Being Who You Are

By Peggy | January 9, 2012 |

My grandmother’s 90th birthday was was her last.

We knew that. Her cancer was untreatable. She had been blinded by macular degeneration years ago. She sent word through the family that she wouldn’t be sending Christmas cards anymore.

It’s a big family, on my mom’s side. My mother is the oldest of nine. I’m the oldest granddaughter of, um, about sixteen, or so, I think. I haven’t met all my cousins. Many are still in Wisconsin, but not all. The great-grandchildren number more than 40, and yes, I believe there are great-great-grandchildren, too. My youngest uncle is only two years older than I am.

What can I say, except we’re a big, Catholic family.

Except about 10 years ago, Grandma let go that we weren’t always. Mom went back to meet the cousins in Northern Ireland. My great-grandfather came over from Ireland as a Presbyterian. He never sent for his family. He married my great-grandmother, shown in this photo with my grandmother.

Grandma converted to Catholicism to marry Grandpa.

My grandmother liked ham sandwiches and drank black coffee no matter what. She knew everything there was to know about babies. She was loving, but not a sentimental person nor the keeper of scores of family treasures (if there even were any).

She liked tossing out the old and in with the new. Grandma was in the moment.

But she was always stitching something. She was the first relative to show me the value of handmade gifts. One year, Grandma and Grandpa made all the granddaughters doll beds of wooden spools and cut coat hangers. They were canopy beds, and mine had pink flocking. I couldn’t believe I got the pink one. In my seven-year-old opinion, it was the prettiest of all the beds.

Whenever I visited my grandparents, which got harder and harder to do as the years went by, I would get a tour of the house to see the latest creations. It was as good as touring a folk art museum.

There were other family secrets Grandma never shared. Some we knew, but couldn’t speak of, because she wouldn’t acknowledge them. Some we learned from Aunt Bea.

Aunt Bea, the originator of the family’s sweet roll recipe, and the speaker of family secrets.

Grandma probably just found out how much her sister Bea let on. Don’t worry, Grandma. It’s all good. It’s all about the love. You knew that and so do we.

Posted in love

Chisholm Challenge

By Peggy | January 5, 2012 |

Before the bull and bronc riders, before the rodeo show and the barrel racers at the Fort Worth Stock Show and Rodeo, you can see some terrific horsemanship at the Chisholm Challenge for Special Riders.

Thanks to all the volunteers and staff, and sponsors, of the area stables that continue to serve the community in a way no other recreational outlet can.

If you check it out, you’ll never see horses and riders in quite the same way again.

Posted in getting back on the horse, hope

Peanut Sauce Promise

By Peggy | January 3, 2012 |

Here is the recipe Mark got from the hornist when they were both principals in the Sacramento Symphony.

I found the recipe unexpectedly authentic and always wondered where Eric got it. Mark used to like to say that, as a French hornist, Eric played very sharp and nearly missed all the notes. It’s tuba humor. You had to be there.

Peanut Sauce

1 chicken carcass
1 bunch of cilantro
1 bunch green onions
3 carrots
1/2 bunch of celery
3 yellow onions, chopped
5 garlic cloves, chopped
1/3 cup ginger juice (grate fresh ginger and squeeze through a cheese cloth)
2 1/4 pounds crunchy peanut butter
1 1/2 lb jar of Crosse and Blackwell
red sambal
3 T butter
1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil

In four quarts of water, boil chicken with cilantro, green onions, carrots and celery for one hour. Cool to lukewarm and strain.

Saute onions and garlic in butter and olive oil til golden, set aside.

Add peanut butter to lukewarm broth. (If broth is too warm, it will coagulate.) Stir until lumps are gone. Add onion mixture, cocktail sauce, ginger juice and red sambal to taste. Stir thoroughly.

This makes a lot of peanut sauce. Serve over cold noodles and cucumber cut julienne. Stir fry tofu til brown, add red peppers and spinach til wilted, stir in peanut sauce as desired. Marinate chicken in sauce, grill, basting with additional sauce. Give a jar to a friend.

