Fried Pies

Every once in a while I have a flashback to certain Texas foods, and yesterday it was fried pies that I thought about.  Yes, ooooeeyy pie filling, wrapped lovingly in a flaky pie crust, then crimped into a half moon shape, sealed with a dab of water and a squeeze.  Then lightly fried until golden and piping hot.  Once removed from the oil, immediately sprinkle generously with cinnamon suger, yum yum!
As lots of my inspiration comes from what I happen to have on hand that may spoil if not used, this recipe started out as leftover granny smith apples from a party.  There they sat, on my kitchen table, staring at me as if they already knew their fate.  Just waiting long enough to grow some brown spots and ease my conscious for throwing them out.  Not this time, though!  I gathered them up and dunked them into a bowlful of water, then peeled, cored, and sliced them into a pan.  Adding some water, a handful each of white and brown sugar, and a dash of cinnamon, I brought them to a gentle simmer.  The whole house smelled wonderful and for that alone I was grateful that these beautiful fruit did not end up in the garbage, like so many perishables that I neglect until it is too late, sometimes waaaayyyy too late!
Once I cooled this mixture down, tasted it for the right amount of sweetness, I ladled about 3 cups into the center of a flat circle of purchased pie crust.  I pulled up the edges of the crust and just sort of pinched them around the edges.  Looked pretty country style, but baked it for about 30 minutes at 350 degrees and it came out brown and crusty and delicious, especially when topped with ice cream.
Since I had some leftover filling, I decided to do the fried pie as well, and let me tell you, it was just like I remembered.  All of the Texas bakeries when I was growing up had fresh fried pies and the fond memories of them come flooding back in that first bite.  Funny how food can have that effect on us.

Thursday Supper

Yesterday afternoon I soaked some Navy Beans, then put them into the crockpot to cook overnight with some diced ham (just lunch meat), 1/2 chopped onion, one shredded carrot and some salt and pepper.  This morning we woke up to that awesome smell of Navy Bean soup.  So, that's whats for lunch.  If I were going off to work, some would have gone into a container with some crackers, but since I work at home, I'll just run up at lunchtime and have myself a bowl.  There is just something about hot soup on a cold day and I am getting better at making it at home.  There are a couple of tricks I have learned, though, that make it easier and tastier!
First of all, always saute (lightly fry) the vegies that you are going to use for your soup.  Second, add the meat last, as it will usually cook right into the broth if you leave it simmering too long.  Third, don't leave out the salt, and use a really good cooking stock that you can buy at any grocery store.
Enough about that, now on to dinner.  I was going to do a chicken stir fry over rice, but I remembered that I just bought some beautiful country style pork ribs the other day.  So, I think that I will have my husband smoke them outside on the pit (even if the high today is only 41 degrees), then I'll slow cook them in the oven for a few hours.  Along with that I will make some pinto beans and fresh potato salad.  It will be like summer in my house for a minute, anyway.
I will have the grandkids for the weekend, while their parents are away on a little hiatus, so I will try to put up a couple of recipes that are kid friendly, if anyone is interested.
TTFN

Tonight's Supper

9/30/2010
What's for dinner?
Tonight it is Baked & Fried Cod Fillets, Oven fries made with potatoes out of the garden, half red and half white, homemade potato chips for Anthony (everyone else had to have a few, too), cole slaw made from our neighbor's garden cabbage, and hush puppies (only because I was frying, which I very rarely do these days!
I had lots of help tonight, because Anthony was in the kitchen.  He is always one of my best helpers these days.  It reminds me of the days when Jake or Jared sat on the counter, or pulled up a chair and helped me wash potatoes and learned to cut up veggies for a salad.  Those were some pretty amazing times, times that we talked and laughed and made up recipes with pretend bugs and snails.  Jes was more serious in the kitchen, and since she was my first child, I was much more paranoid about her cutting and grating and all.  By the time the boys came around, I realized that the more you let them do, the more they enjoyed the cooking AND the eating part of what we prepared.
It never ceases to amaze me the conversations that begin and continue in that space, the kitchen.  No matter what shape, or condition it's in, it always seems to be the heart of our home.  It's where we greet guests, where they hang out and watch me cook, or where they help with whatever they can.  It's truly the best place in the house to be if you want to know what's going on in our lives.
Tomorrow night will be quiet, because the kids will be at home and James and I will be alone for dinner.  I will still prepare a meal, it just might be a wedge salad or a quick stirfry out of the garden, but I will still do my best to honor those who have gone before me, and taught me.  That it is fulfilling to teach the young how to feed themselves, and to take pride in how my hands and heart can turn a few ingredients into a nourishing meal, for the body and the soul.

