives who are good cake bakers. I have learned to make peppermint bark for gifts this year. One of my friends makes wonderful fruitcake cookies that I look forward to receiving. One of everybody’s favorite gifts is a quart of shelle4 picked out pecans. We consider pecans to be the nut of choice in rural southwest Alabama. Now that Christmas comes every three months, we have plenty of them in a good crop year. May this be a good crop year for all of you whether in rural southwest Alabama or the world at large. Christmas is now. Merry Christmas!
Friday, December 21, 2007
CHARLIE LUCAS OPENING
Charlie Lucas is a famous outsider artist who lives in Selma. Alabama. His is a story that is stuff movies are made of. There is a book being written about him right now. Ben Windham, the editor of the Tuscaloosa News, is working on one with Charlie. I will leave the whole story to them to tell. I have seen a sample chapter of the book. Ben’s mother is the famous storyteller and NPR commentator, Kathryn Tucker Windham, who lives next door to Charlie. Her whole family calls Charlie “brother”. He really is a member of the family. Kathryn lives in what can kindly be described as a declining neighborhood. Her children wanted her to move out of the house that has been her home where she raised her family. Kathryn refused and found her own solution to the problem. She bought the house next door and moved Charlie into it. They had become friends when both were appearing at Kentuck, an arts exhibition festival in Northport. Charlie was completing a messy divorce and needed a pace to live. Kathryn needed a reliable neighbor.
The two watch out for each other. They have a signal morning ritual. When Kathryn gets up, she opens the blinds in her kitchen window to let Charlie know she’s all right. Kathryn is in her late 80s, so the ritual is useful, but does not invade her privacy. Charlie, like all artists, has periods of feast or famine. Kathryn has vowed he will never go hungry. She is a famous writer whose works include books on southern cooking, so Charlie eats well whether art is selling or not.
This past Saturday night, Charlie had an art opening in his new gallery next to Holly’s Feed and Seed in downtown Selma. He shares the building with the Everyman bookstore and antique shop. His side makes the perfect gallery to showcase his sculptures and paintings. His work needs a place with the patina of age to show it best.
His sculptures are metal, made of found objects welded together. His paintings are framed with boards salvaged from abandoned buildings he tears down. He also does art on ironing boards and other interesting things. He has a series of masks that he makes from old tin roof shingles. He also does metal wall hangings. All of the pieces look well against the damp stained plaster walls of the warehouse space. The light is dim, which works well with his bright colors.
Some of Charlie’s work is simple and childlike. I bought one of these when I was previewing the show. The one I bought is called “50 Foot Woman”, a study in bright pastels with the woman surrounded by small buildings. It is so powerful in its message, that with Charlie’s permission, I plan to have prints made for all my powerful women friends. Charlie painted it after he had a dream about the Woman. All Charlie’s work is based on mystical and philosophical principles. He is a deep thinker who spends a lot of time contemplating how the world and the human minds in it work. When you point to any work in the gallery, he will tell you its story. Each and every piece has a story. There are no pieces that he just throws together for the sake of seeking a sale. One piece that particularly spoke to me was one called “The Teacher”. It was an abstract with a face mask surrounded by smaller descending faces. It was the teacher with her students. On the back of the sculpture were wires tying the lives together. He told me the story as I looked at the sculpture, pointing out the various aspects of the work. Half the fun of owning a Lucas work is knowing the story behind it. Coming to see the artist and his work, in my opinion, is the only way to buy from him.
I had reserved another piece of his, in addition to the one I bought, but it was expensive for my budget, so I put it on layaway. It was a metal wall hanging on a red wooden board called “Lug Wrench”. It told the story of divorce – How love had put the two together and divorce had wrenched them apart. He told how he wished to see divorce be gentler between the people involved without the pain of the wrench. I wonder if the person who bought it understood Charlie’s message. Charlie regretfully informed me that before he got to the opening, it sold. He was much better off. It would have been months before I could have paid it off, and he was able to get his money on the spot. He is going to do me another piece, so I’ll have months to save up for it.
I may even opt for another piece I saw. I had trouble deciding not to buy one of her newer pieces which looked quite Picassoesque. The reason I bought the “50 Foot Woman” is that it reminds me of one he did for Kathryn’s birthday of her as a dancing woman. It captured her essence as a joyful figure. The “50 Foot Woman” has the same air of carefree abandon. Charlie has a knack for distilling the essence of life.
Charlie’s phone number is (334) 872-3956. If he’s around, he will answer his phone and meet you at his gallery.
CHRISTMAS PLAY IN GILBERTOWN
I am always amazed when I attend a play put on by the locals in Choctaw County at the Ballet and Theater Arts School in Gilbertown. Fred and Svetlana Kimbrough came back from New York City where they had been performers to raise their family in rural Southwest Alabama. To make a living, they founded a non-profit organization to teach and do performances with local people. The talent they find and bring out in the locals is truly amazing. Their daytime work is with children in the schools and in after school programs. Their plays are extra.
Last weekend, I went to see “A Sanders Family Christmas” – the Christmas sequel to “Smoke on the Mountain” which they had presented to sell out audiences earlier this year. It is set in 1941 at the beginning of World War ll. It is a religious musical comedy, if you can imagine. It involves a cast of 9, with three musicians extra. I have rarely heard better harmony on the musical numbers.
I never like to enjoy plays or eating out by myself. I like to celebrate good things with friends. I took three of my favorite culture buffs along with me. As I have told you before, I am like an army, I travel on my stomach. We had choices of good places to eat along the way. It is hard to believe that there are a number of places scattered through the woods of such a rural area. The largest town is around 300. We could have had catfish as Bobby’s fish camp, seafood at DeDoc’s, a train wreck loaded potato at J&K Junction, or authentic homemade pizza at Bimbo’s. I opted for Bimbo’s because I am partial to their shrimp, mushroom and bacon pizza on a homemade crust as well as the interesting things on their salad bar like pepperoni.
I have attended plays in Gilbertown for years. One Christmas, I went to see Amahl and the Night Visitors. Believe it or not, in rural Southwest Alabama, it was an opera. It was beautifully done! At the end, Fred came out and said “Ah, fooled you didn’t we?” How many of you enjoyed the opera?” Everybody clapped and raised their hands. Then he asked “how many of you would have come if you had known it was an opera?” About three hands went up. Sometimes in rural Southwest Alabama we have to be fooled into culture, but we enjoy it when we get there.
I am always amazed when I attend a play put on by the locals in Choctaw County at the Ballet and Theater Arts School in Gilbertown. Fred and Svetlana Kimbrough came back from New York City where they had been performers to raise their family in rural Southwest Alabama. To make a living, they founded a non-profit organization to teach and do performances with local people. The talent they find and bring out in the locals is truly amazing. Their daytime work is with children in the schools and in after school programs. Their plays are extra.
