Christmas Story, Charleston Stage

Charleston Stage Presents ~A Christmas Story~ I believe it was in September when I received the glossy card stock mailer from Charleston Stage. I scanned it quickly and then did an audible "Omg” Charleston Stage presents Christmas Story! I sat the card up by my computer and have watched the calendar days roll down since. Ok, it's my birthday and what do I want to do? Yup, Christmas Story! Not that it took convincing Don who could play Ralphie and his father simultaneously without a script. I am going to have to watch him to keep him from blurting out the lines. We anticipate couch night with the classic movie every year, but the play will be a first. I'm here to tell you they have a lot to live up to here. We carry the Christmas Story pandemonium a bit further and have adopted the tradition of eating Chinese on Christmas day as well. Julian Wiles, Cast and crew have surpassed my expectations of the this Christmas classic. in their very first presentation of Christmas Story and they knocked it out of the ball park. It may very well become another holiday tradition for my family. Becca Anderson as Ralphie's mother, Victor Clark as Ralphie's (old man) and Josh Harris as grown up Ralphie were phenomenal as were ALL of the actors from the Kid Stage Performance Troupe and Theatre Wings High School Apprentice Program. A special shout out to Joshua (Ralphie), Michael McCoy as (Flick) and Nikita Narodnitskiy as Scut Farkus. The stage sets were fantastic and magical, totally recreating the feel of several scenes in the original movie, if not better. I particularly liked the department store with Santa set. There are only 4 more performances. Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Hurry and get tix! http://www.charlestonstage.com/home.html I'll leave you with a few of my fave Christmas Story quotes; Fudge! Only I didn't say "Fudge." I said THE word, the big one, the queen-mother of dirty words, the "F-dash-dash-dash" word! It's a Major Award! Mr. Parker reads a side of the box with the prize that he won Mr. Parker: Fra-gee-lay. That must be Italian. Ralphie as Adult: [narrating] Scut Farkus! What a rotten name! We were trapped. There he stood, between us and the alley. Scut Farkus staring out at us with his yellow eyes. He had yellow eyes! So, help me, God! Yellow eyes!

