Georgia Peach

It is a genetic predisposition, if you will - this obsessive compulsive behavior. Both my mom and aunt have it (homemade marshmallows and possum haw) and I have it, too. My obsession? Peaches. And at the end of peach season, nonetheless. Fortunately, there were some South Carolina peaches available at the Metter exit off of I-16 on Friday.

Half a peck for $6. Not bad. But what to do with all the delicious fruit? Fortunately, Pietro and I took a cooking class several weeks ago at Kitchenware Outfitters that was all about peaches. (That OCD thang again.)

First up: peach salsa. This is a good one.

2 c. washed, pitted and diced yellow freestone peaches
1/2 c. diced red onion
1/2 c. diced red bell pepper
1 small green hot pepper, minced
2 large cloves of garlic, minced
Freshly grated zest of one lime
2 T. red wine vinegar
2 T. freshly-squeezed lime juice
1 t. ground cumin
Salt
2 T. chopped fresh mint

The end product?

This can be served with peach-glazed pork tenderloins. First, peel and remove the pits of 4 to 5 peaches:

Make a puree with ground ginger, soy sauce, garlic, lemon juice, onion:

Marinate over pork tenderloins anywhere from three hours to overnight:

Grill on high heat to an internal temp of 145 and boo-yah:

Until next season, dear peaches...

Mama's Pound Cake

There are a few tastes that immediately make me think of my Mama: homemade spaghetti, chicken n' dumplins and pound cake. Fortunately for me, my mom hand wrote all of my favorite recipes in a recipe book a few years ago for my birthday. It was a present I will always cherish.

Last weekend we wanted something sweet to eat, and decided to try an angel food recipe from Martha Stewart. Now, maybe my skills left something to be desired or maybe Martha's minions did not transcribe the recipe just so, but the results were terrible. So this weekend I decided to bake my mom's pound cake recipe. It's never failed me, and it didn't disappoint today.

One addition to the pound cake - a white lemon icing. Two cups confectioner's sugar with lemon juice and lemon zest. You can use any kind of citrus you like - I bet orange would be wonderful, too.

So, if you're looking for the "Best Ever Pound Cake" recipe, look no further. Here it is:

3 c. sugar
1/2 c. Crisco
1 c. butter (room temp)
5 eggs (room temp)
3 c. cake flour
1 c. milk (room temp)
1 t. vanilla

Do not pre-heat oven. Cream sugar, shortening and butter. Add eggs one at a time, beating well after each. Add flour, flavoring and milk and beat until creamy. Alternate flour and milk. Bake in greased and floured pan at 325 degrees for one hour. Increase heat to 350 degrees and bake an additional 30 minutes.

An Education

"A heart is not judged by how much you love; but by how much you are loved by others."

-L. Frank Baum, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz

I got the news yesterday that a giant of my formative years passed away. Not only was Mary Louise Dukes the grandmother of my best friend of 32 years (and counting), but she was also my third grade teacher. Little did I know when I entered that classroom on Peake Road in 1981 that my life - both personally and educationally - would be so transformed.

In my mind's eye, I can still see that classroom - the way it was laid out with Mrs. Dukes' desk on the left, cubby holes on the rear right, the children's desks neatly arranged in rows with canvas satchels containing glue, pencils and our Georgia history book, a dusty blue, fabric-bound book called Our Georgia, where we learned about Eli Whitney and the cotton gin, among others.

I had always enjoyed school, but in third grade I loved it, and it was due in large part to Mrs. Dukes. She made learning fun. She taught us our multiplication tables, how to write in cursive (is that even taught anymore?) and, most importantly, she instilled in me a love of reading and writing that has been with me my entire life. I majored in English in college and am a professional writer today, and I can honestly say my life may have taken a much different course had it not been for one of my earliest cheerleaders. (She loved to tell the story of how she read a story I wrote as a second grader and insisted right there on the spot that I be in her third grade class.)

