Memories of Breakfasts Past

The other day a Facebook friend posted a photo of a breakfast long gone, remembered in a photograph and in his mind. Of course, that brought my thoughts to breakfasts of years ago. Peter’s memorable breakfast was eaten in Italy. Mine, both of them, were in the USA.

The first breakfast was on the road, Iowa I believe, on the way from Chicago to that farm in South Dakota chronicled here in “Revenge!” Yes, it was the same farm and I think it was the same year. Dad brought Mom and me in his car. Joe, my father’s boss, brought his wife in his car. (In case anyone wonders, gas was ridiculously cheap and the men wanted two trunks to stuff with dead birds. It was a hunting trip, after all.)

I’ll be nice when I talk about my elders. Joe and Josephine were large people. Saying it any other way would make it hard to be nice. They liked to eat. Today they might look sort of average. In 1948, they were large.

After a night in a motel, the five of us stopped for breakfast. The adults got menus and I don’t remember getting anything. Joe was hungry so everyone else let him order first. “I’ll have a cup of coffee,” started Joe.

“Icky!” I said.

“And a glass of milk.” Joe looked at me before he continued.

“Me too,” I said.

“A glass of orange juice, three eggs sunny-side up, hash browns, bacon, sausage, pancakes, and some toast.” Joe finished his order and sat back for the next person to order. Everyone expected Josephine to go next. She had to wait.

I piped up once again with “Me too.”

After the table stopped giggling, the waitress asked my mother if I really meant it. Should she bring this huge breakfast to this little girl? “Make it one egg, scrambled. What she doesn’t finish, she’ll share with us.”

That earned me a nickname. Joe and Josephine would always know me as “Me too!” after that.

I must admit that I don’t quite remember the meal. I’ll never forget the story, though, since my parents must have repeated it dozens of times. So did Joe. I must have done a number on that breakfast because we had an early lunch that day. The milk had little ice cubes in it. Icky! There was ice in the orange juice too but that wasn’t as hard to take. I don’t remember if the sausage was link or patty but I’m sure it was good. The pig it and the bacon came from probably lived in the neighborhood.

That may have been my most memorable breakfast, probably because I heard the story for years afterward. There were other breakfasts not to forget. Since I won’t forget them, I’ll talk about them later.

I’ve Got WHAT?

It’s been too hot to cook at my home in Florida lately. Temperatures have been in the mid-90s, almost cool compared to most of the rest of the country. Are there air-conditioned spaces where people can go to avoid the heat? I’ve been going grocery shopping but when I get home, where the air conditioner stopped working at the exact time I could not afford to get a new one, it’s just too hot to cook. Maybe one of these days I’ll take a bus to the mall and stay a while. Then again, maybe I won’t.

My kitchen needs a make-over. Barring that, it does need a good cleaning and reorganization. Can’t do the clean-up all at one time. It’s a good all-summer project. Hopefully, I’ll be finished by the time the weather cools – whenever that may be.

I decided to start with one drawer. No, not the junk drawer! I opened the double drawer where the silverware sleeps. Knives, forks, and spoons sleep in one divider of the drawer. Cooking tools - well, some of them – are resting in another divider on the other half. Looked like a fun drawer to start with.

I found that I have four corkscrews. There may be more. When I helped set up wine tastings at a now defunct liquor store, I always carried one, along with a cheese knife. That one is a sommelier knife, also known as a waiter’s friend. Sort of looks like a pocket knife. There are three of those, all different. Then there’s the wing corkscrew like the one my father used to use. Mine’s red, white, and silver and big enough I can always find it.

There are two ice cream scoops in that drawer. One is metal. The other is plastic. I’m afraid to use the plastic one unless the ice cream is melted. They’re both dippers. The metal one has worked great for years. No need to use anything else. Of course, I’d like to have about half a dozen dishers. Probably wouldn’t use them much for ice cream, though.

I’ve been working around, over, and next to what’s probably the most expensive thing in the drawer. Besides getting in the way, it only does one job. It pounds stuff, meat in particular. It’s Italian. I paid probably too much for it in a gourmet store about 15 years ago. Don’t even want to think what they’d want for it now. (Another reason to stay out of the mall.)

There’s a pie server that’s covering up two nutcrackers. I used to make pies because Ernie loved them. The nutcrackers were used most often as other tools. The nutcrackers used to belong to my father. That one little section is my memories and may stay there forever.

Behind the Italian meat pounder the plastic dry measure cups hide thermometers. All anolog. One huge, slow oven-type that used to get a workout in the oven and the gas grill. Now it just sits in the drawer. I used to have five instant-reads. All but one of them were stuck in the air-conditioning vents of various vehicles. Now there are only two. Uh-oh! It’s 84 degrees in the drawer!

Think I'll quit for a while and finish this drawer if it ever cools down at night.

National Fortune Cookie Day

Izzy gave me the week off (almost) last week. Thank you, Baby Girl, for taking care of the blog and for your great work on Bon Voyage Atlantis salad.

