REGULAR READERS KNOW how much I adore my cache of old-time fundraising recipes, affectionately known here as “Ladies Auxilary” cookbooks. I love them for their insight into long-lost appetites and cooking styles, their windows into communities, and sometimes, for the laughs they bring. This essay, “The Famous Recipe” by Floyd Skloot, captures all of that, and more. Do yourself a favor, and read Floyd’s great remembrance of his not-much-of-a-cook mama, and the recipe she could not possibly have created for her temple’s special cookbook.

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1. Cooking with the Ladies’ Auxiliary: Coleslaw Exotic. Different. Coleslaw? So claims one of our beloved Ladies’...

Exotic. Different. Coleslaw? So claims one of our beloved Ladies’ Auxiliary cookbooks about its recipe for “Fruit Slaw”, possibly a perfect side dish for any summer weekend, and especially the upcoming Fourth of July holiday. Are you  planning your cookouts? Our lovely Ladies have lots to offer when it comes to our favorite classic, all-American salad.

That fruit slaw, unusual, I suppose, for the inclusion of apple (which I happen to love in my own coleslaw), grapes and mandarin oranges, comes from a favorite cookbook in my crazy collection: Out of Our League, compiled by the Junior League of Greensboro, North Carolina in 1978.

I also find myself drawn to this gem from Panic in the Pantry, a cookbook created by the Junior Section of the Manor Club, Pelham, New York, in 1975. (What is it with me and the 1970s cookbooks this week? Dunno. I’m having a retro moment…) And who was Mrs. Hart, I wonder, especially since the recipe was contributed by one Diana Beeton.

A 1956 book, the Silver Anniversary International Cookbook from sorority Beta Sigma Phi has multiple slaw options. A classic, above, as well as Old-Fashioned, and for the party people, 24 Hour.

This spiral bound beauty was edited, natch, by not one but two home economists, Betty Delmonico and Viola H. Ward. (No, I did not, could not, make those names up.)

The way I cook best is taking inspiration from the cooking of others, and making it my own. These are two of my favorite, original coleslaw recipe variations, but I want to know: What’s on the menu at your summer cookouts? Old favorites, or new experiments, either way, share ‘em with your sisters. And have a happy, safe 4th of July!

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NEED A LAST minute gift for a sister or mother this weekend? Look, or should I say, listen, no further: we’ve got a new release from one of music’s great mamas…and her equally mesmerizing sister.

Kate McGarrigle and her sister Anna were one of the 1970s great folk acts, known for their cult records Kate & Anna McGarrigle and Dancer With Bruised Knees, not to mention Kate’s progeny, singers Martha and Rufus Wainwright. Kate died in 2010, but this week, a compilation of the sisters’ work, Tell My Sister, has been released. It’s got everything, whether for a rabid fan or a curious newcomer…and it’s a perfect gift for your mama. Or your sister. Listen up, and enjoy.

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BEVERLY CLEARY, AUTHOR of arguably the best exasperating little sister book every written, turns 95 today. Do you remember Ramona? Whether you have children or not, now’s a good time to refresh your memory.

Ramona, fanciful younger sister of Beatrice (better known as Beezus) Quimby, is one of contemporary kid lit’s most enduring, and award-winning characters. In Ramona the Pest, Beezuz and Ramona and 10 more titles, Ramona’s flights of imagination often turn others’ lives topsy-turvy…just like every real-world little sister I’ve ever known.

Cleary has said in interviews that her inspiration came from her own life, and the lives of children she knew. And as the New York Times reported just this week, Cleary in turn inspired at least one other beloved children’s author, Judy Blume. Do you remember reading Ramona? Are your kids reading these books, too?

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Every week, the sissies and I have our catch up/editorial meeting/Skype-fest where we talk about what we’ll be writing, thinking and ranting about in the days to come. Of course, since we’re all busy (Sister Margaret all the more so right now, thanks to the cavalcade of activity surrounding her book launch!) it’s our one guaranteed sister check-in time, too. Thanks to Sheilaa, our resident astrologer-extraordinaire, it seemed we all had one thing on our collective mind today, the thing you can’t avoid, the thing that’s guaranteed while you’re breathing. Change.

It’s all around each of us. My family is going through upheaval as my mother leaves our home for her own. Margaret’s hopping like one of her beloved frogs to promote the book. Anastasia’s wrapping up grad school. Marion’s writing, teaching and broadcasting up a storm, as usual. No room for extra variables, and yet, Sheilaa’s dead on: it’s the one daily constant we can all count on. But do we have to like it?

