On a beautiful spring evening in a gorgeous outdoor garden, the Most Reverend (well not really, but certainly the most likeable) Bill McLain married Kacy and David Wong. Again.

As I mentioned several days ago, Kacy and David actually married several years ago in a very small ceremony in front of a justice of the peace. Saturday night, they renewed their vows in a spectacular celebration of their love. Bill McLain ably presided.

And it was a good excuse for a party.

Family and friends gathered together to hear Kacy and David renew their vows, accompanied by their three sweetie-pie daughters – Ava, Jenna, and Lexie, who served as flower girls. Well, actually it would be fair to say that only Ava walked down the aisle sprinkling the path with rose blossoms. Lexie, who is only 1-1/2, was carried by maid-of-honor Jessie, and 3-year-old Jenna had to be coaxed from her hiding place behind the plastic plant by her Mimi (my sister-in-law Sami). And by coaxing I mean physically lifted up and carried down the aisle. Our beautiful Jenna does not like the spotlight, thank you very much.

The entire celebration was so much fun. It was informal, yet elegant. And I have to admit it’s the only wedding I have attended where the usher was 6 years old. And extraordinarily handsome. As the ceremony began, Noah’s daddy Christopher told him, “Noah, you walk Aunt Beckie down the aisle, and then you hustle back. Then you walk Aunt Kris down the aisle and you hustle back. Then you walk Aunt Jen down the aisle and you hustle back.” Well my friends, he did it masterfully. And when you’re 6, hustling back means a full-out run. Good thing he was wearing sneakers with his tux.

Kacy with Usher Extraordinaire Noah.

Kacy’s dress was beautiful and perfect for her tiny little self.

I’m beginning to sound like a fashion page editor and I’m not liking it one little bit. And yet I feel compelled to explain just how pretty it all was. The garden was filled with flowers and candlelight. Eventually music and laughter and food was added to the mix.

And you can call it a good day when you see my brother in a tux. And dancing with his little girl to Tim McGraw’s My Little Girl, and knowing that the words ring entirely true.

Sami and Dave prior to the wedding.

Now it’s back to the real world for us all.

Bill calls us “The Three Graces.” I think his tongue is placed firmly in his cheek.

Brooke, Christopher, Kacy, and Jessie. Aren’t they gorgeous?

I have already mentioned that two of my grandsons had accidents during the past couple of weeks that involved visits to the Emergency Room. I found out after I posted my blog about how busy their guardian angels have been kept that our 1-year-old grandson also had a visit to the Emergency Room shortly after that of his brother following the bowling accident. Little Micah apparently stepped on broken glass with bare feet. Yikes.

But that’s not what made me smile, obviously.

Following the bowling incident, which resulted in shattered bones in the ring finger and the middle finger of his left hand above the knuckle, Joseph had a splint taped to his fingers to keep them immobile. Well, because kids heal so quickly, he got the splint removed this week.

After the splint was removed and they were at home, his mom asked him how his fingers felt. He thought for a moment, and replied, “Well, mostly they felt surprised.”

And there you have it Friends. Looking at the healing process from the perspective of a 4-1/2 year old.

Have a good weekend.

My dad and mom’s bakery in Columbus was right next door to a bar. When I was very little, the name of the bar was the B&B Lounge. Later, and for most of my time in Columbus, the bar was owned by a couple of brothers with a Polish last name ending in “ski” and the bar was cleverly named the Ski Lounge. Clever except that if you were “not from around these parts”, you might wonder why a bar in the middle of Nebraska was referred to as a ski lounge. Whatever.

Perhaps oddly, that bar was an important part of my life growing up. When we were very little, Mom and Dad would take Bec and I with them to the bar. (Jen and Dave weren’t yet the gleam in the eye that you hear about.) That might sound funny, but I assure you there was nothing odd about it whatsoever. We played with other kids that were there (mostly our cousins!). The bar was a family-friendly place. They had a popcorn

Ski Lounge, Columbus, NE. The blue building to the left was the bakery.

machine. You put a dime in the machine and out came popcorn into a little paper holder much like a coffee filter. I remember that we would eat the popcorn and then place the paper containers on our heads to wear as hats. Funny. It doesn’t sound like that much fun now.

The Ski Lounge also had a shuffleboard table. Bec and I learned to play shuffleboard at that very table. Now we go to Las Vegas and play high-stakes shuffleboard. Well, that last part’s not true, but we did love us some shuffleboard. I think Dad would even play with us once in a while. I can’t remember if I was any good. Probably not.

