Jar of Goodness 3.23.25: Blue Lights, Firepit Nights

. . . The weekly virtual “gratitude jar.”

This week, I’m expressing thanks for our blue lights, firepit nights.

One of the fun things Sue and I have been doing in recent years is flat-out enjoying the backyard in the evenings. In 2018, I bought a bunch of decorative lights: cobalt-blue stringlights and spotlights, and retro-incandescent-bulb-looking stringlights (which look golden-orange when blended with the blue), and hung them around our backyard and sunporch. I do say, they add a nice festive touch, cool and warm. I've tinkered with, added to, repaired or replaced, and improved the lights since then.

And we have a very cheap, old firepit we’ve been using for years. It’s a rusting, shallow saucer on a just-strong-enough stand, with a rusty, decrepit screen that we really don’t use much anymore. This “firepit” is lightweight and tucks away easily when not in use. We always have a pile of miscellaneous sticks that we need to get rid of, and it’s excellent tinder and kindling. We also manage to accumulate a variety of small logs (mostly branches that fall out of trees in our yard, or Mom and Dad’s), which we saw into ridiculously short eighteen-inch sections that fit in our little fire pit. Our firepit is basically a surreptitious way of disposing of woody yard waste.

But it’s also an opportunity to have fun. We have a bottle of wine. We listen to relaxing music on my little bitty Bluetooth speaker. We roast some weenies and have some potato salad. We look up at the sky. We visit with the backyard Wild Things cats. Sometimes an opossum or raccoon ambles through the yard.

Our opportunities for enjoying these blue lights, firepit nights are not great during the winter, since we don’t bother to cover the wood and we won’t try to burn it wet. Plus, we don’t want to have to hover over the fire to even be outside.

But when the weather starts to improve, and the sticks and little logs dry enough to burn cleanly, and we get an early spring day without winds and red-flag warnings, it’s a perfect time to sit and enjoy our backyard, and each other’s company.

. . . Also known as the simple pleasures of life.

Wherever you are, and whenever you’re reading this, I hope you’re finding ways to enjoy your life, too.

Pansies for Edna Day

This is one of the big ways we celebrate the beginning of spring here on West Elm Street: The annual planting of the pansies. This little tradition goes back eighty years to when my dad was a kid. He’d buy a shoebox of pansies from old man Hugo Busch on Dunklin and Madison for his mom’s birthday—which almost exactly coincides with the first day of spring. She would put them in her front planters, for everyone to see. Dad has written about this on his own blog, so I won’t repeat it.

This is one of the first subjects I wrote about when I started the Op Op, too. Look here for that blast from the past.

So yesterday, two days before Grandma’s birthday, I put pansies once again into the front planters. After the drab winter, the pansies, and the flowerbeds full of daffodils, are incredibly cheerful. And we need it.

My little addition to the traditional is to use a little bit of mulch, and to place crystals and interesting rocks artistically around the pansies, which helps hold the soil in place during these sometimes severe spring storms.

Each year I arrange the rocks and stuff a little differently.

As spring always does, there are chilly days mixed with warm ones. Sometimes a chilly day, though, is sunny enough to warm up our front steps, and I can sit on the steps and bask a little after work and before I make dinner. And the pansies are there to make me smile a little bit.

Here's how I arranged them this year.

David’s Pancake

Y’all, this is really good. A friend shared this recipe with me back in about 1987, and I had never made it. Who was David? Probably an old boyfriend of hers. Was he the Vietnam vet? She was older than me and had a lot of interesting stories from the 1960s and 70s. The recipe card has languished in my recipe files all this time.

Actually, I think I tried to make it once, but it was a disaster because I didn’t know what I was doing, and I didn’t have the proper equipment. I’m surprised I kept the recipe.

Over the past few years, I’ve been compiling and typing old recipes into a big Word document, and (not knowing if this recipe had gotten a fair shake in my kitchen back in the late 1980s) I decided to try it again.

And hey, it’s really good! I think the term for the dish is “Dutch baby.” It’s like a big popover made in a skillet, or like a soufflé. And just like a soufflé, it can go in a sweet or savory direction. You need to pay attention to technique, but it’s not hard. (If I can do it, then anyone can.)

Here’s how I’ve made it into a resounding success.

