Thanksgiving-lite

Photo: Chronica Domus

Through a concatenation of circumstances, this is the first year I can recall that we are to celebrate the Thanksgiving holiday en famille, at home, just the three of us.  I am calling it Thanksgiving-lite.  Ahead lies a very busy social weekend so we have deliberately chosen to keep the day uncomplicated and low-key.  We will share a cozy late-afternoon fireside dinner in the drawing room, seated around the small English Regency Pembroke table that usually resides against the wall in the dining room.  I did say it would be cozy.  Such useful occasional tables are among the most versatile pieces of furniture ever invented.  Easily movable, thanks to brass casters, and expandable (drop-leaf) design, they are excellent tables at which to dine in the smallest of spaces.

We are at heart social creatures, and although not entertaining the usual crowd of waifs and strays, this Thanksgiving day, we are still planning a little fun later in the evening. We will enjoy the welcomed companionship of our dear friends Harvey and Jeannette over desserts, coffee, and postprandial drinks.  I have baked a sinfully delicious spiced pumpkin cheesecake, an apple pie, and of course, a traditional pumpkin pie.

Waiting in the wings, dessert too will be moved into the drawing room this evening 

in time for our guests' arrival

Photo: Chronica Domus

As I look back over the year, I find myself being thankful for a veritable cornucopia of simple pleasures. Most of all I am thankful for my family and friends, their health, and for the joy they bring into my life.  I am a richer person for it.  Oh, and how could I have almost forgotten to mention my dear beloved Mavro, another year older and slower, but still reveling in his golden years.

I am thankful to you too, my loyal readers, and wish you all a joyous Thanksgiving.

Photo: Chronica Domus

What do you have planned in celebration of today, and most importantly what are you thankful for this Thanksgiving day?

Possibly The Best Cranberry Sauce Ever

Black Mission figs and fragrant rosemary are what make this cranberry sauce recipe such a smash hit

Photo: Chronica Domus

I've never quite understood the need to serve cranberry sauce with turkey.  However, food traditions are hard to break, especially when one is trying one's best as a hostess to adhere to long-established Thanksgiving fare which is, after all, part and parcel of the holiday.

In England, turkey is the traditional meat of choice for the majority of households on Christmas day (goose a close second).  I only ever recall the presence of cranberry sauce at table in the years we were to spend Christmas day at my uncle and aunt's house.  My aunt was an excellent cook, a real powerhouse that would whip up a storm for a crowd with little fuss and with all the execution of a military exercise.  She made everything from scratch except, that is, the cranberry sauce.  The solid red unidentifiable canned mass that was presented on a plate was so dense it could actually be sliced. Aside from the color, I don't think anyone would actually be able to guess there were real cranberries in that "sauce" (isn't sauce supposed to be somewhat runny by nature?).  No wonder the stuff never made an appearance at my own parents' table.  The last time I celebrated Christmas at the home of my uncle and aunt, I noticed an upgrade had come about.  The cranberry sauce came out of a jar, which to my eye looked infinitely more appealing than its canned cousin.  Yet, I was unable to bring myself to sample it.

It was not until I started cooking Thanksgiving dinner for my own family and friends here in America that I realized cranberry sauce is considered a staple, and fully expected to make an appearance on the big day as much as pumpkin pie.  What was a girl to do?  Would I crumble and bring myself to purchase a can of the gelatinous goop passed off as cranberry sauce?

Mulling things over for all but a few seconds, I decided the answer was a resounding no.  Absolutely not!  I was happy to give the can the cold shoulder at my table, thank you very much!  You see, it was through the thoughtful act of a friend that passed along her old copies of  Bon Appétit magazine that I long ago unearthed the best recipe (possibly) in the world for home cooked cranberry sauce.

I was chuffed to bits to discover that the sauce was really rather simple to make, requiring little output for the result, and it could be made up to a week in advance when one's kitchen is still relatively quiet as compared to the frenzy of activity leading up to Thanksgiving.  Today, the recipe is published electronically, here, if you too wish to give the can the boot and make your sauce from scratch.

The ingredients simmering away prior to the cranberries being added
(warning: your kitchen is about to be enveloped in a heavenly aroma!)

Photo: Chronica Domus

The addition of figs, fresh rosemary, and an unexpected dash of black pepper are what make this version of cranberry sauce so memorable.  You might very well think the combination is an odd one, but together with the ruby port wine (I've used both ruby and reserve port depending on what I had on hand), and an aged viscous balsamic vinegar, you are assured of a winner.

Fresh cranberries popping in the sauce pan

Photo: Chronica Domus

The cranberries are cooked a few minutes longer than the recipe suggests which insures that all the berries have broken down

Photo: Chronica Domus

The finished cranberry sauce glistens in its Anglo-Irish cut glass bowl

Photo: Chronica domus

Although those of your fortunate guests who expect cranberry sauce to be served alongside their turkey and trimmings will rave about its flavor, it is by no means my favorite use of the sauce.  No, for that I turn to dessert.

