Anna Banana

My cousin Karen sent me an email the other day.

After seeing herself in a vintage family photo I posted a couple of months ago, she thought it would be fun to reminisce about Gramma Anna, the patient, simple, fun-loving, albeit vertically challenged better half to our fiery French-blooded Grampa Henry.

Among her many virtues, I think the thing we loved most about Gramma Anna was that she was consistent. As the self-appointed family historian, Gramma Anna wrote smack dab on the front of every photo...most of which she took with her old Brownie box camera. Formal portrait or family snapshot, it really didn't matter, Gramma would record the facts on each photo. It drove us crazy then...but what would we do without those notes today!

"Anna-Banana” she’d say to us kids in her deliberate, syllabic way as she'd peer through the little Brownie viewfinder and we’d shriek with delight each time at her wacky wit. “Anna-Banana”…how clever! It really didn’t take much to make us smile.

Topping off at an honest four feet-eleven, Grandma Anna also faithfully served as the family’s human grow stick. Posted like a diminutive sentry at the threshold of their Outer Mission headquarters, she would stand at the top of those terracotta steps, hand held high in the air, waiting to tap the top of our heads as we walked through the door to gauge where we measured up against those almost five feet of hers. With a smooch on the lips, she'd proclaim how much we’d all sprouted since our last visit and how she must be shrinking too…and she was!

At every family event we’d gather at "Eight-Ee-Se-Ven-Na-Va-Ho" (pronounced by Gramma as seven separate words) and the six of us grand kids would run off to the back of the house not to be seen until the turkey made its way onto the crochet-clad dining room table. We’d leave the grown-ups to their chit-chat, their log of Gallo salami and their jug of Carlo Rossi red table wine and be off to explore the wonder that was Gramma and Grampa’s house.

We’d rifle through the designated toy drawer in Auntie Janet’s old bedroom, and fight over the same old trinkets that waited patiently for us to abuse at every visit. We’d play Circus Bingo and Yahtzee and when we were bored with that, we’d explore Gramma’s jewelry drawer and admire her precious “Oh-Pal” (pronounced as two separate words) and Grampa’s silver dollar bill clip.

And, on the rare occasion that Mom and Dad needed a babysitter, we were treated to a city sleepover where Gramma would give us her undivided attention, teaching us how to play poker for dimes or letting us transform a loaf of Wonder bread into stacks of fake hosts so we could practice for our much anticipated First Holy Communions.

When we got a little older, we’d descend into the basement wonderland where Grampa kept his tools and wood scraps that the boys would consistently craft into some form of weaponry. The girl cousins loved the easy access into the garden where we’d mix up muddy concoctions and bury coffee cans full of treasure stowed to unearth on future visits.

The old chest freezer was down there too and if we were feeling especially naughty, we’d pick the lock and steal a nibble of the Carnation coconut-covered vanilla ice cream snowballs that were always there around the holidays, nestled between 40 pounds of butcher-paper wrapped red meat and stacks of thin white boxes filled with frozen ravioli. We learned that if we repositioned the decorative plastic holly leaf just right over the tell-tale bite marks, no one would know that the snowballs had been compromised.


That basement was our clubhouse and we were happy to share it with the old, early-70’s model Oldsmobile (which Grampa insisted on calling a Cadillac) that faithfully ferried them to our house almost every weekend. They were professional fans and never missed one of the many Little League games or dance recitals that commanded their attendance.

Wearing a floral polyester, long-sleeved dress and sun visor, Gramma Anna would sit patiently in the bleachers, notepad in-hand , meticulously recording statistics and observations. At the end of each event, she’d tuck her notepad into her well-organized purse and announce that it was time to go home to “San-Fran-Sis-Co-Watch-My-Fist-Go” (pronounced like eight separate words) and off they would ride into the Sunset, so-to-speak.

