A River. A Tent. A Simple Satisfying Sandwich.

The kids were geared up. They had on their road warrior hats and there wasn't a single complaint to be found. No, "Are we almost there?" No, "I'm bored." They knew our destination. Had been looking forward to it for a year. This annual pilgrimage to "The River." The Eel River, to be exact. We had left behind the tightly packed Douglas firs. Almost brillo-like in the way they densely covered the sharp slopes flanking I-5. We had said good-bye to the rolling hills of Southern Oregon speckled with maples. And, we were currently snaking our way past the awe-inspiring and rather haunting California Redwoods. As we slowly made our way up the shady, narrow road, the 5-year old called out excitedly, "Mom?! Where's the Endor Base?" "Mom? Mom? Is that where the speeders go?" While I looked out the window and saw...Majestic. Colossal. Beauty. He looked out the window and saw...Ewoks. Clone Troopers. Battle scenes from Star Wars VI. (The other two didn't see anything. They were conked out thanks to the Dramamine. A must for all but the strongest stomachs on the winding stretch of highway through the Smith River Canyon.)

What is it about the summer road trip? The anticipation of sleeping in a tent that allows children, who can barely sit for half an hour to enjoy their dinner, to sit for 8 or 9 hours straight in a car without complaining? The only question on their lips being, "When can we go to the river? Can we go to the river right when we get there? When? When? When?" And sure enough, upon our arrival, there was no holding them back. No setting up camp. Just a flurry of bathing suits and sunscreens and they were off.

Maybe the answer lies in its simplicity. The way that the older ones ferry the younger ones in a small boat across the "deep end" over and over, all day long. Neither party growing tired of the trip. Back and forth. Back and forth. The way the older ones jump off the rock into the river, over and over, all day long. Never growing tired of scaling the rock up past the poison oak and jumping again. Scaling and jumping. Scaling and jumping. Or, maybe it's the simple thrill of "night swimming." The rush that comes from conquering something that you feared. Or, the way that the Moms, best friends, sisters, still exhausted from the school year, are allowed to simply sit. Sit. Sit. Sit. In the sun. Talking about this and that. Sipping our sparkling water. A bottle of Rosé. At one point, I inquired of my 10-year old in a private moment, "So, are you having fun?" He looked at me, a bit puzzled and replied, "Mom? Are you kidding me? This is my warcraft." And he pushed off into the water, kicking his inner tube down the river. The same kind of black inner tube I played on in my grandparents creek during the summer.

Of course, one can't think of tents and rivers and campfires without thinking of food. Food that's been simplified. Paired down. No cookbooks. No recipes. A loaf of purchased pound cake, sliced and left on a table for children to grab as they walk by for breakfast. A cooler full of sandwiches...pb and j, salami and cheese, turkey with hummus and vegetables. A bag of Rainier cherries. Canteens full of water. And in the evening, salmon and halibut that have been grilled to perfection with only a brush of olive oil and a sprinkle of garlic salt for seasoning. A pot of buttered noodles and a salad of greens tossed with olive oil and lemon juice. Salt and pepper. Easy. Uncomplicated. No pressure, food. And even though I rather loathe marshmallows, every year at this time, there's nothing quite like the perfectly roasted S'more for dessert.

Then at night, cuddled up in a tent, after a day of water and sun, all one really needs is a pillow, a sleeping bag, an air mattress and some night air for a deep sleep. Well, actually, that is if you aren't me with my genetic disposition toward light sleeping and dog hearing. Which, even though it does not render me a full night's rest, does allow me to hear foiled attempts to teepee the teenage girls' tent by a couple of teenage boys...and then, to lay there and do nothing but smile to myself. The following day, I hear myself explaining to my teenage daughter who was aghast upon learning about the attempted prank, "They do and say these things because they like you." And her saying to me impatiently, "Mom, you always say that." And I guess I do. Just like my parents said it to me. And I wonder, "Is it true?"

Back through the Redwoods. Past the rolling hills and up to the familiar Doug firs. The only sound to be heard is the occasional, "Mom, can we stay longer next year?" The kids each thinking about what type of water contraption they're bringing next time. Me thinking about the food. Those sandwiches by the river. That bottle of Rosé. And sitting. Just sitting.


A Simple Satisfying Summer Sandwich
Let's be honest, sometimes in our overcomplicated world, we overcomplicate food as well. Summer with all of its fresh produce provides us with an opportunity to simplify because summer produce doesn't need much except slicing. We couldn't get enough of these sandwiches on "The River." Paired with a handful of Rainier cherries and a glass of sparkling water or chilled wine....it doesn't get much better than this.

