By Popular Request – Southern Cornbread Stuffing

Every year, someone in my family asks for my cornbread stuffing recipe. I’ve posted online a few times, but here it is again.

Cornbread Stuffing and Cooking the Bird Without Tears

There are those of you out there who will be reading a dozen recipes on how to make cornbread stuffing. Most of them will be generated by a company that has an interest in your buying their product.

Having said that, there are two ways to go with the base of your stuffing. You can go the easy way, which I do – and buy TWO bags of Pepperidge Farm cornbread stuffing mix, or you can use a recipe for plain cornbread. Do not use Jiffy mix, it’s too sweet. You want one made without sugar.

Ingredients:

  • 2 bags of Pepperidge Farm cornbread stuffing mix.
  • 4 chicken bouillon cubes or equivalent crystals or 2 cans chicken boullion, or 2 cups homemade chicken bouillon.
  • 4-5 stalks celery, washed well, then sliced no bigger than 1/4 inch wide.
  • 1/2 cup diced sweet onion – Vidalia or Texas sweet. If you aren’t sure, ask someone.
  • 3 large UNPEELED Granny Smith apples, washed and diced. If you use any other kind, the dressing will suck.
  • 1 cup raisins.
  • 1 tsp poultry seasoning, whichever you have on hand. Poultry seasoning contains sage, rosemary, and thyme.
  • 1 stick REAL butter. Don’t insult your dressing with margarine or other substitutes. One day of indulgence isn’t going to kill your cholesterol levels.

Fill a LARGE pot (the one you use for spaghetti noodles and such) to the halfway point with water and the bouillon cubes. If you’re using canned or homemade, add water until the pot is half full.

Toss in everything EXCEPT the cornbread, bring it to a boil, then drop the burner down to simmer. What you’re looking for is a temperature just below a boil. Let it simmer for until the raisins plump up fat and the celery and onions begin to look transparent – about twenty minutes.

What you need now is a BIG bowl, stainless or glass is best, but plastic will work if you must. If you don’t have a giant bowl, do you have a punch bowl? That will work.

Dump the cornbread mix into the big bowl, then, using a slotted spoon, place half the ingredients of your pot into the stuffing. Use a big spoon to make sure all of the apples, raisins, celery, and onion go into the bowl, leaving half the liquid in the pot.

Stir the contents of the bowl.

Does it look dry anywhere? Add more liquid from the pot. You don’t want it soupy, but you DO want it to be moist. Once it looks wet everywhere, pour any leftover into a smaller pot, you can add it to the gravy later.

Stuff the Bird

Everyone has opinions on stuffing the bird, or not, depending on how freaked out you get about television show warnings about salmonella.  If you pay attention to kitchen safety issues, you don’t need to worry. Follow these directions:

Wash your bird in a CLEAN sink, letting the water run into the cavity, both the big one at the front, and the one at the rear under the flap.  Take those plastic bags you’ll find in the cavities and toss them in the trash or boil them up for your dog – or the neighbor’s dog.

People will tell you that you need to put the “giblets” in your dressing. You don’t – for two reasons – it will ruin the taste and it increases the possibility of salmonella. Ditto with the eggs some people think are necessary. Don’t let eggs anywhere near your dressing.

Don’t use soap to wash your turkey, by the way. Lots of water will do the trick.

Once you’ve washed the bird, put it in your roasting pan. If you’re using a turkey that came with strings in a plastic pouch, this is the lifter and it needs to go in the pan under the turkey. You’ll figure it out.

Stuff the large cavity first. I pack mine in tight, although they say you shouldn’t. I don’t much care what “they” say. Lift the flap at the back and stuff that area, too. You should have leftover stuffing at this point. Put it in a GLASS pan, cover it, and put it in the refrigerator. If you’re having a large crowd, you’ll need to bake it when you do the yams or whatever else will fit in the oven at the same time. If not, you’ll want it when you eat leftovers.

The tricky part is juggling the legs so they fit back under that little flap on the turkey before you put your bird in the oven If you can’t manage it, you have a couple of options. Use turkey skewers (bought in the store with the rest of the useless cooking bits and bobs you’ll use once a year) – or you can try one of the shifts I’ve used in the past.

You can roll up some tin foil and use it as a sort of rope to lasso the legs. You can use cotton kitchen string – the same kind as on that turkey lifter that came with your bird. Or, you can pull the turkey lifter out from beneath the thing, cut off a length and use that.

Cover your bird tightly with tin foil. If you forgot to buy extra wide, use two sheets of the regular.  It’s going to take longer than anyone admits to cook that thing. I hope you have a meat thermometer. If you don’t you’ll need to do the leg test. More about that later.

