A girl kitty, that is. About a week and a half ago I responded to the pleas of the cat lovers at the office and trapped a little stray that had been living under a porch at the lab that is next-door to us. She'd been dumped there, and the lab staff and our staff had been feeding her. She was easy to catch, and as soon as I got her home, my resolve to take her straight to the Humane Society melted away.
She's a real sweetheart... a brown-and-gold tabby with white paws/chin/belly and golden eyes. She's back from her spaying and tested negative for loathsome infectious Kitty Diseases, so she'll be here to stay. Not sure of her age, but less than a year.
Everyone, please welcome Megan!!
The long-awaited rock patio under the cherry tree is under construction, and in fact should be completed in the next few days. This should make outdoor meals more pleasant.
To prepare the site, Mike dug out the rough oval, deep enough to allow for several inches of hard-packed gravel and then sand. Gravel and sand were delivered and spread, then he began to lay out the rock. Natural rock is of course not particularly regular in shape, so putting it all together was something like building a jigsaw puzzle... only harder.
At this point, the work on the east end of the patio (see the photo below)is basically complete. On the other end, most of the rock has been laid in place temporarily; Mike has to finish scooping out the sand and laying each piece down permanently, on the level. When all is complete, we will sweep more sand over it to fill in the cracks and crevices.
We'll start some little creeping ground-cover plants to grow in the sand, and this fall when the weather is cooler and wetter, we'll plant some shrubs and perennials around the border. But the cook-outs can start anytime!
A while ago, I attended another Mexican cooking demonstration at La Margarita. This time, the theme was Mexican breakfast dishes. It was well attended; I think the class was supposed to be capped at twelve but I seem to have snuck in as number thirteen. We started with Mexican hot chocolate this time; no margaritas.
Next, Pedro and his assistant Javier prepared Huevos Rancheros for us, including a from-scratch sauce made of roasted chiles and other delights:
Side dishes were really good authentic frijoles, and Green Chilaquiles. The beans were just simmered with some chopped onion; my beans are never this good! His were meltingly tender and soft. I think I have been buying old beans. Chilaquiles are just stale tortillas, cut in strips, fried, and tossed in a sauce. I think of them as a sort of Mexican pasta dish. Pedro made his sauce of tomatillos and mild green chiles; the dish was topped with sour cream, rings of mild raw onion, and Mexican cheese (in this case, queso anejo "old cheese", much like a Parmesan).
Again, it was all delicious. I didn't save any to take home to Mike but ate it all myself. Now if I could come up with just the right occasion for a Mexican brunch, and the right adventurous people to eat it!
Good heavens... six weeks since I've posted anything. Many apologies.
Every spring for Mothers' Day, my brother and I get together and cook a brunch/lunch for our mother. At least, for the last three years we have done so; I think we had a particularly trying brunch out at a local restaurant and decided we could do it better on our home turf, without the rude waiters and screaming children. We try to have a theme. I think this year, the theme turned out to be Yummy Spicy Things from Communist Countries.
My brother wanted to make Spicy Mandarin Chicken and steamed rice; who am I to argue? Note the 1950's kitchen in the background. Except for the new range, it's pretty much the way it was when I was learning to cook in it. I think I recognize some spices and herbs I bought back in about 1980, still in the cupboards.
I debated about making a side dish, but was working under some constraints. My husband had a 75-mile bike race the previous day, in The Dalles, about 80 miles east. We were playing on staying in The Dalles most of the weekend and then driving back to the family abode on Sunday morning. I didn't want to have to go grocery shopping that morning as well, so I needed something portable.
The answer? Cuban sandwiches. I packed along my new Cuisinart Griddler and all the fixings (had a refrigerator at the motel) and all I had to do was assemble the works and toast the sandwiches. Kettle Chips Lightly Salted rounded out the meal.
I don't have the chicken recipe, but Cuban sandwiches are basic to our household and very easy to make.
