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.
Thanks so much for sharing this beautiful life story and recipes with us Carlo. Be sure to look for my Hickory Nut Pound Cake recipe coming up soon on JustAmy's thread at The Finest, it's truly a work of love ... (ever tried to crack a hickory nut?)
First off Carlo, thanks for the story, and the receipes....
Secondly, please add me to your ping list...
Third...my husbands grandparents came over from Sicily, during the 1920s...and they came to Chicago, bought a house, and began to raise their family..his grandmother would often bake and cook things, so that every Monday, when we visited the grandparents, we would be sent away with a bag full of food(I always believed my husbands grandmother believed I could not cook or bake)...she would sent us home with thick, homemade sardine pizza(it was yucky to me, but my husband loved it, as he grew up on it), jars full of soups, and his grandmothers specialty, something she called(and I have no idea how to spell this, so will just do it phonetically), 'brew-ja-loni'(rhymes with baloney)...this 'brew-ja-loni was the best, flakiest, most tasty type of bread I have every had...the bread was rolled out flat, filled with italian sausage, tomatoes, and seasonings....then the flattened out bread was folded over itself, by thirds, and then allowed to rise, and then baked...when I tried to get the specific recipe from the old grandmother, she just smiled and grinned, but would never hand over the recipe(it was her ace in the hole)...when she died the recipe went with her...so, have you ever heard of 'brew-ja-loni', and would you have such a recipe?
And Fourth...I was raised in Chicago, so much of what you say I can relate to...I was born in 1945, and much of what I remember seems a little later after the time you talk of...we had a regular refrigerator, but many of the families who lived in apartment building did not...they had ice boxes..and I always remember the 'iceman' coming, with his horse drawn cart full of huge ice blocks, and him delivering the ice...I was actually envious of those who had the ice boxes, as opposed to my familys more modern fridge, as I liked those big chunks of ice, because you could chop a small portion of it off, and suck on it to relieve the awful hot humid days that Chicago is notorious for...but luckily for me, the iceman would always see me out front, and he seemed to sense that I longed for a chunk of ice...so whenever he came, even tho my family was not a customer of his, he always managed to chop off a small chunk of ice and give it me to suck on...
I am also reminded of another man who drove a horse and cart...when I was 8 my parents bought a two story house, with my moms sister and her husband and their family(two families going together on the down payment for the house, seemed to be the only way to afford a house), and my brother and I loved the idea of living in the same house with our two cousins...because the more kids the merrier was our thought..my aunt and uncle and cousins lived on the first floor, and my family lived on the second floor, and we had a full basement, and a full attic(which made us believe we were rich)...anyway, even tho this was a house in the middle of the city, there was a barn in the backyard, by the alley...it seems that this barn, was in the earlier part of the century, the local dairy...there were stalls for the cows on the ground floor, and in the loft, were all the cages for the chickens...my dad and my uncle were going to tear the barn down and build a garage,(even tho we did not yet have a car, but the menfolk were optimistic that in time we would have cars)...so this barn was full of all kinds of stuff...apparently when it ceased to be a dairy, it served as a storage place, for lots of junk...so naturally my uncle and dad found a local ragman...
The ragman had a horse drawn cart...he would come once every other week, on a Saturday, to see what kind of junk we had to sell...my dad and uncle knew that the ragman was Jewish(we were not), and so when they knew he was coming, they would go shopping for smoked salmon and rye bread and tasty jelly donuts(which appeared to my dad and uncle to be the sort of treat a Jewish gentleman might enjoy)...the ragman appeared, and the ladies set the kitchen table...my whole family and my uncles whole family, complete with all the kids were all crowded around the table...the ragman was invited in, and coffee for the grownups, milk for the kids, and plates full of smoked salmon and rye bread and jelly donuts were passed around...and we all talked and laughed and stuffed out bellies...
Then the ragman, my dad and my uncle went out back to the alley, went into the barn and did their business...I supposed haggling went on...and eventually the men loaded up the ragmans cart, and off he went...that went on for several months...we kids just loved it when the ragman came as we got extra special treats that we normally did not get, , and we got to play with the ragmans horse...
To this day, I still call jelly donuts 'ragman donuts'...the memories of the ragman and the great feast put on for his benefit(and no doubt used to get him to offer us a little more money for our junk), are very precious memories...
And lastly, ,when you mentioned the Salerno Bakery...my husband(who is not here right now, otherwise I would try to get the specific names), also knew some kids who were related to the Salernos that ran the Salerno Bakery...I could be mistaken, but I think he mentioned a Linda Salerno(the hubby was born in 1943, and I think he knew this gal while they were teens, so that would give a time reference...my husband also knew a Nancy Lenell, related to the Lenell cookie people...
Anyway I have been longwinded...thanks for the walk down memory lane...its been fun...
My darling wife was Italian. I was fortunate to have watched the women pass the family kitchen torch through four generations to my daughter. Carlo, your font gets really blurry near the bottom of your story.
sigh.
from Luke:
gracias carlo. Muy gracias!
Oh Carlo, how did you know rum is my favorite? (batting eye lashes)
What a wonderful family. Thank you for sharing your memories.
Yes, these are called compound spice recipes.. something like pumpkin pie spices or Indian spices as in Curry.. are perfect examples..
is golden syrup like dark Karo syrup?