Kitchen Safety – Avoiding Salmonella

As soon as your bird is in the oven, wash everything you’ve used with hot soapy water and a quarter cup of bleach. Rinse the sink and fill it again, with more hot soapy water and another quarter cup of bleach. Wash down the counters, the stove top, the other sink if you have you have a double, the refrigerator door, and don’t forget your cutting board.,  the paper towel holder, and the lid to the trash can. In other words, wash down anything you’ve touched.

Toss your dishrags, sponge, and dish towels into the laundry and get fresh ones. If you follow the cleaning method, you’ll be fine.

Is it Done yet?

If you remembered to buy a meat thermometer, you’re good to go. Don’t trust those buttons some of the turkeys have to tell you they’re done. Follow the meat thermometer. It will have a poultry setting – 180 degrees means it’s done.

About an hour before you THINK it’s done, take the bird out of the oven and remove the tin foil cover. Baste the bird with the juices that have gathered in the bottom of the pan. If you don’t have any juices, something is wrong. Don’t panic, just use some of that leftover boullion or make more and use that.

Basting means pouring liquid over every inch of the bird, paying special attention to the dressing popping out of the cavity at this point. If you have a basting bulb, that works best. If you don’t use a big spoon.

Stick the meat thermometer in the fat part of the bird – push it deep – but don’t hit bone. If it’s reading at least 160, you’re good. Stick the UNCOVERED bird back in the oven and let it cook until it’s browned and the meat thermometer reads 180. Baste it every 15 minutes until that happens – usually about forty minutes to an hour.

If you don’t have a meat thermometer, you’ll need to do the leg test. Pull one leg free and give it a yank when you think the bird looks done. It should pull loose from the main body of the bird. If it doesn’t, or you aren’t sure, there’s the knife test.

Using a sharp knife, cut into the fattest part of the bird and LOOK. If it’s pink anywhere, it isn’t done. If this happens, turn the oven down to 275, recover the bird with tin foil and slide it back into the oven for another 30 minutes.

What Time is Dinner?

Add at least an hour to whatever the turkey packaging says. In general, a 12 – 14 pound turkey takes 4-5 hours to cook. When you get closer to 17-20 pounds, you’re looking at 6-7 hours.

As soon as you’re sure it’s done, scoop all of the stuffing into a large bowl and lift your turkey onto the serving platter.  You’ll need a few minutes to brown the rolls and the  marshmallows atop the candied yams,  put ice in the glasses, find the serving spoons, etc.

Enjoy!

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DAE Giftset

 

The Big Frustration

Disputed DAE Giftset

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Christmas Elves

Ten years or so ago, one of the women on a doll collecting listserv I belonged to sent up a pitiful message. The upshot was that Christmas was coming, she had six children and was trying to scrape together $400 to pay for heating oil.

Our family had been “adopting” a needy child for Christmas since the eighties, so it didn’t seem much of a stretch to adopt at least one of the six children the woman wrote about.  I don’t remember her name, but I do remember that nobody else on the list wanted to adopt any of the other children.

We talked about it with our daughters and the four of us agreed that we would fill the Christmas lists for all six children in lieu of gifts for our own Christmas tree.

The List

Funny that I don’t remember the woman’s name, but I do remember some of the things on her list. She wanted a “boy” American Girl sized doll for one son, a “girl” doll for one daughter, and outfits for the doll owned by one other daughter.

The rest of the list included jackets for the oldest two children, warm gloves for the oldest boy, who walked to his part time job, a Gameboy, a GI Joe giftset, and various other things that added up to a hefty total.

We bought everything on the list, except the gloves. We couldn’t find warm gloves anywhere – seeing as how we live in Florida, that wasn’t so surprising.

We managed to find everything on the list except the gloves, and in the process, spent something in the neighborhood of five hundred dollars – our entire Christmas budget that year.

Four days before Christmas – I contacted someone I knew living in the same city and asked her to buy the gloves and deliver them.  She was happy to do it, and then…

The Sad Thing

Some weeks after Christmas, I learned that the poor woman with no heat was probably a scam artist through a friend who belonged to a different listserv. I never told my family about it, but it turned out she’d posted similar sob stories to at least four other lists and made the mistake of naming her city in one of the posts.

One suspicious member belonging to all five lists investigated and learned that there was  only one child – a young man who no longer lived at home. The heating bill story may have been true, but she didn’t live in a house with leaky windows. She lived in a very nice house in a very nice neighborhood.

The Santa lists she sent to people were things she wanted for her own personal collection – a collection she probably built through similar requests from tender-hearted people like me.

Happy Ending

That was the last time I adopted a family from anywhere but bona fide agencies, but it didn’t stop my desire to be Santa’s Helper.

