Gen X

Baked Alaska

~ MaryG ~ 9 Comments

I wanted to make a special dessert for Christmas dinner so I decided to try a “Baked Alaska” which is something I’ve always wanted to do. It was a Bucket List dessert for me. I wasn’t even clear on exactly what’s in it, but I had a vague memory that it is delicious and special and involves flames. I think our next door neighbor growing up (Carolyn) made Baked Alaska for her big annual Christmas Eve parties. If my memory is right, Carolyn covered hers with actual flaming liquor as the final step. The internet has many examples of that step going horribly wrong, so I chose to follow my favorite baking website’s version of the recipe, which doesn’t include lighting alcohol on fire, but did urge me to purchase a kitchen torch so we could still experience some drama.

Sally’s Baked Alaska Recipe is a brownie base, with two 1.5 quart containers of any flavor ice cream (I used mint chip), covered with a toasted meringue dome. According to her recipe, if you don’t have a kitchen torch, you can bake the whole thing (ice cream and all) in a hot oven for a few minutes to toast the meringue.

I had a couple setbacks along the way. The first was that my 35-year old handheld electric mixer died during the ice cream beating step. It started to make a funny sound and then smoke started pouring out of it. I had to yank the plug out of the wall and dump the whole appliance in the trash. Fortunately, the ice cream was mostly creamy by then and I was able to finish up with a wooden spoon.

The disastrous part was that I hadn’t yet made the meringue. Have you ever tried to make meringue with ONLY a hand whisk? It took my husband and me one full hour of whisking to get the egg whites, sugar and cream of tartar to turn into “glossy meringue with stiff peaks” as directed. In the end, we prevailed, but I was really worried that our shoulders were going to be sore the next day on Christmas. (We were OK.) I was able to completely cover the ice cream dome with my stiff-enough meringue and popped the whole thing in the freezer for the next day.

The next obstacle was the kitchen torch that Sally recommended. I didn’t have one, so despite not being a fan of Billionaire Bezos, I had to order one from Amazon, with Christmas Eve delivery. And by George, Amazon did get it to me on time, but I hadn’t read the fine print about the fuel (butane) not being included. I arrived one minute after closing time at our friendly local hardware store. I wrapped on the glass hoping (and frankly, expecting) that they would unlock the front door and sell me some butane, but no dice.

I then drove to a hardware store in a nearby town and scored some butane. Phew!

The final product was delicious and dramatic, as I had hoped. Also, everyone took a turn toasting the meringue with the torch which was fun.

My one-year old granddaughter gave it a try (the Baked Alaska, not the torch) and seemed a bit startled by the flavor. I think maybe mint is a strange taste the very first time you have it. I might use plain vanilla instead of mint chip next time.

But hey, now that I own a kitchen torch, any damn thing could happen—even Crème Brûlée.

As Sally says in her recipe, if you make it a day ahead and freeze it, it takes a few minutes for the brownie base to warm-up enough for easy slicing.

From ChatGPT:

Baked Alaska originated in the 19th century, inspired by advances in insulation and refrigeration science. The dessert—ice cream and cake encased in meringue and briefly baked—demonstrated that whipped egg whites could insulate cold interiors from heat. It is commonly credited to French chef Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s Restaurant in New York, who popularized it in 1867 after the U.S. acquired Alaska. The name referenced Alaska’s cold climate, contrasting with the dessert’s hot exterior and frozen core.

Merry Christmas

~ MaryG ~ 15 Comments

OK, I’m back in a good mood now. I had a lovely Christmas Eve.

I felt profound gratitude for four things last night:

1) I have a good son. Mothers of good sons, you know what I mean! Last night my son drove me to church for choir practice and came back an hour later to sit with me during the service, which was especially meaningful as my husband couldn’t make it to church this year due to his knee surgery. My son offers his arm when we walk through icy parking lots together. ❤️

2) SINGING: I just love it. Especially on Christmas Eve at our beautiful candlelight service.

My church on Christmas Eve

3) My husband felt well enough to go out to dinner with us after church. It was his first time in a restaurant since his surgery a month ago.

4) A negative mammogram. Ladies, you know how good that feels. Even if you’ve never had breast cancer, we all have friends or family members who have had it. (I got my results on Christmas Eve at 10pm.)

And now we await the arrival of our “celebrity guest” (as my son is calling her)—my precious one-year old granddaughter and her parents.

My husband preparing his famous Lasagna Bolognese with an ice pack strapped to his new knee

Merry Christmas!

Enough

~ MaryG ~ Leave a comment

I fear my posts may be turning a bit negative this week, but I know that the holidays elicit mixed feelings for many. (In fact, my church offers a “Blue Christmas” service each year for that very reason.) What follows is a realization I came to in September but never posted. (It was in my drafts folder.) I offer it to all who may need to be a bit kinder to themselves this Christmas:

When you’ve given someone “the benefit of the doubt” for decades, it’s OK to say enough. I no longer wish to have a real relationship with this person, even if some level of communication must be maintained for practical reasons.

