Une Petite Pomme: My 7 Minutes of Fame....Sort Of....

Thanks to a dear, sweet friend from high school and a thoughtful producer at AM Northwest who took pity on me kindly invited me to be a guest on the show, La Pomme made her television debut last night cooking up "Peas and Pancetta in a Flash." For those of you who are not from Portland, here in our fine City of Roses, we are fortunate enough to have our very own hour-long morning show. Having been on the air since 1976, most of us Portlanders have sat in the AM Northwest audience at one time or another. We all think quite fondly of this show. (I always think of my Granny when I use that word...fondly. She preferred to sign her cards that way: "Fondly, Granny") Currently, AM Northwest is being hosted by the very funny, Dave Anderson, and darling, Helen Raptis.

Now, you may be perplexed as to why La Pomme was on AM Northwest last night, since the name implies a morning show. Well, without getting into the nitty gritty, the "powers that be" currently air the first half hour in the morning and then, the first and second half hour in the evening under the name of AM Northwest Primetime, but the whole thing is shot in the morning which, for those of you who know my morning habits, getting there...on-time...wide-awake...and actually thinking clearly...early yesterday morning was quite the challenge for me...but I did it....(thanks to a lot of back-up help from my sweetie.) And yes, of course, I was a bit nervous. Nervous about the fact that when I get nervous I tend to laugh...loudly...and tell bad jokes because I think I'm funny. And, I was nervous about the timing since I was invited to cook on the show and I needed to have an edible meal that really takes about 30 minutes to make, ready to eat in 6 minutes. To my relief, after I arrived...on-time mind you...I was ushered back-stage and right up to my very own cooking island. There I could set-up and cook away to my heart's content and then, the whole kit and kaboodle was wheeled on-stage when it was my turn. Can I say that I've never actually made pasta without being interrupted and even had time to stir it a few times while I watched it cook? I almost started whistling.

The actual time I was on-camera was an absolute blur. I remembered nothing that I said or did so I was quite anxious to watch the debut myself. At 6:45 pm, my family gathered around the television and waited. As we watched the final minutes of the lead-in show...a movie in which the main characters wore mullets that would put Billy Ray Cyrus' to shame...I had a sudden curiosity about the actual viewership of my debut here on Comcast Channel 302...but that quickly vanished as Dave Anderson appeared on the screen welcoming people to AM Northwest. With rapt attention, we watched the exercise segment, the book review segment, the ceramics show segment and all of the advertisements for the Japanese Gardens, assisted living centers and car dealerships out on SE McLoughlin. I knew my time was drawing near and I suddenly started to panic, "Had I itched my nose on-camera? Will it end up looking like a "pick"?" And then, there was Dave Anderson saying, "Our next guest writes a popular local blog about the mingling of food, family and life...." and I was on. I'll let you be the judge of how I did but I do have two thoughts, "Lose the sweater next time." And, I can already hear my kind, sweet mother saying, "Sweetie, stand up a little straighter next time....and maybe get the bangs out of your eyes." We never stop being a mother, do we?




Thank you so much, Julie and Tammy, for making this opportunity happen for La Pomme and since it appears that I didn't pick my nose, I'm hoping you'll invite me back.


All original text and photographs copyright: Carrie Minns 2009-2010

Chocolate Chip Oatmeal Cookies with Pecans and Dried Cherries (aka My Own "Bottle Cap")

All right, so last Monday morning wasn't exactly my proudest parenting moment. But you can't really blame me. No. It's not my fault how I was raised. You see, when I was young and my siblings and I would scrape a knee, cut a finger, crack our heads open or break an arm, my father would simply say to us, "Ah, come on. Put a bottle cap on it and let's go." Sometimes he'd have an actual bottle cap and sometimes it was just enough to say it. We never knew exactly what the bottle cap did but we were under the impression that it must hold some mystical healing powers since he said it so often.

