Happy Easter, everyone

I haven't posted in a while, but today seems as good a day as any to get started again. Today's Easter, and I'm enjoying spending time with family.
My family is spread out -- in Florida, Indiana and California -- but the Florida side came to visit for several days. That means my in-laws, Peggy and Dick Cowen, have been here for a five-day visit. We celebrated my father-in-law's birthday and did a little shopping.

Today we got up and made the Cowens' Sunday dinner from years ago: pot roast. It's just so easy putting the roast in the oven with some veggies and letting them slow cook for three hours. We riced some potatoes and made green beans and corn, too. One "borrowed" touch was the recipe for baking powder biscuits that I got from Serita Jakes, First Lady of The Potter's House church in Dallas.

I've gotten to know the Jakes family through interviews I've done as religion editor at the Houston Chronicle. Also,  I've interviewed them for my book, "Sunday Dinners (Andrews McMeel; September 2013) and her biscuit recipe will be in the book.

This afternoon we've been flipping TV channels between watching the Masters golf tournament and keeping track of the Astros v. Rockies game (the Astros won, 3-2). Pretty soon we're going to hit the kitchen again to get out the key lime pie I made this morning.

All in all, it's been a good day, a good Sunday and a peaceful Easter.

So Happy Easter, everyone. I hope your day was filled with more than chocolate bunnies!

Lesson of a lifetime

I love rooting for underdogs, and the underdog story-of-the-week is one worth blogging about. The young men who play varsity basketball at Houston's Beren Academy -- a private school for Orthodox Jews -- made national headlines for playing well and staying true to their faith.

As Orthodox Jews, they cannot - among other things - play sports during the Sabbath, from sundown Friday to sundown Saturday. So earlier this week when the team drew a 9 p.m. Friday TAPPS semifinal game time, the boys, their coach and their rabbi/principal were all prepared to simply forfeit the game. They didn't want the rules changed for them and observing the Sabbath, or shabbot, was more important than basketball.

It wasn't until community members, who, incidentally, are not Jewish, came forward did the Beren boys and their boosters decide to challenge the 2 p.m. time. Everyone in Houston suddenly became fans of the Beren Stars. We learned about the strict ways of Orthodox Sabbath, and we spoke loudy - and in unison - to say that since no game times are set on Sundays as a Christian observance, well, no Jews should be expected to play at a time considered sacred to them.

The boys won their early Friday afternoon game, but lost to Abilene Christian on Saturday night. I'd say the teens are winners nonetheless. They've learned about faith and fairness, hard work and hard play in the course of one week. They learned that their Orthodox community may be very small, but there's a big world of people of all faiths who were rooting for them all week long.

Their season is over now and they can savor the memories of the shared experience. Ultimately, they didn't have to sacrifice their faith or their sport.

Sometimes, things work out exactly as they should.

Biscuits, sweet or not

Today I'm in recipe-testing mode. I'm about two-thirds done with my "Sunday Dinners" cookbook, but have only begun to test recipes. Today I tested two for baking powder biscuits. One is from Serita Jakes, the pastor and first lady of The Potter's House in Dallas; the other is from Pastor Suzette Caldwell of Windsor Village United Methodist Church, the largest UMC church in the country. Both of them are yummy. I'm giving you Suzette's recipe, with an option for turning the dough into into sweet cinnamon-raisin biscuits.

Baking Powder Biscuits

4 cups all-purpose flour, more for dusting

2 tablespoons baking powder

1 teaspoon coarse salt

3 tablespoons sugar

1 cup unsalted butter, cut into pieces

2 cups heavy cream

§         Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

§         Combine flour, baking powder, salt and sugar. Whisk together well.

§         Add butter, and using a pastry blender or two knives, cut in the butter until mixture resembles coarse crumbs.

§         Add heavy cream, and stir just until dough comes together; mixture will be sticky.

§         Transfer to lightly floured work surface, and, with floured fingers, knead dough until it forms a ball. Sprinkle flour on work surface and lightly dust dough to keep from sticking. 

§         Using a rolling pin, roll out dough to a 1-inch thickness. Use coffee mug or cookie cutter to cut out biscuits. 

§         Arrange biscuits in a lightly-greased 13x9 pan. Bake 18-20 minutes or until lightly browned.  Serve hot with maple or blueberry syrup or strawberry jam.

Tip: To turn these biscuits into sweet rolls for breakfast, add 2 tablespoons of sugar and 1 teaspoon of cinnamon to the flour mixture. Then add 1 cup of raisins when heavy cream is added to the dough. Finish with a powdered sugar glaze.

Remembering William Burns

Sad news arrived on Sunday. William Burns, the father of my longtime friend DeAnne (Burns) Kinsey, passed away. He had been battling cancer for some time, and had a huge setback when he contracted a dangerous staph infection, MRSA.

I’ve known DeAnne since we were 4 years old and my mother was our Sunday School teacher at Christ United Methodist Church in our hometown of Lafayette, Ind. During junior high, her family moved to a subdivision across the street from the subdivision where I grew up. She and I became better friends in high school, once we were not only members of the same church and neighbors, but also finally attended the same school.

The Burns home became my second home during high school and college. I spent a lot of time there and have so many memories of DeAnne and I trying to get her dad to make popcorn for us or trying to trick her younger brother Jeff into getting refills for our glasses of Tab. We were two goofy girls making our way through our teen years one awkward moment at a time. As we did, both Bill and Mary Burns watched with knowing smiles, filled with both pride and joy.

Bill Burns was a sweetheart of a guy. He was a high school science teacher who could have been a stand-up comedian. I loved listening to his hilarious stories and jokes. I knew that every time I went to their home, I’d spend the whole afternoon or evening laughing and having fun. He had a way of telling a joke that not ony made you laugh, but also made you part of the joke. I’ll never forget the time when DeAnne and I were students at Purdue and we went to visit our friend Kelly at Indiana State. Bill thought that it would be safer for us to drive his Ford Pinto, so he, in turn, spent that weekend driving my VW Bug. You can imagine the jokes he had for us when we got back to town. He concocted an elaborate story in which he allegedly struck a poodle while driving my car, and the poodle got up after the incident and ran off. We were so gullible – and he was so convincing – that we actually thought some of the tale might actually be true.

In addition to the laughter, love filled the Burns household. DeAnne’s mom, Mary Burns, was – and still is – a stunningly beautiful and elegant woman who always made me feel not just welcome, but also wanted.

The Burns family’s Sunday Dinners were legendary – at least in my mind. Mary Burns was an amazing cook, and she’d prepare elaborate meals. Her dining room table was decked out with formal china and that meal was a big event followed by hours spent talking and laughing around the table. The time spent together was magical and during it all, Bill Burns held court. He’d beam with pride at the loved ones gathered around his table and when we were done eating, he’d encourage conversation that could go on for hours.

So today I say goodbye to Bill Burns, a man who had a bigger impact on my life than he probably ever knew. He showed me what a family really could be at a time when my own home life felt fragmented. Despite the tears I’ve shed thhis week I won’t remember him with sadness. I’ll remember him with laughter and love. I will miss him dearly.