The Drink of the South: Sweet Tea

If you know anything at all about Southerners then you know they love their iced tea, and they take it one way -- sweet.  Well, except for me.  I like my iced tea strong, unsweetened and loaded with fresh lemon, but as my doctor likes to say, I'm not average.

Southern Iced Tea

Ingredients:

• 3 c. water
• 2 family-size tea bags
• 1 c. sugar
• 7 c. cold water
• ice

Directions:

Bring 3 cups of water to boil in a saucepan; add the tea bags.  Boil for one minute, cover, and remove from heat.  Steep for 10 minutes.

Remove and discard the tea bags.  Add the sugar and stir until dissolved.

Pour into a large container.  Add 7 cups of cold water.  Serve over lots of ice.

Yield: About 2 1/2 quarts

Note: Adjust the amount of sugar to your taste.  This may not be sweet enough even for you.  For me, it's like syrup, but as I've told you, my doctor says I'm not average.

When I Was Your Age

 Remember when your parents or grandparents would start something with “When I was your age” or “Back in my day”? It didn’t matter what followed, you just knew it was out of date, completely irrelevant, and had absolutely nothing to do with whatever it was you were trying to talk your parents into or weasel out of them. 

The funny thing is that I now frequently find myself thinking about “when I was that age” or “back in my day.” The only saving grace is that my sons are grown and don’t have to listen to my memories. You however, dear reader, are stuck with me.

The summer-like days we've had lately have me thinking of summers and things “back in my day.” As I have said before, my hometown of Maysville, Ky. was pretty small back in the mid-70s, and there wasn’t a lot to do. It didn’t matter though. Children made their own fun then. We didn’t spend summer days at the mall, texting on our cellphones, or posting selfies to the Internet. Instead, we played ball with our friends, visited their houses, or rode our bikes until dark when our parents would call us home. Then we would gather in one neighbor or another's backyard for an impromptu cookout. The adults would enjoy a cold beer while playing Jarts, and we kids would down one too many pops while avoiding the small weapons our parents were throwing about.

Mom and Dad kept an extra refrigerator in the garage just for such occasions, and it was always full of Barq's Root Beer, Shasta Ginger Ale or Faygo Red Pop, as well as beer for the adults -- Hudepohl, Schoenling, Burger, Wiedemann and even the occasional Little Kings Cream Ale, all "local" brews from just down the river in Cincinnati, Ohio, or Covington, Ky. That's the way beer was done then, made and sold locally.

Then beers went national, even international, and the small, local brewery almost disappeared, along with many of those brands.  But nothing is small or local anymore. We can't send the kids to Sherman's Store for a quart of milk.  We drive miles to Kroger or Walmart instead.  Families eat at fast food restaurants, the kids text their friends about how lame everything is, and that passes for the family dinner. Teens chug energy drinks instead of red pop, and all I can think is that's not how we did it in my day.  

Maybe we'll round a curve, though. PBR is hip again, and microbreweries and brew pubs are all the rage.  We're seeing a return to smaller and more local.  Maybe we'll even see a return to the family dinner and the backyard cookout, only without the Jarts.  Then I can say this is how we did it in my day.

Stormy Weather

“Rainy Days and Mondays” or is it more like “Raining on Sunday”?  “Stormy Weather” like this tends to put me in a nostalgic mood.  I’ve spent the morning being very non-productive.  I played some Facebook games, read CNN, listened to some music, and that’s pretty much it. 

The music evokes so many memories, though.  It’s amazing how many times in my life wrap around something musical, or at least I equate them with a song or two.

Naturally, Mom and Dad were my first musical influences.  Dad was the country lover, and we listened to songs from Conway Twitty, Loretta Lynn, Merle Haggard, Charley Pride and Connie Smith, among others.  (Remember 8-track tapes??) Dad loved Connie Smith.  He was even in her security detail when she made a visit to our little town of Maysville, Ky.  We just didn’t get famous people that often in Maysville, except for our beloved Rosemary Clooney, so that concert made the front page of the Ledger-Independent, and there was a picture of Dad helping Ms. Smith through quite a crowd.

