Do you know of a great recipe for forty pounds of chicken wings?
The trouble with raising a large family is that the only kind of cooking you can do is for a crowd. And after everybody grows up and moves out, the cook only remembers recipes that come in one size – LARGE.
One day a couple of months ago, I was ordering some office supplies online at Costco’s Business department. I noticed a pull-down menu for “Groceries and Floral”. Browse this department at your own risk. I have since vowed never to step foot anywhere near it again. When Costco labels a category as “Grocery and Floral”, they really mean GROCERY AND FLORAL.
People who use Costco’s Business section for GROCERY AND FLORAL apparently mean the restaurant business. They’re probably catering to hordes of starving convention attendees — not a little cookout for your grandchildren.
Technically, on average, I only cook for two to four people every day, depending on who’s living here and who’s laboring at our Ford Video work stations. As a long-time Costco shopper I’m used to buying in big sizes. The reason I can do that is because when you shop in one of the Costco warehouses, and buy – say – 12 pounds of sausages, when you get home and open them, you find they’ve been packaged in individual packs of 3 or 4 pounds each, to be conveniently stored in the freezer till needed.
So when I browsed all the items in GROCERY AND FLORAL I was impressed. “Hmm, this is just what I need”, I thought to myself. “That great Costco quality delivered right to my door.” The hardest thing about shopping at a Costco warehouse is the dread in knowing you’ve got to transport it home. And if you get one of the packages of 36 rolls of toilet paper, there’s not enough room in the cart for the rest of the stuff you need. Man cannot live by toilet paper alone.
Thinking ahead to all the glorious barbecues we could have if summer ever comes, these items were among those I included in my buying frenzy that day:
One 40 lb. case of chicken thighs at 90 cents per lb. One 40 lb. case of chicken wings disjointed at 1.29 per lb. One 35 lb. case of pork spare ribs at 2.05 per lb.
There was more. Much more. But I’d rather not discuss it.
All was fine until the order was delivered. It was only fitting that it was transported to me in a large semi-truck.
I put all the groceries away, and then tried to lift the first case of meat – the chicken thighs. It was too heavy to lunge it up onto the kitchen counter, so I cracked open the box on the floor, and that’s when the axe fell, figuratively speaking. Actually, an axe would have come in handy for what i was about to deal with.
Inside the box were what seemed like hundreds of chicken thighs, not packaged in smaller packs, but all together and frozen solid in one huge block. Same with the chicken wings. It would take more than global warming to thaw those icebergs.
The 35 pounds of spare ribs were also frozen solid, but they at least, were encased in plastic packages – 4 slabs to a pack.
According to my son-in-law Brad, the reason our nice normal neighbors across the street moved away, was probably because of scenes like this one: in an attempt to reduce the huge frozen block of chicken thighs to manageable amounts that could be packaged, my daughter Susy and I went out on the front porch. We kept trying to lift the box up high, and then hurl it to the concrete floor of the porch. When, over and over, that failed to break the ice jam, we tried hammers, screwdrivers and chisels. Nothing worked.
That’s when I knew that one of these days, I would be preparing a single recipe for barbecued chicken wings or thighs. As Donald Trump would say, “It’ll be HUGE”. It would have to be all or nothing.
The reason I’m telling you this, is that I think the time has come for the thawing and “presentation” of the forty pounds of chicken wings. In a couple of days, we might be having 8 visitors coming from Portland, Oregon. The Milners and Roeckers and probably several of my family members may be here, and if everybody cooperates, we’re going to be eating a lot of you-know-what.
Anything worth doing is worth doing to excess! That’s what I always say.
Today’s blob is all about the one and only Joe Stark. You may never be so lucky as to meet another guy quite like him, but you’ll wish you could.
Joe is my grandson-in-law and he’s 29 years old today. He was married to my granddaughter Gretchen Warden in 2008. To say that we got real lucky when he married into our family, is putting it mildly. His patron saint, St. Joseph, was definitely looking out for us.
