Apple and Rhubarb Baked in a Pie

It was during my third hour of weeding that I said to myself, "And I thought this was a good idea because...why?" Not the weeding. No. That was simply part of "the sickness" as the Rooster refers to it.

That along with deciding now would be a good time to take down the cat house which had been sitting unused, out-of-sight since our kitty went up the Happy Hunting Grounds - God Rest his furry soul - a year ago.

That and deciding now would be a good time to clean out the crawl space under the house which held such relics as a Princess Palace tent, a puzzle alphabet mat and foam that was going to be used for window seats four moves ago. (Sad thing is our last move was 9 years ago. You do the math.)

No. All of those things were just symptoms of my "entertaining sickness." (aka The Crazy Projects Carrie Deems Necessary to Complete Before Hosting a Party at Her House Whether or Not the Effort Will Be Noticed.)

The cause was deciding to auction off "Cooking with Carrie" events months ago (as if I'm Rachael Ray for crying out loud) for various organizations to be held at my home during the month of April.

Now, here it was April and I was tired. The incessant gray weather wasn't helping my energy level. And the end of my to do list seemed...well, to never end.

I forced myself not to think too far in advance. To simply keep going. To check one thing off my list at a time.

Weeding - done
Wine glasses labeled - done
Groceries purchased - done
Heavenly little handmade chocolate bars tied with raffia - done

Rain boots on, clippers in one hand and bucket in the other, I headed into my backyard the day before the party. The sun miraculously came out adding a shimmer to the outside world as it reflected off the raindrops still clinging to the trees.

As I clipped the branches, my thoughts turned to my Mom. Everything about spring reminds me of her - the daffodils, the purple hyacinths, the different shades of green, the sweet cherry blossoms, the brighter days.

My Mom is beautiful. And yes, she's beautiful on the outside but what I'm really talking about is on the inside...where it counts.

She's a bit like spring herself. Just when you can't take another day of rain, there she is providing you with a much needed bit of color. And not in any loud, pomp and circumstance sort of way but subtly. Subtle in the way that when you are with her, she's fully present. She listens. Really listens. She gives you and your thoughts a feeling of importance. And you feel your spirits lifted after you've been with her.

I set the table with the "good" plates, the "good" glasses, the "good" silverware. I used the linen napkins, tablecloth and runner. And then, standing back to admire the table, I once again thought of my Mom. The way she always sets a beautiful table for us.

The ways she clips fresh flowers from her yard and thoughtfully places them on her table and around the house. The way she lights candles, turns on the music and brings us all together for a family dinner. Again, her seemingly quiet yet thoughtful gestures giving all of us a feeling of importance. We mean so much to her that she would take the time to create such a lovely setting for our meal.

Twenty minutes before my first party, I was ready for my guests. Cesaria Evora was playing in the background. The comforting aroma of candles burning warmed my house. The cherry tree branches were so beautiful inside my home that it didn't matter it had started to snow outside...in April.

And it was in that moment I realized why I had done all of this.

Because with this busy life I lead, I don't take the time to do this very often. To dress-up my home and invite people in. To share a meal. To spend a couple of hours getting to know new people. Learning more about friends I already cherish. Passing along what I know and love about cooking so they can go home and do the same for their families.

And hopefully, if only for an hour or two, I make them feel important. Extra cared-for.

At the end of my last party, as the last guest walked down the drive, I heard her kindly remark to no one in particular, "I feel like I've died and gone to heaven."

I smiled as I closed the door and said quietly, "Thank you Mom for teaching me how to do this."


...

Apple and Rhubarb Baked in a Pie
Inspired by Apple and Rhubarb Pandowdy, Rustic Fruit Desserts

When I set out to decide what to serve for dessert for my parties, I looked to what is in season and let me tell you, here in Oregon after 5 straight months of rain, there's not much...in season. A few apples still holding on, some citrus coming up from California and...rhubarb. So what does one do when she is left with only rhubarb to work with? She tries a bunch of rhubarb recipes. Interestingly, rhubarb also reminds me of my Mom. She always made a warm, rhubarb compote for us when I was growing up that we would spoon over vanilla ice cream. I always loved the way the tartness of the rhubarb and the creaminess of the ice cream mingled in my mouth but...not everyone is a rhubarb lover.

I ended up with two recipes that I found to be absolutely delicious but not overly "rhubarby." The Apple and Rhubarb Pie I have listed below and a Lemon Buttermilk Rhubarb Bundt Cake. I ended up serving the cake because it was easiest to prepare the day before and I didn't have to worry about reheating it or serving it with ice cream. I cannot recommend it enough but since the recipe isn't mine and I didn't "adapt" it even one eensy-teensy bit it wouldn't be right of me to post it on my blog. However, you can find the recipe in the book Rustic Fruit Desserts by Portland's own Julie Richardson and Cory Schreiber.

As for the pie, the recipe is below and I implore you to make it up and serve it warm with vanilla ice cream. Heaven.

Ingredients for the Crust
1 1/4 c all-purpose flour
1/2 tsp kosher salt
1/2 tsp sugar
1/2 c (1 stick) chilled unsalted butter, cut into pieces
1/8-1/4 c of ice water

Ingredients for the Filling
2 c rhubarb, diced (3-4 stalks)
5 c apples peeled, cored, sliced and quartered (4-5 baking apples)
juice from 1/2 a lemon (approx 1 tbsp)
1/2 c packed brown sugar
2 1/2 tbsp cornstarch
1 1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp kosher salt
pinch of nutmeg

Vanilla Ice Cream


Directions

First make your crust. Don't be afraid. Very, very easy. You can do this with a simple pastry blender, your fingers or a food processor. I avoid hauling out my food processor if I can help it. I do not like to clean it but I love making crust in it.

Put your flour, salt and sugar in a medium bowl or the bowl of your food processor and mix until just combined. Add your butter to the flour mixture by cutting it in or processing it in your food processor. Process it just until the mixture starts to look crumbly. Slowly add in your water just until the dough starts to hold together. (Not more than 30 seconds if using your food processor.) Turn your dough out onto a lightly floured surface. Gather into a ball and then, flatten into a disk. Wrap in wax paper, place in a ziploc bag and put in the refrigerator for at least 1 hour. (I usually double all of my pie crust recipes and put half in the freezer where it can stay for up to 3 months. That way it's always handy if I need to make a little something sweet at the last minute.)

Preheat your oven to 425 degrees. Butter a 9-inch deep dish pie plate and set aside

Now, for your filling. I know I've said this before but if you plan on baking with apples you really must invest in an apple peeler. I bought this one last fall and it has made all the difference.

