Word Salad

This afternoon, I am sitting in an area coffee shop with the intention of working, but as I scroll through the images in the photo files of my laptop and flip through the notebook of scribbled recipe notes, my mind is just a jumbled word salad. There are so many stories and recipes that I want to share with you all, but my brain is screaming with an unintelligible jumble of words. Nothing makes sense on its own. Ideas are flowing freely, but not fluently.

Did you know that I visited Chicago last fall and have since been working on perfecting my own homemade deep dish pizza? Did you know that a good dog toy lasts about a week with Nilla, and a bad toy lasts mere minutes? Did you know that since posting my tried and true homemade pasta sauce, of which I can quarts and quarts each year, I have found a roasted tomato pasta sauce that might rival it? Will my dryer finish the drying cycle, or is the temperature gauge indeed on the fritz? Did you know that I once again volunteered at the Antiques Roadshow...this time in Albuquerque? Did you know that I brought home 20 pounds of freshly roasted New Mexico green chiles (That was an aromatic drive across several states.) and have a profound love of green chile cheeseburgers (of course, with an egg, if I have the option)? Does anyone appreciate political campaign phone calls? Did you know that there isn't a day that passes without me scrolling through the Zappos app on my phone looking for the perfect 3/4 height boot? I didn't buy new Halloween costumes for Tabby and Jenn because you really can't top dachshunds dressed as hot dogs, can you? Did you know that I actually survived the food presentation at the Etc. Expo for Her and might have even enjoyed it a little (except for the poor quality of the presentation "kitchen")? Did you know that after 20+ years of marriage, last night, Hubs admitted that he may actually like pears...especially when I throw together a pear galette with warm caramel sauce and vanilla ice cream for dessert? Did you know that tomorrow is Halloween, and that I usually invite some of my friends who live in the country over for a casual dinner and to help pass out candy to my little ghouls, but just realized that I dropped the ball and haven't invited anyone? Did you know that I am addicted to candy corn? Did you know that the USPS has lost 2 (2!?!) of my packages within one year? Did you know that I have ground beef defrosted at home and no clue what I will be doing with it for supper? Did you know that there is a head of cauliflower in my fridge that was supposed to be a side with supper last night, but I forgot to cook it? Did you know that I haven't yet raked a single leaf from the yard, and it is driving me nuts? Do you know the best place to purchase durable, warm, white, fluffy, down alternative comforters? Mine is showing the effects of weekly washings to rid it of dog hair. Do you like fennel? I was recently surprised at how many people were turned off by the thought/taste/idea of a licorice-y flavored vegetable. Did you know that I came to the coffee shop today because the dust in my house has reached gas mask proportions, and instead of clean, I decided to try to blog (and drink a dirty chai)? (Maybe this is why I haven't invited anyone over for tomorrow?)

So...that is only a small sample of the random mixture of insanity in my brain. All of the frivolous craziness. I won't bore you with the real stuff that haunts me. We will keep it light. Just a Word Salad, not the main course.

However...word is that this Green Apple and Celery Salad is the word. Word. Salad.

I enjoyed this as a light, fall lunch, but think that it would be an elegant addition to a Thanksgiving menu. (It would even make ahead well...just toss the dressing over other ingredients prior to serving.) The crisp celery and green apples are pleasantly contrasting earthy and tart flavors. The sharp mustard vinaigrette lends a tangy balance to the salad. I can see this being a very welcome freshness in the middle of all the heavy mashed potatoes, roasted squash, stuffing, gravy, and turkey weighing down the upcoming holiday table. Word. Salad.

Green Apple and Celery Salad

(adapted from Bon Appetit)

1/4 cup fresh lemon juice

1/4 cup Dijon mustard

5 teaspoons honey

2/3 cup olive oil

1 large bunch celery

2 large Granny Smith apples

1/4 cup fresh parsley

3/4 cup walnuts, toasted and chopped

Add first 4 ingredients in a small mason jar.
Secure the lid and vigorously shake to combine.
Season with salt and pepper to taste.

Slice celery thinly on the diagonal. (My microplane made quick work of both this slicing and the thinly sliced apples.)
Core and thinly slice the apples. (Peel, if desired, but I didn't.)
Chop the parsley.
Combine celery, apples, parsley, and walnuts in bowl.
Toss with dressing to thoroughly coat.
Season with salt and pepper. (Serves 8.)

Dear Greenhouse Growers...

Dear Greenhouse Growers,

While curly parsley is pretty, I really have a deep and abiding love of flat-leaf parsley. I know you already have most of your herbs seeded, but if you haven't started peat pots of the luscious Italian variety, please do so.

Thank you.

*Just Fran*

Celery and Parsley Salad with Raisins

(adapted from Cooking Light)

2/3 cup raisins

1/2 cup white balsamic vinegar

7 cups thinly sliced celery (including leaves)

4 cups loosely packed flat-leaf parsley leaves

kosher salt

freshly ground black pepper

1/4 cup olive oil

Combine raisins and vinegar and microwave on HIGH 1 minute until raisins are plumped. (Beware that the vinegar can become quite aromatic when heated and might take your breath away when you open the nuke-box door.)
Drain raisins and reserve 3 tablespoons of the vinegar.
Combine raisins, celery, and parsley in a large salad bowl.
Add salt and pepper to reserved vinegar.
Gradually, whisk oil into vinegar mixture. 
Drizzle dressing over salad; toss to coat. (Serves 12)

The Price of Gas

These days, you can't seem to go a single day without hearing someone cry about the price of gas. Arm and leg photos appear on Facebook with regularity. Political agendas are all about pointing fingers and blaming each other (what else is new?). And, all across the nation there are gasps of shock as the numbers on the pump roll higher and higher when we fill our gas tanks.

