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2011-12-11T04:58:00.001-06:00

Greystone Diaries

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It's Been A While

2011-11-29T14:41:00.019-06:00

A lot has happened since we last visited.

My husband and I both have different jobs.

We've moved further away from the city and our lives have somewhat settled into a routine.

In the past few months we've enjoyed some sunsets.

Fed some deer.

Chased away more of these than I care to count.

And even experienced a few earthquakes and the longest, hottest summer I can remember.

Needless to say, I am really looking forward to winter

and all that it entails.

And hope to do more things like this ...

Snuggle by the fire.

And this ...

Cook in my new kitchen.

And this ...

Read a few books.

But what will probably happen is this ...

Giving our extreme weather,

by the end of winter,

I may look like this.

Summer Reading List

2010-06-19T15:13:00.039-05:00

For me, summertime has always meant reading time. I inherited it from my mother. She loved to sunbathe and read paperback novels while my younger brother, sister and I splashed about in a kiddie pool in the backyard.

Mother read compulsively. And every time she finished a book she would proudly proclaim, "This is the best book I have ever read." Until she read another book, and then that became the best book she had ever read.

Of all the books mother ever read, the one that sticks out most in my memory was Herman Wouk's The Winds of War. It was a tome. Even as a young girl I remember thinking this was an unusually long book and recall it lying about the house for weeks on end.

One late summer afternoon with sprinklers swishing and lawnmowers humming in the distance, mother put her swimsuit on, spread a blanket onto the lawn and laid down to finish The Winds of War. Hours passed and right before finishing the last few pages, she got up for a quick break and left the book lying open face on the lawn, pages fluttering in the breeze. When she returned, she found our beagle slobbering and chewing on the book, the very last page missing.

This was bad, I remember thinking to myself. Up until that point in time, Old Yeller had been the longest book I had read and it seemed like the Oxford English Dictionary. I couldn't imagine what it must have felt like to read a book this long and not be able to finish the last page. For the first time in my life, I felt sorry for my mother.

We had no money to buy a new book and the library was closed. And lord knew no one else in our nonliterary circle had this atrociously long novel lying about. "Whatever will you do?" I remember asking my mother. But mother was a sly one. Swiftly she threw on a white blouse and some flip flops, loaded my brother, sister and me into the station wagon and without saying a word, drove like a mad woman to the downtown drugstore. Where in the door she strutted, red faced and bare legged, three soggy kids in tow, straight toward a spinning rack of books, picked up The Winds Of War, read the very last page, then gently placed it back upon the rack, turned and strutted out the door. Three elderly men stared, jaws agape, at the spectacle they had just witnessed. And I was impressed with my mother that day and never forgot The Winds of War.

Years later, during a late night college game of Trivial Pursuit, before my husbands drunken buddy could slur the words out of his mouth, I knew the answer to, "Who wrote The Winds of War"?

It is rare moments like these when I cherish my kooky, crafty mother the most. She didn't give me much, but she instilled in me a love of reading and books and for that I will be eternally grateful.

So what's on your summer reading list?

Nothing so long as The Winds Of War, I hope.

I am needing some ideas.

These are the books I have read so far ...

Anyone have any other suggestions?

Miss Pettigrew Lives For A Day

The Optimist's Daughter

My Cousin Rachel

A Moment To Brag

2010-06-17T18:46:00.018-05:00

Pardon me while I take a moment to brag.

For anyone living in the Oklahoma City or Edmond area, my son will be performing at the Vintner's Cellar on 15th and Bryant, in Edmond, on Saturday from 6:00 to 8:00 pm..

It's a cool place to kick back, relax, and enjoy some great wine and music.

My son just graduated from college and is a talented musician.

There's nothing more enjoyable than good food, wine and music, and spending time with family and friends.

Henry and Edith

2010-06-11T09:53:00.061-05:00

Society seems to be stuck in the fast lane.

Busy, these days, seems to be the norm.

Sometimes when I bump into friends on the street, I find myself compelled toconvey an illusion of busyness, just because one feels inferior if oneis not busy.

Heaven forbid you have a quiet day with nothing to do but set beside a pond andthink and read a book.

If Thoreau could see us today...

That is what I keep telling myself.

But I know better.

Because, if there is one thing I have learned fromliterature, it is that mankind, over time, has changed very little.

Henry David Thoreau escaped to Walden's pond in search of a simpler life.

In a trance of endless social engagements and mindless activities, Edith Wharton wrote Twilight Sleep.

Thoreau died in 1862.

Edith was born in 1862.

One began where the other left off.

Both authors had a sense of how hectic life can be ...

Mankind, it seems, has always been busy.

Or, are we just busy being mankind?

Walden Pond

I know Thoreau well.

Not through his books.

I tried reading "Walden" once and all I could think of was show me the damn pond so I can throw myself in and spare myself the agony of this book.

I know Thoreau because I live with him.

My husband is Thoreau.

My husband could spend two years setting beside a pond.

Come to think of it, when we were dating, I lived near apond. And while my husband pretended to be visiting me, in reality, he wasreally visiting the fishing pond … should have been a sign.

Now that I think about it, I realize hubby and Thoreau sharethe same birthday.

Ironically, Edith and I share the same birthday.

Coincidence?

I think not.

As I began this post, Thoreau and Wharton were the twoauthors whose works came to mind when I thought about mankind and how hecticour lives have become. Each wrote - although with very different style - onthis very subject.

As it happens, hubby and I share more than just birthdays withthese authors.

We also share a love of place.

Thoreau loved his pond and preferred a simple life in thewoods.

While Wharton, on the other hand, appreciated the finer things in life and lived in a mansion and wrote The Decoration Of Houses.

So I guess it should come as no surprise when hubby wants to live in the country, while I prefer the city with its art and architecture.

Wharton split her time between The Mount and Europe.

Who wouldn't want that?

Thoreau spent two years on an isolated pond in the woods.

zzzz ... zzzz.

The Mount

Hubby and I, it seems, are the modern day equivalent ofHenry and Edith.

Two complete opposites coming together through place and time with absolutelynothing in common but a love of place and an appreciation of books.

Next month we will be married twenty-nine years.

It's a union of mutual respect.

I respect the fact that he likes to go fishing and wander about in thewoods.

He respects that I am a town mouse and prefer cafes and libraries and big old houses on tree lined streets.

Edith Wharton

Henry David Thoreau

I guess the moral of the story is, before you marry someone, check theirbirthdays.

The Town Mouse and the Country Mouse

2010-05-27T22:15:00.057-05:00

We went to a family gathering last weekend at my brothers home in the country.

It was fun seeing the family, but it was hot, tiring, and hectic, and it felt good to get back home again.

Funny how just a little time spent away, can often help one appreciate home again.

It gives one a new perspective on things.

I learned that I am a town mouse.

Oh, I love ducks and geese and flowers and big country kitchens and quiet afternoons strolling the open prairie.

But country life is a lot of work .... and there's not much food out on that prairie.

Also, there's a lot of hay fever.

Two hours after arrival, my son began sneezing nonstop, his head swelled like a balloon, and then he broke out with the most severe case of hives I have ever seen. For a moment we thought we were going to have to make a trip to the emergency room. Thankfully, now he is okay.

But I can just imagine the ER conversation ...

Nurse: What's he allergic to?

Me: The country.

Things have been a bit stressful lately, and we were tired and so looking forward to this trip.

But one weekend on the open prairie, near a small town with nothing but a couple rundown fast food joints and a meal of nothing but meat at my brothers home ... and my two kids and I came running home so fast it made our heads spin.

So much for the country life.

We barely lasted a weekend.

Tired, sun burned and hungry, we hit Tulsa late Sunday afternoon and headed straight for Whole Foods, where we ate like pigs and picked up enough groceries to last a nuclear winter.

Warning: never go to Whole Foods after spending starving weekend with relatives in the country. It cost me nearly $400 to get out of that place. No kidding. But I was stocking up, since OKC has no Whole Foods.

Even though our weekend in the country wasn't as spectacular as we had hoped, it did us all good to get away.

It's nice to visit another persons world ... it allows one to reasses one's own values and learn more about themselves.

When I was a little girl, my grandmother used to read The Town Mouse and the Country Mouse to me. And I always became giddy at the part where the town mouse takes his friend, the city mouse, back home for an elaborate feast. I always felt sorry in the end for lonely, scanty existance of the country mouse.

Now it's rather ironic, for I no longer feel so sorry for the country mouse.

Sometimes simple is good.

Someday I will invite my brother and his family to my home in the city where we will share a great feast.

It will be a grand time.
But something tells me, in the end, he will scurry home to his safe haven in the country, while I remain happily in the city.

Contented mice we will be.

Local Announcement

2010-05-15T02:11:00.066-05:00

Life in Oklahoma City may be getting easier for us foodies.

This week Whole Foods Market confirmed that the chain would open it's first Oklahoma City store in late 2011.

Late 2011? I guess it takes a while to build a brand new store, but my family is going to be mighty hungry by then, so I hope they put a rush on it.

It must be noted that Whole Foods does have some bad press, particularly with their CEO, who seems to be about as flaky and nutty as some of that overpriced cereal they sell. But we food eating residents of Oklahoma City have gone so long without a decent grocery store, that I would let Atilla the Hun set up shop as long as he promised to provide some fresh vegetables and grass fed beef.

When it comes to grocery shopping, Oklahoma City is the absolute worst. Walmart somehow cornered the market in this state and it has severely hurt our image along with our health. So yes, I will shop at Whole Foods, but will continue to purchase as many things as possible from local farmers markets.

But it's not easy, I have a fifteen minute drive to and from the farmers market, and the good stuff goes fast. I am hoping that as demand for fresh, local food grows, the supply will grow as well. Small, local farmers put their heart and soul into what they do and it definitely shows in this basket of greens purchased at my local market. I've never seen Romaine and Savoy so fresh. They were purchased twenty minutes after the market opened and I bought the last head of Romaine.

On to some really good news ...

Forward Foods opened it's newest store on 5123 N. Western last week where the old Coco-Flow used to be. It's a great place to buy healthy, gourmet food, spices, local produce and green cleaning products as well. I was thrilled to find unbleached muffin liners and parchment paper. It doesn't take much to make me happy. They also serve coffee, espresso, and tea, and my daughter said their coffee was better than Starbucks. Their cheese selection is their crowning glory, it alone makes it worth the trip. Very impressive. I almost forgot I was in Oklahoma.

I picked up some Brie for my daughter the French girl at heart; some Vermont summer sausage for my meat eating hubby; Spanish olives and hot peppers for my son who likes things a bit spicy; and then I went a little crazy and came home with a whole bag of goodies for myself: French bread, pita, dried organic beans, couscous, sea salt from Brittany, fresh herbs, and enough cumin to get me through the summer. I use a lot of cumin.

If you live in Oklahoma City, I encourage you to visit Forward Foods. Even if you are not a cook, they have a great selection of snacks and frozen foods. Also it would be a great place to buy a gift. My mind was spinning with ideas.

This goes without saying, but the opening of new, corporate retail stores can often hurt small, local businesses. And as much as I desire a Whole Foods, I worry about them putting Oklahoma City landmarks such as Kamps and Crescent out of business. These two stores have been a beacon of small town charm in a sea of impersonal, overcrowded superstores for decades. In today's corporate world, it is comforting to know there are still places like Crescent and Kamps, where the customers matter and the butcher stands behind the counter and wishes you a good day. It would be a tragedy to see either of these two stores go away, although, I seriously doubt that will happen.

So, is Whole Foods coming to Oklahoma City a good thing or a bad thing? As much as I desire a better grocery store, there is something in me that wants to picket the big bad chain store ... that's out to destroy everything we hold dear.

What is your favorite grocery store? I would love to know.

The Cake Knife

2010-05-06T22:32:00.045-05:00

Happy belated Mother's Day.

My children are at the age where they are beginning to leave the nest and I was feeling a bit sentimental this year, which is unusual for me. I wanted to post something special, but the words wouldn't come and time got away from me. Also, I was thinking about my own mother whom I haven't seen in a long time. She was a kooky gal and they never made Mother's Day cards to fit her. But there is no use telling you about my mother because you already know her. She is the culmination of almost every single Shirley Maclaine character you have ever seen.

Terms Of Endearment:
Opening scene, where Aurora climbs into the crib, pinches the baby to make certain it's breathing, then, reassured, walks away ... my mother. Every scene, including that final screaming at the nurses ... my mother.

Postcards From The Edge:
My mother was not an alcoholic, but I am certain Shirley was channeling my mother during this movie, the resemblance is uncanny.

Steel Magnolias:
Dear cranky, crabby, dog-loving Weezer - the embodiment of my mother. The author who wrote, I'm not crazy ... I've just been in a very bad mood for forty years, most certainly knew my mother.

Now take all these characters and add in some real life Shirley with a few UFOs and some ghosts, combine them, and put them all on a small, isolated, Kansas farm, and you've got my mother back in 1979 trying to throw a dinner party.

Never mind the fact that our house was a mess and Mother was a full-time registered nurse and didn't have the patience for cooking. For one day out of the year, mother wanted to entertain and be a traditional 1950's housewife and by gawd nothing was going to stop her.

The main rule in my mothers house was: if I am working, the rest of the world must be working, too. So early Saturday morning Mother began barking orders. Now most people, on the day of a dinner party, attend to last minute details like cooking, setting the table, tidying up. But my mother had delusions of grandeur, and tried to throw an entire years worth of interior decorating and household chores into one day. She shampooed carpets, moved pictures, rearranged the furniture, ordered my sister to wash the windows while I washed and ironed the curtains. We dusted, cleaned the woodwork, and hid the junk. With all this housework, it never occurred to us to plan a menu or grocery shop. We were so caught up in the cleaning process, that the food and dinner itself had become an afterthought.

Next came the staging. Mother severely wanted to impress this woman whom she had invited to the dinner party, but she wanted to give the illusion of a casual mess, of someone artistic, living in a big, seventies farm house, with a garden, and jars of jam cheerfully awaiting in the cupboard. So after our manic cleaning spree, I was ordered to drag out my plastic portable Singer sewing machine and place it on the table in the den along with an art book and my mother's Merck Manual - what that had to do with anything, I'll never know. Then my mother strategically placed potted plants all around the house while I scoured the kitchen cabinets for a set of matching, un-chipped dinner plates.

For a moment, all seemed well, but you must keep in mind that my mother was an irascible woman, and the longer we prepared for the guests, the more she began to resent them. So much to the point that she became angry with them: How dare they come to her house and make her do all this work, then expect a meal(!). It was going to be a bumpy night.

Dinner consisted of a haphazard roast cooked in a metal cake pan along with an iceberg lettuce salad, some Ott's dressing, canned vegetables, store bought rolls, and the guest was bringing dessert.

I don't remember much else about the evening, as I left as soon as the guests arrived. I couldn't bare to stay and watch my mother - a person more inclined to conversations on life or death matters, the Russian Revolution, and philosophy - make small talk. She was not good at small talk. It exhausted her. My role this particular evening was strictly service. I had cleaned and cooked, and given her a lifeboat, now it was up to her to row herself in. Mother had gotten herself into this mess, now it was up to her to get herself out.

One thing, however, that I do remember was the cake knife. Just before the sun went down, while the yard was still a solemn, shady green, a smiling, perfectly coiffed, unwary guest arrived bearing a tall, white, layered cake, and along with it she had the forethought to bring along a cake knife.

Now a cake knife seems like a benign thing, a trivial little piece of arsenal, but in this post nineteen-fifties world that my mother tried so desperately hard to fit into, it had become heavy artillery. This lady was big time. She owned a cake knife. In our world that meant organized, responsible, an outfitted kitchen. We were jealous. And I remember it well - serrated with fake ivory handle, elegant but efficient - even at the tender age of seventeen, I coveted this knife.

My mothers kitchen, on the other hand, was filled with the odds and ends of a person who seldom cooked, much less entertained: melted Tupperware lids, mismatched dishes, rusty cheese graters, pans with broken handles, and dish rags which where just that, rags. It never dawned on her to purchase something new for the kitchen.

And when this wide-eyed, gullible guest stepped up to my mothers porch that fateful summers eve, bearing a glorious cake and a cake knife to boot, I looked into my mothers eyes and saw defeat. This blatant, ordinary kitchen utensil had become a reflection upon all that was missing and all that had gone wrong in my mothers sad, domestic life.

It was a long time before we ate cake in our house again, and I never remember my mother throwing another dinner party.

Mother enjoyed a good chefs salad. And if I could, I would go back in time and prepare this salad for her dinner party. I found the Romaine lettuce, green onions, and even the cherry tomatoes at the farmers market. I topped it with fried chicken strips, homemade croutons, and Colby-jack cheese.

This salad dressing is a winner(!). I like to make it in a glass jar and store it in the refrigerator.

You may have noticed the spice container in the photo below. It's Target's Simply Organic dried basil.

I know, I know, I've committed a mortal sin. But I went to three different grocery stores and all of them were out of fresh basil. And I felt this was a vital component to the recipe, so I substituted. And you know what? It wasn't bad. When I initially opened the spice jar, I got a whiff of fresh basil scent. So in a pinch, I recommend this brand.

Icebox Buttermilk Dressing

adapted from Art Smith's Back To The Table

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

1/4 cup mayo

1/4 cup buttermilk

1 tablespoon grainy mustard

1 tablespoon red wine vinegar

1 tablespoon chopped rinsed capers

1 tablespoon minced shallot

1 teaspoon chopped fresh oregano

1 teaspoon chopped fresh basil (or 1/2 teaspoon dried basil)

1/2 teaspoon sugar

Salt and hot red pepper sauce, to taste

Place all ingredients in a jar and shake well to blend. (Keeps about a week in the fridge.)

Digging Myself Deeper

2010-05-03T20:15:00.052-05:00

Happy Cinco De Mayo!

My mother lived in New Mexico as a child and developed a fondness for tacos long before anyone in our little Midwestern town had ever heard of them. Consequently, tacos became one of her trademark meals.

Back in the seventies, she would buy corn tortillas in flat, round tins and fry them up by the dozen. It was my favorite meal back then and remains one of my favorite meals today.

My husband loves tacos, too. And for our first meal together as a married couple, I prepared tacos from an Ol El Paso kit, and he fondly remembers that meal to this day.

Who knows how many tacos I ate while pregnant with my first child? I craved Mexican food so much, it was a wonder my son didn't come out looking like a Mexican. But he was a fair skinned, blue-eyed boy who wound up loving Mexican food as much as I do.

Now, here I am, married for almost twenty-nine years, and figure, on average, I have made twelve tacos a week for the past twenty-nine years. That's 18,096 tacos(!). And every single tortilla was store bought ... until now.

Have you read the ingredients on the back of your tortilla package lately? It's a long list of unidentifiable things. I don't know about you, but those mass produced tortillas taste awful to me. Actually, it's not the taste so much, but more the texture that's turning me off. They have a weird squishy feel, and I've got to be suspicious of something that lasts such a long time in the fridge. Do these things ever spoil? Their repulsive flavor and texture along with a preservative list a mile long, sent me in search of the perfect tortilla, but it was to no avail. There are restaurants and grocery stores in my city that sell fresh tortillas, but the drive makes it very inconvenient, they are on the other side of town. So my only option, I decided, was to make them myself.

I did some research online and decided to go with an inexpensive press - thinking I could upgrade later if things go well, or, not feel too guilty about waisting twenty dollars on this cockamamie tortilla endeavor if things flop.

Bed Bath and Beyond is only a couple minutes from my house, so I stopped in one day and asked a store associate where the tortilla presses were. It was serendipity. The lady was very helpful and spoke with a Spanish accent. She asked me what type of tortilla I was making and if I had ever made them before. Then she asked, Where do you usually get your tortillas?

Walmart, Supertarget, I winced in embarrassment. (In Oklahoma City there's no place else to shop.)

Shaking her head, she reprimanded me with a quick, No no no ...

How do you make your tortillas, I asked?

Oh, it's easy, she said, just buy the Masa at the grocery store and use the directions on the package.

One week later ...

After a few bouts of trial and error, I am standing in the kitchen rolling, pressing and flipping corn tortillas like Rick Bayless on steroids when my daughter comes into the kitchen with a concerned look on her face and in a serious tone says: Mom, you're digging yourself deeper.

Truer words had never been spoken. She was right. Making my own tortillas is more work. And I have been complaining about how much time I am spending in the kitchen lately. But it's worth it. These babies are so much better than store bought.

Tips and Recipes

Bob's Red Mill Masa Harina, Golden Corn Flour is the best I have found so far. Basically, all you do is mix Masa, water, salt, cooking oil - then roll the dough with your hands into small size golf balls - then press, and cook on a griddle or cast iron skillet for a minute on each side. That's it. Four ingredients, counting water. Compare that to the long list you see on the store bought packages. I had a slight problem with sticking and controlling the heat on my cast iron skillet - but I have a cheap, electric stove - so switched to a nonstick skillet and things worked better.

Homemade Corn Tortillas

2 cups Masa Harina

1 teaspoon vegetable oil

1 teaspoon salt

2 cups warm water

Mix masa, oil and salt together in a medium bowl. Stir in water and knead dough with hands until it feels like a very wet cookie dough. Keep dough covered with a damp cloth so it doesn't dry out. Roll into balls with hands and press between two sheets of plastic (I cut a ziploc bag for this) on your tortilla press. Heat on a nonstick skillet, or griddle, for 1 to 2 minutes.

My kids like to eat soft tortillas for lunch - topping them with black beans, Queso Fresco, Monteray Jack, cilantro, salsa, and pickled red onion.

And nothing beats a fresh, homemade taco ...

I grind my own beef with a Kitchenaid mixer attachment.

I am in so deep now, I may never see the light of day.

Chickens Sweeping Down The Plain

2010-04-29T15:57:00.065-05:00

Rogers and Hammerstein must have travelled to Oklahoma and known what it was like when they wrote their famous lyrics. The wind does sweep down the plain - it also vacuums, howls, gusts, blusters, tornadoes, and sandblasts - but most of all, it just blows. All. The. Time.

Today was trash day. I went outside to find every trash can on the block blown into the middle of the street. I did my good deed and returned them to their rightful driveways.

No one really messes with a hairdo here. There is no point. The wind does it for you. I guess we are lucky, we never fell victim to that dreadful big hair of the south. We have the wind to thank for that.

Expensive umbrellas? A waste. Every umbrella I ever owned was torn apart and completely turned inside out by the Oklahoma wind.

My brother called today.

He lives on the other side of the state.

The converstation went something like this ...

Me: Hello Little Brother(!).

Little Brother: How ya doin', sister Michelle?(!)

I use exclamation points because we are a loud, goofy family.

Me: Pretty good(!). What are you up to?(!)

Little Brother: Oh, I had to take a horse to the vet today and now I'm just settin here, doin' nothin', starin' at the Oklahoma prairie.

Me: Sure is windy(!).

At this point I must add that my brother and I live on opposite sides of the state. But if it is windy at my house, it is windy at his. Like the song says, the wind comes sweeping down the plain.

Little Brother: Well, at least the chickens aren't blowing yet.

Me confused: Chickens blowing?

Brother: Yeah, one time a storm picked up and it blew so hard that the chickens went tumbling across the yard like tumbleweeds - so now that's our wind gage. If the chickens aren't blowing, we know it's not too bad.

Me, Chuckling: Poor Chickens(!).

Brother: Only in Oklahoma(!).

Me: I think there's a redneck joke somewhere in that.

This is little Jerry Seinfeld. He has a girlfriend named Elaine.

Poor Jerry was eaten by coyotes.

One day my husband came home and I told him, Honey(!), Jerry Seinfeld died.

Husband was clearly upset, Oh, no(!).

Not the actor, I said, The chicken.

Husband looked perturbed.

He should be used to it by now. Only a family as nutty as ours would name their chickens after TV personalities.

My brother also has a rather amorous rooster named Bill Clinton.

And two goats - Bert and Ernie.

My seven year old nephew named them.

... and they wonder why we call this place the Funny Farm.

New Favorite Kitchen

2010-04-27T03:27:00.047-05:00

In a perfect world, I would be a tall, gorgeous super model, living in a cozy English cottage with a beautiful backyard and have a delightful, sunny kitchen to cook in. I would set and read and watch British movies, and best of all, cook.

As it happens, I barely stand five foot three, and live in a suburban townhouse rental, with a dark, inadequate kitchen and a tiny Holly Hobbie sink that is the bane of my existence.

But we can dream, right? And that is what I did when I watched these clips from England's latest cooking show, The Delicious Miss Dahl.

A younger, blonder Nigella, with some nostalgic music thrown in, I found myself glued to these clips on You Tube, just to see the busy, British kitchen. It is a bit cluttered for my taste, but for some reason, I really liked it.

I have a feeling, however, that men aren't tuning in to see the cute, country kitchen. They're looking at the former, gorgeous super model Miss Dahl. Oh, well, I guess they can dream, too.

A lot of people here in the states may not be familiar with Sophie Dahl. She is from England and along with her new show, has a cookbook, Miss Dahl's Voluptuous Delights. Her grandfather was the author Roald Dahl, and her grandmother the actress Patricia Neal. Roald Dahl wrote James and the Giant Peach, Matilda, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, and my favorite, The Witches, all of which have been made into movies. My kids loved The Witches. We read the book twice and watched the movie at least a hundred times.

Anyway, I am bummed because Miss Dahl's new television show, The Delicious Miss Dahl, only airs on BBC 2 and I can't get it here. It's not that her recipes, from what I've seen, look that delicious. Or that she's extremely adept in the kitchen. There's just something about those British cookery shows - as they call them - that draw me in. They make me want to set down in their kitchen with a cup of tea and hang out a while. They seem less corporate, less staged than our American shows. And best of all, they show us that a women can be smart, sexy, and cook, all without having to be a size three.

I am hoping Food Network will eventually pick this one up. But in the mean time, I'll keep my eye out for more episodes online.

Anyone else out there watch cooking shows just to see the kitchens like I do?

Hummus

2010-04-19T20:51:00.010-05:00

My two college kids enjoy Hummus for a snack, lunch, or supper, at least once a week.

The sides they enjoy with it vary. Sometimes I make a composed salad with lots of Pepperoncini, fresh vegetables, and Kalamata olives. Sometimes, as seen here, we have a platter of fresh vegetables, feta cheese, pita pockets, and a Greek Vinaigrette. Often we have an olive salad or Tabbouleh salad on the side. But always, we have lots of hummus to go along with it.

The best recipe for Hummus, I've found, is the one from Cook's Illustrated. Go easy on the garlic, though. I like garlic, but raw garlic in a bland dip such as this can be fairly assertive.

This has become one of our favorite go-to meals for two college kids on the go.

My Boring Life

2010-04-14T02:21:00.083-05:00

As stated in comments from the previous post, I was going to tell you a bit about my boring life, which, for the most part, does revolve around food, but the post grew too long. So instead have decided to break it up into segments, a series of anecdotes, so to speak, that will be titled, for lack of a better idea, My Boring Life.