Peel, core, slice and quarter your apples and put them in a large bowl. Dice up your rhubarb and add it to the bowl along with your lemon juice. Mix. In a smaller bowl, combine your brown sugar, cornstarch, cinnamon, nutmeg, and salt. Once those ingredients are mixed together, add the mixture to your apples and rhubarb. Using a large wooden spoon or your clean hands, combine the fruit with the sugar and spice mixture coating evenly.

Pour your filling into the prepared pie plate.

Take your dough out of the refrigerator and on a lightly floured surface, roll it out so it's about 1/2 wider than the circumference of your pie plate. Lay it over the top of your fruit and then, tuck it in down on the sides. If you still have crust that didn't tuck in you can roll it over on itself.

With a sharp knife, cut a few slits in the top of the crust to vent the steam as it bakes.

Put your pie on a cookie sheet (to catch any drips) and place in the oven for 20 minutes. Then, turn down the heat to 350 degrees and bake for another 25-30 minutes or until the crust is golden and the fruit is bubbly around the edges.

Simply looking at your masterpiece when you pull it from the oven should make you want to start humming, "Sing a song of sixpence a pocket full of rye, apple and rhubarb baked in a pie" or at least, I did.

Let it cool for 30 minutes or so on a wire rack but serve it while it's still a bit warm with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Scrumptious....

After the initial serving, cover it with a kitchen towel leaving a few spoons in the dish. People will come by and "sneak" a bite or two in the wee hours of the night or early morning and before you know it, it will be gone.

Enjoy....


PS: A little side note, those of you in the Portland area near a TV on Wednesday, 4/20, can tune into AM Northwest on KATU Channel Two at 9:00 am where I'll be making this little Sixpence Pie with Helen or Dave.

...

Organizing Project

Still have not tackled the 6-year old's closet. Was distracted by cat house and crawl space as I indicated above. I did, however, clean out a large wicker basket full of magazine clippings I've collected over the years...as in 20 years. Interesting to see how different things caught my eye at different times of my life. And conversely, interesting to see the things I'm drawn to over and over again....shades of green and recipes with vegetables. Clearly I have a thing for green. Could be due to the fact that I reside in the rain forest we affectionately call Portlandia.

Goal for this week: To get the stuff I pulled out of the crawl space, out of my garage.



All original text and photographs copyright: Carrie Minns 2009-2011

A Fragrant Oatmeal with Cinnamon Apples to Enjoy During the Quiet Moments

"Well, we're in the midst of it." You hear yourself say to yourself with a sigh. Winter Break. Christmas Vacation. The "Holidays". And, you want to be that Mom. Really you do. You know, the one who is fun all the time. But you see, you have a "noise aversion". And with each day that draws Christmas nearer your children become that much more excitable. Louder. And you become that much more irritable. Cranky. But, you can't really be angry with them. No. Because they are truly just giddy with glee. And you want to feel their glee but all you feel is the pounding.

The pounding brought on by your sweet 13-year old daughter, who for no real apparent reason other than sheer joy, starts running through the house. And, at almost 5 feet 8 inches tall....bless her heart....well, those are loud footsteps. And of course, her brothers who adore her every move (especially the 11-year old) start following her, swinging over the furniture like chimpanzees. And then the 5-year old, who isn't quite as adept at the "swinging" as his older brother, gets stuck atop a chair and almost knocks over a snow globe as he tries to swing his leg around...a gigantic snow globe. (Never mind the fact that they are not even supposed to be "climbing on the furniture".) It's at that instant that you feel the stress level in your body move up a notch.

But somehow you keep moving forward. Stress and all. Checking things off your list. And you manage to get everyone into bed after which you collapse into yours and fall sound asleep. Only to wake up at 5:30am thinking about what you need to get done that day.

So, you quietly slip out from under the covers and head downstairs. You flick on the lights of the Christmas tree which sparkle against the windows and a still dark sky. You sit down at your worn kitchen table...the one that has stoically held up after years and years of "art" projects....with your cup of tea. In the background, your current favorite rendition of Silent Night is playing. Silent Night. Your favorite Christmas carol. The one you sing to your 5-year old every time you tuck him in. The one you used to sing to your older children until it was too awkward to tuck them in with a lullaby. And you enjoy the stillness of the moment.

It's not long before you hear a door open and then, the sound of lego pieces "clicking" against each other. The 5-year old is up. You rise from your seat and head into the kitchen. As you stand at the counter slicing apples and pears, you notice that the sky is starting to brighten. Your slices quietly saute in butter, brown sugar and cinnamon and your oatmeal gently gurgles next to them. Your two eldest slip down the stairs...awoken by the warm smells. They both have those sleepy eyes. You know the ones. Those eyes, no matter how old they get, are the same ones that looked at you when they were sleepy babies.

You call them over to the table and set down bowls of oatmeal topped with the cinnamon apples in front of them. Your husband kisses you on the cheek as he heads off to work and for just a moment, everyone is awake and everyone is calm.

And then, the sugar from the apples hits their systems and its back to swinging over the furniture but you tell yourself you can persevere through the chaos because you know tomorrow morning, a little slice of calm will be waiting for you.

Wishing you all a Merry Christmas...Happy Holidays...Season's Greetings! Wherever you are and whatever you may celebrate, I hope a little bit of silence finds you amidst the bustle of the holiday season.


I'll "see" you after we ring in 2011. Happy New Year!

Fragrant Oatmeal Topped with Spiced Apples

I love oatmeal. It's probably my favorite breakfast dish. I'm always trying to find ways to entice the kids to eat the homemade version as opposed to the kind that comes in a little packet. They LOVED this. If you don't like your oatmeal too "milky", you can always substitute water for the milk. I prefer that my oatmeal isn't too sugary but you can add more honey if you like yours fairly sweet. Also, you can substitute the apples with a good baking pear such as Bosc if you'd like.

Ingredients:
1 c milk
1/2 to 1 c water (less water equals a thicker oatmeal)
1 c rolled oats
A pinch of kosher salt
1/2 tsp vanilla
1 tsp honey
2 tbsp unsalted butter
2 baking apples, peeled, cored and thinly sliced (Braeburn, Golden Delicious, Honeycrisp, etc.)
2 tbsp light brown sugar (I didn't pack mine down too tightly.)
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1/8 tsp ground allspice
1/8 tsp ground cloves

Optional: toasted walnut pieces

Directions:
In a medium saucepan over medium heat, bring your milk, water and salt to a boil. Stir in your oats and vanilla. Reduce heat and let simmer on very low heat 5-15 minutes depending on the consistency that you like your cereal. Stirring occasionally. Once it's done cooking, stir in your honey, remove from heat and set aside.

Meanwhile, in a large non-stick pan, melt your butter. Add your apples, brown sugar, cinnamon, allspice and cloves. Saute, stirring occasionally, until your apples are tender, about 5 minutes.

Spoon your oatmeal evenly into four bowls. Top with your cinnamon apples and sprinkle with walnuts, if desired. Enjoy....

