Friends, Family, Food

Ruby Tequila's in Amarillo Texas, coming back from our road trip to Oklahoma for the National Cavalry competition. October 2011.

Good food and drink multiplies the pleasure that friends have when they get together!

New Goals

New Goals

Do you clean, trim, and cut your vegetables all up before you begin making the Ratatouille? Do you read your instruction manual before you will even turn on your new digital camera? Do you do your homework before you read your book, clean out the fridge before you watch that DVD, get groceries before you sit down with a cup of tea and a cookie? Do you clean the living room before you play your banjo?

If you cannot identify with the examples I listed above, then I’m not talking to you. In fact, you can’t even understand what I’m talking about. And that probably includes anyone under 18 years of age. Delayed Gratification to them probably means having to wait another 2 weeks until their birthday.

If you can see yourself in my examples, then we share some personality characteristics. I can’t take a whole lot of credit for trying to get things done, be on time, be ready and prepared; they aren’t virtues, they’re really just more a part of what makes me feel good and be comfortable with what is going on with me. I like things to be tidy and uncluttered around me; I feel less distracted and more at ease. I become very disappointed in myself when things under my control don’t go just right.

These traits can serve a person well. One can become successful with a career, manage money prudently, keep on track with repairs around the house, save time by not running around at the last minute to pick up some essential groceries. A person can end up not being embarrassed over the state of the living room carpet when unexpected company comes by.

But often, and maybe even usually, the system breaks down. The groceries are in the clean fridge, the cat hair is off the couch, that medical issue was researched, dinner was ready on time, the clothes are ironed, the bills are paid, the special project—cleaning out the closet—is accomplished, and now it’s 10:00pm and I’m beat. The banjo is dusty, the new book is still unread, the sketchbook is still white and unmarked.

And tomorrow looks to be the same.

But it doesn’t have to be. I’ve always been a big proponent of periodically re-evaluating life and writing out what I want to see in mine, using a template of short, medium and long-range goals. (I’m a big fan of lists.) I’ve also spent a lot of time trying to persuade other people to enjoy life, to make time for the things they love doing; that’s what makes life worthwhile!

Now it’s become important for me to follow my own advice. Time is a precious element. It can’t be created, it can’t be destroyed; it just is, and there is only so much of it in existence in each person’s life. It’s time for me to let go of some things, change some things, add some things to my days and I’m looking forward to that.

I hope I'll be writing more, reading more, sketching more, and running more. I’ll be looking at my lists and my time and trying to do what makes life satisfying and worthwhile to me.

Kids Are Picky Eaters

Kids are picky eaters.

You may ask how I can make such a bold, confident statement. I have two impeccable qualifications: I was a kid, and I have four kids.

When I was a kid, I didn’t feel like I was an especially picky eater. It seemed that my few requirements wouldn’t be hard to meet. Number 1: No cooked carrots. Raw was fine; cooked was absolutely out of the question. Number 2: No cooked squash. I’m sure it would have been no raw squash either if I’d had an inkling something like that was actually consumed. We are talking about the zucchini type. I don’t think my mom ever graced the table with winter squash. Number 3: No food on the plate was ever allowed to touch another food that happened to be on the same plate. If that ever happened, then the contaminated ring of food was left alone, leaving my plate looking like a tropical sea with coral atolls surrounding melamine lagoons.

I still remember a rare test of wills at the table when I was probably 7 yrs old. My mom had placed a serving of cooked carrots on my plate and insisted that I eat at least some. I stood there looking at those carrots (for some reason I remember standing…) for a good half hour, knowing there was no way on God’s Green Earth I could eat even one piece. She did not harangue me; it wasn’t her way, but eventually let me go.

Ironically, I now really enjoy cooked carrots and barely tolerate raw ones.

