Nice to be surprised now and then

February 6, 2012

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. Another weekend without much snow but that's not the worst thing in the world. I'm contemplating making an appointment for a massage not so much because I need one but because it's something different to do since I can't go tobogganing and it would feel good and why not. It's ok to treat oneself now and then. Especially when there is stress involved. I recall reading once about how stress is simply the condition of being human. Well, I'm human.

And Valentine's Day is coming so maybe Mr. Sundberg will think, "Hmm. A gift card to the spa for this particular human is just the thing." But it doesn't matter much what he decides. He's never given me anything that isn't the sweetest thing. Last year it was roses and chocolate. Only the roses were this lovely purplish silver color, and the chocolate was filled with sea salt and caramel and almond slivers. I mean, my gosh. His every gift is so thoughtful.

I have to say, it has been a stressful few days with one of the kids having strep throat and one with an advanced chemistry class. And one far away wishing for cookies shaped like hearts. Throw in a strange odor in the basement while the washer is running, and my lack of familiarity with the periodic chart and a conversation about politics that got out of hand and a new pet dwarf bunny. Who chews on the paneling but IS potty trained already. Throw on top of it all an ad from a local floral shop suggesting if a man buys their wife flowers, he is guaranteed a "Happy Valentine's Night."

Well. What a lot of pressure to put on people receiving flowers. I won't go into detail, but gifts are from the heart, and given without expectation, or keeping track, and I know it seems trivial but you can't guarantee sex, or romance even. You just give. From your heart. Especially when Valentine's Day is on a Tuesday and includes guitar lessons, three hours of chemistry homework, a community development meeting, leftover pizza for dinner, and a need for formalwear to be pressed and ready to go for the jazz ensemble on Wednesday. The rest happens when it happens, flowers or no. The beauty of it all is, it's bound to, at some point. How 'bout that for an ad, Mr. Flower Man? How 'bout, "Love Someone? We Have Flowers, A Whole Bunch from Which to Choose. Pink and Red included. Give it a thought. You just never know."

It's the possibility of good things that keeps life interesting. Nice to be surprised now and then. Especially when you're human.

Feel like surprising your honey with a nice meal for Valentine's Day? Here's a soup for starters. Or for a main course if you've got a cheesecake hidden away in the fridge. With love from me to you.

Baked French Onion Soup

6 large sweet onions, thinly sliced
3-4 cloves garlic, finely minced
3 to 4 tablespoons olive oil
9 cups beef broth
1/4 tsp garlic powder
1/4 tsp onion powder
1/3 tsp ground black pepper
6-8 slices French or white bread
1 cup shredded Parmesan cheese
8 slices Gruyere or provolone cheese

Preheat oven to 325°.

Remove the crusts from slices of bread if you desire. Bake bread pieces 15 to 20 minutes or until lightly golden and crisped. Set aside.

Sauté sliced onions in olive oil over medium heat until onions become translucent but not brown. Add minced garlic cloves to onions during last few minutes, making sure garlic does not brown.

Stir in beef broth and seasonings. Bring to a boil; reduce heat and simmer for 30 to 40 minutes. Adjust seasonings to taste adding salt and pepper as required. Remember that Parmesan is salty, so don't go overboard with the salt.

Ladle the soup into ovenproof serving bowls, one for each serving. Cover soup with a slice of bread. Top with Gruyère or provolone and sprinkle with Parmesan. Place serving bowls under broiler set on high, and broil six to seven minutes or until cheese is bubbly and a browned a bit. Serve with additional grated Parmesan cheese for sprinkling at table.

Makes about eight servings.

Enjoy!

No reason to stock up for the duration

January 30, 2012

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. It's been a lot on the spirit with this lack of snow and warm weather. I saw kids playing catch today. Sweatshirts, no jackets, and throwing a football on grass. Forty degrees and sun, and yes, lovely, but come on. We haven't had the deep freeze yet, or the blizzard. No driving winds, no threat of wind chill, no battening down the hatches. No reason to stock up for the duration.

So we're doing what we need to do. No weather issues to keep me from my endodontic visit on Wednesday, so I'll be having a root canal midmorning and won't that be fun. There are few life experiences I would avoid were I able to choose, the root canal would be one. Had 'em before, will have 'em again.

The nice part about those crappy painful life events is the aftermath. Hopefully there is someone tuned in to the enormity of your discomfort, someone who will make sure you are warm and bring you a pillow and a bowl of soup once the numbness dissipates and you are able to eat without drooling it all over your chest. And then, as the day progresses, you might need a movie, or another blanket, or some more painkillers so you can resume your mild stupor.

I allow myself (except for the three childbirths) one solid day of misery and self-pity related to tooth or minor body procedures which require recovery time. After that, it's the routine. This time around, though, I may hole up for two days. I'll pretend it's a blizzard, my own mini-version, and I can't go anywhere, or get off the couch, even, because I might get frostbite or the chilblains, and who wants that on top of a root canal?

Here's what I'm whipping up for the kids so they have something wonderful to eat after school this week while I'm drinking blended chili through a straw up my nose. (Kidding. It'll be yogurt with a spoon.) Anyway, this one is a sure thing.

Grapefruit Pound Cake

2 c all-purpose flour
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1 2/3 c granulated sugar
6 T butter, softened
6 oz light cream cheese
2 large eggs
1/4 c canola oil
2 T grated grapefruit rind
1/2 tsp vanilla extract
1/2 c 2% milk
1/2 c fresh grapefruit juice
1 1/4 c powdered sugar

Combine flour, baking powder & 1/2 tsp salt, stirring well. Set aside. In large bowl, beat granulated sugar, butter and cream cheese until light and fluffy. Add eggs, one at a time. Beat in oil, rind and vanilla. Add flour mixture and milk alternately to batter, beginning and ending with flour. Spoon batter into 10" tube pan coated with baking spray and dusted with flour. Bake at 325 for 1 hour and 10 minutes or until a wooden pick inserted in center comes out with moist crumbs clinging. Cool in pan on wire rack 10 minutes. Invert cake and cool on rack.

Place juice in a saucepan over medium-high heat; bring to boil. Cook until reduced to 3 T (about 4 min). Cool slightly. Stir in powdered sugar and a dash of salt (add scant amount of milk if needed). Drizzle over cake. Serves 16.

Enjoy!

What better way to spend an evening

January 23, 2012

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. There was a light coating of snow outside and more to come, which it did, on Sunday, and I was cooking up my own storm. Bean soup, cornbread, cherry cobbler. It must be something primitive in us to go to town in the kitchen when the weather takes a turn for the colder.

There's something else, too, about cooking. Other than whatever survival issues we have going deep in our subconscious. Cooking and baking, especially, make me feel both productive and calm at the same time. Not many things are like that in my world. Either it's productive and a bit stressful, or calm without much getting done. I'm not one of those enviable people who seems to have a steel cable of calm running through the spirit.

I love to cook alone, but I must say I wish Mr. Sundberg were around more because cooking with someone you love is about as good as it gets. There's the bumping into each other, and one person is making bread and the other is sautéing shrimp and there's wine and conversation and tasting and nodding. It's like a dance, cooking together. And then there's the meal, a table with candlelight and two plates and napkins and delicious food made together and shared. Oh, my.

Cooking with the kids is another story. There's a patience required, but a tenderness that rises up during the mixing and snitching cookie dough and banter about school. It's a way of loving, I think, to make food together, different from the solitary art of doing it alone. Get out the cookbook, I say. Call the children and make a feast. A giant salad or roast chicken or soup. And Valentine's Day is not long off. What better way to spend an evening than searing scallops and shredding lettuce and tasting the pasta dish...together. Dessert is up to you. I say a flourless chocolate cake, perhaps. Or something with cherries and cream cheese. Or a Pink Lady apple, cored and split on a plate, with a truffle from that little place in town. You know the one.

Here's a sweet treat for your sweetie. Make this one on your own, and it'll be a welcome surprise after a day at work or an afternoon cutting wood.

Cherry Chip Cheesecake Bars

1 pkg cherry chip cake mix
1/2 cup butter, softened
2 8 oz pkg cream cheese, softened
1 tub cherry frosting
3 eggs

Preheat oven to 325. Mix cake mix and butter until crumbly. Reserve one cup. Press remaining mixture in an ungreased 9x13 cake pan. In same bowl, beat cream cheese and frosting until smooth. Add eggs and beat until blended. Pour over crust; sprinkle with reserved crumbly mixture. Bake 45 minutes or so until set. Cool, cover, and refrigerate at least 2 hours until chilled. Store in fridge.

Enjoy!

Full of questions

January 16, 2012

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. I had to take a time out from talking with the kids, who seem full of questions these days, adolescence and all. My gosh. I get phone calls about what class to take, what major to pursue, how to combat loneliness, and when am I coming to pick her up. And at home, how do you know you're in love? Why do teachers give so much homework -- don't they know we're overwhelmed? Who won the Vietnam war? What makes you happy? Do you think teaching abstinence is right?

Well. I certainly don't have all the answers. I'm not sure I have any answers. I have my own experience, and my own bank of knowledge, and my own ideas, and my own parents to call when I have questions. Which I do. Often.

It was the abstinence question we spent such time on Saturday afternoon. My goodness. These are my children, and they were asking about SEX, and my responses require careful thought. There's always the textbook route, but really, in the big scheme of things, what matters really is how we love, and you can't point to a textbook for that. So I gave my own thoughts about how abstinence is a fine aspiration for some, and unrealistic for others, and that sex isn't like a pan of bars you share with everyone you meet. I told them there's a lot to be said for being conscientious and safe and respectful and humble, and sex isn't a destination but a journey and they must be responsible and mindful because it's like giving away a tiny piece of who you are. They looked at me and nodded as if they understood, and maybe they do, or maybe twenty years from now, I'll get a phone call where they share that they get it. Who knows.

I did say, as they got fidgety, that sex is a wonderful thing, glorious, even, and when you love someone the logistical issues and questions and awkwardness fall away and it feels good to touch each other and hold each other close as can be, because touch is good and love is good and creatures who go untouched fail to thrive. And then I gave them each a backrub and told them to hit the sack and when they did I poured myself the last of the Irish cream in the fridge and put my feet up and dialed Mr. Sundberg's number as he's in Arizona for the week giving a talk called "Why We Do What We Do." "Got a question for ya," I said, when he answered. "How was your day?" And he replied, and I listened.

This is a family recipe, delicious, and on the table every Christmas. Serve it with everything, including potatoes and salad and bread, and don't underestimate the power of gravy.

Sauerbraten Pot Roast

Top round roast, 1/2 lb per person

Saute 2 cups of sliced yellow onions til light brown.
Add 1 pint of cider vinegar
1 cup sugar
1 T whole cloves
1 T allspice
1 T salt
3 small hot peppers or drop of Tabasco sauce
2 bay leaves
1 quart water

Two-three days before serving, prick the top of the roast on all sides with fork and place in re-sealable plastic bag. Pour cooled marinade over meat, close bag and turn over once a day. Store in refrigerator.

When ready to cook, bring marinated beef to room temperature, about 2 hours.

Remove beef from marinade and pat dry. Strain marinade, reserving the liquid and onions.

Preheat oven to 325. In heated oiled heavy pan, brown all sides, about 5 minutes each side.

Place beef in oven pan, adding marinade to 1/2 way up the meat. Cover pan and braise in oven, turning every 30 minutes, for about 3 hours to get it very tender.

Reduce braising liquid by half about 30 minutes before roast is done; add 1/4 cup red wine and lemon juice to taste.

Carve roast against the grain into slices that are about 3/4 inch thick.

Arrange slices on serving platter. Add raisins and raw almonds to marinade for gravy before serving.

Enjoy!

So hard to grow up

January 9, 2012

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. I'm tempted to say we were out sunning ourselves in the heat but some things just aren't all that funny. Not when you live in a place known for wind chills and snowdrifts and plain old cold and there's nothing but yellowed grass in the yard and a warm breeze blowing in. Just not all that funny.

Like the whole hamster ordeal this week. My youngest asked, through tears, if I would please gently end her hamster's life as the tiny thing was clearly suffering -- a number of growths, hair loss, open wounds, etc. Enough detail. Someone had to do something, and I agreed. I think I spent about an hour researching how I might accomplish the task in the most kind and painless manner, and after a small argument about car exhaust (didn't go that route) it was decided and she went off to school in tears and I set about fulfilling her request.

Rodent or not, pets are pets and such decisions are painful. Carrying them out is a whole other ball game. My gosh. When I became a mother, no one mentioned I'd have to put hamsters out of their misery. I pride myself on exterminating any mice that show up in the house, so you'd think I'd have no trouble. The problem was the interaction. I picked up the hamster, and our eyes met. So much for detachment.

For all practical purposes, the hamster went to sleep and its tiny life slipped away, out of its ragged body. I gently wrapped the cold animal in Kleenex and sprinkled her with cloves and nutmeg and put her in a small cardboard box with some evergreen needles and poinsettia leaves. When my daughter came home, I handed the box to her and she went out into the garage and wept awhile.

The funny version of this story -- and there is one -- I will save awhile. One of those things where laughter might require time passing, and a bit of healing in my daughter's heart. So hard to grow up.

The weather person just said that snow is on its way, later today. I'm just so happy about this. Was simply a matter of time. Like most things.

Nothing like a thick, savory soup full of beans on a cold winter day. Here's the soup recipe. Now we just need a genuinely cold day and we're good to go.

Great Northern Bean Soup

1 1/2 lbs chicken, cooked and chopped or shredded
2 24 oz jars Great Northern Beans (or 2-3 16 oz cans of navy beans)
1 can creamed corn
1 1/2 T chili powder
1 T cumin
1 can Rotel chopped chilis and tomatoes
8 oz Monterey Jack cheese, cubed and added at the end

Cook for 2-3 hours on high in a crock pot. Serve with cornbread and a salad.

Enjoy!

A Postcard from Mrs. Sundberg's

January 2, 2012

Well, I don't have a lot of time at the moment but I wanted to share with you that Mr. Sundberg and I are hidden away at a lodge in far northern Minnesota, a place I discovered on my recent road trip to Canada. Mr. Sundberg is out snowshoeing (he fell twice trying to get them on and there's not much snow so he's a bit on the crabby side) and I have a short while to relax and take in the lovely view of Lake Superior. I wanted to share the word I chose for the year, and it is "revival." I've decided I need to attend to some things that I've let fall to the side in my life, and return to others that I've left behind. Friendships, embroidery, and giving backrubs. (I'm hoping Mr. Sundberg takes my cue and remembers those wonderful foot massages he used to give me...) And photographs, too. I'm going to dig through mine and enlarge and frame them. Why keep them in a box? Not many things belong in a box, and those that do, do for a reason. Love letters and old keys and tax forms. I'd also like to write a book. I began one once, and I think it might have been alright. Going to return to that. Revive it. Might buy a stick or two of lipstick along the way, too. New color. New Year. Make it glow.

Here's a tummy warmer for the cold month ahead. Call your siblings and invite them over to play board games and share a pot of this wonderful Italian stew.

One-Pot Bean and Pasta Stew (Pasta e Fagioli)

1 pound dried cannelloni beans
5 slices bacon, diced
2 large yellow onions, sliced thin
3 celery stalks, diced
4 garlic cloves, minced
1 bay leaf
1/2 pound pasta
5 thyme sprigs
3 tsp salt
10 ounces baby spinach

Pour the beans in a large mixing bowl and cover with cool water. Let sit at least 6 hours or overnight.

Preheat the oven to 325°F.

In a heavy stock pot or Dutch oven, fry the bacon over medium heat. Once all the fat has rendered, remove the bacon with a slotted spoon and reserve. Pour off all put one T of bacon fat. Cook the onions slowly with 1/2 teaspoon of salt until they caramelize and turn golden brown, about half an hour. Add the celery and cook just until the celery is softened, about 3 minutes. Add the garlic and cook until fragrant, about 30 seconds.

Remove half of the onion mixture and reserve with the bacon. Deglaze the pan with a cup of water, scraping up any brown residue that has formed on the bottom of the pan.

Drain the beans and pour them into the pot with the remaining onions. Add the bay leaf and enough water to cover the beans and onions by an inch. Cover the pot and bake in the oven for an hour. After an hour, check the beans every 15 minutes until they are completely soft.

