by Jackie Houchin
I’m so thankful that both my mom and my dad put pen to paper while they were alive to draw and write out lasting legacies for me to cherish now that they are gone.
Our Thanksgiving Dinner
Mom cooked the whole feast, all the fixings and desserts, until way after she had great-grandchildren. When she was no longer able, I took over the task for a few years before handing it down to my daughter-in law who excels in the kitchen.
Now, the week before Thanksgiving I thumb through the 3×5 cards in Mom’s old plastic recipe box, looking for the Cranberry Salad, the Holiday Mincemeat Cake, and the Chiffon Pumpkin Pie recipes. The writing is faint and blurred; the cards are stained. And my heart gives a twist as I picture Mom taking each one out and assembling the ingredients on the counter. (This “treasured” box came to me 20 months ago when, at 94, she died.)
Six weeks ago my Dad joined her in Heaven. Now they are giving thanks to God continually, not just on our annual holiday.
In cleaning out my dad’s file drawers I found a stack of napkins about five inches high. I thought they were dust cloths for his crafting projects, until I took them out of the plastic bag. Instead of throwaways, I found ‘priceless’ pieces of art that I will treasure alongside my mom’s recipe box.
Daily for a year or so in 1999, Dad sat at their kitchen table and drew stick figure sketches of Mom in various situations, from housecleaning and cooking, to relaxing with a morning coffee on the patio, working a jigsaw puzzle, gardening, and packing/traveling to Solvang on their anniversary. Each filmy paper illustration has her comment in a balloon above her head. I can hear her saying them all! I admit, I cried as I looked at each one in the stack.
I’ll share a few of his sketches here, along with two of her “famous” Thanksgiving recipes.
Mom, baking her Chiffon Pumpkin Pies (Thin crusts; never soggy!)
Mom’s pie recipe:
- 3/4 cup brown sugar
- 1 1/2 cup canned pumpkin (not pie mix)
- 1/2 cup milk
- 3 eggs (separated)
- 1 tsp. cinnamon
- 1/4 tsp. ginger
- 1/4 tsp. allspice
- 1/2 tsp. salt
- 1 TBS. plain gelatin
- 1/4 cup cold water
- 2 TBS. granulated sugar
- 1 baked pie shell
Soak Gelatin in water. Combine brown sugar, pumpkin, milk, egg yolks (lightly beaten), spices and salt. Cook in top of double boiler until mixture begins to thicken (about 5 minutes) Add gelatin to hot mixture. Chill until partially congealed. Beat egg whites stiff, but not dry. Beat granulated sugar into egg whites. Fold into pumpkin mixture. Pour into baked pie shell. Chill for 1-2 hours or until stiff enough to cut and hold its shape. Garnish with whipped cream if desired.
Mom’s Cranberry Salad recipe:
- 1 pound fresh or frozen whole cranberries
- 2 1/2 cups sugar
- 1 cup chopped pecans
- 1 cup drained crushed pineapple
- 1 cup mini marshmallows
- 1 large package of strawberry Jell-O
- 1 cup boiling water
Grind (or process) the cranberries roughly. Add sugar. Let set 3 hours. Add pecans, pineapple, and marshmallows. Dissolve Jell-O thoroughly in boiling water. Add to the above mixture and set aside to mold. (When slightly thickened, stir down the marshmallows.)
Gratitude
How glad I am that my parents took time to write out and draw “every day” things. They may never be published (other than on this blog), but they are as enduring and endearing to me as any literary classic or masterpiece painting. They are the hearts of my Mom and Dad.
Creativity in any form is a gift from God and destined to bless (or change) someone. Keep on creating from your heart. You’ll never know who will pick up a piece of “you” and smile (or cry).
Happy Thanksgiving!
“Oh, give thanks unto the Lord, for He is good.” Psalm 136.1
#WriteMotivation #recipes! #Creativity
I TASTED the cool creamy sweetness of real Italian Gelato, bit into crusty (salt-free) Tuscan bread piled high with fresh-made tomato Bruschetta and drizzled with first-press virgin olive oil from an orchard that covered the nearby rolling hills. I sipped a frosty pale green menta (mint) icy that tingled my taste buds and sent shivers of coolness through my mouth and throat…on a baking-hot humid day.
I sampled a vast array of Italian cheeses (said to outshine France’s), from wedges of soft, creamy whites, protected by powdery rinds, to the mellow, medium-soft, large-holed varieties (not Swiss), that were delicious in a salty-sweet way with a dollop of apricot jam on top, to the hard, net-wrapped aged cheeses that take a good strong knife to slice, and a hunk of soft Italian bread to eat it with to even out the sharpness.
What about a decadent hot chocolate so thick and rich that it looks like Hershey’s Chocolate Topping, but more delicious, served with a scoop of freshly whipped cream so thick you could eat it with a fork.
Move through wet heat that causes limp hair, sticky skin, and clothes that cling. And then come upon an arched metal fountain in a park or piazza in the shape of a bull’s head (honoring “Torino”) that flows with cool sweet entirely drinkable water from its mouth. Hold out an empty water bottle, or cup your hands to catch the coolness, or even bend your head and drink freely.
Kids walk down the streets holding hands and they hug their siblings freely, unembarrassed.
The Writers in Residence 