Now, I can't say I use the actual bottle cap phrase on my own children (although he does) but having it said so much to me as a child has rendered me fairly impatient with situations involving injury or ailments. Oh sure, I'm good for the first 24 hours or so. Warm wash clothes on foreheads. The stroking of the hair. The head cocked sympathetically, as each ailment is communicated. The proper, "Oh, sweetie. I'm sorry you don't feel well." Deliveries of tea, ginger ale, toast and applesauce. But once the 24 hours is up, I've been known to say to an ailing child wanting my help, "Why don't you just go get a "bucket"?" or "You know where the band-aids and neosporin are." or "I don't know what to tell you. There's ginger ale in the fridge." Clearly, I'd never have made a good doctor or nurse. My sweetie has the better bedside manner and patience for matters such as these.

And so it was that my dear daughter contracted some version of a stomach virus that just went on and on and on. Week after week. Over 3 weeks to be exact. Of course, I felt for her. What could be worse but what about me? I could get absolutely nothing done. Especially with the false alarms where she'd think she felt well enough to go to school so I'd drive her there only to arrive at her school to find her pale as a ghost, flush and reaching for the bucket (even though this particular stomach virus never actually required the use of said "bucket.") So, back home we'd go. Practically an hour round trip. Then, being the trooper that she is, she'd want to try again at lunch time, bless her heart. I finally put an end to that. "If you don't go in the morning, we're not trying again later." I was spending my whole day in the car. My patience was waning and to top it off, I was starting to panic. "She's missed so much school. What if I can't get her to go back? Ever? And, I have to homeschool her?" God, help me.

Which brings us up to last Monday morning. Patience gone. Panic set in. Once again, I'd driven her to school only to arrive and have her say to me, "I just can't go in there. I don't feel well." At that exact moment, I thought I might lose my mind. I should have taken a cue from my father and said, "Well, sweetie, you're going to have to put a bottle cap on it. Now, grab your backpack and head on in." But, no. I have to launch into a speech in that "tone", you know the one, on how she's going to have to buck up. "Sometimes you just have to deal. We don't always feel good. You can be at home sitting in front of the TV, not feeling well or at school, sitting in a classroom in front of your teachers, not feeling well. What's the difference?!" On and on I went, stopping only when I finally noticed that my sweet girl had tears sliding down her face. Well, if that didn't just slap a load of guilt right on my back. Reluctantly and sheepishly, all at the same time, I pulled out of the drop-off line and into an actual parking spot. I pulled out my phone and called the doctor's office. I'm not one to ever take my children in to the doctor's office for run-of-the-mill childhood illnesses but I had to admit that this had lasted quite some time. Silently, we drove there. Me feeling like a selfish mother, she feeling...well, not good. As I thought, the doctor told us to just let it run its course but somehow, that seemed to make my daughter feel better.

Wednesday morning was glorious. The sun was out. The air was fresh from the recent rain. I was actually showered and dressed in something other than the standard issue black athletic wear. And, wonder of wonder, my daughter felt great. I had her loaded up along with the 5-year old and we were headed out of the neighborhood. And, not only that but, miracle of miracles, I was also going to get them there on time. For the first time in many weeks, everyone would be at school. I would have an entire day to myself. I could barely contain my excitement. Windows down. Music playing. Whistling. Humming. Toe tapping. And then, the phone rings. "Carrie, we have your son here in the office. He says his stomach isn't feeling well. We think you should come get him." If at that moment, I had a towel, I would have thrown it. I drove for a moment in disbelief and then, I slowly turned the car around. Picked up my guy. Settled him in at home. Dropped the other two at school and then, came home and made Chocolate and Cherry Oatmeal cookies. As I sank into the couch next to my buddy and devoured one after the other of these sinfully delicious little chewy bites of heaven, I told myself to buck up. "Ah, come on now. Put a bottle cap on it. What's a few more weeks?" Somehow, the cookies helped.

Chocolate Chunk Oatmeal Cookies with Pecans and Dried Cherries
(Adapted from Seven Spoons recipe of the same name)


Just like my nursing skills, I don't have a lot of patience with baking nuances as well. Below I've typed out how I made these cookies which turned out scrumptiously delicious but for you baking purists out there, here's a link to the original recipe in its entirety, with all of the proper little baking details included. I discovered this recipe last fall on Tara's delightful food blog, Seven Spoons, and have been waiting for just the right moment to make the chewy little morsels. Well, the moment presented itself. I made half of my batch with the pecans and half without, since my 10-year old is allergic to nuts. And, let me just say, unless you have the same nut issue, don't leave out the pecans. They are what takes a rather ordinary oatmeal cookie and elevates it to sinful. I loved them so much I made them twice...in two days.

