Me? Jittery? Oh, pshaw.
Roadtrip Essential
friends and family
Emma’s Pie
We’ve all heard it – life’s short, eat dessert first.
I had a dancing buddy that actually did. One of the very first times we went out, he ordered dessert in lieu of an appetizer. I believe it was chocolate mousse. [He’s an interesting guy. I should call him – we haven’t been dancing in forever.]
While I often say that I don’t feel (intellectually or emotionally or spiritually – my body is another matter) older than I did at 25, I am much more aware of the passing of time. Even at 25, there seemed to be eons between Christmas seasons. Now? It feels like last week. Hell, it feels like last week that I was 25.
The other day I had a powerful urge for coconut cream pie. The nearest place was the Bob Evans. Chez Bob’s for dessert always creates a dilemma. I like their French silk pie as much as their coconut cream. As I walked over, I made the bold decision to skip lunch altogether and have both.
My love affair with coconut cream pie began in January of 1970. I’d never had it before. En route via luxury ocean liner from Hawaii to California during one of our many relocations, we were assigned a table, dining times, and a waiter.
Dean, the waiter, quickly bonded with my brother and I. My mother was horribly seasick, my father didn’t do breakfast, and my 10-year-old self and 7-year-old brother would arrive for breakfast and lunch alone. In 1970 it was believed safe for children to run around unattended.
I think Dean enjoyed us. If memory serves, he was about 25. One evening early in the cruise before Mom succumbed to violent seasickness, Dean suggested coconut cream pie for dessert following dinner. My father encouraged me to try it.
Oh my. It was, hands down, the best thing I’d ever put in my mouth. From then on, I had coconut cream pie at breakfast, at lunch, at dinner, and at various times during the day when I wandered into the dining room. It got so that Dean had the pie waiting for me lest they run out before our seating. I ate my Twiggy-style bodyweight in coconut cream pie during that cruise.
At our last meal, Dean presented me with an entire pie, carefully wrapped in a pastry box and tied with a ribbon. He knew from our conversations that we were looking at a 3000 mile cross-country drive and figured I’d enjoy some pie.
[In Texas, some guy took a look at the Hawaii license plates and asked my Dad how we got that car here?. My dad looked him in the eye and said, “That’s the longest bridge you’ve ever seen.]
I have fond memories of nibbling at that pie late one night as we navigated St. Louis in a snowstorm, my head poked into Pippi Longstocking by flashlight.
I made that pie last for miles.
I’ve adored coconut cream pie ever since. I am also uncommonly fond of French silk pie (and mousse, for that matter) all of which is pretty odd because I’m not generally a dessert person – two pieces at Bob Evans notwithstanding. Ordinarily, I’d much rather burn those calories on appetizers. [Some day I’ll tell the Greenbriar story and my “free” meal.]
After St. Louis and various other locales along Rt. 66, we finally ended up in northern Michigan at the paternal grandmother’s house. It had been so long since I’d seen her that I had no memory of her. Essentially, I was meeting her for the first time. My dad, unbelievably, had not told her we were coming, preferring to surprise her.
My my, was she surprised.
And, my oh my, is Michigan ever cold in January – particularly after the tropics.
Emma was a baker. In fact, she was the pastry chef at what passed for that area’s haute cuisine restaurant – not that they ever gave her such a title, officially. The restaurant was famous for their chocolate bottom pie and nobody could make it as well as Emma.
In violation of the rules regarding the secret recipe, Emma made it for holidays and whatnot. A widow and subsequent divorcee with 8 kids, it was common knowledge she’d never be able to afford to take the kids to the restaurant. I doubt she ever made much more than minimum wage. I think she felt entitled to take that recipe home.
But she never gave the recipe out.
Chocolate bottom pie is a confection of luscious vanilla cream filling, chocolate, nuts, flaky pie crust, and whipped cream. The sum is much, much more than the sum .of its parts. It’s actually
simple to make. It toppled, quickly, coconut cream pie’s short-lived status as the best thing I ever put in my mouth.
Emma would allow you to watch her make it, forbid you to let anyone else see, and thus the recipe wanders through the family. My mother makes a down-and-dirty version utilizing boxed pudding and still it’s fabulous. Between Dean’s coconut cream pie and Emma’s chocolate bottom, how I vowed to learn to bake. All of Emma’s baked goods were exquisite, but it’s the pie I remember most.
It took me years, but I can churn out a chocolate bottom pie that will make you weep tears of chocolate joy.
Emma was a wonderful woman. A sturdy woman. A resilient woman. Without any help, she raised those kids in abject poverty while working in an upscale restaurant for minimum wage – the restaurant she made famous with her pies, the restaurant she couldn’t afford to take her kids to.
Emma was not the sweet grandmotherly type. She was tough as nails. She had to be. But her laugh was something to experience as was her ire. Her cooking – her cooking was sweet. She is the end of an era.
She died on Sunday and I should be packing in preparation for leaving for her funeral tomorrow morning
She loved her children and they loved her. Three of her children preceded her in death. The remaining five still love her with a passion.