I wasn’t quite sure what to write about this week. Then I remembered a note I had written to myself. July 20, 2011 is National Fortune Cookie Day. Who doesn’t like fortune cookies? Of the millions of people who love fortune cookies, how many have no idea how those little pieces of wisdom get inside? Stick around and I’ll share the secret.

I used to have a perfect recipe for fortune cookies but I lost it. That’s when happens when you don’t compile your recipes in a book or a box before computers became household tools. It doesn’t make things any easier when you move eight times or more. (I lost count.) Since the loss of the perfect fortune cookie recipe, I’ve been looking for one that’s close.


1 egg, separated
1/3 cup sugar
2 tablespoons corn oil
2 tablespoons water
1/4 cup cornstarch

Get the fortunes ready to insert in the cookies.

Beat the egg white, stiff but not too stiff. Set aside.

Beat the sugar into the egg yolk. Fold in the corn oil. Mix about 1/3 of the egg yolk mixture into the cornstarch. Add the rest of the egg yolk mixture and stir until thouroughly mixed. Fold in egg white until smooth.

Heat an electric skillet to 350. Test with a drizzle of water. When droplets of water “dance,” the pan is hot enough. Pour batter from a loaded teaspoon or not-so-loaded soup spoon. Spread into a 3 to 4 inch cookie, about 1/8 inch thick, with the back of the spoon. Cook about 5 minutes until light golden brown and easily lifted from the pan. Turn and cook until second side is light golden brown. Quickly put one fortune across the center of the cookie. Fold in half. Take both sides of the half-circle and fold into the familiar fortune cookie shape. (You may want to use the edge of a plate or bowl to help the last fold.) Place in a muffin pan or cup and let cool.

WARNING! I haven’t made these cookies yet. Try them if you dare. The proportions in the recipe looked so familiar that I just changed the directions a bit. I felt like I was making the cookies during the writing of the recipe. I can almost taste them! The cookies cool quickly so you don’t want to make more than three or four at a time. If the heat of the cookies makes the folding process painful, a pair of clean white gloves might help.

Once you’ve mastered making fortune cookies, you’ll probably learn as I have that the hardest thing about making fortune cookies is writing the fortunes.

Macaroni & Green Bean Salad

Friday was all about Atlantis. The last space shuttle took flight. Late morning was exciting. There were storms in the air. Would she fly or wouldn’t she? I knew but I wasn’t telling anybody.

I relaxed on the floor in front of the TV and watched the show. Parts of it seemed a little boring to me so I looked at the jar of peanuts that was blocking one corner of the picture. Guess nobody ever watched TV from this spot before.

We usually run to the back door on launch day to see if we can see anything from the other side of the state. We stood our ground in the living room this time. Clouds between here and there would have separated us from the view. It seemed sad to miss the orange-yellow trail of Atlantis but it was more relaxing than most of the launches lately.

Friday afternoon a small pot of water waited on the stove for small shell macaroni. Frozen shrimp unfroze quickly in the 88-degree temperature at the counter. A steamer bag of green beans steamed in the microwave. Bon Voyage Atlantis salad was being born.

Once the beans were cooked, they came out to cool. Once the macaroni was cooked, it went into a colander. Both were mixed together in a bowl with some parsley and tarragon. The shrimp finished thawing in the colander and was rinsed there as well. Mayonnaise, about a quarter of a cup, got mixed into the macaroni and bean concoction. Once it was all mixed up, in went the shrimp. Then it went into the refrigerator to cool and the parts to become a whole thing but not before we both had a taste.

I hope you can understand how this was made. This is my first time explaining how things get cooked from my point of view. You see, this is Izzy. I need Mommy’s thumbs to get things done.

Fourth of July, 2011

It’s time again to celebrate the birthday of our country. On July 2, 1776, John Adams said that date would mark the most memorable time in our history. That was the day the colonies declared themselves free from Great Britain. We moved faster in those days without an Internet. Only two days later the Declaration of Independence was adopted.

We didn’t move with lightning speed getting the news out. Philadelphia had a party, complete with a parade, on July 8, 1776. George Washington heard the news on July 9. It took until 1781 for Massachusetts, the first state to do so, to recognize July 4 as a date worth celebrating. It took ten more years for the rest of the young nation to follow.

One of my neighbors told me he didn’t have any idea what they were eating this Fourth of July but he would offer me some of whatever there was. Actually, that’s kind of scary. I haven’t seen the neighbor on the other side for a couple of days. Now, they’re the ones I’d rather party with. But, they have friends and relatives. They might not even be home for the holiday.

I’ve taken out a package of hot dogs from the freezer. Izzy and I have been eating Izzy steaks (hamburgers without a bun) a lot lately. It’s been about a year and a half since we’ve had hot dogs. I also plan to make angel potatoes. Maybe a bit of macaroni salad might go well. This Fourth of July I will attempt a real-time description of what I cook and how I cook it.


