Sweets for the Sweet

Photo: Aunt Selema (center) with her sisters Aunt Dolores (left) and my mom Toni (right) knew the way to a man's heart was through his stomach.

This time of year, one's thoughts turn to romance --- and chocolate. They go together so well.

Aunt Selema thought so the year she developed a crush on the paper boy. Since we all know the way to a growing boy's heart is through his bottomless pit of a stomach, she declared her tender feelings with a pan of homemade fudge.

Trouble was she was a tomboy, more accustomed to shooting marbles and beating up bullies than girly stuff like Valentines and candy-making.

But she had it bad. And bad is exactly how that fudge turned out. I heard you could have broken a tooth on it.

Nonetheless, the object of her affection, a nice local boy whose mama obviously raised him right, called on her personally to thank her for the "chocolate suckers" -- adding that just one piece lasted him his entire paper route and he figured that she had made enough to last him the rest of the month.

Perhaps he was being gallant. Then again maybe he was just scared of her. Most boys on the Point were.

Her fudge, as it turned out, lasted longer than her crush did. But then Paper Boy couldn't possibly have been better looking than Uncle Russ, the man she eventually married. Her female friends and relatives swooned as they begged her to hurry up and kick the bucket so they could fight over him.

By this time, Selema had become an accomplished maker of fudge and all other manner of sweets, so she wasn't too worried about the competition.

Anyway, I'm pretty sure she could have taken them all down in a fight.

Old Fashioned Fudge

2 cups sugar

2/3 cups milk

1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa

1 tablespoon light corn syrup

1/4 teaspoon salt

3 tablespoons butter

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Stir together first five ingredients in a heavy 2-quart saucepan. Bring mixture to a boil over medium high heat and cook until a candy thermometer registers 240 degrees (soft ball stage). Remove from heat, add butter and let it melt without stirring. Cool for 10-15 minutes. Pan should be cool to touch. Stir in vanilla.

Beat mixture at medium-low sped with an electric mixer 2-3 minutes or until the mixture isn't as glossy. Immediately pour fudge onto a buttered 11 x 7 inch platter. Cool 15 minutes. Cut into 1-inch pieces.

When the Saints Come Marching In

Photo: Daddy before the Saints. If he were here today, he'd be driving that beauty down to Miami.

When the Saints come marching into the Super Bowl tomorrow, it's fair to say that more than a few of their most ardent fans will be, if not exactly saints themselves, at least sitting way, WAY up in the nosebleed section if you get my drift.

I'm sure my father will be in that number. Daddy was a football fanatic. He loved -- and identified with - the underdog. He could not have chosen a more perfect team to champion than the Saints. They did not have a winning season in his lifetime. Yet he just loved them.

When we lived briefly in New Orleans, he went to all their home games in Tulane Stadium and invited the folks from Biloxi to go with him. He bought my sister and I Saints sweatshirts (the ones where the players had chins like Dudley Do-Right) and a Saints bobble-head figurine for the dash of the Impala. He sang "When the Saints Come Marching In" ad nauseum.

By the way, did you know that the franchise got its name because it was established on Nov. 1 -- All Saints' Day? I didn't.

My father spent his last day on earth, a Sunday, watching football. At least he was spared the Monday night debacle that was the Saints-Giants game. The Giants smashed them 28-14 in New York. The Saints finished the season 2-12 despite having just moved into the brand-new Superdome. The bag-head era had arrived. I'm sure Daddy was glad not to see that although, loyal fan that he was, he probably would have eschewed the bag.

No matter how badly they sucked, Daddy always knew his Saints would make it to the Super Bowl one day. And now here they are.

Besides the Saints, Daddy also loved food (well, he was in the restaurant business). He never sat down to watch a Saints game on TV without a smorgasbord in front of him.

He was an inventive snacker. No chips and take-out pizza for him. He made wonderful sandwiches whipped up from whatever was on hand. My favorite were his cream cheese and black olive spread sandwiches. The spread is also good stuffed into celery stalks.

CREAM CHEESE AND BLACK OLIVE SPREAD SANDWICHES

Whipped cream cheese, softened

1/4-1/2 cup black olives, chopped (you can also do this with green olives or a mixture of black and green)

2 T minced onion

salt and pepper to taste

dash, Worcestershire sauce

NOTE: You can also add chopped pecans to this for crunch.
Mix ingredients into softened cream cheese. Spread on bread or crackers. If desired, add sliced tomato.

