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.

 



After the Storm

         It's always interesting to me how quickly late summer heat turns to fall rain in this part of the country. It can be in the high eighties one day, and near freezing the next. The storm that signaled the end of September dumped record amounts of rain, took out the air-conditioner at work, and flattened what was left of the garden. When the rain slowed, and the flooding receded, Laura and I surveyed the mess. There were still plenty of tomatoes on the bush, mostly green, but enough were pinkish-orange and worthy of salvage. A good sized cucumber, and a partly red bell pepper rounded out the last harvest. We picked what was there and retreated to the warmth of the house, and a pot of veggie soup.
        Today I finally got around to clearing up the rest of the garden. I pulled up spent plants and retired them to the yard debris bin to be picked up later this week. The wire tomato cages were in better shape than I'd hoped, considering the way they looked. Only the legs were bent at a near 45 degree angle, easily fixed. It only took a little time to have the plot back to pre-garden condition. Standing back to look at the bare patch of earth made me a bit sad. Only six months until next garden season.
         The day of the rainstorm I was lucky enough to experience a new zucchini dish. Tasty little morsels baked in mini muffin tins...zucchini tots! I haven't had the chance to try making them myself, since we've had no more fruit on the squished plant. I might actually have to BUY a zuke or two, just so I could make these at home. I think the grandkids will love them!

Zucchini Tots
Makes about 2 dozen

Preheat oven to 400f

4 cups grated zucchini
3 large eggs
1/4 cup finely diced onion
3/4 cup shredded parmesan cheese
3/4 cup seasoned bread crumbs
salt and pepper to taste

Spray mini muffin tins with oil. Grate the zucchini onto a clean dish towel. Roll up and wring out all the excess water. In a medium bowl, combine all the ingredients and mix well. Fill each muffin cup to the top, pressing down firmly. Bake at 400f for 16 to 18 minutes or until golden brown and crispy. Use a plastic spatula to loosen tots from pan.

 

Homegrown Tomatoes

            It had been more years than I care to admit since I was able to grow a really good tomato...until now. The cool sea air on Orcas was not conducive to ripening tomatoes, not to mention the deer. I had to pick everything pretty much as soon as it was remotely red...or it was gone. We have "suburban deer" here, we see them in the yard occasionally, but so far all we have lost are some strawberry leaves. I think the rest of the garden is too close to the house for the deer to feel secure.
            We planted our garden with lovely organic starts, also benefitting Jordan's school. At first Laura and the kids were sure that the cucumber was going to die. The little plant was wilted every evening. I assured them that it would be ok. To make sure of it, I cut the bottom off a Mt. Dew bottle and sunk it upside down beside the cuke. By filling it with water a time or two a day, we made sure that the water got down to the roots. So far we have harvested 3 nice sized cucumbers, with many more little pickles growing on the trellised vine.
             The bell peppers are also coming along nicely, having already picked a nice red one. Zucchini too, after many years of failure on the island.
             It's the tomatoes, however of which I am the most proud. We are having a bumper crop. The cherries are coming in clusters sweet as candy. Connor and Jordan eat them as soon as they're ripe, warm from the sun, straight from the bush. Even the beefsteak, traditionally a long season fruit, is ripening now. I've never had luck with beefsteaks, even here in Portland. There is something to be said for the new organic hybrids.
            To quote the song "there's just two things that money can't buy...and that's true love and homegrown tomatoes."
     
Simple Greek Salad

2 or 3 perfectly ripe tomatoes, seeded and cut into chunks
1 large cucumber, cubed
1 small jar pitted Kalamata olives
1 small sweet onion, coarsely chopped

Combine all the veggies. Toss with a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil. Serve chilled.

Deer Wars (My quest for the perfect tomato)

 

            A couple of years ago, I decided to feed my tomato obsession by starting all my  plants from seed. I decided on two varieties, my favorite, Siletz, and a new one that promised "Beef Steak size" tomatoes on a short season plant. I don't remember what that one was called. I started out with twelve plants, eight Siletz and four of the other variety.
            Mid-February found my kitchen windowsill covered with peat pots under a plastic cover. By March first, the cover came off and the grow light was added. On April fools day, I moved the little plants into small pots on the kitchen table, hanging the fluorescent light above. I dreamed of a greenhouse....

