Posted on 11/26/2005 7:32:00 AM PST by carlo3b
Christmas Memories, Cookies, Candies, and Desserts
For me, it was the official start of the Christmas season, seeing the matriarchs gather in coffee klatches and recipes exchanges. As a little tike, anything that signaled the approach of Christmas was enough to cause excitement around our home. Watching my great-grandmother summon the elderly women of our family and neighborhood, was a sure sign that big things were heating up in our little kitchen. These beautiful women were dignified and almost aristocratic in their black mourning dresses, with clouded stockings, and clumpy shoes. I can still recall the gentle scent of lavender and rose perfumes as they shuffled to their places around our modest kitchen table. Those mixtures of colognes and coffee were far from the only wonderful smells that began to fill our home and hearts at this glorious time of the year. Fabulous homemade Italian pastries were a right of passage for these gatherings. Baking for the clan was a near sacred honor that my great-grandmother cherished..
We were a typical nuclear family for those times. A working man, my great-uncle, a stay at home wife, my-great aunt, my retired great-grandmother, and great-grandfather, and of course yours truly. Our familial arrangement was not unique, most households had extended family members, and everyone had a place on the clan hierarchy. Women generally ruled the roost, and menfolk earned the bacon. Grandmothers, at least in my family, routinely prepared the meals. Wives raised the offspring and kept the house, meaning the housework and shopping, and those lucky enough to have grandpas, had the benefit of wisdom and history that could only come from invaluable, accumulated life experiences, and vivid recollections..
Our homes were mostly small walk-up apartments, located in the bowels of the inner city of Chicago. They were called, "cold water flats", meaning each apartment had to make their own hot water with a silver colored water heater tanks, located in a convenient corner of the kitchen. If you wanted hot water you had to turn it on and cautiously feel the sides of the tank to see how close it was becoming hot. It was surely crude, but efficient enough to accomplish the job so nobody complained. However, you had to be mindful, not to forget to turn the tank off when the task was complete, the explosive consequences were all too frightening and frequent..
If you were lucky, as we were, you had heat furnished by a landlord in the form of cast iron coiled radiators. The heat was generated by coal fired furnaces, located in dark damp cellars. These subterranean dungeons were also called "the basement", which also housed whatever passed for a clothes washers in those days. I mostly remember those radiators, because they clanged from expanding heat filled pipes on cold winter mornings as we waited for the heat to raise to a reasonable warmth to venture out from under our heavy blankets. The radiators were sparsely placed, usually in the busiest areas of the home. We often warmed and dried clothes on this solitary heat source on frigid winter mornings. More than once I left my chilled trousers on too long, and burned myself on an overheated zipper. Chicago winters were especially cold, and flimsy windows were typically drafty. What was a blessing in the stifling summer heat, a window or skylight, was truly a detriment on cold winter nights.
A single low wattage light bulb hung conspicuously over the center of the white porcelain topped kitchen table. The light cord had a protruding plug for connecting a clothes iron. The light had an on-off string which dangled down low enough so the shortest member of the family could reach it. Every home had an icebox, with a small refrigerated compartment, and a square slot that held a cube of solid ice. The ice block needed to be replenished at least once a week by a gentleman who was aptly named, "the iceman". He carried the heavy block of ice 3 flights of stairs from his waterlogged horse drawn wagon. The gas cooking stove was a 4 burner antique, with an unregulated double oven that could only be lit with a stick match. The kitchen sink was one compartment with a long drain board. It had a single cold water faucet and a sturdy garden hose that connected it to the hot water tank. All of this was crude and simple by today's standards, but it was all that was needed to prepare at least two meals a day, a hardy breakfast, and a scrumptious 4 course, made-from-scratch dinner.
The homemade meals, complete with fresh bread were prepared with meticulous care each and every day, rain or shine. Needless to say, from this dim, sparsely equipped kitchen that made cooking and baking for our large family gatherings all that more remarkable. I learned to cook standing on a kitchen chair at that humble stove, under the watchful eye of my loving great-grandmother. She stood under 5 feet, but she was a giant to all that knew her. I think of her every day when I shamefully complain as the time comes to prepare my family meals at my fully equipped gourmet kitchen..