Soft French hoagie rolls (We use Franz Pub Rolls)
Soft butter
Dijon mustard (I like Grey Poupon Country Style)
Cooked shredded pork OR sliced roast pork OR sliced turkey
Sliced ham, the best you can get
Sliced Swiss cheese, full-flavored
Slice the buns open. Spread sparingly with soft butter and and with mustard to taste. Layer some pork on each bottom bun, followed by ham, and finally with cheese. Top with (duh!) the top halves of the bun. Toast them until golden in a panini press or contact grill; in a pinch, a waffle iron will do the trick. (For the Cuisinart Griddler, I cook two sandwiches at a time for five minutes on Medium and then turn it up to High until I hear sizzling sounds). Allow to cool slightly and cut in half with serrated knife. Serve with side dishes such as coconut rice and Cuban black beans, or with Kettle Chips.
Next weekend is Memorial Day Weekend; many of the local wineries offer tours, tastings, and events for all three days. The Willamette Valley makes some awfully nice (and expensive) wines and the winery open house events draw some impressive crowds.
We've got friends who own and operate a boutique winery in the hills west of town. A couple of times I ended up helping out with their Memorial Day Weekend Open House in the role of "snacks girl"; it was my job to replenish the trays of artisan cheeses and pate and the baskets of bread and strawberries and generally keep things tidied up. I enjoyed it very much.
One year (probably about 2002 or 2003) our friends got together with the owners of two small wineries and planned a joint post-Open House celebration for themselves and their employees, volunteers and friends. They rented out what was then a little French bistro only a few blocks from our house (it's now a barbecue joint, Salem not having appreciated French food) and commissioned the owner/chef to prepare a fantastic meal. On the grace of my three or four hours of labor with the snacks, Mike and I were lucky enough to be invited.
The result was the kind of meal that I'd only read about. Bernard planned and executed a menu that took full advantage of spring delicacies and local products, and his cooking was as superb as it always was. For me, the real charm of the dinner lay partly in the element of surprise ("What will he bring out to the table next?"), in the chance to taste foods known to me only from Peter Mayle books about France, and the chance to sit at a long table full of Wine People. Wine People, we learned, know how to party.
The winemakers and their hangers-on came to the table laden with bottles: some of their own wines, of course, but also treasured specimens picked up while traveling. Throughout the meal, in addition to the very good wines supplied by the restaurant, we would hear cries of, "Oh, we must open this next! I picked it up in ________ last year and I've been waiting for the right crowd!" And another cork would be pulled with a resounding pop, and another fantastic wine would be poured into myriad glasses for us all to sample.
There were many courses and there were many glasses on the table, but the dinner had little if any formality. Conversation was loud and jovial. Total strangers sipped out of each others' glasses to get a quick taste. The guests passed around the food themselves as much of the meal was served family-style. Bernard himself came out of the kitchen between courses and plopped down onto a chair to eat and drink with us and tell a quick story or two.
Mike and I sat with our hosts and with the other friends who had served as volunteers at their winery that weekend. I was on the end of our delegation and so was next to some young women from one of the other two wineries. They weren't really Wine People themselves, just friendly faces who'd been drafted to help out just like I'd been drafted. They found some of the food alarming, especially the first courses, so I found myself on the happy receiving end of extra foie gras and extra pan-fried sweetbreads. Oh, darn.
I remember that even with all the hungry mouths and with all of the wine going 'round the table, there was still way too much food. Bernard and his one assistant packed it up into takeout containers and it presumably went home with the owners of the three wineries.
After we got home, I wrote down everything we had eaten, and I've kept it ever since. Here at last, for those friends who've been hearing me tell the story for years, is the complete menu.
Plate of charcuterie (Bayonne ham, country pork pate, rilletes de porc), cornichons, and olives
Cream of carrot soup
Fried sweetbreads and slices of warm foie gras
Puff pastry baskets filled with shrimp, crab and monkfish in a cream sauce
Main course: braised game hens with wild mushrooms, mashed potatoes with garlic and olive oil, tomatoes Provencale
Steamed asparagus
Salade vert with vinaigrette, accompanied by toasted baguette slices with chevre
Lemon tart, assorted imported cheeses
Coffee and cappuccino
I ate that dinner as if in a dream. I know I'll never eat another meal quite like it... the restaurant is gone, and economic times are more difficult, even for Wine People. That was not an inexpensive party. And I haven't had the opportunity to be "snacks girl" for the last few years.
