Martha Stewart Makes Me Hyperventilate

I’ve loved magazines ever since I was a little girl.

I can still see the stack of Woman’s Days and Ladies' Home Journals piled up on the family room coffee table, dog-eared from Mom scouring them for the latest weeknight recipe ideas or shoestring home decorating tips. On weekends, I’d sit curled up with her, pouring through every page, reading about things from health tips on hot flashes to the miracle of modern microwave cooking.

We’d usually have an old Shirley Temple rerun on in the background and systematically organize our piles of plans for making over a room or transforming my next homemade birthday cake into some kind of gravity-defying masterpiece.

One of many Barbie cakes...

Every now and then we’d come across an especially inspirational tip and set it aside in a special pile reserved for enterprises sure to make us millions if we could just get them into mass production. I think my favorite was the DIY greenhouse I spotted one spring in Sunset Magazine and attempted to build, by myself, with a staple gun, scrap wood and sheet plastic. I think I was twelve and it lasted a whole summer until it buckled then collapsed under the weight of the macramé plant hanger I hung from the inside “beams” to make it look homey.


Making my macrame...check out the wallpaper.

When I turned thirteen I started to receive my very own Seventeen Magazine and a whole new list of must-dos materialized. The prom issue, of course, was the highlight of the year and arrived just in time for me to dream about my eighth grade graduation dance dress (the first Catholic school-sanctioned boy/girl event of my elementary career).

My favorite dress in that issue was a peach eyelet number with a halter strap, empire bodice and a floor-length tiered skirt…dreamy! Mom and I marched down to the fabric store and picked out a pattern, fabric and trim and set out to create our own couture piece. It was fabulous (although a bit maternity-looking in hindsight), with matching shawl…too bad my hair was growing out of a Dorothy Hamill wanna be debacle and I didn’t quite achieve the overall swingy, flowy, carefree, Seventeen, off-to-the-prom look I was going for…do ya think?

That's me in the pink...I wore it to freshman homecoming too. Doesn't my date look impressed?


That summer before my freshman year, there was an article on how to organize your high school locker with a handcrafted, pocketed fabric hanging door contraption (remember, this was the olden days before magnetic Container Store gadgets). I did my best to replicate the ingenious plan using only my wits and my Montgomery Wards starter sewing machine, and arrived the day before school to install my masterpiece. I remember being so proud as it “sort of fit just right” on the inside of my first locker door. I can’t remember how it attached but, being that it was before Velcro really took off, that thing flapped and swayed every time I opened my locker. I stubbornly suffered with it daily as my pens, pencils and Bonnie Bell Lip Smackers regularly flew into the breezeway, until the last day of freshman year.

Then came Martha Stewart…

I thought my plate was full before, but in walked Miss Martha with her monthly list of must-do’s from laminating just about every piece of paper in the house to breeding, drying, labeling, storing, sprouting, growing, harvesting, canning and then cooking with her extensive collection of heirloom tomato seeds. Oh, the guilt when I go to open a jar of generic marinara sauce and pour it over reconstituted, store-bought spaghetti. Let’s not forget that I still need to build that chicken coop and create handcrafted hot water bottle cozies out of last winter’s outdated cashmere sweaters. Did I mention the Hefty bag full of discarded men’s silk ties that I am unable to part with because I am supposed to use them in a five step, three day process that will  transform lowly eggs (from my imaginary chickens, of course) into spectacular Faberge-style Easter decor? How can I live without those in my life?

So, you get the idea. I have issues (no pun intended). Aren’t magazines designed to provide escape and entertainment? Not for me. When I open my mailbox and see that a new issue has arrived, I get that same feeling in the pit of my stomach when yet another box of See’s chocolates arrives at our doorstep over the holidays; on the one hand, I can't wait to dig in and devour what's  inside…on the other hand, I anticipate what will grow after my gluttonous feast. In the case of the chocolates…it’s my hips…in the case of the magazines, it’s my list of magazine, must-do’s.

So, “why,” you ask, do I bring this up now? Well, it is that time of year again and, even with my vow to keep it simple, I still managed to send myself into conniptions as I attempted to create homemade edible gifts for some of Charlie’s friends in business…one that would put a grin on even Martha’s pursed little lips.

