That Cake's Not Right!

Before children, my husband and I lived in rural Rogers County (technically, Owasso) in a gray-rock, 1970s era Ranch-style house. I loved everything about this house and all of the memories we made in it.

Our family grew and what once seemed perfect and spacious quickly became cramped and uncomfortable once we added a baby boy and the burgeoning office of a busy moonlighting engineer.

The best feature of this house was the large galley kitchen with counter space galore. Many memorable parties, family meals, and holiday gatherings took place in that cozy kitchen. Since I love to cook, that's where I spent most of my time. Once, I offered to host a Pampered Chef party for a friend who was just getting started as a consultant. I think I bought half of her catalog that day.

The best part about a Pampered Chef party is that consultants bring recipes to try. On the day of the party, my friend whipped up a Caesar pasta salad dish and a lovely veggie pizza. She also brought the recipe for a Lemon-Blueberry Cake. As I am prone to do, I read through the steps of the recipe. Halfway through, I said, "You do WHAT?" I was so taken aback by the instructions that I asked my friend, "Have you ever made this before?" She shook her head "no."

This had to be a colossal misprint. The recipe starts with a regular yellow cake mix, any brand. You make the cake as directed on the box and then add the zest of a lemon (using the Pampered Chef Zester Tool, of course). Then, you boil water in a measuring cup and slowly add a package of lemon jello. After dotting the cake batter with fresh or frozen blueberries, YOU POUR THE JELLO MIXTURE OVER THE TOP OF THE CAKE BATTER!

My mother made beautiful birthday and wedding cakes. Indeed, everything I know about baking, I owe to her. She taught me not only how to make and assemble cakes, but how to frost and decorate them. Since she was the oracle of all things baked, we waited patiently for her arrival at the party. As soon as she walked in the door, I summoned her to the kitchen.

"Mom, have you ever heard of a recipe where you pour hot Jello over cake batter and then bake it?" She had not. My mother was very adventurous. She suggested that we give it a whirl. "What's the worst that could happen? If it's a flop, I'll run down to Braum's and pick up some ice cream. Your guests will not go without dessert!" Do you see why I loved my Mom so much?

This is a picture of my Mom and Dad with Gina and I in late 1972. My brother, Brad, came along in 1978.

So I made the cake using the exact measurements and directions. As expected, it looked terribly, disastrously wrong. I said a little prayer as I placed the big hot mess I'd made into the oven. I turned on the light and peeked into the little window of the oven multiple times to check its progress. When the timer went off, I was amazed to find that the cake looked and smelled luscious. The blueberries and Jello had sunk to the bottom and created an amazing jelly-like layer, while the cake itself rose to the top and made a lovely, sponge-like cake layer.

After allowing it to cool and sprinkling it with powdered sugar, I served this tasty (and very odd) cake to my guests, who said it was super-good.

Here's the recipe for The Pampered Chef's Lemon-Blueberry Cake:

1 yellow cake mix, prepared per directions on the box
1 tablespoon lemon zest
2 cups fresh or frozen blueberries
1 1/2 c. water
1 package (6 oz.) lemon-flavored gelatin
Powdered sugar

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Mix cake as directed on box. Add lemon zest to batter and stir to combine. Pour batter into a 9x13-inch baking dish which has been lightly sprayed with non-stick cooking spray. Sprinkle the blueberries over the cake batter. Microwave water on HIGH until boiling. Add gelatin slowly to water and stir until dissolved. Pour gelatin over top of batter. (Yes, you read that right!) Bake for 30 to 35 minutes or until toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Cool and sprinkle with powdered sugar over top of cake.

Everyone who tries it, likes it and when I give the recipe out, it always comes with a warning about how weird the cake is going to look going into the oven. It saves me those unnecessary 9:30 p.m. phone calls when I'm trying to veg out in my pajamas with a glass of wine and the Real Housewives of Wherever (yes, I watch them all. As if I don't have enough drama in my life, right?)