“Noooo.” chimed in Marion. “No time for change!” “How do you plan for change on your grid?” cackled Margaret. “I’m planning for change on my [expletive deleted. Think 'fanny'.]” retorted Maid Marion. (We try to be ladylike, sometimes, but let’s face it: sometimes nothing but a cuss will do.)

While I’ve no plans for a lower-body (or anywhere else) tattoo proclaiming my resistance to transformation, I am going to attempt to stop fighting, and go with the new. That was one of the big lessons for me from And I Shall Have Some Peace There, and maybe, with the help of my sisters, I’ll make it through to the (next) other side.

What about you? Can you accept that change is the only constant? And how do you weather the ups, downs and sideways of your life? Share with your sisters.

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IF LOVE MEANS never having to say you’re sorry, as Ali McGraw famously said to Ryan O’Neal in Love Story, then my sweet daughter must really, REALLY love her big brother. And her father. And me.

“Sorry” is not a part of my daughter’s otherwise-extensive vocabulary. “Sorry”, to my little Rock, means defeat. It means shame. And this little gemstone of a girl would rather leave dinner half-eaten, miss the family movie, be denied her hot chocolate than ‘fess up to any transgression, no matter how inconsequential. When asked to submit via sorry, she hides her face, often under the nearest table or chair, shrieks at a pitch that by rights should cut glass, and pretty much erases all trace of the beloved, brilliant girl we all love and (usually) adore.

I’ve been thinking about the subject of shame, immersed as I am (thanks to my amazing Mondo Beyondo Dream Lab class) in the world of writer and researcher Brené Brown, who focuses much of her research on this topic. But pre-Brené, like, it turns out, like most people, I’d never much pondered shame before.

Brown’s research, to massively oversimplify, teaches that shame is an emotion with ancient anthropological roots but no modern benefit, and that often, our hardwired desire to avoid shame prevents us from living authentic, joyful lives. How can this be? In part, because shame is the inevitable companion of  perfectionism: we try to present as perfect in a desperate race against allowing our warts-and-all (that is, REAL) selves to be seen. (Does this explain the hiding under the table, perhaps? If she can’t see us…)

Brown’s books address the results of her research on shame, the “guideposts” (her term) she’s identified along a path that leads to a life free of shame-based suffering, and with a more honest, authentic self presentation. People who practice what Brown calls “shame resilience” she labels “wholehearted”.  And I want, with my whole heart, for my sweet, stubborn daughter to live out loud with all of hers.

But to do that: she has to learn to tell her whole story, without leaving out the bits she’d rather us not see. Says Brené, “Owning our story and loving ourselves through that process is the bravest thing we’ll ever do.” Amen, sister.

I’m working on applying Brené’s findings to my own life, and my kids’. But I wonder: how do you help your kids face up to shame and move beyond it? Helpful hints on this latest mom-ing struggle would be the best valentine any of you could send me. (And in the meantime, I’ve got to get back to work with my sweet girl, making Valentines like those pictured above–the wholehearted kind.)

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To manage her many intrigues, the lovely Lady Mary definitely could use what my new fave writer Brené Brown calls a “move a body” friendship. Until this week, I’d never read Brené Brown’s theory of what makes the truest sister bond, but thanks to my fellow travelers in my (amazing) Mondo Beyondo “Dream Lab” online course, I’ve seen the light. You’ll have to read Brené’s explanation for yourself; I can’t possibly do it justice. But trust me: with just a teeny soupçon of dark humor, she imagines the bleakest scenario in which we might call upon our sisters for help, the one in which we need and deserve support without judgment.

How far would you go, could you go, have you gone for the sisters in your life? Do you know who your move-a-body sister friends are? It’s worth pondering, before you need them. Watch some great TV, study up with Brené, and chime in.

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FOUR YEARS INTO my own voluntary rural exile, I have no regrets, save one: I miss the Asian cuisine paradise that I left behind in L.A. But like a good country girl should, I’m fixing the problem, one cookbook at a time.

I was spoiled in L.A. I lived blocks from Thai Town, a quick drive away from amazing dim sum. Our favorite sushi bar at the bottom of our hill was an omakase treasure. Even the Chinese food we could get delivered was amazing: I still crave a certain version of chicken fried rice with spinach that I ate several times a week while  pregnant (and sick as a dog) with the Rock.  True, we get to New York City a few times a year, and we indulge our cravings there, but let’s face it, access is everything.