When I was little, I loved Brussels sprouts, broccoli, cauliflower, green beans and could actually tolerate a “mess of greens.” But squash was absolutely out of the question. No, never, no way. My very favorite vegetable was fried okra, only we called it “okrey.” We would cut it off the stalk, Mom would slice it, roll it in Albers yellow cornmeal, and fry it in a cast iron skillet with Crisco. It would end up as crunchy green/black morsels flecked with cornmeal and glistening with grease. I adored fried okrey! Coming to the dinner table one evening, I was met by a strange platter of food in the middle. Some vegetable had been sliced long-ways into quarter-inch thick pieces, dredged in flour, fried, and laid out on a paper towel on the platter. It had green edges and a cream colored center. Mom always cut squash cross-ways, so I knew it couldn’t be that.

“What is this?” I asked, suspiciously.
“Fried okrey,” Mom said, calmly.

I cannot explain why I believed that, but I must have, because I ate it. And I liked it. I still didn’t like “squash” for another fifteen years, but now it shows up in my cooking almost every day during the season; steamed, stir-fried, casseroled, raw, etc.

Somehow, in the last 40 years, I have abandoned my “food no touch” rule. In fact, my favorite way to eat a meal is in a shallow bowl, where I can enjoy each serving as it mingles with the one next to it.

You’d think I’d be more tolerant of my own kids’ peculiar food notions. And maybe I was, a little. But one daughter has a story about where I made her eat carrots even though she pleaded she would throw up, which she remembers doing. We did make spaghetti accommodations for the other daughter by not mixing the sauce with the noodles so she could just have the noodles and parmesan cheese.

I don’t know the perfect way to handle a kid’s likes and dislikes, but my best guess would be a regular habit of offering, but not forcing, offering again, not forcing all through the growing up years. My son, the most picky eater of the bunch is now 18 years old. He used to enjoy about seven things: white bread (wheat bread had “shards” in it), peanut butter (but not on the bread—on a spoon), Tillamook medium cheddar cheese, broccoli (well-cooked), milk, dill pickles, and Spoon-sized Frosted Mini-Wheats, eaten dry. Over time, and without pressure, he has added many things to his preferred diet: bloody-rare steak, coffee, dried cranberries, Chinese Hot and Sour soup, tomatoes, Garlic Chicken pizza, and Honey Bunches of Oats, still eaten dry.

There are many things that we, the parents, thoroughly enjoy and believe our kids ought to also. Along with good food, we want them to like good music; Bluegrass, Mozart, The Chieftans, Old Time. We want them to consider choosing an occupation that pleases us. We want to share tastes in art, in cars.

But I think we should continue to follow the “food” model. Face it, have you ever really been able to make your kid eat anything? It is a battle that will always be won by the kid. And really, it would be a horrible thing to press your kids to join in a career that they didn’t like and only did to please the folks. I believe it is a real gift to give your kids the feeling that they are free to explore, enjoy and be what they want to be.

If you do want to encourage a preference, be patient; offer, don’t force. In time, you might be surprised at how the kids will come around to enjoying horseradish and Cezanne. And the kid who had no use for his parent’s music while young just might change his mind as time goes by.

"Cooky"

Last weekend I spent as “Cooky” to a very special group of people, the members of CHAS, the California Historical Artillery Society. CHAS sponsors and puts on an American Civil War reenactment and Living History event about the middle of July each year in Duncan’s Mills, about 30 minutes west of Santa Rosa along the Russian River.

Because this is our own event, and we are the hosts, not the guests of the other reenacting clubs, our turnout is high, though we are spread k tent. Somehow I had to satisfy an average of 40 hungry soldiers from Friday night through Sunday afternoon with food, beverage and snacks. Friday night I made the usual spaghetti dinner, cleaned up, set the cook tent in order and laid down to sleep in my nearby canvas A-tent, my alarm set for 5am. I knew that I would have to be on top of every step in the morning because it was crucial to be absolutely punctual for the meal-time. Officers Call was at 8, and breakfast was at 7:30am. And the worst was that my usual helper was handling the front gate. I was on my own!

I love the first half hour of the breakfast preparation. I crawl out of my sleeping bag while it is still a little dark and pull on my wool trousers, brogans, cotton shirt and shell jacket. I smooth down my wild hair with my wool forage cap. The sight that greets me outside the door of my tent is the lone horse watch sitting in front of the fire that has been kept going all night. Sometimes the horse watch is dozing with the cape of his greatcoat pulled over his head, sometimes he greets me with an offer of help.