Sometimes, if there is perfection, once is enough.
Everyone has their own interests. When the weather gets nice, my husband spends more time out on his recumbent trike. Me, I spend more time in the garden, trying to get things shipshape before the grass pollen hits and I am trapped inside.
Today was the first large organized group cycling event of the season, the Monster Cookie Metric Century. So Michael, Katr, and a couple other friends went out and rode their tails off. I got up to fix them all breakfast: slow-cooked oat porridge with all the trimmings, bacon, toasted English muffins, and such. It's always a good day when I get to cook for my friends and/or family.
After they rode off (and Michael will have pics and footage up eventually on his various sites), I took pics of the cats out on the porch in the spring sunlight.
Later I took more pics of our cats, frolicking outside, and weeded and puttered in the garden. There's not much new to see yet, not until the roses begin to bloom, but the buds are forming and the flowers are not far off.
All in all, a satisfying day. Friends, food, cats, garden, sunshine... who could ask for more?
I have a confession to make. I was once a closet pastry-phobe.
Not afraid to eat it mind you... but to make it. For years, I avoided any recipe that called for a flaky crust. If I could rework it with a graham cracker crumb crust (for pies and tarts) or a fluffy buttermilk biscuit topping (for savory pies and such), then I did so. Later, I discovered that one could make acceptable pastry in the food processor, so I did so from time to time. I never fell in love with making it, though.
But recently I've gone back to more primitive methods and have been delighted. I use hard butter (partly frozen) grated on a hand-held grater for the fat; I stir the shreds of butter carefully into the flour with an old silver fork, and add ice water to bind... and slowly work the whole mess together, with the aforementioned fork. The result is glorious, and something that most home cooks have already discovered long before me.
I first used this buttery, flaky substance to make Vegetarian Sausage Rolls:
This is a Delia Smith recipe; the stuffing is a mixture of cheddar, breadcrumbs, onions, and seasonings. I took these to the all-parish annual meeting and they were completely snarfed up. Here's another view of them sitting cutely on the cooling rack:
I had to put one aside for my husband, or he'd never had gotten to try one. Then for the church's Easter Vigil Agape Feast, I made Eccles Cakes. These are a traditional small English pastry stuffed with dried fruit and spices. They are something like a flaky Fruit Newton with overtones of fruitcake. The pastry (sweetened a bit this time) is rolled, cut into small circles, and the filling is placed in the middle; the edges are brought together and sealed like a little drawstring bag (like making Ham Baos, if you don't mind a culture-clashing example) then they are flipped over and rolled gently with the rolling pin to flatten. Slits are cut into the top and they are baked until golden.
I filled mine with a mixture of dried cranberries, golden raisins, sugar, butter, spices, and a bit of candied peel.
Last weekend I used the basic pastry to make some little meat pies, or pasties. I filled them with a mixture of leftover shredded ham, sauteed onion, parsley, and Cheddar. They were yummy, but none survived to be photographed.
Soon I may be ready to make a Real Fruit Pie!!
Cherry trees (including ours) bursting into bloom. Violets peeking from the crevices along the walkway. And over at the university, fraternity boys on their homemade Slip -n- Slide.
No picture of the last, alas (although I stood and watched for a while, grinning) but here's a few pics from the garden.
I love my little gravel garden path.... sadly, Lucy also loves it; she thinks it makes a dandy summer litterbox. So there's a few dried cat turds here and there.
The best thing about the violets is the fact that they all are descended from three little clumps that I dug up out of my mother's yard, years ago. Now they have naturalized throughout the entire yard and bloom most charmingly every spring as an unkillable ground cover amongst the roses and perennials.

on Signs of Spring...