MEMORIES IN A RECIPE BOX (revisited)

"Throw In a Handful of Parsley"
print by Judy Westergard

I published this a couple of years ago. When a friend asked me for the recipe for my mom's vegetable beef soup, it seemed like a not-bad idea to publish this again. The soup recipe's at the end. Enjoy!
Despite my not-so-recent pledge to place housework on a lower (and I do mean lower) rung on my ladder of priorities, I nonetheless heard my mother’s voice: “When’s the last time you cleaned these kitchen shelves?” You don’t want to know the answer to that question, but you might be interested in the result. Among my cookbooks I came across the little wooden recipe box that was part of our 1957 Home Ec. equipment requirements. Now I’m not particularly nostalgic about that box, I sure am about its contents. Sure, it contains a 40-year collection of recipes, but more important, it contains memories.
From Aunt Dorothy, the most outgoing of my dad’s sisters, there’s Marshmallow Liho Liho, a calorie-laden, decadent homage to Cool Whip® that contains nothing that hasn’t been canned, dried, or packaged. Never made it, but every time I look at that recipe, I think of Dorothy’s warm and wonderful laugh and her obvious enjoyment of life, all the way through the two years she lived following her double leg amputation.
Had Mary, my next door neighbor lived, she’d now be into her 100’s. I still miss Mary. She loved to have family over and to Mary, everyone was family. Her recipes had two requirements: easy and fast. Example: 10 oz. currant jelly, 3 T. prepared mustard, and 1 lb. cocktail wieners. Combine jelly and mustard in a 4 c. glass container and zap in micro on high for about 3 min. or until the jelly melts. Beat in the mustard to blend. Toss in the wieners and serve in a chafing dish.
Oh gosh; there’s Pete’s recipe, written in his labored scrawl. Teachers aren’t supposed to have favorites but that’s an ideal world I didn’t inhabit. Pete qualified for “Ms. W’s. fave” not only because, despite his multiple handicaps, he worked so hard, but also (mostly?) because he had the sunniest disposition of any kid I ever knew. He also loved to cook. Well...maybe “cook” is too broad Pete’s talents lay more in the area of combining things. His fave? Frozen bananas: Melt some chocolate chips. Peel some bananas. Poke ‘em on a stick. Dip ‘em in the melted chocolate. Place on a wax-paper lined cookie sheet. Pop ‘em in the freezer. Major yum!
Krupnik from my ex-sister-in-law; lemon florentine salad from a colleague at parochial K-9 school at which I first taught; Knox Blox, a favorite treat of my daughter’s childhood. There are probably 150+ recipes in that little brown box, but none starts the gears of my memory movie quite so readily as my autumn favorite - vegetable beef soup*. My mom made this as soon as the autumn weather hit. I’d come home from school to a kitchen redolent with the savory smell of browning beef, to which she’d add water, dried onion, bay leaves, salt, pepper, and barley. After simmering for a couple of hours, the pot would be ready for the carrots and strained tomatoes. Some cooked Kluski noodles and fresh, crusty bread made for one terrific meal. Neighbors and family pass on, colleagues lose touch after retirement, friends move. But all of these people still live in my recipe box.
It’s cool in Minneapolis today. I think I’ll go brown some beef. I can clean those shelves some other time.

Recipe for Helen's Vegetable Beef Soup (Thanks, Mom; gosh, I miss you.) Brown 1 to 2 lbs soup meat in olive oil or butter Add 4-6 cups hot water, 1 tablesp. salt, a handful of dried parsley, a few peppercorns and a handful of dehydrated onions. Cover pot and simmer for an hour or two. Add sliced celery and carrots...about 1/2 to 3/4 cup each. Add 1 can strained tomatoes. Add 1/4 cup barley. Continue to simmer another hour or until you're so darned hungry you can't wait any longer. Serve with Kluski noodles (or any other soup noodle you prefer) and fresh artisan bread.

COOKIN' WITH MUSHROOMS

"Two Mushrooms"
by Judy Westergard©
graphite on paper
To purchase original, click on image
Giclee prints available through FAA (click here)

Nothing special here...just a favorite recipe.
Dice seeded green pepper, onion, and mushrooms in approximately equal amounts. Saute slowly in olive oil until tender/crisp. Season with sea salt (optional, but it's really the sea salt that makes this a great side dish). Serve immediately or at room temperature. Yum!

