Mycology is Mushrooming

            One of my fondest childhood memories is of going mushrooming with my aunt and
 uncle. I remember the smell of the moist soil, walking on a carpet of pine needles so thick that our footsteps made no sound. The awe of that ancient forest, with bracken fern fronds nearly as tall as I, has stayed with me. My cousin and I would scamper around, searching for 'shrooms. We were taught not to touch any, just show them to an adult. Some were picked, some were vetoed. I don't remember anything about the art of mycology, I was too young, but I definitely remember feasting on the fungi. Baskets full of mushrooms would mean mushroom soup for supper. Breakfast would be a mushroom frittata. The flavors were always wonderful, earthy and rich.

            I did learn a healthy respect for wild mushrooms, and don't recommend hunting  them yourself, unless you really know what you're doing. Just too many are deadly toxic. Personally, I'm happy to stick with a reliable source:¦my neighborhood grocery store. Fortunately, these days most markets are carrying more than just white button mushrooms. Now we can enjoy "wild" mushrooms, and all we have to learn are recipes. Criminis, the brown buttons, are baby portabellas. Less expensive, they are nearly as flavorful as their larger, trendier siblings. Fresh chantrelles and shitakes have become standards in some produce departments. Many of the more exotic can be found dried, if not fresh.

            The year our son, James, announced his intention of becoming a chef, Grandma gave him a "mushroom farm" for Christmas. It was a kit consisting of a foot-long piece of log, pre-treated with shitake spores. He followed the instructions, and sure enough, at the expected time, he was harvesting succulent shitakes. Our family enjoyed the abundance for several weeks.

            This recipe is the closest I've come to duplicating my aunt's soup. Her's was made with homemade beef stock and herbs from her garden. It was velvety smooth, punctuated with perfect slices of mushrooms. A dollop of butter floated on top of each serving. She counted on heavy cream and arrowroot to thicken her broth. Trying to lighten it up, I use mushroom puree and milk for thickener. The end result is very similar, and much lower in fat and calories. A few shitakes or other "wild" mushrooms thrown in for extra flavor are a nice touch.

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Cream of Mushroom Soup     

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2 lbs. crimini mushrooms

½ lb. shitake, chantrelle, morell or an assortment, fresh or dried (optional)

3 stalks celery, strings removed, thinly sliced

½ cup diced red onion

3 tbsp. olive oil

1 tbsp. butter

2 cups beef broth

4 cups milk or half & half

¼ tsp. thyme

1 bay leaf

Salt and pepper

Chopped chives for garnish

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If you're using dried mushrooms, put them in a bowl with just enough warm water cover. Let stand for at least 10 minutes. Drain, reserving liquid.

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Wipe crimini mushrooms with a damp paper towel. Pick out the 6 best looking ones and slice thinly. Set aside  with the more exotic mushrooms.. Chop the remaining criminis coarsely.

In a stock pot or Dutch oven, heat oil and butter to medium-high. Saute onions and celery until tender. Add chopped mushrooms and continue cooking until some aroma develops. Pour in broth. If using dried mushrooms, add the liquid they soaked in, too. Bring to a simmer. Add thyme and bay leaf. Reduce heat and cover. Simmer about 15 minutes until mushrooms are tender. Remove bay leaf.

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With a slotted spoon transfer the mushroom/onion/celery mixture into the food processor or blender. Puree until smooth. Pour the puree back into the pot and stir well. Add mushroom slices and dried mushrooms. Stir in. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Continue to simmer on low heat 10 minutes. Slowly add milk and heat gently. Do not allow to boil after milk has been added.

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Sprinkle with chopped fresh chives. Serve with crusty bread or cheese toast. 

A Meat and Potatoes Man

             My father was of the school of thought that a real meal consisted of soup, salad and a main course. A real meat and potatoes man, there were certain things that just didn't count as dinner. If it didn't require a knife and fork, it was not considered a meal. Pizza, tacos, and hamburgers were unknown in my house as a child. (Not that I was deprived of these kid favorites, there were plenty of sleep-overs and pizza parties at friends homes.) An exception to the rule were his favorite foods: the gulashes of his childhood in Czechoslovakia. There are many versions in many cookbooks, but these are truly authentic, eastern European dishes, just the way my grandmother used to make. Simple and hearty, both are still family favorites, even though Dad has been gone for many years.

            These are the basics for the meat gulash. If you like a lot of heat, add a dried chili pepper or two. If you prefer mild, omit it.  We raised sheep, and Dad hunted deer and elk, so the meat of choice was seldom beef.  Even the gamiest of game is succulent and tender when done this way.  Mom used to serve it with a hearty rye bread, topped with garlic butter, and fruit.

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Lad's Gulash                 Just like Dad used to make

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1 lb. Beef, venison or lamb, cut into 1-inch cubes

1 large onion, chopped

Flour

Salt, pepper, paprika

Bacon drippings, oil, or butter

1 quart beef stock or water

Whole, dried chili pepper (optional)

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Season the meat with salt, pepper and paprika. Heat the bacon drippings in a heavy pan. Cook the onion until golden. Sprinkle with paprika.

