Happy Birthday, Old School Style

In my family, we have a tradition on my birthday: pineapple upside-down cake. In a time of $3.00 cupcakes and exotic fondant-smothered cakes made to look like anything but cakes, pineapple upside-down can truly be considered retro.

Well, I suppose it's appropriate. For, after the great many birthdays I have enjoyed, I could be considered retro, too.

I can't remember when I experienced my first pineapple upside-down, but it was very early in my childhood when we were still clobbering dinosaurs with clubs and Mom had to bake it in a mud oven outdoors. Suffice to say, when I was about four or five.

I'm kidding about the mud oven. She did bake it indoors in a gas oven she lit with a match, so we really did have great technology. It was part of the mysterious ritual of creating the legendary pineapple upside-down cake.

First there was the prep work. Mom didn't have fancy cake pans or Bundt rings, but she did have a great big pink earthenware bowl with a white rim that she could put in the oven, so she would get that out and inspect it for cracks.

She would take oleo (we never had butter back then) out of the 'fridge to soften. Sometimes she planned ahead and left a cube of it out on the counter the night before.

She lined up the cake mix, melted a little Crisco, and opened the can of pineapple rings and strained to open up the bottle of maraschino cherries. Double-checked the brown sugar supply and stirred it up if it had gotten hard. Set out a couple of eggs to come up to room temperature. Put the beaters in the tiny electric hand-mixer.

I got to stand on a kitchen chair and watch as she carefully laid out the canned pineapple slices and maraschino cherries on a clean dishtowel on the kitchen sink. While they drained, I sometimes got to eat a cherry from the jar.

Usually when you make a cake, the frosting and presentation are the final steps in the process, but with an upside-down cake it's sort of like Christianity in theory-the last shall be first. So the first step in the process of building the cake was to coat the bowl with the room-temp, soft margarine. If we were in the money at the time, Mom would use the whole stick of oleo.

Next, she lined the bowl with as much brown sugar as would stick to the margarine. It doesn't work well if the sugar is stale and full of lumps, and Mom used to guard her brown sugar supply carefully. Then came the decorating part-the drained pineapple rings laid out in a careful, symmetrical pattern in the bowl. Usually she managed to get all the rings from the can around the bowl and one in the center. A maraschino cherry (sometimes only a half of a cherry if we weren't in the money that month)was placed in the center of each ring, then the batter carefully spooned in.

An hour or what seemed like five hours of baking time ensued, during which time the house filled with aroma and neighbor kids would start asking if they could eat over. One sniff and you'd know how heaven smells.

Many times in my life as a single parent, I have baked this cake for my own birthday or for special occasions, and with the popularity of cupcakes I have even adapted it to pineapple upside down cupcakes, which are great fun but lack the magnificence of a full-size cake on a vintage glass cake stand.

Now it has become my son Sean's specialty to do a Bundt version for my birthday, and this year's effort was truly magnificent. Very fussy and particular in the kitchen, he also has an appreciation for the beauty of old school style.

We may no longer light the oven with a match, but there are just those wonderful retro things we ought to treasure and keep in our lives. I know that I will be able to recognize heaven when I smell it.

Here's how to do it old-school:

1 can pineapple rings, drained dry, juice reserved.
1 small bottle maraschino cherries, drained
1/2 - 1 stick margarine or butter
3/4 -1 C. brown sugar
3 eggs
1 pkg. yellow cake mix

Pre-heat oven to 350. Coat bottom and sides of a Dutch oven or Bundt ring up to within 1" of top with the butter or margarine. Add the brown sugar and coat the bottom and sides as far up as it will go, patting onto the sides of the pan if needed.

Line pan with the fruit rings, creating a symmetrical design. (If I have the space, I use all the pineapple rings and tuck extra cherries in empty-looking spots.)

Mix up the cake batter using the cake mix, eggs, and reserved juice with water added if necessary to provide the amount of liquid called for in the package directions. Carefully pour or ladle the batter into the pan.

Bake for about 30 mins. and begin checking with a toothpick inserted into the center for doneness. Depending on the pan used, can take as long as 45 mins. to 1 hour.

When done, remove from oven and immediately turn out onto a plate. Voila-old school!

Hope

“We must accept finite disappointment but never lose infinite hope.” Martin Luther King, Jr.