Trust can be eroded to the point of no return. You can be officially “done” with someone.

Perhaps you’ll actually be doing the person you’re done with a favor in the long run. If they know you will not be there for them on any type of regular basis, they may learn to take care of themselves.

And even if they don’t, it’s not your problem. Because you’re done.

Protect your peace.

Let go your guilt.

Not my cup of tea

~ MaryG ~ 4 Comments

I had one of those moments of clarity yesterday. Not on the meaning of life or anything important like that, but a small realization that I just don’t like an acquaintance (a couple actually) that I’ve known casually for decades. Without making a big deal of it, I will simply avoid interacting with them in the future.

I ended up chatting with this male person after church (as I have many times before) and he said something insensitive about my husband’s recent knee surgery. It was fairly typical of him. It was a put down of sorts. His wife, whom I’ve also known for years, is what GenXers would refer to as a “nut job.” Wacky and extremely extroverted. Case in point: when addressing the entire church from a podium yesterday, she announced that her pronouns are “She, her, ME.” Twice.

Lots of people “love” this couple (or seem to). They do a lot for the church community. But I just “do not care for them” (as an older generation might say). They’re not my cup of tea.

And that is fine.

Image from Pexels

Happy Solstice

~ MaryG ~ 6 Comments

Yesterday I participated in a sacred circle dance where we honored Yule and the winter solstice.

AI depiction of our sacred circle yesterday, which included a 90+ year old woman and her 5 adult daughters all dressed in white for her birthday

The sun set at 4:16pm yesterday so we lit a fire in our fireplace in the evening. I had a memory of how much we really wanted a fireplace when we were house hunting. (Our first house did not have one.) We only use our fireplace occasionally, but it IS special to have an an indoor fire on these longest, darkest nights of the year.

As the embers burned down, I made myself two s’mores for dessert.

And now, on Winter Solstice morning (December 21) it is still pitch black at 6:30am and I’m awaiting the replay of the livestream of the ancient chamber at Newgrange in Ireland, which we visited in June. (I wasn’t up at at 3:40am to watch it live.) We saw a demonstration of how the sun lights up the inner chamber on the solstice when we were there, but I want to see the real version.

Finally, if you missed this year’s Lucia Morning broadcast from Visby, Sweden on St. Lucia Day (December 13), it’s a great thing to experience during these dark long nights. I watch it every year. The second children’s choir (the younger kids in the adorable wool coats and sweaters) are particularly enchanting.

Wishing all of my fellow Northern Hemisphere dwellers a light in the darkness this December solstice day. It only gets brighter from here.

🔥

Poor Elise

~ MaryG ~ 5 Comments

I admit to being absolutely delighted to read that Rep. Elise Stefanik (Republican of New York) has ended her bid for Governor of New York and in fact, will drop out of Congress altogether.

After being considered a “reasonable” Republican, she went full MAGA—kissing the deranged orange baboon’s ass at every turn.

He rewarded her by jilting her—over and over and over again.

Read all about it here.

Of the many, many things I didn’t like about her, I think it was her celebration of the Dobbs decision that irked me most.

Why do “conservative” women fall into the trap of thinking they will be rewarded by the patriarchy for actively working to undermine their own rights?

Poor Elise.

Let this mini violin play you off

Thursday Doors—Boston’s North End

~ MaryG ~ 3 Comments

There are many beautiful old doors in Boston’s historic North End (aka the Italian neighborhood), but 160 Endicott Street is not one of them.

It’s an old, unrenovated building…
…in a great location in Boston’s North End—just around the corner from the original Pizzeria Regina

It is, however, a meaningful door in terms of my life story. I lived there in the early 1990s with my roommate Bridget, a friend from work. It was the last place I lived as a single woman. After that, I moved in with a boyfriend who I later married.

160 Endicott was truly a dump. It was the first floor apartment over a convenience store that I think was some type of front for a low-level gambling operation. Their most popular item was lottery tickets. They had a few dusty cans of soup and literally nothing else you would ever want to buy. The irony was the hand-carved sign, “If we don’t have it, you don’t need it.” They never had anything I needed. Not a tampon, not an Advil, nothing.

The apartment itself was totally unrenovated and smelled liked cats. The kitchen was horrible. The bathroom had cockroaches. The downstairs neighbors (who lived in an unfinished basement beneath the store) were always asking to borrow my car so they could drive to the dog racing track up north. But it was in a great location in the heart of old Boston and we could afford it on our art museum salaries, with absolutely no help from parents, which was my main objective in moving there. I really didn’t want to be beholden to my parents for anything. I needed some space from them and my troubled sister.