TODAY'S LESSON: TART SALVATION

Kiss the Cook
by Judy Westergard
watercolor and ink

Interested in giclee print?
Click on the picture

Peaches are at their peak. Blueberries are big and...well...blue. Thoughts of a peach and blueberry tart have been haunting me for days. "Cholesterol levels be damned," said I to myself.
I prepped the fruit and mixed my favorite pie crust recipe, the one that includes a quarter cup of vodka and that results in an easy-to-handle, flaky pie crust that would be the envy of anybody's grandmother.
I measured carefully. I cut in the butter until the mixture exactly resembled corn meal. I added the cold butter/Crisco combo, and then the ice cold water/Vodka. I refrigerated the dough. I took it out and let it rest.
All looked well until the roll-out phase. I've made this recipe dozens of times and never has it resulted in such a sodden mess!
Next step: dump it into the trash bin.
I was on the verge of a tantrum (not attractive in a woman in her mid-60's), when I remembered my fallback routine. I drank the last of the vodka, pulled out the Bisquick® and threw a batch of shortcake into the oven.
My philosophy: nothin' ain't worth gettin' one's undies in a bunch when there are alternatives!

MEMORIES IN A RECIPE BOX

"Kiss the Cook"©
by Judy Westergard
water color

Despite my not-so-recent pledge to place housework on a lower (and I do mean lower) rung on my ladder of priorities, I nonetheless heard my mother’s voice: “When’s the last time you cleaned these kitchen shelves?” You don’t want to know the answer to that question, but you might be interested in the result. Among my cookbooks I came across the little wooden recipe box that was part of our 1957 Home Ec. equipment requirements. Now I’m not particularly nostalgic about that box, I sure am about its contents. Sure, it contains a 40-year collection of recipes, but more important, it contains memories. From Aunt Dorothy, the most outgoing of my dad’s sisters, there’s Marshmallow Liho Liho, a calorie-laden, decadent homage to Cool Whip® that contains nothing that hasn’t been canned, dried, or packaged. Never made it, but every time I look at that recipe, I think of Dorothy’s warm and wonderful laugh and her obvious enjoyment of life, all the way through the two years she lived following her double leg amputation. Had Mary, my next door neighbor lived, she’d now be into her 100’s. I still miss Mary. She loved to have family over and to Mary, everyone was family. Her recipes had two requirements: easy and fast. Example: 10 oz. currant jelly, 3 T. prepared mustard, and 1 lb. cocktail wieners. Combine jelly and mustard in a 4 c. glass container and zap in micro on high for about 3 min. or until the jelly melts. Beat in the mustard to blend. Toss in the wieners and serve in a chafing dish. Oh gosh; there’s Pete’s recipe, written in his labored scrawl. Teachers aren’t supposed to have favorites but that’s an ideal world I didn’t inhabit. Pete qualified for “Ms. W’s. fave” not only because, despite his multiple handicaps, he worked so hard, but also (mostly?) because he had the sunniest disposition of any kid I ever knew. He also loved to cook. Well...maybe “cook” is too broad Pete’s talents lay more in the area of combining things. His fave? Frozen bananas: Melt some chocolate chips. Peel some bananas. Poke ‘em on a stick. Dip ‘em in the melted chocolate. Place on a wax-paper lined cookie sheet. Pop ‘em in the freezer. Krupnik from my ex-sister-in-law; lemon florentine salad from a colleague at parochial K-9 school at which I first taught; Knox Blox, a favorite treat of my daughter’s childhood. There are probably 150+ recipes in that little brown box, but none starts the gears of my memory movie quite so readily as my autumn favorite - vegetable beef soup. My mom made this as soon as the autumn weather hit. I’d come home from school to a kitchen redolent with the savory smell of browning beef, to which she’d add water, dried onion, bay leaves, salt, pepper, and barley. After simmering for a couple of hours, the pot would be ready for the carrots and strained tomatoes. Some cooked Kluski noodles and fresh, crusty bread made for one terrific meal. Neighbors and family pass on, colleagues lose touch after retirement, friends move. But all of these people still live in my recipe box. It’s cool in Minneapolis today. I think I’ll go brown some beef. I can clean those shelves some other time.

Cooking 101

"Kiss the Cook"
Watercolor by Judy Westergard
available as giclee print through
FineArtAmerica.com
It’s Thanksgiving morning and the TV chefs are rattling off last minute advice for the home cook who faces the heroic task of living up to the expectation of creating a holiday meal worthy of the center spread in a glossy magazine.
I’ve been cooking for a long time, long enough to be able to put my less-than-stellar attempts into perspective. It’s time to let reality out into the open. So here it is...my version of Cooking 101.
My age: about 12.
Scene: Mom’s kitchen.
Goal: To surprise Mom with stunningly decorated Christmas cookies.
Final product: Greasy orange puddles of inedible dough.
What I learned: Vegetable oil and oil & vinegar salad dressing are not interchangeable.

My age: about 16
Scene: Same kitchen.
Goal: Delicately crisp bacon.
Final product: Dry, blackened strips of leather and a kitchen full of smoke.
What I learned: The length of cooking time between perfect bacon and a near conflagration is considerably less than the time required for a quick primp in the bathroom mirror.

