Inspiration.  I need some. 


Do you ever get stuck in a cooking rut?  Or a non-cooking rut?  Most of the time I am excited to cook and plan and shop, but recently, I have become lazy and dull. 


I think that part of this attitude comes from starting a new job, and not having everything in order for meals. 


I know that part of it is the insane price increases of meat, fresh fruits and vegetables and other grocery items that has happened in recent months.  


How do I get past this sadness?


OK...here is my commitment. 


Starting to today, I promise to plan meals, make a list, shop for, and prepare meals for this week.   

My parents are moving.  They have moved so many times in my lifetime.  I would guess this may be their last move. 

Tonight I am going to their home to try to put all their stuff into some sort of order.  This has me a little worried.  As I have mentioned in this blog before, my mother LOVES dishes.  And Corning Ware.  And glassware.  And stuff.  She told me that she has been getting rid of "everything", and that there is almost nothing left.  Um, not according to my brother.  Seems that she is not able to part with quite a bit of it yet.  So, this may be a bigger job than I hoped/expected/wished for.

This is Father's Day weekend.  I made a lasagna for us to share tomorrow - in the middle of moving.  Should be a nice break - certainly better than a dry sandwich. 

My Dad's favorite pie is Raisin Pie.  I have never liked raisins, so I don't understand the appeal, but I try to make one for him each year. 

Simple Raisin Pie
     2 (9 inch) pie shell
     2 cups water
     1/2 cup white sugar
     2 tablespoons all-purpose flour    
     1/4 teaspoon salt
     1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
     1 tablespoon butter
     1 tablespoon lemon juice
     2 cups raisins
Directions
Preheat oven to 450 degrees F.
In a large saucepan, combine water, sugar, flour, salt, vanilla, butter or margarine, and lemon juice. Mix well, then stir in raisins. Simmer over low heat for 10 minutes, stirring frequently. Remove from heat.
Pour raisin mixture into pastry-lined pie pan. Cover with second pastry. Seal edges and cut steam vents in top.
Bake in preheated oven for 15 minutes, then lower the heat to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C) and bake an additional 25 to 30 minutes.

My Father-in-law loves Pineapple Upside-down Cake. Again, not my favorite, but i try to make one for him each year. 

Pineapple Upside-Down Cake

     3 tablespoons butter

     1 (20 ounce) can crushed pineapple with juice

     8 maraschino cherries

     1/4 cup walnut halves

     2/3 cup packed brown sugar

     1/3 cup shortening

     1/2 cup white sugar

     1 egg

     1 teaspoon vanilla extract

     1 1/4 cups sifted cake flour

     1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

     1/2 teaspoon salt

     1/2 cup reserved pineapple juice

Directions

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.  Drain pineapple and reserve 1/2 cup of the juice.

Melt butter in a 9 inch round pan. Arrange cherries and walnut halves in the pan according to how many servings you want. Sprinkle with brown sugar, and then pineapple.

Cream together shortening and granulated sugar until light and fluffy. Add egg and vanilla, and beat well. Sift together flour, baking powder and salt. Add alternately with reserved pineapple syrup, beating after each addition.

Spread batter in pan over pineapple. Bake at 350 degrees F for 45 to 50 minutes. Let stand 5 minutes in the pan, then invert onto plate. Serve warm.

My husband has a new favorite dessert: Buster Bar Parfait Dessert.  Now this is a dessert that I understand.  In the evenings, I sit in my chair next to my husband, and we hear the teeny, tiny voice calling our name from the freezer---"Marilyn.  Marilyn?  EEEaaattt me!  Eat me!".

Buster Bar Parfait Dessert

1 pound chocolate sandwich cookies, crushed

1/2 cup margarine, melted

1 3/4 cups confectioners' sugar

1 (12 fluid ounce) can evaporated milk

1 cup semisweet chocolate chips

1/2 cup margarine

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/2 gallon vanilla ice cream

1 1/2 cups dry-roasted peanuts

Combined crushed cookies and melted margarine and press into a 9x13 inch dish. Chill 1 hour in refrigerator. In a saucepan over medium heat, combine confectioners' sugar, evaporated milk, chocolate chips and 1/2 cup margarine. Bring to a boil, stirring constantly, and boil 8 minutes. Remove from heat and stir in vanilla. Set aside to cool. Slice vanilla ice cream into 3/4 inch slices, and place them in a single layer over the chilled crust. Smooth the seams. Sprinkle the peanuts over the ice cream. Top with the cooled chocolate sauce. Cover and freeze 8 hours or overnight.