The first task I must do is to make a big pot of coffee. I fill the 2 gallon pot with water from the water can and set it on to boil on the 3 burner propane stove we have hidden inside the cook tent. Two oil lamps light the well-stocked tent with a homey glow, and the burner heats up the chilly interior comfortably. Once the coffee is out and set on the campfire grate to keep warm, I can begin putting the breakfast together.

Today I am serving ham; sometimes I have sausages, sometimes I cook bacon. I have already cooked 2 ham halves at home and sliced them up. Now I fill up a Dutch oven with the slices and set them over the fire with coals heaped on top. In a cooler part of the fire, I set a Dutch oven filled with tortillas to slowly warm up. I have learned that a big pot of oatmeal will stay warm for a long time, so I like to get that cooked and out of the way early. After it is boiled up, I wrap the pot in a wool blanket and set it out on the planks we use as a serving board.

I try to have 2 kinds of fruit to set out; grapes are always popular, so I have brought a few pounds of those, and I rope a volunteer to cut up a pineapple that I have brought. Someone has donated a watermelon, so I get someone to cut that up also and put the pieces in a bowl.

I’m getting more volunteers for help now, and that’s a good thing because of the other breakfast tasks looming. Two large wash tubs have to be filled and set on the fire; one with wash water and one with rinse water, for everyone washes their own tin plates and utensils after they eat. The drinking water dispenser has to be filled so everyone can fill their canteens, and the hand washing station needs to be topped off with warm water and soap. In between, people are trying to give me their weekend chow bill payment so they won’t have to worry about it later.

Condiments and toppings, all poured and transferred into period correct containers, are being flung onto the serving board by me and by my volunteers. Milk and juice are set out in metal pitchers. The hot Dutch ovens are hefted up on the boards. The last 10 minutes before breakfast call are reserved for the eggs. It takes 10 minutes to scramble them to perfection, and when they are done, I’ll not have my eggs wait! Because of the crowd, I’ve decided to add another dozen and a half eggs to the usual flat of 5 dozen I cook. The big skillet is full of eggs with a half stick of butter to cook them in.

The eggs come out at 7:30 sharp and I ring the triangle. Right on time! For the moment I sit behind the boards in my chair drinking a cup of coffee, taking pleasure in the sight of folks filling their plates and enjoying their meal around the fire and in small clusters near tents and on sitting on “cracker boxes.”

It doesn’t take long for the food to disappear, and guys begin to head off to where they need to be, rolling rounds, Officers Call, the “sinks,” training session for the new drivers. So then I eat a little breakfast too and take a few minutes to relax before it is time to clean up. It won’t be long until I have to start getting the place ready for lunch, and I’m already thinking about how soon 11:30am will be here!

Fish and Chips at the Coast

Nothing says “The Coast” like seafood.

The Pismo and Morro Bay area is my favorite section of the California Coast. I’ll admit that could be because I haven’t been to any of the more southern beaches, but until then, I’ll pick the San Luis Obispo area.

We went to Pismo Beach or thereabouts about once a year when I was a kid. I can still see and smell and taste the evening there. We would be sitting around a low campfire, quietly talking, listing to stories from my dad. Mom would be in the camper, or over the Coleman stove getting dinner ready. Soon our plates were ready, with fresh boiled shrimp and cocktail sauce, a wedge of iceberg lettuce and a lemon slice, and maybe some cottage cheese.

For lunch the next day, we usually went by a fish and chips place. We didn’t have a favorite one; we liked to try different places. Clam chowder, fish and chips, steamer clams, those were the usual fare. We would always take a turn through Giovanni’s Fish Market and see the live crabs and rows of fresh fish behind the glass.

A couple weekends ago, I went to Pismo with 2 of my daughters. Even though I’d kept the tradition with my sisters and our kids, Melinda and Loreleigh hadn’t been since they were little. We had a nice little tent spot on the far edge of Pismo North Beach campground where we struck our three tents.