Joe has a goofy kind of charisma – that’s the only way I can describe it. There’s something about him that makes you feel happy when you’re in his presence. I wish there was some way to clone him so we could share the wealth.
Granddaughter Gretchen wrote the following about the love of her life:
“Joseph James Stark was born on July 6, 1982 to James and Kimberly Stark of Renton, Washington.
Joe was a very energetic and active child. Hehas one sister, Tiffany who is two years younger than he.
Joe has loved sports since he was very young. He was active in soccer, Little League, and Boy Scouts.
Joe’s family was always very supportive of his interest in sports. He cannot remember his dad ever missing one of his games.
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He wrestled and played soccer at Hazen High School in Renton.
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While he was at Hazen, Joe made a great group of friends that are still just as close today.
Joe developed an amazing work ethic early on and got a job at Safeway while he was still in high school. When he graduated from Hazen, Joe got a job at Target and his first apartment with his friends from high school. While working at Target, he attended Bellevue Community College for a couple of years. He then began working at the Issaquah Costco warehouse in the bakery. Joe excelled in the bakery at Costco and at a young age was promoted to a supervisor and then was offered an opportunity to become the Bakery Manager at the Everett Costco.
I met Joe through his group of high school friends while he wasstill a supervisor in the Issaquah warehouse, I went to SeattleUniversity with his friend Tim and his friend Ricky who dated a close friend of mine.
I remember being so impressed by Joe’s dedication toand appreciation for his job. He was one of the hardest workers I hadever seen. Joe put blood, sweat, and tears into the Everett Costcobakery that was in sad shape when he first got there. He put in crazy hours,even working some 24 hour shifts to make sure all orders were processedon time and employees received their time off requests and requestedschedules. He maintained that position for two years but stepped downright after we got married, to adjust to life in the town-home we hadjust purchased in the summer of 2008 in Kirkland, and to life with ourtwo new dogs, Tyson the English Bulldog and Colt the Doberman.
We love our dogs so much that Joe and I decided to start a dog walking service called K9 Boot Camp a couple of years ago. We took groups of dogs to the off-leash park before going to work in the mornings. It was very fun during sunny months, and it was a great time for our own dogs.
However most of the mornings were snowy or rainy as is typical for this area, but Joe went out anyway, regardless of the weather and never complained. He showed the same appreciation and drive for this new endeavor as he does for any other.
Joe recently decided he wanted to seek out promotions within Costco for supervisory and management positions that will again require longer days, so we closed our dog walking service. and he has begun interviewing for new opportunities. He is two months away from his ten year anniversary at Costco!
In his spare time, Joe stays active by playing on soccer and basketball teams with his friends. He jogs regularly with our Doberman, Colt and our newest edition our Doberman puppy, Whiskey. Joe spends lots of time with his English Bulldog. Tyson, who loves riding in the car, meeting new people, playing with other dogs, NOT exercising and most of all being near Joe!
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Joe loves spending time with family and I love this about him because I do too! We have season tickets to the Seattle Sounders with his parents so we look forward to seeing them at each soccer game. His parents, Jim and Kim, live close by in Renton and his sister,Tiffany and her husband Travis live in Bonney Lake with their two English Bulldogs. Max and Bentley.
He enjoys fishing with his dad and his Grandpa Jim, and visiting his Grandpa Jim and Grandma Irene in Oregon when he has time off from work.
Joe often drives me to work so he can stop by and visit my parents and my sister, Josie. We have Josie on frequent overnights. Joe and my brother Neil take the dogs on lots of fun hikes, and my sister Elizabeth and her husband Sean have gotten us all hooked on game nights.
Joe is such a great husband and best friend! He is funny, thoughtful, friendly, outgoing, adventurous, and so generous. He is always thinking of ways to help people he cares about whether it is mowing the lawn for either of our parents, helping people with home-improvement projects, surprising me by cleaning our house before I get home from work, or offering people rides anywhere!
Our next adventure is our trip to Maui this July for Joe’s friend Tim’s wedding. He works so hard – I am really happy we get to take a break for this special vacation!”
