Sarah and the Tall Boys–coming to RI!!

(image thanks to Sarah and the Tall Boys website)

They’re coming to Rhode Island this weekend!!!!!  (schedule below)

We heard about this band from RI friends who said Sarah and the Tall Boys were the best band at Rhythm and Roots* this past Labor Day weekend.

So last October, when I saw they were performing in New Braunfels, a mere 45 minutes south of Austin, Texas, we hopped in the van and went to hear them for ourselves.

I forgot my camera.

But Son #2 bought 2 cd’s and I purchased a poster.  One of these days I will get all of my 47 posters framed, I really will.  My walls will dazzle you.

Sarah has a fabulous husky velvet rockin’-blues voice.  The band is great and I really enjoyed the pedal steel player, not just for his music but because he makes faces while he plays.  If you watch closely, you can tell when he is pleased with a chord or note and when he is not, or when he is concentrating on what to add to the music.  This guy listens.

Unfortunately for the band, we were able to sit up front and notice details like that because The Phoenix–a beautiful old historic downtown saloon–was practically empty.  We could blame the World Series and the Texas Rangers, I guess, but this is a band who deserves a rollicking crowd.

I clapped and cheered and ate one of the best hot dogs of my life.

And Sarah is the happiest, friendliest, most outgoing blues singers I’ve ever met.  You go, girl!!!

Listen to the band.

  • December 30th / Friday 8pm | Somerville, MA  @ Johnny D’s w/ Erin Harpe & the Delta Swingers
  • December 31st / Saturday 9pm  | Chapatchet, RI  @ Cady’s Tavern !!!! NEW YEARS EVE !!!!
  • January 1st / Sunday 1pm  | Jamestown, RI  @ Narragansett Cafe
  • January 3rd / Tuesday 9pm  | Providence, RI  @ Nick-A-Nee’s

more about them:  www.sarahandthetallboys.com

*more about Rhythm & Roots–one of the best things about Rhode Island–in an upcoming winter post, when you have time to sip a cup of coffee, listen to music and see a very cool slideshow.

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he is so easy to shop for

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mailing macaroni

Do you associate people with certain foods?

I hope you do.  I hope I’m not alone in this.

When I think of Dancing Mandolin Player, I think raspberries.

French Friend Janou?  Chocolate.

Goat cheese.  Sugar cookies.  Coffee.  Bud Lite.  Pie.  Bran muffins.  Dough.

[You know who you are.]

So when I was Christmas shopping in Home Goods and saw a shelf crowded with gourmet pasta, I immediately thought of my Montana friend.

(Pay no attention to the housedress.  She’s usually a lot spiffier than this.  And she is carrying root beer.  ROOT beer.)

I excitedly tossed cellophane bags of gourmet Italian pasta into my cart.  She would like this stuff.  She’s a professional cook.  Holidays = cooking.  Pasta = her (at least in my mind).

I wrapped each bag in green and white tissue paper, packed it all into a very large box and hauled it to the local Post Office and stood in line for a while before setting the box on the counter.

Did I want insurance, delivery confirmation, etc. on this?

“No”, I said.  “It’s just macaroni.”  (we call it macaroni in Rhode Island)

Macaroni?  The clerk stared at me.  Was I joking?

“Macaroni”, I repeated, now wishing I’d kept my mouth shut.  “It’s, uh, for a friend.”

The other clerk (a tall gray-haired man with obviously no sense of humor) stopped in his tracks and all business at the post office came to a halt.  “Why are you mailing macaroni?”

“It’s for someone in Montana.”

“What,” he said, still staring at me.  “They don’t have pasta in Montana?!?”

That’s when it dawned on me that of course they have pasta in Montana.  I am an idiot.  My friend is going to think I’ve lost my mind because I sent her a huge box of macaroni for Christmas.  I had just wrapped macaroni and mailed it as if she lived in a canvas tent with Lewis & Clarke.

I still don’t know why I thought that was such a good idea.  I certainly never told Banjo Man.  Or anyone else.  Until now.

If you’ve ever mailed something weird, please share.  If you’ve ever given someone a gift that was not received as joyfully as it was purchased (or created), please please tell me about it.

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merry christmas

Pookie loved his Santa suit.  We would go to the vet’s every Christmas and the staff would take turns having their pictures taken with him.

Same with the groomer.

