Monograms, MoonPies, and Giving Thanks

Thanksgiving will be here in just a couple of days, and in between thinking about all that good food and what pair of pants can accept this year's challenge, I like to do a little thinking about being grateful. I think that most of us are thankful for family, friends, and good health, so I try my best to dig a little deeper and think about those little blessings that just cap off my bounty of good fortune. I'm sure these gems were on your list as well, but just in case they might have slipped your mind, I wanted to proclaim my thanks for all to see.

I would first like to give thanks for my Southern accent. It is the platinum, diamond standard, best-in-class accent that exists, in my less than humble opinion. And it's not only beautiful to hear: the drawl gets things done, y'all. A Southerner can accomplish more with a sweet tone and a smile than the United Nations can do in a three-day summit. A lady with an English accent offered to take my "trolley" at the grocery store last week, and as charming as that was, she was more enamored when I said, "Oh, you mean my buggy?" I love that my dialect means "fixinto" is one word and that my y'all is authentic.

Sorry, Bahstahn, yours is wicked good but Southern accents are just superior.

As always, I'm thankful for all the carbohydrates that exist in the world: biscuits, grits, and Krispy Kreme not withstanding, but I'd like to take a particular moment to appreciate the good ol' MoonPie. Created back in 1917 in Chattanooga, a coal miner requested a graham cracker and marshmallow snack "as big as the moon," and the MoonPie was born. It was a comfort food put in care packages for the troops during World War II, and it has also been married of sorts to the good old RC Cola. How adorable is that? It's a very Southern, almost vintage confection that I'm afraid doesn't get the appreciation it deserves. My case in point is below, should you have missed the Twitter spat that went down recently between an obvious MoonPie hater and the clearly clever geniuses that make the snack cakes:

Thou shalt respect the MoonPie, Kaela.

Since the personalization mecca known as Names-N-Things was well, a major thing back in the '90s, I have loved the sight of my own name. Back then, it was bubble letters and stencils in acrylic paint, but in an effort to appear a more refined, adult version of myself, that has now morphed into monograms. I know for a fact that I am not alone in this--Southerners will monogram anything that will stand still or move slow enough for them to run alongside it, right up to those monogram stickers for minivans. Shirts, towels, pillowcases, and more, everything looks better with your initials emblazoned, am I right? The question is never to monogram or not to monogram, the question is really circle monogram or interlocking script. I'm thankful to the monogram for helping me lay a classy claim to my property, and for letting me get possessive over my belongings in any color thread my heart desires.

I even monogrammed the pillow cases in our guest bedroom,
just in case someone forgets whose house they've visited.

We all know about my adoration and appreciation for lip gloss, big hair, and sequins. And because God gave us the gift of Dolly Parton, I don't need to list those items separately: Dolly wraps it all up in one gloriously sparkly, bubbly, adorable package that just keeps on singing and lighting up the room wherever she goes. Dolly's had a kind of renaissance lately and is being appreciated all over again by a whole new generation (the New York Times even wrote an article I actually found worth reading last week titled "Is There Anything We Can All Agree On? Yes: Dolly Parton"). I would argue that most of us God fearing, big-haired, big-bosomed Southern women never stopped appreciating that rhinestoned national treasure. In Dolly we trust, and give thanks.

By the grace of acrylic nails and false eyelashes, may she live forever.

As you head into the holiday this week with the hustle and bustle of travel, the crazed frenzy of crowded grocery store aisles, the love and stress that only quality family time can create, and that never ending pile of dishes that will have to be done, take a moment to pause and give thanks. We have so many blessings: from seersucker to Southern accents and MoonPies to monograms, and for all the wonderful Southern things in between, I am grateful.

H82BAKE: An Ooey Gooey Pumpkin Bar Story

I don't mind cooking, but I really hate to bake. As a general rule, baking is messy and requires a certain degree of precision, which really amps up someone who is a slightly obsessive compulsive neat freak. Plus, there is every chance in the world that you can mix all the things, put it all together, then over or under bake your confection and still come out with nothing to show for it.

