Another wonderful night of sleeping! Temperature was just right for blankets. I again had a dream that featured my father! It was not a long dream, but it was more than a glimpse. It was totally normal. He was walking and talking and instructing Bob and I about buying cat food to deliver to needy old people who had cats. We were scrambling to find premium brands instead of shrink-wrapped four packs of crummy varieties. Somehow we were on a deck and in the store simultaneously?

Just now I spoke to my mother on the phone and she told me she cooked something good and ate it for two nights. It was chicken breast, spices, stewed tomatoes, tomato sauce, macaroni shells and Parmesan cheese. In the past she might have fussed about preferring potatoes and baked beans over pasta and sauce, and she definitely would not have had that for dinner two nights in a row. I thought how much my father would have loved her creation, and he would have insisted on having it for lunch and dinner until it was gone.

 

 

We had the most beautiful basil this summer, and yesterday we cut it because of the threat of frost. It was bittersweet - but the yield was 8 cups of pesto, and that is awesome! Simple recipe from NYT: 10 c basil, 10 cloves garlic, 10 T walnuts, 2.5 c parm cheese, 2.5 c olive oil.

 

I turned 59 two days ago! I can retire in 6 months - or at least t the end of Spring semester 2021, but probably won't. Still, the thought is there.

So I've been doing Blue Apron since late August. Overall, I like it. I don't think it's too expensive or a bad value, the vast majority of the recipes have been delicious, the ingredients are both fresh and unusual, and it saves me from having to go to the supermarket (something I hate) so often.

At first I struggled with all the steps on the recipe card, and with the amount of dishes generated. But after a couple weeks, I figured out how to streamline things and use some of my own methods, instead of theirs. I also have been able to use ingredients for something else, when I suspect the recipe will not work for me.

A few times there have been missing ingredients, but customer service has been great about issuing refunds. I took the opportunity to give feedback, but I don't think they are using my suggestions. As a vegetarian, the recipes tend toward too much reliance on carbs (pasta especially) and do not include ingredients like seitan. Only twice have the recipes been things I consider truly inspired from a vegetarian perspective (both were lentil dishes). I did a little looking on the 'net, and there does not seem to be any vegetarian or vegan service. Or rather, there are, but the recipes sound no different than Blue Apron.

My most significant criticism, and it is quite a serious one: the packaging. They use far too much plastic, and it is mostly, if not entirely, unnecessary. Every little thing is in a film plastic bag. Why? I don't need 10 red pepper flakes in a plastic bag. I don't use the red pepper anyway, but I would feel this way even if I loved it. I don't get it. If I discontinue the service, this is likely to be the reason why.

In honor of St. Patrick's Day, I'm sharing this story from my book "A Visit with Mimmie: Catskill Mountain Recipes."

All four of Mimmie's grandparents immigrated from Ireland. She was proud of her Irish heritage, and had no patience for tired jokes about being Irish and drinking. Her mother, she said, would not touch birch beer or root beer either, just because of the word “beer.”

On the card for my 18th birthday she wrote:
“Want to wish you Happy Birthday for Tuesday. Hope my card gets there on time. Eighteen is a lovely age to be isn’t it. Just think you are now your own boss. Have a Happy Birthday Tuesday and don’t drink too much (champagne). Suppose that is spelled wrong, but guess you will know what I mean. That horrible tasting drink that they always have at weddings.”

Years later, I noticed Irish Soda Bread being sold at the Kiwanis Club barbecue at the firehouse. and many restaurants serve it on St. Patrick's Day. I was not really familiar with it, so was wondering if Mimmie had a recipe for it. I looked, and couldn't find anything. However, the 1926 Old Book begins with a recipe for Irish Wedding Cake. Mimmie wrote on the page: “I started this cookbook in 1926. My first recipe was given to me by Gladys Fox.”