Because it was a family-friendly environment (or at least it was when I was young), they offered a variety of pop for our enjoyment. On Saturdays when we would eat our noon dinner at Grammie’s  and Grampa’s, Grammie would give each of us kids a couple of quarters to go next door to the Ski Lounge and buy ourselves an orange Nehi. I’m pretty darn sure you wouldn’t find an orange Nehi at a bar today. And the Ski Lounge wasn’t even a restaurant, just a neighborhood bar.

I’ve been thinking about bars lately because I’m reading a book (which I will review tomorrow) where bartending is the central theme. The bar in the book is a neighborhood bar that sounds much like the one I have been describing. You know, with neon signs advertising the most popular brews. (In the case of the Ski Lounge, it was Pabst Blue Ribbon, Hamms, Falstaff, Schlitz, maybe Budweiser. No Coors in those days.)

I can even recall the way the neighborhood bars smell when you walk in. The strong smell of stale beer. Sounds yucky, but it definitely wasn’t. And no matter what time it was, there was always someone sitting at the bar, right next to the big jar of pickled eggs. Probably not someone we were allowed to talk to.

I sound so nostalgic, don’t I? About a bar? I don’t guess it’s really the bar that makes me feel nostalgic, but more about the simpleness of life back then. I don’t know what the equivalent today would be for such a family outing and resulting memory. Certainly not a bar. For one thing, I’m not sure there are more than a handful of actual bars left; instead, mostly there are bars combined with restaurants. The ones that remain are probably mostly the kind that you wouldn’t want to let your kids wander into, because likely you wouldn’t even go into such a place.

I will tell you something funny, however. To this day, I like to sit at a bar and watch a good bartender work. And I don’t just mean pouring the drinks. I also mean handling the people at the bar including engaging in interesting conversation. A good bartender doesn’t really talk much – mostly listens – but makes the person with whom he or she is engaged feel like they are talking to a best friend. I could watch a good bartender all day. Especially if they pour me an especially good martini.

One last random thought about a bar. Sometime within the last couple of years, Bill and I went back to Columbus for one of my high school reunions. We ate dinner one night at the restaurant at which my family celebrated every birthday or other special occasion, a restaurant that my mom and dad went to every Saturday night of their life in Columbus. It was called, not surprisingly, Husker House.

Husker House has a bar, and it will not surprise you to learn that the bar itself is of dark wood and there are just a couple of small windows, making the atmosphere pretty dark itself. Because we were early for our reservations, we sat down in the bar area, which was pretty full of regulars. There were two bartenders, a young man and a fairly old woman – seriously, probably in her 70s. I tentatively ordered a martini from a cocktail server, keeping my fingers crossed that the young man would make the drink. No such luck. The order was given to the woman.

“I’m not hopeful about this martini,” I said to my husband.

I got the martini – Tanqueray, up with an olive – and the glass was ice cold. I took a tentative sip, and to my surprise, tasted one of the best martinis ever made by someone other than me. So much for stereotypes. She’s probably made several thousand martinis in her lifetime.

Cheers!

We have a wedding in our family to add to the plethora of celebrations we have enjoyed while in Arizona this winter. My readers have joined us at celebrations of birthdays, anniversaries, St. Paddy’s Day, Mardi Gras, and more birthdays. It’s fun to celebrate something a bit different.

The wedding is that of my niece Kacy and her husband David. Yes, I said her husband. They actually were married in a very small ceremony a couple of years ago, but Kacy and David wanted a chance to celebrate their marriage with friends and family, so that’s what we’re doing. The marriage ceremony will be Saturday.

My brother and sister-in-law are hosting a rehearsal dinner tonight. They are calling it a rehearsal dinner because it’s a dinner following the rehearsal. In reality, it’s another excuse for a party. Lots of food and family and certainly a lot of fun.

Since my sister-in-law Sami has a lot going on with getting ready for the rehearsal dinner, the wedding, working, and making the beautiful wreaths that she sells through her Etsy account, I offered to take care of desserts. She had the idea of offering a variety of small, bite-sized yummies instead of one big dessert. Well, I took her idea and ran with it.

The first thing I did was call in reinforcements. Namely, Bec and Maggie. And, of course, Pinterest. You can find anything on Pinterest. So I began “pinning” recipes for tiny little desserts of all kinds, and Bec and Maggie did the same. We found miniature cannoli and miniature baklava and miniature chocolate cream pies.  We pinned recipes for chocolate caramel pies and chocolate peanut butter cupcakes and banana cream pies. ALL THE SIZE OF A MINI CUPCAKE PAN.

