No Time to Cook, No Time to Write

Forgive me Mary Ann, for I have sinned–it’s been 4 weeks since my last post.

Well, Mary Ann of all people knew what it was like to juggle everything AND make dinner, well, until we were all old enough to be her slaves.

Jay and I haven’t been doing too much real cooking these days. There have been lots of frozen pizzas, spaghetti and frozen fish. At least we always dress them up with spinach salad to make it fancy.

Oh yeah!! I almost forgot to tell you the big news!! Jay, hater of all things seafood, actually tried frozen fish. You know the kind, a step up from fish sticks…the battered cod filets you make with homemade tartar sauce (Miracle Whip and ketchup…hey…don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.) Well, Jay gave in one day. I don’t remember why. Here’s proof:

Oh yeah, he plugged his nose for real. Then after he determined he wouldn’t die, he took another bite:

That’s actually a tiny smile on his face. I think. The only other time I saw Jay eat seafood was in 2001. Oh yes, I remember it well. We were at a friend’s birthday party in Hermosa Beach. We were at some Asian place by the beach that brought beer bongs around to your table. Which might explain why Jay tried seafood. Somebody ordered a plate of oyster shooters. Now, I love seafood but I won’t even touch oyster shooters. Jay thought this would be his big triumph over seafood. I tried to talk him out of it. If you’re not a seafood lover, the LAST type of seafood you want to sample is raw oysters. Especially if you think you’re supposed to chew them (like Jay did). All I know is that he grabbed one of them, despite my attempts at talking him out of it, and popped it into his mouth. And then he realized. It…was…nasty. I’m pretty sure his gag reflex had already kicked in, because he couldn’t swallow it. Took him about a solid minute to get that thing down without puking. If it was me, I would’ve just spit it out, but he had friends to impress. Of course one of those friends projectile-vomited his oysters and sushi down our birthday table after indulging in a few beer bongs.

So every time since then when I’ve tried to talk Jay into trying crab, or lobster, or salmon…he won’t have it. That oyster had ruined him, or so I thought until the fancy battered frozen fish. Oh well, you gotta start somewhere. Of course, maybe I won’t try to get him to try crab again. If he likes it (and how could he not), I may never get my fair share again on fancy crab leg night.

Dearly Departed Dishes

My Aunt Bessie was my favorite. When I was born I was a month or so premature–and apparently gave my Mom one heck of a time during my delivery–so Aunt Bessie came to stay with us to help take care of me and my older sister, Tracy, while Mom had some bed rest. Aunt Bessie was my Dad’s sister-in-law. She stood all of 4’7” soaking wet. Her husband, my Uncle Frank, stood about 6’5’ slouching. They were an impressive sight. Aunt Bessie and Uncle Frank moved to Ogden, Utah when I was little, so I only got to see her, Uncle Frank and my cousins on summer vacations.

I can remember driving across that barren desert between California and Utah in our trusty wood-paneled Ford Station Wagon. The morning of the trip, Mom would wake all four of us kids up at like 4:00 a.m. and line us up on the couch. Dad would be out packing up the car, which Mom had turned in to a traveling Motel 6 the day before. Before we could pile in to the car, Mom made us each drink a half can of 7-Up each…to “settle our stomachs” for the road trip. With my amazing oral hygiene, I had brushed my teeth first, and let me tell ya, 7-up mixed with toothpaste-mouth tastes somewhat like bad bourbon.

We’d all wander comatose to the car, one of us with our baby sister Melissa in our arms, to fall in to our spots. Tracy was the queen, so she got the back seat. Mom had packed ice coolers, overnight bags and who knows what else on the floorboards, and then piled blankets on top of those and the back seat so that Tracy had a spacious full bed to spread out on. Coleen, Melissa and I got the back. Mom would lay out all the sleeping bags and our pillows and we would share that back space. I could never sleep. I pretended I could so my parents wouldn’t feel bad, but I was always worried that the back door would fly open and I’d go flailing out onto the night highway. So I made sure to never push my feet too hard against the back door. Sometimes I’d pop my head up until my parents would invite me up to the front seat to sit between them. I’d be sure to step square on Tracy’s back on my way up.

