Taking the Easy Way...

      As much as I love to cook, I still like to find shortcuts to make a recipe easier, or faster to create. When the family was growing, I made most everything from scratch. It was far more cost effective, and peeling potatoes or dicing carrots can be therapeutic. But, I just don't feel like doing all that after a long day at work. Now, I get a lot of "kits" and add my own variations.   
      Idahoan makes an instant mashed potato that tastes homemade, especially if used as a crust for shepherd's pie.
      A Totino's frozen pizza (or {"peetzee") as we like to call it) can serve as the base for all kinds of great toppings, when we don't want to get a "real" pizza.
      A bag of frozen mixed vegetables is a staple in my freezer. I use them in soups, stews, and casseroles, anything that needs those kinds of veggies.
      A perfect example of "fast and easy" is this simple sauce. I use an envelope of Knorr white sauce mix, and serve it over Ramen noodles. Allow about 2 packs of noodles for every 3 servings. Cook the noodles per package directions, but use half as much of the seasonings. (I use shrimp flavor with this dish.) Drain off the broth. The noodles will absorb some of the flavor without overpowering the clams.

White Clam Sauce
Serves 4 to 6

2 - 6.5 oz. cans of chopped clams
3 cups basic white sauce, homemade or packaged
2 tbsp. extra virgin olive oil
2 tbsp. butter
3 tbsp. finely diced sweet onion
4 medium button mushrooms, sliced (or 1 can sliced mushrooms, drained)
1 tsp. minced parsley
½ tsp. garlic powder

Drain clams, reserving liquid. Make white sauce, using the clam nectar for a portion of the liquid, adding milk or half-and-half to make 3 cups. Set aside and keep warm.

In a heavy saucepan, heat oil and butter over medium heat. Add onion. Cook slowly, stirring frequently until translucent. Add mushrooms and reduce heat to low. Add parsley and garlic powder. Continue cooking, stirring occasionally until mushrooms are tender, about 10 minutes. Stir in the white sauce, followed by the clams.

Simmer on low, 15 to 30 minutes, stirring occasionally. Serve over your choice of pasta, garnished with parmesan if desired.

Seahawks Super Bowl Party

Unless you are somewhere completely without communication,(in which case you probably wouldn't be reading this blog) you know that next Sunday is Super Bowl. The Seattle Seahawks will be facing the Denver Broncos. The last time the Seahawks played in the big game was in 2005, when they lost to the Pittsburgh Steelers. The night before, there was a huge wind storm in northern Washington, leaving much of Seattle without electricity. The venues with generators did record business that day.

This year, we will be watching the game with our family and friends, cheering and enjoying awesome food. Pizza and wings are expected. We are not, however, talking about take-out wings or delivery pizza. Nope, these are to be homemade, from scratch. I used to make pizza as a way to kill time during the game. Now-a-days, though, I'm as much a fan as my husband and kids. I make my pizza before kick-off, put it in the oven just before halftime, and it's ready by the third quarter. The wings require a bit more attention, but I just set and carry a small kitchen timer in my pocket.

When I started making wings, I didn’t care at all about being authentic. I’ve never been to Buffalo, and I like my wings a bit less fiery, with no dip required. So, after many trials, this is what I came up with. We prefer our wings well done, so I slow roast them for about 2 hours. The chicken comes out falling-off-the-bones tender. I included brand names in my recipe, but I've had good results with McCormick's dry rub and Sweet Baby Ray's barbeque sauce. I think the key is to use both Hickory and Mesquite in some combination.

Sweet & Spicy Chicken Wings
Heat oven to 350°

2½ lb. bag Foster Farms Party Wings

2 tbsp. (or so) Lysander’s Hickory Dry Seasoning

1 cup Stubb’s Smokey Mesquite Barbeque Sauce

1 tbsp. Stubb’s Wicked Chicken Wing Sauce or other hot sauce (optional)

 

Combine 1 cup barbeque sauce with 1 tablespoon wing sauce. Stir well and set aside.

 

Make sure the wings are completely thawed. Place in a single layer, skin sides down, in a large baking dish. Sprinkle generously with Lysander’s, enough to make a visible layer. Bake for 30 minutes. Drain if necessary. (I use a turkey baster.)

 

Turn the wings over and season the skin side generously. Bake an additional 30 minutes. Turn the wings again. Brush well with the sauce. Bake another 20-30 minutes. Turn skin-side-up and sauce that side generously. Return to the oven for 15-20 minutes, until the glaze is set. Serve hot or cold.