Over the river and through the woods~ Renae Brabham

Car serviced, gassed up, packed, Christmas presents tidily stacked in rear, Christmas bow on the front grill of car, hamster and aquarium fish overfed?
Well, that's the way the annual exodus to SC from NC for Christmas should start, but not for our gang. Most of the time we would pile into the car groggily after waiting for either Don or myself to finish a weird double shift at work. The overworked parent usually slept the whole way while the other drove. Five hours of bundled Christmas energy sat behind that driver.   Frequent kicks into the back of the seat or screeches of "She's touching me" made the driving parent envy the overworked parent. Touching wasn't hard to do when you have a Toyota Corolla and 2-4 kids in the back seat. Don was the sleeping parent on one particular trip and I was making good time. I remember thinking how jovial and spirited the other holiday drivers and passengers were this particular holiday season. As I weaved in and out of traffic they  smiled, grinned and laughed. I checked the rear view mirror to see if the kids were making faces at them while passing. The driver's and passengers seemed happier the further along we got. Then, I passed a lady who started beating the wheel and laughing hysterically. I glanced over at Don while checking my side mirror to change lanes and figured out why everyone was so entertained. Don slept, mouth agape....his face plastered to the window glass in drool. Geez..
The poor hamster and fish? We usually remembered about 100 miles down the road. The neatly wrapped presents in hatchback? Nope, never happened. We usually bought the Christmas presents at a truck stop off of I-77 when we stopped to get our boiled peanuts after crossing the SC state line. Toy Hess trucks, Pecan Logs and Budweiser Christmas mugs filled our Santa sack.
I always tried to save the license tag game for the last leg of the trip.  It usually ended minutes later with a argument. ex. "You already said North Hampshire!"
Over the river and through the woods, to grandmother's house we go, sounds nice, but our crew was all about "Grandma getting run over by a reindeer."
There were always so many people that we wanted to see but couldn't squeeze everyone in, we were destined to tick someone off with a no show. But we did try to alternate homes, this would be my brother's year. He had recently moved to a home we had not visited. I called him the night before we left and scribbled down the directions. Take a left on Main, right and third home on left...got it.  He told us before we left that he wouldn't be home, but come on in and he would see us when he got off work.
Whew, we were so ready to get out of that car. The kids were fighting over who was first to use the bathroom.  All four of them made it to the door at the same time. It was locked, my brother must have forgotten to leave the key. Don and I looked for a key in all of the obvious hiding places. Don found another way in, maybe not the right way, but nothing broke. Kids shoot off in all directions to find bathrooms. I plop on couch and Don goes straight to frig and gets a beer out. He plops on the couch with me, grabs the remote and flicks on the television . He is twisting the cap off of the beer. "Tim has got the place looking really nice" I said while  relaxing on the couch and looking about the room. Both of us noticed the framed pics on the entertainment center at the same time. Hmm...a balding policeman in uniform with a young boy.  Next pic. Policeman with family. Oh Fuuuuuudddge!  Only I used the F-dash-dash-dash word. Yes, the mother of all potty words. The kids come running. Go..go...go...get out!  We are herding everyone as we fly down the steps. That little Corolla peeled up some asphalt that day as we left. This was time before cell phones. I get to a pay phone and called my brother at work. He lives 3 houses further down. We parked the Corolla in the back of his place and anticipated a police cruiser pulling up the rest of the day to get us for B&E.
There always seemed to be a trip malady. We knew it was going to happen, just didn't know what it would be. Leaving the gas cap on the hood while driving off, heater quits working, car overheats, windshield wiper goes out. I was driving back on one trip when the windshield wiper motor went out in the pouring rain. We were still over 100 miles from home. Again, time before cell phones. I pulled the car over, got out and determined the motor was gone, the blade would return to it's down position every time I pushed it up. I got back into the car soaking wet and sat for a few minutes thinking about what to do. I pulled off my pantyhose, got out of the car and tied one leg to the top of the driver's side blade and threaded the pantyhose back through car window. I drove with one hand for the rest of the trip while yanking the blade up and letting it fall back so that I could see to get home.  
No, our memories may not be Hallmark card picturesque. But, they will always bring smiles.  The grill of our car was more likely to have a McDonald's cheese burger wrapper on it than a Christmas wreath or bow. We learned a lot from those road trips though. Hamsters are hardier without food than guppies. And those Budweiser mugs we bought at the truck stops are actually worth something today.