When daylight hit we’d all be awake and bouncing around the inside of that station wagon. Mom would always be prepared with snacks and Car Bingo to keep us occupied. There were no Capri Suns or mobile devices back then, but we were perfectly content with our Styrofoam cup of Tang and little Car Bingo board. For about an hour. God knows how our parents put up with us the rest of the time. My Dad’s foot certainly got heavier on the pedal as the day progressed. I remember one time we were in the middle of the Salt Lake Desert and I looked over at the speedometer…see we were all standing up leaning over the front seat because really, who stayed in their seatbelts back then? Did we even have seatbelts? Anyway we were all leaning over the front seat and I said, “Dad! Slow down!!! You’re doing 90!!!” See, I was the Miss Goody-Two-Shoes of the family. So Dad slowed down to the 55 speed limit. I then said, in unison with my sisters, “Dad, speed up again!” Yeah, we didn’t want to be in that car with each other any longer than we had to.

My parents didn’t want to be in that car either. One time, we were acting up a little too much and my Dad had to pull the car over (like they always threaten. Well, he did it.)  Mom opened up that station wagon’s back door and was opening up a can of much-deserved whoop-ass on us. Just then a policeman pulled up. He walked up to my Mom as she was in the throes of spanking us and said, “Ma’am, what’s going on here?” She stopped smacking us for a second to say, “Officer, I’m just disciplining my children.” He paused for a moment then said, “Carry on.” And left. Today, my Mom would be doing 10 to 20 in the state pen for child abuse.

Well, we finally reached our destination of Ogden, Utah and Aunt Bessie’s house. There was all kinds of fun with my cousins Gayle, Sharon and Dwayne, day trips to campgrounds, swimming in someone’s pool, sliding on the Slip and Slide in Aunt Bessie’s back yard and playing poker. Well, the adults played poker and we got to watch.

Aunt Bessie was a baking, sewing fiend. She made the best cookies, pies and pastries and created amazing quilts…all with a cigarette in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. She was so little she had a contractor build her a low countertop in the kitchen so she could roll out her dough with ease. I loved visiting her through the years and staying up late eating cookies and playing cards with her. She treated me like a grown-up. Maybe that’s because even as a kid I was taller than her.

Aunt Bessie had a big heart and a quick wit. The last time I visited her in 2005, she was in her early ‘80s and was up till midnight in her favorite chair, laughing and telling stories, with a cigarette in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

She passed away the following year and Tracy and I flew to Ogden for her memorial. After the service, we were shuffling through the food buffet line when I came across an interesting dish…I could clearly see potatoes, which is always a winner for me. I stuck the big metal spoon into the dish and asked my cousin…”are those corn flakes on top?” Yes, there were corn flakes on top. That intrigued me…a little sweet and savory potato dish would certainly not disappoint, though they were somewhat creepy.  So I asked, “What are these?”

“Those are Funeral Potatoes,” my cousin replied. I think I just stood there with my big spoon in the potatoes. Then I said, “Um, what are Funeral Potatoes?” She explained that they are basically a traditional potato casserole dish that someone always brings to the reception after a memorial service. And in Utah, most of those service receptions take place in a church hall, usually a Mormon church. Good thing my Aunt Bessie wasn’t Mormon because I’m guessing as a non-Mormon I wouldn’t have been allowed in to the service and I wouldn’t have discovered those delicious potatoes. I had three servings.

Funeral Potatoes

Ingredients

32-ounce bag of frozen hash browns

2 cans cream of chicken soup

2 cups sour cream

1-1/2 cups grated cheddar cheese

1/2 cup butter, melted

1/2 cup onion, chopped

2 cups corn flakes, crushed

2 TBS butter, melted

Directions

Grease 9×13 baking dish and preheat oven to 350 degrees. In a large bowl combine soup, sour cream, cheese, onions and butter. Fold the hash browns into the mixture and pour into the baking dish. Combine crushed corn flakes and 2 tablespoons of melted butter and sprinkle them on top of the potato mixture. Bake for 30 minutes.

Dig in, then kiss your loved ones, and your diet, good-bye.

Happy Anniversary Friday Night Casserole!

Well kids, today is the one-year anniversary of the Friday Night Casserole Blog! And it’s also the birthday of the woman who inspired it…Mary Ann. (Check out her photos below!) So you know I need to pay tribute to Mom and re-post the infamous Friday Night Casserole recipe. Have you tried it yet? If you have, you’ve probably cancelled your subscription to this blog. So let’s hope you haven’t.