Equipment: I use an approx. 6-inch diameter iron skillet (it’s heavy, it holds heat, and it’s fine to go into an oven); also, I use our little toaster oven/convection oven, on the convection setting. The little skillet fits perfectly in there. (Or, if you’re making more than one at a time, or using a larger skillet, use an actual oven; but it must be fully preheated.)

The idea is to start on the stovetop: heat a couple tablespoons of butter in the skillet (the skillet should be on a pretty hot burner; once the butter foams, and before it turns brown, it’s ready); pour the rather liquid batter into the skillet; then place the skillet into a preheated 425-degree oven and let it cook, undisturbed, for about 15 minutes.

That technique I just wrote? That’s the part I didn’t understand before, but it’s the principle that makes it turn out well.

Here’s what happens: The batter starts cooking as soon as you pour it into the hot-hot pan. Then, during the 15-minute oven time, the pancake cooks and puffs up. With a 6-inch skillet, some of the butter may seep over the side as the pancake rises, but let it. The pancake usually doesn’t quite get entirely solid in the center. I mean, I don’t think you even would want it to get completely “done” in the middle. The edges balloon up and get done faster, and may even get a little crispy. The eggy, custardy, soufflé-like center will deflate when you pull it out of the oven.

You’ve got to eat it hot, right out of its miniature iron skillet. Very cozy. To protect your tabletop, serve it atop a potholder or trivet.

I like sprinkling over it some fresh lemon juice and powdered sugar, which makes the center kind of like lemon curd. It can be a breakfast, lunch, or snack, or possibly a dessert, if you added, say, a sweet fruit compote on top, or chocolate and whipped cream, or whatever. But see the suggestions at the end.

I think this makes one serving, but if you’re eating it with other foods, such as a fruit salad, it could be enough for two. Especially if you make it in a pan larger than a 6-inch skillet . . . but then you need to slice it in half (very unpretty). Better to use individual little skillets.

• ¼ c. flour
• ¼ c. milk
• 1 egg, slightly beaten
• pinch of nutmeg
• 2 T. butter
• 1 T. confectioner’s sugar
• Juice of ¼ lemon, or jelly, jam, or marmalade

Preheat the oven to 425°F.

In mixing bowl, combine flour, milk, egg, nutmeg. [I would add a pinch of salt, too.] Beat lightly/don’t overbeat. Leave batter a little lumpy.

Melt butter in a 12-inch or smaller skillet with heatproof handle. When butter is hot [foams/stops foaming], pour in the batter. Bake in oven for about 15 minutes, or until golden brown.

Sprinkle confectioner’s sugar and return to oven (to warm it, if desired).

Sprinkle with lemon juice; maybe add more confectioner’s sugar, or jelly, jam, whatever.

Yield: 1 or 2 servings.

Alternate treatments: In addition to lemon juice and powdered sugar, or jelly or jam, you could top it with chocolate or maple syrup, fruit compote, whipped cream, butter-sautéed sliced banana with brown sugar (and maybe a bit of rum) . . . anything you might put on any other pancakes.

But! You can also stir small-diced ham or crumbled bacon and grated cheese into the batter before pouring it into the pan. Or some chopped baby spinach and herbs. Or a duxelles of mushrooms. Or whatever . . . as you would an omelette. Yum!

Grandma Schroeder’s Sour Cream Coffee Cake

I can’t believe I haven’t shared this recipe yet! It is a true family favorite. It goes waaaay back. It’s a tangy coffee cake with a center layer of cinnamon and brown sugar; cinnamon and brown sugar are on the top, too. This moist cake is nice as a breakfast or coffee-break treat, but it’s also excellent as a dessert.

Several nearly identical copies of this recipe exist in Grandma Schroeder’s collection. Two of them appear as pictures in this blog post. This is one right here:

Plus, Dad got a copy, and I made a copy of his. This is a really good cake. I’m sharing my version of the recipe, which creams the butter and sugar first, then adds the eggs, then adds the sour cream and vanilla (all the wets) then adds the combined dry ingredients.