Irish Wedding Cake
Flour 2 cups
Baking Soda 1 teaspoon
Butter 1 tablespoon
Cinnamon 1 teaspoon
Cloves 1 teaspoon
Egg 1
Molasses 1 cup
Boiling Water 1 cup

Sift dry ingredients, add remaining ingredients and beat all together. Bake at 350 degrees for about 30 minutes in loaf pan, or recipe can be used to make layer cake. Use white icing.
Here's Mimmie's Irish Apple Cake recipe; this one is not from the 1926 notebook, but from the little 1970s mod recipe file box:

Irish Apple Cake
Flour, sifted 3 cups
Sugar 3/4 cup
Salt ½ teaspoon
Egg Yolks 3
Butter 1 cup
Lemon Rind, grated from one lemon
Applesauce 1-3/4 cup
Cinnamon ½ teaspoon
Cloves 1/4 teaspoon

Mix flour, sugar, salt, egg yolks, butter and lemon rind. Divide mixture in two parts. Press one part in bottom of pan. Mix applesauce, cinnamon, cloves, and spread over mixture in pan. Sprinkle rest of mixture over applesauce. Bake at 350 degrees in a greased 9x9x1-3/4-inch pan for 40 to 45 minutes. Top with whipped cream, if desired.

 Ann Kathryn McSpirit Eckert (1904-1993) at about age 17

November 1 will become a momentous occasion: The one-year anniversary of becoming a vegetarian! It is something I've wanted to do since I was a teenager, and in recent years, I kept thinking it was on my bucket list (a concept I hate, BTW). It had been years since I'd eaten any meat, besides poultry and fish. But for some reason I could not give those up -- even though I felt guilty eating them. Finally, last year, I suddenly went "cold turkey," and it was easier than I'd imagined! I do not miss it at all, and did not, even in the first days. I feel much happier and more aligned with my principles. I was reminded of this today, when I got an email from a local farm about ordering my Thanksgiving turkey. When explaining that they will not know exact weights until the turkeys are "processed," I felt a pang at the euphemism. Not that I think agro-business slaughtering thousands of hormone-injected birds after they lived under inhumane conditions is better, because I certainly don't. But I still was disturbed by the email.

The new lifestyle has some health benefits for me, that I won't go into here in detail (suffice to say that a lifelong problem I had is just about gone). It is probably easier than I'd thought it would be because I am not a vegan. I understand the health benefits and support the philosophical reasons for veganism, but I can't figure out what I would eat. I go to restaurants often, that isn't changing any time soon, and vegetarianism is challenging enough. I might attempt it someday (and may find it easy, who knows) but for now I am pleased and proud to be a vegetarian.

Yesterday I made a vegetable pot pie. I've always loved pot pie and used to occasionally make chicken pot pie, and it occurred to me that it would be a wonderful vegetarian dish for fall. I made up to recipe. First, I made a double crust (2 cups flour, 1 teaspoon salt, 2/3 cup butter, 5 tablespoons cold water). Then, I made the filling (saute 2 tablespoons olive oil, 1 clove garlic, 1 can mushrooms, a handful of carrots, 1 can small white beans, 1 bag frozen corn, 1 bag frozen peas -- I would have used potatoes too, but didn't have any). Then I made white sauce (2 tablespoons butter, 1 teaspoon salt, 2 tablespoons flour, 1 cup milk, 2 cups stock made from boiling vegetable peels). I poured 2/3 of the white sauce over the vegetable mixture, put it all in the pie crust, baked it for 50 minutes at 400 degrees, and served it with the remaining white sauce. It was awesome.

Front flower bed is filled with purslane! Tried it raw in salad last night. Its pretty bland. Texture is fine. One nice thing, it does not seem to be a haven for bugs, so it is much easier to clean than watercress or burdock. Next we're going to try it cooked. 

We saw Ain't Them Bodies Saints on Saturday night. It was an interesting movie, thoughtful and well-acted. Don't see it when you are seeking an "upper," however. Before the movie, we went to New World and sampled their excellent eggplant "meatballs." They are in a competition for U.S. Food Next Top Product.

Bob took some photos (for fb, of course) of last night's dinner:

 Quinoa & Chickpea Stuffed Sweet Potato (toss fresh basil, spinach, sprouts, chickpeas, cooked quinoa, salt, pepper, garlic, oil & vinegar and spoon in center of cooked sweet potato)

 Eggplant Caprese (prepare eggplant [peel, slice, dip in egg & bread crumbs, bake on cookie sheet]; "butter" each eggplant round with pesto, put sliced mozzarella and sliced fresh tomato in center of each "sandwich," spill canned diced tomatoes over top, heat briefly)

I also made roasted brussels sprouts (toss with olive oil, salt, pepper & garlic and roast on cookie sheet). He took a picture of them as well, but I teased him that he must keep his day job because he doesn't have a future as a food photographer! These things were all much more appetizing IRL.

