Nana Cooks

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by another name would smell as sweet.” Juliet said that.  While I am uncomfortable disagreeing with the Bard, …I take exception. Think about it–no matter how debonair his looks and manner, Archie Leech would never have made it. Would Marilyn have become a symbol as Norma?

Some given names are a perfect fit.  If it really were Adam and Eve who did the naming, they were spot-on in some cases. Think rhinoceros; hippopotamus; whale; pelican; shrimp; penguin; goldfish; robin; lady bug. The list of really good names, especially for animals, is quite long.  I think elbow is a perfect name for the bendy part of the arm. And neck.  I mean, what could it be other than neck?

Maybe where people fall short is in naming babies–later they are grownups traveling round with  names that no longer fit, or never fit . It would be shameful to make a list of names that I feel no one should have–I do not wish to cause anyone discomfort, but the name I have in mind is very close to home.  It is awful.  It is mine.  It is Thelma.

[OK, if your name is Thelma, and you like it, super and I admire you and please make a comment so we can talk.]

But lordy, what were my parents thinking?  Even at the time I was given this name–way back in the 20th century–it was wrong, wrong.  You know how some old-fashioned names have come back in favour? Well, Thelma  is on  the list of names that are sooo out of favour, it will die a merciful death.  Maybe with me.  Honestly, I think I am the youngest person on earth with that name.  To compound the injury, my second name is Lee.  Now I ask you, who names their child “Thelma Lee”.? ! 

 Actually my parents tried to explain  the mistake to me when I got of the age to ask.  They had named my sister a new name that no one in the family had.  Well, being a southern family, the family complained.  So, when  I came along, I got two family names.

 Now, I like the name,”Lee”.  A lot.  But the combo of Thelma and Lee just never worked. On the old TV show,”The Andy Griffith Show”, when they wanted an old fashioned, odd name for Sheriff Taylor’s girl friend, they named her Thelma Lou? I rest my case.

 But what if, like Archie Leech, I had the agent who said,” I know Archie, let’s call you Cary Grant?”  I could have been Jessica Lee, or Myrah Tynes! sigh….

And to anyone wondering, yes - I have really tried to like the name.  I really have.  But it still sounds wrong when I hear it as I introduce myself. But I have learned to accept it because— I don’t believe a rose would smell as sweet by another name…so, Thelma I am.  And since ‘who I am’ is ‘what I am’, and ‘what I am’ is ‘who I am’, I’ll take Thelma Lee. I would not be “me” without it. And I am happy in my skin, and my name is part of that happy. So, I’ll never have the glam name, but I hope to be a successful Thelma Lee.

So Mom, Dad…thanks ..I think.

But you know who does get a bum rap in names?  Vegetables.  Yeah, I know we have sweet potato and sugar snaps and English peas.  My step-daughter and good friend, Laura [now there's a pretty name], sent me raves reviews –and a recipe- for a soup made with–wait for it–rutabaga. Now what kinda’ of name is rutabaga?  And for that matter, what up with celeriac?  Same with leek, parsnip, rhubarb, broccoli rabe, kohlrabi, artichoke, arugula, zucchini… just say those names outloud.  I mean,if you didn’t know, would you chose to actually eat kohlrabi?

But see, that is another reason cooks have been at the forefront of civilization.  They have prepared dishes with crazy sounding names and produced wonderful food!  Names don’t necessarily show off the product—but scrumptious dishes do!!

Which brings me back to rutabaga and two recipes. { I do know that these are really winter time recipes–but I am really slow at this.}

I tried roasting rutabaga with other winter root vegetables, and did not like the result.  But a simple method worked really well.

Mashed rutabaga

Wash, peel, cut into pieces-just as you would potatoes—and boil, mash, salt and pepper,add milk, butter–just as you would potatoes.   Serve just as you would mashed potatoes. I really liked them.  My husband–not so much.

Second recipe from Laura

Winter Bisque–a little complicated

2 T.butter

1 cup roughly chopped onion

1 cup  peeled and roughly chopped Granny Smith apple

1 cup peeled and roughly chopped rutabaga

1 cup peeled and roughly chopped carrots

1 cup peeled and roughly chopped sweet potato

1 cup peeled, seeded and roughly chopped butternut squash

4 cups chicken stock of your choice {could be vegetable broth for a vegetarian dish}

1cup heavy cream

1/4 cup maple syrup

salt and cayenne to taste

Melt butter in heavy pan over medium high heat. Add onion, apple, rutabaga, carrots,sweet potato and squash. cook–stir often–until onions are translucent and vegetables are beginning to soften. Maybe 5 minutes.

Add stock and bring to boil. Reduce heat and simmer, stirring occasionly, until all vegetables are tender-about 30 minutes. Remove from heat.

Carefully pour into a blender or food processor– but it is easier and safer to use an immersion blender–puree. return liquid to pot, add cream and syrup, salt and cayenne.  Reheat if necessary.

serves 10

It is easy to see why this would be good–and worth doing even if it means saving this post until winter of 2012! But I hope you try it.

Why, can you imagine what would happen if we named all the twos Henry or George or Robert or John or lots of other things? You’d have to say Robert plus John equals four, and if the four’s name were Albert, things would be hopeless.  Norton Juster, The Phantom Tollbooth

 

 

Do you have early childhood memories?  Can you say, ‘I remember when I was three and this happened…’?  Or can you say ’my earliest memory is when…’   Not me.   I think my earliest memories start at age 4, but I have no idea what my first memory is.  My early life is like a bubble.  Lots of reflections, but I have no idea the starting point. 

I lived on my grandmother’s farm. Her Virginia farm was built on routine- people followed the seasons and took their cue for events from the weather.  It was the early “40′s and I lived way back in the country side.  Changes came slowly.  For most of the time that I lived there, we did not have electricity, and Grandma never did get running water, or that  modern idea of an indoor bathroom.   The hand- pumped well was close outside the kitchen door, the concrete pad still visible  beneath a tangle of weeds . Everyone worked hard to stay ahead.  Everyone but me.  One of the small jobs I was  given was spraying DDT outside the kitchen.  I got to kill the flies.   I thought that pump action was fun and so what if you got covered in spray–it was important to kill flies.