I Hate Peas

Dad sets at the head of the table and likes to watch The Porter Wagner Show while he eats. I am in the first grade, home alone with my father, eating supper, which includes a giant helping of stinky, mushy, grayish, canned peas. Peas repulse me. I am not allowed to get up from the table until I eat the peas. Thus the battle ensues. I squinch my face and try feeding them to the dog, but Dad catches me and throws the dog out.

Slowly the minutes tick by, I set at the table with my feet dangling. Dad sets in his arm chair, like a despot on his throne. He seems taller. I am getting bored with this standoff, but the more my father presses, the more repulsive the peas seem to become. By now, they are not only mushy and stinky, but cold, as well, and there is no way in hell I am eating those peas.

Its seems like we've been setting here for hours. Dad is cajoling, threatening, even bribing me to eat the damn peas. But I am obstinate as ever, and never realized vegetables wielded such power.

Now I have no memory of how the ordeal ended, but I think it was with my dad in exasperation, because I never ate a single pea, and he never asked me to eat another food again.

Occasionally, at family reunions, Dad says, Michelle, have you eaten any peas? And I calmly respond, No dad, I won that battle.

When Life Gives You Yellow #5

2010-04-10T22:45:00.051-05:00

Note: Fans of Barefoot Contessa cookbooks, stay tuned. I have a tip.

But first, as some of you may know, my family made the switch to whole foods several years ago, and we do our best to avoid processed foods, especially those containing corn syrup, dyes and preservatives, as my son is sensitive to those ingredients.

Last week we experienced some balmy spring days, and one evening after supper, my daughter mentioned Popsicles, and for the rest of the evening, I could not get Popsicles out of my head, they sounded so good. So off to the grocery store we went, in search of Popsicles, sans yellow #5, per my sons request.

Now it is difficult to find Popsicles with no corn syrup and no dyes in them. Edy's Lemon Fruit Bars are one choice, but of course, the first store we visited was out of them. The second store, Walmart, had popsicles in the literal sense: they were colorful and frozen, but all had corn syrup, artificial flavorings, and Yellow #5 in them. Finally, in exasperation and desperation for something lemony and icy to eat, I grabbed a bag of organic lemons, breezed through the self checkout, and came home and told my son, When life gives you Yellow #5, you make lemonade.

While my son went to work on the lemons, we encountered our second dilemma, finding a recipe. Most people can go buy any ol' Popsicle and be on with their lives, but us, nooooo, it's never that easy. I had decided to make fresh, slushy homemade lemonade in place of the ersatz store bought popsicles - and I knew somewhere in my vast Barefoot collection there was a recipe - but which cookbook? Last count, I had six Barefoot Contessa cookbooks. Finally, after searching through five books, all with the word Barefoot in the title (my husband keeps asking, when is there going to be a Barefoot and Pregnant? He thinks he's funny) I found the recipe on page 32, ironically, of The Barefoot Contessa Cookbook. I whipped it up in the blender in no time and it was the perfect treat. I made sure to mark it with a Post-It note this time, as I am certain to come back to this one.

Finally to the good part, the tip.

Did you know there's a complete printable index of all Ina's recipes, including page numbers and names of cookbooks, on the Barefoot Contessa website? I just discovered this, and all I can say is, Thank you, Ina! I will be using her cookbooks even more now. It will make the process of finding a particular recipe much, much easier. It's the best thing since sliced Pissaladiere, Barefoot in Paris, page 57.

Well, as you can see, I'm an Ina fan. Try as I might, I cannot resist her cookbooks or her show. I wonder what her next cookbook will be about. She seems to have such cool friends that play an important part in her show, perhaps she should do a book titled Barefoot With Friends. Ina, are you listening?

What's your idea for an Ina cookbook?

Men Are Such Funny Creatures

2010-04-05T00:10:00.081-05:00

In the past year, I have lost some weight. Now please don't go and congratulate me, because I think that is strange. You lose something, and people congratulate you for it. When else does that happen?

In case you were wondering, I didn't go on a special diet or join a gym or become a guest on a reality TV show. In the beginning, it wasn't even a conscientious effort to lose weight. In life, we all become a little too content, and the pounds creep up, especially on my tiny, short frame. I had some major life changes - we moved, I quit my sedentary job, a flu virus hit - then before I knew it, one day I realized I had lost a few pounds.

Now you must know, I am a person who needs instant rewards. And the thrill of unexpectedly losing a few pounds was so motivating that I thought, heck, I could lose a few more pounds, and then a few more, and before I knew it, I was wearing smaller jeans. Basically all I did was cut out soft drinks, garlic bread, and potato chips. It was pretty easy, after I got over the initial Dr. Pepper withdrawals.

This post seems boastful and boring. Who cares if I lost weight? But the reason I tell you these things is because my husband never seemed to notice. He never commented on my weight loss. He's the type of guy who stares at the sports page and answers, uh-huh, mmm, okay, whatever, whenever I talk to him. The weight was slow to come off, but his negligence to notice my smaller waistline bothered me.

So this is where my very non-scientific experiment comes into play.

But first, another confession. I am not a natural blond. Well, I was, when I was a kid, but now require the help of a bottle and a beautician. And any woman who colors her hair knows that the color is never permanent, it grows out and fades. A while back, my locks were looking pretty dull, so I decided to get a heavy dose of highlights. That evening, when my husband came home from work, a curious thing happened, he became more attentive and showed more affection than usual. It was strange. I thought to myself, I can lose two dress sizes and the man says nary a word. But I go blond, and it's hello honey.

This got me to thinking. Tomorrow I have an appointment for some highlights and have decided to gage my husbands response. It's very non-scientific, but if I get the same response as last time, my hypothesis will be that men are more receptive to women's hair color than body size.

Just think, I went to all that trouble losing weight, when all I really needed to do was buy a bottle of L'Oreal blond number seven. Men are such funny creatures.

Soup is one of those foods that I feel free to eat all I want, especially the vegetarian ones with no cream in them. This Vegetable soup with Fennel, Herbs and Parmesan Broth is perfect for springtime. I found the recipe in a Food & Wine magazine several years ago and it quickly became one of my favorites. The top photo was taken just as the soup finished cooking while the broth was light and the vegetables held their shape. After the soup simmers a while, the Parmesan rind melts and the soup thickens into a healthy bowl of goodness, which is the way my daughter enjoyed it. This has become one of our favorite things to make using all ingredients from the farmers market. And it goes great with a glass of wine and a crusty piece of bread. Let me know if you decide to try it(!).

Thomas Keller Is A Verb

2010-03-27T21:57:00.054-05:00

It's been a hectic week and I won't bore you with all the details, but let's just say it is no fun to have a fever of 101, a broken down fridge, no computer, and a hungry family to feed.

When it rains, it pours. And here in Oklahoma, there is usually some hail, lightening, and a tornado, or two, to go along with it.

One prevails though, and I find comfort in this little world we've carved out here in the blogosphere. It is great fun(!). And such a joy to log on and see your thoughtful posts and messages. I really do mean that.

Some people think computers and technology have separated us. And to an extent, I guess that is true. There are times when I am typing away on my computer when I could be outside visiting with neighbors. But truth is, I don't have much in common with them. And the computer allows me to keep in touch with my family and friends who live in other states and countries. Also it allows me to meet people who share the same interests and hobbies, such as you. A good friend who lives in France once said to me, What would we do without our magic boxes? I would be lost.

I had a nasty bug and knew it was serious when I didn't feel like eating or using the computer. I felt guilty because I wasn't in a cooking mood. So my family survived on simple meals while I dined on Jello and Melba Toast.

One hectic day, my son was in a hurry to get out the door, so I offered to make him a sandwich. Delicately I sliced the bread, slathered the mayo, layered the turkey and lettuce, taking care to make it just right. Then my perturbed son said, You don't have to Thomas Keller it Mom, I'm in a hurry.

Now, we don't exactly set around talking about Thomas Keller all the time. So I was surprised when my son knew who Thomas Keller was. And this sandwich I was making was nowhere near the level of a Thomas Keller sandwich. But Thomas Keller is an icon for perfection and my OCD son can certainly relate to that. So my son coined the term to represent perfection in food, or, in our case, just putting a little extra effort into our regular run-of-the-mill, home cooked fare.

We had a little chuckle because we've never eaten at a Thomas Keller restaurant before, and more than likely never will. But the term stuck. So now, whenever we go all out on a dish or a meal, my kids refer to it as Thomas Kellering it. It is funny how kids invent new terms and words like that. In our family: black olives are Bee Bops, we carve Jack-Pumpkin's on Halloween, and whenever we need to make a quick turn in traffic, we say, Hold on Nathan. We're gonna go pick up Daddy.

Well, it is late, the fridge is fixed, my cold is starting to ease, and all seems right with the world as I set here typing on my new computer, listening to Debussy's Claire De Lune.

Hopefully, I will be back to regular cooking and recipe posting soon. In the mean time, my kids loved this Ad Hoc's Rice With Roasted Cauliflower recipe. It is almost a meal in itself.

Hi All,

2010-03-11T04:43:00.002-06:00

Thanks for stopping by,

My daughter took pity on me and is allowing me to use her laptop while she sleeps. It is midterms, so if she's awake, the computer is in her hands.

The weather is springy and I am looking forward to the farmer's market. Can't wait to do some summertime cooking. I am dreaming about fresh tomatoes, corn on the cob, watermelon ...

It has been a long winter - and Dell has certainly contributed to my winter of discontent.

Take care -

Would love to hear what you are cooking!

My World Is Blank

2010-03-04T12:50:00.048-06:00

It's been a hectic week ...

And I just wanted let the one or two people who may stop by know that I am not intentionally avoiding them. Although I did run and hide when the Fedex guy rang the doorbell in order to spare him the horror of seeing me in yesterday's sweats, a t-shirt with a salsa stain on it, no makeup, and unwashed badly-in-need-of-a-haircut hair.

Things just haven't been going right.

My brand new Dell laptop arrived with a damaged LCD screen.

After an hour on the phone, speaking to a half dozen different people that I could barely understand, they finally agreed to send a repairman to fix the problem. I stayed at home an entire afternoon, until finally a slightly creepy, Dennis Kucinich-looking nerd arrived at the door with a new LCD inside a dented box. I opened the door and the guy said, "I'm here to fix your computer, can I use your bathroom?"

Um, a little weird.

Soon the guy went to work on my computer, spreading his tools across my good coffee table. Then, during idle chitchat, the weirdo geek proceeded to tell me a slightly disturbing story about a nice, young women in a compromising photo and Internet safety.

Okay, I was beginning to get a little nervous here, but my gut feeling was telling me everything was all right. Still, I was thankful my twenty-three year old son was at home, upstairs, quietly studying.

And now you must know that my son is not a great big football player, he is a classical musician who practices Yoga and weighs 150 pounds soaking wet. And he would never hit anyone, in fear of injuring his hands. So if confronted, my son would probably kick and run. But this guy didn't know that. So I made certain to let it slip out that my college-age son still lived at home and that he eats a lot and and is very athletic. That oughtta show the guy.

Finally the computer was fixed and the squirrely-geek was gone, and I felt much better about giving Dell $700 of my and my husband's hard-earned cash.

Then, a week later, as if it were a black hole in space, my computer screen went completely blank. Nothing.

This time hubby gets on the phone, who ironically is much nicer than I would have been.

To make a long story, well, longer, Dell has our money and we have to wait 3-4 weeks for a new computer.

So in the mean time, I am making due. I am a laptop moocher, begging and borrowing from my two college kids. And let me tell you, it is not easy. I never knew how addicted I was(!). That darned Internet, blogging, email, instant news thing is an undeniable lure.

On the good side, I have organized my recipe file, read a novel, and caught up on some much needed housecleaning.

But I am still a night owl and lie in bed wide awake at night, yearning for a fix. Just a few minutes at the keyboard, I think to myself, just a few blogs to check, some emails -- but nothing, my world is blank.

The New Staple

2010-02-23T15:21:00.036-06:00

Sometimes you go to bed hungry for one thing - then you wake up hungry for something else.

I do that anyway.

Good thing I live near a grocery store, because I have trouble planning a menu and sticking to it. I usually wake up, then decide what I'm hungry for, then sometime throughout the day hit the grocery store to buy the ingredients needed.

My kids are the same way. Tomorrow is my son's 23rd birthday and he still can't decide what he wants for his birthday dinner.

Last night, I thought I was being smart, planning ahead, soaking the beans for Tuscan Bean Soup. It was a cold day and the beans were going to simmer all day, then we would arrive home to the lovely scent of soup with rosemary and olive oil. But when I got up this morning, I wasn't hungry for Tuscan Bean Soup. Strange as that may sound, for it is a lovely soup. I was craving something Mexican, so decided to change the menu to White Chicken Chili.

Plan B.

That's pretty much the story of my life - Plan B. Because I'm indecisive and nothing ever goes as planned, for me anyway.

That's when adapting skills come in handy, especially in the kitchen. I can change the seasoning, add some different type of protein, and have a completely different meal.

Even though it was still early in the week, I felt like we were in need of a midweek pick-me-up. And nothing says pick-me-up like a Mexican Fiesta. So I sauteed some onion, anaheim peppers and garlic. Added a good palm-sized dollop of cumin and chipotle chili powder along with a pinch of Mexican oregano. Threw in two small cans of Green Chili Peppers for that vinegary kick, then added the white beans that had been soaked, and filled the pot with homemade chicken stock and allowed the beans to simmer until nice and tender. Lastly, I put two cooked, shredded organic chicken breasts into the soup. And let everyone top with their choice of Pico de Gallo, shredded Monterey Jack, cilantro, red and green jalapenos, and a squeeze of lime.

Also, we had some guacamole and tortilla chips and salsa on the side.

Remember the good ol' days when bread and milk were staples? My best friend was the baby of five and I remember her mom constantly running to the store for bread and milk. Well, now chips and salsa are staples. If I am out of chips and salsa, especially with two college kids living in the house, it's time to rush to the store. If there's a storm and the power goes out, we could live off of chips and salsa. If there's a nuclear disaster and everyone is confined to their homes for weeks on end, we would survive on chips and salsa. If the earth is hit by a meteorite and everything is covered in dust - you guessed it, Chips and Salsa. It's the new staple.

Our White Chicken Chili was a hit, and I am glad that I changed the menu.

I assume that most people who cook are a lot like me, and try to keep a well stocked pantry. It has only been in the last year that I have enjoyed this luxury of living so close to a grocery store and must admit, I am spoiled. It would be difficult to go back to making that long trip.

Sometimes my family can't decide what to eat until we get to the store to see what looks good.

So, I am curious, anyone else out there as bad as I am about making out a menu and sticking to it?

And does everyone else eat as much chips and salsa as we do?

I Cook, Therefore I Am

2010-02-19T16:53:00.037-06:00

There are many different reasons why people cook.

On Michael Ruhlman's latest blog entry he asked, Can I encourage other bloggers to post about why you cook? Spell it out. Writing it down forces you to know what you think.

In response to Michael's request, I will try to spell it out. And I challenge others to do the same, because I think he's right, writing it down does force you to know what you think.

I cook because:

-I am hungry.

-I refuse to let a corporation feed me and my family.

-One of my kids is allergic to food additives, dyes and preservatives.

-It tastes better.

-For the smiles I get from my family when they eat healthy, satisfying meals.

-It's a creative outlet.

-Most of the restaurants that I can afford are noisy, overpriced, and serve mediocre food.

-Le Crueset. It's not just for room decor.

-There's nothing more comforting and homey than a big pot of soup bubbling on the stove.

-I love to shop for food.

-It gives me a sense of control in an otherwise chaotic, haphazard world.

And as I posted on Ruhlman's blog:

-I cook, therefore I am.

I can think of many other reasons why I cook. But mostly I just don't like the taste of fast food and prepackaged foods. So I am forced to buy fresh, local food and prepare it myself. Well, I buy as much local as I can.

Sometimes I don't even think of it as cooking, more like assembling. If you are a good shopper, you can pretty much assemble. Example: I like to buy the best chicken I can find, throw it in the oven with some olive oil, lemon and herbs. Assemble a salad and a vinaigrette, warm some crusty bread and you've got a tasty meal.

My favorite toy as a kid was an Easy Bake Oven. Once in a while when I'm surrounded by dirty dishes and covered in flour, I think to myself, did I ever really grow up? I'm just a kid with a bigger stove.

Would love to hear some of your reasons for cooking(!).

Mason Cash

2010-02-16T22:59:00.028-06:00

One bright star in my otherwise cold, annoying week was my serendipitous finding of a Mason Cash mixing bowl.

As I've said before, I don't get out much. But on a recent errand through the city, I spied a kitchenware store with a big red sign out front that said SALE! So, I did what any normal Okie would do in a situation like that: I tailgated then cut off the car in front of me and whipped into the store. Not really(!). But I did turn around and go back to the sale. Which turned out to be a fortuitous trip indeed.

First, it is important to note that I am attracted to bowls the way some women are attracted to purses and shoes: wood bowls, ceramic bowls, colorful bowls, even plain ol' white bowls, I like them all. It's a weird thing; everywhere I go, I feel compelled to look at bowls. I have a sister and a friend cursed with this same affliction, and we all have way too many bowls in our cupboards.

Consequently, I have a theory about this bowl obsession of mine, and it is fairly similar to my purse theory - in that bowls, like purses and wombs, are vessels for carrying things. So innately, we women feel compelled to admire and acquire bowls and purses the same way we feel compelled to collect and shop for purses and shoes. It's in our DNA.

I have been admiring Mason Cash bowls for about as long as I can remember. They are made in England by a company that's been around for over one hundred years and hey have a grippable rim and a flat edge on the bottom for easy tilting and stirring.

I have spotted these bowls in countless movies and TV shows. But haven't actually seen one in a store in my area for at least ten years.

Now, it is important to note that when I say I want one of these bowls, I mean, I Want One Of These Bowls. It is the equivalent of Ralphie and his Red Rider BB Gun. Or my son and a new guitar. It is the bowl of my dreams. I have considered ordering one online, but didn't want to pay the high cost of shipping.

On this particular day, I was keeping a close eye on my budget, but decided to browse this small, non-chain store with it's enticing sale sign out front anyway.

Inside I was greeted by a nice lady who steered me toward the sale isle. There I found an olive pitter; a dish towel; and a Henckels serving spoon, fork and butter knife set, all for less than twenty dollars. Then, just as I was about to leave the store, I beheld some splendid bowls.

My heart stopped. At first I couldn't believe it. Could this be the elusive British bowl of my dreams? The one with the flat edge on one side for easy tilting and mixing? I didn't have my reading glasses with me, so I had to ask the nice lady to read the emblem on the bottom of the bowl just to make sure - It is no fun getting this close to fifty. The bowl was made in England, Mason and Cash, and the price wasn't bad either, about ten dollars less than online. And the best thing, no lines at the checkout.

The nice lady wrote up a ticket the old fashioned way and I smiled with glee: My husband is going to buy me a bowl for Valentine's Day, I said.

And the lady said, I hope he likes it.

And I said, Oh, he will, because I will bake him a cake.

My bowl and I are now very happy together. And I am certain we will have many more happy years to come.

But occasionally, I still look at other bowls.

I can't help myself.

I am a woman afterall.

Things That Annoy Me

2010-02-15T21:37:00.038-06:00

Is it just me or has the world become a bit annoying lately?

It must be me. It's been a long winter and I miss the farmers market and the warm sunshine and fresh vegetables.

But the people, the traffic, the long lines - I feel like I need a vacation someplace nice and sunny - like Canada.

I try to remain upbeat, I don't want to be a blogger who launches into a boring diatribe of everything that ails her.

But it's been a rough week.

So I'll make it quick ...

Things that annoy me:

1. Screaming kids in supermarkets.
Now I'm not talking about crying, I mean screaming. You know that sound Bill Cosby talked about that travels up your spine and makes you want to go up to the parent and say, "Do you not hear that?" One kid was screaming so loudly because he wanted something in the store that I almost offered to buy the damn thing for the kid myself just to shut him up. It would have been money well spent.

2. People who cut me off in traffic.
Oklahomans are notoriously bad drivers. They tailgate and cut you off every chance they get.

3. Loud Commercials.
Forget the health care crisis, the war, the economy - if I were president, the first thing I would do is pass a law making it illegal to run ridiculously loud commercials.

4. Not enough cashiers.
Now I don't shop much, but lately it seems that every time I go to pay for something, I am waiting in line. Worse yet, in mall department stores, I usually have to hunt someone down in order to give them my money. Retailers are making it less and less enticing for me to visit their stores. The older I get, the more I am inclined to shop online, or shop at small, locally owned businesses (more on that later) because it's such a nicer shopping experience. Life is too short to spend it miserable inside a busy store. And our big Super center is the worst. Every time I go there I feel like I am in a dream scene from a David Lynch movie. Where do those people come from?

Last but not least ...

5. Retailers who don't shovel their sidewalks when it snows.
Now, this is a big one for me. I come from a small town and when it snowed, every place of business shoveled its sidewalks. It makes sense. For safety reasons and for the fact that it makes it easy for people to come and spend their money. Nowadays, major grocery stores and even our local Blockbuster stores don't shovel their sidewalks. I get a bit grumpy when I'm sloshing my way up to the door. Especially when it's a corporation making 10.3 billion dollars a year.

That's all.

Thank you.

I feel better now.

Italian Wedding Soup

2010-02-08T23:46:00.054-06:00

It's been a while since I've shared a good soup recipe. But before I go any further, let me explain. When the sun is shining and the sky is blue, there are people who like to play hooky and skip work.

Not me. I am the opposite. If it is a sunny day, I have no problem staying focused on my work. But if the skies are dreary and gray, and especially if it is raining or snowing, I daydream about being at home making soup. Actually, I daydream about that almost every day. But gray, cloudy days are the worst. I can't concentrate. All I can think about is puttering about the house, listening to it rain or watching it snow, perhaps putting on some soft music or one of my favorite movies, slipping into some comfy clothes, and seeing what concoctions I can bubble up in the kitchen. There's something so primordially satisfying about stirring up a great big pot of soup. This probably explains my fondness for Le Crueset - it's the closest thing I have to a cauldron.

Now this winter has been especially rough. On one hand, it's a soup makers dream - we've seen more dreary days than I care to remember. On the other hand, who wants to work on such glorious, soup-making days(!)?

And today just happens to be one of those days. So I stayed at home, avoided the dusting and laundry, and made The Barefoot Contessa's Italian Wedding Soup. Well, a version of it anyway, after I drove to three different grocery stores in the middle of a snowstorm searching for ingredients. Ina, I assume, has better food connections than I do. The recipe called for ground chicken and chicken sausage to make the meatballs. Finally, I settled for a package of ground turkey as a replacement. I thought about grinding my own chicken and making my own sausage, but I wanted this for early supper and who wants to clean up after all that raw chicken?

I began by making the meatballs - ground turkey, breadcrumbs, egg, parsley, garlic, salt, pepper, grated Parmesan and Pecorino Romano cheese - mixed lightly with a fork, formed into 1 inch meatballs, and baked in a 350 degree oven on a parchment lined baking sheet for 30 minutes.

Next I precooked the small tube shaped pasta in salted boiling water until al dente, then rinsed with cold water and set aside. Ina's recipe called for cooking the pasta directly in the soup, but I wanted a nice, clear broth, and was worried that the starchy pasta would cloud the soup, so I cooked the pasta before hand.

For the soup, I sauteed carrot, onion and celery until soft, added 1/2 cup white wine, 10 cups chicken stock and let this simmer for 10 minutes. Then added a good handful of fresh clean spinach along with the cooked pasta and meatballs and simmered another minute or two until the meatballs were heated through and the spinach wilted.

Lastly, I added 1/4 cup chopped fresh dill and ladled the soup into bowls and topped with more grated cheese.

Even though I strayed from Ina's original recipe, this soup really hit the spot(!).

For some reason, I wasn't in the mood for anything too heavy or with tomatoes, and the meatballs added a nice heartiness to the light but flavorful broth. The dill was a nice touch. But the meatballs, in my opinion, could use some extra flavor. So I'm keeping my eye out for some good Italian sausage. But this soup got rave reviews from my entire family, which is high praise coming from my hubby the soup-isn't-actually-a-meal man. And we finished the entire pot.

I was so happy with Ina's soup that I decided to make her Lemon Angel Food Cake as well. I'm sorry I didn't get a picture of that - it's already half eaten. The first time I made this cake, years ago, it seemed like a lot of effort in comparison to the easy box mix. But the last time I made a box mix, it tasted chemically and sticky. This cake is light and perfect. And it's turned into one of my favorite go-to desserts.

Once again, Ina saves the day. I have dreams of me and Ina hanging out in the Hamptons, chilling with some wine, eating spectacular food. Maybe we could make it an all girls party and I could invite my blog friends Marie and Linda along. You gals up for that? I'm sure Ina would love it if we came knocking on her door. I'll bring the cake(!).

What Else Matters?

2010-02-06T19:51:00.030-06:00

A mother never fully realizes her influence upon her daughter until her daughter comes home from college one Friday night and says, Hey Mom, I was bored at school today and went to Ruhlman's blog and saw these wonderful looking hot rolls and we've gotta make 'em.

Funny coincidence, since I was looking at the very same blog, on the very same day, and thinking the very same thing. Also, I had just came home from the grocery store with some local butter and honey - both items called for in the recipe - so it seemed like the perfect idea.

Now my daughter and I are very close and a lot alike. We share the same goofy sense of humor and sensible taste in clothes. But her going to this blog seemed a bit strange to me, since my baby girl - who hates it when I call her that because she was born 36 - never really got into cooking or anything domestic for that matter.

But I guess a bit of me somehow managed to rub off on her, since I was the one who first introduced her to Ruhlman, and she loves to eat. And this love of eating, after all, was her main motivation for this bread baking endeavor.

If you go to http://ruhlman.com/ you will find a much more enticing picture of these ethereal rolls along with his recipe.

The weather was cold and gray, a perfect day for baking bread. I had such high hopes. But I gotta admit, I was a bit disappointed. I followed the recipe to a tee, but the dough rose a little too high in the springform pan and the bread-to-outer-crust ratio was a bit off. Next time, instead of 12 gigantic rolls in a spring form pan, I will try making 24 rolls in two round cake pans.

Bread is a funny thing, perhaps it was the size of my pan, or the flour I used, or my cheap, rental kitchen oven. Who knows? And who cares? I spent some time with my girl and we ate some bread and had a few laughs. What else matters?

Post Traumatic Sandwich Disorder

2010-02-01T09:34:00.027-06:00

It was the seventies and the height of bad food, as far as I am concerned, a time where anything soft, soggy and squishy reigned. Insipid meatloaves, canned peas, goulash, Cheez Whiz, boxed macaroni and cheese, and that bane of my existence, mushy sandwiches on soft white bread. Reluctantly, I consumed one almost every day.

