The Red Hat Society's Domestic Goddess (27 page)

“Happy marriages begin when we marry the ones we love, and they blossom when we love the ones we marry.”

—
Tom Mullen

M
illie never quite retired her domestic goddess tiara; she was seen wearing it every day at noon in living rooms across America.
As Mitchell had predicted, she was picked up for syndication. But she and Charles still found time to travel around her schedule
of filming cooking segments for the news and continuing to teach the Bachelor’s Survival Course.

Of course she had the help of her best friends, Kim and Theresa, for the class and to plan the many weddings held on the deck
of Hilltop’s community center.

Kim was the first. Impatient to marry the man she loved, she wore her running shoes with her wedding dress, so she could run
down the aisle to him.

Millie hadn’t had the heart to tell her friend that although hers was the first wedding, Millie had been the first to marry.
She and Charles had wed aboard their first
cruise, using their second as their honeymoon. But then they said their vows again, in front of their family, friends, and
the rest of the class, on Hilltop’s deck where Millie had first kissed Charles.

Mitchell and Victoria also married at Hilltop, in the community center where they had first met and fallen in love. While
both were busy, they vowed to always have time for each other. Two couples renewed their vows there, too; Steven and Audrey
and Wally and Theresa.

They all lived happily ever after and ate really well. Here are the recipes Millie taught in her Bachelor’s Survival course
from
The Red Hat Society Cookbook.

A fun recipe—make sure everyone is watching when you pull the pie out of the oven. Veteran bakers say new grocery bags are
thinner than old-style bags, so double-bag the pie.

1½ cups flour

½ cup vegetable oil

¼ cup milk

Dash of salt

4 large Granny Smith apples

½ cup sugar

3 tablespoons flour

½ teaspoon cinnamon

½ cup sugar

½ cup flour

½ teaspoon cinnamon

1 stick (8 tablespoons) butter or margarine

Preheat the oven to 375°.

For the crust, combine the flour, oil, milk, and salt in a bowl and mix until the dough holds together. Roll about
-inch
thick and fit in an 8- or 9-inch pie pan. Bake for 10 minutes.

For the filling, peel, core, and slice the apples. In a large bowl toss the apples with the sugar, flour, and cinnamon. Arrange
them in the pie crust.

For the topping, combine the sugar, flour, and cinnamon. Cut in the butter with a pastry blender, two knives, or in a food
processor. Spread over the apple mixture, pressing down slightly. Slide the pie into a brown paper grocery bag. Fold the top
of the bag to close, and then fasten with paper clips. Bake for 1 hour.

Makes 8 servings.

Peggy Krickbaum

Princess Knit Wit

Flashy
Sassies

Motrose, Colorado

“Refreshing and cool,” “Beautiful icing,” “Excellent,” “Super cake for a formal party,” chirped tasters of this pretty cake.

1 (18-ounce) package orange cake mix

1 (3-ounce) package orange gelatin

1 (5-ounce) package vanilla instant pudding mix

4 eggs

½ cup vegetable oil

1½ cups milk

8 ounces sour cream

1 cup sugar

1 (5-ounce) package vanilla instant pudding mix

1 (12-ounce) can crushed pineapple, drained

1 (6-ounce) package frozen coconut

1 (8-ounce) tub whipped topping

Preheat the oven to 350°. Grease and flour three 9-inch cake pans. In a large bowl combine the cake mix, gelatin, pudding
mix, eggs, oil, and milk with an electric mixer for 3 minutes. Pour the batter in the pans and bake for 25 to 30 minutes,
or until a toothpick inserted in the cake comes out clean. Cool in the pans for 10 minutes, and then invert onto cooling racks
and cool completely before frosting. Cake must be refrigerated.

For the frosting, in a large bowl mix the sour cream,
sugar, and pudding mix together by hand. Stir in the pineapple and coconut. Fold in the whipped topping.

Makes 12 servings.

Debbie Anderson

Lady Scarlett

The Red Hot Flashes

Advance, North Carolina

Meringue stands in for crust in this heavenly creation. The tester thought a decorative drizzle of chocolate syrup would be
a nice finish.

½ cup sugar

teaspoon cream of tartar

2 egg whites

½ cup chopped walnuts

¾ cup chocolate chips

3 tablespoons hot water

1 teaspoon vanilla

1 cup heavy whipping cream, whipped

Preheat the oven to 275°. Stir together the sugar and cream of tartar. Beat the egg whites until stiff but not dry; add the
sugar mixture gradually, beating until the meringue is smooth and glossy. Line a well-buttered, 9-inch pie plate with the
meringue, keeping the bottom just ¼ inch thick. Sprinkle half the walnuts on top and bake for about 1 hour, or until delicately
browned. Let cool.

Melt the chocolate chips in the top of a double boiler
set over simmering water; stir in the hot water and cook until thickened. Cool the mixture slightly, add the vanilla, and
fold in the whipped cream. Pour into a pie shell. Sprinkle the remaining walnuts over the top. Chill 2 to 3 hours or until
the filling is set.

Makes 6 to 8 servings.

