Holiday Morning French Toast
Happy Mother’s Day! Here are 4 Generations of Volberg women when you include the portrait of my Grandmother (Nonnie) painted by her teacher Philip Chesley. Christmas 2017. Texas.
3 Volberg ladies at Kettle’s Yard. Cambridge, England. 2012.
My sister, Mom, and me at Fripp Island before Nonnie and Granddaddy built their house there.
Mom and Elisabeth on Mother’s Day in Jerusalem, 1974.
Kentucky Derby time! Me and my husband this past Saturday. Louisville, Kentucky. 2022.
Mom in her handmade Derby hat (the ribbon includes the music for “My Old Kentucky Home”). 2017?
Mom in a fab red fascinator at her brother Frank’s wedding. 1966.
Dad in a fetching panama hat in Venice. 1988.
This is what happens when you mix a teenager, her grandfather, and Snapchat filters! This is one of the many things we did to pass time while Mom was in the nursing unit at Carolina Meadows. 2018.
More hats! Not Derby but Easter. I’ll let it pass.
Just a casual outfit in the 80s in Chapel Hill, NC. My sis and me in the Mallette St. living room.
The Reed Granddaughters dressed to the nines by their Grandmomma on the QM2. 2014.
Long time, no chat! Like Roy Kent I’ve been here, I’ve been there, I’ve been every-freakin’-where. (That’s for you, Ted Lasso fans!) My husband and I just got back from Louisville where we FINALLY attended the Kentucky Derby. We were married on Derby Day in 2000, so we bought tickets to attend in person for our 20th anniversary. It was a bucket list item for us. Well, a little something called COVID hit and we had to postpone. Multiple times. So, much like staying married during a pandemic, I consider finally attending the Derby to be a huge achievement! I’ve written before about Mom and the Derby. She once made a cool hat for a party with the lyrics and music to “My Old Kentucky Home” scrawled on its ribbon. Mom also made one helluva pimento cheese sandwich. And, she was always game to dress up. Last night, at dinner, I asked my husband to name his favorite part of the Derby weekend. After he, very diplomatically, said “spending time with you”, he followed up with how much he enjoyed that everyone was ALL IN for the Derby. I mean everyone. I can count on one hand the few people I saw who made little to no effort at festive attire. I have never witnessed more men in pastel in my life! And, the hats! Oh, the hats! It was grand.
When I told people we were attending the Derby everyone commented “I can’t wait to see your hat!”. Man, did I feel the weight of expectations with that selection. So, I took a cue from my friend Richard. He and I went to see the original line-up of Duran Duran in the early 2000s when I lived in Houston. If you are even a vague Durannie you’ll know that both Andy Taylor and Roger Taylor left the band in the 80s. So, it was quite possible to think that we would never see the original five members play together again. (And, after Andy was so obnoxious during the 2000s tour, that is now the case!). Anyway, it was a big moment for my inner teenager. I put together a retro 80s look: bubble skirt, leggings, black felt hat. When Richard rang the doorbell, I ran to open it, excited to see his getup. I was shocked to find him in a simple black shirt and jeans. What???????? Why didn’t he didn’t dress up?! Richard’s response? “It was too important.” I suddenly felt like a labrador puppy trying too hard to get people to notice me. Oh well, I am that puppy. Girls just wanna have fun and all of that, so I kept on my 80s costume (party of 1). But, back to the Derby, the hat possibilities were downright overwhelming! I first ordered a large chapeau that turned out to be a cross between Curious George’s Man with the Yellow Hat’s hat and Elaine from Seinfeld’s “Urban Sombrero”. That got returned. Then, I calmed down, thought about it, and decided that maybe Richard was right. The decision was important and maybe less is, sometimes, more. I would probably have more fun wearing something that wasn’t miserably heavy, was moderately packable, didn’t give me a headache, and that I actually liked. So, there you go. Maybe you can teach an old dog. (But, who am I kidding? If I ever attend again I am GOING FOR IT.)
