{Today's post is by sweet Beth, my sister-in-law. This week you'll meet both of her daughters ... the three of them survive in a home with SIX males. Yep, Heath & Beth have seven children and each one is absolutely precious!! Anyway, Beth is an amazing sister/friend and I adore her. In addition she can sew absolutely anything. She blogs at Sew Anyhow and everyone should read her blog! Thanks, Beth, for being the sister I longed for all my life! I love you!! ~ Teri Lynne}
But then over the next month (We were married the second of November. On my grandparents 50th anniversary. Talk about traditions and family ties!), we began to talk about Christmas and we discovered my Christmases were really steeped in tradition. Every year since 1977 (the year I was born) we traveled up to the afore mentioned Grandparents' farm to have an entire Christmas celebration on Christmas Eve. My Grandma would have cooked everything under the sun, Grandpa would teach me some new way to play with my food (ever seen a toddler eating black olives? They make the BEST finger caps, and are great to suck right off!), my Uncle Terry was at my brother's and my beck and call, playing anything we wanted, and my Great-Grandmother would regale us with stories. It was always a surprise as to what tree my Grandma would put up each year. Sometimes it was white, once it was silver, and then there were years it was a real tree. One year, Thomas and I got to stomp through the pastures for hours to help cut one down! The ceramic nativity Grandma made would be in it's place on the half wall bar, and Grandpa would save me a seat right next to him in his recliner (it was always a joke to see if we fit!) We would open presents that evening, take baths, and wear Grandpa's t-shirts home.
Once home we snuggled into bed, and were sworn to NOT get Mom and Dad up before a certain time. No alarm clocks were aloud, and we spent a good portion of the next two hours giggling, being hushed, and finally threatened before we settled down. The next morning Thomas and I would sneak into one or the others room, check the time, "quietly" wait for the clock to strike the hour, and then sing to wake up my parents at the top of our lungs. Of course they had been up for a while, but we didn't know. Present time again, and then came the biggest tradition of them all. Daddy went into the kitchen to make our Christmas breakfast. I'm not sure how or why this got started, but it is a big deal! Daddy made us pancakes. Completely from scratch. The only pancake I will eat. And oh are they good.
The afternoon was always spent at my Dad's childhood home, with his parents, and siblings. And all the cousins. And of course there was the huge Christmas dinner. With a turkey AND a ham. 'Cause I don't like turkey. And we had to wait FOREVER before it was all cleaned up and we could open presents. And we would stay until all of us little ones fell asleep, full of food, joy, and family.
This was how we still did Christmas when Heath and I married. And he and his family was gracious enough to let us continue in these traditions. But then the year came when Heath wanted to be HOME for Christmas. Not just during Christmas week, but Christmas day. I really couldn't complain. We had been married for three years, and he had let me cling to my family. So this year we packed up our one year old, and drove for 10 hours to spend the week with Terry and Sue. Heath was so content, and I was SO pregnant! JJ would be born in just two months, and I was in full waddle. And minus the one phone call I made on Christmas day to shout "Merry Christmas" to all the family on Christmas day, it was a completely sad free trip. We laughed over a grandson and his Papa. I found that Sue's couch was a wonderful place to take naps. Grandparents got to watch their unborn granddaughter jump and kick. And I got to share my family tradition with the Busters. Pancakes on Christmas morning. And we started a new tradition as well. But even though that was the year it started, it's not my story to tell. You'll have to wait a day or two for that one.
So don't misunderstand me. While this was a hard first for me, it is one I cherish as well. I love every minute I get to spend with Heath's family. Sometimes, there can be little bit of sadness with it, just because of things missed. I think that is how it goes with most people as well. Twinges of sadness over Christmases past, family that has gone home, ones that couldn't make it that year. But that's how it was the very first Christmas as well. There was a sadness at a Son that was not home, and a sadness over the time to come. But oh the joy over the birth of the King. The shout of angels as they proclaimed the fulfillment of prophesy. The Messiah has come. And no matter where your Christmas is spent, that is still the Joy that is heard, felt, and shared.
So this Christmas, I share with you my Christmas treasure. Pancakes may not seem a treasure to most, but those made with my Daddy's hands, and out of his love for us, are priceless to me.
1 cup buttermilk
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 cup all purpose flour
1 tablespoon sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
Mix dry ingredients in a large mixing bowl.
Separate egg whites from the yolks. Beat the whites until fluffy and soft peaks form.
Add approximately 3/4 of the buttermilk to the dry ingredients and then add teh oil and egg yolks.
Stir the mixture, adding enough buttermilk to obtain a semi-runny texture (this usually requires adding more buttermilk than listed for me). Should the mixture become too runny, add enough flour to correct the texture.
Fold in whipped egg whites.
Wipe a slight amount of oil on the griddle (or pan) and cook over medium heat until upper side of the cooking pancakes begin to break the bubbles that have formed. Flip and finish cooking the pancakes through.
Makes approximately ten 4" pancakes. (I triple this for my family. But we are huge. And the kids eat like they may never eat again. But growing up with just the four of us, Daddy would usually double the recipe. You just can't help grabbing one everytime you walk past the plate!)
Enjoy!
When Heath and I got married, we were given a journaling book about your family's Christmas. One of the entries was to be about Christmas traditions. I honestly just stared at the page. Heath and I didn't have any traditions yet, and my family didn't either. I asked Heath, and he looked about as blank as me. Nope. We apparently were non-traditionalist. That is SO far from what I thought. I thought everything I did was buried in tradition, history, and the age old "this is how we've ALWAYS done it".