I was the youngest of the people living in the farmhouse.  My grandmother and her youngest,adult daughter lived on one side, and my father, mother, sister and I lived on the other.  My parents bedroom was also our living room ,and Barbara and I shared an upstairs room–but not a bed.   There was no bed.  We slept on the floor–on a palette.  It worked fine and we were kept warm by a small wood burning stove.  We shared the room with boxes that contained my parents stuff.  The boxes were covered by sheets.  I remember the sleeping arrangements, and even today, I can’t think of them as odd.  I liked living there.

But the area of the house I remember most clearly–where I spent most of my inside time, the place where all the real action occurred–was the wonderful kitchen.  Stepping in the back door, from the small porch where I killed flies, and looking left, you saw a small window.  It was the only window in the room.  Then came the sink with pans  for collecting water and for dish-washing.  Turn right and there was a stand alone cabinet that held dishes with a work surface.  Next was a glass paneled door -I have no idea why glass, but I thought it was  very pretty.  Next to the door was the ice box, later replaced by a real refrigerator.  Then there were shelves with lots of beautiful canned goods on them.  Turn the corner and there was a step and a door to Grandma’s part of the house.  Turn right once more and there was a large cabinet that held the flour and other baking equipment-biscuits and other breads were an important part of kitchen life.  The outside door was next, complete with slamming screen door.  Next to it was a wash table, with a metal basin for washing your hands.  You got the hot water from the stove well.    The long table was in the center.

 The best, most important area of the kitchen was the wood burning cook stove.  It took up the entire corner between the wash stand and the window.  It was big and black with a large oven underneath  and a warming tray on the raised backside   It had four big burners, an areas for putting in the wood, and I think you could cook on almost any area on the top surface.  Water was put in the well on the left and it was heated by the stove.   There was  an area to keep wood nearby, and the slop bucket for the hogs.  It is the most beautiful stove I’ve ever seen.

I played in that room; played outside it’s door; learned to read by the light of oil lamps; coloured with beloved Crayola crayons at the table; took baths in the wash tub next to the heat of the cook stove; listened to country music on the small radio under the window; watched in awe as Barbara ate samwiches as she listened to Stella Dallas; found my Easter Baskets; wrote to Santa with paper marked by the oilcloth pattern; ate my meals and watched adults–mostly my mother, cook.

Winnie, my mother, was one of 15 children. I’m sure they all worked in the fields, but inside the house, they tended to specialize.  Some loved to sew and  knit, but others loved to cook.  Winnie loved to cook.  She told the story of making biscuits before she left in the mornings for high school.   I think she first said around a hundred, but the story grew to closer to 500 biscuits every morning.

Even with exaggerations, my mother was an outstanding country cook.   Everything she cooked on that beautiful black stove was wonderful.  Especially the fried chicken. And that is my first food memory.  Chicken being dusted in flour and put in hot bacon grease in a large iron skillet, popping and sizzling.  A little later- there it was on the table- along with mashed potatoes, English peas, and biscuits.  It was wonderful food. Truly the food of gods.

 Any that was left over usually found its way to the breakfast table.  Maybe not the peas, but the potatoes became fried potato cakes and the chicken was just that–the breakfast meat.  Even after we got the long-sought after refrigerator, the supper meat wound up at breakfast.  Cold chicken is wonderful.

Winnie’s recipe for chicken was simple.  Kill the chicken; clean it; soak it in salt water;  dust it with flour, salt and pepper; cook it in lard and bacon dripping and add butter at the last 5 minutes.  I know, but no one in the family was fat –or had problems with high cholesterol.  Amazing.

Fast forward to today. I do not have the wonderful black cook stove, never could get the hang of chicken fried in a iron skillet [I burn it], and don’t cook in lard.  But I have found my substitutes for most items.   I still soak the chicken in salt water, still four, salt and pepper, use canola oil and bacon drippings, with a little butter at the end.   An electric fry pan helps  me control the temperature.   It can be pretty good,  but I seldom fry chicken unless my kids ask me to.  Why?  I’ve gotten out of the chicken cooking habit. Taste change and it is very difficult to find good frying chicken.   Chicken today has been bred to be big–huge breast–no taste. 

In Seattle I have found a grocery store that sells fairly good organic chicken–but it is still too large.   I intend to widen  my search in North Carolina.  If you already know of a place–please let me in on the secret. I want to find that good frying chicken and use this recipe, mostly like my mother’s, but without the wonderful black stove.

Here is our family recipe for frying chicken.  It’s easy and relatively quick .  And hopefully you do not need to kill your own chicken.  Dirty work,that.

 I think frying chicken is a skill that involves your sense of smell and timing–and observation.  You’ll figure out what works best for you as you cook this wonderful treat.  Here’s what I do.

First decide on size of pieces.  I like small, so I make certain the thigh is removed form the long -leg.  If the breast is too big– cut it in half.   Soak the chicken overnight in cold water that contains 1 to 2  tablespoons of salt. Place3 it in a non-reactive dish–glass is great. [Why do this step?  Winnie thought the chicken might not be clean and the salt removed impurities . Maybe--but it definitely helps prevent that awful looking black area next to the bone . And I think it taste better.]  Rinse the chicken off and set aside.  Mix flour, salt, and pepper in a large bag-[I use of freezer bag, and watch how much salt you use--the chicken has soaked in brine.] Heat the  electic skillet –  set it on about 400*. I use a combination of canola oil and saved bacon drippings as my grease.  Heat the pan, add the grease to a little less than half inch.  When the grease is hot, add the dusted chicken.  Don’t crowd the pan.  Let it really brown on one side before you turn it.  It should cook on each side for about 3-4 minutes until it looks right. After it is browned, turn the heat down, to about 325* and cover pan and allow chicken to cook for at least 20 minutes.  At the end of frying, if you are brave, you can add 4 tablespoons of butter.  If you did not use any bacon drippings, use the butter.  Cook for a total of 25 to 30 minutes.  The white meat may cook faster than the dark.  You can always remove pieces that are done.