Tomorrow is going to be hard.
We’re glad she didn’t suffer long. And we’re glad to have had her as long as we did.
Tomorrow brings another, much shorter, cross-country trip to Michigan. I think it’s going to be difficult for my parents. Emma was an icon for both of them. I’m going as much for them as to say goodbye. More than likely, like my 10-year-old self, I’ll be stuck in the backseat with no coconut cream and, certainly not, chocolate bottom pie. But there will be a great many memories and good conversation.
And, no, I don’t give out the recipe for chocolate bottom pie.
I promised Emma, I wouldn’t.
Over the Top Award
I have been remiss in fulfilling my obligations for the Over the Top Award. My reasons are three-fold: (1) I am so very behind in my blog reading; and (2) many of the folks I would give the award to already have it; and, (3) of those who don’t, narrowing things down to just six people means I would have to leave someone out which seems such a junior-high-clique-ish thing to do.
What I would prefer to do, and what I’m going to do, is run through my newly cleaned up blog list and mention what it is I find so fascinating about each. Each and every one deserves the award. Alphabetically:
Blind Pig & the Acorn If nothing else, the music that plays when you hit the link is worth the click. I’m passionate about the celebration of Appalachian heritage and this blog is Over the Top in that respect.
And then there’s Cosanostradamus over at Blog Me No Blogs. He’s completely Over the Top. Writing on a variety of subjects with a decided left-leaning slant, I am appreciative of his commitment to honoring bloggers through his Cosie Awards. He’s definitely worth a visit.
Of course, there’s the incomparable, amazing, and scintillating Buzzardbilly who gave me this award to pass on. I am so enamored of her blog, that I’ve proposed marriage. BB also celebrates the Appalachian heritage, but her real forte is ranting and raving about the negative imposition of the hillbilly stereotype. Recently, she’s been writing a lot about music which is important to her soul. I miss her scathing analyses of the evil done to us by folks’ insistence on applying sweeping, untrue generalizations to all the individuals of this region – some of us who wear the hillbilly label proudly.
Chickens in the Road is another celebration of our traditional life. At this moment, Suzanne is writing about cast iron. If I were going to pick a symbol for Appalachian resiliency, it would be cast iron. We are forged in fire, seasoned after years of hard work, and worth our weight in gold.
Alex over at Clicks and Pops writes about music. Developing an album addiction as a young man, Alex is good for writing about the trivia and features of the music many of us grew up with (and love still). His knowledge about the music, the artists, and their accompanying zeitgeist is deep and wide ( my lame attempt at a musical pun) – not to mention Over the Top.
Creating Utopia also welcomes you with music and the best of Appalachia. This blog details efforts at horse rescue. It can be heart-breaking, but more often it’s inspiring. So many creatures are mistreated and it’s satisfying to see them thrive with love and attention. While horse rescue is the specialty, lots of other animals are presented. I’ve wanted a horse for a long time and someday I will have one. I’ve now decided that when I can accommodate such, the horse needs to be a rescue – thanks to this blog.
Esse Diem is a blog like mine – a little of this and a little of that. Living in West Virginia, she reminds me a little of my younger self. I wish she’d post more often, but then some people say that about me. Dynamic women have busy lives.
Evil Twin’s Wife over at The Glamorous Life of a Hausfrau lives not too far from me, but we’ve never met. As the title indicates, she’s a “housewife” that details her daily life as wife and mother. She occasionally talks about the multiple sclerosis that doesn’t slow her down a bit.
Garden Rant is a must-read for gardeners. Focusing on sustainable gardening, it also features real gardens – not the overly manicured, chemically-ridden “perfect” vistas we so much of on the web and in magazines. Be sure to read the manifesto.
Granny Sue is a storyteller in the Appalachian tradition and shares her experiences living here and loving here. While her prose is wonderful, I particularly like her photo-essays. Her gardens, her critters, and her sense of humor are a good way to start my morning.
I don’t know what to say about Huh? The Blonde Goddess is Confused. I’m not sure if Buzzard Billy or The Blonde Goddess is more Over the Top. Both are outrageous and apt to say something that provokes the spewing of beverages all over the computer screen.
Incurable Logophilia is a must read for those of us with an abiding love of books (and words). I don’t get over there as much as I should and I regret that.
Janis over Juanuchis’ Way irritates me to no end. She really, really must (and I mean it) write more often. If I ever get to meet her, I’m going to flog her for not writing.
Jamie’s Life’s a Feast blog is a food-lover’s paradise. If you wander over there, be prepared for luscious photographs and mouth-watering descriptions of food, with an emphasis on baking. Also, be prepared for some fine story-telling.
Possum Lane at My Little Corner of the World is another diverse blog about daily life. Currently, she’s talking about the gifts in her life. This too is a blog I don’t read as often as I should. Shame on me.
O>w/hole>1 defies description. He specializes in concise comments and links. With a wry humor and soupcon of sarcasm, he’ll take you all over the web.
Rick Lee’s photo blog is a visual delight. I’m particularly fond of his Thursday night produce shopping photos. How he can take the mundane and make it seem extraordinary is a great gift. Right now he has cauliflower and other vegetable wonders.
