Weekly Dish

I grew up in a house where medicine was practically non-existent. My mother believed in the power of orange juice to cure a sore throat, a Sprite-and-crackers diet to get rid of a stomach bug. Looking back, it seems as if food cured many ailments–if I had a bad day at school, we baked cookies. If I broke up with a boyfriend, I ate mint-chocolate chip ice cream for dinner…or breakfast. Often, when I was in college, my mom would drop off homemade muffins just to say she missed me. 

Perhaps in light of my upbringing, then, food for me has not only the power to sustain, but also to heal, to comfort, and to cheer me up. People in the South often talk of “comfort food,” and this time of year, when the outside world starts to appear lifeless and cold, I find myself standing over the stove to warm myself and my husband with the healing power of food.

This week, I offer recipes that I have turned to at one time or another for comfort, either for me or for a loved one, in hopes of spreading food’s magical, healing power. Of course, in order for these recipes to be effective, you must also sprinkle in a healthy dose of care and love. Believe me, people can taste it.

This first recipe belongs to my mom. Anyone that has ever been to her house in the winter knows about Mom’s Spiced Tea. For as long as I can remember, she kept this warm drink on hand during the cold months to offer to guests and to drink on dreary afternoons. When David and I were dating, it became a running joke: whenever he came to visit, she offered him spiced tea until he finally said yes (sometimes 4 or 5 times in the course of 1 visit!). He eventually learned just to accept on her first offer, for his drinking spiced tea was inevitable.

Since we’ve been married, I have followed her tradition of keeping this warm drink on hand. This very day, you’ll find a big pot of it on my stove, and late in the afternoon, David and I will probably take a break from our studies, and let ourselves be rejuvenated by Mom’s Spiced Tea.

Mom’s Spiced Tea

4 quarts water

2 cinnamon sticks

2 dozen whole cloves

3 family-size or 7 regular tea bags

3/4 - 1 cup sugar

1 46-ounce can pineapple juice

1 12-ounce can frozen orange juice

1 12-ounce can frozen lemonade

Fill a large stock pot with the water, and add the cinnamon sticks and cloves. Bring to a boil, and boil for 15 minutes. The aroma of this step alone is worth making the tea! Add the tea bags, turn off the heat, and steep, covered, for 15 minutes. Sweeten with the sugar (I usually end up adding closer to a whole cup, but I add 3/4 to begin with and then taste after I’ve added the other ingredients. You can always add more later), stirring to dissolve. Turn the heat to low, and add the juices, stirring to combine. At this point, you can taste it and adjust the sweetness. I leave it in the pot on my stove because our house is old and drafty, so it stays very cool. If you live in a well-insulated house, you may want to refrigerate it. To serve, just reheat and stir well (all the pulp settles to the bottom). It has been known to cure many a cold in my family, but that could be purely psychological. Which is fine by me.

Happy Thanksgiving, Everybody! Here’s a picture of the Thanksgiving chicken that David prepared for our own little holiday meal last night (there he is below getting it ready). Today, I am especially thankful to be married to such a sweet, talented husband. We’re off to visit family for the day, but we wish you and yours a safe and blessed holiday!

If you’re still looking for the perfect dessert to take to Thanksgiving dinner, I highly recommend this one. Especially if you have cooked sweet potatoes on hand, this pie is easy to make, and wow, is it good. This recipe belonged to my great-grandmother, and my mom has taken on the task of making it every Christmas. As soon as the weather turned cool, (and I began buying and cooking sweet potatoes like a mad woman) I craved this pie.

My affection for this particular recipe has much to do with my memory, I know; it’s been several years since my great-grandmother was here to share the holiday with us. But also, I think this pie does what all of my favorite recipes do: it relies on the simplicity of the ingredients. The sweet potato flavor is highlighted by the orange zest, and those are really the only flavors you taste. The evaporated milk or cream imparts a fluffiness to the potatoes that enhances their own texture. My mom serves it with a dollop of slightly sweetened cream and freshly grated nutmeg, and I like it warm or cold. Really, as far as pies go, this one for me is hard to beat.

NANNY’S SWEET POTATO PIE

Nanny is famous for writing down cryptic recipes. I’m going to type it up exactly as my mom recited it to me over the phone, and then I’ll explain what I actually did when I made the pie. Her instructions:

1-2 potatoes

1 can Carnation

2 eggs

Grated orange rind

Vanilla

Salt

3/4 cup sugar

Whip the potatoes, Carnation, and eggs; then add sugar. Add vanilla and salt. Bake 15 min. at 375, 30 minutes at 350.