Remove the chicken from the pan and put it on paper towels to catch extra grease. Allow it to rest for a few minutes and serve to very happy people!

You never know when you are making a memory for someone.  And how wonderful is a memory of someone cooking for you–especially good fried chicken.

[Note 2/3/11  I am so pleased that people still use iron skillets for chicken!  And yes, I sometimes  use Crisco for the frying.  I should have said that when I put the lid on, I set it on an angle, so air can still circulate.  This way the crust stays crisp.  If you put the lid on so that it totally covers the pan, the crust will become soft. Many people like it that way.]

 

 

 

 

 

 Onions have been used in cooking for well over 5000 years. Didn’t take the early cook long to figure out the distinctive taste of the onion could do wonders for mastodon stew. The Egyptians thought onions kept away evil spirits and put raw onions in the tombs of its wealthy citizens. Some people still believe that onions can help you recover from certain illnesses—I’m one of those people.

 Roman generals made certain their fighting men ate raw onions–because it would make them strong.  And the word, onion, comes from the Latin, unio, meaning one or single.  It is uniquely, and beautifully, layered.

There is the story about a person so cold hearted that if they saw some one descending into an inferno and calling for help, would  give them only an onion.  As the unlucky person grabbed the onion, they would continue to fall as the onion separated layer by layer.

Onions do have a downside–those beautiful orbs can certainly make you cry.

I like onions. I like the rustle of a  dry onion.  The outer layer is  gift wrapping. It crinkles like old paper and sluffs off until the  present is reveled. Onions  come in great size and colour varieties. The beautiful spring onion is a remarkable green and white combination that screams freshness. Others are white, yellow, and red. All suited for the job in the kitchen–either raw or cooked. I like onions. And they remind me of  my sister and how we are connected.

How about that sentence as a lead in? 

Well, we certainly go back in time!  It is astonishing to me that as of now, only one person has  known me all my life-my sister, Barbara. Amazing. I marvel at that fact. It brings a type of closeness  to a relationship that underlines and seals  its importance. It brings reality. We share more than just past years. We have layers of memory.  We remember the same family members. We remember the houses our family live in. .  And we remember the griefs our family encountered.  And goodness–we remember the wonderful foods our families fixed! I have only one sister, and the bond is like the onion-unio.

My sister Barbara and I get to remember things we would rather forget, but we also get to laugh at things about ourselves and our past, as well as the present.  And just like the onion, my  sister has  made me cry, but also like the onion, she  flavours my life and make it so much better.

 We also share certain physical ailments–but those may be borne more of age than ancestry. One affliction we both endure is the ability to slaughter certain words.  Correct pronunciation is difficult with some words.  Have anything to do with our past? 

When my sister was newly married and I had just finished my freshman year at college, I was staying with her.  As she started to cook dinner, she said,

 ” I need to salute the  onions.”

 I asked  what she was doing and she explained the cooking process. 

“ Do you mean, saute?” ”

“ No, see, right there in the cook book–it says;  s*a*l*u*t*e.   saute! 

We still say “salute.”

To this day, I’ve done worse–just ask me to pronounce Carnegie!

Along with Barbara, I am still unwrapping the layers of life, still crying, and still laughing!

And in that spirit of sisters and onions, I am offering this wonderful  recipe–

A Salute to Onions-Red Onion Borscht

 A Beautiful Soup-Just Like My Sister.

This recipe is taken from the 1994 edition of Sunset Vegetarian Cookbook.

Note: I always use Better Than Bouillon for making stock, and I used plastic gloves to protect my hands from the lovely beet stain. This soup is very flavourful and is low in fat and calories.

1&1/2  Tablespoons olive oil

4           Large red onions[2&1/2 to 3 pounds total]

1/2       Cup red wine vinegar

2           Medium-sized beets[8 to 10 oz. total] peeled and  shredded .

2&1/2 Tablespoons all purpose four

6            Cups vegetable broth

1/3        Cup of port or red wine

Salt and Pepper

Sour cream [optional]

 

1 Heat  oil in a 5-6 quart pan over medium -low heat.  Add onions, vinegar, and beets. Cook, stirring often, until onions are very soft but not browned–25-30 minutes.

2 Add  flour and cook, stirring, until bubbly. remove pan from heat and gradually stir in broth. [At this point , you may cover and refrigerate for up to 2 days.]

3 Return soup to medium heat and bring to a boil, stirring occasionally; reduce heat and simmer for 10  minutes.

4 Stir in port or wine. Season to taste with salt and pepper

Place in bowls and garnish with sour cream.  This makes 8 servings.

This is a delicious soup and is really lovely to serve during the holiday season, or any time, to friends and family.

Enjoy.

People have gratitude in common. We seem to be grateful for the same things. In our daily life our actual display of thankfulness may vary from what we say, but if asked, we say the same things–family, food, freedom, sunshine..so while my list will sound like yours it doesn’t make it less true. I am, like you, thankful for what I have, even if I sometimes slip up and whine.

 I’m thankful when the plant doesn’t die, when the rain comes in time and I get to hear it on my window pane, when the spring time frog chooses my little pond for its summer home, when my cat snuggles in my lap, when my tea is ready,when I think of my children and marvel at how they became such wonderful people, when I see my grandchildren, when my car starts, when my husband washes my car for me…..See, isn’t that close to the beginning of your list? It feels good to make a list of “thankful things.”