Peanut butter and jelly on stale Wonder Bread was my standard school lunch, plopped into a Scooby-Doo lunch box, lightly macerated with red Kool-aid from a leaky thermos. For me, the best part was the crust. I was the weird kid who liked the crust. Eventually, I omitted the jelly, though. Cold, gelatinous foods weren't appetizing to me.

The worst sandwiches, by far, were the ones my Dad used to slap together when there was nothing else to eat. Dad would stare into a fridge of moldy, unidentifiable foods and proudly proclaim: There's plenty to eat in here! Then pull out a piece of leftover, petrified breakfast sausage, slap it between two pieces of semi-moldy bread, dribble some watery ketchup on top, and call it a meal. I stared in revulsion. Dad liked his sandwiches. They soaked up the alcohol and curbed the appetite. Bologna and mustard were favorites. Along with greasy fried egg, Tuna Salad - which always made the house smell like cat food – and sometimes pimento cheese. But most of the time, he just scrounged around and made a sandwich out of whatever he could find. Pickles and potato chips were an afterthought. But I always liked the crunch that potato chips lent to a bologna sandwich. Anyone else out there put potato chips on their sandwiches?

What is a sandwich without bread? Our options were limited back then, nothing like the chewy artisans we have today. And my mother was notorious for never tossing out old bread. Even after it turned a nice, furry green, it still enjoyed a cozy place to thrive in our deserted kitchen cabinets.

Once, in the eleventh grade, I woke up in a panic, realizing I had procrastinated and never did the required science experiment. Quickly, I rummaged through the kitchen cabinets and spied an entire loaf of penicillic Roman Meal, not a speck of white showing. Perfect. When I handed the experiment over to my teacher, he said, Now that's a person who was planning ahead. That night, my mother chuckled when I told her what I had done.

By the time I graduated high school, I was pretty much sandwiched out, and the thought of a another squishy, soggy, thrown-together meal was more than I could bear. I was experiencing what I call PTSD, Post Traumatic Sandwich Disorder. And it was years before I could even look at another sandwich, let alone eat one.

Eventually, on a trip, I discovered the Muffaletta with its spicy salami, tangy olive salad, and yeasty bread, I never knew a sandwich could be so good. I couldn't get enough. Soon I was hanging out at cafes and deli's, bringing home different breads and fillings, trying to duplicate this tasty sandwich at home. It was then I realized, I was cured. Muffaletta's are powerful medicine. And I now enjoy all types of sandwiches: Panini's, Ruebens, Submarines. Except, occasionally, when my husband makes a fried egg sandwich and slathers it with Miracle Whip, I wince. No amount of therapy is going to help me get over that one.

Concrete or Corn

2010-01-24T17:07:00.019-06:00

To say that people talk funny where I come from would be an understatement.

We recently made the annual trek home for the holidays and should have taken along a translator to help the kids understand what Grandpa was saying.

Grandpa lives in the country surrounded by corn -- and he has a very country way of expressing himself.

When we first woke up Grandpa hollered, Yuup? Which meant are you awake yet?

Then Grandpa went outside and told someone to turn on the spigot. Neither of my kids knew what the heck a spigot was, and Grandpa mumbled something about city folks beneath his breath.

Grandpa pretty much says whatever is on his mind. Pretty much meaning often or a little - also used in other variations such as pretty far, pretty close, and pretty well - a term that comes up pretty much in every single sentence.

A derivative of pretty much would be pert near, meaning pretty close or almost. My daughter asked Grandpa, are we done yet? And Grandpa responded, Purtnear. She literally had no idea what Grandpa was saying and had to come to me for translation.

Some words were were easier to figure out than others: such as up-air meaning up there and the commonly used fixin' meaning preparing to.

Also, there's the ever popular all-be, shoot far, and reckon.

And one cannot forget plumb, because by the time we left, Grandpa was plumb tuckered out.

Sometimes we had to translate actual items found in Grandpa's kitchen such as butter and pepper. My daughter was staring into the fridge searching for butter when Grandpa hollered - it’s in that big brown tub right in front of you. My daughter had never seen Country Crock before and was unaware, ironically, that this was the country equivalent of butter.

My son searched everywhere for a pepper mill one day until finally being told that pepper came in a little red tin can.

The entire family gathered for a big country dinner of biscuits with honey, sugar beets, sweet pickles, brown sugar ham, sweet tater casserole with marshmallows on top, sweet corn, sweet tea, and sweet desserts. The youngin's immediately began bouncing off the walls on a sugar high that lasted till midnight. I turned to look at my two kids who were hanging in the best they could: delirious, heads bobbing, eyes rolling back into their heads, it was a sugar coma the likes they had never seen.

Finally, Grandpa said his arthritis was spurrin' up, but he still wanted to take a walk down by the crick which meant creek or small stream in his neck of the woods.

We left early the next morning since it was fixin' to snow. We hugged and Grandpa said, Y'all come again. Y'all which is singular, All y'all which is plural, and All y'all's which is plural possessive, somehow made its way up from Texas into Oklahoma and Kansas along with Yer and Yuins.

It was pert near dark by the time we arrived home. The big city lights emanated a soft amber hue as our car sped smoothly along the concrete highway and we slipped back into a familiar rhythm of urban life. I called Grandpa to thank him for the good time we had and invited him to our home in the big city soon. But something tells me he won't come. Grandpa is a Country Mouse. I am a Town Mouse. And who knows when we will visit again.

If Grandpa does decide to visit, I will make him my version of a country meal: grilled Berkshire pork chops; fresh corn sauteed with zuchinni, onion, garlic and red peppers; roasted garlic mashed new potatoes served with a big glass of unsweetened iced tea. It puts a whole new meaning to the phrase, "Hey Grandpa, what's for supper?"

Note: I know, I know, it looks like the above pork chop was overcooked, which is a mortal sin, but I feel compelled to explain myself - this was the most done of the four grilled, but just on the outside, my grill has a lot of hot spots, and the pic was not that good - but believe me when I say, these are the best pork chops I have ever eaten! And I am not a big fan of pork. Berkshire pork chops are well worth the money.

Sesame Orange Granola

2010-01-19T17:04:00.028-06:00

The brutally cold weather, compounded with the fact that there was absolutely nothing to watch on TV, compelled me to make a long overdue trip to my local library last week where I discovered a treasure trove of cookbooks just waiting to be read.

This is fantastic if you are anything like me and already own a bunch of cookbooks and don't need to buy more. It is a great way of taking a sneak peak at some of the new and interesting cookbooks out there, plus check out some of the old classics as well. I hope the cookbook authors don't mind.

I found such an assortment of interesting cookbooks that I checked out so many I could barely lug them all home. I was so excited, I could hardly contain myself!

That evening I snuggled up with a cup of hot tea and read two of them straight through like novels. I do that sometimes, read cookbooks straight through like novels.

Then I became so inspired that I got up from the sofa and whipped up Art Smith's Sesame Orange Granola. It was the perfect snack to sustain my kids while they traipsed across a bitter cold college campus the following day. Oddly enough, I had most of the ingredients on hand.

I found the recipe in The 150 Best American Recipes: Indispensable Dishes from Legendary Chefs and Undiscovered Cooks, and it had such a tantalizing assortment of tasty looking dishes, that I may eventually have to buy it.

The granola was a slightly salty, slightly sweet combination of shredded coconut, maple syrup, orange zest, old-fashioned rolled oats, sliced almonds, cashews, sesame seeds, cinnamon, nutmeg, dried cranberries and honey.

Time for me to go now, I've got more cookbooks to peruse.

Anyone else out there love the library as much as I do?

Note: If any of my loyal readers - Thank you, Linda and Marie(!) - or anyone else for that matter would like a recipe, feel free to post a message and I'll be happy to send one.

... Just so happens Marie's son is a marathon runner and needs some granola. I have a feeling it would take more than granola to get me to run 26.2 miles. Hope this helps, Marie(!).

I made a few changes to the original recipe. I decreased the amount of orange zest from 2 to 1 because that's all I had on hand, and it tasted plenty orangy to me. Also, I didn't have a full cup of sliced almonds, so again, I made do with what I had. And the biggest change I made was adding a good pinch of sea salt. I am not a big salt eater, but the recipe tasted a little flat to me. And I often buy this terriffic locally made granola that has a salty, sweet thing going on, and I wanted to replicate that. I couldn't say if this is reallly the best granola recipe, since I really haven't tried that many. But the cranberries were a perfect choice and we've already eaten the entire batch, so I guess it was a hit.

Sesame Orange Granola

Adapted from Back to the Table by Art Smith

1 cup shredded sweetened coconut
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1/3 cup maple syrup
Grated zest of 1 large orange
4 cups old-fashioned (rolled) oats
1 cup (4 ounces) sliced almonds
1 cup (4 ounces) coarsely chopped unsalted cashews
1/3 cup honey
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
1/3 cup sesame seeds
1 cup chopped dried fruit , such as cranberries, dates, apples, or apricots, or a combination.

Directions: Position racks in the center and upper third of the oven and preheat to 375°F.

Spread the coconut on a baking sheet. Bake on the center rack, stirring often, until lightly toasted, about 10 minutes. Transfer to a large bowl.

Bring the oil, maple syrup, and orange zest to a boil over medium heat in a medium saucepan. Place the oats, almonds, cashews, honey, cinnamon, nutmeg, and sesame seeds in bowl with coconut.

Add the syrup mixture and mix (or toss with 2 large spoons) until well coated.

Spread in 1/2-inch layers on 2 large baking sheets.

Bake, stirring often, switching the positions of the baking sheets from top to bottom and front to back halfway through baking, until the granola is golden brown, about 15 minutes.

Remove from the oven - and sprinkle with a tiny bit of sea salt if you like - then cool. Pour into bowl with coconut and dried fruit and mix together. (The granola can be stored at room temperature in airtight containers for up to 1 month.)

Floydian Zin

2010-01-14T22:04:00.045-06:00

Yes, that's a new banner up there. I had the winter blah's and decided to spruce things up a bit, add some color, and Blogspot doesn't make it easy. I had a heck of a time getting my banner to work, so finally decided, in the end, simple was best. At least, in my case anyway.

Isn't cabbage the most cheerful vegetable? I happen to love cabbage, both to look at and to eat. Makes me think of Beatrix Potter and the poem A Cabbage Patch by Robert William Service. Both British authors, I might add. As Frasier once said, No one's a bigger anglophile than I.

I do love all things British. Many of my favorite novels, TV shows, movies, and even a few favorite TV chefs come from England. Anyone familiar with Keith Floyd or Rick Stein? And who doesn't love Nigella and Jamie? And I would be remiss to leave out Marco Pierre White. My twenty-one year old daughter used him as laptop wallpaper for a while, hubba-hubba.

My kids and I used to get a kick out of Keith Floyd and his show on food and wine. He always seemed a bit tipsy and filled his wine glass to the brim. Sometimes, when I pour my wine glass too full, my son says, Now that's a Floydian glass! We hadn't seen Floyd in a while, so out of curiosity, and coincidence, I googled him one day to find that poor Floyd had passed away just a few days before. The NY Times headline read: Keith Floyd, Jaunty British TV Chef, Dies at 65. Jaunty! I love that. Only a Britisher could be described as jaunty.

Previously, I mentioned the poet Robert William Service, who also wrote The Cremation of Sam McGee. A highly appropriate poem right now, given our recent arctic weather. Sam Mcgee hated being cold and had a very unusual way of getting warm. If you haven't read it, I suggest you do, it's quite funny and clever.

Quite funny and clever?? I think I'm beginning to sound British. Best to lay off the Gavin and Stacey for a while.

I am looking forward to the new year and hope to have a contest soon with some type of prize giveaway. So stay tuned. I would like to increase my visitors, and hope to write and cook more as the new year goes on.

Think I'll pour myself a Floydian glass of Zin now, and look up some cabbage recipes.

Tally-ho!

Who Am I and What Do I Eat?

2010-01-09T01:49:00.061-06:00

After Holidays Vegetable Detox Soup

Leeks, onion, carrot, fennel, celery, freshly diced tomato, thyme, bay leaf, a piece of Parmesan rind, water, topped off with a bit of fresh basil and parsley - that's all you need for a pleasant soup.

As far as winters go, it doesn't get much better than this for soup. But after all the heavy foods we enjoyed over the holidays, we were ready for something light and healthy. So my daughter and I whipped up this Vegetable Detox Soup. The perfect thing to fill us up but not weigh us down. And no chicken stock was added. I just plopped in a piece of Parmesan rind and some fresh herbs for flavor and it turned out fantastic.

I don't know about you, but I am dreaming about grills and summertime.

Last night, I went to Supertarget and bought four cartons of Haagen-Daaz 5 Vanilla Bean Ice Cream just to show I had the audacity. It got down to 7 degrees. How crazy is that?

Normally, I like winter. I'm the type of gal who relishes putting on her sweats and curling up with a good book on a cold winter night. My husband hates it, he's grumpy and mumbling something about moving to the equator. But this winter, I've learned something about myself - I like change, I like fluctuations in weather, and I'm ready for this gosh-forsaken, frigid arctic blast to leave. I blame it on my childhood. I grew up in a slightly dysfunctional family with lots of chaos and turmoil, and we always got excited at the onset of inclement weather, it was the only thing more devastating than ourselves.

I must say, this harsh weather is taking its toll. I'm going a bit stir crazy here, so please, bare with me.

A teacher once said there are two things you need to ask yourself: Who are you? And what are you doing? As a young girl growing up on the border of Kansas and Oklahoma, I didn't know who I was or what the hell I was doing.

I first looked to geography for answers. Since where one lives usually says a lot about who one is. But I never felt like I belonged to any specific region, or state, or nationality for that matter. I always envied my friend Allison who could say she was Italian. She had culture, she had food, she had an identity. I, on the other hand, stemmed from a bunch of mutts as white and bland as the doughy Wonder Bread we were eating.

As far as geography was concerned, I wound up spending most of my adult life in Oklahoma, so this didn't help much in my quest for identity. Oklahoma has an identity crisis all its own. We've only been a state for one hundred years, before that, just territory. And now that we are a state, no one claims us. We aren't really part of the southwest region, or Midwest, or great plains, and we really aren't southern either. We're just, Okies. Which, I guess, is an identity of its own, but often a negative one, like in Grapes of Wrath.

Next I looked at my families genealogy, surely this would help me discover my true identity. But we were a jumbled clan of long ago western European descendants and this proved a fruitless endeavor. I was American, whatever that meant.

Religion often plays a crucial role in ones identity. Both my grandmothers were somewhat religious women, in a small town protestant way, but that pretty much dwindled out by the time it got down to me. We weren't a religious family and I certainly had no connections with church or God for that matter.

So here I am, raised in the middle of nowhere on white bread, peanut butter, and green bean casserole wondering who I am and what the hell to eat. So often I see people celebrating their heritage through food - such as my Indian friend from work with her hearty vegetarian cuisine - and my cousin who's other grandmother was full blood German and gave them funny little noodles to eat. I wanted that. I wanted to say, this is who I am and this is what I eat. But food and family heritage have evaded me.

I rarely remember my mother cooking. She barely grocery shopped. We were latch key kids who came home from school hungry and scraped the bottom of the peanut butter jar with a spoon and ate directly from the spoon. Sometimes we even ate uncooked macaroni, crunching it like popcorn. It never dawned on us to boil the stuff, not that we had any butter or sauce to put on it anway.

To be fair, my mother did cook on rare occasions when she had the time. And to this day those foods remain some of my favorites: Reuben sandwiches, tacos, and jambalaya.

Strange, now that I think about it, such an odd assortment of food. I wonder if my mother had a food identity problem as well.

Perhaps this was a trend in our centralized area.

Perhaps this is a good thing.

Now I can pick and choose the foods I want to eat.

I am not limited by culture, or region, or heritage. Tonight I can be Italian, or Mexican, or French, or southern ...

I can tell my kids, be whoever you want to be and eat whatever you want to eat, we are a blank slate.

Lemon-Chicken Soup

2009-12-26T17:31:00.017-06:00

If I could, I would pass out bowls of this delightful soup to everyone I meet. Brothy, light and lemony, it's the perfect soup for after the holidays.

Basically, it's a chicken noodle soup, minus the noodles, with the addition of lemon to zing things up a bit. I love it. I've seen several recipes like this lately - one in Cooking Light which had Orzo pasta in it -and this recipe from Southern Living which did not. I sort of did my own thing and added some noodles, but it would be just fine without.

I hope everyone survived the holidays and has a safe and happy New Years Eve.

Lemon-Chicken Soup
adapted from Southern Living

Ingredients

A small batch of orzo pasta, or noodles, that you have already cooked al dente
6 skin-on, bone-in chicken breasts
2 large onions, chopped
5 celery ribs, chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 teaspoon olive oil
1 (1-lb.) package carrots, sliced
4 teaspoons lemon zest
2 bay leaves
2 teaspoons salt
1/2 cup loosely packed fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves

Toppings: cooked barley, cooked green beans, lemon slices
Preparation
1. Bring chicken and water to cover to a boil in a Dutch oven over medium-high heat; reduce heat to low, and simmer 1 hour.
2. Remove chicken, reserving liquid, and let cool 15 minutes. Shred chicken.
3. Pour reserved cooking liquid through a wire-mesh strainer into a bowl, discarding solids; wipe Dutch oven clean. Add water to cooking liquid to equal 10 cups.
4. Sauté onion, celery, and garlic in hot oil in Dutch oven over medium-high heat 5 to 6 minutes or until tender. Add shredded chicken, cooking liquid, carrots, and next 3 ingredients along with your precooked pasta noodles. Cover, reduce heat to medium, and cook 20 minutes or until carrots are tender. Add parsley. Serve with desired toppings.

A Good Day

2009-12-22T16:41:00.039-06:00

Ready for the holidays?

I have a confession to make, something that belies sacred, capitalistic society, I am not big on Christmas.

Oh, I enjoy the food and spending time with my family and watching Christmas movies and all. But what I don't enjoy is the shopping and the hustle-and-bustle and all the noise, noise, noise.

I prefer a simple, quiet Christmas, which is what we are having this year.

Same goes for New Years Eve. My idea of the perfect New Years Eve is curling up in my pajamas watching Sleepless In Seattle eating comfort food.

What can I say?

I'm a simple gal.

It's the quiet, cozy days at home that make me happy.

And today was one of those days. Gray. Quiet. Misty. Bare trees against a cold December sky. A good day. An especially good day since I had the opportunity to pull out the immersion blender. I know it sounds crazy, but nothing makes me happier than using my immersion blender, which is an under used appliance in my kitchen. Each and every time I reach for it, I get giddy with anticipation of the good things to come.

Now, I just realized, I unequivocally must get a life.

Anyway, on days like today, when I'm hankering for something warm and spicy to savor, this is what I turn to.

White Bean and Turkey Chili

Adapted from Cooking Light magazine

I changed the recipe a bit and replaced the turkey with chicken.

1.) Begin by cutting 4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts into small chunks and cooking them in a bit of oil along with some salt and pepper. Remove the chicken from the pan, set aside, then saute one large, chopped onion until lightly browned for about ten minutes. Next add a clove of chopped garlic, 1 teaspoon dried Mexican Oregano, 1-1/2 tablespoons of Chili Powder along with 1-1/2 teaspoons cumin, and cook and stir for a minute or two.

2.) Next add 3 cans of Great Northern beans, rinsed and drained, along with 4 cups chicken broth and simmer for 20 minutes.

3.) Now comes the fun part, use the immersion blender to puree a portion of the soup. Not all of the soup, only about half. The pureed beans make the soup nice and thick and creamy without the addition of cream or milk. But it's important to leave at least half the beans in tact, it adds more texture to the soup.

4.) Lastly, add the cooked chicken back to the soup along with 1 diced tomato (or you could used chopped, canned tomatoes here), some chopped cilantro, a good squeeze of lime, salt and pepper, then allow this to simmer a few minutes and serve.

I've gotten a lot of mileage out of this recipe. It really does hit the spot on a cold, December day. You could use ground or even leftover turkey in place of the chicken. Also, the original recipe said to place two cups of the bean mixture into a blender or food processor, and process until smooth. But the immersion blender is way more fun. If you don't already own one, and you've got a procrastinating husband like mine, who waits until the last minute to shop on Christmas Eve, go ahead, ask for one, it's still not too late.

Happy Holidays All!

A Few Of My Favorite Things

2009-12-01T13:25:00.060-06:00

For me it is always fun to read other peoples favorites lists. It gives me a little peek into what they like, who they are, and best of all, ideas of new things to try myself.

My list is nothing like Oprah's. I am not rich, I don't like shopping - unless it's for food, I have a weird taste in music and books, and I'm practical - I don't buy a lot of girly things.

These happen to be a few of my quirky, favorite things:

This first one is going to seem strange -- tea. Yes, my secret is out. I buy tea online. And I've been doing so for a number of years, ever since my husband made a trip to Sam's and came home smiling with this enormous box of bargain tea. At first I was miffed, it wasn't our usual brand. But this tea turned out to be so good that my kids and I now refuse to drink anything else. And of course, Sam's stopped carrying it. So now we have to order it online. My husband and I both come from southern families who drink a lot of iced tea, and Walter's Bay Iced Tea is the best we've found. http://www.waltersbay.com/

This cookbook is great because it gives you lists and substitutions and recipes that are simple. It also gives you master recipes and variations on how to prepare recipes many different ways. I like the fact that none of the recipes, that I have found anyway, include corn syrup or shortening. I don't know why but I just can't bring myself to use those ingredients in my cooking. This cookbook will probably leave the house one day with one of my kids. It is the perfect, simple, go to cookbook.

I love Sting, a true artist, he keeps expanding as a musician. I also happen to like winter, perhaps that has something to do with being born in January. A beautiful CD for a beautiful season.

I was amazed when this crate of canned tomatoes arrived at my doorstep the other day. I have been using Muir Glen organic tomatoes for years. And if you go to their website http://www.muirglen.com/ you can order their 2009 Reserve Tomatoes for just $7.00. This beautifully packaged crate included four cans of their Reserve Tomatoes - two Mexican inspired and two Italian - a recipe booklet and some recipe cards. The labels on two of the cans are so pretty that I am hesitant to open them. This would make a great gift for someone who loves to cook with tomatoes.

At least once a week, my kids eat pita pockets filled with homemade hummus, Tabouli, Feta, Kalamata Olives, Pepperoncini, sliced tomatoes and cucumbers. I have tried many different Tabouli recipes and many different types of Tabouli grain, but Bob's Red Mill Bulgur cracked wheat is the best I have found in my area. This is such an easy, no-cook meal, that we keep this Bulgur Wheat on hand at all times.

Tabouli Recipe
I like to make a basic olive oil/lemon vinaigrette and pour it over (1) cup of Bulgur that has been soaked in (1) cup of boiling water for about an hour. Stir the vinaigrette along with the tabouli, some diced cucumber, diced tomato, chopped parsley, chopped mint, and chopped red or green onion. Salt and Pepper to taste.

A good friend, a French woman no less, sent me this book last summer. It is the perfect lighthearted comedy. There are other books in this collection, but this is the only one I have had the pleasure of reading. My Francophile daughter, however, has read several of them and said she enjoyed this one most.

What are the holidays without a few good Christmas movies? I first saw The Gathering starring Ed Asner and Maureen Stapleton on TV back in the late seventies. And it's been at least a decade since I last saw this movie on TV. It is about a businessman who tries to reunite with his wife and family for what may be his last Christmas. I think one of the things that first attracted me to this movie was seeing the home they gathered in and it's decor. I have been known to watch movies for their decor alone. Strange, I know. I am sure the decor in this movie is now long outdated, but you will enjoy watching Ed Asner who plays the perfect curmudgeon. Unfortunately this movie is not out on DVD. But I was shocked to see it in the cable lineup, playing Saturday, December 5th, at 10:00 am, Channel 178 in my area, which is a strange channel to me, called GMC. I've got my DVR set.

Another older, somewhat Christmasy chick flick I can recommend is Falling In Love with Meryl Streep and Robert De Niro. I think it's available through Netflix.

Lastly, I cannot leave without recommending my favorite Scrooge of all time, Alastair Sim, in this 1951 version of A Christmas Carol titled Scrooge. You know the part at the end of the movie where Scrooge sees the light and hollers down at the little boy to fetch him a Christmas goose? Alastair Sim is giddy and hilarious in this part and his Christmas enthusiasm is contagious. I've seen most of the Scrooge movies and this one is my absolute favorite. I believe it's available on DVD, but I'm still needing to check the cable lineup for this one.

So how 'bout it? What are some of your favorite things? I'd love to know!

Happy Thanksgiving!

2009-11-26T01:09:00.057-06:00

Hi all,

The clock just turned 2:00 a.m..

And I set here, curled up on the sofa, watching Bridget Jones's Diary with my daughter, waiting for a pie to come out of the oven.

I am only running about twelve hours behind.

John Lennon said, life is what happens while you're busy making other plans.

Well, for me, life is what happened while I was making Thanksgiving plans.

Nothing went right today.

I won't bore you with the sordid details. But all is well after one trip to the emergency care clinic, two hours spent in traffic, and four trips to the nearby Walmart Neighborhood Market, only two of those for food.

I had such high hopes ...

I planned my menu in advance. I read through all my recipes and drove to several different grocery stores earlier in the week, just to get all the right ingredients. I was making everything from scratch and we were going to have the hap, happiest Thanksgiving since Bing Crosby danced with ... well, you know the movie quote.

That was mistake number one, Over Ambition, one of the seven disastrous sins of the holidays, it'll bite you every time.

Mistake number two was refusing to accept that I was in the weeds and move on to plan B.

Mistake number three was the most abnormal looking pecan pie you have ever laid eyes on. More on that in a minute.

It all began with my son, who's a bit of a neurotic, like myself. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. He's been watching these food movies lately: Food, Inc., King Corn, Fast Food Nation ... and well, he refuses to eat anything with corn syrup, saturated fat, Yellow number 5, pesticides, hormones, or preservatives in it, which pretty much cancels out everything except Kashi cereal and dried beans, and that doesn't make a very good Thanksgiving dinner. So this year, I set out to make everything from scratch - homemade pickles, homemade chicken stock for the dressing and gravy, homemade rolls - and that most dreadful and difficult of culinary tasks, homemade pies.

Pies are hard.

Me and pie don't get along.

And it just so happens that my husbands favorite Thanksgiving dessert is Pecan Pie. And the poor guy went to bed tonight with me cursing in the kitchen, trying to bake a pie. It felt like that furnace cursing dad in A Christmas Story. Tonight there is a cloud of obscenity hovering over my house, all in the name of pie.

