We are having a party soon in honour of our eldest of three daughters, the Oxford frequenter. Her escort, Hamilton, is worthy of mention because, here for dinner tonight, he has lifted my spirits from fear and trembling to soar with the champions. He said, “You should have a reality T.V. show to track the progression to this party, the most authentic Charleston event ever. (Flattery will get you everywhere, especially when I am most in need of it! Not thata reality TV show is my thing.)
Though I should leave it up to a caterer, I cannot help but include some of our tried and true family receipts. I should not have but did let Hamp. taste a melon scoop of my home made iced creams. History is my thing, and the first iced creams were made by hand. So far we have ginger, raspberry, and banana rum currant. We have mini iced cream cones for the young people to get a taste! Cover an empty cereal box with white wrapping paper, punch holes in and you have an iced cream mini cone holder! Hamp thinks this will be a hit.
The other real authentic thing is THE SHRIMP. I hate to tell you that people do not take a chance on local shrimp for big formal events. Better to go with the frozen prepeeled firm shrimp, they think. We are having my shrimp man, Tommy, who takes his shrimp boat out to sea along the coast of Charleston, bring us 100 lbs of shrimp. And peeled and deveined! A pretty penny, but our guests are worth it. Right now they are “roe shrimp”, not as firm or pretty, but oh, so good and tender.
The other authentic thing to be served is that wild boar from our land. A Charlestonian has also given me his tried and true receipt for the most tender beef and is loaning me his meat slicer. I tried out the method on the family tonight with Hamp as our dinner guest, without the slicer. It and the melt in your mouth flat pole beans were not wasted on him.
An encouraging word goes a long way, restoring the spirit and refreshing the soul. He believes in me. He believes this is going to be the most authentic Charleston party ever. He is connecting me to that hope rising within counteracting the infectious dread my husband said, “Just wake me up when it’s over.” Where would we be without those whose guttural response is an encouraging word?
Thank you to those who give that encouraging word about my tour for others to read. Inviting people into our home makes one vulnerable. When I’m down and troubled, and I need a helping hand, I thank God for James Taylor and those on my tour who have expressed appreciation to remind me, “You have a Friend.” Thank you!