Sunday was my Mom’s birthday. Her 80th. Lest you get the wrong impression and imagine a frail, rickety old lady, let me assure you: she may not have the upper body strength to knock you into next week but she’s still the sharpest multi-tool in a very high end arsenal. She can still plan a military campaign, design and stitch the uniforms, feed the entire army on under a bucks, talk you into donating your time and energy to her cause and still get to book club on time, where she won’t hesitate to enumerate all the reasons the latest selection stunk and for next month everyone should read her suggestion, which is a book she already read but won’t mind re-reading because she has forgotten the details but she just remembers that it was really good.
And she’s smokin’ hot, too.
So Andy and Vi hosted the party. They live right around the corner from me which made it super easy. All I was asked to bring was Mom’s favorite cake; white with burnt almond frosting.
In all my years, I’ve never heard of anyone but our family eating this sort of cake.
It’s a plain white cake covered in white frosting that has been thoroughly mixed with slivered almonds that have been burnt black and ground up. It smells and looks like something you’d patch your driveway with but it’s delicious.
Mom believes that her mother, the Great Nana, invented this frosting by mistake. My Grandmother was a pioneer; a mother of five forced by circumstances (a reprobate husband who ran through all his inherited wealth and abandoned his wife and kids) to become a career woman and raise five kids on her own, back in the pre WWII days when all that was unheard of. I throw this background in only to explain that if Nana were baking a cake and she wanted to add almonds to the frosting, burning them to death would be no excuse for waste. I can easily imagine that such a harried mom could be distracted away from the toasting almonds until it was too late and of course she would have still used them. Then she would have eaten the cake and convinced her rotten little brood that it was the most delicious thing ever invented. Such was the power of her personality that they believed her.
Sidenote: Every branch of our family has produced some Nanagraphs; tiny, beautiful, charming girls whose will power is a force of nature.
I hated burnt almond cake when I was a kid.
Now I love it.
It’s definitely an acquired taste. About half the family loves it and the rest won’t touch it. It’s Jay’s favorite. He’s been known to eat all the frosting off his own birthday cake till he was sick. I’ve had other friends who scraped the frosting off their tongues and declared it the worst thing they’ve ever tasted.
We aren’t offended by that, either. Just leaves more for those of us who love it.
But burning the crap out of a bag of slivered almonds is a stinky endeavor. I had to open several windows and let the subzero breeze blow away the burnt almond cloud. That’s how much I love my Mom.
Vi made a huge batch of her fabulous lasagna. Rumor has it she simmers the sauce for over 24 hours to make it so delicious. Whatever she does, it works.
By my count there were approximately 30 of us, celebrating on Sunday. That means approximately 20 couldn’t make it. There are a lot of us.
JP and Roy had a family tree done for Mom and Dad for Christmas. I think there are 54 names on it, including the baby that was born last year and the two (grand) sons in law that were added. There will be at least one more member of the family by next Christmas. Bananas and Punkin are about to become big sisters. Earlier in the day, MJ and I bundled up and braved the single digit temps just to get her out of the house. I actually love walking in the cold but you have to dress appropriately.
Monday night, the Tommies spanked St. Olaf to secure a tenth conference title in a row. We played like champs.
Tuesday, Mom and I planned to take some things to the upholsterer and somehow wound up spending all our time and money at Half Priced books instead. I call that a day well spent.
Yesterday was Ash Wednesday. A day of fast and abstinence; no meat, no eating between meals. We successfully visited the upholsterer.
Temps have plunged below zero and it’s windy. For anyone who thinks that once it’s below freezing it makes no difference I can only say “Enjoy the tropics in ignorant bliss.” I’ll go for a walk in ten degree weather. Ten below, no thanks. That’s a twenty degree difference and you feel every one of those degrees. I kinda love it. The cold is like burnt almond frosting; an acquired taste. Last night the Tommies played again. I can only assume it was in the spirit of charity that they gift wrapped the game for a team that shouldn’t have been able to carry our shooting shirts. We lost in overtime and I nearly froze to death driving home in a van whose heater has ceased to work.
Now its Thursday and I have to get to work and try really hard not to think about chocolate, since I’ve given it up for lent.
Chocolatechocolatechocolate.
Dang.