A kale call

Feeling a non-specific malaise, possibly due to looming predictions of rain and real fall weather, I decided I needed a nutritional boost and chose to get it from kale. This peasant green is at the forefront in many blogs and foodie magazines recently, but I happen to have it in my garden this year. It emerged unbidden as a volunteer, not in great profusion but doing well enough that in spite of a couple of cuttings its growth has continued. In years past I swore by Siberian kale, a non-curly type from Territorial Seeds that returned several years as a volunteer. This returning variety is curly. We haven't yet had the frosts that encourage the nutty notes that emerge or witnessed its renaissance in early spring when it rebounds with restorative fervor. An admission of neglect rather than aspirations of foodiness caused me to decide it was time for a little pruning. Using the scissors, I made a swath in the teeming undergrowth now known as my garden patch. It yielded two large stems of kale with all their leaves (more remain for another day), plus a few stray rainbow chard and beet greens, two baby zucchini, (one yellow, one green), and some herbs. Two large sprigs each of basil and lemon thyme, plus a little marjoram and some chives were brought in the house with the mess of greens. I chiffonaded the kale with scissors, putting the pile into my enamel dutch oven and adding about 3/4 of a cup of low-fat, low salt chicken broth (the pan was half full until until the kale diminished in the heat). I chopped up about 1/4 pound of low-fat ham rescued from the freezer and added the chopped summer squash and herbs, covering the dutch oven tightly after adding 1 tsp. dried garlic bits and about the same amount of dried onion, as well as a dash of Worchestershire sauce and 1/4 cup of dry white wine. Letting it simmer, I put three cups of water in a heavy saucepan with a 1/2 tsp. of salt and brought it to a boil, adding a half pound of whole grain penne. When it was still al dente (about 6 minutes in), I drained it, leaving a spoonful or two of water. I added most of the cooked kale mixture to the dutch oven, greatly shriveled, plus a sprinkle of smoked paprika, 1/4 pound of low-fat cream cheese and a small chunk (one or two ounces) of colby jack, which I stirred into the penne on the burner after the heat was off, adding at the last second a bit of grated parmesan. After a minute of melding on the plate, it was pretty awesome. I gave it about 45 seconds in the microwave when a third of the way into my lunch I was distracted by a phone call. That only seemed to improve it. I don't know yet about the effects of the vitamin boost, but it was what I needed.

Green, green, it's green they say...

