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.

Getting spicy

I found a garam masala mixture in the bulk section at Huckleberries in Hood River including cardamom, coriander, cloves, cinnamon, cumin, fennel and white pepper. It is not as spicy as curry mixtures with chilis.
It smelled quite pungent --- many Indians make their own to ensure strength and freshness. I bought enough to fill a small jar, and I also bought some turmeric, thinking I could substitute a mixture of the two for Mom, who objects if a curry is too spicy.
Spices such as those used in curry dishes can cut triglyceride levels by about one-third even if the meal is high in fat, according to a recent study at Penn State by researcher Sheila West, as quoted on NPR.
Her findings have been corroborated by cardiologist Ravi Dave at UCLA, who added that in addition to lowering triglycerides, insulin levels also dropped about 20 percent. Although other herbs and spices have these properties, he especially finds benefit in using curry. In India, the health benefits of spices are a part of Ayurvedic medicine.
As Mom is a diabetic who takes cholesterol-lowering drugs, I thought she could benefit from more of these spices in her diet. She already uses quite a bit of cinnamon.
Garam masala has healthful properties due to its combination of ingredients, which can vary by region and family tradition. In addition to cinnamon and coriander considered as useful in controlling blood sugar in diabetics, they are also anti-inflammatory.
Coriander has been found to lower cholesterol and can also be used for joint pain. Cumin contains iron, helps digestion and purportedly even helps fight cancer. Turmeric root powder is used in curry mixtures, and gives it the bright yellow color. Turmeric has curcumin, a strong anti-inflammatory, and is supposed to aid digestion in the bowel. Claims for its other health benefits include fighting arthritis, cancer, even Alzheimer's. Some say it also offers protection against cardiovascular and liver disease.
Ginger is another anti-inflammatory, and may be useful in fighting heart disease, cancer, Alzheimer's and arthritis. Bay leaf has antifungal and anti-bacterial properties.
Other ingredients in garam masala can include malabar leaves, nutmeg and star anise. The mixture can be toasted in the pan as the first step in cooking, or mixed with water, vinegar or coconut milk to make a paste to be added during cooking. It can also be added at the end of cooking to preserve more pungency.
I caught a whiff of the spice packages as I opened the cupboard yesterday, but decided I wouldn't make chicken tikka masala, as first planned. Mom is on a soup kick due to the cold weather and has been feeling a bit fragile. We had finished a batch of clam chowder, so I decided to make split pea soup. I veered a bit from Indian tradition by using Canadian bacon ends and pieces --- they are quite low in fat and add meaty flavor.
Split Pea Soup with Garam Masala
2 large carrots cut in 1/2" pieces
3 ribs celery, diced
1/2 yellow onion, chopped
1/2 green pepper, diced
4 cloves minced garlic
1 tsp. or so of freshly grated ginger
Add the above to a large dutch oven with 2 bay leaves and sweat the vegetables, stirring. Pour in the contents of a 32-ounce box of low-salt chicken broth, and chop 2/3 cup of the Canadian bacon ends and pieces, if used. Add a 1/2 tsp. Worcestershire, two grinds of black pepper, and 2 tsp. dried chives (optional).
Into the pot add 1 lb. split peas. Stir, reduce to a simmer and cover. When the peas begin to break up, check the moisture, adding 1-2 cups water or broth as needed. Toward the end of cooking, taste and add the appropriate amount of salt, plus 2 T. garam masala and 1 T. turmeric. Let the flavors blend and the split peas cook to the desired consistency. If you are tolerant of heat, add chili flakes or sriracha to taste. To make it even more spicy, you could add 1 chopped and seeded chili pepper with the vegetables at the beginning of cooking.
In a thicker version, this can also be served over brown basmati rice.