And well, to make a long story short, and to spare you more of the sordid details, after two different tries, and a huge mess in my tiny apartment kitchen, and dirtying a half dozen bowls and pans, and spending three hours on my feet, I admitted defeat. And with no makeup on, and flour all over my brown suede house shoes, dazed and delirious, just before midnight, I grabbed my daughter, slipped into a coat and snuck out of the house while my husband was sleeping and traipsed into a nearby Walmart Neighborhood Market and bought a bleeping Pecan Pie.

It was so surreal. Like a scene from a movie. My daughter, myself, and a band of Mexicans oblivious to the holiday, strolling the lucent isles of the deserted Walmart just before midnight on Thanksgiving Eve.

We had a blast. There was something bracing and invigorating about the cold night air that seemed to wash all my pie worries away. Our serendipitous jaunt made it a Thanksgiving we'll never forget.

It is getting late now.
I just took the pumpkin (pie) out of the oven and it looks pretty good.

Must get some rest for the big day.

I never thought I would be saying this, but I am thankful for Walmart that stays open all night.

Happy Thanksgiving All!

Update:

It is 5:30 p.m.
A messy kitchen.
Turkey half eaten.
Family stuffed.
I never discarded the Ugly Pecan Pie. I decided it was best to save it and let my husband be the judge - because he's the true connoisseur - traditional Walmart corn syrup laden pecan pie? Or my version of Mark Bittman's Pecan Pie with no corn syrup, from his cookbook How To Cook Everything?
And guess who won?
Mine was best.
Err, Bitty's was best.
The pie was not that ugly, just different, as it was more of a custard style pie. The pecans have to be suspended in something, so custard makes a good solution, and the custard is not so cloyingly sweet. Much better.
But to Bitty's defense, I did goof a bit -
After whipping the eggs and sugar until foamy in the blender, the recipe calls for heating the mixture on the stove, then adding the toasted pecans. But I have a cheap, electric stove, and wasn't paying attention, and the mixture foamed and boiled and overflowed like Mt. St. Helen's. And when the pie came out of the oven, all one saw was a foamy, brown crust with no pecans on top.
A real mess, it didn't look like a traditional pecan pie at all.
Now the Walmart pie will probably wind up in the trash.
And I am thankful for this cookbook. The pie wasn't pretty, but it sure did taste good.
Hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving!

Getting Small

2009-11-07T20:28:00.155-06:00

Remember that Steve Martin comedy routine from the seventies, Let's Get Small?

Well, I thought of this today as I was cleaning out my closet, ridding myself of old clothes and getting organized.

To understand where I am going with this, you must first understand where I am coming from.

About a year ago my husband lost his job due to a corporate restructure.

And after we recovered from the initial shock, something strange came over us, we began to look at it as an opportunity.

Both our kids were in college and we were ready to downsize.

So in a matter of weeks we sold our home and half its furnishings and cleaned out the attic and had a giant garage sale.

We kept only those things of greatest necessity and extreme sentimental value. Everything else was out the door. Riding lawnmower - no longer needed. My daughter's Little Tikes dollhouse - sold. A couple of rusty bicycles - gone. Those afghans Grandma crocheted back in 1970 - I think those went to Goodwill.

Downsizing forces one to edit.

We no longer have space for that formal dining room table or a ten foot Christmas tree. Also, my closet space is one-third what it used to be.

But I don't mind.

What I lost in counter tops and closet space, I gained in free time.

Oh, I do get busy sometimes and let things pile up.

So once in a while I purge.

I go through closets and drawers and clean like mad. And when I experience a Feng Shui attack, watch out. My husband will never forgive me for tossing out that Sports Illustrated Kids magazine with the Tiger Woods card in it.

So this is how I found myself thinking of Steve Martin today and the way he said, Heeeyyy ... let's get small!

I have Gotten Small.

As a matter of fact, everything in my life is smaller than it used to be - from my home, to my wardrobe, and even my spice drawer - well, except maybe for the spice drawer.

I think getting small, or downsizing, is a good thing. It simplifies life.

As a society, I don't think we've stopped shopping and spending just because of the current economic crisis. I think we are craving a less hectic, less materialistic lifestyle. We want to enjoy the important things like food and family.

Wouldn't it be great if let's Get Small could become the new slogan?

Steve was on to something.

In honor of Steve and the seventies, and because I was craving it, I made Rotel Dip without the Velveeta. I am all for living a simpler life, but I'm not ready to go back to eating that stuff again.

Rotel Dip (Without the Velveeta)

1. Melt 2 Tablespoons butter in a heavy saucepan.

2. Add 1 diced onion, 1 chopped jalapeno pepper, and 1 chopped poblano pepper and cook until softened for about 5 minutes. Add a pinch of Ancho Chili Powder, a pinch of Cumin, and also a pinch of salt if you like.

3. Add 3 cloves chopped garlic and cook for another minute.

4. Next add 2 Tablespoons flour to pan and stir around and cook for a minute.

5. Then add 1 cup of milk, and cook until mixture thickens, about 4 minutes. Then plop in 1/2 cup chopped cilantro.

6. Now add whatever 16 ounces of shredded cheese you prefer. Monterey Jack is excellent! But a mixture of Monterey Jack and Cheddar is good too! Remember to add shredded cheese a little at a time - patience grasshopper - you want a smooth dip.

8. Lastly, add 1 can Rotel. Stir on low heat until mixture is melted, smooth and creamy.

Note: I used original Mild Rotel - so I added the jalapeno for a little extra heat - and this still wasn't too hot for me. So if you prefer a spicier dip, you could always use Hot Rotel tomatoes - or add more jalapenos instead.

Where Did The Time Go?

2009-10-20T14:24:00.046-05:00

Halloween came and went and November is finally upon us and I just realized that yesterday was my second blogoversary.

Two years.

Where did the time go?

I began this blog on a whim, the day after my youngest child's birthday - who happened to be born on Halloween and had just began her first year at college.

Me and My Sister - Halloween - Late 1960's - I'm the Witch

It now seems rather appropriate to have begun a new venture on this day - the day after my favorite holiday - the day of which my whole kid year revolved.

I grew up in a small town in the 60's, in a small Wonder Years type of house, right next door to a funeral home on a tree-lined, brick street full of wonderful old, two-story homes, great for trick-or-treating. Fred Krueger ran the local newspaper. Really, his name was Fred Krueger. And every day I walked home from school, wading through ditches of fallen leaves, happy to find my mother ironing and watching Dark Shadows on TV. Then I would set down to watch The Adams Family and The Munsters. And in the evenings we watched the Twilight Zone and Bewitched. And on Saturday nights, a special, local show called Dimension 16, that played old, scary movies - most of them Japanese - where the lips never quite moved with the words. We had cats that prowled, and bats that flew around street lights eating bugs late at night, and even a rumored ghost or two at the local cemetery. And on warm, autumn nights we visited the Spook Light. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Spooklight

So I hope you can understand why I love Halloween so much.

It holds a special place in my autumnal heart. Not in a scary, devilish sort of way, but in a good, fun way.

So it seemed perfectly appropriate that I gave birth on Halloween to the sweetest baby girl that ever lived. We called her our baby ghoul and dressed her up in pumpkin and bunny costumes. And all was fun and games for many, many years until the scary part came.

When my daughter was in grade school, we saw on the local evening news where the doctor who had been on call the night she was born, and had delivered her, was accused of murder. A very violent murder. He is in prison now. And now my daughter, the sweetest angel in the world, gets a perverse thrill out of telling her friends how she was delivered on Halloween by a murderer.

True story.

Quick Autumn Supper

2009-10-06T16:00:00.009-05:00

Isn't autumn the most glorious time of year?

The weather has been cool, the leaves are beginning to turn, and I have about a million recipes on standby, just waiting for the perfect autumn day.

I didn't mean to stay away for so long. As usual, things have been busy. And the nasty flu bug caught up with me. Oh, I'm not cool enough for that flu that has been in the news lately. The doctor said it was just your ordinary strain, and now I get the thrill of explaining this to everyone I know, as if it is some type of consolation prize. But let me tell you, it didn't feel ordinary at the time. I ate jello for two days, and I don't even like Jello, but for some reason it was the only thing that sounded good. Weird.

Here is something a lot better than Jello. Giada's Rigatoni with Creamy Mushroom Sauce. And so easy. Just the type of meal I was craving on a cool early autumn evening.

A guy at our local farmers market sells fresh mushrooms, and I always want to buy some of these beautiful specimens, but I'm afraid I'll screw 'em up. So, as I was sorting through my autumnal cooking list, I came across this recipe from an old Everyday Italian show and remembered the fresh mushrooms at the market. I like buying from this guy - as I understand - when the gas prices went sky high, he decided to start his own business, and runs a delivery truck on used cooking oil that he collects from local restaurants, and then delivers fresh, local produce to the restaurants and farmers markets around town. Pretty cool!

You can use pretty much any mushrooms you like - cremini, shitake, and button - or pasta for that matter - I didn't have rigatoni on hand, so I substituted small penne.

A glass of wine, a quick green salad, some crusty bread, and you're in business.

Rigatoni with Creamy Mushroom Sauce
Recipe courtesy Giada De Laurentiis, 2008

1 pound rigatoni pasta
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 shallots, minced
1 clove garlic, minced
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 pound assorted mushrooms, (such as cremini, shiitake and button), cleaned and sliced
1/2 cup white wine
1/2 cup chicken stock
1 cup (8 ounces) mascarpone cheese, at room temperature
1/2 cup grated Parmesan
1/4 cup chopped fresh chives
Directions
Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil over high heat. Add the pasta and cook until tender but still firm to the bite, stirring occasionally, about 8 to 10 minutes.

While the pasta is cooking:
Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the shallots and garlic to the pan. Season with salt and pepper. Cook until soft, about 2 minutes. Add the mushrooms to the pan and season with salt and pepper. Cook until mushrooms are tender, stirring occasionally, about 5 to 7 minutes. Turn the heat to high. Add the wine and cook for 3 minutes until all the liquid evaporates. Add the stock and simmer until liquid is slightly reduced. Remove the pan from the heat. Add the mascarpone cheese. Stir until creamy. Drain the pasta, reserving about 1 cup of the pasta water, and transfer to a serving bowl. Add the mushroom mixture and the Parmesan. Season with salt and pepper, to taste. Toss well to coat pasta, adding the reserved pasta water, if needed, to loosen the pasta. Garnish with the chopped chives. Serve immediately.

Note: The recipe originally called for vegetable stock, which I was out of, so substituted chicken stock instead. You could use a little more leftover cooking water from the pasta and this would work just fine.

Pizza Van Gogh

2009-09-21T20:27:00.039-05:00

Anyone still there?

I didn't mean to stay away for so long.

I am still cooking a lot. I wanted to take a picture of a meal I prepared the other night, but as soon as the dish came out of the oven, my bunch dug in like ravenous hounds.

I said Wait! I need a picture! And my son eagerly informed me that food was for eating and not photographing. And then it all disappeared before my eyes.

The days come and go and supper is always a highlight. I've been preparing more vegetarian meals and discovered that I really do enjoy coming up with new ideas and don't miss the meat one bit.

I guess it goes without saying that I am looking forward to fall. Today is the first day! Hurray! I've flagged recipes for autumn minestrone and pumpkin soup.

The kids and I visited the art museum the other day. There were some famous paintings on loan from a famous European collection and my two oddball kids were dying to see them. The stuffy museum people wouldn't allow us to take pictures of their priceless Monet's and Renoir's. So I took pics of the giant glass art sculpture that stands three stories high, just inside the entrance to the museum. It was quite impressive.

I wasn't excited about visiting the museum at first, but it turned out to be a nice day. We saw a Van Gogh. You know, the guy who chopped off his own ear, then practically died of hunger as a starving artist, and then decided to end it all by walking into a field and shooting himself in the chest and suffering miserably before dying a few days later. Talk about a glutton for punishment(!). Anyway, a bunch of dumb Okies stared mindlessly at his dabbling's for about an hour the other day - so the guy can rest in peace knowing he wasn't a complete failure.

We've come to enjoy pizza night around our house. I make my own dough and everyone chooses their favorite toppings. My son likes to brush his crust with a garlic infused olive oil, then tops it with crumbled feta, fresh spinach, and mushrooms. This is excellent(!). My daughter enjoys a fresh Pizza Margherita. The sauce recipe from Cook's Illustrated is the best we've found. And there's my hubby, the meat guy, I have to put some sweet Italian sausage and mushrooms on his pizza. He seems content.

Me? I'm like Van Gogh, artistically applying all types of colorful toppings - and up close, it looks like a big oh mess - but the end result is quite good.

I think I'll keep my ear, though, it keeps my glasses on so I can read the recipes.

The Little Things

2009-08-25T12:32:00.076-05:00

Is there anything more wonderful than seeing a sign like this?

My daughter Kassie passed this sign on her walk to school. The giant pear tree sets in front of a beautiful, old, white Victorian home, not far from her college. And I can't think of a kinder, more pleasant act of generosity than allowing the kids to pick a pear on their way to school.

Last spring we left our barren, suburban landscape and moved to a town - a real town - with parks and sidewalks and old Victorian homes with bushes and flowers, and best of all, pear trees. I feel like I've been transported from a sterile spaceship in outer space to mother-earth in all her glory. The grass is greener, the birds are chirping, and the sky seems bluer. It's the little things, like picking a pear on a warm, late summer afternoon that make me happy.

There was a part of me, however, that felt a bit timid about picking fruit from a tree that didn't belong to me. But the tree was just standing there in all its glory, resplendent with fruit, and the sign was there, and I couldn't help myself - it would have been a serious test of will to not pick the fruit. Still yet, when gently tugging on a gnarly branch, the strangest feeling came over me, like I was Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, and the tree was about to reach down and slap me on the wrist and chastise me for stealing its fruit. It was such great fun.

The nice lady who I assume owns the house, came out onto her porch while we were there and said it would be okay to come back later with a ladder and pick more fruit, as all the lower branches had already been picked clean. And the tree was loaded. It would be a shame for the pears to waste.

So you know where I am headed tomorrow. Does anyone have a good recipe for fresh pears?

Perhaps I should take the nice lady a Phyllo Pear Tart.

Julie and Julia

2009-08-12T11:43:00.095-05:00

So much has already been written about this movie, that I hesitate to add another word. I want to spout the usual things - It was great(!), Can't stop thinking about it(!), Meryl was fantastic(!) - but it all sounds so cliche. Similar to uttering the word delicious when you have a mouthful of yummy food, such trite explanations often fall short.

My daughter the French major was enamored with the scenes of Julia in France. I, of course, could relate to the cooking, the cubicle job, and the blog. And we both love Julia, Meryl, and Nora Ephron. We drank too much Coke Zero, nibbled on organic popcorn that I'd smuggled in my purse, and smiled and laughed so much that our faces and our bladders hurt.

Meryl is the star here, there is no doubt about that, but Stanley Tucci and Amy Adams both hold their own and are equally entertaining to watch. Jane Lynch, who plays Julia's sister, is a hoot.

It was a pleasant surprise to see marriage portrayed in such a positive way and refreshing to see two leading men as kind, supportive husbands.

The script touches on more serious subjects, such as politics, republicans, and McCarthyism - which was quite interesting to see in an Oklahoma theater - I found myself the only one laughing at one point. And this leads me to something I am curious about: in one particular scene of the movie, I saw what appeared to be a framed, embroidered map of Oklahoma - and a few other states including Louisiana - hanging over Julie and Eric's bed. I have seen enough DVD extras to know that little is left to chance - a lot of thought goes into those minute details we see on the silver screen - so I am curious and dying to know, what's up with that Oklahoma embroidery thing?

After the movie I came home to our tiny, triplex kitchen with the makeshift stainless steel shelving in the corner - filled to the brim with cookbooks, cutting boards, pot and pans - and immediately felt the urge to cook, but I was tired, and went to bed, and took comfort in knowing that these things would be there for me in the morning. And I guess that is what I liked best about this movie, the fact that it was so comforting. Just like Julia comforted us with her lolling voice in the past, Nora Ephron comforts us with her movies today. And I take solace in that.

Balsamic Chicken

2009-08-09T09:56:00.033-05:00

For a person who loves food and holidays, August can be a trying month.

Biding my time, waiting for summer's heat to subside, anticipating fall, I feel trapped in culinary limbo.

What to do?

When relatives sprang a surprise visit on me last weekend - relatives who mainly eat chicken - I quickly perused some of my favorite food blogs for inspiration and found Proud Italian Cook's Balsamic and Herb Grilled Chicken.

I changed the vegetables up a bit, but this was an easy dish to prepare for a crowd.

I began by marinating organic, boneless chicken breasts overnight in a mixture of olive oil, balsamic vinegar, crushed garlic, Dijon mustard, a dash of salt and pepper - then grilled the chicken along with some fresh asparagus and finished with a squeeze of lemon.

Note: I own a bottle of aged balsamic vinegar, of which my son coyly said while drizzling over his bread, Wow, this vinegar is older than me. And he's about to finish college. Do not waste your money using this type of vinegar as a marinade. The cheaper balsamic from the grocery store works fine here, adding a nice sharpness to the marinade.

If you would like to see more inspiring and beautiful things to eat, go to http://www.prouditaliancook.blogspot.com/

A bit of a warning, however, her Ricotta Poundcake is weight-gainingly irresistible. Marie, I hope you don't mind me giving you a shout out(!).

Mexican Bean Soup

2009-08-02T08:59:00.117-05:00

A blog based on soup, while experiencing one of the hottest summers on record, while holding down a full time job, is not an easy thing to maintain. Soup, by nature, is slow food eaten on cool days. And lord knows, there is nothing I enjoy more than long, dreary days spent at home making soup. But those days are few and far between. And this, in itself, is one of the main reasons I have almost entirely given up on this blogging thing. Is anyone else out there having trouble keeping up?

I could go on and on about the pros and cons of blogging - but that would be boring. So I've decided to share with you, instead, a new technique I found for cooking bean soup.

First off, I feel the irrepressible urge to apologize, or even make amends for my unique fondness of beans. I didn't always like them. My mother, a wacky, terrible cook, never realized that beans must be washed before cooking. So I grew up with the erroneous assumption that all beans tasted like dirt. And then one day, I ate my grandmother's Pinto Beans, slow-cooked, smoky and thick, with homemade cornbread on top, and I was hooked. Thus, a lifelong habit of eating beans once a week ensued. What can I say? I'm a beaner. And this, I do not feel, is a pejorative term. Anyone who enjoys beans in their diet, is a smart person. Beans are low in fat, high in fiber, good for the environment, and best of all, cheap. If you don't believe me on the environmental thing, take a look at the book Food Matters by Mark Bittman. He explores the links among global warming and other environmental issues related to the over consumption of meat. Also, there's that Rancho Gordo guy. He eats beans with gusto. And for those of you who don't know who he is, his fresh, Napa Valley, heirloom beans are the best. You can take a look at his website at http://ranchogordo.com

Now to the soup. For many years, I had trouble cooking beans. I would lovingly prepare them in the crock pot, in the morning, only to arrive home in the evening to al dente soup - and this is not how beans were meant to be eaten. Beans are supposed to be soft, tender, and buttery. I tried many different things to fix the problem - longer soaking time, longer cooking time, cooking them on the stove, salt, no salt, bottled water. But nothing worked. No matter what cooking method I used, my beans were always firm and undercooked. And then one day I came across an article about the freshness of dried beans, and how most beans we buy in the supermarket are old beans - meaning that they have been hanging around for a while. Often these beans are several years old by the time we buy them. Atrocity(!). Thankfully this article saved me from a lifetime of undercooked beans, and set forth an interminable quest for, fresh, dried beans. And yes, they are out there. But one has to look for them.

Recently at my local farmer's market, I hit pay dirt when I found a bag of fresh, dried Colorado Pinto Beans. I came home lugging this 10 lb. gunny sack like I'd won the lottery. And in my eye's, I had.

This is what we had for Sunday dinner the following day.

Mexican Bean Soup

The recipe is pretty basic. I always begin with a 'holy trinity' of some type of green pepper, onion, and garlic - along with some type of fat or oil - olive oil, a smoky piece of bacon, or some leftover ham will do. Next the spices: chili powder, dried red chile's, cumin, bay leaf, whatever your heart desires. Next, in a large dutch oven, add the presoaked beans and cover with water, or chicken stock, and cook on top of the stove until the mixture begins to bubble. Then, with the lid on, put the entire pot of beans into a 225 to 250 degree oven and cook until soft and tender. This can be anywhere from 2 to 4 hours depending on the freshness of the beans and how long you soaked them. I topped this bowl of beans with a squeeze of fresh lime, some cilantro, fresh chiles, and Cotija cheese.

The easy part of this recipe came one morning when I was in a hurry and asked myself, why am I chopping all these vegetables? So I drizzled some olive oil into the pot, threw in giant chunks of carrots, onions, and celery, heated things up a bit, added the beans and water, put the lid on, stuck it in the oven - and voila! - the best pot of beans I had eaten in a long time. And for some reason, my family really enjoyed these tasty chunks of vegetables in the soup.

This recipe is versatile. Just change the seasonings according to what type of beans you are cooking. For white beans, I like to add lots of olive oil, carrots, onion, rosemary, and celery. For black beans, or Pintos, I prefer green peppers in place of the celery. And for a mixed bean soup, freshly chopped tomatoes add a nice, bright touch. Always remember to begin with the freshest beans available, soak them overnight, cook them covered, low and slow, in the oven, and you will end up with a tender, flavorful pot of perfectly cooked beans.

One last note: many recipes call for salting beans at different times. I prefer to salt mine toward the end of the cooking process.

Please share with me some of your favorite bean recipes. I've got a lot of beans to cook here.

Hello Again

2009-08-01T16:57:00.008-05:00

I have been away for a while, but haven't forgotten about my favorite pals and bloggers out there.

I hope everyone is having a safe and happy summer.

With all the fresh, ripe tomatoes and spicy peppers at the Farmer's Market today, I couldn't resist making a fresh batch of salsa in my new Molcajete.

It's a lot of fun! And I love the flavors! But I gotta admit - I do have a newfound respect for that guy who invented the food processor. This was a little more work than I had anticipated. But well worth the effort(!).

Homemade Molcajete Salsa

1 Serrano Chile
2 large ripe tomatoes
1 clove garlic
1 tsp. salt
1/8 of a white onion, chopped
Fresh Cilantro
1/2 lime

In an iron skillet, roast the chile and tomatoes for 7- 8 minutes or until they are soft and skin turns black.

Pell off and discard the burned skin from the tomatoes. (Note: I leave a little of the skin on, because I like that charred flavor.)

In the mortar, grind the garlic, and onion, and salt into a paste.

Add the roasted tomatoes and pepper and continue grinding until you get the consistancy you prefer.

Finish with a squeeze of fresh lime juice and a sprinkling of fresh cilantro.

Note: I added a small dried, red chile to this batch and it made it extra red and spicy

Muffuletta Sandwich

2009-05-28T17:58:00.035-05:00

What can I say? I wasn't in the mood to simmer and stir and dirty pots and pans tonight, so I made Muffulletta's.

I was in Junior High on vacation with my parents and my younger brother and sister when I tasted my first Mufulletta. It was lunch time, we were starving, and happened upon a small restaurant with a long line of people stretching out the front door. My mom, the adventurous one of the family, said it would be worth the wait. I was skeptical. A sandwich? A line that long for a sandwich? At this point in life, my only reference for a good sandwich was a flimsy piece of Pimento Loaf slapped between two pieces of Roman Meal, along with a squeeze of watery mustard on one slice. I was perfectly content up until then. But I was a sandwich neophyte. Little did I know what glories lay ahead.

Let me begin with the Olive Salad. A sandwich, in theory, is made up of equally important components - bread, meat, cheese, some type of dressing - but a Muffuletta sandwich without the Olive Salad is, well, like an orchestra without it's strings. It just won't work. This concoction of tangy, green olives and vegetables marinated in olive oil and vinegar along with oregano and garlic is what brings this sandwich to life. There's something about that vinegar taste that I crave. Like Pavlov's dog, I literally salivate whenever I take a whiff of something pickled or vinegary. Note: Some recipes call for lots of black olives or even Kalamata in this salad, but I prefer plain old green olives for the most kick.

Next we have the bread, a nice round Italian to soak up all that vinegar and oil goodness.

Last but not least, we have thinly sliced, high quality, deli ham, salami, and Provolone cheese, stacked so high I could barely get my mouth around it.

And that's pretty much all there is to a Muffuletta. I like to keep 'em pretty simple. No extra vegetables or lettuce or tomato. That'll just ruin it. Also, I recommend making it ahead of time, wrapping it up and sticking it in the fridge to marinate a bit. That'll really gets the flavors going. The bakery was out of round, Italian loafs this time, so I went with a French boule instead, which was a bit too rustic for this sandwich and a bit too fat, so I scooped out some of the inner bread. Next time, I think I'm going to try baking my own bread for this sandwich. I'll let you know how it turns out.

Smoked Tri-Tip

2009-05-25T22:29:00.026-05:00

How was everyone's weekend?

I am here to say that smoked tri-tip is FANTASTIC(!).

If you or anyone in your family has a smoker, run to the store, buy a tri-tip, and cook one up right now. Serve it with some Jalapeno Brown Beans, Coleslaw, Corn On The Cob, and you will have one happy family.

My hubby did a great job smoking our tri-trip this weekend. I let it refrigerate overnight in a Williams Sonoma Cowboy Coffee and Spice Rub that I had bought last fall. And even though I am normally not one to use pre-made, store bought rubs (I prefer to make my own), this stuff was pretty darn good.

My only regret is that I didn't have time for a picture of this beautifully prepared beef which had a good layer of fat on it, similar to a brisket. It cooked up spicy, and tender, and juicy, and melt in your mouth delicious. And that is what we all kept saying, in a baffled but happy sort of way, while we were eating - This stuff melts in your mouth. I think there is something about the earthiness of the coffee that brings out the flavors of the meat. I will definitely make this again.

I've got a brother who is an avid outdoor cook, and I can't wait to impress him with this recipe. Also, the beans - he will like the beans - cowboy style, with bacon, and onion, and jalapeno, seasoned with cumin and chili powder. Meat and beans. That's pretty much all the guy ever eats. And he's actually pretty thin and healthy. Amazing.

What did you cook this weekend?

Smoked Tri-Tip
adapted from Williams Sonoma website

Ingredients:

1 beef tri-tip, about 2 lb.

3 Tbs. coffee and spice rub

Sea salt, to taste

Directions:
Rub the tri-tip on all sides with the coffee and spice rub. Place the meat in a sealable plastic bag, seal the bag and refrigerate for 8 to 12 hours.

Preheat an electric smoker to 225ºF.

Smoke the tri-tip according to the manufacturer's instructions until an instant-read thermometer inserted into the center of the meat registers 140-150ºF for medium done, 4-5 hours, or until done to your liking.

Transfer the meat to a carving board, cover loosely with aluminum foil and let rest for 20 minutes. Thinly slice the meat across the grain and arrange on a warmed platter. Sprinkle the meat with sea salt.