What I did:

Bake a pie shell for 10 minutes at 425; remove from oven and reduce the temperature to 375 degrees. I used 2 small potatoes (about 2 cups of cooked, mashed potato) and 1 cup of whipping cream instead of Carnation (because I couldn’t figure out whether she meant sweetened condensed or evaporated milk. Mom says evaporated, but the cream worked fine too). Whip the potatoes, cream, and eggs together in the mixer. Then, add the sugar, the grated rind of 1 orange, 1/2 t. of vanilla, and 1/4 t. salt. Whip for a couple of minutes. The mixture should be very light and fluffy. Pour the filling into the slightly baked pie crust, and return to the oven. Bake for 15 minutes; then reduce the temperature to 350 and bake for 30 minutes more. The pie should be set so that it jiggles only slightly in the center when you shake it. (It will firm up as it cools, but I can never wait, so my pieces are always falling apart a little bit.)  Serve as you wish, hot or cold, with whipped cream and nutmeg, or just some grated orange rind on top, with coffee, tea, or a tall glass of milk. I’m telling you, you really can’t go wrong.

You know that feeling you get when it’s about an hour after dinner and you just NEED something sweet? Whenever that craving strikes at our house, I usually ransack the pantry, knowing all the while that I’ll not find anything. But, if, by some chance, I happen to have a banana and some ice cream, my night gets a whole lot better.

Aunt Jennifer, for whom I was named, gave this recipe to me in the Aunts’ Recipe Book when I got married. On the recipe card beside the title–Bananas Foster–she wrote in parentheses: our favorite dessert! After I made it the first time, I knew why. She and I share that love of very, very sweet things, and this dessert fits that description perfectly. If you don’t like your treats ultra-sweet, this is not the dish for you. But, if you do, here’s the easiest dessert I know how to make! I copy the recipe verbatim from Aunt Jennifer because it has not once failed me:

Bananas Foster

bananas, split lengthwise

cup of brown sugar

1/2 stick butter

dash of cinnamon

Melt butter in pan. Add brown sugar and stir until smooth and un-grainy. Put bananas in gently and heat through. Sprinkle cinnamon on. Serve over really good vanilla ice cream.

Grandmothers are delicious treats. My dad’s mother has always been a huge part of my life–in grade school, whenever I had to write an essay about who I most admired, she took top honors. A few weeks ago, I was at her house to celebrate birthdays for two of my aunts, and the dessert you see above is what Aunt Prissy served in Grandmother’s beautiful crystal, which she has collected over a lifetime.

Although I am a little late in joining, I recently read about a food blogging event called “In the Pink.” Emily at La Dolce Vita invited food bloggers to create pink food and write about it, in honor of breast cancer awareness. When I read Emily’s story and the inspiration for the event, I knew I wanted to join. Knowing my paternal grandmother so well all these years has always had a tiny edge of bitterness to it: I didn’t get to know my mom’s mother, because she lost her life to breast cancer when I was only two years old.

I am grateful for the chance to have such a sweet grandmother in my life, and saddened at the same time to have lost another so early. My hope is that the spread of breast cancer awareness can prevent other women from losing their mothers, grandmothers, sisters, and daughters to such an ugly disease.

Here’s a pink dessert with delicate lace cookies, dedicated to both of my grandmothers, whose lives I cherish. Thanks to Aunt Prissy for making such a lovely dessert, which I think accurately represents the delicate sweetness of grandmothers everywhere.

Amaretto Pink Sherbet with Lace Cookies

Raspberry Sherbet, 1 generous scoop per serving

Amaretto, about 1 tablespoon per scoop (more or less to taste)

Lace cookies, 1 per scoop

Aunt Em’s Lace Cookies

Aunt Prissy used Paula Deen’s recipe for the cookies in the picture but says she likes Aunt Em’s recipe better, so I’m giving it to you instead. Aunt Prissy also recommends parchment paper instead of foil.

1 cup quick oats

1 cup sugar

3 T. flour

1/4 t. baking powder

1 t. salt

1 stick butter, melted

1 t. vanilla

1 egg, beaten

Mix the oats, sugar, flour, and baking powder in a large bowl. Add the melted butter, and mix well. Then add egg and vanilla; stir to combine. Refrigerate the dough for a few hours. Drop spoonfuls 3 inches apart onto a foil- or parchment-lined cookie sheet. Bake at 325 degrees for 7-9 minutes. Watch carefully until they are light brown on edges. Cool slightly and peel off of foil. Makes about 2 1/2 dozen.

To assemble the dessert: scoop sherbet into long-stemmed glasses. Drizzle the amaretto on top. Break cookies in half, and stick one half into each side of the glass. Pretty and easy to do for a lot of people.