The Factory

As much as I have always loved Point Cadet, the place had a definite, ahem, "aroma" to it, especially during oyster season. My daddy always said a blind man could find his way to Point Cadet as long as he could smell. My uncle, a shrimper, said it smelled like money to him.

And for most of the families on the Point back in the day, that's exactly what it was. Almost everyone's livelihood was somehow tied to the seafood industry, whether they worked on the boats or in the factories.

There was a factory right across the street from my grandparents' house on East Howard Avenue. I remember the ever-present mountains of white oyster shells outside with sea gulls dive-bombing for the meaty remnants. My cousin David climbed one of those oyster piles barefoot one time and had to get 10 stitches in his foot. But then David was always going to the emergency room. He was all boy.

My nona had an even more intimate relationship with the Point's seafood packing plants. Like most Point girls who grew up in the first decades of the 20th century, my nona dropped out of "sister" school after 5th grade so she could go earn money for her family by working in "the factory."

There's a picture I love of Nona and her best friend, Miss Katie, taken when they were about 16. They had saved up their money from the factory, bought themselves some pretty dresses, took the trolley downtown and had a professional studio portrait made of themselves standing side by side in their store bought finery.

For them, this was the equivalent of a senior prom. A rare opportunity to be frivolous, look pretty and have fun before they became weighed down by the responsibilities of marriage, children and trying to make ends meet.

About 10 years ago, my Leadership Gulf Coast Class toured one of the seafood factories on Back Bay. The smell brought back memories. As my class mates and I watched the factory workers, mostly Vietnamese immigrants by then, working swiftly and diligently at the long tables, we murmured among ourselves about how hard these people had to work for the money. And it hit me: This is what my nona had to do most of her life.

I thought about that teenage girl in the sepia photo with her big dark eyes and shy wistful half-smile -- so proud of her lace mitts, rabbit stole and nosegay at her waist because she had bought it all herself. How many hours did she have to stand at the tables with an aching back and sore fingertips just to create that one perfect memory of her teenage years?

And that is something that I will never know because I've never had to work that hard.

And I feel humbled.

CRAB SPREAD

1 lb. fresh crab meat, picked over for cartilage

2 8 oz. packages cream cheese

1/2 stick butter or margarine

4-5 scallions, chopped fine

1/2 T lemon juice

garlic salt to taste

pepper to taste

a dash of Worcestershire sauce.

Saute chopped onion in butter. Lower heat. Blend in cream cheese and other ingredients. Mix until well-blended.

Note: You can add 1-2 T sherry or milk if you like to thin the sauce to a dipping consistency. Serve on toasted baguette slices or with crackers.

Going to the Picture Show

Growing up, the best way to escape the cold, grey dreariness that is January here (or the balmy stickiness that pervades every other month of the year) was to retreat to the make believe world of the movies. Or as my Aunt Marie called them "the picture shows."

Almost every neighborhood had its own theater. On the Point, it was The Roxy on Howard Avenue. It burned sometime in the 50s.

But the undisputed grande dame of Biloxi's movie theaters was the Saenger on Reynoir Street. It was a gilded movie palace with billowing red velvet drapes and an enormous chandelier that everyone was scared to sit under. It was worth catching the bus downtown just to bask in its grandeur.

My mother enjoyed a life-long affinity with the Saenger; it opened on the night of her birth. Her Aunt Frances, a sassy 1920s "It" girl , was so upset at missing the grand opening, she insisted that the doctor let her have the first whack at the newborn's bottom. I don't know if that's true, but it sounds like Aunt Frances. She was a spitfire.

During my childhood in the 1960s, the Saenger was still a movie theater (it later became a theater for the performing arts). My cousins and I whiled away long, hot summer afternoons at the Popeye shows there. Does anyone remember those? They were sponsored by Pepsi Cola. You paid for your ticket with Pepsi bottle caps instead of money. The main feature was usually an old black and white Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis comedy sandwiched between some Popeye cartoons, a prize raffle and a contest. My cousin Stevie won one of their costume contests. I can't recall what he wore, but I remember he got a box of chocolate covered cherries that he shared with all of us.

