Culinary Contest – Tennessee vs.New Jersey

Last summer I was reintroduced to MoonPies, a Southern favorite I hadn’t had since I was a child. MoonPies were invented in Chattanooga TN in1917. The story goes that a miner asked for a filling snack as big as the moon that would fit in his lunchbox, and the rest is history. We bought a box of them. Our grandsons were not impressed, and I have to admit, I thought the sweets had more chocolate taste years ago. The snack is a sandwich – two graham cookies with a marshmallow filling, coated with chocolate. The boys said Mallomars were much better.

We looked for Mallomars and discovered they are not produced during warm-weather months. Hot weather would melt the treats. At long last, I remembered to look and found Mallomars at our local supermarket. We also found a knock-off at Aldi, the German grocery chain. Now the contest was on. Would either of the sweets beat MoonPies? The answer was, yes, hands down! As soon as Nathaniel tasted the Aldi brand, he said MoonPies were out of the running. Tennessee, you lost.

022018 Mallomar contest.JPG — Note: We ate lunch on the porch!

The next contest was between Mallomars and Aldi’s brand. According to the Mallomars box, they were invented by Nabisco in 1913 and sold in West Hoboken, NJ. They are still a Northern treat – 70% of all sales are made in the New York metropolitan area. I was glad our local market made the 30% cut. With no dramatic drum roll, we put one of each on our plates. Nathaniel and John made quick decisions in favor of Mallomars. They liked the darker chocolate coating. I held out for the Aldi’s brand for two reasons. The base cookie was chocolate, and it cost about half the amount of Mallomars. I knew I was a miser, but I had no idea miserliness could direct the taste buds. It will be interesting to see where David will cast his vote in a couple of weeks.

Logan’s Stunt

Neighbor Logan wanted to show us how he could pop up off the floor from a kneeling position without using his hands. I had seen grandson David rise up from a sitting position hands-free, but Logan’s stunt was entirely different. He seemed to concentrate all his strength, put his hands back, and leap up using the momentum from his arms.

He readily agreed to demonstrate this in front of the camera, not once, but twice! Surely this cannot be construed as being stalked with a camera.

Action Monday

Grandson Nathaniel is normally on an early schedule for school, so he was dressed and ready to go walking with us. I was glad the little cat came running out to greet us, because Nathaniel likes cats. She stayed with us half way to the stop sign, frequently stopping us to rub against our legs. When neighbor Bob stopped his car to speak to us, young Logan hopped out. He wanted to be with Nathaniel.

Father to son, “Are you going to run all the way to the bus?”

Logan was already dancing around Nathaniel, and the two of them began to walk.

Logan challenged our tall grandson, saying, “I can beat you!”

Nathaniel replied, “I’m not going to run, but I’ll walk.”

I fumbled getting the camera out and took a video as quickly as I could. Nathaniel had a fast pace, with Logan flapping along beside him. It wasn’t until I looked at the clip that I saw Marla in a green jacket standing with Albert. All the commotion on the road made Albert walk toward them. At the same time, Bob turned his gray car around and started back home.

All the walkers reached the bus stop. One of us wondered if there were school, because we never had President’s Day off. I missed the photo of the week – Logan’s face when he thought for a split second there might not be school for him. The bus came chugging up the hill, and Logan waited for the driver’s signal to cross the road. Albert pulled Marla away as we continued to the creek.

Quick-thinking John had his hand out for the camera when I mentioned posing with the rushing water. That’s the first time he has pulled that on me.

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Nathaniel is more resigned to being in front of my camera, so I got two shots of him. In one he had just dipped his hand in the water to see how cold it was, and then he turned to climb back up the rocks.

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021918 N at creek.JPG

After walking, we had practice biscuits for breakfast. Our biscuit-loving friends are coming next week, and I want to be ready. Recently I read again that soft flour is best for Southern biscuits, White Lily being the preferred brand. John is enthusiastic about this, because he prefers that I not use whole wheat flour. It’s only fair he should win once in a while, don’t you think?

Let the Fun Begin!

Niece Julie and I had finished half our breakfast when John and grandson Nathaniel arrived from New York. It took them about 16 hours to drive here from Long Island. Julie and I eat slowly, so they soon caught up, and we had fruit together. To celebrate Nathaniel’s recent 18^th birthday, Julie gave him a couple of baking gadgets. One I’d never seen before – a pastry marker.

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After the meal, Nathaniel announced it was time for the mirror ritual. He pointed out where it should go so that he could see his face instead of his belt. After moving it up, he was satisfied. He will reverse the ritual when he leaves.

