December 25, 2008
The loaves had been rising for 2 hours and threatened to spill over the top of their greased pans, looking for all purposes like mushrooms ready to topple over on teeny tiny stems. We kept joking about how we were going to walk in the house and have to push our way through a ginormous cloud of dough, as one could imagine seeing on a cartoon. Finally, after rising all day, I declared them poofy enough to convert to sticky buns.
I sprinkled the bottom of the pan with walnuts and raisins and Matt happily set to work tearing into the dough and covering the pan with golf ball size pieces. I got to work creating the goop that pores over the dough and settles into the crevices, turning the entire pan into a sticky delightful mess. I melted the butter, stirred in the pudding mix, and dashed in some cinnamon. I peered into my mother-in-law’s cabinets, looking for brown sugar. I had brought some of the less obvious ingredients – the vanilla pudding, the walnuts pre-chopped and ready to go, but had naively assumed there would be brown sugar in just about stocked pantry. I should have known: this is the kitchen famous for scotch kissies, the delectable dessert treat that requires an entire box of brown sugar.
She was out. The dough torn, the butter melted, I started to panic. Here I had built up the anticipation of my mom’s famous sticky buns ALL day long, hoping to share this tradition with my new family, and in the moment of truth, I had failed to provide an essential ingredient.
I started racking my brain for substitutions. Matt’s Nanta, supervising the process, started peering into cupboards. She pulled out a box of granulated sugar and a bottle of Eggo syrup and placed them in front of me. “Here. Mix these.” Nanta, who is famous for making her own ketchup once in a pitch, is always to be trusted when it comes to substitutions.
Into the melted butter mixture went this concoction. The color was off and the smell distinctly maple, but the texture was right. I crossed my fingers and drenched the sticky buns with the goop, and put it back in the fridge to rise overnight. In the morning, the aroma of pancakes filled the kitchen while the buns baked. When the timer went off, I pulled them out with hopeful anticipation. The first bite secured my success – despite the slight hint of maple, which turned out to be not a bad addition, they were every bit as delicious as the sticky buns I had consumed every Christmas morning for the last 25 years. My family-in-law’s praise was abundant, and the tradition from one family was successfully incorporated into another family.
October 19, 2008
Yesterday I made the trip down to Greenville, NC – home of the famous B’s Barbeque, the ECU Pirates, Lee Norris (of One Tree Hill and Boy Meets Fame and a fellow WFU ‘04 alum) and oh yes, Pitt County Memorial Hospital, where my husband is currently doing a rotation. ECU is on the list of possible residency locations so I thought it might behoove me to check out one of our potential areas of relocation… not to mention it’d been 7 days since I’d seen my husband and I was more than happy to pay him a visit too. I was truly pleasantly surprised by Greenville. I had a great tour guide, as one of our best friends and Matt’s host, is a Greenville native and humored me with a driving tour complete with a stop to the local Wal-mart. I also saw a Harris Teeter and not one but two Starbucks so… I’m set! What I truly did see that I loved was that Greenville is one of those cities that is on that brink of revitalization. Mike drove me down what was the old Main St downtown area in it’s tobacco hey-day and then over to the current “downtown” area, and every other building he pointed out was recently rehabbed, in the process of being rehabbed or just about to be rehabbed. It reminded me of one of my other favorite “work in progress” cities… B’more! (And maybe even Winston?) I just love picturing what potential lies beneath a dilapidated run-down warehouse. The places Mike took us out on Saturday night was a great example of the amazing rebirth of old architecture. After dinner at a yummy and obviously popular restaraunt called Starlight Cafe, we walked over to a recently renovated building that now houses a spa and a restaraunt called, appropriately, LA Lounge & Spa. Can’t fault them for being ambigious. I’m always a little hesitant about places in the South that christen themselves with NY or LA references, generally finding the result to be an exaggerated stereotype. I haven’t been to LA so I don’t truly know what a LA bar looks like, but I didn’t have any trouble imaging I was there once we walked inside. It was a very hushed decor, with palm and moss greenery everywhere, low light candles on deep dark tables and very, very pretty people. The martini list was extensive, creative and quite expensive. I had the Wall Street Red (Stoli Strawberi, cranberry juice & champagne). Kim and Matt both had something with pomegrante seeds floating in it, Mike had the Italian Kiss (of which I promptly stole his sugared strawberries, ingracious guest that I am!) and I believe Jason, inspired by our afternoon movie watching on Mike’s new blu-ray, had the no fooling around 007. What more could you ask for in a city: a martini bar with bubble chairs and pomegrante garnished beverages in the same metropolils as a barbeque joint so old school they shut the doors when they run out of food? (We did not have any B’s because they had run out. Of course.)
So, while I pledge to remain absolutely unbiased and open minded about our potential future cities of residences, I am pleased to say that I can now at least imagine carving out a life in one new place. Between martinis, starbucks, barbeque, and let’s be honest – walmart – I could be all set. One site visited, a mere 29 to go.