Chapel Creek Winery

2009-05-20T09:41:00.071-05:00

Whole Foods will just have to wait.

Anyone reading previous posts will know that we don't have a Whole Foods - or any decent grocery store in OKC for that matter - and I was sure looking forward to going there and stocking up. But due to a change in plans, I was unable to make the trip. Too bad for Whole Foods, because I was going to spend a lot of money in that store.

No matter, I had such a spectacular time at a nearby wine festival this weekend that I forgot all about my poor, sad empty fridge.

First off, as you probably well know, Oklahoma is not known for it's vineyards. And we don't have many historic buildings since we've only been a state for a little over a hundred years. And I don't get out much. So, when I experience all of these things at once - beautiful scenery, wine, food, and good music - well, it's almost overwhelming.

Chapel Creek Winery is located just west of Oklahoma City near El Reno. It is part of an agricultural college, and to the best of my knowledge, the first to teach viticulture in our sate.

A beautiful church located on the property was built in 1913 by a women's group called Order of the Eastern Star and was once used as a school for orphans. Sadly, it's dilapidated state prevented us from going inside, and funds are being raised to restore it. So I did my part by contributing the best way I could, and going home with some delightful White Zin in the back of my car.

There are other buildings located on the property as well. And at first, I hesitated to tell you about them, as I wanted this post to be idyllic and picturesque. But, similar to it's weather, the architecture of Oklahoma can often be harsh and contrasting as well.

It's a dichotomy, directly adjacent to this majestic, old, beautiful, crumbling church, sets a foreboding structure, sound and austere, that resembles something out of a Rob Zombie movie. At least, that's what my son said as we first drove up, in that laid back tone that all young men have. Eerily and ironically, we later learned that the building once served as an insane asylum.

And, in a nod to Hitchcock, birds have built nests beneath the eaves around the entire perimeter of the roof, thereby enhancing the buildings creepiness. The stark white, sterile exterior casts an ominous feeling of One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest. People say it's haunted. And I believe them.

Ghosts and all, it was a spectacular day. My son performed beautifully on the classical guitar, the sky was blue, the birds were chirping, the burgers were tasty, and the wine was pleasantly smooth.

Can't wait to go back!

2009-05-18T10:42:00.024-05:00

I am taking a break for a few days. Going on a short business trip with the hubby. He wanted to extend this little trip, since it was Memorial Day weekend, and visit friends and relatives on the drive home. But I immediately said no. Because, what he doesn't know, is that there is a Whole Foods in the town we will be staying. And I am taking a great big Rubbermaid cooler and driving straight home with the haul. Can't wait(!).

As some know, my food and diet philosophy is very relaxed.

Oh, I like to eat healthy, but if I have to put too much thought into eating, well, that just takes the fun out of it.

And I am not one to count calories, or points, and have every meal predetermined for me.

On the other hand, I rarely eat fast food. And when I do eat fast food, it's always a soup or a salad at Panera, or a burger and fries at Freddies. Because they are both close to my house, and, well, sometimes a persons gotta do what a persons gotta do and resort to dire and drastic measures in order to feed his or her family. Also, I rather like Freddie's burgers.

I buy local, organic, whenever I can. And I do my best to avoid anything with corn syrup in it. Which can make grocery shopping a bit challenging at times.

Other than that, I don't put much thought into what I am eating.

It only has to be fresh and good.

On that note, I wanted to share with you a portion of a message I received in an email today -

'Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention
of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body,
but rather to skid in sideways -
Chardonnay in one hand - chocolate in the other -
body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and
screaming 'WOO HOO, What a Ride'

AND.....

For those of you who watch what you eat, here's the final word on nutrition and health.
It's a relief to know the truth after all those conflicting nutritional studies.

1. The Japanese eat very little fat
and suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.

2. The Mexicans eat a lot of fat
and suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.

3. The Chinese drink very little red wine
and suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.

4. The Italians drink a lot of red wine
and suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.

5. The Germans drink a lot of beers and eat lots of sausages and fats
and suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.

CONCLUSION

Eat and drink what you like.
Speaking English is apparently what kills you.

I picked up some fantastic, locally made, rye bread at the farmers market this weekend and made Reuben sandwiches for Saturday night supper.

A Reuben is a hot sandwich, and I usually prepare these in the oven, under the broiler. But this time I used the panini press instead, and I think I liked this method better. It was much easier and crispier. And my hubby and son loved them.

Since my son is allergic, and has an aversion to anything prepackaged and containing preservatives, and also because all salad dressings contain corn syrup, I went online and found this recipe from The Russian Tea Room for a Russian salad dressing to go on the sandwiches. This dressing brought back fond memories of an Iceberg lettuce salad with a wedge of tomato on it, that I used to have as a kid, in an old, art deco cafe with my grandparents. It was quite good.

Your Basic Reuben Sandwich

Rye bread
Russian Dressing
Sauerkraut
Corned Beef
Swiss Cheese

I like to toast the bread first, just to crisp it up a bit, so that way, the sandwich doesn't get soggy from all the juicy sauerkraut. Then I grill the sandwich in a skillet or a panini press, or toast it in the broiler of the oven.

Come Hell Or High Water

2009-05-15T06:49:00.078-05:00

I gotta confess, I think I've been in a bit of a slump lately.

I call it a slump because I can't think of a better name for it. It's not the blues, or depression, or even a midlife crisis - I'm not on Prozac or curled up in a fetal position or anything - in case you are wondering. But I did spend an entire Sunday in sloppy, gray sweatpants, and a t-shirt with a stain on it, curled up in bed, watching chick flicks, strung out on Coke Zero and Entenmann's Chocolate Donuts - but that's a whole other story. I'm just lacking my usual zest and energy for life. And I think it's mostly due to the weather.

With all the topics in the world - soup and cooking included - I hate to write about something so mundane as the weather. One would think, I would have more to say. But we've had an extraordinarily wet, cloudy, windy, grey, spring and it's beginning to wear on me. And funny thing is, I've often romanticized about living in rainy Seattle, or dreary London, spending long, quiet days inside cozy cafes, sipping soup, reading Voltaire. But I think I know how those people feel now. Damp and depressing.

Just like that bunch of White Asparagus I saw at the grocery store the other day, I'm beginning to grow weak and pallid. I need sunlight. I need warmth.

On the good side of things, soup season has been extended, and my son and I ate lunch at a great little place yesterday, Cheever's Cafe, housed in an old flower shop in OKC. The large, walk-in, wooden, refrigeration coolers, formerly holding rows and rows of colorful flowers, now hold wine and desserts. I loved the atmoshpere. And in deference to this unending, torrential, precipitation we are experiencing, I ordered a great big bowl of Tortilla Soup. It arrived in a large, white, shallow bowl, generously sprinkled with thinly sliced, yellow and blue corn tortilla strips. Much like a creamy tomato, but smooth, spicy, rich, and loaded with tender pieces of white chicken at the bottom. I savored it. And was tempted to lick the bowl - but that would have really embarrassed my son. It was the perfect remedy for such a grey day and I can't wait to go back to Cheever's again.

I think it is high time we had another soup recipe here. For even when I am not posting about soup - I am still eating and thinking about soup. So I prepared this quick batch of Southwestern Vegetable Soup late one evening this week. I didn't have time to take a picture of it. I'll try to add one soon. But I took some to work in a Tupperware container the next day - and the kids finished the rest - and it was well worth the trouble of dirtying a knife, and a chopping board, and a little pot, to reap such tasty and convenient rewards.

This is a tasty, brothy soup, with just a hint of spice. And the thing I like best about it is that you don't really need laborious ingredients like stocks and broths - so you can whip it up on a moments notice. Also, it's a good recipe to keep on hand when you've got more zucchini than you know what to do with, which, in all good households, happens at least once a year.

So that is all I have for today.

Tomorrow, come hell or high water, I am going to the Farmers Market. And after listening to tonight's weather forecast - I think, I should prepare for the latter.

Southwestern Vegetable Soup

Start by lightly browning 3 or 4 organic, boneless, salted and peppered, chicken breast strips in a bit of olive oil. When almost cooked through, remove from pan and set aside.

In same pan, add a little more olive oil, if needed, and saute chopped onions, carrots, and celery until tender.

Add some chopped garlic. Then a couple fresh, chopped zucchini squash; 2 chopped Anaheim peppers; and 1 chopped jalapeno pepper and saute until tender.

Then add spices: Mexican Oregano; coriander; cumin; bay leaf; and a pinch of Ancho Chili Powder; along with salt and pepper.

Next add about 2 cups chopped, fresh tomato and enough water to cover vegetables and to make soup.

Lastly, shred the chicken breast and add to the soup.

Allow to simmer for a while, until all is tender.

Almost Forgot About The Rain

2009-05-04T22:18:00.110-05:00

I like holidays that revolve around food. And since there are few foods I love more than Mexican, Cinco De Mayo is a good day.

Wikipedia says, Cinco De Mayo celebrates the Mexican army's unlikely victory over French forces at the Battle of Puebla on May 5, 1862.

The way I look at it, from a culinary point of view, it was a win win situation. French or Mexican? I can go either way(!). Lord knows I've drank enough wine and eaten enough cheese to kill a rat. But I must admit, as far as my taste buds are concerned, I'm having to side with the Mexicans on this one. For there are few things I crave more than fresh Fajitas, Chicken Enchilada's, Carne Asada, Tortilla Soup, Roasted Poblano sauce, Cotija cheese, Salsa, Avocado's, and of course, Margarita's. As a matter of fact, I enjoy cooking and eating Mexican food so much that once, I considered taking a cooking class to learn more about it, but my family revolted. No more Mexican food, they said. They were burnt-out.

So you can easily imagine my thrill and excitement to be granted a special day like today, a day designated solely to the cooking and eating of Mexican food.

This year I wanted to do something different, something authentic, something fun and exciting that I had seen Rick Bayless do on Mexico: One Plate At A Time. Like roast a bunch of peppers along with some skirt steak and chicken outside on the grill, and serve it up on homemade tortilla's. But a lack of time and a torrential rainfall put a damper on that idea. So I went with my hubby's suggestion instead, and decided to make Easy Chicken Enchilada's.

I don't know if you have heard, but here in Oklahoma, it is monsoon season. It has rained so much, that we are beginning to mold.

Today, in between downpours, I hurried to the store to pick up provisions, including a bottle of Rick's Frontera Tomatillo Salsa with roasted Serrano and cilantro, that goes perfectly with this dish. I don't normally tout products here, but this is a good timesaver. And the fact that Rick is from OKC, like me, is kinda cool.

This dish turned out so good that is was worth traipsing through the parking lot in the pouring rain while juggling a purse, an umbrella, and two flimsy shopping bags as my cell phone began to ring, as I was trying to reach for my keys, when a giant burst of wind came, turning my umbrella inside out, ripping it in half, forcing me to step into a puddle, ruining one shoe. And by the time I got home - I looked like I had just lost the Battle of Puebla - and on my return home to France - been given a burial at sea. It was a soggy Cinco De Mayo.

Easy Chicken Enchilada's

In a large bowl, mix 3 or 4 cups cooked, shredded, chicken breasts; 2 small cans chopped green chili's, drained; 1 heaping cup shredded Monterey Jack Cheese; chopped jalapeno pepper; 1/2 cup chopped cilantro; salt, pepper; and 1/3 cup sour cream.

Fill flour tortilla's with this mixture and roll up into enchilada's and place in pan; spray tops of enchilada's with cooking spray - or brush with cooking oil - so they brown nicely. Bake in 350 degree oven for about 30 minutes or until golden brown.

Serve topped with an easy sauce made of 1 cup sour cream, and 1 cup green tomatillo salsa, mixed together.

Top with black olives, cilantro, pickled red onions, pico de gallo, and more cheese if you like.

This is by no means an authentic Mexican recipe, but it is quick and easy, and my family loves this simple sauce made of sour cream and tomatillo salsa. We enjoyed the meal so much that we almost forgot about the rain. Almost.

Cooking Limbo

2009-04-30T20:36:00.024-05:00

I don't know about you, but I'm in some kind of cooking limbo. It's been a long, wet, gray, spring, and my stomach is screaming burgers, and chicken, and vegetables from the grill. But the weather keeps saying soups, and stews, and chili. Don't get me wrong, soup is always my #1 choice for lunch, no matter what season it is. As a matter of fact, I made Cream Of Broccoli just today. More on that in a minute. But it's suppertime that I'm at odds with right now. These gray, damp, days dictate hot-and-hearty, but my appetite has rebelled, and craves something fresh-and-light instead. It's a real dilemma.

I must have looked like a loon today, as I wondered aimlessly through Supertarget, trying to find something remotely appetizing for tonight's supper, but nothing jumped out at me. Finally, I settled on what my family has come to call snack night. Where I prepare some type of dip and chip - pick up some wine, cheese, olives, good bread, and perhaps a nice peppery salami to go with it - then every one conveniently helps themselves. It's my new favorite thing to do.

For tonight's snack night, I went a little overboard. We had Rosemary bread dipped in olive oil along with balsamic vinegar; Asiago cheese; Olives; Marinated chickpea salad; Whole wheat crackers; A small crudites platter with Roasted Red Pepper dip; And last but not least, Turkey meatballs from Orangette's blog. Everything was a big hit. But it was the Roasted Red Pepper dip that my hubby and kids devoured and declared the most blogworthy. Personally, I couldn't get enough of the Chickpea Salad.

Chickpea Salad

It's difficult to give exact measurements as I don't use a recipe. I basically make a vinaigrette of red wine vinegar, lemon juice, olive oil, honey, dry mustard, a good pinch of cumin, dried oregano, salt, pepper, and parsley.

I used canned chickpeas, rinsed and drained, along with a bit of chopped red onion and allowed it to marinate for while in order to enhance the flavor. This makes an excellent side dish, or lunch to take to work.

For the Roasted Red Pepper Dip I buy whole roasted red peppers in a jar for convenience, then chop them myself. Be sure to save some of the juice as you will need it to thin the dip out just a bit.

Roasted Red Pepper Dip

Roasted Red Peppers
Cream Cheese
Sour Cream
Chopped green onion
Parsley
Salt
A good pinch of red pepper flakes.

I used about half as much sour cream per amount of Cream Cheese. Mix everything together adding a bit of the marinating liquid from the roasted peppers to help thin the dip just a bit - making it the consistency you want. This dip goes great with crackers, pita bread, artisan bread, or just plain, crisp vegetables. Sorry about the photo, however, it really doesn't do the dip justice.

And last but not least, the real reason my daughter and I wake up each and every morning. Soup(!). I'm sorry that I don't have a picture to show you - as this soup disappeared before my hubby got home with the camera. This is my favorite springtime soup because it comes together so quickly. You can add shredded cheddar cheese if you like, but it's really not necessary.

Cream of Broccoli Soup

2 tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons olive oil

1 1/2 lbs fresh broccoli, chopped then put in a microwave safe bowl along with 1/2 inch water in bottom, cover with Saran Wrap, and cook in microwave for 2 minutes in order to steam the broccoli a bit and give it a head start in the cooking process.

1 large onion, chopped
1-2 cloves garlic
1 carrot, julienned
salt & freshly ground black pepper
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
4 cups low sodium chicken broth
1/2 cup cream

Saute onion and garlic in butter and olive oil until translucent. Add flour, stir and cook for 2 minutes. Add broccoli along with all the water in bowl. Next add carrot, salt, pepper, and chicken broth. Allow to simmer 15 minutes or until broccoli and carrots are tender. Add cream. Puree with immersion blender. Adjust salt and pepper to taste.

Regrets

2009-04-27T21:45:00.021-05:00

I won't bore you with all the trivial details, but the economy and my hubby's new job have conspired to prevent me from blogging as much as I would like. We sold our home back in February and are now living temporarily in a small duplex. The PC, formerly located in a cozy office of it's own, is now squeezed into the corner of the bedroom, and my hubbies new job requires him to go to bed and wake up at ungodly hours. So I, the eternal night owl, used to blogging and browsing until the wee hours of the night, have been banished to the living room sofa with cookbooks, old paperbacks, and Frasier reruns to keep me company until the urge to sleep finally arrives, which is usually about 2 AM. Insomnia is my middle name. And don't get me wrong, I do love Frasier. And I've enjoyed the good fortune of going through dozens of old cooking magazines, ripping out enticing recipes and organizing them in an attractive box. But I miss you guys - I miss telling you about those Fajitas I made last week and the Brownies that were so good, I ate half of the pan all by myself.

Another impediment to my blogging is the fact that I no longer own a camera. My hubby stole it. He needed it for his new job. And the ironic thing is, he basically went from a blue collar job, to a white collar job with a 40% drop in pay, and a company that doesn't even supply the basic tools needed to perform the job. The boss said, "You've got a digital camera, don't ya?" "Well," hubby responded, "my wife does." So now the camera sets in a makeshift office - a dreary, former boardroom - which I envision with a long table, cheap paneling, and a dusty plant in the corner. Such are the lives of a couple of corporate restructuring refugees.

So I regret that I have no pictures to show you.

And I regret the fact that I can't show you the tasty vegetable soup that I made on a lazy, rainy, Sunday afternoon with crusty homemade Italian bread to go along with it.

And I regret that I ate half of Ina Garten's box mix brownies, which turned out even better than my own made from scratch. Damn you, Ina. Just kidding. I love Ina. I worship Ina. And besides, somebodies gotta support those poor people in the Hampton's.

I also regret that I have an insatiable appetite for Mexican food. Thus compelling me to make way too many chicken Fajitas that were beautifully marinated in garlic, cilantro, lime juice, and olive oil, topped with Cotija cheese and pickled red onion.

And I will interminably regret the fact that I ate so much Pasta Alla Vodka for supper tonight that I had to lie down afterwards and couldn't get up to do the dishes. Look up the word Divinity in the dictionary and you find the words Pasta Alla Vodka.

And last but not least, I regret the fact that I can't afford a shiny new laptop and state of the art digital camera to show you these delectable dishes that I've enjoyed recently. But I wanted to let you know that I'm still here - still cooking, still eating, still following your blogs and looking forward to the Farmer's Markets opening up soon. Drop me a line to let me know what you've been up to(!).

Grey Gardens

2009-04-13T08:22:00.005-05:00

I just found out that the documentary Grey Gardens has been made into an HBO movie starring Drew Barrymore and Jessica Lange, airing this Saturday, April 18th. It's such a coincidence(!). I knew nothing of this movie when I mentioned this documentary in my previous post.

I look forward to seeing the movie, in such an intriguing, disturbing sort of way.

Here's a link to the HBO preview in case anyone is interested.
http://www.hbo.com/films/greygardens/

Grey Days

2009-04-10T23:35:00.050-05:00

It's midnight. The only chance I've had to update this silly blog in weeks. I'm working full time now and my commute time has also increased. So it's official, I'm a certified rat in the rat race.

To sum it up, I drive a small grey SUV to work on what seems like mostly grey, early, spring-like days, down a long grey turnpike at a fast-forward pace to a large gray building in which I wind my way through a long grey maze of cubicles, where I wind up setting all day long in front of a grey computer, enduring a sordid grey, inhuman existence.

To make matters worse, as an Aquarius, I tend to retire from the world at times and become a temporary loner. I bake bread, read books, shuffle about the house in sweatshirts and old baggy pants and quite enjoy myself. I highly recommend it.

Anyone seen that documentary Grey Gardens? I really must find a new job soon. Or else, one day, you may find me dancing around on TV with a scarf on my head talking to fourteen different cats.

All this does not mean I haven't been cooking lately. There have been a few special dishes. And I guess I should keep a camera nearby in the kitchen, for often - by the time I get something made - the gang is so starved that we just tear right in and there's never enough time for pics. Dishearteningly, I think to myself: that would have made a good pic for the blog. But life is like that. It speeds by at a grey, blur-like pace.

So that is why I sometimes try to slow things down a bit and enjoy the color. Which is pretty hard to do here in Oklahoma - with the smoke from the fires, the bad jobs, and the tornadoes going by. Nothing much sounded good for Friday night's supper, so I made a few quick appetizers and let every one snack out. My hubby really enjoyed this Hot Artichoke Dip. And like most things I make, I read a recipe once as a starting point, then pretty much did my own thing. So that's why it's always so difficult for me to give you a recipe, when there isn't one there really to begin with. The typing and blogging part always come easy. It's those damn pictures and recipes that challenge me. Perhaps someday my daughter will become Little Edie to my Big Edie and take over that job for me. It's a horrifyingly, funny thought.

Hot Artichoke Pepper Dip

2 cans medium Artichoke Hearts, drained and finely chopped
1 large, fresh Anaheim pepper, chopped
2-3 pickled banana peppers from a jar, chopped
1/2 large red, sweet pepper, chopped
1 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1/2 cup shredded mozzarella
1 1/2 cups Mayo
Good pinch of salt
A pinch of cayenne pepper

Mix all ingredients together in a bowl. Bake in 8" square baking dish in oven at 400 degrees for 20-25 minutes.

Serve with homemade Pita Chips

Pita Chips
Take one package of Pita and split each pita apart into two, thin, round Pita's if you like them really thin and crispy. Take about 1/4 cup of olive and mix in about one teaspoon of garlic salt and one teaspoon of good Spanish Paprika. Spread pita evenly on a baking sheet and brush with the olive oil mixture. Bake in 350 degree oven for about 10 minutes or until desired crispiness.

You may have noticed in the first picture that there weren't many pita chips in the basket. That's because they were so good, we ate most of them before the dip was finished baking. I made more. But they disappeared too.

Foodie In The Middle

2009-03-08T16:34:00.052-05:00

I live in Oklahoma City, fast food capitol of the world, and we are known for having more fast-food restaurants per capita than anywhere else in the United States. On average it has been said that Oklahomans visit a fast food restaurant twenty-one times a month. And we're not just talking about poor and working class here. We're talking millionaires in Mercedes, queuing up for taco's, roast beef sandwiches (a.k.a 'botulism on a bun' by local emergency room physicians) and burgers and fries. Yes, where the wind comes sweepin' down the plain, fast food rules.

In response to this, many say we should prepare nutritious meals at home. Encourage families and individuals to grocery shop and discover healthier options.

There are several problems with this solution, however. First off, in Oklahoma, large superstores such as Walmart and Sam's dominate. There are very few options for obtaining food. Also, these chain stores are spread out - forcing people to drive long distances for basic needs such as bread and milk. And worst of all, most of what we find in such stores is more of the same mass produced, high fat, low in nutrition, corn syrup laden, convenience foods. What's a person to do?

Health experts tell us to stick to the outer parameter of the store. Purchase fresh fruits and vegetables instead of all those fattening, processed foods. But all we find there are tasteless, out of season, baseball hard, ersatz versions of fruits and vegetables. Nothing really appetizing.

It's a real dilemma.

Contrary to what some may think, I am not a health nut. I don't avoid fast food just because it's unhealthy. Actually, I avoid it because, to me, it tastes bad. I feel inhuman whenever I am forced to eat this stuff. The only thing I can choke down are fries and a coke. No meat. No unidentifiable foods. Like Michael Pollan said, "if your great grandmother wouldn't recognize it as food, it probably isn't." This depresses me. The only word that comes to mind is -- Soylent Green.

I am envious of all those foodies in New York, France, California, and Seattle. It's just not fair.

My only consolation is, willing to drive, I am able to find a couple decent local restaurants, some wine, some bread, some cheese, and in the summertime, farmer's markets. I live for the farmer's markets.

But don't even get me started on the liquor laws here in Oklahoma. You cannot buy wine in a grocery store, on Sunday's, or after 9 PM. It is only sold in liquor stores, where you are forced to feel like a common criminal, sneaking in and out at 10 AM on a Tuesday with a single brown paper bag tucked beneath your arm. So if it's 9:30 on a Saturday night, and your cupboards are bare, and you've got guests, or just a hankerin' for a margarita or a nice glass of Zin, you're out of luck..

Take it from me, it's no fun being a foodie in the middle.

I just wanted to put that out there.

Dysfunctional Cookie's

2009-03-07T01:00:00.065-06:00

Cookies and I go way back. And while it's virtually impossible to recall the first cookie I ever ate, some cookies do adhere more fondly to my culinary memory than others. One of my first cookie baking memories, oddly enough, belongs with my Grandma Helen who seldom baked anything. Grandma was tighter than the bark on a tree and used to brag on the fact that she used only half a bag of chocolate chips in her Toll house cookies. You really don't need the whole bag, she used to say. Frugal Grandma twirled up the remainder of the bag with an old twist tie and set it aside until she needed to bake again, which was usually the following year. Then Grandma would retrieve the old, whitened chips, and take pride in the fact that she had just saved 29 cents. Funny thing is, I rather enjoyed those plain, dry cookies. They were the perfect treat to wash down with a glass of Kool-Aid on a hot summer day.

My other cookie baking memory lies with my mother who, daughter of the aforementioned grandmother, also did not bake. I was in the fourth grade and by some erroneous lineup of the stars, my mother, career woman/registered nurse, became home room mom and was asked to bake two dozen sugar cookies, all in the shape of a black cat's head for the grade school Halloween party. I was giddy with excitement and remember vividly - black butter cream frosting with big, green piped eyes, and black licorice strings for whiskers. Only these are not my mothers cookies that I am remembering. These are the cookies of our talented next door neighbor, the Martha Stewart of Lincoln School's cookies that I am remembering. Martha's cookies were perfect, like something out of a magazine. My mothers cookies, on the other hand, looked like something out of a Tim Burton movie, all distorted and re-sewn together. Mom's cookies had red licorice strips instead of black, that were sticking straight up out of the top of the cat's head, like hair(!). When our neighbor, normally a pious, reserved woman, took one look at my mother's cookies, she burst into laughter so hard that we thought we were going to have to take her to the hospital. To this day, my poor mom is still chided for those crazy cat cookies.

So now you know the history of my dysfunctional cookie baking family and can see that I had nowhere to go but up. The good news is, I have broken with tradition and now bake, with the help of my daughter, a pretty decent oatmeal raisin and some pretty good chocolate chip. This latest recipe for Oatmeal Raisin has been lingering in my collection for sometime now and I wish I had tried it sooner, for these are the perfect, easy, not too soft, not too thin, Oatmeal-Raisin Cookie. I am moving this one to the top of my list.

Oatmeal-Raisin Cookies
adapted from Cook's Illistruated

2 Sticks unsalted butter softened but still firm
1 cup light brown sugar
1 cup sugar
2 eggs
1 1/2 cups flour
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp ground nutmeg
3 cups rolled oats
1 cup raisins

1. In bowl of electric mixer, beat butter until creamy. Add sugars; beat until fluffy, about 3 mintues. Beat in eggs one at a time.

2. Mix flour, salt, baking powder, and nutmeg together, then stir this into butter-egg-sugar mixture with mixer on lowest speed, scraping down sides when needed. With mixture on "stir" or lowest setting, mix in oats and raisins.

