Tanta Inga

"Tanta Inga was a cook for the logger barons," Mom explained. "She was so precise with her cooking that she only used white pepper in her mashed potatoes. That way no black specks would mar the beauty of her dish."

Tanta Inga was my father's paternal aunt. As one of the oldest of many children ( 9, I think), her opinions loomed large in Dad's family. She left a deep impression on my mother as well. I grew up hearing stories about Tanta Inga. On their first meeting, Inga peeked under Mom's skirt to see the layers of crinoline that billowed under Mom's dress to emphasize her tiny waist.

Tanta Inga played cards (a sin in my mother's family). She sometimes smoked a little cigar, and had a career, and laughed a big laugh. Her home was always filled with people. She was a character. . . just the kind of woman my mother adored.

Mom remembered that Inga's coffee kettle bubbled on the stove all day long. More guests required another scoop of grounds. Egg shells simmered in the kettle to clarify the dark brew. Dad remembered it as thick, strong, and delicious.

My memories of Inga are my parents memories. In my imagination I see beautiful braided breads sometimes filled with candied fruit and nuts. Succulent roasts of goose and beef served on large platters ceremoniously carved at the table. Schaum tort filled with fresh strawberries and sweet cream. Cookies made with cardamom or almond paste and graced with bits of citron served next to fragile cups filled with coffee so thick a spoon would stand in the center. And of course, mashed potatoes white as snow. My parents remembered people lingering at Inga's table. Memories of memories. The faded stories wisp through my mind's eye.

I never met Tanta Inga, but I feel as though I have know her. So far, I've not found any recipes identified as Inga's but this one, written on lovely watermarked stationary in a shaky hand, somehow feels "right".

I made Berliner Krunce for Christmas this year. The recipe is huge so I divided it in half. It's been decades since I've baked these little cookies, and I couldn't quite get them formed into a figure 8. I remember Grandma Ellingson making them as wreaths. Mine look more like Grandma's. Tender and delicate, Berliner Krunce glisten with sugar and bits of citron. A lovely little "two bite" as Amelia called them. Amelia asked that we make them every Christmas. You know I will. I have to smile at the new memories of a memory of a memory.

Love to you all,
Patti

Bullets

Fattiman Bakkles, Berlinder Kranner, Sandbakkelse, Bullets, Krumkaka. Christmas recipes in Mom's collection speak another language. Dad was 100% Norwegian, and our Christmas treats reflected this tradition.

My favorite has always been Bullets. The delicate, pecan filled crescents are are gently laid in powdered sugar while hot from the oven, then stored in mounds of powdered sugar. Just removing the container lid is a treat as clouds of powdered sugar billow and puff from the cookie box. As children, we loved to fish around the sugar with our fingers to find the last hidden cookies.

I remember one Saturday morning when I was 4 or 5. I got up early, pulled a chair up to the counter, and raided the coffee can filled with bullets. Dad found me sitting in the middle of the living room floor covered in powdered sugar, the empty can by my side. Dad scooped me up and had the living room and me cleaned up before Mom awoke. He was always so sweet to me. No one ever said word about the mess (or the bullet shortage). I think eating a whole coffee can of cookies was punishment enough.

I feel very sentimental about the recipe card pictured. All three of us wrote on the card. I can still see the card balance on the cupboard knobs while Mom's old Mixmaster whirred underneath. Cookie baking was a family project. Mom ruled from the kitchen table, I mixed and rolled, Dad had oven duty, CeCe popped in and out to nibble. Memories of those days are precious.

Last Sunday Jim, Amelia and I made Grandma T's cut-out cookies. Filled with sour cream and nutmeg, it's our favorite sugar cookie recipe. A blizzard raged outside while my Kitchen Aid whirred. I mixed and rolled. Jim cut out cookies and had oven duty. Amelia popped in to decorate and nibble. These days are precious also.

I was going to skip making bullets this year. I'm the only one who LOVES them. Really, I love them too much! Jim stores them outside so I don't have a repeat of my childhood cookie feast. Amelia asked that I make a batch. After all, Santa needs some variety on Christmas Eve.
Tonight I bake.

Love to you all,
Patti

The Great Ginger Cake Mystery

My mother was on a quest to solve a mystery and rediscover the perfect gingerbread cake recipe she was served as a new bride. The story goes that Dad's family was gathered at Grandmother Ellingson's home. For dessert, Grandmother made a spicy little ginger cake with burnt sugar frosting. The gathering was rather large and the cake was rather small, so everyone was allotted only a sliver of cake.

Mysteriously, Grandmother never made the recipe again nor would she ever share the recipe with mom. Maybe she wasn't "wowed" by the cake, or maybe she simply lost the recipe. Maybe, and this was always the question, she didn't want to share this little gem with the new interloper. What ever the reason for its absence, Mom and Dad always spoke longingly of the cake. At least once a year CeCe and I would hear the story of the little pan of cake with a great big flavor.

The Ginger Cake became mythic, and Mom was always asking friends and family if they'd encountered the recipe. Leave it to dear, Great Aunt Helen to take up the challenge. In Mom's recipe collection, Aunt Helen supplied 3 Ginger Cake recipes.
This one is the best.
I topped the cake with Browned-Butter Frosting.

