The Best of Margie and Edna

Margie: You all know how often we talk about our Special Tea. For all the new folks who need or want to get our recipe then check out this post that we did early in 2008.

Eggnog pie

Edna: Margie, look here at this recipe I got from a friend of mine. Eggnog pie! My lands, have you ever heard of such a thing?

Margie: I've never heard of that, Edna. My personal opinion is that it would be better if we replaced that rum extract with about a pint of good rum.

Edna: I knew you were going to say that. You probably don't remember the last time you tried to cook something that way, considering you drank all the rum and didn't leave any for the recipe. I let you sleep on the kitchen floor that night.

I think I'm going to try and make this for Christmas. We'll have to send Cousin T into town for the ingredients.

Margie: Edna, you're so mean to your elders.

If you're sending Cousin T to the store then you best have him pick up a larger bottle of rum. It'll warm up my old bones.

Edna: Ha! Elder is right.

I'll have Cousin T pick you up some rum, you old lush, but you'd best leave me a little bit for the pie.

Margie: Edna, you can ruin a pie better than anybody I know.

Edna: Then you don't have to eat any, fine by me.

Eggnog Pie

1 pre-made graham cracker crust
1 4-¾ ounce box instant vanilla pudding mix
2 cups good eggnog
1/3 cup milk
splash rum extract (You can substitute 1/4 cup of rum for the rum extract, if desired)

Mix pudding, eggnog, milk and extract until thick. (Mixture will be very thick.) Then, pour into the shell and let sit in the fridge at least a day before serving.

The Secret's in the Sauce

Image courtesy of Duke University Libraries Digital Collections

Edna: Margie, with Thanksgiving coming up, people's minds seem to be on what they're going to serve for dinner. Why, just the other day, Darcy Hawkins asked me for my cranberry sauce recipe.

Margie: Edna, I hope you didn't give it to her since you're no cook. If you made cranberry sauce you'd only do it to spite me. I hate that stuff.

Edna: More for me, then. And you can just hush up about my cranberry sauce, I'll have you know that it's always in demand at church suppers.

It did give me pause when she asked for the recipe though, since I never wrote it down. I cook like Mama did, from memory and by improvising. Here's what I came up with for Darcy, I hope it turns out well for her.

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Edna's Cranberry Sauce

1 12-ounce bag fresh cranberries, rinsed
3/4 cup water
1/4 cup orange juice
1/2 cup sugar (more or less to taste)
1 cup grated apple
1 cup coarsely chopped walnuts
orange zest (if desired)

In Corningware or enamel saucepan, combine the water and OJ. Using medium heat, stir the sugar into the liquid until it's dissolved. Add the washed cranberries to the mixture and turn heat on high. Stirring the berries occasionally, listen for the berries to start popping--this should take about 10 minutes or so. Once the berries begin to pop, stir the mixture occasionally and cook for about 5-10 minutes over high heat. (Cook for longer if you want the berries to break down more and your sauce to be thicker; the less you cook them, the more the berries keep their shape and consistency and the thinner your sauce is. However, if you are going to cook the sauce for more than 10 minutes, reduce the heat to medium to prevent scorching.) After you have cooked the cranberries as long as you want, remove from heat and add the apples and the walnuts (and orange zest, if desired). Let the sauce stand for about an hour before putting it in the refrigerator to chill, preferably overnight. Do not store in a metal container due to the high acid content of the sauce.

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Margie: Edna, you sully Mama's memory because she was a wonderful cook. What you call cooking would only be fit for pig slop.

You know what? It's not in demand at church suppers. People are just being mannerly to an old lady by taking some.

Edna: I suppose they were being mannerly by eating it all and coming back for seconds, too? Well that's just fine Margie, you don't have to eat any of my cranberry sauce when I make it for Thanksgiving dinner. Cousin T and will eat it all ourselves. Don't you think I'll share any of that pecan pie I'm making, either.

Margie: Thank you, Edna. That's right kindly of you.

Margie's Home Cooking

Margie: Edna, I invited Cousin T for dinner tonight. I declare, that boy beats all. He's just like all these other young people who think home cooking means microwaving or opening a box.

Remember that time I told him I'd made a cake from scratch and he wouldn't eat it? I knew something was wrong because he eats anything. He finally told me he wasn't going to eat anything made from scraps. Lord a mercy!

Edna: Margie, don't you be too hard on Cousin T. You know that half the time you're talking to him he's got his head in the clouds, thinking of some project or another. It's not his fault that he misunderstood you about that cake. Besides, you know he loves your cooking--although goodness knows why. You cook about as well as a pig can knit a pair of socks. It's a wonder you haven't given us the ptomaine poisoning before now.

Margie: You're a lying liar, Edna. I haven't noticed you laying down your shovel or not eating when I cook. You're just mad because Mama left me her recipe book.

Mama knew all about cooking a fine meal. She once said that's how she caught a good husband. Daddy sure loved everything she fixed. Remember her iron skillets? And her fried chicken?

Edna: Margie, the only reason I tolerate your cooking is because you pitch a fit and sulk for days if I don't eat what you fix. You're as bad as a two-year-old sometimes.

And yes, Mama surely did know how to cook. She may have left you her recipe book, but she sure didn't leave you her know-how. I wouldn't mind having a taste of her fried chicken again, that's the truth. And her pecan pie was this close to sinful. What are you going to fix for Cousin T?

Margie: You won't be getting any but I'm cooking fried chicken and gravy, mashed potatoes, hot biscuits, green peas, and a Death by Chocolate cake.

Cousin T will sleep for days after that meal.

Edna: Oh, merciful heavens! I'd best call Cousin T and warn that boy not to come to dinner. If he eats all that, there's gonna be death at the table tonight for sure, but not by chocolate. Don't you remember the last time you cooked that kind of meal for him? He spent the rest of the night getting his stomach pumped. It wasn't pretty.

Margie: Pretty is as pretty does, Edna.

Special Tea

Margie: Edna, I've been thinking about my Special Tea recipe. It's been in the family for a long time but you and I don't have children so we need to pass it down to someone who will treasure it.

Read it and tell me who you think we should give it to.

Edna: Margie, I think it's safer if you keep that recipe under lock and key. You know that the church ladies have been dying to get that recipe for their annual fund raising cookbook, but they just can't hold their special tea. You don't want to be responsible for all of those God-fearing folk going on four-day benders, do you?

Margie: I suppose you're right, Edna. Let's go make some Special Tea, shall we?

2 cups sweet red wine
2 cups strong tea
2/3 cup rum
1/2 cup packed brown sugar
1/2 cup rye whiskey
1/2 cup orange juice
1/3 cup gin
1/3 cup brandy
1/3 cup lemon juice
1 bottle dry champagne

Mix all ingredients except champagne. Cover and Refrigerate for several days. Stir in champagne just before serving. Makes 20 servings.