Spicy Peanut Sauce

I got hooked on potstickers with spicy peanut sauce while living in New York City,ordering them nearly every night from a small Asian restaurant near my apartment on 64th and 1st. They were redolent of all things flavorful and exotic. It was hard to make it up the four flights of stairs, hoping they would stay hot until I could open the carton and wield my chopsticks.
At the time, I was taking care of Papa Jo Jones, the original Basie drummer, and working for a jazz booking agency from 10 to 6. Papa's wants were simple --- a chicken leg, mashed potatoes and peas every night, with a pint of Hennessy and Jo Turner singing "Flip, Flop or Fly" on the record player.
Since leaving New York, I have tried to duplicate that potsticker recipe. I think I finally have it right.
My niece came to stay overnight following a job training in Portland. Teacher positions are scarce, and she was recently hired as a drug and alcohol prevention specialist. As a treat for her brother and housemates back in Baker City, she bought two orders of pho, one vegetarian, from a Portland restaurant. They were stashed in the refrigerator overnight, then packed on ice in an insulated bag for the long trip home. There is no pho in Baker City, nor is there any in this stretch of the Columbia Gorge. There is a dearth of pho, or Vietnamese, Thai or Chinese food, for that matter, between Camas and Hood River.
Realizing Missy's love of Asian cuisine, I decided to serve her my version of Potstickers in Spicy Peanut Sauce with Vegetables. It was a good call; the chili in the slow cooker wasn't nearly done.
For some reason, the grocery store in Stevenson often has discounted wonton wrappers in the vegetable department. I make potstickers, filling them with minced chicken breast, black bean/garlic paste, ginger and sesame oil. If I don't have wrappers or the time, the easy version is made with frozen chicken potstickers from Grocery Outlet in Camas($5.99). They are a freezer staple, acceptable for Mom's diet because they are low in fat. I make her version with low-fat peanut butter from Trader Joe's and erythritol or xylitol for a touch of sweetness. I discard the annoying flavor packets that come in the bag of frozen potstickers and make my own flavor accompaniments.

Here's my version of Spicy Peanut Sauce:

In a heavy saucepan, heat one can of low-salt chicken broth.
Add:
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 tsp. grated fresh ginger (I keep it in the freezer and scrape it with a serrated knife)
the white part of 2 green onions, chopped; reserve the green tops
1 tsp. sesame oil
1 tsp. fish sauce
2 tsp. rice wine vinegar
1 tsp. soy sauce
1 tsp. sugar
2 T. chunky old-fashioned peanut butter --- I delve into the jar to avoid the peanut oil at the top and do not add it until the vegetables are nearly cooked.

Use one of these combinations for heat and savor:
1/2 tsp. dried chili flakes, added near the end of cooking
or 2 T. sweet chili sauce (in which case omit the sugar)
or 1 or 2 T. Sriracha

Vegetables:
1 carrot, julienned or coarsely grated, plus 1 medium or 2 small baby bok choy. Chop the white part and reserve the leafy parts for later in the cooking.
In my forays into Portland or Vancouver, I can find gai lan or broccoli rabe. Use 4-5 stems, chopped, instead of bok choy.
Other vegetable possibilities:
3-4 spears asparagus, chopped
Or add the quick and available vegetable version, 1/2 a package of frozen stir fry vegetables with asparagus or sugar pod peas.

Other options: 3-4 small whole dried shiitakes, soaked briefly (save the liquid to add to the sauce and chop the whole mushrooms once they are reconstituted, removing the stems. Or use a small handful of dried sliced shiitakes.)
2 T. coconut milk powder/3 T. low-fat coconut milk, avoiding the cream at the top.
2-3 Thai basil leaves; chiffonade.

To the heated broth and other ingredients, add 6-8 chicken potstickers. If they are frozen, add straight out of the freezer and simmer. Add the peanut butter toward the end of cooking while incorporating any reserved green leaves, stirring until a sauce is formed. Adjust the thickness with broth and check seasonings for heat and balance. Serve immediately in large shallow bowls with chopped green onion tops as garnish.

Other versions to use with the peanut sauce:
Instead of potstickers, briefly soak a handful of rice noodles or bean thread and add to the sauce after the vegetables have been cooking.
For a bigger batch to serve four or more people, use a large carton of broth instead of a can and double the other ingredients.

Grind it...

