One Chord

elton johnOne chord. That’s all it takes. One chord and I instantly know this song and the artist. It’s the sound of that one chord that caused me to have a reoccurring nightmare for weeks on end in 1974 where I would hear that chord and then faint, waking up hours later after having missed an entire live rock concert with my favorite rock star of all times, Sir Elton John.

I was introduced to Elton John in the summer of 1973 while on a student tour of Europe. Five girls from my high school, Delta Heritage Academy in Buras, Louisiana, went together on this trip and we were paired up with five boys from Fork Union Military Academy in Virginia. We all got to be good friends, but one boy, Al, was the most popular of his group. He was fun and flirty with all of us, and deep down inside, I think we each thought he liked us best. While sitting on the bus on long rides from one country to another, he told me about Elton John and how much he loved his music. We had music on the bus, but no Elton John. The 1972 Harvest album by Neil Young was played so much that I knew every word to every song on that album. “…I crossed the ocean for a heart of gold. I’ve been in my mind; it’s such a fine line. That keeps me searching for a heart of gold…”

After my big adventure in Europe, I returned to high school for my senior year. The chaperones had given each of us a list of the addresses of all of the students on the trip so we could keep in touch. Al began writing me and several of the other girls in my group. He ended up coming for a visit, staying part of the trip with my family and part of the trip with another family. He brought hostess gifts to my mom, and for me, he brought me a book of piano sheet music from Elton John’s most recent album, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road. One of the hits from that album was “Bennie and the Jets”. The visit did not work out exactly as I had hoped, but my book of Elton John sheet music is still sitting in my piano bench.

In August of 1974 I headed off to my freshman year of college at Southeastern Louisiana University. After my parents helped me carry all of my belongings to my dorm room, and my mom helped me unpack a few things, we said our goodbyes and they headed home, which was a good two and a half hour drive away. 8 track tape playerThe first thing I did after they left was to set up one of my prized possessions: my 8 track tape player. It was a gift from the parents of my best friend, Judy. I had visited Judy in the hospital during our sophomore year of high school and the 8 track tape player was a thank you present. I only had a few tapes: The Carpenters, Barry Manilow, Simon and Garfunkel, and of course, Elton John, and I played them over and over and over. I played them so much that they began to “drag” when I played them. I’m not sure if it was the tapes wearing out or the machine itself but I discovered I could stop the dragging by wedging my hairbrush under the tape to support it and help hold it in its correct position in the machine.

So, on that August afternoon, feeling very melancholy about being nearly alone in my dorm—hardly anyone had moved in yet, including my roommate, a girl I had never met before, I popped in my 8 track tape of Elton John’s Madman Across the Water madman across the water 8 trackand sang along while I unpacked and got myself ready for my college adventure. Even today, some forty years later, hearing “Tiny Dancer” or “Levon” yanks me right back to that dorm room in Livingston Hall, and I can even close my eyes and picture myself standing at my dorm window, watching the boys rugby team practicing on the field adjacent to my dorm, while eating tuna salad on Club Crackers.

All of my family and friends knew how much I loved Elton John’s music. Just after classes started my freshman year, I received an early birthday card from my godmother, my mother’s only sister who I have always called Nanny Pat. In the card was a note about my present. She had purchased for me a ticket to see Elton John in concert at LSU. My uncle was going to drive to Hammond to pick me up, drive my cousin, Elizabeth—who I have always called “Lizard”, and me to Baton Rouge for the concert which we would attend, and then he would drive me back to my dorm, where he would have to sign me in with my dorm mother since it would be after midnight. ELTON JOHN IN CONCERT! Was that the best gift ever?

Now, you may recall I have told you about my Nanny Pat before. She gave me the subscription to Reader’s Digest magazine when I was just a young girl—my very own copy that arrived every month addressed to ME. I absolutely loved my Reader’s Digest magazines. That was the best gift ever. But this—this was something on a whole different level. This was ELTON JOHN. I was ecstatic over this early birthday gift. Everyone on campus knew I was going to that concert.

And, that is when the nightmares began. One night I dreamed I was in my uncle’s car, in the backseat with Lizard, and we get to the arena. We go inside and find our seats. The lights go down. The stage is dark until one single light shines down on a grand piano. Then we hear the chord—that one chord. And, that is when I faint. In the dream/nightmare, I faint and slink down between the stadium seats. My cousin is frantically trying to revive me but I stay out cold until the lights all come on at the end of the concert, when I wake up, look around, and realize that I have missed the entire concert.