So, this is how I will spend the weekend.  Family, dessert....it is all good.

Life goes on...

So...it has been a really long time since I have posted on this site.  It constantly amazes me how quickly the days seem to fly by.  (Great-now I sound like an old person).  


Cooking seems to have taken a back seat in our home lately.  Our son moved back in to save money as he finishes college.  Our schedules don't seem to coincide very often.  I am making good use of the crockpot, and Thursday night is Scott's night to cook.  (I wonder if he will ever get beyond Papa Murphy's pizza?)  Anyway, I hope to do a better job in the near future.  

Food Memories Journal 8

So, our nest is officially empty.  

Our wonderful son was recently able to make a new home for himself, leaving us to realize just how big this house is for two people.

During this period of adjustment, I have been trying to clean out the food storage that has accumulated, finish up the leftovers, and create nutritious, portion-controlled meals for the two of us. Suddenly, our refrigerator looks a little barren.  Where once there were plenty of leftovers to choose from, I now need to make do with froot loops or a peanut butter sandwich.  Bleh.

The grocery bill is nice, though. Suddenly, one chicken breast is plenty, or one steak, split between us. Salad has become a meal (much to my husband's delight...he is the only man I have ever known who prefers salad over meat.  Weird.) I no longer have to think about which vegetable I can serve to please everyone - it is easy.  No lima beans or eggplant.  Ever. Peas for one and carrots for the other.  Other than that, we are in agreement.

Thank goodness for freezers.  I think mine will be visited often in the future, especially for days like today.  Apparently I over-bought when bell peppers were on sale.  I roasted twelve this morning,  and will make roasted red pepper soup this afternoon, creating yummy breakfasts and lunches for me..  Good bye, froot loops.

Lamb...an adventure

Tonight we tried Lamb for the first time - teeny, tiny lamb chops.  I marinated them in a paste made with garlic, rosemary thyme, salt, cayenne pepper and olive oil, then seared them until they were medum rare. 

They were good, but frankly, I prefer beef. 

The side dishes, however, were divine!  Scalloped potatoes and green beans with bacon and almond slivers - two of my favorite recipes! 

Something new

It is only recently that I have decided to eat Asparagus. 

My first job was working in a hospital kitchen.  When I was scheduled to serve vegetables when asparagus was on the menu, I traded for a different position, if at all possible.  The smell of canned asparagus is very unpleasant to me. 

Imagine my surprise when I decided to be a big girl and try fresh apsaragus two summers ago.  The first time I tried it, I grilled it with salt, pepper, and sesame seeds.  The next time, I roasted it in the oven.  Since that time, I have found four recipes that regularly appear on my dining room table - grilled, roasted, with pasta and tomatoes, and cream of asparagus soup. 

Last night I tried a new recipe.  It knocked my socks off!  So, I am including it in my favorites. 

Food Memories Journal 7

Frigid (adjective)

 Definition:  Having a very cold temperature - cold; frosty; chilly; icy; freezing; glacial.    “A blast of Arctic weather has sent temperatures plunging well below zero in the Denver area and up and down Colorado's Front Range.” I realize that the quote above doesn’t contain the word “frigid” but I think you get the idea.

Situation:
Outdoor temperature - NINE degrees below zero Fahrenheit (-9)

Response:
Make soup!

In my humble opinion, there is nothing on a cold day quite as comforting and inviting as a pot of homemade soup.  (Okay – hot chocolate is a close second.)

My soup memories from childhood are sparse – my mother made noodle soup with butterballs on a regular basis, but sometimes she made cream of wheat dumplings instead of the noodles.  They taste good, but the texture is a little hinky.  On rare occasions mom would make milk noodle soup - hot milk and noodles, a little salt and allspice.  Sounds strange, doesn’t it?  Mom also likes to make beef vegetable soup – which I do NOT like.  This soup consists of boiled beef bones, potatoes, carrots, celery, cabbage, and tomato sauce with boiled beef on the side for sandwiches. Just yesterday, mom went to the store to find the beef bones, but could not find any.  She was terribly disappointed.  I tried to diplomatically be sympathetic, but she saw right through it.  (Personally, my choice is to go hungry on beef soup night.)

