3 weeks from yesterday, we'll gather 24 people
at That Old House, to celebrate America's
favorite family holiday - Thanksgiving.
Is my T.B.D.B.T. List done yet? Nope.
Have we had other fish to fry,
more important than sewing dining room curtains? Yup.
Am I panicked? Not yet.
Plenty of time for that later.
There's always room for Jello, and there's always time for panic.
We have so much to be thankful for, even while we
weather some recent challenges and trials.
There's a new boy in our life, 3-year old Dylan,
a 13 pound bundle of energy and passionate affection
whom we adopted on the Sunday before Sandy
from Cavalier Rescue.
|Dylan's first days at That Old House involved a lot of rain. Yes, he was damp.|
And, today, I ordered a really gorgeous looking roasting pan -
one that can handle any turkey my husband decides to haul home.
I may regret this.
I emailed Howard and told him I'd ordered a great big roasting pan.
He answered: "You have thrown down the gauntlet, my dear."
|Howard, 2011, with a bird he considered|
woefully inadequate. In my defense,
I roasted two of them!
Since my husband has been known to hunt out 32-plus pound
turkeys on the day before Thanksgiving, even though I didn't have
a large enough roasting pan to cook that big a bird,
I may, as I said, regret this.
. . . and now for something completely different.
At least, it's billed as a cake in any recipes I found.
Anne made it, and she says "It was odd, but delicious. Too sweet."
So here it is, something called a Dump Cake.
Because you take 3 or so ingredients, and dump them,
bake them, and then . . . eat them.
Yes, boys and girls, we used canned apple pie filling, and discovered
that it is wicked sweet. So -- in went some big squeezes of lemon, a
pinch of salt . . . and still too sweet. Like scrunch your face sweet.
Hmmm . . . what to do?
We happened to have a can of tart-sweet whole cranberry sauce in the pantry.
Plop - plop - plop - dump. Right onto the apples.
Next step -- the cake part.
You dump the cake mix right over the fruit.
Yup. That's it.
Dumping layers. Apples. Cranberries. Cake Mix.
Then comes the odd part. Butter.
Our recipe said two sticks of butter, cut up and distributed over the cake mix layer.
Anne and I thought, "Yikes, two sticks?" She did a stick and a half.
Into the oven. 350-degrees, preheated.
For . . . until it's done. It took awhile.
About an hour. Maybe a little more, as we wanted the top nice and brown.
The sugary fruity parts got nicely caramelized.
But you can't cut this like a cake.
Well, you could, but it would be a holy mess.
Anne scooped out bits, topped them with whipped cream,
and served her grateful parents. In bowls.
It was good. More like a cobbler than a cake.
But eventually, it all disappeared. Like Magic.
Join Michael Lee West at Rattlebridge Farm
for Foodie Friday. Click here!
And enjoy! -- Cass