A year or so ago, I bought a used meat grinder at an antique store. It cost $20, and it's like one we had when I was a kid. It's aluminum, and only has one plate. It clamps on the side of a counter or table.
It was almost out of sight on the top of one of the kitchen cabinets, but I saw it while fetching the last quart of canned pears next to it.
Today, I got a piece of beef roast out of the freezer, thinking I might make stew. However, I was in the mood for something else, and decided to try grinding meat for meatloaf. I put the chunk of beef and two chicken breast tenderloins in the microwave on a low setting for a couple of minutes to take the edge off. Then I cut them into chunks and clamped the grinder to the edge of the kitchen table with two layers of kitchen towel to protect it. The towel was a good idea --- the only other time I used the grinder I had a mess on the floor below. I still soaked two paper towels and put an aluminum pie plate on the floor to catch the drips.
Also, the meat had more tendon tissue than I realized and I had to clear out the grinder holes a couple of times. It was harder work than I had thought to grind meat, I must admit.
I put one-third of a large onion in the grinder with a whole wheat bread heel to kind of clean it out, then put the ground meat into a covered casserole dish --- a rectangular bread pan was too small. I added another crumbled piece of whole wheat bread, garlic powder, Eggbeaters to total the equivalent of one or two eggs, a tsp. of good mustard, 1 tsp. of smoked paprika, 1/2 tsp. Worcestershire, and some dried chives.
To cover the top I concocted a mixture of ketchup, leftover cranberry sauce, a little mustard, more smoked paprika and garlic powder and spread it around, then baked it at 325 for about 45 minutes.
With roasted butternut squash and parsnip, it was a very comforting Sunday dinner. However, I must confess the rest --- I placed half the butternut in a Pyrex pie pan and halfway through the baking process, thought it needed a little moisture so added some(cold) broth. The Pyrex cracked along one side, and in the process of rescuing the squash, I burned the top of my hand in the oven. After numerous cold compresses and a bandage with triple antibiotic cream, I think I will mend, but my tears while hearing a repeat of the OPB concert of Tony Bennett duets were genuine. Aretha and Tony did me in, not to mention residual burn pain. Fortunately, I missed the Amy Winehouse duet --- perhaps they left it out --- which is probably a good thing, or I would have been a puddle on the floor.

Zooming

Our neighbor helped remove the snow load from our roof, which took a good hour. The roof has a slight pitch and he had to work while sitting down. We paid him $40 and a fresh loaf from the oven of sourdough rye bread, which he said that he and his sister enjoyed.
Several days later, we still had a berm left from the snowplow and snow imprisoning Mom's van. I had shoveled out my four-wheel drive pickup and was able to get out of the driveway in granny gear to get to the post office and local store on a couple of forays, but Mom gets nervous if her van is encased is ice and snow too many days.
When Steve came back offering to help shovel out the front of Mom's van, I put on my Sorel boots and joined him. I broke off a long-handled scraper with brush on the first attempt to free the roof of Mom's van. I continued with the more truncated version as Steve used his snow shovel to dig our the front of the van (I had cracked the handle of our snow shovel on the first attempt to clear the walk).
He would not take additional cash for helping free the van, although he has been unemployed for months. I guess he thought $40 was enough to cover both jobs. Since he said he and his sister had enjoyed the rye bread, I asked if he would like some more homemade bread.
A nod and a smile told me I needed to set to work.
I got out my two batches of sourdough (the longstanding version plus the French batch my sister contributed), and decided to make a more traditional loaf of whole wheat bread.
After replenishing the starters, I added some spelt and twice as much whole wheat flour, as well as about 1/3 cup of gluten flour and another cup or so of unbleached white.
Spelt is an ancient grain that can be used like wheat. It is a good source of manganese, protein, copper, and zinc. Although some say that it can be used by people with celiac disease, my sister, a physican assistant and the mother of a celiac sufferer, begs to differ. For those without gluten intolerance, however, it is an excellent grain with good nutrition.
Triticum aestivum var. spelta. was originally grown around 5000 to 6000 B.C. It has been grown in Europe for over 300 years, and in North America for just over 100 years. It is prized for its nutty flavor and high protein content. I buy spelt flour in bulk, which is less expensive than it is in those packages sold in the health food stores.
This batch of bread also included about 2 T. of honey, and the same amount of agave syrup. I used 1 tsp. of quick-rising yeast in the initial batter before adding more flour. I have been guilty of not adding enough salt to bread dough, and made sure I put in 3/4 tsp. of sea salt after the initial rise as I worked in more flour.
This time, I decided to try something else in the bread dough, and it proved to be a winner. You could say I "Zoomed" it. As a kid, we often ate Zoom hot cereal, and I often cook it for Mom as an excellent source of fiber.
Originally called Power Cereal when it was first introduced by Fisher Baking Company, Zoom Cereal is distributed by Krusteaz, the pancake mix company that is based in Seattle.
I put in about 1/2 cup of the 100% whole wheat flakes, which are quick-cooking. I figured it would be less "leadening" than using cooked whole grain cereal, which I have used in other batches of bread and bagels.
I did not over-handle the resulting dough, and let it rise twice. Steve's loaf was deposited into a traditional loaf pan, slit in three quick motions along the top and sprinkled with sesame seeds. I formed the rest of the dough into a round loaf and placed it on the pizza stone, which I prepared with cooking spray and a little polenta.
Both loaves were periodically sprayed with water while in the oven at 400-425 degrees, and I also had a pan of water in the oven to keep things hydrated.
The resulting bread was moist, had spring and texture and was not overly leaden. Mom expecially enjoyed it because she doesn't like peasant loaves and their crackling crusts, which are hard for her to chew.
Zoom --- I will be back.