After a few lackluster experiments with new recipes, Charlie suggested that I just share some of our family favorite Christmas cookies. Sounded reasonable enough and I did like the idea of going with the “tried and true.” What I forgot was that there is a reason why I only make these creations once a year…it takes forever!

Our sweet minions...

Ready to "ship out"...

Each recipe is really no biggie…it’s just when you have to make 240 of the little buggers, prepared and packaged in sanitary conditions (no licking the spoon), all delivered fresh and in tact…that’s when I remembered why my original plan of a simple bag of Cashew Brittle dumped in a cello bag and tied with a ribbon may have been the better way to go!

Here's the package we did end up with...

Oh well, after the first three batches, I knew I was in for it but the "toothpaste was already out of the tube," so to speak, and I knew there was no turning back. Carly helped me decorate the Fresh Ginger Boys and Girls, thank God, but she was also in the midst of finals so that was about all I could squeeze out of her. I was on my own for the next 180 little darlin’s.


Sugar and spice and everything nice...thank heavens for my little girl!



A bald ginger girl just won't do...

The Russian Tea Cakes were the easiest, I think. I love them any time of year and by any other name. I’ve also heard them referred to as Mexican Wedding Cookies and my neighbor Laura says her family calls them Swedish Heirloom Cookies.

Just one more sprinkle of powdered sugar...

Who doesn’t love a Thumbprint Cookie and this is my favorite recipe for them…another one out of my Mom’s old Betty Crocker cookbook (the Russian Tea Cakes are from there too).

Roll 'em in nuts and bake 'em for a few minutes...



Make the thumbprint, then bake 'em again...



Fill 'em. Eat 'em.

A while back I taught a holiday baking class for kids and added chocolate to the dough, deleted the nuts and used red jelly in the center divot. I called them Rudolph the Red-Nosed Cookies and the kids loved them even more!

What would I do without this cookbook?

Then, there are the infamous Candy Cane Cookies. I have no idea where this recipe originally came from but no Christmas is complete in our house without them…but they really are a pain in the patooty to make. The dough is easy enough (just a few ingredients)…it’s just that they are so labor intensive, each one needing to be hand rolled and twisted. The dough is super soft to work with and it takes a while to get the hang of twisting the two colors together without the cookie becoming a big gooey pink blob.

Gee…I bet you can’t wait to get started! It’s worth it though…trust me. They’re beautiful and delicious, albeit fragile (as carefully as I packaged them, I wonder if any of mine survived the ride in Charlie’s car as he made his deliveries).

Here they are all snuggled up and ready to be boxed...

Well, it's New Year's Eve as I write and I am happy to report that the last of the Christmas cookies has left the building. Much like out of town relatives, we loved them while they were here but are happy to see them gone! I think I'll go clean the fridge and get ready for all of that organic produce I plan to buy tomorrow.

Tonight's another story...it is New Year's Eve after all and we must ring in the year with a beautiful feast. As I reach to make my shopping list I find myself thinking WWMD (What Would Martha Do?). I start to gasp for air...fight it, Donna, fight it!

I think I've found my New Year's resolution!

For my cookie recipes, go to the following link. http://makemudpies.blogspot.com/p/christmas-cookies.html

There you'll find tattered copies of the four recipes mentioned above...no frills, handwritten notes and all. If I had taken the time to retype these, all pretty-like, I'm not sure if they would have made it to you by next Christmas. Tip: double click on each recipe to enlarge. Happy New Year!

Dressed to Kill...

At our Thanksgiving table, we serve Mom's turkey dressing with a side of baby aspirin and a glass of red wine.

Laden with butter-drenched croutons and three kinds of sausage, her killer concoction could damn up even the mightiest of arteries...just by looking at it. But, every year, we look danger square in it's beady little eye and snuggle that stuffing up to the turkey and mashed potatoes on our plate then drench the whole lot in golden gravy.

Last year, and I don't really remember why, the dressing duties fell upon me. Determined to make my own mark (and convinced I could not duplicate Mom's signature sausage surprise) I dug through my ripped up magazine archives looking for a perfect dish that I could call my own. Not to worry, tradition would be upheld featuring all of the other usual suspects (green beans with bacon, mashed potatoes, fresh cranberry sauce...), but this was my chance to see if a bird of a different feather, so to speak, would fly.

