Nutty Granola and Oatmeal Cookies: Similar Ingredients...Completely Different Results

"Yeah, yeah...I know...I've heard this speech before," my daughter said to me in a tone dripping with teenager attitude. Frustrated I fired back at her, "And that's exactly the kind of attitude that won't help out your cause." She pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. I left the room and headed toward the stairs.


Passing by the living room, I caught a glimpse of the 5-year-old standing erect with his arms at his side, hands clenched. His older brother was sitting nearby with a glimmer in his eye and a smirk on his face. A Zhu Zhu Babies commercial was playing on the television. This didn't look good. At the top of his lungs the 5-year-old screamed at his brother, "Just stop it! Just stop it you stupid-head!" stuck out his tongue and then pushed past me to run up the stairs. The 11-year-old couldn't help but break into a full smile at that point. With feigned innocence he turned to me and said, "What?"


I gave him "the look" and continued up the stairs. Tired. Out of "parenting" ideas. And wondering "Who are these children?"

I plopped down on my bed and went through the actions I'd taken over the past few months to try to guide my children into better, more respectful, more responsible behavior. The reminder signs. The consequences. The reasoning. But really...nothing seemed to be working all that great.


Reluctantly, I reached over and pulled the book off my nightstand. I didn't want to do it. Hadn't I already read enough parenting books? But, I admitted to myself, I needed some fresh thoughts on the matter.

As I flipped through the pages, little nuggets of wisdom seemed to call out to me.


"They are growing up but they are not grown-up."


"Don't take your child's behavior personally."


"Be curious enough to try to understand your child's point of view."


"You may give them your love but not your thoughts, for they have their own thoughts."


And then I came across a sentence. A simple sentence but one that made me slam the book shut. To sigh and shake my head. To realize that a bit of the truth was staring me right in the face.


"Sometimes you get the best results by forgetting about the behavior and focusing on the relationship."

Wasn't it true that I'd been spending an inordinate amount of time on my stuff? My writing. My photographs. My appointments. My projects around the house. My incessant need to cook...stuff.


Oh, yeah, I had been putting up my responsibility reminder lists, making sure they got their hour of weeding in on the weekends, their homework done, their beds made, dishes done...but had I really been spending any time with them? Focused time?


I'd even caught myself recently thinking, "I really should take my little guy to the playground." But I didn't.

Knowing that the kiddos were out of school on Monday, I made a promise to myself. I would take them to do something fun. Something they would really like. And I would just enjoy each one of them. Their company. I would put aside all thoughts of "To Dos" and "Goals."


So, I put all of my chickens in the car and we headed downtown for a movie. And not just any movie. But the "Justin Bieber: Never Say Never" movie in 3D. (Let it be known that this was not the first choice of the 11-year-old. But he was a very good sport.) As I looked down the row at my three chickens with their glasses on, the 5-year-old munching away on his popcorn and everyone smiling, I couldn't help but smile myself. Later, we putzed around. Chatted. No real agenda except to be back in time for dinner.

That evening I learned that the 5-year-old had changed his name to Justin after discovering that he could "swish" his hair like his namesake. This is the type of situation that would normally set-off a litany of taunting and teasing by his older brother. But not this time. Instead, I found him kindly combing his little brother's hair into the proper swish, helping him put on a "Justin Bieber outfit" and then, leading him downstairs to pound away on our old, beat-up drum set.

And that night, instead of giving my daughter the rushed, "Good night," I laid down on her bed. With her. And we talked. She talked. Late into the evening. She covered all manner of subjects. Homework. Friends. All those stresses of middle school. And when I finally got up to go, she said to me, "Mom....?"


"Yes?"


"Thanks for today."


"You are so welcome."

So this morning, as snowflakes gently fall out my window, I mix up my oats, my cinnamon, my almonds. Individual ingredients that will eventually make-up a whole finished product. A batch of homemade granola. Or perhaps oatmeal cookies. Similar ingredients that produce uniquely different results. And I think to myself, "It's hard, isn't it? This delicate balancing act. Trying to figure out when to focus on teaching responsibility and respect and an entire encyclopedia of other attributes to our children and when...to let go of all of that and simply enjoy them. As people."


(Sigh....)






