• My nephew Michael was born in October.  He’s a perfect baby, named after my dad.  Say what you will about my sister and her husband, but they make beautiful children!  Just kidding – you guys are awesome.
• My baby sister (she hates it when I call her that) had two major exciting events: graduation from the police academy, and her engagement!  I’m so proud of her…she has become such an incredible woman.  And her fiance is just terrific – I’m so happy for them.
• Schenectady County’s Bicentennial Celebration is now over, and you have no idea how happy I am about that.
• Became President of the Kiwanis Club of Schenectady on October 1.  What a great bunch of people, doing great things in their community.
• Celebrated 2 years of marriage to the hubs.  Took an awesome trip to the Adirondacks, and was incredibly pampered.  Love you, honey!
• Got to cook (well, prep work, really), in an actual restaurant kitchen.  Thanks to Chef Mark for the great experience.
• Got to make a return trip to Nashville.  My prior visit made me think I didn’t care for the city, but my return was completely different and quite fun!  I attended the Grand Ole Opry (which was great), went to the Country Music Hall of Fame (loved it), and got to spend some quality time with my in-laws, who drove down from Kentucky to show me the sights.  There are still a couple things I missed, so I hope I get to go back again.
• I discovered social media.  And the world will never be the same.

And because no end-of-the-year restrospective would be complete without a look forward, I have come up withsome goals for the year ahead.  I try not to make New Year’s Resolutions, because they never work for me.  But, I thought I’d compile a list of things I would like to accomplish before 2010 ends.  Since they are positive, fun, and meaningful to me, there’s a really good chance that I’ll actually be able to make them happen.

• Take a French class, to re-learn that beautiful language.  Not sure where I’d use it, but I’d at least like to be fluent in something other than English.  No more stupid American for me!
• Become a vegetarian, or at least a flexatarian (no red meat, some chicken perhaps).   I’ve discussed this before, but this time I really mean it.
• I would like to have dinner at Angelo’s 677 Prime in Albany.  Seems like a small thing, but I’ve heard so many good things, that I feel like I’m missing out on a very important Capital Region event.
• Add a podcast to my blog.  No details yet, but I’ve got some irons in the fire, and a video podcast will hopefully be debuting here very soon.
• Take my dog to the beach.  I just think it would be cute.
• Manage to put $1500 in my savings account.  Trust me, this is huge.
• Get an iPhone or iPod Touch.  My birthday is coming up in February, so I hope to have this goal wrapped up quickly.
• Finally compile that cookbook I keep thinking about.  I would like to gather all the recipes from my family and Bob’s, throw in a few that I’ve developed, and produce a cookbook.  Not necessarily for sale, but at least printed and suitable for gifts.

My best wishes to all of you for a fantastic 2010, rife with love, laughter, and prosperity.  Happy New Year!

Total Number of Votes: 24 (thank you – that’s certainly better than 7).

Here is a list of the ‘other answers’ that people wrote in:

• “Bread Pudding – Pumpkin Bread Pudding with Caramel Sauce”
• “Pizza. How is this not on the list?”
• “Mashed potatoes”
• “Chocolate” (2 write-in votes)
• “Clam chowder”
• “Chili”

Interesting findings.  What’s my favorite comfort food, you ask?  If I had to choose from among the choices I gave, I’d have to say Macaroni and Cheese.  I used to make this KILLER mac & cheese, using a recipe I got from Cooking Light magazine a bunch of years back.  It was four-cheese thing, using fontina, Parmesan, cheddar, and Velveeta Light.  They don’t make Velveeta Light anymore, so I’ve been too afraid to make the recipe with the full-fat version – it might end up to be too good, and I’d eat the whole thing.  The recipe called for crushed melba toasts, to give it a nice crunchy topping.

Oh! I just found the actual recipe, from MyRecipes.com (this blog happens in REAL TIME, my friends – no preplanning):
Creamy Four-Cheese Macaroni Recipe – MyRecipes.com

I may have to revisit that old favorite. Except my husband does not like macaroni and cheese. Luckily, he travels a lot.

All you have to do is step outside to know that autumn has begun to bear down upon us here in the Northeast, bringing chilly winds, falling leaves, and possibly even some snow this coming weekend (what??).  Of course, there is a upside or two to the fall weather: a roaring fire, snuggling with your honey, and comfort food!

You know you have one.  The food that always seems to make everything all better, snow or no.  The food that Mom would give to you, and all would become right with the world.  Well, I’m nosy and I want to know what your favorite comfort food is.  Vote now!

You can only vote once, though.  And if your favorite isn’t on the list, feel free to fill in the blank!

