Betsy Devine: Funny ha-ha and/or funny peculiar

The first Thanksgiving I cooked for was the hardest. Amity was a tiny
baby–Frank and I both had flu. I managed to stagger into the kitchen
and heat up a can of Campbell’s chicken soup with rice for us to
celebrate with. We were both thankful we could keep the soup down that
day, a sign that we were finally getting better.

I remember
the Thanksgiving when I was 10, when my Aunt Mary let me help make the
giblet gravy. It was delicious. She and I kept tasting it in the
kitchen, and when it was time to serve it we* had none left.

I remember the many holiday meals I shared with Frank’s grandparents.
Grandma Wilczek would cook an authentic Polish feast with lots of
kielbasa. Then we would all drive over to Grandma Cona’s for an Italian
super-spectacular–turkey plus pans of lasagne, meatballs, and sausage.
It’s a miracle we have any arteries left.

I remember when I
realized, 10 years ago, that my computer could help me stage-manage
Thanksgiving. I created timetables, lists of dishes and recipes. I
don’t know how people did all this before they had printers.

I remember last year, when I blogged the universal veggie pot pie and killer brownies along with the
turkey and gravy for carnivores like me.

Now I better get cooking!

* I posted this yesterday but it disappeared. I’m thankful for back-ups!

** Heh. Almost 50 years later, I just realized–Aunt Mary was quick to
claim half the blame for the missing gravy, but she probably didn’t
drink more than a tablespoon of it. No wonder everybody loved Aunt Mary!

The first Thanksgiving I cooked for was the hardest. Amity was a tiny
baby–Frank and I both had flu. I managed to stagger into the kitchen
and heat up a can of Campbell’s chicken soup with rice for us to
celebrate with. We were both thankful we could keep the soup down that
day, a sign that we were finally getting better.

I remember the Thanksgiving when I was 10, when my Aunt Mary let me
help make the giblet gravy. It was delicious. She and I kept tasting it
in the kitchen, and when it was time to serve it we had none left.

I remember the many holiday meals I shared with Frank’s grandparents.
Grandma Wilczek would cook an authentic Polish feast with lots of
kielbasa. Then we would all drive over to Grandma Cona’s for an Italian
super-spectacular–turkey plus pans of lasagne, meatballs, and sausage.
It’s a wonder we have any arteries left.

I remember when I realized, 10 years ago, that my computer could help
me stage-manage Thanksgiving. I created timetables, lists of dishes and
recipes. I don’t know how people did all this before they had printers.

This year, we’ll be 12 around the table (pardon my elbow!) No canned
soup, but plenty of veggie pot pie and killer brownies along with the
turkey and gravy for carnivores like me.

Now I better get cooking!

Killer brownies aka caramel-chocolate squares

Preheat oven (350).
Heat caramels and 1/4 c milk over medium heat, stirring constantly undil melted and smooth.
In bowl, combine dry cake mix, melted butter, and remaining milk. 
Spread half this dough over bottom of ungreased 9 x 13 pan.
Bake 6 minutes.  Remove and sprinkle with chocolate chips.  Drizzle caramel mixture over the top.
Drop remaining dough by teaspoonfuls onto caramel layer, spreading
evenly.  Bake 15 – 20 minutes, until top is dry to touch.
Cool.  Refrigerate until firm, then cut in squares.

* Any chocolate cake mix works just fine.

Vegetable pot pie with biscuit crust
(modified from chicken pie recipe in Devine family cookbook)

Vegetables:  broccoli, carrots, celery, onion, red potatoes cut
into bite-sized pieces and cooked in herb-seasoned broth about 15
minutes or until tender but not mushy.  (The time to cook depends
on how big the pieces are.) Save 1 quart broth to make gravy (add water
and bouillon if necessary to vegetable cooking water.)

Put vegetables into ovenproof casserole/bowl with pie bird. (You can
use an inverted jelly glass or similar heatproof object instead of the
pie bird.  The idea is to vent the heat and steam from the bottom
of the casserole in a gradual way.  What you don’t want is a solid
slab of crust holding the steam in until it bursts out with a big
splash inside your oven.)