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Nutty Granola and Oatmeal Cookies: Similar Ingredients...Completely Different Results


Okay, this week, you're getting two recipes....you lucky people you. The first is a batch of homemade granola. I tossed in a little of this and a little of that...which is the beauty of granola...and "Voila!" delicious. So, if you don't have all of the ingredients, no biggie. Use what you have. Then, I got crazy and took that homemade granola and put it into oatmeal cookies. (Don't tell the Rooster though. He recently asked me for a batch of oatmeal cookies but said, "Nothing crazy. No crazy ingredients. Just a plain oatmeal cookie." I can't help myself.) Both are the perfect antidote for a pensive, snowy day.






A Nutty Homemade Granola


Delicious plain, on yogurt, with milk, sprinkled over ice cream. And as a side note, I tend to have a lot of different nuts around. (I mean the ingredient, not my children.) I buy them in bulk and store them in the freezer where they keep beautifully for months and months.


Ingredients:


3 c old-fashioned rolled oats (not quick cooking)
1 c raisins
1/2 c unsweetened, shredded coconut
1/2 c pecan pieces
1/2 c walnut pieces
1/2 c almonds, chopped or not, your choice
2 tbsp golden flax seed
1 tbsp wheat germ

1 tbsp brown sugar

1/2 tsp cinnamon

1/4 tsp salt

1/2 c pure maple syrup
2 tbsp olive oil


Directions:


Preheat your oven to 300 degrees. Either grease a cookie sheet or line it with parchment paper and set aside.


In a large bowl, mix together your dry ingredients: oats, raisins, coconut, pecans, walnuts, almonds, flax seed, wheat germ, brown sugar, cinnamon and salt. Then add in your maple syrup and olive oil. Stir until mixture is evenly coated with syrup and oil.


Pour out onto cookie sheet and spread evenly. Bake in oven for 30 minutes, stirring once halfway through baking time. Allow to cook a bit and then, start snacking. Once cooled completely, store in an air-tight container. Enjoy.....


Yield: 5 cups or so






Crunchy Granola Oatmeal Cookies
Inspired by Mrs. King's Irresistibles in Rose's Christmas Cookies


Obviously, I used the homemade granola I had made at home but you can use store-bought granola. Just make sure it's unsweetened or lightly-sweetened or it will be too sugary. If your granola does not have any nuts in it, you might want to consider decreasing the granola amount to 1 1/2  cups and adding in 1 cup of your favorite toasted nuts...walnuts, pecans, almonds.




Ingredients:


2 c homemade granola *see note above
1 c old-fashioned rolled oats
1/2 c semi-sweet chocolate chips
1 2/3 c all-purpose flour
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 c brown sugar, firmly packed
3/4 c granulated sugar
1 c unsalted butter, softened
2 large eggs
1 tsp vanilla extract




Directions:


Preheat oven to 375 degrees.


Into a small bowl, pour in your flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Whisk together well. Set aside.


In a mixing bowl, beat your sugars until well blended. Add in your butter and beat until smooth and creamy. Scraping down the sides. Beat in your eggs and vanilla until well incorporated. At low speed, add your flour mixture and mix just until combined. With a wooden spoon or spatula, gently fold in your granola, oats and chocolate chips just until evenly distributed in the dough.


Drop the dough by large, rounded tablespoons onto ungreased cookie sheets, 1-2 inches apart. Bake for 12-15 minutes or just until the tops are turning light brown. (Better to underbake than overbake.)


Cool for a few minutes on the cookie sheet, then, transfer the cookies to wire racks to cool completely.


Can be stored in an airtight container at room temperature for a few weeks or in the freezer for several months.


Enjoy.....


Yield: About 3 dozen








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Thank you, thank you, my dear friends!


I can hardly believe it but this post marks my 99th. Holy Catfish, is all I can say!! Holy Catfish and thank you! Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for reading my musings (especially when I get a little long-winded.) For trying out my recipes. For kindly viewing my photographs. For buying my calendars. For thoughtfully letting me know when something I wrote made you laugh or cry. When you thought a photograph was "extra-purdy." Or a recipe extra-scrumptious.


I must do something extra-special for the 100th post. You deserve it. I deserve it. But what?


xoxo
Carrie






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A Quick Note


Just in case you were curious...my all time favorite parenting books are from the Positive Discipline series. A dear friend of mine who is a teacher turned me on to them when my eldest was still a baby. Of course, as with any type of advice book, I don't necessarily agree with everything the author has to say...but definitely with most of it. I just recently bought the Positive Discipline for Teenagers. So telling....eh?  The author uses the word "discipline" in its true sense and that is, "to teach." And really, as parents, that's what we are...teachers. Right? Well, sometimes I'm a pack mule too, but that's a different story.