The following year, we adopted a child through our local Family Resourc Center. As our daughters grew into women, they joined in on the gifting.

This year, I adopted four children from Family Resources in our county, and joined my sister with the two children she adopted in her city.

I chose three teenagers, and one eight year old girl. Teenagers are the most difficult to find elves for – the things on their lists are more expensive, and for most people, filling a list for an eighteen year old about to “age out” from the system isn’t their idea of fun.

Teen Lists

These are the lists I received:

V – age 18 wanted a bookbag, a bath set, earrings, sneakers, and school clothes.

K – age 18 wanted a bath set, earrings, sneakers, a jacket, and school clothes.

N – age 17 said his favorite was New York Giants Blue. He wanted a hoodie, an MP3 player, and sneakers.

J – age 8 wanted a jacket, school clothes, and a pet shop toy.

Greedy?  Nope. Sad? Yep.

Hard Times Everywhere

I live in a small town with a stable work force. More than ten percent of the children enrolled in our county school system are listed on the Family Resource Santa List.

In addition to the Family Resource List, which encompasses foster children and children living in abuse shelters with their mothers, there are other lists.

Those lists contain names of the children of working people living in poverty, people who don’t apply for government aid, people too proud to let anyone know how bad things are for them.

One of those lists is maintained by a local business which has an “Angel” tree sitting next to it’s cash register. The kids whose names are on the tree mostly belong to single mothers working minimum wage retail jobs, names that are submitted by their friends and co-workers.

The Toys for Tots program here is thriving. One of our local motorcycle clubs makes a Santa Ride every year, filling the boxes to overflowing. Law Enforcement, Firemen, and all of our churches do their part, too.

Kids aren’t asking for toys much this year, although I’m glad they will get some. They’re asking for school clothes, shoes, jackets, and the like.

It’s not too late for you to do your part.

Make a phone call to your local County Resource Center and ask what they need.

 

 

 

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What a #$%^@ Year it’s Been

I don’t even know where to begin – but perhaps we’ll start with the difficulty I’ve had controlling my diabetes. It all began with a diabetes specialist I saw in late 2010. I have what is called “brittle” diabetes, which is caused by cirrhosis of the liver, which is, in turn, caused by hereditary hemochromatosis, sometimes called iron overload disease.

I wasn’t diagnosed with the hemochromatosis until ten years after I learned I had cirrhosis.

Party Disease Without the Party

Hemochromatosis is hereditary, and more common than you might think. About 5% of persons of Irish descent have it, but women are rarely diagnosed until after menopause. I knew about my bad liver years before I learned the cause.

My doctors, of course, were skeptical when I told them I didn’t drink or do drugs. They tested me for every kind of hepatitis, along with other diseases that can cause liver damage, and asked stealthy questions about my lifestyle habits.

None of them checked for iron overload until three years after my hysterectomy – when my DENTIST noticed I had bronze markings on my legs which I thought were those brown spots menopausal women get.  He sent me to a hematologist and the rest was easy.

Well, maybe not easy…

What happens is that your organs absorb iron and it destroys them, which is how I ended up with diabetes, cirrhosis, and an enlarged spleen. Enlarged spleens cause low platelets, which cause extreme fatigue, among other things.

The treatment for iron overload is phlebotomy. A long word for having a pint of blood sucked out on a regular basis. Did I mention I have an irrational fear of needles?

Back to this year

I knew in January that I needed oral surgery, but I have these low platelets and I couldn’t find a dentist in Texas willing to do it without hospitalizing me, so I went home to Florida on June 1st to have it done by the dentist who recognized the problem in the first place.

He didn’t have any appts until mid-July so I spent a few weeks sorting out my house and then took my mother to the IFDC Convention in Vegas to celebrate her 80th birthday.  Two bad things happened while we were there.

1 – Someone stole the gold bracelet my husband gave me for our 35th anniversary off my wrist and I didn’t notice.

2 – I ate something that gave me an upset stomach which turned into gastritis when I got home.

Gastritis, C-Diff, and Being Tapped by B:IG Needles

Ten days after I returned from Vegas, I had gastritis so bad that my daughter had to call an ambulance in the middle of the night. When I reached the ER, they said I was in bad shape and aside from the gastritis, I had fluid building up behind my right lung.

They gave me massive antibiotics and told me to see my gastroenterologist.Two days later, I had thrush so bad it was in my ears.

He said I had fluid building up in my stomach from the gastritis and liver disease and scheduled me for an endoscopy. Sure enough, I had fluid, lots of it, and was anemic from the gastritis and there was the pesky lung thing, too.