Craving something spicy, I made a batch of chicken enchiladas. There are certain things I cannot do without, and food with a kick is at the top of that short list. Our local store is now occasionally carrying unexpected produce including tomatillos and jalapenos, and at reasonable prices, too. Here's my usual enchilada assemblage: Roast a pound of tomatillos in their husks with one or two jalapeno peppers under the broiler in the toaster oven, turning them as they get a little brown and crispy on each side. Don't completely char them. An outdoor grill is great for this, if you have it fired up. Alternatively, I have roasted them on a long-handled fork directly over the burner, especially peppers, but put on the exhaust fan to avoid fumes and the resulting smoke alarm racket. I close them in paper lunch sack and let them steam and cool a bit. Briefly saute one chopped yellow onion and three diced cloves of garlic in a little oil in a heavy-bottomed sauce pan. Crush 1 teaspoon of whole cumin seed in your hand and add to the pot with 1/2 tsp. dried oregano. Peel and chop the tomatillos and peppers. Do not wash them after peeling --- you want that charred taste. If you don't like as much heat, remove the pepper seeds and internal membranes and discard. Add 1/2 cup of chicken or vegetable broth to the pan with the chopped tomatillos and peppers and simmer. After the tomatillos become more translucent, take the pan off the burner and use an immersion blender or place the mixture in a kitchen blender and turn it into sauce. Add 2 T. chopped fresh cilantro and set aside. (By the way, you now have a green salsa that can also grace tortilla chips or tacos.) Cut 3 partially thawed skinless, boneless frozen chicken breasts into smallish chunks, season, and saute briefly until some browning occurs, but don't cook them through. Set aside. Open a can of black beans and drain. Do not rinse. Chop 3 scallions, saving the green tops for later. Grate 1/2 pound pepper jack cheese and 1/2 pound mild cheddar (if you have cotijo-type Mexican farmers cheese, you can crumble it and use it in place of the cheddar.) Sometimes, I use long thin slices of cheese rather than grated. If you have deli sliced cheese, cut it into strips. Open a small can of sliced or chopped olives and drain. Meanwhile, spray a large rectangular baking dish --- I prefer glass or enameled cast iron --- and begin your assembly. I like handmade-style corn tortillas from La Tortilla Factory, which have some wheat in them and are more flexible than machine-made corn tortillas, which tend to break up. Rather than dipping them in the sauce or heating them in a little oil before rolling them up, I heat them briefly in the microwave about 30 seconds, one at a time on a plate. When I lived in San Francisco, I went to a "Mexicatessen" in the Mission District that made tortillas de mano, purchased while warm and pliable. Place a row of chicken pieces in the center of the warmed tortilla. Spoon some sauce over the chicken, add a sprinkle of scallion rounds, a spoon or two of black beans, some grated cheese and a few pieces of olive. Roll and place in the baking dish with seam side down. Pack each rolled tortilla tightly next to its neighbor until the pan is full. (This usually makes enough for one more square pan of enchiladas; they often go straight into the freezer to be enjoyed another day). Spoon sauce over the top to moisten. Sprinkle on copious cheese and a few chopped green scallions. Bake at 375 for about 35-40 minutes, or until it's bubbling and the cheese has browned a little. Let the pan rest five minutes before serving. Variations: Sometimes I use cooked rice in place of beans. One year when frost hit my garden early, I used hard little green tomatoes as a tomatillo substitute. They don't have quite the right acidity, but they worked. Also, a couple of tablespoons of green mole paste can be added to the sauce while blending. If so, add another 1/4 cup of chicken broth, beer or white wine for the right consistency. Leftovers can be frozen or heated in the microwave; they are even better.

Summer Abundance, Continued

A former dear neighbor showed up this morning as we were about to leave for town. She was a bit early to leave the sack on the front doorstep and run undetected. The bag contained four healthy zucchini, a bag of cucumbers destined to become pickles, and a giant head of cabbage. I returned home having skipped the entire vegetable section at the grocery store, in anticipation of the bag sitting on my counter. The cabbage beckoned first, so I decided to do something Mom loves, stuffed cabbage, playing a little fast and loose with some of the traditional ingredients to include other elements waiting in abundance on the counter. Taking a half pound of turkey Italian sausage out of the freezer (see a previous posting) I began assembling the following in a nonstick skillet with the meat: 3 chopped small red, yellow and orange peppers from Trader Joe's, 2 chopped scallions, 3 big chopped mushrooms, 1/2 tsp. minced garlic, 1 tsp. dried onion, 1-1/2 cups cooked basmati brown rice, 1 chopped medium yellow summer squash, 1/3 cup white wine, 1 T. balsamic vinegar and some chopped fresh basil, lemon thyme and oregano (the usual suspects). Toward the end, I opened a jar or prepared pasta sauce with Italian sausage and added 3 T. to the rice/meat/vegetable mixture, reserving the rest to cover the cabbage rolls. I put 2 inches of salted water into a large enameled dutch oven, discarding the silicon steamer insert when it proved too unwieldy for the entire head of cabbage, which had the core removed but still protruded above the lid. As it cooked away, I finished sauteeing the vegetables, turkey sausage and rice, turning off the burner. The filling rested as the other elements completed cooking. Starting at the base of the semi-cooled cabbage, I peeled away entire half-cooked leaves, cutting out the fibrous rib before filling each leaf with the rice/sausage/vegetable mixture and adding grated cheddar and parmesan cheese before rolling them up in a large casserole dish. The rolls were covered with the remaining tomato sauce and some grated cheese. I ended up with another covered glass casserole dish with two remaining cabbage rolls and sauce before putting both into the oven at 325 degrees. About 50 minutes in, I took off the lids and let them cook an additional 10-15 minutes before taking them out to rest about 10 minutes. Mom thought the cabbage was still a little tough, but she has no lower denture plate. I think another day in the fridge ought to give them a little more tenderness before reheating. They were a bit 'healthy' but quite tasty, especially the ones I had embellished with a sprinkle of red chili flakes just for me.