Yield: 4 small bowls of oatmeal or two large ones







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

Chocolate Chip Pumpkin Bread to Acknowledge That Autumn has Truly Arrived

"No. I don't want you. Get back in your closet. I don't care if you used to be my favorite. I'm not ready for you!!" I heard myself wailing those words last week, like a toddler having a tantrum.

With a sigh, I said good-bye to the sun and braced myself for the 7 straight days of wind and rain as forecasted by my weather page. Autumn has always been my most cherished season of the year. But not this go around. Maybe it's because our summer here in the Northwest didn't really start until the beginning of August. Maybe it's because due to the ages of my children, we can actually have fun on our summer vacations nowadays. Maybe it's because I'm still hoping those little green peppers are going to grow bigger and turn red. Maybe it's because I'm getting older and it takes me longer to recover from the previous school year and hence, I wasn't quite ready for this school year to start. And since I'm still not recovered from the previous school year, how am I possibly going to get through the impending holiday season? Whatever the problem, I was not ready to usher in my favorite season of the year with open arms.

But, autumn is here whether I'm ready for it or not. Funny how that works. So, I tried to drum up some seasonal spirit and put a sprinkling of fall decor around the house. A string of lights. I spent an afternoon raking the leaves off my front lawn. Breathing in that cool, crisp air. I turned on the heat and pulled out my favorite pink wool sweater to wear in the evenings. After school one day, to the surprise and delight of my children, I set down mugs of hot apple cider topped with a dollop of whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon. Saturday morning found me, huddled under umbrellas, with my mother and father. A fleece blanket draped over our laps. Hooting and hollering as my 11-year old and his football team fought their way into the playoffs. And so, you could say, I was going through the motions to embrace the season upon me. But it was after the football game, during a seemingly "non-moment", that I found myself unable to resist autumns charms.

There, sprinkled on the deck of the parking lot, was a kaleidoscope of color. Leaves in all shades of crimson. And the shear beauty of those leaves laying there in the rain against the stark contrast of the pavement made me catch me breath.

Smiling, I hopped into the car and drove up through the fog toward home. Into the kitchen, I went. Bowls and mixers making all kinds of racket. Vince Guaraldi coming through loud and clear on my speakers. My sweetie passing through and casually tossing out the comment, "Do you ever stop producing?" And me, singularly focused on baking a loaf of pumpkin bread with chocolate chips. It was time to properly welcome in autumn.

So here I sit, after the frenzy of the holiday weekend and the baking extravaganza. Warm in my favorite wool sweater. A cup of tea and a plate of crumbs from the slice of pumpkin bread I had for breakfast next to me. A sick child upstairs. My voters pamphlet in front of me. All thoughts of going back to bed, long since silenced. Out the window, brilliant reds and yellows played out against a backdrop of creamy, white fog. And me thinking, "Okay, okay, I'm glad you're here my favorite friend."


Chocolate Chip Pumpkin Bread
Adapted from Pumpkin Bread, The Joy of Cooking

So, yes, as I mentioned above I had a bee in my bonnet about needing to make pumpkin bread over the weekend. I combed the internet high and low, pulled out cookbook after cookbook, searching for the perfect pumpkin bread recipe but every time I found one, the recipe would call for at least 3 CUPS of sugar, if not more. I just couldn't, in my right mind, add 3 cups of sugar to a single loaf of bread. So, in a last ditch attempt, I pulled out a ladder and hauled down Irma's masterpiece, The Joy of Cooking, from the highest point in my kitchen in a last ditch attempt to find a recipe. There it was on page 774. And only a bit more than 1 cup of sugar needed. In my effort to try to "healthify" (I just made that word up) my recipes, I did throw in some whole wheat pastry flour and since one of my guys is allergic to nuts, instead of the handful of walnuts I would have like to have used, I tossed in some chocolate chips to spice it up a bit. I found it to be incredibly delicious, all warm, straight from the oven, but left to sit a day or two, the flavors mellow and mingle giving it an even richer flavor.

Ingredients:

1 c all-purpose flour
1/2 c whole wheat pastry flour
1 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
1 tsp ground ginger
1/2 tsp ground nutmeg
1/4 tsp ground cloves
1/4 tsp baking powder
1/3 cup milk
1/2 tsp vanilla
6 tbsp unsalted butter, softened
1 c sugar plus 1/3 c packed light or dark brown sugar
2 large eggs
1 c pumpkin puree
1/2 c dark chocolate chips (or walnuts or raisins or all three.)


Directions:

Bring out all of your ingredients so they can be warming to room temperature. Next, position a rack in the middle of your oven and then, preheat to 350 degrees. Grease a 9x5 inch loaf pan. (I used butter.)

In a medium bowl, whisk together your flour, cinnamon, baking soda, salt, ginger, nutmeg, cloves, and baking powder. Set aside.

In a small bowl, combine your milk and vanilla. Set aside.

In a large bowl, beat your butter until creamy, about 30 seconds. Gradually add in your sugar and beat for 3-4 minutes. Next, beat in your eggs, one at a time. Add your pumpkin puree and beat on low speed just until blended.

Add the flour mixture in three parts, alternating with the milk mixture in 2 parts, beating on low speed or stirring with a rubber spatula until smooth and scraping the sides of the bowl as necessary. Fold in your chocolate chips.

Pour into your prepared loaf pan and bake for 60 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Let your loaf cool on a rack for 5-10 minutes before taking out of the pan and allowing to cool completely. Enjoy.

Yield: One loaf.

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

AM Northwest and Apples, Apples and More Apples

I can't tell you how it makes me jump with glee knowing how many of you have already run out and bought apples to make apple sauce.  I have already had to buy 20 MORE because I can't even get the batch off the stove before it's been devoured. Maybe we should plan a day where we all make apple sauce on the same day. Just think how sweet our city would smell. Then again, maybe not.

Now, just in case you grow tired of making apple sauce but still have apples left, here's my little segment on AM Northwest yesterday where I give a quick demonstration on how to make an Apple Crostata (that is AMAZING....if I do say so myself) and I discuss my children's possible therapy needs in the future. To which my daughter commented after viewing it, "Thanks, Mom. Thanks a lot." Ah well, I can never be certain what might come out of my mouth when I think I'm funny.


If you do not see a video screen above this line, click here to be taken directly to the website.

A few of you have asked me where I purchased the apple peeler I used on the show. I happened to "impulse buy" mine at the New Seasons in Cedar Hills. For those of you who aren't in the Portland area and are interested in owning one, here's the link to it on Amazon.

Cheers!
Carrie




Editor's Correction: There was a mistake in the last posting by La Pomme de Portland. She incorrectly stated that her daughter received a text message from heartless teenagers, when in actuality that text message came from her father, entitled "Hanging with my Hommies", in an effort to be funny. La Pomme had to explain to her sweetie that his message was in no way funny to a 13-year old girl who already felt left out and now knows that her father was hanging out with her friends at the football game she wanted to be at. "Love ya, babe!"