3. Form into large walnut sized balls and place on cookie sheet lined with parchment paper. Bake until cookie edges turn golden brow, 20 minutes.

Back In The Kitchen Again

2009-03-02T21:28:00.010-06:00

I don't know about you, but I am beginning to think about springtime, and Farmer's Markets, and fresh vegetables.

And one would think that as a lover of soup, I would embrace all things winter and the coziness that it brings, but I am ready, with all due respect, to kiss this dreary, depressing winter goodbye.

So as a little farewell to the season, and as an enticement for spring, I stopped by the grocery store on my way home from work tonight and loaded the cart with the freshest vegetables I could find: corn, potatoes, green beans, broccoli, leeks, carrots, onions, celery, and red bell pepper. Then after a quick clean and chop, I sauteed them in a bit of olive oil, added a fresh sprig of thyme and parsley, a can of tomatoes, a bit of leftover chicken stock, allowed it to simmer just until tender, and now I will have a tasty lunch for work tomorrow. This soup really did taste better than it looked.

It is so good to be back in the kitchen again ... and good to be back here with you as well (!).

Best I Can Do

2009-02-04T23:02:00.012-06:00

To say that I am busy right now is an understatement. Life has become one long marathon and I plan on collapsing sometime around the end of this month. Until then, this quick post and this quick bean soup - literally made in a matter of minutes - is the best I can do.

I woke up with a movers hangover - headache, aching, sick to my stomach - from packing and sorting through hoards of old junk all night. Why am I saving a Better Homes and Gardens from 1952? It was a dreary day, and the thought of spending eight hours in a gray cubicle, broken up by lunch in a cold, prison-gray, break room, was not appealing. Soup sounded good, but I was in a hurry and on my way to work. And since we are in the process of moving, my fridge and pantry were bare. But it was either come up with something quick, or lunch at the Panda Express. I'd rather go hungry. So I rummaged through the fridge, found a pathetic carrot, half an onion, some wilted celery, gave 'em a quick chop, tossed them in a pan of hot olive oil, sauteed a minute while putting on some mascara, added a can of rinsed, drained northern beans, a dash of dried Italian herbs, salt, pepper, some water, and voila(!). Lunch.

I was pleasantly surprised by the aroma and freshness of this soup. Must have been the Italian herbs and the good olive oil. But I think the real key here is rinsing the beans - you don't want can scum in your soup.

Well, this is all I have for now.

There is an old proverb - A Change Is As Good As A Rest.

I am making a new one - A Rest Is Good After A Change.

See you once I've rested.

I'm Still Here

2009-01-22T00:31:00.013-06:00

Whew. Things have been hectic lately, we finally sold our house and are in the process of moving. The buyers came several times last week and it's been a real challenge to keep things neat and tidy. ...Why is it that the day I cook the most food, and have the most dirty dishes in the sink, is the day somebody inevitably, unexpectedly, comes to the door?

I am tired. And to make matters worse - my hours at work have increased. So that along with packing up 27 years of junk is keeping me extra busy right now. Someday I hope to cook again. For now, I am on hiatus ... somewhat. I hope to resume cooking and some semblance of normalcy in February.

In the mean time, I am thinking about Superbowl Sunday. It's a big day to my husband. Me? I really couldn't care less about sports, but I do like the food that comes along with sports. And here in Oklahoma, that usually means grilling. And although we've had some pretty darn cold days this year, we've also had some nice grilling days as well. So I want to tell you about this marinated flank steak recipe that I found in a Southern Living cookbook.

This is one of those meats you can throw on the grill, slice thinly, and serve on a big platter or cutting board and let everyone help themselves. I love the caramelized sweetness that the honey imparts and the tang of the cider vinegar. Don't let the ginger and the soy sauce scare you, they really do help flavor and tenderize the meat without making it too Asian. This steak goes well with most anything, even chips and guacamole, a standard here in Oklahoma. Someone in the food business once told me that the #1 day for avocado sales in America is Superbowl Sunday. I am not surprised.

I am sorry to say that I don't have a picture to show you. Like I said, I've been busy, but I am still here, and hope to begin cooking again soon in a new kitchen with a pantry and only a few minutes from not one, but TWO(!) grocery stores. I think I've died and went to heaven ...

Honey-Grilled Flank Steak
adapted from Southern Living

1 (2 pound) flank steak
3/4 cup vegetable oil
1 small onion, finely chopped
1/4 cup soy sauce
2 tablespoons cider vinegar
1 1/2 teaspoons garlic salt
1 1/2 teaspoons ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon pepper

Place steak in a large heavy-duty, zip-top bag or shallow dish. Combine oil and remaining 7 ingredients; pour over steak. Seal or cover, marinate in fridge 8 hours, turning occasionally.

Remove steak from marinade, reserving marinade. Bring marinade to a boil in a small saucepan; set aside. Grill steak approximately 10 minutes on each side, basting with reserved marinade the last 5 minutes.

To serve, slice steak diagonally, across the grain.

Secret Network Mandated Prerequisite

2009-01-09T04:56:00.049-06:00

Sometimes I have moments of ADD. I tend to bore easily and then my mind wanders and I get lost in my own thoughts. This happens a lot. For example, just the other day, right in the middle of a conversation with my daughter, I kept smiling attentively while she spoke of serious issues -like supper, college classes, and the new administration - and then my brain went off and took a little walk all by itself, as it often does, ignoring the task at hand, firing random thoughts at the most inopportune time, when I desperately need a coherent thought the most. It's very frustrating.

The thought process went something like this ...

Supper? Hmm ... Ina made delectable looking onion rings the other day. Those might be good. I do like Ina, even though she's rich as a Rockefeller. But anytime a gal over the age of 40 and the size 14 can make it on TV, I'm behind her. But I do like Giada, too. Hmm ... That's sort of funny, both their names end with the letter A. And then there's Julia, the first cook I ever saw on television, who's name also ends in the letter A. Wow, that's pretty cool. Flash ... a revelation of sorts. These gals all have names ending with the letter A. That's when Martha suddenly burst into my brain. This is weird. Oprah has her own show, too. But she's not a cook. And technically her name doesn't end with the letter A, it just sounds like it. Well, my brain rationalizes, she does cook for Steadman, and she does like food a lot, so I'll include her on the list, too. Compulsively, I did a quick rundown: Ina, Nigella, Julia, Giada, Martha, Oprah ... oops, I almost forgot about Paula. And then there's Lidia from Lidia's Italy on PBS. I like her, too. Wow, this is weird. Coincidence? Or is this some type of secret network mandated prerequisite for having your own show? I suddenly envisioned Julia, the goddess of all television chefs, asserting in her marbled voice: Now, anyone can cook, but in order to have your own show, you must have a name that ends with the letter A. Finally I heard my daughter's voice echoing in the recesses of my mind: Mom, Mom, are you listening? Perhaps, I tell her, I should begin calling myself Michella.

I really enjoyed the full moon this weekend. There is something so peaceful and serene about a full moon on a cold, wintry night. I especially liked the purple color of the eastern sky at dusk.

I haven't cooked much lately - nothing new anyway. Just the same old quick meals. We've got our house on the market and things have been a bit hectic, to say the least. So I am curious, what's your go-to meal when you need to whip up supper up in a hurry? My family is tired of the same old stuff. And I gotta admit, I'm in a bit of a rut and having trouble concentrating.

Yucatan Chicken-Lime Soup

2009-01-03T22:39:00.038-06:00

I am a firstborn child, and this in turn tends to make me a bit bossy. It's not my fault. It's a scientific fact that firstborns tend to be orderly, organized, bossy, and dominant. I heard it once on one of those morning shows and read about it in Time magazine. I also have a couple younger siblings and an extremely tolerant husband (who happens to be the baby of five) who would wholeheartedly agree with this harsh reality. Normally, I try to suppress it. But today, today bossy is good. Because you will be happy when I exercise my authority and tell you to go out right now and buy the ingredients to make this soup and then go straight home and make it. I'm telling you, do it today(!).

I do love all food. French, German, Italian, they're all great. But my husband tells me that I must have been a Mexican in a past life for I do love Mexican food. My family tires of it sometimes. But I never do. A friend of mine once told me that when she and her husband moved to Europe for a year, the thing she missed most about home was Mexican food. She even went through withdrawals and we came up with a name for her condition: AMFD, Acute Mexican Food Deprivation. It can be cured by eating buckets of salsa or visiting a Rick Bayless restaurant. Consequently, the harsh reality of this possible existence without Mexican food was more than I could bear. It has ruined all dreams I've ever had of living on the other side of the pond. A life without Mexican food is, well, unimaginable.

So now you can see why it came as no surprise to me, to find that my favorite new soup is now Yucatan Chicken-Lime Soup. I found this recipe in The Daily Soup Cookbook. And one of the things I liked best about it is that I had most of it's ingredients on hand: chicken, rice, cilantro, Mexican oregano and chipotle chili's are staples in my house.

One ingredient, however, avocado leaves, are a little more difficult to come by. Not too many avocado trees in Oklahoma. So I had to do without. But this gives me something to look forward to. First chance I get, I'm driving to the specialty market to see if I can find some avocado leaves and then I'll be headed straight home again to try out another batch. I have never cooked with avocado leaves before, so if anyone knows what they are like, please let me know.

Another ingredient I used in place of the chopped, dried chipotle pepper, was dried chipotle granules, which I found in the spice isle at Supertarget. One whiff of this potent little gem of a spice, and you'll appreciate their fiery, smoky flavor. I always keep 'em on hand. And the bossy, big sis in me says that you should too.

This soup begins with a rich, succulent, chicken broth, surrounded with an intoxicating aroma of dried chipotle chili, and canned chipotle in adobo sauce, along with a hint of epozate and generous amounts of fresh, chopped onion, verdant bell peppers, garlic, rice, and chicken making up the body of the soup. Then topping it off with plenty of fresh lime juice, chopped green onion and cilantro. I feel obliged to warn you, however, this is an addictive soup. And, as usual, my picture doesn't do it justice. But if you like Mexican food and Tortilla Soup, I suggest you try this recipe. Just remember to go easy on the chipotle peppers, they're pretty hot.

Just For Luck

2009-01-01T20:24:00.023-06:00

Things have been a bit hectic lately, and I am sorry to say, there has been little time for soup, and I really do feel bad about that. Some people go to the end of their days with regrets, and I only have one, and that is, I wish I had more time for soup. But I did find time to make a nice pot of black eyed peas today, just for luck.

For those living in the OKC area, I was able to enjoy a tasty bowl of Enchilada Soup at the Beatnix Cafe on 13Th street between Robinson and Broadway this week. My son, whom I'd mercilessly drug along on a shopping trip - food bribery always works with him - devoured his grilled turkey sandwich with jalapeno and said it was one of the best he'd ever eaten. We stopped by in the middle of the afternoon, so it wasn't too crowded - and I suppose that is what I liked best about this little place - it's quiet, laid back atmosphere. And the art. They had great art. And great coffee mugs. Which is always a bonus in my book.

I really do hope this place does well. OKC needs more places like this. And my only regret is that I don't live closer - in one of those dreary Heritage Hills mansions - so I could walk there every day, for coffee and for lunch, and then mosey back home again to my cats, and read books, and eat more soup. It would be such a glorious life(!).

I am looking forward to the new year and getting back to my regular routine of posting again. I have missed you all and want to thank everyone for stopping by and allowing me this outlet of sharing my thoughts and recipes, and want to wish everyone a Happy and Delicious New Year! And, oh, yes, I am really not one for New Years resolutions, but this year, I am going to take some inspiration from the Beatnix Cafe, and my goals are to listen to some good music, relax a little, hang out with my kids, and most of all, eat more soup.

Take care!

Christmas Past

2008-12-21T08:49:00.050-06:00

Hard to believe Christmas is less than a week away. Is everyone out there as busy and tired as I am? I bought two magazines last Thanksgiving and still haven't found time to read them. Shopping has been easier this year, though, because we didn't buy much, but I do have a couple last minute gifts to pick up. My only day off this week is Christmas day, and the cooking, the cleaning, and the grocery shopping still need to be done.

At work, my friend and I were complaining about how hectic our lives had become, when our other friend, Tim, came over and said, "Ladies, can I get you some cheese to go with that whine?" I felt bad. So this year I am making things easier. I am letting go of Christmas past. No more frantic nights spent in a giant cloud of flour, on my feet, baking cookies and sweets that, truth is, my family won't eat. Our kids are no longer little, so we are embracing our new found freedom and forgoing much of the holiday baking this year. Oh there are a couple special requests -- my son's favorite, Chex Party Mix, and my daughter's Poppyseed bread of which she cannot live without. Other than that, I will visit my favorite stores to pick up some fresh bread, olives, cheeses, and most exciting of all, wine to go with that cheese. And with a little luck, it will be a simple, quiet, Christmas. I hope.

I don't know if I've ever mentioned this before, but I work in Customer Service, and this time of year is extremely hectic. So I thought it would be fun to share just a few of the odd things I have heard on the phone this holiday season.

1.) Customer called to place an order and first thing she said was: "I have an aversion to that number between six and eight. Whatever you do, you cannot say that number. At no point in this conversation can I hear that number, or else, I will have a fit and begin making odd noises." Throughout the remainder of the call, I referred to the number seven as that number.

2.) Why did you send me a fake tree?! I ordered the Faux Fraser Fir!

3.) Customer called crying because she neglected to update information in system, so each relative received, what appeared to be, a gift from their dead Grandmother. To make matters worse, Grandma died at Christmastime four years ago. And Grandma's daughter, her mother, suffers from delusions that Grandma is still alive, and must see a psychiatrist regularly. Such person also has been known to send letters and gifts to herself, in Grandma's name. Customer requested that we call psychotic relative to let her know that dead grandmother did not send gifts.

4.) UPS man left package at door, customer called upset because dog ate package, wants to know if we'll send another.

5.) Dolores, an elderly woman from Texas called to place an order. After spending five minutes with Dolores, I can now tell you with good assurance that Dolores is doing much better after her surgery, although she does still suffer with arthritis, and her husband, George, has high cholesterol and that's why they are serving the salmon this year. Last year, they went to London. They have four kids, but don't speak to their daughter-in-law, Arlene, who likes to shop at Macy's. Dolores can't stand people who use Chinet and paper napkins. And why do builders in the South put ceiling fans on porches when the wind is just going to blow them down anyway?

And my personal favorite,

6.) Can I order the Chocolate Pecan Mini Pies without the pecans?

Have a safe, warm, Happy Holiday everybody!

Gooey, Dense, Chocolaty

2008-12-10T23:16:00.048-06:00

I have to admit, when a friend of mine first told me about this trendy, fad-like, treat, I was skeptical. Oreo's and cream cheese? I said. That's all? I said. Sounds like a mess. I didn't trust her. Even though she'd never steered me wrong before. Not when it came to food anyway.

Several months passed, and my friend was still talking about these silly, little truffles. You really must try 'em, she said. Yeah, yeah, I responded. I have southern roots, you know. I have eaten enough gloppy, magazine-ad, inspired desserts, pushed onto me by Paula Dean-wannabe relatives, to feed Michael Phelps for a lifetime. I really don't care for that mishmash sort of thing, I said.

Eventually my friend gave a little party. And upon her glorious kitchen island sat a lovely spread of the usual Okie party foods: salsa, tortilla chips, Mexican layer dip, spicy empanadas, margaritas, and then, delicately, individually placed upon an elegant plate, the lone dessert, OREO truffles.

Let me say, there is something about the combination of experiencing a few good laughs with your friends, eating some spicy, salty food, then washing it down with a cold margarita, and then topping it off with an Oreo truffle that is so gratifying. The sheer delight of it hits you by surprise. It's the perfect bite of gooey, dense, chocolaty, goodness. Sort of like a thick, decedent, brownie. Only better(!).

My friend dipped her truffles in melted chocolate, both white and dark. I decided to be different and rolled mine in cocoa powder. I must say, I actually preferred the chocolate dipped one's better. Which sort of surprised me. But the truffles are so moist, that they actually absorbed the cocoa powder and looked like - well, I don't want to say what they looked like. But you can probably guess. Just remember to dip them in chocolate, they're much prettier.

I suggest using a food processor to pulverize the cookies. It's the fastest and easiest way. Also, after dipping them in melted chocolate, sprinkle them with whatever you like - more crushed OREO's, or, red and green sprinkles would be nice this time of year. Either way, run out and pick yourself up a pack of OREO's and some Philadelphia Cream Cheese right away. Err, make that two packs of OREO's, because your husband will see them lying on the counter and think: cookies, milk, bedtime snack.

I am making mine ahead of time and storing them in the freezer for the holidays.

Note: My friend and I had a pretty good chuckle over the truffles I made this morning - they tasted delicious - but she said they reminded her of something Santa's reindeer left behind. Not a totally appropriate connotation on a food website, but it was sure darn funny.

OREO Truffles
adapted from Kraftfoods.com

1 pkg. (1 lb. 2 oz.) OREO Cookies, finely crushed, divided

1 pkg. (8 oz.) PHILADELPHIA Cream Cheese, softened

2 pkg. (8 squares each) BAKER'S Semi-Sweet Chocolate, melted

8 oz. white chocolate

MIX 3 cups of the cookie crumbs and the cream cheese until well blended. Shape into 42 (1-inch) balls.

DIP balls in melted chocolate; place on waxed paper-covered baking sheet. (Any leftover melted chocolate can be stored in tightly covered container at room temperature and saved for another use.) Sprinkle with remaining cookie crumbs.

REFRIGERATE 1 hour or until firm. Store any leftover truffles in tightly covered container in refrigerator.

Hello Again

2008-12-07T03:00:00.035-06:00

It sure is good to be back. I can't believe we're this far into December already. Where did the year go? Life is a whirlwind. Each winter, I sink into a reading, hibernating mode, and this year seems no different. I just want to hole up someplace warm and cozy, bake, eat soup, read books, and let it snow, let it snow, let it snow. I actually kind of like wintertime for this reason. But the responsibilities of life beckon.

There are a couple things I'm excited to tell you about. First and foremost, bread. I really think I must of been a baker in a past life, for there are few things I love more than bread. Except maybe Mexican food or soup. I am envious of my French friend, Nadine, who's husband, Roger, peddles to their local bakery each and every morning for fresh bread and croissants. What a life they lead. My favorite place to buy bread here in OKC is Big Sky Bread Company. But in order to get there, I must drive twenty minutes through heavy, city traffic and resist the urge to eat the entire loaf before getting it home. As my friend Nadine so charmingly says in each of her emails, such is life. Here in OKC, Big Sky Bread Company has a vast variety of sweets, specialty, and European breads. For a carb addict like myself, however, they should put a sign on the door, a warning of the impending danger of gaining fifteen pounds just by breathing their glorious, yeasty, sultry air.

Another thing I'm thrilled about and goes perfectly with some Big Sky Bread, is an early Christmas present that I received just last week. A Breville Panini Press(!). I've been wanting one of these for a long time now and must say, the only regret I have about this one is Why on earth didn't I get one sooner? This thing is great(!). Years ago I had an old, plastic, George Foreman grill and the thing just didn't get hot enough. Chicken breast would spit and spatter. This Breville makes a nice sear and gets really hot, so it's a good idea to have everything ready, for this cooks really fast. So far, we've grilled Panini, sausages, burgers, chicken breast, steaks, and vegetables. And that's just one week. My only worry is that we're going to tire from eating off of this thing. It is so handy(!). The best thing about it? The men in my family enjoy using it as much as I do. So this gives me a much needed break from cooking once in a while. The guys do get a little creative with their sandwiches, however. They even created one in honor of their favorite football team, the Oklahoma State Cowboy Crunch. But hey, it's a good way to use up whatever you have lying around in the fridge - and everything does taste better when it's grilled and washed down with a cold beer.

I'm sorry I don't have more pictures or a recipe to post. I made a beautiful grilled chicken breast with a Tri Colore salad that was very photo worthy, but my camera is out of commission right now. I think it's just a battery thing, and suppose I could get out to buy new ones, but it's cold outside, and a Sunday, and I'm in a hibernating mode, so hope you'll understand. Such is life.

Happy Thanksgiving!

2008-11-26T23:32:00.002-06:00

Hi,all.

Things have been a bit hectic and tiring lately. I promise to be back soon with a few fantastic, easy, new recipes for the Christmas holiday.

In the mean time, I wish everyone a safe, happy, and warm Thanksgiving.

All my best,
Michelle

Sausage Bread

2008-11-17T22:19:00.057-06:00

When the world makes me tired and cranky and life gets a little too hectic, I cannot think of anything better than an autumn day, at home, reading, baking, and puttering about the house.

I am an Aquarius, and not a homebody by nature. Unlike my crabby, cancer husband, who prefers to stay in his shell most of the time, I view home as a resting place. A place to recuperate before venturing back out into the world again. So it is important for me to have a well stocked kitchen, with lots of spicy, salty, fatty, delectable, foods on hand to cozy up with when I'm in my nesting mode. Some people are bears, hibernating all winter. I am more of a jack rabbit, darting in and out of my hole, eager for action and adventure, always returning to my humble abode in want of comfort and rest. That's the reason I love this recipe so much. It's my ultimate, stay at home, comfort food. Something savory and delicious to bake on chilly autumn days when the oven is just begging to be turned on.

Tomorrow is my day off. I look forward to being back home again and plan on making Sausage Bread. A satisfyingly simple recipe, with Italian sausage and stringy mozzerella cheese baked inside a crusty yeast bread. I made this for a neighbor once, who had just returned home from the hospital with a new baby, and her family loved it. They devoured the entire loaf in one setting. It's the type of food you can pack up easily and transport. Just add a salad and some red wine and your talking heaven in my book.

You can use any type of bread recipe you like here. A loaf of Rhodes frozen bread dough works nicely in a pinch. Just thaw, roll out, add the sausage filling, and bake. This time I happened to have a package of Pillsbury Hot Roll Mix on hand. Normally I prefer to make my own bread, but I found this mix makes a very smooth, softly textured loaf. Occasionally, I like to add pepperoni slices to the sausage mixture. But most of the time, we prefer it plain, with just the sausage and cheese. There's something so satisfying about the soft, yeasty, bread and the spicy Italian sausage. I can't get enough.

Sausage Bread

For the bread -

1 box Pillsbury Hot Roll Mix
Yeast packet that is included in mix
1 tsp. salt
1 1/2 tsp. sugar
3 Tablespoons olive oil
1 1/4 cup warm water

In a food processor, add the Hot Roll Mix, sugar, salt, and yeast. Pulse a few times to combine. Add olive oil and 1 1/2 cups warm water and mix until dough forms a ball. You want it to be the consistency of a smooth, thick, pizza dough.
Place in bowl or on a cookie sheet dusted with flour and allow to rise for 1 hour.

For the sausage filling -

1 lb. Italian Sausage
1 tsp. Italian seasoning
1 tsp. red pepper flakes
2 cups shredded mozzerella cheese
1 egg

Cook sausage in skillet along with Italian seasoning and red pepper flakes. Set aside to cool. After it has cooled, add cheese and 1 egg lightly beaten. The egg will help bind everything together.

On a floured surface, roll dough out into the shape of a long rectangle. Sometimes I make two smaller loaves, sometimes I like to make one giant loaf. It's your choice. Spoon sausage filling into middle of dough, then fold over edges to form a loaf shape and pinch seams shut. Gently turn loaf onto a cookie sheet lined with wax paper, seam side down. Brush with olive oil. Allow to rest for another 20-30 minutes. While dough is resting preheat oven to 350 degrees. Bake in 350 degree oven for 30 minutes or until golden brown.

Note:
For any of you living in the OKC area, I have found a great place to buy Italian Sausage at the La Baguette Bistro Butcher Shop on north may. It's the best Italian sausage I've found in this city and well worth the trip. If they don't have it on hand, just ask the guy to order some for you. I don't know how you say nice in Italian, but that's what it is.

Voila!

2008-11-13T19:46:00.045-06:00

As far as I am concerned, a person can never have too many quick, easy, and delicious recipes up their culinary sleeve. We all have to get supper on the table in a hurry. So when I discover a new technique or ingredient that helps me do this, I like to share it.

Many of you know I have spent most of my life in Kansas and Oklahoma. Most of my Dad's family were farmers, so that meant a lot of Beef It's What's For Dinner. The only fish I ever ate growing up was deep fried catfish. And I am ashamed to say that in this health conscience, polyunsaturated, fat free, omega-3, fish eatin' world, I am not a big fan of fish. Never developed a taste for it. The oceans are safe with me. And the rivers and lakes too for that matter. And the ironic thing is, my husband and kids love it. They could survive quite nicely on Castaway island with Tom Hanks and a fishing pole. Me? I'd be searching for the nearest Cattlemens or Ted's Escondido.

So you can understand why, with my lack of experience and distaste of all things fishy, my early days preparing this dish for my family were intimidating and difficult. But gradually, over the years, I've developed a few tasty recipes that even I will eat.

This brings me to tonight's supper. I've been in a bit of a food rut lately: cooking the same old thing over and over again. So I wasn't surprised when my son, Kyle, desperate for variety, requested fish for tonight's supper. And it must have been serendipity when I saw chef Eric Ripert talking about fish on Martha Stewart yesterday. He recommended using Wondra Flour as a coating when sauteing fish. It makes the crust light and golden.

And he was right. I knew as he said it. As I was familiar with this light, airy flour, sold in the sky-blue box. My mother-in-law always used it and touted it's ability to make the smoothest, silkiest gravy.

So here's what I want you to do. Next time you're at the store, pick up some Wondra Flour. Then go to a reputable fish market and pick up some white, flaky fish. Tilapia will do, but steer clear of anything coming out of China, I just don't trust it. Then on a night when you want something quick and easy, dredge the fish fillets in a little bit of Wondra Flour mixed with a pinch of salt, pepper, and cayenne. Heat a teaspoon of olive oil and a teaspoon of butter in a nonstick skillet. Saute 3-4 minutes on each side until done. Serve with a slice of lemon and a sprinkling of parsley. Add some sauteed vegetables, rice, or a salad, and you've got yourself one happy family. Voila!

Soup Lines

2008-11-09T00:22:00.073-06:00

This week I will not be posting a recipe for soup, or any other food, for that matter. Truth is this little blog is an experiment that has, I think, gone awry. I had hoped to make a simple and delicious soup each and every week, then post about it here. Several things went wrong.

First of all, there is the simple matter of time. I work outside the home - or at least I do for now - and the job itself, along with commuting back and forth, does take a toll. Also, I have the most spoiled family in the universe - used to me doing all the laundry, housework, grocery shopping, etc. - I often find it difficult just to make it through the day.