There are three types of syrup that you can use: dark corn syrup which is dark brown and has a slight molasses flavor, while light corn syrup is almost clear and has a more delicate flavor. The two can be used interchangeably in many recipes. Karo is a well-known brand. Both are Substitutes for golden syrup (Substitute measure for measure) or honey (This is sweeter than corn syrup, but substitute it measure for measure.) or molasses (Substitute measure for measure.)
are you referring to canned or candied cherries
I am referring to candied cherries. It's the caramelized foods (candied) that stretches the longevity so treasured in Fruitcakes, and also make the authentic Fruitcake taste, well .. authentic.. :)
and is a bundt pan acceptable to bake this cake in?
It's perfect, actually better for slicing.. You're batting a thousand..
Personally, I would skip the dates, and add pineapple.
BINGO, one of the real advantages to preparing your own food is that you get to HAVE IT YOUR WAY.. If you do substitute be sure to use Candied Pineapple.
GASP.. My chick meter appears to be working again.... sigh.. :)
Hot and Spicy Cayenne Peanut Butter Cookies A real treat especially since we seldom use heat, as in spice in cookies, cakes, and candy.. Make these babies and you may do it again.. :)
1) Place butter in a large mixing bowl and cut up with a dough cutter or two knives.
2) Add the brown sugar and mix together until creamy. This will take a considerable amount of time, but it’s essential to cream the brown sugar and butter, this will make your cookie.
Bang, Bang!
Leni
You then can break each of the individual pieces open by directing your hammer to the outside of its husk. while keeping the shell as nearly perpendicular to the floor (or whatever) as you can... :)..
BTW, I owned a pecan orchard for years, and harvested those little buggers for days at a time.. soon I became a pro with all kinds of NUTS.. Funny I ended up on FReeRepublic.. DUH!.. Hahahahaha
.. I love Hickory nuts, Hickory in my Coffee, and I would smoke any meat with Hickory at the drop of a hat.. :)Where is that Hickory Nut Pound Cake recipe.. Please ping me when JustAmy's thread comes up.. HUGGGGGGGG
This is a lovely thread...sort of far away from the world..closer to life:)
When I was married, I didn't want a ton of white layers with a bride and groom sitting atop- so I did a little research and discovered that fruitcake had been long been a traditional wedding cake. Aha! This would be fun, and drive some of my relatives wild- a twofer! My grandmother and I always made plum pudding at Christmastime when I was little, so we looked over recipes- found a wonderful one and gave it to the chef. Well- "the family" thought I'd lost my mind..but grudgingly ate a piece- and it turned out to be a great hit!
She and I (my grandmother) used to go in "to town" (Boston) before Christmas and buy the most WONDERFUL lace cookies..I have never been able to duplicate the recipe..but they were toffee-like and chewy. These were not the classic florentine with chocolate or fruit fillings- just plain..heavenly.
I have treasured memories of moments in our kitchen...my mother always made Christmas cookies...no one in my family ever knew what prepared food was- everything we ate- including applesauce, mac n cheese, you name it- was from "scratch"...
Thanks SO much for this thread- please be sure I'm on The List!
Thanks for the great recipes, Carlo.
Will make sure you're pinged to Amy's Potpourri thread at The Finest.
Ah, thank you for clearing that up! I've also heard that the cake should be basted periodically with more liquor, and aged.
Here's one you might want to help us out with. It's about rf's mention of chocolate merlot sauce. This is reformed liberal's reply to me:
Tee Hee: I bought it at a wine/delicacies shop!
Brent's Napa Valley. It says "alk 4.8% by volume" and there is a _faint_ (evocative) taste of mellow wine, so I wonder if the wine is added at the end, so as not to burn off the alcohol. Contents: Merlot (note this is first!), Chocolate (cocoa liquor, cocoa butter, sugar, cream, lecithin and vanilla) Sugar, Corn syrup, cream and salt. $8/9 oz and quite a heavy
jar.
Haven't tried it, but I bet any rich, solid-at-room-temp chocolate fudge sauce, heated w/a few ounces of a good merlot stirred in when it is off the heat, would be similar.
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Any ideas on how to make this from scratch??? It would be so good with vanilla ice cream and berries :-D~~~~
We won a raffle, a brand new Frigidaire, and I lost my favorite Ice Box.. but like you I watched out for the iceman and got my chips.. The new Fridge was a big deal in the neighborhood, all the neighbors stopped by to look at it, even strangers.. HAHA I don't recall a Linda Salerno, but I knew most of the family..
The Funeral home side of the family were my drinking buddies in our wild years.. Mayor Daley, Richie was my best friend when he was sober, which wasn't often.. Anyway Richie, Sal Salerno (her 2nd cousin..LOL) and I got picked up for fighting over a Salerno daughter.. Lena I think, and got out as soon as they found out Richie was the Mayor's kid.. LOL . Chances are Lena had 17 kids and has 200 grandkids hanging around her neck.. HA!
Oh those great memories.. sigh
The recipe that you describe sounds suspiciously like a simple white chocolate with Merlot sauce.. I can't imagine why someone would eat it if you could make it.. But I have been wrong before.. Someday I will tell you about my 2nd wife.. Sheeesh.. LOL
I don't think this is what you described exactly but I do remember that these have that texture.. Let me know if this is at least close.. :)Lace Cookies * 2 sticks butter, softened (not margarine)
* 3 C. brown sugar, packed
* 1 egg
* 1/4 tsp. salt
* 1 tsp. almond extract (or vanilla if you prefer)
* 4 C. quick rolled oats (regular oats work, too)
* 1/2 C. toasted pecans, chopped fineUse your mixer to blend the butter and sugar.
Add egg, extract, and salt; blend in oats.
Put a light coating of oil on a cookie sheet.
Make small balls on the sheet (I like to use a melon baller), two inches apart, and bake at 325 degrees for 8 minutes.
These cookies will spread, hence the name. Don't overcook. Let cool completely on cookie sheet
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