June 30 - Turns 49 - Happy Birthday
The Carefree Gourmet by Joyce McCombs
By the time you read this, my birthday will be over, but as I
write this, it hasn’t happened yet. I have a lot of things on my
mind regarding this momentous occasion and lucky readers that you
are, I’m sharing a few of those thoughts today.
I realize it’s not a momentous occasion to you, but reaching 49
years on the planet has me pretty jazzed. Nine years ago I had a
hard time understanding how I could be turning 40, until my good
friend Pat Smith shared some of her gentle wisdom. “I really
enjoyed my forties”, she said, without a trace of irony, regret or
even a hint of yearning. Something in the matter of fact way she
said that made me stop and think. A whole decade was before me,
that could be filled with anything number of adventures, and I was
grumpy about what my driver’s license was going to say? I decided
right then to get off the whining wagon and just be my age. I also
decided that hair coloring had nothing to do with age in the
least, but was simply an extra deep conditioning treatment I
needed every couple of months. I’ve loved my forties, and I’ve got
a whole year (and three hair coloring sessions) left to go.
While thinking about this column, I’ve had the urge to scribble
about 49 different notes on everything from the back of the phone
bill to a paint chip sample called Universal Umber (more on paint
in a minute.) To follow are some of the most random thoughts I’ve
ever had, in no particular or even sensible order, and only one
recipe. Feel free to skip to the end if that’s what you’re here
for, I really don’t mind. If you’re made of heartier stuff, plod
ahead. First of all, check out this little nugget:
Julia Child was 49 years old when her first cookbook, Mastering
the Art of French Cooking, was published. Before that she was a
genuine espionage type spy for the good guys in World War II. She
could barely boil water, let alone cook. While her husband was
posted to a job in France, she took cooking classes at the Cordon
Bleu and, Voila! A chef and future television star was born. I
haven’t done much spying myself, except for the yearly prowl in
the high school parking lot on Prom night to see the kids all
dressed up, and I’m fairly good at boiling water already. I figure
I have a head start and a couple more years to crank out the first
edition of the Carefree Cookbook and I have Julia, bless her
heart, to thank for the inspiration.
The second scribble I wrote is this: “Some things can be true, but
still not be right”. For instance, the speed limit is 65 on parts
of the highway, but it’s not right to go that fast when it’s icy
especially if you are the person driving the little gray car that
slid by me going over Tenderfoot last fall. It’s also true that
sometimes we wake up and look simply hideous, but it’s not right
for anyone to point this out, especially before you’ve had your
coffee. And finally, it’s true that I know how to change the oil
in the truck, but I feel strongly that it’s not right to deny the
Carefree Spouse the chance to monkey with his wrenches, as that
would be selfish of me and break his heart.
Speaking of husbands, I made a note that I’d like to publicly
thank all my EBH’s (Emergency Backup Husbands). I am fortunate
that I can call these brave souls in times of need. There is a
specific list of things you can ask an EBH to do, and a VERY
specific list of things you must never ask them to do. Allowable
things include toting heavy trash cans to the end of the driveway
, thawing frozen water pipes, jumpstarting dead batteries, and
changing flat tires, but only when the actual husband is away (in
another state, not just hunting or fishing) or sick, (as in so
sick he doesn’t even want to watch football). Investigating
strange noises in the woods, killing spiders in the bathroom, and
any kind of gardening do not qualify, as these activities are just
too intimate. EBH’s work willingly and quite cheaply, usually for
chocolate chip cookies, and if your favor involves power tools,
he’ll probably be over in less than half an hour. If involves your
husband’s power tools, expect him in less than fifteen minutes.
Thanks, guys!
A couple weeks ago a simple truth was revealed to me about See’s
Candy and severe Alaskan summer storms. If ever there was a
perfect cure for thunder anxiety and lightning apprehension, it’s
chocolate. I recommend opening the box of Molasses chews you may
have tucked away in your emergency gift closet. Simply alternate
the milk and dark chocolate until you can count to ten between a
lightning flash and a thunder roll. I promise you’ll calm right
down and you won’t have to spend nearly the amount of time
cowering under the Magic Blanket of Safety as usual. At least I
didn’t.
Now a few words about recreational entertainment, and by that I
mean of course, John Travolta. If you happen to read this
ludicrous statement in a magazine “ Tom Cruise is the new John
Travolta!”, give me a call right away because I am personally
going to brain the next entertainment reporter who writes such
trash. Think about it! Could Tom even begin to duplicate John’s
walk down the New York sidewalk swinging that can of paint in the
opening scenes of Saturday Night Fever? As if! Let’s put this
rumor to rest right now. There is nothing wrong with the OLD John
Travolta, and Tom, with his lovely grin and boyish good looks, can
just get in line at the matinee idol store and wait his turn for a
good ten years. Maybe he can sign up for dance lessons while he
waits.
Random food list alert! One day these lovely memories came to
mind: oysters in the shell sizzling on a barbecue, Angel food cake
soaked with juicy strawberries, and the French Roast coffee Steve
brews perfectly every morning. I’m also fond of the sharp smell of
orange peel, peanut butter on soda crackers, perfectly ripe
tomatoes, and tuna so cold it makes your teeth ache when you take
a bite.
I mentioned paint a while back, with Universal Umber being the
name that vexes me the most. The only Umber I ever met was burnt,
and it wasn’t universal, in was in my friend Betty Jean’s deluxe
crayon box (the one with the sharpener on the back.) All I want to
do is paint the bathroom a warm beige-y sort of color, not too
dark. Going to the paint store was mind numbing. Au Lait Ole,
Humbolt Earth, Cattail and Coffee all look like medium beige to
me, and I think at least a couple of them are usually found on
menus in your finer restaurants. Every last one of these exotic
paints have something called “undertones” that you have to watch
out for or you might create some kind of international color
clashing incident. What I really need are true to life colors.