We made easy dinner, out of cans mostly, but did try to enjoy a little campfire. I’d brought some wood and kindling from home, but just couldn’t get it going! It smoked and sputtered all evening. I thought I had brought wood that was too green, but when the same wood burned brightly the next night, I realized that the misty fog was keeping the humidity too high for a good burn.

Morro Bay is a great place for a seafood lunch. We loaded up Bingo and Melinda’s puppy Tess and drove up there, just skating in before the lunch rush. One of the best things about Morro Bay is that the parking is free! We got a spot in the lot right across from the heart of the strip.

A digression: have you ever seen a ruder parking situation as the black pickup who takes up 4 (four!) parking spaces by covering the “four corners?” And it’s not like it was a new pristine paint job either!

Rose’s Landing seemed like a good place for lunch. The dog-friendly patio was perfect, with a great view of the bay, glass fronted to protect from the wind, and great service. The service surprised me, since it had been so bad the last time we were there. Obviously something had changed. The fish and chips were battered. I usually prefer a more breaded texture, but these were so hot and crisp and obviously seconds out of the fryer that they were very nice. The girls order clams and chips. Sometimes fried clam strips can be like rubber bands, but these were tender and flavorful. A little pricey, but a lovely lunch.

Afterwards we drove out to the Rock, climbed up on the “Do Not Enter” area to look down at the wild sea, which wasn’t particularly wild that day. Sometimes you can see the spray flying up over the top of the rocks, but not today. We parked at the lot looking up at the Strand to watch the windsurfers and a cute little “wind buggy” madly tearing up and down the beach.

Back at the campground, we gathered up beach blankets and books and took the dogs out to enjoy the sunset over the sea. It was hard to get settled for very long, since the tide was coming in, and Tess became a digging maniac.
She reminded me of “The Diggingest Dog,” a kid’s book that I hated but my children loved, so I had to read it over, and over, and over…

Later, back at the now merrily burning campfire, I opened a bottle of Rosa D’Oro Muscat Canelli for after-dinner glasses. A fruity sweet-tart wine, nice for a not-too-heavy dessert.

If I was allowed just one indulgence, I think I would spend it on cinnamon rolls, those big, yeasty spicy specialty bakery ones, with frosting and nuts. There is a shop in Pismo that sells those. We walked up the beach to town on our last morning for our cinnamon rolls from “Old West Cinnamon Rolls” bakery. Warm, nutty, cinnamony, but not cloyingly sweet. It’s a good thing I don’t live near this place!

Avoid These!

Summer weekends, holidays, gathering of friends, travel… Sounds like an upcoming event? You bet! It’s the Father’s Day Bluegrass Music Festival at Grass Valley California! And, as far as I’m concerned, one of the top items, the important category to plan for, is the FOOD you will be enjoying while you’re there. (I’m rubbing my hands together just thinking about it!)
You’ll be bringing out all your diet-cheaters for this week. (Don’t lie!) Chips and dip. Thick marbled steaks for the barby. Homemade ice cream (You know who you are!). Salami, cookies, and all your favorite booze. And then, for your “cooking” day off, you’ll tour the strip and pick up a caramel mocha, Lazy Dog ice cream, and a big paper plate of biscuits and gravy. Yum!
But do consider, there is a dark side to some foods that make them either inappropriate or contraindicated for festival feasting. And that is where I, Dear Reader, hope to share with you from some of my experiences.

Foods to avoid at the Father’s Day Festival:

1. Oh, this one will be hard, I know. But really folks, try to avoid roasted garlic heads. Roasted or barbequed garlic heads are among my family’s favorite appetizers. You take a head of garlic, rub off some of the paper, slice off the top half-inch, drizzle olive oil, sprinkle with kosher salt and either bake in a garlic roasting dish or throw on the slow side of the barbeque. When they are done, the tender little cloves are slightly caramelized and will pop right out of their paper wrappings. You can spread them like butter on toast or crackers, or you can just eat them plain. Wow! Food ecstasy. But it comes with a price. And as soon as the essential aromas hit your bloodstream, you’ll know it. And everyone around you will too. And everyone who follows you into the necessary room will too--for 24 hours. So all of your friends, at least the ones who didn’t share your garlics out of self-defense, will probably try to avoid the garlic bubble you have created around yourself. And that’s not fun, at a Bluegrass Music Festival. (Unless, of course, you are willing to put up with that in exchange for plenty of elbow room in the audience area.)