But I really need to do some mind training. When I start the gratitude list, regret slips onto the page.  Remember Omar wrote something about past regrets and future fears ? I know  past regrets and future fears. Fear or regret can ruin a life!  Standing in line at my local fabric store, I noticed boxes of  Turtle candy for sale,–cleverly displayed along at the checkout isle. Turtle candy!  –I’m back to being 10 years old and visiting my father’s mother and my aunt. One, or both of them, loved that candy!  As I stand there, pattern and fabric in hand, I am flooded with regret–why did I not always take them a box of that candy!? They would have been so grateful for another box!  As tears are gathering, I do have enough self-knowledge to know–this isn’t just about not buying candy for a long dead grandmother and aunt. [ I seem to have a lot of break throughs and break downs in the fabric store]. I know  it is about dealing with many ghosts in my life.  Do I deal with them as Scrooge finally did, by doing really good things, or by analyzing?  Alas, answers are still murky! But for me I think the answers are wrapped in an attitude of gratitude for what is.

Is this  a way to start a season of celebrations!?  But it is autumn and animals know it is time to fly south or go to the cave–maybe I just want to join the flock and search for more sunshine! But thinking of things I didn’t do leads me to think of things I do.  And things I believe.  I am not a religious person but one of the practices of the Christian faith–and I’m certain all faiths–is saying grace before a meal. This small act of gratitude makes sense to me, and while I do not vocalize the thoughts, I do like to observe my food and say thanks.  I’m never certain whom or what I’m thanking–  but certainly the farmer, and after that, I’m not sure. But I am very thankful for food and the human quality of a meal cooked. I’m just as likely to think of being thankful as I’m cooking.  I’m by nature a history buff, so going back in time is easy. All cooks are part of a fabulous chain of people who cared about themselves and others–I mean who thought of beans and rice?! And who first put beer in bread dough–and beets in spicy vinegar?! Humans cook their food, and share their food with friends and family. And never more so than at Thanksgiving. And I am grateful for all those people.

It is sacred to celebrate with food and to celebrate with thankfulness is humbling.

This Thanksgiving I wish you food on your table. I wish you people  at your table. I wish you joy and thankfulness as part of your table.

Happy Thanksgiving!

 

OK, it has been a long time. too long. Offering the excuse, even to yourself, that you have really been busy, just doesn’t cut it. Everyone is busy! And truth be told, I enjoy being busy- busy is alive. Busy means you have plans; work to do–life has purpose. So I’m going to get better at this purposeful writing. But for right now I must admit, mistakes were made in my plans–and in their execution.

I am no stranger to mistakes. Many have been made. While I don’t plan on using this format as a confessional, five goofs, of varying nature and times, are running around in my brain trying to get onto the computer.

Mistake #1

I love this one.  It happened a long time ago.  When everyone else was busy getting their drivers license, I was way to nervous about the idea.  I put it off until I was in my 20′s. But there I was, driver’s licences and my own car.  I was looking for a place to live and drove out–all by myself–to check out an empty  house. Parked car, got out, started to door–when I sorta’ felt motion behind me and turned just in time to see my car rolling down the driveway.  And headed to a large pond at the foot of the incline.  Car going too fast to open door and get in, so, I reached in the open window, took hold of the steering wheel, and walked rapidly along with the car and when we got to the bottom, I turned left and walked the car around the pond until it stopped.  I then got in, and drove away.

Mistake #2

I enjoy sewing. At least I try to sew and do have fun for the most part. I shop at a national chain and  a few years ago, I selected a pattern and material.  At the check out counter, I realized I had forgotten the elastic. The very nice clerk told me to go get the elastic and she would hold my items under the counter until I returned. I got the stuff I needed and check out. Got home, got busy with something else and later that day  looked in the bag from the store. No pattern or elastic! Searched around and thought, ‘ I left it in the store! Silly me. Went back to store–same clerk–who assumed she had made a mistake and let me  get another pattern and elastic and put it in a bag and out I go. Well, even later that day, yep, I discovered I had two patterns and two rectangles of elastic. Double sigh. Back to the store. Original clerk is nowhere to be seen. I do not want to get her in trouble by explaining what we had done. Back to the car with purloined goods. Take them out of bag and put them in purse. We’re gonna’ do reverse shop lifting! Back in store- over to pattern drawers-in goes pattern. Whew. I’m just hoping they don’t have cameras! Over to elastic isle, slip elastic onto hook. Causally walk out store. Wait several weeks before returning.  Never get to tell clerk it wasn’t her fault.
Mistake #3
I have mentioned my group of friends that meets for dinner once a month. We planned a dinner at a local shopping center that has many nice restaurants. It was during the summer and and a nice soft summer rain was falling. I arrived early, as I often do, and went to save the group a table. We like to eat outside and as this restaurant had a large awning, I asked to have a table on the patio. The only one available sat four and as there are five of us, I primly asked the hostess, if she would inquire if the lone lady at the big table would exchange. The hostesses was reluctant, but agree to ask. Tables we exchanged. All of this took several minutes. I then sat down and started to read the menu. Oops. I called the hostess over and red face explained, I was at the wrong restaurant and my friends were waiting for me around the corner. I hope the lady got her table back.

Mistake # 4

Recently my friend Shealy went out of town to see her daughter and left me in charge of her four chickens. Let me assure that right now that no chickens were harmed in this episode. I love her chickens and really enjoy going over to care for them as they cluck and chuck their way around the pen. They are genuinely happy to see people. I appreciate being appreciated.  I went in, giving out corn and soft greetings. Checked on their food and removed the water container in order to refill it. There was a milk jug of water already waiting outside the pen. I went out, dumped the old water and poured in fresh. Now I have had trouble with the water container before. It is the style that comes apart, you fill the large globe, and  put the bottom on by twisting it into place. Then you turn it upside down and an adequate amount of water flows into the tray for the chickens. As I said, I have had trouble with the twisting of the bottom tray [that becomes the top]  I thought I had it, and turned the whole thing right side up. Oops. not connected. The entire gallon of water went on my shoes. Got more water, payed more attention to what I was doing and–the chickens got water.

