Archive | November 26, 2012

Purple rain

Here’s the song reference.

Beanie is an adventurous eater.  She was the first one to try sushi with actual raw fish, the first one to determine that not sauce is not necessarily a bad thing, the first one to decide that grapefruit is a foodstuff and not a projectile.  One of her favorite things about the period between Thanksgiving and Christmas is the availability of what is affectionately known as “cranberry goo,” the canned, jellied cranberry sauce that can be cut into slices.  She and Manie share a predilection for the purple stuff, but Beanie’s love for it approaches mania status.

Since we celebrated Thanksgiving at Nonno and Deedaw’s this year, the cranberry goo stayed at our house; Grandma makes a cranberry-orange relish from scratch that is one of Deedaw’s favorite things, and since she generously made two quarts of it to share, we took that in lieu of the tin can.  While yesterday’s breakfast biscuits were baking, I rummaged through the fridge for leftovers that could be eaten with biscuits; tucked neatly between the turkey and the ham stood the beloved can.  Biscuits were therefore served with a platter bearing sliced ham, sliced turkey, butter, and thick, purple slices of cranberry sauce.

Having smelled biscuits, Bugaboo had been lingering in the kitchen doorway, waiting for the moment when they were declared cool enough to eat.  Beanie, who is not a fan of staches of any kind, was busy in the girls’ room making a corral for her ponies out of a toy baby cradle and string.  When we called the girls to the breakfast table, Bugaboo assumed her seat before the word “breakfast” had cleared my lips, while Beanie did the slow amble down the hallway that is her standard wordless commentary on meals she doesn’t expect to enjoy.

I exhorted her, “Come on, Beanie, there’s a special surprise on the table for you.”

That, at least, got her feet moving a little faster.  She didn’t look up at the table until she got to her seat, and the first thing she spied was the stick of butter.  Beanie LOVES butter.

“You’re going to let me eat the butter?”

“Um, not so much, but you can have some on a biscuit if you want.  Look again.”


She started bouncing in her chair with such abandon that I thought she might either tip it over sideways or punch a hole in the kitchen floor with it.  Laughing, I cubed a couple of slices onto her plate.  She built little forts and box trains with the cubic jewels  of cranberry goo as she ate them, narrating as she went.  When Baby Guy came to the table a few minutes later, she generously offered him a chunk.  He smiled warily at her (Beanie’s gifts have been known to be less than wonderful to Baby Guy’s way of thinking), then took a little nibble.  Seconds later, he was lurching forward in his booster chair in an attempt to grab the rest of the reddish-purple circles.

“Look, Mommy.  Baby Guy likes cranberry goo jello, too.  Can we get some more?”

“I think maybe Santa needs to leave a case of it under our Christmas tree.”


I think a phone call to our local grocer is in order.

Today’s prayer:  Lord, thank You for the abundant food with which you have blessed us.  Our pantry and refrigerator are full, with enough to share with those whom You have blessed differently.  Thank You for the endless variety of edible berries You created, which so delight Your blessings and us all year, for the bees and birds which pollinate them, for the rich earth that nourishes them, for the farmers that grow and tend them, for the people who work in the stores where we buy them.  Thank You for little blessings who tend our berries in the summer, and for their nimble hands and eyes that so deftly distinguish the good fruit from the bad.  Please help me teach Your blessings that all good gifts from You touch more lives than we can see, to give thanks to You for the uniqueness of each berry and each person, and to share the harvests You give with all those who need them — and thank You, Lord, for little blessings who see the blessing in a small thing like a can of jellied cranberry sauce.