Thanks for all your support this year; I hope you’re enjoying the posts…even though I’ve become a little lazy (busy) and haven’t posted regularly each Friday.  I’ll do my best to keep entertaining you, or, activating your gag reflex…whichever.

Friday Night Casserole:

There were two kinds of Fridays in our house:  Pay Day Friday and Casserole Friday. We loved Payday Friday. Dad would come home from his job at Mare Island with a wad of bills. Sometimes he’d even let us hold them. Then everyone would hop into the wood-paneled Ford Station Wagon and head for A & W, or the family restaurant Palby’s for a big night out. Ah, A&W…sitting in the station wagon parked next to the scratchy-sounding order sign/machine thing. My family ordered burgers and root beer—in those fancy frosty mugs of course—however, I always ordered a fish sandwich and grape soda. And yes, they all made fun of me. Except for Coleen who also preferred the fish sandwich. And she believed you weren’t allowed to have a ‘burger’ until you were an adult. She finally had her first Big Mac at the ripe old age of 10. Tracy had to wait till she was 11.

Now for Palby’s, if you never lived in Vallejo or visited the bustling Solano County metropolis with its abundance of 1970’ish restaurants, you might’ve missed Palby’s. Sucks for you cuz Palby’s was awesome. Palby’s was on Hwy 80 between Vallejo and Napa in the area that’s now known as American Canyon. Palby’s was like a freaky dinner theater for kids. Look out the window and there were peacocks. There were seals. But we didn’t eat them. I preferred the deep fried shrimp myself. I recall my little sister Pooh always ordered the ribs and proceeded to happily get the sauce all over her face. Thinking back, Palby’s seemed like a Winchester Mystery House to kids, cuz there were all these different areas with trippy things to see. Or maybe there was just the lobby and the main dining room and I had an over-active imagination.

Sometimes on Payday Friday, Dad and one or two of us kids would just drive on over to Munchie’s on Sonoma Boulevard for 10 cent hamburgers. Munchie’s was a burger joint in a cool round building that sold cheap hamburgers and fries and I just liked saying “Munchies.” Sometimes we’d just grab 300 tacos from Taco Bell, when all they really had was tacos.

But, if it wasn’t a Payday Friday, and you didn’t make plans to get in trouble and stay after school–or better yet, offer to babysit for the neighbor’s heathen kids–you were going to experience Mary Ann’s Friday Night Casserole. God have mercy on your soul.

Ingredients:

No rules apply!!!

Check the cupboards for stray cans of stewed tomatoes, cream of mushroom soup, deviled ham or anything else that resembles vomit. Next, go to the fridge and grab any and every leftover you can find saved in old margarine and Cool Whip tubs—these are important casserole ingredients.

Leftover examples:

Pork n’ Beans

Kentucky Fried Chicken Cole Slaw

Canned spinach

Taco meat

Chopped up fish sticks

Creamed Chip Beef Sauce

The last slice of Olive Loaf luncheon meat that will never be eaten

Macaroni and Cheese

Spam

White rice

Filling for Stuffed Bell Peppers

Bread heels

Chicken Pot Pie

Deviled eggs

Creamed corn

Throw all of the ingredients into a 13 x 9 casserole dish. Feel free to add canned tomato sauce or a packet of onion soup mix to make it fancy.

Bake at 350 degrees. I’m not sure how long you’re supposed to do this. Just hang around the oven to make sure nothing explodes.

Serve to your happy family. Well, they were happy before dinner. Now they hate your guts and are secretly flipping you off below the table. A few of them might be dry heaving into their towel bibs. You will definitely want to plan a huge dessert for later in the evening (stay tuned for “Jello Mold” and “Mayonnaise Cake”).

Mary Ann circa 1982

Mom in the kitchen. I think she’s doing a Rita Hayworth-type of impersonation here.

Happy Birthday Mom!

Pizza ala Coen

Today is a very important day. It’s the birthday of THE Papa Don of Friday Night Casserole fame. So I figured it would be the perfect time to pay homage to Papa Don’s favorite food ingredient in any recipe:  hamburger.

My Dad loves hamburger…in spaghetti sauce, whipped into a fancy meatloaf, in Porcupine Balls, in Sloppy Joes or just by itself…wait! never by itself; it would certainly need some Heinz Ketchup. So why the “Pizza ala Coen” post you ask?