Return the pot to the stove top on medium-high heat. Add the bacon, reserved onions, whole thyme sprigs, remaining salt, and pasta. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the pasta is al dente. Add more water if necessary.

Add the spinach to the pot and stir until it is wilted. Remove the bay leaf and the thyme stems. Taste and add more salt and pepper if desired.

Serves 8-10.

Enjoy!

The most right thing

December 26, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. It's been a humdinger of a few days and I'm happy to say we made it through a number of holiday gatherings intact. I am tempted to use the word "gauntlet" but that implies something not positive and all in all it was a good time. The kids got some lovely gifts from their grandparents -- money, books, slippers, hunting knives -- and some really memorable gifts from Mr. Sundberg and myself: a letterman's jacket, a unicycle, some fine leather boots. And flannel pajamas. And underwear.

We ate well. Ham and turkey, ham and turkey, ham and turkey. Lots of ham and turkey. I love ham. I really like turkey. And now I am craving fajitas. And hamburgers. And rice. Maybe a salad even. And a nap. Oh, yes, a nap. Because my mother gave me this lovely blanket -- soft and ivory and plush and warm -- and I need it to be wrapped around my body at some point as I drift away from the stress.

Because there is always a bit of stress in the joy of the season. It kind of culminated in a comment from Mr. Sundberg's brother about how we always leave early, and nice how the car was parked in such a way (I backed into their driveway to ease up the unloading process) as to make a fast getaway. Well, it was easy to get out of the driveway. However, the whole wanting to leave early thing has been an issue over the years, and the truth of the matter is not that we want to get away from family, but rather go toward time alone. Together. In this beautiful season. Because Mr. Sundberg works hard, very hard, and I rarely see him, and it's mighty difficult to sit staring at plates of food and making small talk and playing games when really all I want to do is snuggle up in his arms by the fire with the tree on and the kids tucked away. Feels selfish to me. But it's true. It's not about not enjoying relatives and such. I love all that. But I love even more being alone with the people I strangely don't get enough of. I don't think that's wrong. In fact, I think it's the most right thing.

Anyway, it's not an argument. It's simply a plug for intimacy, and for time at home, and for something like fajitas or even a frozen pizza. I wish all of that for Mr. Sundberg's brother, and perhaps for someone with whom to share it all. And that would be my Christmas wish, for him and for all people who feel a bit lonely.

Here's a recipe for fajita beef that'll make you tip without a doubt. Cook it up tonight, and Enjoy!

Marinated Beef for Fajitas

1/2 bunch cilantro, chopped
the juice of 4 limes
1 tsp cumin
1 tsp garlic powder
1 tsp paprika
4 cloves garlic, peeled and chopped
3-4 lb beef skirt steak, trimmed

Place ingredients in a sealed container. Marinate in the refrigerator from 20 mins to 8 hrs, turning regularly. Remove meat and place on heated broiler or grill. Cook to medium rare, slice thinly and serve with your favorite fresh fajita toppings like grilled onion, tomato and sautéed pepper. Add avocado if you're an avocado person and roll in a warm tortilla.

That Christmas Spirit

December 19, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. I sat and listened while I ate a slice of apple pie, remembering the sweet potato pie my neighbor Mrs. Roesler brought over about this time last year. It was the best pie, a bit lumpy and kind of spicy with a brown sugary edge just before the crust. She did it every year -- baked a dozen of something and took it to all the neighbors just before Christmas. It was very thoughtful, really, all that work and then it disappeared.

But not really. She brought me a pie, but she also made me feel kind of special. It was so out of the blue. I was mixing up reindeer balls and there she was at the door, still wearing her apron and comfortable shoes, with a pie in her hand and a smile on her wrinkled face. She looked like an elf, or an ad for a bake fest. "Merry Christmas, Mrs. Sundberg, and a Happy New Year to you and to yours." She handed me the pie and before I could speak she'd made her way down the steps and was halfway to her car. "Merry Christmas, Mrs. Roesler!" She didn't look back, just raised her right hand and waved. She was on a mission.

She died on Christmas morning. They found her on the kitchen floor, sitting with her back up against the cupboards, her silver hair drawn up in a bun, her head turned to the left. She was wearing an apron and there was a wooden spoon in her hand, and she was smiling. They said she just died of natural causes, right there in her kitchen. There was sweet potato pie served at her funeral. She had no family, but everyone from the neighborhood was there, on New Year's Day.

The small things one does in a day really are what make a life. I miss that woman. That Christmas Spirit. May heaven have a kitchen, and a drawer full of aprons just her size.

I have a favorite spritz recipe, but it's nice to have a backup, something a little different. This cookie is remarkably light and flavorful.

Cream Cheesy Spritz

1 cup (2 sticks) butter, softened
3 oz. pkg. cream cheese, softened
1-1/4 cups sugar
1 egg yolk
1 tsp. pure vanilla extract
1 tsp. pure almond extract
1 T butterscotch schnapps
2-1/2 cups flour
1/2 tsp. salt

Preheat oven to 350°F. Cream together butter and cream cheese; add sugar.

Cream mixture until light and fluffy. Add egg yolk, beat well; stir in flavorings. On low speed, gradually add flour and salt.

Cookie dough will be soft and somewhat sticky; if too sticky, adjust by adding a tablespoon of flour at a time; if dough too stiff, add a tablespoon of milk at a time.

Fill cookie press and press cookies onto an ungreased cookie sheet. Sprinkle with colored sugars or color dough with a few drops of food coloring to make festively colored cookies.

Bake for 8-10 minutes or until lightly browned. Store in airtight container. Freeze if keeping for more than 2 weeks.

Makes about 4 dozen cookies.

Enjoy!

A kind of hope

December 12, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. I was feeling pretty good after a day with family, a holiday gathering at my brother's home to the north -- all kinds of dips and ham and turkey and potatoes in a cream sauce and bars and cookies. Just about anything a person might want to eat. We did a few photos and laughed and talked and played Scrabble and just WERE together. A good ol' time.

It wasn't until sometime on Sunday that Whatever It Is that I have set in. It wasn't the food or anything, and I haven't been running myself into the ground. But I did catch a bug, a virus, a malaise, and Lord Almighty it flattened me good. I was functioning pretty well on Monday even, but Tuesday I had to lie down and I haven't gotten up since except for a few bathroom visits and a number of trips to the kitchen for Alka-Seltzer Cold medicine, the orange fizzy pills, best thing for malaise since cod liver oil which I've yet to try and hopefully never will.

I don't think I have to say how much I loathe being incapacitated. So I won't. I will say the world is different when you are forced to retire to a couch for more than a day, and you notice things. I've noticed that there are cobwebs in the corners of the family room ceiling. I've noticed that the neighbors' Christmas lights continue to flash in my head a good three minutes after I close my eyes. I've noticed that my body isn't as young as it used to be and I have to gear up to roll over when my head is pounding and my body aches. And I've noticed that, amidst everything in our lives, there are only a few things we truly need. Water is one. Comfort is another. And to have our existence acknowledged and affirmed is pretty darn big.

I think the best moment of the past few days was when Mr. Sundberg came downstairs with a cool glass of water. He handed it to me, tucked my blanket in around my legs, and touched my forehead. It made me feel alive and I felt a kind of hope. (A bit different from the kind of alive I felt when the kids let the hamsters run over my blanket while I slept comfortably until one of them climbed up behind my ear.)

So here's to cool water and forehead kisses and the hope of feeling good again.

Here's a short one, a quick recipe for a holiday treat that everyone will love, and I like to think it's a healthy one, too. Protein in those nuts, you know. And chocolate takes care of the rest.

Peanut Clusters

24 oz vanilla almond bark
12 oz milk chocolate
6 oz semi sweet chocolate
2 lb salted peanuts
Melt together and mix well.
Drop by spoonsful onto wax paper.
Refrigerate.

Enjoy!

What matters really is the thought

December 5, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. I spent Saturday doing house things and cleaning a bit and getting ready for Christmas. I'm so glad worm season is over, I have to say. Not that I don't like worms but my goodness, after a while a person gets tired of scraping them up off the garage floor. They don't do much but poop, which makes fertile soil and for which I am grateful, but I am glad to not have that smell around for a spell.

It's cold out there but I'm not complaining. As I've said, it's part of the whole deal of living here and warmth takes on a whole new meaning. If I WERE to complain about this season, I would put forth the issue of commercialism. My gosh. I was still wearing my vampire pastry maker costume when the Christmas bulbs went on the shelves, and why a person would wait in line for hours on Thanksgiving Day is beyond me.

And the list. I am a list person, and I love lists, but trying to get separate lists for the kids to people to avoid gift repetition is a bit of a pain in the backside. What happened to impulse, to spontaneity? I get it, of course, and I'll play. People are busy and lists make it easier. But this year I'm going off the beaten trail with my own gift buying and finding things I stumble upon and purchasing in the spirit of serendipity and risk and fun. We'll see how it goes. Got my mom something lovely yesterday, and who knows whether she'll like it. I think she will. She likes red, and warmth, and, after all, clicheish as it may sound, what matters really IS the thought...

Comfort foods galore, and if you have leftover turkey in the freezer, pull it on out. I'd suggest using extra dough cut in seasonal shapes to decorate this pot pie, if you've extra time and feel like a bit of fun.

Turkey Pot Pie

6 T butter
6 T flour
2 cups turkey or chicken broth
1 cup milk or heavy cream
Salt, to taste
2 cloves garlic, pressed
1/2 tsp black pepper
4 cups cubed cooked turkey or chicken
1 lb. frozen peas, carrots and onion mixture
Crust for a two-crust pie

In a medium saucepan, melt butter over medium-low heat with the garlic cloves. Whisk in the flour and cook for several minutes, stirring occasionally. Gradually stir in broth until absorbed. Add the milk slowly, stirring constantly so that lumps don't form. Season with salt and pepper. Cook, uncovered, at a low simmer until the sauce has thickened, stirring occasionally. Cool for at least 30 minutes (may be made a day ahead).

Thaw the frozen peas, carrots and onions for 15 minutes. (Note: you can use 12 oz peas and carrots with 1 whole fresh onion, chopped).

Lightly butter a deep dish pie pan or shallow casserole. Line the bottom of the dish with one of the pie crusts. Add cooked cubed turkey and the vegetables. Pour in the gravy mixture. Cover with the upper pie crust and crimp the edges, if you wish.

Bake at 425 for about 40 minutes or until golden brown.

Enjoy!

We're complicated, we humans

November 28, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. I'd just returned from visiting my neighbor Larry, who is still a bit incapacitated after a strange mishap. Seems he's been oversleeping like we all have with the time changed combined with the cold weather. He's one who holds out til the last minute with the furnace, which is -- as most things can be -- both good and bad. He saves money, but is loathe -- as many of us are -- to get his bum out of bed when it's so warm there and so cold out there.

So he went out and bought himself a new-fangled alarm clock, the kind that goes off at the time it's been set, and the alarm triggers a mechanism that sends the clock rolling around the floor. You have to get up and chase the thing in order to turn it off. By the time it's off, you're awake. Things went fine for Larry when it went off Saturday morning. Until the clock made a turn and went down the stairs. And so did Larry.

Safe to say, Larry woke up Saturday morning a short while after his new alarm clock went off. He was at the foot of the stairs in the fetal position, a bump on his head and a pain in his back. The doctor said the concussion is minor and that he'll be back on his feet in no time, that rest is what he needs and some good loving care. I took some chicken soup over, and he's resting alright, propped up there in the recliner with the remote and some ginger ale.

I'm not sure what to say about all of this. I'm inclined to cheer for simple things like stationary clocks and turning on the heat when the air grows cold. But we're complicated, we humans. And broken. We screw up in silly ways, and my wish is that when we do, there's someone out there who overlooks our foolishness and brings us chicken soup. May you not oversleep these dark winter days, and if you do, may you not smack your head against the bathroom door upon rising.

People are heading out to the Dakotas lately to hunt pheasant, and my father so graciously shared his secret recipe for the tasty bird. Have at it.

Creamed Pheasant on Rice

Filet meat off breast of pheasant (or cut in half lengthwise). Remove thighs from leg by disjointing at knee. Remove all shot and feathers from meat. Shake meat pieces in paper bag with 2-3 tbsp. flour and salt and pepper. Brown meat pieces in butter in skillet. When brown, add 1 cup water, cover, and simmer meat until thighs are tender -- about 30-45 min. When tender, remove meat from skillet, and take out any remaining bones. Cut meat into bite-sized pieces.

Add 1T chopped onion to remaining juice in skillet, along with 1 stalk diced celery, if desired, and simmer a few minutes. Add 4 oz. sliced fresh mushroom. Add water if needed, and simmer a few minutes more. Add 1 can cream of mushroom or cream of chicken soup, and meat. Stir, and add enough milk (or add some cream if you feel decadent) to reach desired consistency. Season to taste. Simmer half an hour or so on low heat. Serve over a mix of wild rice and white rice.

Good Rice
Simmer 1/4 c. wild rice in 1 cup of water or 1 cup chicken broth, and 1T butter for 40 minutes. Add 3/4 cup white rice and 1 1/2 cups water and simmer another 20 minutes. Add water to rice if needed to get desired consistency. Remove from heat and let rice stand 5-10 minutes. Serve creamed pheasant over the rice. You can embellish this with veggies, your own favorite seasonings and your own choice of wine.

Enjoy!

Tenderness and lightheartedness

November 21, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. A godsend, as it often is, and source of real delight. There's not enough of that in the world, I think. Light-heartedness. And there's not enough tenderness, either. I could list a hundred things of which I'd like a bit more. Chocolate, of course, and sledding expeditions, and time to lie and bed and fool around but let's not get carried away.

I'm thankful for so much it feels silly to point out what isn't, but then how might we find more of what we wish for if we don't speak it and seek it out? I'm thankful for you, of course, each of you, who pause in your day to pay a bit of attention to my silliness and my agonies. And those of you who love to cook and bake as I do, and indulge me in my going on about it -- for you I am so grateful. For my children and their angst and hopes, for Mr. Sundberg in his diligence and love for things like flannel shirts and good crossword puzzles and speeches that incite and peach pie. For my parents and the trail they've blazed, and my brothers and their passionate, hard-working lives. For Angela and Laurel and Louis and Bob. For starlight, for cinnamon, for cotton towels, and for song.

Two things, this Thanksgiving, I wish for you: tenderness and lightheartedness. One to give, and one to receive on a day when emotions run high. Pause, then, and be gentle with someone, and loving, and sweet. And pause again to laugh, make merry, feel delight.

Emerson said, "I am thankful for small mercies. I compared notes with one of my friends who expects everything of the universe, and is disappointed when anything is less than the best, and I found that I begin at the other extreme, expecting nothing, and am always full of thanks for moderate goods..."
— Ralph Waldo Emerson, "Experience"

I like Ralph. But I like you more. Happy Thanksgiving, Dear Ones.

Crapple Crumb Pie

Crust for a single crust pie, however you do it
1 1/4 cups flour, divided
1/2 cup packed brown sugar
1/2 cup quick-cooking oats
9 T butter, divided
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
Pinch salt
4 to 5 medium apples, your favorite, peeled, cored and thinly sliced
2 tsp. fresh lemon juice
1/2 cup cranberries

Prepare pie crust. Preheat oven to 425. Combine 1 cup flour, brown sugar and oats in medium bowl. Blend in 8 T butter to form large coarse crumbs; set aside.

Combine remaining 1/4 cup flour, granulated sugar, cinnamon and salt in small bowl; set aside. Toss apples with lemon juice in large bowl; toss in cranberries and flour mixture. Arrange apple mixture in pie crust; dot with remaining 1 T butter, then sprinkle with crumb topping. Place on heated baking sheet and decrease oven to 375°. Bake 1 hour or until juices are bubbling. Cool on wire rack. After baking half an hour, cover pie crust loosely with aluminum foil, if necessary, to avoid overbrowning.

Enjoy!

The storm is coming

November 14, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. It was chilly on Saturday, and there's been no snow, but the few leaves left are blowing around in the wind and it's only a matter of time before everything is covered in white. Deep, cold, sparkling snow. Crispy, crunchy, piled up snow. One reason I live here, and one reason I'll never leave.

I talked with my gas-station-lady friend Laurie this morning and she is dreading what she calls "the onslaught." "I don't know how I'm going to survive," she says. Laurie hates winter, and I sure don't judge her for that. I mean, I'm no fan of the drizzle and mud of spring. Everyone is entitled to feelings about the seasons, but that's part of the glory of living where I live. There ARE seasons, and if the one we're in is not your cup of tea, your tea is soon on its way. Much more preferable than a place where every day is the same.

