Put ramekins on a baking sheet. Bake for 25-35 minutes, until puffed and golden. Remove from oven, and let stand for 5 minutes. With a flexible spatula, remove strata to
2⅔ cups flour, divided ⅔ cup sugar 1 cup butter 1½ cups dried apricots 4 eggs 2 cups brown sugar 1 teaspoon baking powder ½ teaspoon salt 1 teaspoon vanilla ½ cup chopped nuts
Sift together 2 cups flour and sugar, and cut in butter with a blender. Press into a 9-inch x 13-inch pan. Bake at 350° for 30 minutes or until light brown. Place apricots in a small pot, and simmer 15 minutes. Drain, cool, and chop. Beat eggs, add brown sugar, and beat mixture well. Sift together ⅔ cup flour, baking powder, and salt, and add to egg mixture. Stir in apricots, vanilla, and nuts. Spread over baked crust. Bake at 350° for 30-35 minutes. Cool, and cut into squares.
Elizabeth Tucker Vasgaard was known to throw a party. At every gathering, there were two things: good food and a poem. In the poem, everything else on the table tastes terrible, but, “Lord, ain’t the gravy good.” The poem is funny, but the message resonates.
In 2009, Vasgaard was working on this cookbook with her granddaughter-in-law, Page Hall Bowman, when Vasgaard died unexpectedly at 88 years old. Most of the family wondered if the cookbook would be completed. But Bowman and her cousin Kristen Vasgaard pressed on and finished the book in 2010, once again proving that even when it seems everything on the table seems bad, there’s always something good you can take away.
To order a copy, contact Vicki Bowman at (828) 322-8010, vivibowman@gmail.com, or 23 Eighth Avenue NE, Hickory, N.C. 28601.
John Champlin has traveled across the state — and the nation — in search of hard-to-find spots that serve an unforgettable hot dog. After 11 years, what he’s discovered goes way beyond the bun.
In the early 20th century, textile mill owners sponsored baseball teams, providing entertainment for their employees and nurturing a passion for the game that’s been handed down through generations of North Carolinians.
Our writer reflects on where his love of vinyl began, and how the snap, crackle, and pop of a needle sliding across a turntable will always satisfy his soul.