Hall's Chophouse ~ Charleston, SC

Well, this column was initially going to be about my birthday night downtown Charleston. Within a half hour of entering 474 King Street, I realized that I could not combine the experience that we had at Halls Chophouse with any other topic. The evening overshadowed every minute of the day and was the best experience of any kind that I have had in Charleston. Even my birthday became secondary. Halls Chophouse is everything wonderful about the Holy City nestled into one establishment. To fellow residents who have not had the pleasure yet, you are missing out. To my friends from out of state who plan to visit Charleston, put this on your itinerary. My birthday was coming up and I wanted to go downtown for dinner and a play. When we discussed where it would be, Halls Chophouse was my choice. We arrived early, 5:00 pm to be exact, from the minute we walked in, we were welcomed and patted on like we had been favorite customers for eons. An 18 inch butchers block sat on the corner of the bar filled with Prosciutto Ham, heirloom tomatoes, mushrooms, healthy wedges of Bleu Cheese and Brie with various other soft and hard cheeses cuddled alongside crisp bacon plunged into bowls of incredible dips. A couple at the bar could hardly contain their excitement about their upcoming meal. They explained to us that they were visiting from Texas and had cancelled events so that they could dine here all 3 nights before returning. They said that they rarely ate out back in Texas anymore and never ate seafood of any kind anywhere else since eating here. They promised many pleasures to come to our night. How many places can you say you have supped that by the end of the night you knew all of their names? This is the order of how we met the ~Family~ Carrie was our dream weaver. She presented a platter with steaks that had Don positively trembling in his seat. Carrie explained all of the cuts and the cooking processes of each. For instance, did you know that the prime strip of meat on the rib eye is called the deckle? It is the cap of the rib eye and favored by chefs and critics alike as one of the most flavorful and tender pieces of the steak. Carrie described all of the chef's creations with a zeal that would make Julia Child proud. She loves her job, says so and it is evident. Frank a GM, was a joy to talk to, he gave us tidbits of history and information about the restaurant and food preparation as well as ordering hints. Namely, not to eat too much. My birthday cake would be a grand finale. Tommy Hall GM & Proprietor is all that and a bag of chips. Fun, professional and debonair. He welcomed us warmly as he did soul after hungry searching soul from the sidewalk to the entry. In a casual yet professional way, Tommy assured us that the night was ours to enjoy and that he and the rest of the staff were there to insure just that. I hesitate to call them staff. Every warm body that wasn't sitting down appeared to be family and by the end of the night, so were we. The sun dipped behind King Street and the lamp lights were glowing outside the picture window. We watched the parade of locals and tourist. The dishes we ordered arrived perfectly timed, perfectly cooked and I will tell you that Don and I both concur that we have never had a more delicious meal. Chef Matthew Niessner came out after the first dinner wave, he was a charming man with a passion for his food quality, taste and presentation, all which was evident in each bite. Course by course, bite by bite, we exclaimed every adjective in our vocabulary. I believe at one point I went into social media jargon "OMG" and then spilling into a little jersey girl with "Shut the front door" followed by guttural sighs, ooohs and ahhhs. Finally we chewed silently with satisfied pleasure that had us just shaking our heads in awe. Billy Hall Sr. and his beautiful wife Jeanne arrived, completing the concerto. Each made their way around the restaurant, greeting and conversing with everyone. We proclaimed all of the wonderful things above to Billy, he positively beamed as if it was the first time he had ever heard the accolades. He took me upstairs to show me the other dining halls. Billy Sr. designed the restaurant. Jeanne was genuine, warm and hospitable. She also came over to chat with us. Even though we talked with all of these people, there was an absence of presence that assured us that we were alone to enjoy our evening. I watched as every single person that entered the restaurant was greeted warmly with handshakes and hugs. Even though the restaurant was full by now, there was never a push to rush a single soul. I didn't get to meet Billy Hall Jr, which means we have to go back! My Birthday Meal Halls Chophouse December 7th, 2012 Oysters Rockefeller w/Bulls Bay Oysters, 1/2 fresh jacketed lemon. Fried Green Tomatoes topped with a Shrimp Remoulade Halls Chopped Salad Petit Filet Mignon for myself, 16 oz Rib eye for Don. Cooked to perfection is an understatement. I literally could not believe it wasn't cream centered with butter. It was the most delectable piece of meat I have ever eaten. Don agreed unanimously. Creamy Sautéed Brussels Sprouts w/pork. I have long sat on the fence waffling to and fro with the tiny little cabbages. Not any more. Absolutely incredible Loaded Baked Potato Dessert: Frank asked me if I trusted him to choose for me. At that point, I would have trusted him with passwords for my offshore bank accounts. Frank and Carrie arrived with two dessert dishes. A flaming plate with a generous serving of 15 layer Caramel Cake w/Banana's Foster and candle for me. Frank explained to me that a lady in Georgetown makes these cakes layer by layer in her spring form pan for them. Don had the Whiskey Bread Pudding, New Orleans style warm bread, sun dried cherries, pecans & bourbon crème anglaise. It was equally as sinful as mine. To conclude. Don and I both have discussed this experience for days. We are still rendered speechless. Don finally helped me put the feeling into words today. He reminded me of a story I told him years ago about renowned violinist Nichola Paganini, circa 1813. Nichola was so incredibly good that acclaimed violinist were known to smash their own violins to bits after attending a concert of his. Few believed that it was possible to exceed the perfection they had witnessed. That pretty much sums it up for us. Coming from a gal who loves to cook and does so for over 300 days a year, I totally experienced that feeling. I didn't want to cook anything the next day. Anything and everything that I thought of paled in comparison. I leave you with this website and encourage you to experience what we did in Charleston on my birthday night. Halls Chophouse, Dock Street Theatre (story coming) Conde' Nast. You were dead on right. Charleston, SC. Best US city!

