Sunday, October 19, 2025

It's a Grandmother!

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: Congratulate me, everyone, I’m a grandmother! Little Paulie* arrived last week, a full ten days before his due date, throwing us all into confusion. He must get this from my daughter-in-law’s side of the family, because I guarantee you no one on the Hugo-Vidal camp has ever arrived that early to anything.

*He looks just like Paul Sorvino in Goodfellas

 Right now, my grandmotherly duties are keeping the new parent’s two dogs, which, if you’re keeping score at home, makes for four dogs and two cats, one of which is my younger daughter’s $15,000 guy. It feels as if my house had been invaded by needy toddlers, which, I suppose, is a good preview of the future.

 

Like this, but bald, no cigar, and in a onesie

I’m excited about this new stage in my life, in part because my own grandmothers played such an important role in my life. I was lucky to have three: Grandmother Spencer, a loving fluffy bisquit of a Southern woman, Grandma Fleming, who magically always had fresh-baked cookies when I stopped at her house on my way home from high school, and Grandma Greuling, a no-nonsense Adirondacker who let me help in her antique shop and told me stories about my family going back to the 1600s. 

 

None of my grandmothers took me on vacations or showered me with expensive gifts. They let me be with them while they sewed, gardened, baked, refinished furniture. They loved me for who I was and listened to me no matter what. What a gift for any child!

 

Reds, what do you remember about your own grandmothers?

 

HALLIE EPHRON: I remember my grandmother was very old and wrinkly and spoke very little English and with a thick accent. She always had a coin or two in her pocket for me. 

 

She lived in an apartment nearby and came to our house once a week and cooked. She made the world’s best thin, crisp cinnamon cookies which I’ve never been able to duplicate. I got to cut them out and brush them with butter and sprinkle on cinnamon.

She also made the world’s best chopped liver. Don’t groan, it’s delicious. She’d start by rendering chicken fat from chicken skin (I stood by the stove hoping to grab off some of the crispy bits). And end by chopping  sauteed livers and onions that had been cooked in the chicken fat, seasoning with plenty of salt and pepper, and chopping in a massive wooden bowl which I still have, it’s bottom cross-hatched with cut marks.


I never got a chance to ask her what life had been like in Russia, how she and others in her family managed to flee, what it was like to go through Ellis Island….

If you have a living grandparent, ASK while you can still get answers!

 


HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN:  My father’s mother was elegant and gorgeous, beautiful with icy white hair and the best clothes, and a wonderful cook who made lemon pancakes in the shape of our initials and dusted with powdered sugar. She made amazing chicken soup, and kreplach, and matzo ball soup, and a wine cake that no one could ever duplicate–and she had written out  recipe cards with NO quantities, so no one could possibly  make her dishes again. She gave me a typewriter, when I was about 9, which was so life changing. (It came in a little suitcase.)


I did ask her about leaving Russia, and she started talking about what a lovely village her family had lived in and what lovely soldiers came to town, and I soon realized she was about to tell me her own fairy tale, and I’d never know the real story. I did ask her to write it down--she typed it on my typewriter! And it is still somewhere.


My mother's mother was very..quirky. Ethereal, and fragile. From another time, it really felt. I have no memory of her ever saying a word to me. 

 

When my parents were divorced, I also had my step-father’s mother. She once said to me, when I was 10, maybe: “I love you as much as I would love a real grandchild.”

 

 

 

LUCY BURDETTE: My mother’s mother was Lucille Burdette–she was a painter, very kind and gentle. Sadly, she died when I was about seven so I don’t have lots of memories. 

 

My father’s mother was little and fierce–we still tell stories about how she bossed my grandfather around. My mother was afraid of her, and my uncle didn’t have too much good to say either. Even so, I admired her sturdy toughness and John fears I’ve inherited too much of her:). 

 

I feel like grandmothers of today seem much younger and more active. Congratulations Julia!

 

RHYS BOWEN:  Congratulations from me too, Julia. You’ll love this stage of life.

 

My mother’s mother raised me while my mother worked (female teachers were required during the war), then came to live with us when my grandfather died, so she was always a huge part of my life. She was tiny and gentle. I don’t ever remember her raising her voice. She showed endless patience and kindness to me, which was great because my mother was always overworked and stressed and had no time for me. She lived to 91 and ate like a sparrow. 

 

I didn’t know my father’s mother as well. We went to visit her frequently but it was always a formal visit, not playing with her as with my other grandmother. But she was a wonderful cook. I remember her sausage pie with her homemade red cabbage pickles. Still drooling! And when she died, when I had just got engaged, she left me her wedding ring, which I had melted into my own ring.

 

I am blessed to have been part of my grandchildren’s lives since the day they were born. When they were little II had to make up fantastic stories for them. Also  chased them over climbing equipment, Such happy memories.