As they’d pull into the driveway of "Eight-Ee-Se-Ven-Na-Va-Ho" Grandma would reach into the glove box for yet another notepad, record their mileage and fuel consumption, neatly re-secure it with a rubber band and stow it back away. She’d then hop out of the passenger seat, stand in front of the open garage door and waive Grandpa in as if together they were landing a fighter plane on the deck of the USS Nimitz.

Sometimes Grampa would make it through the narrow portal unscathed, but the deep battle scars stretching down both sides of the Olds proved that their success rate was less than 100%.

When we’d come back upstairs, our first stop would always be the kitchen. After a couple of hours in the tunnels, we’d worked up quite an appetite and could always count on finding handfuls Oreos in the chipped, glued and re-glued Raggedy Ann cookie jar (which I now proudly display in my kitchen) and an opened, less-than-fresh box of chocolate-covered Hostess mini-donuts on the counter.


We’d wash it all down with a cold glass of Tang (pronounced by Gramma as “Tanj”) and while we were in the fridge we’d sneak a spoonful of chocolate pudding (the cooked, Jello-brand kind, of course) digging beneath the characteristic surface skin to find that familiar, chocolaty, lumpy, goodness. Yes, it’s true, Gramma Anna wasn’t known for her culinary prowess, but a visit to their house wouldn’t be the same without those donuts, that pudding, and that “Tanj.”

So, as a gift to my brothers and my cousins, but most of all to celebrate our “Anna Banana”, I share with you my version of chocolate pudding that I hope you will all enjoy in good health. It may not be Jello-brand, but it is cooked, it is chocolaty and it is guaranteed delicious. I make it today in the shadow of that Raggedy Ann cookie jar and as I put it in the fridge to cool, I look up, and raise a cold glass of “Tanj” to our beloved Gramma Anna. Enjoy the pudding, my brothers and my cousins…enjoy one-and-all. I think I’ll play some Yahtzee tonight.



Get all of your ingredients together...this recipe cooks up fast...no time to go searching for the vanilla or you'll get lumps! My favorite chocolate to use is the Ghirardelli 60% Cacao Dark...and it comes in a 4 ounce bar. Carly made a double batch last night and brought it to school today with 10 spoons. She used Trader Joes Dark (which is what I had on hand) and it was good too...and way less expensive!

 Throw the sugar, cornstarch and salt into a heavy saucepan and whisk it together...

Add the chopped chocolate then whisk the egg yolk into the milk and add it to the pot...keep whisking...

Melt everything down until it looks (and smells!) like hot chocolate then gently bring it up to a boil over medium high heat. When it starts to thicken remove it from the heat (about one minute).





Add a tablespoon of butter and the vanilla and whisk it until it is smooth and glossy. Pour it immediately into two 8 ounce ramekins or whatever fancy dish or dishes you'd like and chill. The recipe serves two but I think the portions are too huge...it's sooo rich! I suggest putting it into two smaller dishes then leaving a big glob of it in the pot to eat right then and there sharing spoonfuls with whomever is in lips' reach.

Bittersweet Chocolate Pudding

In a heavy saucepan whisk together:

• 1/2 cup sugar
• 2 Tablespoons cornstarch
• pinch of salt

Add:

• 4 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped

Whisk together then add to the pot:

• 1 1/3 cups whole milk
• 1 large egg yolk

Keep whisking over medium-high heat until the chocolate melts and when it starts to bubble watch it until it thickens then remove it from the heat (about one minute). Add and mix until smooth and glossy:

• 1 Tablespoon unsalted butter
• 1/4 teaspoon vanilla

Pour into two to four serving dishes, chill and garnish with:

• whipped cream and chocolate shavings if you've got 'em.

Serves two to four



Life is just a bowl of cherries...

Ten years ago, almost to the day, Charlie and I clutched the dimpled paws of our baby girl as we marched her off to her first day of Kindergarten. I can still remember the nostalgic scent of white paste and construction paper wafting out the door into the warm morning air as we entered the Lilliputian world that would be Carly's first classroom.