hallschophouse.com

Becca's Christmas Cards~Renae Brabham

Before I share this story there are a few things I would like to predicate it with. I have promised to share this true story in some way or another since the year that it happened in 2008. I believe we all know of friends and family who have gone through the uncertainty and devastation of cancer. There are many others who are stricken with other diseases, maladies and burdens. The intention of sharing this is not to make anyone sad. Actually it is a message of joy and strength and the true magic of Christmas. December 2009. I had this story saved on a computer that crashed recently. I took the hard drive to Office Depot, but the information on the drive was irretrievable. Go figure. So, I sit now at the keyboard to recall the events of the day. I didn't want to start because two very important parts of the story have eluded my memory. However, God has chosen not to re-reveal them to my memory and his way is better than mine. Christmas Season 2008. The economic downturn had hit our business extremely hard. I was cutting corners every way that I knew how. If it wasn't absolutely necessary, it wasn't coming into the house. It was a brisk cold Saturday morning, the perfect day to pull out those holiday scarves and sweaters. But, I knew that the list I had in front of me didn't call for any celebratory clothing. Saturday was my grocery shopping and errand day. Just the basics on my list, except for the Christmas Cards. I was held up it seemed all morning. A delay in walking out the door everywhere I turned. I was to the point of almost deciding to do this another day. I finally made it into car with my list. Singing along with the radio Christmas tunes, I drove right past Wal Mart. hmmmm. A thought popped into my head. "Let's go to Hallmark and get our Christmas cards." Where in the world did that thought come from? I can't afford Hallmark's Christmas boxed cards. Then, I drove right past Sam's Club too! hmmmm. Another thought, "Well it won't hurt to look at the pretty cards." I pulled up to Hallmark. The store is filled with people in Christmas sweaters and hats and scarves, Christmas music is playing and the tree is twinkling. "Well this is festive" I thought. The boxed card aisle is crammed with both people and cards. I'm looking at the cards and placing them back on the rack, trying not to gasp at the prices. I place them back with a nod of indifference that I hoped was telling others that it wasn't the price, but the wrong verse that made me put it back. I noticed a lady at the end of the aisle fumbling with one hand to turn over a box and look at the verse. Others were standing by her and she continued box after box. I had worked my way closer to her. She was trying to retrieve one in the back and struggled. It appeared she only had use of one arm. I reached down and handed the box to her. The next 15 minutes or so started with the illumination of her joyful face. I can't even type this a year later without getting emotional. She absolutely radiated joy. She was as colorful as any character in a Dr. Seuss book. Lime green and yellow scarf, a multi colored sweater hat, bright coat, bell earrings. She thanked me and told me still smiling that she had lost the use of her arm due to a brain tumor. I asked her if there was anything I could help her look for. She told me that she was looking for the most beautiful cards she could find with a Christian verse about joy. She wanted them to have Gold on them though and not the silver that was so popular this year. I plowed through them as we talked. She told me that she didn't have much money, but it was the best Christmas season she has ever had and wanted to find the best cards that she could to give to the special people in her life. She told me that she had found two of the greatest loves of her life that year. Jesus and a man that loved her dearly. She told me she woke up with a smile every single morning. She had been in a loveless abusive marriage for years, but had been totally devastated nonetheless when he walked out on her. She had stuck with him and now he was leaving. She said it was at this time she started having headaches. She passed them off as stress for a long time and then her vision was suffering. Test concluded she had a very large tumor on her brain. They performed surgery and she lost some vision in one eye and the use of her left arm. I told her how wonderful it was that they were able to get it out. We continued talking as she told me of her new loves. She said that God knew what she needed in her life and he sent this wonderful new man to her. She said she can see the love in his eyes every time he looks at her. By this time, all of the music and colorful sweaters and business of the holiday crowd subsided into the past. I was enamored by her and there wasn't another soul in this busy store. She talked of her kids and then we got to our plans for Christmas. I told her mine and she told me hers. Same exuberance as before, no change in mood or expression. She says "I may be with Jesus, the tumor has returned and it is inoperable." My eyes filled with tears and she stopped me and took me, a complete stranger by the shoulders in this store and turned me to her and said. "Don't be upset, I am the happiest I have ever been in my life and I will be happier yet when I am gone." She turned back to the cards and again said that she just wanted to find the best Christmas Cards that she could for those people so dear to her. We found those cards. They WERE the most beautiful cards. There were 3 boxes. She said she only needed two. I went to put the other box back, couldn't do it. I too had some special people to share with. We hugged, and both walked out of that Hallmark card aisle in opposite directions, both knowing that we would never see each other again. But, she left me with these true gifts of Christmas. God's love will sustain, Be happy in the moment, Share yourself with others, Cherish those who love you, Respect those who don't, Forgive those who hurt you, Live Purposefully. I adjusted the grocery list for that box of cards. There were two things I told you at the beginning of the story that I couldn't remember this morning. I couldn't remember her name, I have since named her Rebeccah. And, I couldn't remember the cards! I know now that it doesn't matter. She is God and the message is his love. I don't ever want to forget her spirit, her thankfulness and her joy at Christmas. My heart is full when I think of her.

