Sweet Treats for the Holidays

During our time in Nashville each winter, we are usually invited to a number of social things and dinners or lunch with friends.  We also like to take a small gift to those hosting parties, the TTA newsletter party, and a few family members.  Tell me, is there anything better than chocolate for these small tokens of appreciation?

Today, was candy making day around here.  Over the course of about 30 years of candy making, I have settled on three items that have become my favorites--almond bark, peanut clusters, and truffles.  Besides being good, they are all very easy to make.

For the almond bark, I toast slivered almonds in a low oven until they are slightly golden.  After they are cool, I stir them into melted white chocolate.  I usually use the chocolate wafers that I get at Hobby Lobby.  White chocolate morsels available at the grocery are also fine.  Spread the warm mixture out on parchment paper in a layer about 1/4 inch thick.  When completely cooled, break apart into bite-sized pieces.

The peanut clusters are even easier.  Stir a can of salted peanuts into a pound of melted milk or dark chocolate.  Drop by spoonfuls onto parchment paper.  Allow to cool completely.  I put the chocolate in the microwave to melt.

The truffles are a little more involved, but still not complicated.  I found this recipe in the 2006 Taste of Home Best Holiday Recipes magazine.  In a microwave safe bowl mix 1 can sweetened condensed milk with 3 cups semi-sweet chocolate morsels.  Heat on 50% power until melted.  Stir in 1 tablespoon vanilla extract.  Chill this mixture in the refrigerator until it is cool enough to handle.  Shape into 1-inch balls.  Roll the balls in baking cocoa, flaked coconut, finely chopped nuts, and/or candy sprinkles.  How easy is that for something that looks so complicated.  This recipe makes 4 dozen.

Cookies are also a great gift.  I’ll get into the cookie making next week.

Now my focus is keeping Gene from eating all the goodies before they can be delivered.

Long Hunter State Park

We wandered off to Long Hunter State Park today for a hike.  Long Hunter is located on the other side of the county along the banks of Percy Priest Lake.

lots of moss along the trail

In times gone by the Cherokee, Creek and Shawnee Indians fought for control of what they called the “middle hunting ground” and what we refer to as Middle Tennessee.  After the French and Indian War, Europeans came to settle in the “west”.  Hunters came on year long expeditions and to trade with the native peoples.  These hunters were known as “long hunters”.  Probably the most famous of these was Daniel Boone.

hot chocolate for lunch

Another of these hunters (not so famous) was Uriah Stone who explored the river which was eventually named for him.  In the 1960s, Stone’s River was dammed to form Percy Priest Lake.

Volunteer trail was appropriately blazed

We followed the Day Loop and a section of the Volunteer Trail to make about a 6 mile hike, much of which is along the lakeshore.  The trail meanders through boulders, through cedar glades, and along the shoreline.  In warm weather there is usually a strong odor of dead fish along this trail.  As a result it has become one of our least favorite in the area.  However, with temperatures only in the 30s today, there were no odors, no noise from motor boats, and very few other hikers.  We really enjoyed our walk on this bright sunny day.

This deere is in the spirit of the season

With a forecast of temperatures in the low 20s for tonight, we may not even go outside tomorrow.  Florida is sounding better and better to me every day.

Reflections on the RVing Lifestyle--Downsizing

Several of our family members have asked us what we want for Christmas.  When I consider my answer, I try to think not only of what I want, but also what I have room for.  To say the least, space is very limited in our rolling home.

As we were making our plans to live full-time in an RV, our “stuff” was not the first thing we considered.  It wasn’t the second, third, or fourth either.  When the day finally came for us to move into our new 5th wheel, we were quite surprised at what wouldn’t fit.  And this was after a considerable effort to downsize over a period of 3 years.  We had already gone down from a house to a condo to a one bedroom apartment.  Where did all this stuff come from and when do we ever use it?

Clearly, downsizing for full-time RV living was a difficult task.  We had a distinct advantage in being backpackers.  We knew we could survive on a mere 35 pounds each.  All we really needed was a shelter to keep us dry in rain, warm in cold, and safe from bugs and snakes.  We needed 2 changes of clothes, a mat to sleep on, cover to sleep under, a spoon, a cup, a bowl, a cook pot, one burner stove, a flashlight, toothbrush, a little food, pen, paper, and a book to read.  If this was all I really needed, why was I moving in three sets of bed linens, towels for all the guests we never have, china, crystal, and a fur coat?

Actually, it wasn’t that bad, but we did have to seriously think about what we needed, what we wanted, and how to dispose of the rest.  Having a 5th wheel with a rear kitchen gave us a little more storage space than some other models of RVs.  Still, it’s no house and there is precious little storage.

