Coming Up For Air. Holy Cow, It's September!

I’m still here! I didn’t decide to move to some far-flung tropical destination without high-speed internet access, or get pecked to death by a flock of frustrated fowl at CK’s house…no…I’ve just been…busy, procrastinating. Summer has flown by. It didn’t help that spring didn’t actually start until about mid-June. The snow finally melted, the mosquitoes came out and we never did get any landscaping done. Let’s just say we are having a hard time reconciling ourselves to the $65 an hour they want to bill us for digging in dirt and laying pavers. Never mind that the entire bid came in over budget and the landscape company didn’t seem to want our business enough to negotiate a better deal, or our landscape designer finally sent us a PDF of the wrong plans. Back to square one. We did take a 10 day vacation to Grand Cayman with Big and Lil’ Toby. The men all got their scuba certifications and I enjoyed a few blessed days alone on the beach with a book and my snorkel gear. We had a great time, beautiful weather and made some great memories. 10 days was a huge splurge, we spent 5 days on the far end of Seven Mile Beach and 5 days up at Rum Point. Being our third trip to GC, we really wanted to try the last two sides of the island we’d not been on before. Both locations were great and had a lot to offer, but the snorkeling at Rum Point has really deteriorated in the past few years. I was quite disappointed. Snorkeling at our 7MB reef was much better. We also did the Queen Elizabeth Botanical Gardens and Stingray City. We leave in two weeks for a quick 5 day trip to Orlando. We both really love Universal’s Haunted Halloween at Universal Studios. We’ve been a couple of times and it’s a blast. This week we got our itinerary for our Danube cruise in December. I love the “enjoy a leisurely breakfast before departing the ship to your departing airport” bit. We disembark in Passau, Germany, and have an 8:00AM flight out of Munich. Two hours away. So I’m not entirely sure how leisurely breakfast is going to be when we have to get off the boat at 4AM. I’m thinking we should disembark the night before and get to a hotel in Munich and then get to the airport in the morning without so much stress. We get back home on Christmas Eve. I am incredibly excited about that trip. We are going to spend a couple of days in Budapest before the cruise even begins. I’m happy to report that I’m surprisingly down 29 pounds since early May when I overhauled my eating habits. I’m following a combination low-carb diet with FODMAPS diet. Staying away from items with FODMAPS has done wonders for my IBS and sticking to low carbs has done wonders for the rest of me. I feel really good and motivated and not terribly deprived. I did go through a period of mourning or frustration over having to give up so many foods in order to keep my lower GI tract from waging war, but I’m learning my tolerances (naturally fermented sauerkraut = BAD! Fresh blueberries = GOOD!) and finding a happy medium between little splurges and monk-like abstinence. I have a weight loss goal in mind, and I’m confident I’ll get there. Well, that’s all the news that’s fit to print today. I’ll be back sooner rather than later. (Oh and the chicken killing thing wasn’t so bad after all. I wasn’t expected to wring any necks. I was on lunch and dinner duty for the crew and ran a wicked vacuum sealer!) *edited to add: I am not sure why the formatting on this is so funky. I am viewing with real paragraphs and not one giant run-on paragraph. Am too lazy and too tired to fix it today. Endure. Thanks.

Shaking If Off

I've been reading some of my past posts and have concluded this blog is not going in the direction I'd hoped. It's really depressing! I didn't realize I had so much unresolved/unsaid/unfelt stuff left inside related to the loss of my parents. Maybe the long dark winter and the "window" of time (Ash Wednesday to Pentecost Sunday) bring a lot of memories and emotions to the surface that I had put off dealing with. At the time you bob along like a cork in a current and when you finally stop moving, you notice just how banged up you are. Time for me to step back and let those memories and reminders settle back down to background white noise. They are a part of me like my grey hair, I can't get rid of them, but I sure can hide them!

My original plan for this blog was to be a happy foodie kind of place with observations of life and the world around me.  I need to get organized and figure out how to do tags so that my archives aren't all jumbled up (where did I post that recipe again??) 

What's new in our world? HB and I have been working with a landscape architect to come up with a new backyard plan. We had the entire back wooded area cleared of invasive buck thorn last fall which gave us more yard to landscape. We also want to incorporate a nicer hardscape in place of the poured concrete patio. A fireplace/pit, pergola and water feature are on the wish list. The first plan was lovely and incorporated every detail, but came with a really hefty and alarming price tag. We are now in the whittle-down phase of determining the best math that balances form, function and financial frugality. I am really excited to get the project underway, but I think the nursery that is going to do the work is really backed up with orders as our spring was so wet and cold projects were delayed.  Every discussion about plantings includes the two biggest questions: Will this survive in the rain shadow of the black walnuts and do deer like this? No to the first and yes to the second scratch those plants off the list!

I've been doing a lot of cooking outside and I love it. It's so nice to grill out and not have to futz with cleaning up the stove. I marinated chicken thighs in chardonnay, olive oil, shallots, garlic, Dijon and a huge handful of chopped fresh herbs (rosemary, thyme, basil and oregano) and grilled those out last night and topped them with butter sauteed fresh spinach, red bell peppers and mushrooms. I included a wild and brown rice Parmesan risotto and a salad. It was delicious! 

Little and Big Toby (HB's sons) were over for Father's Day and HB had fun hanging with them. Little Toby is home for the summer after finishing his freshman year up at the U and Big Toby came down for the day to hang out. He's graduating from the U this winter with his degree in mechanical engineering. I made coffee-crusted ribeye steaks with bacon porter sauce. I'll have to post that recipe--they were fantastic. I made some ginger mashed sweet potatoes and cole slaw to go with.  It got several big thumbs up from the menfolk.

I'm still following a no-wheat, no-sugar, no-HFCS, no-processed food diet and feel so much better. My IBS symptoms are gone, my arthritis pain is gone and most markedly, my anxiety is gone. 6 months ago I was considering seeing my doctor about getting anti-anxiety meds I was feeling so overwhelmed and afraid. But that's gone-vanished. A google search did find some links to mental health issues and wheat consumption. HMMMMMM.  I'm also not going to complain about my weight loss--I'm down 15 pounds and going strong. I'm frustrated by some of my restrictions; I can't have nuts and I get hungry mid-afternoon and don't have a good snack (other than cheese or sausage) to fall back on. I'm trying to limit my fruit servings to breakfast and lunch. If anyone has a suggestion, I'd appreciate it. I can have small quantities of sunflower seeds but no peanuts, cashews, almonds or nut butters of any kind.  I don't limit quantities of food, so I don't feel deprived as I'm not counting calories. I didn't start this eating plan to eliminate my IBS symptoms, I just took a hard look at my diet and realized I was eating a disproportionate amount of flour and sugar. So it seemed like an easy way to revamp my diet. A week or two in and my IBS symptoms disappeared. I googled flour and IBS and FODMAPS and voila! There's the connection. I think it makes it easier to stay on a 'weight loss' diet when you know the food you're eating is going to make you feel like crap. 

This weekend I'm heading up north to help my friend CK butcher chickens. I am not sure how much help I'll be...I might be helping drink alcohol and cheering them on from a safe, non-splatter, non-feather-flying zone. I can run the vacuum sealer like no bodies business!  CK brought me one of her chickens from last summer and it was fabulous and gigantic. I have a few on order for this year. I hope they don't have names. HB? Tonight we're having BBQ Bob. Or maybe it's Charlie.

Wish me luck and strong stomach.  :-)

Another Anniversary

The 2nd anniversary of losing my Dad is on Wednesday.  It's there, humming in the background like the drone of a distant neighbor's lawnmower. 

I never finished my story about my Dad and his health crisis.   My Mom was so sick, and so sick so fast that my Dad's illness crept up on delicate little cat-feet and surprised us all.

He ended up in the hospital following Thanksgiving 2010 with congestive heart failure. He'd been (relatively) fine that fall. My Dad had fought a long battle against prostate cancer, going 18 rounds of chemo, several early rounds of radiation, experimental hormone therapies and finally in the summer of 2010, he was approved for the newly released gene therapy Provenge.  Coming off that, he felt a renewed sense of hope and optimism about his health. He did have some persistent kidney issues, both a result of childhood kidney cysts and some scarring from his radiation therapy. My Dad was active and vital, working 30+ hours a week, volunteering with their Church, his model airplane club and had recently retired from 30 years of volunteering at my college alma mater.  He was not one to sit and let moss grow.

The diagnosis of CHF was a surprise. I'd been home in early October to help do fall yard clean up and he was busy raking, picking up cut brush, hauling stuff to the car, making multiple trips to the dump. He'd sit and rest in between but he never gave any indication of being ill.  To come home 7 weeks later for Thanksgiving, to see him curled up in his chair, unable to get up, coughing heavily and seeming really restless and uneasy was alarming.  My Mom, halfway through her chemo treatments, seemed healthier than my Dad.  By Saturday morning, I was calling 911 and getting him admitted into the Cardiac unit at the big hospital.  He eventually spent 3 days in the cardiac intensive care unit (which he loved, bless his heart) and came home with home health assistance.  I took my Mom to her chemo appointment and extended my holiday vacation by an additional week to make sure he was home and settled.