Of course, our baking day – yesterday – was the hottest day of the year so far. Dangerously close to 100 degrees. Between my overworked oven and my air conditioner that hasn’t been turned on for a year, the appliances were doing a lot of huffing and puffing. I think everything is still in one piece. The oven might be the most tired.

Austin and Lilly joined in the fun. Well, actually Austin spent most of the afternoon back in the bedroom in his designated “secret hideout” which, to most of us, would be under the chair. Give him a secret hideout and my Ipad and he’s happy. Lilly watched from her little chair, but every so often made it known that she was not that happy to not be the center of attention. We just kept telling her Grammie was coming for the wedding so just be patient. You will be the center very soon.

The results were awesome, if I must say so myself. Bill was the self-designated taste tester, and he gave totally of himself and tried every single variety. The man just gives and gives. I, of course, had to look but not taste because of the whole giving-up-sweets for Lent.

We received his seal of approval.

This evening we will have to set up the dessert table sometime either before the rehearsal or after, because, you see, Bill is the presider at the wedding.

He asks me to call him Pastor Bill, despite the fact that he doesn’t even have one of those internet ministerial licenses. Doesn’t need it, especially because they’re already married.

Life is definitely different from when I was young but one things stays the same.

Cannoli are scrumptious, whether they’re full sized or mini. Or so I’m told….. The whole Lent thing you know.

Nana’s Notes: We ended up with almost 450 little pieces of 11 or 12 different varieties. Yee haw.

We thought when we bought the house in Arizona we would be inundated with springtime visitors. The visits have not transpired, largely because we keep forgetting that most of the people we hoped would visit have those annoying little things called JOBS.

Bec and I enjoy Saguaro Lake.

Over the past months, we talked about going here or there, but would always say, “We can do that when someone comes to see us.”

Now time is getting short here in the desert. Bill and I plan on leaving for Denver soon, hoping to arrive just before the birth of our newest grandchild. We decided it was time to think of some of the things we wanted to do and, as Nike proclaims, JUST DO IT.

Our house is smack dab in the middle of the Sonoran Desert, which boasts some of the most beautiful scenery in nature – the saguaro cactus being probably the most distinctive and I think most beautiful.  I never get tired of looking at them poking jauntily out of the clay earth on the sides of the mountains or in the desert.  While we’re located in Mesa, we don’t have to drive very far to be out in the middle of the desert, and that’s what we decided to do one day last week.

Tortilla Flat

There’s a popular legend prevalent in this part of the state. Back in the 1800s, miner Jacob Waltz purportedly struck gold but died without telling anyone where his mine was located. There’s still supposed to be gold in them thar hills, but no one has been able to find it. (There’s probably a good reason for that, but who am I to ruin a perfectly good legend?) So every year people make their way up onto Superstition Mountain to look for the Lost Dutchman Mine. In fact, a number of people have died trying to find their way to millionaire status, most recently a man from Colorado.

Every once in a while Bill will say to me, “Let’s go find the Lost Dutchman Mine and become millionaires.” We decided instead to just drive our car over to Tortilla Flat, a tiny little tourist trap on the other side of Superstition. The drive was beautiful, with a stop at Canyon Lake along the way.

The next day we decided to make our way up to the top of Microwave Mountain, which is walking distance to our house. From the top (which involves a fairly steep climb), you can see the whole of the Superstition Mountain, as well as a panoramic view of our neighborhood, including our house. We like to do it at least once when we’re here. Jen and I have actually found a couple of geocaches along the route. And I’m pretty sure I saw the Lost Dutchman Mine from the top! Might need to make another trip back into the mountains next week.

This past weekend we decided to leave the comfort of our neighborhood and make our way to where the other half lives – Scottsdale. More specifically, we went to Old Town Scottsdale and visited an Italian Festival. Quite frankly, we were disappointed in the festival, but delighted to walk around Old Scottsdale and people watch. The one highlight at the festival – this delicious pizza from Pomo Pizzaria Napoletana. Just like the pizzas we ate in Italy. The folks running the booth actually spoke to each other in Italian. Funny thing was, when they handed me my pizza, without thinking, I said, “Grazie.”

But perhaps we saved the best for last. Yesterday, Bill and Bec and I played the ultimate tourists and took a boat tour of Saguaro Lake.