            The first weekend of May was The Day. The plants, now lush and nearly a foot tall would be moved to their final outdoor home. I had been hardening the plants off for the past week, moving them outside during the day, back in at night. The last two days, they had stayed out overnight. Tenderly, I tucked each root ball into the garden bed, surrounding each with a wire cage for future support. I studied the work with satisfaction. My hands held the faint fragrance of foliage and soil, and my back was a bit stiff. The first weekend in the garden was always hard and getting a little harder each year. 

            My teenaged children teased, "Mom is it really worth all this effort? You can buy tomatoes."

            I just smiled, "Not like these, you can't. Nothing tastes like a homegrown tomato."

            As spring turned to summer, the garden thrived. Peppers, cabbage, squash and beans all shared the sunlight with the tomato plants. Small green marbles turned into golf balls, then tennis balls. I watered, weeded, fertilized and mulched. My sons could mow the lawn, but I was very protective of my garden, my pride and joy. The tomatoes in particular were my babies.

            One morning I stepped through the gate to be met by twelve green sticks, plants eaten to nearly nothing. One had a single green globe dangling from the top branch. The beans were all but gone, each cabbage nibbled. Deer!

            Seeing tracks, I saw that the culprit had invaded by going under the deck. This was about two feet off the ground, with a narrow opening next to the steps. It had to wriggle along for ten feet to get to the garden. I was near tears. "All I ask for is this little patch of ground," I sighed in frustration. "The deer can have the other two acres, the whole rest of the island, even!"

            My husband hugged me sympathetically and patched the access point. Three of the plants still had some foliage. It was too late to start more from seed, so I replaced the rest from the nursery, supplementing with Early Girl. The beans were replanted and the cabbage trimmed.

            A couple of weeks passed, and the old tomatoes grew new leaves. The new tomatoes bloomed, the beans sprouted and the cabbage recovered. Again, I started having visions of a bountiful harvest. One night the garden gate was left unlatched. The next morning the bell peppers were eaten and four tomato plants were gone. This time I did cry. By now, the replacement variety didn't matter, I was determined to have a crop. Whatever was available at the Farmer's market would do. I had at least four different kinds in the garden, and I didn't care. I even had a grape tomato in a pot on the deck, just in case. Each morning I checked the perimeter of the fence. Each evening I made sure the gate was secure. A pellet rifle was placed strategically near the door, just in case.

            Our security measures finally worked. Summer wore on and fruit was set. The original three plants bloomed. By mid-August, there were about a dozen yellowish balls per plant.

            September came and the tomatoes began to ripen at last. Much of the fruit would never get past the green stage. Not nearly the bumper crop that I had envisioned when I started the seeds.. There would be no homemade sauce this year. There would only be enough for some salads, and maybe a bowl or two of fresh, spicy salsa.

            As I picked the last ripe, flavorful tomato in mid-October, I remembered the children's teasing and wondered if it was indeed worth the effort. Yes, I thought later, admiring the ruby red slices on a blue china plate, it was worth it. You really can't beat a homegrown tomato…and there's always next year for that stellar crop.

            Here are two of my favorite late summer salads, based on tomatoes, of course.

 

Tomato Salad  Marinate for several hours or overnight

Layer in the following order:

Perfectly ripe tomatoes, Sliced ¼ inch thick

Thin slices of sweet onion, red or yellow

Sprinkle with garlic powder, pepper and fresh chopped basil (or parsley)

Drizzle with 1½  tsp. good wine vinegar

Followed by 1 tbsp. of extra virgin olive oil

Sprinkle with freshly grated parmesan cheese, if desired

Cover tightly and chill.

Just before serving, garnish with fresh basil leaves

 

Gazpacho Salad                 A Make-Ahead Salad that travels well.     

About 4 servings

½ cucumber, seeded

2 ripe tomatoes, seeded

1 green bell pepper, seeded

½ red onion, peeled

4 ribs celery

3 tbsp chopped fresh cilantro leaves or parsley

1 tbsp red wine vinegar

1 lime or ½ lemon, juiced (or 1 tbsp. lemon juice)

1 - 2 tsp chili sauce, mild to hot as desired

¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil

Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper

Cut cucumber, tomatoes, pepper, onion and celery into bite-sized chunks. Combine vegetable in a bowl. Sprinkle cilantro or parsley over the vegetables. Combine vinegar, lime or lemon juice and hot sauce in a small bowl. Whisk in extra-virgin olive oil in a slow stream. Pour dressing over the salad and toss. Season with salt and pepper.  Can be made a day ahead if kept tightly covered and chilled