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

Home Cooked Apple Sauce for a Fall Weekend at Home

I was coming off of three glorious days and evenings spent with my dear sweet cousin, Michele, and her darling husband, Phil, who were visiting from the East Coast. I had taken them around to a sampling of my favorite "eateries" here in the Rose City. Some of my favorite window shopping haunts. I had prepared (what I hope were) scrumptious dinners. We had talked into the wee hours of the night catching up on anything and everything. With my cousin right by my side, we had arisen by 6:30 am each morning to prepare school lunches for the kiddos and send them on their way. We had ended the week wine tasting in the Yamhill Valley and sharing a final lunch at my "always upbeat" friend Kendall's restaurant, Farm to Fork. (Which, by the way, I highly recommend.) Right in the middle of Dundee, I hugged them both good-bye, sent them on to their next "West Coast" stop and steered the car north, with a bit of sadness, not knowing when I might see them again. Once home, I plopped down on the couch, put my feet up and promptly went to sleep...that is until the littlest one needed to be whisked off to soccer.

Returning an hour later with the littlest one chattering behind me, trying to explain that when he swings his arms round and round windmill style on the soccer field that that actually makes him run faster, I threw my keys on the counter and hollered out for my daughter, the only one who had been at home. I found her curled up in bed....at 6:30pm. As I approached, I could see the she was smiling and blinking back tears at the same time....a decidedly female trait. "What's up?" "Well...everyone is either at "the dance" or at the football game and since I don't have anyone to do anything with...I'm just here." Then she showed me a "text photo" of some friends at the football game with the message, "Hanging with my friends!" And some more tears slipped down her cheek. Since I don't always have the most patience in these situations, my first reaction was, "Oh for godsake's.....the drama. Trust me girlie, you have a lot more Friday nights to come in your life. So snap out of it." Then I thought, "Do these parents not teach their children any text messaging manners?!" But what I actually said was, "I'm so sorry sweetie. I know situations like these can feel a little lonely and I wish I could get in the car and take you down to that game...but I'm exhausted." And I spent the rest of the evening trying to relax while being completely riddled with guilt.

Saturday was absolutely glorious. One of those days in which you are grateful for every moment you are alive. The perfect fall day. The sun glittering. The weather in the mid-70s. The leaves just starting to turn. My sweetie and I kept saying to each other, "We don't want this day to end." When Sleeping Beauty finally arose, I could still feel her disappointment emanating through the air. I thought, "To appease my guilt, I should take her to the mall." But I've shared before how I feel about malls and no amount of parental guilt would get me there on that gorgeous day. I was going to the farmer's market. I called out a half-hearted, "Going to the farmer's market. Anyone want to come with me?" The boys all politely declined but to my surprise, my daughter said "Yes."

She was rather quiet on the way down, but when I asked her if there was anything she wanted at the market, she replied, "Two Tarts." Instead of our usual routine of hitting them last, I said, "Let's go there first." And instead of the usual box of one dozen delectables, I said, "Oh please, pick out two dozen." And my sweet girl started calling out her order, "Peanut butter creams, blackberry macarons, caramel chocolate brownies, lemon bars, hazelnut tassies, graham cracker cookies dipped in chocolate, carrot cake creams, chocolate chip cookies with sea salt and a Lil' Mama on top." When the boxes were handed over to her, I saw her smile.

Truly...like a light switch being flipped off...the next day's weather couldn't have been more different. Fog. Rain. Cold. Gray. Dark. I never got out of my pajama's. Craving those warm smells of autumn, I went about turning the Honeycrisp and Reine des Reinettes apples I purchased from the lovely lady at "Old World Apples" the day before, into applesauce. Memories of my Granny, who always made applesauce from her homegrown apples, flooded my mind. Her special touch was always to add cinnamon spice candies to her recipe which lent the final product a unique pink hue that we devoured. Leaving my concoction to slowly cook on the stove, I gently pulled my melancholy girl into the living room to curl up on the couch and watch, "Letters to Juliet" with me. While an enjoyable chick-flick, the director didn't leave much to the imagination and I heard my girl laugh when she realized she had completely predicted the entire outcome of the movie.

Monday morning, I offered to drive my girl to school. I don't like to do it. The whole rigamarole, there and back, ends up being an hour out of my morning but yesterday, I was genuine in my offer. Instead of insisting that we listen to my latest book on tape in the car, "Lost on Planet China", I suggested she play me her latest iTunes downloads, all of which were songs from the series premiere of Glee. When we pulled up, she leaned over to give me a big hug, gave me a sincere, "Thank you so much for taking me to school, Mom.", flashed me one of her beautiful smiles and then, headed into school with a skip. Just one skip...she is in 8th grade after all...but I saw it and I knew the weekend of heartache had come to an end. (Now, it could have been that she was simply adjusting her back-pack but I'm going with "the skip.") I could finally pull that "guilt monkey" off my back and toss him aside. Which I did. "She's taking the bus the rest of the week."

Home Cooked Apple Sauce for Fall
Adapted from Indulge, Fall 2010

One of my favorite places to turn for food inspiration is a little "free-of-charge" magazine put out quarterly by Zupan's Markets here in Portland, called Indulge. They always highlight seasonal food. There is always a lengthy article penned by Portland's own, Sara Perry, and complete with 3 or 4 of her recipes. I believe I turned down the corner of almost every page of this quarter's issue. One recipe, obviously, that caught my eye was a simple one for apple sauce. As I mentioned above, I used a mix of the apples I had purchased at the farmer's market, Honeycrisp and Reine des Reinettes, but you could use a mix of any apples you could find that are recommended for baking. Also, the amount of cinnamon called for does give this recipe a definite cinnamon flavor which my family loved but you could reduce the amount if you'd prefer just a hint. I do suggest you make a double batch of this. My brood inhaled this in one fell swoop and I had to make a second batch of it so I would have something to photograph...just for you.

Ingredients:
10 medium apples - Honeycrisp, McIntosh or other baking apples
3/4 c water
3 tbsp loosely packed brown sugar
1 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1 tbsp lemon juice
a pinch of Kosher salt

Directions:
Start by peeling, coring and slicing your apples. I recently acquired a Victorio Apple Peeler which is a slick little contraption that makes this step of the recipe quite pleasurable. (My 11-year old is singing my praises since it also peels potatoes and he's always in charge of the mashed potatoes at Thanksgiving.) Now, if you don't happen to have a handy dandy apple peeler, you can always get out a little paring knife, turn on some smooth music and go about it by hand. However you do it, make sure that once the apples are peeled, cored and sliced that you also cut them up into bite-sized chunks. Then, put them in a stock pot over medium-low heat along with your water, brown sugar, cinnamon, lemon juice and salt.