Last weekend, I went to see “A Sanders Family Christmas” – the Christmas sequel to “Smoke on the Mountain” which they had presented to sell out audiences earlier this year. It is set in 1941 at the beginning of World War ll. It is a religious musical comedy, if you can imagine. It involves a cast of 9, with three musicians extra. I have rarely heard better harmony on the musical numbers.
I never like to enjoy plays or eating out by myself. I like to celebrate good things with friends. I took three of my favorite culture buffs along with me. As I have told you before, I am like an army, I travel on my stomach. We had choices of good places to eat along the way. It is hard to believe that there are a number of places scattered through the woods of such a rural area. The largest town is around 300. We could have had catfish as Bobby’s fish camp, seafood at DeDoc’s, a train wreck loaded potato at J&K Junction, or authentic homemade pizza at Bimbo’s. I opted for Bimbo’s because I am partial to their shrimp, mushroom and bacon pizza on a homemade crust as well as the interesting things on their salad bar like pepperoni.
I have attended plays in Gilbertown for years. One Christmas, I went to see Amahl and the Night Visitors. Believe it or not, in rural Southwest Alabama, it was an opera. It was beautifully done! At the end, Fred came out and said “Ah, fooled you didn’t we?” How many of you enjoyed the opera?” Everybody clapped and raised their hands. Then he asked “how many of you would have come if you had known it was an opera?” About three hands went up. Sometimes in rural Southwest Alabama we have to be fooled into culture, but we enjoy it when we get there.
Last weekend, I went to see “A Sanders Family Christmas” – the Christmas sequel to “Smoke on the Mountain” which they had presented to sell out audiences earlier this year. It is set in 1941 at the beginning of World War ll. It is a religious musical comedy, if you can imagine. It involves a cast of 9, with three musicians extra. I have rarely heard better harmony on the musical numbers.
I never like to enjoy plays or eating out by myself. I like to celebrate good things with friends. I took three of my favorite culture buffs along with me. As I have told you before, I am like an army, I travel on my stomach. We had choices of good places to eat along the way. It is hard to believe that there are a number of places scattered through the woods of such a rural area. The largest town is around 300. We could have had catfish as Bobby’s fish camp, seafood at DeDoc’s, a train wreck loaded potato at J&K Junction, or authentic homemade pizza at Bimbo’s. I opted for Bimbo’s because I am partial to their shrimp, mushroom and bacon pizza on a homemade crust as well as the interesting things on their salad bar like pepperoni.
I have attended plays in Gilbertown for years. One Christmas, I went to see Amahl and the Night Visitors. Believe it or not, in rural Southwest Alabama, it was an opera. It was beautifully done! At the end, Fred came out and said “Ah, fooled you didn’t we?” How many of you enjoyed the opera?” Everybody clapped and raised their hands. Then he asked “how many of you would have come if you had known it was an opera?” About three hands went up. Sometimes in rural Southwest Alabama we have to be fooled into culture, but we enjoy it when we get there.
I am always amazed when I attend a play put on by the locals in Choctaw County at the Ballet and Theater Arts School in Gilbertown. Fred and Svetlana Kimbrough came back from New York City where they had been performers to raise their family in rural Southwest Alabama. To make a living, they founded a non-profit organization to teach and do performances with local people. The talent they find and bring out in the locals is truly amazing. Their daytime work is with children in the schools and in after school programs. Their plays are extra.
Last weekend, I went to see “A Sanders Family Christmas” – the Christmas sequel to “Smoke on the Mountain” which they had presented to sell out audiences earlier this year. It is set in 1941 at the beginning of World War ll. It is a religious musical comedy, if you can imagine. It involves a cast of 9, with three musicians extra. I have rarely heard better harmony on the musical numbers.
I never like to enjoy plays or eating out by myself. I like to celebrate good things with friends. I took three of my favorite culture buffs along with me. As I have told you before, I am like an army, I travel on my stomach. We had choices of good places to eat along the way. It is hard to believe that there are a number of places scattered through the woods of such a rural area. The largest town is around 300. We could have had catfish as Bobby’s fish camp, seafood at DeDoc’s, a train wreck loaded potato at J&K Junction, or authentic homemade pizza at Bimbo’s. I opted for Bimbo’s because I am partial to their shrimp, mushroom and bacon pizza on a homemade crust as well as the interesting things on their salad bar like pepperoni.
I have attended plays in Gilbertown for years. One Christmas, I went to see Amahl and the Night Visitors. Believe it or not, in rural Southwest Alabama, it was an opera. It was beautifully done! At the end, Fred came out and said “Ah, fooled you didn’t we?” How many of you enjoyed the opera?” Everybody clapped and raised their hands. Then he asked “how many of you would have come if you had known it was an opera?” About three hands went up. Sometimes in rural Southwest Alabama we have to be fooled into culture, but we enjoy it when we get there.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
DECKING MY HALLS
I finally got all my decorating done. I had to ask myself “why bother?” since I live alone. People tell me I don’t live alone because there are always friends in and out. It’s been particularly pleasant to have company this December because it is still porch sitting weather. We can light the candles and drink wine on the front porch in the evenings. It is not usually like this, so I consider this a Christmas gift from the Universe to Southwest Alabama.
I decorated as much as usual, pretending that it is cold December even while I write this sitting on the porch with the birds still singing in the trees. It is like having the best of both worlds – the joyous Christmas season and shirtsleeve weather.
This appears to be a red year in decorating. I used red amaryllis, my favorite flower as the main element. I have collected them for years. I like clear reds, not deep reds. Living in the country ( I think of it as a small town, but I realized it wasn’t so when a friend from California said she lived in a small town of 40,000), I save ribbons and decorations over the years. I reuse them as much as possible, but this year, many of the old ribbons bit the dust. I bought one big roll to start over with. All my ribboning this year is red tartan. Many of us residents of southwest Alabama have a Scots/Irish heritage. I am not particularly celebrating that, I just love red and green. I notice many of the magazines this year are using white accented with silvers and blues. To heck with that, I like bright and colorful for Christmas. My tree has colored lights. They are gold with touches of red and green. The tree is loaded with ornaments then beribboned all over with gold, red and green ribbon I bought at the flea market in Mobile. I never think of myself as a fan of Victorian decorating except at Christmas. For the holiday season, I festoon and drape with the best of them. Usually, I am a fan of the country English look because I love the way they collect all kinds of books and art, finding places for it all. I love the way that everything is used and lived with, including the finest antiques. If I can’t sit on it and prop on it, I don’t have it. At Christmas, there are a lot more people around to sit and prop. In the past four days, I have had different overnight guests three of those nights. They have all enjoyed my decorations and sitting on the porch with me. It is has been a great treat to me to have one on one time with some of my favorite people and cook some authentic southern foods for them. I made some Conecuh sausage cheese bread, chicken salad, pimento cheese, and soups (even though it is hot weather).