But Mrs. Dukes wasn't just an intellectual mind. She had a fun-loving soul and a prankster's heart. Along with her granddaughter, my best friend, Angie, I loved to hear stories of pranks she pulled as a child -- including scaring the wits out of a family maid with a mannequin's foot, artfully decorated with red fingernail polish and positioned underneath a sofa. When Angie and I were in fourth grade, we thought we could out-prank the prankster by phoning her on April Fool's Day, a Sunday, and in our most mature voices impersonating the school's secretary, Mrs. Gunnels, and the headmaster, Henry Tift, to convince Mrs. Dukes that there was an "emergency" faculty meeting that she had to attend immediately. Pleased with ourselves, our humor soon turned to panic when we showed up at school on Monday and our teacher informed the class that a hoax had been perpetrated against a third grade teacher the day prior. Not only had she had come all the way out to the school on a Sunday for a non-existent meeting, but she had also gotten a flat tire, and when the guilty party were discovered, they were going to be made to pay for the tire. I'm sure Mrs. Dukes enjoyed our squirming and bickering over who was going to have to pay the princely sum of $50 before 'fessing up to her own April Fool's joke. We were schooled in a very real sense that day.

I kept up with Mrs. Dukes through the years, through Angie and visits of my own. I saw her less than a year ago at John Wesley Villas, where she was living, and she still had that same twinkle and sparkle in her eyes, declaring that between her Olive Garden lunch (that included a glass of wine) and my visit, it was a banner day. She introduced me to her friends as one of her best and brightest students. High praise, indeed.

Old age did not slow her down much, and she had recently decided that she wanted to publish a book of her memories and stories. Angie had been working diligently on this and had assembled a book, complete with photos, to give her on her birthday, August 19. She passed away on the 18th, but she knew her book was ready. In Excerpts from the Life of a Bad Good Girl or a Good Bad Girl (great title, no?), she recalls going to see the renovated stained glass windows in St. Joseph's Catholic Church in Macon, and ponders what heaven will be like.

"I have been having so much trouble getting up and down the past several years because of pain in my knees," she wrote. "We know that there is no pain in Heaven, so I find myself looking forward to angel knees as much as angel wings."

I know you are well again and at peace. Thank you for what you have meant to me and countless other students throughout Macon. Godspeed, dear teacher and sweet friend.

Spuddy Buddy

I got the news this morning that my Uncle Spud, aka "Spuddy Buddy," was hit by a car this morning. He had to go see my old friend, Dr. Davis, at Plantation Centre Animal Hospital in Macon, but all is well. No broken bones.

Spud is a dachshund, a "short-legged, elongated dog breed of the hound family." The name is of German origin and literally means "badger dog." While I was bred to hunt rabbits, Spuddy was born to scent, chase and flush badgers out of burrows. I think we're related because, not only are we both vertically challenged, but (according to Wikipedia) dachshunds descended from scent hounds, such as bloodhounds, pointers, Basset Hounds, or even Bruno Jura Hounds.

Spud sure did love my predecessor, Beauregard. Here he is with Noel and Beau eating Cheerios:

I wasn't sure that Spud would like me when I came along. He missed Beau too much. But he finally realized that I made a pretty good playtime partner. And in the end, that's what it's all about.


Get well soon, Spuddy Buddy.

Love, your friend,
Sadie
xoxox

Runnin' With the Big Dogs

Today I went on a play date with my friend, Lancaster, and his other friend, Etta. I may be short, but I can still run with the big dogs.

Despite the fact that we are 45, 65 and 85 pounds respectively (and Lancaster is still growing!), we are reduced to sniffling babies when confronted with this:

Squirrel Heaven

This morning on my walk, my mom and I detoured from our usual route and thank heavens we did. When we rounded the corner at 50th and Battey, a veritable smorgasborg of squirrels awaited me.

You may have to click on the image to see all the squirrels, but from my vantage point I counted six. Six squirrels, ha ha ha.

The squirrels got me to thinking....my favorite things begin with the letter S: Squirrels, Sleep and, most importantly, S-U-P-P-E-R. Here's another dog that loves squirrels almost as much as me: