Sticky Date Nut Roll

Today would have been my mom’s 79th birthday. She’s been gone for many years, and I still miss her every day. 

Mom was a Christmas person. She didn’t do a great deal of baking during the year, but at Christmas she pulled out all the stops. She baked cookies and made candy and sweet breads. She made a sticky date nut roll that either came out perfectly or had to be peeled off the wax paper in gooey chunks. But she made it every year, always hoping for the best.

I haven’t had that date nut roll in years, but I’ve been going through my recipes this week and reminiscing. Wouldn’t it be great, I thought, to make Mom’s date nut roll, to see if I could make it come out perfectly, in her honor. Alas, I can’t find it. Maybe I never had that one. 

I turned to Google and came up with this one, though:

Date Nut Roll

Ingredients 

3 1/2 C. Sugar
1 C. Milk
1/4 C. Butter or Margarine
1 16 oz. pkg. Pitted Dates
1 C. Chopped Pecans
1 Tsp. Vanilla extract
Powdered Sugar

Directions

-Combine sugar, milk, and butter in a saucepan. Stir until sugar dissolves.
-Cover and cook over medium hear for 2-3 minutes to wash down sugar crystals from the sides of the pan.
-Uncover and continue to cook without stirring until the mixture reaches the soft ball stage (240°).
-Cool to lukewarm (110°).
-Add vanilla.
-Beat at medium speed with an electric mixer until the mixture thickens and cools.
-Sift powdered sugar on a linen towel.
-Divide mixture into two portions and shape each portion into two rolls, each

    1 1/2″ in diameter.
    -Wrap in towels.
    -Let stand until set, then cut into 1/2″ thick slices.

    As far as I can tell its Mom’s recipe; although, I don’t think she used a candy thermometer, and that probably explains why it only turned out perfectly about 20% of the time.

    Will I give it a go and try to make this Christmas treat? I kind of feel Mom urging me to do just that.

    Mom as a teenager.

    Scarlet

    sins of omission
    and others much less passive
    barter for your soul

    turn about seems fair
    trying out the gander’s share
    an eye for an eye


    stitch the letter “A”
    wear it like a scarlet badge
    of desire’s design


    Guess what I’ve been reading! 

    Snapshot #66

    When our first child was born in May of 1978, the mother of one of my closest friends created this ornament for him. I loved her like a second mom, and although she passed away several years ago I feel her presence every year when I place this ornament on our tree.  

    I call this one, “Sweetest Memories.”

    Snapshot #65

    Once upon a time I took hours decorating our Christmas tree. I agonized over which ornament looked best in which spot. I longed to achieve a tree that was worthy of gracing a design magazine. 

    My need for the perfect tree took all the fun out of decorating for my kids and Studly Doright, and soon the task of hanging all of the ornaments landed squarely on my shoulders. Like a big old vacuum I sucked all the fun out of what should have been an enjoyable family activity.

    Nowadays, few people other than Studly and me even see our tree, and I’ve finally learned that Christmas trees don’t have to be perfectly decorated to be perfect. So I’m calling this one, “The Perfect Tree.”

    Notice Scout in the foreground. She worships our Christmas tree. Seriously. 

    Parachute

    I am having a love affair with country singer/songwriter, Chris Stapleton. Now Chris isn’t aware of this, but Studly Doright is, so nobody’s feelings are in danger of being hurt. 

    Every morning Chris serenades me while I shower and dress for work or play. His music keeps me company as I complete chores around the house or sit out on the screened in porch. 

    I own two copies of his Traveler cd, one for the house and another for my car, and his is the first name up on my Pandora playlist. My favorites off the cd are Tennessee Whiskey and Traveler, but Parachute comes in near the top these days. 

    I’m especially fond of the chorus:

    You only need a roof when it’s raining
    You only need a fire when it’s cold
    You only need a drink when the whiskey
    Is the only thing that you have left to hold
    Sun comes up and goes back down
    And falling feels like flying till you hit the ground
    Say the word and I’ll be there for you
    Baby, I will be your parachute

    Maybe you should listen:

    https://youtu.be/7ub9jYLcb0Y

    Peace, people.

    Snapshot #64

    I call this one, “Nearly Nekkid Tree.” Notice Scout as she adores her old friend.

    Pretending for Grownups

    Before I began blogging on WordPress occasionally I’d write what I called “Pretending for Grownups” posts on Facebook. My Facebook friends would read them and declare, “Oh! You should write a blog!” Ironically, very few of those who urged me to blog actually read my blog–but I blame (and thank) them for my addiction to blogging.

    Today Facebook resurrected one of my “memories” which happened to be an early Pretending for Grownups. I thought I’d share it with you. Ah, the good old days…


    Common Knowledge

    Everybody knows
    They whisper behind closed doors
    Your secret is out


    How will you respond
    Held head high or bowed in shame
    The power is yours


    Laugh and make merry
    Celebrate indiscretions
    Make people wonder

    Studly’s Big Birthday Adventure, Part 3: The Leftover Photos

    I snapped many photos while Studly Doright and I toured the USS ALABAMA and the USS DRUM in Mobile, Alabama, this past weekend. Here are the ones taken while we snaked our way through the DRUM, a World War II era submarine on display at Battleship Memorial Park. 

    Studly and I had to go through some drastic physical manipulations to get through all of the sub’s narrow hatches.
    Run silent; run deep
    Beautiful brass fittings gave the sub an artsy feel.
    Doors (aka hatches) approximately 2 feet x 4 feet.
    No privacy for the sailors!
    Captain’s wheel
    The officers’ shower room.
    Damn the torpedoes! Full speed ahead!

    I can’t imagine being stuck on this vessel for months on end. Claustrophobia would’ve been the death of me.

    Peace, people!

    Snapshot #63

    A pair of tall black boots hid my socks, so no one was the wiser, still I call this one, “Matching is for Wusses.”