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Add the meat and cook until it browns on all sides. Sprinkle with flour and continue to cook, stirring constantly to prevent sticking. When the flour starts to brown, pour in just enough liquid to cover everything. Stir well, scraping the bottom to loosen any bits. Add chili pepper(s) if using.

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Reduce heat, cover and simmer, stirring occasionally, until meat is tender, 1 hour or longer. The gravy will thicken as it simmers. Add extra liquid as needed. Adjust seasoning to taste. Remove chili pepper before serving.

 

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Although traditionally made with russet potatoes, this can be a little starchy if they cook too long. Using a waxy type spud, like reds or Yukon golds, helps with that.

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Sausage & Potatoes       A simple "old country" peasant dish

About 4-6 servings

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1 lb. kielbasa style lean smoked sausage

6 medium russet potatoes

½ cup chopped onion

2 tbsp. butter or oil

2 tbsp. flour

4-6 cups broth or water

2 tsp. sweet paprika

salt, pepper

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Peel potatoes and cut into uniform chunks. Slice sausage into bite size pieces.

Saute onion in butter until golden brown. Add potatoes and season with salt and pepper. Sprinkle with flour and stir to coat. Pour in water or broth to cover and stir well. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer about 15 minutes until potatoes are fork tender.

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Stir in sausage slices and paprika. Mixture should be fairly thick and reddish brown. Cook a few more minutes until sausage is hot.

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Serve with a crisp green salad or fresh fruit.

 

A Drive to Remember

With Thanksgiving just two weeks away, I was reminded of a trip we took in 1979. Newlyweds, my husband and I were living in Central Oregon, while our family all lived in Portland. That's a trip of 180 miles or so, usually about 3 hours, if obeying the horrendous 55 mph speed limit that was in effect at the time.

We had spent Thanksgiving Day with my in-laws, and Friday and Saturday visiting friends and family. Now it was Sunday, and we had brunch with my mother before getting on the road back home. The forecast was calling for more snow in the mountains, with a traveler's advisory for the Santiam Pass. Fretting as we prepared to leave, Mom fixed us a care package. "This is way too much food for me," she said. "You kids take this home."

Before we reached the highway, we heard that the Pass was closed. Pat had to be at work the next day, so we wanted to get home, if we could. We turned around and headed toward Mt. Hood. Up and over the mountains, then Highway 97 all the way home.

At the base of the mountain was a roadblock, traction devices required beyond that point. Fortunately, we had chains for our old, two-wheel-drive pick-up. Unfortunately, the sheer number of vehicles chaining up created a massive bottleneck. A single lane of traffic was open in each direction. We started the up-hill climb, amidst hundreds of holiday travelers. Creeping slowly, bumper to bumper in driving snow, progress was minimal. About halfway to the summit, the line of eastbound cars ground to a halt. Minutes passed. The occasional O.D.O.T. truck or county vehicle would pass going the other way. Every so often, we would move a car length or so.

The snow continued to fall hard, the wind blowing. Time dragged on as we sat, trapped in an icy caravan. After four hours, we had yet to reach the summit. I was nine months pregnant with our first child, due any day. Cranky and uncomfortable, I was ready to be home. Pat was worried that I might go into labor, and I was trying not to think about it. He tried to keep the old Ford at a comfortable temperature, but it seemed we were always too cold, or too hot.

Brunch was a long time ago, and we were getting hungry. We remembered mom's care package. Inside was a piece of ham, a brick of Swiss cheese, and several ripe tomatoes. We had excellent sandwich fixings, with no bread or utensils. Laughing, we cut chunks of ham with Pat's pocketknife, broke bits off the cheese, and ate tomatoes like apples. Food never tasted so good.

Inching along, we finally reached the summit of the pass, the marker barely visible through the snow. The downhill grade did nothing to speed things. As dusk fell, the snow and wind stopped simultaneously. We had been sitting in the truck for nearly seven hours. The line of vehicles stretched as far as we could see, both in front and behind. There seemed no logical explanation for the hold up. No emergency vehicles had gone by, in either direction. We realized that nothing at all had passed for hours.

Three cars up ahead of us, a yellow International Scout suddenly put on his turn signal. He pulled into the available left lane, and started down the mountain, oncoming traffic be damned.

Pat looked over at me, "what do you think?"

"Go for it." I was as sick of the mountain as he was. He pulled out, following the Scout.

The chains bit easily into the new snow, and we progressed steadily. Passing literally hundreds of cars, we encountered no obstacles. Eventually, we reached the front of the line. At its head was a small white sedan, traveling at a snail's pace. Everyone else had apparently fallen in behind, dutifully staying in line, until it caused an eleven mile traffic jam.

Soon we were off the mountain. The snow behind, the road clear, Pat pulled over and removed the tire chains. Finally, we were able to make some time. The desert shimmered under a layer of frost as we drove through the moonlight. The road spun out before us, long and straight. A far-off flashing red light announced the turn to Warm Springs. Up ahead, we could see taillights. Probably Mr. Scout, we hadn't seen any other cars. He reached the stoplight…and didn't even slow down.

"Look at that crazy bastard!" Pat exclaimed. "He just ran right through that red light!"