When we visited Dad’s family in Cookeville, Tenn., I would awaken every morning to the smell of food cooking on a wood-burning stove and the sounds of Eddy Arnold’s “Cattle Call” as WHUB signed on the air.  That memory is so vivid that I can almost smell the sausage my aunt Joyce cooked on that big, metal stove.    

Mom grew up in the 50s and 60s, so I cut my teeth on groups like the Platters.  We listened to them on a record player that sat inside a refinished Victrola case.  That thing was gorgeous, and there’s nothing like “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes.”  Mom taught me dances to the songs too, dances like the Stroll and the Hand Jive.  Mom had some varied tastes though.  She’s the reason I listen to the Beatles and the Eagles even now. 

Steve Verville -- Oh, I had quite a crush on Steve there for a while.  He lived across the street from us on Jersey Ridge, and I recall him being into Jim Croce.  (Never into me though.  *sigh*) Years later I worked with Croce’s widow on a project for CMT.  Life does make circles from time to time.

I had my own musical favorites back in the 70s.  First, it was Bobby Sherman, but he was quickly replaced by Donny Osmond who progressed to the Partridge Family, and I practically wore out Melanie’s “Brand New Key” and Don McLean’s “American Pie.”  And then … there was “Come Monday” by Jimmy Buffett.  I quickly became, and remain, a Parrothead.

We moved to Cookeville in ‘75, and I discovered the fact that there was more than one radio station I could access.  Wow!  My favorite was a station out of Gracious and Growing Gallatin –- I don’t remember the call letters , but Coyote McCloud was my favorite deejay.  Suddenly I had music any time I wanted.  Plus, there was American Top 40 with Casey Kasem.  I heard ABBA, Fleetwood Mac, Blondie, the Bee Gees, Rod Stewart…

In 1975, NBC gave us Saturday Night Live, and it was followed up by Don Kirshner’s Rock Concert.  For the first time we had two TVs, and one was in my bedroom.  I was supposed to be in bed around 10:30 because we had to be up early in order to attend services at the Kingdom Hall.  I was always in my room by 10, but I was going through a rebellious phase (Yes, staying up late was rebellious for me), and I would turn the TV on to catch SNL –- it was such an adult show to me!  One night I was still awake when Rock Concert came on.  The musical guest was Rod Stewart.  I thought he was a rather skinny, unattractive fellow, but then he sang “Maggie May.”  A chill went down my spine, just as it still does every time I hear that song.  (Rod was also my first true concert experience.   I believe it was the Worth Leavin’ Home For Tour, although I’ll always think of it as Tonight I’m Yours.)

The late 70s brought Aerosmith, Queen, Kansas, Elton John, Chicago, Steely Dan, John Cougar (now Mellencamp), Steve Miller Band, Boston, Journey and more than I can remember right now.

The late 70s also brought Bill Dyer into my life.  He introduced me to Bob Seger, and I remain a fan over 30 years later, although I find it very difficult to believe it’s been that long since we ran around in that ’74 Plymouth Duster, blaring Seger, the Commodores and Leo Sayer as we went.  (Sayer was for me.  Don’t blame Bill for that one.)

The 80s brought singers and bands with hair much bigger and prettier than mine.  Def Leppard was a favorite.  I’d drive that Duster into town with “Pour Some Sugar on Me” just blasting.  Culture Club had Mom and me sharing a conversation over “Karma Chameleon.”   Mom: “Is that a man or a woman?”  Me: “I don’t know, but I think it’s a man because there’s an Adam’s apple.”  Mom: “I suppose so, but it sure is hard to tell.”

The 80s also gave us MTV.  On August 1, 1981, MTV signed on with “Video Killed the Radio Star,” and the world was never the same.  Suddenly, songs could be seen, not just heard.  And MTV had a big effect on my life again in the 00s. 

Okay, so the 90s brought Terry Marsh and U2.  I certainly listened to other music then, but if you know Terry, then you know it’s all about U2 and nothing but U2. 

Then came my next encounter with MTV.  I started working for Country.com, later CMT.com, on May 27, 1997, and I stayed with them until I was “downsized” on Dec. 8, 2008. The music I heard -- recorded, live and otherwise, the people I met, the things I saw.  That was truly an amazing time in my life. 