Mortality

I've had two back-to-back reminders that life is fleeting. The usual joke: You start the morning by checking the obituaries and if your name isn't there, it's a good day.
My brother sent an emailed photo of a day lily with the same name as a rock group I sang with in the late 1960's. The name was a coincidence, but in the last couple of years I have exchanged infrequent emails and CD's with the former leader of the band in Maine. I forwarded the photo, but the email was returned. I knew his email was associated with his business; that was a bit worrying, so I Googled his name and located his obituary and a tribute page posted by his brother.
The next morning I had a call from my second cousin, who lives about 40 miles from here. I spent some time as a teen on her family's farm on the Kitsap Peninsula, and had enjoyed staying in contact with her mother, who was an author and amateur historian.
My second cousin had two brothers, both jokers and larger than life characters. I still remember riding in her brother's tiny 'clown car' to a lake near the farm to go swimming, singing along with Herman's Hermits at the top of our lungs.
Later, the older of her two brothers had a business selling Christmas trees in California and used a house I was sharing in Portland as a way station for his north-south trips. Several times, he showed up without notice, arms laden with groceries including steaks and bottles of wine. We cooked him dinner, and he enjoyed our company until leaving early the next morning. I knew about his disastrous engagement to a woman in California that had ended badly, devastating him and leaving him curled up into a ball, resulting in the first of several hospitalizations for depression. I only saw him a few times in the years following, once at a family reunion at the farmhouse. I still have photos of everyone lined up on the back stairs. Now his two sisters, who were estranged, are reconciling as their family has been reduced to two.
About five years ago, his younger brother was found dead of a heart attack at the bottom of the stairs. This death was deja vu all over again.
In spite of it being mid-December, the power was off. He was found crumpled at the bottom of the stairs, and although there was evidence of hard drug usage, his heart was definitely involved.
I have learned recently that several former lovers from my New York days have passed, but at least their music is still with us.
Will I leave a musical legacy? That seems less likely now.
Every day is a gift, as I have just been reminded again.