Scattered among my tattered tear sheets were many recipe options from which to choose...all touting to be the best: some with cornbread, others with oysters, some with sausage, some without. But, as I went round and round, I just kept coming back to the one with pancetta, prunes and chestnuts...just the departure from tradition I was looking for without completely risking a mealtime mutiny.

I just can't throw away a November issue!

I'd substitute bacon for the pancetta ($6 vs. $30 per pound, you do the math) and no one would be the wiser. The prunes were a little risky but I just wouldn't advertise they were in there until someone asked what the delightfully sweet surprise inside was.

Chestnuts...hum...never cooked with them but I think Grampa put them in his stuffing one year. Not that I paid much attention to those things back then, but the "kids table" was in the kitchen and I have a foggy memory of him leaning over the turkey, stuffing a chestnut studded concoction mercilessly into its cavity. I think that was the year my cousin Ricky laughed so hard at the dinner table that spaghetti shot out of his nose...but that's another story.

Does he or does he not look like the kind of kid who would shoot spaghetti out of his nose?

Speaking of stuffing, it begs the question: is it "stuffing" or is it "dressing?" To that I say, you say "toe-may-toe", I say "toe-mah-toe." In other words, it's all the same. Technically speaking, I think it's stuffing if it cooks within the nether regions of your formerly feathered friend. Dressing is baked in a casserole separate from the bird. That said, we call it stuffing in our family, even though we haven't actually stuffed it for years...go figure (too many scary salmonella stories on the news).


Anyway, my new-fangled recipe was a big hit last year so I'd like to share it with you today...just in time for Thanksgiving...if you dare.

Me? Well, Mom said she's doing the stuffing this year and actually, I can't wait. There's a lot to be said for tradition and knowing that the only ingredient she uses with more abandon than butter, is love, makes hers some of the healthiest dishes I know.


I'm bringing the pie (for the perfect crust, check out the recipe under "Recipes You've Requested" to the right of this post) or click on this link: http://makemudpies.blogspot.com/p/basic-flaky-pie-crust.html.

I made this pie last night...threw some peeled and sliced Golden Delicious apples tossed with sugar and cinnamon into the crust and topped with streusel...I think I'll have some now.

A big juicy hug to you and yours during this season of thanks. I am so grateful that you sit with me at my virtual table and indulge me in my ramblings and recipes. Like we do at our family table, pass it on...


Now, let's get that bird stuffed or dressed or whatever!


Start with the bread. I used Bordenaves Extra Sourdough bread which is one of our local favorites. For this recipe, I used 3/4 of a 1# loaf.

Preheat oven to 400°. Dice the bread into 1/3 inch cubes and spread the cubes out onto a shallow baking sheet. Toast until the bread is golden and dry and looks like this. Then place in a big bowl.

Dice your veggies.

Set aside.

Then quarter your chestnuts and prunes (the original recipe said to cut them in half but we all decided the flavors were more subtle with smaller pieces). Set aside.

Chestnuts (not water chestnuts) aren't the easiest ingredient to come by, I've found. I think it must be more of an east coast thing. Anyway, I found these at Trader Joe's and this one 6.5 ounce package seemed about right for the recipe (although the original recipe called for more). I saw some canned ones at Andronicos yesterday (a local market) but none at Safeway. Last year I actually roasted and peeled whole chestnuts in the shell because that was all I could find. It was a pain. Moral of the story...don't assume your market will have them...be prepared to make a call or two.

Cook the bacon until it is crispy, remove it from the pan with a slotted spoon and drain on a paper towel. Pour all of the fat into a clean, heat proof bowl, wipe any burnt bits up from the pan then pour two tablespoons of fat back in the pan with 1/2 stick of butter! Saute the onions and celery until softened (about 10 minutes) then add fresh sage, the cooked bacon and salt and pepper. Cook for a minute or so more.

This sage is all that's left of my pitiful little garden!

Whisk together the stock and eggs and mix everything in the big bowl with the bread. Bake in a buttered 9x13 Pyrex, loosely covered with buttered foil, for about 30 minutes, then uncovered for about 10 more or so until it reaches the brown-ness you love. Charlie likes his stuffing really wet, I like mine crispy on top and this recipe seemed to please us both.