The thing about winter in Minnesota? It helps clarify the meaning of warmth, of comfort. How would we get what it is to come in and peel off layers, warm up by the fire or a hot stove, sip from mugs filled with liquid chocolate or spiced tea, eat bowls of cheesy wild rice soup and plates of steaming chicken noodle hotdish, entwine our legs with someone we love all wrapped in blankets on a big ol' couch, snuggle into a bed piled high with quilts and drift off? Because of winter, we smell wood burning for months. We burn more calories, and have whole days, stretches of days, unable to leave our homes for the snow. We can bake all we want, and play board games, and sit up late watching what the moon does to that snow piled up to our window sills.

The storm is coming, sure. And along with it a thousand ways you're bound to feel good. Just wait and see.

Here's a recipe from my daughter away at college, something she's been craving, and there's a reason for that. These bars are perfect for the holiday, and decadent, and a fine way to bring a smile to the face of someone you love. Good comfort food, too, for the record.

Red Velvet Cream Cheese Brownies

Red Velvet:
1 stick unsalted butter, melted
1 cup sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/4 cup cocoa powder
Pinch salt
1 T red food coloring
1 tsp apple cider vinegar
2 eggs
3/4 cup flour

Cream Cheese:
8 oz cream cheese, softened
1/4 cup sugar
1 egg
1/2 tsp vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 350. Butter an 8 x 8 inch pan.

Brownie layer: Add melted butter to a large bowl and add sugar, vanilla, cocoa powder, salt, food coloring, and vinegar, mixing after each addition. Whisk the eggs into the cocoa mix. Mix in the flour. Pour the batter into the pan, saving 1/3 to 1/4 cup of the batter for the cream cheese layer.

Cream cheese layer: blend together cream cheese, sugar, egg, and vanilla in a mixing bowl. Spread the cream cheese on top of the brownie batter in the pan. Put the remaining cocoa batter over the cream cheese layer. Using the tip of a knife, swirl through the cream cheese mixture to create a pattern. Bake for 30 minutes. Cool before cutting, and store in the fridge.

Enjoy!

Alive in the best way

November 7, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. I was going around turning the clocks back with "The Kentucky Waltz" in the background. Kathy Chiavola played, dedicating the waltz to her mother who died recently. So of course while I'm turning back the clocks I'm thinking about time and how fast it goes and going back in time and when people say, "It's about time", what that really means.

Is it about time? Is WHAT about time? I don't know. What I do know is that if whatever it is, is about time, I'd like to turn back the clocks for just one day. I'd go back to a November in the early 1970s. It was a Saturday, late in the afternoon. The sky was grey, a bit cloudy. No snow yet. We were outside, playing in the leaves with our dog, pulling each other in the red wagon, playing some kind of fighting game with garden tools. Dad was in the garage doing something with hunting gear. Mom was in the house making dinner. Beef stroganoff, let's say.

I don't know if it was true in the moment, but as I recall it was a perfect afternoon. We were alive in the best way, and the air smelled of leaves and wood smoke, and there was no thought of anything beyond that pile of leaves in that yard and each other.

There are other days to which I'd return, if I could. Not to stay there, but to visit. It is about time. And space. And love. That's what it's about, if you ask me.

I know it's getting on in the apple season, but it would be a real pity if I didn't share with you my mother's apple pie recipe. I'm not a pro at pie-baking, but this recipe works quite well. At least, when Mom makes it, it does.

Mrs. Sundberg's Mother's Perfect Apple Pie

7-8 tart apples (honeycrisp or any firm tart apple)
3/4 to 1 c sugar (I use short 1 cup)
2 T flour
1 tsp cinnamon
dash nutmeg
dash salt
Pastry for 2 crust 9" pie
2 T butter

Pare apples and slice thin. Combine sugar, flour, spices, & salt; mix with apples. Line 9" pie plate with pastry, fill with apple mixture; dot with butter. Adjust top crust; sprinkle with sugar for sparkle. Bake in hot oven (400) 50 minutes or till done.

Enjoy!

A gentle spirit and good soul

October 31, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. I spent much of the weekend mowing my yard with the bag attached. Which felt much like vacuuming as most of the leaves got bagged, too, and I filled a large number of the industrial-sized ones, which now rest in my garage. A big job, and something I might complain about were I so inclined. And then there's the whole Halloween shebang, which is a small job in itself if one goes all-out, which I aspire to, but never really do. A lit pumpkin and a big ol' bowl of candy (chocolate bars, of course) and a few window clings and scary books is about the extent of the celebration at this house. I don't have a costume, though. Only some silly round and black-framed glasses which are pretty hilarious in themselves, and a big ol' fuzzy blonde wig. I'll drag the fire pit to the driveway and sit out there and smile and have a nice time greeting the neighbor kids.

My heart isn't in it, though. The news arrived this morning, and there's a silence in the world that wasn't there before. It'll blend in with the other silences, and be there among the din of ordinary life, but if you'll listen for it, you'll always hear it: the silence that Mr. Tom Keith, the sound effects man for the show, leaves behind. He passed away only a short stretch of hours ago, and I was so sad to hear.

He was 64 years old, and worked with Mr. Keillor since 1976. I did not know Mr. Keith personally, but I have met him, and what a gentle spirit and good soul. He made me laugh, made so many people laugh, and what a gift to the world to bring such a thing. And now he is gone, and I've lit a candle for him, and for the sweetness of laughter.

Here's a lovely recipe shared by my best friend Angela, who got it from Dorie Greenspan, who got it from her friend Catherine in France, whose husband has a farm just outside of Lyon and pumpkin is one of his crops. That's how recipes get where they're going; you pass them on to the world.

A REALLY GOOD STUFFED PUMPKIN

1 pumpkin, about 2 1/2 to 3 pounds
4 ounces stale bread, sliced thin and cut into 1/2-inch chunks
4 ounces cheese, such as Gruyere, Swiss, Blue, Cheddar or a combination, cut into 1/2-inch chunks
2-4 cloves garlic (to taste), peeled, germ removed and coarsely chopped
About 1/3 cup heavy cream
Freshly grated nutmeg
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Center a rack in the oven and preheat the oven to 350. Either line a baking sheet with parchment or foil. For a larger pumpkin, use a Dutch oven, as the pumpkin may collapse a bit. Using a sturdy knife, cut a nice-sized cap off the top of the pumpkin. Clear away any seeds and strings from the cap and set aside while you scoop the seeds and filaments from inside the pumpkin. Save the seeds for roasting if you like. Season the inside of the pumpkin with salt and pepper and put it on the sheet or in the casserole.

I prefer to toss the bread, cheese and garlic together in a bowl, then pack it into the pumpkin, but you can alternate layers of bread and cheese and scatter the garlic. Either way, fill it well. You might have a little too much filling or you might need to add to it -- it's hard to be precise. Season the cream with salt, pepper and several gratings of fresh nutmeg and pour the cream into the pumpkin, enough to moisten the filling.

Put the cap back in place and bake the pumpkin for about 2 hours -- check after an hour -- or until everything inside the pumpkin is bubbly and the flesh of the pumpkin is tender enough to be pierced with a knife. Remove the cap during the last 20 minutes or so of baking so that the top could brown. Cut the pumpkin into wedges, and serve it with some of the stuffing, or leave the pumpkin whole and use a big spoon to scoop out pumpkin and filling. You could even scrape the pumpkin into the filling and mix it all up.

Next time, try adding bacon or ham, or herbs (a little thyme might be nice) or pine nuts, or pecans. Makes 2 generous or 4 smaller servings

Enjoy!

Don't want to miss no more

October 24, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. I've been enjoying watching summer sink into autumn, and autumn turn and nod toward winter. And now I am doing all of those lovely things that mark the shift in seasons. Over the weekend I hung white lights on the fence and pulled up the rest of the dead plants outside. I cleaned the kitchen cupboards and made molasses creams and swept the garage and considered Halloween costumes for the kids.

And I did some cooking. Mr. Sundberg has been away giving a talk titled "Intuitive Living" to a few groups up on the North Shore so I invited Angela to visit Sunday for an afternoon of food and conversation, and did we have a time. The kids were around, working on projects for school and commenting on the meal of pure comfort we were preparing: a whole roasted chicken (which I, in truth, have never before prepared -- strange fluke -- and which Angela took it upon herself to show me) and creamed corn casserole and caramelized carrots and blueberry muffins and the most wonderful baked pumpkin for which Angela brought the recipe and the enthusiasm.

It took two hours to bake. The kids thought it was a joke, some kind of Halloween trick, something that might explode if left alone on the table too long. It was a pie pumpkin, mid-sized, cleared of pulp and seeds and stuffed with bread and cheese and cream and butter and a few spices. Baked until soft, the insides scraped and mixed in with the filling, steaming hot and about the most mouth-watering pile of pumpkin goo you'll ever encounter. It was gloriously delicious, and needed salt, and we, all of us, ate until we sat back with blurred vision and declared we could eat no more.

It's good this golden time of year to sit back now and then and indulge oneself. Doesn't have to be a stuffed pumpkin. Could be a good book or a hot bath. You don't take a moment now and then, you'll miss out. True as blue, and trust me, I know. I've missed my share of waltzes and boat rides. Don't want to miss no more.

I never make this recipe in the summer time; it's an autumn pancake, sometimes winter, and it's perfect with sausage and orange juice on a rainy fall day.

Baked Apple Pancake

4 eggs
1 1/2 cups milk
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 T sugar
2 cups white flour, sifted
3 tart apples--peeled, cored and sliced
3 T butter
1/2 cup sugar
3 tsp cinnamon
1 container cream

Beat the eggs until thick; add the milk, salt, and sugar. Sift in the flour, mixing it well. Let batter stand for half an hour. Meanwhile, prepare the apples and cinnamon sugar (1/2 cup sugar mixed with 3 tsp cinnamon) Butter well two 8- or 9- inch round cake pans and sprinkle with part of the cinnamon sugar. Arrange the sliced apples in the pans and sprinkle with the remaining cinnamon sugar and dot with butter. Pour the pancake batter over the apples, dividing it evenly between the pans. Bake at 375 for 30 minutes or until the top is golden brown and set. Cut into wedges and serve plain or with cream poured over each serving. Makes 2 pancakes.

Enjoy!

Just the kind of day for hard work

October 17, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. I'll confess I was something of a nut case this weekend. I somehow got it in my head to wash ALL of the windows and screens in the house. An admirable aspiration, and easy to say. My gosh. After three hours, the kitchen and dining room windows were sparkling. That left four bedrooms and the basement (7 large windows and one sliding glass door).

I did get it done, sometime in the fading light of Monday, and realized as I poured a glass of Riesling, that there was still the giant window above the front door. And the two nasty bug-poop-splattered, cobwebby windows in the garage. So much for exhilaration.

The thing is, after all those hours, I have a lot more clarity. I was able -- in the mindless (or mindful) motions of spray, wipe, spray, wipe -- to give thought to things I normally push aside on an ordinary day: how I really want a hammock and I'm going to find one, how fast the kids are becoming who they are, how I crave protein lately and what's the best remedy for that. A good steak, I'm thinkin'. It's been awhile. And nuts. Salted or candied or just plain nuts.

As for the remaining three windows, I'll do those three on Friday. It's looking like a sunny day, but cool. Just the kind of day for hard work, for good thoughts, for clarity.

A batch of these nuts will fill a bowl several times over, and who can resist? They're healthful, and they taste good. Works for me.

Candied Walnuts

1-1/2 cups granulated sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 cup honey
1/2 cup water
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
3 cups walnut halves or large pieces

Boil sugar, salt, honey and water, stirring often to 242 degrees F on a candy thermometer (soft ball stage). Remove from heat; add vanilla and walnuts. Stir until creamy. Turn out onto waxed paper; separate walnuts with forks.

If you're looking for a snack a bit more quickly, give this one a whirl:

Place 1 cup walnuts and 1/2 cup sugar in a skillet over medium heat, stirring constantly until the sugar dissolves into a light brown liquid and coats the walnuts. Remove walnuts from skillet, and spread them out on a sheet of aluminum foil to cool.

Enjoy!

Nice to have a place

October 10, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. I listened on the radio as I drove home from one of the longer road trips I've taken in a while. Mr. Sundberg took the kids out for a morning at the orchard with the corn maze and an afternoon of pie baking (he's decided apple pie is going to be his thing for this part of his life) and I thought I'd take a drive to see leaves and pick up some pumpkins and some bulk cinnamon at a little place up north.

It was the day. It must have been. The warm wind, the sun, the music, all those gorgeous leaves. I found myself at Betty's Pies just past Two Harbors, and figured I may as well keep going. Why not? And I did. I'm serious. Several hours later, there I was crossing the border into Canada (I keep my passport in the car for such occasions) and I kept on going. All the way into the Municipality of Neebing, past a number of quaint little churches, to AJ's -- a tiny little café and bakery about 30 minutes into Canada. I went in to get something to drink and there were two lovely older women having coffee who said I could ask them anything. I can't tell you their names, but they were warm as could be, I sat and had a cup, and we exchanged the short version of our stories.

They told me Thunder Bay was only 25 minutes or so, and so there I drove, and had a delicious meal of Greek gyros and souvlaki while looking out into a city I've never before visited. I contemplated as I ate driving another stretch to Toronto, to visit James, my son, the artist, who has now opened a pastry shop with his partner, but thought, no. Another day. This day was for me, for an adventure, for quiet, and what would Mr. Sundberg think?

The drive home was over six hours, and that made one glorious day. I called ahead to warn I'd be home late, and I was, and when I got there, waiting on the counter was a pie. An apple pie, with a note reading, "We missed you. Have some." And I did.

It's good to get away. It's good to see things. It's good to explore, and be a little bit unconventional. Better yet, though, is the return. To home and snoring and the creaking of the porch swing in the moonlight. To pie, still warm, waiting there. Wish I could share it with those border patrol people. They sure were a professional bunch, but friendly. I feel safer now, having met them. And having found my house again, hidden away on this big ol' planet. Nice to have a place. Sure is.

Here's the recipe I'm making this week, the week when the temperatures leave the 80s and head for the 60s and the weekend's pie is all gone.

Almond Apple Tart

1 sheet frozen pie crust
1/2 cup almond paste (5 ounces)
1 large egg
1/4 cup flour
1/4 cup sugar
5 cups apples, thinly sliced
2 tablespoons apricot preserves, heated

Preheat oven to 425 F. Coat a baking sheet with non-stick spray.
Press dough out into rectangle on baking sheet and prick with a fork to prevent bubbling.
Bake until it begins to brown, about 10 minutes; remove from oven.
Meanwhile, in food processor or blender, combine almond paste, egg, flour and sugar. Process until smooth, and fold in 2 cups apples. Spread mixture over dough. Layer top with remaining sliced apples. Brush with apricot preserves; broil about a minute until apples begin to wilt. Cut into squares and serve.

Enjoy!

I see the woman winning

October 3, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. Beautiful day, it was, and I've started up with the tasks assigned to closing down a season. Still have windows to wash, but I pulled up a bunch of dead things in the yard and mowed and trimmed and things are looking pretty good. I asked the kids to help, and they did, somewhat reluctantly. So much to do when you're young, and who wants to rake the yard, really. I mean, come ON.

We've been fortunate, Mr. Sundberg and I, to have had few glitches along the way as childrearing people. Our biggest challenge has been that tumultuous transition from childhood to adolescence for each of them. Adolescence itself putting on its boxing gloves. With the first it took awhile, and there were a number of harsh words and doors slamming. Mr. Sundberg took the brunt of that one. And the next was shorter, and more about stress and anxiety than anything, and we all got through. We're in the midst of number three about now, and I seem to be the one responsible for much of the crap in the world.

I'm not complaining, and I'm no victim for sure, but it's a rough thing to love so deeply a person to whom you want to give the world, and you're regarded similarly to how one might look at a wheelbarrow full of warm cow dung. She longs to hold on to the child she was, and I see in her the woman she will be, and the two are duking it out. I happen to be the one in the ring with the whistle, and I see the woman winning. Of course she is. As it should be. I'm rooting for her, even. The rough part comes from having cheered on that child for so many years. But what my daughter doesn't understand and I do, is that the child will survive inside the woman, and she'll find there one day. It's inevitable.