When I was a kid, May Ann made homemade pizza. Not a doctored-up frozen pizza—of course, I don’t even remember frozen pizza then. I do remember ‘pizza in a box’ though. I believe it was Chef Boyardee. There was a pouch of dough stuff and a can of pizza sauce…basically bland tomato paste. You were on your own for toppings. Oh look, here it is:

I don’t remember the cheese part. Probably for good reason. I don’t think Mary Ann ever used Chef Boyardee more than once. We did eat a lot of Nujo’s Pizza in Vallejo though. That was the best pizza in the area when I was a kid—in fact, Nujo’s is still alive and kicking on Georgia Street. I was sad to leave Nujo’s behind when we moved to Napa in the early ‘70s, that is, until we discovered Silverado Trail Pizzeria. I can still taste the greasy deliciousness of those large pizza pies. Yes, they were on the famous Silverado Trail in Napa. Unfortunately, they’re closed now. I’m not sure how long ago they closed their business, but it was a sad, sad day for pizza lovers. I’m not kidding when I say they had the best pizza I ever ate…probably better than any pizza from New York or Chicago—though I’ve never had a pizza from New York or Chicago. I’m just saying.

The combination pizzas at Silverado Trail Pizzeria left an impression on me, and if I close my eyes and try really hard, I can still taste them. The same is true for Mary Ann’s “Pizza ala Coen.” She made her pizzas from scratch, and Pizza ala Coen featured Papa Don’s favorite ingredient: hamburger. And onions. You’d think little kids would turn their noses up at that combination, but it was quite the contrary. We loved Pizza ala Coen. Especially when served up with large glasses of RC Cola.

I found my original copy of her infamous pizza recipe. I copied it from Mary Ann’s, and mine cheats with a prepared roll mix for the pizza dough. Sue me. This is actually a simple recipe, so the next time you think you need to order pizza delivery, give this one a try:

These days I add mushrooms and onions to my pizza, but back in the day, Pizza ala Coen featured hamburger and onion. If you like the original recipe, you can thank Papa Don, as he was obviously the inspiration. And since my Dad thinks I post goofy ‘old’ pictures of him on this blog, I dug up a few smooth pics in honor of his birthday. Happy Birthday King Cool!  (I imagine we probably promised you many years ago that we wouldn’t call you that anymore, but I think it’s appropriate today.) Love ya Dad!

Papa Don cutting a rug with his sister-in-law Terry

Papa Don’s first passport shot. I think it’s smooth. I may get a comment from him that he doesn’t like it.

Papa Don dancing (again), this time with Phyllis. He’s looking like a bad-motha-shut-your-mouth with that hat.

Jay always sneaks into the background when people are taking pictures. Here’s Papa Don giving him a taste of his own medicine. This is where I get my sense of humor. Thanks Dad! Happy, Happy Birthday!

Good Luck Food for New Year’s Day

Lots of people eat certain foods on New Year’s Day to bring them luck. I know some people eat cooked cabbage, or corned beef and cabbage, for good luck. You’d have to promise me a lottery jackpot to get me to eat cooked cabbage. My friend Carla makes black-eyed peas for luck on New Year’s Day. Jay said his Mom would make mochi, a type of rice cake, for good luck. It’s traditionally eaten for Japanese New Year, and he says it’s delicious with soy sauce, though it’s basically a hunk of gooey rubber. You know what I’ll be eating on New Year’s Day? Aspirin.

My parents didn’t have a New Year’s Day food ritual when I was growing up, at least that I can remember. Maybe they opted for the aspirin, also. I can certainly remember some crazy parties at my house when I was little. My parents and their friends and family would often hang out at our house—plenty of food, music…and booze. My Mom would lay out a spread of fancy appetizers…our whole kitchen table would be piled with finger foods, dips and other edibles. They had a ‘bar’ on top of the stereo consisting of fancy decorative glass bottles filled with gin, whiskey, vodka and bourbon. Once the party got started, my parents would indulge us youngins for a little while and let us run around the living room until our bedtime. There were adults sitting around the living room laughing and eating and drinking. I have one clear memory of one of those parties when I was about four. Looking around the living room I thought, “Hmmm. Captive audience. Let me dazzle them with my fancy gymnastic skills.” I went to the middle of the room and started my triple somersault routine. My imagination was like Ralphie in “A Christmas Story” — I envisioned that room full of adults cheering and clapping once I finished my amazing performance. Instead when I stood up, dizzy, I was met with blank stares.  Apparently they needed more to drink.