Guilt-Free Lasagna

Zucchini glut can be a good thing. A large but firm zucchini sat on the counter for a day and a half, daring me to do something with it. An online search for yet another zucchini recipe pointed me in the right direction. I have since tweaked and twisted the recipe another 45 degrees. This is what I did: I sliced the zucchini lengthwise with a sharp knife into thin slabs about 1/4" thick. A mandoline also works for this task; I avoid them whenever possible, having sacrificed one too many bits of flesh. I cooked up a bechamel in a saucepan with about 1/2 cup of dry milk, 3 T. of cornstarch, a 1/2 tsp. each of garlic and onion powder, plus freshly grated nutmeg. Mixing the dry ingredients, I added 1/3 cup of evaporated milk, 1/4 cup dry white wine and 3/4 cup of water, cooking while stirring constantly over medium heat. Once it had thickened, I pulled the pan off the burner and grated in a little parmesan. In a skillet on medium high with 1 T. olive oil, I quickly sauteed the white part of two scallions, chopped, adding three chopped baby sweet orange, red and yellow peppers, (one-half a large sweet red or yellow pepper would also work). I used a small can of mushroom pieces, drained and added as the other vegetables cooked, but 3-4 fresh mushrooms would do the trick if most of the moisture is cooked out. As I pulled the skillet off the burner, I added three large chiffonaded basil leaves, plus the chopped leaves from two sprigs each of fresh marjoram/oregano and lemon thyme. Emptying the contents into a bowl, I added another bit of olive oil to the skillet and quickly broke up about 1/2 pound of uncooked turkey Italian sausage, breaking it up and sizzling it just long enough to get rid of most of the pink. I augmented its flavors with 1 tsp. of fennel seed crushed between my fingers, one minced garlic clove, some red pepper flakes, and another little splash of dry white wine. Starting with a thin layer from a jar of prepared pasta sauce in a large non-reactive covered rectangular/oblong casserole dish, I put down a layer of zucchini slices, with a thin layer of bechamel spread over the squash. That was followed by grated mozzarella (about three cups in the whole batch) and a sprinkle of grated parmesan (about 3/4 of a cup total). Then I added a layer of the pepper/mushroom mixture, some of the turkey Italian sausage, and another layer of tomato sauce, with the green scallion tops, some chives and a large basil leaf scissored over it. The successive layers of squash slices, pasta sauce, cooked vegetables, sausage and cheeses ended with tomato sauce, dotted with the remainder of the bechamel and some mozzarella and parmesan sprinkled on the top to brown. I baked it in a slowish 325 oven for an hour and 10 minutes, then let it rest a half hour before serving. It was perfectly delicious; the noodles were not missed and it was not mushy. The recipe I downloaded baked the zucchini slices 10-15 minutes. That recipe also lacked Italian sausage, but added thawed frozen artichoke hearts, patted dry and chopped, as well as capers. Rather than a bechamel, the downloaded recipe used cottage cheese, though ricotta seasoned with some nutmeg and garlic would also work. I used what I had on hand. The result is a delicious addition to my zucchini repertoire. While it is a work in progress, the recipe has already been handed on to my gluten-free brother in Louisiana.