Ingredients:
2 slices of your favorite whole grain bread.
(I prefer Dave's Killer Bread or La Brea Whole Grain Bread)
2-3 slices of tomato
4-5 slices of cucumber
4-5 slices avocado (or in a pinch, leftover guacamole)
thinly sliced red onion
salad greens
your favorite hummus
salt and pepper
optional: a couple slices of turkey

Directions:
Slather both sides of your bread with the hummus. Place your sliced vegetables and your turkey on one side. Sprinkle with salt and pepper and then, pile on the greens. Grab your unencumbered slice and flip it over on top. Cut in half on the diagonal. Pack away in a cooler for later or grab a plate, put your sandwich on it, a handful of cherries and go outside to enjoy. Best eaten with fresh air.


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

Sometimes All You Need is 'Jambon et Fromage'

Yes, I heard what the weatherman...uh...weatherperson said. That we have sun on the way but I can hardly believe it. All I am seeing are those gray, oppressive clouds that render me sleepy, sleepy, sleepy. I know what I said back here about winter being peaceful and restorative but I think I must have been having a zen moment that day....that one day. Besides feeling sleepy, I feel out of sync and a bit frazzled. You see, my friend, everything that I put off from Halloween to New Year's back when we were filled with holiday cheer and decking the halls and ho, ho, ho...well, all of that back-log has landed squarely on my dining room table desk and I find myself just staring at it hoping it will go away but it doesn't. No. And, it even has the audacity to continue to grow. Gads...

When I feel like this...that peculiar combination of sleepy and frazzled all at once...I lack focus and I find myself uninspired. Not even food...my trusty companion...who I always can count on to pull me out of my sluggishness...to provide me with some spark of inspiration or a flicker of motivation...is helping me out.

My daughter and I had quietly made our way across the city in the early morning weekend hours last Saturday. Yes, it was pouring down rain. I actually had to open an umbrella when I ran out of the car to get myself a much needed latte. (Here in Oregon, in case you don't live here and are wondering, even though it rains continually, we don't use an umbrella most of the time. We just get used to being a little bit damp all of the time. It's only during a downpour that we actually pop one up.) The sky was gray. Gray as in...um...cement. (Wow...that was original.) I was sleepy and truth be told, a little grumpy, for no apparent reason. After making sure she was properly settled in, I left my darling daughter at the edge of the city to dance her heart away for the next 48 hours, while I crept back towards home. My only, single, thought during that return trip was the fact that when I arrived home, 3 ravenous male persons would be waiting for me.

I made a bit of a detour and turned into one of my most favorite grocery stores (the Burnside location in particular.) Even if you don't actually buy anything in this store, it's such a treat just to go in there and "window shop". The food is laid out so beautifully. One can't help but feel a rush of excitement at the prospect of preparing food for one's family. I headed straight to the already prepared food since I was feeling none of the aforementioned excitement. I figured I'd grab the boys a few sandwiches and call it good. I stared at the sandwiches in the case. The same sandwiches that I had happily devoured many times before. They seemed to be smaller than I remember. They appeared to measure, maybe, 3 inches of baguette length...all for the price of 5 buckaroos. In my grumpy-gills state of mind, I thought, "That's ridiculous. They don't even have lettuce on there and besides, when I've had those before, the balance of flavors has all been off. There was no proper ingredient ratio. I'm making these myself." And, with that, I huffed off to gather the ingredients.

I ordered up a 1/2 pound of sliced, french ham. Yes, that's what it's called folks...french ham. And, I believe this to be the perfect, sandwich ham. Not too salty. Not too sweet. Just....ham. Leaving the deli counter, I grabbed some gruyere cheese and then, scooped up a baguette, fresh from Ken's Artisan Bakery. In my humble opinion, Ken's makes the best baguette for sandwiches in our dear city. That perfect crispy crust to chewy interior ratio. (Have you noticed that I have a thing for proper flavor ratios?) (By the way...Pearl Bakery and Lovejoy Bakers, make a close second...in my opinion, that is.)

Arriving home, I unloaded my supplies, and without much thought, set about making the 'Jambon et Fromage' sandwiches. I sliced up the baguette which released it's heavenly aroma of freshly baked bread. A thin layer of mayonnaise on one side and thin layer of delicatessen mustard on the other. A couple slices of ham and a couple of cheese. A crack of the pepper mill and a handful of baby greens. All set on a plate with a pickle. "Luuunnnnchhhhhh, is ready!!!!!!!" And, with that I turned back around to clean up the bread crumbs that were scattered across the counter and cutting board.

I heard the thumping of feet and the scraping of the chair legs as the boys settled in to eat. In my sleepiness, I continued with my cleaning. Not paying much heed to those eating away. But, then, after a minute or two, a cry, broke through the fogginess brain. "Oh, my gosh, Mom!!! Mom!!! This is the BEST sandwich I have EVER had!!! I LOVE it!!! I want this in my lunch for school. You HAVE to tell everyone on your blog about it!!" There, was my 10-year old, with excitement brimming in his eyes, scarfing down his sandwich while trying to express his love for it at the same time. His cheeks were flushed as he stood there...one foot on his chair, one foot on the ground (yes, we're still working on sitting while eating)...and he looked positively delighted with this simple bit of nourishment.