Over low heat, simmer the apples for 30-40 minutes, or until the apples are soft. At this point taste and adjust the seasonings if necessary. Now, my brood does not like chunky apple sauce so next, I took out my handy-dandy hand held blender and pureed my sauce into a smoother concoction. You may be okay with chunks and can forego this step. Warm or cold, it's scrumptious. Enjoy.


PS: I haven't tried this because I never have any left but apparently, this recipe freezes well.

PSS: Considering that it's apple season around here, I thought I might mention that for those of you in the Portland area, I'll be on AM Northwest tomorrow morning (Wednesday, September 29) Channel Two at 9 am making this Apple Crostata which, if I do say so myself, is to die for.

PSSS: I also want to mention that I slid right past the one year anniversary of the commencement of "La Pomme de Portland" without nary a raised eyebrow. Considering that I am never on-time for anything, let's just say, this was on purpose. I have a few little surprises up my sleeve that I will be presenting you in the coming month, you kind sweet souls, as a small way to express my deep gratitude for you taking time out of your busy, hectic lives to spent some here at "La Pomme." In other words, to say, "Thank you."

PSSSS: I realize that I'm a bit long-winded today, but my baby started Kindergarten two weeks ago (more on that later) and after 13 years of having an outlet for my incessant need to talk, albeit persons under the age of 5, I'm left rattling around this empty house wondering who to talk to. For better or for worse, you're the chosen one. Cheers!


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

Blueberry Crumble....To Share

It all started about 8 years ago with a seemingly unassuming jar of pesto. Not a ziploc bag of pesto. Or a tiny little 1/2 pint jar of pesto. But one of those generously sized Ball jars with the wire hook flip lid filled right up to the brim with homemade pesto and topped off with a thin layer of olive oil. She handed it to me without any pomp and circumstance and non-chalantly said to me, "I was making some pesto and thought you might like some." I was so moved by my neighbor's generosity, especially considering that we barely knew each other having recently moved in, that I found myself speechless. A rarity for me. I still have that jar.

Some people have the gift of giving. They just know how to choose the right thing or the perfect moment to bestow a "special something" upon another person. I, on the other hand, was not blessed with that "gift." The holidays are always fraught with anxiety for me. I never know what to get people. How much to spend. I over-think what they would like. (Remember that Batik shorts outfit I gave you one year, sister?) I do have family members, friends, neighbors who are natural "gift givers" so I can see how it's done. And I know how it feels to be the recipient of their generosity but.....while I want to be a "pesto-giver" myself, I never can seem to stop talking myself out of all the reasons why someone wouldn't like what I have to give.

To my absolute thrill over the years, my sweet neighbor did not stop with the pesto. "You have to try this chocolate cake." "A chocolate truffle." "We brought you back some halibut from Alaska." "Thought you might like a 'homemade' vanilla latte." "I brought over these smoked Kokane for you to try along with this rosemary cheddar." Even her kind daughter started bringing "gifts" over....cookies, fancifully decorated cupcakes. And each time, I was as genuinely grateful as the first time and simply enjoyed basking in the glow of "gift receivers" delight. That is...until my daughter happened to non-chalantly toss out the comment, "Mom, we never give them anything."....and broke the spell.

I have to admit that after she said that declarative statement to me, I pondered long and hard on it. First, I considered the basic truth that I'm not much of a baker. To say, "Here's a few strips of our flank steak leftover from dinner." just doesn't have the same ring as, "I brought you a slice of my cranberry chocolate tart with homemade caramel sauce drizzled on top." But, secondly, if I'm completely honest I believe the over-thinking always seems to win out. "They wouldn't want this. Why would they want this? I don't want to bother them. I'm sure I'll be bothering them. They probably don't even like this kind of food. Maybe they have food allergies. I could've made these better. As a matter-of-fact, these aren't even that good." And on and on I go until I hear myself say to myself, "Gads...enough already. No one wants to hear it especially me."

The other day I happened to pop by my dear neighbor's house for a quick chat and as I turned to go she said to me, "Oh, I almost forgot..." and disappeared around the corner. A second later she was back, "We brought you a bag of blueberries from Hood River." Walking home, cradling my bag of berries, I remembered a blueberry recipe that I had recently flagged and I knew what I was going to do.

Later, I watched as my daughter headed out the front door with the still warm blueberry crumble. I heard myself say to myself, "Oh, I wish the crumble had more oats. Next time I'm putting more oats in the crumble. Wait a minute....crumble....didn't they say a few years ago they didn't like crumble." But as my daughter passed by the kitchen window, I heard my wiser, kinder-self say, "Enough. Why must you always be so hard on yourself? Let it be what it will be."

That afternoon, my neighbor's daughter was over "hanging out" as teenagers often do and she said to me, "Oh, Carrie, I had some of your blueberry dish. It was really good. My Mom only let me have a little bit though. She's making cinnamon gelato right now and she said we're going to have that with the crumble tonight for dessert." My single solitary thought after she said all of this was simply, "Where's my share of the cinnamon gelato?" Still waiting...


Blueberry Crumble
Adapted from Cook's Illustrated 2010

Our Oregon blueberries are amazing right now. If you can get your hands on some, you simply must bring them home by the "flat-full" and either just pop them in your mouth, sprinkle them over yogurt and granola or freeze them later for smoothies or as a topper over vanilla ice cream (the latter being my sweetie's favorite way to consume blueberries.) Or...make this scrumptious blueberry crumble.

Ingredients:
1/2 c granulated sugar
4 tsp cornstarch
1/4 tsp salt (divided)
5 c fresh blueberries
2/3 c unbleached, all-purpose flour
1/3 c old-fashioned oats
1/3 c packed light brown sugar
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
6 tbsp unsalted butter, cut into 6 pieces and chilled

Directions:
With your rack on the lower-middle position, preheat your oven to 375 degrees.

Mix your granulated sugar, cornstarch and 1/8 tsp salt in a large bowl. Add your blueberries and gently toss them to coat evenly with the mixture. Pour out into an 8-inch square baking dish and set aside.

Put your flour, oats, brown sugar, cinnamon and remaining salt in the bowl of a food processor and process until dime sized clumps form. Now, I never really reached the "dime sized" clumps status and ended up using my fingers to clump the crumble into dime-sized clumps. Speaking of fingers, you can also make the crumble without a food processor and instead, use a pastry blender or two knives. Make sure to pinch together all of the powdery parts and then, sprinkle crumble evenly over the berries.

Pop your dish in the oven and bake for 30 minutes or until the filling is bubbling around the edges and the topping is golden brown. Cool on wire rack for at least 30 minutes. My personal preference was eating this at room temperature with a scoop of vanilla ice cream....for breakfast. Enjoy.