Magic beans

Mayocoba. Peruano. Evidently, I don't know beans. While perusing the Hispanic food section at Rosauer's with my visiting sister, I was advised to try these beans, which I hadn't noticed before. The bag had both names on the label. She told me they're better than pintos or black beans; the latter has been my go-to bean for years. Last night, I corroborated her opinion by cooking one of the tastiest batches of beans I've made in awhile. Starting with a carton of Costco chicken stock (not broth), I poured a pound bag of the unfamiliar beans into the crockpot. A diced carrot, one bay leaf, half a chopped onion, ditto of green pepper, and three cloves of garlic went in with a smoked turkey leg. The beans cooked all afternoon without losing their individuality. Along the way I added half a carton of water and opened another stock carton and added half of it. I was beginning to wonder if we were having beans for supper. I transferred the batch to my enamel dutch oven, adding two heaping tablespoons of a tomatillo salsa I'd made earlier. Wandering out to the herb patch, I contributed two giant basil leaves, three sprigs of thyme and four oregano flower heads to the pot, cut up with scissors. By 6 p.m., they were tender. I discovered that these beans do not cook into mush easily. They stay firm but creamy. Taking the meat off the turkey leg, I shredded it, discarding the sinews and skin. Wow. I am a convert. These are magic beans, indeed. P.S. Two ripe Maryhill peaches and a half pound of dark cherries needed using, so I came up with a new twist on those church supper fruit Jello mixtures Mom loves. Instead of using a commercial product, I dissolved three packets of gelatin in 1 cup of grapefruit juice and three cups of a low-sugar cranberry juice cocktail with Splenda in a saucepan, adding another couple of tablespoons of sucralose as well as a teaspoon of Spice Hunter's natural lemon extract. The dissolved mixture was poured over the peach slices and the halved cherries. To speed up the process, I draped the aforesaid frozen gel pack over the glass casserole dish. One hour later, we had ambrosial fruit gelatin for dessert.

Alton Brown has beaten me to the punch. Again.

Our Saturday Farmers' Market is hitting full stride, a downtown Stevenson cornucopia of local fruits and vegetables, as well as homemade salsa, zucchini relish, alpaca yarn and wooden furniture. Don't forget the worm tea --- which I managed to do in the recesses of the van, resting comfortably in its recycled pop bottle. It will likely still be useful to juice up our drooping hanging baskets. One score this weekend was six huge, juicy Maryhill peaches. They are one of the wonders of the eastern Columbia Gorge. A windsurfing beach nestled among the orchards near Maryhill Museum and Maryhill Winery is called Peach Beach. A few years ago as I drove S.R. 14 near Lyle, I discovered I was following a truck laden with apple boxes of Maryhill peaches, which looked so succulent that I flagged down the driver, had him pull over, and bought a box on the spot. I canned them, and won a blue ribbon at the fair with a jar. These dark, dusky and musky Maryhill beauties were among the provender offered by the market organizer, Gorge Grown, which brings a truck to various locations each week from local farms to augment the farmers' booths. The three varieties of Gorge Grown cherries also looked good, but we had recently bought a couple of bags of cherries. I made a cherry crisp, and we froze about a quart of Lamberts, seeded and waiting for inspiration. My scores this weekend also included some firm stalks of rhubarb. As Mom left for church, I plotted our Sunday dinner. Roast chicken, of course, a breast and a few thighs scattered with garlic and herbs and baked low and slow with a scalloped potato/vegetable casserole. The capper? A peach-rhubarb cobbler/upside down cake. Because actual cobbler requires cutting butter or some other solid fat into the flour, which is verboten on Mom's low-fat diet, I do a hybrid involving Heart Smart Bisquick augmented by buttermilk, Eggbeaters, xylitol, a little whole wheat flour and cinnamon. It is denser than a cake batter, and the low and slow baking temperature, which wavered between 300-325, is perfect for that consistency. I cut up the peaches, leaving on the skin. In a saucepan, I added a little agave syrup and 1/4 cup of xylitol to a half cup of lightly salted water, then chunked up four stalks of rhubarb and simmered the mixture, adding a little Minute Tapioca the last couple of minutes. The half-cooked rhubarb was then poured over the peaches, which had been sprinkled with cinnamon and nutmeg. The batter was spooned over the top and sprinkled with a little more cinnamon. The dessert was stupendously good. I hadn't heard of that combination and thought I may have invented something, but an Internet foray revealed several recipes for peach-rhubarb cobblers and crisps, with Alton Brown's at the top of the search. Earlier this morning, I turned on "Good Eats" and saw a segment on melons. There was Alton, beating me to the punch again. Earlier this week I had turned a perfectly sweet and juicy watermelon with a mushy heart into sorbet in my ice cream maker, adding only a little xylitol and agave syrup to the blender. The "Good Eats" segment included a tip or two on making watermelon sorbet. Yes, Alton --- I promise to add the fruit slurry only while the machine is running after this. However, I have come up with my own ice cream-making secret. I have started placing one of those large frozen gel packs used in coolers in a gallon freezer bag over the top opening of the machine. The mixture seems to freeze faster and more uniformly. So there, Alton.

