Document text
Can tidy spices stave off holiday stress? Of all the things I should be doing right now, with less than a month to go before Christmas, alphabetizing my spices isn't one of them. I should be making multiple lists and checking them more than twice. I should be trying to track down the Lego behemoth for my son that's not available in any toy store. I should be cleaning and decorating; I should be getting caught up on work; I should be writing the 20-page paper for the college class that seemed like such a good idea in September. But I'm not. Instead, I'm standing in my pantry at close to midnight, cursing because I can't find the anise seed and the almond extract. They're not where they should be, dang it, on the far right side of the cupboard. That's the section designated for spices that start with "A," but somehow, my system got screwed up. All I see in front of me are two full bottles of fennel seed, five kinds of dried chiles and two containers of coriander, both whole and ground. I don't even like coriander. None of this would be a problem, of course, if I hadn't volunteered to make anise-almond biscotti for a morning meeting, then promptly forgotten that I'd promised. I whirled into the kitchen 20 minutes ago, thinking that I could just whip up the cookies and head to bed. But nothing is ever that easy during the holidays, is it? The simplest acts become complicated, piled as they are on top of all the other acts that seem so simple to start with. How can I whip up anything _ a batch of cookies, a festive party, holiday memories to endure through the years _ if I can't even find the almond extract? I sigh and begin pawing through the shelves. The chaos in my cupboards reflects the chaos in my life, I decide with all the logic of a late-night cookie baker. I resolve to organize the spices on the spot, hoping the ritual will lend some kind of calm to the rest of the holiday season. Then my husband comes in. "What are you doing?" he says, yawning sleepily. "Arranging the spice rack," I reply briskly, like it's the most natural thing in the world. I begin to pull the spices off the shelf: rosemary, sage and lemon pepper, tarragon, parsley and caraway seed. I line the bottles on the counter and begin to arrange them in order: anise seed, arrowroot, bay leaf. "Does `cumin' come before `curry powder?"' I ask. My husband looks at me like I've lost my mind. "Hon," he says. "It's OK. You don't have to do this. Put the spices away. Come to bed." "Just a minute," I say perkily, arranging more jars: fennel, ginger, Italian seasoning. But by the time I get to mustard, nutmeg and oregano, even I realize that this behavior could be considered a little odd. When I get to white pepper and vanilla bean, I start to laugh. "Save me from myself," I tell my husband, wiping my hands on a towel. "I tried," he says. And then we head to bed. By then, though, my spices are straightened. I sigh with relief; all is right with the world. Besides, I think to myself, I can always buy biscotti at the bakery in the morning. NOTE : Speaking of spices, here's good news for folks who missed out on this year's mincemeat at Ashland's Trinity Episcopal Church. Dozens of people from throughout the Rogue Valley lined up at the church on Nov. 20, but the mincemeat was sold out within minutes. Fortunately for them, members of the Trinity Church Sewing Group have decided to share their recipe. "We don't want to be in the mincemeat business," said organizer Natalie Barker. "I don't think we ever could have satisfied the demand." See directions below. Trinity Mincemeat 4 pounds meat (ground venison or roast beef, cooked and minced) 9 pounds apples, chopped or ground 1 1/2 pounds suet, ground 3 pounds raisins 2 pounds currants 1/2 pound citron, slivered 5 pounds sugar 6 teaspoons salt* 2 teaspoons ground nutmeg 5 teaspoons ground mace 3 teaspoons ground cloves 1 teaspoon black pepper 10 teaspoons ground cinnamon 1 1/2 quarts of apple cider 1 quart molasses 1 quart vinegar Juice of two lemons and the grated rind of one lemon Combine all ingredients in a large pot over medium heat. Bring to boil, then lower heat and simmer, uncovered, for 5 or 6 hours, until mixture is thick and rich. Ladle mincemeat into hot jars; seal. Process in boiling water canner according to manufacturer's directions. Send questions to a la carte, P.O. Box 1108, Medford, OR 97501. Reach JoNel Aleccia at 776-4465 or by e-mail at [email protected] Mail Tribune Copyright � The Mail Tribune 1999, Medford, Oregon USA