A moment later, we came to the light…and slid right through it. The entire surface of Hwy. 97 was coated in black ice. We continued, slower and wiser.

Finally reaching Bend, we pulled into Denney's at the edge of town to thaw out, and eat. The place was packed. We got a small booth, and ordered soup and coffee. As we waited, we gazed idly out the window. There was plenty of snow here, the road plowed and hard-packed. Just then, a huge Buick station wagon approached the diner. Trying to slow, the wagon slid, turning sideways across the four-lane road. We could clearly see the faces in the car. Dad was white-knuckled on the wheel and mom looked terrified, while the kids in the backseat laughed, waving at people in the restaurant.

We waved back as Dad corrected the skid and continued down the street, completely unscathed. He'd had the entire block to himself

By the time we got home, we had been on the road for over ten hours. We were exhausted, and caught colds, but were otherwise fine. It was another two weeks before Laura was born.

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With that happy memory in mind, I'd like to add a recipe that has been a tradition in the Brown family for four generations. It's labor intensive, but worth the work. Known regionally as 24-Hour Salad, Overnight Salad, or "that salad with the little marshmallows", this is one of my husband's favorites:

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Ambrosia

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2 cups Royal Ann cherries, halved

2 cups pineapple tidbits

2 cups mandarin oranges

2 cups quartered marshmallows

1 egg

1 ½ tbsp. sugar

¼ cup lemon juice

½ cup orange juice

1 cup heavy cream, whipped

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Combine well-drained fruit and marshmallows.

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Beat egg until lemon colored. Gradually add sugar, lemon juice and orange juice. Mix well. Cook in double boiler until smooth and thick, stirring constantly.

Allow to cool completely. Stir in whipped cream.

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Pour over fruit and fold in. Chill 24 hours before serving. Do not freeze.

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            Going from the labor intensive, to the beautifully easy, this is a way to dress up your cranberry sauce. You still need to plan ahead a little, but the prep time is minimal. It's a jell-o salad that even cranberry-shy kids like, and the shape is a departure from the classic "can mold" of my youth.

            I've used various size and shape molds, but my favorite is a 3-cup copper ring. This makes two of those, or one 6-cup Tupperware mold.

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Cranberry-Orange Wreath

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1 - 6oz. box red jell-o, raspberry, cran-raspberry, or cranberry

2 cans whole-berry cranberry sauce

2 small cans mandarin oranges, drained well

¼ tsp. each, cinnamon, nutmeg and allspice

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Dissolve jell-o in hot water, per box directions. Add spices. Stir in cranberry sauce in place of cold water. Chill for and hour until partially set. Gently fold in mandarin oranges, and pour into 6-cup mold. Allow to set at least 6 hours, preferably overnight.

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To make un-molding easier, dip mold to the rim in very hot tap water for 10 seconds. Immediately flip onto serving plate and re-refrigerate until ready to serve.

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Garnish with whipped topping just before serving, if desired.

 



Pumpkin Patches, Pumpkin Pies

One of my favorite fall activities is going to the pumpkin patch with the grandkids, and my favorite patch is at Baggenstos Farms. Connor's preschool class went there last year, and Jordan's Brownie troop had their event there in October. The farm is awesome. In addition to the pumpkin patch, they have a farm store, rabbits and goats to pet, and various fun activities for the kids, like pumpkin bowling. Currently closed temporarily, they re-open for Christmas trees at the end of this month. 

Last year for Thanksgiving we made our first "from scratch" pumpkin pie. It was a fun experience. We purchased a special "pie" pumpkin. With no clue how to proceed, we just quartered the pumpkin, cleaned out the seeds and other "pumpkin guts" (to quote Connor) placed cut side down on a cookie sheet, and baked until soft. Once cooked, I scraped the meat into the food processor bowl and pureed until smooth. Not happy with the not-orange-enough color of the puree, I added a cooked carrot to the mixture. It didn't change the flavor, but made the color more appetizing. I actually ended up with more than I needed, so I froze the remained to use in future pies or pumpkin bread.

My plan was to use the puree in place of canned pumpkin in my favorite pie recipe, but thought it deserved a homemade crust. Since I rely on frozen pie crust, I called on my son James, the chef, to make the pastry. He made a rustic, French style crust, rich with butter and sugar. It was delicious. We will definitely be doing this again this year.

This is my old "go to" recipe. Adjust accordingly if you bake your own pumpkin.

Pumpkin Cheesecake Pie

Heat oven to 425°

2 Crusts for 9" deep dish pie

16 oz. cream cheese, softened

1 ½  cup firmly packed brown sugar

4 eggs

1 tsp. ground cinnamon

¼ tsp. ground nutmeg

1 can pumpkin (29oz.)

Whipped cream for garnish

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Beat cream cheese and sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in eggs, one at a time.

Stir in cinnamon, nutmeg and pumpkin until smooth. Pour mixture into prepared crust. Place on cookie sheet in preheated, hot oven.

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Immediately lower temperature to 350°.

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Bake 35 - 45 minutes or until center is almost set

Cool completely on wire rack. Serve topped with whipped cream