December 23, 2009

Grandma Tilly's Lebkuchen



When the fabulous Jennifer Hart (aka @bookclubgirl) invited me to contribute a post to her Holiday Open House at her blog, of course I said yes! I'm thrilled to announce that my post now live over at Book Club Girl, alongside loads of other author's memories of Decembers past. (Kristina Riggle, John Grogan, Rachael Herron, Gregory Maguire, just to name a few...)

My contribution became a meditation of sorts - one where I remembered carols, cookies, Christmastime with my mother, and the way Mom embraced the season like no one else I've ever known.

Her Grandma Tilly's lebkuchen was a centerpiece of the holidays and has been my favourite Christmas cookie for as long as I can remember. I mentioned mom's recipe for Lebkuchen (and the daunting task of making the stuff) over at bookclubgirl, but felt it was far too long to include with the essay, so I'm giving it a post all it's own here at Incidental Pieces.

Warning: This is an enormous recipe! (My greatgrandmother had six children and lots of relatives in Saline, Michigan, so it was made to feed them all.) Mom said she tried to cut it in half once, but with poor results. You can always freeze half the dough and save it for Valentines, or some newly pregnant woman suffering from morning sickness. (I lived on the stuff for the first trimester of both of my pregnancies.)

Here goes...straight from mom's handwritten recipe.

Lebkuchen (as told by D.M.W.S. "Aunty Do")

1lb. brown sugar
1 pt. molasses (or honey)
3/4 lb. butter (or lard or olio)
1 pt. sour milk (butter milk, or put a teaspoon of vinegar in milk)
1 1/2 Tablespoon soda
2 teaspoons salt
1 Tablespoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon cloves
1teaspoon nutmeg
1/2 box raisins
1 lemon - juice and rind
1 Tablespoon vanilla
1 4oz container of citron (and some lemon and orange rind is nice too)
1/2 lb. nuts (black and English walnuts) (I prefer pecans...)
9-11 cups flour

Bake in 325F oven for 10 min.

Glaze:
mix powdered sugar, a little lemon juice and water. Paint on cookie as soon as it is out of the oven.

(instead of instructions, the recipe has a list of eleven notes. Read them all through before you try making the cookies, since some are out of order. I didn't have the heart to rearrange them. Mom simply wrote them down as they came to her.)


Mom's Tips and Tricks

1. Measurements: "old addage - a pint is a pound the world around." ie 1lb. brown sugar equals 2 cups, 2 cups = 1 pint.

2. When it comes to the lard, I would use it, but buy in a one pound brick so you can figure. (Ami's note...sorry mom, I just use butter.)

3. I have used either buttermilk or fresh milk with the vinegar. Both work fine - who wants sour milk in the fridge?

4. I usually use 11 cups of flour - it depends on the flour and the humidity.

5. Don't make this on a day you just cleaned the kitchen.

6. I bake about 1/2 batch and put the rest in freezer for later (Feb.)

7. put walnut or pecan on top before tou bake. (I bake 11-12 minutes)

8. don't eat for 2 weeks - Gram Tilly's law. (Ami's note...yeah, right. ;-)

9. Store with wax paper between layers in air tight containers.

10. Mix all ingredients in mixer except flour. (Stop.) Take out 1/2 mixture and set aside. Add 5 1/2 cups of flour to mixture in mixing bowl. Now put this in another big bowl and put second half of mixture back in mixing bowl and add 5 1/2 cups of flour to that. Now you have it.

11. Put a little flour on your cutting board and dump raisins and citron on. Sprinkle a little more flour and chop. This helps the candied fruit from sticking to each other and to the knife. (citron is a mild citrus fruit)

Very old winter cookie. Recipes many times had no eggs as chickens lay fewer eggs in cold weather.


Mom (the dark haired girl) with her cousin Sue at Aunty Do's house on Bader Street, South Bend, Indiana.

October 22, 2009

doo doo, doo doo - doo doo, doo doo...



Not long ago I received an auto-generated email from Amazon saying,
Are you looking for something in our Mystery & Thriller Books department? If so, you might be interested in these items.
The first item shown was a book called, The Birthing House by Christopher Ransom. (Of course I had to go the author's website to find out more.)

The first thing I saw was this ominous message:
The only thing more terrifying than death...
IS BIRTH.
No, seriously, I'm not kidding... ;-)

In 2004, Mr. Ransom and his wife moved to a "140-year-old former birthing house in Mineral Point, Wisconsin."

Shortly after we finished unpacking, the former owners showed us a hundred-year-old, sepia-toned photo of a group of women standing on our porch. Dark dresses and pale countenances. Some were wearing aprons, others were wearing nurse caps. None were smiling. This did not appear to be a family gathering.

Our hundred-and-forty-year-old home was once a birthing house, we were told. A what? Yeah, a birthing house. You know. Doctor’s quarters. Midwives. Wet nurses. A birthing house. Neat, I guess. - Ransom's backstory at Cheryl's Book Nook.

Sound Familiar? What are the chances?

As I read on, I soon discovered how very different the imaginations of two authors can be...
Rather than the benevolent, maternal presence I had felt after moving into my birth house in Nova Scotia, Christopher Ransom's move brought on nightmares and terror.

Here's his account of the end of the dream that inspired his book.

It was at that time I experienced a sublime terror. I woke all the way up and the pressure lifted. I rolled onto my back and pulled covers up and blinked into the pitch-blackness of our bedroom, trying to see her. To see if she was still in there with me. And then I remembered the sepia-toned photo of the women standing on the porch of our house a century ago.
Midwives, wet nurses, maids. Mothers gone astray.

