Tag: baking

All Write, Columns

Stuffing Wars

Cindy Hval

When it comes to our Thanksgiving menu, I stick to the basics.

My brother and his wife bring a sweet potato casserole, I bake apple and pumpkin pies, and we serve turkey, homemade mashed potatoes and gravy, green bean casserole, cranberry sauce, rolls, olives, pickles, and my favorite – – stuffing.

I buy Mrs. Cubbison’s cornbread stuffing and bake it in the oven (not in the turkey) just like Mom did.

To quote “The Mandalorian,” “This is the way.”

This has always been the way until about five years ago, when my husband’s friend told Derek about the stuffing he makes and gave him the recipe.

It’s called ‘Dan’s This is What Stuffing Will Be Like in Heaven.’

After reading the ingredients, I strongly disagree that this is what will be served in Paradise.

I’m a stuffing purest. The dish should be all about the seasoned bread cubes, copious amounts of butter, and a bit of sautéed celery and onion to give it crunch.

No oysters.

No olives.

No oranges.

Dan’s recipe doesn’t contain any of the above. Instead, it calls for dried cranberries, two boxes of wild rice mix and ground sausage.

Pork sausage!

But Derek wanted to try it, so I bought the ingredients.

He made his version, and I made mine. On Thanksgiving, we served both.

I tasted a small bite of the foreign stuffing. The flavors and the textures were all wrong. I didn’t mind the mushrooms or slivered almonds, but I shuddered at the sausage and cranberries.

Imagine my surprise when our guests LOVED the “new” stuffing. They raved about it. Even our sons were huge fans. Oh, they all ate my version, too, but there’s no denying Derek’s was a hit.

Now, every year, we serve both kinds. If there happens to be more of my traditional stuffing left over, I’m good with that. I eat it cold for breakfast the next day, and if I’m lucky, the day after that.

Dan’s ‘This Is What Stuffing Will Be Like In Heaven’ Recipe

(This is transcribed exactly as received. What size can of mushrooms? Derek uses 8 ounces and it works. What oven temperature? I stick it in with my stuffing at 350 degrees.

1 pound good ground pork sausage from the meat counter, NOT Jimmy Dean

8 cups dry bread cubes

2 cups sliced celery

1 cup chopped onion

1 can sliced mushrooms, drain; save juice 1cup or more!

Slivered almonds

1 egg

1 or 2 (or 3) cans of chicken broth

2 boxes of stove-top type herb and butter flavored long grain and wild rice mix or equivalent

1 cup or so cashews

½ or 1 cup dried cranberries (Craisins)

Brown almonds in a frying pan with light oil (olive) – move ‘em around so they don’t burn. (They will go from perfectly browned to burned really fast).

Set aside. Snack on these while you prepare all the following.

Fry sausage, chopping it up as it browns – save drippings!

Prepare rice according to directions, set aside.

Chop up celery and onion, set aside.

Put celery, onions, mushrooms (drained) and drippings from sausage in frying pan; add some salt, pepper and butter; simmer for a few minutes until slightly cooked, but still crisp.

In a large bowl, combine the rice, sausage, almonds, all the vegetables and the drippings they were simmering in, and add the bread cubes. Mix this around for a few minutes to get all the dried bread moistened. Throw in the cashews and the dried cranberries. Mix some more. Add mushroom juice and as much chicken broth as needed to get the proper consistency; moist and sticky, no dry bread cubes. Throw in an egg for good luck. Mix more. Keep in mind that when you heat it up in the oven, it may dry out some, so, chicken broth.

Put stuffing into a covered pan or baking dish and bake to heat it up before serving.

Feeds one person for three entire days.

Mrs. Cubbison’s Corn Bread Stuffing

(Oven-prepared as per the back of the box, the way God intended.)

1 box (12 oz.) corn bread stuffing

1 cup (2 sticks) butter

1 cup onion, diced

1 cup celery, diced

1¾ chicken broth (or water)

1 egg, beaten

Preheat oven to 350.

Spray a 9-by-13 (3-quart) casserole dish with cooking spray.

In a large 5-quart saucepan, melt butter on medium heat. Add vegetables and sauté until translucent. Remove from heat.

Add stuffing mix and gradually stir in chicken broth or water. Add salt and pepper to taste. For richer stuffing, add a well-beaten egg and mix thoroughly.

Pour the stuffing into a greased casserole dish and bake for 40 minutes. Remove the cover for the last 15 minutes for a crispier top.

All Write

These Recipes are “To Die For”

Cindy Hval

The comfort of a bowl of slow-simmered chicken soup.

A whiff of cinnamon from snickerdoodles just out of the oven.

The tang of homemade ranch dip on a crunchy chip.

Food is the gateway to memory. A bite of rich chocolate Texas sheet cake can evoke your favorite aunt, who brought that dessert to every family gathering and church potluck.