At the behest of my husband, pining for soba noodles and eager to reduce his cholesterol a bit, I decided to reorient our meals: more vegetarian, less fat…you get the idea. Usually, I’d just head online and surf my way to answers. I did a bit of that, returning to some of my own favorite food blogs and some new discoveries, like the gorgeous Rasa Malaysia. But I wanted that great experience of curling up with a cookbook, and so I also dug into my own overstuffed shelves to rediscover some old (and new) treasures.

I started with my Christmas present to myself: David Tanis’ too beautiful to be believed Heart of the Artichoke. Not an Asian cookbook, but it has a few Asian recipes (and a whole bunch of other amazing ones, too) and his Vietnamese pho was first on my list. A savory broth warm with cinnamon and rich with fish sauce, it is still light, with slivers of beef, rice noodles and lots of fresh herbs. Heaven in a deep, warm bowl.

Next I turned to a book that led me to one of my favorite food bloggers, Heidi Swanson of 101 Cookbooks. SuperNatural Cooking offers a recipe for otsu, a dish of soba noodles and tofu in an addictive ginger soy dressing I could eat every day. And save the extra sauce: it’s great on rice, vegetables, you name it.

For another light soup night, I revisited a cookbook I’ve loved cooking from for at least five years now, Nina Simonds’ A Spoonful of Ginger is full of knowledge and inspiration, but for sheer comfort, you can’t top her Chinese chicken soup. (The recipe is available on her website, too: scroll to the bottom of this page.)

Finally, I took a deep breath and dove into the mammoth, profane work of art that is David Chang’s Momofuku cookbook. I bought it the very first time I (finally) visited Chang’s Noodle Bar, but hadn’t worked up the courage (or the pantry) to try the recipes: Chang calls for a few esoteric ingredients, like usukuchi (light) soy sauce, in many of his recipes.

I made a (fun!) field trip to an Asian supermarket in Albany, 45 minutes away, but you can also order online at eFoodDepot. Here’s what I have to say about his recipes: they are worth the effort. And they’re not all complex. I made an incredible, fast dinner from udon noodles tossed with his ginger scallion sauce (hardest part: chopping) and pan-grilled asparagus and tofu served with his miso butter (white miso blended with butter–insanely delicious, if not the most cholesterol-lowering menu item.)

Nearly two weeks into my culinary odyssey, I’ve barely scratched the surface of what these fantastic cooks have to teach me, and as I look out my window at a gorgeous curtain of falling snow, Los Angeles, culinary wonderland that it is, seems like less of a loss. What are you cooking in the new year, sisters?

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ALL GOOD THINGS must come to an end. It’s a cliché for a reason. True of this year’s bounteous harvest, and of our ongoing blog-fest cooking marathon. But with the ultimate foodie holiday on the horizon, I’ve got some good things to give thanks for, and to share.

When your life turns upside down, either by choice or by force, it can take a long time, years even, to see what’s been transformed, and what’s remained the same. When my family and I left Los Angeles nearly four years ago for our now-not-so-new home in the (very) rural Hudson Valley, we were able to anticipate a lot of the changes. But one I didn’t foresee was that my Thanksgiving traditions, ones I’d held to perhaps a little too tightly, would fall away without my even noticing.

You see, my children had to remind me last week that yes, in fact, this Thanksgiving would be the very first one we’d spend dining, myself at the culinary helm, in our now-not-so-new house. After years of hanging on like a solo mariner in a gale, I’d let go of the lines. Not one but three different sets of friends have hosted us over these last few years. I helped, I brought, I ate, but every time,  I was decidedly not in control of anything from menu to table setting to guest list. And guess what? I survived. (Should we take it personally that none of them have invited us back? God, I hope not.)

This year, I’m back in charge, at least nominally. The turkey, from a new and dear friend’s farm, is in the fridge. I’ll be hunting for local sweet potatoes today, and hitting my favorite bakery for bread for stuffing, too. I haven’t yet figured out exactly what’s going in my turkey brine, nor which stuffing recipe I’ll use. (For years, and years and YEARS: I sent invitations. In the MAIL. I made and remade guest lists. And my menu? It never varied. Not a whit.)

