The Season Is Upon Us. . .

. . . and you need me more than ever! Well, never fear. I'm here for you, Honey!

From Thanksgiving through the New Year, I'll have tips on cooking and gifts and good times, none of which will be expensive!

My first tip. . . and this is priceless. . . tonight, as you prepare for the onslaught of turkeys both related to you and not, sit back, put your feet up, drink a glass of wine, and tell everyone to help themselves to a banana sandwich. They'll be eating fancy tomorrow. The world will not end. Have a conversation. Play some music. DO NOT WAIT ON ANYONE unless they are bedridden. Enjoy your home, your friends, your family, your life. Even if this means, gasp, that you let the cake fall. Pour chocolate over it and get a spoon!

Be grateful.

More Patty

Woodrow and I went to the Celtic Fox, my favorite Irish pub, for the 3rd anniversary of Patty King and the Backseat Boys, so I couldn't resist posting another photo from the Halloween gig at Varsity Blues. Patty is one of my favorite singers. Saturday night, Tom Hewitt (right, at the Sidelines jam) and Woodrow joined in on trumpet and mouth harp respectively and the video can be found on topektonight.com. Our friend, Doug Ruth, maintains this site and does a great job of promoting local music.

Dixie Lee loves local music!

Dixie Lee loves to dance!

Dixie Lee loves her Patty King tee-shirt! You, too, can have one and keep up with their schedule at www.kingandtheboys.com.

Tell 'em Dixie Lee sent you!

Dixie Lee Doing Stuff

Have you ever seen a white sweet potato? I asked the group.

"Heck, I raised sweet potatoes and I never knew white ones existed."

It was a challenging crowd. But I brought along some white sweet potatoes, special-ordered from Hyvee, and passed them around the room just to prove I wasn't pulling the wool, or potatoes, over their eyes.

Then I sliced them and boiled them and covered them with milk, sugar, butter, and vanilla, covered them with biscuits and made sonker.

They're believers now.

Sweet potato sonker is my favorite childhood dish, and my Aunt Lou Em made the best. At tobacco-priming time, her table was laid so full of food that I don't know how it stood under the weight. I was just a little thing, not required to prime tobacco nor hand it up at the barn, so I stayed with Aunt Lou Em while she cooked. Then, I seated myself strategically in front of the sweet potato sonker before anyone else could get to the table.

I have always been a willful, selfish, little mortal.

Wanted to share photos from Halloween, too. I hosted Patty Shackles and the Prisoners of Love (below) at Varsity Blues Bar, right across from Washburn University. Woodrow was my handsome prison guard and played a little harp with the band. (left, with Tom Krebs).

Sonker Time

Tomorrow morning I'll be making sweet potato sonker at Pappan's Landing Senior Center in North Topeka. Yes, there is a case of WHITE sweet potatoes setting in my living room, and for $5 I'll share enough potatoes and the recipe so that you, too, dear reader, can be a sonker maker!

Buttermilk Pie, or Hillbilly Cheesecake

You know I would never lie to you.

Used to could, I made the best buttermilk pie on this earth. I served it warm and folks melted. I served it cold, and they swooned.

I cannot find the recipe. You know, dear readers, that for years I didn't have a man worth making a buttermilk pie for, so the recipe just drifted away. Fear not. I'm experimenting and will share with you this richest of desserts in a couple of days.

In the meantime, Woodrow is enjoying the results of the experiment, and will be the ultimate judge of the perfect buttermilk pie. Lordy, it's going to take a lot of kissin' to work off those calories!

Fried Apple Pies

Since writing about fried apple pies, I've had more than one request for the recipe. Like so many things in Southern kitchens, I don't know if this was ever written down. I've been looking, but can't find anything. . . . So here it is, Dear Ones, near as I remember:

Slice about a bushel of Red or Yellow Delicious Apples, or if you're really lucky and really love the people you're cooking for, use Granny Smiths. Slice fairly thin. Wash them in salt water. Lay them on a screen to dry in the fall sun. . . this takes about a week. (I'm assuming you don't have a tobacco barn to put them in; if you do, all the better.)

When they're good and dry, put them in a big pot and cover with water, maybe a little to the scant side. Add a couple of cups of sugar. Sprinkle cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves and allspice to taste. Cook up this mixture until it thickens, something like applesauce. This will take a while. Don't let it stick. Set aside.