A new cookbook features recipes for all of the above and more, sourced from surprising locations – cemeteries around the globe.

“To Die For: A Cookbook of Gravestone Recipes” (HarperCollins, 2025) features 40 recipes, along with interviews and full-color photographs. What began during author Rosie Grant’s digital archives internship at the Congressional Cemetery in Washington, D.C., became a viral sensation when she started cooking real gravestone recipes and sharing their stories via TikTok.

“I was finishing my master’s in library in information science at the University of Maryland and started a TikTok channel (@ghostlyarchive) about what it’s like to intern at a cemetery,” Grant said.

She came across other social media accounts that featured recipes carved on headstones.

“I love to cook and I love to eat, so I tried three of the recipes and posted them,” she said. “People started reaching out.”

The first recipe she tried came from Naomi Odessa Miller-Dawson’s grave in Brooklyn, New York. Miller-Dawson’s gravestone resembles an open book with her spritz cookie recipe etched in the stone.

While the monuments list ingredients, they don’t often include instructions. Thus, Grant didn’t realize that she needed a cookie press to make spritz cookies.

She laughed and said, “I made pretty much every recipe incorrectly! I now own multiple cookie presses.”

When she’d gathered 20 recipes, publishers expressed interest in a cookbook.

Eventually, Grant ended up with 40 “To Die For” recipes.

The author didn’t just make the recipe; she visited each cemetery featured in North America and photographed the gravestone. She interviewed family and friends of the deceased and often cooked with them, whether in person or via Zoom.

“I made spritz cookies with Naomi’s family,” she said. “They were so generous with their time!”

Gravestone recipes are rare, but the author discovered one right here in Spokane County.

You can find Marty Woolf’s recipe for ranch dip on his headstone at Saltese Cemetery in Greenacres.

An avid golfer, Woolf grew up in Spokane Valley. After graduating from dental school, he and his young family relocated to New Mexico to work alongside his brother and his best friend.

In 2022, he fell ill unexpectedly and died a few days later. His obituary in The Spokesman-Review read, “There are few people in this life that when you meet once, you never forget them. Marty was the sweetest husband, most loving father, and best friend to countless people.”

Grant contacted his sister-in-law to learn more about Woolf. She discovered his nickname was Dr. Death, and he loved to share recipes.

“Dr. Death’s Ranch was something he loved to make,” said Grant. “When I visited his grave, someone had left a can of Mountain Dew beside it.”

When staging the food pictures, photographer Jill Petracek took care to add subtle nods about the deceased. In the photo of the ranch dip, a glass of Mountain Dew sits nearby.

Surprisingly, a few of the recipes in the book came from the living.

“These women were preplanning,” Grant said.

Before Peggy Neal’s husband died, they prepared their headstones together. As an avid hunter, his side featured game animals.

“What do I want to be remembered for?” Neal thought. “Well, I am darn proud of my cookie recipe!”

So, the recipe for Peg’s sugar cookies was etched into the marker, and the book features a photo of a smiling Peg next to it.

“I got to cook with Peggy in Arkansas,” Grant said.

Likewise, Cindy Clark Newby’s recipe for No-Bake Cookies is on her headstone.

“I thought about what my family would feel when they visited my grave,” she said. “I pictured them laughing when they saw I’d put my cookie recipe on there.”

From a chocolate chip cookie recipe on a book-shaped headstone with “Cookie Book” on the spine, to a marker featuring a handwritten chicken soup recipe, Grant uncovered the stories of ordinary people remembered for the way they fed and gave to others.

She urges readers to document their own recipes and food histories and included resources to assist them.

Traveling to cemeteries throughout the country and recreating cherished recipes allowed Grant to understand the role of food in preserving memories, as well as fostering a deep appreciation for the loving legacies etched in stone.

“It’s a testament to who these people were in life – generous and giving.”

Columns

Love in Every Bite

Cindy Hval

For many years, I’ve written an annual zucchini column for The Spokesman-Review’s Food section.

It started when my husband planted our first garden and made the rookie mistake of planting three zucchini plants.

The abundance of zucchini prompted me to delve into my cookbooks and recipe files. It also led me to give the gift of a gourd to friends, neighbors and random strangers who offered to take some squash off my hands.

This was when our two youngest sons were still at home. They resignedly ate the resulting side dishes, casseroles and soups, and happily devoured the breads, cakes and cookies that resulted from our garden abundance.

Flash forward to our empty nest and more manageable zucchini crop. Manageable because we’ve reduced the size of our crop, and I learned how well the resulting baked goods freeze.

My Norwegian brother-in-law is a big fan of my chocolate zucchini bread. He and his wife have a beautiful saltwater swimming pool in their backyard and graciously allow us to swim on sweltering summer days.