 

***

 

A good crust is the foundation of any pizza. There are plenty of good refrigerated pizza crusts, and even boxed mixes, that work very well. I even used biscuit mix once, when I was out of yeast. But a good, basic yeast dough is still the best way to go. If you have a bread machine with a pizza setting, use it. Just follow their directions.

 

Super Bowl Pizza  

Makes one 14” medium crust pizza

1 packet active dry yeast, quick rising
1 cup warm water (105° to 115° F)
½ tsp. salt
2 tsp. olive oil
2½ to 3½ cups all purpose flour

OR
1 - 12” to 14” ready made pizza crust

In a large bowl, dissolve yeast in warm water. Add salt, olive oil and 2½ cups flour. Mix well. Turn onto floured board. Knead, adding remaining flour until dough feels elastic. Place in greased bowl, turning to grease top. Cover; let rise in warm place until doubled in bulk, about 1 hour. Punch down. Let rest about 10 minutes. Brush pizza pan with olive oil and sprinkle with cornmeal. Press dough across bottom of pan, forming a collar around edge to hold the toppings.

 

Toppings:

1 - 14 oz. can pizza sauce
1½ cup shredded mozzarella
¼ lb. pepperoni
¼ lb. salami
¼ lb. Canadian bacon
½ lb. Italian sausage, hot or mild
¼ cup diced onion
¼ cup diced bell pepper
½ lb. sliced mushrooms
1 - 3oz. can sliced olives

Brown sausage and drain well. Sauté onion and pepper in a little olive oil until soft. Spread sauce across crust. Layer all topping ingredients, finishing with cheese on top. This can be done a couple of hours ahead. (Your crust may continue to rise if it’s made ahead and not refrigerated.)

Bake at 450° for 15 to 20 minutes. Let rest 5 minutes before slicing.

Dungeness Crab Delight

             When I was a freshman in high school, my best friend, Julie and I spent spring break at her mother's cabin near Mt. Hood. It was our first excursion without adults, although we learned later that the neighbors had been keeping a discreet eye on us. At fifteen, we considered ourselves quite self sufficient, and we really did pretty well. We hiked, shot pellet rifles, and rode our bicycles into the town of Rhododendron for breakfast one morning.

            One unseasonably warm afternoon, the temperatures topped 70. We decided that it would be fun to go swimming. We dressed in some of Julie's old cut-off shorts and t-shirts and headed for the creek. By the time we walked the mile or so, mostly uphill, to the swimming hole, we were really hot. The deep water of Still Creek looked inviting. After checking for submerged hazards by poking aroung with a long stick, Julie ran to the bank and jumped in. I was right behind her.

            The cold shot through my body like an electric shock. My hands and feet were instanly numb. It had not occurred to us that it was only mid-March, and the creek was full of snow melt. (We were on the ascending slope of Mt. Hood, after all.) Our "swim" lasted approximately 15 seconds. Just long enough to get back out of the water. It had also not occurred to either of us to bring towels. Shivering, and on the verge of hypothermia, we made our way back through the very shady woods. Back at the cabin,  Julie stoked the woodstove, the only source of heat. We were very glad that cooking required fire, and we had built one that morning to make coffee. Soon we were in warm, dry clothes and the pot was bubbling. Life was good again.

            Julie and I, even as teenagers, enjoyed good food. Her mother was a gourmet cook, happy to cook for us, and teach us anything we wanted to know. My first taste of caviar was in her kitchen. We were both learning to cook, and found the woodstove at the cabin a lot of fun. Being true Oregon tomboys, we grew up with the lore of the pioneers, and wanted to learn all the skills. The week at the cabin was as close as we could come in the 70's. And much of it revolved around food. We roasted a rabbit (that we brought from the butcher shop) on a spit in the fireplace, and baked potatoes in the coals.  It took about five hours, and countless burnt fingers, but it was a delicious meal.

            Coffee was in a stove top perculator, and not very good. We either used too much coffee, or let it perk too long. The pancakes we made on the cast iron stove top were another matter, and wonderful. Likewise the pepper-cured honey bacon that we found at the market in Rhododendron.

            We lost touch after high school, but have re-established contact. Our lives have taken us to, quite literally, opposite ends of the country. Mine to the San Juan Islands of Washington State, hers to northern Maine. No surprise that we both live in the woods. We still both love the outdoors, and fantasize about pioneer living, although on a tamer scale. And we both still love to eat, and cook

            Here in the Pacific Northwest, it's the season for fresh Dungeness crab, in my mind, far tastier than any lobster. Julie's mother passed away a few years ago, but I asked if she would share her special crab soup recipe. I remembered it as her entry in one of the James Beard contests. I believe it won an award, but neither Julie or I can recollect the details. The original recipe was for twelve main course servings, and called for a total of four pounds of crab.This adaptation calls for quantities of a more managable size, and the results are scrumptious.