Now, make pie crust dough--your standard, stand-by recipe will work just fine. I'll share mine tomorrow if you can't find it or don't remember. Roll out your dough and lay a saucer on for a pattern--not a teacup saucer, but a good-sized saucer. Cut out circles and place filling on one side of the circle, then fold over and press the edges together. When you've made enough to use up the filling, get out your cast-iron skillet and drop in a couple of tablespoonfuls of lard. (Alright, vegetable oil will do though the flavor isn't quite as authentic and the texture of the crust won't be quite the same the next day.) When it's good and hot, but not enough to burn, put your pie in to cook. When it's golden brown turn it over and brown the other side.

These are good warm or cold. You can even freeze them if your friends and family don't gobble them up straightaway. Yes, this recipe makes a LOT of pies. There's no point if you're not making a lot of pies and it's the only way I know how to cook them. They are meant to be shared, to be a communal food. It is permissible to eat a leftover pie for breakfast, all by yourself.

Photo from pickyourown.org

Apple Time

It is this time of year I miss Virginia most, and it reminds me that I need to talk to you about apples, the most noble of fruits.

Rule number 1: The best apples come from Virginia. I cannot explain why. God just made it this way. The second best come from North Carolina, the Brushy Mountains to be exact. I cannot explain why. God just made it this way. I think that Missouri may be next, though I have to admit I have tasted some fine apples in Pennsylvania. Of course, we know that most of our apples in the super market come from Washington State. Don't even get me started and don't make me get my rolling pin this early in the day. . . .

When I was a child, the first apples of the season began ripening about the same time as tobacco priming and the two flavors are forever linked in my tastebuds. Granny dried apples, mostly red delicious (pictured above) in the tobacco barn as the beautiful leaves were curing and the tobacco flavor permeated the apples. Then, she cooked those apples up with some sugar and spices, rolled out dough and made the best fried apple pies in the world. I'd like to make them again, but having tasted those apples dried in the tobacco barn I am reluctant. The flavor simply cannot be duplicated.

There is no civilization without apples, or rather, no point in attempting civilization without apples. The apple is sacred, and remember this while holding it in your hands. It is a reminder of God's goodness and mercy, and if you believe the fruit of the forbidden tree was indeed an apple, it is also a reminder to behave yourself. With all these things in mind, put in the CD player Enter the Danger Brigade by Calibretto 13. Play the "Apple Song," then tenderly, lovingly, take a Red Delicious apple into your hand and begin coring and slicing it. Do the same to six or eight of these miraculous fruits. Put about a half a stick of butter on top, cover and heat over a low to medium flame until the butter melts and the apples are getting soft. Do not add spices or sugar. As with kissing, sometimes with cooking you just have to know where to stop. This recipe for stewed apples was a staple of our diet in the mountains, a nearly daily dish. It is a delectable blessing.

Lyrics

Intro: D(strum once)

Verse:(accapella w/ a really bad English accent)

If I were an apple, hanging on a tree,
I’d give myself to the first green worm,
And together we would be.
He’d make a little hole and live inside of me,
He would be my best friend,
And he’d keep me company.

1,2,3,4

D    G
If I were an apple, hanging on a tree,
D
I’d give myself to the first green worm,
A
And together we would be.
D        G
He’d make a little hole and live inside of me,
D
He would be my best friend,
A
And he’d keep me company.
D                   G
But I am not an apple, hanging on a tree. (No, No)
D                   A
I am nothing but an empty human being.
D                       G
But Jesus wants to come and live inside of me,
D       A
And be my best friend, and keep me company.

Break:
Whistling over the top of DGDA.

Verse:
D                   G
But I am not an apple, hanging on a tree. (No, No)
D                   A
I am nothing but an empty human being.
D                       G
But Jesus wants to come and live inside of me,
D       A
And be my best friend, and keep me company.
D       G
He wants to show me his way, And He will never leave me,
D
And He will give me ears to hear,
A
And He will give me eyes to see,
D(stop)                 G(stop)
The perfect plan he has, for Him and for me.
D(stop)                A(keep strumming until “tree”)
I’m glad I’m not an apple hanging on a tree.
I’m glad I’m not an apple hanging (hanging, hanging)
D   G  D  A  D  G  D  A  DAGAD
On a tree-ee-ee-ee-ee-ee-ee-ee.