The wonderful thing about theaters back then was they let you bring in your own snacks. Well, maybe they didn't, but no one enforced this rule. My mom 's favorite movie snack was the now discontinued Seven Up bar. It was actually seven candies in one bar -- and absolutely delicious. In the late 1970s, you could still occasionally find them at the Walgreens drug store at Edgewater mall. I used to snack on them during breaks in my job as a concessionaire at Edgewater Cinema (another now-gone Biloxi theater). The dark chocolate bar (and the jellied orange section) was my favorite.

Today is my mother's -- and the Saenger's -- birthday.
I think I'll celebrate by going to a movie in their honor. If I were going to sneak in food - not that I would ever do such a thing - I would bring these wonderful little meat turnovers that Mama used to make for our lunch boxes and family picnics They're portable and good cold as well as hot.
Now if only I could find a Seven Up bar for dessert.
Happy Birthday, Tone. I love and miss you always.
Tone's Meat Pies
Combine 2 teaspoons of shortening (or oil) and 2 teaspoons of flour in a large dutch oven or pot. Cook over medium heat, stirring until the roux is copper-colored. Add:
2 lbs. ground beef (chuck or round)
2 large yellow onions, chopped fine
6 green onions, chopped fine
1 tablespoon fresh parsley, chopped
1 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon rubbed sage
1/8 teaspoon garlic salt
1/8 teaspoon black pepper
dash of red pepper
Cook over medium heat until meat is browned and onions are tender. Stir occasionally. Drain well and cool.
Make pastry dough.
1 1/2 cups milk
1 cup (2 sticks) real butter
5 cups all purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
2 egg yolks, lightly beaten
1 egg beaten with 1 tablespoon water.
Scald milk. Add butter and let melt over very low heat. Cool.
Combine flour, baking powder and salt in a large bowl. Make a well in the center and add egg yolks. Stir in cooled milk and blend well. Turn onto a lightly floured surface and knead until smooth. Cover with a towel and let rest in draft-free area about 20 minutes.
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Lightly butter baking sheet (VERY lightly -- the pastries get too brown on the bottom otherwise). Divide dough into 4 pieces. Roll each into 10x 15 inch rectangle. Using a pastry wheel, cut each rectangle into six 5-inch squares.
Place 2 heaping tablespoons of meat filling into each square. Moisten edges with a little water and press lightly to make them stick together. Fold over and seal each the same way. Transfer to a baking sheet. Repeat with remaining dough and filling. Brush with beaten egg and bake until golden, 35-40 minutes.

Remembering New Year's Day 1964

Happy New Year! Just got back from spending Christmas in Paris. It was magnifique! If you're interested, my photos and impressions are on my vacation blog, http://joyeuxnoelyall.blogspot.com/.

Now, I'd like to invite you to come along with me on another snowy trip, this one back in time, to the great snowfall of New Year's Eve 1963/New Year's Day 1964. This photo was taken on New Year's Day in my nona and grandpa's yard on Point Cadet.

Snowfall is extremely rare in these parts, occurring for the most part every decade or so, mostly in late winter/early spring. This was a very special New Year for all of us. It seemed like a huge snow storm to us, but as you can see, the snow wasn't very deep. That snowman included a lot of grass, leaves and dirt.

I dressed myself in keeping with the festive occasion. The black patent leather shoes were a controversial choice. My mom maintained these were not appropriate for playing in the snow, but my daddy reminded her I was about to grow out of those shoes anyway. And so it was. I have a history of choosing cute shoes over practicality.

My other overwhelming memory of the day is of drinking lots of hot chocolate. It probably wasn't nearly as good as what I've been drinking in Paris for the past few weeks.

Since it looks like we may have snow here in the 'burg (but probably not on the Coast) later in the week, here's a recipe for Parisian style chocolat chaud. Enjoy

Parisian Style Hot Chocolate

Whole milk

2 teaspoons of cocoa powder per serving

Sugar, 2 teaspoons per serving

Measure milk into a saucepan (use your favorite mug as your guide). Bring milk to a boil over medium heat. Do not let it scorch or boil over.

Into the mug, dissolve the cocoa powder and sugar in a little of the milk. Mix until it makes a smooth paste. Add the rest of the hot milk slowly, and stir away all the lumps.