A temperate 4th

They say in this neck of the woods that summer starts July 5. It seems especially true this year, but I was reminded by the weatherman that three years ago, it reached 107 on July 4. That stifling exception was chronicled in these pages. This year, other parts of the country are getting hammered by heat, storms that left millions without power for days on the East Coast, fires in the Rockies and floods caused by Hurricane Debby in Florida. We have been luckier, no matter how much we protest. It's been cool and rainy west of the Cascades. Today is finally perfect, 75 degrees if a bit breezy. Except for the minor annoyance of trying to resurrect a wind-toppled market umbrella from last season to use as our shade and failing miserably, it's been a beautiful day in the neighborhood. The derelict mobile home next door has finally been removed except for minor bits of debris and insulation sullying the ground, its absence added incentive to come outdoors and enjoy backyard shade again. I got out the weed-whacker two days ago and thoroughly groomed our fringes, sneaking over the line to eradicate some vegetation annoying me where the old trailer used to be. Mom is gradually feeling a little better. She took her walker out for a spin this morning and put a small flag on Dad's grave. Yesterday, I found a larger flag and put it on the front railing, where it is proudly waving next to our hanging baskets. Mom has a day lily blooming, and I have leaf lettuce and several small zucchini coming on. It's time for a 4th of July barbecue. The menu includes grilled low-fat hamburgers on whole wheat buns, plus grilled corn on the cob, potato salad, homemade baked beans and a melon relish. Dessert: A slice of seedless watermelon or leftover strawberry shortcake. I had half a large Hami melon that was not as sweet as it had looked, and in anticipation of our watermelon, I decided to do a variation on cantaloupe relish. Melon Relish: 1/2 a Hami melon, cut into small cubes (or use half a Persian melon or a small cantaloupe); 1/3 small sweet onion, finely diced; 1/2 small red sweet pepper, diced; 1 large clove garlic, minced; 2 basil leaves, cut in fine chiffonade; 1 tsp. dried cilantro (I didn't have fresh); 2 tsp. chives; 1/3 cup erythritol; 1/3 cup rice wine vinegar; salt and freshly ground pepper Place ingredients in a container with a tight lid, shake and refrigerate, shaking again a couple of times before serving. Homemade Barbecue Sauce: In a small saucepan, slightly sizzle: 2 T. finely chopped onion, 1 T. finely chopped red sweet pepper, 1 clove minced garlic 2 small pieces of bay leaf, 1 basil leaf cut into fine strips. Add 2 T. apple cider vinegar and stir,(don't breathe in the fumes), then add: 1/3 cup white wine (I used chardonnay), 1 tsp. worcestershire sauce, 1 tsp. sweet smoked Spanish paprika, 1 T. honey mustard, 2 T. agave syrup, 1 T. oyster sauce, 2 T. green chili salsa, 1 T. Bufalo chipotle sauce, 1 tsp. dark molasses, 1/3 cup ketchup, 1/4 cup prepared barbecue sauce (I used low sugar), 1/4 tsp. dried lemon zest, small dash (about 1/4 tsp.) powdered ginger, and 1/2 tsp. Cajun spice rub. Simmer on low five minutes or until the flavors blend. This can be used on burgers, ribs, pork, etc. Do not add it to food on the grill until the meat is nearly done or it will burn. I used a couple of tablespoons to flavor the homemade baked beans, with added molasses, mustard, onion and some turkey bacon. Old-Fashioned Potato Salad: Microwave 5 medium russet potatoes in their skins to just past the al dente stage (5-6 minutes in my microwave). Boil 2 eggs (Bring to boil 1-2 minutes, turn off heat 5 minutes, then cool in cold water, peel and dice. In a glass or ceramic casserole dish with a cover, add 1/3 sweet onion, finely chopped; 8-10 tall sprigs fresh chives, use scissors to snip to 1/4" lengths; 3 sprigs lemon thyme; remove leaves by stripping the 'wrong' way; 1/3 cup chopped bread and butter pickles, 1/3 cup dill relish; 2 T. honey mustard, 1/4 cup rice wine vinegar(unflavored); 8-10 olives, chopped; 1/4 cup pickle juice; 1/2 cup low-fat mayonnaise; 1/3 cup buttermilk; salt and freshly ground pepper Add all but the potatoes and eggs to the casserole dish and combine. Dice the potatoes, add the chopped eggs and mix everything together, adding a little more mayonnaise, buttermilk, vinegar or salt if needed. Refrigerate at least a couple hours before serving. P.S. The melon relish was amazing. However, I had just put the corn on the grill when the neighbor to the north came right up to the fence not 15 feet from where I was preparing food, and began spraying a pesticide/herbicide. I might have forgiven him if this was the first time, but he's done it before. I don't know his name, and as far as I know I have never done anything to him. Mom and I were forced to pack up everything in a big hurry and finish dinner inside, cooking the burgers under the broiler. I don't know why he chose to be such an ass on the first nice day, just when Mom and I were enjoying sitting in the shade, sipping our iced tea and anticipating our 4th of July barbecue. He managed to make me angry and ruin our dinner. Thanks a lot. He must be a very unhappy person.