A tasty homemade thank-you gift is always ready in my freezer. This year, I upped the ante with chocolate zucchini cupcakes studded with chocolate chips.

Earlier in the summer, a friend had ankle surgery. Her husband is in my writing group. Zucchini isn’t the only garden goodie that lends itself to baking. Our bumper crop of raspberries became a decadent coffee cake. I served some to my group and sent the rest home for Sarah.

Twice a month, we host a family dinner. I never have to worry about dessert because I’ve got plenty of zucchini peanut drop cookies or zucchini chocolate chip cookies on hand. All that’s needed is a carton of vanilla ice cream.

I may have read too many “Little House on the Prairie” books as a child, because nothing makes me feel more accomplished than having homemade goodies on hand. I’m like Laura Ingalls Wilder, but with an upright freezer instead of a root cellar.

Where does it all go?

Well, this summer I served lemon zucchini bread with lemon glaze to a former member of my writing group and his wife.

They’d moved to Montana a few years ago. When I had the opportunity to interview them about their new ministry, I invited them to our backyard gazebo. When they left, I sent the leftover dessert with them to sweeten their journey home.

My Norwegian brother-in-law is a big fan of my chocolate zucchini bread. He and his wife have a beautiful saltwater swimming pool in their backyard and graciously allow us to swim on sweltering summer days.

A tasty homemade thank-you gift is always ready in my freezer. This year, I upped the ante with chocolate zucchini cupcakes studded with chocolate chips.

Earlier in the summer, a friend had ankle surgery. Her husband is in my writing group. Zucchini isn’t the only garden goodie that lends itself to baking. Our bumper crop of raspberries became a decadent coffee cake. I served some to my group and sent the rest home for Sarah.

Twice a month, we host a family dinner. I never have to worry about dessert because I’ve got plenty of zucchini peanut drop cookies or zucchini chocolate chip cookies on hand. All that’s needed is a carton of vanilla ice cream.

Every season, I find new recipes to try, and during my weekly phone call with our Texas son, I told him I’d been baking chocolate chip zucchini bread.

“You should send me some,” he said.

I’ll be popping a loaf in the mail soon.

Last week, I got a text from one of my closest friends. Her only sibling had died unexpectedly.

Stunned and saddened, I pulled a loaf of orange chocolate chip zucchini bread from my freezer. On the way to her house, I stopped at the store and bought a sympathy card and an Uber Eats gift card.

I know she appreciated the gifts and my presence, but it was the zucchini bread she mentioned more than once.

When forced to swallow the bitter pill of loss, a taste of homemade sweetness sometimes offers a moment of respite.

All I know is my freezer full of baked zucchini goods makes me feel prepared for whatever celebration or sadness lies ahead.

Over the years, I’ve cut these breads and cakes into wedges, rectangles and squares. I’ve served it on glass trays, porcelain saucers and paper plates.

Anyway I slice it, it all adds up to love.

Columns

Zucchini Mayhem

Cindy Hval

I know I say this every year, but it seemed like zucchini season got off to a slow start.

No gigantic gourds awaited us when we returned from vacation – just one or two supermarket-sized squash.

Even more shocking, I still had two loaves of lemon zucchini bread and one loaf of chocolate zucchini bread in our freezer.

I blame our No. 3 son. He got married in October and now his lovely wife keeps him well supplied with sweet treats.

This year, I made a vow to slow down on baking and cooking. Unfortunately, our zucchini didn’t get the message. Neither did my husband.

When he hauled out the food processor to shred our first batch, I gave him my second-largest mixing bowl and told him not to fill it to the top.

Derek misheard me and shredded every zucchini in sight, and could barely get the lid on the bowl.

“Oh no!” I said. “I needed some to slice and dice for casseroles and soups!”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Can you wait a couple of days?”

Of course, he was right. Even with only one plant, I’ve got squash coming out of my ears.

It’s a good thing my recipe game is strong, and last year it was augmented by my sons’ former choir teacher, Helen Kennett. After last year’s column ran, she graciously sent me recipes for Zucchini Bacon Quiche and Zucchini Peanut Drops.

Both are wonderful, and I’ve included them below, along with a recipe for a tasty casserole that calls for a box of stuffing mix. It offers a taste of Thanksgiving in August.

Right now, I’m giving thanks for the goodness of the green gourd and the comfort of an air-conditioned kitchen to prepare it in.

Zucchini Bacon Quiche

From Helen Kennett

1 tube (8-ounce) refrigerated crescent rolls

2 teaspoons prepared mustard

6 bacon strips, diced (save 2 tablespoons bacon dripping)

3 cups thinly sliced zucchini

1 medium onion, chopped

2 eggs beaten

2 cups shredded mozzarella cheese

2 tablespoons dried parsley flakes

½ teaspoon pepper

¼ teaspoon garlic powder

¼ teaspoon dried oregano

¼ teaspoon dried basil

Separate crescent dough into eight triangles.

