Great good luck to the house,
Good luck to the family,
Good luck to every rafter in it,
And to every worldly thing in it.
Good luck to horses and cattle,
Good luck to the sheep,
Good luck to everything,
And good luck to all your means.
Luck to the good-wife,
Good luck to the children,
Good luck to every friend,
Great fortune and health to all.
–Scottish Hogmanay (New Year’s) chant
One of the little rituals that we have for New Year’s Eve is to wash all of the bedding, so that we have a fresh, clean bed to sleep in on the first night of the new year.
Sasha, Sergei and Lyra like to help us make the bed. They are particularly interested in seeing that we put the sheets on correctly, and understand the importance of checking the underside of the top sheet for wrinkles. Their approach is, not surprisingly, more time-comsuming than ours.
When Paul opened one of his presents from my parents, he was very pleased, as it was a book that he’d wanted for some time. While the rest of us were helping the boys to unwrap their presents, Paul started reading his new book. Almost immediately, he began laughing — small chuckles at first, progressing as he turned the pages to full out belly laughter. It didn’t stop there. A few pages into the book, he was laughing so hard that he couldn’t speak, then laughing so hard that he was crying. Words cannot express how happy I was to see him so overcome with amusement. This has not been much of a year for belly laughs, which makes them all the more precious when they occur.
And what, you may ask, was the cause of this great joy? (more…)
While I’ve never had any interest in becoming a Junior Leaguer, I must admit that the women of the Junior League in my hometown of Houston know how to put together a mighty fine cookbook. Stop and Smell the Rosemary is a favorite cookbook in my family; every woman in the clan has a copy, and uses it regularly. Last week, when my mother was pondering what to prepare for Christmas dinner, we went to this book. Mom didn’t want to roast a turkey (”we had turkey at Thanksgiving”) or a beef tenderloin (”you wouldn’t believe how much they’re charging per pound!”), so we looked through the pork section, and found this recipe. It is transcribed as written, with photo illustration and annotation added.
Apricot and Pecan-Stuffed Pork Loin
Coarsely chop apricots, pecans, garlic, salt and pepper in a food processor. Add 2 tablespoons thyme, 1 tablespoon molasses, and two tablespoons oil. Process until mixture in finely chopped, but not smooth.
Make a lengthwise cut down the center of each half roast, cutting to, but not through, the bottom. Starting at the center slice, slice horizontally toward one side, stopping 1/2″ from the edge. Repeat on other side. Flatten each half to a 1/2″ thickness using a meat mallet or rolling pin. Spread apricot mixture evenly over pork.
I was surprised that there was more than one way to interpret the instructions for cutting the roast. (My mother does not think spatially.) I got the job of cutting and pounding. After 15 minutes of pounding with a mallet, I had perfected a swing that would drive large nails; the roast was still over 1/2″ thick. Good enough.
Roll each loin half, jelly-roll fashion, starting with long side. Secure with string. Place both rolls, seam side down, in a shallow roasting pan. Brush with remaining 2 tablespoons oil and sprinkle with remaining thyme. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
As I had not pounded the roasts down to 1/2″ thick, they did not look quite like jelly rolls. My mother attempted to tie one using a single long piece of twine, crisscrossing it over and under. The whole thing fell apart, and had to be rerolled. (Did I mention the spatial thing?) Then we tied each of them with several small loops of twine.
Bring bourbon, broth and remaining 3 tablespoons molasses to a boil in a large saucepan. Remove from heat. Carefully ignite the bourbon mixture with a long match. When flames die, pour over roasts.
Bake at 350 degrees for 1 to 1 1/2 hours, or until meat thermometer inserted in thickest portion registers 160 degrees. Remove pork from pan, reserve drippings, and keep warm.
The bourbon burned for so long that we covered the pan to put out the flames. If you roast ’til the meat thermometer reads 160, you’ll have dry, overdone pork. The internal temperature of a roast will rise by ~10 degrees after coming out of the oven. I like pork cooked to 155 degrees, so I take roasts out at 145 degrees.
Pour reserved drippings in a small saucepan. Add cream and salt. Cook over medium-high heat, stirring constantly, until slightly thickened. Slice pork and serve with sauce.
Here is the sliced pork roast, with a wild rice and mushroom pilaf. The roast looked beautiful when cut, with little bits of apricot adding color to the swirl of stuffing. The sauce was a lovely, deep golden brown, and smelled wonderful. And, most importantly, it was delicious.
Over a decade ago, I went with my morris dance team to perform at the Christmas bazaar held by the Order of the British Empire’s Houston expat group. These English people, most our parents’ and grandparents’ ages, were amused and pleased to see a bunch of young Americans dancing the rather eccentric folk dances of their homeland; we were pleased to be dancing for people who knew what it was they were watching.
After dancing, we wandered through the bazaar, nibbling on Cornish pasties and looking at tea towels and cozies, porcelain figurines and other things British. We spotted a booth whose occupants were sporting brightly colored tissue paper crowns, and went to investigate. The booth was covered with boxes of brightly wrapped and beribboned cylinders, which a purple-crowned English matron explained were Christmas crackers.
An English tradition for over 100 years, the Christmas cracker is a small cardboard tube covered in a twist of wrapping paper. When the ends of the cracker are pulled apart, the paper tears, and a small strip of chemically-impregnated paper produces a sharp “pop.” The cracker contains a small gift, a joke or riddle, and a bright tissue paper crown.
On a whim, I bought a couple of boxes, enough for everyone who would be at our family Christmas dinner that year. And they were a hit! Everyone seemed to like some part of the experience, whether the “pop” or the silly riddle or the paper crown. I bought more the following year; by the third year other members of the family were checking to see that we’d have them. We have had them every year since.
While everyone is happy to participate in the pulling of the crackers, the reading of the riddles and testing of the tiny toys (including, this year, a hot pink top that spins beautifully), there has been some variability in the willingness of participants to wear the paper crowns. Reluctance is found more often in the males of the family; the boys find them annoying, and the men… find them annoying, but in a different way. A willingness on the part of the women to swap yellow or green crowns for any pink ones that the men might pull from their crackers helps to quell resistance, and there is a period of at least a few minutes when everyone wears their crowns. It is, of course, the women who wish to document these moments photographically. My mother is the only woman in the following photographs because my sister and I, in our pink and purple crowns, were both taking pictures. (more…)
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