One last thing: you really must refrigerate any leftovers. It's a very moist cake and will begin taking on the qualities of a science experiment if you leave it out too long.

My little galley kitchen in Owasso is now a distant memory. I have a nice big kitchen here in Claremore and it's also Party Central. It's the people who make a house a home.

Aunt Isabelle's Stacked Enchiladas

I was born into the most amazing family. As a result, I had one of the best childhoods any young person could hope for. I suppose that's why I do what I do for a living. I want all kids to have a shot at having a childhood like mine. I had amazing parents, wonderful siblings, cool cousins, and lots of loving aunts and uncles. I was truly blessed, this much I know.

My maternal grandparents (Gram and Pop) lived in a cabin at Whipporwill Point near Hulah Lake in Osage County, Oklahoma. Aunt Isabelle and Uncle Bob lived in a mobile home just a stone's throw from the cabin. I have lots of stories about times spent at the lake with Gram, Pop, Aunt Isabelle, and Uncle Bob. Here's a picture of Aunt Isabelle and Uncle Bob with my Great Aunt Melba (seated):

Aren't they cute? Whenever we'd visit Gram and Pop, Pop would always take out his coin holder (it was one of those rubber ones you squeeze open - remember those??) and give each of us grandkids a quarter or two. Then, my sister Gina and I would proceed to wheedle and whine until Mom and Dad let us walk up the road to Zona's, a convenience store/bait shop/beer tavern, to shop for penny candy. Hey, it was the 1970s in rural Osage County.

One afternoon, while coming back from Zona's with our treasure, a thunderstorm blew up (imagine that - a freak thunderstorm in Oklahoma!), which announced its presence with a huge clap of thunder. Pop and Uncle Bob were sitting on Uncle Bob's porch hanging out and smoking. As soon as we heard it, Gina and I took off running across the field in front of Uncle Bob's house headed for the cabin, because Mom had scared us spitless about getting struck by lightening.

My sister and I were beanpoles. Pop and Uncle Bob got quite a kick out of watching our arms and legs flailing by as we girls ran screaming and caterwauling across the pasture right in front of them.

This is a picture of me and my little cousin, Tammy, Aunt Isabelle's granddaughter, sitting on the picnic table at Gram and Pops. I'm the one styling in the glasses and the halter top. Remember, it was the 70s.

Uncle Bob used to call me "Andrew." He said once, "Angela Dawn, I like you so much, I wish you were a boy. I'm going to call you Andrew." And he did. Every time I saw him, Uncle Bob would say, "Well, there's Andrew." Everybody else called me Angela Dawn. Not Angela. Angela Dawn. Still today, a grown woman with children of my own, my family calls me Angela Dawn. I don't mind it. The way my name rolls off of their tongues, I know they love me.

Often, during these visits to the lake, Aunt Isabelle would make enchiladas and invite all of us over for supper. I don't know who started calling them "Izzy's Enchies," but that is the name that stuck.

Not only are they absolutely delicious, they are easy to make. You can literally come home from work and have them on the table in less than 30 minutes. And, there is no stuffing or rolling of tortillas involved. These are stacked enchiladas.

To make them, you will need:

1 lb. ground beef
1 can Old El Paso Enchilada Sauce (mild, medium, or hot, whichever you can stand)
2 cans Ranch Style beans
1 package corn tortillas
3 T. olive oil
3 c. shredded cheddar cheese
1 head lettuce, shredded
1 tomato, chopped
4 green onions, sliced (optional)

Brown and drain the hamburger meat. Add the enchilada sauce and beans to the ground beef and stir together. Heat the mixture through. While the sauce is heating, place cheese in a bowl, shred the lettuce, chop the tomato, and slice the green onions. Place each in a separate bowl. I make a topping station by lining the bowls up in this order: cheese, lettuce, tomato, and green onion. Meanwhile, in a frying pan, heat the olive oil. Get out a stack of corn tortillas. Place a tortilla in the hot oil, cooking it very briefly on each side until it is pliable. Use a fork to flip the tortilla and retrieve it from the hot oil. Don't cook the tortilla too long or it will get tough. Place the cooked tortilla on a plate, ladle on some sauce and top with cheese. Repeat the layers again (or even a third time, depending on how hungry you are!) and after topping the final layer with cheese, top with lettuce, tomatoes, and onion.