You may substitute 1 oz. of baking chocolate, roughly chopped, for the cocoa powder. Melt the chocolate in the milk on the stove

Tullis Manor’s Ethnic Trees of Christmas

In the mid-1970s, the City of Biloxi embraced its multi-ethnic heritage and began marketing and celebrating the city’s unique culture and character through events like “The Ethnic Trees of Christmas” in the newly restored Tullis-Toleando Manor.

The celebration included British, Italian, French, Slavic and, in later years, Vietnamese and African-American trees sponsored and decorated by the city’s social and cultural groups, including the Slavonian Ladies’ Auxiliary and the Fleur de Lis Society .

My mother and aunts were members of the Slavonian Ladies’ Auxiliary’s tree committee. They were excited, but stumped. What exactly did a Slavic Christmas tree look like? As second generation Americans, their concept of the holiday was largely shaped by this country’s customs.

Somehow an aluminum tree with blue glass bulbs from Woolworth’s, like the one in my grandparents’ living room, just didn’t seem appropriate for the Tullis Manor’s stately antebellum setting. Clearly some library research was in order.

The committee found references to a “tree for the birds” popular in many snowy Slavic countries. Fruit and popcorn were cheap and easy. Still the tree lacked something. It just didn’t reflect the culture these ladies had grown up with.

In a truly inspired moment, someone hung some donut holes, which resemble the popular holiday pastry pusharates, on the tree. Someone else baked dough ornaments shaped like hrstule (bowties) another popular holiday pastry. They decorated a mantle next to the tree with South Mississippi greenery, St. Nicholas strings and statues of Croatia’s holiday saints, St. Nick and St. Lucy, from the religious shop downtown.

Actually, the shop didn’t have a St. Nicholas figurine in stock. They did have St. Patrick. A few dabs of paint turned his green robes red and his shamrock into a sprig of holly. And voila,St. Nicholas.

St. Lucy resembled a Disney princess with a flowing pink gown and abundant golden tresses. Her big blue eyes -- gouged out by her pagan torturers-- peeked up demurely from a platter she held out as if offering tea cakes.

In the end the Slavic tree wound up being a little Old Country, a little New Country – just like the Slavic residents of Point Cadet.

The ethnic trees remained a Tullis-Toleando Manor staple right up until Hurricane Katrina. The storm’s surge deposited Grand Casino’s barge right on top of the beautiful old home destroying it forever.

St. Nicholas: My Favorite Saint

December 6 is the feast of St. Nicholas – my favorite saint. In Europe, Christmas is still considered a religious holiday, and the Feast of St. Nicholas is the day for fun and presents (although that is changing somewhat).

The generous Greek bishop comes to the aid of dowerless damsels, children, sailors, fishermen, the wrongly imprisoned and darn near anybody else who needs his help. No wonder everybody wants to throw him a party!

St. Nicholas is recognized and celebrated all over Europe. He is particularly popular in the Dalmatian region of Croatia where he is known as Sveti Nikola. You can’t walk around the block there without running into a church named after him.

Biloxi’s Dalmatian immigrants brought St. Nicholas with them to help look after their fishing boats. He performed the job admirably from his perch outside the Slavic Benevolent Association's lodge on Point Cadet until Hurricane Katrina knocked him over.

Growing up we celebrated St. Nicholas' Day and also St. Lucy’s feast day on December 13th. My mother explained that St. Nick was Santa Claus’s older, skinnier cousin. Actually, they are one and the same, but I still think of St. Nick as the "skinny cousin." Don't we all have one?

In Europe, St.Nicholas leaves children toys, candy and fruit in their shoes, stockings, or a special “St. Nicholas sack.” In our house, St. Nicholas always left our trinkets knotted on a long string.

Maybe Nona used strings as a hygienic alternative to putting food in shoes that her six kids wore (kind of gross when you think about it). She sure couldn’t afford to buy them all a “ceremonial” pair of shoes. Since several other Biloxi families also used strings, I’m inclined to think it might have been a local custom peculiar to the region they came from.

Compared to the bounty Santa Claus left at our house, his skinny cousin’s offerings were comparatively lean – but altogether magical.