I do have a full time job, but being with friends and entertaining is a fine southern tradition that adds to the quality of life. I can rest when I’m dead. I take a full regime of vitamins and herbs to keep me going. I never go to the doctor because I’m never sick. Okay, I confess, I did go to the doctor recently. I was shopping at the Talbot’s outlet in Kentucky where my mother lives the day after Thanksgiving. I looked down in the dressing room and saw a blue circle like a bull’s eye on my stomach (which I try not to look at ordinarily). In the middle of the circle was a red spot. I didn’t feel bad, but my family got all upset, so when I got home, I went to Dr. Frank. He gave me a tetanus shot and took blood work to see if I had a dread disease. I didn’t, but the tetanus shot got me down for a day or two. I don’t believe in taking medicine if I can help it, but I took my first round of antibiotics in 20 years. I have recovered sufficiently to keep up my social schedule. In rural southwest Alabama, entertaining and being entertained is a way of life.
I am including some photos of my Christmas decorating to share with you. I have recently discovered that I like to make pictures now that digital cameras provide instant gratification. I don’t think I’ll ever Ansel Adams’ successor because that kind of photography takes patience which I don’t seem to have much of. I can’t wait for the light to get right, I just have to snap it and hope it comes out well. There must be some magic in my digital camera, because so far, pictures are turning out well. If you don’t thinks so, don’t tell me. Keep my simple faith alive. This is the essence of Christmas.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
CHRISTMAS AT GAINESRIDGE
Yesterday, I had two meals at the Gaines Ridge Supper Club in Camden. It was a good day. This is one of the spots we always direct tourists to when they are in the area. It is on the Alabama Department of Tourism’s 100 Places to Eat Before You Die list. We recommend the food, but love the atmosphere as well. It is especially beautiful in December. The setting is beautiful any time. It is located just east of Camden in an antebellum home set on a hill surrounded by trees draped in Spanish moss. In December, the house is festooned with all the accoutrements of the season. It greets you with lanterns along the gravel driveway. At night they are lit. The front of the house is garlanded with evergreens and red bows that are only a clue to what you’ll fine inside. Every room is decorated in a style befitting a grand old lady of a house.
This is not a fancy house, which is part of its charm. It was not built for a wealthy planter to show off his fortune. It was a lived in house of a normal family. It has been added on to as the restaurant business grew. The added on part is the one most folks mistake for the original part because it has the look of a pioneer cabin.
When the two Gaines sisters started the supper club, nobody in Camden thought it would last. People there didn’t eat out much. There had been only one café in town as long as anybody could remember before Gaines Ridge. Betty Gaines Kennedy and her sister prove the local critics wrong. For many years they have been serving good food to appreciative people. It is another example of how far out of their way people will come to eat well. The group I was with a lunch yesterday was from Montgomery, 60 miles away.
They were expecting to eat lunch, not spending so much time with the visual treats as well. Every visitor is free to look over the whole restaurant before settling down to their meal. It is all right to pop into the other dining rooms to see the decorations even if your party is not in that room. It’s a kind of “excuse me, I’m just looking” as we sometimes do in department stores. The other diners are good natured about it because they just did the same thing.
The rooms are all done in individual themes, but they flow easily into one another.
The homespun atmosphere of the fireplace room was my favorite. Most of the other rooms were fancier, but the decorations on the hearth were charming. There was a teddy bear and other toys in a wicker box placed next to the tree that was decorated in bird ornaments, natural materials and raffia. The mantle had simple decorations. A fire burned merrily in the fireplace. The tables were covered in red and white checked homespun. The valances at the window continued the checked theme with ribbon and greenery trim.
All of the rooms had trees. Some were grand ladies in their Christmas finery. My favorite tree was a small one that had demitasse teacup as the only ornaments. The owner has many interesting collections. I think the cups must come from those. Just inside the front door, there are bookcases filled with, of all things, a collection of gravy boats! I wouldn’t have thought of collecting those. However, some of them were pressed into service in the dining rooms as holders for sugar packets. It was clever idea, because with all the tea and coffee that gets served, I imagine there is a call for a lot of sweetener packets.
Even the back porch has red and green plaid cloths. There are red ribbons on the plants in the back garden. If you want to get the Christmas spirit, got the Gaines Ridge.
They are open all year around Wednesday-Saturday nights, and for lunch for groups by appointment. They are open daily for lunch during December and at nights for group Christmas parties. At lunch the menu will be whatever they happen to be serving. Yesterday, it was a traditional turkey and dressing dinner. It included turkey/dressing, rice and gravy, sweet potato casserole with crushed pineapple and a touch of cloves, well seasoned green beans and always hot from the oven homemade parker house rolls. There was bread pudding with bourbon sauce. There is always all the tea and coffee you can drink. When you arrive, hot spiced cider will be waiting for you to enjoy as you walk through looking at the decorations. The total for lunch including tax and tip is $15.00.
For dinner, the menu will include several choices of entrée. With this comes your choice of potato or rice pilaf, a dinner salad and, of course, those homemade rolls. For we dessert, we were fortunate enough to be served the black bottom pie, the dish that is to die for.
Gaines Ridge is worth driving for as many visitors have discovered. It is a destination in itself, but combined with a trip to Gees Bend on the ferry and Black Belt Treasures, a gallery for local artists; it makes a great day trip. A drive around town to see the antebellum homes will add to the experience.
If you don’t have the Christmas spirit now, maybe you need a trip to Gaines Ridge to put you on the right path.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Christmas Parades
We in the South all have an innate love of pageantry, whether we admit it our not. That is why every little town has its own Christmas Parade and they are such a success. People, who would walk across the street to avoid each other on a normal day, will shout “hello” and wave until they nearly fall off the float speaking to the same people as they parade through town. They will throw candy to people they normally wouldn’t give a crumb of bread to if they were starving.
People lined up along the parade route who are normally staid and calm will scream for candy. They will jostle little children out of the way for Mardi Gras beads to turn their conservative outfits into Christmas decorations.
Christmas parades are the great equalizer. Anybody who is willing to march can get in. In our local parade that holds true unless you are a horse. They were outlawed along time ago when the Sheriff’s Posse was mounted in the parade. The horses left too many calling cards along the way. The mothers of the majorettes complained about the condition of their daughters’ boots. Horses were outlawed immediately. The Sheriff’s Posse wasn’t about to loose their dignity by being followed by pooper scoopers.
Out floats are all homemade. Some are quite charming. They are always judged by secret judges scattered in the crowd. Their identity is always secret for their own protection. It is necessary, as anyone who has ever judged a beauty pageant or floats that parents worked late into the night to build will tell you.
It was a shock to me to learn that now we have to pay bands to be in parades. I thought they were in it for the sheer honor of performing. I guess all that changed when every town’s parade started being on the same day. Now they hire out to the highest bidder. Consequently, there are few bands per parade. There were actually some floats this year with love performers on board or boom boxes. They can’t hold a candle to a drum beat and horns, but at least modern technology has made available alternatives to the bidding on bands.