John had taken only two short naps on the drive down, so while he slept, we went to Waynesville to an art shop. Julie waited in the background as the artist signed the place mats she bought for her house-mate, Patty. The artist was a lot of fun, telling us that she is an up-and-coming artist. If we bought her work as an investment, we might make a lot of money. She also pointed out that burying a mayonnaise jar full of money in the backyard might be just as remunerative.

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We couldn’t resist the photo board outside the shop, both of us women taking a turn with Nathaniel.

We laughed ourselves silly over a roast pork dinner. Nathaniel, who pretends to hate puns, declared he would not bake the promised Black Forest Cake if Grandpa made 20 puns that day. In a matter of minutes John racked up 13 points. He argued that each of Nathaniel’s puns should take a point off. By 9 pm the count was 18. John made one final pun that sent grandson reeling off to bed. They were talking about vintage cars. John said, in light of Nathaniel’s planned career, he should have a chef-fer for his car.

On the Porch!

It was the day after Valentine’s Day, and John noticed the temperature was 71 F (21.6 C). We promptly took the last of our Valentine cake out to the porch to enjoy the warmth while we ate. My definition of porch weather begins at 65 F, so we could probably have eaten lunch outside earlier. Surely this was the earliest we’ve ever done this! Last year we were out there at least once in March and once in December when daughter Lise was here. Those are the fringe months.

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Valentines to Go

Valentine prep began two days ahead. I prepared yeast dough that rose in the refrigerator overnight. I baked one set of strawberry rolls, washed the heart-shaped baking dishes, and baked another set so that all were ready by the afternoon of the 13^th. The most difficult part was finding the neighbors at home to deliver them.

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We wanted something special for neighbor Logan (7), something not edible. I picked out the mug decorated with hearts. Inside the red tissue paper was John’s choice – a black truck with a friction motor. I don’t know what happened to the mug, but Logan played with the truck the whole time we were chatting with his parents.

Do you ever give things away without tasting them? We had a rather late breakfast on Valentine’s Day, as we do most days. I assumed the rolls were edible. The thought just struck me that if the neighbors had been sickened, they could have been on the way to the hospital before I suspected anything was wrong. If you are really good at worrying, you can worry in reverse like I do.

John surprised me with a balloon and chocolates. He ran errands with our son the day before and hid the gifts in the garage. They were in the kitchen long before I went in to get breakfast ready. We had one bought donut each and a strawberry roll.

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I apologized to John for not having bought him anything, and he said, “You did buy me something.”

My open-book face showed perplexity. “I bought you something?”

“Yes,” he said, “at the supermarket. When I commented on liking chocolate-covered raisins as a child, you threw the pack in the cart.”

And they say men are oblivious!!!

“…and the Creek don’t Rise”

Most Americans know the caveat about promising to do something “good Lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise”. Well, the creek did rise here! In fact, it’s the highest we’ve ever seen it. We’ve had rain off and on for days and happened to be at the creek shortly after a pause.

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I can assure you, we would not be standing beside the creek if it flooded. Theoretically, that is the lowest part of the valley. If the water flowed over the banks, much of the land would be covered. The creek was quite muddy, but the roar was muted. It makes more sound if rocks are protruding above the water. The two tiny streams near our house made an inordinate amount of noise due to the increased volume of water. That’s when I wish we lived beside them. If I get desperate enough, I’ll play a CD of a mountain stream.

Exuberance!

We hit it right and walked at rush hour in the ‘hood today. About six people were heading for work, and then there was the school run – Bob driving Logan (7) to the stop sign where he catches the school bus. Logan waited until we were almost to the car and seemed to be running before the door was fully open. How can one small body hold such extreme energy? As John chatted with Bob, I watched the boy run for the sheer joy of it. He jumped the ditch over and over, finally landing in the middle of it.

“Your shoes would be wet if water had been there,” I said.

Logan replied with a grin, “Nope! I waterproofed my shoes.”

As usual, I understood about 30% of what he said. Unbeknownst to me, the subject changed when he spoke of “lava shoes” three jumps later. “Firemen have clothes and shoes that won’t catch fire.”

“Do you want to be a fireman?” I asked.

Logan replied firmly, “No. I want to work at McDonald’s.”

I was sorry to see the bus chugging up the hill, because I was dying to ask WHAT he wanted to do there. Can you imagine him about twelve years from now? He’s the assistant manager, in three places at once, and putting out figurative fires at 70 miles per hour. McDonald’s will never be the same again.