We started out with lunch on the restaurant patio overlooking the lake. After lunch, we climbed onto the tour boat, and were grateful to have upgraded our tickets to allow us to board first. As a result, we got the best seats on the boat – upper deck, right out front.  And what a ride we got. Saguaro Lake connects up with a couple of other lakes and the whole kit and caboodle includes some dams that provide water for the metro area and help us water our golf courses. Oh well.

Our tour guide/captain was entertaining, and though he undoubtedly gives the same spiel 20-plus times a week, he gave us interesting information and sounded like he was telling his stories for the first time. Our tour included sightings of hawks, mountain goats, and turkey vultures (which seemed to hang around the boat, perhaps aware that the average age of the boat’s passengers was 85 and someone could keel over at any point).

Can you see the mountain goats standing way at the top?

Things went fine until a gust of wind blew my empty can into the water and the people sitting next to me looked at me like I had dumped a plastic bag of empty PBR cans into the lake. I’m sorry, People! I promise I couldn’t catch it in time. I wasn’t about to dive into the water. See yesterday’s post about not being able to swim.

There are a few more things we would like to see yet before we head home, but the rest of this week will be concentrated on the upcoming wedding of my niece — a wedding over which my husband will be presiding!

From the time I could talk and throughout my formative years, every night before I fell asleep, I said this prayer…

Angel of God, my Guardian dear, to whom God’s love entrusts me here. Ever this night be at my side, to light and guard, to rule and guide. Amen.

My son said the same prayer, at least until I no longer tucked him into bed. And when his kids spend the night at Nana and Papa’s house, they say the same prayer.

I love angels. And I have no hesitation in believing in their existence.

I’m not alone either. A poll conducted by CBS a couple of years ago determined that 94 percent of those who attend weekly religious services said they believed in angels. But surprisingly, the same poll showed that a majority of non-Christians also believed in the existence of angels.

For some reason, it is not unpopular  to believe in angels in the same way as it often is to profess a belief in God. I don’t really understand why this is; however, I personally know people who proclaim no belief in God or organized religion but who believe in angels.

It doesn’t matter. It’s just interesting to me that angels are so revered.

I’ve been thinking about angels – and in particular guardian angels – lately as two of my grandkids have visited the emergency room with injuries to their hands. Their guardian angels simply couldn’t keep up.

Joseph was injured in a bowling accident. I believe his guardian angel took a little time off to visit the snack bar because (s)he determined no one could possibly sustain an injury while bowling. You can if you’re 4 and you drop a bowling ball on your fingers. The result: shattered bones on the ring finger and tall man of his left hand above the knuckle. Poor bud.

About a week later, Alastair cut his hand open on a piece of glass tubing that was a part of the chemistry set Papa and I gave him for his 9^th birthday. By the time we telephoned him to wish him a happy birthday at 8 o’clock in the morning, he was at the Emergency Room. His guardian angel remains silent on how THAT happened.

Accidents of course do happen to kids whether or not you believe in guardian angels. But I would anticipate total and complete chaos amongst children should angels not exist.

Bill and I have always been convinced we had a travel angel who guided and cared for us as we traveled throughout Europe back in 2008. I could relate story after story about ways in which we were mysteriously saved from imminent disaster. There was, for example, the time we were getting ready to leave our hotel room in Lourdes and, though I had never done it before, I looked under the bed. Don’t know why, just did it on a whim. There was Bill’s credit card. How it got there or what made me decide to look under the bed…..well, only the angel knows.

We saw some beautiful art that involved angels while we traveled in Europe. There is a particularly beautiful work by Fra Angelico called the Annunciation. It is well protected in a museum in Florence. No flash photography allowed. The first time we saw the painting, we didn’t realize you couldn’t use a flash and Bill took a picture, using, of course, his flash. “NO FLASH,” came a loud voice out of nowhere and no one, so we’re pretty sure it was God. Or the Angel Gabriel of whom it was a portrait.

It pleases me to no end, by the way, that God uses angels as his messengers as well as the protectors of his people. The story of the Angel Gabriel visiting Mary to tell her about how her little simple life was never going to be the same is the most beautiful story in the Bible.

I guess I don’t understand angels any more than I understand anything else about God and his gifts to us. I just believe. And I seriously hope my guardian angel is present today when we take a boat cruise on Saguaro Lake since I don’t swim a single, solitary stroke!

