Thanksgiving, Indeed
Mamacita says: Thanksgiving, indeed. When I first saw this picture, I was a small child and all I could think was, “Why were this mother and son seated at the same table with roughshod strangers?” Because this seems so odd to me. I’ve only known one restaurant in my life that seated people with strangers during rush hour so it could serve more customers, and even though the food there was wonderful, I was so uncomfortable being required to sit with strangers, I seldom went there unless there were no other options for my schedule that day.
The food was awesome there. I just didn’t like being seated with strangers. I’m talking about you, Ladyman’s Cafe, but your food WAS awesome. I wish you were still there, down from the Buskirk Chumley Theatre, so I could eat lunch there and cringe away from all the strangers at my table and relish your delicious food again.
But as for this painting. . .
Now, of course, I can see the lovely lesson represented here. And I can also see that the artist has clearly shown us that even though people have different customs, etc, it costs nothing to show a little respect when someone does or says something we personally don’t practice or believe in.
Also? If we are truly thankful, we can have Thanksgiving anywhere.
P.S. Why were Rockwell’s mothers always so old-looking? Cripes, my mother is in her eighties and she could be the daughter of the woman in the painting!
What’s A Hoosier Thanksgiving Feast Without Persimmon Pudding?
This is a Hoosier persimmon.
Mamacita says:
What’s a Hoosier Thanksgiving feast without persimmon pudding? A travesty, that’s what! Whoever heard of such a thing? Ridiculous.
Persimmons don’t grow in too many places, so chances are good that most of you have never heard of them. However, southern Indiana is a persimmon tree’s favorite home, and the trees grow healthy and prolific here. My fantastic and generous cousin gives me persimmon pulp, fresh from her parents’ back yard. That’s right; the best pulp is from very ripe persimmons you pick up off the ground. Don’t worry, we rinse them good before we put them through the grinder.
She gives me persimmon pulp and I give her loaves of homemade bread. I think I get the best of this deal.
Hint: Don’t EVER taste a green persimmon, unless you like the sensation a blast of raw alum gives to your lips and tongue. Persimmons must be ripe before they can be used. VERY ripe. Asking someone you’re mad at to just “touch your tongue to this green persimmon for a second” is a fun, albeit cruel (depending on the age of the taster) trick to play on someone. Raw alum on the tongue. Yum. It’s a sensation vaguely akin to being turned inside out by the tongue.
On second thought, everybody should try that at least once. How else can you appreciate the fun of doing it to someone else?
By request (ask, and ye shall receive) here is my very own tried-and-true persimmon pudding recipe again. I’ve tweaked it over the years until it was perfection in a pan.
Hoosiers can be very protective and possessive of their persimmon pudding recipes, but I’m not. People have been asking me for it, so here it is:
Jane’s Persimmon Pudding
First of all, preheat your oven to 325 degrees. NO HOTTER.
Get out a very large bowl.
Put the following ingredients in it:
2 C. persimmon pulp (Use fresh or frozen; the canned stuff is terrible.)
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1 1/2 C sugar (I use Truvia)
1 C brown sugar (don’t use fake)
1/4 cup sour cream
1 1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp salt (don’t leave it out!!!!) (don’t use fake salt, either.)
2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp vanilla
2 eggs
2 C flour
2 1/2 C evaporated milk (not sweetened milk) (Some people use buttermilk.) (I don’t)
1/2 stick butter, softened (not oil.) (not margarine.)
Put everything in that large bowl and mix thoroughly. Use an electric mixer if you don’t think you can get it blended by hand. Get the lumps out.
Pour mixture into a large buttered baking pan.
Put the pan in the oven. Set your timer for 60 minutes.
After the timer goes off, stick a toothpick in the center of the pudding. Clean? It’s done.
Let it cool just enough to slice. Most people like to top it with whipped cream. Non-Hoosiers often sprinkle nuts on it.
You can also add coconut or pecans or cocoa to the mixture, but then it’s not Hoosier Persimmon Pudding. Your call.
Happy Thanksgiving, Part 1
Mamacita says: I love Thanksgiving. Sexist though it may sound, it usually takes a woman to fully comprehend what goes on in the kitchen before all that wonderful food appears on the table. I have several male friends who know, too. Painter Doris Lee portrays it beautifully, and some things haven’t changed all that much since a holiday kitchen looked a lot like this one.
Preparing large meals for a crowd is one of my favorite things in all the world to do. I need to buy a boarding house. The more I think about it, the more I think that would be just the life for me.
Every dinner would be like a Thanksgiving dinner: a crowd of people around the table, conversation, and company.
I think I need to get out more.
