racheld
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Posts posted by racheld
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AWWWW. Being thought of over rat cheese is just the loveliest thing!!!
The peas-on-the-porch thing was reminiscent of all our pea-shelling days. We lived in one of those bubbles called a "house" down in mosquito country, and so were rarely outside in the shade for very long at a time.
We did our picking at peril, swatting and sweating through the "OFF" slick on our arms and legs, and then carried the bushels and bushels of fieldpeas and purplehulls indoors for the shelling. Our little rat terrier, Petey, had to be locked down the hall, contributing to the conversation with loud, forlorn whines and whimpers, because he chased every errant pea that went bouncing over the floor, eating so many of the lively green things that he had, shall we say, "problems" of an unpleasant nature.
But when they were cooked, he always got a little serving in his dish. He loved his vegetables; he would kiss your feet for a piece of raw broccoli as you cooked. We'd find old dried-out wizened pieces all down in the cushions of "his" couch.
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Thank you, Anna!!! I try to be as good a MIL as the two I've been blessed with. The first was an absolute angel, and now, just the same.
(And two of our five sons are still unattached . . .) How close are you to Atlanta?
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Using up Sunday's ham:
I'm cooking a good ole Southern Summertime supper right now, in spite of the very damp cold still hovering over all our days. A pot of fieldpeas and snaps, with a big hunk of ham simmered fall-apart tender, a dish of "stewed" potatoes (baby reds, chunked and gently boiled til tender, the cooking water then thickened with a flour and water slurry, a hunk of butter, and lots of fresh-ground pepper. One little can of beet slices, the juices sweet/sour and made into a version of "Harvard" beets, with the juices thickened with cornstarch, and a little bit of fried cornbread, about a quarter of a recipe, sizzled at the last minute in a non-stick pan with butter.
If MY tulips are coming up, way up here in Indiana, then it MUST be SPRING somewhere!!! It seems like YEARS since I was outdoors planting things.
I can't wait to plant carrots and peas and beans, with a row of cabbages like big green roses---we'll water and watch them grow, and then we'll harvest them and cook them all up into lots of lovely dishes: steamed carrots and carrot salad---long, thin threads from the grater, to be mixed with some plumped Sultanas, some tiny sweet chunks of fresh pineapple, with a sour cream/mayo dressing, slightly sweet, with a bit of sugar and lemon juice, much like the from-the-store ones at dinner on Sunday.
And creamed carrots, if anyone likes those---My Mother's creamed carrots used to consist of big ole slices from nearly-too-big carrots, the getting-almost-woody ones which had been missed beneath the earth, and had grown into roots the size of salamis. Those chariot-wheels, boiled within an inch of their lives, drained, then drenched in big glugs of the same Pet milk my parents used for coffee creamer---a thorough blackening with sifts from the Watkins Black Pepper can, and there you were: the worst of any two worlds. And served on Sunday, to boot.
Peas, we never creamed, though I'd seen them in cookbooks, sometimes with little shiny onions almost their size. Somehow those Southern cooks, so attuned to the greige flavors of opening a can of School Day English Peas, with their tinny mushy if-they-didn't-still-have-tough-little-carapaces-you'd think-they-were already soup consistency---those cooks knew the secret of the special ones. Those first peas from the garden---not the big peapatch of purplehulls or Crowders or Silverskins or pinkeyes---not those slice-of-salt-meat everyday peas, so good with a hunk of cornbread and a big slice of cold sweet onion---not those.
No. The small green peas in the special bed with the posts and strings to climb, waving their little flowery tentacles skyward, were good for perhaps three pickings before the vines gave up the ghost in that post-April heat of those gumbo gardens---those were the jewels of the Summer crop. Small and twinkly from the pods, crisp and flavored with all the green of a thousand Summers---somehow those good hearty cooks knew, with the instinct of holding a baby, the right way to treat those peas.
A scant half-inch of water into a shallow pan---small sprinkle each of salt and sugar, a quick boil, then in with the handfuls of just-shelled peas. Lid on, fire off; quick shake. Less than five minutes to sit; shake, then a drain with the lid held tightly on, just to the side. Big knob of butter in, melt a minute, another shake for a gleaming coat, and to the table---less than ten minutes from pod to plate.