Well, whatever you all decide to do for New Year’s, I hope it’s fun and safe! And don’t attempt any somersaults in the middle of your New Year’s Party.

Merry Christmas Eve!

I just finished making cookie batter and Rice Krispy treats to take to Christmas at my niece’s house with the family tomorrow. Well, I’m not actually offering cookie batter for everyone to eat—that’s for cookies for Jay later—but I will bring the Rice Krispy treats. I know they’re not the fanciest, or most challenging, treat to create. And I’m not able to brag about them on Facebook like other people who show each other up with their holiday delicacies, and daily driving dilemmas. I know what treats the kids like, and I make it. At least it’s not fruitcake.

When I was a kid, my Grandma Smothers would make her famous Molasses cookies for each grandkid, which meant a whole coffee can-full for each grandkid. Apparently they drank a lot of coffee. That can-full of Grandma’s Molasses cookies was one of my favorite gifts. My Mom made them for us, too, and passed the recipe down to us. I make them every year, and even bake about 700 to sell at the holiday bazaar where I work. They’re that good.

I imagine you’re waiting for the recipe. Sorry. I may have mentioned in one of my original posts that the recipe is a family secret. Let me cheer you up with this:

That’s an aluminum Christmas tree. We actually had one of those in the late ‘60s. Papa Don had a love for electronic gadgets, and these trees came with a color wheel that rotated underneath to shine different colors up into the metal branches.

That’s the color wheel, if you hadn’t figured that out yet. Quite impressive, right? I guess the aluminum Christmas tree phenomenon didn’t last long; I think we only put that tree up one or two years. You’d think those trees would’ve lasted into the early ‘70s—they would’ve worked well for acid-tripping hippies.

On Christmas morning, my sisters and I always had great gifts to look forward to. My favorite was my first bike when I was 7. Sometimes we’d get boy gifts when Papa Don forgot he had four daughters. But even those were fun. One of the coolest presents ever was a stereo my parents bought for me and Tracy when we were in Junior High. We shared a bedroom, so we shared the present. And we loved it. It had four speakers, which my Dad immediately set up strategically in our bedroom. He made us stand in the middle of the room with him and schooled us on the latest new “Quadraphonic” sound. My Mom walked by the bedroom door saying, “Oh yeah? I had quadraphonic before it was invented,” as she pointed to me and my three sisters. There were even headphones to go along with the stereo so we could blast our eardrums out and not bother our parents—my favorite artists then were Peter Frampton and Earth, Wind and Fire. Tracy’s album of choice was Gary Wright with his one-hit wonder “Dream Weaver.” Tracy sings really well, which she inherited from my Dad, and she would belt that song out while wearing those headphones. I don’t need to tell you how funny that was to me and my younger sisters….and our neighbors.

I hope you all get everything you want this Christmas!

Friday Night Casserole Revisited

It’s been a long week. Actually it’s been a long two or three weeks, which I think is obvious due to the lack of posts. I’m hungry and Jay will be even hungrier when he gets home. Also, my niece is staying with us and she’s a vegetarian, so I try to accommodate her for each meal. So I have to figure out some dinner because I just don’t feel like ordering pizza. That’s the only thing that gets delivered in our area. It’s not like your fancy bustling city where you can get just about anything delivered. And it’s not payday so we really shouldn’t be getting anything delivered, unless it’s money.

So I thought, hmm…in this situation, WWMD?  (What would Mary Ann do?) Unfortunately, I think we all know what Mary Ann would do…she’d go to the fridge and whip up some Friday Night Casserole. I wonder if I could do that and actually make something edible?

I assessed the current leftover contents in our fridge which consist of:

Chicken Ravioli

Tortilla Soup

Small container of Guacamole

1/3 of a container of whipping cream

Homemade Salmon Dill Dip

Molasses cookie batter

1 Chicken Garlic Egg Roll

Smidge of homemade turkey soup

1 slice of pizza

And sure, I have a can of cream of mushroom soup in the cupboard.

I guess I could throw this all into a casserole dish and bake it at 350 and see what happens. My niece is out of luck and will have to resort to cereal. However, I think I’ll throw it all straight into the trash and also have some cereal. With some beer.