When I made this last week to see if it was as good as I remembered, I served it to the hubby and kids with brined grilled pork chops and homemade apple sauce (I knew we'd be turkey-ed out this week). It was yum!

Chestnut, Prune and Bacon Stuffing

Preheat oven to 400°. Cube, place on a baking sheet, toast until browned an place in a large bowlt:

• 3/4# sourdough bread

Cook until browned:

• 1/2# bacon, cut into bite-size pieces

Drain the bacon, set aside, pour off the fat into a bowl, wipe out the skillet, put two tablespoons back into the skillet and melt:

• 1/2 cube of butter (4 Tbs)

Saute until soft:

• 2 cups celery, diced
• 2 1/2 cups onion, diced

Add the cooked bacon to the skillet plus these ingredients and cook for a minute then add to the big bowl:

• 1 Tbs chopped fresh sage
• 3/4 tsp salt
• 1/4 tsp pepper
• 3/4-1 cup pitted prunes, quartered
• 6.5 ounces (or about) peeled, cooked whole chestnuts, quartered

Whisk together then gently mix with other ingredients:

• 2 large eggs
• 2 1/2 cups turkey stock or store-bought chicken broth

Empty the mixture into a well-buttered 9 x 13 Pyrex, loosely cover with a buttered foil, and bake for 30 minutes. Remove the foil and bake for another 10 minutes or so until it has reached your desired crunchy-top-ness.

Serves: 6-8 (I'd say closer to 8)

Falling...

Last night it rained buckets.

Charlie pulled out his rubber boots, trudged out to the wood pile and built us our first fire of the season. We turned down the lights, turned up Neil Young and sat there for what seemed to be hours watching the flames roar until the embers began to spit and crackle and fall in a glowing pile under the andirons. As Charlie says, we're "fire people" and we love any opportunity to gather our little tribe around the hearth.

This morning, the sun was shining so brightly through my passenger side windshield that I could barely see through Carly's toe print smudges...evidence of last week's 90-degree barefoot weather. Fall in Marin County is officially here and even with its split personality, I love everything about it!

I love the smell of the driveway after the first drizzle and the mad dash to unearth last winter's rain gear. I love the look of surprise and delight on Willy's face when he dons his old jacket, holds up his arms and proudly exposes his lanky little wrists...a sure sign that the escalating Sharpie marks on our makeshift door jam grow chart do not deceive.

I love the neighborhood "fire tree," as we have named it, that we observe every morning on our back road trek to school. As maple trees go, it's actually not that impressive. Not so tall and not so grand, it stands alone amongst a row of evergreens, shouting out loud like an angry little red-headed man with an inferiority complex. Tracking its transformation from the first day of school until the last leaf has fallen has become a morning tradition...watching it turn from lush green to flaming red then stark and bare.

I love the new season of fall shows on TV. Yes, it's true, and I'm not particularly proud to say it, but we do love our TV in the Christensen household. Even though we have a million more choices than when we were kids, I still get a little bit excited about the promise of a fresh dose of our favorite drug of choice (we are so going to miss LOST and "24" this winter)!

Remember when the three (yes, there was a time when there were only three) networks had their Saturday morning fall cartoon previews? We'd gather around the TV to see what was in store, knowing that all too soon summer would be over, the first day of school would come and Saturday mornings would again actually matter.

Saturday mornings were sweet but we also had our precious prime time, complete with new episodes of the Brady Bunch and Partridge Family. Remember the season the Brady men showed up with perms? That was the year they went to Hawaii with Mike on his big architectural gig, I think, and they had all that trouble with the ancient idol. Oh...that Bobby...what a rascal!

Cindy,on the other hand, had nothin' on me...I rocked her pigtails. But do ya think someone might have noticed the whole bow tie thing as I posed for my first school picture! I'm still scarred by this fashion faux pas.

But...I digress...

I love the way our porch looks in the fall...

...and especially how it looks on Halloween...

I love the little paper Jack-O-Lanterns the kids cut out and tape to our stair lights.

And, speaking of Halloween, I love that Charlie carves pumpkins with the kids every year, even if he does use power tools...



...and teaches my son how to make his pumpkin puke...