Ingredients:
1 1/4 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
(I actually used half all-purpose and half whole-wheat pastry flour)
3/4 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
3/4 c unsalted butter, softened but not too warm
1 1/2 c packed dark brown sugar
1 large egg
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 1/4 c old-fashioned rolled oats
1 c pecans, toasted and chopped
1 c dried cherries chopped coarse (or cranberries, if you please)
3/4 cup dark chocolate chips, I used Guittard

Directions:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Use parchment paper to line several standard baking sheets and set aside.

In a medium bowl, combine the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Set aside.

In a large mixing bowl, cream together the butter and sugar on medium speed until light and fluffy, scraping down the sides of the bowl as needed. Next, add the egg and vanilla and beat until incorporated.

Scrape down the sides of the bowl, turn the mixer down to low and add the flour mixture to the bowl. Stir until just combined. Then, with a wooden spoon, stir in the oats, nuts, cherries and chocolate and stir just until combined evenly throughout the dough.

Drop by tablespoons onto the cookie sheets at least 1 inch apart. Bake in the oven for about 10 minutes or until the cookies are uniformly golden, but still wet in the middle. You might think they're undercooked but they're not....resist the urge to overbake. They will set up further as they cool.

Remove from the oven and cool on the baking sheets for 5 minutes before transferring to a wire rack. Store cooled cookies in an airtight container at room temperature.

Yield: about 2 dozen.


All original text and photographs copyright: Carrie Minns 2009-2010

Sauntering Through the Market with a Basket of Rapini, Potatoes and Chives

As usual, I was running late. Nothing new there but my tardiness was extra awkward (even for me) considering that I was trying to slip, unnoticed, into a pew in the hushed room of The Old Church for the monthly Willamette Writers meeting. This month's speaker had already begun her talk as I tried to make myself invisible. Once seated it took me a minute to calm my thoughts enough to focus on the speaker, Naseem Rakha, but once I did, she had my complete concentration as she discussed her newly released book, The Crying Tree. And while I took away so many nuggets of wisdom from this clearly talented woman, I really seemed to take hold of what would appear to be a seemingly insignificant story that she shared. She had recently been on vacation in Florida with her son and she admitted to us that while she believed the "correct" thing to say would be that her favorite part of the trip was playing in the ocean with her son...that wasn't the case. No. Her favorite part of the trip was the time she was alone in Ernest Hemingway's garden. Alone with her thoughts. Alone enough to focus and to remember what it was she wanted to focus her life on.

The Portland Farmer's Market opened a few weeks ago. I didn't make it to Opening Day, although I hear it was quite the success. Jam-packed with people even with the extra block added this year for more space. Vendors selling out of that day's produce. I did, however, make it a few weekends later. As usual, I invited the family to come but, as was oftentimes the case, they kindly declined. I probably should say I was disappointed but I wasn't. I like going there by myself. I love to lose myself in the crowd under that great canopy of trees. To saunter up to my favorite coffee bar. To then make the circle once, coffee in hand, browsing and making mental notes. To pick up a cookie along the way....this time from The Tart Lady. To enjoy the festive music in the background. To take in just what was being offered. What was in season. And, then to go back and circle again.

Recently someone asked of me, "Where do you get your ideas for cooking? Where do you get your inspiration?" I replied that due to my strong love affair with food, I, of course, read a lot of cookbooks and food blogs. I call friends and ask them what they're cooking that night. I occasionally tune into cooking shows. However, my biggest source of inspiration is my farmer's market or those grocery stores that cater to local produce. While I used to find the recipe I liked and then go hunt for the ingredients, now I let the natural rhythms of the growing season be my guide. I buy what's in season and then, I go find the recipe. This method also helps narrow down the choices of recipes making the whole process of cooking and feeding my family a lot less overwhelming.