He also took a picture of Rosie and one of Sam; these came out much better than mine usually do:

 Both are so precious

They were very excited about dinner! Rosie wasn't much of a veggie eater when she first came to live with us, but her tastes have matured considerably :-).

Great column, as usual.

I am hosting a dinner in honor of my mother's 80th birthday on Saturday...here's the menu:

 All leaves are on the ground -- except for this tree! Nothing short of a miracle given how windy it has been.

Some of the herbs are still hanging in there.

Thanksgiving was very nice, as was the weekend overall. The pie was not perfect, by my standards -- too much liquid and a touch too sweet. Everyone else disagreed, but I guess I must be channeling Mimmie.

Back to the grind! But only 2.5 weeks left of on campus duties, yay.

We watched "Lady Eve," an old Henry Fonda / Barbara Stanwyck movie, over the weekend. It was atrocious!

Making Apple Pie and Thinking of You

Today I made traditional apple pie for Thanksgiving. It was the first pie I've made in a year or since last Christmas anyway. I like to make apple pie, and often make one or more for holidays. It is one of my favorite desserts at any time, but in recent years I buy them here for all except special occasions. (The apples for this pie did come from there, we bought a half-bushel.)

I use a Cutco peeler to pare the apples, and it was a gift from Millie. Apple pie is one of my "signature" dishes, and she gave me many utensils over the years, including decorative pie plates and an apple coring machine -- but none as useful as the Cutco peeler. Last time I made a pie, I was sending one of them down to Long Island. But not this year.

Last time I made a pie, Sophie begged for the apple peels, cores, and pieces of apple. She would even grab a whole apple out of the bag and eat it. I've had two dogs in my life, Sophie and Howie, who loved apples and spent the entire time I was baking waiting nearby, barking impatiently at times, cheating the compost. But not this year.

Bob and I came up with a poem to capture Sophie's love of pie:

Ode to Pie

Pie, Pie, Pie

Pie for dinner

Pie for lunch

Pie for breakfast

Pie for brunch

Pie in the morning

Pie at night

Pie when you're hungry

Pie when you're full

Pie for a snack

Pie for a meal

Pie, Pie, Pie

I always think of Mimmie when I bake for the holidays, and this year is no different. Is the pie perfect? Did the dough roll out just right? Are the apples just right?

You be the judge.

My recipe:

Crust

2 C flour

1 t salt

2/3 C butter

6 T water

Filling

7 cooking apples

1 scant C sugar

1 scamt t cinnamon

Dash nutmeg

2 T flour

2 T butter,

Brush top with milk and sprinkle with sugar. Bake ~50 minutes @ 400 degrees.

I made french fries with some of those wonderful potatoes from the garden. (We had baked potatoes Monday night -- very versatile crop!) The french fries plus tomato sandwiches were dinner last night! Love the harvest...

 These are from the Samsonville garden. Best potatoes ever!

For regular tomatoes, in Castleton I grew Celebrity this year. They are great in containers -- plants didn't get too big, produced an abundance of medium-sized tomatoes perfect for salads, sandwiches and caprese. Thanks to Becker's for the recommendation -- two paws  up!

Bob drove the commissioner's SUV to Rochester today. Filled it up last night. Wow...

Lots of things to write, but very little time to devote. It will keep, or be forgotten, I suppose.

Since I can't do Friday, the hearing is scheduled for Wednesday. This is a first; despite my (too) many occasions of discovering academic dishonesty, I have never had to appear at a hearing before. The reason for this is my policy -- if there was any doubt about the cheating, I wouldn't bother pursuing. So there was never an appeal.

I am not sure what to expect. Going with my friend to court a few weeks ago was a new experience. Any time I've had anything to do with the legal system, it has been eye-opening, disheartening, and all around unpleasant. This isn't exactly the same thing, of course. Still is going to be unpleasant, I suspect. What a lovely way to end the glorious summer (not) !

Later, unrelated: almost forgot! I dried some of the tomaccio tomatoes (AKA Little Shop of Horrors). That's their intended purpose. I've been growing them for three seasons, but this is the first time I've tried it. They seem to come out great! I washed them, put them on foil on a cookie sheet, salted them, and baked them for 3 hours at 200 degrees.

