So, my dear friends, this week has been filled with milestones, celebrations and a few tears on the part of yours truly. One headed to high school, one to middle school and one leaving that sweet, sweet year of Kindergarten and as I've said before every first for my littlest one is a monumental last for me. To say, "last day of Kindergarten" is a bit extra-emotional for me. Me, the weeper.
I'm sure you will understand when I say that I won't have one of my usual musings post this week. My time this week is being spent with family but I do leave you with a live version of a delicious summer salad I posted on La Pomme last July. Toss in a little chicken, some leftover grilled steak or serve it on the side of your grilled salmon. A perfect summer meal!!
I had known about this trip for months. Five months to be exact. Five months to pack, go to the grocery store, make carpool arrangements, buy Birthday presents. Five months to figure out why the fan on my laptop runs continuously when I use it. But here it was t-minus three days and I had yet to do any of that.
In an effort to solve the laptop problem, I decided that I needed to remove photos off the hard drive. Which lead me to an investigation of where certain photo files were before I started the deletion process. Since I have photos backed up to two external hard drives, a few random thumb drives and the hard drives of a laptop and a desktop, it's sometimes difficult to know just where I put those bloomin' files.
Before long, I was overwhelmed by the investigation and instead found myself identifying "4923 unknown faces" in iPhoto's faces feature...3 at a time. This lead to a form of motion sickness and I turned the job over to the 6-year-old who can now read and gets joy from mouse clicks.
As I gave up my chair to my young child and turned to go, the stacks, bags and boxes of "printed" photos caught my eye. Maybe there were hard copies of the missing files? And before I could stop myself, I was immersed in the mission of sorting through and organizing TEN years worth of photos. For TEN YEARS many of these photos had been sitting in non-descript bags without thought and yet here, three days before leaving my family to go across the country on a trip that has NOTHING to do with those photos, I suddenly found an urgent calling to organize them. (Let's just say, it was a 2 a.m.-er.)
The next morning, sleep-deprived and in a complete fog, I dragged myself to our local "caffeinating-hole," where I confessed my lunacy to two friends. They empathized. They had "been there, done that." But why? Why do we feel the need to organize the spice drawer, clean out the pantry, scrub the fridge with a toothbrush or organize 10-years worth of photos right before we leave on a trip?
Nesting...we decided. We want our nest in order before we leave.
And so, across the country and back again I went.* And when I returned, I hugged my sweet chickens, kissed the Rooster and heaved a sigh of relief. Glad to be home safely. Back in my nest.
Once the homecoming festivities had quieted down, I warmed up a bowl of leftover Potato Corn Chowder, (Goodness knows I didn't eat on the plane.)(Seriously? They can't even afford a bag of pretzels??) snuck into my little office and admired the shelf of newly labeled photo boxes.
Between each bite of my creamy, herbed soup, I flipped through the boxes, smiling, making note of the passing years and some lessons to be learned from them.
Of course, the biggest lesson of all is: Childhood goes fast. A blink of an eye.
Even though I feel like this was yesterday, the little girl here will be headed to high school in the fall. The little boy...middle school. And the toothy baby, a grown-up first grader. (Sigh....)
A close second to the above lesson is: Be careful what you wear and how you actually allow yourself to be photographed. These decisions can come back to haunt you. Let me give you a few examples of this so you may be spared my pain.
Let this be a warning to all of you first-time pregnant Mama's in your third trimester who feel frumpy and thick and want to cut your hair off. Don't do it. Just look at the picture. Need I say more.
No matter how cute the matching Mother and Child photos are in the catalog, this does not necessarily compute to real life. Actually, as you see here, it does not compute at all.
"Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it."
Sometimes as a mother, no matter how much they beg you to play, it's just best to say no.
And finally, when asked my number one tip for taking beautiful photographs...never use a flash. Never, ever, ever. Never. Perhaps I should heed my own advice.
The soup bowl was empty. My eyelids were growing heavy. The photographs had been flipped through. The lessons learned. (Or at least acknowledged.) And admiring my boxes of photographs once again, I was glad I had stayed up until the wee hours to organize them.
Sometimes as a mother, when everything is a top priority, it takes that nesting instinct to get these seemingly unimportant projects done. And yet, spending the time, flipping through the years, smiling and watching my children grow-up before my eyes was anything but unimportant.
Potato Corn Chowder
While there are places in the world enjoying sunny days and short sleeve temperatures, this place, my hometown, is not one of them. We are still in the "spring showers" phase. Still carrying around umbrellas and donning our down jackets. Curling up with a bowl of soup continues to be part of our routine. This soup is perfect for spring. It takes advantage of the baby potatoes, leeks and herbs that are currently in-season. Throw in a little frozen corn and some crispy bacon and you've got a bowl of soup no one can resist.
Ingredients
2 tbsp olive oil
3 leeks, white and light green parts, chopped
4 garlic cloves, minced
3 lbs of thin-skinned, yellow potatoes, diced (approx 10 cups)
8 c chicken broth
1 tbsp fresh thyme
2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp freshly ground pepper
2 c frozen sweet corn
1/2 c half-and-half (or at least, 2% milk)
Toppings
6 slices bacon, cooked crisp and crumbled
Parmesan cheese, freshly grated
1/4 c fresh Italian parsley, chopped
Directions
In a large soup pot, heat your olive oil over medium heat. Add your leeks and sauté for about 8-10 minutes over medium-low heat until they are softened and almost transluscent. Careful not to burn them. Turn your heat down if they are browning too quickly.
Add in your garlic and sauté another minute.
Add your potatoes to the pot and pour in your chicken stock. Add your thyme, salt and pepper. Put the lid on and bring to a boil. Reduce your heat to medium-low. With the lid askew, simmer for about 12-14 minutes or until your potatoes are just soft when pricked with a fork.
Add in your corn and simmer another 3-5 minutes.
Remove soup from heat. Stir in your half-and-half.
Lay out your toppings. Ladle the soup into bowls. Sprinkle a little of this and a little of that on top.
Then, take your bowl over to the window and watch the rain fall while daydreaming of sunnier places.
Yield: One big pot-full
*In case you were curious as to where I went...I traveled to Atlanta, Georgia last week for the BlogHerFood Conference. As you can imagine, we ate, talked and breathed food. I can't say enough good things about the trip. The women (and men) in the food world are truly amazing people. While I did not even take one picture, my friend (and roommate) Sandy Coughlin of Reluctant Entertainer wrote up a great post about the event (including more incriminating photos of me...clearly I'll never learn) which you can read by clicking here.
...
Organizing Project
A bit of a detour. See above. :)
All original text and photographs copyright: Carrie Minns 2009-2011
It snowed last year too: I made a snowman and my brother knocked it down and I knocked my brother down and then we had tea. -Dylan Thomas, Welsh poet
"Mom, it's so embarrassing! Do you know what he does all day at school?"
"No, please tell me."
"He skips."
"Well, he's in kindergarten."
