Around the Table

Mother's Day Tribute

When President Woodrow Wilson made Mother's Day a national holiday in 1914, he could not have foreseen how strongly it would become associated with food and most of all, breakfast and brunch. It's the only day where hard-working moms have a fighting chance at enjoying breakfast in bed. I have fond memories of preparing a “sumptuous” morning repast for my mom and presenting it to her as my dad propped her up on a sea of fluffy pillows. She actually seemed uncomfortable with the fuss and attention but always made me feel like the luke warm eggs and slightly burnt toast was a gourmet feast. Isn’t that just like a mom, suppressing her feelings so that her daughter could feel proud of her accomplishments?

Mother’s Day is one of those occasions where the connection between food, family and tradition is readily apparent and should be honored. My sons Chad and Jake have chosen to continue the breakfast in bed ritual and I just plain love it. It doesn’t matter what they prepare as their smiles, love and devotion are the perfect morning fare.

Perhaps breakfast is not your tradition and your family chooses to gather for an afternoon barbecue complete with aunts, cousins, new babies and old memories. Once again the food need not be complicated as the emphasis is on mothers and grandmothers and all that they sacrifice for us throughout the year.

A lot can be said (and a lot has been said!) about mothers and how they shape our lives as we grow up. One of my favorite quotes is from Abraham Lincoln, who said, “All that I am or ever hope to be, I owe to my angel Mother.” Mom, you have been gone for seven years now but I know with certainty that every day should be designated Mother’s Day. Your love and guidance gave me strength, confidence and comfort. Your generosity of spirit set a fine example for me of how to treat others and give unselfishly. Your beauty and sense of humor brought happiness to everyone who knew you. Without your spiritual presence, my ship would be rudderless. Happy Mother’s Day. I love you more than yesterday but less than tomorrow.

If you are looking for a delicious breakfast dish that will “wow” your mom this Mother’s Day, try this easy recipe:
HASH BROWN PIZZA

Yield: 1 large pizza

1 bag of hash brown potatoes
12 garlic cloves, finely chopped
2 tablespoons of chopped fresh rosemary
½ teaspoon coarsely ground black pepper
pizza dough or 1 large foccacia
1 cup onion confit (see recipe below)
2/3 cup crumbled goat cheese and 1/3 cup mozzarella (preferably buffalo)

Fry hash browns according to package directions. Drain on paper towels. Set aside. Saute garlic, rosemary and pepper until garlic is soft. Set aside.
Make onion confit according to directions below and set aside.

Onion confit (yields 1 cup):

¼ cup extra virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
3 onions, slivered
½ tsp. coarsely ground pepper
1 tablespoon sherry vinegar

Heat the oil and butter in a heavy saucepan over low heat. Add the onions and pepper and cook until completely wilted, slowly stirring occasionally, 35 to 40 minutes. Add the sherry vinegar, stir and cook an additional 15 minutes.

Pre-heat oven to 450 degrees.

Press pizza dough on a floured surface to form a 12 inch circle and transfer to pizza pan or stone. If using foccacia in place of pizza dough for the crust, just place it on the pan or stone.

Spread the onion confit over the crust, leaving a ½ inch rim. Place the cooked hash browns on top of the confit. Spread the garlic/rosemary mixture and then place the crumbled goat cheese and small pieces of the mozzarella on top.
Drizzle lightly with olive oil and bake for about 20 minutes if using fresh pizza dough and for about 12-15 minutes if using foccacia.

Note: Onion confit can be made ahead and refrigerated for up to three days.

Don't Show Up Without It!

“It” refers to the best Mandelbrot in the whole world. Pure and simple. I know what you are thinking: your Grandma Rifka, your sister Sarah or your Aunt Leah makes some pretty darn good Mandelbrot- those crispy biscotti-like cookies filled with nuts, raisins, perhaps dried cranberries and maybe even some chocolate chips. But I am a purist and so I insist that my mother-in-law, Rhoda Weston’s Mandelbrod is better. Almonds, raisins, almond flavoring and a custom mixture of cinnamon and sugar are all she uses to achieve that perfect blend of crunchiness but not tooth-breaking consistency and sweet but not overly sugary flavor, ensuring a perfect compliment to a cup of tea or coffee. If you are one of Rhoda’s kids, grandkids, great grandchildren, nieces, nephews, friends, nurses in her doctors’ offices, household help, clergy or favorite retail vendors, you know exactly what I am talking about. And I know that even if you haven’t actually said the words to her, you never want her to show up without it!