Nine years ago today, our grandson Timothy Alastair McLain made his appearance in this world, and nothing has been the same since.

He didn’t come into this world particularly easily, causing his mom to have to work very hard to introduce him to us. And he pretty much hasn’t taken the easy route any time since. Maybe that’s because he’s a boy surrounded by sisters.

He’s busy all the time. Particularly when he was small, we often thought he simply couldn’t hold still. And yet, he can sit for literally hours working on designing a

Doesn’t he look so concerned?

bridge or a building or a spaceship. He loves to read, and he and Addie spend the last minutes of each day sitting next to each other on her bed reading a book.

Happy birthday Alastair, and thanks for making me smile.

Have a good weekend, All.

Going to work with Dad.

Alastair and Papa are trying to figure out how to approach the White House Lego sculpture.

Apparently when you’re spending the night at Nana’s, you can order huge donuts and you don’t have to comb your hair.

Nana’s Notes: Alastair Update

We telephoned him at 8 o’clock in the morning his time to wish him happy birthday only to learn that he was already at the emergency room with his mom as a result of an injury received from the chemistry set we bought him for his birthday. Oy vey! Non-life-threatening injury apparently. Sorry Buddy.

Every Friday one of my favorite bloggers – Big Mama – posts different fashion finds. I pore over these gorgeous clothes and shoes lustfully, thinking they are gorgeous but knowing that I couldn’t wear the majority of them in a million years – I’m too short, too old, too chubby, or too likely to fall on my behind in the chunky heels.

But cooking paraphernalia is a different ball of wax altogether. I am the queen of kitchen gadgets. If I go into a kitchen store, well let’s just say I never come out empty-handed. I always find something that I can’t imagine I cooked without for 40 years.

Unfortunately, many of the things I buy get used once or twice and then begin to gather dust on my counters or in my drawers until such time as I take them downstairs to the Room For All Things That Haven’t Been Used in 25 Years. (Look it up. All long-time homeowners have such a room.) There they will continue to gather even more dust until we die and our children have to sell the house.

When Jen and Bill and I bought this house in Arizona, it made us stop and think about what kinds of things were really important to be comfortable.  In particular, we began thinking about what we needed to be able to cook meals. We started out using kitchen hand-me-downs from Maggie and others – sort of like back in college. But when Bill and I started spending the winter here, I began missing some of my kitchen goodies.

So, instead of gorgeous clothing, I am going to tell you the things that I consider so important that I either have already bought them for the Arizona house, or will very soon.

Lodge Cast Iron Skillet with Lid

A cast iron skillet is truly one thing I can’t live without in the kitchen, and Lodge is the best. Back in Denver, I own a 12-inch and a 15-inch, both with lids. I use them primarily to fry steaks and to fry chicken. There is nothing better in which to fry chicken than cast iron. Period. Because I have a large family – both in Denver and here in Arizona – the 15-inch skillet is a must. Otherwise I spend hours frying chicken. Here in Arizona I decided to buy the 10-1/4 inch instead of the 12-inch. Better for cooking for two, and considerably lighter. I find it difficult to get the 15-inch out of the oven by myself because of it’s weight.

I consider the lid to be important, but it comes separately, and is every bit as expensive as the skillet itself. It’s a personal decision.

By the way, another great place to find a cast iron skillet at a decent price is an Army-Navy Surplus store.

Digital meat thermometer

I am not terribly concerned about the brand, though Taylor makes a good one. I use the thermometer whenever I make a roast, either in the oven or on the grill. A good digital thermometer is the difference between nice juicy meat and an expensive rib roast becoming beef jerky. I could not make a decent turkey or a standing rib roast before I discovered this magical item.

Garlic Press

I had to be sold on this item, but once I was a convert, I haven’t looked back. For years I tried different brands, some quite expensive. They never worked for me. But my sisters convinced me to try the garlic press from Pampered Chef, and I will confirm that they’re right. It works great. You don’t even have to remove the peel. Simple, fast way to get garlic into your food.