               

            Today, family soup favorites include New England Style Clam Chowder, Split Pea soup, Meatball vegetable soup, Corn Chowder, Chicken and Rice soup, Mean, Green Tortilla Soup, Chicken and Rice Chowder, and of course Beef Chili.  Some of my personal favorites include Taco Soup, Roasted Red Pepper Soup, Winter Vegetable soup, Chicken Chili, and Chicken Tortilla Soup. 

           Yum. I need to plan a soup supper again.

Watermelon Honey

When I was about twelve, my mom and I drove to Fort Morgan to gather at my Uncle Jake’s farm to cook Watermelon Honey with her sisters, Kate, Dorothy, Martha, Nancy, and Kay. 

Uncle Jake and Uncle Ed grew watermelons in the cornfields, and after harvest they were taken by truck to Uncle Jake’s farm.  There, an outdoor stove had been built many years before by my grandfather.  Grandpa had retrofitted a piece of farm machinery with three large (probably five gallons each?) cast iron kettles sunk into the surface with room to build large wood fires below.  Each kettle was supervised by one Aunt, and one Aunt was in charge of the fires. 

My job – with my female cousins – was to haul the watermelons to the gathering area and wash them.  The older cousins and a few of the boys were given the job of cutting the watermelons in half. Imagine large, sharp knives in the hands of teenagers.  Scary.  Of course, half of the fun was squirting each other with the seeds and juices.   The boys then carried the cut watermelons to a huge table where the Aunts would scrape the fruit from the rind and run it through the large, cone shaped colanders to separate the pulp and seeds from the juice.   The juices were poured into the kettles in the stove and brought to a boil.  This was tricky, because the honey had to boil and bubble to reduce, but it also burned easily.  The Aunts used really large wooden spoons to (maybe they were oars, now that I think about it) to stir the juices.  Once the juices had turned a rust color and thickened, the hot honey was poured into mason jars and sealed. 

This was late August, and it was hot.  And the job was sticky – I mean really sticky.  The bees liked the sticky mess, so they were buzzing around.  As the sun began to set, Uncle Jake and Grandpa brought out the hoses and hosed down everything – the stove, the kettles, the fires, the tables, the ground, and of course the cousins and, inevitably, the Aunts.  Amid screeches and threats of bodily harm we cooled down and cleaned up.  Everyone went home with tasty treasures in glass jars and memory treasures to last for years to come.  

Food Memories Journal 6

Dessert: noun

Description:  the final course of a meal; often a sweet flavor and high in fat content and calories

Dessert was not a part of my childhood daily routine.  Dessert was reserved for company and special occasions.  My mother is a good baker. Me?  Not so much.  I can cook just about anything, but baking?  Not my strong point.

I have tried to make cookies, cakes, candy, bars, breads, and anything else that might need baking.  Cake mixes are fairly consistent, break and bake cookies work out for me sometimes, and my Almond Bars are pretty good.  And I scoop a mean bowl of ice cream.

The last banana bread I made was a complete failure. I had lots of bananas, so I doubled the recipe.   I knew something was wrong when I mixed in the flour and my mixer overheated.  The second clue should have been the fact that the loaf pan weighed about nine pounds.  Still, I baked it, (it smelled good) and cooled it ( it looked good).   I was so excited….the house smelled wonderful!  When I tried to cut it with a knife, it was like sawing concrete.  So I took the whole thing and put it in the trash can.  Dave came home about an hour later, and found the banana bread in the trash and took it out, thinking it was there by mistake (really?) until he tried to cut it.  Back into the trash can it went.  Looking back, I am pretty sure that I doubled the recipe, but quadrupled the flour. 

Favorite family desserts:  Yule Log. Almond Bars.  Marble Brownies.  Lemon meringue pie.  Pumpkin pie. Chocolate Volcano  cake.  Ice cream. Klondike Bars.  Ponsonita Sundae. Éclair dessert.  Buster Bar Dessert.  Cherry pie. Coconut cream pie. Cherry cheesecake. Hot fudge sundae.