“Delta Dust” would be a good one for both paint and carpet – a
nice warm, blendable sort of color that I already know goes with
everything. “Woodchip” is one I think would be popular as an
accent color, especially in log homes. “Gravel Driveway” would be
perfect for the entry and you couldn’t go wrong with “Crushed
Cereal” for the kitchen or “Pulverized Popcorn” as a preferred
couch fabric, especially at my house.
Someone who loves to paint (shudder) told me the other day there’s
all kinds of masking tape to use around the light switches and
sockets and I’ll have “fun” choosing the right one. I’m truly
terrified of losing my amateur Home Expert status if I start a
project like this but I will admit I’m leaning toward a color
called Almond Oil, with Mexican Sand (rosy undertones) running a
close second. There could be wagering on the outcome. I’ll let you
know.
When in a hurry, slow down. This doesn’t make much sense, does it?
Amazingly enough, it is possible to defy physics and to slow down
your hurrying up – I’ve seen it happen many times. Consider the
Carefree Spouse who often moonlights (literally) as Officer 713 of
the Rural Deltana Volunteer Fire Department. When the fire call
comes at 2:30 in the morning and his impulse is to jump into his
gear and run out the door, he pauses and does the same things, in
the same order every single time. I wish you could see it – and I
know the other volunteer fire fighters all over town are all doing
the same thing. Start the truck if it’s cold. Use the bathroom.
Turn up the scanner to learn about the call while getting dressed.
Grab the gear bag, radio, helmet, glasses, keys, wallet. The same
routine, every time, a hurried but deliberate slowness that
guarantees no wasted time driving back to the house to get
something, and losing precious minutes that should be focused on
saving a neighbors property. I can learn from this, if I’d only
wake all the way up when those fire calls come.
Here’s a
powerful thought, at least to me. “No” is a complete sentence.
Yes, really it is. But it’s the hardest thing in the world to not
follow “No” with “I’m sorry.” especially when someone asks you to
do something, especially when you don’t really have a good excuse,
especially when you feel guilty, and especially when you think you
really should be a good person and do this thing. Even if you
really truly, physically, financially, emotionally, or mentally
can’t, don’t want to, or won’t, it’s almost impossible to leave
your answer at just No. I can’t do it except in front of baggage
handlers and airport screeners, where I figure the less said the
better. Even then, have a nagging feeling I should follow up with
some kind of reason or chit chat, because it sounds so blunt.
Maybe I’ll get the hang of a polite but firm “no” in my next 49
years.
Here’s another goody list that appeared on the back of the phone
bill: the little criss cross fork imprints on the top of peanut
butter cookies, mashed potatoes that hold a perfectly round lake
of gravy, the cast iron tea pots at Pagoda, cherries picked off a
tree and eaten while still warmed from the sun, blackberry
anything but especially ice cream, and the corner piece of
cornbread with all the good brown crust.
Something is only new once. I heard a mom tell her child this
downtown the other day and it made so much sense. The first time
you put on a new coat or shoes is magic, I don’t care how old you
are. And even though things sort of stay “new” for a while, it’s
not the same kind of new as that very first time. This saying is
also true for new things that are a bit scary at first, like plane
rides, or interestingly enough, getting a pedicure. The second
time is usually a lot less frightening since you know the routine.
Flight attendants are friendly folks who dispense corny jokes and
refreshing beverages while you hurtle through space in a big tin
can miles above the solid earth, so just relax. Pedicures are
lovely, soothing affairs, especially if given in the company of
two of my favorite people named Cindy (Smith and Lou). It’s even
better if it includes something called Bagoda Blackberry nail
polish, of which I am now inordinately fond of viewing on each of
my 49 year old toes.
That’s about it for the scraps of paper I’ve been toting around
for a couple weeks and it’s time for at least one recipe. I made
this basic banana bread for the Delta Forestry crew last summer
and Julia Phillips whooped about it like a crazy woman and has
been after me to share the recipe ever since. Apparently there
were heated discussions over exactly how this bread was going to
be rationed, which I took as a very high compliment indeed. The
fine folks at Delta Forestry all have highly developed and very
appreciative palates, and they are pure joy to cook for. They need
no sleep at all when working a fire, and apparently exist on water
and air for days at a time. They tend to either weep or break into
song and dance when I drop off the occasional treat, bless their
hearts. Anyway, I don’t make this bread very often, since bananas
in our house tend to be assigned to the morning fruit ration long
before they get ripe enough to smoosh into the batter. I looked at
the recipe again the other day and noticed the time to bake it was
45 to 49 minutes, so it seemed like the one to share today. Make
sure the bananas are really ripe and keep an eye out in the
produce section at IGA for the bargain cart often parked in the
corner – it’s a great place to find bananas just waiting to be
baked into this bread.
Best Banana Nut Bread
Preheat oven to 350 and grease a loaf pan.
Cream together until light:
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup butter
2 eggs
Add:
2 cups flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
3 very ripe mashed bananas
Mix until just combined, then fold in
1/2 cup sour cream
1 cup chopped walnuts or pecans
Pour into loaf pan and bake at 350 for 45 to 49 minutes, or until
a toothpick inserted in center comes out clean.
Thank you kindly for sharing my birthday thoughts today, and your
lives and smiles and recipes and friendship with me all through
the year. I can’t think of a better birthday wish than to keep
living in Delta, surrounded by you all. Cheers!