Mistakes # 5 leads to a success story

This weekend I tried to make graham crackers. Heavy emphasises on the word tried. This story is quick.  Crackers were horrid.  I’m really not a good baker, so I’ll say it was me and not the recipe.  I will try at least one more time. But that  leads me to my recipe for this writing. A very successful recipe for vanilla wafers. [Who knows, maybe next I'll try Oreos!]

If you like easy to make, simple, really good cookies, do try these.  They are good alone, with  a thin smear of jelly, and they keep extremely well. They are from Fannie Farmer Baking Book.

This recipe makes a bunch of cookies and is perfect to make with small children.  It is quick, easy , and you get to eat them soon after baking! I loved making them with my granddaughter, Marlo.  She helped stir and put them on the sheets to cook.   An easy way to guide a child for dough placement is by using the back of  of spoon, dip it in dough and make “dots” where the spoonfuls should go.

Vanilla Wafers

~ 12 tablespoons of softened butter [1 and a half sticks]

~ 1 cup of sugar

~ 1 egg

~ 1 tablespoon vanilla extract

~ 2 tablespoons cold water

~ 1 cup of flour

~ 1/2 cup cornstarch

~ 1/4 teaspoon salt

~ 1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar

Preheat the oven to 400*  and select your cookie sheets-non stick is best, but not necessary. Don’t grease them.

Beat the butter and sugar together until creamy and well blended. Add the egg, vanilla and water and beat well. Stir and toss together the flour, cornstarch, salt, and cream of tartar.  Add to the first mixture, and beat until thoroughly combined.

Drop by rounded teaspoonfuls about 1 1/2 inches apart onto the ungreased sheets.  Bake  about 8 minutes or until a fine golden rim appears around the cookie. Removed from the oven and immediately transfer cookies to racks to cool.

Enjoy

 

The peaches that remained on the Little Peach Tree after the Big Grab have doubled in size. They are beautiful like the ones at farmer’s markets. They are also calling to the area yellow jackets. And the jackets have come–in droves. For me to go out and collect any that may fallen off  during the night is a fearful endeavor. The fallen peaches are quickly covered with the jacket brigade. and if there happens to be a blemish on a still hanging peach– a jacket is soon to follow.

 I understand that it is important to keep the ground under the tree clean. I tried to pick up, claim, or throw away any fallen fruit.  Hard to do when there’s this thing that can fly really fast and is kinda’ drunk on nectar and is always mad at the world–and it can HURT you! Fear is not an emotion I want connected with The Tree.
I’ve had a run-in with jellow jackets before. While cutting grass I ran over a yellow jacket’s nest and saw a few jackets–and thought, ‘is that a yellow jacket’s nest?’ so I ran over it again!!
HA! At that point–they started to run over me! I’m wearing a sun dress–they swarmed under it, I started running, screaming, and yanking that dress off faster than a run-way model and headed for the camper! Bruce helped me swat the  jackets away, and I got inside with only a baker’s dozen stings. I have a high regard for the power of yellow jackets.
BUT, there are these lovely, full sized, sweet peaches on The Tree. This called for covert action. So, after it got really dark–really dark, and all those nasty creatures had gone to their nest to sleep it off, out we went–ladder, flash light, containers, and combat clothing–long pants, long sleeves and gloves. I’m gonna’ get my peaches tonight.
And we did. Only one very drunk jellow jacket was seen, and the peaches were ready. We climbed up, picked up, and saved up about 5 dozen lovely peaches. It will take one more midnight raid to get the rest, and I’ll leave the top most for the birds to enjoy. But I am a happy woman.
These are the peaches you can eat out of hand–maybe over the sink. Sweet and juicy and almost too pretty to believe. Inside their slightly fuzzy, lovely skin they contain the goodness of summer. It is easy to believe that everything really is going to be OK, when you’re eating a summer peach.

It is also easy to freeze peaches. And here is my recipe for the day.

Freezing peaches

Peel

Slice

Use  something like Fruit-Fresh to keep fruit from browning. Lemon juice also works.

Place in freezer bags

Put bag of peaches in freezer

note: no need to sugar peaches

Use later for all sorts of good dishes

Sometimes you do need to make an effort to avoid stings, but the reward is at hand. 

Enjoy your summer.

 

I have excuses.  Yes, I know I have been away from my post for far too long, but hey, things happen. There were the trips [all wonderful], the visits [all fabulous] , the computer problems [all awful], and the lack of a “wholesome discipline” [all mine]. But I am once again, as my friend Zeke once said, ” at the ready.” And in front of the now working computer

I have been thinking about many things on my off time.  My wonderful peach tree is one thing. Gratitude, and some of my favourite things, are two more.

I want to write about the peach tree first. It’s young.  Probably 3 , maybe 4 years old.  This year it decided to join the ranks of the BIG producers. I  refer to it as the one who thinks its working for Del Monte. After blooming beautifully, it set out peaches.  and how. You think, “how can such a little tree work so hard?” The books, and my friend Shealy, said that after the June drop, when nature wisely drops many small peaches off the limbs, you are suppose to thin the number to something like 1 per every 6 inches.  I tried.  Honest, I did try.  But it was so hard to pull off something that wanted to grow.  I mean, it was something that wanted to grow in my yard.  But many, and I’m talking hundreds, stayed on the slim branches. I propped up two low branches and tried to feel safe about the tree.  Checking on it this week, I could tell it was under stress. OK, I’ll admit, I talk to the tree–in a low voice.  Not that I think the tree needs me to speak softly, but I’m hoping my neighbours don’t hear.People tend to worry about old people taking into the air. The tree and I decided water was needed.  So it got a good soaking.  There was a small rain storm that night with some winds..the next morning as I snuck outside at 6:30 in my pajamas- there was the peach tree with its top branches nestled in the tomato plants. oh good grief. I did change clothes, got paper bags, and started stripping almost ripe peaches.  Did I mention that there are also two rose bushes in with the tomato plants?  After many scratches, and shaky trips up  a step ladder, I had two large paper grocery bags nearly full.  The top of the tree began to lift.  Three days later it remains bent, but is about 5 feet above the now grateful tomato plants and rose bushes.  I wiped off the peaches and separated them into 3 groups–those that might ripen, those with less chance, and those with almost no chance of making it. I’ll try to see if I can at least save some to freeze for cobblers. Maybe I learned something. If that wonderful tree gives me another chance, I’ll try to remove  more fruit next time.  I know I learned that you really do need an orchard ladder.  Step ladders are scary things on uneven ground. Orchard ladder is on my ‘get list.’ I will also keep taking to my tree,  I love it

