Nostalgia
It seems I get very nostalgic this time of year. Yes, I want the crisp in-season apples and good sleeping weather, but I'm more and more reluctant to say goodbye to summer every year. Maybe it's visiting the Lake Michigan shoreline (which we did two weeks ago) that enhances the feeling. There, it seems like it should be summer all the time. The wide sandy beaches, the lakefront cottages and the lighthouses don't look quite right other times of the year. The fruit orchards, blueberry fields and red geraniums just ought to be there ALL the time. And it seems like a very nostalgic area. A sort of 'Somewhere In Time' feel to it. Like people have been taking civilized, productive summer vacations there for a hundred years or more. I suppose I'd better stop before I start sounding like a 'Pure Michigan' commercial.
Playing tourist in Frankenmuth the Saturday before Labor Day was wrought with plenty of nostalgia. The entire immediate Reinert clan half filled Tiny's Room at Bavarian Inn for a large family-style (plus three German Meats!) dinner that evening. It was sunny and balmy. The flowers, plants and hanging baskets were all more beautiful than ever (I'm starting to think some kind of dark sorcery is involved in that). Out-of-towners were strolling around everywhere in bra strap-baring camis, shorts and sandals, full of chicken and festooned with shopping bags. I remember Frankenmuth before it was a tourist town. Or at least when it was just becoming a serious one. I thought of all the summer mini-vacations we spent at Grandma and Grandpa Zucker's, and all the hours we spent riding our bikes up and down every single street and country road around that town. It would have been a perfect evening to eat a bowl of ice cream out on the back porch and look at the American flag on top of the Star of the West grain elevator.
But it's not the grandparents' house any more. Now that it doesn't belong to anyone in the family, I truly feel like a tourist in that town. Doesn't matter that cousin J squatted there for the last few years and we hardly visited the property anyway. It's not a landing spot in town for us any more. And still, even today, I think the final sale price *could* have been within our financial means. We could have kept it. We could own a piece of Frankenmuth. Then I think...what the hell for? We'd be spending some colossal bucks to gut/repair/de-stink/beautify the place. And then for what? Not a likely 'up north' cottage at all. Still...
I really didn't want to drive by it or see it at all. Not that day. We all took a stroll up and down main drag downtown to try and settle dinner, marveling at the late summer temperature spike into the low 90's. Summer apparently didn't want to say goodbye either.
The gentle prodding of mom and dad from the four Reinert brothers for funeral/end of life thoughts and ideas added an additional dark layer of contemplation over the whole weekend. No, it wasn't anything morbid--for a couple of years now we've been as kindly as possibly asking for what they want. So we have SOME kind of clue as to how to effectively deal with the events that we are going to be facing soon. We divided into the kitchen table group having these discussions, while a second team kept the younger family members occupied and out of the conversation. Me, I fell asleep in a chair after about an hour of this heaviness.
Because a Reinert get-together or reunion just isn't complete without multiple desserts, I made two to share. And reminded people of it as they were loading up with multiple slices of cakes and pies at Krysiak's buffet Sunday afternoon. As if that reduced the consumption of my offerings by any. I should know my clan better after all this time.
I haven't made this in about 20 years. I'm not sure why I thought of it and dug it out of my archives again. It just seemed the thing to make ahead and have on hand for the family-centric Labor Day weekend. As I looked it over, I realized why I hadn't made it 20 years: it's got 2 sticks of butter in it. This is from the days before I lost 40+ pounds. I got it from our Medical Technology education coordinator at St. Joseph Hospital in Flint. When our class of 5 graduated after surviving a year-long internship, she and her husband, the then senior Chemistry tech, invited us to their house in Grand Blanc for a celebratory dinner. After stromboli, she served this for dessert. It's like an ice cream cone or 'drumstick' in a pan.
Ice Cream Dessert
2 cups Rice Chex crushed (measure after crushing)
1 cup coconut (I toasted it first)
2/3 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup chopped nuts (any would be good, but I like dry-roasted peanuts)
1/2 cup (1 stick) melted butter
Mix and reserve 2/3 cup for topping. Pat into buttered 9 X 13 inch pan.
Mix the following, bring to a boil; cool:
1/2 cup (1 stick) butter
3 square (one ounce each) unsweetened chocolate
3 beaten eggs
2 cups powdered sugar
Pour over crust.
(refrigerate for a bit to firm up the fudgy goo before the next step)
Spoon 1/2 gallon vanilla ice cream (softened) over this. Top with reserved crumbs. Freeze overnight. Can make ahead; keeps well.
Take out 30-45 minutes ahead before wanting to serve.
And this one was being discussed on Facebook in a 'If You Grew Up In Frankenmuth, You Remember...' Tim fondly remembers these from the St. Lorenz gradeschool cafeteria, along with his other fellow students. I had no memory of anything like this whatsoever, but I did some cross referencing on-line, and searched through my Grandma/church-lady cookbooks. I thought this is so ridiculously simple, I have to try it.
Peanut Butter Logs
Equal parts:
peanut butter
honey
dried milk
(One cup each fills an 8 X 8 inch pan perfectly)
Crush cornflakes and press into the bottom of pan. Spread mixture on top of cornflakes. Top/press with more crushed cornflakes. Refrigerate until firm. Cut into desired-size pieces.
