cranberries

I love this time of year - cranberries are readily available. I have an unnatural affection for them. I've been to cranberry country several times and was intrigued by the idea of flooding the fields for harvest. That must save a lot of weather-related angst for cranberry farmers!

One of the best Valentine's Day cards I ever received was a giant heart covered with cranberries. How sweet is that? I can't imagine how long it took him to glue the cranberries.

Yesterday was another day off (three in a row this week!) I took the chance do some cooking.

My go-to dish for parties is Grandma Leona's cranberry salad. I imagine the great nutritional value of the cranberries is smothered in the sugar, tapioca, marshmallows and pecans. Over the years I've reduced the sugar and marshmallows and added more celery - it's still delicious.  I whipped up a batch for the Spitznogle Christmas party this afternoon.

I also made cranberry syrup!  My cousin LuAnn grew and milled buckwheat flour and I wanted to make something special with it. Buckwheat pancakes and seemed like a great way to start the new year - if not my weight loss program.

The only hitch was that I've never made pancakes. How is that possible? I researched recipes and shopped for the stuff that I didn't have on hand -  basically everything, since the ingredient list didn't include diet Pepsi, cat food or popcorn.

Before I started cooking,  I dutifully entered the ingredients into the Weight Watchers recipe builder and almost fainted when it calculated 15 points per serving (I'm allowed 29 per day), but that didn't stop me - the cat wasn't going to dine on baking soda and lemons, although he might be intrigued by the buttermilk.

They were delicious! And by making the pancakes small, I was able whittle it down to 5 points a serving, including the syrup.

I also learned some valuable pancake making lessons:  Multi-tasking is not possible. The smoke alarm is sensitive. Rubber spatulas melt. Skillet handles are hot. I have an exceptional talent for swearing.

When I first started the project, I had the notion that making pancakes would be a fun to do with someone else. Unless I find a guy that thinks batter all over the kitchen and scorched fingers are sexy, that's probably not a great idea.

In the meantime, I have ten pancakes in the freezer....

Hello Cheese!

The pandemic has caused me question some of the things I held close to my heart. 

As much as I'm a collector of things....I'm lookin' at you PEZ...I've never been one to stockpile food or paper goods or cleaning supplies. My mantra is was, "I live in the 17th largest city in the country, there is no need to buy ahead." 

Boy was I wrong. 

I quickly regretted my habit of not buying another package of toilet paper before I was down to one roll, which led to me being grateful of my habit of keeping a box of tissues in every room. 

And I didn't want to be in the stores more than necessary so stopping at the market just to pick up one or two things felt crazy, even dangerous. I now have a running grocery list and after work on Wednesdays has become my shopping day. The fact that the new fun stuff in Aldi's "aisle of surprises" shows up on Wednesday is a bonus. 

Having food in the cupboard and freezer has led to me cooking more than my standby meals. This summer I was obsessed with rhubarb. I even planted some this fall, hoping for a next summer harvest. 

It's the season for my obsession for cranberries and have gone a little nuts buying bags of the tart fruit. Last week I made Grandma Leona's cranberry salad and experimented with baking cranberry-lemon bars. 

I still have three bags of cranberries in the fridge and two in the freezer. 

This morning I cooked down a bag of cranberries with the zest of one lemon and a tablespoon of sugar and a bit of water. Delicious! 

This evening it was the perfect topping to today's Advent cheese. 

*I just realized that my fingers are the same color as the ham. Ewww! 

christmas with the cousins (holiday party #14)

Christmas was really different this year. We didn't spend Christmas with the Herr's this year - more on that tragic story later.

I puttered around home during the day, eating Grandma's cranberry salad and popcorn and basically being a lazy ass.

I left home around 4:00 to meet Dad at the farm. We drove to Logansport to hang out with cousin Chuck and his family. It was great fun (and lots of food - ham, yum). There was some Euchre playing, looking at old photographs and story-telling. I got to see the Little Mommy Gotta Go in action - ick!

We spent the night - I slept like a rock star in the spare bedroom. I slept very well, I didn't realize how on edge I was.

The next morning we went to Bullshippers Cafe, connected to the stockyard. It the kind of place that I can imagine meeting a nice farmer and watiressing for the rest of my working years. It was a lovely morning.

cinderella sunday

Besides my dear sweet mother and several aunts and my grandmothers there are only two women that I've said "I want to be her when I grow up." One is Doris, the other is Joan.

I met Joan at the coffeehouse. She came almost every afternoon with her own mug and stuff to read. She was one of the main reasons we brewed a pot of decaffeinated flavored coffee each day. She is very stylish- and not in the way that most 80-something women are. She wears cool glasses and I love her silver jewelry. 

I always invite her to my annual Saint Valentine's Day party and we've talked about getting together for brunch for years. Joan finally rounded up Novella, Marcella and I for brunch today. 

