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    Aditus
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Our Christmas Cookbook - 24. One Year in a Pot

One Year in a Pot

Luisa carefully carried the tall clay pot across the front yard to the open trunk of her car. After lowering it inside, she secured it with some grocery bags, slammed the lid closed, and went back to lock the door.

A sudden gust of wind made her shudder and zip up her warm jacket. Before she drove away though, she took a last look over her shoulder. The glaring pink ‘For Sale’ sign stood out against the black and brown harvested ground, fruit bushes, and bare trees. For the first time in her entire life, the house appeared unfriendly. No—lonely. With the windows shuttered, it seemed to huddle under its roof and—wait.

 

“That was good.” Carl patted his belly, looking at his family sitting around the large table. “Who made the glazed ham? It was perfect.”

When Luisa eagerly raised her arm as if she were at school, Ash snatched his wife’s hand and kissed her knuckles. “We’ll give you an A-plus darling, right Dad?”

“An A-plus, as she took the rind off. I don’t care for that chewy stuff with my old teeth.”

“I wanted the flavors of the glaze to seep into the fleshy part instead of stopping at the rind.”

Seth flinched at the word ‘rind’. “I liked the mashed cauliflower best and the spicy pilaf with the chickpeas.” He pushed his chair back and began collecting some of the dirty dishes around him. “It doesn’t always have to be meat to be a festive dish.” He looked at Ben’s boyfriend. “Did you make it, Adnan?”

“Yeah....” Adnan said, blushing and hiding behind his dark hair when everyone looked at him.

“Yes, yes, don’t start preaching again, son. We have Christmas,” Carl grumbled. “Christmas means having a nice ham or turkey.”

“Well, I guess it was a good thing everyone brought a dish today instead of Luisa slaving away in the kitchen for over a week like Grandma did every Christmas,” Ash said placatingly.

“What about dessert? I saw pies on the counter.” Ben stretched in his chair and peered into the kitchen. “And Uncle Seth promised to make mousse au chocolat....”

“Can’t it wait a little? I’m feeling quite full.” Luisa shook her head at her son before she grabbed some more dirty plates. “Nothing has changed since you, Alex, and Sophia were kids.”

The cousins immediately protested loudly. “Hey!”

 

Half an hour later, Luisa placed twelve blue crystal bowls and polished silver spoons on a tray. Next, she got out the vanilla ice cream and put a big scoop in each bowl. After switching on the coffee machine, she carried everything into the dining room.

“Grandma’s dessert bowls and spoons!” Sadie exclaimed.

“Do you remember how she always celebrated dessert on Christmas Day?” Seth asked his wife.

Ash nodded. “Homemade vanilla ice cream, all sorts of pies for the kids, and ‘Rumtopf’ for the adults.”

Smiling, Luisa went back into the kitchen, fished an antique ladle from a drawer, plunged it into the old clay pot she’d found a couple of weeks ago, and brought it into the dining room. “Ta-da!”

“Did you..?” “Is that—?” “Oh my God!” Everyone talked at the same time.

“Grandma’s ‘year in a pot’, yes. I found it in the basement when we cleaned out the house. She must have started it the year before she became sick.”

“I can’t believe Mom....”Carl murmured, deeply moved, his eyes glistening from unshed tears.

“This time we get a portion too, Mom,” Sophia insisted.

“Of course.” Luisa met the gaze of every family member. “One last time....” She ladled the pot’s contents over the ice cream and passed the bowl to her father.

“Look at this fat strawberry!” Carl lifted his spoon.

“Do you remember how she watched over the strawberries?” Alex asked her cousin Sophia. “Everyone who stole one got put on dishes duty.”

“Oh yeah, I think we all scrubbed pots and plates many, many times, even after Gramma got a dishwasher.” Seth smiled dreamily.

“But once she had chosen the perfect berries to go into the pot, the rest were always free game.” Sophia smiled.

“Do you remember the year Alex took the spray can into the garden to put a dollop of cream on each berry she picked?” asked Carl.

“Oh, that was magnificent.”

“Or when Luisa climbed the apple tree to pick a large red apple she claimed was the ‘bestestes, reddestes’ apple for grandma’s pot.”

“And fell down and had a comminuted fracture in her arm which had to be operated on urgently.” Seth grinned fondly at his sister.

“Because she wouldn’t let go of the damned apple....” Carl rolled his eyes at his daughter.

“Gramma always chose the best, unblemished, ripe fruit for the pot. She’d spread them on the kitchen table and inspect every fruit before she made us wash them,” Ben explained to Adnan.

“And later we made jam from the rest.”

“And chutneys.”

“And pies,” Ben whispered wistfully.

“And then Ash broke the only-from-our-garden rule and brought these super aromatic white peaches.”

“At first I thought she’d tell him he couldn’t marry Luisa anymore.” Carl nodded.

“But after tasting them, she deemed them pot-worthy.” Luisa kissed her husband’s cheek.

“The same with the apricots.”

“I’ll never forget her face after Luisa snuck walnuts into the holy pot the one time. “ Seth snickered.

“Have you been by the house lately?” he asked his sister suddenly.

“No, I couldn’t; it would hurt too much, but I talked to the realtor. It has a new family. The realtor told me they have two sons and a daughter. They love the garden. It looks like they won’t rip out the fruit bushes in favor of having a lawn, which was my greatest fear.”

“Should we call them and give them Gramma’s recipe?” Ben asked.

 

~Recipe~

 

 

0.7 liter of rum

500 g strawberries

250 g of sugar

 

Use a tall earthenware or porcelain pot with a lid (5 l capacity)

Wash the strawberries thoroughly, cut into small pieces and add the rum and sugar to the pot.

Then store at a cool and dark place.

One month later add 500 g of seasonal fruits (sour cherries, apricots, peaches, yellow plums, pears, pineapples, plums, apples, nuts. The imagination knows no bounds...) with 250 g sugar each to the pot. Add as much rum as it is 2 cm above the fruits. Mix everything well.

Repeat this procedure every month until October.

Store the pot in a cool place again. Try it on the first Advent. The rum pot lasts about 9 months.

This concludes my stories for Our Christmas Cookbook. Thank you for reading and commenting.
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays from Germany.
There might be an addendum tomorrow.
Copyright © 2019 Valkyrie, aditus, Cole Matthews; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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I am constantly amazed at how alcohol is such a big part of everyone else’s lives! As I’ve said before, the only alcohol we had in the house when I was growing up was for cooking. And I similarly only have mirin (cooking sake) and vanilla extract in my apartment. It’s a completely different world you live in!
;–)

I’ve only lived on the Pacific Coast. My grandparents lived in Chicago when I was growing up. My maternal grandmother only moved out to California near the end of her life. By then she had stopped preparing elaborate meals, like Tempura, for us the way both of my grandmothers had when we were kids.

Edited by droughtquake
7 minutes ago, droughtquake said:

I am constantly amazed at how alcohol is such a big part of everyone else’s lives! As I’ve said before, the only alcohol we had in the house when I was growing up was for cooking. And I similarly only have mirin (cooking sake) and vanilla extract in my apartment. It’s a completely different world you live in!
;–)

I’ve only lived on the Pacific Coast. My grandparents lived in Chicago when I was growing up. My maternal grandmother only moved out to California near the end of her life. By then she had stopped preparing elaborate meals for us, like Tempura, the way both of my grandmothers had when we were kids.

In this case it is just another method to preserve fruit for winter.  And usually you eat small portions with ice cream, pudding  or cake.

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