Place in a greased 10-inch pie plate with points toward the center.

Press dough to the bottom and up the sides of plate to form a crust.

Seal perforations. Spread with mustard.

In skillet, cook bacon over medium. heat until crisp. Remove to paper towels; drain, reserving 2 tablespoons drippings.

Sauté zucchini & onion in drippings until tender.

In a large bowl, combine eggs, cheese, seasonings, bacon and zucchini mixture. Pour into crust.

Bake at 375 degrees for 25-30 minutes until knife inserted comes out clean.

(Cover edges loosely with foil if pastry browns too quickly.)

Taste of Thanksgiving Zucchini Casserole

6 cups diced zucchini

1 (10.75-ounce) can condensed cream of mushroom soup

1 cup sour cream

½ cup chopped onion

1 cup shredded carrots (honestly, I usually omit these, and it still tastes great)

1 (6-ounce) package stuffing mix (I use Stove Top cornbread or chicken)

½ cup butter, melted

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a 2-quart casserole dish.

In a large saucepan over medium-high heat, cook zucchini in lightly salted water until crisp-tender, about five minutes. Drain and place in a large bowl. Stir in the soup, sour cream, onion and carrots.

In a small bowl, mix together stuffing and melted butter. Spread half the stuffing mix in the bottom of the casserole dish, add a layer of zucchini mixture, and top with remaining stuffing.

Bake 20 minutes or until the top is golden brown.

Zucchini Peanut Drops

From Helen Kennett

1 cup margarine (I use butter)

1 cup peanut butter

½ cup sugar

1 cup packed brown sugar

2 eggs

1 teaspoon vanilla

2 cups grated unpeeled zucchini

½ cup chopped peanuts

3¼ cup flour

½ teaspoon baking powder

½ teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon salt

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Cream margarine (or butter), peanut butter and sugars until light and fluffy. Add eggs one at a time, beating well. Stir in vanilla zucchini and peanuts. Combine dry ingredients and blend into creamed mixture. Drop by tablespoonfuls onto greased cookie sheet (I use parchment paper).

Bake for 15-18 minutes.

Columns

Savoring the Special + Wedding Tales

Cindy Hval

For The Spokesman-Review

As breakfasts go, on the day after Thanksgiving, it doesn’t get much better than homemade pumpkin pie with a large dollop of whipped cream.

Ditto on the day after, the day after.

“Well, that’s it until next year,” I said, as my fork slid into the last creamy bite of spiced pumpkin.

I scooped up bits of flaky pie crust and sighed.

So did Derek.

“Your pumpkin pie is so much better than store-bought,” he said. “How come you don’t make it more often?”

A valid question, since you can buy cans of Libby pumpkin year-round, and I’ve always got piecrust ingredients in the pantry.

“Pumpkin pie is only for Thanksgiving,” I replied. “Like sugar cookies, shortbread and fudge are only for Christmas.”

He sighed again and took our plates to the sink.

That conversation got me thinking. What if we had pumpkin pie every month? Or listened to Christmas music before Thanksgiving? Or enjoyed a batch of fudge in the summer?

An artificial Christmas tree could remain in your living room all year. My mom’s retirement facility does this with a small tree in their vestibule. They decorate it for the seasons – hearts in February, flowers in the spring, sunglasses in summer, etc.

But anticipating once-a-year treats and digging out holiday heirlooms to display are all part of savoring the joy of the season.

By the time you read this, there may be a few pieces of Irish cream or butter rum fudge left in our fridge, and there might be a cookie or two in the larder, but that’s it. On New Year’s Day, we invite the whole Hval clan over to devour all the Christmas treats, so we can start the New Year with a fridge filled with vegetables and other wholesome foods.

As I type, the refrain of “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day,” plays softly from my computer speakers.

”I heard the bells on Christmas Day

Their old, familiar carols play,

And wild and sweet

The words repeat

Of peace on earth, goodwill to men!”

Now, that’s a holiday sentiment I’d like to enjoy every day of the year.

Readers share wedding party memories

In my Dec. 5 column about my wedding appearances, I invited readers to share their wedding party memories.

My friend, Jill, is batting 50/50.

“I was a maid of honor and a bridesmaid,” she said. “One of the marriages stuck – one didn’t. Both weddings were lovely, though at the rehearsal for one of them, the officiant, who was also the groom’s dad, kept warning us bridesmaids to behave ourselves on the wedding day. I don’t know what he feared we would do. We were all married and had small children at that point. We were far too tired for any crazy stunts.”

Marcia Cocking appeared in a slew of weddings. Her many roles included flower girl, Junior bridesmaid, and maid of honor. She remembers every dress she wore!