I do, however, love good food and sharing good food with friends. Williams Sonoma has a heavenly recipe (which follows) for "Ooey Gooey Pumpkin Squares" using their pecan pumpkin butter and pumpkin bread mix, both of which are only available in the fall. We all know I am powerless to resist anything seasonal, and of course, they got me. Our last Clemson home game of the season is Saturday, and so out of love for my alma mater and my tailgate friends, I decided it was time: to bake. Eeeek.

Thursday was the day. I had it written in ink on my calendar so as not to chicken out or procrastinate. Wednesday night, I started to prepare for battle. Since baking it not my favorite past time, my tools of the trade are not of the finest caliber. My mixer is stored on its side in the least convenient, least used cabinet in our kitchen. I crawled into that little nook with half my body and dug out the machine. (Don't even kid yourself that it's a fancy, heavy KitchenAid one in some cute color; it's a Sunbeam, the second cheapest one Walmart sells). I checked the recipe to familiarize myself with my enemy. The recipe calls for 15 ounces of confectioners sugar. My package is 32 ounces. I turned to Clint: "How do you measure powdered sugar? Would it be by weight or by volume?" He stared back at me blankly as if the language I'm speaking is anything but English. And they say women are the weaker sex. After some Internet research, I find a conversion for the sugar (15 ounces is  3 3/4 cups, so now we can officially say this blog is educational).

My alarm goes off Thursday morning and I'm too wired to lay in bed and try to justify sleeping a few more minutes the way I usually do. No, today there is a battle to fight and I am the warrior. I am not fooled by the cutesy "ooey gooey" name of my nemesis; I will not underestimate my opponent. I prepare myself with a cup of strong Cuban coffee and an old episode of Beverly Hills, 90210. If Brandon and Kelly can survive calling off their wedding on the very day of the ceremony, I can bake these pumpkin bars. Boldly singing, "Jesus, Take the Wheel," I head to the kitchen. Do your worst, baked goods. Actually, do your best, don't make me cry, and turn out to be edible.

The lid is impossible to remove from the pumpkin butter. After hot water, counter pounding, and prayer, success! My nerves make me inefficient and I'm wandering all around my kitchen like a tourist lost in Times Square. I'm washing utensils before I'm done using them, so great is my need to try and keep this culinary chaos under some kind of cleanly control. Powdered sugar is everywhere; my kitchen looks like a Miami drug cartel has set up shop. I make the crust and it seems...adequate. I mix the filling and pour into the pan. The recipe states "do not overbake," which I find ridiculous. Does anyone set out to overbake their ooey gooey pumpkin squares? Give me a break, Williams or Sonoma, or whoever you are. You sit on an edible high horse. I set the oven timer and clean up the apparently bomb of spices that has erupted all over the room.

Forty-five minutes later, I timidly check the oven. If this has gone wrong, I will tell the tailgate that I have sadly forgotten to bring my wonderful, delicious dessert (yes, I will fib rather than admit failure). I take a deep breath to calm my frayed nerves, but they are not done yet. The recipe advises a "slight" jiggle in the center. I am not good with vague, subjective directions, so this allows me the opportunity to pace in front of the oven and fret, while checking the pan every 60 seconds or so. At the fifty minute mark, I pull the pan out and...holy freaking pumpkin spice! I. Have. Done. It!! Now I'm waiting the mandatory-as-dictated-by-Williams-Sonoma twenty minutes for these bars to cool and I will ecstatically cut them into bars. I may skip all the way to Clemson, giddy with my conquest.

**A note to our tailgate group, who will consume this confection: if these are not in fact ooey, gooey or delicious, please just throw them into the bushes when I'm not looking and tell me they were fantastic. "Clemson family," after all.

For those of you who are brave (or foolish) enough to enjoy baking, or like myself, a glutton for pumpkin spice and punishment, here is the recipe. It's not terribly complicated and doesn't even require lots of ingredients. Just a brave game face and a few prayers.

Ingredients:

• For the crust:
  1 package (1 lb. 2 oz./509 g) Williams Sonoma spiced pecan pumpkin quick
     bread mix
• 1 egg
• 8 Tbs. (1 stick) (4 oz./125 g) unsalted butter, melted
• 
  For the filling:
  1 package (8 oz./250g) cream cheese, at room temperature
• 1 jar (13.5 oz./382 g) Williams Sonoma Muirhead pecan pumpkin butter
• 3 eggs
• 1 tsp. vanilla extract
• 8 Tbs. (1 stick) (4 oz./125 g) unsalted butter, melted
• 1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon
• 15 oz. (470 g) confectioners’ sugar

Directions:

Preheat an oven to 350°F (180°C). Grease a 13-by-9-inch (33-by-23-cm) baking pan.