Gravy:  Melt 1/4 cup
butter in saucepan and gradually stir in 1/4 cup flour.  Use
flat-bottomed whisk to stir until lumps are gone. It will quickly get
very thick, so have broth ready to add.
    Slowly stir in vegetable broth, so that it blends
smoothly with the thick flour/butter paste.  Pour some gravy into
casserole to cover vegetables; save the rest to serve in gravy pitcher.

Crust:  Preheat oven to 425.

Mix dry ingredients, work in butter with your hands.  
Stir in milk to create a soft biscuit dough.  Arrange all dough on top of vegetables in casserole.
Put in 425 oven and reduce heat to 350.  Cook 45 minutes to 1 hour.

I just listened to Tony Kahn‘s Thanksgiving podcast*, something to make us all feel extra-grateful today.

I’m also grateful to Tony for treating me and Halley to lunch at WGBH, where we enjoyed not only conversation but several  meta-conversations too…

Now I’d better get back to the stove and Amity’s killer caramel-chocolate brownies. I just posted the recipe as a story–your tastebuds will thank me but your
bathroom scale won’t!

* Via Dave Winer–thanks, Dave! And, Tony, thanks for podcasting Morning Stories in general, including mine!

Packing is always a challenge, but for Nobel Week? Its many events line up under three different dress
codes:

• “casual”
• business suit/cocktail dress, and
• white tie/ballgown (three different events require these).

Frank can get away with a couple of suits and two pairs of
black shoes–it’s easy to rent the white-tie-and-tails in Stockholm.
I’m bringing a few more options for all this dress-up. We’ll each need
a grown-up black coat, plus mittens, boots, mufflers, longjohns, etc.
for sub-zero Sweden.

But then, in the early morning of December 14 (after the
late-late-night party with Jumping Frogs), we’ve been invited to visit
the Arctic Circle for a week that requires layers and layers more
clothing! Forget the wimpy lightweight Capilene longjohns, so usefully invisible under a suit. Bring on some expedition-weight fleece,
and never mind the bulges! The dress code is stuff for hiking or riding
in dogsleds–for hanging out in the midnight anti-Sun and chasing
auroras!

Now this is starting to add up to way too much luggage….

And then, we schlep it all to the Ice Hotel?
Guests sleep in a room made of ice, on top of a bed made of ice
(sleeping bags and padding in between you and the ice), surrounded by
sculptures made of ice…. The door and the toilet are not made of ice,
because the room has neither. It also has no space for luggage, which
gets stored all night in a locker somewhere. That’s too bad,
because I might want some ballgowns round about 2 a.m., to pile up on top
of my sleeping bag to keep warm…

Last minute–wear or carry!
Passport, visas, driver’s license, etc.
Tickets
Enough money, credit–travelers checks?
Layered, loose comfortable clothing, inc. shoes.
Earplugs or earphones and inflatable neck pillow

General travel supplies to have ready beforehand
Itinerary list printed out by home computer.
presents for people you’ll visit
camera, maybe binoculars?
guidebooks and maps
notebook and pens
Credit cards and ATM card–check with your bank about fees when you use these abroad.
extra plastic bags for laundry, wet bathing suit, etc.

Clothing–general considerations
How long is the trip?  Or, how long is the interval between being able to wash clothes?
How will clothes be washed — Laundromat, hotel valet, hotel sink, friends’ washing machine?
Special occasions to pack for–Dress-up?  Hiking?  Old clothes?   Shoes for these, too!

Clothing–generic list
walking shoes, dress shoes
trousers with shirts to match
dresses–(simpler and more comfortable than skirts)
sweaters and jackets
underwear including socks and stockings–and long-johns if needed!
outerwear, inc. coat, gloves, boots, etc. if appropriate
bathing suit

Toiletries and meds — generic
If 1) you might need it on board or 2) you can’t replace it easily, pack it as carry-on.
Any prescription (enough for trip), plus Advil, Sudafed, Immodium, Dramamine
pkg. Kleenex, pack 10 Q-tips inside to keep them tidy.
small shampoo, toothpaste, and toothbrush, all tied up in plastic bag to prevent leaks
2 bandaids, tube Lanabiotic ointment, and cough drops to fill up the rest of bandaid box
Don’t bring too much–there are probably drugstores at your destination.