Food Memories Journal 5

Dishes:  noun

Definition:   a grouping of similarly patterned items for the presentation of food.   Typically consists of dinner plate, salad plate, bowl , bread/dessert plate. Set may also contain serving items, i.e. large bowls, meat platter, gravy boat, soup terrene, etc.

My mother loves dishes.  I mean she really, really loves dishes.  All kinds of dishes!  Stoneware dishes, ironstone dishes, depression glass dishes, Noritake, Mikasa, Corelle, Hull Pottery and tons of others that I can’t name.  As long as I can remember there has been a parade of different patterns floating across her table.

My early memories contain Melmac dishes - white with a blue flower.  We also had plastic drinking goblets.  They have a swirled pattern in the drinking part of the glass, and Melmac  bases – sort of “feet.”  I think the feet were white.  The glasses were so interesting that I had to see if I could find a picture of them somewhere on the internet.  They are listed at 1960’s Retro Drinking Glasses.

Ironstone was next – it did not last long...it was “way too heavy.”  Several stoneware patterns followed, then came several different patterns of Corelle and Pfaltzgraff . 

After all these years, Depression Glass continues to be Mom’s favorite find.  Glass dishes  of all different colors – ruby red, cobalt, light green, dark green, light blue, amber, and her favorite, pastel pink. Many pieces grace the display cabinets and china hutches in her home.

Garage sales and “The Value Village” are my mother’s favorite places to shop.  She constantly combs through peoples castoffs looking for hidden treasures.  So many of these beautiful pieces are part of an estate or donated to thrift stores by people who don’t know their true value.  When these items appear, Mom makes a few fast bucks selling them to her favorite antique man, Ken.  Of course, most of the time she is outwardly (and vocally) disappointed that he sells the items for twice what she is paid, but I believe it is all part of a delightful game. 

Mom’s china pattern was” Rose Chintz” by Mieto of Japan.  It is a simple pattern with a delicate burgundy red rose and silver rims.  I loved that pattern, and it was always a special day if the table was set with the china.  This set now resides in my home.  When I was first married, I received a set of Franciscan Ware Desert Rose.  Mom liked it better than hers, so we traded. I love to use the china, and do so whenever possible.  What an honor to share this treasure with my family and friends.

Food Memories Journal 4

Recipe Box :  noun

Definition:   My mother’s way of keeping recipes treasured from family, friends, etc. 

Let’s be honest, my mother will probably never read this blog.  The complexity of the computer is too much for her to tackle. But if I ask her for a recipe, she is always able to walk right to that wooden box that she has had FOREVER and pull out the properly filed recipe in a flash.  As a little girl, I looked through Mom’s recipe box often, treasuring the recipes that my grandmother had passed down to all her daughters.  I only knew my grandmother as a very little girl, so this tangible item created imaginary moments of play and  a sad longing for interaction  with a woman I never really got to know.

Truth told, I tried to keep a recipe box over the years, but I find that it is just too difficult.  Mine are never filed, usually food spattered and gooky, or scattered around the kitchen in a multitude of cabinets and drawers.  If someone asks for a recipe, I tell them I will call them back if I manage to find it.

My first recipe box was a gift for a wedding shower.  Betty provided a green plastic flip-top box, and asked all the guests to bring a favorite recipe to the shower to share. (Remember – I had never cooked…)  Valiantly, I tried every recipe at least once.  Some were good, some were not particularly my taste, but there was something very special about pulling out a recipe from Gwen, or Tammy, or Mrs. B, or Joann.

When we are young, we don’t seem to see things too far ahead in the future.  Little did I know where life was leading at that time.  But, true to form, “Life” intruded – people moved away, children were born, couples divorced, people died- you know -LIFE.  

About 18 months ago, I had a profoundly moving moment.  While fumbling through my recipe box, I found the recipe given to me at my bridal shower by Kim.  Kim passed away about 5 years ago after a long battle with a brain tumor. Holding the recipe in my hand I realized for the first time the power of handwriting.  The moment was bittersweet.  Seeing her carefully penned directions on that card brought so many memories crashing back--her indescribable musical gift and talent as an organist and pianist; her beautiful heart-shaped smile.  Watching her run down the street while 8½ months pregnant and asking her if she “should really be running when so close to delivery” as well as the  details of her not-so-easy short life-dating, marriage, birth of children, a rocky marriage and divorce, a remarriage, and then the fight that finally took her life. Kim was my friend and I miss her.