Before arriving at the farmer's market that day, I had in my mind a bit of an idea of what would be good for dinner that night. I was hoping to find the ingredients for a delicious and light, pasta primavera I enjoy making this time of year. I thought for sure there would be spring asparagus on display everywhere. But alas, there was not. What was on display, and what is clearly still in season here in Oregon, were winter greens. Winter greens, leeks, potatoes, baby carrots, chives and rapini (broccoli rabe.) I had to chuckle that back here when I was trying to make this dish that called for rapini, I couldn't find a single stalk, and now here it was aplenty. So, without anyone asking me when were we leaving or needing a bathroom or what could they have to eat or getting lost in the crowd and sending me into panic mode, I sat down. I sat down, alone with my coffee and my "breakfast" cookie (nevermind that it was chocolate chip) and readjusted my thoughts. What was I going to make with leeks, potates, chives and rapini? And then, the ideas started flowing. I raced around and grabbed my produce, throwing in a baguette, some pesto and a couple bunches of daffodils to round it all out and headed home. While driving home, I pulled out my cell phone and called my parents I responsibly pulled over to the side of the road and called my parents from my cell phone. They were passing through town that evening and I wanted to encourage them to stop by for dinner. To stop by for dinner and the result of my inspiration. The result of my solitary trip to the farmer's market.

The Recipes

So, today, you're going to get two recipes for the price of one blog post. (Corny...I know.) From time to time, I pop into the blog, Simply Breakfast. Her photographs are always so beautiful and although, I'm not much of a breakfast gal, I keep thinking maybe her simple meals will inspire me and recently she had posted that she couldn't get enough of garlicky greens with scrambled eggs. Well, I could do without the scrambled eggs but the garlicky greens struck a bell and that's how I arrived at the following recipe that I served up for dinner to my parents and my family along with some chicken sausages I grilled on the barbecue. (Note: If you happen to be a patron of the Portland Farmer's Market, I purchased my rapini at DeNoble's Family Farm booth. So tender and delicious.)

Sauteed Rapini (Broccoli Rabe) with Spaghetti and Grilled Sausages

Inspired by fresh air

2 tbsp olive oil

4 cloves of garlic, sliced lengthwise

2 large bunches of rapini, coarsely chopped, discarding any tough ends

1 tsp kosher salt

1/4 black pepper

1/2 pound whole wheat spaghetti, cooked as directed on the package

Heat your olive oil in a non-stick saute pan. Add your garlic and saute just about one minute then, immediately add your rapini. It will seem like a lot, but like spinach, it will reduce in size by at least half once it is cooked. Saute about 4 to 5 minutes, until just tender. Scrape all of the contents from the pan (including the now garlic infused olive oil) over the spaghetti and toss gently to combine. Check to see if it needs additional salt and pepper. Serve alongside grilled sausages. Doesn't get much easier or quicker than this. This recipe can easily be doubled.

A Dinner Frittata Complete with Potatoes, Bacon and Chives

I was looking for a way to use my potatoes and chives so I pulled from the shelf one of my favorite cookbooks of all times, "How to Cook Without a Book" by Pam Anderson. This is the perfect book for those of us who feel overwhelmed by the magnitude of recipe options when all we really want to do is get a quick, healthy and delicious dinner on the table for our families. I bought it when my two eldest were leaving the baby food stage and I realized that fish sticks and peas every night just wasn't going to cut it any longer. I have been intrigued by her dinner frittata section for quite some time (despite the fact that I'm not always that intrigued with egg dishes.) I flipped to that section, made a few of my own changes and came up with this recipe. I served it with a simple salad of baby greens and vinaigrette and a bowl of "cuties"...those delicious little sweet clementines in season right now. Those same cuties with the sticker that my daughter and her friends would feel compelled to pull off the rind and stick on their foreheads last year when they were much younger.