We would also take him to the airport when we’d pick up one of our sons coming home for the holidays from Nebraska or Los Angeles.  Pookie would delight all the little girls in the waiting area, while grumpy adults gave me dirty looks.

I never understood that.

Anyway, Pookie loved clothes.  He had a tuxedo, a cowboy outfit, and several turtleneck sweaters.  His favorite was the red one.  Really.

He was a rescue from Missouri, carried around in a purse by a senile woman who often forgot to feed him.  He came to us as a terrified, deformed, starving, 4-pound little bag of bones.  He was not the brightest bulb in the chandelier, but he was lovable and sweet and anxious to be held by anyone who sat down in a chair or on the couch.  He didn’t know much, but he considered laps his domain.

He lived to the ripe old age of fourteen.

And he always made us smile at Christmas.  Hope he does the same thing for you!

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stuffing the stocking

My friend Sharon has a unique outlook on life.  Her observations and comments are often hilarious, sometimes jaw-dropping and always entertaining.

Three years ago she announced she was tired of Christmas.  She’d come up with a plan, informed her husband and two twenty-something daughters, and ignored all complaints:

Each member of the family would buy their own Christmas gift (something they really wanted), wrap it and put it under the tree.  Christmas morning they would unwrap their gifts and show the others what they bought.  That way, Sharon surmised, everyone would get what they wanted and would save money and time and energy.

Then they would go out for their traditional Chinese dinner and movie.

The rest of us (three out of four of our little band of writers) were speechless.  It went against every Santa-surprise-gift-giving rule of Christmas we had all followed for all of our lives.  We doubted it would work, but Sharon insisted she was finished with Christmas.  The girls were grown up and she was ready to move on.

That January, with the three of us tired and broke and over-shopped, Sharon’s Christmas idea didn’t seem quite so weird.  In fact, it might have been sheer genius.  Sharon told us her plan had gone really well.  One daughter had bought herself a ticket to Aruba for winter break, Sharon bought herself a new camera, and so on.

I confess to envy.

A few days ago she told me she was going to reinstate Christmas stockings this year.  She was going to fill her husband and her daughters’ stockings, which she’d realized she’d missed doing.  (Her gift to herself was going to be a fancy photo scanner, as she is the Keeper of the Family History in her large Irish family.)

But when she’d told her husband he had to fill a stocking for her this year, he panicked.   Really panicked.

“But Sharon, what am I supposed to put in it????!!!!!”

The poor man was freaked out, but Sharon showed no mercy.

“Michael,” she said, “You’ve known me for FORTY-ONE YEARS!!!!!!  How hard can it be?”

Ah, yes…

After 40+ years we are still a mystery to our husbands?

I think that’s a good thing.

2005: Son #1 contemplating Christmas stockings

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loving the cranberry dip

We’re all stocking up on cranberries, right?

I found a great new website a few weeks ago: www.jamiecooksitup.blogspot.com.  You could spend all day drooling over her recipe collection.  The cranberry dip was so gorgeous I had to try it.

Jamie’s recipe called for a jalapeno pepper, which is a little scary.  I have friends who go with “the hotter the better” adage, but Banjo Man and I are wimps.

So I divided the cranberry concoction into thirds before adding the chopped jalapeno (which I handled while wearing rubber gloves).  I put a bare teaspoon in the “mild” bowl, 2 tsp. in the “medium” bowl and dumped the rest in the “for crazy people” bowl.  After mixing, I put them in small containers–making sure to add labels–and froze them.  The mild spread is really tasty with cream cheese and Wheat Thins.  And it looks festive, too.

Here’s the recipe:

1 12-oz bag of cranberries, chopped (I used the food processor, something Banjo Man bought and I forget is there).
1/4 c. chopped green onion
1/4 c. chopped cilantro
1 small jalapeno
1 1/4 cups sugar
1/4 tsp cumin
2 Tbs. lemon or lime juice

Mix it all together and refrigerate for several hours.  Serve over cream cheese or by itself as a dip (drain the juice before serving so it’s not a mess to eat).  I’ve been keeping a batch of this (the “mild” version) in the refrigerator so I always have something to serve to last-minute company during the holidays.

And I ate it for dinner Sunday night.

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nantucket cranberry pie cake

I’ll bet you ten bags of cranberries that this is the easiest dessert in the world.