1 Cup butter
1 (16oz) Package powdered sugar
1/4 Cup milk
1 tsp. vanilla extract.
1)Cook butter is small heavy saucepan over med. heat until butter begins to turn golden. 6-8 minutes. Stir constantly or it will burn. Chill one hour until it is cool and begins to solidify.
2) Beat butter until fluffy; gradually add powdered sugar alternately with milk beginning and ending with sugar. Stir in Vanilla.
3)Frost top of cooled cake.

The final mystery is this. Mom never made any of the ginger cake recipes nor did she ever ask me to "tweak" any of the recipes. Aunt Helen brought this cake to Green Bay on one of her visits. Apparently the recipe didn't match up with the myth.

We loved it! The recipe was easy, and the result was rich and filled our home with the perfume of gingerbread.

Spicy and not too sweet, this recipe makes a delightful little pan of cake. . . just the right amount to serve my family and leave them wanting more. Maybe the myth continues.

Love to you all,
Patti

Summer's end and back-to-school malaise have kept me from writing but not from cooking and remembering.

August 11 would have been Mom's 74th birthday. My tradition was to baked either a Caramel or Fresh Coconut Layer Cake for her birthday. The choice was Mom's. This year I planned on baking one for my project and writing about our birthday traditions which involved the expected cake and presents, and also quirky rituals like dancing under a limbo stick. Amelia had a different idea which completely set me on my ear. While Jim and I discussed the delicious options, Amelia requested something new. Something totally new. "Why don't you bake a Banana Cake with cream cheese frosting, Mom" she exclaimed. "And make it into cupcakes!"

Well, I've never, ever made a Banana Cake. Rarely do I make cupcakes. There was no Banana Cake recipe in her collection. It was not a traditional birthday recipe. With all those inflexible thoughts, my immediate response was, "No!"

The next day while I walked in the cool of the morning, I had the strongest memory of something Mom told me long ago. Almost a vision. "When I'm long gone," Mom advised, "If you decide to buy flowers for my grave, buy the most beautiful bouquet you can, keep it for yourself and think happy thoughts of me each time you look at it." I remember crying that day.

Mom was truly a "Live In The Present" woman. "Enjoy Now" was her constant theme. Be Happy NOW! Banana Cupcakes with Cream Cheese Frosting suddenly seemed like a perfect way to honor her birthday memory.

I found the recipe in a 1958 Friendship Baptist Church cookbook compiled by the Hettie Cobb Missionary Union. Hettie Glover Cobb was my Great-Grandmother. My Gramma, Lousie (affectionately called Cooter by her siblings) was Birthday Chairman for group.


You can imagine my delight when I found Mrs. Nannie Brown's Banana Cake recipe in the book. Nannie Brown lived down the street from Gramma. Many of my childhood days were spent with my cousins walking the red clay path past her house to downtown Davisboro Ga. Many nights were spent playing Ghost In The Graveyard through her yard. I think we may have raided her vegetable garden too. I wonder if the reason we never played with her granddaughter, Fran, was because we were so wild. Fran would have had a blast running with the barefoot cousins. Fran met my cousin, David, in college. They've been married over 20 years.


I emailed Fran about the recipe. While Fran didn't remember Nannie baking this particular cake she reminded me that Nannie was an excellent cook. "Any of her recipes will be Wonderful." Fran was right!

Banana Cake was delicious. I didn't use Nannie's frosting, but made a traditional cream cheese frosting. The beautiful, moist texture and rich banana flavor made it a new favorite! Perfect for birthdays, just as my wise daughter suspected.

Amelia packed up the remaining cupcakes and brought them to a friend's overnight birthday party. I'm told girls went for a walk then stayed up all night watching scary movies and devouring sweet banana cake slathered with cream cheese. I wonder if they played ghost in the graveyard and raided a vegetable garden too.

Remember the past, my darling Amelia. Dream of the future, but Live in the NOW!
ENJOY NOW!

Love to you all,
Patti

A Deliciously Sweet and Bubbly Day

I think punch is the quintessential party beverage. Deliciously sweet and bubbly. Saturated with fruit juice and effervescent soda. Sometimes spiked with vodka or champagne or ice cream. Even its name has energy. . . PUNCH! Punch seems like a mini party in a little glass.
Mom didn't often serve punch. Usually it was reserved for bridal and baby showers, but Jim's upcoming family reunion in Arlington Heights, Illinois seemed like a perfect occasion to mix up a batch. Mom's collection of recipes offered many choices. I immediately disregarded any recipe with ice cream (too messy) or booze (too many kids around the punch bowl). One of her recipes lists "a large ice block" in the ingredients. The ice is not chipped or formed into a pretty mold. The punch is simply poured over the block. That recipe went into the "NO" pile. This recipe calls for 1/2 bottle of Vodka. REALLY? Notice it makes "1 punching bowl". I can't help but wonder if the author was sampling punch when she wrote this recipe for Mom. I chose to make is a beautiful recipe from Mom's dear friend, Eloise Lindem. This was the punch "Auntie" Eloise served when she hosted my bridal shower.