Both boys have been in marching band.  Jordan still plays music –- he plays something like 9 instruments, but I think Jonathan only listens now.  That means I have the Marching Band Era, which means lots of loud music, and some of it was even good.

Oh, this is enough about music for now.  Some memories haven’t been as pleasant, and I’d just as soon not cry today.  So, I think I’ll leave it at this.  With Bob Seger’s “Roll Me Away” playing in the background.

Grilled Shrimp Salad

It's spring in Tennessee, which means the weather is constantly changing.  It's cold and rainy or hot and sunny.  It's back and forth.  As we like to say, don't like the weather?  Wait five minutes.  It'll change.

On those hot and sunny days our minds begin to think of summer and grilling.  Even though I don't handle heat well, I do love to grill, and I especially love grilled shrimp.  This salad is one of my favorites.

Grilled Shrimp Salad

Ingredients:

• 1 lb grilled marinated shrimp
• 1 pkg baby spinach
• 1 med. red pepper, diced
• 1 can mandarin orange sections, drained
• 1 pint cherry tomatoes, halved
• 4 oz. feta cheese, crumbled
• Wheat Beer Salad Dressing

Directions:

Combine the shrimp, baby spinach, red pepper, mandarin oranges and cherry tomatoes in a good-sized salad bowl.  Toss lightly with the Wheat Beer Salad Dressing and top with the feta cheese.  Serve immediately. Serves 4.

Grilled Marinated Shrimp

Ingredients:

• 1 lb deveined shrimp without tails
• 1 cup wheat beer
• 2 cloves garlic, chopped
• 1/2 cup onion, chopped
• Favorite hot sauce to taste
• Black pepper to taste

Directions: 

Combine the ingredients together in an airtight container and allow to marinate for up to one hour, shaking the container about every 15 minutes.  Then proceed to grill the shrimp until just done.  Some people do so using bamboo skewers that have soaked in water for approximately an hour.  I prefer to use a grill pan. 

Wheat Beer Salad Dressing

Ingredients:

• 1/3 cup olive oil
• 1 clove garlic, very finely minced
• 1/2 teaspoon fresh basil, very finely minced
• 3/4 cup citrusy wheat beer
• 3 Tablespoons balsamic vinegar 
• 1 Tablespoon Dijon or whole grain mustard
• 1 teaspoon honey
• Black pepper to taste

Directions:

Whisk all ingredients together in a 1 1/2 quart saucepan. Bring to a boil, reduce heat to low and simmer for 4-5 minutes. Remove from heat, let cool. 

When Two of My Favorites Come Together

Driscoll's Strawberry Shortcake Cheesecake

Those who know me know that there are two things I absolutely love – cheesecake and fresh berries.  When I came across this recipe on the Driscoll’s website I began to think I had died and gone to heaven.  Then I realized that if I were truly in heaven I could taste this wonderful concoction, and since that wasn’t happening I knew I must still be alive.  And that means I must make this fantastic dessert.

Strawberry Shortcake Cheesecake 

Yes, you read that right!  Could anything sound yummier? I doubt it.  

But I have a problem.  

I'm on a very fixed, tight income, and I can't just run out and buy the ingredients for things like this.  I have to wait and build them into next month's budget.  Or the next, depending on the cost.  

Can I wait??  It's going to be difficult, but I will.  In the meantime, if anyone makes this please tell me if it's as delicious as I am imagining.  

A Life Interrupted

I have Fibromyalgia.  Although I wasn’t diagnosed until 2007, I’ve had it since I was about 10, so I’m not sure I remember how to live without it.  The difficult thing, however, is to remember to live with it.

I don’t recall my last day without pain.  I know that my first pregnancy was almost pain-free, and my second pregnancy nearly was –- I mainly battled fatigue during that one, but I honestly can’t remember what it’s like to not hurt, even though I know I’ve had some decent days in the past. 

Most days I wake up, take stock of what’s aching, decide it’s an acceptable level of pain and then get up and go anyway.  I’ve done that for many years now.  It’s how I managed to hold down a full-time job for so long.  But some days the pain isn’t just an ache.