Yesterday, I did something I've never done before: made a dish with tofu. I'm not crazy about tofu, except when it is in tiny crumbles in something like a spring roll. But in the interest of health and kindness to animals, I want it to be a part of my diet. So I read up on how to prepare it so it isn't slimy or tasteless (a Mimmie word :-) and whipped up tofu, spinach and mushrooms with peanut sauce. I sliced the tofu, drained it, pressed it in a dish towel, dry fried it while pressing it with a spatula, marinated it in peanut sauce, and sauteed it to really crisp it up, then added it to the cooked spinach and mushrooms. It was delicious! The only change I would make in the future is to use fresh spinach and fresh mushrooms. I violated the usual principle of vegan dishes -- use the freshest ingredients, and instead used frozen and canned, respectively. But I didn't have fresh on hand yesterday.

Added: Sam loved it. Rosie, not so much. It will take her a while to develop the sophisticated palette of my other dogs.

In Honor of St. Patrick's Day

Crazy Questions, Aren't They?

I twisted the knob, attempting to open the door that led to the little room Uncle Lou had added to Mimmie’s mobile home.  It was locked, so I knocked.  “Mimmie,” I called.  Inside, I heard her fumbling around with the door.  It took a while, as she had several latches to release, as well as a hook and eye.  That little trailer in the woods of upstate New York was more secure than many apartments in New York City, 100 miles to the south.

The door swung open.  Mimmie stood a little to the side, so that I could pass.  That day, as always, her floral house dress was perfectly pressed, her stockings complemented by a pair of white sneakers.  Not once in my life did I see her in pants, although my mother says that in Mimmie’s younger days sometimes she did wear jeans.

We were going to sit at the kitchen table, drinking tea and eating coffee cake while we talked.  That was what we always did during our visits at her trailer, and before that, when she still lived at the old place.  But this day I was going to tape record her answers to a list of prepared questions.  It was an assignment for a class at college, and I had already asked Mimmie if she would be my subject. She had agreed, reluctantly.

I sat down at the table and arranged my notepad and tape recorder. Mimmie hovered nearby. “Should we have some tea first” she said. It was not really a question. I said yes, and before long, it was brewing. She took a danish out of the refrigerator and heated up a few slices in her toaster oven.

“You know, I think these coffee cakes aren’t so good anymore. I think they bake them right in the boxes now,” she remarked. I smiled. Years later, I decided she was probably right! And a little time in the toaster oven always improves “store-boughten” baked goods.

“Maybe we should get started?” I suggested. The clock with the big numbers above the kitchen sink was loud when it ticked. The hours slipped away during visits with Mimmie.

I had to make the bus back to Oneonta later that evening, and this assignment needed to be finished. “Where were you born?”

“In my parents’ house.” Mimmie’s parents lived on Dug Hill Road in Hurley, New York. Her father was a widower with five children, but it was the first marriage for her mother. Mimmie was the oldest of three surviving daughters from this union.

“And you lived there your whole childhood?” “Yes.”

My birthday is just five days after Mimmie’s. When I turned 18, the card that came in the mail from her read:

“Received the birthday card you sent me. Thanks. I like it, they must have had me in mind when they made it. Never saw one like that, with the Mc on it.”

All four of Mimmie’s grandparents immigrated from Ireland. She was proud of her Irish heritage, and had no patience for tired jokes about being Irish and drinking. Her mother, she said, would not touch birch beer or root beer either, just because of the word “beer.” On the card for my 18th birthday she wrote:

“Want to wish you Happy Birthday for Tuesday. Hope my card gets there on time. Eighteen is a lovely age to be isn’t it. Just think you are now your own boss. Have a Happy Birthday Tuesday and don’t drink too much (champagne). Suppose that is spelled wrong, but guess you will know what I mean. That horrible tasting drink that they always have at weddings.”

Years later, I noticed Irish Soda Break being sold at the Kiwanis Club barbecue at the firehouse, and many restaurants serve it on St. Patrick’s Day. I was not really familiar with it, so was wondering if Mimmie had a recipe for it. I looked and couldn’t find anything. However, the Old Book begins with a recipe for Irish Wedding Cake. Mimmie wrote on the page “I started this cookbook in 1926. My first recipe was given to me by Gladys Fox.”

Irish Wedding Cake

Flour    2 cups
Baking Soda    1 teaspoon
Butter    1 tablespoon
Cinnamon    1 teaspoon
Cloves    1 teaspoon
Egg    1
Molasses    1 cup
Boiling Water    1 cup

Sift dry ingredients, add remaining ingredients and beat all together. Bake at 350 degrees for about 30 minutes in loaf pan, or recipe can be used to make layer cake. Use white icing.

