Author Archives: Janell

Ghosts of Halloween Past

31 Saturday Oct 2009

Posted by in Life at Home, Mesta Park

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A Very Young Witch

The Young Witch Kate

Tonight’s weather promises to be just ripe for Halloween ghosties.  It will be cold, clear and full of fall fun.

Many homes in our old neighborhood really get into the Halloween spirit, turning Mesta Park into a trick-or-treater’s wonderland.  Lights cover mansions while grave markers and cob webs cover front lawns.  And over on 19th street, a few ghosts are already swinging on ropes, hanging high from creepy old tree limbs.

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Holy Terror Batman! The Dynamic Trio

 

 

Candy distribution is especially brisk business over on “The Boulevard’, an area of Mesta Park that encompasses homes on both sides of the old streetcar curve, where Shartel Avenue transitions into 18th street.  The Boulevard is the gateway to Mesta Park, and for tonight at least, it will be a congested gate full of cars and sidewalks full of excited and happy children.  Next to Christmas, Halloween may be a child’s best holiday.  

It was for mine.  They liked all the dressing up and the novelty of walking through the neighborhood at night.  And of course, there was the promise of all that free candy.  The kids always brought home a lot of sweet loot, especially when young.

I’ll never forget our son Bryan’ first Halloween outing, when he turned into a 22 month old green dragon.  Bry did a get job walking the sidewalks all on his own, and did amazingly well keeping up with two big sisters.  At one point, my husband scooped what he knew was a tired Bryan into his arms, only to see Bryan’s little legs still full of energy, moving as if walking in air.

Hand-made Costumes by Mom

These days, Halloween is a much quieter affair.  Bereft of children and living far away from The Boulevard’s hustle and bustle, Candyland is a much different game in our neck of the Mesta Park woods.  We live by neighbors who believe in leaving porch lights off;  and while our light will be on, our treats will not be that good to attract a big crowd.  I made sure of that. 

The trick is to offer the right size treat; nothing too big and nothing to small.  I learned this from the school of hard knocks, back in the days of early family, when we lived in a new residential neighborhood with oversized lots. At its busiest, our Halloween traffic was slooooow — the houses being too far apart to attract serious gobs of trick-or-treaters.  The few who canvassed our street for treats were often chauffeured by parents, riding house to house by car, then walking to the door to collect their treat.  Older neighborhood children could be found on roller blades as they made quick tracks for treats. 

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Anchors Aweigh for Candy

One year I decided to be extra generous.  I went to our local Target Store  and purchased two or three boxes of king-size candy bars —  enough candy to more than meet our Halloween demand.  

But word must have got out on the street that the last house on Timbercreek Drive was giving out king-size candy bars.  Who knew kids talked about their candy conquests?  I didn’t.   All I knew then was that we had kids crawling out of the woodwork and that a few costumes were begining to look very familiar.  It wasn’t long before my supply of plenty was none.

At 8:00 p.m., we turned out the lights, glad to have survived without the need to raid our children’s private stashes.  But as we settled in to watch a little television, our doorbell rang.  And rang again.  And then they knocked.  Hard.  The candy goblins were there…knew we were too…and they wanted their king-size bars.  I don’t recall if my husband had to go to the door or not, but somehow, they left empty-handed.  And as soon as they were gone, we turned off our inside lights and watched television in the dark.  It was the spookiest Halloween I’ve ever experienced this side of the door.

So here’s my tip for a safe Halloween.  Buy the appropriately named fun size.  It will keep Halloween fun for everyone —  all the givers, all the takers and even all those candymakers — and may it grant all a ghoulish good night.

Creamy Tomato-Bacon Fettucine

30 Friday Oct 2009

Posted by in Far Away Places, In the Kitchen, Life at Home

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Blog_09_1030_01For years, we served our  ‘big’ meal at supper.  We had no choice, what with our family of six going their separate ways every morning.  But in the evening, when we’d reunite around the supper table, I promised myself that one day our ‘big’ meal would become lunch, just like at Granny’s house.

That promised “one day” is often my everyday reality now, what with children living elsewhere and my husband telecommuting from the smallish former servant’s quarters out back.  So yesterday allowed me to make good on that old promise, even though this pasta  dish I served for lunch wasn’t a ‘big’ meal production.

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Prepare the Sauce while bringing the Pasta Water to Boil

This recipe is my own, as much as any recipe can be.  I adapted it from one found on the internet, during an in-between phase when I had time on my hands.  The space didn’t last long; what opened up shortly after I entered early retirement — after I’d lost that long-held identity of international tax consultant by day  —  closed by the time I’d been found by organizations hungry for volunteers.  It was a rare six month interlude of time to play and read and pray and cook and anticpate next steps while remembering my past with gratitude.