I ended up having the fluid sucked out of my lung with a needle you don’t want to know about. It was awful. I took water pills for the stomach fluid, but I couldn’t kick the gastritis, so they did some tests and it turned out that the massive antibiotics caused me to catch a bacterial infection called C-Diff.

C-Diff

Has a longer name, but the upshot is that the bacteria live in your guts and lay spores that come alive even after you take the meds to kill the bacteria and after a month, the meds didn’t do the job so they put me on new meds and that worked, but aside from everything else, C-Diff is contagious as hell.

Isolation

I couldn’t get the oral surgery I needed because I didn’t want to infect the dentist office. For four months I took meds and was tested every week to see if the C-Diff was gone. I had to bleach every surface in my house, couldn’t cook for anyone, and had to keep the front bathroom for guests only, when I had them – which means my mother and daughter.

I didn’t go anywhere except the doctor and the grocery store, where I was careful not to touch things and on one of those trips, my wedding and engagement rings fell off my hand and I didn’t notice. I’d lost 20 pounds.

Gold isn’t just gold

Losing my bracelet was terrible. My husband thought a long time before he bought it and it was so wonderful and whoever stole it should rot in hell.

Losing my wedding rings was tragic. The plain gold band cost $8 in 1972. The 1/4 carat marquis cut diamond was a gift from my husband on the 15th anniversary of our engagement. It wasn’t flashy, but it was given with love and between the losses of those gold things and the medical crap going on so I couldn’t go home for our 39th anniversary, or either of our birthdays, I was already pretty distressed.

In the meantime…

I’m missing my husband and cats and keeping two households running isn’t cheap, so that’s been stressing me out and the only medicine that would kill the damned
C-Diff cost $500 my insurance didn’t cover.

The C-Diff was finally gone, but my platelets were too low and the dentist said no oral surgery until they come up some.

Then Melissa Wyndham killed herself and I failed my mammogram and the plumber told me the drain field to my septic system had to be replaced and it would cost

My hematologist decided to prescribe prednisone for five days to raise my platelets, which is bad for diabetics, but necessary on account of my mouth is killing me.

Did I mention I failed my mammogram?

I had a biopsy on a Monday and it took a WEEK to find out I didn’t have breast cancer. By then, I was taking the Prednisone to raise my platelets and guess what?

I had a rare reaction to the Prednisone. Instead of raising my platelets, it lowered them so much that my almost healed biopsy wound busted up and I had to go the ER to see if I needed repair surgery.

The drain field cost $2200.

I forgot to pay my credit card bill on time in the middle of all this and they raised my interest rate from 12% to 26%

One of the medications I took somewhere in all this mess caused a weird side effect that is killing the teeth in my mouth that were okay. Now I have three teeth to be removed instead of just the one.

I had to reschedule my oral surgery for the third time and it will be January before I can have the stupid things pulled.

I can’t take antibiotics on account of the chance of getting the C-Diff back again and I can’t take pain meds because of my liver and my teeth hurt. A lot.

Also, I didn’t win the lottery.

 

 

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If you are looking for Quiltzine, Citybiz, etc

I’ve not renewed the hosting packages for most of my domain names. Instead, I’ve pointed them here and will, over the next few weeks, rebuild them on this server.

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On the State of the Internet

On January 4th, my email stopped working. Then my website died. Numerous phone calls and countless hours of aggravation followed, and I finally found out that someone hacked into the server space I’ve rented from Network Solutions for fifteen years.

I am not amused.

I suspect that the presence of my WordPress blog drew the sonsofb$%^&es, and for that reason, I find myself resorting to good old Homesite and simple coding to launch my site again.

The internet has become, as I often feared it would, filled with purveyors of pornography, political crazies, sketchy retailers, scam artists, and thieves.

When I tried to explain to the good people at Netsol that I was just a person who published a rarely update blog, along with a few free content websites for collectors and craftspeople, I don’t think they really understood what I meant.

They said I need to get Captcha for my site if I wanted to remain safe from hacking using a WordPress blog.. Then they said I had to delete every file on the server and start over.

It took me ten hours to manually delete every file.

During the delete process, I found not one, but TWO phishing pages someone hacked into my server to place. They used my server to steal money and information, and I don’t know who “they” were.

I don’t have time for this crap. I have a life. I have naps to take.

Save the Web, Make a Voodoo Doll

You don’t need to sew anything, or even use fabric. Get yourself a potato, grab something sharp, and concentrate on the evil that is trying to overtake the web. Most of them are male persons, so envision where the male personal parts might be on your potato – then mutilate the thieving, low-life, low-class, sonofabitch.

If everyone does it, at least they won’t reproduce.

April

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