It's like peanut butter fudge. You just know it's insanely caloric when you bite into it. The perfect thing to fuel the bottomless energy sinks that were gradeschool kids back in our day. Then the whole time I'm savoring the odd but somehow harmonious play of weird dry milk flavor off the floral honey, salty peanut butter and corn crunch, (these mellow and improve with aging) I'm imagining ways to corrupt it by dunking balls of it in dark chocolate, or adding bacon.
Playing tourist in Frankenmuth the Saturday before Labor Day was wrought with plenty of nostalgia. The entire immediate Reinert clan half filled Tiny's Room at Bavarian Inn for a large family-style (plus three German Meats!) dinner that evening. It was sunny and balmy. The flowers, plants and hanging baskets were all more beautiful than ever (I'm starting to think some kind of dark sorcery is involved in that). Out-of-towners were strolling around everywhere in bra strap-baring camis, shorts and sandals, full of chicken and festooned with shopping bags. I remember Frankenmuth before it was a tourist town. Or at least when it was just becoming a serious one. I thought of all the summer mini-vacations we spent at Grandma and Grandpa Zucker's, and all the hours we spent riding our bikes up and down every single street and country road around that town. It would have been a perfect evening to eat a bowl of ice cream out on the back porch and look at the American flag on top of the Star of the West grain elevator.
But it's not the grandparents' house any more. Now that it doesn't belong to anyone in the family, I truly feel like a tourist in that town. Doesn't matter that cousin J squatted there for the last few years and we hardly visited the property anyway. It's not a landing spot in town for us any more. And still, even today, I think the final sale price *could* have been within our financial means. We could have kept it. We could own a piece of Frankenmuth. Then I think...what the hell for? We'd be spending some colossal bucks to gut/repair/de-stink/beautify the place. And then for what? Not a likely 'up north' cottage at all. Still...
I really didn't want to drive by it or see it at all. Not that day. We all took a stroll up and down main drag downtown to try and settle dinner, marveling at the late summer temperature spike into the low 90's. Summer apparently didn't want to say goodbye either.
The gentle prodding of mom and dad from the four Reinert brothers for funeral/end of life thoughts and ideas added an additional dark layer of contemplation over the whole weekend. No, it wasn't anything morbid--for a couple of years now we've been as kindly as possibly asking for what they want. So we have SOME kind of clue as to how to effectively deal with the events that we are going to be facing soon. We divided into the kitchen table group having these discussions, while a second team kept the younger family members occupied and out of the conversation. Me, I fell asleep in a chair after about an hour of this heaviness.
Because a Reinert get-together or reunion just isn't complete without multiple desserts, I made two to share. And reminded people of it as they were loading up with multiple slices of cakes and pies at Krysiak's buffet Sunday afternoon. As if that reduced the consumption of my offerings by any. I should know my clan better after all this time.
I haven't made this in about 20 years. I'm not sure why I thought of it and dug it out of my archives again. It just seemed the thing to make ahead and have on hand for the family-centric Labor Day weekend. As I looked it over, I realized why I hadn't made it 20 years: it's got 2 sticks of butter in it. This is from the days before I lost 40+ pounds. I got it from our Medical Technology education coordinator at St. Joseph Hospital in Flint. When our class of 5 graduated after surviving a year-long internship, she and her husband, the then senior Chemistry tech, invited us to their house in Grand Blanc for a celebratory dinner. After stromboli, she served this for dessert. It's like an ice cream cone or 'drumstick' in a pan.
Ice Cream Dessert
2 cups Rice Chex crushed (measure after crushing)
1 cup coconut (I toasted it first)
2/3 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup chopped nuts (any would be good, but I like dry-roasted peanuts)
1/2 cup (1 stick) melted butter
Mix and reserve 2/3 cup for topping. Pat into buttered 9 X 13 inch pan.
Mix the following, bring to a boil; cool:
1/2 cup (1 stick) butter
3 square (one ounce each) unsweetened chocolate
3 beaten eggs
2 cups powdered sugar
Pour over crust.
(refrigerate for a bit to firm up the fudgy goo before the next step)
Spoon 1/2 gallon vanilla ice cream (softened) over this. Top with reserved crumbs. Freeze overnight. Can make ahead; keeps well.
Take out 30-45 minutes ahead before wanting to serve.
And this one was being discussed on Facebook in a 'If You Grew Up In Frankenmuth, You Remember...' Tim fondly remembers these from the St. Lorenz gradeschool cafeteria, along with his other fellow students. I had no memory of anything like this whatsoever, but I did some cross referencing on-line, and searched through my Grandma/church-lady cookbooks. I thought this is so ridiculously simple, I have to try it.
Peanut Butter Logs
Equal parts:
peanut butter
honey
dried milk
(One cup each fills an 8 X 8 inch pan perfectly)
Crush cornflakes and press into the bottom of pan. Spread mixture on top of cornflakes. Top/press with more crushed cornflakes. Refrigerate until firm. Cut into desired-size pieces.
It's like peanut butter fudge. You just know it's insanely caloric when you bite into it. The perfect thing to fuel the bottomless energy sinks that were gradeschool kids back in our day. Then the whole time I'm savoring the odd but somehow harmonious play of weird dry milk flavor off the floral honey, salty peanut butter and corn crunch, (these mellow and improve with aging) I'm imagining ways to corrupt it by dunking balls of it in dark chocolate, or adding bacon.