Memory / The Gluten-free Chicano Cooks
Holiday Singsong in Plague-time: Memories of Christmases Past
In her time, my wife, Barbara, earned her reputation in our house as the Perle Mesta of Pasadena. Barbara threw a party at the slightest hint of a big occasion.
The Christmas caroling party was Barbara at her peak. After Thanksgiving people would begin asking about this year’s Christmas party. Barbara's party became the annual highlight of our friends’ holiday season such that her invitation list grew longer by the year.
It came to pass that 100 people thronged to CasaSedano. Just the best time of year for such a journey, people filled every room of this large house, smokers and hangers-on outside.
The dining table sparkled with decorative platters and bowls, and never paper nor plastic, Lennox china. Weekends up the coast or out to Palm Springs required a stop at the factory seconds outlets at the discount mall. She never did find that china cornucopia.
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| The final dish ready for the oven |
I perfected my scalloped potatoes the first year. They’re incredibly simple and ravishingly attractive on a buffet table. The papas are more attractive in steaming scoops piling onto plates by chilled singers just returned from roaming the neighborhood singing their three-song repertoire and avoiding the cranky tipos who greeted us with boiling oil last year. The centerpiece of the desserts, of the entire buffet spread, was the Croquembouche. At first, she ordered a six-layer Croquembouche. The list lengthened and people brought more kids, and she ordered an 8-layer Croquembouche for a few years.
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| 8-layer Croquembouche line Sarkis Bakery showcase |
Before it all stopped, that last party Barbara dispatched me to Sarkis’ pastries where Barbara’s gigantic 12-layer Croquembouche towers above the 8- layer crème-puff trees awaiting someone else’s parties.
Tradition teeters in the back of the van, susceptible to gravity, kinetics, potential energy, and dust. The croquembouche tree sits upon cardboard taped around the quivering confection. I drive slowly along Washington Boulevard easing my way around the corner, holding my breath ascending my sloping driveway.
I carry my load safely inside where Barbara’s Croquembouche center-piece dazzles the eyes of guests seeing such a marvel for the first time, and delighting others who look forward to seeing what Barbara’s Croquembouche looks like this year.
As visitors arrive, eager smiles mirror years of unsupervised joy, small fingers taking plastic reindeer to inhabit treasure boxes, then spending the evening returning to the buffet table to pull endless profiteroles off the shrinking tree.
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| The finished product. The topping mixes ⅛ cup rice panko with ¼ cup grated cheddar, in a blender |
That last party of Barbara’s, in a corner of the dining room, a PhD Grad Student licks her fingers after devouring the last crème puff she’ll share here, after a succession of parties she’s attended since she was a little girl. Her parents didn’t attend this year. She's invited on her own.
The woman wraps a plastic reindeer in a napkin and takes it with her. I smile at her departure to another event, grateful she shares her time and love here at Barbara’s party. A fitting end to a tradition.
Barbara doesn’t have energy in 2017. She opens some computer files, prints some lists, but something has dissolved and we abandoned the idea. The house remains silent that dark December month. Her friends know not to ask, we're in trouble and they recognize it.
Five months after the party we never had, we are diagnosed with “dementia of the Alzheimer’s type.”
In the years since, I’ve been writing about Memory here at La Bloga-Tuesday. A lot of gente have been through cognitive diseases and impairments. Their words and support comfort me. I hear, too, that what I’ve shared in these columns comforts others experiencing their own pain. No, you are not alone in this freakish existence.
It’s a hard truth that others will have cognitive impairments strike their family. These La Bloga columns, they suggest what it’s going to be like, pero sabes que? It’s going to be worse because it happens to you in person.
One consejo I offer is decide not to suffer. Get yourself active, get help, get respite time for yourself, have parties, sing songs, eat Croquembouche and scalloped potatoes.
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| Assembling the scalloped potatoes takes organization. milk in the bottom of the caserole dish, then cheese, potatoes, cheese, potatoes |
"Órale, these papas are firme."
"Glad you like them. Have some more."
"Man, I keep eating cream puffs."
I need not end 2022 in the dumps. To remedy the dumps, I decided to have a GOPlague-time Christmas Caroling Party in honor of Barbara’s tradition of major league joyousness.
After a few moments fighting off regret at the old days, I put together a menu that I changed three times, eventually kept it simple: papas, apple salad, crisped potato skins, make your own ham sandwiches, and other stuff.
We ate, we drank, we sang, we got loud, we got louder, we had fabulous fun. A tiny gathering of people with vulnerabilities and vaccinations.
Instead of heading into the neighborhood to carol, we had a living room floricanto. Vibiana Aparicio-Chamberlin and I read a dialogue from Vibiana’s recent collection, Chicana On Fire. Margaret Garcia and Rhett Beavers read from Margaret Elysia Garcia’s, Burn Scars, a narrative poem from the Dixie fire, embodying the power seen in Margaret’s fire paintings.
Then we sang. Vibi and I did a demi-duet of Cielito Lindo, then we segued into Rudolph and a whole book of kid's carols and songs. We ended with boisterous operatic Granada with lots of tremolo that had cars stopping in the street and dogs fleeing the din.
I didn’t order a Croquembouche, and I laugh maniacally at thoughts of making a croquembouche myself--I’m not that down in the dumps even to think of it.
But hand me some papas and ahi vamos. This year I used gluten-free panko and gave the potatoes that cheesy crust that people rave over.
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| Layers of spuds and cheese are fork tender after absorbing the milk that filled less than ⅓ of the vessel, ~2 cups whole milk |
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| One more layer of potato slices then the crumb crust layer. |
Thank you Michael, twas lovely and loving
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