We were home again at Christmas and my Mom's health had continued to decline and my Dad wasn't looking any better. He'd been in to see the cardiologist who basically said to stick with a low sodium fluid restricted diet. He was on massive diuretics. He couldn't have some of the standard diagnostic tests or standard CHF treatments due to his kidney functions. He insisted he just needed to rest and he'd be fine.  We returned to our home and I called daily to check on them. He ended up needing fluid removed from a lung and he insisted he felt better.

When the call came that my Mom's cancer was no longer responding to treatment, I headed home. I didn't know how long I'd be there, but I packed for a week or so. It was February 19.  She began home hospice on Feb. 23 and she was gone on March 9.  During this time, she had weekly visits from the hospice nurse who was often more concerned about my Dad. He insisted he felt fine, just tired.

The week following my Mom's death was incredibly stressful. I was hauling my Dad around town making arrangements and trying to keep him afloat. He fell outside the Church before our meeting with the Pastor to plan her funeral. He fell in the garage a few days later after getting out of the car. He fell in the house trying to get to the bathroom.  Every single time my heart went to my feet and my stomach wanted to come up through my chest. His legs were swollen and wrapped in TEDS which meant he had no flexibility and lifting him back up by myself was like try to dead-lift a 170 pound frozen tuna.

My Aunt Pat from Indiana offered to stay with my Dad for a week after the funeral so I could go back to work. I needed to get in the office and get caught up. I was trying to get him to be open to coming to Minnesota to visit the clinic and get a second opinion about his care and treatment. I was beside myself trying to get him to understand that being 5 hours away from me wasn't an option given his condition and he had no relatives in the area to help him.  My Aunt worked tirelessly to convince him that a week or two at the clinic would do him a world of good and by the time I got back to his house, 8 days later, he was ready to go. We needed to spend a few days in Milwaukee before coming to MN. He had a pulmonologist visit, a cardiology visit and last, a visit to his nephrologist. After that, we were going to head home together.

The week went by very quickly and my Dad was optimistic and in spite of himself, looking forward to coming to our place to stay. I secretly hoped the move would be permanent, but knew his stubborn nature would lead him back to Milwaukee.  Our last visit of the week was the nephrologist, which was the doctor managing his kidney condition. My Dad has his blood work done and got the all clear from the doctor to travel. I'd made arrangements to have his medical records released to our medical center.  On the way home, we stopped at Target and I ran in to pick up a few things. My Dad stayed in the car.

I was walking down the aisle when my cell phone rang. It was the nephrology physician's assistant calling to tell my Dad's blood work was back and it was really low in potassium and he needed an RX for potassium. She was going to fax it to Target where I could pick it up while I was there.  I headed over the the pharmacy. The Target pharmacist is a lovely woman who was close to my parents through their Church. She saw me and came around and gave me a hug. We chatted and she said she'd go check her fax for the prescription. As I stood there, my phone rang again. It was the nephrologist.

In his Indian-accented English, he told me my Dad was in end-stage kidney failure and that he didn't have long to live.  I said, how long? He said, days to weeks.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't feel my feet. 14 days before, I'd lost my Mom and now I'm being told my Dad is dying. He said to call tomorrow and he would talk to my Dad about his options, which were very few. Dialysis. Hospice.

The pharmacist saw the expression on my face and came over and I told her what I'd just learned. She gave me a huge hug, which at that moment, kept me from falling on the floor. I had no legs.  She said to go home and talk it over with my Dad. She said dialysis wasn't bad, but what she knew of his heart condition, it probably wouldn't be very comfortable for him.

I walked to the car, not having any idea about how I was going to tell my Dad what the doctor just told me. I got in. He looked at me and immediately knew something was wrong. He asked. I said, let's go home first. He said, no. Tell me.

So I told him. He let out a breath. I think he said a prayer and probably a swear word or two.  We went home in quiet and I got him into the house, got his coat off and he headed to the bathroom. I headed to the garage and spent the next 5 minutes creating sounds I didn't even know could come from my body. It was as if all the grief and sadness and stress and anger and frustration and rage all flowed up out of this deep pool somewhere and volcanoed out of me in a hysterical fury.

When my Mom was told her treatments were no longer working and she was facing her death, she was resigned, quiet, calm, ready to be done. I don't think she was afraid of death and dying. I think my Mom was such a pessimistic person, who worried about every little detail and possible outcome, that she'd worried herself into her own grave. She knew when she was diagnosed, that she was going to die. My Mom was more afraid of the unknown than the known.  My Dad loved life and was not ready for his life to be complete. He hadn't written his final chapter. He was an eternal optimist and hopeful about everything.  To see him so incredibly disappointed broke my heart more than anything.

There's another nearly 3 months to this story. He found out on March 23 that his kidneys were shutting down. He lived until June 12 and there's a lot of story in the middle.  I remember the many good days in those 3 months. My Dad told me stories of his childhood, of my birth, of my childhood, of our family story. We enjoyed our waning time together, our morning coffee, our afternoon book readings, our evening baseball games.

One of the hospice nurses told me she couldn't believe how strong I was...having gone through the loss of my Mom and caring full time for my Dad.  Obligation and love makes one strong, I suppose. Parents do extraordinary heroic things for their children. It's what people do when they love each other. Emotions get put on hold, days blur into nights, daily personal care activities, once unthought-of are done with care and tenderness and no embarrassment. And then the moment comes when they transition from the here and now to that place beyond and the blessing that comes with being there in that moment.

Two days. I'm looking towards the other side of Wednesday.

Procrastination Pork

I know I haven't posted in weeks...but I'm still around. I haven't had much to say, haven't had any great revelations and haven't had too many profound thoughts. I think my brain is waterlogged from all the lousy, crappy, wet, rainy, foggy, cold weather we've had this spring. I have mushrooms and moss growing on my cranium! Maybe I've just been procrastinating until inspiration struck. So far, not so much inspiration.

I did create a new recipe this weekend I wanted to share. It was really tasty and I want to get it committed to "paper" before I forget it.


Spicy Marmalade Glazed Bacon-Wrapped Pork Medallions

2 1# pork tenderloins
Smoked Bacon--you'll need 6-8 strips
2-3 T Olive oil
Kosher Salt
Fresh Cracked Pepper
Garlic Powder

You will need 2-3 long bamboo skewers, soaked in water for 10-15 minutes

Marmalade Glaze
1/2 c. orange marmalade
1 T. Sriracha hot sauce
1/4 t. dried thyme or 1/2 t. fresh thyme

Clean the pork tenderloin by removing the tough silver skin and any visible fat.  Plan on 2 medallions per person. Starting at the thick end of the tenderloin, cut medallions 2 1/2 - 3 inches thick. You will not use the tips--freeze those for another use.  I ended up with 8 thick medallions. Press the medallions to flatten to match the width of the bacon. Wrap bacon around the outside of each medallion, overlapping the ends a little and then thread three medallions (bacon seams inside so they touch the next medallion) on each skewer. This will make turning them easier and keeps the bacon from flopping off.

Drizzle each side lightly with olive oil and sprinkle one side with kosher salt, fresh cracked pepper and a sprinkle of garlic powder. Set aside and allow to sit at room temperature about 30 minutes to temper the pork.

Prepare your grill--I use charcoal and went for medium direct heat. Clean the grill grates very well so your pork doesn't stick.

In a small bowl combine the marmalade glaze ingredients.

When your grill is ready, put the pork medallion skewers on the grill and cover. Allow to cook 3-5 minutes, then turn one rotation so that the bacon edges are grill-side down. Cover, allow to cook 3-5 minutes. Turn another one rotation so that the opposite flat side is down, cover and cook another 3-5 minutes. Turn one last time so the opposite bacon side is grill-down.  Cover and cook another 3-5 minutes. (Depending on your grill, please adjust this. You want your pork to be about 140 degrees at this point.)

After grilling on all four sides, return to the first flat side down and brush half the glaze on your pork and turn it, then brush glaze on the top. Cover and cook another 3-5 minutes, then turn one last time and give it 2 minutes to brown up the glaze. Your final pork temp in the center of the thickest piece should be 155 degrees.

Remove from grill and let rest 5 minutes before serving. 

These have a delicious sweet-salty-spicy mix that is a perfect compliment to the very mild pork.

I served these with grilled vegetables; asparagus, red bell pepper, broccoli, zucchini and lightly steamed baby Yukon golds that had all been tossed with olive oil, cracked pepper, a dusting of kosher salt and a light sprinkle of lemon pepper. I have a grill basket, so I put the veggies in the basket, cover it with foil (prevents them from drying out) and grilled them along with the pork. They were perfect!