My brother-in-law, Michael Plotts, passed away last Wednesday evening, February 18, 2009.  He leaves behind his wife Barbara (my husband’s sister), and two beautiful little girls.  Bob and I are utterly heartbroken.  We watched as Michael miraculously rebounded from a dissected aorta last summer, and were ecstatic at his remarkable recovery.  Then, sadly, he was abruptly taken away from us last week. 

Michael was only my brother-in-law for a short period of time, but I feel honored and blessed to have had him as part of my family. He was a brilliant, side-splittingly funny, wickedly charming, and genuinely caring person. His love for his wife and daughters was overwhelmingly evident, and I know that his memory will live on as Morgan and Maddie grow up.

The first time I met Michael was around Thanksgiving, about two years before I married Bob. The four of us (me, Bob, Barb, and Michael) went out for dinner at a German restaurant in Upstate NY. The waiter was Asian, a fact which did not go untouched by Michael’s razor-sharp wit. He remarked to the poor waiter: “There’s nothing sadder than an Asian guy in lederhosen.” I liked Michael immediately.

Since then, I had many occasions to just “hang out” with Michael, Barbara and the girls. Even when Michael was recovering from his illness last summer, he managed to be upbeat, positive and even downright comedic – Bob and I were endlessly entertained by his “U.S. Marshals Version” of the Three Little Pigs game that Morgan and I were playing.

And we’ll always have the photo of him from our wedding, where he gave Barbara “bunny ears” that she didn’t notice until the prints came back from the photographer months later.

I wish I had known him longer, but I am grateful for the time that I had.

Michael, we will miss you terribly. Your daughters are very precious to me and Bob, and we will make sure they grow up knowing how wonderful you were.

Adam and Theresa are truly soulmates, and I couldn’t be happier for them!

Baruch atah Adonai, m’sameiach chatan im hakalah!

As I wrote earlier, my grandmother passed away last week. While this was not a shock, it certainly was very sad. My grandma had been ill for a very long time, and I knew she wouldn’t be with us very much longer. But, you always think you’re going to have more time. So, when my little sister called me at work to tell me she had died, I cried for a very long time.

Luckily, those tears did not contain any regret. I visited my grandmother whenever I could, and I always told her I loved her. I know I did not leave anything unsaid. I’m glad about that. I’ll miss my grandma something awful, but I know that she knew how much I loved her. I was honored to have my family ask me to deliver the eulogy at the funeral service. It was probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life, but I was glad I had the opportunity to share memories of Grandma with a room full of people who loved her like I did.

Sadly, my grandfather (her husband) had been in the hospital for about a week when my grandma died. My dad and uncles went to his hospital room to tell him the news, and he took it very hard. The next morning, his doctor told my dad that he didn’t expect him to survive the day. We all thought we would be planning a double funeral that week.

Astonishingly, Papa rallied around 10:00am – I was sitting in the room, crying, when he woke up and declared that he had to use the bathroom. Then he wanted a bowl of cornflakes. We couldn’t believe our eyes. Since then, he’s been awake, more or less lucid, but not any healthier. We know it’s only a matter of time. He’ll likely never come home again.

While this was all going on, we received word that my brother-in-law suffered a ruptured aortic aneurysm, while traveling for his work. He’s only 47 years old, so this news was mind-blowing. But, miracle of all miracles, he did not die. He endured 2 lengthy surgeries to repair the damage, and spent nearly a week in an induced coma. Just yesterday, he was brought out of the coma, and is now out of bed and doing okay. We are receiving daily updates from my sister-in-law (his wife), detailing his incredible progress. It’s unbelievable.

I’m having a hard time processing all of the events of the past week. Some days it just seems too much to handle. Other days I marvel at the miracles of life and modern medicine.

I do know, though, that I’ve learned a few things from this whole experience, which is far from over:

• Sometimes, your Dad needs a hug from you more than you need a hug from him.
• Never take anything for granted – it can be taken from you at any time.
• If you love someone you need to tell them. Now. It can’t wait.

Good thoughts, cosmic waves, prayers – whatever it is you do, I’d love it if you could send some our way.

Grandma’s Banana Bread

Comfort foods. They evoke images of childhood, of family dinners where there were more arguments than peas, and of Sunday afternoons sitting at Grandma’s kitchen table. As I think of my two favorite comfort foods – pancakes and banana bread – Grandma’s kitchen is the place that instantly appears in my mind’s eye.

It’s still the same farmhouse kitchen, if not a little more worn, since Grandma and Papa are getting older and less inclined to fix up the place. The table is just a little too big for the cramped space, with countertops flanking the table on the other two sides, leaving barely enough room to pull out a chair or open the oven. The chairs aren’t all original to the set, but it’s still the same table they’ve always had.