It seems to be increasingly popular these past few months to grow less hopeful, more cynical, and angrier. Whenever I listen to or read the news, whether it is from the local network or one of the major newspapers, the most highlighted (and e-mailed) stories are those which emphasize how short we have fallen of achieving our hopes.

It doesn't seem to matter whether the source is CNN, the Washington Post, the L.A. Times, or even our little Davis Enterprise. The message, unfortunately, is consistent: When we voted in November 2008, we signed up for an economic turnaround, a return to a balanced budget, health care reform, the end to two wars, and lower unemployment, which we have failed to achieve to the degree to which many seem to believe we are entitled.

As we approach mid-term elections, incumbents everywhere are feeling the anxiety of this summer's discontent and with good reason. Obstructionist bi-partisanship, petty divisiveness, and the preference to lobbyists as opposed to the people's interests make incumbents the obvious target. Grass-roots campaigns to protect legislative majorities and embattled seats flood my e-mail inbox daily.

The toughest thing for me is that I am no longer in a position to be able to support candidates I believe in the way I once was able. I have not worked most of this year, and my husband works for the State of California and was once again rewarded for his efforts with a 15% reduction in pay through furloughs.

We are not starving, and we are still able to meet our financial obligations. Many people I know cannot. Therefore when I see unqualified candidates grabbing headlines and people pouring Wall Street or oil company profits into campaigns while I am unable to send $10 to any of the grass-roots campaigns whose pleas fill my inbox, I am both grateful for my blessings but fearful that this election cycle could result in the return to power of those ideologues whose loyalty to big business and deep pockets got us here to begin with.

The only way to hope is to keep our focus on the true sources of hope. Hope in the love of our families, through knowing we will continue to lift each other up in times of challenge. Our friends, who bear with us as we struggle and share our stories. And infinite hope, as we remember that the birds of the sky and lilies of the field are infinitely more glorious than all the elections money can buy.

So as we move through this season, knowing that on November 2 votes will be cast all over the country, I just hope that all of those folks who feel despair now remember that hope belongs to all of us, not to just a candidate or a party. Futures are decided by people who hope enough to show up at the polls, who hope enough to make sure that qualified, thoughtful, responsible candidates are elected.


Get out there and hope.

Re-Entry

"No rest for the wicked, and the righteous don't need none." This adaptation of the old English proverb is a pronouncement by one of the characters in the lovable Mitford series by Jan Karon, which I am re-reading in these days since that big party I went to on June 12th. Now living with the sweet man who shared it and the new family it created, life is more tender, more luminous, more hopeful.

But it's not any slower.

This week is the final ramping up to the huge Presbyterian Youth Triennium conference held at Purdue University and once again I am going to serve as a group leader, facilitating a "small" group of 30 high school students through the week of interpreting the theme from Esther "For Such a Time as This". I will be putting in 18-hour days and being a substitute mom, pastor, guidance counselor, walking on average 8 miles a day, and missing my family.

I have a ton of thank-you's still to write (note: if you gave us a gift and have not received a thank-you, please know that we are not ungrateful, merely behind) our household still is not integrated, and we are in the process of assembling wardrobe doors from IKEA.

My car is still in the shop. I learned from the dentist I have to have a molar extracted and replaced with an implant. I haven't painted since early June. My in-basket runneth over as much as my cup of blessings. I am trying to re-write resumes and learn to use Twitter.

We have been out of town twice in the past month in addition to our honeymoon, and although it's been grand, I am looking forward to time at home to try to develop some kind of routine and instill some order.

I had to laugh out loud at the character of Dolores Umbridge in "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" just before she got her ultimate comeuppance in the forest. Ragged, discouraged, and defeated, she cried, "I just wanted to get a little order!" - or words to that effect. Well, I'm not defeated although I'm feeling slightly ragged and discouraged and really could use some rest.

Bill Cosby once said, "You get plenty of rest when you die". I think a better alternative would be to grab what rest we can in between the high's and low's, and create small islands of order in life. Like one dresser drawer, one bookshelf, or even just the glove box in the car. It may not get the tax return done or the garage cleaned out, but at least you'd find that old receipt for deductible expenses or the good air mattress to take on the next camping trip.