Yield: 6 servings.....




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

Berries, Baguettes and La Pomme Live

I don't know about you but I have found that one of the beauties of summer is the lack of a schedule. No early morning alarms. No dinner on the table at exactly 6:30 pm every evening. No driving around town with clenched teeth trying to get small person #1 here and small person #2 there...on time for some activity or another.

However....this lack of schedule tends to result...in my case...in a lack of anything at all getting done. Random piles start to multiply around the house. Envelopes edged in pink or yellow start showing up in the mailbox. ("Oh yeah...the bills.") Good manners head right out the door as I fail to RSVP to anything. I practically stop reading my email. It's as if summer hits, and my mind just goes on vacation for two months. Just last night I was playing Scrabble with my daughter who reminded me at 9:30 pm at night that I had recited earlier in the day, "I promise, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye..." that I would play Scrabble with her before the clock struck midnight. "Sighing" I saddled up to the table to play the 9-tile version and my mind went blank. There on my rack was A, E, O, U and B, R, S, L and N and the best word I could come up with was BURL which my daughter highly questioned as even being a word. (Looking at those letters right now, I'm still having a hard time coming up with anything else. Please feel free to leave any suggestions for me down below in case I'm coerced into future games of late night  Scrabble while my mind is on strike. She'll never know...besides her mind is young and fresh. Mine is filled with cobwebs. It needs a little help.)

So, I guess where I'm going with all of this, is to share with you that somehow, in between unpacking from one summer excursion and trying to get ready for a second summer excursion, I did manage to get myself down to AM Northwest last Wednesday....on-time...for a live segment highlighting my "French Toast for Lazy Summer Days." I have no idea how I pulled it together but I did and it didn't turn out too bad. I even laughed....I also almost burnt the French Toast on live TV but ah well....you can't have everything.

In the interest of full disclosure, I do have to share with you that while I was down at the KATU studios, my dear sister and all the boys (hers and mine) were curled up on the couch watching my spot unfurl live. (The teenager was still sleeping.) At the point in the segment where I comment on how much my children like "the buffet", my 10-year old turns to my sister and says with a deadpan face, "Actually, I don't really like the buffet. I just want someone to serve me up and bring me my plate." I hope you will all back me up when I tell his future wife, "I tried."


If you do not see a video screen above this line, click HERE to be taken directly to the AM Northwest site.

My next trip down to AM Northwest will be 9 am on August 18th. Deep summer by then. Who knows what kind of shape my mind will be in by then.


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

The Loveliest of Summer Days...Rain and All

Why Thursday was the loveliest of summer days....even without the sun.....

1. Not a single alarm clock was set in this house.

2. The "baby"...um, I mean the 5-year old...slept in until 8am.  I wanted to weep tears of joy.

3. The middle child arose at 10:00 am. The eldest at 11:00 am.

4. I found a use for the 2-day old baguette that had been bugging me as it sat on the counter, barely eaten.

5. We ate a sinfully delicious breakfast of french toast with fresh berries on top at 1pm. In our jammies.

6. I had the privilege to once again bask in the creative genius that is Pixar Animation Studios. And, when Andy drove off leaving Woody and his toys behind, I quietly cried but no one knew except my dear friend, Mara, who was sitting right next to me quietly crying as well. Our youngest ones on our laps. Our older ones in the row in front of us. The whole "growing up and leaving home" theme of Toy Story 3 hitting a little bit close to home for us.

7. I didn't have to cook dinner. I did, however, find myself hollering to get one of my chickens out from under the table, to another one to quit putting lemons in her brother's mouth and the whole thing culminated with the "baby" tossing a lime slice at his brother while standing across the table from him. Was the dinner in a restaurant worth it? Sure it was. No dishes. Good friends. We'll work on the manners later.

8. It rained so...I didn't have to water. Who am I to ask for sun every day? After all, I do live in Portland.

9. I put the "baby" to bed by reading him Chapter 1 of the very first Harry Potter book.

10. My sweetie arrived home safely after traveling around the country all week and made me laugh with stories about small cookies.

French Toast for Lazy Summer Days

When I was growing up this was one of the dishes in my regular repretoire. I loved it and made it often. I have always found that when I order french toast in a restaurant or follow someone else's recipe it usually ends up being too rich for me. My 10-year old and I have the same "rich food radar" and are very particular about how "saucey" or "syrupy" or "sugary" a dish ends up being. So, here's my rendition of the beloved french toast recipe which was given a big thumbs up by the 10-year old as well as the rest of my brood. I usually just eye-ball the ingredients so I've attempted here to put quantities on them but please feel free to adjust the spices to your liking.

Ingredients:
A day (or two) old baguette, sliced on the bias, about 12 slices
4 eggs
1/2 c milk
1 tsp vanilla
1 tsp sugar
1/2 tsp cinnamon
pinch of nutmeg

2 tbsp canola oil, at least

Toppings:
fresh berries
powdered sugar
pure maple syrup

Directions:
In a large bowl, whisk together your eggs, milk and vanilla until well blended. Then, whisk in the sugar, cinnamon and nutmeg. Set aside.

Put a heavy-bottomed skillet on the stove to warm up. I use my cast iron skillet for this. While it's warming, put 3-4 slices of bread in your mix so they can start to soak up the egg mixture. Turn them over after a minute or so.

With your heat on medium, add your canola oil to your skillet and once it is heated put your first pieces of soaked bread onto your skillet. They should sizzle a bit. Cook until they develop a nice golden brown color on one side and then, flip to the other side. Adjust your heat if necessary. I find that it takes about 2 minutes per side.

While your first batch is cooking, whisk your egg mixture once again and then, add your next 3-4 slices. Continue with the cooking and soaking until all of your slices are done. You may need to add more canola oil to your skillet as you go along. The hot oil helps give the toast a nice "searing" so to speak.

With your toppings and your plates laid out, call the troops to come on into the kitchen and enjoy your creation. Happy Summer!

Yield: 12 slices, more or less

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

Strawberry Rhubarb Muffins....Bright Bits of Hope

Just as promised, the rain returned on Sunday. With my mind in a slight funk due to the lack of sunlight, I stood at the kitchen counter and stared out the window. Out at the flooded lawn and out at my sweetie, in the torrential downpour, hauling bag after bag of my unused potting soil to place along our driveway as makeshift sandbags. I glanced up toward the thicket of trees that just a few weeks ago, or so it seemed, had been bare and now were full and lush. Their leaves dripping with water...rain forest style. For a minute, I allowed my mind to wander. To think about the 7-year old boy who had vanished Friday morning from an elementary school just down the way from us. Was he out there in this weather? Lost? Trying to find a place to stay dry? For a brief second I imagined that the tables were turned and that was my child. Choking back the lump in my throat, I shook the unspeakable images from my mind and with a heavy heart, took out a recipe for strawberry and rhubarb muffins.