 

DEBORAH CROMBIE: I only knew one grandmother, Lillian, known as Nanny, my mother’s mother. A widowed school teacher (I knew neither of my grandfathers) she came to live with us when I was born. We shared a room until I was about six, when my parents built an addition on to the house for her so that she could have her own space. She was the gentlest person I’ve ever known, although she must have been really tough to have raised four kids mostly on her own during the Depression. She was unfailingly kind and encouraging to me and a good buffer between me and my mother, who was a much more demanding personality. She taught me to read and to be interested in the world and we had many adventures together. She died at 86 and I still miss her.

 

 

JULIA: How about you, dear readers? What are your memories of a grandmother - or grandfather? 



 

Soup, Rain, and Delicious Books

DEBORAH CROMBIE: It's hodgepodge Sunday here on the blog, and what better place to start than with the weather! We have had a long, and I have to admit, glorious, Indian summer here in north Texas. We had two inches of rain back in mid-September and since then we have been pretty much 90 to 70 degrees every single day. (With pollen, I might add.) The mornings and evenings are lovely, and with the days getting shorter, it's not even unpleasant to be out in the warmest part of the afternoon. 

BUT. I am a self-confessed pluviophile.

And, no, that's not something kinky. A pluviophile is defined as "someone who loves rain and feels happy, calm, and peaceful during rainy weather."  Too much rain in mid-winter can give me a bit of the blues, but most of the time a rainy day makes me feel happy and creative, and I've been very deprived. 

And on top of that, it's SOUP SEASON, and it really hard to get in the mood to make soup when it's ninety degrees! I love soup as much as I love rainy weather, and with the first little cold snap the possibilities beckon.




Finally, yesterday, we had a little front and a few light thunderstorms, just enough to cancel my granddaughter's soccer game and barely "piss off the grass," as we say in Texas. But enough to get out the stockpot and put on some lovely lentil soup.




This recipe was from Cookie and Kate, one of my fave vegetarian websites, but any kind of soup sounds good to me. I've been drooling over this chicken soup recipe by ronrofe on Instagram. He does the most absolutely gorgeous food and I want to eat everything he makes.

We are getting to the delicious books, by way of soup. I subscribe to the writer and cookbook author Ella Risbridger's substack as I adore everything she writes. This week her email was about soup (and she's also going to be reposting her huge soup blog from last year) but what caught my eye were two new books. She's edited a selection of poems by women and girls with amazing illustrations called AND EVERYHING WILL BE GLAD TO SEE YOU which I ordered for Wren's Christmas from Amazon before discovering it was available from Blackwell's in the UK for a lot less and with free shipping. 




As is Ella's upcoming IN LOVE WITH LOVE, described as her "love letter to romantic fiction," and which is getting rave reviews everywhere. Happy pre-Christmas to me!

So, dear REDs and readers, happy soup, happy Sunday, and what is floating your autumn boat?

P.S. I tried my first ever pumpkin spice latte from my favorite coffee stall at the farmer's market yesterday and DID NOT LIKE IT. Boo. I call that a way to ruin some good coffee...

Saturday, October 18, 2025

A Tiny Obession

DEBORAH CROMBIE: Most of us know pine nuts from their most common use in the U.S., which is for pesto. But I've become enamoured with the little things. I usually toast them, very gently, in a non-stick pan. As soon as they start to take on a golden hue, you should take them off the heat, then tip them into another dish to cool. Just the residual heat from the pan can cause them to scorch, as I've discovered to my dismay. Once cool, I usually put them in a storage container in the fridge to be used as needed. Oh, and although they're sold unrefrigerated, I keep the raw nuts in the fridge too for longer life.



Which brings us to the question, is a pine nut a nut or a seed? They are actually seeds, and are harvested from about twenty different species of pines around the world, and they've been used in cooking in Europe and Asia since Paleolithic times. 

There are American varieties--here's cool photo of pines nuts being loaded for shipment in Santa Fe, New Mexico, in 1921.




However, most pine nuts sold today in the U.S. come from China, so maybe I should stockpile them in the fridge, or eat more ecologically and budget friendly American-grown pecans. Texas, you should know, is one of the largest pecan producers in the country, and it's also our state tree! We even have pecan trees in our back yard, but unfortunately they are the native type, not the cultivated variety, and they are bitter. The squirrels, however, love them.

But back to pine nuts, as long as I'm abandoning my ecological principles. I put the toasted nuts on salads, on pasta, and on pretty much anything that just needs a little bit of a lift. Today I had a sprinkle on a black bean veggie burger with avocado. Last night I had them sprinkled on tiny ricotta and spinach ravioli, with olive oil, parmesan, and a tiny bit of butter. Delish!

Pine nuts are used in flour, in cakes and cookies, and in sweets like baklava, as well. Having just seen a recipe for torta della nonna (or granny's cake) I'm tempted to take up baking. Shortcrust pastry and a custard filling, with pine nuts and powdered sugar on the top. They should make this on Great British Bake Off!

REDS and readers, are you pine nut fans? And do you have another rather odd food obsession?