Sagacious Hillbilly is another blogger that defies description. He’s so Over the Top I don’t know where to begin. I can’t decide if his blog is more outrageous or his comments on my blog. Currently, he’s suggesting I photograph myself in boots and a garter belt and post it. [Ummmm, no.]
Six Forty-Five is the blog I set up for my Chef Boy’R Mine’s 24th birthday. I’m thinking if I give him an award, he’ll post more often. He has a gift for words and he’s living an extraordinary life. He needs to share it – at least with me – through a blog with lots of pictures – dammit!
speak You’re bRanes features commentary on actual comments made on the web. It’s hilarious and soooooo Over the Top. Really, trust me, this will make you laugh until you cry – unless you’re stunned by the militant ignorance sweeping the world.
Unclutterer is a minimalist, de-junk and streamline your life blog. I find it to be inspiring in my continued quest to pare down my stuff to only that which I love. In fact, it’s the site that got me started and keeps me motivated.
Vera’s Weblog is a nice read about self-sufficient living in Minnesota. Vera is a German transplant and has an interesting perspective about life in the states. She, too, doesn’t post as often as I’d like.
Verbotomy is a word lover’s paradise – especially if you love coining new words and defining them. This blog is also good for the first chuckle of the day.
Jim over at Wabi-Sabi is a colleague and his blog focuses on politics and his family life. I love, absolutely love, how much he loves being a dad, a husband, and a progressive.
And so, these are my nominations for the Over the Top Award. Those of you willing to pass it on, feel free to grab it and wear the award proudly on your site. I hate the “grab-if-you-want-it” bestowing of awards, but, truthfully, I can’t pick just six and I’m only doing it this way because I can’t make you accept and follow the rules of acceptance.
Really, these are my favorites and I do a lot of blog surfing. Enjoy! And thank-you, Buzzardbilly, for the Over the Top Award. I love, and appreciate, any and all recognition for my attempts at sharing my life.
Over the Top Award for Me, Me, Me (and some of you)
Hot damn and cold succotash! For the price of answering a few questions in one word or less (more if I cheat like Buzzard Billy), I can have the Over the Top Award. I love awards – they make my Warm Fuzzies sweat.
Buzzard Billy, whom I’m determined to meet (we’re soulmates even if she doesn’t think so), received the award and tantalized me with the possibility of getting it. Woo Hoo! I can only get it by contributing to the meme with one-word answers to 35 questions. (That sucker is mine. Mine, mine, mine.) The complete rules are as follows:
Copy and change the answers to suit you and pass it on.
•Answers may be one word only.
•Once you have filled it out be sure to pass it on to 6 of your favorite bloggers.
•Alert them that they have been awarded!
•Have fun!
1. Where is your cell phone? Buried
Yes. It does weigh 50 lbs.
I normally do not carry a purse purse, but something so big as to veer toward satchel status. Last spring I decided once again to try the Small Purse Experiment. It’s lasted longer than ever, but due to recent events, I gave in and returned to the Briefcase Disguised as a purse. HMOKeefe and I scoured Boston in search of it – primarily as a means to get home the laptop he gave me for my birthday in 2008.
I’ve always been a big purse person. As a teenager, my first purse was a giant carpetbag tapestry kind of thing. While I never use 99% of it, I’m not comfortable unless I’m carrying everything I own with me. Chief of these is my agenda – a large binder containing all the paper of my life – bills, calendars, cards, fortunes, amusing horoscopes, and a medicine bag that detached just yesterday.
Though there is a designated pocket, I most never use it. Without fail, the cell phone migrates to the bottom.
2. Your hair? Flamboyant
My hair. Other than my height, it’s probably my most distinguishing feature. Waist length, dark brown, straight as a devout Christian, and becoming streaked with white and silver. Folks seem to want me to dye it. I, however, love the white and silver. At my temples, I have white streaks that now extend to the very ends of my hair. In the Cherokee tradition, these are termed wisdom locks. In others, they’re witch’s locks. Take your pick. Note: I meant straight in the sense of moral, free of really bad vices – you know – the old straight and narrow. I know several devout Christians of various sexual orientations. Viva la difference!)
3. Your mother? Resilient
Barefoot in West Virginia
My mom is a marvel. After a miserable childhood, she managed to become a dynamic woman. At 69, she wears pink chucks, kayaks, and plays with power tools. I oscillate between being thrilled and aghast that the older I get the more like my mother I become. (I wear black chucks, but I’ve been pining for red ones – no kayak yet, but it’s more appealing than it once was.)
4. Your father? Amazing
After a childhood even more horrific than Mom’s, Dad is alive and kicking – no mean feat given four tours of Viet Nam. Presently, he’s developed a walking addiction. After two knee replacement surgeries and damage done in a car wreck when he was 8 (and his father was killed), Dad is walking at least 7 miles a day on terrain that is extremely hilly. He expects to make 1500 miles by the end of the year. Did I mention he’s 71? Continue reading
W. Va. Fur and Root 