Connie McGrath

Queen of Cabernet

Last of the Red Hat Mammas

Riverside, California

For the family that prefers dark meat. Testers commented that it tastes like pot roast and suggested adding mushrooms.

flour

8 chicken thighs

5 tablespoons olive oil

4 ounces butter

1 large carrot, finely chopped

¾ onion, finely chopped

1½ celery stalks, finely chopped

3 cloves garlic, finely chopped

1½ cups white wine

½ cup dry Marsala

1 teaspoon dried rosemary

4 basil leaves

1 teaspoon hot pepper oil, optional

½ cup chicken stock

salt and pepper

cooked rice

Coat the chicken in flour. Heat the oil in a skillet over medium-high heat. Add the butter. Fry the flour-coated chicken in
the hot oil. Remove the chicken from the skillet and add the carrot, onion, celery, and garlic. Reduce the heat to medium
low and sauté for 15 minutes, or until soft. Return the chicken to the skillet and add the wine, Marsala, rosemary, basil,
pepper oil if using, chicken stock, and salt and pepper to taste. Cook for 1 hour. Serve the chicken with the sauce over rice.

Makes 4 servings.

Judy Sausto

Dame Judy

Dames with a Par-Tea Hat-titude

Egg Harbor Township, New Jersey

Leave the tail on when grilling shrimp—it gives guests a “handle” for eating them.

fresh jalapeño peppers, cut into very thin slices

4 to 5 pounds fresh cleaned shrimp, shelled, deveined, tails on

uncooked bacon slices

dash of celery salt

dash of lemon pepper

dash of garlic powder

melted butter, if needed

Place a toothpick-sized sliver of fresh raw jalapeño inside the slit made when shrimp are deveined. Press shut and wrap with
a 1- to 2-inch piece of bacon. Run a barbecue skewer through one of the shrimp and then the other, so that each shrimp is
well secured on the skewer. Pack several shrimp snugly onto the skewer—this helps hold them in place as they cook. Lay each
skewer in a shallow dish, and sprinkle with the celery salt, lemon pepper, and garlic powder.

Grill the shrimp on a medium-hot grill for about 10 to 15 minutes, or until the bacon is crisp. The lower tail sections may
blacken; this isn’t important. If the shrimp appear to be drying out too much during the grilling, baste the cooking shrimp
with the melted butter.

Makes 8 to 10 servings.

Glenda Bonham

Countess of Confusion

Ruby Roadrunners

Fort Stockton, Texas

Please turn this page

for two previews of

Regina Hale Sutherland’s

other novels of fun, friendship,

and romance over fifty.

Acting Their Age

and

Queens of Woodlawn Avenue

M
UDDY
C
REEK
, T
EXAS
, J
ANUARY
7

M
ia MacAfee hated mornings, but at five A.M. on Friday, hers were the first bootprints in the two inches of sugar-soft snow
that had fallen during the night.

It’s the best part of the day, Mia,
she imagined Dan whispering in her ear.
Why would you want to snooze it away?

Mia glanced over her shoulder, half expecting to see her husband behind her, a wink from his flashing green eyes, his lopsided
smile and crooked front tooth. Instead, she saw only the curved pathway she had carved through the sleeping streets of Muddy
Creek. In her mind, she whispered back to him,
Okay, Dan MacAfee, you win. It is beautiful. Peaceful, too. And cozy, in a weird sort of way. But the quilt on our bed is
also all those things and it’ s
warm.

They had these conversations from time to time, Mia and her dead husband, the same intimate banter they’d indulged in when
he was alive. The talks kept Mia sane,
though she suspected if she told anyone, they might disagree with that assessment of her mental state.

Like every morning, Mia made her way to the Brewed Awakening, the coffee shop she’d opened four years ago with Leanne Chilton,
her most unlikely friend, as Dan used to call her. A year ago September, only a couple of weeks before Dan died, she recalled
sitting with him in the stands at a football game in Brister where their son coached. When the band marched onto the field,
the brass section drowning out everything else, Dan laughed and said that if women were instruments, Leanne would be a trumpet.
All brassy and full of sass. “Now
you,
on the other hand,” he started, then some kid had dumped a Coke in his lap, ending the conversation. It was one of many talks
left incomplete between them, little discussions they probably would’ve continued at some point, had he lived.

While Mia had no clue what instrument she’d be, her friend Aggie Cobb was another story. Dan hadn’t gotten around to Aggie,
either, but Mia saw the older woman as a flute. Upbeat, fluttery, happy. Or a bass drum. Steady as a heartbeat, predictable,
reliable.

Unlike her friendship with Leanne, Dan understood her friendship with Aggie. So did Mia. Which was why she was up and out
this morning so much earlier than usual. Some things in life are more important than an extra hour beneath the covers, Mia
thought. Some things can’t wait. Some things are so troublesome they have the power to jar even a morning-hater awake before
the alarm.

Please, God, please let her be in the kitchen like always,
kneading the sweet roll dough, humming along to Patsy Cline.

Mia shoved her fallen purse strap up to her shoulder then settled one mitten-covered hand atop the stack of clean, folded
tablecloths she carried. How old was Aggie’s mother when her mind started slipping? Older than Aggie, surely. Much older.
Seventy, at least.