I told my cousin about this and she calmly said she would take care of it. I had no idea what that meant but in the car on the way to Baton Rouge she tells me that she has “smelling salts” in her purse just in case the nightmare comes true. That’s what kind of person she is, always prepared, like a Girl Scout loaded down with merit badges. And, she hasn’t changed a bit. Recently, when my father became very ill and I flew down to Louisiana to see him, there she was, driving several hours alone; leaving her boys to fend for themselves so she could come and help me out.

So, on September 29, 1974, I saw Elton John in concert with Lizard at my side. It was a glorious concert, my first ever. And, when he played “Bennie and the Jets”, I swooned but did not faint. The smelling salts were not needed I am happy to report.
concert set list (2)Thanks to the power of Google, I was able to find the setlist from the concert and I am a little surprised as to how few songs he actually played. I don’t remember it feeling short, or feeling that there were so many of his hit songs he didn’t play. I just remember how great it was and how really great my aunt and uncle were to go to all this trouble for me to see my favorite rock star in concert.

I did get to see Elton John one other time. My parents gave my husband and I tickets to see him in concert for our anniversary in 2001. It was his “Face to Face” tour with Billy Joel. face to face (3)I’m not really a Billy Joel fan but beggars can’t be choosers. The concert conveniently was scheduled for when we were going to be in Louisiana for Easter break. My parents got up at the crack of dawn the day the tickets went on sale and drove to New Orleans to buy them. My dad waited in line while my mom sat in the car. It’s hard to picture that, my dad waiting in line to buy tickets for two aging rock stars. “Bennie and the Jets” was performed near the end of the concert. Just as I was thinking he wasn’t going to play it, there it was—the chord. And, the audience erupted as it always does when he hits it. He also played my other favorites “Tiny Dancer” and “Levon”, and many others. Billy Joel was very entertaining and the two performed together seamlessly. It was a great concert.

In June of 1994 Disney released its major hit The Lion King, with the VHS tape released in 1995. Our daughters were five and three at the time, and like little sponges, memorized every single word to every song in that movie. When we finally purchased a car that had a CD player in it, I stocked it with CD’s of my favorite Elton John albums. (Yes, I had come a long way from the 8 track tape!) One day I was driving them home from school, playing an Elton John CD, when my older daughter said, “Mom, that man sounds like the man singing ‘The Circle of Life’ in The Lion King movie.” I explained to her that, yes, it was the same man, Elton John. She was so shocked that I knew who he was and that I actually had CD’s with him singing things that weren’t from her movie! The Lion King revitalized Elton John’s career and introduced him to a whole new generation. His contributions also earned him an Oscar and a Grammy for music from that film.

In early September of 1997, in the midst of extreme grief, he asked his long-time lyricist Bernie Taupin to write new lyrics to one of his classic hits to pay tribute to Diana, Princess of Wales, who had died in a car accident in Paris, France. The new song, “Candle in the Wind 1997”, began with the words “Goodbye England’s rose” and was poignant and heartbreaking. Elton John performed the song live at Diana’s funeral, adding to the already other-worldly experience of the internationally broadcast funeral of such a young, vibrant, and beautiful woman.

My favorites of his repertoire all come from seven albums produced in the 1970’s, during my high school and college days. They instantly bring me back to the carefree and happy days of being a young adult, with my entire life ahead of me. goodbye yellow brick roadThese songs, particularly those from the Goodbye Yellow Brick Road album, are the ones I go back to time and time again. In The Wizard of Oz, the yellow brick road leads Dorothy and her new friends to the Emerald City, where hopefully the Wizard will help Dorothy return home. For me, however, these songs represent a time when I was heading out to make my own way in the world. Elton John’s early work is my “coming of age” music, and all it takes is that one chord of “Bennie and the Jets” to make me feel nostalgic and homesick.

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Comfort Food, or a Meal for Comfort?

GRITS socksI was born and raised in southeast Louisiana. I didn’t go far for college, only 100 miles, and after graduation I stayed in my college town until I moved to the Washington, DC, area in early 1988. Thus, for over thirty years, I ate, drank, and lived the life of a true member of “GRITS”, a “girl raised in the south”. (I didn’t come up with that clever acronym; it was on a pair of tennis socks I bought in a gift shop in the Grand Ole Opry Hotel in Nashville, Tennessee, while on a business trip.)