We did what I suspect most RVers do.  We trashed all of all that junk that had accumulated over the years that we never used.  We made about 50 trips to Goodwill with perfectly good stuff that we rarely used.  This included a whole lot of furniture.  We gave away to family members stuff that was a little more special, especially those things that had some family connection or sentimental value.  I bought Corelle dinnerware to replace the heavy and bulky stoneware, I reduced my pot and pan collection to about half, and I gave away more wine glasses than I can count.  (The rest got broken on our first travel day.)  Having offloaded about 10,000 pounds of “stuff”, we still had to rent a storage unit for those things too precious to part with.

The most difficult thing to deal with were the thousands of photographs we had between us.  Gene and I both had a lifetime of photographs; then we ended up with a lifetime of photographs from his mother when she passed away.  After an extensive search, I finally found a Walgreens that would scan the pictures for me.  Most places what you to do it yourself.  Doing 20 is fine, doing 2,000 is quite another issue.  I had to organize them how I wanted them on CDs then took them in in bundles of 75.  After all the photos were scanned and stored on CDs, I still couldn’t just throw the paper photo in the trash.  Whoever was in the picture or on the trip when the picture was made, got it.

After about 2 years on the road, we started to clean out the storage unit.  This was the stuff we really wanted to keep and so every item required much discussion and finally a heart wrenching decision.  These were not things of any great monetary value; they were family keepsakes.  Finally, at the end of last year, the storage unit was empty.  We still carry a few of those special things.  Ansley has a file drawer of important papers, my parents hung a print on their wall and are keeping a couple pieces of crystal for me, but for the most part, what we have in our 5th wheel is all that we own.

Sometimes I miss the extra space available in a home or condo, especially at this time of year when we enjoy having friends and family over to share in the blessings of the season.  Whenever that little wave of nostalgia washes over me and I give is a few minutes of serous thought, I always come away with the same conclusion--I’d rather have the freedom to roam.

It is quite liberating actually not to be encumbered with all that “stuff”.  So when someone asked me what I want for Christmas or birthday or whatever, I immediately think “consumable”.  I’ll take a bottle of wine or an Olive Garden gift card, but I don’t want anything that requires a permanent space in my home.

A Family History Adventure

Whenever we are in Nashville, I always like to take a day for a trip to the area where my grandparents lived.  I am ever on a quest to learn about my family history and not just the names of ancestors, but to see the places where they lived and hear the stories about their lives.  I have really waited too late for some things and those who could have shared their knowledge have gone on to a better life.  Still, I enjoy visiting those old home places and recalling some of the grand times I had as a child.

My grandmother as a teenagers

So, last Friday, I gathered up my uncles and we headed to the country.  The country on this particular day was Hickman County--the area where my mother’s parents lived.  I was especially in search of my great-grandparents’ homesteads.  I didn’t have much information to go on.  I only knew that my grandfather was raised on Taylor’s Creek and that my grandmother grew up on a farm located at the head of Wolf Creek.

My grandmother's parents

Armed with my computer and air card, the Tennessee Atlas & Gazetteer, and the knowledge of my two uncles we set out.  Right away I found that I had relied too heavily on the childhood memories of my two uncles.  They neither one could recall ever having been to either Taylor’s Creek or to a home on Wolf Creek belonging to their grandfather.  It is true that all but one of their grandparents had died before either of them were born.

With the map, however, we were able to find Taylor’s Creek.  Taylor’s Creek Road (a dirt road in relatively good condition) runs parallel to the creek for about 3 miles, but there is no sign of any homestead anywhere along the length of the road.  I was able to get some great information out of these boys.  On the way to Taylor’s Creek we drove past Lowe’s Bend where my grandfather went to school.  I had been by the school many times since it is on the way to the cemetery where many of my ancestors are buried.  As we passed the falling down building, one of my uncles mentioned that after it was a school it had been a church (that I didn’t know) and that he had at one time preached there.  Now that is good family history information.

My grandfather's parents

At the end of Taylor’s Creek Road we found ourselves in the tiny community of Vernon.  In the early days of the county, Vernon was the county seat.  We are fortunate enough to have a stack of “love letters” exchanged by my grandparents when they were courting.  Many of those letters were post marked in Vernon. It is amazing today to think of my grandfather living on Taylor’s Creek and my grandmother living on Wolf Creek, a total distance of about 10 miles apart, having to communicate via the postal service.

Hickman County Courthouse on the square in Centerville

Having searched the length of Taylor’s Creek Road for any sign of an old homestead, we went in search of lunch.  We made our way back to Centerville, now the county seat having been moved from Vernon in the 1820s.  A favorite of my entire family is Breese’s Cafe, a meat and three on the square.  The food’s not the best, but we’ve been going there (since it was the only place) for so long it has become habit.  Still being full from our over indulgence on Thanksgiving, we all just ordered sandwiches instead of meals.

