Knit Like You Mean It.

Jane Lawton: Eccentric Chef, Delightful Mother.

I’ve been gone for way too long, people. I’m getting used to the very short terms Oxford has (just 8 weeks) and the intensity of the studying that goes on during that time. But at the beginning it was all wailing, gnashing of teeth, and sadly ignored knitting needles. And now it has been more than a month since I’ve written here – which, as you know, is like the cardinal sin of blogging. I am so, so sorry, people. As a bribe to encourage forgiveness, I have a special giveaway at the bottom of this post (remember those?). Exciting?

All three of you who have been reading for a while may remember that this is the time of year when I write about my mother. It’s near the anniversary of her death, and writing something about her seems to help me honor her. So my next post will be chock-full of yarn and news and crazy stories, including why our bed only arrived today and how the cat has been settling in, but for now you’re stuck with Jane. [Or you can scroll down for the yarn.]

Jane Lawton passed away four years ago, on Nov. 29, and she left a huge hole in my life (and the lives of others, of course). She was quite the character. Born in Muskogee, Oklahoma, she grew up in Ada, a small but nice town that seems to be best known outside of Oklahoma for its usefulness in crossword puzzles. She was one of those strong pioneer women. Mom had southern charm and crazy, and the story I’m going to tell you this time is one of my favorites. And one of Mr. Trask’s favorites. That’s right…it’s time for the story of…The Sweet Quiche.

Mom in the Kitchen (the scene of the crime)

So, a very yuppie tradition in our family is the making of quiche. We did it when I was little, and the book Real Men Don’t Eat Quiche had just come out (my father helped, even), mostly on Sunday mornings. I remember watching my mother make it, and I remember helping her, later. For some reason, I think my father was often in charge of cutting the onions. But I might be making that up. I associate quiche with those lazy Sunday mornings when the Sunday paper would be spread out all over the den and my father would be dancing with the dog to Simon & Garfunkel’s “Cecilia.”

Later on, my mother started making it for Christmas brunch. A fine tradition, combining eggs, pastry, and occasionally vegetables. My sister, a vegetarian, could eat something substantial (broccoli/cheddar quiche), while the rest of us had Quiche Lorraine (one of the best foods ever). [Obviously, this was before I was diagnosed with gluten sensitivity. I am still looking for a good gluten-free quiche recipe. I can hardly talk about it, people.]

Anyway, one Christmas we were all going to my mother’s house for presents and food, and (like a good daughter) I called to see whether I could bring anything. “No, I’m fine!” she said brightly. I mention this phone call because I feel it is important for later on. I wonder now whether she sounded a little strained, but that is probably just the power of suggestion.

Here Mom is on one of her many hiking trips. No cooking disasters here!

We all met at Mom’s; we opened some presents; we admired the tree; we decided to have a little food. There was salad; there were bagels; there was quiche.

We all dug in, because there is nothing the Lawton family likes more than a little quiche. This one was broccoli/cheddar, and I think my sister was the first person to get a funny look on her face about it. I know I was the one who said, “Mom, this quiche tastes a little odd.”

She might have answered a little too quickly. “No, it doesn’t! It tastes fine!”

“No…” my father said, slowly. “It’s weird.” The quiche was a little heavier than usual, and a little…sweeter. Except for the aforementioned broccoli and cheddar, one might have taken it for a pie.

“Mom, this quiche tastes sweet,” I said.

“It’s fine!” she said.

“It’s really sweet,” my sister said.

“It’s Oklahoma Sweet Quiche!” she said defensively. “It’s…a southern delicacy!”

Here Mom is in a really old Christmas photo. You can see the tree in the background (and that her hair had been highlighted strangely).

Eventually, she broke down and admitted that she’d gotten all the way to the end of the recipe before realizing she didn’t have any half-and-half. And here is where I feel that she got a bit caught up in the moment. You know how it is – you’ve got the broccoli all sauteed, you’ve broken the eggs into the mixing bowl, the oven is pre-heated, people are coming over, and…you get a little crazy.

Instead of going out and buying some, or asking someone else to bring some (see above!), like a normal person would have done, she decided to substitute. Did she sub in milk? No…not thick enough. Did she sub in more eggs? I can’t see how that would have worked, although it would have been better than what she did do. No; all she could find was condensed milk. As in, sweetened condensed milk. And then she tried to pass off the resultant custard-with-broccoli as Oklahoma Sweet Quiche. A blot on a fine woman’s record of entertaining; a slur on the State of Oklahoma.

I ask today: Who are we to judge the actions of a hostess on Christmas Day? Who among us has not found we lacked something at the critical moment of a recipe? Who has not looked disaster in the face, and decided to brazen it out?

All that said, it was with great relief that we sent my father out for more eggs, and bacon. And that was the year that I decided to bring a few cereal bars in my knitting bag when I went out to eat, just in case.

Maybe next year I’ll tell you the story of the exploding turkey.

On to the giveaway! People, the Plug + Play Pembrokeshire Retreat (happening again next year – get more info here) had the best goody bag I have ever received. Three different skeins of amazing yarn – beautiful stitch markers – various other goodies – and everything we needed to design with lace. Today, I offer you: one of the skeins of yarn.

This is gorgeous Alisha Goes Around yarn, Pulchitrude of Peacocks Fingering, in a gorgeous green colorway. It would be exactly right for your next set of handwarmers or even a lace cowl. I am having trouble letting go of it, but you know how much I love you guys, and I want you to have something from my time in Wales! So….check it out:

Glorious Alisha Goes Around Yarn (on one of the boxes containing our new bed)

Just comment on the blog by noon UK time on Friday, Dec. 9, and tell me your best or worst cooking story, or knitting story, or – hey! – even a Jane Lawton story. As always, I’ll use the Random Number Generator to select one of you for yarn-y goodness, and I’ll mail you the yarn. If you want to donate to the cost of shipping, you can, but there’s no requirement to. No strings attached; just yarn in one lucky person’s mailbox. What’s not to love?

Next week, a post about knitting – all the cool knitting things I’ve seen this fall – and then a report on my trip to The Hague next week (where I plan to visit any LYS I can find). We’re back, people! Thank you for your patience.