Tropical Gingerbread and Antics in Florida

So I confess yesterday was a bit of a sloth day.  I didn’t have much motivation for my one un-scheduled Saturday of the next several months and got to 4pm before I contemplated doing anything for this blog.  And as such, I didn’t really have much motivation to go to the grocery store to supply my kitchen with any missing ingredients.  

I went through the recipe cards, casting aside anything that required chocolate chips or chocolate baking squares… and then found one ginger cookie recipe (with the note not to make on a humid day – perfect for December when the wood stove is roaring) and one for Tropical Gingerbread.  Well, I did supply my kitchen with coconut a few weeks back (prompted by holiday baking sales and my initial perusal of recipe cards).  Plus, that recipe was slightly less involved… so the choice was made.

 

Even though gingerbread is clearly an appropriate selection for December, I couldn’t think of a good story to tie into my family – especially when considering the word ‘tropical.’  I mean we are as New England as it gets.  We aren’t really the grass skirt and lei kind of family.  But then as I was contemplating the thesis of last night’s blog, I was reminded of my grandfather and how he spent several months in Florida during WWII… where this photo was taken.

 (The handwritten caption is 'Tarzan.'  The page is dated December 1942 - could well have been 70 years ago today)

When I discovered the stash of party photos last Christmas that prompted a few Sunday afternoon reminisces with my grandmother, I also found a thick black photo album, labeled U.S. Army Air Forces. It is full of labeled photos – time stamped as Sebring, Florida Oct. 1942 – Jan. 1943.  My grandmother wasn’t much interested in explaining this album to me.  She wasn’t there… and if you look at the photos, you can tell there were a lot of other women there, who were undoubtedly struck by my grandfather’s good looks.  Indeed, folded in the back of this album is a pencil drawing of a nurse enclosed in a heart.

This is one of those stories I wish I had thought to pursue when I had the chance.  But my grandfather died when I was 18.  The last year of his life his memories near and far were severely compromised.  Most of what I know of him in his youth came from my grandmother… who, I always found it interesting, heartwarming, would refer to him constantly as ‘my husband.’  Very seldom, if at all, ‘your grandfather.’  As if he was always hers.  And maybe that’s why this album full of other women was not her favorite story to tell.

 (The back of this photo is stamped as an official photo of the Mobile Air Service Command Photographic Dept.)

So I can’t say I know tons about his military story… but I suspect my father and one or two uncles could help me fill in the gaps.  Especially about this intriguing newspaper clip I just discovered folded in that same scrapbook this morning.

This leads me to wonder 1. Why was he in the hospital?  2. This is dated October 1940… why was Worcester doing a puff piece about the draft a year and two months before December 1941? 

I remember at his funeral a childhood friend came and told my grandmother about a tobogganing accident he had.  I think it messed up his knee or back… something my grandmother never knew about.   But there was some speculation as to how that is what kept his military involvement in the second world war off the battle lines.

There are a whole lot of stories in this scrapbook, most of which I will never know.  But it something to think of Vincent Brennan – whom I only knew as a stern (albeit fun and loving) grandfather – as a young, mischievous, dashing soldier.  It’s no wonder when he stopped my grandmother as she was walking home one day, she accepted his offer for a ride home.  Nor is it any wonder that her father and aunts were a little wary of this young fella trying to woo her off her feet.

But before Mary, there were these months in Florida.  My grandmother did mention that he was friendly with some people of considerable wealth… and there was much fun to be had - though the pictures indicate that much is a lot.  I don’t know if they ever had tropical gingerbread, but maybe there were a few coconuts.

Tropical Gingerbread

½ c. shortening, melted
½ c. sugar
1 egg
2 ½ c. sifted all-purpose flour
1 ½ tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. cinnamon
½ tsp. ground cloves
½ tsp. salt
1 c. Brer Rabbit Molasses
1 c. hot water

Cream together shortening (melted) and sugar; add egg; beat well.  Sift together flour, baking soda, spices and salt.  Combine molasses and water; add alternately with flour to first mixture.  Pour into a greased waxed paper lined 9x9x2 pan.  Bake in moderate oven, 350˚, 50-60 minutes.  Cool 5 minutes.  Remove from pan, cover with white frosting and sprinkle generously with coconut.

*Melt shortening in 3 or 4 qt. saucepan over low heat.  Remove from heat; let cool.  Then add egg and sugar; beat well.

 Mmm melting shortening. Never done that one before

One of my favorite part of these recipes is sifting spices with the flour.  It makes the kitchen smell delicious.

 It looks like a plate of snow - kind of funny considering it is tropical.  My only additional note to this is that so many of these recipes call for a 9x9 pan, which my modern baking supplies does not include - the norm is 13x9 these days.  I used an 8in cake pan and put the extra batter into a muffin tin... for tropical gingerbread cupcakes!

I suppose it is no accident I ended up writing about WWII when I have spent some time reflecting on December 7th this weekend.  And I think part of that reflection comes from thinking about my grandparents' life stories and how that shaped the family into which I was born.  But before that, before he picked my grandmother up in a car, Vinny Brennan was a soldier once and young.