With a little nourishment, we were ready to continue our search.  We all knew where Wolf Creek was located.  You can almost see it from where my grandparents lived on Briar Pond.  Carl and Edd could dredge up a little more memory here and we found a place that seemed to look familiar.  There were also two falling down houses that looked as though they could have been from the late 1800s.

Although we cannot be sure exactly where my grandparents’ lived as children, we at least feel we past the places where they would have played as children, saw the fields where my grandfather drove the plow mules and where my grandmother picked vegetables for dinner.

We also passed by the farm they owned as adults and where my mother, my uncles, and my aunts grew up.  I spent a lot of time there myself as a child and young adult.  That place is sad to me now because it is nothing like it used to be.  The farm house was sold, taken down and moved to Georgia somewhere several years ago.  The barn, where my cousins and I played so many hours, has been torn down.  The chicken houses, smoke house, and out house no longer exist.  There is a new house on the property now and it is oriented perpendicular to the way my grandparents’ home sat.  I almost don’t recognize it any more.

Since we were driving along roads all around the area of my grandparents’ farm, every bend in the road and every farm house brought back a memory.  We were regaled by childhood stories, most of which I have heard over and over, some of which I lived through.  It is these stories I cherish so much and am grateful for this oral history.  Every time I make this trip a new piece of information emerges.  I love it.  I’ll continue to seek the story of my heritage.

In The Spirit

Yesterday I woke up with the Christmas spirit.  Or maybe that was just the sound of all the 18-wheelers stampeding down I-24.  We are so close to the interstate you can see the faces of the drivers.  Well, you could if you were able to focus fast enough.  Along with the increased traffic flow as dawn approaches, we also have the construction workers pulling out from their surrounding campsites--all with diesel trucks, of course.  The last to leave in this morning parade are the two young men from Colorado who are enrolled at Nashville Auto Diesel College.  I, for one, will be glad when they get to the chapter on mufflers.  Ahhh, morning in the campground.

Noisy as it was, it did not deter my spirit.  After breakfast and our usual morning chores, Gene and I ventured out into the holiday shopping crowd to the nearby community of Madison (really a suburb of Nashville).  Our first stop was Hobby Lobby where we selected garland for our traditional RV decorations.  Then it was on to Books-A-Million for a few books for Kayley and a final stop at Staples where Gene got a pocket calendar for 2010.  One strip mall, three stops, and our shopping is done.

We spent the afternoon putting up the decorations.  As has been mentioned by most of the RVers whose blogs I read--there ain’t much space for decorations.  The first year we had the Montana, there was an unoccupied space at the end of our kitchen counter which was ideal for a small tree.  We got one about 3 feet tall.  Gene and I were still working at the time and each day we went off to do our duty and left the Peanut home alone.  We were so proud of that cat for about a week.  He never bothered the tree.  I guess he got especially bored one day.  We came home to find the tree turned over, all the ornaments scattered about the living area, and Peanut intertwined among the branches of the tree.  We threw the tree and the ornaments away.  Peanut barely escaped being thrown away himself.

After a few days, we came up with the idea of garland.  Garland is really a Christmas tree in the shape of a straight line instead of a pear.  I wound the string of lights on the garland and placed it above the slides.  Then we hung the garland with ornaments and, behold, a tree the cat could not reach.  Last year after Christmas, I threw that original garland away.  This year, we got garland which already has the lights and the slide frames in the Everest are deeper than on the Montana.  I didn’t even have to secure the garland in place with velcro.  With a few other decorations adorning counters and tabletops, we are just waiting for Santa to come knocking at our door.

Perhaps I should make cookies; that’s always a nice touch.

The Rest of the Story

Although I have posted something (however small) almost every day this week, there have been several things which have occurred to spice up an otherwise rather frustrating week.  So here are a few of those stories.

Several nights ago I woke up in the early morning hours to find the electricity off.  I quickly realized it was not just us without power because it was very dark outside.  I have a street light which shines directly in my bedroom window.  I didn’t realize how bright that light was until that night.  I really did not wake Gene up intentionally; he just happened to stir when I got out of bed to go to the bathroom.  However, the next day I noticed him telling anyone within shouting distance that I woke him up in the middle of the night to tell him it was dark outside.

One of the things I am plagued with is a fire phobia.  I’m not sure if there is such a malady, but it often dominates my thinking.  I am constantly envisioning a fire event, turning off, and unplugging whenever we leave the Everest unattended.  During the power outage, our furnace was running since it can draw power from the house batteries.  As I lay there in the dark, my mind was thinking about that furnace.  In my limited knowledge of deep cycle marine batteries, I envisioned the house batteries “running down” like the flashlight batteries.  In my vision I saw a very dim light emitted from the flashlight as the batteries lost their life.  I transferred that vision to the house batteries growing ever and ever weaker each time the furnace blower kicked on.  I turned the furnace off when I reached the conclusion that the blower would be too weak to force the hot air through the ducts and we would burst into flames.