Mother Less Day

I'm dedicating this post to those of us who don't have mothers anymore.

This isn't for those who can't bear children, or who choose not to bear children or those who've lost children.  This isn't about being a mother.

This is about not having a mother.

I am almost 51 and many of my contemporaries are losing their moms to age and illness. Some of us have lost them years ago and still bear the ache of that loss.

Mother's Day is a painful holiday for us. It's an unhappy club, exclusive by loss.

Reminders abound; reminders about buying the perfect gift, the perfect card, the perfect flowers, the perfect heart-shaped necklace. Reminders abound that our own mothers are no longer here to shop for, remember to send a card to, order flowers for, to make that Sunday morning phone call.

Many of us had difficult relationships with our mothers. Maybe we're more like them than we'd care to admit. Maybe our differences were so great the chasm could only be crossed by great compromise and purposeful quiet. Some of us were friends and companions or caregivers to our mothers. Some us remember our mothers as hero warrior goddesses who were impervious to the forces of day to day living and conquered mountains and armies to provide for us. Of course there are those who's moms barely held it together and lived in chaos.

Time has a way of softening the edges of our memories, sanding the burrs from the differences and difficulties and polishing the shine on our similarities and happy times. Our mothers were there to brush our hair from our forehead in the heat of fever. They wrapped their arms around us when we cried, even as teenagers when those arms embarrassed us or caused us frustration and conflict. They listened to us share our dreams and successes and held us up during our failures. Our mothers gave us the one thing no one else in the universe will ever be able to give us--absolute, unconditional, throw-yourself-in-front-of-a-train for you love.  No matter how ugly or mean or spiteful or crazy or emotional we became, our mothers loved us with the same all-consuming mama bear love that they felt the moment we were first laid in their arms.

We will never know or feel that love again. 

We have no choice but to accept that and sigh, look wistfully to the horizon and enjoy a private reverie, maybe shed a few quiet tears. It may be overhearing a mother and daughter in a dressing room joking around and laughing, bickering, teasing, to bring back, with the force of a thousand suns, the memories shared years earlier with your mom. Or watching a daughter link arms with her mother as they walk down the street, or seeing the back of an elderly woman's head who is the same build and stature. The reminders seem to come from no where. Every where. All at once. Or the moment you look down and see your mother's hand, realizing it's your own, or catching a glimpse in a mirror of your own face that echoes hers, or the voice you hear sounds like hers...but is your own. Or the voice whispering to you in your dreams, the fleeting misty view of her smile as she comes to you, from the other side, by your side, in the moments before you wake.

If you're reading this and you are blessed to still have your mother, hold her tight. Put aside your impatience, ego or differences and appreciate her. There will be a time, far sooner than you can imagine, that you'll be a member of this sorority. Send her a card, send her flowers, take her to brunch or do whatever you want to do to celebrate today. But tomorrow, call her, take her to lunch, tell her you love her and appreciate her and are there for her. Ask her for advice, listen to that advice. Ask her about her dreams, desires, wishes and ideas. Do whatever you can to make her life better, easier, more fulfilling. Be there for her. You won't be sorry if you do.

To my sisters and brothers in the mother less club, endure today. Enjoy your own families or find something you like to do and bury yourself in it. Try not to let the bombardment of the day make you sad. It's just another day on the calendar. Hold your memories close and know that no matter your relationship, there's a very strong likelihood, your mother loved you dearly and was incredibly proud of you.


I love you Mom. I miss you.

Lost And Then Saved

Twice.

I've had blog posts ready to go and by some means, I've accidentally deleted them while editing.

ARGH.

I hate it when that happens.  A few weeks ago I created a fairly complicated 8 page excel workbook at work, spending well over 2 hours on it. At one point, I opened an email that had an excel attachment, I opened the attachment, which had information I needed for my document. I closed that attachment, excel asked me if I wanted to save it, OF COURSE, I said NO and it closed ALL of excel and I lost my entire workbook.  Rending of garments commenced.  You'd think I've learned my lesson and hit SAVE SAVE SAVE with every word I type, but alas, I don't. *save*

Not much is new other than the 14 inches of snow we got on May 2. Heavy wet disgusting snow. Took down lots of trees and power lines along with the happiness quotient of everyone living in Southeastern Minnesota. Spring seemed almost within our reach and then Mother Nature decided to throw a giant hissy fit. Fortunately it's all gone now and the grass is gloriously green and lush and the trees are blooming and ready to pop out in full leaf. *save*

About two weeks ago I decided I needed to shake off my winter fugue and insulation. I've struggled with IBS for over 25 years and while I know certain foods cause a reaction, I've never been able to fully get a handle on my situation. I won't bore you with the details, but suffice it to say, I have a fairly predictable unpredictable gut that provides hours of time for reading.  I also have a spare tire I'm tired of dragging around. So, I gave up white, white flour and white sugar. I've also stepped back from all sweets and processed foods and pasta and bread and anything that one would consider a simple carbohydrate. I'm not doing Atkins or Paleo or any other specific diet, but just eating protein, very modest rice, wild rice and oatmeal, vegetables and fruit. I am using the "if it's a fruit or vegetable in it's natural form" it's ok to eat. If it's processed or manufactured, I'm avoiding it.  Interestingly, I feel a lot better, and my weight is starting to trend down. I harbor no illusion of getting my lumpy butt in a bikini, but I would like to wear a smaller size. The one thing I've noticed is my arthritis hasn't bothered me in a week. We went to see Trampled by Turtles (a Minnesota band--you should check them out!) the other evening and we stood for the entire concert. Normally my knees would be stiff and aching and bothering me for days after. But! Not now. They didn't hurt that evening, haven't hurt since.  I have to wonder if I don't have a gluten sensitivity that's been the underlying cause of my issues. *save*

I did create a new pork tenderloin recipe this past week. I had a bag of fresh spinach and some pork tenderloins to use. Normally I'd put the pork on the grill, but my grill was encased in a glacier which left me with indoor cooking. So I butterflied them, filled them with ham, Dijon, fresh spinach and 4-Cheese blend, rolled them up, rolled them in an herb blend and baked them. They were delicious! You will have to use your imagination about how they look because I didn't take their picture.

Spinach and Cheese Stuffed Pork Tenderloin

This recipe uses two whole pork tenderloins, about a pound each. You can cut the recipe in half to create one tenderloin. I reheated the second whole tenderloin in the oven at 325 for 20 minutes and it was perfect.

2 pork tenderloins, silver skin trimmed off.
8 slices Black Forest Ham (or baked ham)
2 cups shredded Quattro Formaggio-Italian Blend cheese with Provolone, Parm, Mozz and Romano (I used Trader Joes)
1/4 c. Dijon mustard
4 c. fresh rinsed and dried spinach

In a separate bowl mix:
1/4 t. garlic powder
1/2. t. lemon pepper
1/4. t. thyme leaves
1/4. kosher salt


Also have on hand a ball of kitchen twine or string, toothpicks, a meat mallet, saran wrap and a parchment - lined baking sheet.

Preheat the over to 375.

Lay out a large area of saran wrap. Place one pork tenderloin on the saran wrap and carefully cut it down the middle like a book, taking care not to cut all the way thru. Flatten the tenderloin and cover with saran wrap. Pound the tenderloin until it is a large flat piece of meat, about 1/4-1/2" inch thick. Remove the saran.

Cover the inside of the tenderloin with 4 slices of ham. If the slices are smaller, use more, but 4 large thin slices should be enough. Spread half the Dijon mustard across the ham. Lay half the spinach on top of the ham and sprinkle with half of the cheese. It looks like a big pile but it will compress when you roll it.

Starting at the wide end closest to you, carefully roll up the tenderloin, pushing the spinach and cheese into the middle. Secure the roll tightly in several places with twine. Secure the ends with a couple of toothpicks. The ham slices will act as "insulation" to prevent the cheese from melting out.

Sprinkle half of the herb mixture over the tenderloin and rub in all over. I rolled the tenderloin on the saran wrap with the herbs. Move the tenderloin to the baking sheet, seam side down.

Repeat with the other tenderloin.

Roast in the over for about 35 minutes, testing with a meat thermometer to the thickest part of the tenderloin. It should read 150-remove from oven, TENT the tenderloin with foil and allow to rest about 5 minutes. It will continue cooking and this allows the cheese time to set.

Carve and serve.

*save*

My Beef with Mother Nature

Well, here we are, another week and another snowy, icy, sleety morning. We must have really done something to piss off Mother Nature because she sure is punishing us with this "spring." Our temps are running 15-20 degrees below normal and while we have needed the moisture, we've had storms one right after another for almost 2 months.