Going Crackers

With the New Year came enforced respite in the form of a raging cold that isn't letting go. It's likely the result of all that frantic activity --- two sets of house guests, holiday meals and several vocal outings, as well as being out in raw weather.
Actually, we've been lucky. Other parts of the country have had major snow and freezing temperatures. My sister in Alaska has snow to the rafters. It was 21 the other morning in Atlanta, where Mom will be going for a couple of weeks in February. Here, we've only had two little dustings of snow. Ski areas on Mt. Hood have slush. We've had several sunny days and average temperatures in the 40's.
Due to a drippy nose, hacking cough and general malaise, I've been staying in and haven't gotten into town to replenish some of my usual pantry staples, including my favorite midnight snack, crackers.
There is a box of whole grain soda crackers on the shelf, but they don't count. I have my Laughing Cow (garlic and herb and blue cheese wedges) plus a chunk of Monterey jack, the other necessary snack components.
It's been years since I attempted homemade crackers. This is not the definitive batch --- there are a few things still to be ironed out --- but I have some satisfactory and reasonable facsimiles.
I started with about 2/3 a cup of cooked 8-grain cereal (Bob's Red Mill). Into the bowl went 3 T. of softened butter, 1/2 cup whole wheat flour, 1/2 cup unbleached flour, 1/4 tsp. soda, 1 tsp. onion powder, 1/2 tsp. garlic powder, 2 T. poppy seeds, 3 T. sesame seeds, 1 tsp. dill seed, 1/2 tsp. celery seed, 1/2 tsp. mustard powder, 1 tsp. Spanish smoked paprika, 1 tsp. sea salt, 1 tsp. Tony's Cajun seasoning, 1/3 cup grated parmesan, and fresh ground pepper. Add just enough buttermilk to barely moisten and gather ingredients into a ball. Cover and put in the refrigerator at least 1/2 hour.
Roll dough into 1" balls and flatten by hand, using more whole wheat flour if it is sticking. Place each flattened ball on parchment paper on a large sheet pan and flatten more. Place in a 300 degree oven at least 30 minutes. Check after 20 minutes, and lower the temperature to 275 if they seem to be browning ahead of schedule. Turn off the oven and let them stay there 10 minutes or so, then remove to a cooking rack. If they are still bendable and not that cracker-like, place in the oven at 275 for another 10-15 minutes. This is a "play it by ear" thing. If you don't flatten them enough, they will be a little doughy. They just need a little less moisture. You can also flatten out one sheet of dough and break it into pieces after it bakes.
I will be perfecting this process, but these are quite tasty.

Lower East Side Supper

It's all Mark Bittman's fault. I was trying to download his video about kasha and varnishkes from the New York Times site, but it got hung up at the same spot three times. I decided to venture forth anyway, and while I was at it, do a bit of a variation on the kosher dish he was trying to recreate from his childhood.
There is a vegetable market in Vancouver, Wash., owned by Russians. They cater to their countrymen and other bargain hunters. Among the items I snagged there was a bag of buckwheat groats --- kasha. I thought I might try to grind the kasha into flour for buckwheat sourdough pancakes.
The package has languished on the shelf at least six months. The Bittman bit got me reminiscing about the Lower East Side and the ethnic restaurants I used to patronize when I lived in New York City. The cuisine of Alphabet City cafes then tended toward comfort food from the Ukraine and Eastern European Ashkenazis, also Russians who hadn't yet made it to Brooklyn. Kasha and varnishkes was the side dish that occasionally was offered, and it was tasty.
According to Bittman before his image fragmented into nothingness, onions are semi-caramelized in a heavy Dutch oven. Also, kasha is toasted after being anointed with beaten egg (I used Eggbeaters). I managed to accomplish the task in a heavy cast iron skillet, using about two cups of buckwheat groats. He used schmaltz; I used 2 tsp. of canola.
On the back burner simmered about a quart of broth including gleanings from a batch of chicken soup fortified with canned broth, plus some dried and canned shiitake and mixed mushrooms and cooked celery and carrot pieces from the soup.
I know it's not especially kosher, but I added a half cup of white wine to the mushroom/stock mixture. I also minced two cloves of garlic into the giant sweet onion that was softening with the splash of white wine. As the onions became soft, I threw in the kasha, plus about a cup and a half of uncooked multi-colored bowtie pasta. Then I poured the broth and vegetable mixture into the contents of the dutch oven. I covered it and baked it in the oven at 350 about 40 minutes.
Meanwhile, not wanting to waste oven heat and feeling the need for additional protein, I opened a can of Alaska salmon. After draining the liquid (I used to give it to the cat but now she turns up her nose), I removed the bones and skin, crushed four multi-grain crackers into the loaf pan, adding a few panko crumbs and the two-egg equivalent of Eggbeaters, plus onion powder, garlic, a tsp. of dillweed, about a half tsp. of parsley, some chives and a little Spanish smoked paprika. The loaf pan joined the kasha casserole in the oven; they came out about the same time.
Mom pronounced the meal "unusual but good." Not bad for a Monday night supper.