marieqrogers

Scraping the Bowl

March 24, 2012 by Marie Q Rogers

In my childhood, sweets were not as readily available as they are today. One of my pleasant memories is of getting to lick the bowl after someone had mixed up a cake or a batch of cookies. Today, as I was beating some batter, I remembered a time a few years ago when my grandson Tristan was visiting. One day I made a cake. As I was pouring the batter into the pan, I asked him, “Who should I be today? Grandma Masters or Grandma Rogers?”

You see, my grandmothers were quite different individuals, but there were lessons to be learned from each. Both were strong women who reared their families during the Great Depression and made sacrifices during World War II.

Grandma Masters was French Canadian, one of 11 children who grew up on a farm. She once told me that when she was a child she had only one dress. On washday, she had to hide in a corner until it was clean and dry. Life was more comfortable after she married my grandfather, a factory worker, but they still had to be frugal. During the war when sugar was rationed, they used saccharine in their coffee. After the war, they continued this habit for the rest of their lives. Grandma Masters was also very clean and I swear you could eat off her floor. It was not surprising, then, that after she finished making cookies, she would scrape the bowl so clean it hardly needed to be washed. There was little left for an eager child to lick.

Grandma Rogers was one of two surviving children whose father was a wall paper hanger. She did not suffer as much privation as a child, but she married a farmer and the Depression hit them hard. She never talked much about the war when her only surviving son was a soldier in the Pacific theater. I can only imagine her anguish. She, too, was not one to waste anything, but when she finished a bowl, she would leave a satisfying amount of batter in it. I don’t know if it was because her arthritis made it harder for her to scrape the bowl clean, or if she was only trying to please a treasured grandchild.

Anyway, I briefly explained to Tristan the differences between my two grandmothers. Again I asked him which one he wanted me to be that day. Not surprisingly, he chose Grandma Rogers. I obliged him and left a generous amount in the bowl for him.

Today as I poured my batter, with no grandchild in attendance, I declared, “I should be Grandma Masters today.” Actually though, my performance fell short. Scrape though I might, I still had to wash the bowl.

Posted in Marie's Musings | Tagged Baking from Scratch, Family Memories, Grandchildren, Grandmothers | Leave a Comment »

Wild Winter Eating

February 6, 2012 by Marie Q Rogers

While most of the country is shivering under a blanket of snow, we in North Florida alternately shiver on frosty days and sweat when the mercury hits 80. You may think we’re wimpy to complain about our winters, but our summers are truly brutal. While folks in most parts of the country grow vegetables in summer, little will grow here then. Even heat-loving tomatoes will not bear fruit when the temperatures stay in the 90’s around the clock. Here, we garden from September to May. Right now, our lettuces, cabbages, and carrots are happy, until an arctic air mass moves in and it plunges into the 20’s. Then even they threaten to move south.

Winter is the time to enjoy home grown salads in Florida. I pick a few lettuce leaves and look for something else to add without going to the grocery store. I don’t like radishes, so I didn’t plant any. My carrots aren’t mature enough yet, so I take a stroll around my yard to see what I can find.

My grandmother had a plant she called “shamrocks” and I inherited her love for them. The leaves look like clover and they have cute little pink blossoms. They are not true shamrocks, but an oxalis. “Shamrock” is derived from the Irish word for “clover” which is what true shamrocks are. Oxalis is a member of the wood sorrel family. They grow all over the world, and they grow in my yard.

I don’t remember when I acquired my first oxalis but they do not like to stay contained. They reproduce by seeds and bulbils and I find them all over my yard, in my garden, and even in my potted plants. Since they are so plentiful, it’s fortunate they are edible. They have a tangy flavor and are high in Vitamin C. As their name suggests, they also contain oxalic acid which is toxic in large quantities. But spinach and many other vegetables also have oxalic acid. Spinach didn’t kill Popeye. Unless you eat rhubarb leaves (which is not advisable) you are not going to consume enough to harm you, so don’t worry.

I find three varieties of oxalis in my yard. One has rounded leaves that look like clover and another has triangular leaves. Both have pink flowers. Then there is a native called wood sorrel with yellow blossoms and seed pods that will explode in 1000 directions. You don’t want to encourage this one too much. It will take over. I have another that I bought at a nursery a few years ago. This one has purple leaves and white flowers. They assured me it would not escape and so far it has stayed nicely in its pot.

I pick oxalis leaves and scatter them on my salad. I chop the stems and cook them in soups and with mixed greens. One day I realized I was out of pickle relish and added some to egg salad, which they flavored nicely. You can also make a refreshing tea from this plant. The flowers are also edible. They may not make it as far as the kitchen as they are so tempting.

Wandering about my yard, I find a winter resident that is found all over the world, probably spread by European explorers. Chickweed (Stellaria media) makes a soft, spreading carpet no more than six inches high. The leaves are pointed ovals and it has tiny white flowers. The taste is as delicate as the plant appears to be, reminiscent of raw corn. This makes a sweet addition to my salad and can also be put in soup and cooked greens.