There isn't much in my children's lives that I can control. Of course, they don't know that yet or at least, not fully. But I do. I can't control the stock market, who decides to kill who, or environmental disasters. I can't always be there to protect them from harsh words from other children or whether they are chosen for this team or that. I can try my best to guide them but can't control whether they choose to always make the right decision for any given moment. I can't control the unspeakable situations that sometimes befall the lives of sweet, innocent children. I can, however, choose and manage what I feed them and even though that may seem simple or even old-fashioned, I believe that it's one of the greatest gifts that I can give them. What they eat affects their health, their well-being and it brings us together around a table...even for a few brief minutes...before they fly out the door.

I mixed my hood strawberries and my chopped up rhubarb in with the flour and egg mixture. Then, dropped a spoonful of batter into each little paper cup, popped them in the oven and set the timer. Heading out of the kitchen to tackle some chores while the muffins baked, my littlest one called after me, "Mom, my lego store is open. Come see what's for sale." Torn, I slowly walked over to where he was and sat down next to him. I listened to him rattle off this "fact" and that "fact" about his ships and knew he was simply making things up just to keep me there. I felt restless. Wanting to get back to what I felt I needed to be doing and yet, what if one day, he just wasn't there? And so, I sat and I listened and eventually his "sales pitch" was over and off he ran with a big, goofy grin on his face. "Bye, Mom."

Recently it seems, I've had many people saying to me, "You must spend hours in the kitchen." The truth is, I don't spend hours...well, except for the occasional rainy, Sunday afternoon where I'll tackle a new, fairly involved recipe simply because I find cooking relaxing...on a regular basis, I don't have hours. Our fast paced lives don't allow for hours but I do make it a point, most evenings, not all, to take a half-hour to an hour or so to cook for my family. Nothing gives me greater pleasure than to have them sit down to a meal that is not only delicious but also, nourishing. I love that I can do that for them and the beauty of cooking is that it can be shared equally by men and women, boys and girls, young and old. I don't know. Perhaps it's my little way of supplying them each with a bit of certainty in this chaotic and unpredictable world.

Long after the strawberry and rhubarb muffins had been devoured and the day's activities put to rest, I found myself with my youngest one again...curled up on his bed, pulling him extra close to me, kissing the top of his head and breathing in his sweet smell. "Mom, let's read "The Tub People" again for stories." I opened the book and began, "The Tub People stood in a line all day on the edge of the bathtub." As I read him the story, I thought about how during times like these, when something so incredibly horrific happens, everything takes on new meaning, even seemingly innocent moments like story time. I managed to read, "The Tub Mother pressed her face to the grating. She looked and looked for her Tub Child. But she could not see him." But, I couldn't help my voice from cracking when I read, "Come home now," the grandmother whispered. I had to stop a minute to collect myself. My sweet little boy patiently waited...as if he knew. As if he knew that sometimes, you ache so deeply in places and for people...you never knew existed.


Please take a minute to look at the pictures and read the information about Kyron Horman, the sweet 7-year old boy who disappeared from Skyline Elementary School in Portland, Oregon, last Friday. With everyone looking, perhaps one of us will be able to find him and bring him home to his family. We can hope.


Strawberry Rhubarb Muffins
Recipe from the delightful SouleMama blog

I would put these muffins in the "morning bran muffin" category as opposed to the "decadent, almost cake-like, lemon poppyseed muffin" category. They're a little heartier than your average muffin but the bright bits of strawberry and rhubarb make them quite delightful and help to life the spirits.

Ingredients:
1 1/2 cups unbleached flour
1 cup whole wheat pastry flour
1/2 tsp salt
1 1/2 tsp baking soda

1 egg, beaten
1/2 cup pure maple syrup
1 stick melted butter
1/2 cup buttermilk
1 tsp vanilla
optional: 1 tsp grated orange rind

1 cup chopped rhubarb
1 cup sliced strawberries

Mix dry ingredients in a large bowl. Mix wet ingredients separately. Add wet to dry. Carefully stir in berries and rhubarb. Spoon into greased or paper lined muffin tins. Bake at 350 degrees for 25-30 minutes. Be careful not to over bake or the muffins will turn out dry. Enjoy straight from the oven while warm....a little bit of butter spread on a sliced muffin is quite tasty as well.

Yield: A dozen or so


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

Spring Cleaning Scramble

The flurry of activity from the weekend is over. Everyone is back to his corner of the city for the weekly routine. I absentmindedly reach over to pick up a pair of scissors jutting out from under the couch. I walk over to the set of drawers with the fading labels and pull on the handle of the one marked, "scissors, hole punch and stapler." Inside I find clay, glue, oil pastels, crayons, tape, a pencil and a bell, but not one pair of scissors until I deposit the ones I'm holding. With a bit of a sigh, I push the drawer back in and recall a time when those drawers actually held exactly what appeared on the labels...back when I cared. Back when I was known to stay up until one or two in the morning, organizing, purging, labeling, cleaning, painting, rearranging. I think it's safe to say that my sweetie is a very...very...patient man. Actually, I take that back. He's not patient at all. Perhaps it's that he is wise to the ways of women and knows when to stand back and let me work through the frenzy.

I pull up my email in-box and wait for the new messages to load. Glancing down the list, the one entitled, "Spring Cleaning: Day One" catches my eye. I open it up, glance at the thoughtful advice and then, promptly delete it. I can't even keep up with regular cleaning. The thought of "spring cleaning" just overwhelms me. I recently confessed to my mother, my sister and one of my oldest, dearest friends who is a frequent guest in my home that the impendence of their arrival no longer spurs on a flurry of home projects. Where before there would be flowers and decorations reflecting the seasons along with a well-scrubbed house, now, well....oh sure, I clean the toilets (I have boys after all) and I may do a quick little sweep of the kitchen floor, make the beds and fluff a pillow or two but after that, it's more like, "Good to see ya. Here's a glass of wine. Let's sit and chat."

You know, the great irony is that my home may no longer be the pristinely clean and perfectly organized place that it once was but I find I'm more relaxed (which means my sweetie is more relaxed.) I enjoy my time with my guests more. Maybe it's that spring seems to come more quickly with each passing year (Didn't we just pull all of these spring weeds?), and I recognize that I must decide exactly how I want to spend my time. And, I've decided that I want to spend my time with my guests enjoying a home cooked meal, a glass of wine and their company.