I learned today that George Steinbrenner died. Shortly thereafter, I read a Tweet that he was up in Heaven, firing Billy Martin again. Apparently there is no rest for the wicked, but I say all the righteous and wicked alike need some now and then.

Fan Mail From Some Flounder

Saturday one of the things we did, in between chicken coop cruising (see "Tour de Cluck" references), census taking, and wedding planning, was stopping at the fish monger stall at the Davis Farmers Market. We got a Northern California specialty, sand dabs, and Dan fried 'em up for us later that night.

One of the things I did, since I play with food, was to photograph them before he chopped their little flat heads off. I don't like having any fishy eyes looking up at me from my plate, and I sure as heck don't like two fishy eyes looking up from one side of the fish!

They were more fun to paint than to eat, although the flavor is sweet, mild and delicate. Even after filleting, there seem to be innumerable little fishy bones just waiting to find their way to a good choking spot in one's throat if care is not taken. Dan regaled Sean and me with a colorful childhood story of one such experience.

Between the choking story and the many bones to pick through, it was hard to keep an appetite revved up, no matter how good they tasted. Ah, life.

Anyway, here's a watercolor of the little flat guys. I might try it again later sometime in another media, just as I may try eating them later sometime in another life. Like when I'm not hungry.

Artist Statement (or: Is She Nuts or What?)

Dori can be reached at dori.marshall@gmail.com or follow her blog at http://quicksilverartandspirit.blogspot.com for art and musings or at http://sermonsbydori.blogspot.com/ for The Quiet Woman sermons.

Doriene (Dori) Marshall

Artist Statement for "Tour de Cluck" 2010

"Hildegard of Bingen, twelfth century mystic, counseled her spiritual directees to be 'juicy people,' folks who are so filled with wonder and curiosity, with lusty appetites and high spirits, that they embrace life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness with a burly, grinning bear hug. To be juicy is to be: a fearlessly joyous optimist, a troublemaker tirelessly afflicting the comfortable, a passionate lover of good talk and tasty food, an anonymous prophet hovering over the cosmological riddle, a frequent violator of the ordinance against indecent exposure of the heart, and a guerilla in the insurrection against Dream Molesters everywhere." Rich Heffern, Daybreak Within: Living in a Sacred World

A writer, painter, religious educator, and lay pastor, Doriene Marshall uses watercolors, acrylics, collage, ceramics, and sculpture to pursue her potential as a "juicy" person. A native of southern California, she was transplanted in Davis in 2004 after a 15-year sojourn in Utah's high desert climate where she had begun to uncover the spiritual connection between creativity and the divine universal Creator.

About this Painting:

"Eggs III" is an acrylic painting done from one of about 3 dozen compositions using eggs raised at UC Davis and sold through their meat and dairy program. It is appropriate that this painting completes a circle of bringing wholesome healthy food into our schools, since it originated with fresh, healthy food coming out of the school that anchors our community. The Tour de Cluck raises funds for the Davis Farm to School Connection.

When she's not playing with her food, she's painting it.

For Spring Dreams Lightly

Maybe this says it:

Mistily wafting
Jasmine blossoms unending
For Spring dreams lightly.


Years ago I recall attending Sabbath at San Francisco Theological Seminary for the first time. I was living in Salt Lake City then, and had forgotten the moist silkiness of the air of Coastal California.

One thing I admired so much about the San Anselmo neighborhoods surrounding the seminary was the way even the most modest little plots of garden burst with flowers and flowering vines at this time of year, nurtured by the temperate climate and the gentle way the air holds just the right amount of water vapor to keep flower petals velvety and succulent. Heavier than Utah's arid high desert air, but not soggy like the humid Southeast or Gulf Coast states.

Now I live with an arbor of jasmine in the back garden, under which we gather, visit, grill, and eat on these soft spring evenings. Moving through the flowers, the breezes tickles us with fragrant fingers and remind us that California's season's are subtle, and we need to pause and attend to them or they may elude us entirely, as in dreams.

California dreaming, so light and elusive. As optimistic as Spring itself.

Haiku

Here's a wonderful third line for a haiku, based on yesterday's lush air and fragrance:

...for spring dreams lightly.

Now I am going to be bugged all day for the first two lines. Any ideas?