I first learned of it from Pioneer Woman (one of my favorite blogs).  She calls it a pie.

She adapted it from Laurie Colwin (one of my favorite authors).  She also calls it a pie, but admits it’s a cake.

It really is a cake.  But it looks like a pie.  And when you serve it to your friends they will really, really, really like it.

my arty nantucket-cranberry-pie-with-poinsettia photo

It’s so easy I just made four of them.  The directions call for a 10″ pie plate, but I usually double the ingredients and divide them between all sorts of pyrex dishes.  After you make it the first time, you realize it’s not an exact science.  This time, because they are gifts, I baked them in 6 1/2″ disposable foil pans.  But they look much lovelier when in glass pie plates.
(Everything does.)

So, here we go:

2 heaping cups of cranberries
2/3 cup sugar
1/2 cup chopped nuts (almonds, walnuts or pecans)
1 cup sugar
1 cup flour
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 stick of butter, melted
2 eggs

First you butter the pie plate.  Be generous.
Then put the cranberries in the  plate.  Sprinkle with the nuts and the 2/3 cup sugar.

For the batter:  Mix 1 cup sugar, 1 cup flour, melted butter, eggs and vanilla (if you like almond extract, feel free to use that instead) and gently stir until it is blended.  Pour (it will be thick) over the berry combo in the plate.

Bake at 350 for about 35 minutes.  Sprinkle the top with sugar and bake another 5-10  minutes or so.  The nice thing about baking in glass pans is being able to see the cooked bottom of the cake.  Check to make sure it’s done (insert toothpick, yada, yada).

Serve with whipped cream or vanilla ice cream or plain.  It’s really good warmed up.

I love it for breakfast with Greek yogurt.  You could serve it in parfait glasses with a dollop of yogurt on top for a buffet brunch.

Here’s Laurie Colwin’s version (with thanks to www.themailifiles.blogspot.com, who found the original recipe by  Colwin):

“When people feel they must make a REAL dessert they are usually looking for something simple and wonderful, two qualities often seen as mutually exclusive.  I like a cake that takes about four seconds to put together and gives an ambrosial result.  Fortunately, such cakes exist and are generally found at someone else’s home.  You then purloin the recipe (because you have taken care to acquire generous friends) and serve it to other friends who in turn, pass it on to yet others.  This is the way in which nations are unified and relationships are made solid.
My candidate for an easy, spectacular dessert is something called Nantucket Cranberry Pie, which is not a pie, but a cake.  It was served to me in the country by a friend who lives on a dairy farm;  she got the recipe from her mother, who can no longer remember where it originally came from.  It is now a staple in their family, and the buck stops there.
In an effort to find the true roots of this cake I looked in The Yankee Cook Book by Imogene Wolcott, a classic tome that contains just about everything anyone needs to know about traditional New England fare.  In the index was Cape Cod Cranberry Pie, but it turned out to be a real live pie.  Our Nantucket Cranberry Pie is definitely a cake;  furthermore, it is a snap to make, and, last but not least, it is delicious.  If you wanted to try your hand at lily-gilding, you might put vanilla ice-cream, creme fraiche, or (if you have tons of time) custard on the side, but my friend serves it straight, which is, I agree, the best way.
Nantucket Cranberry Pie
1.  Preheat oven to 350F.  Chop enough cranberries to make 2 cups and enough walnuts to make 1/2 cup.
2.  Put the chopped cranberries and walnuts and 1/2 cup sugar in a buttered 10-inch pie plate or springform pan.
3.  Mix 2 large eggs, 3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks) melted and cooled butter, 1 cups sugar, one cup flour, 1/4 teaspoon salt and 1/4 teaspoon almond extract.  Stir the batter until it is smooth and pour it over the cranberry walnut mixture.  Bake the cake in the middle of the oven for 40 minutes, or until a tester comes out clean.
There is something about the tartness of the cranberries and the smooth, sweet, buttery taste of the cake is irresistible.  This dessert is so easy a child could make it, and so, if you happen to have a child or two around, I suggest you set them to work for your next dinner party.”
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ask mac & oatmeal cookies

“Ask Mac.”

I heard that a lot when I was growing up.  My great-uncle Mac was the only man in the family who could actually fix something.  Build something.  Take apart something and put it back together.

Imagine the joy when he joined our all-thumbs-no-mechanical-aptitude-what-does-a-wrench-do family of readers and thinkers and singers and sailors.

