Thursday, September 28, 2017

Seeing Food With New Lenzes



No, the title of this blog is not a typo.

As my daughter Shelly points out in her blog from August 22, http://shellyamberlenz.blogspot.com/2017/08/lets-talk-food-hi-my-name-is-shelly-and.html our family time revolves around a common theme: food!  When you are a foodie, you are planning the next meal while you are eating. Same with gypsy travelers like me, planning the next trip while on a trip. But that is another blog.

Shelly chronicles her childhood mealtimes, and quite accurately. We did not require our girls to clean their plates, but we did have the “one bite” rule.  Food can become the ultimate power play for children. “I don’t like that” often has parents skittering around trying to find Precious something he/she will eat. Not at my house growing up, nor at my husband’s. Our girls had to try one bite of everything on their plate, no negotiations were made and we avoided many dinnertime power struggles with this method. As adults they eat most anything, so I guess it worked.

 I have given a glimpse of my childhood special meals in my blog entry,  ”Thanksgiving at the Millers”,  Daily fare consisted on much more common foods. A recent conversation reminded me of all the fried bologna, Vienna sausages, and chicken fried Spam I ate as a kid.  Supper many nights was a bowl of cereal, or Denver sandwiches that my dad would make…scrambled eggs with bacon, onions, and peppers, eaten in a sandwich.

But Shelly’s blog reminded me of the adjustments my culinary life had meeting the Lenz family. Having 11 children to feed, Donna Mae was a force to be reckoned with when they came to Texas in 1974. I heard many stories of how it took several of each thing to feed one meal: several chickens, or boxes of cereal, or gallons of milk, or loaves of bread. SEVERAL WHOLE BOXES OF CEREAL. SEVERAL WHOLE LOAVES OF BREAD! With Donna Mae came an adventuresome style of cooking. My mother cooked meals that were traditional comfort food—ham, sweet potatoes, with macaroni and cheese. Roast beef, potatoes, carrots, and gravy. The combinations were always the same.  (And, as Shelly pointed out in her food blog, I have followed suit when it comes to chicken fried steak/mashed potatoes/gravy/corn combo!)  But Donna Mae constantly searched out new recipes. They brought their Iowa staples of pork in the form of ham, baked beans instead of pinto beans, pork roasts instead of beef roasts, and other subtle differences. Several traditional Southern staples were not on their grocery list. Biscuits and gravy was not a weekly Sunday breakfast.  They viewed black eyed peas as hog feed. Cornbread dressing did not exist for them, they had plain bread dressing. She served her ham with sauces, such as cherry or raisin glaze, something I had never eaten. Salads were an ever-changing lineup, as were the desserts, like rhubarb pie- rhubarb grew wild in the ditches in Iowa and she would send the kids to gather it. This time period was when the Lenz crew of parents, spouses, and kids created a food tradition that continues today. Some of those trials became weekly traditions for years…Banana Bars, Peanut Buster Bars, Garden Glory Salad, Calico Beans, Ranger Cookies, and that Cherry salad made with pie filling everyone was nuts about in the 70’s. The list could go on and on.

The Lenz Christmas tradition was unlike anything I had ever seen.  Donna Mae and her daughters started making candy the weekend after Thanksgiving. Corn flake Christmas wreaths, divinity, fudge, Martha Washington balls, peanut clusters, and various bars. Then, a week or two later, we would devote an afternoon to Christmas cookies. She would bake and we would decorate. Mountains of icing would be spread on dozens of cookies, and they be whisked away to the freezer.



All this advance preparation had a purpose. Donna's days were filled with meal planning and preparation all year, and in order for her to be able to relax and enjoy Christmas outside the kitchen she had created the tradition that Christmas Eve was finger food. The traditional line up was ham buns,  chilled shrimp, marinated chicken wings, cocktail sausages in a spicy sauce, and other items that were special treats for a family that had to stay full on potatoes and bread the rest of the year. There were cheese balls (all the rage in the 70’s!), summer sausages, and a mountain of crackers, basically anything that could be prepared in advance so she could relax Christmas Eve. All the frozen sweets were finally pulled from the freezers, and arranged on pretty trays. That’s when the Christmas Slush came out of the freezer too…an icy "adult" concoction that the younger kids weren’t allowed to drink…(but I think most of them managed to sneak some.)  Then we all would go to Midnight Mass. Christmas Day was all about the turkey and ham, baked beans, mashed potatoes and gravy, and a jillion salads and vegetable casseroles, some of which were provided by us kids. There were pies and desserts that were a sweet holiday treat. That was also when Jesus’ birthday cake appeared, a poppy seed, cream filled wonder that was only made that time of year. Our Christmas meals today still include several of these comfort foods, and our holiday traditions mirrored these for many years.