Same here. Gretchen is no stranger to hard work herself, let me tell you! I hope they both get to bask for days in the Hawaiian fun and sunshine with their friends.
Come to think of it, though, whenever Joe Stark shows up anywhere, there’s plenty of fun and sunshine to go around. He makes the world seem like a nicer place.
Happy 29th birthday, Joe! But in regard to your trip to Maui this month, and to my urging that you and Gretchen start taking ballroom dance classes, I have to inform you that doing the hula is definitely NOT what I had in mind.
Usually, two of the objects which should be excluded at weddings are ex-wives and red wine. But sometimes rules should be broken. This was one of the times.
When my niece, Christine Fitzpatrick, was planning her June 1971 wedding to Mark Milner, she spotted her “dream” wedding gown on the cover of Brides Magazine. It was an issue in late 1970 or early 1971. I remember when my sister Joan showed me the cover. The dress looked like a frothy confection too delicious to eat. In the photograph, a pink ribbon had been woven through the lace on the bodice, but otherwise, it was the color of a fluffy white cloud.
And my niece did it justice! She looked like a storybook bride. That perfect dress seemed to have been designed for her exclusive use.
Chris chose to have a blue ribbon threaded through the lace, instead of pink, and the bridesmaids and flower girl (my niece Denise) all wore dresses in the same shade of blue.
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Fast forward six years. To 1977. The wedding gown appears again in public for the second time. This time my daughter, Susy Ford, was wearing it at her wedding to Curt Warden. The ribbons in the lace were aqua this time, and they coordinated with the flower-patterned fabric in the bridesmaids dresses. Susy looked beautiful! When I asked her what she remembered about wearing the dress, she said “I distinctly remember how comfortable it was!”
It’s interesting how the anniversaries of these weddings are only one day apart. June 25 for Susy and Curt. June 26 for Chris and Mark.
Fast forward five more years. The wedding dress makes its third (and final) public appearance (as a gown). My niece Rene’ Fitzpatrick – Chris’s younger sister – wore it at her wedding to Dan Melchior in 1982. This time, the ribbons laced through the bodice were pink, and again, the gown enveloped its wearer in its gentle beauty.
The really Twilight Zone factor about this magical dress is that it needed no alterations for any of the three brides who wore it. None.
We’ll never know if that miraculous fitting worked for more brides. Because of an unpredictable accident, no more brides got to wear this lucky dress. Not even Chris’s littlest sister Denise (Fitzpatrick) Fortune.
Every bride’s worst nightmare (well, one of them, anyway) happened at Rene’ and Dan’s wedding reception. If this was a movie, maybe an ex-wife would have hurled a glass of red wine at the bride, thus ruining the occasion – as well as the dress. But it wasn’t quite that theatrical.
Due no doubt to the absence of any ex-wives, the perpetrator of the crime was the unwary and innocent bride herself. Rene‘ did it! Gasp! Spilled a whole glass of red wine on what had become a family heirloom – a legacy – Chris’s wedding gown.
Rene’ explains: “My family (the Fitzpatricks), and Dan’s family (the Melchiors) have totally different ideas of traditional wedding party activities. I had never done the ‘chicken dance’ before. They also do something called ‘chair dancing’. I’m not saying it’s not fun, just different. Well, amongst all of these dancing activities, Dan’s little brother bumped into me while I held my glass of wine. Me, just being old enough to drink, didn’t really understand the whole red wine thing while wearing a white dress. Chris’ face told me how bad the situation was.”
“When I should have been doing something about the stain, such as cold water, seltzer water, etc, Dan’s brothers and sister were ‘kidnapping’ me from the party. This consisted of exactly what it sounds like. I was hiked up over Dan’s brother’s shoulder and carried, all the way down the long driveway.”
“By the way, my mother was very perturbed about this. Trust me, I heard about it later.”
Poor unsuspecting Rene’. How could she have known she was the trigger for the best thing that could have happened to the dress she had just ruined?
It was a catastrophe. Or should have been.
