Are you ready for the holidays? That may seem like a common question, but in a way, it is an anachronism. I have been thinking about what it was like back in the days when we made everything ourselves. Yeah, we can be crazy busy with shopping and wrapping and cooking and cleaning, and house guests and visits. But baking from scratch, creating all the holiday delights that cannot be purchased and must be made lovingly, that takes time. I was thinking about how many labor saving devices we have now, that some things have become pale facsimiles of what were our handed down traditions, in the interest of the ease of a tube or a cellophane, a shrink wrap, or can of this or that. (Not that there's anything wrong with Cheez Whiz!)
One of my favorite Christmas memories was during my time in Pittsburgh, where I started my career in radio. I was over at my friend Suzanne's mom's house, and she had been cooking tirelessly forever. There were homemade pizelles with the most delicate anise flavor, all kinds of other baked goods with confectioner's sugar and sprinkles. But the dish I will never forget was her for-real, from scratch pork and chicken liver pate redolent with cinnamon, cloves, sage, mace, bay leaves and a healthy shot or two of brandy and cream. Cooked at low heat for two hours...filling the house with an enticing, incomparable lingering aroma. Georgette was French Canadian, and an amazingly wonderful chef. And a cantankerous bundle of joy, with a cockeyed no BS perspective on life. She was deft at cutting through the crap; delightfully, honestly, so ahead of her time. We drank and ate and laughed, sitting in the best place, the kitchen, exploring the wonders of sensory overload, and celebrating love and friendship. Companionable, in the moment, perfect. Suz and I are still friends today, decades later. Georgette sadly has passed. This time of year we savor the sights and sounds and aromas, and especially the memories.
Susan Cowsill released her second solo album, Lighthouse, in May. It tells of terrible loss, that of her brother Barry Cowsill in the flooding after Hurricane Katrina, and of the damage to her adopted hometown of New Orleans. She lost almost everything she owned, and she poured the emotion into these songs. She writes from a place that is at once incredibly personal, yet universally relatable. And though there was tragedy, there is time for joy in this album too.
We filmed Susan and her band in Nashville this September at the Americana Fest. The song is "Real Life" in all its swings of fortune and glorious contradictions. Love it, hate it, live it.
- Jessie Scott