She lost her first tooth, and made her first friend that year.

Today, I dropped Carly off at her first day of high school. Funny. I don't really remember shedding a tear the day we left Carly at Miss Woodman's door ten years ago. But today, I cried like a baby as I pulled away from the front steps of Carly's new home-away-from home for the next four years (and my Alma Mater). Yes, I am ten years older and my hormones (as well as some other things) aren't quite as balanced as they used to be, but I think it's more than that...perhaps.

As Carly bopped eagerly out of the car, bid Willy and me a hasty "bye" and ran off into her new world, a flush of excitement washed over my body in a wave of tiny electric sparkles.  Like the powdery pop of one of those old-time photographer's flashes, a million images fired through my brain: lockers, classrooms, teachers, guys, tests, rallies, football games...friends.  Friends! That was it. That was what I was most excited about: the new relationships Carly gets to explore as she navigates her way from the placid pond that was 8th grade into the high seas of high school life.

Almost 30 years later and we're still whining and dining...

So, yes, I did compose myself and luckily made my way out of the rat maze of a parking lot without completely exposing myself as a rookie parent.  I came home, plopped down in front of my computer and, just like any other day, watched a flood of emails populate my in-box. But it really wasn't any other day. Something changed.

Instead of scoffing at yet another Costco mattress event special offer or dreading the inevitable slew of mundane to-dos that would come, I smiled as I watched a parade of my friends stop into my in-box to say hi. Costco, your special offer is going to have to wait...I'm pouring myself another cup of coffee and stopping to chat.

Carol, wants to know if we've picked a hotel yet for our second Las Vegas high school girls get-away. "This time we're not sharing a double bed!"

Check out our Cindy Brady pig tails. I think mine were a little springier than Carol's

Amy, my "first house" best-neighbor-friend, wants to see if I am free to work with her at an upcoming non-profit event she is planning. "Yes...it's the only way I get to see you!"

On her way home from the hospital, two days after she was born, Carly (we were there too!) stopped at Amy's house first! They have been pals ever since...

Kathy, my "second house" best-neighbor-friend wrote on my Facebook wall that her oldest daughter is off to Davis. "Go Aggies!"

Onnie and Suz (my sorority/surrogate sisters) want to know when we can celebrate summer birthdays. Maybe by Christmas...but let's keep trying!

Paula, my bawdy buddy mom from Carly's grammar school class emailed to coordinate the next time we can take our shared boat out. "Can summer be almost over already?"

We may not be on the boat, but picking roses amongst the grape vines ain't so bad either...

Someone's at the door...it's Laura, "my third house" best-neighbor-friend here to pick up some hand-me-downs and return a Tupperware. "Can you pick up Will from camp?"

Back to email...Cynthia, my oldest friend from college, wanted to say thanks for dinner the other night (more on that later).

Here is one of the first desserts I made for her...!

Oh, and Lizzie, my first college roommate emailed today from NY too...no wait, that's her old address that I know not to open (it's usually a pirated, virus-filled spam touting male enhancement products)..."Lizzie, that email's gotta go!"

Anyway, you get the picture...so to speak. Somewhere along the line, after years of school, and roommates, and new homes, and kids, my big fat cherry bowl of life got filled with friends, each one juicier than the next. So here's to you...my friends. You make my life delicious and I love you.  And to you, my Carly, may your bowl runneth over.

Back to Cynthia. What a treat to have her to dinner the other night. After years of travelling the globe, she's back in town to stay for a while...so I did what I do... I made her a cherry pie. It's a little different than your run-of-the mill cherry pie but Cynthia's a little different than your run-of-the mill kind of friend...so here you go!

Start with my two favorite ingredients.

Add a couple of egg yolks.

Add the dry stuff and mix till it looks like this.

Press half of  the dough into your tart pan.

Then, roll out your other half of dough.