Looking for inspiration for the evening's dinner, I pull out the crisper drawers in the fridge. Still having the "spring cleaning" article on the brain (old habits die hard), I recognize that the contents of these drawers could use a little purging. Grabbing the bundle of asparagus that is a bit past its prime, a half a shallot, some potatoes rolling around in the back, some eggs, a couple cloves of garlic and a bag of mushrooms from last weekend's Farmer's Market and drawing on the recollection of a favorite "Egg Scramble" I loved at a diner in Eureka, California....I whip up my own "Spring Cleaning Scramble" and place it on the table for dinner along with some toasted, day-old bread. As we inhale the medley of spring flavors, we chat about our day. What's coming up in the week. And, for some unknown reason we seem to linger a little longer at the table than usual. It's then that I decide that this is the kind of spring cleaning I love. The kind I can handle. The rest of it....eh....

Spring Cleaning Scramble
While I confess that I am not a huge "egg person," I do love this dish which can be made with any veggies you may have lying around in your fridge....peppers, broccoli, zucchini, tomatoes....you name it....scramble it up. This particular evening I made this with mushrooms but I've also made it without them and it was lapped up just as quickly (maybe even more quickly by certain family members.) Also, I find that there is nothing like potatoes browned in a cast iron pan but for a weeknight, I'm picky about how much clean-up I have to do. For these potatoes, I followed Pam Anderson's inspiration for using a non-stick pan and her steam/saute method of cooking them up. I hope this recipe will inspire you to do a little spring cleaning of your own refrigerator to make room for all the berries that are just about to hit the markets.

Ingredients:
4 tbsp olive oil, divided below
a bundle of asparagus with "tough" ends trimmed off (or snapped off like I do)
1 small onion, quartered, white, yellow, red, whatever you have
1/2 lb of shiitake mushrooms (optional)
2 c diced, fingerling potatoes, Yukon Gold or any other thin-skinned potatoes you have lying around
1/2 shallot, chopped (or 1/4 c onion)
2 garlic cloves, sliced
kosher salt and pepper
3 tbsp water
8 eggs (two per person)
3 tbsp milk
1 tsp butter (optional)

Preheat your oven to 400 degrees. While your oven is heating, prepare your asparagus, onion and mushrooms. Lay them in a single layer on a cookie sheet or two. Drizzle a tbsp or two of olive oil over your vegetables. Using your hands (or tongs) mix them around to ensure that they are coated with the olive oil but not drenched in it. Laying them back out in a single layer, sprinkle them well with kosher salt and pepper. Put them in your heated oven to roast for 15 -20 minutes, stirring halfway through. You want the asparagus browned but not blackened, tender but not mushy.

While your vegetables are roasting, prepare your potatoes, shallot and garlic. Place them in a non-stick skillet, along with 2 tbsp olive oil, 3 tbsp water and a sprinkling of salt and pepper. Cover and steam over medium-high heat until the potatoes are just tender about 2-3 minutes. Remove the lid and continue to cook until the liquid evaporates and the potatoes are lightly browned about 6-8 minutes longer.

While your potatoes are cooking, prepare your eggs by cracking them into a medium bowl and lightly beating them along with the 3 tbsp of milk. (Don't ask me why but I always put a bit of milk in my scrambled eggs.) Sprinkle in some salt and pepper.

Once your potatoes are done, spoon them into a bowl, tent with foil and set aside. Turning the heat to low, add one tsp of butter to your already warm skillet (or forgo the butter and just rely on the magic of the non-stick surface.) Once melted, add your eggs. Allow the eggs to set slightly on the bottom and then, cook on the lowest heat, stirring almost constantly. Although, I would take a second here to pop that day-old bread into the toaster. Cook the eggs to your desired doneness...usually 3-4 minutes for me. They continue to cook even after you've turned off the stove.

At this point, it's time to ring the dinner bell and call the troops to the table. On a side note, I did recently acquire a cow bell just for this purpose. No one seemed to pay any attention to me before when I called everyone to the dinner table after slaving away over a hot stove. It's amazing how the extremely loud, incessant and annoying sound of the cow bell seems to bring everyone to the table...quickly...even those people trying to hide from me in the woods. Once they've arrived, hand everyone a plate, tell them to load up with the veggies, potatoes and eggs and mix-it all up on their plates. Toss them each a piece of toast, set some salt and pepper on the table and you're good to go.  Dinner....check. Refrigerator cleaned out...check. Family fed...check. Dishes...pending.

Yield: Enough to feed a family of 4 and one person who still insists on eating like a bird

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 Winter's Walk

I've always considered myself an autumn-type of gal. Fall-ish. Something about the start of the school year cuing me to put in motion all of the "goals" I've laid out for myself. The kaleidoscope effect from the colors of the turning leaves. The hint of wood burning from those people still left with an actual fireplace. The cooler weather. The lower angle of the sun. Being able to return to my denim, boot, scarf attire. Knowing that the boys are happily engaged in the football game on the screen and I am able to flit around as I see fit. Soup, soup and more soup.

As I've grown older though, fall still has all of those qualities but it has become increasingly busy. What with all of the fall sports. The new fall schedules to manage. The lead-in to the holidays. The holidays themselves. Fall leaves me exhausted.

Which is why I now look for refuge in winter.

I stole away from my house this morning after treating myself to a nourishing bowl of yogurt and "Do-It-Yourself Granola" with a drizzle of honey on top. I left behind my lego strewn home (Are we sensing there's a problem with Lego management in our household?) and headed outside to try and clear my mind.

The first deep chill to hit me had me reconsidering my walk but I continued on and my body grew accustomed to the temperature. I slipped on my knitted mittens, breathed deeply and set off down the trail. Not many people out. Neighbors gone for the holidays. People staying bundled inside. I felt as though I had the whole neighborhood to myself and I found it rather peaceful.

I love the long shadows of winter.

I admire the unabashed nakedness of the bare trees.

The bit of cold, winter wind hitting my face was invigorating as I breathed it in. (Or, it could have been the caffeine from the latte I was drinking but either way....)

I heard the quacks of a few ducks staying put for the winter off in the distance. The rare car engine as it hummed by. A lone hawk squawked from high up in the trees but other than the sound of my feet crunching on the gravel, these were the only sounds I heard.

Winter doesn't have the obligations that the other seasons have. The yard is dormant. The feeling that "I should go here" or "I should go there" doesn't exist because it's too cold or too rainy to go here or there. We stay inside, always a little drowsy....perhaps a lack of Vitamin D or some instinctual hibernation effect...and we are forced to slow down. To spend time with one another. To really have the time to look each other in the eyes and pay attention. And, we have the time to consider the balance of our lives so that when the blanket of winter lifts, we are restored.

As I made my way back up the hill, heavy, white clouds were closing over the blue skies that had accompanied me on my walk. By the time I reached my home, the tiniest of snow flakes were softly, drifting down from the sky. Before long, three inches had gathered and sent the children flying outside, leaving me with a quiet, (albeit, lego strewn) peaceful home. And, from inside my warm, cozy house, I could gaze outside and admire the ethereal beauty of winter.

All original text and photographs copyright: Carrie Minns 2009