Here is Mimmie’s Irish Apple Cake recipe, this one not from the 1926 notebook, but from the little mod recipe file box:

Irish Apple Cake

Flour, sifted    3 cups
Sugar    3/4 cup
Salt    ½ teaspoon
Egg Yolks    3
Butter    1 cup
Lemon Rind, grated    from one lemon
Applesauce    1-3/4 cup
Cinnamon    ½ teaspoon
Cloves    1/4 teaspoon

Mix flour, sugar, salt, egg yolks, butter and lemon rind. Divide mixture in two parts. Press one part in bottom of pan. Mix applesauce, cinnamon, cloves, and spread over mixture in pan. Sprinkle rest of mixture over applesauce. Bake at 350 degrees in a greased 9x9x1-3/4-inch pan for 40 to 45 minutes. Top with whipped cream, if desired.

 

By our second cup of tea, there were still a lot of questions to go. The first ones had answers I already knew. “When were you born?” I asked. “Heavens, the date’s right there on the form,” she said, laughing. Then, “September 13, 1904” came the reply. “Do you have children?” “Yes, three.”

“How did you come to West Shokan, and when?” “How’d I come? I moved here in 1932, no reason why.” I made some notes in my spiral-bound book. West Shokan was my grandfather’s hometown.”I’m not a native,” she confided, and I smiled a little. Not a native? West Hurley and West Shokan are now part of the same school district. “No,” she continued, “I didn’t come here until I was married.”

“What other places have you lived as an adult?” “Well, I lived in Woodstock, working there, for two years. And I lived in Alleben. That’s all.”  I made some more notes. In 1918, after finishing eighth grade at the one-room school, Mimmie left home. She went to work in Kingston, New York. In 1922 she moved to Woodstock, New York, to work as a nanny for the Reasoner family. Mr. Reasoner was an artist who owned the Woodstock Playhouse.

“What is your occupation?” “Crazy questions, aren’t they? I don’t want to say jack of all trades and master of none.” She was laughing. “What would you be, mostly I’ve been a housewife, cook. As young girl, I worked in a factory.”

“What did your husband do?” “Farmer, carpenter.” I continued my notes. Grandpa owned the store Mimmie worked in when she lived in Alleben.

In the 1940s, Mimmie’s sister Alice and brother-in-law Frank would drive to West Shokan from their home in Stony Hollow for a visit. Most of the time, these visits were an unplanned surprise. Having no sweets readily available to offer them and few ingredients on hand to rectify the situation did not prevent Mimmie from slipping into the kitchen to see what she could manage. A short time later, without fail, she would emerge with a just-baked cake. For one visit Alice decided to save her sister the trouble by bringing something she had picked up at a store. Mimmie served the dessert and coffee, and Alice remarked, “isn’t it good, Frank?” “I guess so,” he replied. “But I prefer those one-egg cakes that Annie stirs up in a hurry.”

One Egg Cake

Flour, sifted    2 cups
Sugar    1 1/2 cups
Baking Powder    2 ½ teaspoons
Salt    1 teaspoon
Vegetable Shortening    1/3 cup
Vanilla    1 teaspoon
Milk    1 cup
Egg    1

Sift the dry ingredients together in a bowl. Add the shortening, vanilla, and 2/3 cup milk; beat vigorously for 2 minutes, add the remaining 1/3 cup milk and egg and beat 2 more minutes. Bake 25 to 30 minutes in 350 degree oven.

And here is a favorite of mine, a simple cake recipe from Mimmie’s mod file box:

Frying Pan Cake

Flour    1 3/4 cup
Baking Powder    1 tablespoon
Baking Soda    1 teaspoon
Cocoa    6 tablespoons
Sugar    1 cup
Oil    1/4 cup
Vinegar    1 tablespoon
Water    1 cup

Sift together dry ingredients into ungreased pan. Make three wells in the mixture -- put oil in first, vinegar in second, finally water in third. Mix. Bake 25 minutes at 375 degrees.

Frosting:

Confectioner’s Sugar, sifted    1 1/2 cups
Butter    2 tablespoons
Coffee, brewed    2 tablespoons
Cream together sugar and butter; add coffee; stir until smooth.

Excerpted from  A Visit with Mimmie: Catskill Mountain Recipes by Gina Giuliano (2011).