The one float that I thought went too far even in the Bible Belt was the SUV with Christian Queen written on the side and the Queen ensconced on the back tailgate. We are all far too fond of our various and sundry brands of religion to be able to agree on one brand as being able to proclaim one of theirs queen. It is quite arrogant to assume that one outshines the others and just seized the title for itself. I’ll be interested to see how many brands of Christian Queens are floated out next year.
People stand on the side of the road where their child will be facing from the float they are on. One mother who was riding in the parade (not the Christian Queen) has bought specials toys to throw to her child and friends. I hope her aim was good or she’d have more problems than even the Christian Queen with the partiality issue.
It was a long assed parade. We are very proud of our fire departments locally. They win all kinds of state competitions. We have bought them many fire trucks. All of them were in the parade. I was glad to see children back riding them. For a while, the firemen were too arrogant to allow it. They had two excuses. One after the other – the first was that if the fire truck had to pull out and go fight a fire, what would happen to the children? That was settled by parents having to walk along and monitor the floats. Then they said their insurance wouldn’t allow it. We locals thought that strange since they were climbing all over fire trucks in nearby towns. I just don’t think they wanted to be worried with children until a few of them got pretty grandchildren they wanted to show off and all that changed.
Our local parade has had the same godfather for 22 years. It’s a lot of work to put on one of these. He was an unsung hero until this year when somebody had sense enough to make him the Grand Marshall. They didn’t have a Citizen of the Year. It seems that anybody chosen citizen of the year either dies or has a serious illness shortly thereafter. We wanted to keep the parade guru in good health because it is a thankless job.
Having small town Christmas Parade really is a great way to start the season. It is all about peace and good will even if it is for just
People lined up along the parade route who are normally staid and calm will scream for candy. They will jostle little children out of the way for Mardi Gras beads to turn their conservative outfits into Christmas decorations.
Christmas parades are the great equalizer. Anybody who is willing to march can get in. In our local parade that holds true unless you are a horse. They were outlawed along time ago when the Sheriff’s Posse was mounted in the parade. The horses left too many calling cards along the way. The mothers of the majorettes complained about the condition of their daughters’ boots. Horses were outlawed immediately. The Sheriff’s Posse wasn’t about to loose their dignity by being followed by pooper scoopers.
Out floats are all homemade. Some are quite charming. They are always judged by secret judges scattered in the crowd. Their identity is always secret for their own protection. It is necessary, as anyone who has ever judged a beauty pageant or floats that parents worked late into the night to build will tell you.
It was a shock to me to learn that now we have to pay bands to be in parades. I thought they were in it for the sheer honor of performing. I guess all that changed when every town’s parade started being on the same day. Now they hire out to the highest bidder. Consequently, there are few bands per parade. There were actually some floats this year with love performers on board or boom boxes. They can’t hold a candle to a drum beat and horns, but at least modern technology has made available alternatives to the bidding on bands.
The one float that I thought went too far even in the Bible Belt was the SUV with Christian Queen written on the side and the Queen ensconced on the back tailgate. We are all far too fond of our various and sundry brands of religion to be able to agree on one brand as being able to proclaim one of theirs queen. It is quite arrogant to assume that one outshines the others and just seized the title for itself. I’ll be interested to see how many brands of Christian Queens are floated out next year.
People stand on the side of the road where their child will be facing from the float they are on. One mother who was riding in the parade (not the Christian Queen) has bought specials toys to throw to her child and friends. I hope her aim was good or she’d have more problems than even the Christian Queen with the partiality issue.
It was a long assed parade. We are very proud of our fire departments locally. They win all kinds of state competitions. We have bought them many fire trucks. All of them were in the parade. I was glad to see children back riding them. For a while, the firemen were too arrogant to allow it. They had two excuses. One after the other – the first was that if the fire truck had to pull out and go fight a fire, what would happen to the children? That was settled by parents having to walk along and monitor the floats. Then they said their insurance wouldn’t allow it. We locals thought that strange since they were climbing all over fire trucks in nearby towns. I just don’t think they wanted to be worried with children until a few of them got pretty grandchildren they wanted to show off and all that changed.
Our local parade has had the same godfather for 22 years. It’s a lot of work to put on one of these. He was an unsung hero until this year when somebody had sense enough to make him the Grand Marshall. They didn’t have a Citizen of the Year. It seems that anybody chosen citizen of the year either dies or has a serious illness shortly thereafter. We wanted to keep the parade guru in good health because it is a thankless job.
Having small town Christmas Parade really is a great way to start the season. It is all about peace and good will even if it is for just
Monday, December 3, 2007
Decking the Halls
My friend Judy Martin’s house in on the Tour of Homes in Marion this weekend.
I am on standby with some fake amaryllises in case the real ones don’t force in time. We are down to the wire. The florist is applying heat and light to make it happen.
Judy is one of those superwomen that have 20 things going at once. Any physical problems she might have are never mentioned. She just gives it her all and goes full speed ahead. Last year this time, she had major surgery with complications, was renovating her early 1800s house and still selling another house two counties away. This year, I guess she got bored with ordinary life (which for her is juggling four balls of activity on the air) and decided to add a little excitement by agreeing to host the tour.
Judy has her degree in interior design which has little to with her career life which includes working with two major universities, a non-profit foundation, and numerous volunteer jobs which she does so easily, that most people don’t realize the effort she puts in. Of course, the truth is that making a hard job look easy is a talent in itself. That is the same principal she is applying to the tour of homes. I’ve known women who can make a year long major production out of planning a wedding. It would take Judy one week and it would be a quality production.
She has chosen to make her décor theme how the house might have looked in its early days. She is using all natural greenery and fruits with a few feathers of local birds thrown in. Of course, like the early settlers, she will have some of the family pieces of silver and other collected treasures on display in her tablescapes.
Judy and her husband, John, did most of the renovation themselves with local subcontractors and carpenters. The house is not one of those grand Tara/Twelve Oaks jobs. It is one of the three oldest houses in an old Black Belt town. It has upper and lower porches and two front doors. The chicken coop in the backyard is on the National Register of Historic Places. Their renovation was kind to the old house. It was actually three houses cobbled together to make what is now their home. The den, the heart of the house was a sagging enclosed back porch. They jacked it up and made it look the way it was supposed to. They took two of the multitude of bedrooms and made great big baths that have places to lounge in them. The kitchen is state of the art with the prettiest yellow distressed cabinets you ever saw. The colors in the house are soft sagey greens and neutrals. The colors of the furnishings and draperies are muted, but not dull. You can imagine how the natural decorations will enhance the holiday theme.
Judy will probably kill me for divulging plan B which is having the fake flowers that will only be pressed into service if the real ones don’t rear their natural heads. I promise that these are good fakes. They came from the NDI (Natural Designs Incorporated) in Brewton which advertises in Southern Accents and Architectural Digest magazines which don’t allow any tacky in their pages. Besides, they’ll be interspersed with genuine raised in the woods greenery and berries from the back yard. If you don’t tell, I won’t.