Chill your dough while you prepare your cherries.  I don't have a cherry pitter so Carly and I improvised by poking through each berry with a plastic chopstick...

...worked great but it was a mess. Nothin' wrong with that!

Pour your prepared cherries into the chilled tart shell.

Cover with the chilled dough disc then sprinkle with sugar. Nothin' wrong with that either!

Bake it baby. Here's what it looks like before being sliced to pieces. I think the bubbly, pitted crust is so cool in an alien, surface-of-the-moon sort of way.

Cherry Tart with a Cornmeal Crust

Beat with a mixer on medium speed until smooth:

• 1 cup butter at room temp.
• 2 large egg yolks
• 3/4 cup sugar

Stir in until well-blended:

• 2 1/2 cups flour
• 2/3 cup yellow cornmeal
• 1 tsp. baking powder
• 1/4 tsp. salt

Divide the dough in half. press one portion into the bottom and up the sides of a 10-inch fluted tart pan with removable rim.  Place the other half on a sheet of waxed paper and roll out with a floured rolling pin into a 10-inch round. Slide onto a baking sheet and chill with the shell at least 1/2 hour or more until firm.

Mix in another bowl and let stand at least 10 minutes:

• 1 1/2 lbs. clean pitted cherries (this is the only cherry pie I've ever seen that didn't use the sour cherries that we can't get easily here on the west coast)!
• 2 Tbs. quick cooking tapioca
• 1 Tbs. lemon juice

Pour into your chilled shell and spread evenly. Place chilled round over the tart and press the edges to seal with the shell, trimming off any excess.  Sprinkle with a bit of sugar for extra sparkle and crunch.

Place tart on a baking sheet and bake on the lower rack at 375, rotating once half way through, until golden brown (about 35-40 minutes).

Serve warm or at room temperature with ice cream (how about lemon buttermilk?). Serves about 8.

In a pickle...

Plum trees laden with sweet, swollen fruit, bushy bushes bursting with robust ruby berries, sturdy stalks of beans climbing towards the heavens worthy to bear the weight of both Jack and his cow...my garden is bursting with the bounty that is summer!

OK, now I'm just lying.

My zucchini aren't zippy, my tomatoes are too tart and my pickles have yet to pop (that's a little pickle pup above). Yes, my garden does show some signs of promise this year but it's time to do some canning and I just don't have the patience to wait for my few measly little plants to produce enough cucumbers to stock our larders with homemade pickles to keep my family puckered up the winter through.

So, the other day, the kids and I set out for the Farmer's Market to pick up a couple dozen cheaters. But, as it turns out, in addition to cukes, dill and garlic, we just couldn't pass up the flat (that's 12 baskets) of juicy, ripe, organic strawberries that were offered to us as an end-of-the-day-half-price deal (not to mention some peaches and nectarines for good measure). Guess I'm making jam too...it's gonna be a late night cause these puppies aren't gonna make it through the night. Boil some water...stat!

So, I'm here to tell you, that if I can can, so can you. You see, canning is really no big mystery. It's fun, it's easy, and there's nothing like having a case of your homemade goods ready at any time to pop into a pretty little bag and proudly present as a last minute hostess gift (it lasts for over a year). Yes, you too can have your very own "Martha" moments.

So, pop on your gingham apron, put your hair up with an old clothespin, download the soundtrack of Oklahoma and get jammin'...it's so County Fair.

I've experimented with lots of different recipes and techniques with varied results but, if your gonna try this just once, I suggest going with the tried and true recipe you'll find in your box of Certo pectin (the stuff that helps make your jam gel).

You'll need a big pot to sterilize the jars and to process the cans once their filled. I got this one at Costco years ago during our homemade beer making phase. A big soup pot will work as long as it is tall enough to cover the height of the jars with water plus and at least an inch. Take your clean jars (I put them through the dishwasher first) then and add them to the pot of water to boil for a while to sterilize even further. Remove them from the water with tongs and set to dry face up on a clean towel next to the stove. Take a small bowl and place the jar lids (not the rims) in it and pour boiling water over them while you make your jam. This softens the wax seal.