I noticed the difference right away, virtually the first week after moving into my high-rise apartment in Bethesda, Maryland. Each morning I would take the elevator downstairs to walk to work. Most mornings I would arrive at the elevator at the same time as another young woman, about my age, and as we left the apartment building she was always headed in the same direction as me. The first few days I smiled at her and waited awkwardly in silence to reach the lobby. After about a week, when we got in the elevator I introduced myself and commented that it looked like we were walking to work in the same direction. We made small talk until we reached the lobby and then she said, “Have a good day” and sped off ahead of me. I never saw her again, and I lived there for two and a half years!  Obviously she didn’t want to chat with me in the elevator each morning or walk with me into downtown Bethesda, so she altered her morning schedule to avoid me. In the inimitable words of Dorothy, “Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore”.

I experienced this same distant behavior frequently in my early years living in the DC area. Some people speculate that it is because of the transient nature of the area, with people coming to DC to work on Capitol Hill, with the military, or at NIH. Even if they stay in the area long-term, living in the immediate suburbs is expensive and stressful, so most people move farther out where they can afford to buy a house and start a family. Once my husband and I had a family of our own and our girls were in school, we found friends amongst the parents of their friends as well as from people we saw at Mass every Sunday. Little by little we made ourselves at home here, but still something was lacking.

Food is the main tool I have used to bridge the gap between my southern upbringing and my life as a transplanted “Yankee”. (I know that there are those of you who will say that Marylanders are not Yankees but one of my father’s first comments after being told we were expecting his first grandchild was, “Damn, a Yankee grandchild!”) At my first job in Bethesda, I became the go-to person for desserts. I would surreptitiously find out the favorite cake or pie of my co-workers and bring it in on their birthdays. Eventually, I had people making special requests: red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting, carrot cake with coconut-pecan frosting, Mississippi mud cake, Italian cream cake, Louisiana bread pudding with hard sauce, German chocolate cake, peanut butter fudge, chocolate pecan pie, mini-cheesecakes, triple fudge brownies—these are all tried and true favorites in my trusty three-ring binder of dessert recipes.

In the south we have a tradition of bringing a hot meal to a family whenever they are in need: the birth of a child, the death of a loved one, recovering from surgery, moving into a new home, etc. Now, I know that this tradition is not exclusive to the south, and I myself have been the recipient of such kindness over the years here in Maryland. When we purchased our first home and moved in, the lady who was our home day care provider, almost like family to us, prepared a casserole of chicken cordon bleu for our first night in our new house. Yes, we ate it sitting on the floor gathered around the coffee table in the den, off of paper plates, surrounded by boxes and moving crates, but it was absolutely delicious and so appreciated. When I had the shingles in 2006, a good friend showed up at my door with a tray of Italian doughnuts: fried dough, piping hot and covered in sugar. If you haven’t experienced shingles (lucky you) you can’t even imagine how wonderful and comforting that tray of fried dough was—pure heaven. A year later, when my mom passed away, another dear friend dropped off a large container of her famous chicken salad with grapes, a platter of croissants, and a dessert. We had several great meals from that delivery, and while not strictly speaking a hot meal, one of the blessings of having a croissant stuffed with yummy chicken salad for dinner is that there are virtually no dishes to wash after.

For several years I made a large pan of lasagna to bring to friends. It seemed like the perfect meal: lasagna, garlic bread, and a salad. Now, I married an Italian and I love to eat at Italian restaurants, but otherwise I have no direct ties to that cuisine. I’m not even sure I like my lasagna so why was I cooking it for friends? Then, I switched to roasted Cornish hens on a bed of wild rice, a lovely meal, but surprisingly even people who love chicken are not a fan of the miniature gamy birds. Finally, it hit me—why not cook from my own roots? A pan of chicken jambalaya, a salad, and a baguette make a wonderful dinner, easy to transport and easy to reheat by the serving in the microwave. turkey and sausage gumboI recently took dinner to a friend who was recovering from surgery, offering a big pot of chicken and sausage gumbo, potato salad, rice for the gumbo, and triple fudge brownies for her kids.

fire king tulip mixing bowl

Fire King Tulip Mixing Bowl (set of three), vintage (mid-1950’s). Source for photograph: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/32228953556014519/

Although I am completely happy with my current gumbo recipe, my potato salad is still an issue. I mean, technically it’s fine—homemade and well-prepared—but, I am trying to recreate the potato salad of my childhood, so fine won’t cut it. My mom was the go-to person for potato salad, not only in my family, but in my entire hometown. She made it for family get-togethers at my aunt’s house. She was always assigned it when the sodality ladies in my hometown church parish prepared food for a funeral reception. My dad would peel the potatoes for her, a whole 10-pound bag at a time, using a paring knife, never a vegetable peeler. He had learned this in the Army he said, and there was very little potato on those long spirals of peel that would collect on the spread-out newspaper as he worked. French chefs are judged on the amount of potato left on the peel, and he would have passed that course with flying colors. After the potatoes were cubed and boiled, she would mix up her dressing (mayonnaise, mustard, pickle relish, some of the juice from the pickle relish jar, and vinegar) and pile it up in a white mixing bowl with tulips painted on the sides. I loved that bowl and always thought I would end up with it, but sadly Katrina got it instead.