Thanksgiving Whirlpool Whirlwind

Day 1) Twenty minutes after my first trip to grocery store for Thanksgiving dinner it began, my love/hate relationship with the Whirlpool refrigerator. I was so proud of my organization. I ripped up all unnecessary containers and hung my list with times and schedules on the frig door. The big white cube positively gleamed, then the pots start clanging and I start muttering. I have a depth perception affliction, so engineering space for pre-prepped meals in frig is about as appealing to me as folding fitted sheets but eight pounds of potato salad has to go somewhere. I shut the door finally and lean on it, exhausted, like I had just wrestled a bear. Don comes in and wants to know where the milk is. I answer "Far right behind the potato salad bowl, topped with plate of cranberry's and finial-ed with the deviled eggs. If you take the top two plates out, you can pull the milk out from the back." Day 2) I am clanging pots at 5:30 a.m. I watch the first hour of Macy's Thanksgiving Parade while choreographing the timing of the side dishes with the Turkey. Oops, times up, looks like the spiral ham will be for dessert. Yesterday's organization is history. I am stuffed and want the refrigerator to feel the same way. Mayhem. "Where's the .....? is answered with "It's in there somewhere, you'll have to look for it." Day 3) Gleefully, the garbage saw the carcass of the Turkey first thing Friday morning! Hmmm...that means I have yards of space in frig now. I went to the grocery store for drinks and came home with another turkey. I couldn't pass up a fresh turkey for ten dollars! So, I chops spices and brine it in the frig pace I just cleaned out. I start condensing. The 8 x 12 casserole dishes are now in one or two quart Pyrex bowls. The ham is off the bone ready to go into a pot of Pinto's. By the pm hours the deviled eggs are gone, the ham is history and we are talking zip lock containers now. yay! And to boot, The only traffic I encountered on Black Friday was the promenade to and from Mr.Whirlpool. Day 4) I am shocked that the light hasn't blown on inside of frig and I am certain I have a touch of frostbite from the repeated exposure to freezer and frig. Don't even mention Turkey right now. I am craving anything that comes out of a take out box. I tiptoe around the house in the early morning. Drinking coffee and trying hard not to wake up my family. I know the minute their feet hit the floor they are going to be hightailing it back to North Carolina. I open the frig door and shut it immediately. Ughh...Tin foil half covers dried out Macaroni and Cheese. Pies without lids beckon me to finish them off, I even left my spoon in the the Chocolate Pie dish last night. Day 5) I sit straight up in bed at 3:00 a.m. I had a few moments of anxiety before I realized what day it was. No pots to stir, nothing to thaw and the timers haven't been set for days. I lie back down sad. It's over. There are no bodies scattered around the house. I have a slight headache which I attribute to not enough wine or withdrawal from Tryptophan. Mr. Whirlpool and I go at it for a few hours. I put my apron on that my granddaughter handmade for me. She knows I love to cook. I wash up the last dishes while re-hashing the memories of the last few days. I take the Thanksgiving meal plans off of the frig and wipe the handle. Day 6) Grocery list. Wine, Cheese, Chocolate