That's one of the things M.F.K. Fisher waxes so eloquently of---the pans of Summer peas, which I remember she served with a cool salad and some small roasted chickens delivered by a neighbor whilst the household was picking and shelling the peas. A sultrily-steaming Deep South kitchen and a a hillside in France---now THERE are two worlds that get together in the BEST way.
But for a few more days, plans, wishes and a stack of catalogs will have to do til I can get a spade into the ground. And this nice robin helps, calling me out into the chilly sunshine.
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Now that the children are all grown up, the one trusty bottle of ketchup exists only for one hamburger for Chris, now and then, applied to only one half of the bun, OVER the mayonnaise. It makes for a really SLIDEY burger. I have mentioned several times that mayo on one half and ketchup on the other would give the same effect, to no avail. It's a three-napkin event, every time.
And it's called into use for "pink sauce"---a concoction in which ketchup is pre-mixed with the mayo, and variously containing lemon juice, lemon zest, Worchestershire, a sprinkle of powdered garlic and/or sugar, some pickle juice, a dab of horseradish---all depending on the intended dish to be anointed---a salad, cold shrimp, hot crispy-fried fish or calamari, or just dribbled the length of a juicy hot dog, beneath the sauerkraut, chili, shredded Cheddar and minced sweet onion.
My Mother made spaghetti with Campbell's Tomato and a glug of ketchup. In a black skillet, with the pasta cooked well done. I just get the hankerin' sometimes to skip all that basil-chiffonading and Parmesan-grating, and just throw five ingredients in with that browned ground beef, top it with grated hoop cheese, and stick it in the oven for a few minutes to melt. Better'n chicken soup when you're feeling dicey.
And, of course, all ketchup lives upside down in the bottom of the fridge door.
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I keep a jar of quite-woofy Sesame Dressing in the refrigerator at all times.
The cold tossed salad was lovely, with egg, doufu, cucumber, carrot radish all in a piquant dressing:
This is one of the most exquisitely-prepared and presented dishes ever to appear on any thread, EVER. The intricately-sliced and so beautifully arranged salad---I cannot think of the work it must have been, in that small, crowded workspace. Her love for her art is so evident, and all the beautiful colors and textures and tastes---I cannot imagine anything more wonderful at the Emperor's Court.
I want your Auntie to come live with me---I'll give her a kitchen all her own, though small and not worthy of her talents, with a well-loved wok and sharp, sharp knives and cleavers. She is an artist, and her love of the delicious and beautiful just jumps off the screen.
Your speaking in an above post about ex-pats and their paranoia and distrust of the food---John said several times that most of the people in his travel group were really wary of trying anything---"because we don't know what's in it"---that's the bane of ANY cook, anywhere, and cause of dismay and irritation. Whole threads have been run on the subject.
He said he just dived right in to everything---chicken feet and gelatinous this and that and exotic greens with the texture of okra---you see that his heritage as a Deep South child stands him in good stead---he knows where food comes from, how hard-won it is, and how one man's meat may be another's dislike, but he just ate and admired and enjoyed. As it should be.
These last two meals are beautiful and SO wonderful-looking, but your Auntie's tiny, cramped kitchen has the true Master in residence. It's a matter of "Here's what we HAVE" vs. a modest, gracious, "Here's what I did for you." Could you tell her that another family's Auntie far away admires her very much and would love to watch her gifted hands at work.
I won't forget her for a long, long time.
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As it fires up and heats, good cooks were expected to tell the proper temperature by sticking their hands inside the oven.
I love the receipts which begin "First draw and skin your rabbit."
I just received Encore with Claudine as a gift.
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I FOUND one---36 miles away---they seem to be, as the Southern expression goes, "kinda thin on the ground."
Thanks for the tip---perhaps some weekend when the craving gets great, he'll just head out for an afternoon drive through that beautiful countryside.
And thank you, Doddie, lilija, Cadbury, naguere for the kind words. I long for Spring every year (though I LOVE Winter) just because of the stir of the getting outside into the garden and getting the radishes and little spiky onions and all the good things planted for leisurely, shady dinners on the patio.
This Easter meal was a bit on the heavy side, with no asparagus as usual, but I made John's favorite things since we see him so seldom. (The carrot salad was mainly for me).
Kim---always lovely to hear from you.