I am on standby with some fake amaryllises in case the real ones don’t force in time. We are down to the wire. The florist is applying heat and light to make it happen.
Judy is one of those superwomen that have 20 things going at once. Any physical problems she might have are never mentioned. She just gives it her all and goes full speed ahead. Last year this time, she had major surgery with complications, was renovating her early 1800s house and still selling another house two counties away. This year, I guess she got bored with ordinary life (which for her is juggling four balls of activity on the air) and decided to add a little excitement by agreeing to host the tour.
Judy has her degree in interior design which has little to with her career life which includes working with two major universities, a non-profit foundation, and numerous volunteer jobs which she does so easily, that most people don’t realize the effort she puts in. Of course, the truth is that making a hard job look easy is a talent in itself. That is the same principal she is applying to the tour of homes. I’ve known women who can make a year long major production out of planning a wedding. It would take Judy one week and it would be a quality production.
She has chosen to make her décor theme how the house might have looked in its early days. She is using all natural greenery and fruits with a few feathers of local birds thrown in. Of course, like the early settlers, she will have some of the family pieces of silver and other collected treasures on display in her tablescapes.
Judy and her husband, John, did most of the renovation themselves with local subcontractors and carpenters. The house is not one of those grand Tara/Twelve Oaks jobs. It is one of the three oldest houses in an old Black Belt town. It has upper and lower porches and two front doors. The chicken coop in the backyard is on the National Register of Historic Places. Their renovation was kind to the old house. It was actually three houses cobbled together to make what is now their home. The den, the heart of the house was a sagging enclosed back porch. They jacked it up and made it look the way it was supposed to. They took two of the multitude of bedrooms and made great big baths that have places to lounge in them. The kitchen is state of the art with the prettiest yellow distressed cabinets you ever saw. The colors in the house are soft sagey greens and neutrals. The colors of the furnishings and draperies are muted, but not dull. You can imagine how the natural decorations will enhance the holiday theme.
Judy will probably kill me for divulging plan B which is having the fake flowers that will only be pressed into service if the real ones don’t rear their natural heads. I promise that these are good fakes. They came from the NDI (Natural Designs Incorporated) in Brewton which advertises in Southern Accents and Architectural Digest magazines which don’t allow any tacky in their pages. Besides, they’ll be interspersed with genuine raised in the woods greenery and berries from the back yard. If you don’t tell, I won’t.
Official Start of Christmas
It’s official. Christmas has come to rural Southwest Alabama. It started Sunday with the first activity in Demopolis for their annual Christmas on the River week. They have something going every day and night this week. The first activity was a choral concert by the Demopolis Singers. They are a group of volunteers who perform under the direction of Clyde Williams who just happens to be a Julliard graduate. I know that surprises those of you who think of us down here is not wearing shoes very often. Although I am very much in favor of a shoeless lifestyle, I also love culture. I am part of the Demopolis singers, even though I live in Thomasville, 45 miles away. I am a tagalong. The real singer is a friend of mine who wanted company on the ride. My original intent was to go hang out with my friend Cindy while he practiced. Somehow, they needed another soprano, so I ended up singing in a funny suit that looks like I should be carrying a tray with champagne glasses on it. To tell the truth, I really enjoyed it. It’s not every day that we can work with a Julliard led chorale. I sing in the local church choir where one member it under 40. The average age of the rest of us is almost AARP qualified. Our director is also the organist/pianist. He is a very talented musician, but I am not sure he can always hear what is going on. We are sort of like his backup singers. The truth is – our claim to fame is the fact that we robe up every Sunday. We are adequate for serving the Lord in a routine sort of way, but for real enthusiasm, you’d have to look elsewhere. You’d fund that enthusiasm in the Demopolis Singers.
Being part of a group that belts out carols is a good way to lead off the season. There are lots of things going on around here for the holiday. There are several tours of homes in the area including ones in Marion, Monroeville and Coffeeville this weekend.
There is a candlelight tour of the public antebellum homes in Demopolis Thursday night. There is a barbeque cook off Friday night and an illuminated boat parade on Saturday night. There are other activities going on during the day. A visitor could spend this whole week in Demopolis and not get bored. There are a number of family oriented activities going on.
As we drove back from Demopolis last night, I noticed Christmas lights beginning to sprout up all along the way. I hear some people complaining that it’s too early, but I just love it. To me, Christmas is a celebration of life and joy. There are positive uplifting things on television every night. The stores are playing carols. Homes grand and humble are decorated. Even the most humble abode is beautiful when outlined with lights. It’s beginning! Merry Christmas, Ya’ll!
Being part of a group that belts out carols is a good way to lead off the season. There are lots of things going on around here for the holiday. There are several tours of homes in the area including ones in Marion, Monroeville and Coffeeville this weekend.
There is a candlelight tour of the public antebellum homes in Demopolis Thursday night. There is a barbeque cook off Friday night and an illuminated boat parade on Saturday night. There are other activities going on during the day. A visitor could spend this whole week in Demopolis and not get bored. There are a number of family oriented activities going on.
As we drove back from Demopolis last night, I noticed Christmas lights beginning to sprout up all along the way. I hear some people complaining that it’s too early, but I just love it. To me, Christmas is a celebration of life and joy. There are positive uplifting things on television every night. The stores are playing carols. Homes grand and humble are decorated. Even the most humble abode is beautiful when outlined with lights. It’s beginning! Merry Christmas, Ya’ll!
Monday, November 19, 2007
November 19, 2007
Yesterday, I went shopping. Where I live is in a wonderful place. I can buy what I need and most of what I want, but it’s hard to spend many hours shopping, unless you’re like my sister, who can spend three hours in one store. When she comes to visit, I just drop her off and tell her to call me when she’ done. I am one of those sweeps in and out shoppers. I can do a whole shopping area in half a day. I love shopping so much that my friends say my idea of economic development is to take my friends shopping.
Being the tourism director for rural southwest Alabama requires that I have a full inventory of assets in the area. Shopping opportunities are among our attractions. People love the out of the way shops that they find in our area. We have some great gift, antique, and clothing places as well as some bargain places that are better than the famous Unclaimed Baggage place in Scottsboro that is frequently in national magazines and on television. I have found so many great things there that even the famous discount chains in the city seem overpriced now. Of course, it is like a treasure hunt. Nothing is beautifully displayed, but it’s unbelievably cheap. In fact, the chain is called Dirt Cheap. When I go out of town to a meeting, I try to wear one of my finds, just to prove to people what is there. We call it DC so we don’t sound so cheap. In fact, the merchandise is so good that when we say DC many people think we got it on the Beltway around the nation’s capital. You never know what you might find. You have to go in with no preconceived notions. If you are open minded, you can do wonders. However, every day is not a good day. In fact, we say that if you have luck in Jackson, Ala. On a certain day, you won’t in Thomasville at their sister store. However, if you don’t, you might as well travel to Thomasville, because there is something there for you more than likely. I try to limit my forays to bi-weekly, if possible. You can end up with a lot of stuff. How many Egyptian cotton duvets cover or down comforter’s doe’s one house need? As for clothes, my rule is – if it costs less than a hamburger and fries, go for it. We have disposable clothes now. When we tire of them, we just pass them on to charity.