Until things smooth a bit, I'll put my energies into cleaning windows, and helping with homework, and cooking good food with lots of protein and starch and a good measure of fat for the fight. Comfort food, they call it. And it most certainly is. For every one at the table.

If you haven't been to the orchard yet, get there. And when you're home again with apples all over the kitchen, this recipe will take only 6 cups of them, sliced. Makes a good peace offering.

Apple Pudding Cake

1 cup chopped pecans
2/3 cup shortening
1-1/3 cups sugar
2 eggs
2 tsp. baking soda
2 tsp. cinnamon
1 tsp. nutmeg
2 cups flour
6 cups peeled & chopped apples

Preheat oven to 325°F. Grease a 9 x 13 pan. In a frying pan over medium low heat, toast the pecans until they begin to color and become fragrant, 7 minutes or so. Pour into a dish and set aside. Cream together the shortening and sugar, and add eggs one at a time and beat well. Add the flour, baking soda, cinnamon, nutmeg and beat into the sugar mixture. Fold in the apples and nuts. The mixture will be stiff. Spread into the prepared pan, and set aside.

Sauce Mixture
1-1/2 cups packed brown sugar
2 T flour
1/4 cup butter
1 tsp. vanilla
1 cup water
1 cup heavy whipping cream (optional)

In a medium saucepan, stir together the brown sugar and flour. Add butter, vanilla, and water. Bring to a boil while stirring occasionally, and boil gently for 3 minutes, stirring often. Pour this hot sauce evenly over the batter. Do not stir. Bake 1 hour. Serve warm, with whipped cream if desired.

Enjoy!

A mood affecting the body

September 26, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. It had been a quiet day, quiet round the house and around town, where people have come down here and there with something making them tired, generally down, lacking gumption. It's not the kind of thing where you sneeze, or feel feverish, or hack up anything. More a mood affecting the body, laying a person flat for a day or two with no appetite and not much attention to pay. A malaise, perhaps.

I don't have it. But a number of people I care about do, and I think it's sad that at such a beautiful turn of the season with fall starting last Friday and the cool winds and sun and all that there are those who aren't able fully participate. My thought was to help out a bit so I loaded up a batch of homemade pumpkin cupcakes smothered with homemade cream cheese frosting and some hot chocolate mix to take on over to my neighbor Raylene who works harder than just about anyone I know.

Raylene is raising her grandson. She lost her daughter awhile back and she doesn't talk about it much. It was cancer and her daughter went fast. Now Raylene is doing what mothers do, when she ought to be relaxing a bit and visiting grandchildren and canning and going on those bus tours to see the foliage and such.

The cupcakes didn't cure her malaise, but they sure made her smile. "People just don't bake things for me," she said, as she licked the frosting off an entire cupcake. I watched her bite into it, watched her eyes close as she lay her mass of long auburn hair back against her pillow. "Now that is one humdinger of a cupcake," she said. And it was. And so were the five I left at home, one for each of us. I just ate mine. Made me smile, too, all that frosting. Doesn't take much some days, to bring on a smile.

Comfort food is on its way, and here's something you can throw together between yard work and a shower.

Autumn Pork Chops

4 top loin pork chops
6 T teriyaki sauce
2 T molasses (or ketchup)
Marinade chops overnight in teriyaki and molasses.
Season with salt and pepper.

Grill over medium high, basting with teriyaki and molasses. Or brown in a skillet and place in a baking dish. Pour remaining marinade over, and bake at 350 for 30-40 minutes or so, turning chops halfway through.

Serve with corn casserole, or a rice dish. Maybe some corn on the cob.

Enjoy!

From there to here

September 19, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. First show of the season, the opener, and I got home just in time after picking up Mr. Sundberg at the airport. I'd planned a bit ahead and had his favorite dessert waiting for him on the counter, still nearly warm, and he was so happy about that. Apple Caramel Crisp, with a little extra cinnamon, and some vanilla ice cream on the side.

Mr. Sundberg is not what I'd call ebullient when it comes to sharing his innermost feelings, but he came close that evening as we sat listening to the show -- saying over and over again how good that cake was, and how it was worth the long layover in Chicago and how good it felt to be home and how every time he smelled cinnamon he thought of me. "You're my Spice Girl," he said and I threw a pillow at him and he got up and chased me around the living room. (Which looks much different than it might have twenty years ago, but a chase is a chase.) And then he caught me because I let him and we hugged awhile, pressing our cheeks together, not saying much of anything.

Sometimes words don't work so well. Sometimes they get old, or disappear, and then what do you do? I read a quote a while back, something Sophia Loren said about how cooking is an act of love, "a gift, a way of sharing with others the little secrets -- "piccoli segreti" -- that are simmering on the burners." She's got something there. "Here's a dessert I made for you," can change the course of someone's day. It says "I love you," yes, but it says other things, too, the little secrets. Like, "I have time for you" and "I know what your favorite things are" and "I want you to experience apple intoxication." And so we busy ourselves in the kitchen, and drive to the airport and home again, and take out the garbage, and play chase. And press our cheeks together, and all that takes us from there to here. And back again.

Here's the dessert that resulted in a broken lamp and a bump on my forehead because if a cabinet is open, I'll find it with my head, especially during a game of chase, where Mr. Sundberg thinks he is the Grand Champion, and we'll simply let him believe so. Try this dessert over the weekend, especially if it's overcast and you're planning orchard time. It'll warm you right on up after apple-picking.

Apple Caramel Crisp

Topping:
1 1/3 cup oats
2/3 cup flour
1/3 cup brown sugar
1/3 cup sugar
2/3 cup toasted almonds
1-2 tsp cinnamon
A pinch of salt
1 1/2 sticks butter, melted

Filling:
6 green apples (peeled and sliced)
2 cups sugar
1/4 cup corn syrup
1/4 cup water
1/2 cup heavy cream
2 T cornstarch mixed with 2 T cold water

For the topping, combine the oats, flour, sugars, nuts, and salt. Stir until blended. Pour the melted butter over and mix with a fork. Chill until ready to use.

To make the filling, whisk together the sugar, corn syrup, and 1/4 cup water. Cook over medium heat without whisking until you see an amber colored syrup. Remove from the heat and carefully whisk in the cream. Return to the heat and add the apples, cooking them until they've softened a bit. Add the cornstarch mixture and cook until thick. Pour into a square baking dish, and crumble the topping over the fruit filling. Bake at 400 for 25 to 30 minutes, or until golden and bubbly. Serve warm with ice cream.

Enjoy!

Nostalgia's door is flung wide open

September 12, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. It was pretty warm outside and I spent much of the day cleaning up the yard, weeding and trimming and paring it all down for autumn, for fall, for my very favorite time of the year. Everything has a golden cast to it, and feels rich the way rich was meant to be: purples and brown and oranges and yellows and reds; scents of nutmeg and cinnamon and lovely thick sauces and dense, chewy breads; crisp air, pink cheeks, the sound of feet moving through dry leaves, geese honking in the evening sky.

The thing about this time of year is the reminder that things come and go. Nostalgia's door is flung wide open, and Memory gives us a complimentary tour. It's not a sad time, but thoughtful, and more lovely the walks in the woods. My best memories are of autumn days, rolling in the leaves with my brothers and our family dog, waking early on frosty Saturdays to go cut wood with my father in the F150 we named "Ruby", long afternoons in the kitchen baking pies and cookies with my mother.

You can't go back, for sure, so forward it is. We're older now--all here but the dog--and our parents are now grandparents. The beauty of it is that the leaves are going to need raking, and we're all craving apple pie. The pantry is full up with flour and nutmeg, and my brothers and I have our own children to haul out to the woods. It's the Turning, the blessed Turning. And so it goes.

Now we're cookin'. If you grew up where I did, the name of this dish alone will bring up a fine memory or two. My grandmother made it for us after orchard visits in September, and who can resist a mix of sausage, apples, and cabbage? Not this girl.

Red Cabbage and Kielbasa

1 medium red cabbage
boiling water
1/4 cup lemon juice
2 T butter
1/2 cup dry red wine
salt and pepper
2 tart apples--peeled, cored, sliced
1 pound kielbasa or Polish sausage

Slice kielbasa in serving-size pieces. Brown lightly in a skillet and set aside. Shred red cabbage and scald with boiling water. Drain. Pour lemon juice over cabbage and melt butter over medium low heat in a Dutch oven or stock pot. Add red cabbage, seasonings, and apples. Cover and simmer for 30-40 minutes. Top with Polish sausage or kielbasa and cook for 15 minutes longer.

Serves about four.

Toward the Next Thing

September 5, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. I heard it all, the lovely sounds of the State Fair in the background, the crowds, the children giggling, and I could almost smell the deep fried delicacies I so long for this time of year -- the sausages and cheeses and breads, donuts with fillings and glazes and sugars and nuts. Mmm. Comfort in its simplest form, apart from the human hug, which I have been craving since last Thursday, on which day sometime in the afternoon before the sun began to fall, I drove away from my daughter, the oldest, the first to fly, leaving her to her new home, her roommate, and four years of pure joy ahead.

I love quotes. I search for words, and stumble upon someone else's thought -- someone who hits the nail on the head -- and I say, yes, oh yes. A woman named Elizabeth Stone nailed it when she said, "Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body."

I am thinking there is always a kind of ache in the space left by a child flying away into her own life. I try to see it, rather, as a full-circle beautiful thing, the way beauty is flawed and everything is broken but it is the right way of things, and good, and healthful. It is as it should be. However, I will admit to stumbling through these past few days in a weird kind of longing for my little girl, and avoiding her bedroom because it is so quiet and all I can smell is her. I also hear echoes.

At the same time, I am so happy. Life is happening. I will have my Big Cry, and who knows when. There are two children here who miss their big sister, and I have them to hold and lift on up. There is homework to do, and string instruments to repair, and walks with Mr. Sundberg when he's home for a stretch. I have a freezer full of salmon and halibut, and autumn is not long off. Neither is Fall Break, thank goodness, and the Homecoming. Onward then, toward the Next Thing.

Though it's salmon and halibut I've a boatload of, there's still some walleye from the summer's fishing, and this recipe lends a nutty savoriness to a walleye fillet that'll have you asking for one more small piece, if there's any left.

Pecan Crusted Walleye

1 egg
1/4 tsp garlic powder
1/4 tsp onion powder
1/4 tsp ground paprika
1 pinch cayenne pepper
1 pinch salt
1 cup ground pecan meal
4 (4 ounce or so, each) walleye fillets
1 T butter
1 T vegetable oil

Beat the egg with the garlic powder, onion powder, paprika, cayenne, and salt until evenly mixed. Spread the pecan meal into a shallow dish. Dip the walleye fillets into the egg mixture, then press into the pecan flour.

Heat the butter and oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Place walleye fillets into the pan and cook until golden brown on both sides and the fish flakes easily with a fork, 3 to 4 minutes per side.

Enjoy!

The Big Cry

August 29, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. I've been busy with the usual school preparations, and was sorting through pens and pencils and notebooks while the music played on. I love this time of year -- how the air smells, the cool nights, the kids' nervous energy, the idea of book-filled backpacks and apple pie. I love school. Always have.

The difference this year is that not only are the three kids all in different schools, but one of them is going away to college. Away. And I'm having a bit of trouble sleeping at night because I am so excited for her. A bit envious, perhaps. This is it, I tell her. This is your time, and who knows what will happen next. The world is large and full of wonder, and she's got the ignition key for the Big Tour Bus of Life. Where will she go? Whom will she bring home? What will she become? What great gift will she choose to give?

I lie awake thinking about how Mr. Sundberg and I have done our job. A few glitches along the way, mind you. But we've taught her how to live without us, and in a matter of hours, she'll be off. Not that we won't be here with to listen, to give advice, for emergency cash and duct tape and cookies. But, for all practical purposes, she's on her way now, and it's all right and good. Just as it should be.

I remember how she smelled as an infant. I know how she smells now. She smells like flowers and fresh air, and this is so painful, and if I've cried, it's been only for a few moments now and then, thinking about her blue nail polish, her pale skin, her black Converse high-tops, and how, when she sleeps, she purrs. And what it feels like to hear her say, "Momma."

The Big Cry will come later, probably sometime late in the evening, and it will feel pretty good. I may even go out in the backyard and do it, under the stars, where I don't have to be as quiet, where I can lie in the grass -- roll a bit, even -- and let it all spill. It's so hard to let go of my daughter, but she can't be a beacon if her light don't shine. And that's all I have to say for the moment.

Here is a mouth-watering dish, perfect if you've just gone fishing in Alaska and have a boatload of salmon filets to cook up. Make a big ol' salad on the side, and some warm bread, and fresh green beans.

Grilled Salmon

1 1/2 # salmon
1/3 c soy sauce
1/3 c brown sugar
1/3 c water
1/4 c vegetable/olive oil
Mix & refrigerate.

Brush olive oil on grill and grill 6-8 minutes each side. To bake in the oven, which works just fine, place filets skin side down with about half a cup of the marinade. Place in oven and bake about 15 minutes. Salmon will turn reddish-pink when it's done.

Enjoy!

Take some time and spend it

August 22, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. Well, the show wasn't bad, for sure. The reception wasn't so great because I was way the heck out in Homer, Alaska, and I tried so hard to hear the whole show and I think by now I have heard it all after tuning in to the Prairie Home website, which is a godsend if I may say so.

To sum up those six days with my father in Alaska in one word is about as impossible as standing on one's head on a trampoline. I could say it was fun, but I can say just about anything is fun. Sex can be fun, and eating cheese, and mowing the lawn. This was something else. It was a journey and when our plane landed here in the Midwest, my home, I was changed. Not a different woman, but different.

I caught a lot of fish. We did. Our limit of halibut and salmon in two days, and more than our limit, along with a number of sharks and odd fish I was not able to name. It rained nearly the entire trip, with sun at the beginning and the end, but it didn't matter much. We had enough conversation to keep us going awhile, and some amazing meals including Alaskan King crab legs and rockfish and steamed clams which I have never before eaten, and some moments of silence together in landscapes it seems silly to photograph. How do you fit a mountain and all it is into a photo?

I know my father better now. He is a good man, a hard working, kind man who loves his wife and his children and his grandchildren and who gave much of his life to countless thousands of students, teaching them the intricacies of the natural world, the periodic chart, the human body. He's at a fine place, where his passion for hunting and fishing takes him to fields and waters near and far, where he encounters people he knows everywhere he goes, and his blue-eyed smile, in sixty-some years, has not lost its charm.

It wasn't so much a fishing trip to Alaska, really. It was time with the man who raised me, an opportunity to find each other again -- which we did -- and a stretch of days where what makes life really beautiful rose up out of the waves and swells and currents, sweet and scaled and shining, arcing against the horizon.

Find your parents and be with them a while, each alone or together, however it may go. Your children, too. Take some time and spend it. The laundry will be there, always. And so will the dishes, and the lawn needing a good mow. Onward, then, to the next thing.

Here's a recipe from my father, a lovely, simple meal of fish. Try it with corn on the cob, blueberry muffins, maybe some fried potatoes. Cherry pie for dessert. His favorite.

Alaska Halibut Royale

1 1/2 lb halibut filets
1 cup dry white wine
2 tsp salt
1/4 cup fine dry bread crumbs
1/2 cup sour cream
1/2 cup mayonnaise
1/4 cup minced green onions
paprika


Combine wine and salt; pour over halibut. Marinate in refrigerator for a good hour. Drain halibut on paper towel and dip each side in bread crumbs. Place in shallow buttered baking dish. Combine sour cream, mayonnaise and green onion and spread over halibut. Sprinkle with paprika. Bake at 400°F for 10 minutes per inch of thickness, measured at the thickest part, or until halibut flakes when nudged with a fork.

Makes 4 servings.

Enjoy!

The sleeper must awaken

August 15, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. Mr. Keillor started his Summer Love Tour on Friday, I believe, with a show in Grand Rapids, Michigan, and is planning to travel the country with somewhere around twenty shows in the next month or so. My gosh. Thank goodness he'll be back in Minnesota for the State Fair on Friday the 2nd of September, and again for the season opener at the Fitzgerald on September 17th. I won't make it to the state fair as I'm taking my daughter off to college that weekend and I may not be able to think clearly for a bit. The street dance, however, is possible, and there's nothing like that evening out there, dancing to good music with good people, the scent of meatloaf in the air, and stars twinkling above.

