NEWS for North Dakotans
Agriculture Communication, North Dakota State
University
7 Morrill Hall, Fargo, ND 58105-5665
March 26, 1998
I don't know why I was thinking about my birthday the other day, but I was. I suppose it has something to do with the annual preliminary dread that comes to some of us who are now officially over the hill. Anyway, my thoughts soon turned to my great aunt, Sylvia Williams. You see, Sylvia's birthday was just two weeks after mine. I think she would have been 96 this year.
Sylvia was like a mother to my dad, who lost his mom at age 5, and she was much, much more than a great aunt to me. It doesn't seem like it, but she's been dead 10 years. More, actually. Her memory wore out before her body did.
My mom has a picture of me standing next to Sylvia behind her kitchen table on one of her birthdays. I must have been 5 or 6. I'd baked Sylvia an instant cake for her birthday, with some help. In the picture, the cake is sitting on the table, and Sylvia looks prouder of that cake than I do.
When I think of Sylvia, I can't help but think of food. She was a good cook—she made tasty food, certainly—but what continues to impress me to this day is how she never got the least bit flustered about the whole process. And sometimes she had good reason to.
You see, my dad had a habit of calling her up about 11 in the morning and saying that he and I would be coming over to eat. This would usually happen during the summer months, when Mom was attending a flower show or some other function that had her away from home during the noon hour. Sylvia never complained about the late notice but instead was downright happy to see us when she'd meet us at the door like she always did. And there was always more than enough to eat.
The main feature of those summertime meals often was fresh-caught fish. Pan fried, of course. And Sylvia made the best tartar sauce you could ever imagine. She used her own crunchy pickles, sweet and dill both, rough cut in a large dice to match the size of the garden onions she also incorporated into a velvety concoction of mayonnaise and just a hint of mustard, for that necessary sharpness.
I also remember fondly Sylvia's Sally Ann cookies, at least I think that's what she called these delights, which were the shape a Spam can, the actual cookie cutter. These firm-textured cookies were molasses flavored, neither crunchy nor chewy, and topped with a hard white frosting. The perfect cookie for dunking in coffee.
The recipe that follows is a version of another of Sylvia's memorable classics. For me, eating this salad isn't the same as being able to go home again, but sometimes a mouthful of the lemony fruit helps me see more clearly, and when I do, I see Sylvia sitting at her dining room table smiling, just like she always did.
Memorable Fruit Salad
Yield: 12 servingsIngredients:
2 cups each whole fresh green and red grapes
1 quart fresh strawberries, washed, stemmed and halved
1 15-ounce can sliced peaches in light syrup—slices drained and quartered
1 8.25-ounce can apricot halves in light syrup—halves drained and quartered
1 20-ounce can chunk pineapple in its own juice, drained
2 bananas, sliced thick and coated with 2 tablespoons lemon juice
1 15.75-ounce can lemon pie filling
3 kiwi, sliced (optional)
1 cup toasted coconut (optional)Procedure:
Combine first seven ingredients; add pie filling and toss lightly until fruit is well coated. Place in a flat serving dish, cover and chill for several hours or overnight. If desired, place sliced kiwi around edge and sprinkle coconut in center before serving.
What's Your Take on This, Julie?
Many of us have a box of passed-down recipes that are fragile and yellowing with age. We won't part with them because they are a tangible memory of the person whose name may appear under the recipe heading, "From the kitchen of ..." In many cases, they offer a taste of our childhood all over again.
Food has a variety of meanings that go far beyond satisfying hunger. From baptisms to funerals, food is used for celebrations and for comfort. Many people have "comfort" foods that are unique to them. In many cases, the foods are soft, warm and quite bland in flavor. For some, mashed potatoes and gravy bring solace. Others might opt for foods representing their cultural heritage.
Aromas also can bring back special memories. Does the scent of baking bread or cinnamon rolls remind you of anyone?
This nostalgic salad can do double duty as a dessert. It's a tasty way to work toward five servings of fruits and vegetables a day. A medium-size whole fruit, such as an apple or an orange, or a half cup of fresh or canned fruit is a serving.
A serving of Memorable Fruit Salad (1/12 of the recipe or about 1 cup) provides about 225 calories, 3.5 grams of fat and 100 percent of the daily recommendation for vitamin C. If you want to reduce the calorie content, try using "light" reduced-sugar products. And since the optional cup of coconut contributes about 410 calories and 28 grams of fat to the entire recipe, you could reduce the quantity or leave it out entirely if coconut is not your favorite.
You could also substitute equal amounts of other types of fruit or use fresh fruit in season. Be adventurous and try some tropical fruits such as mangos, star fruit or papaya.
Keeping food traditions alive is a way to honor the memory of the people who prepared the recipes for you so long ago. One of the best gifts my late mother gave me was a box of our family's favorite recipes. I didn't realize it was such a treasure at the time.
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Sources: Dean Hulse (701) 231-6136
Julie Garden-Robinson (701) 231-7187
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