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My only experience with anything approaching "white sauce" is in a local buffet-type place. The chicken is just like the crispy-batter-fried pieces in General's chicken, but it's sitting in a sauce that's almost like a pastry glaze---it's that sweet. And it has a definite hint of mayo in it.
It's so very rich, one bite is enough, I think; I'd just like to know how they keep it that crisp in that hothot pan of sauce.
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Heidi, I didn't see you there when I replied---I wish the lingering were a greater part of a lot of our interactions and friendships and family times. It's the times of staying that seem to be most enjoyable.
I've always thought the best part of a party was the feet-up time after most of the crowd has left, and you're lingering over coffee or liqueurs and slow, lazy conversation with the people you most wanted to stay. That's the most relaxing after all the preparation and the trying to keep everything moving smoothly with introductions and re-fillings and clearing.
It's nice to just BE for a while in the midst of your entertaining. Taking off your shoes and sitting feet-tucked on the sofa as the candles burn low, or leaning slumped against a warm body as you laugh and talk is fulfilling in a way that I think the gathering close around a hearth is, like a tumble of warm puppies or the easy closeness of children.
More talk, more wine, another fire log or fresh CD playing softly. And nibbling on leftovers is a bonus, as well---no chocolate cake should ever go to waste.
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Thank you to both of you lovely people! I wish you could have been here---it was a lively good time, I can tell you. We had music and baby-dancing and presents (mine from Chris was a nice new stroller and car seat (pink of course) for all our park outings soon as this cloudy weather clears up).
The talk got right rowdy at the table---when two of the children are here, it's pretty manageable---let a third or more get into the mix, and things get out of hand.
I forgot to say about the devilled eggs: I always just plop the stuffing off of one spoon with another. I turned around, and Caro was daintily scraping spoon on spoon, making the neatest little quenelles. She said, "Well, I STARTED to cut off a bag tip like Sandra Lee."
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Thank you from so far away---I'm off now to feed our girl a little rice cereal mixed with squash. Yum in the most enticing sense.
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Rebecca, if you were here, I'd bake a whole black skillet for you, every morning.
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Chris had put the ham on the grill about 7 a.m. and took it off when we got home from church. He sliced it into thick, juicy pink slices:
There were stir-fried green beans, DDIL’s favorite thing, with a soy/sesame/garlic sauce, quick-cooked down to a rich brown syrup.
That poor old battered skillet has seen better days, but it has turned out a ton of fried chicken, mapo tofu, stove-top potroast, pork chops in “red” gravy, and lots of other good stuff over the years. Its Teflon is kinda chippy, but it’s still a good old workhorse---heavy, flat-bottomed and true, and just the right size for a BIG dish of something.
The little almost-white potatoes were just the potato-est potatoes---just the essence of a good spud, right from the ground, the thinthin skin scrubbed pale, and so creamy-smooth to the bite, with a little shine of butter and hint of scallion to set them off.
Bright green steamed sprouts, with a wisp of lemon in the butter. Their brightness belies the tenderness of each mouthful:
A dish of beet pickles, an old family tradition at all holiday meals, and always at Eastertime, a few boiled eggs in to grow burgundy and sweet with the brine. They were in the fridge in a little glad-box, and the dye made its own little roundy-eye patterns. First time I ever saw a chandelier reflected in an egg.
There was a bright bowl of crispy/tender shredded carrot salad, cool and sweet with minced pineapple, sultanas and dried cherries plumped overnight in the dressing.
In honor of my parents’ bountiful table where we gathered for so many years, DS#2 brought a dish of creamed corn, part of several hundred ears cut and frozen last July.
And of course, devilled eggs, tangy with mustard, several grinds of the peppermill, and a scatter of paprika, just like old times. The two-day “cheater” pickles have been mentioned lots of times before---they’re very sweet and crisp, and take just minutes to make.
The buffet just before the hordes descended. Um, I mean, before our beautifully-mannered family lined up in a polite, orderly fashion to partake daintily from the array:
We waited LONG after lunch to serve dessert and coffee. We all opened our Easter sacks, then set out the vanilla pound cake, strawberries, tiny cakestand of several flavors of cheesecake squares, and the warm pear crisp baked by DDIL.