While there is no agreement as to its origin, the word Mandelbrot has German/Yiddish roots: mandel (nut) and brot (bread) and was a favorite of Eastern European Jews. The recipe below appeared in a newspaper some sixty years ago but has since become a Weston tradition and we now simply call it Rhoda’s Mandelbrot. We know that whenever we walk into Mom’s kitchen, a tall, clear glass jar with a stainless steel hinged top will be filled with these delectable cookies. The only thing we don’t know is how many “ends” we’ll find. After all, there are only two ends to every log. We keep hoping that one day she’ll present us with a jar full of those extra crispy ends.

Recently, another beautiful grandson entered our world and we attended his naming. Of course great grandmother Rhoda sent an aluminum tin full of Mandelbrot in honor of the occasion. Or so we thought! Nino, the baby’s father refused to put the cookies out for the guests and hid them on top of the refrigerator. Apparently, like precious gold or coveted drugs, this batch was his private stash!

I can’t think of a better way to spend a Sunday: baking Mandelbrot (only my second time!); putting them in a tin to send to my boys in Chicago and St. Louis, and connecting with a time-honored and treasured family tradition. Excuse me while I go make myself a cup of tea and steal a couple of pieces.

Rhoda Weston’s Mandelbrot

Yields: 48 pieces

3 large eggs
1 cup sugar
6 oz. corn oil
¾ cup sliced or slivered almonds
¾ cup golden raisins
2 tsp. almond extract
4 cups all-purpose flour
Cinnamon and sugar mixture (more cinnamon than the commercial blend)

Preheat oven to 325 degrees.

Beat the eggs, sugar and oil together in a large mixing bowl. Add almonds, raisins and extract and mix well. Add flour; mix well and form into a glossy ball.

Divide the ball into four quarters. Form each quarter into an 8-inch length bar. Place two bars on a cookie sheet lined with parchment. Sprinkle with the cinnamon and sugar mixture. Repeat procedure with other two bars.

Bake for 45 minutes. Remove from oven and cool slightly.

While still warm, slice each bar on the diagonal. Turn slices on their side and sprinkle with the cinnamon and sugar mixture. Return to oven for 5 minutes or until lightly browned.

First Light 2008

Today marked the start of a new tradition. Thank you to Lydia of The Perfect Pantry for introducing me to the concept of the First Light. Thank you to my good friends, Joel and Rachael for hosting the perfect New Years Eve and giving me the opportunity to enjoy the First Light from the porch of their magnificent home in Southport, Maine. A special thanks to Rachael for awakening before the clock struck six, putting the coffee on the stove and experiencing the power of nature by my side. You really are my "bud."

Every day's sunrise beckons a new beginning. The First Light of the first day of a new year; even more so. This morning, the sky’s orange and pink light cast a warm inviting glow over the cold, dark blue, black water and the waves lapping on to the snow capped rock known as Brown Cow calmed the soul. As the sun poked its face through the soft, marshmallow-like clouds, I couldn’t help but be filled with optimism. I am energized at the thought of what the world has to offer for me, Evan, my children and grandchildren. 2008 will be a great year for us and I wish my friends and family good health, an abundance of happiness, love and laughter. In the meantime, enjoy some of the images of the First Light of 2008.

Cherished Recipe; Cherished Friend

I have a friend named Willa who lives in Louisville, Kentucky. Willa is a special friend. We didn’t grow up together; we didn’t go to college together; we have never lived in the same city and I have only known her for about five years. But Willa is a kind, gentle, caring soul and although we come from diverse backgrounds and lead different lives, we share similar values. And when I launched my idea for a cookbook exploring the connection between food, family and tradition, Willa was one of my greatest supporters and was the first to respond to a request for family recipes. It seems only fitting to honor Willa and her family’s tradition by posting her Swiss Cake recipe today, as she fondly recalls making these fried cookies a week before Christmas with her grandmother, Lena.

Sharing a little bit about Willa’s family history will bring this recipe alive for you. Willa’s great grandmother came from Switzerland to New Albany on Silver Creek but the details of her family are sketchy as the family bible with birth and death records (along with her house) was destroyed in the Great Ohio River flood of 1937. Her great uncle Ebby and his wife Lorine lived in Louisville not very far from Willa’s house. Uncle Ebby was a cook by trade and enjoyed making these swiss cakes (also known as kekle). The recipe originated in Switzerland and became a family tradition every Christmas in Louisville.

