About a week before Christmas my mother asked how she met my
father.
I told her the well-worn tale of friends who wanted to set
him up on a blind date. They gave him a choice: blonde or brunette? He picked
blonde…and the rest, well, is my history.
She was teaching high school art and he was launching the State College
office of a Lehigh Valley construction company. It was a whirlwind romance that
resulted in a marriage of 56 wonderful years.
When I finished the story, my mother said, “I’m so glad you
remember, even if you weren’t there.”
It got me thinking. She’s lost her place in the world. So
many memories, names, and faces have vanished. She fills the airwaves by
reading roadside signs and asking repetitive questions like a drowning person
struggling to keep her head above water. Her sense of time is a jumble. Did we
have Christmas yet? Happy Easter! When will it be January? Is today someone’s
birthday? What day is today?
Maybe, we could remember Christmas for her.
So, I sent an email to my four sisters and spouses, and to
Nonna’s 12 grandchildren, asking everyone to send holiday memories. Marina was
here to help so we scoured some old albums of really embarrassing photos— the flannel-phase, the disco-phase, the
perm-phase—we got holiday stickers, a few current photos fresh off Facebook,
and a hardbound sketchbook to create “Remembering Christmas.”
The collection of stories, letters (the farthest came from
Shanghai), and snapshots in time was wrapped and placed in Nonna’s stocking. It
was a gift from all of us and for all of us. Best of all, she loves it. Laurie Lynch
Christmas Recipe
2012: Although our family holidays are steeped in tradition, I often like
to mix things up a bit, try a new recipe or add a new dish. It’s not a “Fedon”
Christmas Eve unless there’s a bowl of hand-made tortellini in warm broth at each
place. For years, I’ve made the family tradition my own by tossing a handful of
bright green peas and chopped red pepper into the soup pot for holiday cheer.
This year, while sorting through recipe cards, I found one
from Pat Snyder of Kutztown for Castagnioli (almond macaroons) that I had tasted
and loved, but never baked. This was the year:
1 kilo (4½ cups) crushed almonds or almond meal (available
at health food stores, Echo Hill, etc.)
4 eggs (5 if small)
2½ cups sugar
2 grated lemons (Pat uses limes)
Mix finely ground almonds, sugar, and citrus rind. Make a
well in the mixture and put in eggs, stirring in from the sides. Mix well and
roll into 1-inch balls. Bake at 350° for 20 to 25 minutes on parchment
paper-covered baking sheets.
One batch of these cookies got a little too brown, so
instead of packing them away in a tin, I placed them in a bowl for snackers and
left them on the kitchen table…
Meanwhile, I had a pot of tomato sauce bubbling on the stove
for dinner. I was setting the table in the dining room when Richard walked into
the kitchen.
“Should I put these meatballs in the sauce?” he called out.
I freaked out, started screaming, and ran to the kitchen.
Just a joke, Mom.
My nickname for this treat will forever be “Meatball
Cookies”.
Gonna Miss Him:
Richard has transferred from Penn State to Vesalius College and will move to
Brussels this month.
Christmas Lesson
2012: Another Christmas Eve tradition that I made my own is accompanying tortellini
soup with a mixed greens salad topped with pistachios and pomegranate seeds
(green-and-red theme repeated) with Sweet Fruit Dressing. Shelling the
pistachios is the easy part; separating each pomegranate ruby from its casing is
messy and time-consuming.
Enter Marina, fresh from grad school in London where her
flat seems to be a center of culinary exchange. (One friend, Catie, is studying the
Anthropology of Food, no less!) To easily remove the seeds from a pomegranate:
1. Slice
off the “crown” end of the fruit.
2. Cut
into the skin making four quarters and gently break apart.
3. Place
the seed side in the palm of your hand and use a wooden spoon to whack the back
skin side. This releases the seeds from the membrane and into your hand, and
you can easily drop them into a container.
Voila! Happy 2013.