My shopping yesterday, however, was in the city. I had a meeting in Montgomery. My home town is 100 miles from anywhere. In fact, that’s part of the city’s slogan. It requires planning for when you are going to town. You have to decide what your shopping priorities are in advance. Sometimes, it could be just looking for nothing in particular. Otherwise, you have to map out a strategy for getting everything done. Yesterday, mine was to get two new pair of pants with comfortable waists – one brown and one black. You can’t be that specific at DC, you just have to fish (DC fishing, get it?). I went to one of three discount chains I frequent where I can get those things I can’t find locally.
I have reached the age where my feet speak to me. They let me know when I have been too proud for comfort. I saw a beautiful young girl in the city with what I swear were 4 inch heels. She had to be fewer than 30 because after that, her feet would have rebelled mightily. I am well past 30 and my feet yell when I mistreat them. I like shoes that don’t look like granny comforts, but feel like them. I find these, hit or miss, at the discount stores with designer or high end brands. I found a great pair of brown loafers yesterday that look good and feel better. I can’t usually do that at DC or anywhere locally.
I had a wonderful time shopping into the night. I got out of the meeting and hit the stores. Santa Claus came yesterday. I am not an on-line shopper. I like to touch whatever I buy and see it up close. I know of all the things available on EBay. In fact, there is a local antique dealer who has a business on EBay that she says sells 5 times what she did in her shop. I don’t want any part of it. I’d rather go to one of our small town antique stores and poke around. I like to think I’ve discovered a hidden treasure. Some of the shops are pretty hidden, too.
There is Tucker’s Treasures at the end of a county road between Nanafalia and Myrtlewood. They have 3 warehouses full of antiques, plus another small building of glassware. There are two shops in Thomaston. One is open Thursday through Saturday. The people who have these shops clean out old houses and estates. Then there’s the shop in Thomasville that has several partners. The town of Marion has several shops. It’s fun to get around the region and antique. Add that to our quality art galleries, and there are things to see and do. I don’t have to go to town for anything but fancy food and clothes. When I do it’s an adventure just like it would be for you to come visit us in rural southwest Alabama.
Being the tourism director for rural southwest Alabama requires that I have a full inventory of assets in the area. Shopping opportunities are among our attractions. People love the out of the way shops that they find in our area. We have some great gift, antique, and clothing places as well as some bargain places that are better than the famous Unclaimed Baggage place in Scottsboro that is frequently in national magazines and on television. I have found so many great things there that even the famous discount chains in the city seem overpriced now. Of course, it is like a treasure hunt. Nothing is beautifully displayed, but it’s unbelievably cheap. In fact, the chain is called Dirt Cheap. When I go out of town to a meeting, I try to wear one of my finds, just to prove to people what is there. We call it DC so we don’t sound so cheap. In fact, the merchandise is so good that when we say DC many people think we got it on the Beltway around the nation’s capital. You never know what you might find. You have to go in with no preconceived notions. If you are open minded, you can do wonders. However, every day is not a good day. In fact, we say that if you have luck in Jackson, Ala. On a certain day, you won’t in Thomasville at their sister store. However, if you don’t, you might as well travel to Thomasville, because there is something there for you more than likely. I try to limit my forays to bi-weekly, if possible. You can end up with a lot of stuff. How many Egyptian cotton duvets cover or down comforter’s doe’s one house need? As for clothes, my rule is – if it costs less than a hamburger and fries, go for it. We have disposable clothes now. When we tire of them, we just pass them on to charity.
My shopping yesterday, however, was in the city. I had a meeting in Montgomery. My home town is 100 miles from anywhere. In fact, that’s part of the city’s slogan. It requires planning for when you are going to town. You have to decide what your shopping priorities are in advance. Sometimes, it could be just looking for nothing in particular. Otherwise, you have to map out a strategy for getting everything done. Yesterday, mine was to get two new pair of pants with comfortable waists – one brown and one black. You can’t be that specific at DC, you just have to fish (DC fishing, get it?). I went to one of three discount chains I frequent where I can get those things I can’t find locally.
I have reached the age where my feet speak to me. They let me know when I have been too proud for comfort. I saw a beautiful young girl in the city with what I swear were 4 inch heels. She had to be fewer than 30 because after that, her feet would have rebelled mightily. I am well past 30 and my feet yell when I mistreat them. I like shoes that don’t look like granny comforts, but feel like them. I find these, hit or miss, at the discount stores with designer or high end brands. I found a great pair of brown loafers yesterday that look good and feel better. I can’t usually do that at DC or anywhere locally.
I had a wonderful time shopping into the night. I got out of the meeting and hit the stores. Santa Claus came yesterday. I am not an on-line shopper. I like to touch whatever I buy and see it up close. I know of all the things available on EBay. In fact, there is a local antique dealer who has a business on EBay that she says sells 5 times what she did in her shop. I don’t want any part of it. I’d rather go to one of our small town antique stores and poke around. I like to think I’ve discovered a hidden treasure. Some of the shops are pretty hidden, too.
There is Tucker’s Treasures at the end of a county road between Nanafalia and Myrtlewood. They have 3 warehouses full of antiques, plus another small building of glassware. There are two shops in Thomaston. One is open Thursday through Saturday. The people who have these shops clean out old houses and estates. Then there’s the shop in Thomasville that has several partners. The town of Marion has several shops. It’s fun to get around the region and antique. Add that to our quality art galleries, and there are things to see and do. I don’t have to go to town for anything but fancy food and clothes. When I do it’s an adventure just like it would be for you to come visit us in rural southwest Alabama.
IT’S PECAN TIME AGAIN
I have 13 pecan trees in my yard and not a single nut. I have a lot of shells on the ground, which means I would have had a lot of nuts, if it wasn’t for the squirrels. I never meant to get in the squirrel raising business. They chose me. When my son was growing up, we didn’t have as much of a problem. He had a pellet gun and a fair aim. He would shoot the squirrels and give them to Susie, our housekeeper who would fry them up with grits and gravy. People who like to eat large rodents thought they were good fixed that way. I could never bring myself to eat one. My granddaddy used to like squirrel brains and eggs for breakfast Mama said. If we were hungry, I’m sure we would have learnt to eat all manner of critters. We never got that hungry, thank God. I just looked at their skinny carcasses and gave thanks that they weren’t my supper.
Of course, we in the South know that most things are enhanced by pan frying and smothering in gravy, especially if you have a pan of cat head biscuits along side. I probably could eat the gravy off the squirrels, if not their rodent bodies.