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AM Northwest


Stopped by AM Northwest last week to mix up a pot of Hearty Lentil Soup with Helen and Dave. Was a hoot, as always.







If a video screen does not appear above this line, click here to be taken directly to the site.
















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

Appetizers, Apples and Antics on AM Northwest

The past week has gone....I don't know where. It vaporized. I don't know about you, but I'm having trouble staying on top of things. Luckily, as I've mentioned before, my sweetie has already started the Christmas shopping.

Thanks to a gentle reminder by my thoughtful mother and father, I realized I never posted the video from last week's AM Northwest segment. So, this is for you, Mom and Dad...and anyone else who may have an interest in learning about homemade applesauce and a tantalizing appetizer all made with seasonal ingredients. And, one last note, should you decide to view the following video....after viewing it himself, my sweetie showered me with all of the appropriate accolades just like a good husband should (whether they are true or not) and then, off-handedly remarked, "Lots of sound effects going on in this one." What can I say? With the way my brain operates these days, it's a wonder I can even string a sentence together, so when I'm at a loss for the appropriate word, I fill in with sounds.


If you are unable to view the video above this line, click here to be taken directly to the website.

Hope you all have a safe and Happy Halloween!

And, hopefully you're not like me, with a mouth full of canker sores already from raiding the Halloween candy I've stashed away from the kids. Wish someone would stash it away from me!

Cheers,
Carrie

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yield: about 2 dozen.


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

Pizza à la Julie

Apparently, there is a bobcat a-foot in our neighborhood. He's reportedly been seen sunning himself on the side of the road, peeking through the rails of back decks and even, chasing a female runner up one of the wooded trails. While he's not easy to spot due to his coloring, the telltale sign that he's around is the frenzied chirping from the birds in his locale. Here is a picture I snapped of his cousin on a recent trip to the Oregon Zoo. He looks none too happy to be in here while his blood relative is out fancy-footin’ it in the wild.

My evening had started out as one of pure bliss. Two dear friends of mine and I had sipped a beautiful, “citrusy” pinot gris and munched on crisp red peppers dipped in a hummus – truly one of the smoothest, most flavorful that I have ever had – which the hostess had picked up at the Beaverton Farmer’s Market. The children were off playing in the bowels of the house and we were left alone to chat away. Kids’ activities. Teachers. Books we’ve recently read. Books the kids have recently read. The meaning of life. And, while we chatted, the heady aroma of onions being caramelized swirled around us.

As we were deep in conversation about the meaning of life – a topic “to be continued” – the hostess laid down before us what she calls her version of pizza. I could barely contain myself when I saw what befell me. Thick slices of Heirloom tomatoes covered with the caramelized onions, Herbes de Provence, chopped pecans and crumbled blue cheese. I inhaled each tomato “pizza” with such quickness that I bordered on being quite rude. I simply couldn’t help myself. Each bite was heavenly.

Growing up, my siblings and I were regaled with the legend of the Hide-Behind Monster. Supposedly, one can never see the Hide-Behind monster. No matter which direction or how quickly you turn your head, he is always behind you. And, he’s a tricky little monster in that he doesn’t show up in mirrors. You always know he’s around when you hear the crack of a tree branch and the “hoot” of an owl. And so, throughout my childhood, I always carried with me the feeling that someone was behind me. I would dart up dark stairwells as quickly as possible. Upon reaching the top, I would promptly twist around trying to catch a glimpse of whoever was there but nobody ever was.

Our exquisite platter of “pizza” was long-gone, the sky was dark and the children were getting sleepy. I reluctantly packed up my little tribe, headed home and continued to marvel over tonight’s dinner. We had received notice earlier in the week that our street was to be “slurried” the following day - which meant nothing to me except that I wanted to start singing, “Surry with the Fringe on Top” - and all cars would need to be off the street by 8am. As I’ve told you before about my “morning-challenged-self,” I knew that I would need to take care of the car that very night. I decided to drop the children off at home with my sweetie and then park the car on the next street over. There is a little trail that connects our two streets. In the daylight hours, it is perhaps a 5-minute walk through the woods.