I’ve always loved pasta, ever since a young girl.  I was lucky to have a mother who made her own home-made marina and meatballs, what in child’s English, I called her spaghetti and light bulbs.  By the time I lived through my twenties, I had discovered other pastas to love;  I recall my first tortellini covered with a white cream sauce, that I happened onto while working at Arthur  Andersen’s training headquarters near Chicago, where I wrote training curriculum for  “the firm’s” tax staff.

But the best variety of pasta dishes I ever ran into came from Café Annice, a little upscale restaurant in downtown Lake Jackson.  My search for a different pasta sauce (that evolved in today’s shared recipe) was somewhat inspired by all the home-grown recipes created by the restaurant’s owner; Janel’s pasta dishes are wonderful, on par with any served at the finest restaurants in Houston.  And though this recipe is not like any pasta I’ve ever tasted at one of Janel’s tables —  its uncommon taste and common style reminds me of those she served  —  in the same way that our common first name is spelled uncommonly differently.

From this Janell’s life to yours.

Creamy Tomato-Bacon Fettucine

Serves 2 – 3;  Preparation Time:  30 Mins

8 oz dried fettucine, cooked al dente in salted water (follow package directions)

Sauce:
5 slices of bacon fried crisp, then crumbled
1/2 cup of diced onion, sauted in 2 Tbsp olive oil
2 to 3 minced garlic cloves
14.5 oz can of petite chopped tomatoes
1/2 to 3/4 cup of hot pasta water
1/2 cup half & half
1/4 cup whipping cream
1 cup freshly grated parmesan
1/2 tsp. fresh ground pepper
Add salt to taste, just before serving (using salted water, I rarely add salt)

Directions: In a large pasta pot, put water onto boil.  The rest of the recipe is prepared in the time it takes water to boil and cook pasta.  In a skillet over medium heat, fry bacon crisp.  Drain on paper towels and then crumble.  Drain bacon fat.  Add olive oil and saute onion over medium-low heat, stirring occasionally; when onion is soft, add garlic cloves and cook for 2 minutes; then add tomatoes, cook for ten minutes until tomato juice cooks down.  Do not let vegetables cook dry.  Add 1/2 cup pasta water from the boiling pot of water .  Then set sauce aside until pasta is done.

Drain pasta, reserving 1 cup of pasta water.  To the vegetables in skillet, stir in half & half and heat over medium-low heat;  then quickly add hot pasta, whipping cream, pepper and parmesan.  Combine all ingredients with fork and spoon (like a light tossing of  salad) until pasta is evenly coated with sauce.  Thin with additional salted pasta water until you achieve desired level of creaminess.

Waiting with Mary

29 Thursday Oct 2009

Posted by in Soul Care

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A Place to Wait with Words

A Place to Wait with Words

Yesterday’s post proved cathartic.  I am now sitting at my cluttered writing desk.  And with fingers on keyboard, I ponder life  two thousand years ago, in the village of Nazareth, and wonder about the young Mary’s everyday life — before it was all shaken and stirred by that scary angel who dropped in without calling.

Mary is the one to ponder and treasure words in her heart.  St. Luke says this all the time about Mary in the gospel he wrote about Mary’s first-born son.  And like anyone the least bit connected with Jesus, and as mothers everywhere tend to be with any of their children at one time or another, Mary not only pondered, but she would come to wonder how the world was treating her child.

Like Mary, I tend to ponder and wonder at life.  I treasure words, like those written in The Luminous Word — a small Advent booklet that arrived in last week’s mail — where author Jan L. Richardson sees a different Mary than I, on that famous occasion where she entertained her unexpected angel.  Ms. Richardson writes: 

“She is reading when the angel appears.  Or so the medieval artists told it; in so many of the paintings of the Middle Ages, Mary holds a book as Gabriel greets her.  She is reading from the Hebrew Scriptures, sometimes, or, in a lovely turn of anachronism, from a Book of Hours.  This is a woman, the artists suggest, who is steeped in words.  Long before choosing to bear the Word, before agreeing to become the mother of God, Mary had been immersing herself in the ancient texts, letting the prayers and stories that had spiraled through the generations unwind in her.”

The author’s words paint a lovely vision.  But it doesn’t quite mesh with the picture I carry around of the young Mary’s life.   Like most Jewish girls of the time, Mary probably could not read; instead, I think Mary’s education would have been more practical, centered around the tasks of everyday life  —  making meals, tending and mending laundry, and keeping house.  It was neither glamorous nor romantic.

This was Mary’s lot and I don’t imagine she had time to sit and contemplate the deeper mysteries of life.  Until, that is, when mystery invaded her life, making the act of contemplation no longer an idle luxury.

Mary carried mystery in her womb, nurtured him at her breast and watched over  him until he was grown, when she did what all good mothers past and present are called to do:  She let her child go, to live his own life, however he saw fit.  

Then, out of sight, but never out of mind or heart, Mary waited.  She waited to hear a word from Jesus, while she went about her everyday tasks and waited on her children still at home.  The waiting was hard.  I imagine Mary’s waiting was far worse than waiting in the Wal-Mart checkout line.