Sometimes the pain is like last night, a hot throb throughout my entire body, sort of like a giant toothache.  I sleep for about 29 or 30 minutes, wake up wrapped in pain, deal with the agony for about 2 hours and then doze back off again, mainly out of sheer exhaustion.  I’ve had this pain pattern on and off for years.  I’ve always assumed, since the naps are almost always to the exact minute, that this pain has something to do with my sleep cycle.

Then there’s the pain like I’m having today.  It’s a weird buzzing, like I’ve got static electricity running throughout my entire body.  It’s not the big jolts like you get when someone’s just crossed the carpet in the middle of winter and then touched a doorknob.  This version of pain is non-stop -– a constant buzz that is aggravated by anything that touches me.  This is the day when it hurts to wear clothes, so I sit around in frumpy cotton stuff.  I don’t care what it looks like.  All I know is that there are times when soft cotton is the only thing that prevents me from slaughtering quite a bit of the human race.

There are sharp pains, shooting pains, even short and long pains.  There’s just pain, and there are times when it’s easy to get lost in it.  I want to just curl up in bed and cry it away, but crying doesn’t work.  I want a hug of comfort, but hugs hurt.  The pain never goes away, so I have to find ways to cope.

I try not to give in to the pain often.  There are times when I do, when I just stay wrapped in my blankie, cocooned in my soft bed.  Then there are times when I challenge myself.  “Let’s see how long it takes to get to the bathroom.” 

Hey that wasn’t so bad!  Now, let’s see what I have to do to fix some breakfast.  I bet I can do it.  I just have to pace myself.  I try not to think about the entire day, the week, or anything even close to that.  I just focus on the next task at hand.  It doesn’t seem so daunting then.

I also think of those that have it worse than I do.  Yes, I hurt.  Yes, I’m exhausted.  Yes, I can’t even remember where my socks are, but I’m alive, I have a roof over my head, and my sons are healthy and doing well.  I could have it worse, much worse. 

Plus, there are a few things in this world that never fail to bring a smile to my face.  My sons are one.  I love those boys.  The Hounds of Hell, heck, even when they’re aggravating the daylights out of me, can usually make me smile.  Titan and his pitiful ears – just picture Jar Jar Binks.  Lil Bit and her bursts of furious energy, she runs around squeaking her toys and having the time of her life.  The sound of a baby’s laughter – how can you not smile at that?  Kittens at play and National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, they both make me laugh as well.  I guess it’s a just a question of changing my perspective on bad days.

It’s difficult to make plans with friends.  I can’t schedule my days.  They’re affected by everything – the weather, whether or not I take my meds on time, my attitude, you name it.  I always want to do things with friends, but sometimes I hurt.  Sometimes I’m exhausted and can’t stay awake.  Sometimes it’s other cruel tricks my body plays.  Today, I couldn’t focus my eyes.  I was forced to squint at everything, and that ends up causing a headache.  Sometimes it’s my balance, and I stay close to home, so I’m not out falling in public.  It’s bad enough to fall and get hurt, but it’s humiliating to stumble in public like you’re drunk and then fall flat on your face in front of people. 

Some friends understand if I cancel at the last minute.  Others don’t and stop coming around.  Fibromyalgia certainly does teach you who your true friends are. 

I try to get out and about on my good days.  There’s usually quite a bit that needs to be taken care of, so I pace myself – do what I can, rest, do a bit more, rest, etc.  I just have to remember not to overdo because that will bring on a flare, and flares aren’t good.  Nope, not good at all.  That’s when everything goes on hold. 

Fibromyalgia interrupts my life.  I just have to remember to not let it stop it.  Sometimes I have to remember to live.

For More Information:

Fibro Friends

Fibro Friends on Facebook

Fibro Friends Support Group on Facebook

Fibro Friends on Twitter

National Fibromyalgia & Chronic Pain Association

Fibro Friends Shop on CafePress

Bravelets

If I Could Have Tea with my Grandmother

I baked my Grandmother's Oatmeal Cookies tonight.  As I said yesterday, I never got the chance to know her, as she died when my father was still a child.  I did, however, know her kitchen and the wood-burning oven she would have used to bake them. 