To make the crust, in the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the flat beater, combine the quick bread mix, egg and melted butter and beat on low speed until the ingredients come together, 1 to 2 minutes. Transfer the mixture to the prepared pan and spread out evenly. Press the crust down until it feels compact (using the back of a measuring cup can help).

Wash and dry the mixer bowl and beater.

To make the filling, in the mixer bowl, combine the cream cheese and pumpkin butter and beat on medium speed until smooth, about 1 minute. Add the eggs, vanilla, melted butter and cinnamon and beat until combined, about 2 minutes. Add the confectioners’ sugar and beat well, about 2 minutes.

Spread the filling over the crust. Transfer to the oven and bake for 40 to 50 minutes. Do not overbake; the center should still be a little gooey. To test for doneness, gently shake the pan; you should see a slight jiggle in the center. Transfer the pan to a wire rack and let cool for at least 20 minutes, then cut into bars. Makes 16 bars.

The Christmas Rush

My mom came to visit a couple of weekends ago, and as is our custom, we headed to the mall. It was the day after Halloween and I was a little taken aback that at lunchtime on this first day of November, there were Christmas decorations everywhere. Huge ornaments outside the mall, boxwood reindeer flanking the entrance, and garland, lights, and bows dripping from the ceiling inside. My mom is not afraid to celebrate Christmas any old time she feels the urge, so she was delighted to see all the adornments already in place.

Just a few days later, I was surfing radio stations and realized that one of the local light rock stations was playing Christmas music. I was bewildered that anyone would be ready to carol the first week of November (let's face it, there aren't that many yuletide songs to last us for two full months of sing alongs), but I assumed it was some kind of preview of the holiday music to come. I was wrong: the station is playing Christmas songs around the clock from now until December 26.

I love Christmas, but I'm also a fan of fall. I rarely miss an occasion to celebrate, so I'm not eager to fast forward at the risk of ignoring Thanksgiving. I want pumpkins, pilgrims, and fall leaves for just a bit longer before I start decking my halls with boughs of holly and whatnot. I need a couple more pumpkin spice treats before I'm ready to switch to eggnog.

Hang on a second, Santa: I've still got gobbling to do.

I can't skip the chance to enjoy my pilgrims, either.

Our mantle is still full of velvety pumpkins for a little while longer.

I've been seeing lots of complaints on social media about folks experiencing the same phenomenon. People are resentful to the point of being angry that Christmas is coming earlier and earlier every year. I get it--believe me, I do--but instead of letting it irritate me or cause me to try and persuade my friends who already have their trees proudly decorated and on display to stuff them back in the attic until the Thanksgiving dishes are done, I've decided: give me all the holidays.

But see? They can peacefully exist at the same time!

Sure, I want to enjoy more autumn before I hang the stockings and trim the tree, but to each their own. Let the Christmas people go crazy if it makes them happy. With everything going on in the world today, don't we have more things to worry about than if it's too soon to talk about Santa? Complain about the traffic, the weather, politics, or the inexplicable fact that the Kardashians are still wildly popular (a mystery of life if ever there was one) but if Karen down the street wants to plow straight to Noel and the nativity, good for her. You do you, and let's just all agree to celebrate however we darn well please. A little extra Christmas is certainly not the worst thing going on right now.

Well, when you put it that way...

I can understand the rush to Christmas. Last year, we decided to have a professional photographer come to the house and take some pictures for a family Christmas card. We put our tree up November 1 just for a photo opportunity, but were shocked at how much we enjoyed having it up early. We got extra time to bask in the cozy glow of the tree each evening, and the holiday season just felt less rushed. So if you want to start your jingle bell rocking around the Christmas tree, you go right ahead. I'll join you just as soon as I finish my turkey and dressing.

Here we are last year, enjoying Christmas in November
(also known as posing for our Christmas card, but you get my point).

Happy Everything! Enjoy whichever holiday you wish!