But then over the next month (We were married the second of November. On my grandparents 50th anniversary. Talk about traditions and family ties!), we began to talk about Christmas and we discovered my Christmases were really steeped in tradition. Every year since 1977 (the year I was born) we traveled up to the afore mentioned Grandparents' farm to have an entire Christmas celebration on Christmas Eve. My Grandma would have cooked everything under the sun, Grandpa would teach me some new way to play with my food (ever seen a toddler eating black olives? They make the BEST finger caps, and are great to suck right off!), my Uncle Terry was at my brother's and my beck and call, playing anything we wanted, and my Great-Grandmother would regale us with stories. It was always a surprise as to what tree my Grandma would put up each year. Sometimes it was white, once it was silver, and then there were years it was a real tree. One year, Thomas and I got to stomp through the pastures for hours to help cut one down! The ceramic nativity Grandma made would be in it's place on the half wall bar, and Grandpa would save me a seat right next to him in his recliner (it was always a joke to see if we fit!) We would open presents that evening, take baths, and wear Grandpa's t-shirts home.
Once home we snuggled into bed, and were sworn to NOT get Mom and Dad up before a certain time. No alarm clocks were aloud, and we spent a good portion of the next two hours giggling, being hushed, and finally threatened before we settled down. The next morning Thomas and I would sneak into one or the others room, check the time, "quietly" wait for the clock to strike the hour, and then sing to wake up my parents at the top of our lungs. Of course they had been up for a while, but we didn't know. Present time again, and then came the biggest tradition of them all. Daddy went into the kitchen to make our Christmas breakfast. I'm not sure how or why this got started, but it is a big deal! Daddy made us pancakes. Completely from scratch. The only pancake I will eat. And oh are they good.
The afternoon was always spent at my Dad's childhood home, with his parents, and siblings. And all the cousins. And of course there was the huge Christmas dinner. With a turkey AND a ham. 'Cause I don't like turkey. And we had to wait FOREVER before it was all cleaned up and we could open presents. And we would stay until all of us little ones fell asleep, full of food, joy, and family.
This was how we still did Christmas when Heath and I married. And he and his family was gracious enough to let us continue in these traditions. But then the year came when Heath wanted to be HOME for Christmas. Not just during Christmas week, but Christmas day. I really couldn't complain. We had been married for three years, and he had let me cling to my family. So this year we packed up our one year old, and drove for 10 hours to spend the week with Terry and Sue. Heath was so content, and I was SO pregnant! JJ would be born in just two months, and I was in full waddle. And minus the one phone call I made on Christmas day to shout "Merry Christmas" to all the family on Christmas day, it was a completely sad free trip. We laughed over a grandson and his Papa. I found that Sue's couch was a wonderful place to take naps. Grandparents got to watch their unborn granddaughter jump and kick. And I got to share my family tradition with the Busters. Pancakes on Christmas morning. And we started a new tradition as well. But even though that was the year it started, it's not my story to tell. You'll have to wait a day or two for that one.
So don't misunderstand me. While this was a hard first for me, it is one I cherish as well. I love every minute I get to spend with Heath's family. Sometimes, there can be little bit of sadness with it, just because of things missed. I think that is how it goes with most people as well. Twinges of sadness over Christmases past, family that has gone home, ones that couldn't make it that year. But that's how it was the very first Christmas as well. There was a sadness at a Son that was not home, and a sadness over the time to come. But oh the joy over the birth of the King. The shout of angels as they proclaimed the fulfillment of prophesy. The Messiah has come. And no matter where your Christmas is spent, that is still the Joy that is heard, felt, and shared.
So this Christmas, I share with you my Christmas treasure. Pancakes may not seem a treasure to most, but those made with my Daddy's hands, and out of his love for us, are priceless to me.
Daddy's Christmas Morning Pancakes
1 egg (seperate whites from yolks)1 cup buttermilk
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 cup all purpose flour
1 tablespoon sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
Mix dry ingredients in a large mixing bowl.
Separate egg whites from the yolks. Beat the whites until fluffy and soft peaks form.
Add approximately 3/4 of the buttermilk to the dry ingredients and then add teh oil and egg yolks.
Stir the mixture, adding enough buttermilk to obtain a semi-runny texture (this usually requires adding more buttermilk than listed for me). Should the mixture become too runny, add enough flour to correct the texture.
Fold in whipped egg whites.
Wipe a slight amount of oil on the griddle (or pan) and cook over medium heat until upper side of the cooking pancakes begin to break the bubbles that have formed. Flip and finish cooking the pancakes through.
Makes approximately ten 4" pancakes. (I triple this for my family. But we are huge. And the kids eat like they may never eat again. But growing up with just the four of us, Daddy would usually double the recipe. You just can't help grabbing one everytime you walk past the plate!)
Enjoy!
I can give witness to the fact that these are wonderful pancakes. My grandsons faced the West and shouted "Thanks, Cousin Beth" the first time I made this recipe for them. I doubled it for the 6 who were eating at my house, and there were none left for me by the time I finished making them. Next time, I was smarter. I ate the first one before I called the hoards in to eat!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Beth, for sharing your family traditions with us. And for being such a wonderful part of our family! Love you!
"And no matter where your Christmas is spent, that is still the Joy that is heard, felt, and shared." {love this line}
ReplyDeleteMy little ones love their daddy's pancakes too. I don't think I ever realized what a BIG deal this will be to them one day. They will all be grown up and want their Daddy to make pancakes for them and their children.