I realized later that it was his enthusiasm that managed to kick me out of my funk. To feel a rush of enthusiasm, no matter the weather, over something as seemingly, insignificant as a ham and cheese sandwich, was just what I needed. I've continued to make these same sandwiches all week long, hoping to further pull me out of my grogginess and into a state of excitement. I'm not quite there but these sandwiches are definitely helping.

A 'Jambon et Fromage' Sandwich

The handful of times I have been fortunate enough to actually eat french ham in France, I have found that ham to be superior to any I've ever had. There's something about its freshness. It doesn't taste as if it's been pumped up with other flavors...just a mild, delicate taste about it. Yes, it does cost about $1 more a pound than regular ham but you really don't need much so in the end we're talking about a few pennies more. As for the gruyere, you could substitute swiss cheese, but it definitely has a stronger taste and then, if you're me, you'll find the ratio of flavors is all off. Make sure you seek out the best baguette your city or town offers. And, here's a little tip, if you're like me and don't have a boulangerie within walking distance of your front door: Baguettes are always best when eaten the same day they've been made but that isn't always realistic for me since I tend to buy them and then want to use them in my children's lunches the following days. So, bring your baguette home. Cut it in 4 or 5 inch sections and then halve those sections. Pop the pieces in a ziploc bag and put them in the freezer. Then, when you are making a sandwiches in the morning to be consumed later in the day, prepare the sandwich directly on the frozen bread. It will defrost while it's in the lunchbox and when you (or he or she) go to eat it....voila...the bread is defrosted and tastes as fresh as the day you bought it...well, almost.

Ingredients:

sliced, french ham (Madrange ham is the kind I buy locally.)

thinly, sliced gruyere cheese (If you live near a Trader Joe's, they carry a delicious variety of gruyere.)

mayonnaise (Best Foods...what else?)

delicatessen style mustard (I love Boar's Head.)

freshly, ground black pepper

a handful of baby greens (or for the kids, some romaine)

Ken's Artisan Bakery baguette or the best baguette you can find, freshly baked

Cut your baguette into sections, 4, 5, 6 inches depending on how hungry you are. Slice those sections in half. Spread a bit of mayonnaise on one side and a bit of mustard on the other....go easy on the mustard though. You don't want it to overpower the other flavors. Gently lay down a couple slices of ham. A few slices of cheese...like the mustard, go easy on the cheese. It also has a very strong flavor. Crack the pepper mill a few times over the ham and cheese and if you must, you can sprinkle a pinch of salt as well. Grab a handful of baby greens and tuck them in as you put the "top" on the sandwich. Add a pickle on the side. Enjoy.

PS: BTW...(yes, I know I'm talking in "teen text speak" but....btw....) I wanted to let you know, my dear friends, that I won't be posting my pictures for my Project 365 on La Pomme any longer but should you be curious how that "What was I thinking?" little project is going, please feel free to click on the "Flickr badge" at any time, located on the lower right hand side of this page. Once there, click on the photo set entitled, "2010 at a Glance" and it will take you right to that growing bunch of photos.

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

Heirloom Tomato Sandwich

Clearly, the baby has not yet grasped the concept of “sleeping-in.” In my semi-conscious state, my mind barely registers that he is speaking to me. “Mom?” Pause. A little louder, “Mom? What animal sleeps during the day?” As I try to break through the fog that has not yet lifted from my mind in this pre-dawn hour and make sense of the question, I do manage to perceive the familiar, soft fur resting against my arm. As I begin, with the smallest of motions possible, to gently pet our seventeen-year old cat, I reply, “I don’t know. Which animal sleeps during the day?” To which he replies back, “Mom. Just think. What do you think?” “A cat.” Silence. I begin to drift back toward slumber land.

“Mom?” Pause. A little louder, “Mom? What if there was a slide from heaven to all the way down here? What would happen? What do you think would happen?” Snapped out of my dozing, once again, I sleepily reply, “I don’t know. What would happen?” “Mom. Just think. Just what do you think would happen?” “I don’t know. Granddad could come visit us?” Silence.

“Mom? Mom? What if a real missile…a real one…got shot in your eye? What would happen then?” “I don’t know.” “Mom. Just think. Just what would happen? What do you think?” “If a real missile shot you in the eye, you would die.” Pause. “What if it just shot you in the arm?” Gads. At this point, I throw the towel in and say to the baby, “I don’t know. Let’s go downstairs.” He follows after me, crying out, “Just think, Mom. What do you think?”