“My yellow dress with a short cape (from her first flower girl role) has been a fun dress up for my 5 granddaughters,” she wrote.

Ditto a red dress and a white brocade gown.

“As a senior in high school, I wore a deep pink dress for my brother’s wedding. The dress also made an appearance at my Senior Prom with my future husband.”

In her sixth wedding appearance, she wore a flowered, lined dress as a bridesmaid in an August afternoon garden wedding.

“It was heavy and 100+degrees,” wrote Cocking. “It was nearly unbearable, in spite of the huge blue hat to complement the dress.”

That hat has also been a hit with her granddaughters.

Retired pastor, David Sutton, offered another perspective. He estimates he’s officiated 200 nuptials and has plenty of interesting tales.

“For example, the backyard wedding where the couple had 3 dogs and the grass was not mowed or cleaned up. Folding chairs on uneven turf, an old utility table for an altar, the participants wore clean bowling shirts with matching cut-offs. The dogs got loose in the middle of the ceremony!” he wrote. “Or the Hawaiian style outdoor wedding. The couple was about to light the Unity Candle just after I said, ‘And these single flames will light the one candle that represents the love you have for each other at this very moment and will last forever.’”’

And then a gust of wind extinguished the candle.

“I was best man at two weddings, co-star in three,” wrote Tom Peacock. “None lasted but I switched up to being a photographer at weddings that have had a much better success rate. Out of 6 weddings 5 are still going, the only one that isn’t, interestingly was a peacock-themed wedding, so perhaps my personal wedding experiences somehow affected that one. If I ever get married again maybe I should have you in the mix for a better success story.”

As I said, I’m sure my flower-strewing talents can be resurrected – the bouffant hairdo not so much.

Columns

Brown sugar cookies bring sweet memories

Cindy Hval

Chocolate chip cake bars, cowboy cookies, gingersnaps, snickerdoodles – on most Saturdays, Mom’s kitchen was filled with the fragrance of fresh-baked cookies.

When my youngest son started kindergarten and I returned to work, Mom assumed my children might never get a homemade cookie again. So she baked. Cookies were her love language.

Mom didn’t drive, so one of us would stop by her house to pick up the goodies. See what she did there? A Saturday visit from her daughter, son-in-law or a grandson was guaranteed.

Of all the treats Mom baked, brown sugar cookies were my favorite. Sweet and chewy with an added spark of cinnamon. It’s impossible to eat just one, so I often secreted a stash away from Derek and my boys.

In August, I came across her handwritten recipe.

My future daughter-in-law was coming to meet the wedding florist in my home to choose flowers for the bouquets and boutonnieres. I planned to serve them tea and cookies, and as I thumbed through my recipes, a flash of Mom’s tidy penmanship caught my eye.

Brown sugar cookies.

I hadn’t tasted them since she moved into an assisted living community seven years ago. I’ve baked a lot of cookies over those years, but I didn’t have the heart to make my favorites.

I wanted to remember how they tasted when she pulled them from the oven and placed a warm cookie in my hand.

I wanted to picture Mom in her element – stirring dough with a wooden spoon in the sunshine yellow mixing bowl and scooping dollops onto her battered and bent cookie sheets.

If I’d known that long ago batch would be the last one she’d be able to bake, I would have savored each bite, feeling her love in the sweetness of every mouthful.

Now, Mom’s memories are jumbled and fragmented. The details of hundreds of meals and thousands of cakes and cookies she churned out are lost somewhere in the depths of dementia.

It felt like it was time to fold new memories into the richness of the old. So, I affixed the recipe to the range hood and assembled the ingredients.

While they baked, I spread one of Mom’s lace cloths on the table and warmed a teapot for my guests, just like she showed me.

The timer rang, and I pulled a pan of cookies from the oven. As usual, I couldn’t wait for them to cool. I juggled one from hand to hand and finally sank my teeth into the deliciousness of brown sugar and cinnamon. They were every bit as wonderful as those that came from Mom’s kitchen.

I shouldn’t have waited so long to make them.

When Naselle arrived, I served the cookies on the glass dessert plates we used at my wedding 38 years ago.

Of course, she loved the cookies.

For her bridal shower, I created a cookbook filled with favorite family recipes. I included Mom’s piecrust and a copy of her handwritten brown sugar cookie recipe.

I hope the memory of the day I finally made Mom’s cookies will be as sweet as the ones I have of her baking for my boys.

But if that moment fades or is lost to me in the haze of age or illness, perhaps my daughter-in-law will bake a batch and remember for me.

Brown Sugar Cookies

1 cup shortening

2 cups brown sugar

2 eggs

2 tablespoons water

2 teaspoons vanilla

3 ½ cups flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon cinnamon

Cream shortening and sugar. Add eggs, water and vanilla. Sift dry ingredients and mix well. Take small balls of dough and mash down with a glass dipped in sugar and cinnamon.