I took my kids back to visit in 2009. It looked much the same from the outside, but the store inside looked cleaner and nicer. New owners had taken over.

I didn’t ask to see the old apartment, but the green exterior bay window looked exactly the same. And the sign was still there:

“If we don’t have it, you don’t need it.”
That was the window of my “bedroom” which was actually the living room. I slept on a pullout sofa.
A return trip to 160 Endicott Street in 2009
In 2009, the humble exterior looked identical to how it looked in 1990.

The twenties are such a formative decade. So many forks in the road. Decisions made. Paths chosen. Roads not taken.

Memories of my time on Endicott Street include gaining a more visceral understanding of poverty (I thought our place was bad, until I saw how the people under the store were living); finally ending a longterm romantic relationship that had been going on and off for years; great authors—like Toni Morrison and Maya Angelou—introduced to me by my roommate Bridget (a reader and a feminist); and food smells—especially Bova’s bakery, open 24/7. Not much in Boston is open all night…but Bova’s is. There are better bakeries in Boston’s North End, but nothing smelled as good as Bova’s at 3am.

Posted for Dan’s Thursday Doors

Internet Chicken Parm

~ MaryG ~ 6 Comments

I wanted to make things easy on myself yesterday as I am doing all the cooking, while my husband recovers from total knee replacement surgery. (His leg still aches too much to eat out in a restaurant.) I had the idea of making chicken parmigiana with store-cooked chicken cutlets, but the price for TWO of them was $16.99, so I decided to make them myself.

Believe it or not, it was my first time making chicken parm. I looked at NYT Cooking’s version of the recipe, but then decided to go with something simpler that Google turned up:

The Best Chicken Parmesan (Parmigiana) – A Simple Palate.pdfDownload

I like how there’s a baked version of the recipe (if you don’t want to fry the cutlets in oil first), but for my first time making it, I decided to fry the cutlets.

I didn’t have sliced mozzarella, so I used about 8 ounces of grated mozzarella and it was yummy. I also didn’t have basil, so I topped with a bit of fresh parsley leftover from my Slow Cooker Garlic Butter Chicken.

My husband was very appreciative (as always) of my efforts and I liked it too. I used store bought marinara sauce (Rao’s), so it was really pretty easy.

I recommend buying high-quality organic chicken breasts (like Bell & Evans) and slicing them into cutlets yourself before pounding.

Buy the good chicken breasts for best results
Served on leftover pasta with a salad

Sibling equality

~ MaryG ~ 3 Comments

I’m sad about Rob Reiner and Michele Singer being murdered by their drug-addicted son.

I mostly feel badly for their other three adult children.

I have no idea what went on in this family, but I can relate to the situation of having a sibling for whom life is considered “more difficult” and is therefore indulged and supported endlessly—especially financially.

In my opinion, parents of adult children should keep careful track of how much money they give to each adult child. They should also consider the huge and selfless undertaking of raising children (aka their grandchildren) when sharing their resources.

If one adult child is allowed to act like a teenager into adulthood (aka Peter Pan Syndrome), you’re going to have problems.

Equity matters. Sometimes tough love is required. Never ask a healthy, functioning adult child to get involved in their sibling’s problems. (That’s up to them, if they want to do that.)

Having multiple children is a choice. Siblings may or may not get along later in life. One way you can increase your chances of family harmony is to expect adult behavior from adults. And keep track of how much financial support you provide each adult child. This may sound cold and calculating, but it can help you see things more clearly, when needed.

27-year old orphan Romy Reiner with her late father Rob. This poor girl found her parents’ bodies and had to name her brother as the killer. How did it get to that point? What choices were made?

Healing stew (hopefully)

~ MaryG ~ 5 Comments

The healing process for my husband’s knee replacement is ongoing. Sadly, we had to cancel dinner with our son for his 25th birthday tonight, because my husband just isn’t ready for restaurants yet. There’s still a ton of pain, swelling, and stiffness, which apparently is normal at this stage (3 weeks post-op), but he’s never dealt with anything like this, so it’s pretty hard.

I decided to try a recipe I saw on NYT Cooking “most popular recipes of 2025” list—Slow Cooker Garlic Butter Chicken. It looked easy and it was. My husband loved it. He said the flavor was great and it really was. I even made my own croutons, which soaked up the delicious sauce perfectly.

New England is experiencing real “depths of winter” cold right now. (It’s giving late January vibes.) Given the very cold weather and the knee, I think this was a success. And so easy.

Next time I’ll put the croutons in the dish first to absorb as much sauce as possible 😋

Here’s the recipe:

Slow Cooker Garlic Butter Chicken .pdfDownload

Slow cookers (aka crockpots) are the best, right?