Ralph Wald Emerson wrote, “What is a weed? A plant whose virtues have not yet been discovered.” One much maligned plant is Florida Betony (Stachys floridana). If you Google it you will find 101 ways to eradicate it. Why not just eat it? I actually planted some in my yard for the pinkish-purplish spring flowers that honeybees love. This wildflower is a member of the mint family. The leaves are edible but not very tasty. Other names for Florida Betony are rattlesnake weed and wild radish. Dig down and you will find a small white tuber shaped like a snake’s rattle which tastes like a mild radish. This is the part to eat and it goes nicely on my salad. Unfortunately for some of you, it grows only in the southeast. Like most snowbirds, you won’t encounter it when summer comes, because it doesn’t like the heat.

Wild onion and wild garlic grow as far north as Canada and as far west as Arkansas. You can smell them when they mow the roadsides. They taste like their cultivated cousins, can be used the same way, and don’t cost anything. I’ve planted some of these in my garden. With chopped wild onions, wild radish, and oxalis leaves, my salad needs no further flavoring.

Emerging from the ground are the wild violets. They’re not blooming yet and the leaves are too small to harvest but they too will soon dress my salads. The blossoms are higher in Vitamin C than oranges. The leaves can thicken soups, the flowers can be made into candy, and the whole plant will make a nice tea. There should be some growing near you, maybe in your lawn. They, too, can be found around the world.

Some words of caution: don’t eat anything unless you know what it is, don’t pick plants that have been sprayed with chemicals, and be sure to wash anything an animal may have watered. If you don’t live in Florida and your landscape is still buried under snow or brown from frost, don’t despair. As winter begins to recede north, you, too, will be able to enjoy these, and other, culinary delights. Bon appétit!

Posted in Marie's Musings | Tagged Wild Foods | 1 Comment »

My Christmas Box of Memories

December 28, 2011 by Marie Q Rogers

I keep a box of old Christmas cards. Every year, like most folks, I display Christmas cards as they come in. Unlike most, however, I do not discard them after the season is over, but add them to my collection.

Like most people, when I was a child, we would go to my grandparents’ house on Christmas night for supper with aunts, uncles, and cousins, and there would be presents for all. Unlike most people, however, Grandma Masters did not label her gifts with store-bought stickers. She used the pictures from old Christmas cards. She might wrap a package in paper with pictures of the three wise men, then decorate it with a card showing a manger scene, and a ribbon.

When I became an adult and established my own home, like most people I began to send and receive Christmas cards. That’s when I continued my grandmother’s tradition of labeling gifts with last year’s cards. I use the front face and usually discard the rest of the card unless it has a smaller picture, as some do, that I can use on a small gift. In any particular year, I may not use all my old cards, so they will collect in a box. Some cards get recycled if the gift was opened at my house and the card not spoiled. I try to coordinate the card with the wrapping paper and give, especially for the children, one that would appeal to the recipient. A card may be a clue as to the gift inside. A box containing a doll might have a card showing a little girl holding a doll. It’s handy to have lots of cards to choose from, and every year my collection grows. Some years I have to graduate to a larger box.

My Christmas card collection has yielded an unforeseen delight. It has become a time capsule, going back many years. As I dig to the bottom of the box, it’s like an archeological excavation, refreshing long forgotten memories. Most senders list their children, and I have a record, in reverse order, of the changes in their families. Children who have grown, moved out, and are no longer listed on recent cards will appear in earlier cards. Their names disappear again in cards sent before they were born. Some senders named my children individually and that list has also grown and shrunk over time, as some of my adult children have moved out, and in, and out again.

Here are cards from nieces and nephews before they had children. Afterwards, they may be too busy to send cards. I have a record of my former boss’ daughter growing up, in the photo cards he gave out every year. Since those are not suitable for labeling gifts, they collect in my box. Here is a card from a family I cannot recall. Perhaps one day something will nudge my memory. There is one signed “your paper carrier” with only her first name. Here’s one from my daughter-in-law before she married my son.

Some people faithfully send cards every year and some are sporadic. Some I have only a card or two from, and some, like one of my brothers, never, although I will send him one. One couple faithfully sent cards for seven years after they moved away, then there was silence. I never found out why.

Like an archeological record, the collection is incomplete. Some cards no longer exist as they have been used and discarded, and many lack the signature page, so their origin is forgotten. Here is one I will never use, from a dear friend who has passed away. Indeed, the deeper I dig, the more poignant they become. One card my parents also signed “Cookie Grandma”, in the last year of her life after my grandfather had passed. Another is signed only “Grandpa Masters” after Grandma Masters was no longer with us. There is one whose picture page had been used long ago and only the message page remains. I will keep this one forever as it is signed, “All our love, Grandma and Grandpa Masters”. It was probably the last I received from them before Grandma died.

Some of my relatives have sent home made cards so special that although I may use them to label a gift, I will not throw them away even if they become wrinkled or torn. Deep in the box are cards my own children made when they were small. Scattered throughout the box are annual letters sent with or in lieu of cards. Someday I will go back and read them.

What will happen to my box of cards after I am no longer able to enjoy it? Hopefully, before that time comes, I will put them into a scrapbook, making a history for succeeding generations. In the meantime, I will continue to dig through the box every Christmas, looking for just the right card for a particular gift, being reminded of the past, and surprised by new discoveries.