On Christmas morning 2011, as I begin peeling the ten pounds of potatoes for Potatoes Pascal to go with the rest of our Christmas dinner of Balsamic Roasted Vegetables, Faux Beef Wellington, Croquembouche, et al, I begin musing with loosely connected thoughts of Christmases past.
Peeling ten pounds of potatoes for 16 will be a snap compared to the fifteen pounds we cook for our usual compliment of 28-30 family members.
I hope that the ten pounds will provide, as usual, extra for sending some home with the children.
In my early years, Dad would have been peeling the potatoes – with his pocketknife which he carried every day of his life. It was the sharpest knife in the house because he sharpened it at least once a month, even if it was seldom used.
Dad, being a man of his times, did very little in the kitchen – so little in fact that it didn’t take long to mentally list his kitchen skills. (Oops, my high school English teacher, Miss Hudson would never have allowed this split infinitive). Other than peeling potatoes, I remember that he occasionally fried apples – probably trying to recreate remembered tastes of his childhood – apples fried in butter with cinnamon.
The only other kitchen skill of his that I remember was his cooking food for his dogs. I don’t recall what was in the dog food and I can’t explain the smell! However, if I ever smell it again (which will never happen), I will recognize it — without fail.
Dogs. Under Mother’s supervision, we usually had only two dogs at one time at our house in the small town of Olustee Oklahoma – one being a house dog and one a hunting out of doors dog. In addition, Dad had other hunting dogs, at least two that he paid a farmer friend, Eldred Hollingsworth, to keep for him. When dad wanted to hunt, he would stop by Mr. Hollingsworth, load his other dogs into the back of the pickup and “a hunting he would go”. This was one of the great joys of his life. He could recognize each dog’s distinctive bark.
When Dad had finished his peeling job, he was through to do whatever he wanted while Mother was busy preparing breakfast of fried dove and quail that Dad had shot the day before – using his dogs to flush them out of the brush. Along with biscuits and gravy, it was the annual Christmas day breakfast. After breakfast, Mother’s only other job was to fix Christmas dinner for 5 children and their offspring, which included (not exhaustive) mashed potatoes, candied sweet potatoes, dressing, rolls, and turkey. She had made the pies the day before – usually, pecan, pumpkin, custard, and mince. At least she didn’t have to “do” the dishes. That was the job of my younger sister Carolyn and me.
As I finish my peeling job, I am thinking of the next job that my wife Pat and I must do before preparing dinner. It is to prepare breakfast for 16. It consists, among other things, of sausage gravy and biscuits. In addition, Pat made the German Christmas Braid last night. This is a tradition that had started with the children’s German father, Joe Schiebel. I have been their father only since 1980. 
This is required for Christmas day. It would be a family sacrilege if Pat didn’t make it.
When we moved to Collington Retirement Community on June 12, 2012, the family seemed to be adrift. Not able to have family Christmas dinner in Annapolis, we arranged to have the family dinner at Collington and were given space in the Ivy Bar – which we filled. The food was good. However, it was not like the old times – but at least we were all together.
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Kathleen’s Potatoes Pascal Gourmet Magazine, May 2004 Butter for greasing baking dish Put oven rack in upper third of oven and preheat oven to 375°F. Butter a 13- by 9-inch glass baking dish. Scatter garlic in bottom of baking dish. Peel potatoes and cut into 1/8-inch-thick slices. Layer potatoes in dish, sprinkling each layer with some of salt and pepper, then pour cream over potatoes. Bake, gently tamping potatoes down occasionally, until tender and top is golden brown (cream will be slightly thickened), about 45 minutes. |
The trouble was that when we finished, we had to move out of the Ivy Bar so the next people could have the room. Going to our cottage was not big enough for all.
Usually, our Christmas was an all-day affair when we could re-bond, particularly with those families from Michigan, California and Oregon.
Because of these inadequacies, daughter Vicky has taken on the responsibility of an all-day affair.
God’s in the Heavens, All’s Right with the World – Robert Browning
