I could write volumes about the time we spent wandering between houses or how my kids would casually hop the fence and walk in their back door unannounced except for a loud, “Does anyone want to play with chalk?” Or that I frequently ran out of tomato paste and would often text the Babysitter Daughter who would then walk a can over to me, saving the soup.
How the Mother taught me (among other things) that pizza dough and French bread were not things you could only buy from a store, but you could make them at home. And how you could get the perfect rise by leaving the dough tucked safely in the trunk of your car on a warm day. How the girls were available for last minute babysitting or dropped by with coloring pages or bird house building kits.
We often joked that it would be more efficient to build an underground tunnel that connected the two houses. How lucky we were.
Maybe someday I’ll tell you more about the Rodgers — for now, I’ll tell you about peas.
Starting in my teenage years and through my kids’ youths we spent Thanksgiving at a deteriorating Tudor mansion on the West side of Oakwood. It was the home of my dad’s cousin. And while I can now appreciate the old home with all its collectible art and Turkish rugs, at the time, it was mostly full of strange smells, under-seasoned turkey and Jell-O salad.
When I became a mother, I began to understand the obligatory nature of this Thanksgiving tradition but I was desperate to save the holiday for my own kids.
After several years of groaning reports of our un-festive holiday — the Baker Daughter said, “why don’t you come over for pie afterward?” So it was that we would put in our time at the family gathering where my children dutifully passed appetizers or offered drink refills, their spirits rejuvenated with a new tradition. PIE AT THE RODGERS! Shortly after the first guest left, I’d announce that it was nearing bedtime for the twins, we’d give our quickest regards and drive down the windy driveway — en route to the pie-studded after party.
Depending on the year, we’d fill our plates with seconds (ahem, the aforementioned under-seasoned turkey did not suffice) or load up on small slices of the many, many pies. There was always peanut butter, pumpkin, apple, pecan, chocolate, and several others; most of the time accompanied by some lovingly iced sugar cookies and a triple layer cake.
I was endlessly attempting to impress (or be adopted by) their family, so I never showed up empty handed. I had a clear understanding that my contribution would pale in comparison to what they had on the table, but insisted on bringing something nonetheless.
My kids stripped out of their required formalwear and into faded sweatpants, I tossed a bottle of champagne in my bag — and off we went on the 12-second walk to spend the end of the evening with non-family that felt more like family than family. To eat and drink champagne huddled in piles on the floor watching “Wall-E” while the Dad added his own spirited commentary.
One year, I opened the fridge to find that I had forgotten the champagne. With my kids itching to walk next door and being physically unable to enter a party empty-handed, I quickly combined three things I almost always have on hand. Frozen peas, a shallot and grated Pecorino Romano. The Rodgers Grandmother (the Grandmother was like impressing the mother, but even better) raved about the dish as she helped herself to seconds. She asked me for the recipe which I was too embarrassed to share.
This is the kind of thing that tastes better than the sum of its parts and if you’re forced to plop it in a pretty dish and bring it to a party — people might just want the recipe. It’s up to you if you share it.
”But First, Food” columnist Whitney Kling is a recipe developer who lives in southwest Ohio with her four kids and a cat. She is usually in the kitchen creating something totally addictive — and usually writing about it.
Peas and Pecorino
Serves 6 as a side
Cook time: 12 minutes
1 tbsp. olive oil
1 shallot, chopped
1 bag frozen peas, thawed
2 tbsp. grated Pecorino Romano cheese
1 tsp. Kosher salt
1/4 tsp. black pepper
Warm the olive oil in a medium sized pan. Add the shallot and cook until translucent and soft. Add the peas and warm through. Off the heat, add cheese, Kosher salt and black pepper. Serve warm.
About the Author