I’ve tried many different recipes over the years. I’ve gone with every potato that can be purchased in a normal grocery store: russet potatoes, red potatoes, Yukon gold potatoes, etc. For a while, I only made German potato salad with the theory that if I couldn’t get mine to taste like my mom’s, then I would go completely out of the box and make something so totally different that any comparison would be moot. My husband wasn’t a fan, and he is particularly sensitive to potato salad where the potatoes aren’t cooked just right. So, I just gave up. I stopped making potato salad altogether. I never order it when eating out because it often has chopped boiled eggs in it, and that is the one thing (other than lychee nuts) that I absolutely can’t eat. I’m not allergic or anything, I just don’t like eggs, unless of course they are beaten up into a cake or pie or pudding or something else yummy.

After my father’s funeral in May, we all went back to my brother Tommy’s house for a family meal. My brother John Roy brought potato salad. I had asked specifically that he not put boiled eggs in it, and he obliged even though he prefers it that way. I took one bite and I was instantly transported to my mother’s table. There it was right in front of me. I asked him for the recipe and he just laughed (this is common in Louisiana).” There is no recipe,” he said, “it’s just potato salad.”  But, as always, I persisted, and so he gave me the basics and I vowed to try again.

When I made the gumbo dinner for my friend in June, I tied on my favorite apron and tried again with a 5-pound bag of russet potatoes, per my brother’s instructions. Yes, it was better—closer to my mom’s but nowhere near as good as my brother’s. I had even texted him several times while shopping for the ingredients to be sure I had it in my mind correctly, but still no dice. So, I’m not there yet. The elusive potato salad quest continues.

Bringing food to a good friend in need is an old southern tradition that I dearly love, both on the giving and receiving ends. “Can I bring you dinner?” just rolls out of my mouth the minute a friend shares difficult news with me. What better way to bring comfort to a friend other than a delivery of comforting food, regardless of the cuisine, recipe, or technical quality of the dish? Having a hot meal or a sandwich stuffed with a delicious homemade chicken salad in your own home prepared with care by someone who loves you is more than just a relief after a difficult day; it’s a reminder that home follows us, wherever we go, whatever we go through. And, as Dorothy says at the end of that timeless classic, “There’s no place like home.”

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

I’ve told you about mine; now it’s your turn! What’s your go-to comfort food or favorite meal to share? Comment below!

Here’s a few recipes to get you started in this ageless southern tradition!

Chicken and Sausage Gumbo

Ingredients for gumbo

  • 1/2 cup vegetable oil
  • 1/2 cup flour
  • 1 large onion, chopped
  • 1 red bell pepper, seeded, cored and coarsely chopped
  • 2 ribs celery, chopped
  • 1 bunch of green onions, green and white parts, chopped
  • 3 cloves of garlic, chopped
  • Meat (dark and white) from one whole chicken (see below)
  • 1 pound cooked andouille or smoked sausage, sliced into 1-inch disks
  • 3 quarts chicken stock or water (see below)
  • 1 tsp salt and 1 tsp freshly ground black pepper, or more to taste
  • garlic powder to taste
  • 1/4 teaspoon hot pepper sauce, such as Tabasco
  • 2 bay leaves
  • 1/4 teaspoon dried thyme
  • 2-3 tsp of Lea & Perrin
  • 2 to 3 cups cooked long-grain rice, warmed
  • 1 bunch of parsley (Italian flat-leaf if possible), finely chopped
  • Filé powder (optional)

Ingredients for homemade chicken stock:

  • 1 whole chicken
  • 2 stalks of celery
  • 2 large carrots
  • 1 large leek
  • 1 head of garlic
  • 1 large yellow onion

Directions for homemade chicken stock and chicken meat for gumbo:

  • Unwrap and rinse chicken, removing inner bag of chicken parts. Place whole chicken in large stock pot, including the neck from the inner bag. (Discard the rest of the chicken parts unless you want to fry up the chicken liver as a cook’s treat!)
  • In the stock pot with the chicken add
    • One large yellow onion, quartered (no need to peel)
    • Two large carrots (cleaned and scraped)
    • One large leek (sliced lengthwise almost to the root and rinsed carefully between the layers to get rid of dirt)
    • Two stalks of celery, rinsed clean, cut into halves
    • One head of garlic (no need to peel).
    • Fill pot with water, bring to a boil, reduce to a simmer and cover. Simmer for one hour or until chicken is completely cooked through to 165 degrees.
    • Remove chicken carefully and set aside to cool. Using a spider or strainer, remove the vegetables and set aside. These veggies will not be used in the gumbo but are still very tasty! (The head of garlic is delicious squeezed out and eaten on bread or mixed into mashed potatoes!)
    • Strain chicken stock and reserve for use in the gumbo. Freeze any unused stock for future use.
    • Strip all meat from chicken and tear or cut into bite-size pieces. Set aside.
    • In a large skillet over medium-low heat, heat the andouille or sausage to remove excess fat. Drain on paper towels, and set aside with chicken meat.

Directions for gumbo:

  • While you are cooking the chicken and making the chicken stock, make a roux.
    • In a large saucepan over medium to medium-low heat, whisk together the oil and flour and cook, stirring constantly with whisk or wooden spoon, to make as dark a roux as you can without burning it. (The heat can be higher, but you must stir more assiduously to avoid burning it.) Be careful! A hot roux is as hot as caramel!
  • When the roux is medium-dark, reduce the heat to low and add the onion, bell pepper, green onions, garlic, and celery. Cook them in the roux until the onions are clear and have begun to brown a little, about 10 minutes. Stir frequently to prevent burning.
  • Slowly add the chicken stock, stirring constantly to avoid lumps forming from the roux. Add the chicken meat and sliced sausage to the pot, along with the salt, pepper, hot pepper sauce, bay leaves, Lea & Perrin sauce, and thyme.
  • Bring the mixture to a boil and immediately reduce to low. Cook uncovered on low for about an hour. While it’s simmering, occasionally skim fat and foamy material from the surface.
  • Reduce heat to low and simmer the gumbo, stirring occasionally, for 1 to 2 hours (it improves with time).
  • Remove and discard the bay leaves.
  • Check seasonings and adjust to taste.
  • Just before serving, add chopped parsley. Stir well and serve.
  • To serve, put about 1/2 cup of fluffy cooked rice in individual bowls and top with about 1 cup of the gumbo. Sprinkle with filé powder, if desired.

Gumbo recipe adapted from Washington Post food section, November 20, 2005, and from Blanchard/Songy family recipes.

Triple Fudge Brownies

Ingredients

  • 1 pkg. (4 oz.) BAKER’S Unsweetened Chocolate
  • ¾ cup unsalted sweet butter (1 and ½ sticks)
  • 2 cups sugar
  • a pinch of kosher salt
  • 1 tsp instant espresso coffee powder
  • 3 eggs
  • 1 tsp vanilla
  • 1 cup all-purpose flour
  • 1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips (see note)
  • 1 tub of dark chocolate frosting

Directions

  • Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
  • In a large plastic or glass bowl, microwave chocolate squares and butter on high for 2 minutes or until butter is melted. Stir until chocolate is completely melted.
  • Stir in the sugar, the pinch of kosher salt, and espresso powder. Mix well.
  • Add eggs and vanilla; mix well.
  • Add flour and chocolate chips; stir until well blended.
  • Spread into foil-lined 13x9x2 inch pan that has been greased (spray foil with Pam).
  • Bake at 350 degrees for 30-35 minutes or until toothpick inserted in center comes out with fudgy crumbs. Do not over-bake. Allow to partially cool.
  • Open tub of frosting and remove the foil inner lid. Be sure to get all of the foil off of the rim. Microwave for 10 seconds and stir. Microwave again for 10 seconds and stir again. You are looking for a pouring consistency.
  • Pour frosting on top of warm brownies and set aside. Cool completely in pan or refrigerate for frosting to “set”.
  • Lift out of pan onto cutting board. Cut into 24 squares (6×4 rows). Cover tightly and store at room temperature.

Ghirardelli'sNote: if you want the chocolate chips to melt into the brownie rather than stay whole, do not use Nestle’s Toll House brand as they are specially formulated to retain their shape even when baked. To have the chips melt more into the brownie, use Ghirardelli’s chips.

Brownie recipe adapted from the side of the Baker’s Unsweetened Chocolate box: Baker’s One Bowl Brownies