Our bathroom was small and simple. It had a top tank, gravity flushing toilet that sported a pull chain with a ivory handle. The lavatory was a tiny cold water basin that had circular chips from some unknown historic calamity, and a claw footed bathtub that was enormous, with a rubber plug on a chain.. The hot water had to be bucketed in from the kitchen sink, which was unfortunately located at the far end of the adjoining room. The bucket brigade took 2 people, 3 loads each. There was a small gas heater that furnished plenty of heat on the floor, but the small whitewashed window above the tub had a constant whistling from frigid air that seemed to be unobstructed and unending. It made standing for towel drying an olympic speed event..
The apartment had 2 small bedrooms, each only large enough to hold a double bed, and squatty art deco styled dresser. Each dresser was equipped with a mirror and on it's polished top lay assorted decorative perfume bottles and each had a matching sterling silver brush set, which was dutifully arranged at all times. The front room of the home was in reality, our living room, although we hardly ever lived there. The long narrow room held a large sofa, which doubled as my bed, a matching side chair, a huge floor model radio, and a mufti-bulb lamp with a oversized shade with dangling decorative fringe. An imposing chandelier hung prominently in the center of the vaulted ceiling. The floors were all buffed wood, and covered with assorted throw rugs that forever gathered under foot traffic. Our kitchen floor was covered with a patterned linoleum that had long ago began to show a well worn path. The bathroom was a beautifully tiled mosaic, in alternating black and white octagon shapes. At strategic locations were yellowed photographs of unknown origins in various shaped ornate frames, and on every flat surface aside from the kitchen were dozens of tiny knickknacks, and candles..
We lived in 4 simple rooms, but I never thought of it in those terms. In my mind it was a mansion, filled with love and devotion to one another. We were near penniless but rich with respectability and honor. We had all that we needed and enough left over to share with others. Everyone I knew loved me, and I loved and respected each of them. The family expected the best from me and I did my best to fulfill my duty to my good name, in their well deserved honor..
Just recalling these golden, olden days is a treasure in itself, because it brings me back to an era that laid the foundation of my life and that of my own family. It reminds me of the importance we placed and the respect we had for the generational roots and traditions that were instilled at an early age. Those roots were planted deep and would ultimately shape my character. Cooking and baking wasn't just food in our home, it was our women's only gift to give. These recipe choosing assemblages were not called just to pick the heirloom cookies that were going to dominate their lives for the month leading up to Christmas. This was a time-honored task and was the solemn obligation our women placed in making their modest but treasured gifts so very special. Those dear aged women demonstrated their devotion to the family not by buying our presents, but by caring for us, the giving of themselves with their own loving hands..
The men of our family proudly gave up their youth, much too early in life and they did it voluntarily. They fought for their country on distant battlefields they couldn't even pronounce. They risked their lives to insure a freedom for a future they couldn't be sure they would live to enjoy. When they returned, they worked tirelessly to support a fine family of their own. These hardy men gave us an honorable name and a high bar in which to strive. They each raised respectable children that proved what they were made of. Our forefathers scratched an indelible place in our history and in our hearts. They earned our love, our gratitude, and our everlasting respect..
The stalwarts of our family, our beautiful women, have given us our sense of worth, our humanity, the true meaning of love for family. Their selfless sacrifice, placed a high value on sharing, fairness, and a soft simple abiding love. Their talent was devotion, their legacy was in the future of the family traditions passed on in perpetuity.. It is in their name I pass many of my family recipes on to you, for you to share with your family, and hopefully with others far and wide.. Enjoy.. Carlo
MERRY CHRISTMAS, AND GOD BLESS YOU,
GOD BLESS AMERICA.
You are an FR treasure. I am blessed to call you friend. :)
Panettone Great Christmas bread and easy to make in the bread machine.
If your bread machine has a light cycle, use that instead of the basic cycle.1. BREAD: Place ingredients in bread machine baking pan in order listed in manufacturers directions.