One day, a few years later, Chris was sadly examining the stored disaster, and she had a monumental inspiration. “So it can’t be worn as a dress, anymore”, she reasoned, “But maybe there’s still life in the old girl, yet!”
And so it was, thanks to Rene’s distracted fumble with a glass of red wine, and to Chris’s inspired imagination, the magical dress was reincarnated.
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In its later lives, the legacy of the dress has been multiplied. Since then, it has become a lovely wedding purse for the wedding of Chris’s daughter Heather to Dan Roecker; a christening cap for Rene’s grand-baby Braxton; a treasured christening baby blanket for Heather’s babies’ Jake and Ruby;
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and another beautiful wedding purse for my granddaughter Elizabeth Warden for her marriage to Sean Smith in 2005.
As an interesting wrinkle to the tradition of a ring-bearer’s pillow, Elizabeth’s junior bridesmaid – my granddaughter Josie – sans ring-bearer – carried the rings inside Elizabeth’s purse so the best man could reach in for them to present to the minister when the vows were read.
A few years back, Chris created an heirloom booklet for those who had so far shared in the dress. It was only four pages long at the time, but it will grow longer in the future:
Chris says “The remains of the gown hang downstairs right now. I’m currently preparing to cut out a piece for nephew Joshua Melchior’s wedding to Andrea. I’m thinking about what kind of project I could do for my daughter-in-law Rebecca – I wish I had thought of that when she and Corey got married in 2002.”
I know how you feel, Chris. In the crush of the wedding festivities during my granddaughter Gretchen’s wedding to Joe Stark in 2008, we sadly forgot about Elizabeth’s purse. If I can snag some of the mystical bridal gown cloth, I’m going to cook up a future anniversary treasure for those two. I’m counting on my sister Joan to help me figure out how to do it. Maybe it could be a picture frame for their wedding photo.
Though she got “skipped” as a wearer of the dress, my neglected little niece Denise makes this philosophical comment: “I will say this: like the dress, the marriages that it attended to were built for longevity. (This year, Chris and Mark have been married 40 years, Susy and Curt have been married 34 years, and, as of October, Rene’ and Dan will have been married 29 years.)
“Was there some good juju sewed into those seams?”, Denise asked. “Or just the really great influence of their parents, that the brides had the privilege of watching in their growing up years?”
You’ll be relieved to know that, though deprived of wearing the magical gown, Denise’s marriage to Craig Fortune has somehow managed to be a successful one for the past 20 years come December of this year.
There just aren’t that many magical dresses to go around, and without the red wine stain, this one would probably be spending the rest of its life folded carefully and stored in a box awaiting a wearer who never materializes.
That’s because no modern bride would be caught dead in it. It doesn’t show enough skin. Ninety percent of the wedding gowns sold today are strapless. Today’s brides choose to wear strapless gowns apparently because they don’t have many other choices, or else because otherwise, the marriage might not even be legal. Prince William’s bride Catherine must have shocked the socks off the fashion world when – Gosh – she showed up out of uniform.
In my mind’s eye, I keep seeing Chris’s enchanting dress shared in more reincarnations: bookmarks for our high school or college graduates or retirees for their Bibles or whatever sordid books they’re reading; embellishment for christening gowns, caps, or First Communion, or Confirmation dresses; wedding finery, like, for instance, trim for the wedding gown, or ring-bearer’s pillows, bride’s garters, flower-girl headbands, or anything else that’s “Something Old”, a picture frame for a wedding photo, or for that matter, a three-dimensional wedding announcement or invitation memorializing the event, ala, my creative sister, Joan. The sky’s the limit!
Fun, huh? I may have to be a volunteer for such projects so I’m keeping my sewing machine oiled. The big deal about this forty-year-old dress, – I’m not kidding you – is its magic. If you’re so lucky as to have a piece of it, you know what I mean!
In case you didn’t notice, this is Number 300 in this Going on 80 blog. One every 24 hours since last September 6th. Only 65 to go!