The only drawback to this recipe is that the cook has to stand at the stove and make each plate, which usually means that the cook eats last. Oh, well...it's worth the sacrifice.

I will leave you with a picture of my wonderful Reynolds family:

Top row is my Gram (Ruth Darlene); Great Grandma Lula; Aunt Isabelle; and Aunt Alma. Seated on the floor are Aunt Shirley; Uncle Tommy; Aunt Melba; and Aunt Patsy. I love them all!

Mom Letter: Listen To The "Still Small Voice"

Dear Jared and Jade:

You may remember a song we sing at church sometimes. It's just one line, repeated three times: "Be still and know that I am God." It's the first line of the verse of scripture found in Psalms 46:10. Today's letter is about listening to that still small voice of God.

Many people call the still small voice "intuition." Others say it's "a sixth sense." Still others may say it's pure luck or karma. But if you believe in God (and I do), the still small voice is something you instantly know is God getting your attention.

Sometimes, the still small voice tells you to recheck the locks on your car door. Other times, the still small voice reminds you to turn off the coffee pot. From time to time, the still small voice will urge you to take a different route to work or school. Later, you may hear about an accident that occurred on the road you didn't take.

Several times, the still small voice has told me to go to your cribs and check that you're okay. Yes, I've hovered over you many times in your sleep. I've prayed by your bedsides. I've kissed your soft cheeks as you slept unaware that I was even in the room. That's what Moms (and Dads) do.

I'm not sure how to tell you to identify the still small voice. It's different for every person. For me, it's usually a thought, especially when I am busy thinking about something else. It feels sometimes like a tap on my shoulder. There is an overwhelming sense of urgency that accompanies it.

I've never regretted listening to the still small voice, but I have ignored it a couple of times with disastrous results. Staying tuned to the still small voice isn't easy to do in this crazy world of instantaneous communication, hectic schedules, and loaded down to-do lists.

The way I find best to plug into the still small voice is through quiet time, reading my Bible, and prayer. Turn off the television, the computer, the hand-held devices, the games, and the cellular phone. Enjoy the stillness. Think of yourself resting in the palm of God's hand. Don't expect the still small voice to speak every time, but be open to its gentle presence and leading.

Your father practices his quiet time through his photography. In fact, the picture that heads this post is a sunrise he captured recently. He finds God and the still small voice in nature.

While we're on the subject of God and faith, please remember that everyone experiences God differently. I try to be sensitive to the faith traditions of people around me. People worship God in different ways. Some people call God by a different name. And there are lots of people who don't believe in God or who choose not to have a relationship with Him. That is their business, not yours.

There are lots of ways to worship God. Some ways of worshiping God I enjoy. Others, I don't. I respect that other people do enjoy those methods of worshiping God and I don't think it's my place to look down on them for it. It's a matter of taste and style.

There are two principles that I think are very important for Christian living. The first is to love God and be in relationship with Him. The second is to love people. In loving people, we have to give them the space and the time to make up their own mind about God. Watch out for people who say they know a lot about God, or who act as though they've got God figured out. The people I respect the most are the ones who admit that they don't know everything.

Whatever you decide about God and the still small voice, I will always love you and you will always be in my prayers. Don't think that you always have to agree with me on this subject. My mother and I believed very differently on certain matters of faith. I respected my mother's beliefs, even though I didn't necessarily agree with her always. Sometimes, that was really difficult, but always we were united in our love and mutual respect for one another. This is the relationship I hope to have with both of you as we grow old together.

Much love always,

Mom

Shrimp Boil

Once upon a time, before my husband and I had children, we used to go out for dinner with friends. This was the mythic time of free-flowing adult beverages, uninterrupted conversations, and nowhere to go and nowhere to be. There was never a bedtime and nary a high chair or diaper bag in sight. Two birthing experiences later, I can almost remember it.