"Well, it's embarrassing. My WHOLE class was lined up to go into the gym and guess who came out of the bathroom and skipped past my WHOLE class and all the way down the hall?"
This eldest son of mine then proceeds to go through a litany of infractions committed by his younger brother. "He makes weird noises. He hums. He kicks my seat. He takes my Lego guys without asking. He follows me around at recess with his hands like binoculars. He barks at me with those stuffed dogs. And...he skips!"
I did not grow up with brothers. Brothers, plural, that is. I have a brother. My "little" brother. He had the distinct honor of providing me with a worthy subject on which to practice my mothering skills. And that was just it. I was more "Mommy Jr" to him than sibling rival. And so now, when confronted with this up-close sibling rival between brothers, I sometimes feel at a loss of what to do.
"Just stop it!! Stop it!!"
Hearing the screams and crying from the garage, I leave the kitchen (where I've been trying to make and eat a quick salad for lunch) and head out to investigate. Upon seeing me, the kindergartner cries out, pointing in the direction of his older brother, "He threw a basketball at my legs."
In defense the 5th grader shoots back, "Yeah well, I wasn't even doing anything and he did this to me." He then proceeds to put his thumbs in his ears, wiggle his fingers and stick out his tongue. Choking back a smile, I said to myself, "I thought they only did that on TV." But judging by the way the 6-year old was covering his guilty face with his arms, apparently my children do that as well.
Both boys looked at me as if to say some justice must be done. Not sure what to do, I thought back to a peace-making method my elder son's kindergarten teacher used to use and I enact my own version of it.
"Okay boys, come here. Closer. Face each other. Hold each other's hands."
"No."
"Hold each other's hands and look at each other."
The 11-year old rolls his eyes and begrudgingly grabs his brother's hands. The littler one opens his eyes wide like a zombie, grabs his brother's hands and then, proceeds to jump up and down, over and over, like a kangaroo.
"Now I want you to compliment each other. Say something kind about your brother."
This is not a new concept to them. During our family dinners on Sundays (when they actually happen) we take turns complimenting other family members. I can usually count on the 11-year old to come up with a little gem about his siblings.
"Come on guys. we're not leaving til you say something kind to each other."
"He's not holding my hand," cries out the little one.
"Stop jumping! That's so weird," the older one shoots back.
Finally, there is a moment of calm and a bit of silence. I can see the older brother gathering his thoughts and the littler one, no longer jumping but still wide-eyed, not knowing what to say.
"C'mon. Surely you can think of something," I say, looking at the older brother, hoping he'll set a good example.
"Okay, okay," says the older one as he gathers himself together. And then, looking deep into his little brother's eyes, he says with all sincerity, "Brother....your farts don't stink."
The little one's eyes grow even bigger, he starts jumping again and with a huge smile on his face, he fires back, "Yeah, well.....your poop doesn't stink!"
They both start cracking up. I try to stifle my smile, throw my hands up in defeat and head inside to finally eat my lunch, muttering, "Boys."
While I sit at the kitchen table enjoying the first of this season's strawberries, my eldest son walks through the kitchen and I say to him, "You know, you'll never be in school with him again...in your whole life. You two could grow up to be best of friends but it depends on how you treat each other now. You're going to miss having him around next year."
He continues walking past me but I can tell he's listening.
At the foot of the stairs, he says back to me, "I know I'll miss him."
And then further up the stairs, "But I won't miss the skipping!"
...
A Strawberry, Hazelnut, and Goat Cheese Salad Drizzled with a Bit of Balsamic Vinaigrette
I have been reading about pairing sweet, luscious strawberries with piquant balsamic vinegar for quite sometime now and I thought it would be fun to try them out in a salad together. Sprinkle on some tangy goat cheese and nutty hazelnuts and you've got a salad fit for a Queen....or at least fit to keep you seated long enough to ponder on the intricacies of sibling rivalry and what to do about it.
I also show in the the photos above a clay ramekin from the talented guys & gals over at Olympic Provisions. Last weekend at the Farmer Market, they had kindly given me a ramekin of their homemade rillette to try on the baguette I was carrying around in my bag. I had never, knowingly, tried rillette. If you're curious to learn more, here's a wonderful post by the über-talented Matt Wright describing how to make and how to eat pork rillette. Once I figured out that I should bring it to room temperature and mix it all together (as opposed to just scraping the cold fat off the top), I discovered a luscious, rich meaty spread, perfect on a little piece of bread. Thank you, Olympic Provisions!
Ingredients:
1 tbsp balsamic vinegar
1 tsp shallot, minced (optional)
pinch o' salt
2-3 tbsp olive oil
couple handfuls of baby greens
1/2 cup or so of sliced strawberries
a sprinkling of crumbled goat cheese (feta might be good too.)
a sprinkling of roasted hazelnuts (or walnuts, almonds, whatever nuts you have on hand and I don't mean your children)
freshly ground black pepper
Directions:
Combine your vinegar and shallots, if you're using shallots, in a small bowl and let rest for 5-10 minutes. If not using the shallots you can skip the "resting" part.
Add your salt and whisk together. Then slowly, while whisking, drizzle in your olive oil.
Place your baby greens on a plate. Top with the strawberries, the goat cheese and the nuts. Drizzle on the balsamic vinaigrette to your liking. Add a few cracks of black pepper and...voila!
A couple slices of bread with rillette (or butter...or just plain), a glass of sparkling water and with each mouthful of your delicious salad you'll be able to feel summer drawing near. I realize that that is near impossible for those of us in Portland seeing as we haven't even had a spring but, nonetheless, I suggest giving it a try. Enjoy....
Question for You
I get approached, from time to time, by vendors offering me products and cooking supplies to giveaway to you kind people who read my musings. Some of them are a good fit (coffee, chocolate, kitchen gadgets, etc.,) others (Ugg knock-offs) not so much. I am headed to Atlanta next week for the BlogHer Food Conference where I will undoubtedly be hit-up for these kinds of "giveaways." Because I try to be sensitive to the amount of email that lands in your in-box, especially those of you who are so incredibly generous to subscribe to La Pomme de Portland, I have hesitated doing too many of these.
But you tell me, "Would you like to have me do more giveaways...provided they are a good fit?"
You can let me know in the comments below or in an email or ping me on Facebook.
...
A New Look
And speaking of comments, I realize my "commenter" is cr---- (rhymes with pappy)....and not that I want you to feel obligated to comment but if you felt inclined to do so, it's almost impossible.
Well right now, behind the scenes, La Pomme de Portland is getting a face-lift. Part of this face-lift will include an easier way to comment/ask questions as well as an easy way to print the recipes or subscribe by email or search for recipes. And most importantly, hopefully it will just be easier to read.
If any of you have ever thought, "I sure wish Carrie would...." or "Why doesn't this....work better on Carrie's site?" or "Has Carrie ever considered...?" or "I would like Carrie to post more about ...."
Please, please, feel free to send me your thoughts.