Soup (kosher or not)

Mom has been in soup mode lately, not only due to her recent hospitalization, but also due to having no lower denture plate and somehow injuring and re-injuring her lower gum in recent weeks. We have had clam chowder and tapioca pudding in the last few days. I was casting about for something different when I came across two different packages of split peas. Also, we had been to Winco this week, where we bought a package of smoked turkey legs, a kosher/halal solution for many area residents. In our case, the smoked turkey legs are low in fat but high in flavor. Split Pea Soup: Into a crockpot turned on high, add a quart of prepared chicken broth. (I use the low fat, low sodium variety). Add one smoked turkey leg, plus two bay leaves, two carrots and two ribs of celery, and 1/2 onion and 1/2 yellow sweet pepper (red is okay), the latter all cut into small chunks. Add 1 lb. green split peas and 2 cups water, plus a dash of Worcestershire, three cloves minced garlic, and 1/3 cup white wine, plus 1 tsp. each of parsley, dried thyme, basil and sage (1/2 tsp. of the latter if they are dried, not fresh). Let the soup cook on high and check the moisture periodically after the first 45 minutes, stirring. About 2 hours in, check for salt. Add some if needed and turn the heat to low. In another 45 minutes, take out the smoked turkey leg, cool it a bit, and take the meat off the bone, discarding sinew and skin, chopping it and adding the meat to the soup. Check your seasonings. This keeps well in the refrigerator at least three or four days and can be reheated in the microwave, adding broth if needed. (You can use ham pieces or a ham hock instead of a smoked turkey leg, or use smoked Polish or turkey sausage cut into rounds, added the last hour or so of cooking.)