I am not a morning person. I would, however, love to be a morning person. I have close friends who are morning people and I deeply admire their spunk and energy at the beginning of the day. The way in which they can rise at 5:oo am, rattle through emails, check off To Dos and fit in an hour-long yoga class all while I’m still in a deep REM sleep.

Because of this, breakfast is never a grand affair in our home. For all my affinity toward food and cooking, if you are a guest in our home, you will never be served eggs, bacon, waffles or sticky buns. Instead, I will point you toward the counter where I have, with great effort, managed to lay out granola, yogurt and some fruit. Sometimes you will get coffee and sometimes I will direct you to the nearest Starbucks. And take note: if you are actually served pancakes made from the Snoqualmie Falls Lodge NutraRich box mix with real maple syrup on the side, consider yourself royalty. It takes me a good hour or two to become fully conscious in the morning and unfortunately, it is during those couple of hours, that Monday through Friday, nine months of the year, I have the job of assembling school lunches.

With the baby stumbling down the stairs behind me trying to keep up, I head for the pantry. I grab a tea bag. Take my favorite mug out of the cupboard. Pull back the water on the insta-hot. Set the timer for three minutes. And, just stare…out the window. The buzzer manages to bring me back to full-consciousness at which time, I pull the bag out of the mug. Take the honey from the cupboard. Put a dollop in the mug. Stir. Sip. And, feel the hot liquid make its way down my throat and begin the very difficult task of waking me up.

I’ve realized over the years, that because of my impaired mental state in the morning, I have to tone it down. Simplify the lunches. I am a big fan of sandwiches. I find them to be a well-balanced meal all in one tidy package. And, I find I am not alone in this thinking. An article in the Aug/Sept ’09 issue of MIX - Portland’s Magazine of Food + Drink - declared 2009, The Year of the Sandwich. I do try to vary the type of sandwiches and the bread over the course of the year; however, my 10-year old would be perfectly happy with peanut butter and jelly every day. So, I try to make sure he gets the best possible peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Dave’s Killer Bread, organic peanut butter (we like the kind from Costco) and Nana’s homemade blackberry jam which we look forward to receiving every Christmas. (Not to be greedy but…we just wish she would make a little bit more of it since we always seem to run out before the end of the year.) Today; however, I decide to mix-it up a bit.

I heave the cutting board up onto the counter. Walk the two feet from the counter to the refrigerator, open the door and stare. With the door held wide open (as I’ve instructed the children not to do,) I try to remember what it is I need from this appliance. Oh, yes. Cream cheese. Goat cheese. Pesto. I grab a heavenly perfumed tomato from the bowl. A baguette. And go to work assembly these simple yet delicious sandwiches. For the 10-year old, I spread a layer of cream cheese on his sliced baguette and goat cheese on my daughter’s. Next, a slathering of pesto. Today, I happened to use basil pesto from Pesto Outside the Box which I picked up at the Farmer’s Market – and can I say, the way they make this pesto with pistachios as opposed to the usual pine nuts creates a pesto with such full, rounded flavor, I could eat it with a spoon - although, you could use pesto from your local grocery store or go hog wild and make your own. Thick slices of heirloom tomatoes, just at the peak of their harvest, come next. I place the other half of the baguette on top of the creation, put the sandwich into their containers and then, drop them into their respective lunch boxes. Next, I go to work slicing up the Maryhill peaches whose season has almost ended and a few plums, which are just arriving on the scene. I gave up giving the children chips, pretzels, crackers and the like years ago because it was just one more decision for me to make in my grogginess. Now, I just give them double the fruit and they are thrilled. I break off a piece of dark mint chocolate for each child, toss it is in a wee container and slap it in the lunch box. I fill their “canteens” with water. Yes, water. I stopped giving them anything but for the same reason as the chips – too much for my decision-challenged mind - and really, what else do they need? And furthermore, it’s free. By now, I’m starting to pick up steam. I place the lunchboxes by the door. Holler to each child that it’s time to go. Kiss the tops of their heads…well, in the case of my daughter who is as tall as me now, the side of her head…and send them and my sweetie out the door with a “Have a great day! I love you.”

I close the front door, turn back into the suddenly silent house and sigh. Fully awake and energized, I can now begin my day. Walking back to the kitchen, it dawns on me that there still remains the presence of a little person in the house. A little person who has been sitting on the couch, through the entire morning frenzy. Patiently waiting. Watching my every move like a stalking cat. Just waiting for the right moment. And, then, as if we were still back upstairs, snuggled up under the covers and hadn’t just sent everyone out the door, he says to me without missing a beat, “But, Mom. What would happen if a real missile shot your arm? Just think. Just what do you think would happen?”

All original text and photographs copyright: Carrie Minns 2009