And I thought, What if one of them is still here? What if she suffered a loss . . . and wants compensation? -Ransom's backstory at Cheryl's Book Nook.

Eeeeeeek!

Whew, am I ever relieved that it was Dora and Miss B. who came knocking on my brain in the middle of the night...

All teasing aside, I'm actually quite thrilled to find that there's another author out there taking care of an old birth house and making stories from its history.

Happy Halloween and best wishes Christopher Ransom,
- from my old birth house to yours.
A. McKay.



September 30, 2009

don't stop believin'

It's official...I'm a "Gleek."
I absolutely adore Fox's new series Glee.

I sing along. I cheer for the music geeks. I hiss at the Cheerios. My heart breaks every time Rachel gets drenched in the face with yet another neon-coloured big gulp. I feel her pain...I really do.

"Glee is set in Lima, Ohio. (Ryan) Murphy chose a Midwest setting as he himself originates from Indiana, and recalls childhood visits to Ohio to the Kings Island theme park. Although uncertain why he selected Lima specifically, Murphy recounts that the location stayed in his memory as: "when I was a very little kid, there was a series of tornadoes that swept through Lima on Mother's Day" and his grandparents would often discuss the event.[7] Lima Senior High School choir members were able to view an early release of the pilot episode, but found that it contained few references to the area, and commented that the depiction of the city was largely implausible and negative." From the Glee TV series Wikipedia page
Well, good for the real life members of the Lima Ohio HS Choir...glad to know life's peachy for them. I'm thinking maybe Ryan Murphy should have set the show in his home state - because as a former member of a high school show choir in Indiana I can tell you that he's getting a LOT of things painfully, hilariously, brilliantly, heartbreakingly right. (Take it from this Rachel, we had our share of Quinns and Pucks - the Tigerettes who joined choir for one semester their senior year because they needed another extra-curricular activity to add to their college applications, the basketball player who joined choir and S.A.D.D because he'd gotten caught drunk by his parents and was going to get his car keys taken away and his letter stripped off his jacket if he didn't do what his mother said.) Oh, the drama.


Yes, that's me...

On a recent trip back to my hometown to visit family, I came across a box of old pictures from my high school years. There were photos from marching band and show choir, madrigals, and Jr. Miss. When I got to the snaps of my graduation ceremony I burst out laughing. When my dad asked me what was so funny, I said, "All the boys look bored to death and all the girls look so sad. But I look downright giddy. I couldn't wait to get out of there."

My dad frowned at me and said, "I thought you liked high school. You always seemed so involved."

"No, Dad, I hated it."

"Really. Guess you had me fooled."

That's because I was smart enough to crank up the showtunes before crying my eyes out behind my bedroom door.



So here's to all the Rachels, Kurts, Arties, Mercedes and Tinas out there, struggling through your HS days. Take heart. It will get better. You'll get out of there and away from those kids you've been lumped together with and compared to since kindergarden. You'll go someplace where no one knows your name and become who you're meant to be. You'll sing your songs and write your stories and find other people along the way who feel the way you do about the world and fairness and art and love.

Don't stop believin' ...

This is Petra Harden - ONE woman singing all the parts, even the instrumentals!

September 07, 2009

The Kind of September



The other day, I handed in my manuscript for The Virgin Cure. There's still much to be done in the year before publication, but now the work becomes a collaborative effort with other voices and talents entering into the process. It's an exciting time, full of possibility.

So, it's seven days into September and this one's been lovely and good so far. And that's important - because I've had at least a couple of Septembers that have left me wrecked. One in the late 90's that ended in a personal upheaval of the heart and of course September of 2001 when I was, like the rest of the world, left fearful and lost.



Last year at this time I was in New York City, hoping to figure out what was missing from the story I was trying to tell in The Virgin Cure. I logged many hours at the library of the New York Historical Society (one of my favourite places on the planet!) I walked through the Metropolitan Museum of Art with my budding artist of a son, both of us awestruck over the J.M.W. Turner exhibit. I spent a beautiful evening with the NYC Buddhist community and people of all faiths setting lanterns afloat at the water's edge.



Then, I walked the streets and sidewalks that had once been travelled by my great great grandmother in her work as a medical student and physician in the late 1800's. As I went, I did my best to conjure up the memory of the women and children she served. I stood on Second Avenue, staring at the place where the Blackwell sister's infirmary once was. I went to Third Avenue and Thirteenth Street, to see where Peter Stuyvesant's great pear tree had lived for over 200 years. In those steps, on those streets that day I found my answer. I found the voice I'd been waiting for, the voice of my story, the voice of a little girl who wanted to become New York.

July 31, 2009

best birthday present ever...


This is what my artistic wonder of a husband gave me for my birthday this year!

It's a sheet of copper (about 8X10) that he turned into an amazing piece of art. First, he created the image on his computer - using a 19th century map of NYC, the title of my forthcoming novel, and a gorgeous image of a moth. (I can't tell you the significance of the moth right now, but the portion of the map he used is the exact area where the novel is set.)

He then printed the image onto a sheet of transfer paper, applied it to the copper and set it with a hot iron. This created a resist on the copper plate so when he placed the whole thing in an acid bath, it etched the image into the surface of the copper.

Last but not least, he applied India ink to the plate, and rubbed it into all the nooks and crannies created by the acid etching process.

We'll be framing it soon, but I couldn't wait to show it off in all its Steampunk -y glory!