This post is a reprint of a post that originally appeared at Art Enables's Facebook Wall.
Happy Saturday! Art Enables will have lots of great artwork and gifts at the American Visionary Art Museum's Bazaart Holiday show today, from 9am - 5 pm. Booth 44 - be a part of Small Business Saturday with us!
This post is a reprint of a post that originally appeared at Art Enables's Facebook Wall.
Happy Thanksgiving from Art Enables!
This post is a reprint of a post that originally appeared at Accokeek Foundation.
Office Manager, Patti Norment, and Site Interpreter, Tricia Hardin shares with us their most favorite holiday treats enjoyed by their families on Thanksgiving.
Tricia enjoys a big turkey with all of the trimmings, including whole berry cranberry sauce, while Patti raves about her “mama’s homemade stuffing with hot sausage.” She says that while it is not heart healthy, it is Mmm, mmm, Good!
For Christmas, Tricia makes decorated and iced, rich rolled cookies and sends them across the country to her family.
No wonder we love the holidays – calories galore. Yum!
An All-American Thanksgiving.
What food traditions does your family have during the holidays?
Share with us your food stories or memories on Facebook or email them to us (food pics are always deliciously welcomed.)
This post is a reprint of a post that originally appeared at Accokeek Foundation.
Written by Meg Nicholas
When I was little, the late fall season – stretching just past Halloween and going through November – was quite the exciting time for my circle of friends. They were all looking forward to the holidays. And, by the holidays, I mean Christmas. And, by Christmas, I mean they were looking forward to getting presents. I was the odd-woman-out, in many ways, as my excitement was geared towards the special day that fell between the candy explosion bookends that are Halloween and Christmas. I looked forward to Thanksgiving with an excitement that couldn’t be contained and, for some, couldn’t be understood. For the Nicholas Family, it was the One Big Holiday that got the most of us together in one place, at one time.
“I don’t know how it started, or when, or even if it was a purposeful move. All I know is, for most of my life, the Nicholas Family pie committee was co-chaired by Uncle Dan and Uncle John.”
My family has never been particularly high on the scale of annual household income. I know now that some of those earlier years were pretty lean but, growing up, none of us kids really knew. After all, we had our main needs met. We had clothes and shoes that fit, even if they weren’t what all the “cool kids” were wearing. We had food on our plates – nothing fancy, and much of it processed and not the healthiest, but it was what we could afford, and it gave us energy to go to school, or run and play outside. At the end of the day, we didn’t know we didn’t have as much as everyone else, because we focused on the one thing we knew we had…a family that loved us.
That environment of love and connection, more than anything else, is what made Thanksgiving a day to look forward to. It was the day all the uncles and aunts would be together, rehashing tales of their youthful adventures. It was a chance to laugh and play with all my cousins. And, of course, it was a day filled with delicious food. Thanksgiving was the one time of year when everyone at the table had plenty to eat, and there was enough for everyone to take food home for the next few days. It was a blessing to be able to eat turkey and potatoes and carrots and green beans, instead of the SPAM or Kraft macaroni we often had to make do with.
Thanksgiving prep in a Nicholas house was always a communal effort. Everyone gathered at one house, and one person would be the overseer of the turkey preparation, but everything else was handled by whoever happened to be at hand. One aunt would see to the sweet potatoes, another the regular mashed potatoes. Aunt Roni was never entrusted to any important task, like ham or turkey, but instead was encouraged to make a fruit salad. Mom was usually in charge of the green bean casserole, as well as the all-important deviled eggs.
Kids would be set to work, peeling potatoes or opening cans of mushroom soup, or placing marshmallows on dishes. A constant buzz of conversation filled the kitchen, spanning several generations and bouncing from topic to topic so fast outsiders who happened to stop by had trouble following it. The aunts maintained a careful watch around the hot oven and stovetop, lest little helpful hands stray too close to its hot surfaces. The uncles would drift through the kitchen, thinking their thefts of deviled eggs went unnoticed in the hustle and bustle, never realizing that my mother always made two platters of them, and purposely put the smaller one in the front of the refrigerator for their convenience.
Everyone was welcome in the kitchen. The making of the Thanksgiving meal had no restrictions based on age or gender, except for one. The men of the Nicholas family made the pies.
I don’t know how it started, or when, or even if it was a purposeful move. All I know is, for most of my life, the Nicholas Family pie committee was co-chaired by Uncle Dan and Uncle John. They even had specialties. Uncle John preferred to work with the thicker pumpkin and occasional sweet potato pies. Uncle Dan was known for his cherry and apple. They were things of beauty – apples, delicately peeled and heartily sliced. Cherries, sweet and tart at the same time, bubbled in gooey juice under handmade crusts. Fresh pumpkin was pureed, expertly mixed with spices, and cooked to perfection. There were special tables for the pies, set off to the side in lower traffic areas, so we could be reasonably sure nothing would happen to them before dessert.