I have something that might help you out. Bean and Bacon Soup only requires two cans of beans. I know that prices vary from store to store, but at about $1.50 per can, you should be able to fill up without breaking the bank. It might be the only gas you can afford.

Bean and Bacon Soup

(adapted from Real Simple Magazine)

6 strips bacon, chopped (choose a flavorful brand/cut; this is the smokiness of the soup)

1 large carrot, chopped

2 stalks celery, chopped

1 medium onion, chopped

4 cloves garlic, minced

2 15.5-ounce cans white beans, drained (Great Northern or Navy Beans are a good choice for a creamier soup. I used Cannellini beans because that is what I had on hand; they are firmer.)

2 cups chicken stock

1 cup water

1 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

In a large Dutch oven, fry the bacon until crisp.

Remove and drain on paper towels.

Over medium heat, add the carrot to the bacon drippings and saute for until tender.

Add the celery, onion, and garlic, stirring and cooking until the tender, being careful not to burn the garlic.

Add the (drained) beans, chicken stock, and water.

Bring to a boil, cover and reduce heat to low.

Allow to simmer for 10 minutes.

Uncover, and with a potato masher, partially mash the beans until the soup thickens slightly.

Stir in the salt, pepper, and bacon. (Serves 6)

Making Do

A couple of weeks ago, we had the season's last round of shearing at the farm. When we originally scheduled the mid-March arrival of the shearing crew, I anticipated cool temperatures, perhaps even winter weather. A big pot of turkey and wild rice soup sounded good to me. Mother Nature had other ideas. The forecast for the day of backbreaking work was 80 degrees and sunny. That isn't rich and creamy soup weather; my menu needed an overhaul.

I decided to pull a pork loin from the freezer and roast it. Sliced thinly and served on sandwich buns with sliced onions, homemade pickles, mustard, and barbeque sauce, the pork sandwiches would be a better match for the early summer-like temperatures. Side dishes of coleslaw, potato salad, and baked beans would round out the meal, and only those with an aversion to cream cheese (I didn't know such people were in existence until recently.) would pass up a big slice of Spiced Zucchini Bars with Cream Cheese Frosting for dessert. That seemed like a simple menu I could make in my sleep and would still be nourishing and satisfying for the hardworking crew. *jinx* I should never say something is going to be simple. Never.

It was the evening before shearing day. I had my menu written out with lists of to-dos. I had been to the grocery store, and thought I was ready to prep for feeding my starving army. Then, I realized that I was out of mustard. Mustard. A staple. Something that I sometimes crave and often have 4 or 5 types on hand. I did not have enough plain yellow mustard to make my "standard" potato salad.

Now, most of you probably just send your Hubs to the store to grab any last minute items you might have forgotten. I have often done that, too. However, it isn't always that easy for us. Our little town no longer has a grocery store. The gas station/convenience store carries a few staples, but for real groceries, we have to travel to one of the neighboring towns, and those grocery stores close at 9pm (or sometimes, earlier). The only 24-hour shopping in my neck of the woods takes place online, and while I love cruising Zappos for a pair of shoes at midnight, that doesn't help much when I need mustard at 10pm.

Hubs offered to drive out to the farm and snag that partial bottle from the fridge. I thought about calling neighbors and begging for their yellow bottles of what seemed at the moment to be gold. But then, I remembered a recipe from an old church cookbook. There was no need for midnight raids for mustard. I could "make do" without it.

This potato salad marinates the boiled potatoes in a tart vinegar and sugar mixture overnight. The next day, the spuds are drained and tossed with boiled eggs, celery, onion, and mayo. A little celery seed, salt, and pepper seasons the dish, and there you have a tangy potato salad that doesn't need mustard. It's a great salad, and unless you tell them, nobody will know that you were just "making do."

Vinegar Marinated Potato Salad

10 pounds potatoes (I use small red-skinned potatoes and don't peel.)

2 cups water 

2 cups white vinegar
1/2 - 3/4 cup sugar
1 bunch green onions, sliced 

3-4 stalks celery, chopped

6 hard-boiled eggs, diced 

kosher salt

freshly ground black pepper

1 tablespoon celery seeds
2 cups mayonnaise 

Cube potatoes into bite-sized portions and place in a large pot.
Add water to cover and bring to a boil.
Cook until tender but still firm, about 15 minutes.
Drain and allow to cool.
In a saucepan combine water, vinegar and sugar.
Bring to a boil and cook for one minute.
Remove from heat and pour over potatoes (be sure to use a non-reactive bowl for marinating).
Cover and chill for at least 12 hours.
Drain excess marinade.
Add onions, eggs, salt, pepper, celery seed and mayonnaise.
Mix gently, but thoroughly to combine ingredients and coat salad with dressing.
Serve chilled. (Serves 20)