 

Dungeness Crab Delight             

Serves 2 as a main course, 4 as an appetizer

 

1/2 lb. cooked crab meat

1/2 lb. cooked crab legs

1 to ½ quart half & half

¼ lb. butter

¼ cup flour

1 tbsp. onion, grated

2 drops hot pepper sauce or ¼ tsp. cayenne pepper

½ cup heavy cream

1 tbsp. Scotch or Bourbon Whiskey (optional)

Salt, Pepper, Chopped parsley, Paprika

 

Melt butter in double boiler. Add Flour and onion and cook at least 20 minutes up to two hours (the longer, the better). Slowly add most of the half & half, stirring at low heat to keep from lumping. If too thick, add more half & half. Add a sprinkle of black pepper and the Tabasco Sauce. (Up to this point can be made ahead of time and allowed to cool).

 

An hour before serving, heat slowly to a simmer. Stir in whiskey and add the crab meat and legs, being careful not to break it up too much. Check for seasoning and add salt if needed (often, the crab is salty enough on its own).

To serve, pour the heavy cream into serving bowls and pour the soup over it. Sprinkle with finely chopped parsley and plenty of paprika.

 

A Cure for the Common Cold?

             Eastern European peasant food, this lentil soup was a staple when I was growing up. Definitely a comfort food, the smells evoke a feeling of nostalgia to this day. It was one of my Czech mother's signature dishes, and a favorite of my dad's. During the winter, there was almost always a pot simmering on the back of the stove. 

            Traditionally used as an appetizer, it was said to ward off chills and colds. My grandmother, mother, and aunts swore by the healing powers of the garlic, and would use copious amounts. I'm more partial to the soothing aroma of the sweet marjoram, the essential spice in this dish. (Don't be afraid to use a lot. The flavor is mild, and the fragrance is heavenly.) Either way, it's good for body and soul.

            Easy to make, and relatively fast, I make it for dinner. My family loves it, which is a bonus. Early on, it became part of the rotation for "Soup & Bread Night." I like to serve it with a good, toasted potato bread, or a light rye. Just don't do garlic bread, it's overkill, I found.

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Babi's Lentil Garlic Soup       Flavorful, Satisfying, and Meatless

About 4 - 6 servings

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1 cup diced celery, with leaves             

1 cup diced onion

2 tbsp. olive oil                                    

2 cloves garlic, or more, to taste - minced

6 cups vegetable broth                         

1/2 lb. dried lentils

1 tsp. or more dried marjoram leaves               

Salt and pepper

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In large, heavy soup pot, saute celery and onion in oil until tender soft. Add half of the garlic cloves, lentils and broth. Be aware of the heat of your garlic and use accordingly. If you like lots of garlic, use more. The cooking time reduces the bite. Season to taste with salt, pepper and marjoram.

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Bring to boil. Reduce heat and simmer until lentils are tender, 20-25 minutes, stirring occasionally. The longer you simmer, the thicker the soup will be. Add remaining clove(s) of garlic just before serving. Serve with hearty whole grain bread. 

 

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.

 

********************    

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.

****

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

 

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.

 