I'd Probably Be Working Yet

“Hundreds of youngsters did see the pixies that lived in the ferns beside the barn!  Very special wee folk, they delighted in serving everything miniature size in their own special dishes.  Tea sandwiches were served in the pixie refrigerator, luncheon was served in their train or boat.  A dog cart and pony wagon were treasures reserved for serving dessert.  During the meal, the pixies busied themselves wrapping tiny gifts of the heart to delight their pint size customers.  The Inn scrapbook contains so many letters written to the pixies, we know the children shared the pixie love of giving, laughing and enjoying.  We knew they would enjoy being remembered by all the ‘young in heart’” (Graeffe & Horner, Favorite Recipes of Watson Hollow Inn, 1972, p.136).

Mimmie worked for many years as a cook at Watson Hollow Inn in West Shokan, New York.  Desserts were her specialty.  My fondest childhood memories are of sitting at Mimmie's enamel kitchen table very late at night, selecting delicious homemade cookies from a tin container, and drinking many cups of tea while she shared stories of her life.  Mimmie liked her tea strong, and always left the tea bag brewing in her cup the entire time she drank the tea.  She preferred Lipton brand, although she would tolerate Tetley, but she disapproved of all other kinds.  I doubt she knew there was such a thing as decaffeinated.  She used evaporated milk rather than lemon or ordinary milk in her tea.

I asked her, "what do you think about time?"

"Time isn’t important to me anymore.  And I mean, I used to do everything on schedule, anyone that got me off of that schedule...  Anymore, I would say, you know, there’s a lot more time to do that.  This can be done some other time.  I have all the time in the world to visit, and read.  That made me very nervous, schedules.  When I was working, I mean Clare caught on right away, that it bothered me.  And I know I heard her say one time to somebody, don’t get Ann off her schedule, or she’ll, I don’t know, she said she’ll kill you or something like that," she replied, laughing. 

"Everything I did, I wanted it done -- and sometimes it couldn’t be, but I thought if they kept on their schedule, it wouldn’t interfere with mine. They just thought that you couldn’t always keep on a schedule.  And I could, you know, if they went to the store on time.  Because if you don’t get it done on time, how are you going to serve the meals on time.”

Watson Hollow Inn was a magical place.  Known simply as “the Inn” to employees, regulars and local folks, I suppose it was somewhat of a bed and breakfast, though it was in business long before B&Bs were chic.  Afternoon tea and Sunday dinner were served at the Inn.  Operated by Clare Graeffe Kearney, Anne Graeffe and Paul (Pat) Kearney from 1942 to 1970, Mimmie worked there from 1958 until her retirement in 1970.

I was a little girl, and did not often get to visit while Mimmie was at work, so my most vivid memories of the Inn come from Mimmie’s late night stories.  Occasionally in the evenings, the owners, guests and a few employees would play games and put on simple performances.  Mimmie greatly enjoyed the antics at the Inn and, at the same time, thought they were silly. “...All leaf lettuce, parsley, baby carrots and corn came directly from Pat’s garden.  Fresh clover was picked daily, washed, and gently pressed into each butter pat” (Graeffe & Hoerner, p.129). Finding four-leaf clover was one of those antics, and was among Mimmie’s many responsibilities.

A recollection of my own is of a time when I did visit Mimmie in the Inn’s kitchen while she was working.  Clare offered to make me a shake.  In my limited experience, a shake was ice cream, milk and most likely chocolate.  Clare’s combination consisted of wheat germ, a raw egg, and other unfamiliar ingredients.  Clare, Anne and Pat practiced a sort of health-food lifestyle before anyone cared about such things.  I reluctantly drank it and said that I liked it, although I was a fussy kid and it was not sweet at all.  But I had been told many times not to practice my finicky ways when I was a guest.

The nice elderly women at the Inn gave me a little package to take with me when I left that day.  I was to open it after we drove away, when the Inn could no longer be seen in the distance.  Although too polite to refuse the wheat germ-egg shake, I was skeptical of the story I was told about what would happen if I did not listen.  The pixies who lived in the ferns would spirit my gift away!  Ignoring the warning, I ripped the little decorated bag open almost as soon as I was in the car.  Inside was a cute plastic deer statue. (I save everything, but don't have it any longer; I suppose it was spirited away after all.) 

The building which once housed Watson Hollow Inn burned down close to Thanksgiving in 1971, a year after it stopped operating as a business.  (The pixies who lived in the ferns may have done it.)