An early-nineteenth century syllabub glass holds the icy fruity treat

Photo: Chronica Domus

You see, a smattering of this delightfully fruity stuff, warmed in a pan just before serving, makes an incredible topping for a dollop or two of vanilla ice cream.  The tart fruity sauce really pairs well with the creaminess of the ice cream, and is a big winner each time I serve it for dessert around the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays. Besides, it is a most delicious solution of what to do with the inevitable leftover sauce (the recipe yields just over three cups).

Please do venture forth into your kitchen over the next week and make a batch of this memorable version of cranberry sauce.  I'm certain your guests will thank you for it.

Does cranberry sauce make an appearance at your Thanksgiving table and if so, is it homemade or canned?

Yes You Can!

The first homemade pumpkin pie of the season

Photo: Chronica Domus

When I bid adieu to England and moved to America in the early 1990's, I had no idea what pumpkin pie was.  I imagined it was a savory concoction akin to a plump pork pie.

England's famous pork pies

Source

I soon learned that it was not a pie at all, but rather a tart. At least it was according to my cultural point of reference (a pie, as I understood it at the time, possessed a pastry top and bottom, a tart just a bottom).  I was also intrigued to discover that pumpkin tart pie was not at all savory as one might expect when eating squash.  In fact, the delectably sweet and custard-like filling was reminiscent of a childhood favorite dessert, the mysteriously named Gypsy Tart, dished out as part of one's school dinners.  Ah, what fond memories I have of woofing slices of that down the hatch!  I could have given Oliver Twist a run for his money I can assure you.

Gypsy Tart, possibly my fondest memory of school dinners 

and not too dissimilar in texture to pumpkin tart pie

Source

My inaugural slice of velvety pumpkin tart pie was served to me at my mother-in-law's house during my very first Thanksgiving feast. My American husband explained that it was his favorite pie, and a staple at practically every Thanksgiving table in the country. It is what Christmas pudding is to a British Christmas.  He was certainly right on that score.  Now that I consider myself a seasoned pumpkin tart pie eater, I would go as far as declaring it the quintessential American pie, even more so than apple.  I know of no other country that features this particular pie flavoring as part of its national cuisine.

I soon added pumpkin tart pie to my baking repertoire and make at least two of them for our annual Thanksgiving dinner for waifs and strays.  Being a curious cook, and one that enjoys using fresh local ingredients and cooking from scratch, I was quite taken aback to discover that most recipes I stumbled across called for canned pumpkin. Well, I was having none of that I can tell you!  No, I was determined to make my very own filling, the old-fashioned way, just as it was done by the early eighteenth century New England cooks to celebrate their regional holiday.  I'll admit, that ridiculous notion lasted all but a few time-consuming and pointless attempts.  For, you see, fiddling about with rock-hard pumpkins, slimy and slippery orange flesh, and sharp kitchen knives is not a happy combination, or a worthwhile pursuit. At least it's not if you have this not so secret weapon at your disposal:

It's not known as "America's Favorite Pumpkin" for nothing

Photo: Chronica Domus

Yes, shockingly to me, here is a case where canned proves to be a better option than the rigmarole of making purée from scratch.  The contents are consistently smooth and firm (unlike my dismal soupy attempts), and most importantly they are flavorful. Why reinvent the wheel when you don't have to?  Best of all, a fail-safe recipe is thoughtfully provided right there on the label.

Now, if you too are tempted to make your own pumpkin tarts pies, and should you decide to use this recipe, I shall disclose upfront that I've tinkered with the spice proportions.  In my not-so-humble opinion, it makes quite an improvement in flavor to the final outcome.  I believe the amount of cinnamon called for in the Libby's recipe (1 teaspoon) completely overpowers the other spices so I reduce the quantity by half, and introduce freshly grated nutmeg (about 1/2 teaspoon) as a substitute. This infuses the filling with a pleasantly subtle aroma and flavor that is difficult to describe but must be tried. I also insist on using whole cloves that I crush with the aid of my trusty mortar and pestle.

There is something quite satisfying about bashing the living daylights out of one's spices, to say nothing of the aroma that fills the kitchen air

Photo: Chronica Domus

It is this combination and proportion of fresh spices that sets my tarts pies apart from the potpourri-smelling examples one so often encounters on supermarket shelves. At least that is what I've been told by those that have sampled them.  Of course, homemade pastry is a must and I strongly encourage you too to make your own. I have been using this recipe ever since I crossed the pond, and discovered it in Martha Stewart's Pies and Tarts cookbook, a copy of which was given to me by a friend who did not bake.  Incidentally, the pastry recipe also works well for savory filled pies too, as the amount of sugar called for is imperceptible.