Someday when I have time to go back and read them, I know I’ll be embarrassed, and wish I could have another chance to do it right. That’s when forgery will come in handy. When I get old, I intend to go back in and do lots of mop-up and re-writing. You’ll see. You’ll be amazed. There’ll be a Pulitzer Prize in it for sure! Or at least, a Table of Contents.
The astonishing thing about the whole deal is the way you’ve stuck with it and contributed to it.
Thank you for continuing to read it, for putting up with the corny stuff, for your entertaining comments, corrections, suggestions, for sending me photos, information, and for helping me author lots of it. It has certainly been a team effort.
Stick with me, kid. We’re not there yet, but there’s light at the end of the tunnel. (And, no, it’s not from an oncoming train.)
Today is the birthday of my great nephew Scott James Ford, and my great niece Josie Rae Fortune.
Scott is 24 years old today, and he’s celebrating the event by auditioning for American Idol at the Rose Garden in Portland, Oregon. Let’s keep our fingers crossed !!!
The handsome and talented Scott is the son of my nephew Jim Ford. Scott lives in Eagle Point, Oregon and works for Safeway there. I haven’t seen him for many years but if he’s as cute as he was as a little guy, they should put him through the American Idol auditions on looks and personality alone.
According to Scott’s Facebook . . . ”I have a cat named Jezzabell, and I drive a 2008 Pontiac. I spend most days trying to have fun in whatever I do. i currently work at Safeway, My favorite color is Black even though it’s a shade. I have a lot of people in my family. I have Epilepsy but nothing can hold me back.”
Cousins in our family sharing Scott’s birth year are Alexander Lee Ford from Korea; Andrew Ford from Austin, Texas; Jacob (Jake) Ward (Jenny Ford Ward’s son) from Mankato, Minnesota; Joshua Melchior from Fayetteville, Tennessee; and my granddaughter Arden Tenjou (Gwen Taylor) from Seattle, Washington. No current photos available for Alexander or Andrew, but here’s Arden, Joshua, and Jake.
Good luck with the audition, Scott!
Break a leg, and sing like a bird!
And have a happy 24th birthday!
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Now for the 16th birthday of my little great-niece Josie Rae Fortune. Her mom – my niece Denise kindly wrote this wonderful essay about her.
“…The child who is born on the Sabbath Day Is bonny and blithe and good and gay.”
The official meaning of ‘blithe’ is: “of a happy lighthearted character or disposition.”
Josie Rae Fortune came into our lives on Sunday July 2, 1995. A day that according to doctors was never to have happened. In February of 1995, we were informed that Josie had an in utero stroke. We were told time and again that she wouldn’t make it to be any older than a month old and that was only IF she made it to the day of her birth at all.
Their first mistake, of course, was in forgetting to tell Josie all of the dreary details. ‘Blithe’ also means, “lacking due thought or consideration. Casual. Heedless.” And so, heedlessly she arrived, in spite of the doctor’s clumsy bedside manner.
She is officially diagnosed with cerebral palsy, and as a result of the brain damage due to her stroke, she is also an epileptic. It should be noted that she is a southpaw, by default. Her medical needs and list of surgeries are as long as my arm, but she doesn’t like to complain or dwell on the negative things.
All things are made new again when the sun rises for Josie, and each day is always greeted with a ‘happy lighthearted’ spirit. A hundred times in a hundred ways she tells the world that impossible is a mistake, rather it’s ‘I’m possible’.
Josie really is the perfect daughter. Every football Saturday she can be found watching the Iowa Hawkeyes with her Dad, and they can be found in the exact same place in the living room when the Green Bay Packers play. Not just football for Josie, though, she’ll watch or play pretty much any kind of game you throw at her (punny). If there’s a ball involved, she’s hooked.
When we lived in Iowa, she was a gold medal bowler with the Special Olympics and since moving to Wisconsin in 2008, she received a gold medal on a walk for a charity event at Geneva National Golf course. When receiving this unexpected award, she looked up at her Dad and said with a dreamy look, “I’m a winner.” And a ‘bonny’ one at that you are, Josie.