We had sunshine all day yesterday which felt incredible, but it never got warmer than 40. We got out for the day and took a scenic ride over to the Mississippi river. We live about 40 minutes southwest of the river and it's very scenic, both driving over and the road that runs on the Minnesota and Wisconsin side. We started in Wabasha, home of Grumpy Old Men and The National Eagle Center.  The river was running a little high and very fast. There was still some ice and snow on the shaded banks, and the back pools were still icy, but the main river was open. None of the trees were budding yet and the grass is still brown.  We headed north to have lunch at Reads Landing Brewing Company in Reads Landing.  It's a very picturesque, very old brick storefront that has been lovingly restored with painted tin ceilings, exposed bricks and beams and a beautiful oak bar. After lunch we hopped the railroad tracks and walked to the river's edge. There were bald eagles, white pelicans, ducks, geese and herons.

We drove up to Lake City and wandered around an antique store that had once been a shell-button factory. Did you know there is a lake on the river? At a very wide spot, the river slows and Lake Pepin was created.   Then we drove to Red Wing, home of Red Wing pottery and Red Wing shoes.  It was a lovely day out and nice to get a big dose of Vitamin D and some fresh air!

We stopped at the grocery on the way home and burgers on the grill really sounded good. Our grocery was out of my favorite Thousand Hills ground beef, so I decided to take a leap and grind my own burger. I really hate grocery store ground beef-it's either too fatty, too watery, too mystery meat or is full of bone flecks. You never know how or where it was ground, or what all was thrown into the grinder. I managed to find my Kitchen Aid meat grinding attachment earlier in the week and figured this couldn't be too hard.  So I got a nearly 4 pound Angus bottom round roast, and came home and googled "grinding your own hamburger."

As predicted, it was almost too easy. I cut the roast into small pieces, laid them out on a parchment lined baking pan and put the pan in the freezer for 20 minutes to firm up the beef. I assembled the grinding attachment and started the grill.  After 20 minutes, I spent less than 5 working the beef through the grinder. It was not messy (the freezing locks the liquid into the meat so there's nothing runny or juicy) and the beef was this beautiful bowl of light fluffy ground beef. I lightly molded three patties, pressing a depression into the middle of each (when the meat cooks, it shrinks. Creating a depression in the middle prevents hockey puck burgers) and seasoned them with kosher salt, pepper and a light dusting of garlic powder.  The rest of the beef is waiting for Meatloaf Monday in the fridge.

Once the grill was ready, I popped them on, gave them 4 minutes, flipped them and let them finish. I lightly buttered a couple of split bakery buns, toasted those on the grill and when the burgers hit 145 (yes, I went medium) I pulled them and let them rest a few minutes while the cheese melted on them.
I sampled an unadorned bite first, and was really impressed with the lightness and tenderness of the burger. The flavor was incredibly beefy and rich and not greasy. The roast had minimal fat and I would say the ratio was close to 90/10. This was easily one of the best burgers I'd ever had. I particularly loved the control I had over the meat--knowing what went in, when it was made and how it was made.

I will be making my own ground meat from now on. I might even be tempted to make my own sausage--I can picture some pretty amazing homemade brat patties or breakfast sausage! While I'm not a food purist--I don't need to know every hill and dale my meat comes from, and  I read labels and buy minimally processed foods, we do enjoy an occasional box of Kraft Dinner.   I shop mindfully,  Living in Minnesota, it's difficult for 5 months out of the year to buy only local produce, unless we want to live on potatoes and rutabaga. I support local farmers when I buy happy free range chicken and eggs, local small pork producers and organic grass-fed beef.  It is more expensive, but the food tastes better and I would like to think the animals are happier and live more aligned to their nature. I've used CSA in the past, but with mixed result, the weather is unpredictable and it's an expensive investment in muddy under-developed produce. We tend to buy directly from the Farmer's Market instead where we can buy fresh meats and produce in one stop.

Looking out my back window, I'm reminded of the unpredictability of the weather. Since starting this post, we've picked up nearly an inch of snow.  HB just got up, walked to the window and muttered, "what the fuck."

I think that's as good as any ending for this post.

WOE DOOM DESPAIR!!!!

Sorry.

Just needed to let it out. The weather here is enough to turn a happy optimist into a chain-smoking emo chick with a bad Franzia habit and a notebook full of existential haiku.

Doom Woe Misery
No sun warmth light or green
Die Mother Nature Die

(Ok, so it's not technically a haiku. If you have one better, feel free to share it in the comments)

Goodness, we've had a lot of winter. It's sleeting-snowing-icing-Lord-knows-what outside. We haven't seen the sun in nearly 2 weeks.  It's April 14 and we still have winter snow piles in our front yard. We haven't had a day over 50 yet.  You thought I bitched about the weather in January?  Right. I now reserve the right to gripe. Enough is enough. None of our trees are budding, nothing is coming up yet, the grass is barely turning green. The only thing green is the moss growing on the north side of all our trees. Yeah, that's a real harbinger of spring.

I need to change the subject. This is way too depressing!

We had our big Catering Expo and Open House at work on Thursday. This is a huge house-wide dog and pony show that I organize and coordinate. We don't do it every year, the last one was in the fall of 2010.  Our catering numbers are down a little and we're finding we field a lot of questions from Admin assistants who are new so hosting a big event like this is a great way to showcase our services, our rooms, our food and our friendly service. 

OF COURSE, there was a terrible ice storm Thursday morning so schools were closed. Fortunately all of our staff made it in, but our attendance was affected about 15-20% from what we expected.  The feedback forms were all really positive and on Friday, our room reservation person said she was already getting calls for bookings.

I enjoy putting on big events, but it's always a huge relief when they're over and put away.  We had 9 different tables set up with place settings, centerpieces, color schemes and assorted rental items to showcase what we can do. Our sampling buffet included a couple of new salads, three hot entrees, a side dish and two desserts. There were other nibblies available in other rooms along the tour. When in doubt--feed people!

Didn't have time to do a lot of cooking this week, made a big batch of homemade chicken and noodles and had that several nights.  Last night I made spaghetti with an Italian sausage and zucchini sauce that was pretty good. Just brown half a pound of bulk hot Italian sausage til done and crumbly. Drain and wipe out the skillet. Add a little olive oil and saute a 4-5 coarsely chopped mushrooms, half a diced zucchini and a chopped wedge of red bell pepper til slightly softened. You can add onion and garlic if you wish. Add one jar of your favorite marinara sauce (I used Prego Heart Smart) and add the sausage back to the sauce and vegetables and simmer about 5 minutes. I added 1/2 t. Penzeys' Italian Herbs to this. Toss with spaghetti with some freshly grated Parmesan and a salad and you've got a nice easy dinner.

Today I'm making an Eye of Round Beef Roast. It's sitting out at room temperature right now tempering before I put it in a 500 degree oven. Then you immediately knock the temp back to 475 and roast it just 7 minutes a pound (mine's 4.8#) and then turn the oven off and let it sit in the hot oven for 2 or so hours. The reviews I've read on this method all rave so I'll let you know how it turns out.  I've had a taste for a good roast beef...with mashed taters and gravy. NUM!!

Here's hoping to fair weather, warm breezes and a change in attitude.

Forgotten But Not Gone!

No, I haven't given up on the noble cause of blogging or discussing food or weather...I've just been really busy!

My favorite time of day to write and ponder is early morning. I am up every day before 6, even on the weekends. I've always been wired to early day, even as a kid I'd get up insanely early to watch cartoons or read my books. Sunday mornings were an interesting mix of Davy and Goliath, Mass for Shut-ins and the Sunday funnies until my parents got up and got me moving for Church.

During the week, I'm almost always awake before the 5:48 alarm. I get up, let the dog out, get the coffee started, empty the dishwasher, let the dog in, turn on the fish tank light, and rifle through the mail. Most of the time I turn on the local news and sometimes I read the previous evening's paper.  I get most of that accomplished before 6:15. Some days I grind coffee, some days I clean the stove from the previous night's dinner mess and sometimes I start a load of wash.

Once my tasks are done, I snuggle up with a fresh first hot cup of coffee, spending 30 minutes checking email, the news headlines, hitting up the gossip columns, looking for recipe ideas and reading a few blogs.  By then, the life-giving caffeine has found my brain and the sparks are starting to spark and bright ideas are taking shape. Well, maybe not entirely bright ideas, those generally come to me in the shower, but at least the fog is lifting and I can be reasonably sure which way is up.

Most weekday mornings, my time is limited. I need to get moving by 6:30 and I'm generally out the door on the way to work within an hour. I'm busy thinking about what I'm going to wear, what I'm going to pick for HB's outfit (Yes, he lets me pick out his suit and tie every day. He scoops cat boxes--we're even.) and just how much discipline I'm going to mete out to get my hair to behave. In short, I don't have time to write in the mornings. By the time I get home in the evening,  I'm pretty fried and have already thunk all the great thoughts I'm going to think for the day.  I get dinner going, watch the news, eat, clean up and by then, it's nearly 8 and I need to play Words with My Neglected Friends and struggle to stay awake til bedtime! 