Thank you so much for reading!! You kind, sweet souls, taking time to read La Pomme....it makes me weep!
All original text and photographs copyright: Carrie Minns 2009-2011
(To borrow a line from one of my favorite movies, The Holiday, which does indeed make me weep.)
Just this morning I started weeping while making the kids' lunches. One may have thought it was because if I have to make one more school lunch I may start weeping and never stop.
But no, that wasn't it. Could have been but no.
(And yes, I could have my children make their own lunches but I have control issues.)
Out of the blue, I started thinking about how I'll have a daughter in high school next year. (!?!) And I teared up, right there, on the spot. Only 4 years left...
My daughter gave me a little hug, sighed and said, "Oh, Mom...." And then, went back to primping.
The 11-year old just shook his head and the 6-year old reminded me how he'll still be here.
And so it's been with all of this "cleaning out" and organizing, I've been a little weepy.
As I backed my car up to the donation center, I found a lump in my throat as I handed over the plastic, muti-colored alphabet mat (that I never liked). I blinked back tears as the Princess Party Tent was handed over even though I cursed that thing every time I had to set it up. A wave of nostalgia hit me as I pulled out the bag of pixel blocks that no one ever played with but I'd been holding onto for years and years because someone might.
I'm starting to think that the reason organizing and cleaning out can feel so overwhelming isn't the actual organizing and cleaning out but the letting go. Darn those kids...growing up and all.
Once I returned home, however, I felt a little lighter. Like a little weight had been lifted and I haven't missed the mat, tent and blocks once...until now as I'm typing this. Now, I'm blinking back tears.
And sometimes this is the way I feel when I face my fridge and try to figure out what to make for lunch or dinner...again. And sometimes just the thought of cooking again can make me weep. (Where's my personal chef when I need him?) I stand back from the fridge, observing, knowing that with all the little bits here and there, I should be able to pull something together.
And then, out of the blue, I'll remember that I have an entire case of garbanzo beans in the garage for all that hummus I was planning on making...but never did. And I'll remember a recipe I recently read that sounded intriguing and I'll start pulling out my version of that recipe.
Before I know it I'm sitting down to a lunch composed entirely of bits and pieces from my kitchen (and the garage) that needed to be cleaned out and used up. And as I sit there eating my scrumptious little lunch, I'll feel a little lighter. I'll feel that a little weight has been lifted.
And I won't be weeping, but simply enjoying, unless of course you remind me that my daughter is going to high school next year which I just reminded myself by typing it and then, well, then I might start weeping...again.
PS: You see, it never ends. I mentioned to the 6-year old how beautiful all of the cherry blossoms scattered all over the ground are. A bit like snowflakes. Grabbing a single petal, he runs inside and makes me this. Tears...
Chickpeas, Asparagus and a Splash of Lemon Salad Inspired by Molly Wizenberg's recipe in Bon Appetit April 2011
So Ms. Molly, who's delightful blog, Orangette, I can't get enough of, had a chickpea salad recipe published in the April issue of Bon Appetit. It caught my fancy especially considering the case of chickpeas (garbanzo beans) I have in the garage that needs to be used up. Of course, I had to give it my own twist such as adding asparagus to it and setting it on a bed of lettuce. Simply delightful. A welcome change from all the winter food we've been having for so so long.
Ingredients:
1 sm/med garlic clove, peeled and minced
2 tbsp fresh lemon juice - 1/2 lemon
2 tbsp olive oil
pinch of salt
palmful of Italian parsley, coarsely chopped (approx 1 tbsp)
1 15 oz can garbanzo/chickpeas, drained and rinsed
roasted asparagus spears, cut into 1-inch segments, about 6 or whatever you have in the fridge
1/4 c grated Parmesan cheese
couple handfuls of baby greens
Directions:
Whisk together your garlic, lemon juice, olive oil, salt and parsley. If you have time, I would set this mixture aside and let the flavors "meld" for at least 10 minutes or up to an hour but if there is no extra time to be had you can continue on with delicious results.
Gently stir in your chickpeas, asparagus and Parmesan.
Spoon onto a bed of baby greens or whatever greens you love.
Munch away. Enjoy...
PS: A dear friend of mine told me that her sister mixed together garbanzo/chickpeas, sliced cherry tomatoes, olive oil and kosher salt this past weekend and served it alongside grilled steaks.
PPS: The above mentioned daughter who is headed to high school next year is 14 today. (sniff, sniff) While I try to keep dinners quick and simple on the weeknights, when it's a Birthday night, I do a little more. I'm planning on serving this salad tonight along with grilled chicken sausages, asparagus/pea risotto, strawberries and Birthday cake. It's making my stomach rumble just thinking about all that Birthday dinner goodness.
Here's my sweet girl back when she played in the Princess Party Tent....sigh.
....
Organizing Project:
I got nothin'... although, as I said above, I did actually make it to the donation center.
....
AM Northwest
I realized I never posted this on La Pomme last week. So, in case you're interested, here's a live version of yours truly along with lovely Helen making Apple and Rhubarb Baked in a Pie on AM Northwest. Cheers...
If you are unable to view a video screen above this line, click here to be taken directly to the link.
All original text and photographs copyright: Carrie Minns 2009-2011
I sit here in the shadows just out of sight like my mother did before me. There but not there. Still needed but not seen.
Watching you with your friends. Linking hands with these friends as you jump unabashedly into the water. Holding handstand competitions.
Saddling up to these friends on the chair lift. Laughing and singing and bumping each other before the ride is over and you're off down the slopes again.
Watching you from the kitchen window as you ride your bike...still with training wheels...down the street. Dragging your feet to slow you down as the pavement dips a little. Around the neighbor's driveway and then confidently back up the street.
You glance at the kitchen window hoping I'm there. I am. You give me a nod, a smile and you're off again.
Standing near you as you chop your carrots, your leeks, your potatoes. Teaching you but not watching you as you put your vegetables into the pot. Pour in the stock. Stir it around. Smelling your creation. Feeling a wave of confidence as those first tantalizing smells waft up toward you.
Laughing with you as you question my dinner-making music, "Oh no, Mom. Is this Norah Jones again?"
Sitting near you at the table as we toast you...the chef.
And I know you won't remember that I was there.
You'll remember that you swam and you skiied, you rode your bike and you cooked but you won't remember that I was sitting there off to the side...just like my mother did for me.
But someday when you're a parent you'll do the same thing.
Watching from the shadows as your children grow up.
Peas and Carrots, Carrots and Peas Spring Soup
I have spent the past month making pea soup in all various forms. I think you know by now that I have a soup fetish. Can't help it. Besides being "delicious and nutritious" it makes for easy clean-up...one pot...and it sits so nicely on the stove over low heat waiting for family members to come home at various times, ladle it up without any help from me and taste its glory. Now, while my daughter and myself enjoyed all the different pea soups that I concocted (we're easy to please seeing as there's not much we don't like) and the Rooster and my littlest one at least finished their bowls, I couldn't get a pea soup past the 11-year old. So, I employed the old "They tend to eat what they make" trick and dragged him into the kitchen with me. Here's what we came up with....which he devoured with flourish.