On the other hand, she’s always willing to get all dolled up, play with make-up, go shopping or do crafts, at the drop of a hat with Mom. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone that meets life with as much excitement and joy as she does. Josie lives life to the fullest.
Josie attends a special needs school in Elkhorn, WI. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_5gLrlBlRoc After being mainstreamed through 6th grade, we found that the public school system was unable to meet Josie’s needs, so we moved from Illinois to Wisconsin for opening day of the newly constructed school building in Sept. 2008. For the first time in her life she has girlfriends and looks forward to going to school in the morning. On her third day, as all of the kids were walking out to their buses Josie said, “Mom, see my kids!” For the first time ever, she had taken possession of something. At that moment we knew that this school was the right choice for Josie.
During her younger years we had always struggled with wondering if we were teaching her about Jesus in the right way/s that she would understand and be able to grasp. The concept is such an abstract thing, and it was difficult for us to know for sure if she really understood.
We now know special needs kids are smarter than us in the God department. One night, she was making some noises in her room at about 3am, so I shook Craig and yelled, “Seizure!”, he hopped out of bed (because he moves faster than a Fitz at 3am). As he got halfway across the room, I said, ‘that’s not a seizure, she’s laughing!’. So he went in there, and she rolled over (WIDE awake) and she said to him, ‘What’re you doin’?’ and Craig said, ‘Ummm…nothing. What are YOU doing?’ And her answer was, “Talkin’ to Jesus.” She was laughingand having a great time in there, so now I know why she tellsus to “Dream about Jesus!” before bedtime every night. I suppose all along she too has been wondering if we are able to grasp the concept of Him.
We can’t count the number of people in Josie’s life that upon meeting her believed that they could teach her something or help her in some way, and while many have done that, the majority have walked away having received more than they gave.
With that I’ll share one last definition with you. And that is her name. A name that I hold dearly in my heart as my maternal grandmother’s, and that is, Josie, which means ‘God shall add’ or ‘will increase’. The real question is—is it us that add to her life, or is it her that adds to ours? We think it’s the latter.
Happy Sweet 16th, Josie! You’re our hero! We love you, dolly.
Same here, Josie! Happy birthday! I love you, too!
1. As a professional social outcast, I don’t have any friends to communicate with, and . . .
2. My household only has one cell phone — my son Matthew’s Jitterbug phone which was invented previous to the birth of Alexander Graham Bell.
I like to think it’s just as well my thumbs have not become fluent at texting. People who are proficient at texting, probably forget how to spell. According to the Sisters of Charity, who educated me and my siblings at St. Patrick’s School in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, this, my dear friend, is a fate way worse than death. You can’t go to heaven if you don’t know how to spell.
The problem with texting has to do largely with eliminating your vowels. In today’s lexicon of text, vowels have become exceedingly constipated.
As an example, let’s take the question: “If a word is spelled wrong in the dictionary, how would we know?”
If you had to text the question, you might resort to this:
“f a wrd S spelled rong n d dxNre, hw w%d we knw?”
I don’t try to communicate like this myself, because I’m afraid people will think I’m an orangutan. I think I would rather woof and snort.
Please leave a comment if you agree. And it you don’t, leave one anyway, in English, or even in text. I promise I won’t tell the Sisters on you.
I can remember the first time I ever shook hands with anybody. I was 39 years old.
In the olden days, ladies of my station in life didn’t have occasion to shake hands with other adults. When introduced to someone, we smiled sweetly and did a curtsy or its equivalent. In case you’re dying to know, a curtsy as we practiced it at the time, was defined as “an act of civility, respect, or reverence made mainly by women and consisting of a gracious nod of the head, or if a nun, priest, bishop, etc., was present, a slight lowering of the body with bending of the knees”. Strange but true.
It wasn’t till I was working as a systems analyst at Seattle Community College that the need ever arose to reach out my mitt and shake hands.
It may have been due to my lack of experience, or possibly my 12 years of piano-playing, that I never learned to shake hands properly without wounding my victims. To this day, I catch people wincing when I shake hands with them. There’s something about my vice-like grip that brings tears to their eyes.