That leaves weekend mornings for spilling profound words of multiple syllables, however...the last two weekends, I've slept in. 

To sum up? I've blown off this blog for sleep.

Here's some of my life in the past two weeks:

I'm bummed The Walking Dead season is over.
I'm happy The Voice is back on.
Who knew Vikings were so hot?
There's actual grass showing in our yard.
There's a winter storm headed our way later this week.
We booked our holiday cruise. We are heading to Budapest for an 8 day cruise up the Danube to Vienna, Salzburg, Bratislava and maybe some time spent in Prague before coming home. Christmas Markets here we come!
Taxes. No need to elaborate.
Easter Ham. For a week. No more ham for a while. I'm feeling hamish.
My Uncle lost his struggle with Alzheimer's. Peace at last.
Mammogram completed. Freaked out over first ever call-back for a second set of scans.
All clear. Cried when the tech told me there was nothing on the second set of scans.
Felt like the weight of the world was lifted.
Bourbon chicken, cooked quickly in the slow cooker. Don't ask.
Dead goldfish. Belly up. RIP. (FIP? Float in Peace?)
Work drama. Defies understanding, but really ignites frustration.

There's more but that's enough for now.

More to come. Sometime. Soon.

Promise.

Through the Generations

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

What? It was last week? Are you sure?

Hmm, ok. Sorry about that! I've been really busy and fighting a persistent cold-not-quite-a-cold-not-allergies bug and time has gotten away from me.

My sense of time isn't helped by the never ending scenery outside my window. WINTER. SNOW. COLD. The only indication that spring is waiting impatiently in the wings for winter (the over-staying party guest) to leave, is the lengthening day light. And the birds are doing a lot more singing.

I did make the requisite corned beef, colcannon and Irish soda bread last week. I like to braise my corned beef in the oven, not simmered on the stove. It was good but salty. It was a new brand I've not had before and I should have soaked it in cold water for an hour or so before cooking.  Colcannon is an unholy marriage of sauteed cabbage, onions and mashed potatoes with a whole lot of butter, salt, pepper and freshly chopped parsley. I almost felt like I needed to go to Confession after that.

When I was a kid I spent almost 10 years in Irish dance class. Every Saturday and one night a week I'd head over to Mrs. McNamara's house where several kids were taking dance lessons and we'd learn new hornpipes, jigs, reels and line dances. My Mom made me a couple of dancing outfits, my favorite was a teal blue with elaborate embroidery on the circle skirt, chest and yellow shoulder cape which were designs from the Book of Kells.  I danced in the Chicago St. Pat's parade, a number of Irish bars and restaurants (Hackneys!) and after we moved from Chicago to Milwaukee, I danced in the Milwaukee Folk Fest, St. Pat's parade and at other venues. It was a lot of fun.  I also competed in several feis, (pronounced "fesh") which are dance competitions. I outgrew my favorite dress, got a job and lost interest as I moved through high school. I had friends in High School who continued their studies and one went on to do some professional dance work in the Irish dance community.

My Dad took great pride in being Irish. Ironically, he wasn't very Irish. He never knew his father's side of the family, he was the son of a single mother. He had spotty memories of their family and always referred to them as "Buckley" which is an Irish name. My Dad's last name (and mine) was an invention of sorts so my Grandmother could  protect herself from small-town ridicule when she had my Dad...she went from Miss Sorg to Mrs. Adams. Her beau's last name was Adams, but his mother's last name was Buckley. My Dad extrapolated that to his desire to be half-Irish. My Grandma was always very tight-lipped about my Dad's father's family and after she passed, we found very few papers related to his patronage. I know my Dad had always hoped to fill in the missing pieces of his family. His mother's family was German, full of rich names like Harkenrider, Sorg, Landstoffer and Martiney.

After my Mom died, my Dad's health slipped from precarious to dire to doomed. I was with him every single day for over 4 months and when you have that much time with someone, you start to look for things to do. I decided to spend some time researching his family history and through the magic of the Internet and Ancestry.com, I was able to introduce my Dad to his Grandfather and Grandmother, his aunts and uncles but unfortunately, not one of his own father. We discovered where the family lived, where his people came from and about the devout nature of their faith. (They were reform Ana-Baptists, closely related to the Amish in their beliefs but not necessarily adhering to their non-modern lifestyle.)  I was unable to find a photo of his own father, but my Dad was so happy to finally have found pieces to his family puzzle. He learned he bore a striking resemblance to his Grandfather.

My Dad learned that his family wasn't named Buckley, but rather, Buckey which is an Americanized version of the Franco-German Bouquet. One distant relative did hail from Northern Ireland, which pleased him. He learned he had a relative named for Abraham Lincoln. He had another that fought in the war of 1812. He had other relatives who were part of local militia who fought in the War of Independence and further back, discovered a relative who came to the Colonies from England and lived for a time in Plymouth before leaving to found a new community in New Jersey. 

More importantly, he learned that his mother and father weren't permitted to marry because of religious differences. I think my Dad always felt a sense of abandonment, that his father walked away from he and his mother.  My Dad was raised more by his Grandma Mary and for the first few years, Grandpa Mike as his mother worked at the local dairy as a butter stamper. Grandpa Mike died when my dad was almost 6, he'd owned a ditch-digging business and the Depression had been very hard on them. He had a massive stroke one day and that was it. My Dad said he could remember blazing rows between Grandma Mary and the "other" family when they would come to visit, Grandma Mary saying "no one was going to take her Baby Joey away from them!"  Grandma Mary was the oldest of 11 children and no doubt, fiercely protective of her own.

My Dad always said I reminded him of Grandma Mary. I have her sense of humor, her love of food and cooking and no-nonsense approach to life. I never had the chance to meet her, she passed away less than a year before I was born. My Dad sat with her in the hospital as she lay dying. He said she'd had a ruptured appendix and she died from sepsis. She would have been in her early '80s, and up until that time, had never been sick a day in her life.  I have a number of her keepsakes, her china hutch from the 1906 Sears catalogue, her wind-up mantle clock, her own Grandmother's immigrant trunk.  They have always felt familiar to me, as if I'd had been the one to pick them out and use them.

When I researched Mary and Mike's sides of the family, (Harkenrider, Sorg, Landstoffer, Martiney) I discovered the families originated in the French-German area known as Alsace-Lorraine and the Black Forest. Hmmm, that explains my love of Black Forest Torte, Quiche Lorraine, beer, wine, pork in every form and cheese!!

As HB and I were exploring options for a vacation this year, we were looking at a trip to Alaska with some friends who are also celebrating their 10 year anniversary. We discussed all of our day trips and activities and while we would like to see Alaska someday, we just couldn't find enough enthusiasm to engage in activities that either make us seasick, car sick or suffer crippling vertigo. So we started talking about going to Europe. After all the ancestry research, I'm now familiar with names such as Strasbourg and Kehl and Colmar and the Rhine.  We've decided to go on a winter river cruise down the Rhine from Amsterdam to Basel.  It intrigues me to no end to know that what goes around comes around. Hopefully somewhere long the way I'll have a chance to tread lightly on my homeland and feel the spirit of my long-ago relatives in the air.

Trial Through Fire Sale

I have a post started and it's sitting in draft mode. I don't know what or how to say what I want to say, so it's easier (lazier) to just leave it sit. My Mom's birthday was Friday, yesterday was the 2nd anniversary of her passing and I have so much I want to share but have hit a wall. It's not an emotional wall, so much as a concrete creative block. I wanted to write about some recipes, the weather, some work stuff, but it just seems kind of trite in light of these anniversaries.

Yesterday passed without much effort. Friday passed without much effort as well.  I have learned in two years that the anticipation of the "big events" is far greater than the emotions that come on the actual days.

I have no intention of turning this blog into a doom and gloom sympathy and grief blog. I enjoy (and hope you do to) reading about recipes, cooking and other random observations. But my experience two years ago was so earth-shaking and world-rocking that it's very hard to tease it out and ignore it. It doesn't help that this is the window of time where everything went to hell and there are so many triggers that ignoring the elephant in the room just leaves me stepping in what the elephant leaves.

My Mom would have been proud of me yesterday. I enjoyed a marathon shopping trip to Kohls. I used my 30% off bonus, $10 coupon for men's wear and scored a boatload of Kohls Bucks.

Kohs was one of her absolute favorite stores, living in Milwaukee during the early days of Kohls department stores. She always took great pride in finding great deals, 30% off, senior discounts, Kohls bucks--she would joke they had to pay her to take merchandise out of their store. When I first moved to Rochester, my Mom was distraught to discover we didn't have a Kohls. She sent several letters to corporate and lobbied hard. Of course when it was announced a Kohls would be opening, she assumed full responsibility.