Reflecting on these snippets of time, I realized how short our time is and how precious we are to those whose lives we touch.  Close friends, casual acquaintances, family, friend, or foe – these are the people God places in our lives to make us into the people He wants us to be. 

All this to say, even though I am writing a blog, and sharing my thoughts and recipes online, I encourage each person to find a pen and a recipe card, and share a recipe with those you love.  It may become a precious treasure in the days to come.

Food Memories Journal 3

Memories are funny things.  You think you have it all remembered, then another one creeps in and takes you by surprise.

Take school lunches, for example.  When I was little, the schools I attended were very small.  No cafeteria lunches for me.  It was strictly carry-your-own.  So begins the unending parade of peanut butter and potato chip sandwiches and oranges.  Or sometimes bologna and lettuce and an apple. 

All my friends  got a small carton of milk each day, complete with paper wrapped bendy straw.  Milk was not a given in my life, due to an allergy, so there was nothing but water in my thermos.  Yes, I felt deprived. 

The school I attended  in fifth grade had a main lunch area where students ate their lunches at long tables.  While enjoing lunch and conversation one day, I was seated at the table with a girl (I can't even remember her name) who had the giggles.  During one fit of giggles, she bent forward and somehow managed to get her bendy straw stuck between the eyelids of her right eye.  It was pretty freaky as I recall.  I grabbed the straw and pulled it out.  Thankfully, her eye was fine.  We all calmed down and finished lunch.  I guess that memory must have had an impact on me.

Memories are funny things.  Go figure.

Food Memories Journal 1

Early food memories:


Root beer floats on Sunday night after church
Popcorn on the stove.
Peppermint Cookies at Christmas time
Noodles and butterballs.  I never really liked butterballs.  Thankfully, there was always someone who was willing to take them off my plate.
Chicken.  Lots and lots and lots of chicken. 
Chicken stew with mushy potatoes and carrots and celery.
Beef and vegetable soup with mushy cabbage, mushy potatoes, and mushy carrots.
Carrots.  I don't like carrots.  I have never like carrots.  A few years ago I finally embraced the fact that I don't like carrots and therefore I choose not to eat them.  I don't care if they are good for me.  I don't care if they will give me good eyesight.  I don't like carrots.
Popcorn balls with crushed peppermint.
Peanut brittle
Grapefruit soda  one 2-liter for 4 people
Spices - or the lack of them.  In my home, we had salt, pepper and allspice.  Nothing else. 
Sandwiches.  My dad will wrap a piece of bread around anything and call it a sandwich. 
Strawberry and blackberry noodle.  They took all day to make.  Make the noodle dough, let it set, fill them with strawberries, boil them, make a sweet cream sauce and eat them all that evening.  Not good left over.  (Of course, at this time, I did not like blackberries or strawberries.). 
Potatoes and Glase  Still my favorite today.
German Sausage.  Not sure how Mom did it - but she cooks it better that anyone.
Kraut Birok.  Not enough words to say how wonderful they are. 
Meatloaf.  Really bad meatloaf.  It was many years into my marriage before I tried meatloaf.  Mine is much better.
Canned green beans.  I ate many many cans.  Often for meals after work at the hospital
Corn on the cob.  From Uncle Ed's farm.  Husking lots and lots of ears, then cutting it off the cobs and blanching it for freezing. I also remembered putting the new season's corn in the freezer.  Mom told me to make sure that I "rotated" the corn wso we would use the older stuff first.  Unfortunately, I forgot to put the other bag back in the freezer - until we smelled it a few days later. 
Jello.  Every possible color. 
Frog eye salad.  Yecch.
Peanut butter sandwiches and potato chips in a red plaid metal lunch box. 
Homemade pickles.  Jars and jars of them  and even better, crock pickles!
Beef stew with mushy potatoes, and mushy carrots.
Bean soup with ham
Porcupine meatballs