Ingredients
2 tbsp olive oil
2 leeks, chopped (white and light green parts only)
2 med/large carrots, peeled and diced
couple pinches of kosher salt (1/2 tsp each)
few cracks of black pepper
2-3 garlic cloves, minced
2 qts chicken broth
1 tsp Herbes de Provence (Italian seasoning will work too.)
4 medium potatoes, thin or thick skinned, cubed. If thick skinned, make sure to peel them.
a bit of parmesan cheese rind (If you don't have this, not to worry, just skip it.)
2 c fresh or frozen peas
Optional toppings
5 slices of bacon, cooked and crumbled
Chopped chives, basil, Italian parsley or any other fresh herb you enjoy
Grated parmesan cheese
Directions
In a heavy-bottomed soup pot, heat your olive oil. Add in your chopped leeks, the pinch of salt and cracks of black pepper. Give it a stir and begin to sauté on low heat. Peel and dice up your carrots then add them to the pot. Give it another stir and sauté the whole works for about 5-8 minutes or until the leeks and carrots are beginning to soften.
Add in your garlic. Give them a whirl and sauté for another minute or so.
Pour in your chicken broth. Sprinkle in your herbs. Plop in your potatoes. Add another pinch of salt and couple of cracks of black pepper. Stir. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer for about 20 minutes (or until your potatoes are softened) with the lid askew.
If using frozen peas, add them in when the potatoes have been cooking for 10 minutes. If using fresh peas, add them in when the potatoes have been cooking for 15 minutes.
Set out the delicious toppings and let your family, your guests, yourself spoon the fragrant spring soup into bowls and sprinkle on the toppings like it's an ice cream sundae bar.
I put out a crusty loaf of bread, a ramekin full of Goat Cheese Love, some sliced up Opal apples and called it dinner.
Enjoy....
Yield: One big pot-full
PS: A little note about the peas. I know that some of you...even some of my dearest, closest friends...do not like peas. I cannot understand this as I can't get enough of them but if you are the type who does not care for the little green orbs this soup is still delicious without them. Just leave them out. You could toss in a handful of orzo pasta the last 10 minutes of cooking instead...or not.
Speaking of Peas and Carrots
Love these particular Peas and Carrots from Williams-Sonoma.
The Organizing Project
Wonder of wonders, miracles of miracles!! I have officially finished organizing the legos, the toy closet and the under-the-stairs closet. It only took me 3 months but hey, I did it!! I cannot tell you how amazing this feels. I thought I would share a few before and after photos for your viewing pleasure.
BEFORE
AFTER
Next up, the 6-year old's closet and dress-up drawer. (BTW, he's no longer the 5-year old since we celebrated his birthday over spring break. So bittersweet....)
All original text and photographs copyright: Carrie Minns 2009-2011
There I was in organizing bliss. Well, actually, scratch that. I was hyperventilating and covered in perspiration as I surveyed the boxes of games and puzzles with missing pieces and cried out in desperation, "Someone get me an Old Fashioned!" even though I don't drink Old Fashioneds but my Granny always used to ask for them and so I thought I would too. However, regardless of all that, I was actually organizing. And I wanted to continue organizing. Mother Nature had cancelled our plans for skiing and a commitment-free 3-day weekend lay before me. Since I had announced publicly on this here blog that I would be organizing weekly, I was feeling the pressure. People would be asking me how it was going. I had to have something to report back.
Deep in concentration assembling a Madeline puzzle, (I can't in good conscience donate a puzzle with missing parts, now can I?) my daughter flits by and says, "So, I'm having two people spend the night Sunday and we're making cookies for Ronald McDonald house for our community service project." To which I respond, "Yes, that's what we agreed on." "Okay," she says back and then adds on, "Oh, and some of us are talking about going to a movie. I don't know, like, tomorrow or something." "Oh, okay," I say non-chalantly to her while silently cursing this puzzle with its odd shaped pieces.
A few hours later, I am beside myself with frustration. "Where is the humongous fungus?! Nobody in their right mind will want to play Shrek Operation with a missing body part." Coming through a bin of random toy parts, I search for the humongous fungus. Seemingly out of nowhere, I detect my daughter's legs just outside the bin. She speaks to me saying, "Okay, so the 1:50 pm movie on Sunday works best but we might change it to Monday. We thought cookies from 4-6p on Sunday would be good but if the movie happens we'll do cookies on Monday. (pause) Oh, and Betty is coming too." To this last bit I pop my head up, "Wait a minute. I said two people. That's it." "But, Mom, Betty needs her community service too and we were already talking about it at school and I forgot." Overwhelmed with the amount of details coming at me and around me, I sigh and say, "Fine...but that's it. And who's taking you to the movies?" "Probably one of the other Moms."
Still perspiring but making progress, I had different piles going. One labeled, "Ready to Donate." Another labeled, "Missing pieces." And a final one, "Too far gone." Isn't it interesting how not one child has touched these items in years, but the minute I pull them out and spruce them up, it's like Christmas all over again? Out of the corner of my eye, I see the 5-year old taking apart the car carrier with all of its car pieces I had diligently located and before I could begin to address that situation, my daughter appears again saying something like, "Okay, Mom. So here's the plan. Betty, Barbara, Missy and Cindy are going to the movies with me. Dad is dropping us off. You can pick us up after you pick-up my dear brother from the party. Then, Cindy, Barbara and Betty will be arriving at 6pm for the sleepover. Linda will be coming at 8pm. We'll make cookies in the morning. Oh, but Betty has to leave early so you can just take me, Cindy, Barbara and Linda to drop off the cookies later that afternoon." I sat there...stunned. All I could manage to do was look at her and say, "Wait...what?" Somehow I knew I was being scammed but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.
Mid-weekend, I moved my unfinished organizing project to a corner of the room, knowing that the floor space would need to be available later that evening for sleeping teenage girls. At least, I hoped they would be sleeping. I called my daughter down to the room and asked her to sit down. "Now, here's the deal. I said two people. Somehow it's now four people which is fine...but here are the rules. I'm not okay with 5 in the morning bedtime. Look in my eyes. Right here." "I'm looking." "All lights and screens must be off by 1am which means if you want to watch a movie by what time do you need to start it?" "I know Mom." "No tell me, what is the latest time you can start the movie?" "11pm" "Right. And no kitchen raids after midnight. Say it, no kitchen raids after...?" "Midnight." "Lights and screens off by....?" "I know, Mom." "Tell me." With a giant exhale, she says, "1am." "I'm trusting you to be in charge of your friends." "I know." And with that I start up the stairs. "Uh...Mom?" my daughter calls up to me. "What?" "Well, I'm just asking you because they were asking me and I told them I would ask you but would it be okay if Louisa came too?" "No."