- 3/4 cup milk, plus
- 2 tablespoons milk
- 1 egg
- 1 egg yolk
- 2 tablespoons butter, melted and cooled
- 3 cups bread flour
- 1 teaspoon salt
- 2/3 cup chopped mixed candied fruit
- 2 tablespoons granulated sugar
- 1 1/2 teaspoons anise seed
- 1 teaspoon grated lemons, zest of
- 2 teaspoons bread machine yeast
- GLAZE
- 1 cup confectioners' sugar
- 1 tablespoon lemon juice
- 1 tablespoon milk
- 16 slices
2. Set machine for basic cycle.
3. When cycle is finished remove bread from pan; cool for 30 minutes on wire rack.
4. GLAZE: Combine confectioners sugar, lemon juice and milk.
5. Pour over loaf.
Thank you and Hubby.. Merry Christmas
If that is true, can I get a trade-in on Pirate gold?.. :)
Carlo - excellent thread, thanks to you and all the posters! I'm going to add my family's traditional southern buttermilk pie to the thread tomorrow (and that'll remind me to try to fix it this year).
Thanks for the thread, Carlo.
This isn't a recipe but a comment about garnishing dishes.
This year, I decided to up the presentation of the food and made sure to garnish each dish. I used slices of red and green apples, with the skin showing, and various herbs and some fresh cranberries.
There were fresh flowers and several candlesticks at various heights as well as English ivy wrapped around the candlestick stems and it all looked quite. My dad always tells me that part of the pallet is located in the visual effects of the presentation and the effort was well worth the results.
I love the recipes I get off of them even when I'm on a diet. I just "revise" them a bit and enjoy!
I assumed it was dark chocolate. I received some chocolate truffles for Christmas last year, and I could have sworn there was wine in them. So when I heard about this stuff, I had to ask.
Your 2nd wife??? Hahahaa!
I thought you'd like this thread : )
The chocolate is dark, right? Carlo thinks it's white chocolate.
The memories of holidays always seem to revolve around the food, don't they?
I love Carlo's threads!
Yes. I posted to Carlo: it is dark chocolate. I am unsure if it is a cooked merlot sauce, since there is still an alcohol content.
The cooking is a connection to the past. They say odor is the strongest evocation of memory and I agree.
Carlo please add me to your ping list, love your Thanksgiving thread
Thanks Cudjo
That is a perfect story; it fills my head with images and sounds and smells and sweetness.
Write it down. It's a gift to all who read it. 8~)
Ah, the smells! Fresh pine tree, logs in the fireplace, and the smell of food : )
I got so sick of turkey, I started serving standing rib roast on Christmas.
As far as odor, I remember my Grandparents house in rural Massachusetts. The basement had solid rock walls, and I'm thinking they must have used dynamite to create it. The smell was odd, but not unpleasant. Over the years I've caught a whiff of that smell, and it brings me right back to my visit when I was 9.
Carlos your fruit cake recipe sounds more like one I had once, a secretary where I worked used to make it, and it
was called a "White" fruitcake, fruits/nuts but no colored
cherries etc, and a much lighter texture and color to the cake. Always meant to get the recipe but never did.
Talking about the Salernos, my grandmother used to take me
around the side ? and they had a counter where you could
buy boxes of broken cookies, they were so good.
I live in Atlanta now, and there are times when I would
kill for a REAL Kaiser roll, or decent rye bread, or a
real Danish ring.
Thanks for this thread, I sent it to my mom so maybe she
will get baking again.
My grandmother used to make these things called apricot
rollups that were great but too much work my mom says.
Hi Ma!
You are absolutely correct, with the exception of a spot of Cherries here and there, this cake is a light tan, and it fills the room with a fragrance that conjures up a Christmas picture from long ago.. A Rockwell Christmas, Really!
I just baked the hot and spicy cayenne peanut butter cookies (post 90). I'm eating one right now! This recipe just moved into our permanant recipe box. And yes, you CAN feel the cayenne zing! Thanks for posting the recipe.
HA! I love that picture of the Clintons leaving the White House with all their belongings!
Wonder where the truck is that carried out things that belonged to the White House?
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