Pack more stuff!
Bring some Cheerios, nuts, dried fruit, etc.
Bring logic puzzles to help you fall asleep.
When these are used up, you have extra space in your luggage to take new things home.

• Would you like your aura to glisten with vibrant white musk? 
• Or
  would you prefer a sweet “bat-friendly bouquet”?
• Do you want to smell like ozone and mountain thunder?
• How about chocolate, deeper musks, fig, and rum?

Tempted? Then you won’t turn your nose up at the Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab.*

Besides, each of these four perfumes also helps some good cause–the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund, Bat Conservation International, Adopt-a-Native-Elder program,  and the Animal Assistance League of Orange County, respectively.

What kind of smells would fit your own good causes?

• Habitat for Humanity: Sawdust and soldering irons?
• Heifer International: Eau de barnyard?
• For those of us who suffer from C-Nile virus: Roses (for remembrance) and forget-me-nots…

I might just wear the last of these, but then, who nose?

* Via Neil Gaiman–thanks, Neil!

I once spent a week on jury duty with John Nash.
I’m glad I was smoking back
then*, because it meant I got to hang out with him next to the gritty
Trenton courthouse. (No lawyer wanted either of us for a jury.)

This was after he won the Nobel Prize in Economics
but before A Beautiful Mind was written (let alone filmed), so he was a celebrity to nobody there but me, which suited us both just fine.

I wish I
remembered more of the things he told me about his Nobel adventures. I asked him if he had bought
something great with the money–he said the best thing was a
cordless phone!  He loved being able to have the phone with him when he
was taking a bath. (This was before anyone had  mobile phones.)
On the way home that night, I bought Frank a cordless
phone.

Merrell Yeti high boots. And two more pairs, one for each of our daughters. On the weekend my wonderful sister Marie came to help us all buy ballgowns, the Tannery shoe store was having a two-for-one sale . This required a quick detour from ballgowns… Amity, trying on Merrell Yeti boots, said, “Oh, these feel so good. I love walking in them. They feel so warm and so soft and so comfortable..” Marie looked at me and said, “I’ll have what she’s having.”

Caveat–if
you get these beautiful boots, wear socks inside them. The black fleece
lining leaves your ankles and feet a dusty gray. Not the best look to
go with party shoes!

* And I’m even gladder that I quit later that year.

In a move “sure to ignite debate“, Rolling Stone Magazine just picked 500 top rock songs of all
times–their number one choice is Bob Dylan’s 1965 “Like a Rolling Stone.”

What a great choice–the song that kicked down the wall separating
“folk music” from the excitement of rock.  How gorgeous it felt,
to the folk purist I had become, to get
Dylan’s permission for music I secretly longed for.

Even more important were the lyrics–and not
just because Dylan rhymes “didn’ you” with “kiddin’ you.” He was yelling a wake-up call to a generation of kids drifting
into deep water, all telling each other that nobody ever drowned.

I can remember so many kids from my generation who just went under
and never came up again. I
remember the doctor’s son in my grammar school class, one of the
cute-naughty boys the rest of us sighed for. He decided to “try” Viet
Nam, died there of a heroin overdose. I remember Linda, teaching her
parents a “lesson” by hanging out with wild and crazy guys–I was
in college when I heard one of them shot her. Less
spectacularly, I remember many kids who partied away four (or five, or
six) years of college, until Mom and Dad decided to stop wasting money.

I
remember Lucinda*, the night before a test, telling me, “I wonder if my
middle-class fear of failure will force me to study.”

It would have, if she’d been listening to Bob Dylan.

* She was a psych major.

If you used to subscribe to my blog using Bloglines–they just unsubscribed you. They unsubscribed 51 people, including me.

If you want to read the whole frustrating interaction, with frequent
appearances of the Bloglines sig “Tell a friend about Bloglines,” I posted it here.

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