I think maybe we all love many of the same things.  And as it turn out–they usually are little things. OK, the tree isn’t little, but you know what I mean.  And since I love to make lists, here is a partial list of little things I love.  I’m going to show you mine; if you’d like, you can show me yours.

Small things I love:

Lists–all kind of lists

Newspapers

Notebook paper

Quiet mornings

Hooting owls

Open windows

Tablecloths

Cloth napkins

Clean bathrooms in restaurants

Homegrown tomatoes

Peaches

Emails from friends

Texting

Animals –maybe all animals

Books

Making hot tea

Honey

Small seedless cucumbers–who  knew they could be so good?!

Birds greeting the new day

Hugs from a grandchild–if this is still not in the works for you–    just you wait!

I know this type of list can go on and on.  Just sometimes I forget to keep it in the back of my head.  And when I forget these things, I forget gratitude. When I get too far away from gratitude, I get way off track.

But I have another list–favourite kitchen things–small things, not big like the dish washer which may actually be number 1 on my kitchen list.  But little things that I enjoy using and in some cases, just discovered.

So here’s the kitchen list:

Pastry blender–wonderful small gadget

Silicone stirrer/scraper thing-how did I live without this and how many plastic ones did I melt? Actually, I was even late in getting plastic scrapers–Moffett once commented that as a kid, she thought they were things that other people had , but not us.

Cast iron corn bread skillet- the very best!

Metal scraper for chopped vegetables - this is my new love. I can chop onions, green peppers,-whatever, and scoop it up quickly

Pretty dishes- they  make it more fun to be in the kitchen

A meal with people you really like

 

And on that last item – I had a wonderful simple  meal in Seattle.  Hart and Tessa had all of us over for a meal.  It consisted of a sandwich, asparagus,chips,wine, and  conversation among friends. 

 It’s a wonderful  lunch or dinner and meets many criteria for good meal: simple, inexpensive, and good for you. One item is best bought at your local Trader Joe’s.  The others are found anywhere.

Here it is–Thanks to Hart and Tessa

A Continental Lunch

Ingredients:

Smoked Herring from Trader Joe’s–in the green tin

1-2 cloves of garlic

Mayonnaise

Juice from one lemon

Butter or bibb lettuce

Soft baguette  almost like a hoagie roll

Salt and pepper

Mince the cloves of garlic and sprinkle on some salt. Use the side of the knife to make  the garlic and salt into a paste, mix that with some mayonnaise, and lemon juice. [You are making aioli here]

Spread the aioli on the bread, put down the lettuce, and place the herring in the middle.  And there you have it. It’s great.

Serve with asparagus-fixed anyway you like–and put out mini pickles/cornichons and salt and vinegar potato chips. Beverage of your choosing.

Excellent!

 

 Small things are important in my life.  Really big things occur only so often.  But little ones, they are so  abundant, they fill my days.  I hope your days are filled ’till they runneth over.

 

When you are young, there are lots of wishes to be made. There’s the new doll, the new movie to see, and maybe some more candy. I could never get enough candy. Get a little older, and you start wishing for a certain boy to ask you out, a new dress, –and the ever popular–I wish I were pretty.  A little older, and there’s the wish for more money, more time, more rest. But in between these everyman wishes, there are the very personal ones. I’ll share two. Two that will never be. Same old story. Waited too long. Missed my chance.

The first loss is shared by thousands it seems.  I longed to be on Law and Order.  The one they just canceled.  I so wanted to be one of the street people, a dead person, a member of the jury–anything!  Not gonna’ happen.  Dream dead.  I mean, I really like Bones, but being her victim doesn’t carry the same type of allure.  

 The other wish denied–parachuting from a plane.  It was always too expensive, too dangerous,too scary–too everything!  Now the age factor is there and all of those former “too’s” are multiplied by the age factor.  sigh.

But on a recent visit to family in St Pete, Florida, I witnessed my nephew parachute in his bright orange suit and do a perfect landing!  It was very, very exciting. I remember taking him on his first airplane ride and how he laughed delightedly when the plane bumped in midair.  Bob has accomplished much in his life, overcome some obstacles, and is now soaring high! He and Ted are such wonderful hosts!  Bob- always excited about what’s next on the agenda and Ted quietly making certain that all is being taken care of and that the guest are comfortable.

And another wish granted in Florida–I was able to see an old friend-39 years of friendship-whom I had not seen in 16 years. He and his wife took us to lunch at a super Greek restaurant in Tarpon Springs. [ if you are ever there, check out Hellas-good food]. When you see people from your past, people that mean a great deal to you, it can almost overwhelm you.  It is as if time slipped away and it was only a few weeks since you last met. Memories. Of course, there’s food.   When shared with those we love, it becomes a sacrament.

And share food we did–Barbara, Bob, Ted and Bruce and I had several wonderful meals together.  We took down the holy grail of food, as we always do for those in need–North Carolina BBQ !  It’s a fine, fun meal.  And we went to a great, great local restaurant.  So if you are visiting St Pete, you must go to The Hangar.  It is located at Albert Whitted Airport Terminal. Great service, great prices, and really great food.  They had spicy wings with a maple syrup dip–good grief it was good! All around the table you could hear ‘This is really good.  We need to come her more often.”  We considered finding Barbara a rich companion so she could go there lots.