I parked the car, alongside others with the same idea, and then, headed down the trail armed with a flashlight that beamed a quarter-size circle of light. Now, let me explain that this trail goes straight down a flight of stairs and crosses a little creek before it goes straight back up another flight of stairs. All was going well. I was still talking to myself about the pizza, humming Rogers and Hammerstein show tunes and shining my little pin of light. But, as I went down, down, down…down into the darkness. Down into the bank of ferns that somehow seemed to be growing taller than I. And, down the trail that at this point, I could barely make out, I became aware that the darkness was literally swallowing me up. Pressing on me. Suffocating me. I was alone in the complete and utter pitch black. I started to take deep breaths, switched to whistling “Whenever I feel afraid…,” and pulled out my cell phone hoping to gain a little more light by shining it on the ground as well. And then, I had the feeling that someone or something was behind me. Just sure I was about to be attacked, I flipped around as quickly as possible. Heard a crack of a tree branch. The frantic chirping of birds. An owl. My heart started racing. I started to panic. Hyperventilating even. I picked up my pace, ran across the bridge and started to fly up the stairs on the other side. I was on the verge of screaming, “Help!”, convinced that the bobcat, a person, or the Hide-Behind monster was about to grab me, when my feet lost their footing on the gravel stairs. I slipped and “down, down, down, I fell.” Hard.

Stunned, with a throbbing elbow and skinned knees, I laid there. The light from my neighbor’s front porch was shining on me through the ferns. I prayed to the Lord above that neither she nor anyone in her family had been peering out in this direction the minute before. I shook my head, slowly stood up and chastised myself. “Look at you. A grown woman. You really need to get over it. The Hide-Behind monster does not exist!” I methodically climbed the final stairs, turned the key in my front door and went into my sleeping house...absolutely mortified.

As for the bobcat, who knows?

Pizza à la Julie

2 tbls olive oil

1 tbls butter

1 large or 2 medium, onion(s), thinly, sliced – Walla Walla or Hermiston Sweets, if you can find them. Regular, yellow onions if you can’t

3-4 large heirloom tomatoes, sliced ½ inch thick

½ cup crumbled, blue cheese – such as Rogue River Blue

1/3 cup chopped, roasted pecans

1 tsp of Herbes de Provence or 1 tbls of a variety of chopped, fresh herbs such as basil, thyme, oregano and a pinch of rosemary

optional: salt & pepper, to taste

Begin by prepping your onion(s) to be sliced. Peel. Cut off the end(s). Then, heat/melt your olive oil and butter in a large, skillet over medium heat. Thinly slice your onion(s). Add them to your heated fat, stir them around to coat them in the mixture and then, turn your heat down to low. You can at this point add a pinch of salt and pepper but I usually just let the oil/butter work their magic with the sugars in the onion. Now, don’t be frugal with your onion(s). Trust me. It’s better to have more than you can ever imagine because they will cook down. Way down. Keep your heat on med-low to low and stir the onions from time to time. After about 20 minutes they will become translucent and take on an amber color. Take care not to let them brown too quickly or burn which will give them a bitter taste.

While the onions are caramelizing, you can sip wine and chat with friends slice your tomatoes and lay them out on a platter. Next, crumble up your blue cheese and have it ready. And, if I may, I’d like to suggest Rogue River Blue Cheese. This year’s wheels have just been released into stores and Rogue River Blue has the distinct honor of not only being made here in Southern Oregon but being known as the “Best Blue Cheese in the World” due to the numerous awards bestowed upon it over the years. I'm not sure how the Roqueforts feel about that, but let's go with it.

I was recently enlightened to the fact that, while pecans are available year-round, those pecans harvested in the fall are the sweetest and most moist. So, get thee to a store now and gather up some fresh pecans. You can choose to roast them the traditional way - 350 degrees, single layer on a cookie sheet, roast 5 minutes, stir, roast another 4-5 minutes OR you can do a little trick I learned for roasting all kinds of nuts when you’re short on time. Just pop them in the microwave for about a minute. Not quite the same, but it’ll do. Chop them up and set them aside. If you’re choosing to use fresh herbs, chop them up and set them aside also.

By now, your onions should be done. Put a “forkful” of them, and their delicious syrup, on each tomato slice. Next, sprinkle the blue cheese over the onions, then the pecans and finally the herbs and optional, salt and pepper. Serve them up to your friends and watch them swoon.

I do, in fact, serve these “pizzas” to my children and they inhale them. One difference, though, is that I put the blue cheese and nuts on the side and let the children decide if they want a more "purest" type of pizza or if they want to load up on all the goods.

Yield: About 12 “pizzas”

All original text and photographs copyright: Carrie Minns 2009