Mimmie remarked, "of course if Watson Hollow Inn was still there, and I lived where I did, I’d probably be working yet.  'Cause if I’d never had to stop, I think I would have kept in good enough condition to work.  I think that they wouldn’t have been working full-time there.  And I know if everything had gone well and they had been living, they’d be running that place today yet, maybe in a smaller way."

Here's a WHI recipe that is perfect for holiday celebrations:

Watson Hollow Inn Fruit Punch

Nutmeg    (to taste)
Cinnamon    (to taste)
Cloves    (to taste)
Cranberry Juice    4 cups
Apricot Juice    3 cups
Pear Nectar    2 cups
Pineapple Juice    3 cups

Put all ingredients in gallon jar and chill.  When ready to serve add one can frozen lemonade, stir and fill remainder of jar with ginger ale.  Add cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves to taste.  Fill glasses and add one melon ball cutter, the largest one, of orange or lemon sherbet to each glass.

excerpted from A Visit with Mimmie: Catskill Mountain Recipes

Eggplant is my favorite food. Thinking back,  I realized this past week I had:

• eggplant napolean at The Point in Albany for dinner on Wednesday of last week (it was divine), 
• eggplant napolean from the Outtakes store on campus on Thursday for lunch (it was acceptable, even tasty. I suspect slabs were packaged up the day after it didn't sell out at the Patroon Room lunch buffet -- sort of reminds me of elementary school when an apple was the snack and kids would take maybe one bite, then go up to throw out the tray. A lunch aide was always there, grabbing the trays full of trash. Next day, 1/2 apples were the snacks. Hmmm),
• eggplant parmesan from Scarnato's in Castleton on Friday (it was to die for, my favorite, best anywhere, no contest, A+++, rivals my own or even Ma's),
• frozen Celentano eggplant for dinner on Saturday (it was not that good),
• eggplant and white bean soup for brunch at the Chatham House on Sunday (it was heavenly),
• eggplant parmesan at Teagan's in Rensselaer on Tuesday for dinner (it was serviceable).

What? A week with only six days of eggplant? How can that be?


Something I don't do as much as I'd like is cook time-intensive, more complicated dishes. Some of my favorite things to make involve pie crust (with apple pie topping the list!). Today I decided to make a quiche. It's been ages since I made one. My recipe: pie crust (1 1/4 c. flour, 1/4 t salt, 1/3 cup butter, 4 T water), roll out into one crust, put in pan, line with foil and bake 450 degrees for 8 minutes, remove foil and bake 5 more minutes. Filling (4 eggs, 1 1/2 c milk, 1/4 t salt, 1/4 t nutmeg, 1/8 t pepper, 1 t minced garlic, 8 oz shredded cheddar cheese, 2 c chopped spinach). Bake 325 degrees for one hour. 

Today is another day without eggplant. (Already know I'm having it tomorrow though.)

I Started This Notebook in 1926 

I twisted the knob, attempting to open the door that led to the little room Uncle Lou had added to Mimmie’s mobile home.  It was locked, so I knocked.  “Mimmie,” I called. Inside, I heard her fumbling around with the door. It took a while, as she had several latches to release, as well as a hook and eye.  That little trailer in the woods of upstate New York was more secure than many apartments in New York City, 100 miles to the south.

The door swung open. Mimmie stood a little to the side, so that I could pass. That day, as always, her floral house dress was perfectly pressed, her stockings complemented by a pair of white sneakers. Not once in my life did I see her in pants, although my mother says that in Mimmie’s younger days sometimes she did wear jeans.

We were going to sit at the kitchen table, drinking tea and eating coffee cake while we talked. That was what we always did during our visits at her trailer, and before that, when she still lived at the old place. But this day I was going to tape record her answers to a list of prepared questions. It was an assignment for a class at college, and I had already asked Mimmie if she would be my subject. She had agreed, reluctantly.

Mimmie circa 1985

I sat down at the table and arranged my notepad and tape recorder. Mimmie hovered nearby. “Should we have some tea first” she said. It was not really a question. I said yes, and before long, it was brewing. She took a danish out of the refrigerator and heated up a few slices in her toaster oven.

“You know, I think these coffee cakes aren’t so good anymore. I think they bake them right in the boxes now,” she remarked. I smiled. Years later, I decided she was probably right! And a little time in the toaster oven always improves store-bought baked goods.

“Maybe we should get started?” I suggested. The clock with the big numbers above the kitchen sink was loud when it ticked. The hours slipped away during visits with Mimmie. I had to make the bus back to Oneonta later that evening, and this assignment needed to be finished. “Where were you born?”