This is not to say, of course, that you were excluded from pie-making if you happened to be female. My sister and I and our cousins learned the fine art of baking, as well. It was just that Thanksgiving was the time for the men to put their hands to work rolling out crusts and pouring fruit and sugar into pie plates. Over the years, as the family has spread further, making larger Thanksgiving gatherings next to impossible, my sister and I have taken over the responsibility of making the desserts. Now, I spend the night before Thanksgiving cutting apples and tossing together cinnamon and nutmeg, and the early hours of the morning popping my pie dishes in the oven…but always, in my heart of hearts, I miss those memories of a table filled my uncles’ pies.
Two years ago, my boyfriend excitedly volunteered to make a pecan pie for the first Thanksgiving he would share with my family. I didn’t ask him to. I hadn’t even shared that particular tradition with him yet. So, when he came to me with his plans, I blinked back nostalgic tears and nodded, trying to ignore the lump in my throat. My uncles wouldn’t be with us that year. They were far away, in Montana and Germany and the mountains of Southern Virginia, and my father had long ago lost much of the strength and dexterity in his hands. But here was a man – a new addition to the group – taking on their holiday responsibility with gusto.
Memories are often tied to our senses – particularly to taste and smell – so it seems only natural for all those pleasant memories of Thanksgivings past to be tied so completely to food. Indeed, most of the stories my family tells of holidays gone by revolve around the food that was served. In particular, we recount tales about the disasters: the year Aunt Roni was tasked with bringing the ham, and she stopped at the deli counter on the way to the house and picked up a small package of thinly sliced sandwich meat. The time Uncle Dan put the pies in to bake, not realizing it was set on broil. The top crust of the cherry pie burned, but we pulled it off and ate the pie anyway. The year my cousin Kwana was handed a container full of deviled eggs while she was standing at the sink and she, unthinkingly, put them in the basin with the dirty dish water. The first Thanksgiving when my cousin, Maya, was in charge of making the turkey, and forgot about the second bag of innards until after the bird was cooked.
Of course, none of those things ever ruined the festivity of the day. We laughed about them, scraped burnt marshmallows off the top of our sweet potatoes, stuck undercooked turkeys back in the oven for a little while longer, and reveled in the opportunity to be together. To this day, I remember sitting at the table beside family members (there was no such thing as a “kids’ table” at a Nicholas Family Thanksgiving), holding hands and bowing heads as someone – usually my father – gave the blessing over the meal. The one year I wasn’t able to gather with family on Thanksgiving, due to work, my mother called and put me on speaker phone as one of my cousins offered the blessing. I stood out on the porch, in the cold, as my family shared their love with me from a home miles away.
Years have passed, and it has been a while since the whole family could get together like we did back in the day. We’ve lost some aunts and uncles, and jobs have scattered some of the rest. The cousins have grown up, had families of their own, and my generation has taken on the responsibility of cooking the turkey, supervising the kids around hot surfaces, and sneaking the deviled eggs out of the refrigerator. The hands putting together the days feast have changed, but the love that infuses all of the food is still there.
This post is a reprint of a post that originally appeared at Art Enables's Facebook Wall.
What are you doing this Friday and Saturday? We're going to Charm City, hon! Art Enables will be at the AVAM Holiday Bazaart, featuring over 50 artists and crafters from throughout the region. For more information and hours, visit www.avam.org (Image: "Baltimore Hon" by Nonja Tiller)
This post is a reprint of a post that originally appeared at Art Enables's Facebook Wall.
What are you doing this Friday and Saturday? We're going to Charm City, hon! Art Enables will be at the AVAM Holiday Bazaart, featuring over 50 artists and crafters from throughout the region. For more information and hours, visit www.avam.org (Image: "Baltimore Hon" by Nonja Tiller) This post is a reprint of a post that originally appeared at Art Enables's Facebook Wall.
This year, Art Enables has a lot to be thankful for -- our artists, our supporters, and our community. Here's wishing all of you a very Happy Thanksgiving. (Image: "Wild Turkeys" by Charles Meissner).
This post is a reprint of a post that originally appeared at Art Enables's Facebook Wall.
This year, Art Enables has a lot to be thankful for -- our artists, our supporters, and our community. Here's wishing all of you a very Happy Thanksgiving. (Image: "Wild Turkeys" by Charles Meissner). This post is a reprint of a post that originally appeared at Accokeek Foundation.
Written by Brittany Barnes
When I was asked to write about a holiday food tradition that exists in my family I honestly couldn’t think of one. I don’t really have any special holiday recipes that have been passed down for generations nor do I know of anything that requires a “secret ingredient” – at least not one that anyone has told me!
Rather upset by this, I sat in my desk chair and tried to remember something, anything food related from my childhood. Well, my grandmother did make cornbread stuffing, and my brothers and I would always set out cookies and carrots for Santa Clause and his respective reindeer. But there had to be something else. Something that made the holidays special for me growing up. Something that I could share with the Accokeek Foundation Community that encompasses a little piece of my upbringing.