Is it better this way, loose and a little serendipitous? Yes, and no. Is it different? Yes, and no. But we’ve found our way through all the changes to a place that suits us. I’m as excited as ever for my feast, but a lot more relaxed about what the day will bring. It’s a nice metaphor, really, for the pace of rural life, where you are constantly butting up against the unexpected, the inconvenient, and the just plain absurd, most attributable to natural, not human, capriciousness.

So this year, I’ll raise a glass to the unexpected, and a newfound ability to embrace its gifts as well as its challenges. What better way to appreciate the bounty that feeds us?

(Need more substantial Thanksgiving guidance? Be sure to check out some of my favorite Thanksgiving recipes here, here and here. Need to relax? Check out our best-ever picks for Thanksgiving movies. And whatever you do, be sure to visit my fellow Fall Fest bloggers for this last week of goodness.)

Alana of Eating from the Ground Up on Turkeys and Apple

Caron of San Diego Foodstuff : Bounty to Be Grateful For in the Form of Community (And Pecan Pie.)

Liz and the crew at the Food Network on Thanksgiving Bounty We’re Grateful For.

Jennifer at The Gilded Fork on gratitude.

Caroline at The Wright Recipe on Butternut Squash Biscuits.

Tara at Teas and Cookies on surprisingly wonderful stuffed pumpkin.

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EVERY YEAR THIS time, I start to experience subtle, creeping dread. It has to do with Thanksgiving, and it’s not fear of the turkey. No, I’m stopped in my tracks by marshmallow, maple, sugary peril: fear of the sweet potato cliché that dominates Thanksgiving tables coast to coast. I just can’t do it, folks: I like sweet, sure, but it has a place, and it’s NOT as cloud cover over a perfectly good casserole full of vegetables. I’ve come up with a solution, thanks to a dish served a few weeks back by a new friend.

It was one of those blind-date dinner parties: our husbands were friends; all our friends were friends, but we, the two women in question? We’d managed to never really meet. “Wouldn’t it be hilarious,” one mutual friend mused that afternoon, “if you guys totally hated each other?” Um, NO, it wouldn’t. I was a little nervous, and so was she. We had nothing to fear: it was love from the minute I stepped into her kitchen and she put me to work finishing her roasted sweet potatoes. Tossed with olive oil, roasted until soft and crisp, they had shallots and pecans nestled in among them, she instructed me to add a sprinkling of tart blue cheese just before serving. They were heaven on a plate, and I begged for the source. “Cooks Illustrated,” said she, and the conversation turned to other subjects.

Back at home, I searched. And searched. And searched. Nowhere, NOWHERE could I find anything resembling what she served. So I made it up as I went along, and a try or two later, at the urging of my husband, mother and, oh my, even my children, this is the Thanksgiving sweet potato side my family is going to call their own.

Roasted Sweet Potatoes with Pecans and Blue Cheese
Serves 6

4-5 medium sweet potatoes, peeled and chopped into 1/2 dice
1 T olive oil
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
1/2 teaspoon coarse salt
a few grinds of good black pepper
4 slices thick bacon, cut into 3/8 inch wide strips (across the slice, not along it), cooked until just crisp and drained on paper towels
6 shallots, peeled, trimmed and quartered
3/4 cup pecan halves
2 ounces firm blue cheese, crumbled

Preheat the oven to 425 F. Toss the potatoes and shallots with the olive oil, thyme and salt and pepper. Place on a rimmed cookie sheet and roast in the oven, stirring several times, for about 40 minutes or until nicely browned and starting to get crunchy, but still soft within–in other words, don’t dry them out!  Add the pecans and bacon, and roast for another 10 minutes. Remove from oven, sprinkle with the blue cheese and serve. Wait for the praise that is certain to come your way

Like all good things, Fall Fest must come to an end, and ours is approaching. So don’t miss out on all the goodness from my fellow foodies:

Todd and Diane, White On Rice Couple: Sweet Potato Molasses Cookies

Nicole from Pinch My Salt: Cumin-Scented Sweet Potato Hash

Michelle at Cooking Channel: Sweet Potato Cupcakes With Marshmallow Topping

Kirsten at Food Network: Sweet Potato Thanksgiving Sides

Roberto at Food2: Sweet Potato Gnocchi

Liz at Healthy Eats: Sweet Potatoes 5 Ways

Caroline from The Wright Recipes: Sweet Potato Galette</

Margaret at A Way to Garden: 9 Things I Learned From Sweet Potatoes (and a Curry)

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