In the days before her death, HB and I went to the Kohls up the street from their house so I could take a little break. When I'd run home to be with my Mom for her last doctor's visit, I had only packed clothing for a few days. Little did I know I'd still be there two weeks later, facing the end of her life and subsequent funeral with only a pair of jeans and a few tops.  Walking in the front door I started feeling this oppressive weight bearing down on me, almost to the point of a physical burden on my shoulders. HB headed off to look in the men's department and I browsed through clothing. My heart wasn't in shopping, but I tried to focus on finding a few things. 

HB and I met up in the center aisle and wandered over to housewares. As hard as I tried to stay focused and just enjoy a little freedom from the dread of what was coming and the stress of caring for my terminally ill Mom, I was having sneaking thoughts drifting through my mind like the smell of smoke and you can't pinpoint where it's coming from.

Mom will never shop here again. You'll never hear her talk about her great deals again. She loved Kohls. She's dying. You are going to be a motherless daughter.  You will never see her again. Oh my God.

Up until this point, I'd handled the news of her terminal situation, agreeing to care for her at home in her final days and scrambling to finalize POA and other end of life issues without tears. It happened so quickly and so matter-of-factly that I guess I hadn't been in any condition other than shock. I am a strong person and needed to be strong. My Mom was dying, my Dad was in terrible shape and needed me and I shoved my own emotions aside just to muscle through. Apparently the months of worry and weeks of concern and days of dread finally snowballed into an avalanche.

Without warning,  and without any ability to control myself, I burst into tears. There comes a point where emotions well up and take over and you are absolutely powerless to control them. There I was standing between Rachel Ray Pans and Calphalon, completely losing myself to hysterics. HB was a few rows down and took one look at me and came running.  Other customers eyed me, probably wondering why anyone would cry over a sale.

HB asked what was wrong and how do you explain something so random as my Mom will never shop at Kohls again?, when in truth my Mom is dying and I can't stop it. I am facing a life without the one person who was always there for me, always my greatest champion, the one person who could hold a mirror up to me and my life and tell me what I needed to hear even if I didn't want to hear it. My Mom, who battled 6 years of infertility to have me. My Mom, who fought so hard to be a good Mom to me in spite of her own horrible upbringing and her Mother's abuse. This complicated, prickly, difficult woman who gave me life and helped me be a strong powerful smart woman was leaving me and I wasn't ready to let her go. My Mom, who frustrated me beyond words, but whom I knew loved me more than life itself was going away and I would never see her again, never hear her voice again, never share another thing with me and who would never be there for me again. And she would never shop at Kohls again.

I was afraid I'd be banned for life from Kohls. It's bad for business when someone is hysterically losing it in housewares. I felt like a complete idiot. Maybe that's why I need to share so much of this here, in my blog. That my feeling like an idiot, My Mom will never shop at Kohls again...while kind of random, is a way of dealing with something much greater and much more frightening. Getting it out here validates what I went through, remembers he story and gives me a place to share something that I didn't have anyone to share with at the time.

There's no dramatic ending to the story. HB held me while I cried. I dried my tears. I made a purchase and we went home.  I didn't tell my Mom about my meltdown. She didn't need to know. I know she was worried about me, but I was strong for her.  She had given me the gift of caring for her and I needed to continue honoring that with courage.

My receipt from yesterday reads, "You saved $745.12"  I'd like to think somewhere, my Mom is laughing and thinking I could have done better.

A+ Chicken Tetrazzini Presented Without Words. Ha!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yum yum!

 

(Ok, I do have a few words. I like fresh mushrooms and sauteed 8 oz of sliced fresh mushrooms in with 8 diced sauteed chicken thighs (with olive oil.) I sauteed the green pepper in the butter for the sauce. I reduce the amount of butter to 5 T instead of 8. I also realized after I started that my lonely lemon went bad, so I subbed white wine (always a winner!) for the lemon. You just need a little acid to cut all the fat. I imagine a dash of cider vinegar would work too. You could also use rotisserie chicken from the market. I had thawed thighs and went with that.

 

This recipe halves easily. But why? Leftovers are so tasty!

 

*Edited to add: If you click on the photos they will enlarge. That way you can view (and copy!) the recipe. It's hard to see in the smaller viewing format of the blog page.

 

Short and Sweet and Tangy

Nothing like a big cliffhanger then a week of radio silence, huh?

Sorry about that. This week has been crazy insane busy and I haven't had time to come up a suitable continuation of the story. I'll get back to it at some point. Here's a quick short post to hold you over until I have time to get to the bigger posts.

We dodged the BIG SNOW that plagued much of the Midwest and east coast this week. My folk's house in Milwaukee got dumped on, as much as we could tell from our security cameras. Glad we weren't there, it looked really heavy and wet. We still have quite a bit of snow lingering here but the days are getting longer and the sun is a lot warmer.

This time of year makes me antsy for spring and summer and flowers and gardening and green and flowers and the good summer smells...so I tend to splurge and buy fresh flowers to brighten up my kitchen. We have a Trader Joes in town and they sell really nice long-lasting cut flowers for crazy cheap. Last weekend I picked up a bouquet of alstroemeria and some Asian lilies for under $10. I took some pics of them with my hipstamatic phone app and they turned out pretty good.

 

I shot these against the blue-green wall in our laundry room.

 

 

This is closer to their true color without the hue mixing in hisptamatic. Nice dose of pink for dreary end of winter, don't you think?

 

I also worked on curing my winter-blues-cabin-fever with a tiny bit of retail therapy. I got an email from Coach saying they were having a big sale! Who am I to say no to a good deal?

Mama's got a brand new bag.

 

These guys have been hanging out all week. The other morning there were 8 in the woods. I am so excited for all the new little fawns who are going to be nibbling and chomping their way through my hostas this summer. And herb gardens and annual beds and veggies and and and. NOT. They are fun to watch but it's hard not to google "venison recipes..."

(And I just re-read this post and it looks like I'm shilling for fun and profit. I'm not. I'm just lazy and don't feel like typing "famous uppity organic grocery story" and "famous uppity handbag company..."

We don't have big plans for the weekend. I don't know that we have plans at all. We were incredibly lazy last weekend and I never left the house on Sunday. Sometimes that's good enough.  I did make some interesting recipes, last Friday I whipped up some veggie and shrimp and veggie egg rolls. I used a different recipe and I won't be using it again. The original recipe that I like calls for a little cornstarch to be mixed in with the vegetable mixture prior to stuffing the wrappers. This one didn't and I found the steam and liquid from the veggies caused the oil to splatter like there was no tomorrow. It was so bad I had to cook one egg roll at a time.  The cornstarch binds the liquid just enough to prevent that.  I also made my Mom's A+ Chicken Tetrazzini. It's delicious but it it makes a lot and is really rich. (Lots 'o butter and half and half. OOF)  I also made Crazy Chocolate Cake which is fun and easy. I took pictures and at some point I'll post them here.

In the meantime, if you're looking for an easy crock pot recipe, try this recipe for BBQ Beef. My chef here at work gave it to me and I love it. The sauce is very loose, more like au jus than thick BBQ sauce but the flavor is outstanding.

Chef Eric's BBQ Beef

 

 

3-4 Pound Beef Roast, preferably chuck or bottom round. If it's more than 3" thick, cut into two smaller pieces.

 

1 large onion cut into rings

1 Bottle Chili Sauce

1 pound light brown sugar

2 c. low salt/no salt beef stock/broth

1 small can diced green chilies-undrained

3 T your favorite BBQ spice blend (Weber makes a good sweet tangy BBQ blend)

 

Lay the onion rings in the bottom of the crock pot.

Rub the beef on all sides with the BBQ spice blend. Any leftover spice blend can be used in the sauce.

Put the beef on top of the onions.

In a bowl combine the chili sauce, brown sugar, broth, chilies and remaining spice blend. Mix well and pour over the beef.

Cover and cook on low for 8 hours or on medium for 5-6. Do not remove the cover during cooking.

 

Carefully remove the beef from the liquid. Shred and set aside.

Carefully strain the cooking liquid into a mesh strainer and reserve the liquid. Discard the solids.

Serve the shredded beef on toasted hard rolls with a drizzle of the au jus and serve au jus on the side to dip. These are sweet, tangy and delicious.

*Edited to add: there is nothing wrong with the solids, you are welcome to reserve them and use them as a condiment on the sandwich. Neither HB nor I can eat onions of any quantity so I just strain them out as they don't have much flavor left after cooking for hours.



The Beginning of the End

Thank you to those of you who took the time to read my past posts and were kind enough to comment. I appreciate your support and hope that somehow my experiences can help others through difficult times. Or at least help you whip up something tasty!