But, you know one of the things I love the most, permission to eat all of that cozy fall food that seems politically or practically incorrect to eat during the heat of summer. Braised stews, home-baked breads and my favorite sweet and starchy fall vegetables, I love it all with butternut squash at the top of the list. I kind of think of these foods as the "white pants"of the epicurean world: God-forbid you use them out of season.

So, in honor of Halloween and our SF Giants I thought I'd share a recipe that's good and orange...Roasted Butternut Squash Lasagne with Rosemary and Garlic (it also happens to be my most-requested recipe)! PS...it happens to be vegetarian too...but no one will even notice since it's so decadent and delightful.

Happy Halloween and GO GIANTS!!!

Gather your ingredients:

Peel your butternut squash with a sharp peeler or paring knife. 3 1/2 pounds is about 2 medium squash but it will vary.

Cut into 1/2" cubes. This is the most time-consuming part of the recipe. If you want to cheat, have at it. Trader Joe's sells cubed butternut squash ready-to-go but it's quite a bit more expensive. I timed myself and estimate it took about 15 minutes, uninterrupted to peel and cube two squash...you make the call.

Toss your cubes in oil and roast in a hot oven for about 14 minutes, tossing and seasoning with salt 1/2 way through. This is what they should look like. Don't overcook them...they'll  shrivel up!

While the squash is roasting, make your cream sauce. Don't freak out if you've never made a cream sauce. There's really no big mystery. You basically make a roux* then whisk in milk until it becomes cream sauce.

Start by bringing your milk to a simmer with the rosemary for about 10 minutes, then straining it into a large measuring cup with a spout.

Then melt your butter over moderate heat in a large heavy saucepan, soften your garlic in the butter (for this recipe, not all cream sauces), add an equal amount of flour and cook it until it darkens and thickens a little (don't burn it!) and it starts to smell great. *You've just made a "roux"...the basis of your cream sauce.

Next, take the pan off the heat, add your milk in a stream in batches, whisking in between to keep out the lumps. Cook about 10 minutes or so until thickened to the consistency of melted ice cream.

Add the roasted squash and season with salt and pepper.

Butter your Pyrex and begin to build your lasagne in this order: start with a cup of sauce (it will not cover the bottom...no worries), layer three sheets of pasta, add half of the remaining sauce, 1/2 cup of Parmesan cheese, three more sheets of pasta, the rest of the sauce, 1/2 cup more of Parmesan, three more sheets of pasta...

...then, yes it's true, whip 1 cup of heavy cream with 1/2 teaspoon of salt to soft peaks and spread it over the top with no apologies. Sprinkle with 1/3 cup more Parmesan.

Tent with foil and bake at 375° for 30 minutes. Remove foil and bake for about 10 more minutes. Let stand for 5 minutes and enjoy!

Roasted Butternut Squash Lasagne

with Rosemary and Garlic

Preheat oven to 450° and oil 2 rimmed baking sheets.

Toss and roast in the two pans for 7 minutes:

• 3 1/2 pounds butternut squash, peeled, seeded and cubed into 1/2" chunks.
• 3 Tbs. vegetable oil or olive oil

Season with salt, toss, switch racks and roast for 7 more minutes. Remove from oven, set aside then lower oven temp to 375°.

While squash is roasting, add to a small saucepan and simmer for 10 minutes:

• 4 cups milk (I used 2% but whole is probably better)
• 1/4 cup loosely packed fresh rosemary or 2 Tbs dry

Strain through a fine sieve into a large measuring cup with a spout.

In a large heavy saucepan over moderate heat melt:

• 4 Tbs butter

Add and soften:

• 1 Tbs minced garlic

Stir in and cook for a few minutes:

• 4 Tbs. all-purpose flour

Take the pan temporarily off the heat and add rosemary milk in a stream in batches, whisking till smooth. Put back on heat and cook until thickened, stir in the roasted squash and season with salt and pepper to taste.

Layer lasagne as described above using:

• prepared sauce
• 9 sheets dry no boil lasagne (7" x 3 1/2")
• 1 1/3 grated or shredded Parmesan cheese

Then whip to soft peaks and spread over the top of the lasagne:

• 1 cup heavy cream
• 1/2 tsp salt

Bake as directed above. Serves 6 hearty main course portions.

Adapated from Gourmet Magazine December 1995

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