The Sage Seed

             Joe was an outdoorsman, and always had been. Nothing made him happier than spending a weekend fishing or hunting with his brother or sons. Waterfowl and upland game birds were a particular passion. His wife, Frankie, had gotten used to being a “hunting widow.” Her only complaint was that along with the game birds, he usually brought home enough dust and sage seed to choke a mule. It wasn't so bad, at least the season was shorter than football.
            A year earlier, while shopping at K-Mart, Joe fell in love. It was a Mossberg 12-gauge auto-loader . . . and it was on sale. It was the perfect shotgun for his annual eastern Oregon bird hunt. He had wanted one like it for a long time, and they had a little extra cash. With a bit of persuasion, Frankie agreed that it was a great deal, and would never be any cheaper. “It can be my birthday and Christmas present,” Joe offered.
            Frankie just smiled. Joe deserved a new one; she knew he planned to pass his old double barrel to their oldest son for his birthday…and it really was a good buy.
            He purchased the shotgun, and the men went on their trip. Upon his return, he declared that it was the best firearm he’d ever used. The brace of chukars and sage-hens he brought home proved it.
            Fall gave way to winter, and January brought some of the worst storms in decades. Frigid arctic winds howled for days. Freezing rain created a world brittle as glass, snapping tree limbs and power lines alike. Western Oregon, unaccustomed to sub-zero temperatures, was paralyzed.
            On Joe and Frankie’s little farm, the fields were reduced to little more than straw stubble. The wind had scoured and burned the grass, and the ice had finished it off. The livestock had been confined to the barn, where they could be cared for…and fed. Joe studied the dwindling stack of bales in the corner. It had been nearly three weeks. They had not been prepared for this. Even if the weather changed tomorrow, there was nothing left of the pasture. He would have to buy more hay, and this was definitely not in the family budget. He shook his head, knowing what he had to do.
            “I’m going to sell the Mossberg,” he told Frankie that evening. “I barely fired it, only put about a dozen rounds through it. It’s just like a new gun.”
            “Is that really necessary?” She asked, “I mean, there must be something else we can do.”
            “It’s not like we can charge a ton of hay to a credit card,” Joe responded, always practical. “It’s okay, guns are a commodity. Buy in good times, sell in bad.”
             Removing the shotgun from its case, he proceeded to wipe it down carefully, although it was already spotless. Returned to its manufacturer’s box, the 12 gauge really did look like new.  A slip of paper caught his eye. It was the original receipt.
            “Do you think I could just return it?” Joe mused. “I wonder what K-Mart’s policy is on stuff like that.”
            An hour later, he emerged from the store with a cash refund in his pocket, enough to buy hay for the rest of the winter. Apparently, the customer is always right at the big red K.
            Months went by and October bird season approached again. Nothing was said this year about a new shotgun. One day, Frankie was back at K-Mart, looking for gym bags for the boys. While shopping in sporting goods, she found herself in front of the gun counter, staring at a big red sign. CLEARANCE. She scanned the display case for a 12-gauge auto-loader. There it was, toward the end. Nearly half off, and significantly less than Joe had paid the previous year.
            Immediately, she determined to buy it for her husband. It was still almost $200. Joe would notice if she spent that much money without accounting for it. She rang the bell for service.
            “Can I put this on lay-away?” she asked, indicating the Mossberg behind the glass.  
            Christmas morning, Frankie was fairly twitching. They opened presents as they always did, youngest to oldest, with Joe being last. After the last bow was plucked off, and the last bit of colored paper hit the floor, Frankie reached behind the couch and pulled out another wrapped package. “I think Santa forgot to put this under the tree,” she smiled, handing it to Joe.
            A look of incredulous joy crossed the man’s face as he tore the red and gold striped paper off the box. “Wow,” he grinned as he lifted the shotgun from its box and studied it, inside and out. “Oh, honey, I can’t believe it. How did you manage this?”
            “Lay-away!” she laughed. “Is it the right one? I wasn’t sure of the model.”
            Joe’s grin widened, and he handed her a tiny, round ball. “Not only is it the right one,” he told her, “I think it’s the same one.”  
            Frankie looked at the object in her hand. It was a sage seed, the kind found in the high deserts of eastern and central Oregon.


***********************

        That was a true story. It happened back in the 80’s…when you could put anything on lay-away at K-Mart, and the customer was always right. This is Frankie’s recipe. It works best with domestic duck, the fatter the better. The fat all cooks off, and leaves a wonderful, crispy skin and succulent meat. A deep, open pan with a rack is essential.

ROAST DUCK         Heat oven to 400°

1 large, fat duck
1½ tsp kosher salt
½ coarse, black pepper
½ tsp garlic powder
½ tsp paprika
Fresh sprigs of rosemary (optional)

Cut duck into quarters. Shears work well for this. Trim excess fat and ragged skin edges, but do not remove the skin. (If you are using wild, skinned duck breasts, lay strips of bacon across each breast to replace the skin. Secure with picks. Proceed as follows.)

Make a dry rub of salt, pepper, garlic and paprika. Proportions are suggested, but you can adjust to taste. Rub both sides of each duck piece generously.

Use a deep broiler pan for best results. Lightly oil the roasting rack. Lay duck quarters skin-side-down on the rack. Place a stem of fresh rosemary on each piece (non-skin side).

Place in hot oven. Reduce heat to 325°, and roast skin side down for 30 minutes.

Turn the duck quarters skin-side-up. Drain any fat from the drip pan. Continue roasting, skin-side-up, 2 - 2½ hours, until inner temperature at thickest point reaches 165°. The drip pan will likely be full. When slow-roasted this way, the fat melts away, leaving a moist and tender bird with a crackly-crisp skin.

I like to serve this with a wild rice pilaf and baby carrots.