As it is now, Susie died at 95 and Jeremy, the erstwhile hunter grew up and moved to the city. The squirrels and I stayed. I heard on NPR the other day that it’s not uncommon for squirrels to live 20 years. Some of the ones that didn’t get hit by the pellet gun may still be the fat, healthy one frolicking in my pecan trees.
Fortunately, this has been a bumper crop year for pecan trees in my friends’ yards. I am lucky to have generous friends. One came by yesterday and brought me 10 pounds of pecans she had picked up and cracked for me. Now, that is friendship. Picking up pecans is not easy work. It’s like Easter egg hunting with camouflage for adults. Pecan trees have wide spreading limbs. The wind carries the nuts as they fall, so they may or may not land in close proximity to the tree. I’m sure the professional tree harvesters have perfected a way of getting the nuts without the hunt or the nuts would be $100 a pound.
Anyway, all I have to do is pick the nuts out. On a cold winter’s evening, it’s something to do with your hands while you watch television. Unfortunately, it’s not cold yet here. We are in mid-November and I’m sitting on the porch barefooted and quite comfortable in the early morning. We’ve had a cold snap with a light frost, but the frost wasn’t enough to kill the flowers yet. I’ll probably sit on the porch and shell the pecans. Actually it will be more convenient to just toss the shells into the flowerbeds.
There is some discussion across the South about how to say pecan. We pronounce it with a like in “ah ha”. People in the Carolinas say it like “can”. We tell a joke about that. A woman from South Carolina was visiting in South Alabama. She went into a hardware store that advertised that it sold pecans. She pronounced it her way, saying “Do you have any pe-cans?’. The perplexed young man who waited on her scratched his head and said “No’m, but we’ve got some slop jars”. It must be an old joke, because we don’t even have slop jars now.
We may not agree on how to pronounce the nut, but we can agree on ways to serve it. Hands down the favorite is pecan pie. It is easy to make. Some people insist on whole nut halves in it. They must be better at picking out than I am because I don’t have that many whole nuts. I prefer chopped pecans because they get the sticky filling better distributed. It is an easy pie to make, but expensive in years when nuts are few.
One of my life’s ambitions is to be able to make a good homemade pie crust. I will go a hundred miles to eat a pie with a homemade crust. In fact, I do go 60 miles to Livingston to the Bakery Café where the Mennonites do make scratch crusts for their pies. In my kitchen, I have generic brand frozen crusts. I have learned that if you put the frozen crusts in for a few minutes before the filling, you are less likely to get a mushy crust. I do that for all pies with filling, including quiches. For pecan pies, I prepare the crust, then fill it with the simple filling that turns through the alchemy of baking into a crunchy, gooey pie that is perfect as is, or can be topped with a few teaspoons of bourbon while it is hot, then garnished with ice cream. I have even seen pecan pie in a jar, with the filling ready to be dumped into the crust (adding butter and eggs, of course) for sale at Black Belt Treasures in Camden. I make my filling by melting a stick of butter in a bowl in the microwave, then adding a cup of brown sugar, 2 tbps corn syrup, 2 eggs, and a dash of salt and a cup of chopped pecans. I then cook the pie very slowly, with a sheet of foil laid lightly over the top. The foil trick is something I learned from my former mother-in-law who was a wonderful cook (and a terrible gossip). I’m sure her place in heaven was earned by her pecan pie.
Other things that I like to do with pecans, is add them to any icing that has cream cheese in it (red velvet or Italian cream cake, for example). I like to use them in the cookies that we can either sand tarts because of their texture, or Viennese crescents by those of loftier language. I love to read old cookbooks and find the names of things with foreign titles that turn out to be things that people of other nationalities never heard of in the countries ascribed to the recipe, Chinese Beef Stew, for example. I love the way we country cooks upgrade our creations by giving them foreign names. Sometimes we do the same thing by adding pecans to squash casserole, or water chestnuts to green beans. We take the bounty of our harvests and create new things with it. For my part, I’m delighted that somebody thought of turning pecans into pies.
Of course, we in the South know that most things are enhanced by pan frying and smothering in gravy, especially if you have a pan of cat head biscuits along side. I probably could eat the gravy off the squirrels, if not their rodent bodies.
As it is now, Susie died at 95 and Jeremy, the erstwhile hunter grew up and moved to the city. The squirrels and I stayed. I heard on NPR the other day that it’s not uncommon for squirrels to live 20 years. Some of the ones that didn’t get hit by the pellet gun may still be the fat, healthy one frolicking in my pecan trees.
Fortunately, this has been a bumper crop year for pecan trees in my friends’ yards. I am lucky to have generous friends. One came by yesterday and brought me 10 pounds of pecans she had picked up and cracked for me. Now, that is friendship. Picking up pecans is not easy work. It’s like Easter egg hunting with camouflage for adults. Pecan trees have wide spreading limbs. The wind carries the nuts as they fall, so they may or may not land in close proximity to the tree. I’m sure the professional tree harvesters have perfected a way of getting the nuts without the hunt or the nuts would be $100 a pound.
Anyway, all I have to do is pick the nuts out. On a cold winter’s evening, it’s something to do with your hands while you watch television. Unfortunately, it’s not cold yet here. We are in mid-November and I’m sitting on the porch barefooted and quite comfortable in the early morning. We’ve had a cold snap with a light frost, but the frost wasn’t enough to kill the flowers yet. I’ll probably sit on the porch and shell the pecans. Actually it will be more convenient to just toss the shells into the flowerbeds.
There is some discussion across the South about how to say pecan. We pronounce it with a like in “ah ha”. People in the Carolinas say it like “can”. We tell a joke about that. A woman from South Carolina was visiting in South Alabama. She went into a hardware store that advertised that it sold pecans. She pronounced it her way, saying “Do you have any pe-cans?’. The perplexed young man who waited on her scratched his head and said “No’m, but we’ve got some slop jars”. It must be an old joke, because we don’t even have slop jars now.
We may not agree on how to pronounce the nut, but we can agree on ways to serve it. Hands down the favorite is pecan pie. It is easy to make. Some people insist on whole nut halves in it. They must be better at picking out than I am because I don’t have that many whole nuts. I prefer chopped pecans because they get the sticky filling better distributed. It is an easy pie to make, but expensive in years when nuts are few.