2 tbsp olive oil (divided)

3 slices, thick-cut bacon, cut into 1-inch pieces

3 small, Yukon gold potatoes (or other thin-skinned spring potatoes), unpeeled and 1/2 inch diced

kosher salt and ground black pepper

1 medium garlic clove, minced

8 large eggs

4 tbsp milk

3 tbsp grated parmesan cheese

1 tbsp fresh chopped chives

Adjust your rack to the upper-middle position and preheat your oven to 400 degrees.

Heat 1 tbsp olive oil in a large non-stick, ovenproof skillet over medium heat. Add your bacon and cook for about 5 minutes until the bacon is browned but not too crisp. Drain your bacon on a paper towel and set aside. Wipe the pan clean with another paper towel and heat your second tablespoon of olive oil, unless you like to cook with bacon grease, in which case, remove the bacon with a slotted spoon, do not add the second tablespoon of olive oil and continue with the recipe.

Add your potatoes to the skillet along with the olive oil (bacon grease), 3 tbsp water, the garlic and then, sprinkle with salt and pepper. Set your heat to medium-high, cover and let the potatoes steam for about 3 minutes or until the potatoes are just tender. Remove the lid and continue to cook until the water evaporates and the potatoes are lightly browned, about 8-10 minutes more. Toss occasionally to ensure even browning.

Meanwhile, in a medium bowl beat the eggs, milk, parmesan cheese and a pinch of salt and pepper together with a fork. Once the potatoes are done, shake the skillet to evenly distribute them. Evenly sprinkle your bacon on the potatoes and then, pour in your egg mixture. Sprinkle the chives over the top and then, let the egg mixture cook just until the edges start to set around the edges about 1 minute. Transfer the pan to the oven and bake until the eggs are puffed and set about 8 minutes. Serve hot, sliced like a pizza and enjoy.

One word of caution: Do not under any circumstances forget that once your skillet is out of the oven, the handle is still registering at about 350 degrees and grabbing it bare-handed will result in second degree burns. Not that I know that from personal experience or anything, but if I did know that from personal experience, I will tell you that expletives that a young child should never hear will come spewing out over and over from the mouth of his injured parent creating a bit of awkwardness once the moment has passed.

Variation: I did make this frittata one evening, substituting sauteed rapini for the bacon. For the sake of honesty, I will tell you that my daughter and I quite enjoyed it but the boys...young and old...they just couldn't get past the greenery in their eggs, although they greedily ate the greenery just fine the week before when it was tossed with the pasta. So, there you have it.

All original text and photographs copyright: Carrie Minns 2009-2010

A Delightful Spring Birthday Soup

What is it about certain ages that stir our emotions? Emotions that are both jubilant at one end and sometimes bittersweet at the other. You know the ages I'm referring to....1, 5, 10, 13, 16, 18, 21, 40, 65, 100 (if we should be so lucky). My youngest little buddy just turned 5 and I'm feeling a bit melancholy about it. I don't know why. Maybe because he is the youngest and I know these stages don't last forever. He still brings me treasures just like his older brother used to do. Tiny daisies, crumpled dandelions, little rocks and sticks. All of which I slip into my pockets for safe keeping. I tell him that I put them in there to keep the treasures safe and anytime I'm missing him, I just pull one out. He's at that wonderful age where a flick of your entire hand lets one know how old you are. If he were with you right now he'd tell you that he's 5, he has two loose teeth and he starts Kindergarten in the fall. He couldn't be more pleased.

One of my dearest, closest friends recently called. She had been looking at a photograph of the two of us with our eldest daughters. She said to me a little wistfully, "I look at that picture and they just look so much older than I realized. I can't believe it. Gads." Our daughters have grown up together since they were babies and I have loved watching them do just that but looking at the photograph myself, I have to admit...they are closer to the women they will become than the little girls they once were. My daughter will be 13 in a month. She's thrilled. I remember my 13th Birthday well. Who was there. What I was wearing (purple velour.) I loved it. I received a tube of multi-flavored lip smackers and my very own flute. How interesting...how surreal to have your children be an age you remember so well. And if one of my children is that age...what does that make me?