This is a shot of the side of one of my boxes of jars...you get the idea...so retro...I love it! There are usually 12 per box and come with the jars, lids and bands. Note: the jars and bands can be used over and over but you will need to buy new lids each time you can to ensure a good seal.

Here are some other handy tools to have...a wide-mouthed funnel, special jar-lifting tongs (although you can use regular tongs if you are careful) and and ladle. All of these items are super easy to find and inexpensive (under $5).

Start with firm, sweet fruit.

Wash, stem, and slice...

Place the fruit in a stainless steel soup pot (not the huge one you are using to process) and mix with your sugar and a little bit of balsamic vinegar. Squish it as you stir with a metal potato masher. Bring to a full rolling boil (that doesn't stop when stirred), add the pectin and boil another 60 seconds (careful not to scorch it). Remove from heat. Skim off any foamy impurities.

Now you're ready to ladle your jam into the hot jars you have set next to the stove. Use a sterile ladle and a wide-mouthed funnel and fill each jar to about 1/8" below the rim. Place a warm jar lid on each jar (make sure the rim is clean) and screw the rim band just finger tight. Lower the jars into the boiling water (CAREFUL!) and process (gently boil) for about 10 minutes making sure that the water covers the jars and that the jars are not touching.

Lift the jars back out of the water with your handy jar lifter and place back on the counter to cool. Be careful not to slip as you grip...boiling hot water splashing back up as the jar plops back into the pot is a less than delightful sensation.  As they cool, you'll hear a happy little popping sound as the vacuum seal is made. There is a little dimple at the top of each lid which will compress when a proper seal is made. If the dimple is still up after an hour or so (you can feel it by running your finger over the top), your seal did not happen. Put your jar in the fridge and enjoy now. The directions say to reprocess but this always makes me nervous. Otherwise, if your seals work...and they should...you're good to go. Label and store in a cool, dark place.

Alright, it's 10 pm but...gotta make those pickles...it just takes a few ingredients...

Cut the little stem end off of the cucumber as it will muck up your pickle juice.

Sterilize your jars, take them out of the boiling water, place on the counter and add the fresh dill, mustard seed and garlic cloves to your hot jars...

Next add your washed and stemmed cucumbers...really pack 'em in as they shrink as they pickle. I think I got about 6-7 pickles per quart jar.

Boil the vinegar, water and salt until the solids are dissolved then pour over your pickles in the jars. Add the lids and rims (as above) and process for abut 15 minutes.

Here are the recipes:

Homemade Strawberry Jam

Place in a large soup pot and bring to a rolling boil:

• 4 cups crushed strawberries
• 7 cups sugar (!)
• 1 Tbs. balsamic vinegar

Add and boil 60 more seconds:

• 1 pouch Certo liquid pectin

Ladle into sterile jars and seal as directed on your Certo package directions and above. Label and store in a cool, dark place.

Makes 7-8 cups of delicious homemade jam

 Garlic Dill Pickles

Wash and cut the little stem off:

• 18-20 small pickling cucumbers

Boil:

• 4 cups white vinegar
• 4 cups water
• 4 Tbs. pickling salt

Shove equally into three hot sterile quart jars:

• A big bunch of washed fresh dill
• 6 small peeled cloves of garlic
• 2 Tbs. mustard seed

Pack in your cucumbers, pour hot liquid into the jars to about 1/2" below the rim. Place jar lids on (that you have softened in hot water), screw on bands and process in your big pot for 15 minutes making sure that the water covers the jars by one inch. Remove from water to cool and seal.
 
Label and store in a cool, dark place.
 
Makes three quarts of puckerlicious pickles. Note: try adding dried red chili peppers, bay leaf, and/or pickling spice for variations and/or a little sugar for sweetness.