Posted in recipes

It Takes a Village

By Peggy | January 2, 2012 |

Sam didn’t learn to swim the summer this little movie was made. He was 4 1/2 years old. He enjoyed the water very much.

After we moved to Texas, my neighbor, Karol Smith, took all three of my kids into her backyard pool and taught them to swim in a week. She said she’d taught dozens of kids to swim by condensing the way most parks and rec programs did it — sometimes over several years of summers. She guaranteed she’d get it done.

It was the summer Paige turned 6, so Michael would have been 8, and Sam, 11. I was certain she’d have Michael and Paige swimming, but told her Sam might take a little longer.

It didn’t. And, Karol turned Sam into the biggest fish of them all.

Posted in getting back on the horse, hope

It Takes a Village

By Peggy | January 2, 2012 |

Sam didn’t learn to swim the summer this little movie was made. He was 4 1/2 years old. He enjoyed the water very much.

After we moved to Texas, my neighbor, Karol Smith, took all three of my kids into her backyard pool and taught them to swim in a week. She said she’d taught dozens of kids to swim by condensing the way most parks and rec programs did it — sometimes over several years of summers. She guaranteed she’d get it done.

It was the summer Paige turned 6, so Michael would have been 8, and Sam, 11. I was certain she’d have Michael and Paige swimming, but told her Sam might take a little longer.

It didn’t. And, Karol turned Sam into the biggest fish of them all.

Posted in getting back on the horse, hope

Overheard in the Wolfe House #150

By Peggy | January 2, 2012 |

Peggy: Was it fun seeing Kelley’s new baby today?
Sam: Oh, yes. I’m sure it inspired sentimental feelings in you, when you took care of us when we were infants.
Peggy: Oh, yes.
(pause)
Sam: Of course, it made me remember when I was born.
Peggy: You can remember when you were born?
Sam: Yes, I can.
Peggy: What all do you remember?
Sam: The hospital looked very similar.

Posted in What Sam says

Bonenkai or not?

By Peggy | December 31, 2011 |

There are many things about 2011 that tell me it doesn’t matter how many black-eyed peas I eat, that Southern tradition for good luck isn’t going to work for me.

I loved being a part of many year-end parties in Japan when I was there twenty-five years ago. (Gad, that’s a long time.) Even though 1985 was a good year, everyone acted as if it couldn’t come to an end soon enough so that they could have another shot at it in the New Year. We ate like kings. And then the New Year came — and that’s three full days of resting and eating and being with family and friends.

Now, 1986 was a very good year for me. So I’m thinking Paige’s little project this afternoon of making ramen noodles from scratch (based on a website that has thorough directions, with photos) ought to be our bonenkai. She’s trying to channel her dad, who was an excellent pasta maker (his recipe below — he would have the noodles cut by the time the water was boiling).

Yep, I’m thinking 2012 is going to be a very good year.

Mark’s Perfect Pasta
Two heaping 1/3 cups of semolina flour
1 egg
1 T. water
salt
1 tsp. olive oil
white flour
large pot boiling, salted water

Put all ingredients in a food processor and process til a ball forms, about 3 minutes.

Turn out on a floured board and knead for a minute or two until supple. If it’s too wet, knead flour into it. Divide into parts and put through your pasta machine. You may need to roll it through several times at the wider setting until the dough is supple enough to start rolling it through the thinner settings. Dust with flour on both sides before you roll it through the cutter.
Drop the noodles in the water and cook until slightly swollen, about five to ten minutes. Big noodles take longer.
Drain.
Serve hot with garlic butter and grated Romano cheese; your favorite marinara sauce; room temperature with pesto; or cold over cucumber cut julienne style and peanut sauce poured over all.

I’ve already posted the pesto recipe. I’ll put up the peanut sauce recipe tomorrow.

Posted in hope, recipes