The evening progressed like any teenage slumber party would. They were polite at dinner. Ate their chili. Said please and thank you. Cleared their dishes. But once my sweetie and I had retired to our bedroom, they raided the kitchen after midnight. Ran around the house whispering and giggling until 2am. At 4am, my sweetie finally went downstairs to remind them that five hours of cookie baking lay ahead of them and it would be best if they got some sleep.
Bleary-eyed the next morning (or should I say a few hours later?) they reluctantly started mixing up cookie dough. "How many cookies do we need? Four dozen cooked plus dough for the freezer. Why do they need dough for the freezer? I don't know. Just do it." They mixed. They rolled. They baked. They asked if they could take a break and walk down to Starbucks. I said no but pointed to the pile of dishes they could do and continued chatting with my neighbor who had kindly come over for moral support. They sighed. They washed. They dried. They decorated. They sprinkled. They packaged. And finally, they loaded up and we headed to the Ronald McDonald house. Driving there, exhausted, I thought to myself, "Never again."
The house was quiet but warm. The girls presented their goods to the manager on site. She asked them if they knew what purpose the Ronald Mcdonald house served. They nodded yes. She gave them statistics about how many families lived there at one time. What kind of patients they usually had there. The girls listened to her attentively. She explained to them that the house was quiet now because the children were out getting their chemo treatments. It was in that moment that I saw a softening of their faces. She took them to a bulletin board with photos of all the families currently living there. Names and faces made these unknown patients become real for them. Finally, she said to them, "I bet you're wondering why we asked for the unbaked cookie dough?" Again, they nodded yes. "Because within an hour of arriving at the hospital they take on the smell of the hospital. It's in their hair. Their clothes. Their skin. The smell of baking cookies helps mask that smell and makes this place feel more like...a home for them. And then, of course, the cookies themselves are a nice treat." I looked over at the girls. All of the "teenageresque" attitude had disappeared and they stood there with genuine interest and concern at what they were being told. Perhaps realizing that what had seemed like a chore for them, meant so much to someone else.
"They just want to smell cookies baking," I kept thinking to myself as I dropped each girl off at her home. All of the anxiety about organizing and teenage slumber parties and the chore of baking cookies suddenly seemed so trivial when compared to simply wanting the smell of freshly baked cookies to mask the smell of sickness. And it was in that moment that I knew I should never have said never because I would absolutely do it all again just to fulfill that one simple request.
Tying up a few loose ends from my last post....
And the winner of the Seattle's Best Coffee Curiosity Pack, as chosen by the 5-year old, is:
I know where to find you. I will hand deliver it to you. Enjoy.....
I've had a few of you stop me in my tracks to let me know you made the White Bean and Kale Soup Peppered with Pancetta and you couldn't believe it, your family loved it, "green stuff and all." For a live version of how to make that soup, here's a video of yours truly whipping it up with Helen on AM Northwest.
If a video screen does not appear above this line, click here to be taken directly to the site.
Lighten Up Chili
This is a chili recipe that I go back to time and time again. Everyone loves it. It's easy to make. And with snow rain and Super Bowl season upon us, it's a good one to have on hand. I usually make this with 2 pounds of ground beef but because our family isn't eating as much beef as we used to, I decided to lighten it up with half ground turkey, half ground beef and you know....I liked it even better. I will give those of you with a delicate system sensitive to the ways of beans fair warning to perhaps discreetly take a beano or two before consuming this Chili....not that I would have any personal experience with that or anything. And, of course, this dish is always a hit with the teenager bunch. You can see that I had to scrape the pot just to have a couple tablespoons to photograph for you sweet people.
Ingredients:
2 tbsp olive oil
1 lb lean ground beef
1 lb ground turkey
salt and pepper
1 medium yellow onion, diced
1 c celery, diced, about 2-3 stalks
1 red pepper, seeded and diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 15 oz can diced or whole tomatoes with juice
1 15 oz can tomato sauce
1 6 oz can tomato paste
2 tsp cumin
3 tsp chili powder
1-2 tsp red pepper flakes, depending on how spicy you like it
optional: 1 tsp of granulated sugar
1 15 oz can kidney beans, drained
1 15 oz can black beans, drained
Toppings: grated cheddar cheese and chopped green onions
Directions:
In a heavy-bottomed soup pot, heat your olive oil. Brown your ground beef and turkey over medium heat. Drain grease if necessary but remember that a little bit of grease can add a lot of flavor.
Add your onion, celery and red pepper to the pot with the meat and saute 5 minutes of so. Add your garlic and saute another minute or two.
Add your tomatoes, tomato sauce, tomato paste, cumin, chili powder and red pepper flakes. Stir to combine. Taste. Depending on the canned tomatoes you used, you may find you need to add a teaspoon of granulated sugar to sweeten it up just a bit.
Bring to a boil, then reduce your heat and simmer for 1 hour.
Add your beans and simmer 30 more minutes. Taste and add salt and pepper if necessary. Ladle into bowls and serve with grated cheese and green onions. Enjoy.
(For the teenager set, I also put out a bowl of Cowboy Caviar, homemade guacamole, tortillas chips and a plate of sliced apples. They devoured it all.)
Yield: One big pot full.
Organizing Project:
Jan 10-16: Only made it halfway through dreaded toy/game closet before I had to step out for oxygen.
Jan 17-23: Finish dreaded toy/game closet.
How are you all doing with your organizing? I've heard from more than a few of you who originally said you weren't joining me in the insanity and now..... while I'm still trying to get through one closet, you've sorted through multiple rooms, entire wardrobes and even laid down beautiful new contact paper in kitchen cupboards. "Sigh..." I'm so proud of you. (Or, do I detect a little competition going on here? Game on!)
All original text and photographs copyright: Carrie Minns 2009-2010
When the kind, sweet people at AM Northwest asked if they could film a cooking segment in my kitchen, my first thought was, "Oh no, now I really am going to have to clean out that pantry." There's not much you can't find in my pantry. I like to keep my kitchen well-stocked with staples. Sometimes that's a good thing. Sometimes not. But regardless of which way you look at it, that tiny little closet was much in need of an overhaul. I could even see the eyes widen of one of my dearest friends when I told her of this opportunity and then, she glanced at my pantry. She, a former, professional organizer, kindly gave me some helpful tips. "Okay, you're going to need to pull everything out of there. Wipe it all down. And then, only put back in what you're actually going to use." I was grateful for her advice.
But, in true Carrie Minns procrastination fashion, the day before an actual, TV camera would set forth in my kitchen...I decided to clean the fridge first. "This won't take long. I'll get to the pantry in a little bit." Armed with a soapy scrubber and a sharp knife for chipping off "who knows what" on the side door, I went to work making the fridge shine.
Pleased with my work there, I headed toward the pantry but then, found myself drawn to the drawers of school paperwork that had not been sorted through in at least 2 years. My thinking was that, "I must clean out these drawers because what if I need to move items from the pantry into these drawers? What would I do then? There would be no room."
