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.
Saturday, March 23, 2013
Sunday, March 10, 2013
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.
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.
Saturday, March 2, 2013
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.
Friday, March 1, 2013
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.
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.
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.
(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.
*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.
Saturday, February 23, 2013
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.
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.
Sunday, February 17, 2013
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!)
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.
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.
Saturday, February 16, 2013
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.
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.
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!!!
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