I think a few tips are in order. You should have a plan for constructing this cake: you will need to spread half of the sticky batter into a 9 x 9 pan, then sprinkle a crumbly layer of brown sugar, white sugar, and cinnamon on that, then spread the second half of the sticky batter on top of that, before sprinkling again with the sugar-cinnamon mix. This is problematic: the sticky batter is hard to handle and spread, and it can be next to impossible to try to spread the second half of the batter across the first, crumbly layer of cinnamon-sugar. Here are some ideas:

• If you have an offset spatula, this is a perfect time to use it.
• Try dipping your spatula in a pitcher or tumbler of warm water to keep batter from sticking to it.
• Or, just use your immaculately clean, damp hands to pat down and even out the first layer.
• It’s a good idea to use slightly less batter for the lower layer (it gives you more batter to play with as you try to cover the sugar with the second layer).
• To apply the second layer of batter, start by doling it out in portions atop the cinnamon-sugar. Then, spread those portions with the spatula or with your hands, joining the blobs together.

Remember, Grandma made this all the time, and she wasn’t fussy. It really doesn’t matter if that middle layer is perfect. The cake is delicious no matter what.

Make sugar mix and set aside:

• ⅓ cup brown sugar
• ¼ cup white sugar
• 1 tsp. cinnamon

Then make the cake batter:

Cream together:

• 1 cup sugar
• 1 stick oleo

Beat in:

• 2 eggs

Then add the rest of the wet ingredients:

• 1 cup sour cream
• 1 tsp. vanilla

In a separate bowl, combine the dry ingredients:

• 2 cup. flour
• 1 tsp. baking powder
• 1 tsp. baking soda
• ½ tsp. salt

Combine the wet and dry ingredients to make the batter.

Pour half the batter into a buttered pan [9 x 9; if you use 9 x 13, it is harder to spread out the two layers]. Sprinkle with half the sugar mixture; pour the remainder of the batter and sprinkle remainder of the sugar on top.

Bake at 350°F for 40 minutes, or until done. [Note that some versions of the recipe have it at 325°F; your oven may vary.]

Jar of Goodness 3.9.25: Op Op Anniversary

. . . The weekly virtual “gratitude jar.”

This week, I’m expressing thanks for this, the Opulent Opossum!

There have been sixteen years of the Op Op! If you want to start reading from the beginning, visit my humble first post.

Sixteen years. Looking back on that first year, goodness, I blogged a lot. Twenty-six posts in the first month alone! And in the first year, 206 posts!

The annual tally came down quite a bit starting in 2012, with annual posts equaling what I was posting weekly that first year.

From the start, my goal was to post something at least weekly. I had plenty of ideas. I was so enthusiastic. But these days, it’s hard to feel enthusiastic about anything. Okay: Coffee in the morning. The first truly warm days. Crocuses starting to bloom. Ibuprofen. . . . Things like that.

So, the Jar of Goodness concept keeps me plugging away, keeps the focus short and sweet. I guess I’ve gotten too lengthy in most of my recent posts. Too much to say on any subject. Too many tangents. But JOG keeps me on my toes.

But as always, I do have a list of things to write about and share here on the Op Op. I wonder if anybody really reads this. I don’t have a sense of my “audience,” because I don’t believe I actually have one anymore. Do I need to update my design, my masthead, my look? Do I need to animate the thing? Who cares about any of that? I don’t think my posts ever come up as results in Google searches; page titles and key word labels appear not to have any impact on that at all. Maybe it’s because I don’t “monetize” my blog? Do I really need to change the way I label my posts, to try to game the search engines? Look, I ain’t got time for that.

As I write this, it’s clear I’m experiencing another one of my “down” morning moods, so I’m going to stop while I’m ahead. Hooray for the Opulent Opossum! Sixteen years! Op Op Hooray!

Jar of Goodness 3.2.25: Journaling

. . . The weekly virtual “gratitude jar.”

This week, I’m expressing thanks for my habit of keeping a journal.

Decades before I started this blog, in which I mostly share happy things (because I need to do it to keep myself out of the Slough of Despond), I started keeping actual handwritten journals. Bound books, in which I’m unfettered by propriety. I can write anything, draw pictures and cartoons (well, my pictures are all pretty much cartoons), and glue in anything that fits.

It’s a record of my life and my mentality. I keep notes. I can tell you with accuracy what I was doing and thinking the afternoon of June 25, 1989. A summer that changed my life. What my attitude was. If I only took photographs, it would be harder to revisit the moment, the mood, the magic. Or whatever. It’s probably a good thing I didn’t take photographs, because it forced me to take notes. Everyone around me seemed to have a camera, so why should I need one? I provide the background story to everyone’s snapshots.