Seeing my sister is a special treat.  We talk weekly, if not daily- me in North  Carolina, she in Florida, and that’s great.  But in person,– laughing, talking, watching Bob jump!– and eating –are  special moments.  Barbara became a chief cook in our house after my mother began to work at a department store when I was about 10. They only let me do the dishes–a job I still dislike!   Barbara,only 3 years older, but much more self aware, became a very good cook. Many of the dishes of my childhood were fixed by her.

You share memories with a sibling as with no one else.  I ask her,”do you remember..”  sometimes neither of us really can remember details, but we often come close.   It is a wonderful wish come true when you become close to your sister.   Having her in my life makes it better.  Life is not always easy.  Having an old friend is a good cushion for bad falls. 

 She may not be cooking as much as she did, but she’s still got it in the kitchen.  I love her potato salad and asked her to make it while we were there.  She did.  It’s good. Very good. And that’s the recipe that I wish to share today. She remembered that our mother liked it also.

Wish granted—Barbara’s Potato Salad

notes:  Barbara likes to use more salt than I usually do–but her way seems to work in this recipe.  She uses small  “Irish” potatoes in this recipe.  At least one  per person and two for the pot. We used seven potatoes, so that is the amount I’m putting down here.  You could, and should, adjust the recipe for the number you are serving.  And for lordy sake, do not use relish instead of pickles!  But do put lots of salt in the potatoes while cooking–and add  more later!

Ingredients:

7~ Irish potatoes cut into 1/2 inch cubes

4~ ribs of celery–inside pieces finely chopped

1/4 of a green pepper~finely chopped

4~ pickles~2 sweet, 2 baby kosher~ finely chopped–no     relish use small pickles

1/2 lemon~ squeeze over cooked potatoes

1/2 teaspoon dry dill

1/2 large sweet onion~finely chopped

1/2 teaspoon sugar

1 cup Dukes, and only DUKES, mayonnaise

salt and pepper–lots and lot of salt.

Peel and cut potatoes into cubes.  Cook until done, but NOT mushy. squeese  the lemon over cooling potatoes.  Allow to cool before adding the dressing.

Mix the celery, pepper, pickle combination, dill, onion, sugar, Dukes, and salt and pepper.  After potatoes have cooled, mix all ingredients together and place in refrigerator.  Enjoy sometime later.

I wrote this recipe down as Barbara was cooking.  It is on the back flap of  my book, The Body Has a Mind of Its Own.  And you know what?  The heart has a mind of its own–so does love.

I hope you are loving your life–and your food –and your wishes.

 

 

 

 

Any one who cooks has their own style in the kitchen. The more you cook, the stronger the style image. Some people have an easy flow that allows others to help; some are more constrained. All move to a rhythm in their head.  It’s  the  kitchen dance. People who  cook together  learn how to “dance” around each other and avoid the other cook’s direction even before they move there. They do this in small kitchens as well as large ones. Fun to watch. They dip and sway and circle and practically do-si-do. The next time you get to watch people cook together, take a few minutes to observe. You can almost hear the caller.

My family is full of dancing cooks! Good cooks. I love to watch them prepare food. And over the years I have also noticed a  utensil/dance relationship in cooks. They can remind you of certain kitchen utensils as well as dance moves.

I’m an easy pick. With the speed I show in a kitchen I can only be described as the –Slow Cooker, or possibly the Crock-Pot!  I do not seem capable of the fast meal. A fast meal to me is a sandwich. After that it gonna’ be close to an hour.  I’m like the Stroll. [Remember that one from the '50's?] The food may be good, but it is slow coming out of the kitchen.
My daughter, Moffett–an excellent cook–is the opposite. Which gives her an easy tell–she is a Microwave! And How! That woman can get a meal–a good meal–on the table in less than 15 minutes. No kidding. She has a fabulous recipe using frozen scallops that I have not mastered. So far it is way too fast for me.  I’ll pass it along when I learn it. And yes, she uses the microwave to its best advantage and knows how to put food together quickly. One of the few times I remember Moffett ticked at me was when I forgot to use the microwave to preheat/boil the potatoes! So when you dance with her in the kitchen, you had better be ready to Foxtrot!
My son, Hartman, is the king of the HOT pan! I, of course, am certain I will burn the pan, burn the food, ruin the meal. But he turns up the heat and proceeds with speed, dexterity, and confidence. The guy likes to play with fire. He does lean toward fabulous sandwiches  with creative sides. His meals are quick, creative, and good.He has excellent ‘other cook in kitchen’ understanding. He dances fast, but as long as you don’t touch the heat controls, he can dance around several people in the cooking space.  He practically sets the pan a blaze and proceeds with a fiery Tango!
Ah, and Enslow, well, a little harder to describe. After much observation and thought, I found it –the salad spinner. I know, I know, but listen–I don’t really understand why a salad spinner works so well and does its job so successfully.  Add some water, turn it around a bunch and voila–there it is. Like Magic. I’ve seen her go into her kitchen,–a very small New York kitchen, opens some drawers, check the refrigerator, turn on the stove, check with the kids, come back to kitchen , rearrange things, go back to the kids and sing songs or quiet a sleepy child, get back to the kitchen, repeat the above ,spin around ,do some magic and and suddenly announce, “Dinners ready”! When did it happen?  When did the the magic happen? And it is a full on meal–often with desert. She is a woman who gets up and fixes great banana bread at 6 am while she –and everyone else- is getting ready for the day!? She is a Swing Dance full of energy and great moves–you’re never certain what you saw, or how she did it, but it worked and you certainly liked it!  Like a salad spinner.
And then Douglas, my son-in-law. Must tell it like it is–the man is a great cook. And his kitchen utensil– Fine China. yep. When Douglas cooks–the meal is going to be really good–and it is going to be Fancy. Get out the good stuff and light the candles. The guy can ask the right questions at the meat market, plan the menu, and fix the goodies. Did you put on a nice tablecloth? You never see a missed step. His meals are remembered for years. Like that lamb meal from a few years ago. Great meal. Great memory.  His dance–naturally, is the Waltz. Classy and Lovely.