On Thanksgiving Day my brother and I were brought to a stark awareness that we have not gleaned all the knowledge that our mother could impart to us.  This realization came as Mike was gathering the ingredients to make the dressing.  First, let me say that my brother is a very good cook.  He has an uncanny ability with good ole down home southern cooking.  As he searched for the dressing ingredients, he was unable to find the cornbread that Mom swore was in the freezer--already crumbled and ready to use.  He first consulted me, but I make cornbread from the Jiffy box mix which contains sugar--definitely a “no-no” for dressing.  He made a few calls to a few friends and finally came up with a recipe.  It turned out great.

We found our knowledge lacking again when it came time to make the giblet gravy.  From her hospital bed, mother instructed us in preparing this traditional Thanksgiving meal delight.

Our Saturday Soup Supper went well, but by this time in this very hectic and often frustrating week, any little incident would send me off.  One of Gene’s favorite desserts is an old family recipe it got many years ago from another great cook in our family--my cousin Carl.  Buttermilk custard pie is very easy to make, but the recipe makes no allowances for a trailer which is not quite level.  I put the pie, which is a relatively thin liquid before baking, into my convection oven.  In the past, I have always used the gas oven, but since in this trailer it is very difficult to light, I have used the convection oven almost exclusively.  As the turntable went round and round, I noticed just how out of level we are.  The pie finally began to set up enough that it didn’t slosh around any more and I breathed a sigh of relief.  My relief was short-lived as the top began to get too brown too soon. In the gas oven I would have just put a piece of aluminum foil over the top, but the convection oven doesn’t like aluminum foil.  I said a bad word then crossed my fingers, waited and watched.  My worries were for naught, however, as it turned out about perfect.

The pie baking occurred early Saturday morning.  After the pie cooled, I put a piece of aluminum foil over the top to keep the dust off.  About 10 minutes before Jack and Ansley arrived, someone, who shall remain nameless, put his foot in the middle of the pie.  Thankfully, his paws did not penetrate the foil.  Otherwise, he may have joined the ranks of the homeless, again.

I didn't mean to step in the pie.

It is hard to believe this is the last day of November.  Christmas will be upon us before we notice.  I can only do one holiday at a time and now that Thanksgiving is over, my mind is free to think about Christmas.  I retrieved the box of decorations from the basement yesterday afternoon and made a half-hearted attempt at decorating.  I didn’t make much progress so will wait until I get a little more “spirit”.  My Christmas spirit comes a little easier if there is some snow on the ground, but I don’t want to say that out loud because we have really been enjoying the unseasonably warm weather for November.

Saturday Soup Supper

Several years ago, we started our Saturday Soup Supper event.  It came about because, like is the case with so many families, Jack and Ansley had other places to go on Thanksgiving Day.  After a couple years of trying to juggle schedules so we would have the opportunity to spend a little time with them during the holiday weekend, I finally settled on the soup supper idea.  It has actually worked out fairly well.

In Tennessee, it is usually cool in late November--a great time for soup.  After all the turkey, dressing, sweet potato casserole, green beans and mounds of desserts, a simple bowl of soup sounded pretty good on a cool fall day.  After all the hours in the kitchen preparing turkey dinner for all the relatives, a simple pot of soup sounded pretty good.  Thus, Saturday soup supper was born.

It has always been an small, intimate group--Gene and I, my parents, Jack and Ansley.  I originally thought about inviting a few other relatives and friends that we would like to see during the holiday, but a large group can quickly become impossible to manage in an RV.  So it has been just the 6 of us each year.  This year, however, my mother didn’t fill up to getting out just yet.  Kayley, although she didn’t help us eat soup, made five for this year.

I have tried to have a variety of soups each year.  Everybody loves beef stew so it is on the menu every year.  This year, however, I left it off since our group was going to be so small.  I always have some type of chicken soup.  This year it is chicken with wild rice.  This was  new recipe and it was yummy.  As a third choice, I have had split pea, smoked sausage stew, Italian sausage and noodle, and cheesy vegetable chowder.  The cheesy vegetable chowder has always been very popular so we had that as a second choice this year.  A variety of rolls and dessert round out our meal.  This year’s dessert was buttermilk custard pie.

Since the soups were in the crock pots, there really wasn’t much to do in the kitchen.  We had a wonderful, relaxing afternoon together.  Kayley slept through the entire thing.

After I post this, we’ll take the leftover soups to mother’s for their dinner.  That way they don’t have to miss out completely.