I like old fashioned food, salt risin' bread
A batch of cookies in a covered crock,
Sweet cakes with currants in and caraway
Cabbage and carrots and a piece of hock
Simmered to bring the hidden flavour out,
A bit of pork smothered in sauerkraut.
I like an apple pie baked to a turn
Flavoured with nutmeg and a pinch of clove
Brown crusted bread sweet as a hazel nut
Baked slowly in a big old fashioned stove,
'Er buckwheat pancakes sizzling from the pan
Enough to warm the heart of any man.
Johnny cake . . . gingerbread and chili sauce
Fried potatoes done to a golden brown,
And jelly roll whose crumbling sides drip jam
(My mother was the best cook in the town)
Oh yes -- I had forgotten pumpkin pie
Thinking of Maw's, I could sit down and cry.
I might as well give up, for what's the use
Loving these things I could never reduce.
~Edna Jaques, Old Fashioned Food,
Roses in December
Mom never made cinnamon rolls the traditional way, with yeast. She made them the maritime way with biscuit dough . . . buttery and short, they melted in the mouth. They were plain, no bells and whistles. Just soft puffy biscuit dough patted out, spread with soft butter, sprinkled with plenty of cinnamon sugar, rolled up tightly, cut and baked. They were a real treat.
Mom always used butter, real butter. We never had margarine like I know a lot of children at school had. I am not sure why, as my mother was really thrifty. She compromised on a lot of things, but never on butter. That was one thing we could have as much of as we wanted. We always had bread with every meal and the butter dish was on the table for us to help ourselves. Two rules, never leave crumbs in the butter, and as much as you wanted. I can remember my father asking us did we want some bread on our butter. Come corn season our cobs were slathered in loads of butter. My sister reminded me the other day that we would eat off all the corn and then slather our empty cobs with butter again and enjoy the bare cobs.
Sometimes in the summer months we would be able to eat tomatoes and cucumbers like apples. My mother worked in an area where there were a lot of men and they all had gardens, and they all loved my mother with her cheeky smile and twinkling blue eyes. They would bring her in bags of tomatoes and cucumbers and we could eat as many of them as we wanted to. I think this is where my love of both tomato and cucumber sandwiches began . . . with butter and miracle whip, plenty of salt and black pepper, on soft white Sunny Bee bread from Ben's Bakery. Bread doesn't taste the same anymore.
I allowed myself to become enticed the other week and bought myself a cookbook. The Lost Kitchen, recipes and a good life found in Freedom Maine. I love it. Its warm and lovely and down to earth and is filled with really delicious sounding recipes. I haven't cooked any yet, but I have a lot ear-marked. And then what do I discover this week? There is a TV show based on the same restaurant, called The Lost Kitchen, yes . . . in Freedom Maine. It is unlike any other cooking show I have watched. Its not a recipe show, but a true life story/journey about a woman who has had struggles just like most of us. I am really enjoying it.
But which recipe from the book am I going to cook first? Hmmm . . . they all look so good . . .
Maybe this delicious Spring Bread Salad. I may have to compromise a bit on the ingredients, but it sounds and looks fabulous, with asparagus, baby peas, radishes, fresh pea tendrils, fresh mint, torn bread, etc. It has a macerated shallot dressing. I may have to use chives. We'll see how it goes.
Don't worry you will be some of the first to know if and when I do make it.
"Nothing is too hard for my God."
~Jeremiah 32:17
When I finally got paid for the latest book I wrote, I wanted to buy something special to mark the accomplishment and my journey. I decided upon this cuff/bracelet from
Honey & Ice jewelry. But God . . . it came yesterday and I love it. It is a beautiful reminder of the Grace of God which has attended me every step of the way on my journey towards peace. A journey from total brokenness towards healing and feeling whole again. These past 18 months have been some of the most difficult in my life to traverse and I am constantly reminded that
"There but for the Grace of God go I."
I have become well acquainted with pain, but within that pain I have been able to find peace and trust. I know the aching. I know about the lowest of the low valleys and the struggle to climb back up the mountain . . . two steps forward and two steps back. I know the tender mercy of what it feels like when grace and pain collide together . . . the tender mercy of feeling peace in the middle of my pain.
I have felt the veracity of D&C 84:88 where the Lord said, "I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you to bear you up."
I have felt His spirit in my heart and I have been ministered to by His angels. Many of them in human form. I am so grateful for a heart that sees this and for the Grace of God which has encompassed and attended me all the way on my journey, even if I was not always aware of it.
I am wearing it on my left wrist, the one closest to my heart . . . a sweet reminder of all that is good in this life, and that I am never alone, not in the valley's nor on the highest mountain tops. He is always with me.
Nothing gets past their watchful eyes. Oh they do make me laugh. Earlier this week the young set of Missionary Elders came over to sort out my front garden. They did a fabulous job. I was so grateful. While they were out there I put the cats in my bedroom with a few treats, just to make sure that they didn't get out. During the weeding the Elders discovered a big ugly plastic frog that must have been from the previous tenant, hidden underneath a piece of cement. They took it out, dusted it off and popped it onto the deck. When they were done and had gone, I let the cats out of the bedroom. They bounded right over to the window to catch up on anything they might have missed. They were most disturbed by this ugly green creature which had shown up on the deck. So much so that Nutmeg, "the-fraidy-cat" took cover. I had to bring it in and let them smell it to show them that it was nothing that would harm them. It was so comical. Oh how I love them.
They are the best of friends, always together. Sometimes I get a bit concerned that Nutmeg is being to rambunctious and will hurt Cinnamon. He is twice her size and very heavy and sometimes when they are "playing" I get a bit concerned that he is being too rough. He can be a very aggressive bather. Holding her down and licking her head for all he's worth. But she can handle herself and puts him in his place if it gets to be too much. I am glad that they have each other for company.
I made my father laugh on the phone the other morning. I made up a joke. We were talking about my cousin's cats, all gingers. Her female is about to have kittens any day now. The joke is quite corny so be prepared.
"What do you get when you cross a ginger cat with a ginger cat? A ginger cat."
Ta da!
And with that I best leave you with a thought for the day.
° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •
•。★★ 。* 。
° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚
˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛
˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★
that everything is good,
it's seeing the good in everything.
° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •
The other day my sister brought me over some cookies that she had baked. Totally gluten and sugar free, they were also low carb and really delicious. She gave me the recipe and yesterday I baked some for myself. Keto Chocolate Chip Cookies.
I hope that you have a beautiful Saturday filled with lots of things which bring you joy! Don't forget!
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