One of my life’s ambitions is to be able to make a good homemade pie crust. I will go a hundred miles to eat a pie with a homemade crust. In fact, I do go 60 miles to Livingston to the Bakery Café where the Mennonites do make scratch crusts for their pies. In my kitchen, I have generic brand frozen crusts. I have learned that if you put the frozen crusts in for a few minutes before the filling, you are less likely to get a mushy crust. I do that for all pies with filling, including quiches. For pecan pies, I prepare the crust, then fill it with the simple filling that turns through the alchemy of baking into a crunchy, gooey pie that is perfect as is, or can be topped with a few teaspoons of bourbon while it is hot, then garnished with ice cream. I have even seen pecan pie in a jar, with the filling ready to be dumped into the crust (adding butter and eggs, of course) for sale at Black Belt Treasures in Camden. I make my filling by melting a stick of butter in a bowl in the microwave, then adding a cup of brown sugar, 2 tbps corn syrup, 2 eggs, and a dash of salt and a cup of chopped pecans. I then cook the pie very slowly, with a sheet of foil laid lightly over the top. The foil trick is something I learned from my former mother-in-law who was a wonderful cook (and a terrible gossip). I’m sure her place in heaven was earned by her pecan pie.
Other things that I like to do with pecans, is add them to any icing that has cream cheese in it (red velvet or Italian cream cake, for example). I like to use them in the cookies that we can either sand tarts because of their texture, or Viennese crescents by those of loftier language. I love to read old cookbooks and find the names of things with foreign titles that turn out to be things that people of other nationalities never heard of in the countries ascribed to the recipe, Chinese Beef Stew, for example. I love the way we country cooks upgrade our creations by giving them foreign names. Sometimes we do the same thing by adding pecans to squash casserole, or water chestnuts to green beans. We take the bounty of our harvests and create new things with it. For my part, I’m delighted that somebody thought of turning pecans into pies.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Monday, March 19, 2007
Thursday, February 1, 2007
A Front Porch is a State of Mind
Front Porch is a State of Mind
What does a front porch mean to me? It's the place where I go to find myself when the world is bearing down on me. It's a place where I get in tune with myself and myself in tune with nature. It's a place where I can sit and think where I can read in peace or where I can be joined by a neighbor for a cup of tea. It's my outdoor living room for at least 6 months of the year. That is one of the wonders of living in Southwest Alabama. We have all the seasons, but in moderation. There are even days in the winter when we can comfortably be on the front porch. I really could stretch it to say that we can be on the porch for 9 months of the year, but I don't want to brag too much, or you'll all want to move here. We would love to have you visit but if you all came here to live; the front porch might not be as peaceful anymore. Right now we are the place that time forgot. We have a slower pace of living that gives us time to be who we are without having to wear our workday roles on the weekends or our dress up clothes all the time. As I write this, it is a sunny, cool Saturday morning. I am sitting in my sunroom wearing my favorite robe, listening to my favorite music, drinking flavored coffee as I write this. I am in no hurry to do anything.
Isn't it great to have day with no shoulds in it? I should be doing something constructive. I should be working on something…. all those things that make us prisoners of our own expectations. To really stay who we are, we have to have a quiet day every so often. I call them mental health days. If I have one of those, I don't have to get sick to get a rest day. Do you realize that we do that to ourselves? When we don’t voluntarily take time for ourselves, our bodies will do it for us. I try to take time off before that happens.
Our region is famous with hunters. They think they come here just to kill animals, but I have news for them. I have listened to them over the years and learned a few things. What they really come for is the peace and quiet. They come for the chance to be in nature. They come for the informality of the living in hunting camps, wearing camouflage or other baggy clothes and not shaving. They come for the quiet evenings where they sit by the campfire or curl up to read books. They drink beer and watch sports in their underwear if they want to. They are with like-minded spirits who share their values. They don't have to please anybody but themselves. A front porch is something most hunting camps have, even if the camp is a mobile home planted in a thicket, because it is a chance to be in nature and to be informal. The front porch is where the hunting stories are told and the bourbon is sipped. The front porch is the symbol of our region because it says a lot about who we are. We share a sense of community with each other and our neighbors, while at the same time respecting our own need for quiet time in nature. The front porch connects us to each other and to nature as well as our own soul selves.
You are welcome to join us. We in Southwest Alabama are famous for our hospitality. Just don't move here unless you share the same values and the same needs. We don’t want to change our way of life too fast. We like who we are and think you will, too.
For more information call:
Linda Vice @ (334) 636-5506
Or email linda.tourism@yahoo.com
We can arrange a trip here for a day of a season. While you are in Gulf Shores, We're only a couple of hours away. Come sit on our front porch!
For more information on tourism in rural southwest Alabama, please refer to the main Alabama's Front Porches website!
Friday, January 26, 2007
Remembering Lucrethia
After 93 years, a legend is gone. My friend Lucrethia Cairl has gone to meet her maker. When she was 85 years old. Her family thought they would surprise her with a birthday party. She came in dressed up in her Sunday dress, wearing elaborate jewelry and stiletto high heels. She came in with a look of surprise that could only be well rehearsed. She was a bit too surprised, flinging her arms wide with surprise and exclaiming with high pitched squeals of glee. We had been friends for a number of years, so I took her aside later in the party and said that was an academy award winning performance. How did you know?".
Her reply was "When your son-in-law has been your son-in-law for 27 years and he ain't never taken you to ride, comes by and says 'let's go riding', you know something's up." She was always that savvy. She had to be. She raised her children during the depression as a black single mother. She made her living as a cook, mostly at the Alabama Grill. It was the local landmark and watering hole,of which one local father said when his son was ready for college "I'm not going to send him to college, I'm going to send him to the Alabama Grill. He can learn everything he needs to know there anyway."
Lucrethia taught me a lot about cooking just by listening to her. She was a narrative cook. She had a story for every recipe. Not only did she teach me to put bell pepper into my dressing along with the standard onions and celery, but she taught me to stir it to get it to set, instead of putting in a number of eggs to do the job. She said that years ago, hens didn't lay many eggs except in the spring time, so the eggs had to be saved for the holiday cakes where they were really needed. To get the dressing to set, the cook had to stir it around in the baking pan to get the texture right. Her dressing was the best I ever had, right up there with her chicken pie. The highest compliment she could pay anybody was to make them a chicken pie. Like most of the cooks in our rural south, Lucrethia equated cooking with love. We feed those we love. It is our favorite way of honoring those we love. I guess that's why we call it soul food.
I knew that Lucrethia and I had a real bond when she made me a chicken pie. She used to make it regularly at the Alabama Grill as a lunch special. She worked there until she was in her eighties.
At the surprise birthday party, Lucrethia had to make a speech. One of her daughters introduced her. The daughter said that members of the family have always been told that their mama could out walk them and out talk them any day of the week. Lucrethia proved the point by strutting around the room on her high spiked heels before she started her speech. Then she strutted to the middle of the room. She gave credit for her good health and vitality to her skills as a root doctor. She made up a potion consisting of various herbs and turpentine which she dosed herself with daily. She had never been sick she said and it was all due to her root potion. Something certainly worked. She was the highest stepper as well as the best cook in town. Her positive attitude didn't hurt either. Lucrethia will be missed both for her vital presence and her famous chicken pie. Although her presence is no longer among us, her chicken pie lives on. She shared her cooking skills with all her daughters and with others who loved her. She shared a bit of her soul with us, which we still turn into chicken pies and dressing with bell pepper in it.
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