In the summer of 2010, my Mom had some random back and flank pain. She was 76 years old and aside from osteoarthritis, was in good health. She visited her doctor and was given antibiotics for a bladder infection. She felt better but couldn't shake some new shortness of breath and the persistent nagging pain in her back and side. My folks visited us over the 4th of July holiday and she and I had a really fun day out hitting the garden centers, having lunch and enjoying each other's company.  During our day out she often needed to sit and catch her breath and chalked it up to more activity than normal. With her knees and back arthritis, she often needed to slow down and give her joints a chance to quiet.  We enjoyed their visit and made plans to get together in the fall at their house. My Dad had been approved for a new treatment for his chronic prostate cancer and needed to be close to home for several weeks during the treatment.

On Sept. 11, HB and I flew out to California for a 2 week vacation. We started out in his old stomping grounds of Orange County and needed to visit Riverside to finish some details of his mother's estate. We then headed up the 101 with plans to drive the coast all the way to Seattle. Along the way we'd meet up with groups of friends and his daughter and her partner. On day 6 of our trip, we were having dinner in Monterrey, and my phone rang. It was my Dad, my Mom had gone in for a follow up appointment related to her bladder infection and her doctor ordered a chest x-ray and she was immediately ordered into admission to the hospital. She had something suspicious in her lungs and erring on the side of caution her doctor wanted her admitted for further tests. She was feeling ok, anxious and ready for answers. We offered to cut our vacation short, but both of my parents said NO, just go have fun.

We spoke to them every day. My Mom was frustrated and concerned. My Dad was exhausted and worried. Her doctors weren't telling her anything, just ordering more tests. She finally put up a huge fuss and was discharged on day 8 with orders to undergo two more tests before her doctors would give her any answers. She had asked one of her nurses to review her records and write down every test she'd had from blood work to aspirations to x-rays. We were back home and ready to go visit. She insisted she was fine and that we should get back to work and come the following weekend.

I can't remember the words but I remember the feeling. My Dad sent me an email at work saying, "We are home from the doctor, call us."  I called. I don't know if dread sneaks up on you or if it is there all along or if it comes rushing over you like a hard wind, but all at once, I wanted to throw up, shit my pants and pass out. I knew it was going to be bad news. My Mom had already beaten breast cancer 15 years earlier, had already lost 2 sisters to breast cancer, lost her mother to breast cancer and had coached my cousin through her treatment for breast cancer.  I wasn't surprised when they said she had breast cancer. I wasn't surprised when they said it was in the same location but a different cancer from her previous illness. I was completely unprepared for the rest; stage 4, advanced metastases, 5% chance of survival, it is as bad as you can image and worse.

My Mom was on one phone and couldn't talk, she had my Dad, on another line, give me the news. He was quiet. I couldn't breath. I couldn't inhale. I couldn't exhale. I wasn't holding my breath, I was just incapable of movement. Any movement, in or out, would have meant making a sound and I couldn't make a sound because I knew that sound would be something that I couldn't control. My Dad asked if I was still there I was so quiet. I finally said yes, how are you? How is Mom?  Shocked, not surprised. Resigned. Considering options. Have an appointment with an oncologist. When are you coming?

Unfortunately that weekend I came down with a horrible cold and didn't want to expose my Mom to my illness so I stayed home. By the following weekend, she'd gotten a care and treatment plan, knew more about her cancer and was ready for me to come home and help out. My Dad and I spent that beautiful Saturday out working in the yard, raking, taking down annuals, running limbs and leaves to the dump and enjoying the last warm sunny day of fall. He needed to take several breaks, but at 79 with 12 years of intermittent treatment for chronic prostate cancer, he was slowing down as well. I cooked and cleaned. My Mom and I got out and went to Kohls, her favorite store for scoring great deals. She was subdued and sarcastic, her go-to behavior when tense and nervous. She didn't want to deal with chemo. She didn't want to lose her hair. She didn't want to be sick. She didn't want to die.

Within two weeks, she started chemo. She was surprised at how well she tolerated it. She had three weeks off and then a second treatment. She had her head shaved when her hair began falling out in clumps. She bought a cheap wig but never wore it. She was tired but hopeful and feeling surprisingly well.  We made plans to go to their home for Thanksgiving. Unbeknown to us, my Dad wasn't feeling well.

When we arrived on Wednesday before Thanksgiving, both of my folks were under blankets in their recliners in their family room. Neither got up to welcome us.  My Dad said he was fighting a cold with a bad cough and my Mom was feeling wiped out and tired.

Thanksgiving was quiet. I made a small turkey and all the fixings and we enjoyed a quiet meal. I think we knew this was going to be my Mom's last Thanksgiving and I was determined to make everything traditional and familiar and comfortable. My Dad was still coughing and feeling lousy but insisting it was just a cold. He spent the night in his recliner, insisting he breathed easier sitting up rather than laying down. I believed him.

On Friday, my Mom and I got out in the afternoon for a little bit. We had no desire to tackle the Black Friday sales, but she needed to get to the pharmacy and wanted to take a slow walk through the grocery for a change of scenery. We'd called my Dad's doctor and after several messages with the service, finally spoke to someone who suggested he start antibiotics to help knock back his cough. He was feeling very weak and uncomfortable and I was worried he was developing pneumonia. He spent Friday night in his recliner.

I got up early on Saturday morning and my Dad was awake. He was complaining that he hadn't slept well, was up using the bathroom several times and was really full of congestion. He asked me to help put his slippers on as bending over made him cough. When I pulled the blanket off his feet, I looked at his feet and knew in an instant his problem wasn't a cold. His feet, ankles and lower legs were so swollen there was no definition between the parts. Even the arches of his feet were swollen to the point of having no arch. I looked at him and said, we need to get you to the hospital. He asked why. I said, you are having heart failure. All the fluid in your body has pooled in your feet and your heart can't pump it back up. He agreed to let me take him to the hospital, but we soon realized he was unable to get up and walk on his own. I got HB up and my Mom was up and we were able to help him realize the seriousness of his condition and I called 9-11. The ambulance was at our door in five minutes and within 30 they had my Dad with HB following, on the way to the hospital.

I need to refill my coffee and the sun is now up. I don't mean to jar you back to 2013 so abruptly, but I think this is far enough in the story to take a break.  I need to take some time to digest all of this-I haven't thought much about those early days in a while. So much happened, so quickly, so soon after, that the early days are easily forgotten.

My parents were married 57 years and their lives were entwined early in childhood in their small Indiana town. It is reasonable to expect their ends would also be entwined and connected. The weekend of their wedding anniversary, Oct. 1, they renewed their vows before their congregation. That was the weekend I was home sick with a bad cold. I wanted to be there, but my Mom said,  you weren't there for the first one, you don't need to be here for the last.

Dancing to their song; At Time Goes By at our wedding in 2003.

Culinary Throwback

Growing up in Chicago, one of my favorite places to go for dinner was a place called Hackney's on Lake. Hackney's is an old family restaurant, still in existence with several locations in the Chicago area. They were always really busy and my Dad would put our name in and we'd sit waiting for our name to be called.

Hackney's has an Irish theme, and the restaurant on Lake has several dining rooms. When your name was called over the loud speaker, it was announced with a dining room destination. I can still remember being so intrigued by all the names of the dining rooms...they sounded so mysterious and exotic! I always hoped we'd be called to the Shillelagh Room because I loved how it sounded. Sheh-Lay-La Room. Like Shangri La.

Hackney's is famous for their Hackney burger and their loaves of fried onions.  A loaf of fried onions were very thinly sliced onions, tossed in very light batter, packed into a deep fryer basket (which is shaped like a loaf), fried and turned out onto a plate with paper towels and served in all it's greasy glory. We'd get a half-loaf and I can still remember my Dad groaning in pleasure as he dug in.

A Hackney's burger is a half-pound beast, grilled and topped with sauteed onions, a slice of American cheese on their homemade dark pumpernickel rye. They are the stuff of legends. They are the stuff of dreams.

Given that we live about 6 hours from the nearest Hackney's, I have to get my fix somehow.

Last night I made Hackney burgers. (I skipped the onion loaf--it seemed gastrointestinally prudent.)
Here's the recipe; enjoy. (And we ate them all up before I took pictures! Use your imagination!)

My Version of Hackney's Burgers

 



This makes enough for 3-1/3 pound hamburgers. We each ate one and HB has one extra for lunch this week.

1 pound of good quality hamburger-80/20 mix. I use Thousand Hills Beef from Minnesota
1 Medium Sweet or Red onion, thinly sliced
3 T Vegetable or Olive Oil
Kosher Salt
Sharp Cheddar American Cheese
Dark Pumpernickel Bread (I like Pepperidge Farm)

You will need two skillets, one preferably should be cast iron.

In the non-cast iron skillet, heat 2 T of the oil and add the onions. Saute over medium heat, stirring frequently until lightly browned. Sprinkle lightly with kosher salt, turn down heat and continue to saute on very low heat until soft and caramel colored. Stir frequently but carefully not to break down the onions as they soften.