The Secret Ingredient

The weekend featured a collision of sorts --- a campout and a mix of weather both foul and fair. On the plus side, the location was fairly spectacular, a county campground with fewer amenities than most but vistas of the Columbia River and pleasant woods. My brother and his family operate a ranch for troubled teenage boys in southern Oregon, and are often called on to share their expertise at training sessions for others trying to deal with youth in crisis. They had a three-day training in Portland and called wanting to get together. The campout was my idea, furthered by initial forecasts for fair weather. We've been in a rough patch lately, and I didn't need household complications. Mom became quite ill with pericarditis, an inflammation of the lining around her heart likely caused by flu that landed her in intensive care for almost a week. She is doing better, but I have been nurse, cook and caregiver. A visit from a brother I see less frequently than other family members is more than welcome, but I hesitated having them sleep on the floor in an atmosphere that resembles a hospital, complete with a walker in the living room and soup at nearly every meal. The campout idea was warmly received, and grew to include 10 people in four tents. Mom insisted on participating, and slept two nights on the folded-down third seat of her van. She is totally worn out, but she delighted in being with her son and the youngsters. She insisted on giving the latter her prized puppets, a large bushy squirrel, baby bear and koala. I hauled my tent and camping gear out of storage and set up camp Friday afternoon. It is a beautiful spot, perched on the lip of a steep hill with a trail going down to the water and barges passing by. However, I had not calculated on interruptions of the Burlington Northern-Santa Fe tracks a stone's throw from the campground. The first night, my nephew and his wife set up their tents then said goodbye to their three children, left in my custody to sleep in a tent 10 feet away. I had made a four-bean salad and baked beans at home, and fed them each a hotdog. Rain began to fall, at first sporadically, then in earnest as the evening progressed. We went to bed early, our fitful sleep interrupted by seven trains, tooting their horns at the nearby crossing. At one point the youngest boy began to cry, calling his mother on the cell phone in their tent, wishing he could go home. His elder sister managed to restore his equilibrium for the rest of the night, and he was the only one full of energy (beans?) the next morning. I fed them hot cocoa, Bob's Red Mill 10-grain pancakes and eggs, and they were perfectly happy racing around and finding other treasures, including a bird's nest. We were about to begin lunch when my brother and entourage arrived. In addition to his wife, son and daughter-in-law, the group included a recent youth recruit from the ranch with a colorful Mendocino County past and a proclivity for fervid religious pronouncements punctuated by loud and puzzling interjections. He occasionally wandered out of eyesight for cigarette breaks, which I could smell on his return. He was helpful, however, offering his assistance with camp chores. I had two coolers packed with food and ice, a bundle of firewood, two bags of briquettes, a hibachi and a dinner plan that included stir fry vegetables, the by now well-marinated four-bean salad, and 10 chicken thighs. I had intended to prepare rice noodles with the stir fry vegetables, but my brother showed up with egg and pasta salads. Mom contributed the makings of s'mores, a plan applauded by my young grand-niece. I concocted a marinade in early afternoon that turned out a real winner. Into a gallon zip-lock bag, I added onion powder, applewood smoked sea salt, garlic bits, soy sauce, a little fish sauce, and about a tablespoon of cilantro paste from a tube. The marinade needed sweetness and moisture, so I poured in a little maple syrup and the really oddball ingredient, some Diet Rite raspberry soda with Splenda. I asked my grand-niece for a splash from her soda can. After squishing the contents together in the bag with the thighs, they were returned to the cooler on ice for a three-hour rest. We cooked the chicken first in two skillets over a wood fire in the fire ring banked to the perfect heat. Then the thighs were moved to the hibachi racks for finishing. They were succulent and perfect, crisp-skinned with flavor to the bone. Someone asked for my secret. I had sworn my grand-niece to secrecy. However, her little sister spilled the beans. (Too many baked beans?) After dinner I brought out my stowed-away old guitar,; my brother played a little and we sang, bringing Mama to tears as usual. The campfire consumed all our available wood, but there was enough to toast the s'mores before bedtime. Sunday morning, the children created and rehearsed a puppet show with their new pets on the theme of thankfulness. It was quite an accomplishment and included a song. We took a few group photos before departing before noon, with the rest of the group bound for a rendezvous with Herman the Sturgeon at the Bonneville Hatchery. We all insisted that we must do this again, in spite of the rain and the trains. However, my bones are reminding me that crawling in and out of a tent several times a night to follow a flashlight's beam to a smelly outhouse is best experienced in moderation.

Jungle Fowl

While living in Wapato in the lower Yakima Valley as a junior and senior high school student, I was given a small flock of banty chickens by my grandmother, who had kept the chickens a number of years but no longer had a place to let them roam. These banty fowl did not have feathered legs, and they looked very much like depictions of Dutch banty stock, which originated from red jungle fowl from Indonesia. My chickens laid very small eggs, which I saved and colored for Easter. When it wasn't Easter time, we ate the eggs for breakfast, which had lovely dark yellow, almost orange yolks. My flock was 'free-range.' While roaming our small acreage, the hens were introduced to a fighting cock rooster, a runaway from a nearby Filipino farmer. This 'jungle fowl' was quite colorful, with a long iridescent tail, and he was happy to join my banty flock and escape a nearby certain fate. In the process of contributing his gene pool, he likely introduced my flock to genes somewhat closer to their origins. Before long, our Irish Setter dog decided my chickens were no longer domesticated flock, which he had left unmolested, but had become fair game. He began killing my banty chickens at every opportunity. I was quite enraged, and even tied a dead chicken around his neck for several days, a supposed cure, but it didn't work. After that, he was relegated to a long leash on the backyard tree. I don't know what happened to the flock when we moved my senior year and left them with the new property owners. They certainly were beautiful birds, my long-tailed jungle fowl. I could imagine them intermingling with the area pheasant, another introduced fowl with jungle origins.