Our party gathered on a perfect summer's afternoon at the home of Jim's niece, Cheryl, and her family. Jim's two sisters, his brother, their spouses and most of the children and grandchildren relaxed under the shade of a honey locus tree. For hours we sipped punch, ate barbecue, and feasted on peanut squares (Mom T's recipe) and brownies. Little cousins romped in the bouncy house until they were exhausted. Teen cousins wandered through the park and later had deep conversations in the family room. Some grandchildren developed their entrepreneurial talents by selling rocks found in the neighbor's yard. The best bargain was Andrew's offerings for 1 cent. The most expensive were Max's river rocks for $1.00. Many grandmother and aunts went home with heavy purses! We all cooed over the new baby and toasted the parents of this beautiful family, Byron and Helen, both long gone but with us always. Mostly we talked and laughed and counted our blessings as a family.

Next year we'll gather again, this time at our home, to celebrate Byron's 100th birthday. I don't know if there will be new family members, or if we'll have punch. I am sure we'll laugh and reminisce and celebrate being a family. After the party is over, we'll be left with deliciously sweet and bubbly memories of a perfect afternoon spent with those we love.
Love to you all,
Patti

Pink Flamingo Fluff

"It's very pink", our friend, Jeff, observed when I unveiled this dessert.
We'd been invited to Chris and Jeff's home for dinner. I always try to bring something I know they love like Peach Cobbler or Blueberry Pie, or my historic Pound Cake. This strawberry dessert was a real departure from my typical homemade bakery, but I knew they'd get a kick out of being part of this experiment.

Mom collected three versions of this recipe. Could three recipes lead me astray? One called for mixing the gelatin with orange juice. Another recommended chilling it in a mold, then turning it out and frosting with 1/2 pint of whipped cream.
I selected this recipe because it was handwritten by my Mom. "Mix strawberries and juice w/small marshmallows," is a bit obscure. What strawberries? Did she mean Jello juice? How many marshmallows? I decided to mash 1/2 cup fresh strawberries with juice of 1/2 lemon and 2 Tab. sugar. One cup of marshmallows seemed about right. I didn't have enough whipped cream to mold the dessert and frost it, so I settled on using Mom's big crystal bowl. I imagine many of you remember it filled with melon balls or 7 cup salad (more on that recipe another day!)

After dinner, the four of us faced our servings of what I called Pink Flamingo Fluff. The electric pink color was a bit alarming and a sure sign that few ingredients found in nature graced the dessert. Our friends were real sports. "It's very light", said Chris. Jeff chimed in, "and very airy." By that point I was laughing so hard I was in danger of wearing Pink Flamingo Fluff!

Really, it was a fine retro dessert. Pink Flaming Fluff tastes a bit like a silly strawberry shortcake. The kids loved it!

How thankful I am for dear friends who can share a laugh over a light, airy, fluffy, pink dessert. Next time, I'll bring Pound Cake!

Love to you all,
Patti

The Gift of Cake

My childhood summers and Christmases were spent with Mom's family in her hometown of Davisboro Ga. Her sisters and their families would gather with us at Grama's home. What wonderful memories I have of barefoot summers, and cousins in matching red Christmas pajamas, and Grama's house stuffed and overflowing with family; memories of making biscuits, and learning to drive, and slicing thick slabs of cake from the bounty that filled the dining room sideboard. I can still see the parade of great aunts and distant cousins stopping by with gifts of cake.

There was always Pound Cake. I love Pound Cake. So did Mom. Maybe that's why her recipe collection is filled with Pound Cake recipes. This recipe is from my Great Aunt Sara and was often one of the offerings on the sideboard. When I found the recipe I couldn't remember it, but after baking it, the crisp lemon flavor brought me right back to my barefoot childhood.

My friend, Allison, who is about to enter 8th grade, wondered how I would choose which Pound Cake recipe to bake. She pondered if I'd make all the cakes in the collection, or select a few. Last week I had lunch with Allison's mother, my dear friend Kris. We talked about the possibilities. I selected this recipe because the lemon is unique in the collection and because of my Aunt Sara's beautiful script. You'll notice there are no baking directions. I beat together butter (not Crisco) and sugar until light, then added the remaining ingredients. Using a buttered and floured loaf pan, I baked the cake at 350 for 1 hr and 15 min. Next time I'll bake it for an extra 5 minutes or so.

After my family sampled the cake, I wrapped up the remainder and brought it to Allison. I was stunned over how she had grown the past year. She's becoming a beautiful young lady. I could almost hear the voices of my great aunts when they arrived at Grama's house on those long ago hot summer's days with gifts of cake. Aunts and distant cousins exclaiming, " I can't Believe how big you've grown. You were just a little girl last time I saw you!" "You're such a young lady, just like you're Mama when she was your age." It made me smile, then and now.

I hope Allison and her family enjoyed their treat as much as I enjoyed baking it. Now I understand the joy that comes from arriving at someone's home on a hot summer's day with a gift of golden cake.