Bake at 350 degrees for 8-10 minutes on a greased cookie sheet.

Columns

Made with Love: Kitchen Memories

Cindy Hval

During the holidays my house smells like sugar and spice and everything nice. The aroma doesn’t come from scented candles; it emanates from the shortbread, sugar cookies, three kinds of fudge, and two loaves of Amish cinnamon bread I’ve made.

Shortbread and sugar cookies

The cinnamon bread cools in my mother’s aluminum pans. Last month, I wrote about the memories those pans hold for me and invited readers to share their stories of memory-laden kitchenware.

Below you’ll read about everything from pie tins to rolling pins, as readers reminisce about recipes, traditions and warm memories made in the kitchen.

Tom Peacock said his mother and grandmother were “pie goddesses.” It seems he inherited their skills, along with her flour sifter and Spode Christmas dishes.

“I baked my first pie (cherry) when I was around 12,” he wrote. “I picked the cherries from the next-door neighbor’s tree, pitted them with Mom’s old-school pitter, and the pie turned out nicely.”

From there he progressed to banana cream, pecan and blackberry cream pies.

“I did get to bake side by side with Mom, especially in her later years. The last few years before she went into assisted care, I did most of the Thanksgiving cooking using the skills I learned from her,” Peacock said.

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Every baker knows you can’t make a good pie crust or sugar cookies without a quality rolling pin. John Kafentzis and his family use an irreplaceable one.

“A rolling pin from my grandmother is still very much in use at our house,” he said. “It was carved by her grandfather from a single piece of maple around 1920. It’s substantial. The family joke is that it was carved from the last tree in Kansas as that’s where they lived at the time.”

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Pier Sanna’s mom was a pastry chef and taught Sanna to make everything from croissants to wedding cakes.

“After her death in 1980, I had first dibs on her bakeware – 50-plus-year-old cast iron pizza pans and cookie sheets. Try finding those at Williams Sonoma,” Sanna wrote. “Every time we use her bakeware, we suspect she is standing next to us smiling and resisting the urge to supervise.”

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Jan Erickson uses a braising pot that her grandfather gave to her mother on her wedding day in 1947.

“I remember wonderful roasts, ribs, and so many favorite dishes coming from this pan,” Erickson said. “My grandparents did not have much money, but they splurged on this pot for my mom. Granddad told Mom that this pot would last her through her entire life. It surely did!

“I know my daughter wants this pot when I’m done with it, so it will continue in our family for years to come.”

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Many of us revel in holiday baking traditions. For example, Leslie Olson Turner’s mother embraced her Norwegian roots when it came to Christmas cookies, making spritz cookies, berlinerkranser, rosettes, almond crescents and krumkake. Turner has continued the tradition, using her mother’s cookie press and rosette irons.

“I reserve the holidays to kick in my own version of a baking frenzy,” she wrote. “The krumkake iron I now use I inherited from my Aunt Sonja. It’s identical to the one my Mom had used – made of heavy-duty cast iron. And while I could have bought an electric one, it just wouldn’t have been the same.”

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Michael Paul also continues cultural traditions. His great-grandmother was born in Hawaii to Portuguese immigrants.

“The Portuguese brought with them many new foods, including what is today known as Hawaiian sweet bread. Each Christmas, Nana Schultz would bake sweet bread for everyone, blessing each loaf with a cross and a tiny piece of garlic in the center of the cross as it went into the oven,” Paul wrote. “Today, I am just about the only one left in my family making this bread and the pickled pork also served at Christmas time.”

He still uses his grandmother’s metal measuring cups and Nana Schultz’s recipes.

“There’s no telling how old those recipes are. They came ‘around the horn’ from Portugal in the late 1800s,” Paul said.

Sometimes, the most practical items are treasured.

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“After my dear mother passed away, going through her things there was one kitchen item, in particular, that was the golden ticket – the jar opener,” Julie Hoseid said. “Since I did most of the help for her, I rewarded myself with it, however, my sister and I are discussing shared custody.”

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It seems pie-baking stirs up many memories.

“I’m not sure how old I was when Mom taught me her pumpkin pie filling tweaks, but I remember her setting me up at the kitchen table the first few times because I was too short to reach the countertop,” Carol Nelson wrote.

When Nelson married her, mother gave her the LustreCraft stainless mixing bowl, the pie plates that ensure an evenly baked crust, and her rolling pin. But it was her mother-in-law that gave her a never-fail pie crust recipe.

“Fifty-one years later, both moms have passed, but each time I take out my pie plates and the now-stained recipe card, I think of them, and their gifts of love to a new bride.”

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Gail Justesen said her mother was known as one of the best pie-makers in Whitman County. When her mom was out of town, a teenage Justesen decided to step in and bake two pies for a pie social.