Curry dream

Does what you eat before bedtime influence the content of your dreams? Old wives tales caution against eating sardines or spicy foods, then going to sleep. Freud definitely found a sexual connotation in dreams involving food imagery. (Didn't everything equal sex to him?) But could a meal influence the subsequent dream? I had a lingering head of cauliflower in the refrigerator, and decided to steam it. After that decision, no dish was calling out, "make me, make me." I pulled out the core and cut it up, also consigning some of the "rougher cuts" of the head of cauliflower to the steam basket. I figured I would eat what Mom would not be able to chew or digest, and could save the rest of the head for another day. The deed was done, but the result wasn't nearly appetizing enough to actually eat. It looked a little too much like roughage with no redeeming qualities. I decided to step it up a notch, and plunked the contents of the steam basket into a heavy saucepan with some chicken broth, garlic and a little white wine to cook further. When it was tender I pulled it off the burner, then on impulse, I turned it into a puree with my wand blender. Meanwhile, I put a pan of basmati brown rice on to cook. I reconsidered using the remainder of the cauliflower, and cut it into smaller fleurets. A tablespoon of canola oil went into a large non-stick skillet, and I added the pieces with the bottom halves of two stalks of green onion (I saved some of the green tops for garnish), plus 2 T. garam masala, 1/2 tsp. cumin, and 1 T. turmeric. Sprinkling on 1 tsp. of Worcestershire sauce, and 2 minced cloves of garlic, I continued to sautee the cauliflower until it sizzled, then added it all to the saucepan with the puree after deglazing it with a little more wine. Adding a little more chicken broth, I let it simmer a bit longer as the spices were incorporated and the cauliflower fleurets cooked until tender, then I added half a can of evaporated milk to the sauce and stirred it until creamy. The rice was done. I served it with some chopped scallion tops, (adding some red pepper flakes to mine) and considered it one of my more successful meat-free meals. I went to bed an hour later. Then I had this dream: Ravi Shankar was there jamming with a number of (male) musicians. I tried to fit into the mix, but was actively resisted by the men who resented my participation. I know that Ravi has often played with women on sitar and other traditional Indian instruments, so I'm not sure where the sexist subtext came from. All I know is this: I ate an Indian vegetarian curry dish, then dreamed of Indian music. Coincidence? I don't think so.

Simple pleasures really are the best --- Ella and Oscar accompanied by smoked gouda and Milton's whole wheat graham crackers, followed by a sip or three of Washington Hills Reisling, rounded out a day that had flummoxed and stymied me. I awakened this Wednesday thinking of several errands reaching imperative status. This weekend includes a couple of events that necessitate a new black ink cartridge, not as easy as it sounds this far from an Office Max. I had ordered a set of cartridges from Amazon, but they do not include black, which would have cost nearly as much in shipping as the entire color set had with free shipping. Earlier this week, Mom and I temporarily succumbed to a flu bug; she was still suffering and although she wanted to make the trip into town, she was obviously not up to it. She eventually made the right decision after a coughing spell. I verified online that my monthly Social Security check had been deposited, and soon the sun was out, although it segued back into rain. My departure was followed almost immediately by a plunge in oil pressure 15 miles after leaving home. I pulled into the town of North Bonneville and turned off the pickup's engine. A magical solution doesn't always work --- if I wait a few minutes and restart the engine, likely as not the oil pressure will resume as if nothing happened. It worked this time but I was wary the rest of the trip. I had memorized the phone number of the only tow truck still operating in the county. Traveling into another county introduces an element of added expense that creates additional anxiety. Every time I shut off the engine in a parking lot, I resigned myself to the possibility that it might not start again, enough anxiety to limit purchases and urge a return to more familiar territory. I was back inside the county lines around 3 p.m. I was glad to see home again, and soon after dinner retreated to my room with Pandora and the added comforts of smoked gouda, crackers and reisling. Not to mention Ella and Oscar.