Tiny Paring Knife

I absolutely love my little paring knife. In fact, I first used such a knife at my mother-in-law’s house, and immediately loved it, and began searching for it. They are not easy to find, at least not the ones I want. That’s because I’m the only one left on earth who is so enamored with this particular item. One of my sons thinks I’m crazy for liking this so much. “They are too small to be useful and not very sharp,” says he. I, on the other hand, love them for CERTAIN jobs. Like cutting up an apple or strawberry. I have found them at the Ace Hardware in my Denver neighborhood, but not all Ace Hardwares carry them. They are very inexpensive, so I buy them by the handsful! Here’s a picture so that you can see how much smaller it is than a regular paring knife…

8 c. Pyrex Measuring Cup  

I had no idea how much I loved this big measuring cup with the handle until I was here and didn’t have one. They are useful for melting chocolate or marshmallows in the microwave. I love them for muffins and cupcakes and filling all sorts of pans with batter. I’m not sure why, but I prefer the Pyrex over the plastic versions.

 Wustoff Classic 6 in Chef Knife

Brand name is a personal choice. Size is also a personal choice. But a good cook needs a good chef’s knife. Wustoff Classic is the brand of choice for me. I like the 6-inch chef knife because my hands are small, but larger knives are more popular by far. Keep the knife sharp and take good care of it (no dishwasher and be careful on your granite!)

Silpat Baking Sheet

I seriously don’t know how I lived without them all the years before I had these amazing sheets. (Now if that isn’t hyperbole, I don’t know what is.) They make cookie baking so simple. They are easy to clean too. Surprisingly expensive, but buy two because that way you will have a tray of cookies waiting to go in the oven when you take the finished cookies out.

Here are things I don’t yet own in Arizona but intend to buy:

Cuisinart 9-cup food processor

I fought the idea of a food processor for a long time – years, in fact. But I finally tested the waters by buying an inexpensive brand at Walmart to see if I would use it. I did. I chop up foods. I make pie crusts. I prepare dips and pesto and chimichurri and salsa and all kinds of sauces. In fact, the one at home I used so much it stopped working – likely a result of being inexpensive. So I bought a Cuisinart and love it. For many things, I could get by with a much smaller food processor – a mini food processor, in fact. But for pie crusts I need a larger one. Make sure if you buy it at Bed Bath and Beyond that you use the 20 percent coupon!

Kitchenaid Stand Mixer  

I will tell you that if there was one item in my kitchen that you would have to pry out of my cold, dead hands, it would be my Kitchenaid stand mixer. I would own one here in Arizona right now if counter space wasn’t an issue. I almost never use any other mixer besides the standing mixer. I use it A LOT to knead bread.There are, of course, many sizes, colors, speeds, etc. The one I have at home is somewhat of an upgraded version. When I finally buy one here, it will be smaller and with less power. Since these puppies last forever, you can also look for one on ebay or Craigs List. They are worth every penny you spend and every inch of counter space you give up.

Le Creuset French Oven

I have come to the conclusion that is you are going to buy an enamel-lined iron Dutch Oven, it should be a Le Creuset enamel-lined French Oven. I have tried less expensive brands and they just aren’t the same. Your food cooks perfectly, the clean-up is surprisingly easy, and they make you feel, well, so French. I do struggle with the interior getting discolored, wanting it always to look just like the day I bought it. But the discoloration has no impact on the cooking. In Denver, I bought a 7-1/4 qt oven, which is waaaay to big for my needs. When I finally spring for one here, it will be the 5-1/2 qt. Maybe even smaller. I bought mine at the Le Creuset outlet store. Amazon’s price was similar.

There you have it — my critical gadgets list. Someday soon I will post about the things you DON’T need in the kitchen.

By the way, I asked my sisters what they’re favorite kitchen gadgets/appliances are.

Bec’s: her toaster oven, paring knife, and garlic press.

Jen’s: her mini food processor, Cuisinart juicer, Keurig coffee maker

Today’s recipe is a grilled dessert.

Grilled Sweet Pineapple Slices with Grilled Pound Cake

Ingredients

1 whole fresh pineapple, cut into slices OR a can of sliced pineapple

Brown sugar

Cinnamon

1 frozen or homemade pound cake loaf, thickly sliced

Whipped cream or ice cream

Process

Cut fresh pineapple into thick slices OR use canned sliced pineapple. Liberally sprinkle both sides with brown sugar and cinnamon about 30 minutes before grilling. Grill for about 5 minutes on each side, until there are grill marks.

At the same time, place the slices of pound cake on the grill. Cook for approximately 5 minutes per side, or until there are grill marks.

Place pineapple slices on top of the grilled pound cake and serve with ice cream or whipped cream.

Nana’s Notes: I used canned pineapple and was very generous with the brown sugar and cinnamon. Fresh pineapple would definitely be yummier, but the canned worked just fine. I loved the sort of crunch the pound cake got from the grilling. Delicous dessert.