Next there is what I call the Male Soup Aversion. My husband will eat just about anything, but for some reason unbeknownst to me, he does not consider soup an actual meal. When I say, "Honey, we're having a delicious, hot bowl of soup for supper," I may as well be saying, "Hey, we're having a big mound of Jello" or "Would you like a heaping bowl of gravy?" because that's all it is to him. It's not real food. Hence another impediment to my goal. And peparing two meals is just too much work.

Lastly, every thing you've heard about the recent economy is true. After fifteen years with the same company, come January, my hubby will no longer have a job. And to make matters worse, the place I work is rumored to to be shutting down soon as well.

Cooking has become a drudgery. My heart just isn't in it. Too many things going on in my mind. But that doesn't mean we've completely stopped eating or joined the fast food masses or anything. We actually had some pretty good taco's last night. And, as I type, I have a giant blob of no-knead bread dough rising on the counter. There's something so therapeutic about baking bread.

Anyway, it does seem, eerily, a bit like The Grapes of Wrath all over again. I know at least 30 people who've recently lost their jobs. And oddly enough, when I first began this blog, on a whim, a little over a year ago, I almost called it Soup Lines as I wanted the blog to be about soup, but I also wanted to write and include thoughts and stories as well. A clever way of incorporating the two ideas, I thought. But then quickly realized the depressing connotations of it. I had seen the black and white photo's of my grandmother standing in front of a small delapidated building during the dustbowl, and what appeared to be snow was actually a foot of sand on the ground, and she always said, "You don't know what it's like to stand in soup lines." Soup lines were not a pleasant thing for her. And I guess, that's the interesting thing about this world, events do take on different meanings in different places and time. Normally, to me, standing in line for soup is a good thing. But today it does hit a little closer to home.

Thankfully, we are by no means destitute. But things are a little scary right now. So if you're passing through Oklahoma and see a Chevy Equinox loaded down with pots and pans and kitchen utensils on top, that'll be me and my family, headed west, or wherever the road takes us, probably to the next soup line. I hope they're serving mulligatawny.

Easy Crock Pot Chili

2008-10-31T22:35:00.027-05:00

Whew. Am I tired. We passed out candy to an estimated 300 trick-or-treater's last night. T-h-r-e-e ... h-u-n-d-r-e-d(!). The reason I know this is because I bought 375 fun size candy bars. No way can I afford the big ones in this neighborhood(!). And after factoring in the three or four (okay, eight or nine Reese's Cups and Twix bars I ate) and the dozen or so still left in the bottom of the bowl, and the couple dozen I threw the neighbor's way when she called, in a state of panic, I figure the number has to be somewhere around the three hundred mark. That's a lot of ghosts, goblins, skeletons, pirates, cinderella's, Buzz Light Years, hookers, and miscreant's in general traipsing up to my door. The weather was warm, so apparently every kid in town decided to come out. And this year, the thirteen-year-old-girl group took it upon themselves to represent Julia Roberts in the early scenes of pretty woman, if you know what I mean. When did witches costumes go out of style?

It was a beautiful warm, fall evening. We carved jack-o-lantern's and basked in the glow of autumn leaves. And the chili I served for my daughter's birthday turned out tasty and delicious. One of the things I like best about this chili is the longer it sets in the slow cooker, the better it gets. It's one of those recipes you can make in the morning and forget about until later that evening when the guests arrive.

Easy Crock Pot Chili
3 - 4 lbs. coarse ground beef
1 small onion chopped
2 packets of Williams Texas Chili Seasoning
1 can chopped green chili's - drained
1 large can Muir Glen chunky tomato sauce
1 bottle O'douls Amber beer
1 can chili beans
salt
pepper

Brown coarse ground meat in a large dutch oven on top of stove. Salt and pepper meat to taste. Add 1 small chopped onion and cook just until onion softens. Add (2) packets of chili seasoning. (I use 1 packet for every 2 lbs. of meat). Stir this mixture around a bit to let the spices blend well with the meat. Next add chunky tomato sauce; 1 can drained green chili's; 1 bottle of O'doul's Amber beer; and 1 can of chili beans. You can use any beer you want here. I heard about O'doul's from America's Test Kitchen. And I like the flavor it adds when cooking. Also add 4 cups of water until you get your desired consistency. I prefer Chili that is almost soup-like, but others like it really thick. It's up to you. Allow to simmer in crock pot, or on top of stove, for several hours until spicy and delicious.

Serve with Frito's; shredded, sharp cheddar cheese; and chopped green onions.

Happy Autumn everybody. I almost forgot, I've been blogging for exactly one year today. It's been a great year. I hope to have a contest soon. I am sorry, I have been so busy lately. It just crept up on me. Looking forward to Thanksgiving.

All Hallow's Eve

2008-10-27T21:11:00.045-05:00

My favorite time of year is upon us.
A time for ghost stories, and Poe, and fallen leaves, and hot cider, and soup. A time for snuggling up beneath the covers and watching a not too scary movie.

I spent the early formative years of my childhood living next door to an old, brick, two-story funeral home, in a neighborhood of brick roads, lined with tall trees and autumn leaves, where every one carved jack-o-lantern's on Halloween.

It was a time when The Twilight Zone, The Addams Family, and The Munsters, were all popular shows on TV. And my mother spent afternoons watching Dark Shadows. Every one in our little town seemed to get into the spirit of halloween.

An elderly women invited trick-or-treaters into her foyer for a cup of hot cider, which always warmed our hands before venturing back out into the brisk, autumn night air.

And then there was the man who worked the night shift at the local tire plant, naturally pale and gaunt, who donned fangs and a cape, and laid flat out on his sofa, arms across his chest, while his amiable wife lead trick-or-treaters into the living room to see Dracula sleeping on their sofa.

My son, last halloween.

So now you know the mixed-up childhood I had. And hopefully understand my demented love of all things autumn and Halloween. I even like halloween so much, I had a kid on that day. Happy Birthday sweetheart!

We have a tradition of eating chili at our house on halloween. Mostly because, with a birthday party and trick-or-treaters to get out the door, this was an easy meal to dish up in a hurry.

I am sorry to say that I don't have a special recipe for chili. In fact, we like plain old Williams Chili Seasoning best. I have tried other fancy concoctions, but always seem to come back to this tried and true convenience. One thing I do differently, however, is adding a bottle of beer. I once heard someone on OETA recommend O'Doul's non-alcoholic Amber for chili. So, I tried it, and it worked out great. Now I always keep a six pack of O'doul's Amber on hand in the back of the fridge. You never know when a craving for chili might happen.

A while back I mentioned that I was going to be doing some practice pies in preparation for Thanksgiving. Well, here is a pumpkin pie that I baked tonight using a recipe from America's Test Kitchen. It was spicy without being too sweet and tasted much better than it looked. I still need a little more practice on the crust, however. Those things are hard(!).

Happy Halloween!

After Thanksgiving Soup

2008-10-26T12:51:00.047-05:00

Remember after school specials? Those cheaply made movies that I would run all the way home from school in anticipation of. There was something so comforting about those movies. Something to look forward to after a long day at school.

Well, I've discovered a little something about myself, and that is, I often look forward to the after part of an event even more than the actual event itself. Take late night breakfast for instance. Who hasn't been out partying, or to a big event, or even prom, and actually had more fun at the impromptu late night, casual breakfast than the actual stuffy dinner itself? And Christmas(!). I always tend to relax, let my hair down, and have way more fun the day or two after Christmas, eating leftovers, going to the movies, hanging out with my family and friends, than I ever have on the actual harried holiday itself.

Perhaps it is just me. Perhaps I am too uptight, and work myself into such a frenzy preparing for such events, that when they're over, there is always a little sigh of relief. I am certain this is partly true. But I think it is more than that. I think people, by nature, just enjoy the after part of things. Like dessert. Or a cup of hot cocoa after a long days work. Or that moment when the movie is over, and you're walking out of the theater, listening to the music playing along with the closing credits, and you take comfort in that. The end came. We took solace in it. And moved on.

After events do become important and memorable elements of our lives.

So that is the reason for my long explanation of how I feel about this soup. I am looking forward to Thanksgiving itself. But I am also looking forward to this after Thanksgiving soup.

Before I go any further, let me explain, last year I bought a Willie Bird smoked turkey online, and it was tender, juicy, and delicious. Not too smokey. Worth every penny. I highly recommend them for Thanksgiving or a holiday party - and for this soup.

Creamy Wild Rice Soup With Smoked Turkey is the perfect autumn soup. Hearty and delicous on a cold autumn night. But fancy enough to serve for a nice dinner party. Add some crusty French bread, a Pear, Walnut, And Blue Cheese Salad, with a Cranberry Vinaigrette, and you've got the makings of a beautiful meal.

Yesterday, my football fan hubby happened to be cooking some pork on the smoker and we decided to throw on a fresh, whole turkey breast just for fun. And it turned out great. With the leftovers I made this nice soup for Sunday dinner. I ran into one problem, however, as I did not have wild rice on hand. And the nearest grocery store is twenty minutes from home. So I substituted whole grain rice instead. The end results weren't quite as pretty, but tasted just as good. Smooth and creamy, with a hint of rosemary, and the smokiness of the turkey, a very unique and satisfying soup. The perfect after Thanksgiving soup.

Creamy Wild-Rice Soup With Smoked Turkey
adapted from Cooking Light

2 teaspoons butter
1 cup chopped carrot
1 cup chopped onion
1 cup chopped green onions
1 teaspoon chopped fresh rosemary
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
3 garlic cloves, minced
4 cups homemade chicken broth
1 1/2 cups chopped, smoked turkey breast (about 1/2 lb.)
1 cup uncooked wild rice
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
2 1/2 cups milk
2 Tablespoons dry sherry
1 teaspoon salt

1. Melt butter in a Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add carrot and next 5 ingredients (carrot through garlic); saute 8 minutes or until browned. Stir in rice, scraping pan to loosen browned bits. Then stir in broth, and bring to a boil. Cover, reduce heat, and simmer 1 hour or until rice is tender.

2. Combine flour with milk in a small bowl, stirring with a whisk to make sure there are no lumps. Add to pan. Add smoked turkey to pan. Cook over medium heat until thick (about eight minutes), stirring frequently. Stir in sherry and adjust salt if needed. Yields 8 servings.

Note: This soup looks much prettier when prepared with the wild rice and it adds a nice nuttiness to the dish. The version I made today, as you see in the photo, did not have wild rice, but whole grain instead, and it still tasted creamy and delicious. Also, if you don't have a whole smoked turkey on hand, no problem, just pick up 1/2 pound smoked turkey breast from the deli and that will work just fine. Remember to tell the man behind the counter to slice it thickly, so you can easily cut it into bite sized pieces at home. Lastly, I found the soup a little thick at the end, so added just a touch of chicken broth to thin things out a bit.

2008-10-21T22:19:00.013-05:00

One of my earliest and fondest childhood food memories involves setting at my grandma's kitchen table and watching her sort beans. She did it so matter of factly. And with such dexterity. Early in the morning, dumping a dusty bag of Pinto's out onto the kitchen table, swishing and strewing, like a Las Vegas card dealer, picking out the pebbles, looking for imperfections, making sure each bean was clean.

Once a week this ritual took place in Grandma's kitchen as beans were a staple back then. And I was in awe. To take this dry, hard, pebble, and turn it into something tender and delicious seemed magical to me. And what's more magical than beans? Grandma took the simplest of foods, the lowly legume, and raised it to a new level.

My kids were never wild about beans until I found this recipe in a Southern Living magazine years ago. Now we eat them all the time. This recipe reminds me of the beans we used to get as a side dish at El Chico's. They go great with chicken enchilada's or with a big slice of jalapeno cornbread.

I highly recommend Rancho Gordo beans here as they are the freshest I have found.

Mexican Pinto Beans

1 cup dried pinto beans
3 cups chicken broth
3 bacon slices, diced
1 small onion, chopped
1 green pepper, chopped
2 teaspoons ground cumin
2 teaspoons chili powder
3/4 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. pepper

Sort and wash beans; allow to soak in water overnight. Or, cover with water 2 inches above beans, and bring to a boil. Boil beans 1 minute. Cover, remove from heat, and let soak 1 hour. Drain.

Bring beans, broth, and remaining ingredients to a boil. Cover, reduce heat, and simmer 2-3 hours until tender.

I used the crock pot for this recipe and doubled the amounts and they turned out great.

Chicken Orzo Soup

2008-10-19T14:01:00.027-05:00

I love lazy sunday afternoons, lying around, eating, reading a book.

Where did those days go?

Lately for me, Sunday has turned into a work day. A day I use to pick up the house, catch up on laundry, and prepare for the week ahead. This makes me a little sad. I miss those old Sundays lying around in ratty clothes with newspapers strewn about. And this Sunday is especially depressing, since it marks the end of my kids Fall Break. Where did it go?(!) We ran around like nitwits, cramming too many errands and events into one tiny four day weekend. I barely had time to cook.

So here I am, scurrying around at the last minute in desperate want of soup. You didn't think I could send my daughter back to the University of Inedible Food without at least one bowl of soup did you? And for us, the soup has to match the weather. Which today is quite pleasant. Seventy-five degrees and sunny. This presented one dilemma. Another dilemma was the fact that I hadn't grocery shopped in days.

Lucky for me - err, my daughter - I always have homemade chicken stock in the freezer. A quick scan of the fridge produced some leftover grilled chicken from the night before. In the pantry I found a great staple, orzo. Also, I always have carrots, onions, and celery strewn about. And my garden is still producing fresh herbs in abundance. So here you are. The makings of a simple and tasty soup.

Chicken Orzo Soup
Saute chopped onion, carrots, and celery in olive oil. Add chopped garlic and stir around a bit. Add 6 cups homemade chicken stock along with a couple sprigs of thyme, one bay leaf, and a sprig of parsley. Salt and Pepper to taste. Allow this to simmer about 15 minutes. Next add chopped chicken and two cups of cooked orzo. Orzo is a rice-shaped pasta that cooks quickly in salted, boiling water. Allow this to simmer just until heated through. Finally, remove herbs and bay leaf before serving. Top with more chopped parsley.

Now I have mentioned it before, but one cannot underestimate the importance of a good stock. It does make all the difference in a soup such as this. I found a good stock recipe on Ruhlman's blog about a year ago and have been making it by the gallon ever since. www.ruhlman.com Chicken farmers across America probably love me for I've been roasting at least one chicken a week for over a year now - just for their stock. Also, Roast Chicken is one of my favorite meals.

Remember to pick up some Orzo for your pantry. It does come in handy(!).

Soup Season

2008-10-13T19:25:00.040-05:00

It was an uneventful week.

Work was busy. I strolled around. Didn't cook much. The sky was blue.

(This is the actual skyline of a small town here in Oklahoma.)

But tonight.

Oh wonderful night.

An autumn eve in all its glory.

The rain is drizzling.

The pumpkins are on the porch.

And I am wearing a sweater(!).

Soup Season has arrived.

Time to get out the cauldron.

I couldn't be happier.

I've been known to read a cookbook straight through like a novel. And this time of year, I'm always looking for something new to read. So here is my latest cookbook acquisition: Braises and Stews. The recipes are straightforward and simple and Everyone knows I can't resist a cookbook with a pumpkin on the cover. Also, braising is my favorite way to cook. There's something so satisfying about big, one pot meals. I am looking forward to Beef Stew With Caramelized Onions And Red Wine along with a big glass of red wine on a cold winter's night. I'll let you know how it turns out.

What are some of your favorite cookbooks?

Womens Movement

2008-10-05T02:44:00.068-05:00

Yesterday I had a Fried Green Tomatoes moment. You remember that movie where Kathy Bates' character goes berserk in the grocery store parking lot and repeatedly rams her car into the car of two, young, rude girls who stole her parking space? Well, I didn't do that. But I did feel like it.

It all culminated after a couple days shopping, running errands, and putting up with rude people in general. First, there was the man in the grocery store who stood right in the middle of the isle staring at the canned goods like he was studying for a presidential debate or something, totally oblivious to the fact that I needed by. Then there was the gal who cut me off while driving up the expressway and almost caused a wreck. Next were the two teenage girls at Target who were so scantily dressed that the boy working the checkout (aptly named in this instance) counter couldn't keep his eyes off them and literally scanned one of my items twice.

The final straw came on a warm, late autumn afternoon, as I stood alone at the salad bar of a cozy, country restaurant, trying to decide between the olive oil or ranch dressing, when an eager mob of young businessmen bombarded the tiny salad bar, like school boys in eight-hundred dollar suits. They were completely insensitive to the fact that I was already there, and one of them literally elbowed me in the arm while getting his grub. I tried to inch my way over to the dressing but it was to no avail. These men took over the place(!).

Realizing I stood no chance with the rude, hungry mob, I retreated, and took a step back, thinking eventually one of them would allow me back in again. But it never happened. These men totally ignored the frumpish, tired-looking, forty-five year old woman in capri pants and sensible shoes standing there with an undressed salad on her plate. Defeated, I took my seat back at the table where my daughter and son sat.

Now I don't mind getting older, and I would certainly never trade wisdom for beauty, but if the situation had been reversed, and it had been my nice-looking, twenty year old daughter standing in line at the salad bar that day - I bet those men would have behaved differently. They would have said, Scoot right on in little lady, in their affable Okie way. And that's what bothered me the most. The fact that I had become invisible. To these men, I did not exist.

There is a book Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison, an Oklahoma author I might add. And while I in no way compare my plight to the trials and tribulations of this poor black man in the novel, in a strange sort of way, I think I know how this man felt. Or at least I can empathize just a bit. In the prologue he says, I am an invisible man. When they approach me they see only my surroundings, themselves, or figments of their imagination -- indeed, everything and anything except me.

I can relate to that as a middle aged woman, and I feel more compelled than ever to make this a better, more just world, for my daughter. In our household the women's movement is alive and well. And I am proud of that.

Sometimes I think that's why women strive to keep their beauty - it's a declaration of their significance. But we women don't want to be seen just because we are beautiful. Or even feel we deserve special treatment. What we really want is equal opportunity and the right to be recognized as human beings, with a brain and with the simple courtesy that should be allowed all human beings.

Suddenly, that's when my Fried Green Tomato moment hit. In the restaurant while enjoying a nice autumn afternoon with my kids, as I bit into a crispy, golden, fried green tomato. Which happened to be the special that day and very tasty, too. Served with two dipping sauces, ranch and poppyseed dressing. At first the poppyseed seemed a bit strange. Too sweet. But after a couple bites it went surprisingly well with the tang of the tomato and the slight greasiness of the cornmeal crust. A nice touch. Forgive me, I digress. What I was wanting to say is that I felt like walking over to that table of arrogant, insensitive men and asking them, Would you appreciate it if someone treated your mother or sister that way? Instead, I took another bite of the fried green tomato and felt comforted and thought to myself, I know exaclty how Kathy Bates felt.

Later that night, my daughter and I had a nice long chat and she mentioned how she had noticed the rude, obnoxious businessmen, and how angry she was at them. Not only for the way they treated me, but also for the way men like that often treat pretty girls such as herself, as objects and not as human beings. We both wondered, if Sarah Palin were a bit ugly, would she be garnering such attention? And after dinner, if I had encountered these thoughtless young businessmen in the parking lot, would I have rammed my Chevy into their car?

These were questions best left unanswered, we decided in the end.

And to cheer ourselves up, we contemplated soup.

As an appetizer for Sunday dinner we prepared Butternut Squash Soup garnished with spicy roasted pumpkin seeds and a dollop of sour cream. Then, since it's supposed to rain tomorrow, and one can never have a rainy day without soup, we prepared Smoky Chicken Tortilla Soup with the leftover roast chicken from Sunday's dinner. Both were yummy. But I should have made more Tortilla. It was that good.

Oktoberfest

2008-09-27T21:12:00.041-05:00

Hello again. It sure is good to be back. I've missed this little place.

My mundane life leaves little worth blogging about, but it has been a hectic couple weeks.

I wish I could say that I've been busy preparing countless dishes from Gourmet and Bon Appetit while whipping up gallons of soup. But truth is, ever since my soup-fiend daughter went off to college, I've had it pretty easy. In fact, I never knew culinary life could be such a breeze.

I happen to be living with a couple men, hubby, and 21 year old son, who love burgers, Brats, hotlinks and steaks cooked on the grill. Oh they appreciate the occasional plate of fresh basil and tomatoes from the garden, or a fresh batch of salsa - but that's not really cooking - that's just enjoying late summers bounty. I throw out some beer and Brats and some pretzels and they're happy campers. Sometimes I feel like I'm running a pub. Oh well, as my dear friend in France always says, Such is Life.

Yesterday I made a batch of homemade soft pretzels from a mix that I found at Williams-Sonoma. It is called Dutch Country Soft Pretzel Mix and I highly recommend it. Although mine didn't turn out quite as pretty as the ones you find at the mall - they're a fraction of the cost and tasted even better, fresh from the oven. And they were a lot of fun to make.

October is the best month where I live. Not too hot. Not too cold. And best of all, not too windy. I am really looking forward to it. So in celebration of this spectacular month, along with my German heritage, I decided to cook up some German food this weekend.

Let it be noted that I am by no means an authentic German cook. These are recipes that have been passed on to me and I have made adjustments to them throughout the years. My grandmother, for instance, used pure bacon grease in her German Potato Salad. I find this too greasy. So I've replaced the bacon drippings with plain old vegetable oil. Also, I prepare schnitzel in a nonstick skillet with very little grease and coat the pork cutlets in a mixture of homemade rye breadcrumbs. Red cabbage is a breeze to prepare once it's sliced, and I never feel guilty for allowing myself a second helping of that stuff.

Too bad I didn't have time to whip up an apple strudel. Later tonight I'll enjoy a nice glass of riesling. Happy Oktoberfest to everyone!

Where Did You Go, What Did You Eat?

2008-09-16T07:54:00.032-05:00

Grandma was a forager. She used to take me on long walks picking blackberries and poke greens. We would return to her tiny kitchen where I sat high upon a stool and watched in amazement as she turned free edibles into something wonderful and delicious. Everyday she cooked. The term Slow Food had not been invented yet. Back then it was just a way of life.

Sometimes I like to imagine my grandmother with her thick, dark, wavy hair and olive skin as an Italian. She certainly liked to forage and cook from scratch. But truth is, grandma never used a sprig of basil in her life. She was an Ozark cook. Biscuits, fried pork chops, ham hocks and beans, fried potatoes, greens cooked to a mush, and lots of cobblers and pies. Grandma was a good cook but diversity was not her strong suit.

So those are my culinary roots. Not much to go on. But between the foraging and the baking and the gardens of fresh tomatoes and okra, it was enough. My family and I are somewhat obsessed with cooking now. Every time I talk to my brother or one of my kids, the conversation inevitably turns to food and we always ask each other Where did you go, what did you eat? and then we relish in each others culinary excursions.

Mark Bittman had a fantastic article in this Wednesday's New York Times about soup. You can only imagine how elated I was(!). He said soup-making doesn't have to be laborious and time consuming and that it's okay to use water instead of stock. He also recommended using lots of herbs and garlic and cheese for flavoring. So I tried my hand at his technique and here is my version of an easy Autumn Minestrone.

Autumn Minestrone
Adapted from the New York Times by Mark Bittman

I began by sauteing onions, carrots and celery in about 3 Tablespoons of olive oil.

Next I added 1 1/2 cups of diced butternut squash and 1 1/2 cups diced potato and stirred around a bit just to soften.

Next, I added 1 cup chopped, fresh tomato and 1/2 cup chopped, fresh green beans.

Then I poured in 5 cups of water along with a good size hunk of parmesan cheese rind for flavoring.

Allow this to simmer about 15 minutes until the vegetables soften.

Finally, I added 1 can of red kidney beans, rinsed and drained, along with a good handful of chopped, fresh basil.

While this simmered just a bit, I prepared a quick pesto of fresh rosemary, basil, garlic, olive oil and sea salt.

(I forgot to mention that I added salt and pepper to taste as I went along.)

Just before serving, I removed what was left of the parmesan rind, and topped the soup with more fresh, grated parmesan cheese and a good dollop of pesto.

A very light, flavorful soup!

Just A Few Things

2008-09-08T23:57:00.114-05:00

During the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year ...

I was trying to think of something good to say, to describe my feelings on this most peaceful of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the early autumn of the year, but Poe seems to have summed it up far better than I.

I can almost envision the little guy riding alone on horseback up to the vacant eye-like windows of the melancholy House of Usher. These are the days I love and crave. Give me a cool, crisp, autumn day, throw in some clouds and drizzling rain and a good book and I am in heaven. I feel blessed as the stifling heat of summer has waned and we are experiencing gray, damp, fall-like days. And for a couple of soup-junkies like my daughter and myself, it is sheer heaven.

Yesterday afternoon the temperature dropped, the sky turned gray, and the rain began to drizzle, so I ran into the grocery store after work to pick up a few things for supper. Right inside the door I spied bright orange pumpkins as if put there special for me. I couldn't help but bring one home. And, as I proudly wielded it from the car, my husband rolled his eyes, unsurprised, as it is only two months till Halloween.

On a rainy night with overripe bananas on the counter and a damp chill in the air, it is mandatory that one bake banana bread while watching an old movie on TV. I've tried countless recipes for banana bread, but this one from Joy Of Cooking is a favorite. It has lots of fresh banana flavor without too much fuss and uses only basic ingredients. I often get the urge to bake late at night and these binges are seldom planned, so I don't always have sour cream or buttermilk on hand. And when it comes to banana bread, I am picky. I don't want the flavors of cinnamon, or apples, or other spices getting in the way. I just want the pure simple flavors of banana and walnuts. And I bake the bread in small pans, slice thinly, and serve warm from the oven with a cup of hot cider or tea.

Last night while the rain drizzled and the wind began to blow, we enjoyed our delectable bread, and while we nibbled, in the background we heard the limb of a scraggly bush scraping back and forth against the window screen. Making one of those eerie haunted house sounds that you hear on Halloween CD's. I had complained about this annoying, overgrown bush before. So before going to sleep that night my husband said, "Do you want me to go outside and cut that limb?" I responded with a resounding "no." With the autumn weather coming on, I was rather enjoying this creepy, scratching bush. As it reminded me of a haunted house, and he knew how much I loved those.

I picked up this bag of mixed beans at the store, soaked them overnight, then cooked them all day with a can of tomatoes, a few dashes of Cajun seasoning and some spicy andouille sausage. I don't have an after pic as they were eaten before I had the chance to take one, but it does make a tasty soup. This is all I have for today, just a few things to help put you in an autumnal mood, a pumpkin, some banana bread, and bean soup.

Don't Rain On My Meringue

2008-08-31T14:40:00.055-05:00

In the beginning, I imagined making a different pot of soup each and every week, then posting about it here. The options would be limitless - cream soups, vegetable soups, tortilla, hearty stews and chili's - and my daughter the chief taste tester would be in heaven. But what I never imagined, was my daughter the soup fiend, requesting the same soups over and over and over again. Tasty, but a bit boring. Fortunately for me and this blog, soup isn't the only food I enjoy cooking. Lately, I've been into baking. Recipes for pies, cakes, cookies and quick breads seem a bit restrictive, but relaxing and rewarding just the same. Challenging, but in a good way.