Wardrobe Malfunction

When daughter Lise was here at Thanksgiving, we bought look-alike tops. They were made of extremely soft polyester, rather fuzzy and quite warm. Since it wasn’t particularly cold at the time, I don’t think she wore hers here. I wore mine a week or so ago and noticed that it had a tendency to creep upwards. I pulled at it all day long. Thinking it would have been cured in the washing machine, I put it on again this morning before walking. Whoa! Big mistake! After chatting with neighbor Marla at the quarter point of my walk, I realized the top had decided to slither up. There were two other layers on top – a sweater and a windbreaker. How bad could it get? I trotted off downhill to the stream. I should realize by now that when I ask myself a question, I should wait for a considered opinion.

The top was bunching up as I passed the cafe. I was acutely aware that neighbors Shawn and Bob might be inside having breakfast. They spoke to me as they passed in their vehicles, and they turned into the cafe parking lot. I hoped they were in the hardware area instead of the cafe if my top was going to embarrass me. Shame would be bad enough before strangers, but please! not dear neighbors! I would have given anything to pull that top down, because I was beginning to feel like the Michelin Man, with lumpy spare tires gathering momentum around my middle.

Years ago one could feel safe pulling at clothes when no one was looking. Now? There could be hidden security cameras recording your every move. I crossed the highway and passed the fire station. Two men and a woman were examining a pickup truck in the parking lot, possibly considering a purchase. Surely the hefty truck would hold their interest while I walked by.

As I huffed and puffed up the steep hill, I longed to take off the windbreaker. Air! Air! In front of Marla’s house, off came the windbreaker. The top had bunched up and was trying to wave at all the cars from the neck of the sweatshirt. I reasoned that as long as I kept my arms down, the slithery top could not possibly creep over my head. When not picking my way through two icy patches, I let my hands check the hem of the sweatshirt from time to time. Thank heavens it seemed firmly anchored to the jeans, well below the danger line. Our front door never looked so inviting! I rushed through it and sagged with relief that I had made it home without exposing more than hand and facial skin.

Would you agree that worry alone should have burned more calories than usual?

Streaming Adventure

The day was not off to a good start because I was nervous about getting to an appointment on time, upset that the gas card was rejected while John was traveling, and annoyed that the little freezer demanded an emergency defrosting. A day later, two of my concerns have been resolved, and the other will be eventually when I set aside an hour or so to be on hold with customer service, a definite misnomer.

After my skin got its annual “all clear” from the dermatologist, son John $ suggested we go somewhere for fun. Without saying a word about my state of mind, he set out to lift my spirits. We had a rather late start, but he made the most of the time. We drove through the gorge, one of my favorite places to be. If you’ve ever driven I-40 between Knoxville and Asheville, you’ll know the area I’m talking about. The highway winds its way along the Pigeon River with steep mountains looming on both sides. It is gorgeous and so different from valley views.

It took me years to realize that a day or a week in $’s company has a theme. One summer he teased our grandsons (his nephews) about the mythical wampus cats in this area. Last year a common thread with the boys was introduced by saying, “This reminds me of THE HUNT.” The ensuing conversation was done in an upper-class English accent. The theme for our jaunt this time was from the British comedy Keeping up Appearances. John imitated Hyacinth, Mrs Bucket, as she would say with utter disdain, “It’s BOUQUET.” I couldn’t help laughing every time.

We got off the interstate in Tennessee and drove to a camping area beside Big Creek. The camp was closed for the season, but people were welcome to park and wander by the stream. As we got out of the car, $ asked if I wanted my cane. I’d brought it in case we walked on uneven ground or needed to go on stairs without railings. We started up the trail, but turned back when a fallen tree blocked our way. We spent the rest of the time leaning on the sturdy bridge over the creek. What a delight it was! $ was a marvelous companion, never looking at the time or shuffling his feet with impatience. It was very restful to be with him, suspended in time, looking and listening to the stream.

I know by now that not all streams are created equal. Big Creek is filled with large boulders atop great slabs of smooth rock. Our local Jonathan Creek is more shallow and lacks the dramatic boulders. Because we were there for a long time, I saw things a mere appreciative glance would not have revealed. The lower angle of the sun showed intricate patterns of light in the swirling water. $ likened it to fish scales, overlapping and shimmering.

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I didn’t catch other dazzling lines that appeared on submerged rocks, as good as any sound and light show. As the sun went lower, it created shadows from the ripples. Those shadows looked like lively creatures, wiggling downstream for a few seconds before slipping away. I could almost see that when playing the short video in repeat mode.

Even with jackets on, we were beginning to get chilled. Chills make you move faster than a timer would! We were home in plenty of time for $ to pack up and head out to see friends in Asheville. I really appreciate his taking me out and restoring my equilibrium with several hours of mountain fun.