When the Swing Dance and the Waltz cook together–there’s a lot of motion in that kitchen!

Food is not the only thing to enjoy in a kitchen. It is also where people get to show their mechanical side –and their personal dance. There are other members of my family that I’m still watching cook. Each of us has a little machine and a dance in us.

The recipe this time is really brief– not really a recipe, but a cooking tip. I got it  from Enslow. And it has a magic quality about it, but it also involves a slow cooker. If you like beets–you be grateful for this tip.

Get out the slow cooker.  Wash beets and remove greens [can save to cook separately]. Leave enough stem on beets to avoid ‘bleeding’. Put beets in crock pot. Cover with aluminium foil. Turn on low.  Leave for 10 to 12 hours.

Turn off slow cooker.  Remove beets.  They are ready to eat or to use in a  recipe.

What’s your kitchen devise?  Are you dancing?

Time must be different for everyone. I think scientist “proved” that we all see colour slightly differently. Certainly we see and remember events from our own perspective, so why not time? This comes to mind each week as I prepare for writing my post. I get busy with something else and time goes Away. Because I am all but retired from my paying job, my mind is assured that I have lots of time. So I make the list of to do’s. I’ve learned to make it shorter. But I work very slowly–at every thing I do. It’s madding. How can someone who could fly plod so heavily? Ah, but I think I am missing my own point! I do have lots to do! It does take me longer to do these things! I actually have more to do than I can get done! This might call for a “Hallelujah!” Life is good.

Beginning in April and still continuing on, I have been putting in my garden. As with many things in life , “garden” is also a relative word. I have tomatoes in large buckets, various herbs in pots, bell peppers in containers and a few annuals just put in the ground. Shrubs are blooming, the mock orange is lovely, and the peach tree thinks it is in line for a promotion from DelMonte. My yard is starting to look as if I cared. And I do care. I  really care about that small, but healthy looking frog that somehow found our very small plastic pond. The pond contains about eight goldfish of varying length–some as big as four inches. We put them there . But where did the frog come from? Yeah, I know about tadpoles, but there were none, so did he just find the time to hop up the hill to this garden spot? I hope he is happy. I hope he stays a long time. I am honoured that he picked my pond. Maybe he will be content and stay.

In the mist of all this nature explosion, Bruce and I went to New York to be part of the birthday celebration for  Blake, who is now a joyful one year old.!
As part of the celebration, our hosts, Enslow and Douglas treated both sets of grandparents to a dinner in New York. Yea! I love eating in restaurants in New York. We went to Klee. The info on it said it had Austrian leanings.  No wait, was that Alsatian?  As with many restaurants in the City, it was small–I think “intimate” is a word they use. It was great. I do not remember all the dishes ordered but I remember I loved mine! I had a whole fish–which they very nicely showed me and the whisked it back to the kitchen to remove the head.  Thank you very much.  The fish was quite good, but the lovely surprise was the vegetables.  They were so good I asked how they were prepared, and the answer was ‘sous vide’. I did not remember how to  pronounce it, had to write my daughter and son-in-law for help with spelling and pronouncing–but I knew it was good! Sous vide is a very old method of slow cooking with low temperature and a vacuum.  The end result is incredible.  The equipment to cook this way is quite expensive, so I’m looking for a variation on a theme.  I’ll let you know how close I come. I mean, I had parsnips and carrots that were the hit of my meal.  And of course there was that chocolate bread pudding with a sauce to die for. I love to eat out in New York. : ) Thank you Enslow and Douglas

But good food is everywhere!  Even is my own kitchen.  I am trying to teach myself  –and allow myself –to expand my cooking menu.  I am afraid of cooking fish.  So I make myself buy the  fish that is on special each week and then find a way to cook that fish.  It is a plan that works fairly well.  This past week the sale of the day was cod.  Ok , cod it is.  I fixed in in foil with onion and spices and then it was put on the grill.  I realize that fish is foil can be cooked in an oven, but the recipe called for a grill.  It was good, and I had two pieces left over.  And there is my second challenge!  Use the leftover so it becomes a plan-over!  I ended up using it in a soup–much to my delight!  Bruce really liked this soup also.

I’m putting down the simple recipe as a guide for future ideas.  Soup is sooo forgiving, it is difficult to go wrong if you are using good ingredients. And if this recipe sounds familiar, it should.  The beginning is just like the potato soup I set down for St. Patrick’s Day. 

 I think the fish should be cooked for dinner one night and some saved for the soup. Broiled, grilled , or steamed–but not fried. Remember, you are using planned-over fish.

If you like to have all your ingredients at the ready, do so.  If you like to go directly from cutting to cooking that works too…  have a large pot ready and add to it as you cut.

My Fish Soup

` 3/4 cup celery finely chopped

` 1 cup carrots finely chopped

` 1 cup onions finely chopped

`2 potatoes-diced

` water–enough to cover vegetables

` 2 pieces of cooked fish [I used cod]

` 1 large can of diced tomatoes

` salt and pepper to taste

Have pan hot and melt butter; add first 3 vegetables and cook about 5 minutes- stirring often.  Add potatoes and cover with water. Cook until potatoes are done. Add tomatoes and seasonings. Heat. It’s done. Serve alone, with crackers, with a sandwich, as an appetizer.  It is good. You can certainly vary the amounts of anything in this soup. It is a good soup.

Cooking the fish and then turning it into a soup was a big step for me. But I love to cook.  It is one of many things that I love. I hope you have many loves.