“The first two I cooked too long: the crust was brittle, apple filling overflowed. The next batch, the crust was raw and the filling soupy,” she recalled.

But Justesen kept trying – making seven pies in all before she had two that were pie social-worthy. Her dad didn’t mind gobbling up the mistakes.

“My friends moan when they think of making pies and usually cave to the store-bought pie crusts. However, I love to make them and am so thankful for the ‘pie genes’ I received from my mom,” said Justesen.

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I’m not the only one with aluminum bread pans. Lisa Meiners treasures four that belonged to her mother.

“My mother passed away Aug. 1, just four months shy of her 100th birthday,” Meiners wrote. “She raised six children in Alaska and was a wonderful cook and baker. We always had homemade bread. Four of Mom’s bread pans moved with her from Alaska to Washington. I’m the only one of her five daughters who bakes bread regularly, and now have the honor of owning those bread pans that were used to bake loaves of love every week.”

So readers, as you sit at your holiday table this week, I hope you’ll enjoy more than just delicious food. Sometimes sharing memories and traditions with those you love is the most satisfying feast of all.

Columns

Baking with Mom

Cindy Hval

The lightweight aluminum pans aren’t beautiful. Scratched and slightly dented, they’re certainly nothing you would find at Williams Sonoma. They aren’t even nonstick.

Nevertheless, my freezer is filled with pumpkin bread, chocolate zucchini bread and beer-cheese bread, all turned out by these stalwart pans.

When my mother moved into a retirement community, it fell to me to sort out her kitchen – choosing what I wanted, what my siblings and their children might want, and what would be left for the estate sale.

Mom’s four kids are all long-married with established homes and kitchens, so most of her goods weren’t wanted or needed by any of us.

But the loaf pans that had churned out countless batches of banana bread – well, I knew I would use them, and I have.

I don’t have any cozy memories of Saturday baking with my mother. The kitchen was her domain, and I wasn’t invited to learn by her side. It could be that I wasn’t interested in spending my Saturdays mixing and measuring. Honestly, I don’t remember. But I must have learned something by osmosis because I’ve spent the past 35 years feeding copious amounts of family and friends.

Mom wasn’t stingy with her recipes. My cookbooks are filled with her handwritten notes for gingersnaps, pie crust, snickerdoodles and other tasty treats. It’s just that we never baked them together. In fact, when my sons were young, and I was working, it was my mother who baked weekly treats for them – a way to lure them to Grandma’s house for a visit and a hug.

She still misses baking. Still wakes up with a start thinking she’s left something in the oven too long.

Recently, I showed her a photo of the pans.

“Do you remember where you got these?” I asked. “I know you’ve had them since I was tiny.”

But her memories are clouded now. Dates and times blend and blur.

No matter.

On Thanksgiving, I’ll welcome her to my table set with her harvest gold cloth and the lovely Noritake china my father bought for her in Japan. I’ll lay out her silver flatware that I used to polish every holiday as a child. It seems some chores are yours for a lifetime.

I’ll roll out her pie crust recipe with her red-handled rolling pin and fill the crust with fragrant apples, cinnamon and cloves.

And perhaps after all these years, it will feel like I’m finally baking with Mom.

Columns

With 20/20 clarity, I see change ahead

Cindy Hval

I don’t remember ever having 20/20 vision. I got my first pair of glasses in fourth grade, my first pair of contacts at 15, and my eyesight continues to decline.

That’s why I’m really looking forward to this new year – I can finally see 2020! And every time I glimpse the date in my new calendars and planners, I smile. There’s just something exciting about turning a page.

2019 brought change to our household. In the fall, our third son moved into his own place, and we’re officially down to just one kid at home. That kid will graduate from college in the spring, and while he’ll likely stay with us while pursuing a second degree – our empty nest years are looming.

So far, meal planning has been the most challenging thing about our shrinking household. Because Sam works mainly evenings, I foresaw a lot of cooking for two in my future. As usual, my vision was faulty, because at least once a week there are five at my table.

When Zach moved out, I told him I hoped he’d join us for a weekly family meal. Our oldest son also lives nearby, and if I’m cooking for four, it’s certainly no stretch to make dinner for five.

The result? I now get to have my three in-town sons around my table on a regular basis, and nothing makes this mama’s heart happier. Besides, I haven’t yet mastered the art of cooking for three, let alone two.

The holidays revealed more opportunities for adapting. In recent years, our two youngest sons have been in charge of tree decorating. My penchant for holiday décor seems to grow each year, so it’s nice to leave the Christmas tree in their capable hands. However, this year, varying work schedules proved problematic.

I’m all about problem solving, so for the first time in at least 25 years, Derek and I trimmed the tree by ourselves. What might have been melancholy became delightful. We took a lovely, romantic stroll down memory lane as we hung ornaments and remembered Christmases past.