Friendship Bread, Anyone? | Charlestongrit.com | Bold. Smart. Local. Now. | Charleston, SC

Friendship Bread, Anyone? | Charlestongrit.com | Bold. Smart. Local. Now. | Charleston, SC

Friendship Bread~ Renae Brabham

I was looking through an old recipe book and saw the recipe for friendship bread starter.  I had to laugh.  I have received the starter twice, I dutifully accepted the baggie of bubbly dough with fake smiles and an insincere thank you. The sensation was likened to that of receiving a chain letter. If you stick around long enough you are bound to get one.

A more modern interpretation of a chain letter would be the annoying social media situation of this post "If you really love Jesus, your sister or brother, share this with 10 friends in the next hour, see what happens"

Neither of the starters that I received were from friends, actually they gave the gift to me rather sheepishly as if they themselves had been dumped upon. The process is similar to re-gifting,just pass off a gift that you don't really want to someone it won't really matter to.

But...with the leavened bread starter, the recipient has to actually work the dough starter for a week or so into 4 batches. After which time, you are going to sheepishly walk up to someone and do the same as my "friends" did.
So anyway, there it sat, A sloppy glob gurgling on my desk with a worn instruction sheet on how I am supposed to "Love on it and others"
I thought seriously of a one handed swoop into the garbage can, no looking back. But, killing a starter. I mean, there is something about the activity in that bag that makes you feel like you would if you killed a lady bug or a small marsupial.

So... I took the starter home and followed the instructions.  Add a cup of this one day, a cup of this another, knead 20 times a day and then divvy it up into 4 bags. Ok, so now it's day 7 or 8 or something like that and I am anticipating the end of this process. I have my zip locks on the counter.Let's see, one bag I keep to re-start the whole process and the other I bake. Two bags are left. Now it's time to pick the lucky recipients. One was a co-worker "friend."  The guilt got the best of me after passing that one off so I decided to put a little more effort into it for the next offering. I thought of the pastors wife that worked with me in retail. I walked up to her and held it out, she threw both hands up like it was kryptonite and proceeded to tell me she didn't have time for that %#&t!
So I found another associate "friend" and handed it to her. I felt like the burden of the bread had been lifted. I concluded that if I were ever approached again, I would pull the sweet little pastors wife's two hand show out on them. And so it was for about 5 years.

And then, one Christmas a dear friend, an older lady that I cared for deeply, gave me the most precious gift. My friend knew the story of my previous starter experiences.  I had unexpected company late one evening. I opened the door and my friends daughter walked in wishing us a Merry Christmas placing a weighty solid package in my hand. The card read. "This cake was baked from a thirty-seven year old ~Friendship Bread Starter~ a family starter. I hope you enjoy it." Part of me didn't even want to eat it, but that passed quickly. The aroma, the richness and the beauty of that bread is forever etched in my mind.

I am here to tell you that I have never, and would venture to say, will ever eat another bite of bread while I am on this earth as good as that cake. So many things had to come together for that bread to be the best.  The quality of the ingredients, the time and care that was kneaded into the starter, for seven years to boot!, and finally the continuity, doing what we need to do each day, even when we don't want to. These are the things that make a bread like the one I was gifted the best I have ever had. A true Friendship bread. And aren't these the same ingredients that are in our true friendship's?

Unleavened bread has no past. No starter to pull from. No history to pass down. Dough without leaven represents haste, a break with the past, an absence of extra flavor, simplicity, inactivity, powerlessness and a lack of labor.
I am richly blessed with wonderful friends, with leavened bread. Our bread is good. We pull from the past, keep it tended and keep the starter alive.