That kitchen, has seen hundreds of people come and go over the years. Neighbors stopping by for a quick cup of coffee and an update on the latest gossip. Fellow farmers dropping in to see about borrowing some equipment or to ask for a helping hand. Friends who just happened to be driving by, walking in the door to say hello on their way through town. Brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, sons, daughters-in-law, cousins, and grandchildren…making themselves at home in that kitchen, which was warmed by the oven, and the love coming from my grandma.

When we were young, my sister and I would arrive after church and Grandma would become a short-order cook, making eggs to-order and her famous pancakes. She made her pancakes from scratch – and she never used a recipe. Some flour, some baking powder, some milk… She’d make as many as we wanted, and if we were especially good, we just might get the special mouse-eared pancake, or the turtle-shaped one.

We’d slather those pancakes with butter, and my sister would pour on some dark Karo corn syrup. I always opted for raspberry preserves. Then on the second and third, I’d sprinkle on some white sugar, and roll them up and eat them like burritos. That’s about as many pancakes as I would eat, because my mother would tell me I was eating too much. (She was right. I’m still trying to lose that weight. Somehow, though, it was all worth it.)

It wasn’t just us, though, who enjoyed those delicious pancakes. Those same people who stopped by just to say hello usually gave in and ate a few. The men who went hunting with my dad and uncles were fed and sent out to the woods with a full belly. People came and went, and they often took some pancakes with them.

My Grandma is also famous for her banana bread. I remember cutting through slice after slice, spreading on the butter, and washing it all down with cold milk, straight from the cows across the road. It seemed that Grandma always had a loaf or two in the freezer, and one on the counter in case company dropped by. If she didn’t happen to have one made, there were definitely some brown bananas hanging around, waiting to be mashed up for the next batch. Even now, that cloyingly sweet aroma of ripening bananas takes me back to my childhood and that red-shingled house with its tiny kitchen. At least that’s my excuse when I ask myself why I’ve let yet another bunch of perfectly good bananas go rotten.

As with the pancakes, Grandma used no recipe for her banana bread; in fact, I don’t recall ever seeing a cookbook in my grandparent’s house. Not that Grandma needed one – cooking for a bunch of farmers required neither fancy techniques nor exotic ingredients. Flour, sugar, milk, baking powder, bananas. There were probably more ingredients, but I never paid attention to the process – I was only interested in the result. And what a result: Golden brown on the outside, with a light brown inside flecked with dark pieces of cooked bananas. Moist and slightly sweet, with a tender, almost juicy crumb.

Grandma would wrap the cooled loaves first in waxed paper, then in foil, creating a beautiful package with a neat fold on the top. I always appreciated that carefully folded package because of its contents. When I came home from college during the holidays, Grandma would always have a loaf or two waiting for me in the freezer. I tried, but sometimes that bread didn’t even survive the three-hour drive back to Albany. Yes, it’s true – I’ve eaten half-frozen banana bread.

When I managed to exhibit some self-control, my friends were extremely grateful. The bread became a sort of currency, like cigarettes in prison: A slice of that golden brown banana bread could be traded for a six-pack of cheap American beer. Friends (some I hadn’t seen all semester) magically arrived at my door, having detected the irresistible scent of bananas and love. Every last delectable crumb of that heavenly loaf was usually gone within four hours of my return to the dorm. But I didn’t worry; Easter (or Christmas) break would be coming soon, and Grandma would have another loaf ready for me when I got there. If I was lucky, maybe two.

Sadly, Grandma doesn’t cook much anymore. She’s in her seventies, and her health is failing. Fatigue and occasional stays in the hospital keep her out of the kitchen, except to heat up the kettle for a cup of that instant coffee that she and Papa seem to survive on. But her pancakes and banana bread are the stuff of legend, and I’m trying to teach myself her recipes because I don’t expect her to make them for me anymore. I’ve experimented with countless banana bread recipes, and they’ve all been delicious in their own right. They just aren’t Grandma’s.

It took me a second.

The new photo on the top is of the beautiful roses my husband got me for Valentine’s Day. I was not expecting anything today, because we had discussed that gifts were not necessary. Plus, I made a fancy dinner for us on Tuesday night.

However, the gorgeous stems were waiting for me when I got home from work, along with a sweet card. Bob did not want to take the chance of the flowers NOT reaching me on Valentine’s Day (which happened last year), so he picked them up himself and brought them home for me.

Romantic AND practical – does it get much better than that?

I love you, Bob…Happy Valentine’s Day.

Now, let’s hope he doesn’t notice that I didn’t get him anything…