mardi gras

Laissez les bons temps rouler!

It's Mardi Gras, y'all! Let the good times roll–or as they say in the French Quarter Laissez les bons temps rouler!

Literally translated, le Mardi Gras means Fat Tuesday aka Let's Eat!  The timing couldn’t be better—this blog is having big-time cravings for carbs fun and friendship. So I’m hosting a traditional King Cake celebration today, but with a bit of a twist.

First, a bit of background. For the uninitiated King Cakes help commemorate Epiphany, the day Three Wise Men honored the baby Jesus with precious gifts. They taste a lot like gooey cinnamon rolls, but the dough is baked into a ring and decorated with purple, green, and gold–the colors of Mardi Gras. Some say the shape represents unity and friendship; others say it symbolizes the circular path the Wise Men followed, in order to lead King Herod away from Joseph and Mary's baby.

That brings us full circle, to the secret ingredient in this cake: A pecan, bean or plastic doll (representing the baby Jesus) is tucked inside the dough ring before it's baked! Finding the baby is an honor; among other things, it means you get to host the next party, if you wish. 

King Cake celebrations used to be reserved for Fridays during Mardi Gras, but now they happen every day during the weeks between Epiphany and Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent.  But today's Fat Tuesday, which is all about eating, drinking, and other forms of merriment.

I brought the King Cake. Doesn’t it just look like a party in the making?

King-Cake-1
King Cake image and easy recipe

Help yourself to a big ol’ slice of gooey goodness. Go on, it's guilt-free! And in lieu of throwing beads, I've got a special contest in mind. I’ll draw a name from among the revelers who’ve stopped by to join us–this Friday, how's that? The lucky winner gets a special prize, plus bragging rights.

So who wants the first slice of King Cake? Place your order in the comments.

Who are we, really?


Image via Photobucket
An unresolved question whispered me awake this weekend. So with my Search Angel riding shotgun, I revved up my Nancy Drew roadster and hit the road.

And so it was that I met a new friend. We share the same grandfather, but her first memories of him reach back 25 years before I was even born, and don't include my grandmother. Family trees are like that–branches grow and twist together, separate and reunite, bear fruit and/or wither. And suddenly, a new branch comes into view. Sturdy limbs, just out of reach…long-held secrets, ripe for the picking.

I won't belabor the connection to the image I've posted. You see the mask…you know. But here's to Fat Tuesday–and secret identies, revealed. It's Mardi Gras, so laissez les bons temps rouler!

A king-sized celebration

My writing group works very hard, but we also know how to party. Example: Donna, our Southern Belle extraordinaire, helped us kick-start the New Year with a King Cake celebration.

King Cakes help commemorate Epiphany (January 6th), the day the Three Wise Men honored baby Jesus with precious gifts. They taste a lot like gooey cinnamon rolls, but the dough is baked into a ring and decorated with purple, green, and gold—the colors of Mardi Gras. Some say the shape represents unity and friendship; others say it symbolizes the circular path the Wise Men followed, in order to lead King Herod away from Joseph and Mary’s baby.

A pecan, bean or plastic doll (each representing the baby Jesus) is tucked inside the cake before it’s baked. Finding the baby is an honor; among other things, it means you get to host the next party. King Cake celebrations used to be reserved for Fridays during Mardi Gras, but now they happen every day during the weeks between Epiphany and the first day of Lent.

All that to say…

 

The timing couldn’t be better—this blog is having big-time cravings for carbs fun and friendship. Even in the saddest of times, I think it’s important to reach out to others, and to find joy in the moment. So I’m hosting a traditional King Cake celebration, but with a bit of a twist. 

 

Here’s my King Cake. Doesn’t it look delicious?

Please help yourself to a big ol’ slice of gooey goodness. Go on, it’s guilt-free! On Thursday morning, I’ll draw a name from among the revelers who’ve stopped by to join us. The lucky winner gets the baby, of course. And you know what that means…another party!  I’ll also send the winner a special prize.

King Cake recipe and photo

P.S. Thanks to

[info]seaheidi

 for giving me the Kreativ Blogger Award. I’m lucky to be surrounded by so much inspiration and talent! Each one of you deserves this award, so how ’bout we share?

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Hey, Sister, Throw Me Some Beads!

I’m a native Californian, Orange County born and bred. But while my feet are firmly planted in the West, my connections branch out from there.

I’ve spent a great deal of time in the South, for example, so I’ve got deep-rooted friendships in – and affection for – that region of our country. The result? Over time and by example, I’ve become a cultural hybrid of palm tree and magnolia, a quirky combination of “Hey, how’s it going’?” and “How’s your mama ‘n ‘em?” 

So this week, the ironic confluence of Mardi Gras and the six-month anniversary of Hurricane Katrina, my blog entry’s a shout-out of admiration and support for my sisters in the South.

I’ve learned many valuable life lessons from my Dixieland friends, some taught symbolically through their individual expressions of Mardi Gras traditions: The crowning glory of finding the small plastic baby Jesus baked into a Kings Cake; the delicious decadence of Fat Tuesday, a last opportunity to “eat hefty” before the dawn of Ash Wednesday; the collecting of beads, each color representing closely-held values; and the sharing of family recipes for great gumbo, whose secrets often lie in the roux.

But more recently and by direct example, these Steel Magnolias are teaching me something very valuable: how to maintain grace, dignity, and resiliency – come high winds or high water.

So I’m hereby producing a mental Mardi Gras parade in their honor, a rolling tribute to the Southern women who’ve successfully weathered (triumphed over!) last season’s storms. And in my mind, I’m playing the “bead game,” tossing them these symbolic gifts:

Purple beads, representing justice. May sunlight serve as disinfectant for the political impurities and social injustices exposed by the storms, and may it also serve as a spotlight for the important work they’re doing to address those concerns.

Green beads that stand for faith.  I pray that each of them will be tangibly rewarded for their deep, abiding belief in the power of prayer, combined with a personal commitment to doing the hard work. I share their faith that livelihoods, homes, communities, and traditions can and will be restored.

Gold beads, signifying power. Not in the form of backlit, bloviating speeches by policy wonks; but rather, a roll-up-the-sleeves, dig-deep-into-the-pockets kind of commitment by politicians and private citizens who are willing to put their collective muscle behind putting things right.

White beads, serving as long-distance kisses. May they heal your hurts and reaffirm your connections.

As the “parade” passes by and last year’s troubles fade into the distance, may the lives of each of my friends and their families be blessed with the fulfilment of this traditional Mardi Gras wish: Laissez Les Bon Temps Roulez (Let the good times roll)!