2. Candy. Oh, not ALL candy, just those little candies that come, each and every one of them, in their own special individual crackly paper, cellophane and foil wrappings. When my kids were young, Halloween was always a cause of despair for me. All four of them would fill their paper lunch bags with individually wrapped Halloween candy and then stash them. For about 5 days following, I was constantly picking up the papers, nagging and threatening. Finally, I got smart. I said, “For each candy paper I find not in the trash, I get to pick one candy from each of your bags.” Try it Parents; it works.
At a festival, I really enjoy a clean campsite. There is nothing that will destroy that quicker that a carpet of fluttering multicolor candy wrappers. Get a big bag of M&Ms or Skittles instead.

3. This tip is for Fair Food Row. You like deep fry? C’mon! You know you do, yeah! Those funnel cakes? Yesss! You knew that was what I was talking about. Well, do yourself a favor and buy the one funnel cake you have allotted yourself on the first day of the festival while the grease is fresh. I’ve had one on both ends, and believe me, the one on the front end is better.

4. I hesitate to mention this one, because you’ll bring it; everyone does. But there is a hazard to cooking it. The food is bacon, and the hazard is that everyone within smelling distance will show up. You can’t disguise that smoky, porky aroma. So if you do risk bringing some, just make sure you bring more.

So load up your ice chests with a few healthful vegetables (pre-washed) to ease the guilt and lots of your favorite foods and treats, put some cash in your pocket for a teriyaki plate and a cold one at Verne’s and you’ll have a great time!

ECO; aka "Edible Cake-like Object

I made an ECO for my daughter's birthday cake.

We've been trying a new way of eating around here. From what I understand it is some kind of Paleolithic-Primitive-Primal-Carnivore diet. In other words, no grains. Vegetables, yes. Grains, those things that man has modified from the wild seed, cultivated, harvested, threshed and ground to flour are out. This is sort of an experiment. We are seeing what it does for weight, health, and, ahem, bodily functions.

For a disclaimer, I have no qualms about doing up cakes and pies and breads and stuff for other people. In fact, I just made 2 graduation cakes for my kids' graduation party. And I even had a small piece. Yum!

But for Bethany's birthday cake (today) I was just feeling really creative. And she is not all that fond of regular cake anyway. So I decided to create an edible cake-like object for her special cake.

I decided to start with a cheese ball recipe. If there is one thing we are all mad about in this house, it's cheese. I tweaked it a bit and came up with these ingredients: shredded 3-cheese blend, shredded medium cheddar, low-fat cream cheese (neufchatel), bacon bits, green onion, garlic powder, mayonaise and dried onion flakes.

I lined a round dish with plastic wrap and pressed the cheese mixture into it, refrigerating it overnight. About an hour before serving, I turned it out onto a cake plate. I frosted it with more cream cheese and decorated it with... OK, I hate to admit that I actually bought some of this stuff. It is seductive and cute and tasty. It's... EASY CHEESE! It comes out of a spray can, like whipped cream, and the tip makes the product cute and curly. And we had the choice of two colors: Orange, and Bright Orange.

It was great fun. I had to resist the urge to hold it up, aim it at my mouth and let go at the trigger. At first we made fun of it, but we all had more respect for the stuff when Loreleigh read the ingredient list, and the first one listed was "cheddar cheese."

I made a little pastry bag and squirted some Easy Cheese into it so I could write the words with a fine line. Then, with a dash of inspiration, I accented the ECO with dried tomato "flowers" and fresh rosemary.

We served the ECO in thin wedges with Pink Lady apple slices and hot tea. A good time was had by all.