Holiday Goodies

This Christmas especially I am wishing we could be with my Mom and Dad and sister in Delaware. But it is not to be, so I will have to make do, recreating the traditional Christmas morning breakfast we’ve cooked year after year. Popovers are the star, with scrambled eggs and scrapple on the side. Scrapple might be a bit hard to find in Massachusetts (!), but I will definitely be making my Dad’s famous popovers. Only I’m not sure which pan I’m going to use.

When I was a very little girl, my job was to stand on a stool, dip a paper towel into a can of Crisco, and grease the cast-iron muffin pan with the stuff. The Crisco kind of went by the wayside, but for some reason, that cast iron pan wound up with me, and has traveled around the Northeast for the last 25 years or so. I’m not sure how old the pan is (it’s marked “Griswold, Erie PA,” so I know for sure that it was made before 1957, when the Wagner company absorbed Griswold. But it is likely much older than that). But I think it is due a little more respect than I have given it lately.

As with any Southern celebration, the table will be donned and decked with the literal pieces of our family’s legacy. A great aunt’s china, grandmother’s silver, or mama’s linens. We Southerners know our people and know their worth–a worth laden with sentiment, honor, and legacy if not anything monetarily per say. The memories of those who celebrated this meal are held dear as we utilize their treasures as we shepherd our lives into this New Year.

The garden shall provide our centerpieces. It is wintertime after all, and time to put the garden to bed for a long winter’s nap. Cedar, cypress, boxwood, holly, and magnolia will be clipped and set into a coiffure bouquet only the garden can provide. Pine boughs and cones, bowls of pecans in silver dishes, blue juniper berries and deep aubergine privet berries will augment the serenity of the season and a dose of color to our homage of garden greens. Touches of white from early Paperwhites, silvery artemisia, and popcorn tree will truly sparkle against the deep evergreens’ foliage, looking ever so dapper in any cachepot, tureen, pot, or pail.

We shall eat for progression, luck, health and wealth, and a myriad of good things, and will end the dining festivities with sweet morsels of Southern goodness. Our gardens and land shall be ever present as our décor–a gentle reminder of where our provisions were grown and raised. The food may be spiced with meaning, tradition, and superstition, but the lore has become a part of our culture. For a few hundred years, we had to eat what we had, what we grew. Though times have changed, eating that food, eating “poor,” is still cherished and revered so we may truly eat “rich.” We shall have rice for riches and peas for peace and be no worse for the wear. From this Farmer’s table to yours, Happy New Year!

Cinco de Mayo is not necessarily celebrated as a national holiday in Mexico, but here in the United States it's a celebration of Mexican culture and a day where no excuse is needed to fill up on Mexican favorites. Guacamole, tacos, and margaritas are all popular when May 5 rolls around, but what about dessert? One of the most popular Mexican desserts is tres leches cake, a sponge cake made of three types of milk, hence the name. Sweetened condensed milk, evaporated milk, and heavy cream make up this incredibly sweet cake.

All over Latin America and even the Caribbean, people enjoy tres leches cake for holidays or just simple family get-togethers, so why not serve it on Cinco de Mayo this year? Some recipes for the cake use butter, which creates a more dense cake, but this recipe leaves it out to create a softer texture. Also, the egg yolks and whites are beaten separately, which creates more volume. The resulting texture is truly sponge-like, easily absorbing about 1 quart of creamy liquid. After chilling, the cake is ready for the final flourish of whipped cream.

Before moving to Paris, we sold our house in New Jersey, and I gave away most of my kitchenwares. No more unnecessary objects, I told myself, putting cookbooks detailing how to make rice in fifty-five ways in a box for Good Will. Wedding presents that never made it to the table – the egg steamer, the fish plate, an orange sugar bowl – went into the box as well. I pictured my post-Paris kitchen as holding nothing but my old, beloved Le Cruesets: friendly, large and utilitarian.

Then last week I succumbed to a wild desire for Staub Mini Round Cocotte in a shiny burnt-crimson color. There’s no end to the gorgeous food that can be made in my cocottes. For a dinner party on Friday I used the very best chocolate – after much investigation, my current favorite is Michel Cluizel’s – with generous splashes of Grand Marnier and a box of eggs, to make fierce little chocolate cakes. Under the giddy influence of a Parisian December, I gave each cake a generous dab of crème fraiche thinned with Grand Marnier and topped with a translucent star made from pure spun sugar.