The sun was on her downward arc, my littlest one was following my every movement, people would be clamoring for dinner soon and I was starting to lose steam. I stood at the door of the pantry and stared. I half-heartedly took down some items from one shelf. Spruced them up. Put them back. Managed to do that same process with one more shelf. Swept the floor and then, decided, "Good enough." I turned and headed to the kitchen table where the 5-year old was waiting to challenge me in yet another titillating game of Candy Land.
A few weeks ago, my friend Fran asked me what I thought when I saw myself on the TV. "Do you find little things that you want to change? Are you overly critical of yourself?" And I told her honestly, "The older I get, the easier I am on myself." Somewhere along the way I realized that I'm just doing my best. Not perfectly by any means, but just like everyone else, I'm going about life the best way I know how. Years ago, I would have stayed up until 2 in the morning to clean out that pantry but now, I've realized that I do what I can. The pantry will always be there, but the 5-year old waiting to "whoop" me in Candy Land, won't.
If a video screen does not appear above this line, click here to be taken directly to the site. And hey, check out that fridge, lookin' good...
To further expound on the TV segment, I do try my best to meal plan every week. I look at the schedule ahead and see how much time I have to cook on any given night. I consider what is in-season. Then, I write down some idea for dinner Monday-Thursday and Sunday, whether scribbled on a post-it note or put down officially in my planner. Friday is our family pizza night (and my night off.) Saturday, I'm never sure what will end up happening or whether I'll find something at the farmer's market that morning so I usually leave it up in the air. Sundays are our true "Family Dinner" night. I always plan to make something a little more special and the kids rotate having to partner with me to make that meal. I get to have some company and they get to learn some cooking skills. Then, it's back to cleaning out the fridge, for "Soup on Monday."
Here's a link to an actual recipe that mimics the soup I made on the segment: Rainy Day Vegetable Soup
And, if you want to look further into meal planning, here are two websites dedicated to meal planning.
My friend, Jane Maynard, plans weekly at: This Week For Dinner
And my friend, Tricia Callahan, plans monthly at: Once a Month Mom
One last thing, if you'd like an incredibly beautiful reminder of all the bounty that this season has to offer for meal planning, check out this desk top calendar which currently graces the screen of my computer: November Calendar by Shanna Murray and Jen Causey
Have a wonderful weekend, my friends!
All original text and photographs copyright: Carrie Minns 2009-2010
Chuckling to myself I typed these words into my phone, "Left home 4am. Arrived SFO 8am. BlogHer Food starts tomorrow. Had coffee. Now what?" And then, "Poof!", out into cyberspace went my note.
I looked up, almost to see if anyone had noticed what I had just done. I glanced over at the man playing the violin on the bench next to me. At the Daddies doting over their tiny baby. At the front door to Miette, "Open yet?" No one seemed to be aware of my ramblings. In this day and age of the uncharted territory of social media, this is often how I learn. By just pressing buttons, sending things out and seeing what comes back. And so, to all 43 of the thoughtful people who happened to "follow me" on Twitter, those are the words I tossed out.
Bare minutes had passed before a note appeared right back to me. "Come hang out with @goodlifeeats and I. :)" I was giddy. This was almost like finding a message in a bottle washed up on the sand.
I haven't been the new kid on the block for a long time. My sweetie and I have managed to stay put for 8 years now. Growing up, however, I was always the new kid. Due in part to my father's military career, to ever-changing school boundaries and to my dear parents' incessant need to change houses at least every 3 years. (18 moves and counting...for them.) Once again though, I was the new kid. Thanks to the generosity of Gina Rau over at Feed Our Families, I had a ticket to the sold-out BlogHer Food Conference in San Francisco and knew not a soul. That is, except for the extraordinarily thoughtful, Kristen Doyle from Dine and Dish. She and I had spent the past year admiring each other's photographs on Flickr but it was one of those "on-line" friendships. We had never met in person and yet, it was she who replied to my Twitter message.
Somehow I managed to hail down a cab in this quiet Hayes Street neighborhood I had chosen to enjoy my coffee in and hightailed it back to my hotel. My room was ready. Thrilled to have access this early (11 am), I turned around to head for the elevator only to find Kristin, waiting in line, right behind me. From that moment on, she brought me into the fold. I am eternally grateful.
The days and evenings that followed were a whirlwind. Sipping Beringer wine and chatting with the Deen Brothers. (Boy, they love their Mama!) Hearing Dorie Greenspan speak of her years working with Julia Child. Tasting the exquisitely creamy, almost velvety, tomato soup as prepared by Portland's own Chef Lisa, of Mother's Bistro, during the breaks. Chocolate, chocolate and more chocolate. Midnight Muni rides. A scavenger hunt at The Ferry Building. Trying to be a good sport by agreeing to wear the pig nose in the photo booth. Dining on crispy bacon dipped in chocolate. And the people I met. Oh, the people....
The atmosphere was truly, a frenzied love fest. A connection amongst people who have a strong commitment to food. However, underneath it all, I believe that it is a deep concern that motivates us to reach out to one another. To want each one of us to succeed. Whether we operate in a small corner of the world like me or we reach a huge audience like The Pioneer Woman. This almost franticness to help each other comes from, what I believe is, a profound knowledge that we are sick. We, as a society, are sick. We have lost our way with food. We can no longer find our way around a kitchen. We no longer bring people into our homes to share food. The amount of inspirational speaking I heard that weekend was extraordinary but probably no more so than the closing remarks by Michel Ruhlman. At the end, the emotion of what he had to say was so great, he had to stand up. "Cooking is what made us human. Cooking made us more social. We had to cooperate and divide labor. We had to come together. I think you write about this because in your heart you know, cooking is fundamental to our humanity."
Humanity, as defined by Webster's, "All human beings collectively. The quality of being humane; kindness; benevolence."
Sunday morning was a bit like the end of summer camp. Ready to go home but sad to leave my buddingnew friendships. I hopped into a cab bound for SFO with Ahmed and his son who had been in town visiting family. We exchanged pleasantries. Without a shred of an accent, Ahmed shared that he was raised in Egypt, "the birthplace of civilization." He then went on to tell me that French was his first language. "Perfect," I thought. "Beware thee that choose to entitle their website with a French phrase. Thou shalt be quizzed by native French speakers." And quiz me he did. I suppose I "passed" when he said to me, in French, that from now on when people ask me if I speak French, not to say (in French), "I can speak French, but it isn't pretty." but to say, "I do speak French but with a petite American accent." (Kindness prevailed in him not to call it a "grand" accent.)
However, truth be told, it's the final English words he spoke that resonate so strongly with me. I can't get them out of my mind. Before departing the cab, he turned to me and said, with great earnestness, "Language is our culture. Food is our humanity." And then, holding up his hand as if to wordlessly cut-off any argument, he paid for my cab fare as well as his and then he and his son were gone. And, in the suddenly quiet car, I was left to ponder...language and food. Kindness and humanity.