Prior to the Derby I had a whirlwind week in Austin which included celebrating Willie Nelson’s 89th birthday with Willie and a few thousand friends at his Luck Ranch in Texas. A whole bunch of artists came to pay tribute and cover their fave Willie songs, among them were Steve Earle, Sheryl Crow, Ray Wylie Hubbard, Robert Earl Keen, Margo Price and more! Driving out there I passed the infamous Poodie’s Roadhouse and was reminded of the time we went there with my parents on Christmas Day. You know how after you open presents and eat there is kind of a lull and nothing really left to do? Most things are closed so we often go bowling. Well, this particular year we headed to Spicewood, Texas. My husband had met someone (maybe playing golf?) who said he could get us into Willie’s ranch. We were intrigued. It turns out that he could not. We got to peek into the window of Willie’s recording studio but that’s about all she wrote. But, while we were out there, we figured we would swing by Poodie’s. The Reed family is no stranger to a dive bar and this was a good one! A biker bar at heart, Poodie’s was started by Randall "Poodie" Locke, Willie’s longtime stage manager. So, we strolled in this dark dive bar on Christmas Day, all three generations of us, and they couldn’t have been nicer. My daughter (who was probably about 7) took up residency at the shuffleboard table. She was fascinated by the 1970s poster that hung above it featuring a cheeky nude female cyclist! We ordered a round of beers and hit up the jukebox for some country classics. Not a traditional Christmas, but a good one. Happy Birthday, Jesus!
This past Sunday was Mother’s Day, a holiday that is bittersweet these days. We were traveling most of the day but when we got home my daughter made me a much needed salad. (Despite the tradition of finger sandwiches I found Derby eating to NOT be light!) Facebook memories revealed a quote I posted on Mother’s Day the year Mom died. Chew on this:
"All the eggs a woman will ever carry form in her ovaries while she is a four-month-old fetus in the womb of her mother. This means our cellular life as an egg begins in the womb of our grandmother. Each of us spent five months in our grandmother's womb and she in turn formed within the womb of her grandmother. We vibrate to the rhythms of our mother's blood before she herself is born."
- Layne Redmond
How’s that for interesting? In Mom’s files I found two recipes that are too late for Mother’s Day but why don’t we make a pact to celebrate more this year? And, how good does the second one sound? Like a bready Orange Julius! Speaking of, Mom used to make Orange Juliuses (Julii?) when I would have sleepovers as a kid. She would bring a pitcher in to the library where we would be watching Saturday morning cartoons. I thought this was totally normal and that everyone had this treat on the regular. I looked in Mom’s files and did not find her Orange Julius recipe, but here’s a pretty similar one. Yum.
Here’s to the mamas, both with us and departed. <3
HOLIDAY MORNING FRENCH TOASTS
Version #1
1 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup butter, melted
3 teaspoons ground cinnamon, divided
3 tart apples, such as Granny Smith, peeled, cored and thinly sliced
1/2 cup dried cranberries or raisins
1 loaf Italian or French bread, cut into 1-inch slices
6 large eggs
1 1/2 cups milk
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
Combine brown sugar, butter and 1 teaspoon cinnamon in a 13x9-inch baking dish. Add apples and cranberries; toss to coat well. Spread apple mixture evenly over bottom of baking dish. Arrange slices of bread on top.
Mix eggs, milk, vanilla and remaining 2 teaspoons cinnamon until well blended. Pour mixture over bread, soaking bread completely. Cover and refrigerate 4 to 24 hours.
Bake, covered with aluminum foil, in a preheated 375°F oven for 40 minutes. Uncover and bake 5 minutes. Remove from oven; let stand 5 minutes. Serve warm. For an eye-catching presentation, loosen edges of baking dish and invert onto a large serving platter.
Version #2
4 eggs
2/3 c. Orange juice
1/3 c. Milk
¼ c. Sugar
¼ tsp ground nutmeg
½ tsp vanilla extract
1 [8 ounce] loaf French bread, cut into 1” slices
vegetable cooking spray
syrup
pecans, chopped
butter
In a medium bowl, combine eggs, orange juice, milk, sugar, nutmeg, and vanilla. Coat 2 [9x13”] casserole dishes with vegetable cooking spray and place bread slices in a single layer. Pour liquid egg mixture over bread, evenly dividing liquid between dishes. Refrigerate overnight, turning bread once.
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Sprinkle bread slices generously with pecans. Bake for 20-25 minutes, or until brown.
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