“In my parents’ house.” Mimmie’s parents lived on Dug Hill Road in Hurley, New York. Her father was a widower with five children, but it was the first marriage for her mother. Mimmie was the oldest of three surviving daughters from this union.

“And you lived there your whole childhood?”

“Yes.” When she was a girl, Mimmie often visited a neighbor on Dug Hill Road. She taught Mimmie about running a household and cooking.

By our second cup of tea, there were still a lot of questions to go. The first ones had answers I already knew. “When were you born?” I asked. “September 13, 1904” came the reply. “Do you have children?” “Yes, three.”

“What are their ages?” “I was told not to answer that,” she said, and we both started laughing. “What did your father do?” “He was a farmer.” “And your mother?”
“Cook.”

“How did you come to West Shokan, and when?” “How’d I come? I moved here in 1932, no reason why.” I made some notes in my spiral-bound book. West Shokan was my grandfather’s hometown.

Eckert Homestead in West Shokan c. 1915

“What other places have you lived as an adult?” “Well, I lived in Woodstock, working there, for two years. And I lived in Alleben. That’s all.” I made some more notes. In 1918, after finishing eighth grade in the one-room school at age fourteen, Mimmie left home. She went to work in Kingston, New York. In 1922 she moved to Woodstock, New York, to work as a nanny for the Reasoner family. Mr. Reasoner was an artist who owned the Woodstock Playhouse.

Mimmie when she was about 17

“What is your occupation?” “Crazy questions, aren’t they? I don’t want to say jack of all trades and master of none.” She was laughing. “What would you be, mostly I’ve been a housewife, cook. As a young girl, I worked in a factory.”

“What did your husband do?” “Farmer, carpenter.” I continued my notes. Grandpa owned the store Mimmie worked in when she lived in Alleben.

As a newlywed in 1926, Mimmie started writing recipes in a spiral-bound notebook. On the cover is taped an illustration of a kitchen by Maxwell Mays that looks much like Mimmie’s at the old house. At some point she labeled this notebook “Old Book.” The stained pages inside are written in fountain pen and long ago started to crumble. At one place, they were sewn by Mimmie to the binding, and the thread remains intact. This old book begins with a recipe for Irish Wedding Cake, and several pages later, there is One Egg Cake.

The 1926 Notebook

In the 1940s, Mimmie’s sister Alice and brother-in-law Frank would drive to West Shokan from their home in Stony Hollow for a visit. Most of the time, these visits were an unplanned surprise. Having no sweets readily available to offer them and few ingredients on hand to rectify the situation did not prevent Mimmie from slipping into the kitchen to see what she could manage. A short time later, without fail, she would emerge with a just-baked cake.

For one visit Alice decided to save her sister the trouble by bringing something she had picked up at a store. Mimmie served the dessert and coffee, and Alice remarked, “isn’t it good, Frank?”  “I guess so,” he replied. “But I prefer those one-egg cakes that Annie stirs up in a hurry.”
  
Why not try a recipe that will not taste like it has been baked right in the box?

excerpted from A Visit with Mimmie: Catskill Mountain Recipes

I am going to make a batch of these, from the Old Book:

Ginger Snap Cookies

Sugar, 1 cup

Shortening, 2/3 cup

Egg, beaten, 1

Molasses (light), 1/4 cup

Flour, 2 cups

Salt, 1 teaspoon

Baking Soda, 1 teaspoon

Cinnamon, 1 teaspoon

Ginger, 1 teaspoon

Cloves, 1 teaspoon

Thoroughly cream sugar and shortening, add egg and molasses and beat well. Add sifted dry ingredients. Mix well. Roll 1/8 inch thick on lightly floured surface. Cut with floured cookie cutter. Bake on greased cookie sheet in moderate oven (350 degrees) about 10 minutes. Makes 6 dozen cookies.

Weekend was busy and fun!  Sadly, two friends were not able to come - one of their cats went missing Friday night and as far as I know he hasn't turned up. He's a completely indoor cat and they are not sure how he got out. He just vanished into thin air. I feel so bad for them.

However, we still celebrated another friend's birthday on Saturday and went to Goold's yesterday. I made the cake with 1/3 white flour, 2/3 whole wheat. Mimmie wouldn't have approved, but it came out good!

Now it's back to the grind. Midterms and school visits!