All Aboard!

The Christmas season is exactly as stated...a season. There are just about 28 days to submerge yourself in all kinds of traditions. Many are universal, but some can be as different and unique as the individuals experiencing them. Growing up in the northern suburbs of Philadelphia lent itself to many special outings. Starting in grade school, and continuing through the years, my mother would take me to see the Christmas lights displayed in center city. I would excitedly get up before dawn to get ready for the trip usually made on the first Saturday in December. My mother would have me dress in my warmest (and heaviest) clothes. I don't think thermal had been invented yet, and there was no such thing as dressing in layers back then. After an exhausting effort to wedge myself, and my snowsuit, into the back seat of the car, we would take off for the train station. It was a small house-like structure that was usually vacant, but occasionally had a person inside, behind what looked like jail bars, selling tickets to all kinds of destinations. It was never warm inside and the cold hardwood floor echoed every footstep I made and every whisper I uttered. I found it to be an eerie, yet exciting, environment. After purchasing our tickets we would go outside and wait on the cement and wooden bench located near the tracks. We would eagerly listen for the long and lonely sounding whistle of our approaching train. The number of people that gathered to take the trip with us increased in number, one by one, the longer we would wait. Then the sound of our expected transportation would be heard and I would prepare myself for what I knew would be a special day.

Waiting for the train was easy, climbing up into it with my snowsuit on was not. My lower extremities possessed the range of motion of a tortoise. Each snow pant encased leg felt like it had its own zip code. I could barely lift my foot, let alone get it up onto the first step of the passenger car. I would become air born and actually dangle over the platform for a second or two as the conductor lifted me up the short flight of stairs by one arm to prevent a stampede of anxious travelers attempting to get on board before the train slowly pulled away. Once I was back on my feet, I would choose a seat and slowly inch my way across the dark blue velvet bench, anxious to press my face against the dingy glass so that nothing in the moving landscape would be missed as it passed by my window. Upon arrival, I would disembark in a hurried and awkward fashion...the ungraceful movements that would become my signature modus operandi of the day.

The city was alive with people and the day was filled with lights and music. The department store windows were always dressed in their holiday best and sometimes Santa would be spotted on a street corner ringing a bell near a black iron pot. I was never disappointed and as the morning progressed memories of the previous years visit to the city at Christmas time would come to mind, but as the reality of walking block after block in my padded prison would set in, my enthusiasm would slowly dissolve. By noon I would be exhausted and I was never sure if my breath, or the escaping heat from under my double wrapped scarf, was responsible for the steamy fog that I frequently noticed encircling my head.

Not only because of who I am and the fact that I love to eat, but because of my sauna like state by that time of day, lunchtime was a welcomed intermission during our holiday excursion. When my mother had her say, we would find ourselves in the Great Crystal Tea Room which was located on the ninth floor of the John Wanamaker Department Store on Market Street in the center of town. We would have a lunch of tiny sandwiches filled with tuna and chicken salad and strawberry shortcake, mounded with lots of fluffy whipped cream, which needed to be hurriedly consumed so that we could arrive on time for the live performance of Christmas music played on the store's famous organ.

There were those occasional times when I would get to choose where we would have lunch, and because I was a young child with no particular preference for linen tablecloths or fine china, I would ask go to a restaurant that would excite me like no other, the automat at Horn and Hardarts. The particular one we visited was a much lesser version of the original restaurant conceived in the 1920's but I loved it anyway. It was a large rectangular shaped space with a green linoleum floor littered with used napkins and food covered forks dropped by hungry dinners that had partaken of their meals earlier in the day. The front of the building was entirely made of windows that ran from floor to ceiling. Another wall, which served as a backdrop for the red and yellow formica topped tables and an array of scattered chairs, was a blank canvas of unadorned white subway tile. The remaining two walls were lined with various sized transom type "windows" that opened to reveal an assortment of hot entrees, fresh salads, and delectable desserts. After grabbing a chipped and faded tray from the gigantic stack located just inside the doorway, I would place it on the chrome rail that ran the entire length of those horizontal cubicles stacked 3 to 4 rows high. Clutching my tray, I would slowly move along the silver "tracks" until I spotted something that appealed to me. I would usually choose the beef stew because it was so delicious and looked like something that would help to sustain me throughout the rest of the day. I would insert the correct amount of quarters in the slot located at the glass door's vertical edge and open it to reveal my entree served in a brown glazed oval dish. I would continue to work my way toward the end of the line, but not before choosing some kind of pie, usually either coconut cream, coconut custard, or lemon meringue. That pie and a drink completed my meal and I would walk as slowly and carefully as I could to prevent my tray from tipping and spilling all of it's contents onto the floor. I would be consumed with worry over "losing my lunch" until I reached my red or yellow destination. Oh to have those worries again, and oh to have that restaurant back with the same quality food it served so many years ago!

The following recipe is a very similar version of the Horn and Hardart's beef stew I loved as a child and, believe it or not, that is a compliment! It was given to me by my mother-in-law, and the minute I tasted it, I was right back in my molded plastic cafeteria chair happily eating my lunch and wishing with all my heart that my heavy snow coat and red woolen scarf would disappear into thin air.

Traditions are those priceless gifts we give to our children. Whether built by one generation after the next, or started on a whim, they become the heart of our lives and our concept of the perfect holiday. Go ahead everybody, get out there and continue an old family tradition, or get busy building a new memory....just don't be found guilty of having your child swelter in their winter gear before, during, or after they share it with you!!


BERNIE'S BEEF STEW

1 pound of stewing beef
flour for coating the beef
1 tsp salt
1/4 tsp ground pepper
canola oil
1 large onion - peeled and cut into wedges
3 beef bullion cubes
4 stalks of celery - washed and cut in half, and then into bite size pieces
4-5 medium carrots - washed, peeled, and cut into 1/4 inch rounds
1 (8 ounce) can of tomato sauce
1 bay leaf
4-5 medium white potatoes - washed, peeled, and cubed
more salt and pepper to taste

Buy one pound of good quality stewing beef. If the pieces are too large, cut them into a size that may be easier to eat and will be distributed more evenly thoughout the stew.


Flour the beef pieces by placing the meat and approximately 1/2 cup of flour, 1 tsp salt, and 1/4 tsp pepper, into a zip lock bag. Shake well to be sure the meat is thoroughly coated.

Heat enough canola oil to cover the bottom of a large pot or dutch oven over medium heat. Brown the beef slowly in small batches, turning the heat down if necessary to keep the meat from becoming too dark or crispy. Stir the meat as you go to assure all sides are being browned. Add more oil as needed to prevent the meat and/or flour from burning. Remove the meat from the pan.

Add the onions and brown slowly for about ten minuets, stirring frequently. Again, be careful not to let the onions burn. Return the meat to the pan and add water to just cover the meat and the onions. Add 3 beef bullion cubes to the water and turn the heat down to simmer for about 20 minuets. Add the celery and carrots to the pot along with a small 8 ounce can of tomato sauce and a bay leaf. Stir well and continue to simmer another 20 minuets. Add the potatoes and continue to simmer until the they are cooked through, keeping the heat even and stirring frequently to prevent burning. Remove the bay leaf and add additional salt and pepper to taste.

Serves 4