Then came the cookie-decorating conflict.

In 2011, Sam made us a book featuring his treasured Christmas memories. In it he wrote, “I love making and decorating Christmas cookies with you.”

That was then.

This is now.

As usual, I baked dozens of sugar cookies, and then checked with our sons to see when they’d be available to frost and decorate them. Sam seemed ambivalent and told me to check with Zach.

I’ve never wanted to try to squeeze my sons into traditions that no longer fit, so I texted Zach, “How strongly do you feel about decorating Christmas cookies? I can leave them out for you guys to do when you come over Wednesday, or Dad and I can just do them tonight.”

He replied, “I don’t feel strongly either way.”

So for the first time in our 33-year marriage, Derek got to be part of the Christmas cookie fun. He’s artistically inclined, so our cookies looked fabulous. And honestly, I don’t much miss the Cyclops angels or graphically anatomically correct snowmen that our sons were inclined to include.IMG_20191216_194208217

Derek and I further simplified our holidays by skipping stuffing stockings for each other. Less shopping equaled less stress and more fun.

As someone who cherishes the familiar, and relishes ritual and tradition, I’ve been surprised at how readily I’ve adapted to this new season of our lives, and how eagerly I’m anticipating the unknowns that await.

Because whatever 2020 brings, the one thing I can clearly see ahead is change. And instead of dreading it, I’m choosing to embrace it.

Columns

Go home chicken, you’re drunk

Cindy Hval

Tears poured from my eyes as I thumbed through the pages. My sides ached with laughter. I snorted. I guffawed. I giggled.

Who would think a cookbook could provoke such hilarity?

Just when I caught my breath, I spotted a recipe for Pheasant- All Drunk and Spunky, and I howled again.

But first a little background. My mother collected recipes like there might not ever be another Dorothy Dean column or Campbell’s soup cookbook. She clipped them from newspapers, magazines, flour bags and shortening cans. She filed them in index card boxes and three-ring binders. Cookbooks lined a shelf in her kitchen and filled drawers in her buffet. Even after my dad died and she didn’t have anyone to cook for, she kept on clipping.

Her cookies were legendary. For years, she supplied my boys with enough baked goods to feed a small platoon. Her dessert plates were the first to be emptied at every church potluck.

In recent years, she tried to downsize. I’m not sure which sibling ended up with her battered copy of Irma Rombauer’s “The Joy of Cooking,” but she gave me my grandmother’s vintage “Good Housekeeping Cookbook” and her own copy of “Better Homes and Garden Cookbook,” which I still haul out every time I bake apple pies.

My recipe box is filled with her handwritten recipe cards.

When she moved into a retirement home, the cookbooks and clipping collection had to go. I didn’t have time to sort through her recipe-filled envelopes, but somehow I snagged a cookbook and brought it home before her house sold.

With the holidays approaching, I finally sat down to go through it. The 270-page cookbook has no cover, no back and no title. I have no idea who produced it. I think I grabbed it because it features Mom’s handwritten commentary. Some recipes had checkmarks or stars. Some said “try,” and others had “good!” written next to them.

The source of my amusement came from the many, many recipes that called for some kind of booze.

Mom is such a stringent teetotaler that she’s never even purchased cooking wine or sherry. She certainly never had the ingredients for Drunk Chicken, or Bourbon-Pecan cake, or New Bacardi Chocolate Rum cake. And even if she had the ingredients for Beer and Sauerkraut Fudge Cake, I can’t imagine that she’d inflict that on anyone.

It’s wasn’t only the alcohol-laden recipes that gave me giggles, just the names of some of the recipes induced mirth.

Creeping Crust Cobbler anyone? How about some Liver Surprise? (Spoiler alert, the surprise is cinnamon, or maybe it’s the applesauce.) Beef Birds with Olive Gravy gave me pause, but Carrot Loaf- a Meat Substitute made me queasy for hours. The recipe calls for rice, carrots, eggs, milk and peanut butter!

Not every recipe proved as stomach-churning. Amazed, I discovered the original source for Mom’s Five-Hour Stew, her Busy Day Chicken and Rice, and the zucchini fritter recipe I’d assumed was my grandmother’s. The titleless cookbook is proving to be a treasure.

My husband enjoys my culinary escapades, but he was a bit bewildered last week when he called and asked about our dinner plans.

“I thought about making Pheasant- All Drunk and Spunky,” I said.”But catching a pheasant and getting it drunk, seemed like a lot of work. And how can you tell if a pheasant’s spunky?”

“Uh…” Derek murmured.

“Nevermind,” I continued. “We had some poultry in the freezer, but you’d better come home soon.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because the chicken’s already drunk,” I replied.

Unlike my mother, I cook with wine. Sometimes I even add it to the recipe.