And writing, I’m able to put it down, let it go, whatever “it” is. A frustration, a joy, a moment of magic. The pleasures can be immortalized, remembered. The angers, injustices are frozen in stasis, finished, banished into history.

And someday, my journals will turn up in a stuffy flea market, and some lucky buyer will have a helluva hoot reading them. (I know I’d buy someone’s journal collection if I found it at a secondhand store!)

What's in a Name?

The name “Julie” isn’t really very common in America. It’s so uncommon, I see it spelled on receipts by boneheaded young people as “July” and “Julle.” (Seriously, Jason, Justin, Joshua? Seriously, Brooklyn, Kennedy, and Madison?)

Now, Susan has a name that comes up ALL THE TIME. Often, in cringeworthy ways. Because of this, Sue hates being called “Susie.” There’s only two people in the whole world with permission to call her Susie, and one of them (her mother) is dead. And I am not the other one.

But I’m not used to seeing my name appear in jingles, ads, and product names. In recent years though, I found my little name popping up in odd places. Behold!

Naturally, I had to try these products. What kind of stuff is my name connected to? And what kind of personality is my name being associated with?

First, there’s this company in Malaysia that makes biscuit sandwiches (cracker sandwiches) as well as wafers, waffles, cookies, and more. I kind of like the ones with cheesy filling, but they make a lot of products. I found these at the international store in Kirkwood. Check it out! Julie’s Cheese Sandwich crackers!

Their logo shows a blond girl with overalls. Is that what a Julie looks like? That could kinda be me, though I wore pigtails. The company’s been around since 1985. They recently updated their logo. Here’s what their website says:

It took us quite awhile to get to where we are today; 39 years in fact. We started sharing our love through our delicious and delightful biscuits since 1985. We’ve always been known as the biscuit brand with the humble and kind girl as its logo.

And now it’s time for a change and a makeover. Over the last 37 years, while we have retained much of humble disposition, we have also grown more open, braver, and funnily more human. Open because we have grown to share our love to over 80 different countries. Braver because we want to be better and inject more fun and playfulness in biscuit makers. More human because we have learned that biscuits are more than just a culinary delight; biscuits are about people. They are about making connections, breaking barriers, and building bridges.

Following this perspective, we have revamped our entire brand look, feel and experience. Julie, our trademark icon, now looks confidently up, into the future and towards her next aspirational adventure. The colourful rays that emanate from her marks the brand’s incredible zest for life. We ask you to join her. Look up, smile, put on your best energy, grab a pack of your favourite Julie’s Biscuits, and join her in her amazing adventure.

One small biscuit can bridge the big, big world

Julie’s, bridging the world with biscuits

Julie’s, share a bite, bridge the world.

Life isn’t only about the big defining moments. It is lived in the small, everyday ones.

What happens in these moments shapes the course of our lives and eventually defines the world we live in.

Imagine what the world would be like if, in these moments, we were ever-so-slightly more open. More open to family member, more open to a neighbor and even to a stranger who wasn’t one of us. We’d learn new things about them and about ourselves. And perhaps most importantly, we’d learn that we have more in common than we thought.

At Julie’s, we want to help people open their hearts and minds to each other. For us, each biscuit is a small yet exciting opportunity to share a bite and to share a moment. A moment that bridges worlds, one small step; one shared smile; one biscuit at a time.

Julie’s. Bridge the world.

So, what do you think? If you had to have your name applied as a kind of “type,” this ain’t too bad, is it!

Exhibit 2 is a bit closer to home: Julie’s Spinach Dip from Schnuck’s. I’m not sure they invented it, because there are a lot of “Julie’s spinach dips” out there on the Internet. Of course, I had to try it.

And yes, two thumbs up. In addition to being used as a dip, it’s also a nice spread on sandwiches, a real upgrade from mayo.

Not the healthiest thing on the planet, but if it gets you eating veggies, then it’s better than not eating veggies at all.

In this case, there’s no logo of a “Julie” for me to ponder. It’s not like if your name was Jemima or Betty Crocker.

Do you occasionally find your name on a product? Does your name stereotype you in some way? What do you think of it?