As you will observe, this is a very large recipe. It took great uncle Ebby, great aunt Lorine, grandmother Lena, Willa’s mother, Willa and sometimes Lena’s boyfriend, Roy all evening to mix the dough, roll it into thin sheets and lay it out to dry. Willa explained to me that they would spread the pastry sheets out on her great aunt and uncle’s bed so they could dry overnight. Willa laughingly and fondly recalls that if the pastry was on the bed, where did they sleep? For Ebby and Lorinne lived in a one-bedroom house! The next day Willa would return to her aunt and uncle’s house to fry the dough and put the cookies in large tins to eat throughout the Christmas holidays.

Willa hasn’t made this recipe in years, but perhaps with the arrival of a new granddaughter, I suspect she sought to rediscover the joy, comfort and love of her much cherished and treasured family tradition. Judging from the pictures she sent me, the three generational culinary experience will be one that will be repeated for years to come.
Thank you Willa for understanding the importance of family traditions, supporting my project, and sharing your family’s history, stories, traditions and recipe with me and my readers. I only wish they had the opportunity to taste the finished product. Evan and I were the lucky recipients of one of those beautifully adorned Christmas tins, filled with lots of lightly browned kekle, topped with powdered sugar- perfect fare for sitting by the fire with a cup of tea. A cherished recipe; a cherished friend.

This post is being submitted to Susan at Food Blogga; Christmas Cookies from Around the World

Life Goes Faster Than You Think

I was tooling down the road in my white convertible the other day (80 degrees and sunny in Florida) with the radio blasting country tunes. My thoughts ranged from the mundane - pick up the dry cleaning, make the bank deposit and get home in time to meet the carpet cleaner… to the more serious and significant - how will I ever come to terms with leaving the town where I have lived for the last 23 years. Don’t get me wrong-I can’t wait to settle in to our new house and life in Maine. But I am struggling…struggling with the notion that my kids will no longer have the house in Florida to come home to roost; to gather with their friends, to recall the innocence of their youth and to return to the “Mother Ship”. We have built a life and a family here and while it may be time to move on to the next stage, it is extraordinarily difficult to let the previous one go. To add insult to injury, when my son Chad was asked to describe his 19 year old brother’s thoughts about the upcoming move, he quipped, “you mean that he cries himself to sleep every night!” Chad has always had a tendency towards the dramatic so it didn’t take long to confirm that these words were a bit of an exaggeration. But there was a hint of reality in his words-for all of us. And if Chad’s comments weren’t enough, Kenny Chesney’s lyrics wailing through the air waves reminded me that “life goes faster than you think.”

Thank goodness I have a wise sage at the other end of my gmail account. Christine from My Plate or Yours counseled me “to remember that when there is loss or change in our lives, even good change, we grieve for the people we once were as well as the things we are losing in the change.” Furthermore (gosh, I sound like the lawyer I once was in my previous life), she advised me that my feelings were a testimony to how good that stage of my life had been. Thank you for those comforting words.

I am certain you have noticed that the pages of this blog have been conspicuously blank since the beginning of September! Please understand that it has not been for lack of subject matter. I have traveled extensively; enjoyed Southern hospitality and cooking; experienced an authentic cowboy Dutch oven feast for a group of 75 hungry folks and have begun to immerse myself into Maine life and culture. The house we recently purchased in Harpswell was built in 1795 and is just begging me to write about its history and tradition. I have written an article for a Needham, Massachusetts Parents newsletter and one for a Portland, Maine weekly newspaper about the importance of preserving family traditions. I have baked Challah with my grandchildren to celebrate Shabbat. If you have a few minutes, check out my wonderful son-in-law's creation posted on Youtube

So why the long absence? It may sound crazy, but I just had to complete this venting process before I could share all of my other culinary experiences. The house in Florida is not yet sold; the move is certainly not completed and my thoughts are still not settled. But my mind is a lot clearer about my family’s history and its future and where they both fit. I do know one thing with certainty: it is critical to remember the past, embrace the present and link the two. There is no better way to honor this mission than through food: cooking, eating and being together. See you soon around the table.