I recently came across a quote that stuck with me, something a man named Frank Herbert wrote: "Without new experiences, something inside of us sleeps. The sleeper must awaken." I got to thinking about that Love Tour, and how some people understand about adventure, and that life is short and you get only one, and how easy it is to slide into a kind of comfortable routine where not much happens. Not that routine is bad, mind you. But I'm thinking Mr. Herbert is right -- ain't nothing gonna happen unless you get out there and make it happen. I don't think I'd have it in me to do that many shows in a row, but Mr. Keillor does, and thank goodness for that. No sleeper, that man.

As for me, and mine, today is a routine day and I like it that way. I'm baking peanut butter chocolate chip cookies and finishing up the laundry, getting things ready round the house so I can have good peace of mind while I'm away fishing in Alaska with my father. A journey upon which we embark in the dark hours of Wednesday morning for six days of the Quest for the Halibut-Bigger-Than-I-Am. Yes, I know. It's a little silly. You ought to see me in my fishing gear.

However, it IS a new experience. I recommend the New Experience. You'll get a fluttery feeling in your chest, and misplace your insect repellent and your gardening/fishing/adventure bra as you prepare, and feel some apprehension about getting eaten by a bear. But you'll be awake. Feel awake. Feel. Be. Oh, yes.

I can't seem to get enough blueberries this year, and I've been throwing them into everything and everything into them. Here's a really fine muffin with berries and wild rice. Home-style for sure, and sweet, and plain good.

Blueberry Wild Rice Muffins

1 cup fully cooked wild rice
2 eggs, beaten
1/3 cup oil
1/3 cup honey or brown sugar
3/4 cup buttermilk
1/4 cup sour cream
2 1/2 cup flour
4 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
1 cup blueberries

In medium bowl, mix rice, eggs, oil, honey (or brown sugar), buttermilk, and sour cream. In large bowl, mix flour, baking powder, and salt. Stir in blueberries. Add ingredients from medium bowl into large bowl, stirring until just blended. Spoon into prepared muffin tins. Sprinkle lightly with sugar. Bake at 425 degrees for 15 to 18 minutes. Makes 18 muffins.

Enjoy!

Patience brings good things

August 8, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. Mr. Sundberg is away on a fishing trip to Canada and won't be home til the weekend. We'll have a few days together and I'll get on a plane for my own fishing trip to Alaska with my father, who has been going halibut fishing every summer for a week in the Gulf of Alaska these past few years.

I'm no experienced fisherperson, to be sure. I fished with cheap poles and bobbers in the lakes of my youth, and know how to bait a line, cast, set the hook, reel it in, and remove the fish. Even if it's swallowed the hook. But I have never pulled in anything bigger than 18 inches or so, as I recall. I'm not sure how successful I'll be reeling in a halibut, especially one as big as I am, which I plan to catch, but I'm not losing any sleep over it. Seems there is much more to fishing than the fish, anyway.

Like cultivating patience. Good fishermen and women seem to know this. You sit and wait, and wait some more. And you develop defense mechanisms to ward off insanity while you wait. Distractions. I imagine this is why fisherpeople drink beer. And why conversations turn to the big questions, and why there are so many jokes told and stories shared. Patience brings good things, I tell my kids. My father taught me that. And so did Mr. Sundberg, bless his heart. Waited for him all my life.

These aren't Mr. Sundberg's favorite cookies, but they're right up there on the list of The Best Things to Eat. Serve 'em on a sunny afternoon with lemonade. Or beer, even. Why not. It's August in Minnesota, which means winter's on its way.

Cocomia Cookies

2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
3/4 cup packed brown sugar
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1 1/2 sticks salted butter, softened
2 large eggs
2 tsp vanilla
6 ounces shredded, unsweetened coconut (about a cup)
7 ounces whole macadamia nuts (about 1 1/2 cups)

Preheat oven to 300º F. In a medium bowl, combine flour, soda and salt. Mix well with a whisk. In a large mixing bowl, blend sugars. Add the butter, and mix to form a grainy paste. Scrape down the sides of the bowl, then add eggs and vanilla. Beat until the mixture is light and fluffy. Add the flour mixture, coconut, and macadamia nuts to the sugar mixture, and stir until combined. Do not over-mix. Drop batter by rounded tablespoons onto ungreased cookie sheets, 2 inches or so apart. Bake for 22 to 24 minutes. Makes about 3 dozen.

Enjoy!

The world is full of adventure

August 1, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. I've been keeping busy as I'm sure you have. Never one to get bored because there is, always, inevitably, the next thing. This week it was fishing and haircuts and mowing and a root canal that never happened (thank the Lord). Then it was a meal of eggrolls and salad and noodles. Now it's house cleaning and thoughts toward school and supplies and bus numbers...but not yet.

No, not yet. There's more of summer, a few more adventures, and then I'll entertain thoughts of backpacks and calculators. My gosh, the words "fish pie" have been on my list for weeks now and I haven't gotten to it. Doesn't that sound good? I mean, think about it. Minnesota is all about fishing, and some of the best bakers in the world live here. You'd like fish pie would be a staple. I heard someone mention it in a news story back in June and it won't leave my head. So I've been looking, and if I can't find it, I'll create it.

What I did find in my meanderings was gummy bear brats. Yes. For real. At a little place on 61 called "Grundhofer's." Heard about that in the news, too, and had to find out for myself, and sure enough, there they were - lovely plump brats with little colored gummy bears pressing their little gummy hands and faces to the inside of the brat skin. I couldn't not try them.

They were something else. The only surprise was that I expected little pools of brightly-colored gel in the meat. When I bit into it, no more gummy bears. But there was an amazing sugary coating on that brat, and I ate the whole thing. And then another. Wonderful.

The world is full of adventure. And surprises. Let's hope the popularity of fish potpie will be one of them. Here's to gilled creatures, and to risk. Ahoy, matey.

You can never have enough varieties of salad. And should you reach the "no more" point, try this one. You'll eat your words.

Napa Cabbage Salad

1 good head of Napa cabbage

Dressing:
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 cup vinegar
2 T soy sauce
1-2 oil
Stir together in small saucepan. Bring to a boil; boil one minute.

Crunch:
2T sesame seeds
slivered almonds
1 pkg Ramen noodles, dry and broken up into small pieces
Saute in lightly oiled skillet til lightly toasted. Sprinkle with a bit of soy while cooking.

Shred cabbage thinly (about half an inch) and at a vertical angle. Place in large bowl. Pour cooled dressing over, stir well. Sprinkle with crunch topping.

Serve with Oriental meals, grilled teriyaki chicken, shrimp kabobs.

Enjoy!

Something to be said for the moment

July 25, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. It was the cruise show, and while I listened I imagined myself all sprawled out on the deck of a ship, with nothing to do but breathe in the ocean air and listen to the birds and feel the lull of the ship and the mild vibrations from Mr. Sundberg snoring next to me. Makes me shiver a bit. Not my husband's snoring, but the thought of floating out on the ocean with no dryer buzzer going off in the background and no one asking, "Aren't you making bars today?"

No, I'm not making bars today. It's not my destiny. My destiny has to do with a house on a lake with a big front porch and some rose bushes and pine trees. My destiny includes a boat (I don't care much whether it's a canoe or bass boat or pontoon but now that I think about it I think I'd go for the pontoon), a swing on that big ol' open porch, and whitecaps on those lake waves as often as the North Wind pleases. There's a big ol' gas oven in the kitchen, and toilet seats that don't pinch your butt, and a bed with a soft, even mattress, and windows with shutters to fling open in the morning and lean out like in that aftershave commercial.

There will be photos all 'round of everything between now and then, and the phone won't ring; it will hum, "Hail, Hail, The Gang's All Here" and I will hear echoes of my children's voices in every room. And yes, there will be bars. Of course. How could bars not appear in my destiny? Chocolate cherry bars, mostly-baked chocolate chip bars, lemon bars. Bars every day, or cookies, or a good loaf of cranberry orange bread.

Lord, Almighty. I'm going to have to make a pan of bars. The cruise, a nap with Mr. S on the deck, my dream house on a Minnesota lake, that enormous porch with a view of the sun falling away... It can wait. The kids will be home from the beach soon, and it's been awhile since I've made those peanut butter bars, the ones with the chocolate topping. Something to be said for the moment, this moment, and life within it.

The best things are pretty simple, and one of my favorite meals of my life included cabbage with vinegar poured over it. Here's a fine recipe, one you can count on, and it won't take more than a minute or two.

Simply Fine Coleslaw

1 cup mayonnaise
2 T milk
2 T vinegar
1 1/2 tsp sugar
1/2 tsp salt
1/8 tsp pepper
1 medium head of cabbage
1 lg. carrot, shredded

In large bowl, mix mayonnaise, milk, vinegar, sugar, salt, and pepper; mix well. Add cabbage, shredded, and carrot. Toss gently until well coated. Cover and refrigerate 2 hours or longer to blend flavors. Makes 8 servings.

Enjoy!

The land of Heat

July 18, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. No, not bad at all. I'm going to keep it short this week, a postcard, an advertisement, even, from the land of Heat. Because it's hot as all getout, and it's been that way since the last show, and it's not going to let up for a while now. Most people I've encountered are a bit on the crabby side, and those who aren't have either holed up or irritated the heck out of everyone around with their "I love this warm weather" attitudes. As for me, I can take it or leave it, but in the meantime there are a few things I'm doing to make life not only bearable but something like fun.

1) I'm drinking lemonade like no one's business. Quarts of it. Light and sugar-free, and I'm peeing like a racehorse. But I'm hydrated and it tastes good and I drink it right out of the plastic container.

2) I've abandoned my routine. For now. What's next is whatever goes. I mowed the lawn early on Monday and lay in a tub of cool water for an hour after. With my bottle of lemonade. Apples and berries and bread and cheese instead of meals, the AC on medium cool, and movies in the sleeping dog hours of the day. I do at least one productive thing each day, and at least one thing that feels purposeful. Apart from that, routine has gone out the window. I even sleep when I feel tired, and have been up late doing the laundry. Routine is like a reliable aunt. She'll return in good time, and when she does, things will get done.

3) I've taken off my clothes. Not permanently, and not in public. But when I'm alone and it's this hot, well, there's something to be said for nudity. My kids are away at Grandpa's Fishing Camp this week, and I'm hoping it's a Nude Fishing Camp. More power to 'em. As for me, already this week I've made lemon bars and vacuumed and dusted and watched two movies thusly. Nude. Not the same as naked, which has something to do with impulse and risk and could get naughty. Nope. Nude is respectful and without apology and carries an element of grace if you don't get caught up in details. So there you have it. My response to weather so hot you lose where your skin ends and the air begins. Have some lemonade, put in a movie, and take off your clothes. Enjoy. Winter's not long off, and it's going to be a cold one.

Made this one on Tuesday and it tastes even better today. Serve it up with fresh strawberries for anyone who drops in. Just make sure you throw on some clothes first.

Buttery Bundt Cake

3 cups all-purpose flour
2 cups sugar
1 tsp salt
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 cup yogurt
1 cup butter, softened
2 teaspoons vanilla
4 eggs

Buttery Sauce:
1/4 cup sugar
1/3 cup butter
3 T water
2 tsp vanilla

Grease a Bundt or tube pan with butter and dust lightly with flour. In a large bowl, combine all ingredients for cake. Beat at low speed for 30 seconds. Beat for 3 minutes at medium speed. Pour into pan and bake at 325 for 60 to 75 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in center comes out clean.

Sauce:
In a small saucepan, mix together sugar, water, and butter. When butter has melted, remove pan from heat. Stir in vanilla. Using a large fork, make deep perforations in top of cake. Pour 3/4 cup hot sauce over cake while still warm.

Cool cake upright in pan for 5 minutes. Run a butter knife around edges of cake to help free from the pan; turn cake out onto a serving dish. Pour remaining sauce over cake.

Serve with fresh berries and ice cream.

Enjoy!

Gifts for the good life

July 11, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. I went through my recipe box as I listened, hoping to find something new, and I did -- a small pile -- and Mr. Sundberg and I had a long talk over artichoke dip about what our respective purpose(s) might be and whether or we're making progress. We certainly don't agree on everything, but that is not a bad thing. Someone else's opinion helps you to clarify your own, and clarity is often an elusive thing. What we did agree on is that we like each other still, and it's nice to have a little mystery in life, and that we seem to be on track with why we are here.

It's not often I have the pleasure of good conversation. Much of my talk time takes place over the phone, kind of matter-of-fact discussions about today and tomorrow and what's good lately and so on and what's going on with the kids and what our plans are for fall. Not that I mind that. It's essential, I think, that kind of connecting. Just a call to say "hi" and touch base and so on. I like the ordinariness of daily conversation, the run-into-each-other-at-the-post-office impromptu-ness and the small questions and such.

Where it's at for me, though, are those few-and-far-between flights into higher-level thought and/or the Extraordinary, where two or more people ask and answer questions about why we are here and how survival of the fittest can be applied to human life and to what end we procrastinate. The realm of supposition, speculation, introspection, theory. The big What If conversations, and the What Are Your Thoughts on Doubt go-rounds and the What's Out There discussions No, there aren't any real answers, and no one really knows anything for sure. But the attempt to understand is an answer in itself to the Big Questions, and it certainly doesn't hurt to have a plate of bars on the table, or a perfectly roasted pork roast.

So there you have it. Food and conversation. Gifts for the good life. If you want to discuss it, you know where to find me.

This week I'm sending along a recipe from Mary Timmons Graupman, generous of heart visitor to my Facebook page. I tried this recipe with fresh raspberries and my gosh. Wonderful, and simple as all getout. The blueberry version is next. Have at it, and enjoy!

Fruit Crisp

Place 5 cups of fruit in a lightly greased
8x8 pan. Toss gently with 2 to 4 T of sugar.
Set aside.

In a medium bowl, mix together:
1/2 cup rolled oats
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/4 cup flour
1/4 tsp ground nutmeg, ginger or cinnamon, depending on the fruit.

Cut in 1/4 cup butter
Stir in 1/4 cup chopped nuts or coconut
Sprinkle mixture on top of the fruit.
Bake in a 375 degree oven for 30-35 minutes.
For blueberry crisp, which can be tart, you may need to add an additional 4 T of sugar and 3 T of flour.

Work is like air

July 4, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. It's been a bit frustrating these few days with the government shut-down and all. Nothing I can't deal with. My son can wait to get his driving permit, and the fact that the bridge work is on hold just means we'll have to wait a bit longer to get where we're going in a timely manner. The county road work is being done, though, and thank goodness for people who know how to fix roads.

Whom I feel for are the people whose work has been shut down. Work is like air. Keeps a person alive and smiling, and if you don't get enough, you can suffocate. I imagine they're finding things to keep them busy, but I wish more than anything that they get their work back in a timely manner. I imagine people find things to do in the meantime, but it's not the same as having your work to go to and do and come home from.

My oldest just started her first job a week ago. She's a hostess at a small family restaurant, and she chatters all the way there and all the way back about how happy she is to have work to do that keeps her busy and feels productive. She hasn't mentioned being paid for that work more than once, and for her the paycheck isn't the glory. It's the feeling useful and doing something that, to her, is meaningful.

Once she does get paid, and I ask for a cut to cover gas and her "uniform", I imagine she'll give more thought to the significance of the money she's earning. She may step back. She may get a bit ruffled. I'll explain that there's a cost to living, and to convenience, and that real life isn't as easy as it appears. That it's good to love your work, and it makes sense to get paid, and to pay your own way. And that when that privilege and freedom is taken from you, it takes your breath away.

I'm going to clean my house today. Not because it's so dirty, but because it's mine, and because I can. I'm going to bake, too, and take the back road to drop the kids off for a movie, and write some about what it means to shut down, and why it's important to be positive, and maybe a short piece about the best kinds of wooden spoons. Here's to good work, and hard work, and the people who do it, and those who wish to.

There are a few blueberries left in my freezer, and since I'm going pickin' soon, I'm using what I've got so I might load 'er up again. This recipe uses one cup of blueberries. And it's dang good. Remember to be gentle, always, when mixing in berries.

Blueberry Biscuits

Mix the following in a large bowl:
1 1/2 cups white flour
1/2 cup whole wheat flour
1/2 cup chopped almonds
3/4 tsp salt
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/4 cup white sugar
Mix in 1 cup blueberries.