One of our favorite haunts was an unrepentant dive at 15th and Memorial in Tulsa - The Cajun Boiling Pot. It was filled with booths covered in bright orange naugahide and prominently featured at the front of the restaurant was a horse trough full of cold longnecks, where customers helped themselves. In retrospect, I always wondered if this passed muster with state beverage laws.

You've got to love a place where the beer is plentiful and cold. There were no dishes, just a large piece of butcher paper and a roll of paper towels. The only utensil was a bread knife, with which to butter a piece of white sandwich bread served in a basket. There were two things on the menu - shrimp boil hot or shrimp boil mild. And you ordered by the person.

The waitress would come out carrying a large Dutch oven and dump the concoction - shrimp, corn-on-the-cob, onion, kielbasa sausage, red potatoes, and sometimes snow crab legs or crawdads (for an extra charge) on your table, stopping long enough to deposit cocktail sauce and a vat of melted butter for dipping.

Your fingers were your only utensils. I have a strong memory of people slurping on their fingers. There also was a small stage in the corner and live country music on most nights, especially Friday and Saturday. This was redneck dining at its finest. My husband and his friends were in "Hog Heaven."

You can imagine the crying and gnashing of teeth that occurred when, without ceremony, The Cajun Boiling Pot closed. Could those forgotten beverage laws have had something to do with it?

We retreated to other favorite restaurants to lick our wounds, suck Old Bay seasoning from beneath our fingernails, and wax poetic over the contents of that Dutch oven.

Then, one evening, I became convinced that I, too, could boil shrimp. I mean, really, how hard could it be? The result was so good that my husband pronounced it "as good as The Cajun Boiling Pot," which I consider the ultimate compliment, coming from him. Best of all, it was so easy to make that it became a favorite, easy weeknight dish.

Here's how you can enjoy fine redneck dining, too:

1 bottle of beer, any kind (try O'Douls if you're into non-alcoholic options)

2 c. water

2 to 3 tablespoons Old Bay Seasoning (more or less, to taste)

1 T. salt

1 onion, quartered

1 package small boiling potatoes, red or yellow-skinned

9 frozen sweet corn on the cob halves

1 package smoked turkey sausage, cut into 1-inch dice

2 lb. raw shrimp in shells, frozen

Tabasco sauce, optional

1 stick butter, plus 1/2 stick more

2 c. ketchup

3 to 4 tablespoons creamed horseradish

2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

1 large French bread

Using a large Dutch oven on your stovetop, heat the entire bottle of beer, water, salt and Old Bay Seasoning until boiling. If you like spice, use more Old Bay, if you like less, use less. You can also add dashes of Tabasco sauce to spice it up even more, if you wish. Add potatoes and onion quarters. Boil until nearly done, about 10 minutes. Add corn and sausage. Heat through. Finally, add raw shrimp. Cook shrimp just until pink. Meanwhile, place 1 stick of butter in a microwave-safe bowl and microwave just until melted. To make a lovely cocktail sauce, in a separate small bowl, mix together ketchup, horseradish (again to taste, add more if you want it hotter), and lemon juice. A couple of shakes of Tabasco in the cocktail sauce never hurt anybody. Slice French bread in half lengthwise, butter with 1/2 stick on both sides and place on a sheet pan. Bake until nicely crisped. Cut into slices.

To serve, remove the Shrimp Boil from the boiling liquid with a slotted spoon. Place on a large serving platter. Put melted butter and cocktail sauce on the table and place sliced bread on a serving platter. Let family members serve themselves. To make this dish extra-special and company-worthy, add crab legs to the pot. Hint: an additional plate for scraps, such as shrimp shells, corn cobs, crab shells, etc. will be greatly appreciated by diners. Or, if you're a redneck, just spread old newspapers on the table and let it rip!

Trust me...this one will become a family favorite!