Creamy Tomato Soup
So I'm not even going to try and pass this off as Chef Lisa's tomato soup. To enjoy her exquisite concoction you'll have to visit her restaurant, Mother's Bistro or buy her new cookbook, Mother's Best. But this is what I happen to serve my family when I don't have a lot of time but want something "homemade." I serve it with toasted cheese sandwiches and sliced up apples on the side but if you were really short on time you could bag the toasted cheese sandwiches and just put out some bread, a hunk of cheese and a knife and tell everyone to go at it. I always double the recipe as it's perfect in a thermos for lunch the next day. You can also freeze it, if you are a freezing food kind of person.
Ingredients:
1 large onion diced (a cup or so)
2 tbsp olive oil
2 28-oz cans diced tomatoes
2 c chicken broth
1/2 tsp salt
1/8 - 1/4 tsp cayenne pepper
1/4 c sour cream
grated sharp cheddar cheese
In a heavy-bottomed skillet, heat your olive oil. Add your diced onions and sauté for 6-8 minutes or until onions are softened and translucent.
Add in your tomatoes (plus their juices), chicken broth, salt, and cayenne pepper. Bring to a boil and then, reduce heat and let simmer about 20 minutes.
At this point I usually pull out my 18-year old hand-held immersion blender, and "pureé" my soup a bit. If I'm running short on time, I don't do this and just leave it fairly "rustic." It's up to you. Although, if you don't have an immersion blender, you must go and get yourself one. They are the best. Especially if you're like me and have a phobia about cleaning food processors except in extreme situations.
Once that is done (or not), whisk in your sour cream until...well, creamy.
Spoon into bowls and top with the grated cheese. Enjoy!
Yield: A big pot full.
All original text and photographs copyright: Carrie Minns 2009-2010
The kids were geared up. They had on their road warrior hats and there wasn't a single complaint to be found. No, "Are we almost there?" No, "I'm bored." They knew our destination. Had been looking forward to it for a year. This annual pilgrimage to "The River." The Eel River, to be exact. We had left behind the tightly packed Douglas firs. Almost brillo-like in the way they densely covered the sharp slopes flanking I-5. We had said good-bye to the rolling hills of Southern Oregon speckled with maples. And, we were currently snaking our way past the awe-inspiring and rather haunting California Redwoods. As we slowly made our way up the shady, narrow road, the 5-year old called out excitedly, "Mom?! Where's the Endor Base?" "Mom? Mom? Is that where the speeders go?" While I looked out the window and saw...Majestic. Colossal. Beauty. He looked out the window and saw...Ewoks. Clone Troopers. Battle scenes from Star Wars VI. (The other two didn't see anything. They were conked out thanks to the Dramamine. A must for all but the strongest stomachs on the winding stretch of highway through the Smith River Canyon.)
What is it about the summer road trip? The anticipation of sleeping in a tent that allows children, who can barely sit for half an hour to enjoy their dinner, to sit for 8 or 9 hours straight in a car without complaining? The only question on their lips being, "When can we go to the river? Can we go to the river right when we get there? When? When? When?" And sure enough, upon our arrival, there was no holding them back. No setting up camp. Just a flurry of bathing suits and sunscreens and they were off.
Maybe the answer lies in its simplicity. The way that the older ones ferry the younger ones in a small boat across the "deep end" over and over, all day long. Neither party growing tired of the trip. Back and forth. Back and forth. The way the older ones jump off the rock into the river, over and over, all day long. Never growing tired of scaling the rock up past the poison oak and jumping again. Scaling and jumping. Scaling and jumping. Or, maybe it's the simple thrill of "night swimming." The rush that comes from conquering something that you feared. Or, the way that the Moms, best friends, sisters, still exhausted from the school year, are allowed to simply sit. Sit. Sit. Sit. In the sun. Talking about this and that. Sipping our sparkling water. A bottle of Rosé. At one point, I inquired of my 10-year old in a private moment, "So, are you having fun?" He looked at me, a bit puzzled and replied, "Mom? Are you kidding me? This is my warcraft." And he pushed off into the water, kicking his inner tube down the river. The same kind of black inner tube I played on in my grandparents creek during the summer.
Of course, one can't think of tents and rivers and campfires without thinking of food. Food that's been simplified. Paired down. No cookbooks. No recipes. A loaf of purchased pound cake, sliced and left on a table for children to grab as they walk by for breakfast. A cooler full of sandwiches...pb and j, salami and cheese, turkey with hummus and vegetables. A bag of Rainier cherries. Canteens full of water. And in the evening, salmon and halibut that have been grilled to perfection with only a brush of olive oil and a sprinkle of garlic salt for seasoning. A pot of buttered noodles and a salad of greens tossed with olive oil and lemon juice. Salt and pepper. Easy. Uncomplicated. No pressure, food. And even though I rather loathe marshmallows, every year at this time, there's nothing quite like the perfectly roasted S'more for dessert.
Then at night, cuddled up in a tent, after a day of water and sun, all one really needs is a pillow, a sleeping bag, an air mattress and some night air for a deep sleep. Well, actually, that is if you aren't me with my genetic disposition toward light sleeping and dog hearing. Which, even though it does not render me a full night's rest, does allow me to hear foiled attempts to teepee the teenage girls' tent by a couple of teenage boys...and then, to lay there and do nothing but smile to myself. The following day, I hear myself explaining to my teenage daughter who was aghast upon learning about the attempted prank, "They do and say these things because they like you." And her saying to me impatiently, "Mom, you always say that." And I guess I do. Just like my parents said it to me. And I wonder, "Is it true?"
Back through the Redwoods. Past the rolling hills and up to the familiar Doug firs. The only sound to be heard is the occasional, "Mom, can we stay longer next year?" The kids each thinking about what type of water contraption they're bringing next time. Me thinking about the food. Those sandwiches by the river. That bottle of Rosé. And sitting. Just sitting.
A Simple Satisfying Summer Sandwich
Let's be honest, sometimes in our overcomplicated world, we overcomplicate food as well. Summer with all of its fresh produce provides us with an opportunity to simplify because summer produce doesn't need much except slicing. We couldn't get enough of these sandwiches on "The River." Paired with a handful of Rainier cherries and a glass of sparkling water or chilled wine....it doesn't get much better than this.
Ingredients:
2 slices of your favorite whole grain bread.
(I prefer Dave's Killer Bread or La Brea Whole Grain Bread)
2-3 slices of tomato
4-5 slices of cucumber
4-5 slices avocado (or in a pinch, leftover guacamole)
thinly sliced red onion
salad greens
your favorite hummus
salt and pepper
optional: a couple slices of turkey
Directions:
Slather both sides of your bread with the hummus. Place your sliced vegetables and your turkey on one side. Sprinkle with salt and pepper and then, pile on the greens. Grab your unencumbered slice and flip it over on top. Cut in half on the diagonal. Pack away in a cooler for later or grab a plate, put your sandwich on it, a handful of cherries and go outside to enjoy. Best eaten with fresh air.