Dorrie Greenspan's recipe for Florida Pie is the perfect late summer dessert. Cool, creamy, not too sweet, I couldn't wait to try it this Labor Day weekend. Dorrie's recipes are simple to follow. And I enjoy her tips and stories that are included along with the recipes. I also appreciate the fact that she admits to using a store bought crust. Gotta love a gal like that(!). Which is what I did as well, because for me, when it comes to desserts, simplicity is key. The base of this pie turned out perfect, a delectable pale, tart, lemony yellow. The meringue, however, was another story.

Meringue and I aren't the best of friends. Similar to Hillary and Bill, we don't always get along, but sometimes we make the perfect couple. And other times, well, Mr. Meringue decides to do his own thing, like slide off the pie or worse yet, weep all over the plate.

It happened to be raining the day I made this pie and the meringue was a bit sticky and developed droplets of sugar syrup on the surface. I was just about to give up and never bake another meringue again, when a friend wisely advised, it wasn't me, it was the weather. Meringue's do not like humidity. I guess I should have known that. It does make sense. And I do like being able to blame culinary catastrophes on the weather. Biscuits don't rise, must have been the humidity. Cookies burnt to a crisp, that darn barometric pressure. I'm beginning to think they should include a Cooking Report on the nightly news: Tomorrow a seventy percent chance of rain, a good day for soup, not for meringue. Sorry about the rhyme.

Soup was to be the main focus of this blog. And it still is. Soup will always have a place in my heart, my kitchen, and my stomach. But for now, I am on a quest for the perfect pie. Since I've already found the perfect summer pie, now I'm on a quest for the perfect autumn pie. And in the next couple months I will be baking some test pies in preparation for the big day, Thanksgiving. I am searching for the best pumpkin and pecan pie recipes. So if anyone has any suggestions, or wants to pass a recipe along, please feel free to do so, for my culinary repertoire is sadly lacking in this department. I look forward to posting my results here and hopefully will have found a couple winners by then. In the mean time, if anyone is interested in this recipe for Florida Pie, it can be found in Dorrie Greenspan's cookbook, Baking, From My Home To Yours. I am looking forward to many more recipes from this book. And next time I make meringue, I'll pray that it doesn't rain.

Last Of Summer's Offerings

2008-08-21T23:23:00.061-05:00

I regret to inform you that I don't have food pictures for this weeks post. Truth is, I haven't been in much of a cooking mood lately. The kids are back at college and I'm enjoying a much needed break.

But that doesn't mean I'm not thinking about food. In the past few nights, I've read through several cookbooks and cooking magazines, gathered some ideas for autumnal cookouts, and even found several new soups to try. Today I even cleaned out the spice drawer and threw away every thing over two years old. I know, you're supposed to toss them out after a year, but I can't bring myself to dispose of perfectly good whole nutmeg that I paid $8.00 for back in 2006. I'm sorry, I just can't do it. If anyone out there knows how long this stuff lasts, please let me know.

Also, I put four quarts of chicken stock in the freezer, so when serious soup season arrives, I'll be prepared. It sounds crazy, but I am already looking forward to hearty soups and stews, bright orange pumpkins, big bowls of chili, our two Maple trees turning flaming red, and most of all, Thanksgiving and Halloween. Autumn really is my favorite time of year. But for now, I'll just keep biding my time, enjoying the last of summer's offerings: vine ripened tomatoes with fresh basil and olive oil; jalapeno peppers and tomatoes turned into a fiery salsa; and freshly snipped chives adorning my new potatoes like confetti. These also are the things that I love. That and sipping wine on the patio while my son plays classical guitar.

I could go on and on bragging about my talented son, but I won't bore you, or embarrass him. Let's just say, there's nothing more enjoyable than live, classical guitar music to listen to while you are cooking or sipping a glass of wine. And I must be the luckiest mom in the whole wide world to have my very own built-in musician strumming away while I cook and sip. He's a regular Segovia in my book. And if any of you happened to catch Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations show on Spain the other night, then you heard the type of music my son plays. The show ended with a nice Spanish tune that my son has actually been playing all summer. We both looked at each other in surprise and smiled as we heard this beautiful piece at the end of the show. A happy coincidence.

So here I am, sipping wine, enjoying my son's guitar music, and the last of summer's offerings. Let's just hope I can keep that spice drawer organized, for this fall, I have lots of cooking to do.

With the abundance of fresh basil coming from the garden, I decided to make Pesto. I have found that I prefer walnuts over pine nuts in my pesto.

Easy Pesto

3 cups fresh basil leaves
1 1/2 cups chopped walnuts
4 cloves garlic, peeled
1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1 cup olive oil
salt and pepper to taste

In a food processor, blend together basil leaves, nuts, garlic, and cheese. Pour in oil slowly while still mixing. Stir in salt and pepper.

Nielsen's Theorem

2008-08-16T03:48:00.031-05:00

The older I get, the more I realize, I'm not much of a TV person. Oh, I go through spells where I'm addicted to a particular show or two, but overall, it just doesn't appeal to me. I find it futile and pointless. And another and more irksome reason for avoiding TV ... commercials. Loud, obnoxious, commercials. The bane of my existence. There are few things that I abhor on this planet more than mind numbing, ear-splitting, annoying commercials blaring from the TV. They irritate the hell out of me. That is why we have a rule in our household: whoever holds the remote, turns the volume down during the commercials. It's the law. More often than not, however, we just whiz right through and skip them all together, thanks to the DVR. I praise the person who invented this DVR. Statues should be erected in their honor. They should win the Nobel Prize. Or at least have their picture on a cereal box or something.

Anyway, it was just this past weekend that I began giving this DVR phenomenon serious thought as we had been selected as a Nielsen Family. For an entire week we were to right down every single TV show we watched on every single TV in the house. Do you know how difficult this is? Turns out, I had no idea what we were getting into.

First off, it was before the Olympics and during that dead zone of summer when the kids are still home from college and there is nothing to do and absolutely nothing on TV, except Shark Week and the final episode of The Last Food Network Star. And I never realized up until then what an ADD family we were. Thanks to the DVR, during one thirty-minute episode we hit RECALL about a dozen times, then toggled back and forth between two other shows, then hit PAUSE, then FAST FORWARD, then RECORD, then watched something else RECORDED previously while we were waiting on another show to RECORD just to avoid watching commercials again. Then it was back to LIVE TV and PAUSE again.

I'm here to tell ya, there is no way to write down all this activity. Turns out, Mr. Nielsen's rating booklet is about as useless and ineffectual as television itself. I began to call it Nielsen's Theorem, the fact that any and all TV shows watched with the aid of a DVR are virtually untrackable.

All this talk about televison has got me to thinking, does any one else out there beside myself like to watch, or listen, to movies while they cook? I decided to bake Chocolate Chip Cookies using that new recipe from the New York Times, the one where you allow the dough to rest for at least 24 hours before actually baking the cookies. And since I'm too busy to fiddle with pausing and fast forwarding commercials while baking, I decided to put in a DVD as a way to pass the time and keep me company as I whisked and stirred in the kitchen. But it had to be a pleasant cookie-baking DVD, nothing too action packed and no sound effects. So after a quick peruse through the disorganized video drawer, I chose Somethings Gotta Give. It had perky French tunes and I can always covet Diane Keaton's cool, white kitchen in the Hampton's while I plop down delectable mounds of cookie dough in my dreary, formica laden, suburban excuse for a kitchen.

Turns out, it was a great choice. Both the movie and the cookies. I highly recommend this recipe. And now, I am curious, am I the only one who enjoys watching or listening to movies while cooking or baking? And what movies do you enjoy listening to? Drop me a line and let me know.

National Culinary Limbo Month

2008-08-10T15:26:00.045-05:00

It is difficult to find something good to say about August. I like the sound of August. It has a nice ring to it. But August is not the best month for food. There are no holidays in August. No pies, or turkeys, or cookouts to look forward to. The kids go back to school in August. And most significant of all, it is hotter than hell in August. Too hot to even cook out on the grill. And that is why I have officially declared August National Culinary Limbo Month. There really isn't much to do except simply bide my time until September, when nature, hopefully, will deliver us a reprieve from this dry, torrid month.

Some of you may have noticed that I haven't posted a chilled soup recipe yet. And August does seem the appropriate month to do so. Unfortunately, chilled soups simply aren't my thing. They aren't even popular in my part of the country. I guess, I never really developed a taste for them. Cold soup seems a bit of an oxymoron to me.

One thing I do love, however, and crave, is vegetables. So in order to stave off those I'm hungry but nothing sounds good in the middle of blazing hot August cravings, I decided to concede with Mother Nature, and make a big, boiling pot of soup. Crazy, I know. But it actually worked.

When I dished up this tomatoey, rich, vegetable laden soup for the kids, I admiringly called it August Soup. But another and perhaps more appropriate name for it may have been Everything I've Got In The Fridge Soup. For that is essentially what I did - dump every vegetable I had into the pot. And the results were surprisingly tasty.

I began by browning one-half pound of stew meat in my favorite Le Crueset pot. I often leave the meat out, but since my hubby and son were partaking in this meal, and the men in my family think they need meat, I decided to put it in this time. After browning, I removed the stew meat with a slotted spoon and set aside on a plate.

Next, in the same pot, I sauteed onions, carrots and celery along with a bit of garlic. Then tossed in zucchini, broccoli, potatoes, green beans, bell pepper, and yellow squash. After that, I added fresh chopped tomatoes from the garden and enough water to fill the pot. Then I tied a fragrant Bouquet Garni from the garden - basil, thyme, parsley - and threw it into the colorful concoction along with the stew meat and seasoned with salt and pepper to taste. I allowed this to simmer for about 35 minutes until all was nice and tender and served with big, crusty, hunks of garlic bread.

Note:
I opted for water in place of chicken stock this time, and it turned out light, flavorful, and energizing.

Like The Oklahoma Weather

2008-08-03T09:55:00.068-05:00

I can't go another day without posting about food. The computer crash has slowed things down a bit, but it feels good to be back in the saddle again.

It sounds crazy, but we've been craving soup lately. Not just any soup. August isn't the time for wimpy, brothy, chicken noodle soups. No, it has to be hot and spicy, like the Oklahoma weather. Earthy and red, to match the Oklahoma dirt. This time of year, Tortilla Soup, is the only soup that will do.

For this recipe, I used fresh jalapeno and anaheim chili's from the garden. I began by sauteing the vegetables (onions, garlic, chili's, celery, and a bit of carrot) in a large dutch oven. Then added spices (lots of cumin, coriander, Ancho Chili powder, salt and pepper) and allowed them to cook just a bit to bring out their flavors. Next, I poured in one large can of chopped tomatoes, a large container of good homemade chicken broth, and one can of black beans, rinsed and drained. I let this simmer for about 20 minutes. Then about 5 minutes before serving, I added some fresh corn and cilantro and a good sqeeze of lime juice just to zing things up a bit. If this doesn't hit the spot, I don't know what will.

I like to make this soup in big batches so everyone can just ladel up whenever they want. We like to garnish with shredded Monterey Jack (my pesonal favorite), avocodo, crispy fried corn tortilla strips, sour cream, and even plain old Tostito's will do in a pinch (as I've done here). Everyone grabs a big bowl and enjoys. It's such an easy, fun meal. And best of all, it goes great with Margaritas.

Our pepper plants have really started to kick in. Yee-haw! I use them in almost everything: salsas, soups, chiles, marinades for fajitas, even decor. It's such a cheerful thing to see a heaping basket of fresh, verdant chili's, dotted with bright oranges and reds, setting proudly on the counter. And by the way things look this summer, we're going to have enough heat to power a Flaming Lips concert. My hubby went a little crazy with the habaneros.

My son, the chili head, talked me into making this roasted habanero salsa. On a cookie sheet, under the broiler, we roasted tomatoes, onions and one very lonely, but potent, habanero pepper, until the skins were nice and brown. After cooling a bit, we removed the seeds from the habanero and put everything into a food processor, skins and all, and pulsated a bit along with a handful of fresh chopped onion, one anaheim pepper, and a generous bunch of cilantro, just to freshen things up a bit. Lastly, we added a good pinch of salt and the juice from a small lime. Would you believe the entire bowl disappeared in one evening?

Six Random Things

2008-08-03T08:45:00.011-05:00

I promised Rowena, from Rubber Slippers In Italy, that I would follow up on her tag for Six Random Things About Me.

She had the clever idea of posting about her dogs. So, I am going to follow her lead and tell you about the family cat ...

1. He is a large black cat named Superstitious and we call him "soup" for short. Sort of ironic ... I know.

2. He loves shrimp, but doesn't get to eat it too often.

3. We call him our baby, and once while grocery shopping, my daughter tossed Fancy Feast into the cart and said, "We need baby food," and an old woman stared at us like she was going to report us to the authorities.

4. He has been in a cat fight with every single cat in the neighborhood, and I have spent several hundred dollars in vet bills sewing him up.

5. He likes to leave little gifts of dead mice at both the front and back door.

6. When he dies we are going to erect a tombstone that says, Here Lies Superstitious, One Bad Ass Cat

Up And Running

2008-07-31T22:11:00.048-05:00

I am finally up and running again and was happy to see that Deetsa from deetsasdiningroom had stopped by and tagged me for a meme. I really enjoy reading her blog as it is about two places I've always admired, British Columbia and France. And to me that's the best thing about blogging, getting to know people from other parts of the world and discovering new things. And it sure sounds like Deetsa enjoys some beautiful scenery and some fantastic food in her world.

1. Last Movie I Saw In A Movie Theater?
"Sex and the City". I only make it to the movies about once a year.

2. What Book Are You Reading?
I enjoy the classics and currently am rediscovering Hemingway. A Moveable Feast was devoured in a day. And now I am relishing For Whom The Bell Tolls. I had forgotten what a foodie ol' Hem was - food, wine, hunger, and the simple act of eating - all take on symbolic reference throughout the book. No one gets to the gut of the matter like Hemingway. And I appreciate the fact that he doesn't glorify food, he simply reminds us of what it's like to be human - and eat.

3. Favorite Board Game?
That's easy. Clue. I don't like board games and Clue was the only one I ever enjoyed as a kid. No one knows the guilt I've endured because I never played board games with my kids - they once asked me why I didn't play board games with them, and I retorted, Because I get bored playing them, and that's they are called "bored" games. They'll probably need therapy some day.

4. Favorite Magazine?
Tough one. I do enjoy The New Yorker and the Atlantic. But I'm a sucker for all cooking magazines, especially Cooking Light and Cooks Illustrated. Also, I have been known to pick up a Victoria and Cottage Living once in a while, especially their autumn issues.

5. Favorite Smells?
Bread baking, garlic, coriander, Root pumpkin spice candles, lilacs, my sons burr head when I kiss him, and that wonderfully unique smell of burning jack-o-lanterns at Halloween.

6. Favorite Sounds?
I like Deetsa's previous post of Real church bells. That's a good one. Also my husband's voice and my two kids voices, my cat purring, my son playing classical guitar, and my daughter laughing. But most of all, I love Silence.

7. Worst Feeling In The World?
Not being able to help when someone is hurting, hungry, or in need.

8. First Thing You Think of When You Wake?
My, that was a quick night.

9. Favorite Fast Food Place?
I abhor fast food. But a good soup, salad and sandwich place like Saturn Grill hits the spot.

10. Future Child's Name?
My children are grown and we certainly have no plans for more, but I do have a few names in mind for future cats: Henry, Jude, Myrtle Violet and Chloe.

11. Finish This Statement—“If I Had a Lot of Money,"
I would travel the world.

12. Do You Drive Fast?
No.

13. Do You Sleep With a Stuffed Animal?
No.

14. Storms—cool or scary?
Having spent my entire life in Kansas and Oklahoma, I would have to say both, cool and scary.

15. What Was Your First Car?
A Ford Pinto

16. Favorite Drink?
I admit, I like Dr. Pepper, and an occassional Coke, and wine, and tea.

17. Finish This Statement—“If I Had the Time, I Would…"
Go back to school.

18. Do You Eat the Stems on Broccoli?
Sure.

19. If You could Dye your Hair Any other color what would it be?
Probably the blonde it used to be when I was four.

20. Name All the Different Cities In Which You Have Lived –
Oh, I lost track.

21. Favorite Sport to Watch?
Iron Chef

22. One Nice Thing About The Person Who Sent This To You
She visits my blog, and that is nice. Also, she likes the movie Sense and Sensibility which I love as well. And anyone who enjoys this type of movie is a friend in my book.

23. What’s Under Your Bed?
Dusty Rubbermaid storage boxes with old wrapping paper and junk in them.

24. Would You Like to Be Born As Yourself Again?
I've always thought of myself as 'a born as yourself again buddhist'.

25. Morning Person or Night Owl?
I'm typing this at 2:00 a.m. on a weeknight.

26. Over Easy or Sunny Side Up?
I never eat eggs, unless they're in a cake.

27. Favorite Place to Relax?
At home. With a book.

28. Favorite Ice Cream Flavor?
Pistachio.

29. Of All the People You Have Tagged, Who Is the Most Likely to Respond First?
Not sure, since this is the first time I've ever done this.

I'm tagging:

Hungry Passport at www.hungrypassport.blogspot.com. who has a great blog with lots of useful and interesting information that I really enjoy reading.

Also, Rowena at http://rubbahslippahsinitaly.blogspot.com/ who is in Italy and always a delight to read.

I am still new to this blog world and each of their visits have meant a lot.

Dell's Eulogy

2008-07-22T20:31:00.015-05:00

This past week we lost a dear family friend.

On a hot summer day, Mr. Dell Personal Computer passed away after a brief but sudden illness. He was ten years old. That's about one hundred PC years to you and me.

Mr. Dell, or Model T, as my kids, with their fancy new laptops, fondly referred to him, was a loyal and trusted servant. He was always there for me, from online shopping to food blogging, Mr. Dell never let me down. Until this year, when he became slower than molasses in January, and even then he still hung on.

May you rest in peace, Mr. Dell PC, your warm, inviting hum and soft alluring glow will be missed.

Note: I've wriggled a laptop out of my kids' hands in order to issue this post. Future postings will resume next week, when Mr. Dell's newfangled replacement arrives in a box.

Women With Their Purses

2008-07-19T20:37:00.019-05:00

We were on vacation, my husband, myself and our two college kids. We were walking around, seeing the sights, having a good time. Things were going pretty well, but throughout the entire trip, my husband and my son kept coming up to me and asking, "Honey, did you get that in your purse?" "Mom, can you put this in your purse?" I was tired. And my purse was overflowing. And I was beginning to wonder why on earth both men in my family took it for granted that I, the female, should carry their things. What am I? A Sherpa. Allergy medicine, camera batteries, souvenirs, sunglasses, maps, water bottles, doggie bags, tickets. You name it, I carried it, uphill, in ninety degree heat, over one shoulder, leaning to the right for the entire trip. I carried their stuff. Why? Because I am a woman and I own the purse.

To understand this story, you must first understand the purse. A purse is not a separate accessory like belts, or earrings, or shoes that are removed at the end of the day. The purse is an an extension of oneself. A true part of our being. Sometimes it may just sit there, filled with personal things, and other times it hangs over our shoulder while we are out doing things. But always the purse is with us, in one form or another, ready to take on its anthropomorphic deed.
Like marsupials, we women were meant to carry things. This is a theory of mine. And through some sort of chimera-like, capitalistic evolution, our wombs have alternately been replaced with the purse, a much more fashionable and autonomous reservoir, which may be discarded and upgraded each and every season. It's all very primitive.

Hopefully you will understand why, on this last morning of our Griswald family vacation, before leaving the hotel, when my husband casually asked me, "Can you put these Rolaids in your purse?" I went berserk and quickly responded, "I carried your two children each nine months in my belly and now for the rest of our married lives you want me to carry your things?!" He looked at me like I had lobsters coming out of my ears. But I was onto something. And it all went back to that Da Vinci Code thing, the holy grail, the womb, my marsupial theory, and the real reason women love their purses so much, we were meant to carry things. It's in our genes.

Unsurprisingly, throughout the remainder of our trip, I began to notice women with their purses. Like cars, they do tell a lot about ones owner. First I saw a very fashionable woman with a plausible looking knock-off standing in line at Pottery Barn. Next I noticed a simple black purse whose owner was super-model thin and wearing lustrous red lipstick. Then there were the gals like me, who'd been declared the family pack mules, schlepping fourteen pounds of crap, uphill, in the heat of June, looking like a frump, cursing the very day females deigned to shoulder a bag.

Eventually, unaccompanied, in a gleaming store window, I spotted the perfect purse. A brown leather bag, not too flashy, very practical, perched high upon its throne, all regal and stately, just waiting for it's one true owner. It was then I discovered the power of allurement. For somewhere upon the top of Mt. Everest a great purse store there must perch. It's the only explanation for trekking such distance. Impulsively, I trudged over and gazed at that resplendent purse. My daughter came up to me and said, "Mom, that purse sure looks like you."

... Well, if you're going to be the one carrying things, you may as well do it in style.

Dedicated to my son and husband for whom I will always carry things. And my daughter, Kassie, who loves purses almost as much as she loves soup.

Stocking The Pantry

2008-07-12T21:33:00.074-05:00

It was bound to happen, I have officially crossed the line from avid grocery shopper to serious food hoarder. I don't know what got into me. All I know is, I got up, bright and early one hot, humid, Saturday morning and felt the need - or should I say, irrepressible urge to stock up. And now I have enough food for an entire family of four to survive a nuclear winter. Many things including bare cupboards and two bottomless-pit-college-age-kids sent me into this frenzy.

It all began last night, when my husband told me that sugar prices were on the rise again. "You'd better stock up," he said, matter of factly. Then I told him about the One Bag Of Rice Per Customer sign I'd seen at Sam's last week. "We're running out of food," he said, nonchalantly. Those were dangerous words to a pantry hoarder like myself.

For as long as I can remember, I have felt comforted and secured by a well-stocked pantry - and an abundantly filled fridge. It's all very Freudian. You see, I grew up in a household where food and grocery shopping were, well, let's just say, not a top priority. Orville Redenbacher and I were very close friends.

The symptoms of my compulsion presented themselves early. I once recall becoming inordinately jealous of a teenage friend after opening her families fridge and finding it neatly stocked with frozen pizza's, Little Smokies, and Shasta pop. Some girls envied boyfriends and hairdo's, I was jealous of neatly stocked Frigidaires.

Many things, combined with gas prices and the fact that I do live 20 minutes from the nearest, decent grocery store, threw me into this grocery shopping frenzy. First off, I hit the farmers market with a vengeance, buying up green beans, onions and canteloupe - foods that my family will probably devour in a matter of hours. Then it was on to the grocery store, where I attempted to grab every last bag of rice, pasta, and beans on the shelf. Next I filled that cart so high with nonperishables and toilet paper, I could barely push it. I felt like a squirrel on a mission. Only it wasn't winter time and I was going to need an extra tree just to store all this food.

The funny thing about this story is, for supper tonight, I prepared food that I already had on hand. We were hungry for something fresh and light - and having plenty of lemons in a bowl on the counter - and yellow squash and rosemary from the garden - I decided to try an easy recipe that I had seen in Martha Stewart's Everyday Food cookbook. I like this cookbook because the recipes are so simple and organized by the season. Thus making it very easy when I have a specific ingredient on hand and just need an extra idea on how to prepare it.

Before I continue, I am aware of you foodies out there who sneer at the insipid, boneless, skinless, chicken breast. I know, it isn't as flavorful as the leg or thigh, but let me explain, my kids and I like the breast. It's convenient. There's just one problem, however, and that is that todays bone-in, mutant breasts are so huge that by the time you finish cooking them through, they are so dry and flavorless it's like eating a shoe. So in order to combat this problem, I buy organic skinless, boneless, chicken breast and pound them to about an inch thick. That way, they cook fast and easy and never lose their flavor.

Basically, this is a recipe for a marinade. The original recipe called for a whole, cut-up chicken but I modified it a bit and used it with four boneless, skinless breasts instead. Also on the same page of this cookbook, was the recipe for Grilled Zucchini And Squash. Everything turned out flavorful and delicious and I have a feeling this will become a standard in my kitchen.

So, I am curious. Am I the only one who stocks up like this? Or, are there others out there like me, who feel a little more secure in the world when they've got fifteen pounds of flour hidden in the pantry?

Grilled Tuscan Chicken With Rosemary And Lemon
adapted from Martha Stewart's Everyday Food "Great Food Fast" cookbook

2 tablespoons chopped fresh rosemary
1/4 cup olive oil
2 garlic cloves
Coarse salt and fresh ground pepper
4 boneless, skinless chicken breast, pounded to 1 inch thick
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice

1. Make marinade - in small saucepan, bring 1/3 cup water and the rosemary to a boil; remove from heat, cover and steep for 5 minutes. Transfer to a blender. Add the oil and garlic; season with salt and pepper. Puree until smooth; let cool. Pour marinade over chicken and allow to marinate for several hours or overnight in fridge.

2. Remove chicken from marinade and discard marinade. Grill chicken, basting frequently with the lemon juice, until cooked through, 20 - 30 minutes.

What People Eat ...

2008-07-05T17:12:00.085-05:00

I am fascinated by other cultures and what they eat.

I received these pictures in an email some time ago. Also, it is pictured on another blog and several other places on the Internet. It is just so interesting, that I had to share.

Notice the size of each family, the cost of their food, and the type of diet each family consumes.

Italy: The Manzo family of Sicily
Food expenditure for one week: 214.36 Euros or $260.11

Germany: The Melander family of Bargteheide
Food expenditure for one week: 375.39 Euros or $500.07

United States: The Revis family of North Carolina
Food expenditure for one week $341.98
(Sadly, I am not surprised by this picture, it is a typical diet of most American families. However, I do see some meat on the table, so it appears that they do prepare some of their own meals, which is better than many American families who eat fast food every night of the week.)

Mexico: The Casales family of Cuernavaca
Food expenditure for one week: 1,862.78 Mexican Pesos or $189

Poland: The Sobczynscy family of Konstancin-Jeziorna
Food expenditure for one week: 582.48 Zlotys or $151.27

Egypt: The Ahmed family of Cairo
Food expenditure for one week: 387.85 Egyptian Pounds or $68.53

Ecuador: The Ayme family of Tingo
Food expenditure for one week: $31.55

Bhutan: The Namgay family of Shingkhey Village
Food expenditure for one week: 224.93 ngultrum or $5.03

Chad: The Aboubakar family of Breidjing Camp
Food expenditure for one week: 685 CFA Francs or $1.23

These pictures are from a book called "Hungry Planet" by Peter Menzel. The photography is his. Please view more at his site: http://www.menzelphoto.com/books/hp.html