In a separate bowl, mix the following:
3/4 cup buttermilk
1/2 cup of your favorite oil
1 beaten egg

Gently stir the liquid mixture into the dry mixture. Turn out onto a floured breadboard, divide into 12-16 pieces and roll each piece into a ball. Place pieces on a greased cookie sheet and bake in a preheated 400 deg. oven for 12 minutes, or until golden brown.

Enjoy!

One fine afternoon out there in the park

June 27, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. I was a bit tired after washing and hanging out sheets all day and won't say I dozed off during the show but it's so darn relaxing I came close. If I'd been out in the hammock, I would have been out for sure. Turned in early as a result, and lucky for me, as Sunday was a day of energy and surprises.

I've a few friends who have a hooking group and work on these lovely rugs and wall hangings together every week for a few hours. They've been on me to try it out, and - not being a person to avoid new ventures - I headed out late Sunday morning for a hooking store down in Minneapolis. I figured I'd load up on a few basic supplies and give it a whirl.

Normally I'm good with directions, but I got turned around and ended up caught in traffic like I've not seen in a long while. Rather than fight it for an inordinate amount of time, I parked my car and figured I could find the place on foot. I stopped a group of interesting looking people to ask for directions to the hooking store, and one of them told me she knew of it, but it was some distance away and I might want to drive there. I asked what was going on with all the traffic and people and they explained that the parade had just started and events in the park had been going on all weekend.

More than most things, I love a good parade and figured why not? Ten minutes later I found myself with a front-row seat for one of the great parades I've seen in all my years. The Gay Pride Parade. My gosh. There were all kinds of churches represented, and organizations, and the mayor was there, and all kinds of politicians and radio stations. There were a few floats I didn't quite get, like the one with over twenty men in smallish swimsuits dancing wildly, but they were having a great time and the music was loud and had a catchy beat. My own grocery store was even represented with a giant grocery cart and lots of people handing out pamphlets.

Every now and then people in costume rode past on bikes or golf carts, people dressed in flamingo costumes and lovely dresses, with a lot of makeup and big hair and they were having such fun.

As I wandered through the park after the parade, I felt a bit moved. Such a vast array of people in the world, and here were a good number of them, and they were eating pronto pups and buying jewelry and singing on stage and dancing in the grass and having long conversations with people they love or just met or have known all their lives. It felt comfortable to me, like a family reunion, and I confess I really didn't want to leave. So I didn't. Hooking can wait, I thought, and I got myself a deep-fried pickle and sat on a bench next to a lovely person named Chris and had myself one fine afternoon out there in the park, sun-lit and miles from home.

Lemon bars are best on warm days when you crave something sweet and tangy and chocolate isn't an option. This recipe has been around as long as I recall, and I imagine once you try it, it will become a summer treat for years to come.

Grandma's Lemon Bars

1 cup butter, softened
2 cups flour
1/2 cup powdered sugar
Mix well. Press into a greased 9x13 pan.
Bake for 15 minutes at 325.

Mix together:
4 T flour
2 cups sugar
1/2 tsp baking powder

Add 4 eggs
4 T lemon juice, freshly squeezed
Grated rind of 1 lemon

Whisk mixture until blended and pour over cooled crust. Bake 25 minutes at 350. When cool, glaze with a mixture of lemon juice and powdered sugar.

Enjoy!

To life and to Onward and to the rain pouring down

June 20, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. I had to sneak away from clean-up after the big Open House for our daughter. It was a four-hour event, but the build-up went for weeks and though the clean-up didn't take long, it seemed like a lot in one day. We had, at one point, over 50 people in our two-car garage, where we'd set up tables for food and gifts and eating. The rain did not hold off and it came pouring down several times that afternoon, and what can you do. You seek shelter, and hold on to your cup, and let go of your thoughts of The Perfect Day.

Some people spend years preparing for the Graduation Open House - landscaping and deck building and cultivating and so on, but we've never been much for that. Mr. Sundberg mowed and cleaned the garage and swept the drive, and I gave the house a once-over with a dusting cloth and vacuum, but beyond that we didn't do a lot. So when the rain came pouring down it wasn't a major let-down, rather a demand for small adjustments like moving tables inside and making sure the crepe paper stayed in the rafters where it wouldn't be dragged through water on the wet garage floor.

What makes a gathering good and successful isn't about the weather. It's the mix of people and the camaraderie, and if there's good food and drink on the side, that's a real bonus. We had a lovely taco bar, several coolers full of pop and beer, and a modest box of rather cheap wine. There were plastic lime, pink and orange tablecloths (our daughter's color selection) and a cake you could use as a weapon, it was so large and dense. And delicious. Vanilla, with raspberry filling.

And we had family there, and friends, and people from church and town and school whom our daughter invited because they've meant something to her life, and the mix of people in all of their humanness and brokenness and joy was something to behold. There was room for tension here and there, and not everyone knew everyone else, but when you get a bunch of people together in celebration, something happens. It's magical, maybe, or holy, or just my imagination, but Good rises up and we raise our plastic cups to life and to Onward and to the rain pouring down.

It might be the tang, or the simple everywhereness of it, but I've had rhubarb on my mind and here's another recipe that very well may send you over the edge.

Rhubarb Crunch

1 cup flour
3/4 cup rolled oats
1 cup packed brown sugar
1 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 cup butter, melted
4 cups sliced rhubarb

Topping

1 cup sugar
2 T cornstarch
1 cup water
1 tsp. vanilla
Red food coloring

In a large bowl, combine flour, oats, brown sugar, cinnamon, and butter; mix until crumbly. Press half of the mixture into an ungreased 9 inch square baking pan. Cover with rhubarb. For topping, combine sugar and cornstarch in a small saucepan and add water. Cook and stir until thickened and bubbly. Cook and stir 2 minutes more. Remove from the heat, and stir in the vanilla and food coloring. Pour over the rhubarb. Top with the remaining crumb mixture. Bake at 350 for 50 minutes or until bubbly.

Enjoy!

Memory is such a blessed thing

June 13, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. I was happy to kick back awhile after one of those long weeks you don't encounter very often. Last week of school, a bunch of concerts, and the graduation of the first born from high school -- something you can prepare yourself for til the cows come home and then it happens and you're there and you trace the circle from day one in your mind and it's something to behold. It's your kid up there, in a cap and gown, receiving a diploma signifying passage onward, and something catches in your heart.

Mr. Sundberg and I were there, in the field house, as the weather was threatening so they moved it inside and our ticket number dropped to two. Just us standing, together, for over two hours where time stood still, and I don't know about Mr. Sundberg but I was reliving days gone by -- her first day of school when she got off the bus and asked what the "f" word means, the day she was confirmed, the time she had mono for two weeks, her first kiss, how happy she was that one autumn day last fall when she spent most of the day in the sun out on the porch making collages and said, quietly, "I'm so excited for my life." And, of course, the day she came into the world. Plump, dark-eyed, alert. I said her name and she looked at me and I told her I'm her mom. Mr. Sundberg took her in his arms and held her and looked at her for a very long time and whispered things I could not hear. That was eighteen years ago, and I remember those moments and how she smelled and her long fingers clear as day.

Much of life is on the uneventful side, but it balances out the chaos, and somewhere in between you have these moments, these extraordinary simple moments, and they are beautiful, and fleeting, like wind storms, or birds flying by, and you can't make them stay. That's why we have scrapbooks, and why memory is such a blessed thing.

I'm on a rhubarb kick lately, and made these for the kids on their first day of summer vacation. I found it years ago in an old church cookbook and tweaked it a bit to make it my own. It's the nutmeg with this one, and the oatmeal, too.

Rhubarb Crumb Bars

Top and bottom "crust"
2 cups flour
1 1/2 cups oatmeal (uncooked)
2 cups brown sugar (packed)
1 cup butter (melted)

Filling

1 1/2 cups sugar
3 T flour
1/2 tsp nutmeg
2 T butter (softened)
2 eggs (beaten)
4 cups rhubarb (cut into 1/2" pieces)

Mix flour, oatmeal, brown sugar and butter until crumbly. Press 1/2 into greased 9 x 13 pan. Add rhubarb. Beat egg. Blend sugar, flour, nutmeg and butter and add beaten egg; beat until smooth. Pour over rhubarb. Top with other half crumb mixture, press mixture down lightly. Bake at 350 degrees for 20-25 minutes.

Enjoy!

So many ways of looking at a thing

June 6, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. I meant to sit down and write on Monday but it was so hot I couldn't do much of anything. The only thing that made Tuesday better was the wind. Lovely, strong wind burning through the trees. Oh, and the toffee ice cream I picked up Monday night helped make Tuesday bearable. The temp in my car was 106 at three in the afternoon. I felt I'd been dipped.

I'd run out for some paper towels and a container of Baby Bella mushrooms for burgers, and as I entered the grocery store, I heard the screaming child. I don't mean crying. I mean screaming. And it didn't stop, for twenty minutes. Everyone in the store could hear, and everyone had been or would eventually be out in that heat. Tolerance was low. When I at last caught a glimpse of the mother at the checkout, she looked rather of it. Glazed. She was smiling and humming as if her child wasn't screaming in front of her. Out the door they went, out into the hot heat, and a quiet fell over the store.

People shook their heads. I didn't, but might have. On one hand, that woman ought to have removed her child from the store in the first minutes of tantrum. On the other hand, she seemed to have found a fine way to manage her stress, and her child got some serious exercise, and it was no skin off my elbow. I'd cry too if I were wearing a wet diaper and stuck in a cart and unable to find the right words for how I feel.

I love that there are always so many ways of looking at a thing. Which is where we get arguments, and I always did love a good argument. If I were to argue now, I'd speak on the side of compassion, for having it, and for exercising it, whatever that means. Because it makes sense to me. Sure does.

Seems when it's this hot, a slice of sweet bread will fill a person up til the next meal. Try this one out, and if you don't share the second loaf with a neighbor, throw it in the freezer.

Rhubarb Bread

1 1/2 c diced rhubarb
1 1/2 c brown sugar
2/3 c. oil
1 egg slightly beaten
1 c. buttermilk
1 tsp. vanilla
2 1/2 c. flour
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. soda
1/2 c. chopped walnuts
A pinch of cinnamon

Topping -- 2/3 c. granulated sugar mixed with 2 T melted butter

Mix brown sugar, oil, and egg together. Sift salt, soda, flour & cinnamon together. Add dry ingredients alternately with milk to other mixture. Fold in rhubarb and nuts. Fill 2 lightly greased loaf pans 2/3 full. Sprinkle with topping. Bake at 325 for 1 hour.

Enjoy!

The rhubarb capital of Minnesota

May 30, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. I'd just finished putting together a Sweet Vidalia Tart when Mr. Keillor began his monologue. I don't know what it is, but something about listening to a good story makes all the world melt away and it's just me and that voice and the story itself, and not much else matters for a while. You feel lifted up, taken away, and return feeling a lovely sense of delight.

Road trips are like that. Departure and return, and the journey itself. It's been a while since I've taken a good road trip. The last great one took me to Lanesboro last June for the Rhubarb Festival. Whoever first said, "And a good time was had by all" had just returned from Lanesboro. They are, after all, the rhubarb capital of Minnesota, and a well-deserved name that is. There was rhubarb sauce and bars and pie and lace everywhere, and when I saw all the aprons on display, fluttering in the park, I thought I'd been raptured straight on up.

Things are different this year. The Rhubarb Festival is this coming Saturday, June 4th, 10-4 pm, and I won't be going. Not for lack of want, mind you. One of my children is about to graduate from high school, and that has to take precedence over rhubarb cream puffs. It just does. There's so much to do, and to consider, not to mention navigation of the emotional rollercoaster I've been on these past weeks. When they say, "They grow up before you know it", listen. It's true. Such delight.

Well, I've been a Vidalia girl since I graduated from high school myself, and when a dear friend handed this recipe over, I screamed for joy. Literally. And, if you knew me, you might think that is a bit odd.

Sweet Vidalia Tart

3 T butter
1 large Vidalia onion, diced
1/2 cup sour cream
1 (12 oz) can evaporated milk
1 packet dry leek soup mix
3 eggs
1 1/2 cups shredded Monterey Jack cheese
1 (9 inch) deep dish frozen pie crust

Preheat oven to 375. In a large heavy skillet, saute butter and diced Vidalia onion. Cook until lightly caramelized. Remove from heat and whisk in sour cream. Slowly whisk in evaporated milk. Whisk in dry soup mix until lumps disappear. Whisk in eggs. Mix in the shredded cheese until blended. Spoon mixture into an unbaked pastry. Place pie on a cookie sheet and place into oven. Bake in preheated oven 40 to 45 minutes; or until a knife inserted comes out clean. Let stand 10 to 15 minutes.

Enjoy!

Today light shines on it all

May 23, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. Couldn't have been a better way to decompress from two days of rain. Almost solid rain. During a garage sale. My garage sale. After three weeks of gathering stuff from friends and family and a few strangers, I closed the garage door Saturday afternoon on about a third of what was there to begin with.

Just in time for the rapture. Which didn't happen, but there's always that little thought that maybe, this time around, something will. And it did. Took a while, and it wasn't the rapture, but it nearly blew us all away.

I don't have much, never wanted much, but today light shines on it all, this moment. Got my kids texting about who needs a ride after school. A post-garage-sale garage. Mr. Sundberg calling from Seattle, where he's giving a motivational speech titled, "Live It Up or Give It Up", and a pink geranium sadly in need of something I can't give it. Got a VoiceMail from my mother asking for a day together, an appointment for a root canal a week from Friday, and the Lanesboro Rhubarb Festival to look forward to.

Perhaps the rapture is a slow thing, taking all our lives. Perhaps my life is rapture, one hour at a time, too close for me to see it clearly. Perhaps. I'm going to go hang sheets on the line now. The lilacs are in bloom, and the frogs are hollering. The sun is shining, and there's just enough of a breeze. My gosh.

Some of my best meal memories include a plate of walleye. Try this recipe for Father's Day, or Memorial Day, or Thursday, just because.

Honey Fried Walleye

8 large walleye fillets
2/3 c. oil
1 egg, slightly beaten
1 tsp. honey
2 c. coarsely crushed Hi-Ho or Ritz cracker crumbs
1/4 cup flour
1 1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. pepper

Dry fillets on paper towel. Heat oil in 10 inch skillet. Mix egg and honey together. Dip fillets in this mixture, then coat with cracker crumb-flour mixture, pressing crumbs into fillets firmly. Fry about 3 minutes on each side in preheated oil. Serve immediately. Serves 6 to 8.

Enjoy!

All kinds of things worthy of mention

May 16, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. I was still recovering from the excitement of Mother's Day as the Powdermilk Biscuit song played away and I sorted through things donated by family and friends for our garage sale coming up this weekend. Found all kinds of things worthy of mention, and some not so:

An air purifier.
A neon beer sign.
A box of panties. Large panties. (Oxymoronic, I guess, now that I think about it.)
A sling shot.
A box of new footie pajamas. (I may keep them.)
7 rolling pins.
A tin of old buttons.
A barely used grill.
A stack of old National Geographic magazines.
A painting of a ship in a stormy sea.
And more and more and more.

Of course I'm in danger of making the classic mistake of keeping other people's stuff. You must be careful when you think of calling it junk, because it's not. It's simply no longer meaningful or useful to its owner, and it's time to rotate. Kind of like eating at a Chinese restaurant when you all switch plates. Keeps it interesting.

I'm tempted by the ship painting, but tempted is all. The grill I'll keep, as I prefer charcoal to gas, and one pair of the footie pajamas works just fine. I'll pass on the large panties, and one rolling pin ought to do. Because they belonged, once, to someone I love.

I like the idea of garage sales. Actually having one is its own little trip. I'll be glad when Saturday evening arrives. I'll pour a glass of wine and listen to the show, and consider where to take whatever's left. But that's Saturday. Until then, I'm up to my ears. And who knows what will happen?

I love fishing, to be sure, but even more I love cooking the fish I catch. Here's a simple, elegant recipe for walleye. Make it for your dad for Father's Day. I'm serious.