Having such a large audience to consume the goods through the years has spurred me to be adventuresome as well.  I can say the Chuck Lenz family food traditions are a delightful blend of his family and my family, with plenty of new ideas thrown in. I occasionally pull out an old recipe from “back in the day” and make it. I recently made my vintage favorite Coconut Dessert, only to have my daughters fall in love with it all over again. Sometimes the dish tastes as good as it did then, and sometimes we find our palates have moved past that recipe. I think the memories of food are made sweeter because of the love that was served up with it, and Shelly’s blog confirms we have passed that love on. The food was the center of the gathering; the time spent together was the nourishment. 

Peace, friends





Sunday, September 10, 2017

The Pursuit of Perfection




It was the typical Saturday morning activity…cleaning house.  I love a neat, clean house.  Getting it clean and that even harder job of keeping it that way is a challenge.  It has gotten even harder in our current home, which features dark hardwood floors.  That morning, while the morning sun shone full on the vast dune of dust particles, I vacuumed, dust mopped, and Swiffered until I was satisfied that I captured the majority of it.  By the evening when the sun makes its way in the front door, there will be a light sprinkling of new dust. It fascinates the husband. “Where does this all come from? How did it get back on here so fast?” It would be awesome if I could figure out a way to keep these floors in a constant state of clean. Alas, it’s not in my budget for a live-in maid, which is the only real solution to my problem. I can close the shades to shut out the direct sunlight, and the floor looks fine. But let the light hit it, and every dust crumb shines like a diamond. My “clean” house is an illusion.


Our lives have the influx of all kinds of media—TV, movies, computers, phones. Along with that has come an evolving change in our expectations of what life should be. What could be seen as a wonderfully amazing portal to the world to some can be a source of great personal angst for others. The perfect images that have become the norm from social media often are not the truth.  They are arranged strategically, lighted to showcase the subject, cropped to hide the pile of mail on the counter, or dirty socks in the floor. There are birthday parties with beautiful children and cakes, and everyone is smiling and happy. Guys at the lake fishing, enjoying the day. Groups of beautiful young women, stylishly dressed. It could lead the viewer to believe that all these people are leading charmed, perfect lives.

I love photography, because you can tell a story that touches someone’s heart.  My first instinct is to attempt the perfect stage.  Lighting, angle, timing—all key components.  The magic of each photo is that you only see what shows up in the frame, the scenario that the photographer has created. Most of the time, they don’t reveal the whole story.  The above photo of mine shows three rustic houses against a backdrop of green and a pond behind.  What I cropped off the side was some dilapidated trailer houses with junk cars in the front, a trashy place on I-40 that most never even give a second glance. My idyllic scene has a dirty secret, as most photos do. Social media is no different. Those birthday photos?  Perhaps mom and dad had a fight before it started because mom spent too much money.  Those beautiful young women? Maybe one has a drug or alcohol problem, or another suspects her husband is having an affair.

There have been recent studies that indicate people, especially teens and young women, feel inadequate because so many of their peers appear to have the perfect life. Social media escalates this “imagined life”, as most people just post the good things going on in their lives--personal accomplishments, new purchases, vacations, weddings, new babies, evenings out. They don’t post photos of the stack of bills waiting to be paid, the kids throwing tantrums, the weeds in the yard, or the divorce papers being signed. Listen, we all know every night is not a steak dinner, some nights it’s a ham sandwich—but when that is all we see of our friend’s lives, it is easy to feel like our average days are not measuring up.  

Exactly like my “illusion” of a clean house, so is the perfect life. We can try our best to clean things up, but the gritty realities sift back in. I appreciate my FB friends who post those real-life photos and tell those less than perfect stories. I have a few young ones on my news feed that make me smile with their photo “fails” …the baby barf on the Sunday outfit, the ginormous mess made by their little hellions, the family photo with that one screaming kiddo…they are all photos of the perfectly imperfect life God has so graciously granted.

Now if you will excuse me, I need to go dust...but I might just close the shutters.

Peace, friends.


COLLECTIONS I am not a collector. But for those of you who remember my mother, she was definitely a collector. Of things.  Of EVERYTHING. ...