Meanwhile, begin preheating the cast iron skillet.

Open the beef package and do not handle the beef! If you have a one pound package, using a sharp knife, cut the beef into three equal-sized portions.  Carefully flatten to 1/2" thickness, smoothing edges. Make a large indentation in the center, which leaves it thinner in the middle than on the sides. This helps prevent your burger from becoming a hockey puck! Overworking ground beef results in tough burgers--just flatten. Sprinkle each burger with a generous sprinkle of kosher salt. Shape the burger in an oblong shape to match the bread.

Add 2-3 additional T of vegetable oil to the cast iron skillet and swirl. Add the burgers. They will sizzle!  Leave on medium high heat to caramelize the beef. Cook about 3 minutes and gently turn the burgers. If they stick, leave them another minute..they will release when they are ready to turn. Cook on second side about 4 minutes. Turn once again and cook another 2-3 minutes until an internal temperature of 155 degrees. (If you don't have one, get an instant read stick thermometer. They are the cheapest way to avoid E coli.) Remove from heat.

Top each burger with equal portions of the sauteed onions and top with 1 1/2 slices of American cheese. Allow to rest a minute or two to melt the cheese and relax the burger. Serve on the pumpernickel bread with ketchup and large sliced kosher dill pickles.

These are the best burgers you will ever have. Promise.

Beef! It's What's for Dinner!

I'm sorry that last post was such a downer. I should post spoiler warnings when I'm in a funk!  I haven't entirely processed the experience of caring for my parents with their rapid decline and deaths and I will probably use this place as a way to give myself a chance to offload some of the burden. I think when you share an experience with others (at the time of the experience) you create a language between you that helps ease the weight of it all. Aside from my husband, who for the most part needed to stay home and work while I cared for my folks at their home 300 miles away, I had no one to share the experience with. So I internalized much of it and just soldiered on, and now, two years later, many of the memories and less obvious emotions are simmering to the surface.  Two years later, it feels really random to discuss this stuff with friends, they don't know what to say, I'm sure they're thinking "it's time to move on"  or "we have our own issues..." so here, in my little confessional, I can let it out.  Bear with me, it's just something I need to do.

On a brighter note, the days are getting longer and it feels like spring is waiting patiently for winter to pack her bags and move on.  It's still cold, the threat of snow and ice will be around for another 2-3 months but the sun is warmer, the days are longer and there's less winter ahead now than behind us. I think when you live less north than Minnesota or other northern states, you don't notice the earth's angle to the sun as dramatically. Up here, on June 26, we have almost 18 hours of daylight. On December 26, we have less than 10. I have a window in my office that overlooks a hallway that overlooks an outside window. There are four weeks each year, two in the spring, two in the fall, where the sun's angle hits metal flashing on the roof of the building across the street that fires laser beans of sunlight into my office and nearly blinds me. I have to close my blinds the beams are so strong! That day is coming fast!

Despite my yearnings for spring, I still cook like it's winter. As promised, I'm going to share my Wine Braised Beef recipe with you. This is a recipe that my Mom used to make, my only riff on it is that I use shallots instead of onions and wine instead of all broth.  It's delicious and a really flexible recipe (as I'll describe late) that can be changed to suit your tastes and pantry stock!  This is a great recipe to have in your arsenal. You can really dazzle friends and family with this one.

Wine Braised Beef

 

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Remove middle rack to make room for dutch oven or large oven proof pan with a tight fitting lid that needs to sit in the bottom 1/4 of the oven.

 

Olive Oil

4 pounds boneless Beef Chuck Roast (The one pictured in this recipe was 4 1/2 pounds)

1/3 cup Flour mixed with 1 teaspoon ground Black Pepper

1 large Shallot, chopped in 1/4 dice (You can sub one small onion and 3 large garlic cloves)

3 Bay Leaves

2 T Worcestershire Sauce

1 bottle Red Wine (Inexpensive is great. I used Shiraz. It's excellent with Burgundy, Merlot, Cabernet)

3 cups Beef Stock or Broth (low sodium)

For the sauce later:

Kosher Salt

2 T Butter

1 pound Mushrooms, thickly sliced

2 T flour

 

Prepare the meat: Cut the roast into three equal pieces. Cut away any large solid bands of fat, but leave the inner marbling and some smaller pieces. The rind of fat around the outside is not necessary to the end result of this dish other than making the gravy greasy. 

 

In a cast-iron Dutch oven or other large heavy oven-proof pan with a tight fitting lid, heat enough olive oil to cover the bottom of the pan. I used about 4 T of olive oil. I do this over medium heat until I am ready to brown the meat, then I turn it to high. I will adjust the heat as needed during the browning process.

 

Mix the flour and black pepper together and dredge the beef pieces in the flour, coating all the sides including the cut sides. Knock off the excess flour.

 

When a drop of water skitters in the pan, add your beef--but do it in batches. Crowding the beef in the pan will steam it and not brown it. This is a messy process as the beef and oil spatter! (I hate cleaning up a mess so I covered my stove with foil ahead of time!) Be patient--there is chemistry going on here! When the meat is sufficiently browned, it will release itself from the bottom of the pan and will be easy to turn! Using tongs flip the meat and brown all the sides including the edges. If the meat sticks, give it a little more time.  When browned, remove the meat to a plate, add more olive oil to your pan as needed and repeat til all your meat is well browned and resting on a plate.

 

Turn the heat to medium and add more olive oil if necessary (you may not need it) and saute the shallots (or onion and garlic) until just lightly browned. You just want to give them a little color. Scrape up as much of the browned bits on the bottom as possible! That's the good stuff!

 

When your shallots (or onion and garlic) are lightly browned, turn off the heat and push the shallots to the middle of the pan and add your beef pieces back in around them. Pour any accumulated juices from the plate into the pan.

Here's when you have to eyeball a little! You will want to add a 2 to 1 ratio of wine to broth to the pan. Depending on the thickness of your beef--you want to add enough wine and broth to JUST come to within 1/2 " of the top edge of the beef.  You do not want to fully cover or immerse your beef in liquid--just enough to almost come to the top. I used about 3/4 of the bottle of wine and 1 cup or so of broth.

 

Add the Bay Leaves and Worcestershire Sauce and give the pan a hearty sprinkle of freshly cracked pepper. Cover and put in the preheated oven. Sit back and let the magic happen for about 3 hours. After three hours, carefully remove the lid (watch for steam!) and test your meat for doneness. A large fork or thin knife inserted into the thickest part of the meat should go in easily or the meat should pull apart with little resistance. If it's still a little firm or resistant, cover and give it another 45-60 minutes.  That should be plenty of time! This is the hard part because your house is going to smell insanely good and you have to be patient and WAIT for dinner!

 

Remove the pan from the oven and carefully lift the beef out of the liquid and put on a rimmed dish and cover with foil. Set aside.

 

CAREFULLY pour the cooking liquid into a mixing bowl. The narrower the bowl the easier it will be to skim the accumulated fat off the top.  Set aside and allow to cool.

 

Over medium heat, add the butter to the pan. When it's melted and sizzling, add the mushrooms and saute until lightly browned. Sprinkle 2 T flour over the mushrooms and stir to remove any lumps. When the flour is incorporated, add the remaining bottle of wine and another 1 cup of beef stock or broth. Bring to a full boil, stirring constantly to prevent sticking and clumping about 5 minutes. This will reduce the wine and thicken the gravy. When the gravy is thickened, reduce heat to the lowest warm setting. 

 

Returning to the saved pan sauce, carefully skim any accumulated fat off the top. Remove the bay leaves. You can strain the pan sauce if you wish, I like to leave the little bits. Add the pan sauce to the mushroom gravy. Taste the gravy. This is when you'd add a generous sprinkle of kosher salt to taste.

 

Place meat on a cutting board and cut into serving sizes. You can serve this with mashed potatoes, rice, polenta or as I did, with parsley buttered egg noodles. You can add the meat back into the gravy or as I did, put the noodles in a large bowl, add the beef to the side and drizzle the whole bowl with the wine mushroom sauce. It was succulent and delicious.

 

This keeps well and you can reheat it in the gravy. You can also create a lovely beef stew by steaming carrots and green beans and adding that to the beef and gravy as a change for leftovers.

 

 

You can also use beer instead of wine, onions and garlic instead of shallots and you can add thyme or rosemary along with the bay. I wanted something straightforward and classic.

 

 

You can see my foil protection! And look at that browned goodness! You know that stuff that sticks to the bottom of the pan that gives everything such a great flavor?

That's called fond. I think it's because we're so fond of it!

 

You don't need to cook your shallots past this point--just gently sauteed.

 

Add the liquid just to within 1/2" of the top of the meat.

 

 

 

YUM YUM YUM

 

 

This sauce is fantastic. Savory and little tangy from the wine.

 

MMMMMMM

Make this, it's good!!!