As I mixed the ingredients I pictured my grandmother in her kitchen doing the same.  I saw her beating the egg and adding the sugar while my father, as a child, sat on the stool they always kept there and asked questions.  Why are you doing that?  When will they be done?  When can I have one?  All of the questions a child of 5 or 6 would ask.

I followed the recipe as closely as I could, with one exception.  I did not chop the raisins, something I realized later should really be done.  This recipe has less sugar than any conventional recipe I've seen, so the raisins are used to add sweetness.  Chopping the raisins distributes them more evenly and, therefore, spreads the sweetness a little more equally.  That makes me think that this recipe was probably developed, or at least made popular, during either the Depression or World War II, both times when sugar would have been either expensive or more difficult to come by.

Pearl Burnett McCormick
High School Graduation

One thing my grandmother's recipe did not state was what temperature to bake them at or for how long.  I know her wood-burning stove would have probably had a moderate fire going for baking, so I preheated the oven to 350 degrees.  She said to drop the dough by teaspoonful, so I used a small scoop to keep them uniform and then slightly flattened them.  I baked the first batch for 10 minutes, but that seemed to be just a tad too long, so I baked each subsequent batch for 9 minutes, and they all came out perfect.  

My roommates and I all tried the cookies, and we agreed that they're really quite good, even if only slightly sweet -- the type of cookie that would be perfect with a cup of tea or a glass of cold milk.  

I imagined sitting around the old table at the homeplace on Old Sparta Road with my grandmother and her sisters, enjoying a pot of tea and her oatmeal cookies.  My father and his younger brother would be playing outside.  I could hear the chickens as the boys chased them.  I think we would talk about books, swap recipes and patterns, and share our latest needlework.  

Yes, these are the cookies I would serve if I could have tea with my grandmother.

Here is the recipe updated for today's ovens.

Grandmother's Oatmeal Cookies

Ingredients:

• 1 egg, beaten
• 1 cup sugar
• 2/3 cup shortening
• 4 Tbl buttermilk
• 1/2 tsp soda
• 2 tsp cinnamon
• 1 tsp cloves
• 1 cup raisins, chopped
• 2 cups flour
• 2 cups oats

Directions:

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Combine all ingredients together, being sure to add the oats last.  This dough will be very stiff and a little dry.  Continue to work it until everything is combined.

Drop by rounded teaspoonful onto a parchment-lined cookie sheet.  Press each down slightly, but not too thin.  Bake for approximately 9 minutes, or until the bottoms are golden brown.  

Allow to cool on the cookie sheet for 2-3 minutes and then remove to a cooling rack.  

Makes 5 1/2 dozen cookies.

My Grandmother's Oatmeal Cookies

I never knew my paternal grandmother, Pearl Burnett McCormick.  She died of Hodgkin's Lymphoma less than a month before my father's 14th birthday.  Her sister Jewell once told me that I am a lot like her because I love to read and cook, but that's about all I knew about her until recently.

As it turns out, my cousin Evelyn has our grandmother's handwritten cookbook.  She took care to record her favorite recipes and bind them with a ribbon.  That tells me she treasured those.  

It's also something I would do, have done in a way.  I have many of my favorite recipes printed out and saved neatly in a folder.  Some of them have handwritten notes made in the margins, things such as additions or substitutions.  I also save recipes on Pinterest.  Some of them are favorites and others are dishes I'd like to try, although it's going to take me awhile to try them all since I have nearly 1,400 saved there.  

Now I'm saving another recipe, my grandmother's oatmeal cookies.  I'm going to bake them in the morning, and I feel that may be another link to a woman I wasn't blessed to know.

Grandmother's Oatmeal Cookies

Ingredients:

• 1 egg
• 1 cup sugar
• 2/3 cup shortening
• 1 cup raisins, chopped
• 4 Tbl buttermilk
• 1/2 tsp soda
• 2 cups oatmeal
• 2 cups flour
• 2 tsp cinnamon
• 1 tsp cloves

Directions:

Stir all together, adding oatmeal last.  Drop 1 teaspoonful in place and bake until brown.