And then it hit me.
I may not have any recipes with secret ingredients or food traditions that stem from my cultural heritage but I do have a special person who I often dubbed my “big man” and who, come 8 am most holiday mornings, was in the kitchen.
Weekends and holidays in my house growing up, I was almost always woken up by pots and pans clanging, the smell of bacon, and The Allman Brothers blasting in the kitchen. As soon as my senses were hit with this combination I would jump up out of bed and run downstairs in hopes of getting the first batch. My dad (who for the majority of my childhood sported a dark brown, wavy mullet) would be putzing around the kitchen surrounded by open gallons of milk, a dusting of Bisquick pancake mix on the counters, and plastic bacon wrappers strewn about. He would often be humming a little tune (usually off beat from the music he was blaring over the stereo) and sipping black coffee from his light blue ceramic mug he rarely washed. When he would see me enter the kitchen, knowing full well that I was vying for the first plate, he would tell me that it would be a few more minutes and I should set the table.
I learned at an early age how to set a table. My grandmother tried to get me to learn a lot of etiquette as a child and I think the concept of “forks go on the left” was the only one that stuck. So on these mornings, I would set the table at lightening speed, pour my brother and I glasses of milk and sit quietly until my dad started to bring out the plates. One at a time, heaping pile after heaping pile of golden brown pancakes accompanied by two slices of crispy bacon would parade out of the kitchen and was placed in front of each one of us as our eyes grew wide with anticipation of the first bite.
But wait, it gets better.
Then out it came, the pièce de résistance, the item that brought our meal from ordinary to extraordinary, one of my dad’s proudest inventions: hot buttery syrup. Which was just maple syrup with a half a stick of melted butter served in a gravy boat but my brothers and I loved it. We would cheer and clap as he set the dish on the table and the sweet smell of the rich breakfast condiment would fill the room. It was the icing on top of the perfect breakfast.
I don’t know if any meal I’ve had in my adult life has ever made me as happy as the days that included hot buttery syrup and pancakes. And while, I started this post fretting about my family not having any food traditions that I could share, the memory of having my “big man” in the kitchen during the holidays and throughout my childhood is something that I now appreciate as my untraditional family tradition – which is how we do most things.
Unfortunately, my dad lost his battle with cancer five years ago and I won’t ever have these kinds of mornings with him again. But as simple as it sounds, it’s the memories of him in the kitchen making pancakes, grilling hotdogs and hamburgers on the Fourth of July, and sneaking cookies from the dessert tray before dinner that bring me comfort. I am also lucky in that those rare mornings I do get to spend with my family, my little brother often takes the reins and cooks up some delicious feast – complete with the off-beat humming.
Food links us all. Whether it is traditional family recipes, meeting a friend for coffee, or baking a cake for someone’s birthday we all have memories and traditions that surround food. And with all the hardships the world faces, it is at least comforting to know that we all can share at least one commonality with each other – everybody eats.
From my family to yours, Happy Holidays. Now, let’s eat!
Brittany with her dad and two brothers in Shenandoah National Park, 1994.
This post is a reprint of a post that originally appeared at Accokeek Foundation.
It’s official. The holiday season is upon us, which means many of us will be gathering for family dinners and celebrations in honor of our unique traditions and customs. In celebration of food traditions during the holiday season, AF staff will share their most fondest memories involving food, holidays, and best of all, friends and family!
Starting out this week, Laura Ford shares with us her annual family tradition of baking cookies… (Mmm, you can almost smell the cookies!)
Written by Laura Ford
My favorite food tradition is definitely family cookie baking day! Early December, on a Saturday, we get the extended family together (kids/grand kids, parents, cousin, aunt, sister, old friends, and new friends) to kick off the holiday season. We make the first Christmas cookies of the year – about 75 dozen pressed butter cookies. We use my Granny’s recipe (she passed away more than 40 years ago). The shapes and type of press are subjects of great debate every year. I’m a traditionalist and use Granny’s vintage Mirro spritz cookie press, and only with the Christmas tree shape.
I can’t remember a time when my family didn’t bake cookies together. I have photos of my children as toddlers sprinkling sugar on pressed cookies. Now those kids are in college, and they’re starting to invite their friends to join us too.
Before Christmas arrives, everyone in the family makes several other kinds of cookies and candy for the Christmas trays and as gifts to share. It’s definitely a family tradition to bake and to eat these goodies together!
Granny’s Butter Cookie Recipe
1 c. butter
2/3 c. sugar
1 egg
2 1/2 c. flour
1/8 t. salt
1 t. vanilla
Soften butter and mix with sugar until creamy. Beat in egg and vanilla and salt. Stir in flour a cup at a time. Dough will be very stiff and hard to mix. Pack dough into cookie press and carefully press out cookies into desired shapes on ungreased cookie sheets. Sprinkle with colored sugar before baking. Bake 10 mins at 400 degrees F.