We’ll start out with the angel potatoes. First trick: clean and boil six red potatoes, skins intact. A fork goes into the potatoes fairly easily. Luckily, the fork comes out fairly easily too. Cool off the potatoes until you can handle them – with impeccably clean hands. Cut the potatoes in half. If necessary, pare each half so they’ll stand up on their own. Using a spoon or a melon baller, scoop out the center of each potato half. Reserve the scooped-out potato in a small mixing bowl.

Mash the potato innards with the back of a fork. Add about 3 or 4 tablespoons of mayonnaise, about 1 teaspoon of yellow mustard, and a dash of garlic powder. Stir it all up. Add a small dash of hot sauce. Stir it up again and spoon it into the potato cups. Refrigerate until serving time.

I used Sriracha. If you use another hot sauce, you may want to add a bit of salt and pepper. Izzy really likes Sriracha. That surprised me. Think maybe she’s trying to tell me how strong she is? She likes it on her nachos, her quesadillas, and now her potato angels.

Now we’re having a couple of hot dogs. It’s really true that mustard lasts forever. Don’t think ketchup does, though. Izzy wants a bite nearly every time I have one. She’s getting more bun than dog but it’s making her happy.

I’m saving the angel potatoes for later. We’ll wait four or five hours to see if there are signs of life on either side of us. If there is, we’ve got enough for everybody to have one. The smaller the neighborhood gang, the more we get. Izzy wants to keep the doors closed and me to take a nap. Sometimes I like the way she thinks.

I cooked a little, ate two hot dogs in around a half an hour (no match for the Nathan’s contest), and fell asleep. Missed everything that happened after dark. The four or five hours of waiting with the angel potatoes finally ended around 3 A.M. when I reached into the refrigerator to try the first one.

I Miss You

Last Sunday was Father’s Day. My own father died in 1989. I miss him. He was only 81 when he left us. His father was 82. Guess that gives me an idea how long I’ll last.

Daddy used to love to eat. He loved some of the strange things my mother made. He loved what I made too. I remember long ago when he suggested I add more rye flour to the first two loaves of rye bread I made. I made them immediately. (The first two were being eaten fast.) I was only twelve years old. I was a good girl. I did what Daddy told me. We ended up with two loaves of what could have been very nice door stops.

Dad loved my chili and my pizza. Mom loved a night off from cooking. Of course, I never stopped making bread. I had my master recipe back then. It was good for pizza, bread sticks, onion bread, and Taos Indian bread. Izzy has gotten some of that master recipe too. Bread isn’t as easy to bake in Florida as it was in Illinois. But we still try. Chili worked well in Illinois, Arizona, and Florida. Glad enchiladas worked when I took them to Brooklyn!

For Father’s Day Izzy and I had pork chops. Ever since the iced tea experiments the beginning of June, I wanted to braise the chops in green tea infused with five-spice powder. I did it and I was glad. Daddy would have liked it. I can hear his voice now. “You made this up? It’s good. Not too spicy. Can I have more?”

Sure, Dad. You can have more. Save some for Tom and some for Ernie. There’s plenty for all my men who are no longer with me. All the men I miss . . . .

Not Your Famous Southern Sweet Tea

June in America is, among other things, National Iced Tea Month. June 10, 2011, also happened to be National Iced Tea Day. With temperatures hitting the mid-90s every day, the timing seemed perfect to experiment with iced tea.

A check of the cabinet found Russian black loose tea and dozens of boxed-up teabags. Yerba Mate, orange pekoe, peach, raspberry, white, green, and rose offered plenty of base ingredients. Since June 10 was also National Herb & Spice Day, that’s the direction I went.

I started off with orange pekoe collected from Chinese take-out meals. Nearly out of coffee, a day of iced tea seemed to go well with 95 degree temperatures on a sunny afternoon. About six years ago I bought a spoon-shaped tea infuser on the clearance rack of my favorite grocery store. I put some dried rosemary in the infuser, closed it up, and put it in the cup to steep with the teabag. My bargain infuser wasn’t worth the promises. It was, however, worth the dollar I paid. Curled up dry rosemary leaked from the edges of the infuser leaving evidence of the flavor floating in the tea and hugging the sides of the cup. It was worth picking rosemary from my morning drink.

The next test was simple: Green tea with ground ginger. It was good. Izzy and I liked it better than the first tea. My preference, I must admit, was influenced by no need to pick hard, stem-like things out of my cup. I think Izzy preferred it because she got more of it. I think it may have worked better with candied ginger rather than powdered.

My favorite of all the teas came on Saturday. Green tea with five-spice powder was a winner! I love cooking with five-spice. Never thought I’d want to drink it. I drank three cups. I remembered my five-spice chicken with orange marmalade, five-spice pork chops with cherry jam, and five-spice chicken with cocoa and hot chile. They were all done in a sauté pan. Most ended up overcooked. With the heat that should stick around past Thanksgiving this year, I think I’ll play with my five-spice tea and the slow cooker.

Think I might carry this tea experiment past the end of June. Hot or cold, sweetened or not, flavored teas are a pleasant change from the plain unflavored water I drink by the pint (at least 10 cups a day!) and slow down the need for coffee.