I must have these thoughts in the forefront of my mind. These thoughts about my children growing older. About me growing older. I was in the kitchen with my 10-year old son and I happened to notice the size of his feet. They are enormous. And, out of nowhere, I started singing, "Where is the little boy I carried...." (My own version of the lyrics.) He, of course, was mortified and left the room. Then this weekend, I happened to be at the lovely and sweet wedding of my brother and his beautiful new wife. My son had slipped those big feet out of his normal basketball shoes and into some dapper black loafers. He wore a suit and a tie and had a look of pure confidence on his face. Of utter satisfaction. As he stood at the edge of the aisle, waiting to perform his "ushering" duties, I felt my throat thicken because for the first time, I saw glimpses of the grown-up man he's headed for. He's always been "just boy" for me. And, while he still is a young boy, I could see bits of the future in the way he stood.

My parents, my sister, my nephews, and the whole of us were all together last night. Together to celebrate my 5-year old's Birthday. The grown-ups around the dining room table. The boys at the kitchen table. (My daughter had fled to dance.) While we chatted, enjoyed each delicious spoonful of our spring soup and sipped on glasses of Pinot Gris, the boys tried their best to stay seated and eat but more often than not they were up. Banging out their compositions on the piano. Screeching by in their cars. Asking for more applesauce, more bread, more cold water. We tried out best to ignore the chaos and continue on but it was proving difficult. I had almost reached my limit and was about to pull out the old, "Enough!" but then, I saw the look on my 5-year old's face. A look of pure joy. Of excitement. That all was as it should be. That the noise and the chaos were part of the celebration. And the fact that his cousins, his Aunt, his Nana and Papa were all in town just for him was reason enough to scream from the top of one's lungs. How could I put an end to the jubilation? And, how could I not be excited as well? I remember once asking my beautiful mother if she had cried at my wedding and I remember her saying to me, "Why would I have cried? That was such a happy celebration." Perhaps that's how I need to think about my children growing older. I need to put aside my melancholy thoughts and allow myself to be swept up in their excitement. Perhaps....or perhaps my mother is just a much stronger woman than I.

A Delightful Spring Birthday Soup

Every year at this time I see recipes for "Potato Leek Soup" spring up by the dozen and every year I'm intrigued to make it; however, I'm not one to want to eat a pot full of warm milk which is essentially how most of those soups are made. So, taking a cue from what was available at our local farmer's market, I came up with this lighter version of potato leek soup. I prefer the delicate balance of all of the spring flavors in here just as it is but if you'd like to give it a bit more heartiness you could add a cup or so of diced chicken...maybe from a leftover rotisserie chicken. I would also have salt and pepper on the table so each person can give their soup a quick little zing right before eating and believe it or not this soup is delicious with soft-(or hard-) boiled eggs and a little toast on the side. Now, I do have to admit to you that while I made this soup and served it for my little guy's family Birthday dinner, it was definitely more of a hit with "the chicks," if you catch my drift.

Ingredients:

2 tbsp olive oil

2 leeks, thinly sliced

3 cloves garlic, thinly sliced

6 small yukon gold potatoes or other thin-skinned spring potatoes, sliced

1/2 c white wine

1 qt water (or 1/2  water and 1/2 chicken broth)

1 cup fresh or frozen petite peas

1 tsp kosher salt

optional: top with minced, fresh chives or minced parsley

Directions:

Heat heavy bottomed soup pot on stove. Chop up your leeks. Then, add the olive oil to the pot to heat. Once heated add your leeks and salt and saute over med-low heat for about 5 minutes. The leeks should be softened. Add your garlic and saute another minute or so. Add your potatoes and saute them about 2-3 minutes, stirring occasionally. Then, stir in your wine and let the alcohol evaporate from the pot. About 2-3 minutes or so. I can always tell by smelling the rising steam. Once the pungent alcohol smell turns sweet, you know it's finished. Now, add a quart of water or enough to cover the potatoes, bring to a boil and then, simmer, covered, for about 15 minutes. Add your peas and simmer another 5 minutes or until the potatoes are soft and the peas are just cooked. Spoon into shallow bowls and enjoy.

Yield: Enough to serve a family of 4 and one bird eater. This recipe doubles beautifully.

All original text and photographs copyright: Carrie Minns 2009-2010