My age: about 24
Scene: My own apartment
Goal: To impress my new husband with our first meal together as husband and wife. The featured entree: broiled beef shanks.
Final product: Dinner out.
What I learned: That our newly installed smoke alarm worked really well. Second lesson: Just because it’s beef doesn’t mean it can be broiled.

My age: about 35
Scene: My kitchen, prepping Thanksgiving dinner for 12.
Goal: A gloriously moist, crisp, done-to-perfection turkey, which would result from carefully following the directions in a glossy magazine: “Cover the bird during the last half of cooking with a cloth which you have soaked in olive oil.”
Final product: One overly rosy bird.
What I learned: Even five years of washings won’t prevent a plaid kitchen towel from fading.

Age: 62
Scene: Same kitchen
Goal: Two pumpkin pies worthy of the center spread in one of those glossy mags.
Final product: One pumpkin pie.
What I learned: It takes a lot of elbow grease to clean up hot pumpkin pie from the kitchen floor.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

COMFORT FOOD

Storm's Shelter
Pastel on paper
available as giclee reprint through
FineArtAmerica.com

Do you remember comfort foods? Those meals you were served by someone who cared about you when you were (pick one) ill, about to be ill, or faking it? That fare was usually bland, mushy and moist.
An oncoming cold got me to thinking how much I missed the comfort foods of my childhood. My dad’s offering was white bread sans crust, served in a bowl of warm milk in which butter had been melted and swirled. I think now that the real appeal of that sodden mess was that it was served to me while I lay in bed. Mom would find the bed tray at the top of the closet, dust it off and snap open the legs that never would keep it quite stable. She’d tuck a bath towel under my chin -- even at the kitchen table, I was certain to spill -- and another on my lap. And there I sat, a four-year-old Jabba the Hutt in training, swaddled, sweaty, and slurping my bread-and-milk dinner.
As I got older, my sick bed tastes became more sophisticated. By 10, I was no longer satisfied with that baby mush. I’d moved on to my mother’s oatmeal. Leftover and reheated. With butter. Lots of butter.
And that’s what I and my sore throat needed today. Add a dash of salt and half a cup of whole oats to a cup of boiling water. Cook until most of the water has been absorbed. (You want thickness here.) Let it cool to room temperature. Add butter. Lots of butter. (We’re not worrying about calories and cholesterol. Remember, this is comfort food!) Reheat on low and stir until the butter is melted and incorporated into the oatmeal. Now for the best part: tuck a bath towel under your chin and another on your lap. Feet up, bowl of oatmeal at the ready...contentment, coziness, and luxury...all in a simple bowl of oatmeal.

MOST EXCELLENT PIE CRUST RECIPE

Kiss the Cook
watercolor by
Judy Westergard
available as giclee print starting at $22
at FineArt America.com

Cool October weather, blazing orange maple trees, and a lazy afternoon at a local apple orchard got me thinking about apple pie. Fillings are easy. It’s the crust that intimidates. But there’s nothing magical about a great pie crust. Two tricks to flaky crusts: keep things cold and don't overwork the dough. The recipe below is a guaranteed winner. (The baking process evaporates the alcohol.) I don’t recall with certainty where I found the recipe; a Williams-Sonoma comes to mind. But trust me...this is a winner!

For one 9-inch Double-Crust Pie
2 1/2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon table salt
2 tablespoons sugar
12 tablespoons cold unsalted butter (1 1/2 sticks), cut into 1/4-inch slices
1/2 cup chilled solid vegetable shortening, cut into 4 pieces
1/4 cup vodka, cold
1/4 cup cold water

1. Process 1 1/2 cups flour, salt, and sugar in food processor until combined, about 2 one-second pulses. Add butter and shortening and process until a homogenous dough just starts to collect in uneven clumps, about 15 seconds. (Dough will resemble cottage cheese curds and there should be no uncoated flour). Scrape bowl with rubber spatula and redistribute dough evenly around processor blade. Add remaining cup flour and pulse until mixture is evenly distributed around bowl and mass of dough has been broken up, 4 to 6 quick pulses. Empty mixture into medium bowl.

2. Sprinkle vodka and water over mixture. With rubber spatula, use folding motion to mix, pressing down on dough until dough is slightly tacky and sticks together. Divide dough into two even balls and flatten each into 4-inch disk. Wrap each in plastic wrap and refrigerate at least 45 minutes or up to 2 days. (Wrap really well and you can freeze the disks for a couple of weeks.)

3. Roll out on floured surface, cut to fit pie pan, fill with fruit filling of your choice. Adjust top crust, cutting slits for escape of steam. Seal. Bake at 400 F. for40 to 45 minutes.
Leftover pie dough? Cut strips or any other shape, sprinkle with cinnamon sugar, place on ungrease cookie sheet and bake at 400 F. for 8-10 minutes, or until light gold around edges. (Baking time depends on thickness of your dough.)