Her home is beautiful- on the property of a former Catholic all-girls high school that I attended my freshman year (the school closed, nothing to do with me- swear). Her house is full of wonderful art work, books, photographs and memorabilia. 

Joan is up on current events and has a real-life experience and history to back up her opinions.

 She and her husband ran a Kentucky Fried Chicken for years - she's familiar with hard work and long hours. Even though she and her husband have been separated for decades she visits him everyday in the assisted living facility for Alzheimer's patients. Their only child, a son was killed in a car accident years ago. 

She prepared an amazing brunch- sausage frittada, spinach and stuffed tomatoes. And two desserts- pumpkin pie and cranberry puddingy something - both with freshly whipped cream. I could have stayed there talking all day. And Novella and Marcella stayed until the afternoon. 

You guessed it- Cinderella Nora had to go to work at Marigold. 

I know that people don't have amazing brunches with wonderful people in beautiful settings every Sunday, and I hated to race out of this one. 

I've been feeling super bogged down lately. My poor house is a mess, all I seem to do is race in for a few minutes, drop a bunch of junk on the floor, and race out. Or like last night (or rather this morning)- get home from work at 3:00, shower, dry my hair and sleep for four and a half hours and do it all over again. 

I'm declaring 2009 the Year of Nora Slowing Down on Volunteer Stuff. I know that sounds a little selfish, but its someone else's turn. 

The hard part will be saying no. 

freezer burn

I sometimes go weeks at a time with out opening my freezer door, and only then for the rare times that I need an ice cube.

I opened the up the freezer on Monday to find that something bad had happened.
The little tube that drains the water from condensation had fallen out.
All of the water drained in to the freezer, creating some bizarre atmospheric event. It reminded me of a sleet storm covered by a thick layer of snow. I started chipping a crazy assortment of stuff out of there.

I always joke that I've got the perfect wardrobe for my fantasy life.
Dress for a moonlight cruise? Check
Linen suit for a weekend at the shore? Check
Boots for a trip to New York? Check
Sweater for sitting by the fire apres ski? Check
Outfit for waitressing on a Saturday night? Not so much

My freezer was operating on that the same theory with a good dash of nostalgia thrown in.
I pitched some steaks that I'd purchased with the idea that I'd be ready for an impromptu cookout.
Cookies and muffins from CATH.
Hail from the big storm last year.
Sweet corn from the farm.
Chili from a batch that AVS made for me.
Chocolates from Saint Valentine's Day.
Bags of marshmallows that I throw in the freezer each Thanksgiving after making Grandma's cranberry salad.
Cranberries.
No Grandma!


I did run across something that gave me pause --a little plastic container labeled "lime juice 8-1-97"
I'm sure it was the left over lime juice from baking for the State Fair that year.
I had to keep it. It has lasted longer than any of my boyfriends.

scratch and sniff: grandma's kitchen

[Click on the title to read the full post]

I am excited to be participating in the Think Kit project again this year. Today's prompt: Scratch and Sniff! Scents have the power to take us all kinds of places. What smell takes you somewhere else? Where'd you go?

I've been waiting all day to write this post. The second I read the prompt, I knew I wanted to tell you about Grandma's kitchen. 

I loved spending the night at Grandma Leona's and walking into the kitchen to the wonderful aroma of coffee and bacon and muskmelon and unconditional love. 

I'm the oldest of four children (born within six years) so having anyone's undivided attention was pretty darn special. To have my beloved grandmother all to myself was the best thing ever! Grandma and Grandpa lived on the farm house that Grandpa had grown up in. The kitchen was huge - big enough for a giant table that seated at least a dozen, Grandpa's rocking chair (that is now in my living room) and all of the necessary kitchen-y stuff and appliances. 

Uncle Phillip and Uncle Con would arrive their polka dot caps to join Grandpa for farming work of the day. They'd grab a cup of coffee and commence to some gentle niece teasing. The local AM radio station was always playing in the background - all talk; weather, obituaries, commodities reports, and more weather. 

Leona Gremelspacher was known as a saint all throughout the county. I remember pushing even her grandmotherly patience one day.  I was seven years old and followed Grandma around the kitchen chattering about what must have been fascinating second-grade business.  She finally asked me if I ever took a breath - and admitted that she needed a little quiet time. 

I spent hours this evening looking for photos of us in the kitchen or recipes written in her hand. I found lots of her recipes that I'd written at the huge table in my loopy junior-high handwriting, misspellings and all.  I remember feeling so grown up, copying down the details from her recipe cards. 

Click here for the four-generation history of the Cranberry Salad recipe. 

I was 23 when Grandma died and I am so fortunate to have known her that long. It is rare that I catch a whiff of that particular combination of percolating coffee, frying bacon, and sliced cantaloupe, but when I do, I'm transported to that place of unconditional love - like walking into a warm hug.