Ready to pop into the hot oven

Photo: Chronica Domus

I do hope that you too will consider skipping the awful supermarket pretenders and instead make a few tarts pies for your Thanksgiving feast this year. If I can do it as a transplanted Brit, albeit with the help of Libby's, you can too.

With the addition of a little whipped cream, our pie was swiftly devoured as part 

of our Sunday dinner last weekend

Photo: Chronica Domus

Tell me, do you serve pumpkin pie to your family and friends on Thanksgiving day, or do you have another favorite that makes an appearance at your table?  And, for those of you that bake, do you opt for canned pumpkin purée or make your own?

 Nota bene: I am neither paid nor do I receive recompense in exchange for applauding products or services within my blog.  I do so because I enjoy them.  If you are a kindred spirit, you too enjoy recommending nice things to fellow good eggs.

A Visit with Lisa of Privilege Blog

A typically overcast but warm November morn at the Alameda Antiques Faire
with views of San Francisco's skyline on the horizon
Photo: Chronica Domus

Last weekend I had the distinct pleasure of meeting Lisa, the prolific author of the blog Privilege. Lisa writes primarily of fashion and style for ladies in their 50's, peppered with thoughtful musings on her gardening exploits, and the occasional travel adventure. She has also written extensively about her personal background examining its societal context.  If you've yet to have the pleasure of reading Lisa's blog, please do.  She can turn a phrase like few others can.

Our visit materialized from a blog post I had written back in September about some early English creamware plates I unearthed at the Alameda Antiques Faire.  Lisa left a comment explaining that although she had absolutely no experience with "The Hunt", she would dearly enjoy it, especially as she was on the look out for some older items to add to her home.  Naturally, an invitation was swiftly dispatched requesting the pleasure of Lisa's company at a future faire excursion. I was charmed when she graciously accepted the challenge of navigating the broad and muddy waters of this enormous market with me and my dear friend Jeanette.  Now, let me tell you, it takes a sturdy gal (or guy) to wade through the vast assortment of flotsam and jetsam in this place.  Of course, Lisa proved her mettle and performed swimmingly with the sheer overload of "stuff" jam-packed into the eight-hundred or so stalls that could very easily make most people's heads spin.

I shall not divulge too much more on our adventure because Lisa has today published a post on our day out.  I encourage you to read it by going here.

We trio of hunter gathering gabbers had such a swell time of it that we promised to plot another excursion to the faire in the not too distant future.  It can take several visits to find exactly what one might have in mind to bring home, making each visit a unique experience as offerings and stall holders constantly change.

Lisa, Jeannette, and I chit chatted so much that when it was time to bid our adieus, we knew that the day had been a roaring success, not necessarily because of the trinkets and keepsakes we managed to unearth, but because we had found something even more precious, a new friendship.  What a wonderfully enriching experience it was to take a virtual friendship to the next level and turn it into something three dimensional.

Thank you, Lisa, for being such a fun sport.  Your enthusiasm and easy company were a joy.  I very much look forward to our next adventure, wherever that may take us.

An Artful Remembrance on All Souls' Day

Photo: Chronica Domus

In many countries and cultures across the world, our dearly departed family members and friends are remembered on November 1 and 2.  Some call this holiday All Souls' Day, others the Day of The Dead.

I have previously written two posts on the curious topic of mourning artwork, and if you'd care to read those, they can found here and here.

Today, I'm sharing yet another piece of mourning art from my collection.  The image, constructed entirely of human hair, depicts a neoclassical draped urn surmounting a tomb.  It commemorates a death on July 13, 1839 of a sixty-four year old.  I have not a clue if the person being memorialized, whose initials are A.J.B., is a male or female, but there are two colors of hair strands in the image which might indicate that a surviving spouse added his or her hair to the deceased's.

A weeping willow tree and pansy are typical symbols associated with mourning during the late-eighteenth and early-nineteenth centuries

Photo: Chronica Domus

This is another favorite in my collection not only for the beautiful imagery which has been skillfully executed, but because of what is found on the back of the five inch square wooden frame.

The original manufacturer's label has been pasted on the dark paper covered backing, and has somehow managed to survive intact through the ensuing years since it was made.

A Parisian perfumer and hair cutter specializing in all things hair related 

offers his patrons pictures made of hair cuttings

Photo: Chronica Domus

Although the piece was created in Paris, it had somehow found its way to Amsterdam, which is where I located it. It now sits in my house thousands of miles across the globe here in America.

I find it strangely touching to think that while the person whom this hair work memorializes has long been lost to history along with his or her name, today on All Souls' Day, through the wonders of modern technology, we are able to share a view of this handsome diminutive and eminently personal work of art, and pause to contemplate just who this person may have been.

Do you make a point of remembering your loved ones on this holiday?