BROILED WALLEYE

4 walleye fillets (about 1 1/2 lb.)
1/3 cup sliced almonds, crushed
2 tsp lemon juice
1 T prepared mustard
1 T soy sauce
1 tsp sugar
Dash of red pepper
1/4 cup heavy cream

Mix all ingredients well and spread evenly over walleye fillets. Place fillets on a greased broiled pan and broil five inches from the heat in a preheated broiler for about 10 minutes or until the fish flakes when probed with a fork. Serves 4.

Enjoy!

Mother's Day Adventure

May 9, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. I spent most of the evening getting laundry done and bread pudding made for breakfast so we could all just get up and go on our Mother's Day Adventure. Which is not a yearly thing, mind you, but now and then for Mother's Day I get it in my head to do something off the beaten path.

Which, this past Sunday, included a trip to the Minnesota Zoo. Not because the kids wanted to go to the zoo, but because I did. I have fond memories of visiting Samson the Gorilla at the Milwaukee Zoo, and feeding bears at a zoo near my hometown. Plus, it's a good way to spend time together while learning a bit and walking here and there and laughing now and then. It felt like an adventure to me. And mothers got in free.

Especially when we got to the area where they keep the Asian Wild Horses. Beautiful creatures, they are, and the only undomesticated horse on the planet, I believe. And, in the spirit of spring and wildness and undomestication itself, one of the male horses chose the several minutes it took us to wander by to act on his state of arousal -- which was outwardly both formidable and difficult to not notice. "Run!" one of the kids hollered. They looked at me, unsure of what to do next. It's okay to watch, I told them. It's a natural, normal thing.

The female horse involved continued feeding on grass while the male did his thing and then it was over. "Well, I guess we can go now, now that we've seen everything," one of the kids said. They were quiet for a while, and then wanted cotton candy. We walked on, and saw bison, bears, and a beautiful trumpeter swan; prairie dogs, camels, tapirs and angelfish. Glory.

Wasn't a perfect day. It began to rain mid-afternoon, and that's when we left. Stopped for Chinese food on the way home, where I opened some lovely gifts. An ice cream scoop, some Dead Sea bath salts, chocolates. And flowers. And then we sat together and talked about storms and schoolwork and the mating habits of horses.

I take that back. It was a perfect day. And those children. Oh, I love them.


Time for berries, and the best recipe I've found for shortcake is on a box.
Here it is, and I've changed it a bit to make it my own, and you can do the same.

The Best Shortcake

2 1/3 cups Bisquick baking mix
3 T butter, melted
1/2 cup milk
3 T sugar

Heat oven to 425° F. Stir baking mix, melted butter, milk, and 3 T sugar in a mixing bowl until soft dough forms. Add a dash of nutmeg if you're a nutmeg person. Drop by 6 or 8 spoonfuls on to a greased cookie sheet. Sprinkle with a bit of sugar. Bake 9 - 10 minutes or until light brown.

Makes 6 larger biscuits or 8 smaller. Serve with strawberries crushed with sugar, fresh peaches and cinnamon sugar, or blueberry topping. Include whipped topped for a complete meltdown.

Enjoy!

Life is as sweet as it is difficult

May 2, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. The weather hasn't been bad, either, though there was snow on Sunday, May Day, and a bit on Monday. It's not the worst thing, but most things aren't the worst thing. Almost everything isn't.

I've got to be honest and say it's been a rough stretch. The weather the least of it, really. What's happening in the world is a lot, and can get a person preoccupied, and throw in tax issues and financial aid issues for the one going off to school and graduation and garage sales and summer coming with all of the packing for cabins and trips and gatherings and the fact that I can't find the one recipe I've been craving... well. Not to unload all of my stuff on you. But there are days. And now that the sun is out I'm able to see flowers blooming and happy little bugs and the kids are out with their red balls and bikes and wiffle bats and I'm feeling a bit less frazzled and a bit more refreshed. Opening the windows helps. That breeze smells like green and light.

What I'm doing right now is making funnel cakes. My daughter said yesterday how sometimes she feels better after she eats something obnoxious, so funnel cakes for lunch it is. The tax question can wait, along with the financial aid forms. What can't wait is my growling belly, and the piled up laundry, and the walk I'm going to take after I fill up on funnel cakes. A long walk, and without direction. Just that feeling of the earth falling away behind me as I move forward.

Life is as sweet as it is difficult. The blessed mix. Trying and true. Don't you know.

It's nearing pie time again, and this recipe, from a friend who can recite it, is more than good for a Mother's Day surprise or a sunny picnic.

Good Rhubarb Pie

Crust:
3.5 cups of flour
6 T sugar
1/4 tsp salt
1/4 cup Crisco butter shortening
1/4 cup butter
10 T ice water

Rhubarb Filling:
8 cups (or 2-lbs) rhubarb cut finely
1tsp vanilla extract,
1tsp almond extract
1 cup packed brown sugar
1 cup white sugar
1/4 cup tapioca finely ground in coffee grinder or spice mill
3 T corn starch
1/4 cup flour
1.5 T lemon zest
1/3 of a nutmeg, fresh ground (I use a fine cheese grater)

Combine dry pie ingredients. Cut in butter and shortening, sprinkle in ice water. Toss until crumbly but don't form into a ball. Place 2/3rds in between parchment paper and squish down and roll out (12 inch circle for bottom crust), the other third for the top crust (9-inch circle). Slide onto a cookie sheet and place in the freezer for 10 minutes. If you go too long in the freezer it the top crust will break when you place it on top the pie filling and bottom crust. Place bottom crust in 10-inch pie plate.

Mix all rhubarb ingredients in a bowl and pour onto the center of the pie crust. Cover with top crust cut and decorate as you like. Bake at 425 for 25 minutes, lower the temperature to 350 for 45 minutes; cover the top with foil if it gets too brown. Serve with freshly whipped cream.

Enjoy!

A lovely meal for a lovely girl

April 25, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. I'm tempted to say I was out shoveling, but there wasn't quite that much snow and no one would laugh at what would have been intended as a joke. Let's just put it all out there — I'm sick of snow and the sooner it stops appearing the sooner that first round of flowers will bloom. Some of which already are, only to die miserably if it snows yet again.

I'm not complaining. Not a lot, anyway. All we really want is a stretch of warm, sunny days with a breeze and no gutter clogs or ants in the basement or worm carcasses in the garage. Even one day like that is all I want. That, and for prom to be over.

Yes, our oldest daughter is going to the prom on Saturday, and once prom is over, life will find its normal again. Until Sunday morning, her list of things to do is both complicated and strange: pick up dress; find beige underwear without lines; pick up his corsage; check on dinner progress; paint nails, clip toenails; rent movies, etc. There is more. And it has become my list, too. Because I know where to find the underwear, and I'm the one cooking dinner for the happy couple.

It's tempting to be obnoxious and serve barbecued ribs with corn on the cob, but there would be consequences and I want her to have a happy evening. So it's spaghetti carbonara complete with garlic, mushrooms, and bacon, and some good bread and a nice salad and French silk pie for dessert. A lovely meal for a lovely girl, and for the boy with the matching tie. I remember the excitement of a night like that. For a girl, anyway. Filled with hopes and dreams and that feeling of being adored.

It's hard to let go. I hope it doesn't snow. If it does, it won't matter much to her. You can be sure of that.

Here's about the best recipe for pizza dough I've come across in all my years. That's a lot of dough recipes. This is one you ought to hang on to.

Really Fine Dough

1 1/2 T yeast
1 1/4 T salt
6 1/2 cups flour
3 cups of the hottest tap water

Mix salt and yeast with water.
Pour into flour and mix until uniform.
Let rise.
Keep in covered container in fridge for quite a while.
Use for pizza crust, or shape into loaves and bake at 350 until crust is soft brown.
Add seasonings for variety.

Enjoy!

The feeling of being sated, in mind and body

April 18, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. I love listening to music more than I love most things, and it always feels good to settle in with a kitchen full of eggs and butter and flour for baking and a reliable radio and two hours ahead of nothing but entertainment. I made sugar cookie cutouts in the shapes of chicks and eggs, whipped up a pan of taco bake for dinner, and mixed together a pan of chocolate caramel brownies for my friend Angela, who starts a new job this week.

There are a lot of things in life that bring a person stress, and a new job is right up there. I figured gooey brownies would be just the thing for Angela to return to on her first night after work, and I imagine I was right. I also figured eating a late lunch the day before at the biggest buffet in Minnesota would be a good sendoff. And it was.

And we ate. And ate and ate. This was on Sunday afternoon, and I still don't have my full appetite back. We ate sushi and rice, scallops and sweet and sour chicken, spinach and green beans and these little pastry balls filled with bean paste and rolled in sesame. We ate noodles and crab and edamame and pork on a stick. We even had a bit of rice pudding and raspberry sherbet and when we were finished we sat awhile and talked. And drank water. Glasses and glasses of water.

It feels good now and then to sit across from someone you love and eat until you tip. The conversation, the smell of fried calamari, the brightly colored lanterns hanging above you -- all add to the experience, but what is really at the heart of it is eating a meal with someone who knows who you are. There can be silences or endless chatter and it just plain feels good.

I hope Angela had a good first day at work, and that Minnesota's biggest buffet is finding success. I hope that a new job is the biggest stress she'll encounter for a while, and that the people she meets there enjoy table conversation as much as she does. And I hope every person who reads these words has a meal to look forward to -- that the rice is as sweet and the pie as filling and the green beans as tangy and crisp and the fish as salty. More than that, I wish the feeling of being sated, in mind and body, of having had one's fill of cupcakes and conversation. It's a good thing, to break bread. Better to do so together. For sure.

I've had ham for Easter for as long as I recall, and this recipe is a simple variation on other simple variations. Give it a go this weekend, with some corn casserole and some fresh rolls.

Ham for Dinner

1 country style smoked ham
2 c. water
20 - 30 whole cloves
one (16 ounce) can sliced pineapple rings
1 cup Maraschino cherries, cut into halves
1 cup brown sugar
2 T flour
sprinkling of garlic powder
sprinkling of onion powder
sprinkling of black pepper
olive oil (spray is handy)

Place ham in roaster. Add 2 cups water, and cover. Bake at 325°, about 21 minutes per pound for a large ham, about 25 minutes per pound for a smaller (up to 12 pounds) ham or half ham. If the ham has an exposed bone, cover it with foil. Spray occasionally with olive oil during the first part of the cooking. Continue roasting until a thermometer inserted in center reads about 160°.

When ham is done, remove from oven. Lift off rind. Using a sharp knife, score fat surface crosswise (into intersecting squares) and dot with cloves at each intersection.

To prepare the ham coating, combine brown sugar and flour. Rub this mixture over the scored ham. Sprinkle over lightly with garlic powder, onion powder, and black pepper.

Place a pineapple slice on the ham so that one of the cloves will be in the center of the circle. Cover the clove with a Maraschino cherry half. Each cherry half should be placed in the center of a pineapple slice. Continue until ham is covered with pineapple slices and cherries. Brown, uncovered, for 20 - 25 minutes in a 400°F oven or until ham takes on a beautiful glazed coloring.

Garnish the ham plate with pineapple slices and parsley.

Enjoy!

Keeping a little mystery in life

April 13, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. I've been out in the yard lately cleaning up after the snow melt and I was bushed. I'm rarely horizontal when I listen to the show but Saturday it was almost necessary. I crawled into bed early Saturday night, and fell into sleep as I hit the pillow.

I am not one to indulge in a huge amount of sleep, but I do enjoy a good 8 hours now and then. One or twice a month, I'd say. The funny thing about Saturday night is how I woke up several times with my leg hanging out from under the quilts and over the side of the bed, and each time I quickly pulled it back under the covers. I've had this thing since I was a kid, a bit quirky, I guess. I have a fear that if I let my bare foot hang over the edge, something is going to grab it. A creature or whatever. I don't know.

It's similar to my need to close the closet door so there's no black space between the door and the frame from which that same creature or whatever might peer out at me. Irrational, I know. But it's true. Residual childhood stuff. We all have it. Doesn't keep me awake anymore, for sure, but I tell ya -- there's that zone between awake and sleep where all kinds of thoughts bloom. The nice thing about being a parent is that I've had to explain to the kids: there's nothing in the closet. There's nothing under the bed. And I know that. But still. I think it's one way of keeping a little mystery in life. Little bit of mystery keeps you on your toes, for sure.

I've had a craving lately for snacks with salt or cheese... and this recipe took care of it for the time being.

Pita Wedges

2 regular sized pita pockets (6 inch)
2 large cloves garlic, minced
3 T olive oil
1 T butter
1/4 tsp oregano
1/4 tsp sea salt
1/4 tsp pepper
16 slices pepperoni
4 round slices provolone cheese
1/3 cup medium chunky salsa

Heat olive oil, oregano, salt and pepper in microwave on high for 40 seconds. Remove and add butter. Stir and set aside. Cut pita pockets into 4 triangles. (Slice in half, then slice each half again to make the wedges). Cut again along curved outer edge to separate into two. Brush both sides of the pita wedges with warm olive oil mixture, coating well.

Place wedges crust side down on a baking sheet. Spread 1 teaspoon of salsa on top of each wedge. Cut provolone slices into 4 wedge shapes and place one on top of each. Top with a slice of pepperoni, if desired. Drizzle with any remaining olive oil and sprinkle lightly with coarse sea salt.

Bake at 375° for 15 minutes or until golden brown and cheese is bubbly. Serve while still warm.

Makes 16 wedges.

Here's to spring, yours and mine

April 4, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. Made beef stroganoff for dinner that evening, a double batch because one isn't quite enough, and left over beef stroganoff is a treat in itself. Certainly. Almost as good as left over wild rice soup or buttermilk pancake batter. And pizza. Oh, gosh.

You'd think with spring around the corner we'd all be eating salad and fruit, but, frankly, I'm still in comfort mode. It did snow yesterday morning, after all, and there are still piles of it around town. Winter may be over, but spring isn't quite here, so we're all a bit uncertain. What do we do? I tried picking up the yard a bit this morning, but the ground is still frozen and you can pull on a stuck rock only so long before you feel a bit silly with your butt up in the air and your face all red and gasping.

Patience, then. A good week for cleaning out the hall closet and airing out the house. For one last crock pot filled up with stew, for a few handwritten letters. We're turning a slow corner, and patience is the thing. Impatience makes a person look a bit foolish, and why waste your emotional energy? You're going to need it once summer's heat rolls in. I hear it's going to be a humdinger. Here's to spring, yours and mine, and to the green of grass and to bird songs, early as all get out these past few mornings.

One of my favorite dining out desserts is fried ice cream. What I don't know is whether it's actually fried; what I do know is that it's delicious. So I tried making my own. Unfried. And it ain't half bad.

Mrs. Sundberg's Fried Ice Cream

Vanilla ice cream, frozen
Honey
Your favorite granola (with cinnamon works best)
Cool Whip

Break or crush granola so there are no large chunks. Place in medium sized bowl. Shape ice cream into balls about the size of tangerines or billiard balls, and press into granola, rotating and pressing until the ice cream is completely covered with granola. Place two of the ice cream balls in a bowl, drizzle honey over, and top with whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon.

A variety of cereals may work in place of the granola.

Enjoy!

Naps, for me, are a dream in themselves

March 30, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. I'd been fighting sleep all afternoon, and was in one of those drowsy states one finds oneself after a long day filled up with nothing of real importance. I'd done some spot cleaning and a fair amount of baking, and some thank you letters, but nothing really got me going until I turned on the show and there was some laughter and energy and I felt a semblance of normal.

I suppose I could have taken a nap. But when you have three children, a nap is more of a risk than rest. I've woken up with my face painted like a kitten, with a Post-It note reading "Take Me To Your Leader" slapped on my forehead, with all the pillows in the house piled high on top of me. I've been recorded talking in my sleep, videotaped while in the REM phase, and posed like the Statue of Liberty, complete with a turkey drumstick for a torch.

There was a last nap I had, and it was years ago. I'd fallen asleep folding clothes. Just tipped, there on the couch, and when I came to I couldn't see. Someone had slipped a pair of Mr. Sundberg's clean undergarments over my head, and it took a minute for me to get my bearings. I sat up and there ensued hysterical laughter. Wild, bellybustin', kid laughter, and what could I do?

Naps, for me, are a dream in themselves, but lately I find the idea appealing. Perhaps because I'm growing older and I simply need more sleep. Maybe I'm needing a change in routine. And it's possible that my children really have lost interest in me as a source of entertainment. Whatever it is, I've been thinking about naps and how they're a Ticket to Anywhere for a Quick Little Visit. Like Umbria. Or an Alaskan forest. A canoe on the Brule River, or the front row at an Elvis Presley concert.