Uncle Mac (center) delighting in one of his games, 1967.

Back in the early 1920’s, a young farm boy from upstate New York made his way to the big city, Providence, RI, to attend refrigeration school.  He rented a room in my great-grandmother’s boarding house and fell in love.

My Aunt Laurabel had previously eloped with “a bad man” (that’s all anyone in the family ever said) and, sadder and wiser, returned home with her young child.  How could she resist the gentle, sweet, shy and kind Donald MacKenzie?

Every December 20 I would call him for his birthday.  He loved those calls, but Aunt Belle would fret in the background and worry about how much the call was going to cost me.  I’d spent many hours learning about woodworking and power tools and the joy of Elmer’s glue in Mac’s basement.   He loved to teach me how to make things, but was deathly afraid I would hurt myself with the saw.  The only major tool he’d let me run myself was the jigsaw and even then, he hovered.  The coffee table he made me for in junor high is still in my living room.  The cart he made for my then 2-year old son sits under my Christmas tree.  When Mac made something, it was built to last.

He always wanted to know what was going on in Idaho.  I would beg him to visit, especially after Laurabel died, but he was deathly afraid of flying even though he wanted to see our home so badly.  I still have all of his letters, typed neatly on 1/2 sheet of white paper.

In honor of Uncle Mac’s birthday, I’m going to share Laurabel’s secret oatmeal raisin cookie recipe.  She uncharacteristically never shared the recipe*, but baked tins and tins of cookies for everyone in the family.  No one ever left her house without some to take home and hoard.

Happy Birthday, Unk.

Aunt Laurabel’s Secret Oatmeal Raisin Cookies

Cream together:

2 sticks butter (or 1 stick butter and ½ c. shortening)

2 cups sugar

2 eggs

1 TBS molasses

2 tsp. vanilla

Combine:

2 cups flour

1 TBS cinnamon

1 ½ tsp. baking soda

½ tsp. salt

Gradually add the flour mixture to the creamed mixture.

Stir in:                         2 cups oatmeal

2/3 cup raisins

1 cup (or less) chopped nuts

Drop by TBS on ungreased cookie sheet.  Bake at 350 for 12 minutes.

*this is the late Barbara Beshir’s recipe; when I first tasted her cookies they were exactly the same as Aunt Laurabel’s.  Lucky for me Barb was always willing to give out her recipes!

1953: Laurabelle, Uncle Mac and my grandmother

p.s.  See those dining room chairs?  Yep, those are the ones I’m recovering.  Wish that tablecloth was still around.  I think there are peaches on it.?

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christmas spirit, note by note

We’ve been invited out to dinner on Christmas Day.  There will be music.  We are to bring the banjo and the fiddle and maybe even the lap steel.

I was begged to bring the karaoke machine and both microphones.  And the amplifier.

(I knew there was a reason I bought that “Karaoke Christmas” cd at Walmart last week.)

Our host plays the guitar.  Our hostess has a sense of humor.  No one cares what the in-laws and cousins and nieces and nephews will think.

All will be well.

We even came up with a song list.
Excuse me, I must go practice now.  I hear a Christmas carol in my head.

Merry Christmas.

Love.
MorePie

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december birthdays

My grandfather’s birthday was December 17.  He died in 1969, when he was 71 and I was 17.   He loved to fish and read Mickey Spillane novels.  He tolerated the antics of his three sisters and adored his son, daughter-in-law and lucky grandchildren.

Even though I supposedly take after the most antic-filled sister of them all, he still spoiled me rotten.  I sneaked him strawberry shakes from the local Dairy Land (where I worked in high school).  He just about had a stroke when he saw me in my first bikini and called my mother to voice his displeasure.  I gave him a kiss and went to the beach.  We spent a lot of time together, because my grandparents’ house was in walking distance of the high school and my job.  If I stayed after school for clubs or meetings or work (okay, and detention, which I had *once*) I’d visit Grandpa, share a snack and wait for my father to pick me up on his way home from work.

He collected clocks, but when I spent the night he’d turn them all off because the noise bothered me (delicate little flower that I was).  I still cringe when I think about what he must have gone through the next day as he reset them all.

December 17 is also the birthday of the newest soon-to-be member of our family, our future son-in-law Mike.  Happy Birthday, Mike!  I hope it’s a great day!

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