It’s really embarrassing at Mass when we have to do the “Kiss of Peace”, which actually isn’t a kiss, (thank God,) but a handshake. I feel bad about it, but no matter how hard I concentrate, people seem to avoid my bone-crunching grip. While I’m saying “Peace”, they’re yanking their hand back mentally howling, “Pain!”
In case you suffer from the same handshaking affliction I do, here’s tips from National Handshake Day:
You reveal a lot with your handshake. Are you extroverted, expressive, shy or neurotic? According to a University of Alabama study, your handshake provides a tactile way to read you. Before you extend your hand during the next social, professional or diplomatic event, consider your own handshake. Do you have a firm grip? Is your hand a comfortable temperature and is it dry? Do you keep eye contact?
Miryam S. Roddy of Brody Communications advises everyone to practices their handshakes on National Handshake Day, occurring on the last Thursday in June annually.
Brody Communications offers these tips for an effective handshake:
* Use eye contact * Be firm but painless * You should shake hands for about three seconds * Take only two or three “pumps” * Start and stop crisply * Don’t last through the entire introduction
There, I hope this has taught us all a valuable lesson. Stick with high-fives and hugs.
So, tonight, son Matthew, granddaughter Arden, and I are planning to lay low and watch another Netflix DVD of the series Leverage. It’s about crooks, so, of course, we’re the show’s most dedicated fans.
While I’m otherwise occupied as a couch potato, enjoy your night off from blog-reading. But just so you don’t completely atrophy due to missing several pages to read, just chew on this:
How can you throw a ball as hard as you can and have it come back to you, even if it doesn’t bounce off anything? There is nothing attached to it, and no one else catches or throws it back to you.
Good luck. No fair googling the answer – that’s only for losers like me. You can DO it!
Never in my wildest dreams would I imagine myself giving anybody cooking tips. As a cook, I’m pretty much a danger to myself and others.
But sometimes, when I’m at my sister Joan and brother-in-law Tommy’s house, I sneak into her recipe files. This is so I can lay hands on how to make something she just cooked, or some dish I remembered – like her baked beans, or creamed corn casserole. Yum!
Joan doesn’t cook as much as she used to, but when in her prime, she really knew how to sling the hash. And most of the recipes I’ve stolen from her stash are fool-proof — the only kind I can operate with.
This is the most important one I ever ripped off from her files – the Watergate Cake. She told me it originated – not with Richard Nixon – but with a chef who worked in the Watergate Hotel.
If you don’t know it already, I can tell you that it is a most heavenly cake, and the only one I’ve made in the past forty years since I got the recipe. And the most important thing about it is that even when the cake falls, you can dress it up with the delicious topping and everybody will eat it anyway.
You can do a layered version, but it’s easiest to use a one-layer 13” x 9” pan.
AUNT JOAN’S WATERGATE CAKE RECIPE
INGREDIENTS:
1 package white cake mix 3 eggs 1 cup vegetable oil 1 cup Fresca pop 1 (3 ounce) package Jello instant pistachiopudding mix 1 quarter cup chopped pecans
For topping: 1 (3 ounce) package instant pistachio pudding mix 1 9 (or 13) oz. Cool Whip, thawed 1 (or a little more) cup cold milk A few more chopped pecans
DIRECTIONS:
1. Combine cake mix, eggs, oil, Fresca, pecans and 1 box pistachio pudding. Beat together for four minutes. Pour batter into a greased and floured 13 x 9 inch pan.
2. Bake at 350 degrees F (175 degrees C) for 30 to 40 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into cake comes out clean. Cool completely.
3. After cake has cooled, mix until thick, 1 box pistachio pudding, and 1 cup milk. Fold in Cool Whip whipped topping. Chill. Invert cake from pan and then ice cooled cake with chilled frosting. (Optional) sprinkle additional pecans on top.
So there you go. Live a little. Thank you, Joan. Ahhhhh!