It was a wonderful day all together, and we wound down into the twilight. Chris sat at the table and shaved thin slices from the ham while I finished the last dishwasher load, then he cut the rest into neat meal-sized chunks, which we bagged for the freezer. He left a good pot-of-greens'-worth of meat on the bone, and it will re-appear soon as the seasoning for a last-cold-night's dinner with a good black skillet of crusty cornbread.
At supper, the thin ham we had as sandwiches on the softest, freshest sub buns, with leftover devilled eggs and warmed potatoes. It was a lingery supper, almost til bedtime, as we tried to get several months’ conversation into that one last evening, to last us for a while.
All the leftovers are neatly snugged into the fridge, the stacks of dishes returned to their cabinets, the table moved back nearer the buffet, and our traveler well on his way, flying home into the West. It was exactly the occasion I’d been longing for.
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Yesterday was FINALLY our “Easter” lunch---we’ve either been gone or otherwise occupied for several years now, and I’ve missed the Spring things, the bringing out of the pastels, the crocheted bunnies, the ceramic egg cups which hold an egg color- dipped by small hands. We postponed our gathering a week this year to allow for DS and DDIL’s lunch with her parents and grandmother last week, and to await the arrival of our DS#4 who is studying to be a minister at a seminary in California. He’ll graduate in May, and will be posted to China soon, so we’re making the most of our time together now.
We were six at table, after a whirlwind week of road trips, faraway service calls, traveling for fun and for work, stopping off at a great catfish place one night for a taste of the Southern experience, to Red Lobster another, and a lunch at Chick-fil-a. John has missed the C-f-a most of any restaurant, I think—they seem to be non-existent in California, and said he’s getting one last one at the airport, to hold him til his next visit.
DS#2 joined us four for a big hearty Southern breakfast on Saturday, one that my Mom served many times over the years---leftover pot roast in gravy, served over big fluffy cathead biscuits, with a side of two eggs apiece for the guys, with peach preserves. sorghum syrup, and sticks of crumbly rich hoop cheese. I sat in the floor, feeding our littlest one baby cereal and bananas, while Chris peeled me a big cold navel orange.
Then Saturday night, we all met at a Ryan’s in a nearby town for a quick buffet dinner, as we had tickets to a “Swing” evening at the symphony. They even treated the audience to champagne at intermission, to toast the organization’s 40th year.
Sunday morning, we all had an early quick pastry brought by Caro from work, and got all the Sunday dinner prep done before church at 10:30.
We came home, baked the cheese biscuits:
And the mac and cheese---not quite dive-worthy, but at least good for a soft nestle:
There were sweet potatoes, baked the day before to a soft, sweet slump, then sliced cold into a buttered dish, more soft butter dotted atop, a scatter of Turbinado sugar, and baked until the plump pastel bunnies melted into a fluffy rainbow:
There were six of us at table, with a tiny high chair involved---my favorite kind of gathering. The flowery boxes hold pages and reams of this year's midnight scribblings---Chris gives me a new box now and then, probably so we won't all perish in an avalanche of sliding paper and cardboard boxes.
And I just love any excuse to get out all the pretty damask napkins. Clear place plate, with a clear pink salad plate atop.
We took things out of the oven, plated the salad and sat down:
It was baby butter lettuce, romaine hearts, fresh pear slices and pine nuts in a lime vinaigrette, with buttery bagette croutons.
A slight intermission for the salad course, as I've lost whole posts into the ether before, and don't want to go too far, in case all this disappears.
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Thank you for the delicious tour---our son was in Beijing for several weeks last year, working with a church group, and I was glad to be able to share all the pictures with him this week during his visit here.
In his own pictures he showed us over the weekend were several of his group taken at a restaurant there, as guests of the parents of one of the students. He was amazed at the hospitality, as the host had already ordered the meal, which included a $100 serving of uni for each of the thirty people at the table. (I have no idea how the discussion of prices came about, and hope they were not discussed in the hearing of his host).
Quite a few of the dinner guests were unfamiliar with the delicacy, and some of it was passed on to several who really appreciated the dish. He had trouble getting his mind around such lavish generosity for so many strangers, with course after course of so many delicious dishes----as he explained, from a seminary student's point of view: "That meal cost a CAR!!!"
I'm glad for this further glimpse into his future---he's busy learning Mandarin, as he'll be posted to China simetime in the next few months.