After that whole underwear incident, I've told the kids - when they urge me to do so--that I'll nap when I'm dead. Until then, I'll take a moment here and there, put my feet up, close my eyes to give 'em a rest, and breathe. Just resting awhile, until the next thing.

I love beans, and I love this soup. It's easy, and tastes better the day after you make it,
to be honest. Serve it with some good bread and a fruit cobbler.

Bean Soup

1 1/2 cup dried beans

1 chopped onion

2 chopped carrots

2 chopped celery stalks

2 bay leaves

1 T fresh thyme leaves

Place above ingredients in 6 cups water in a pot over high heat.

Boil, lower the heat, cover and simmer until the beans are soft,

about an hour, adding more water if necessary.

Season with salt and pepper, and drizzle a bit of olive oil over before serving.

Enjoy!

One Free Day

March 23, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. I was thinking for a while there that spring was here, and it is, since Sunday, officially Spring. But today it's snowing and there's no school and the kids are basking in the joy of One Free Day.

So what to do? How to spend it? My inclination is to stay put: read, do laundry, play games, bake, watch a movie, take a long hot shower, catch up on things, weed out too-small clothes from the kids' drawers and closet, get things done. What I have to do, since Mr. Sundberg is in Tampa giving a talk titled, "Eight Steps to Happiness: Living an Authentic Life," is shovel. There are only a few inches of snow out there, but it's still coming down, and it's wet and heavy and everywhere.

The big consolation today is that this snow won't stay--no snow does, in these parts--and after the snow is moved, and the kids and I spend some time, I can visit my new Facebook page, a virtual home away from home, it seems. I never have been one to keep up with the latest thing, but the kids talked me into it and I'm certainly not averse to giving it a whirl. After all, you'll find the words, "Most Likely to Try New Things" under my photo in the yearbook. It's not "Most Likely to Succeed" or "Best Personality," but along with the "Wooden Spoon" award, it suits me just fine. Sure does.

If you're like me, you'll find a mazillion ways to serve these biscuits. Cook up a savory sausage gravy, heat up sliced strawberries and sugar for a sweet sauce, sprinkle with cheese and serve with chicken, or simply spread with butter and a little bit of honey.

Whippin' Cream Biscuits

2 cups self-rising flour

1 cup whipping cream

Combine flour and cream in a mixing bowl, just until blended.

The dough will be a bit stiff. Transfer to a lightly floured surface and knead

a bit. Roll to about half an inch thick and cut with a 2 inch cutter. Place biscuits

close together on a lightly greased sheet. Bake 10 minutes at 450. Makes a dozen biscuits.

Enjoy!

A sweet reward after finishing our taxes

March 16, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. A sweet reward after finishing our taxes, filling out the FAFSA (our oldest is off to college next year and you have to have the FAFSA filled out by a certain time and filled out properly or you won't be eligible for student aid - which we need - and it's no short form), and finally getting the garage to an acceptable level of cleanliness. There's more, but it doesn't matter much after that earthquake on Friday way over on the other side of the world.

The kids wanted to go over there to help out, and I explained that people are helping and that three young people from Minnesota would do so much good but would also need food, water and shelter, and there isn't any to spare over there at the moment, and the appropriate people are helping in the best ways they can. I explained that sometimes the best way to help when you can't do much is to live a good life. Do the best you can. Small things.

We lit a candle for all those people. One candle and a thousand thoughts. This week, the kids have kept up with their homework, helped with the dishes and the laundry, read before they fall asleep. Mr. Sundberg cut extra wood and took some to Mr. Albert down the street, who has a hard time getting around, and I just made some bread and did some real deep thinking about how the world can break open and what it is to be alive and how good bread tastes and how sweet the voice of someone you love hollering, "There's a worm on the driveway! Two worms!" How spring always returns. And it does.

These cakes are wonderfully light and crispy and best with butter and syrup or
powdered sugar. Serve with fruit for a lovely brunch, or after school for a warm snack.

Funnel Cake

3-4 cups all purpose flour
3 eggs
2 cups milk
1/4 cup sugar
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
powdered sugar
vegetable oil (heat to 375°F)

Beat the eggs, then add the sugar and milk. Sift 2 cups of flour, the salt, and the baking powder and add to the milk, sugar, and egg mixture. Mix while adding more flour until the batter is smooth and not too thick. The funnel should have an opening of at least 1/2 inch and be able to hold around a cup of batter. Put your finger over the bottom and add about a cup of batter. Remove your finger and allow the batter to pour into the center of the oil.

Gradually swirl the batter outward in a circular motion, or criss-cross back and forth to make a cake about 7 or 8 inches round. Check it with a pair of tongs and turn it when the bottom becomes golden brown. When both sides are done, remove with tongs and let drip on a paper towel.

Funnel cake is usually served with powdered sugar on top. You could also use molasses, maple syrup, or fruit preserves.

Note: if you don't have a funnel, try a Ziploc bag with a corner cut out.

Enjoy!

Seems I was the perp in what he called "a hit and run" at the pastry shop

March 10, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. One fine repeat performance by all, and just the thing to end the first day of Spring Break. That's right, folks. Coming up for air today at the halfway mark and things are going alright. At times, it's a lot. There was a point during visit #3 from the police officer Monday morning where I thought I might need a headache pill, but the impulse passed.
Seems I was the perp in what he called "a hit and run" at the pastry shop. I was insistent about the care I'd taken while backing out. I'd even straightened out my car and backed out a second time in order to avoid bumping the car covered with black roses on my left. Seems I scraped it, lightly, allegedly, according to Larry, the police officer. Who likes French silk pie. He ate two pieces.
I told Larry if I thought I had hit the car I would have stopped. That there was no "hit." A nudge, perhaps. At the most. He said the terminology exists for a reason. Apparently my license plate had been noted, and there was a slight scuff on my front side bumper. Which may have been there before. Or may not have. Perhaps.
Until we know more, things are good. No one was killed or knocked over. The kids have been having a nice stretch of days off from school, and we had a birthday party and went prom dress shopping and ate at the Chinese buffet, and had a pretty good discussion about how the important things aren't things. Mr. Sundberg cut a record amount of wood over the weekend, thinking we were in for the Storm of the Century, and now he's got some free time to relax since it's hardly snowed at all.
I'm just plain enjoying the kids and their energy, and memorizing their words and their faces and how they throw back their heads when they laugh. I've been letting them sleep in, too. Why not? There's no school this week, and why not relax awhile.
I make this soup on cold March days because it's warm and filling and green, and a good way to disguise the spinach leaf if you're cooking for young people.
Cream of Spinach Soup

Place 1 chopped onion, 2 peeled garlic cloves, 3 cups water and salt and pepper in a pot over high heat. Boil, cover, lower the heat and simmer until the onion is tender, about 10 minutes. Add 10 ounces chopped spinach and 1/2 cup parsley leaves; cook until the spinach is tender, 2 or 3 minutes. Add 1 cup plain yogurt and purée. Garnish: A spoonful of yogurt and chopped parsley.

Serve hot or cold. Hot gets my vote.

Enjoy!

Fresh out of cough drops

March 2, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. I missed a good part of it, unfortunately, because the kids were each in his or her own stage of the flu and erupting accordingly. I found myself monitoring a steady flow of mucus, vomit, orange juice and tears, and only one of them came from my body.

If you've ever cared for sick children, you know what it means to feel ragged. To push it to the edge. Throw in a husband with a cough and your own sore throat and you've got the recipe for One Long Week. You can't remember if you dreamed a thing or if it happened, and it's all you can do to keep up with the laundry. Once you hit the pillow late in the night, a part of you stays awake, listening for even breathing, listening for the cough and retch, aware of every sigh and rustle and wheeze.

The one good thing about sick kids is the day they feel better. They sit up and rub their eyes and say, "I think I can go to school today." Part of you hollers, Whoo Hoo! But what you say out loud is, "Are you sure? Let me check your temp. Let's see how you feel after breakfast." You don't want to be too hopeful, but the hope is there. A good night's sleep is on its way. Chatter is bound to return, and arguing, and the battle for the shower in the morning. You start thinking about who might need a ride after school, and what to cook up for dinner and soon the chaos of the ordinary day is back in full swing.

For now, though, the nights are a bit long, and we're fresh out of cough drops. I'm off to re-load. Honey lemon is the current favorite, and more juice and Vitamin C tablets are on my list. I'm thinking I may splurge on some ice cream. Butter Brickle. Feels good on the throat, and why not? It's not every day that everyone in the house is sick. Thank goodness for that.

It's not every day that I'm hungry for potato salad, but it is certainly a welcome treat. Here's a variation on the old standard, and perfect for this chilly time of year.

Twice Baked Potato Salad

5 lb. bag red potatoes

1 lb. maple flavored bacon (fried)

1/2 bag shredded cheddar cheese

heaping serving spoon of mayonnaise

Ranch dressing to desired consistency

Wash and cut potatoes into bite-sized cubes and boil soft. Drain and put in large bowl to mix the rest of the ingredients. Fry bacon, cool, and cut into small pieces. After potatoes and bacon have cooled, add the shredded cheese, mayonnaise, and Ranch dressing. Stir until coated.

Serve chilled, or warm in a casserole dish.

Enjoy!

Dumped on

February 22, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. There was the whole storm warning coming at us left and right and since we were stocked up in the kitchen, I took some time in the calm to work on taxes while the radio played. No sign of snow, only that beautiful full moon and its blue light.

Had my doubts about a big snow. I felt spring last week when it was in the 50s and I vacuumed and washed the car and completely cleared the driveway. I took a walk with only a light jacket and craved strawberries and smelled grass and leaves on what felt like a warm wind.

Had doubts on Sunday morning when those few flakes fell, and then more, then clumps, and soon everything was white again. Dumped on. We were so dumped on it we started making jokes with the neighbors about where we might put the snow we were moving around. I heard, even, a few profanities as people were covered with snow as they shoveled. That snow fell up until Monday evening before it cleared.

It's like that, you know. You feel as if you're on the home stretch, and find you just rounded a corner and there's still a ways to go. You think it's all fine and good, and then BOOM. Back to square one. But the thing is not what comes your way, but how you meet it. You can stomp around and curse and put things off until it's really deep and heavy, or you can bundle up and meet it and don't let it get you down.

I choose the latter. The snow isn't going anywhere. No sense fighting things. Shovel a path, and carry on, and one day you'll have dandelions all the heck over your lawn. Your blessed green lawn. It's out there even now, under all that white. Sure is.

To keep it going during a stretch of bad weather, I often stir up a batch of this soup to warm up from the inside out. Serve it with fruit, some good bread, and a gooey brownie at the last.

Three Cheese Onion Comfort Soup

3/4 stick butter

3 med. onions, sliced

3 14.5 oz cans broth

1 ½ broth cans of water

2 tsp. Worcestershire sauce

1/2 tsp. garlic powder

1/8 tsp. cayenne pepper

Croutons

Parmesan cheese

Swiss cheese

Mozzarella cheese

Melt butter in 2 ½ quart pot. Add sliced onions and cook for 30 minutes or so, stirring occasionally. Add broth, water, Worcestershire sauce, garlic powder and cayenne pepper. Cook 30 more minutes, stirring now and then. Pour into individual soup bowls, top with croutons, sprinkle with Parmesan cheese, slice of Swiss and slice of Mozzarella. Microwave until cheese is melted, or broil in oven on foil-covered cookie sheet.

Enjoy!

Salt of the Month Club

February 16, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. I missed some of the show because I was on the phone with a telemarketer who wanted me to sign up for the Salt of the Month Club. REALLY interesting. Seems you pay an amount and then every month for 12 months you get a box of salt in the mail. The list includes bath salt, garlic and herb salt, sidewalk salt and a variety of popcorn salts.

Sometimes I hear about a new business or venture and think, Now, what were they thinking? And hope to the Good Lord these people don't have valid drivers' licenses. And that's what came up for me as I listened to the Salt Lady.

I have a tendency to share a bit much about my life with strangers. This is not a bad thing, but I suppose it gets annoying at times. The Salt Lady wasn't annoyed, though. I was explaining how it was bursitis in my left knee, not arthritis, and how relieved I was and she told me about her bout of chicken pox and soon it was as if we were old friends. "Montana," she said when I asked where she lives, and that put the kibosh on coffee sometime this week, but that's no matter.

I ended up not buying salt, but did get put on a call back list. Who knows? Maybe by the time six months pass, I'll have some extra cash or a medical need for salt and I'll join the Club. If not, at least I can look forward to a call from Marlene, the Salt Lady.

Until then, I'll stick with table salt. It works for me. Right up there with fresh bread, cool water, and a good warm blanket. Plain and simple.

Here's a lovely red velvet cake recipe too good to not share. It does call for salt, but not much, and there's vinegar included, which, for me, makes the cake.

Red Velvet Cake

Read more about it at www.cooks.com

Content Copyright © 2011 Cooks.com - All rights reserved.

1/2 cup shortening
1 tsp. vanilla
2 tsp. cocoa
2 1/2 cups flour
2 eggs
1/2 tsp. red food coloring
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. baking soda
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 cup buttermilk
1 T vinegar

Pour vinegar over baking soda and set aside. Cream shortening, sugar and eggs. Make a paste of coloring and cocoa; add to creamed mixture. Add buttermilk alternately with sifted dry ingredients. Add vanilla. Beat well. Fold in vinegar and baking soda. Bake in two 8 or 9-inch greased and floured pans at 350° for 30 minutes or until cake springs back to the touch.

Cool completely and cut horizontally to make 4 layers, or simply two if you wish.

Fill and frost with whipped cream or buttercream or cream cheese frosting.

Mrs. Sundberg's Cream Cheese Frosting: Blend together 1 softened stick butter, 8 ounces cream cheese,

and 1 bag of powdered sugar. Spread over cake.

.

Enjoy!

Valentine's Day Kisses

February 9, 2011

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. It's brutally cold out there this week and I'm doing my best to keep things warm and cozy without cranking the heat. It is a luxury, I must say, to feel warm for a stretch of time, and I don't take it for granted. The thermostat is a point of contention for Mr. Sundberg and I, so I keep it moderate, bake more, and light a lot of candles. Except once in a while when he's out of town. Then I crank it and enjoy a good blast of heat.

Don't get me wrong. We don't argue much at all, and when we do, it's arguing, not fighting. It's good to have healthy conflict every now and then, and when it's not a competition it can be almost enjoyable. Almost. Conflict clarifies one's convictions, and when, at day's end, you can lay it all aside and snuggle up to watch a movie or cook a good meal together, things feel complete. You've disagreed, made your points, and acknowledged a difference in opinion. Can you imagine what the world would be like if we all agreed on everything? Dull, if you ask me, and lacking aliveness.

Someone once said that compatibility rests in sharing the same fundamental beliefs. I'm not sure what defines "fundamental beliefs", but I'm thinking it has a lot to do with the kind of lives we want to live, common thoughts about a higher power, and general similarities in how each regards the world. Thing like that. If, together, you've got all of that in sync, things like socks on the floor, how the lawn is mowed, what kind of dishes you're going to buy, how to spend vacation time, and the general temperature of the house aren't such large issues.

It's not easy being human. It's even less easy being human with someone else. Takes a lot of patience and discernment and forgiveness and love. Energy. That's why we have things like coffee and chocolate and flowers. To keep it all going, that energy of aliveness, don't you know.

Here's a sweet recipe I'm whipping up for Valentine's Day. Pretty simple, and nothing like chocolate and cherries mingling on the palate.

Valentine's Day Kisses

1 c. butter, softened

1 c. powdered sugar

2 tsp. maraschino cherry juice

1 tsp. almond extract

a few drops of red food coloring

2 1/4 cups flour

1/2 tsp. salt

1/2 cup maraschino cherries, drained and chopped

48 Hershey's kisses

Heat oven to 350. Combine butter, powdered sugar, cherry juice, almond extract and food coloring. Blend and add flour, salt and cherries and mix well. Form dough into 1 inch balls. Place 2 inches apart on ungreased cookie sheets. Bake 8 minutes. Remove. Press a Hershey's Kiss into each cookie. Return to oven for 30-60 seconds. Makes 48.

Enjoy!