All original text and photographs copyright: Carrie Minns 2009-2010
"Ahhh....June 21st. First Day of Summer." I hopped out of bed and ran to the window just hoping the weatherman (no, not a "weatherperson" because I do in fact get my weather report from a man) was wrong. Pulling the curtains aside I was met with gray. All shades of gray and clouds. Low clouds. High clouds and cold. Down jacket, cold. I sighed and wondered if I should just check myself in. "Sun. Why can't we have just one little trickle of it??!! Arrrgghh!" But then, I decided that this weather had been going on for so long..."no more whining." I needed to get on with it. I needed to just grab hold of the old, "If you can't beat 'em...." No, more dwelling on the possibility that I might be living in someone's cruel joke of a snow globe. No, not the sweet, twinkly ones that play Christmas music but the kind that comes with frosted glass to imitate fog. When you shake it, it puts up dark, heavy clouds in varying shades of gray and winding it up you're treated to Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. "No, put those thoughts aside."
And, so I did. Wearing my down jacket, I cheerfully dropped my middle guy off at the first camp of the summer season. And then, headed back home, taking time to notice all of the daisies popping up on the sides of the roads. I've always had a thing for daisies...fields of daisies....running in slow motion through those daisy laden fields. Must have something to do with the opening sequence of all of those Little House on the Prairie episodes I watched. Once home, I fixed myself up a bowl of Nancy's yogurt topped with granola, mangoes and those little Hood strawberries that are certainly synonymous with summer, grabbed a cookbook off the shelf and sat down at the kitchen table with my tea, my breakfast and my reading material. Yes, yes, I'll admit that I have a hard time just...sitting. I always feel as if I need to be doing something and so, if no other reading material presents itself when I sit down to eat, I grab a cookbook.
I love reading the inscription on the cookbooks I've been given. This one happened to say, "1993 Happy Cooking! Love, Kathy and Blake." I can remember back to when I was presented with this gift and the different recipes I made from the book at that time in my life. This collection of recipes was put out by Pasta and Co, "Seattle's Leading Take-Out Shop." I recall how I frequented their store at UVillage to buy their creations more than I actually made any back then. Back in those pre-kid years. Back when we'd get together with friends for dinner and talk about our dogs. As I read through the recipes, I realized how many I had yet to try and just how good they all sounded. I started fervently turning down the corners of every delicious sounding dish when I was stopped by the recipe for "Pork Chop Salad." I don't know what it was. Maybe the weather. So fall-ish and pork chops make me think of fall. Or maybe it was the shallots and we all know I have a serious love affair with shallots. Or maybe it was the "salad" part which sounded so...so...summer-ish.
As I stood at the stove, essentially pan-frying my slices of pork loin, I alternated between cursing at the bits of hot oil jumping out of the pan and stinging my hands and being lost in remembrances of my Grandma. When I think of summer, I think of her. So many of my summer vacations were spent with her. At her home. At the coast. And, pan-fying...anything...bacon, ham, cracklins...smells like her. But she would have kept it simple. Salt and pepper. A yellow onion. None of my craziness of chopping up fresh herbs and 6 shallots. And, undoubtedly, her pork chops would have come out better than anything I could ever make. She was just one of those gifted cooks. As I removed my first batch of pork slices and readied myself to cook up the next batch, I could swear I saw the half-finished crossword puzzle on the counter. The deck of cards waiting for a round of Crazy 8's before we ran out onto the beach. And above the sound of the pork sizzling in the olive oil, I could hear her loud, generous laugh...the one I inherited. And somehow, I could feel her arms around me giving me one of her all-enveloping hugs coupled with her smile and her saying to me, "Summer is here, Carrie." And by golly, if the sun didn't come out the next day. And the next. Burned away all of those clouds in the snow globe. (Oh, and the frosted glass that I thought was fog...that was really just dirty windows. I was unable to tell the difference until the sun came streaming in.)
Pork Chop Salad Adapted from the recipe of the same name in the Pasta and Co By Request cookbook
Now, I find that the name of this recipe is a bit of a misnomer. Kind of like "egg salad." When I see the word salad, I think green leaves and there isn't anything green and leafy in this ingredient list besides the herbs so....for one meal, I turned it into a salad by putting the "pork salad" over a bed of green leaves and adding some cherry tomatoes and crumbled goat cheese. Another day, I put it on a fresh baguette with some greens from a local farmer, a crack of pepper and a pinch of salt for a quick and tasty lunch. And the evening I actually made it, I served it alongside some corn on the cob and a little green salad. My daughter piped up that she thought it would be great on an appetizer table on top of little baguette slices. My sweetie thought white rice might have been nice. I see it paired with couscous in the future. And, the boys....no comment. They were too busy eating. According to the original recipe, this "salad" is meant to be served warm or at room temperature (which makes it good for summer) but never cold. It will keep well for five days in the refrigerator.
Ingredients:
1/2 tbsp dried Italian herbs OR 2 tsp chopped fresh thyme, 2 tsp chopped fresh sage and 1 tsp chopped fresh rosemary
3/4 tsp salt
1/4 tsp pepper
Big pinch of allspice (If you don't have this, I wouldn't worry about it.)
2 1/2 pounds boneless pork loin roast, cut into 1/2-inch to 3/4-inch slices
1/2 cup pure olive oil or other "high heat oil" such as Canola oil
6 shallots, peeled and sliced (the original recipe called for 10)
2 cloves garlic, put through a garlic press
1/4 cup red wine vinegar
2 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
1/4 cup finely chopped fresh parsley to put on top
Directions:
Mix together the herbs, salt, pepper and allspice. Sprinkle both sides of your pork slices with this mixture, using it all.
In a large sauté pan, heat your pure olive oil to very hot. Add as many pork slices as will fit in the pan and brown thoroughly for 2-3 minutes on each side. You want your pork cooked through but not overcooked. I tend to remove my pork from the heat while it still has a faint hue of pink in the middle, knowing that it will continue to cook even after it's taken out of the pan. Remove slices to a large bowl as they are done, tent with foil and set aside. When pork has all been cooked, lower heat. Add your shallots to the pan and cook until golden, about 5 minutes. About 3 minutes into cooking your shallots add your garlic, taking care not to burn it. Add vinegar, raise heat and scrape up all meat drippings. Remove from heat and stir in the extra virgin olive oil. Let mixture cool while you cut pork slices into 1-inch to 2-inch pieces, returning them to the bowl and salvaging all meat juices. Toss pork with shallot mixture.
You may refrigerate the "salad" at this point but when ready to serve, bring it back to room temperature or reheat gently. Make sure to sprinkle the "salad" with a little parsley before serving....however, you decide to serve it. Enjoy.
Yield: About 5 cups
All original text and photographs copyright: Carrie Minns 2009-2010