ETA---I think I gained some "Mom" points when he mentioned the uni---he could not remember the name, just that it was kind of like caviar in a shell, and his face lit up when I said, "Was it uni?" and described it. He said "Wow! You know about that?"
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Delicious.
If Rebecca Gray is a member of our group, I'm delighted. If she isn't, I wish she were.
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I share your distaste for finger-torn rejects
Hear, Hear!! Especially when there are TWO or more in the box---relics of a double-doo, in which they wanted half a glazed AND half a chocolate, thus wasting a whole one.
But, did you not know the circumstances of the provider/cutter, would you take even a CUT piece?
But I HAVE been known to neatly incise the crust end off a piece of a particular pie I'm fond of at a dessert buffet, never touching anything save the pie-server.
I like fluty, crispy crust. -
The Great God Bourdain rises from his sweat-ocean, shakes a few diamond-drops from his wavy locks, settles to his work, and those he deigns to honor with his words, his moments, his glance---they dare not censor.
They GENUFLECT.
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Captivated from the teaser pic---that pork looks scrumptious. This promises to be an interesting week.
I always look up our bloggers on the "World Clock" and I see that you're exactly 12 hours from my time---easy to remember. Looking forward to spending the hours in your fascinating city.
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Home and family and books (book making no less!)---and meals together and recipes and a peep-shot, a beauty shop and a laundry, as well as a captivating little companion---what's better?
Thank you for this week---it's been lovely.
If Ernie's the smallest conure, then our GrandBird Elvis must be next in line, and his beautiful little pinky-gold beak gives the sweetest little gentle nibbles. No biting for him. That's reserved for our immense macaw, who would be right on the other side of that plate of fruitcake, companionably munching his slice, murmuring little food-words as he strewed the crumbs. (Of course, THEN he'd go for Ernie's slice, and then maybe Ernie himself, if not chastened or sung to).
So good bye to you three, there in your pretty double-kitchen, book-producing home---and Reggie says BYE BYEEEEE!! to Ernie. Winding down to a wistful little "cookie?"
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Speaking of art, Rachel you paint pictures with your words. No photos needed. I've missed reading your posts.
Agreed. And Ann, you speak volumes with your pictures, so having both of you contribute to this thread (and eG in general) is an honor.
How very kind of you both---I'm the appreciator, and look in frequently to see what glorious repasts all you young folks set out for no reason 'cept it's Tuesday. Just because I'm not dashing off volumes like I useta---that doesn't mean I'm not enjoying. Y'all just do beat all.
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What a nice surprise to see you!!! Every time I look at your "black" cake layer, I think of the lovely evening our family spent at the theater with Julie Harris doing Belle of Amherst---just seeing your little picture brings back a fond memory.
Panic and swearing. Yep. I can relate to that.
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Haven't been here in a while, but today we went to see Horton Hears a Who, and naturally headed to IHOP for a Horton breakfast they've had on the menu for a couple of weeks.
I had the MAYOR'S BREAKFAST, which was Green Eggs and Ham (nice fresh green spinach softly scrambled into eggs reminiscent of percyn's lovely creations), with a slice of ham and some perfect crisp hashbrowns. Side dish was a pastel marvel---a little mountain made of pancakes in descending sizes, with rivulets of pastel pink (boysenberry) and blue (blueberry) syrups lightened with something white to make them sherbet-colored.
Multicolored sprinkles showered all down the steps, but they were a nice kind---not hard ones, but sort of hollow, with a nice gentle crackle as they disappeared in a little pop between your teeth. The pile was skewered with a pink lollipop, but we lost it in transit; I'd handed it to Chris to wipe the gooky off while I gathered up the go-box of leftovers.
We made pictures with the phone, but here's a link, which shows it better:
http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/moms/5610867.html
And later we had popcorn.
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I looked on the bottom, and they're called Lock & Lock. I found a picture here:
http://www.amazon.com/Airtight-Food-Storag...r/dp/B0000YZJMU
The little flaps click down over the tabs, and close TIGHT. Some of mine have two-locks-per-side, as well. All sizes, flat, tall, etc. to fit whatever you need. I also saw some in completely clear, which mine are not.
eG Foodblogs: Coming Attractions
in Food Traditions & Culture
Posted
I immediately think of Yorkshire and James Herriot's boiled bacon.