Our average Nicholas string included several pieces of imported candy (my favorites were the foil-wrapped cordial-filled chocolates shaped like wine bottles), a sack of chocolate gold-foil wrapped coins (in honor of the gold coins St. Nick left for the dowerless maidens), a folk-y Christmas ornament, a flavored popcorn ball and always, ALWAYS a shiny red apple at the bottom of the string.

Apples have a symbolic association with St. Nicholas. Apple strudel is a common St. Nicholas Day treat. In old Croatia, this was a traditional day for engagements with the young man presenting a basket of apples to his intended as he popped the question. It all goes back to those three dowerless virgins. The gold St. Nick left for them is often symbolized by three gold balls, which in some paintings and statues, are depicted as apples.

As Biloxi’s Croatian families assimilated into American culture, a lot of them forsook celebrating St. Nicholas Day and rolled all their celebration over to Christmas. Sadly a number of my generation and the next never knew the joy of awakening to a Nicholas string on December 6. What a pity.

If you’d like to find out more about St. Nicholas and start a tradition of your own, I suggest you visit this site. It is an incredibly comprehensive source of St. Nicholas info. You can even find out what he really might have looked like.

And how seriously cool is it that there is an entire non-profit organization (in Michigan of all places) dedicated to promoting awareness of my favorite saint?

Photo: I ordered this ornament from the St. Nicholas Center for my Christmas tree and one just like it for my niece's Nicholas string. Their site has all kinds of great ornaments, stamps, cookie cutters, stickers, that make perfect items for Nicholas strings, stocking/shoe/sack stuffers. The site also posts some traditional recipes from the countries that celebrate this feast day.

The two recipes below are from my family's celebration.

Enjoy and have a Happy St. Nicholas Day!

JELLO POPCORN BALLS – A NICHOLAS STRING STAPLE

The popcorn balls that graced our Nicholas strings mostly came from the Karmel Korn shop at Edgewater Mall in Biloxi, but occasionally we got these made-from-scratch popcorn balls. The Jello (lime or cherry) not only makes the balls flavorful, but festive, too, although the cherry ones usually turn out more dark pink than red.


1 cup light corn syrup
¾ cup sugar
1, 3 oz. package of Jello (cherry or lime are preferred)
2 ½ quarts of popcorn, popped


Boil corn syrup, sugar together. Add the Jello. Stir until dissolved. Remove from heat . Cool slightly. Add popcorn. Grease hands. Shape mixture into balls, working quickly. Let dry. Makes about a dozen depending on how large you make them.



APPLE STRUDEL

Nona and Aunt Dolores were famous for their apple strudel. They always made it this time of year. Now that they're both gone, my cousin Steve makes it now.

Pastry Dough:

2 eggs, well beaten
½ stick melted butter
1 teaspoon vanilla
½ cup granulated sugar
3-4 cups of flour (1/2 cup self-rising to 2/3 cup of all-purpose).


For the dough: Mix first 4 ingredients together in a large bowl with electric mixer. Add flour gradually. Dough will get very stiff (add more if needed). After mixing, knead dough on a surface lightly dusted with all purpose flour. When the dough feels smooth, poke your finger in it. If the indentation fills back up quickly, it is time to roll the dough out.

Transfer dough to a lightly floured clean dishcloth. Roll dough out in a circular shape for one big roll. May also separate and roll into two circles (on separate cloths) to make two smaller rolls. Keep the dough thin but not too thin. You don’t want the apples to pierce through the crust and let all your good juices escape.


Apple Filling:


7-8 large red apples, thinly sliced
½ stick of butter, cut into pats
½ cup granulated sugar
½ cup cinnamon

Apple Filling: Spread the apple slices on the dough (which is still on the cloth). Dot with butter. Sprinkle with sugar and cinnamon. You can use more or less sugar/cinnamon depending on your taste and the sweetness of the apples.

Lift cloth and roll like a jelly roll. Place seam side down on an ungreased cookie sheet with an edge. Tuck under both ends of the strudel to keep juices in.

Dot top with more butter. Sprinkle on more sugar and cinnamon. Bake in a 350 degree oven 35-45 minutes or until slightly browned. Baste 2-3 times during baking. Cool. Slice thin to serve. Makes 1 large roll or 2 small ones.