Here's how they turned out for me.  




    

Happy Easter!

Today is Easter. I know this is a religious holiday, but I’m not going into that aspect of it. Instead, I’m sharing another childhood memory. (Get used to it. I’m an old lady, and we do that a lot.)

One thing we got every Easter was a new outfit and shoes. The night before Easter we would put the empty shoe box out on Dad’s workbench in the garage, or someplace like that, and fill it full of that plastic green grass. The next morning we would rush out to discover that the Easter Bunny had left us some goodies in the nest we had made. It was never much, but we could always count on a few things: a chocolate bunny, some jelly beans, marshmallow eggs, and a small toy or two, like a yoyo or maybe a coloring book and crayons. One thing we could almost always count on was a fly back paddle, or at least that’s what we called the thing.

Ah, the fly back paddle – the toy I hated to see in my Easter basket. First, I

have no hand/eye coordination, so I was absolutely awful with that thing. I never managed to actually hit the ball with the paddle. The most I ever hit was air, and maybe a bug that accidentally got in the way. Second, those were never meant to last. The rubber band would break the first day, maybe the second if I was lucky, and that broken rubber band brought about the third reason I hated to see that thing in my basket.

Once the rubber band broke, the paddle became Mom’s. She would put it on top of the refrigerator and threaten us with it. I don’t ever remember actually being spanked with one, but I remember being threatened, and that was usually enough for me. I learned to just leave those paddles and balls alone and in the toy box. It was safer all the way around.

One year we went to an egg hunt over in Ohio somewhere. There were dozens of children and hundreds of eggs. Some of the eggs were special, and the finder received a dyed chick or rabbit, something I’m glad I didn’t win. Others could be traded in for candy. I was happy to find a couple of those, and that’s when I discovered bulls’ eyes, caramel creams. I still love those.

My favorite Easter memories of all, however, are of the family dinners, when we would all get together after church for something special. If it were at my grandmother’s house it was probably barbecue chicken with mashed potatoes, cole slaw, and corn. That’s really the only thing I ever remember my grandmother serving at big dinners.

I think family is the best memory of all, as it should be.

Happy Easter, everyone.

Let Them Eat Two Egg Cake!

As I've said before, I love to bake.  I started doing it at an early age, and I had some good teachers.   My first cookies were peanut butter ones baked with Betty Henderson, and my first cake was baked with my Aunt Joyce McCormick in a wood burning stove.  

This is the first cake I remember baking completely on my own.  I needed to start with something simple so I searched through the gray cookbook my mother had received during her senior year of high school.  This seemed as simple as it could get, so I paired it with a buttercream frosting and was quite pleased when it came out edible and delicious, although a bit rough around the edges.  

From that point on I baked just about every Saturday, which is why I'm posting this recipe today.

Two Egg Cake

Ingredients:

• 1 3/4 cups plus 1 tbsp cake flour
• 1 1/2 tsp baking powder
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 1/2 cup soft butter
• 1 cup plus 2 tbsp sugar
• 2 eggs, beaten
• 1 tsp vanilla
• 3/4 c milk

Directions:

Sift flour, measure and resift 3 times with baking powder and salt.  Cream butter until soft and smooth and gradually blend in the sugar, creaming until fluffy.  Add beaten eggs and beat vigorously until light and fluffy.  Add vanilla and stir in thoroughly.  Add flour mixture and milk alternately in 3 or 4 portions, beginning and ending with flour and beating until smooth after each addition.  Pour into two 8-inch layer cake pans, buttered on the sides and lined with wax paper in the bottom.  Bake in a moderate oven (350' F.) 25 to 30 minutes, until cake just begins to pull away from sides of pan and springs back when pressed lightly with finger tip.  Cool in pan on cake rack 5 minutes, then turn out on rack right side up.  When cool, frost between layers and on top and sides of cake with any desired frosting.  8 to 10 servings.  

Through the years I've also frosted this cake with chocolate, cocoa, and lemon frostings, and it was delicious with all of them.  It really is a simple, versatile cake that's good anytime.  

Enjoy!