Christmas Traditions (and other regimens)

Every family has a few traditions that never change.  Most families change these traditions as the kids grow older, from little tykes to teens to young men and women.  But my kids know my traditions that don't change.  But the traditions they stick to now are traditions that have been established later in their lives, whether or not they realize it.  Such as, steak and crab for Christmas eve dinner.  When the kids were young, there is no way we could have afforded that sort of food.  I don't remember exactly what we used to have, I'm sure it was wonderful and homemade, but I can't recall there being a certain "food" we had for dinner.  On Christmas day, it's always a crapshoot.  I sometimes made lasagna, but more often a turkey or a ham, because those meats were cheap and available.  I used to save lasagna for my daughter's birthday, on Dec. 30th, but now she says she no longer likes my lasagna (maybe I made it too much a part of her birthday).  Funny thing, though, when asked what she remembers about Christmas growing up, she answers that it was a celebratory time, an exciting time, and whatever gifts she received made her happy in her memory.
That's really what it is all about.  Traditions are awesome, because they are what builds up to the anticipation of the family level celebration of Christ' birth.  There is the picking out of the tree, the waiting to decorate until the limbs have fallen, the placing of the star by one of the kids.  There is my daughter's tradition of letting the kids open a present that always happens to contain a brand new pair of pajamas that they put on immediately.  There is the decision as to whether or not to wrap the presents from Santa.  We used to not wrap them when the kids were really little, but when they got old enough to sneak down and peek after we went to bed, we had to start wrapping everything.
Traditions are a form of regimen.  Children learn what to expect by what preceeds it.  They know that buying a tree comes before the decorations, they know when they go to bed on Christmas Eve that the next morning they will be opening their presents.  Just like they know that if they misbehave, they get punished.  They know that when they wake up, there will be breakfast.  When they get home, someone will be there waiting.
If only every child could depend on these things.  That would be my wish this year.  That every child know what to expect when they awake, and that they all sleep in a safe, warm place.

You just never know..

Tonight I got to taste a little bite of heaven.  I ate the best tiramisu that I have ever put in my mouth.  And, all the more surprising, it came from an unexpected place.  My very talented son-in-law!  He made these individual desserts for a party that he and my daughter gave for their friends.  They were amazing.  Now, you should note, he has also made homemade double layer chocolate cake for my daughter's 30th birthday, and the cakes for our company party.  His wife is an amazing cook and so is his mother, so he knows what it takes.  But desserts are his thing.  He takes pride in what he cooks and I am just amazed.  So, guess what?  He gets to make the desserts from now on.  I have never been great at desserts.  Oh, I can make a carrot cake or follow the recipe for banana nut muffins, but this guy knows what he is doing!
So, it was a long, long Monday today.  Things that made it better:  seeing my homemade cinnamon rolls disappear first thing this morning.  Getting to play with my granddaughter in the office and watch her throw those amazing fits.  Talking with my daughter and son-in-law and telling them how proud of them I am. 
Waking up to my cup of coffee prepared by my husband.  Sending my son and his wife their Christmas package barely in time for him to get it before he heads off to Texas for the holidays (tee-hee).  Thinking of my other son and hoping this is a Christmas he will remember, for good or for bad.
Tonight was pheasant, because it was all that was defrosted in the fridge.  Wrapped the boneless, skinless breasts with bacon, seasoned well, and browned in a cast iron skillet.  Put in the oven to finish off for about 45 minutes with some quartered potatoes.  Warmed up leftover broccolli.  Made my hubby a miniature wedge salad.
But the grand finale, that tiramasu..... now that was something surprising and wonderful.  Tomorrow will be brighter now.

Grandkids and the morning after.....

There is nothing like the warm sleepy kisses of kids ready (or already) in bed.  When you get to be a grandparent and only get it once a week, it is especially sweet.  Yes, the grandkids were over last night.  The kids came over after church and had dinner with us and left the kids for the night.  I made my famous "homemade chili".  All the years I boiled the beans and cut up the tomatoes and a couple of years ago I was craving chili dogs, but just couldn't do the canned chili.  So, I browned some ground beef with onions and fresh garlic, added a can of chili beans, a can of chopped tomatos (Ro-tel are the best, but a little spicy), small can of tomato sauce, and some chili powder.  Mixed it all up and simmered for a little while (it doesn't really matter how long), it's done as soon as you put it together.  I also heated up some homemade split pea soup and a batch of lima beans with leftover ham from the company party last week.  YUM.  Everyone had a little of everything.  The chili is gone, but the beans will just get better every day.
Back to those warm sleepy kisses and the grandkids.  No matter what time of day or night, their snuggles and hugs are for grandpa first, when he is around.  They both walk right past me to get to him if he's available and it never ceases to amaze me how they light up when he is around.  While I sometimes am a little jealous, and mutter "chopped liver" under my breath, I realize how fortunate we are to have him in our lives.  For me, he just makes it all better.  So, when I get up to find all three of them in his lazyboy, it is a sight.  Grandson's long legs are hanging clear down to the end of the chair and granddaughter is curled into a little ball, barely seen under the Jazz blanket she drags down with her in the morning.  My husband in the center, a content smile on his face as he kisses first one head, then the other, and squeezes them til they laugh.
Here's to many more mornings, many more bowls of chili, and warm sleepy kisses from children....

Connecting....

How do we connect with each other?  The other day I went for a ride with my husband up to his pheasant hunting area.  We left about 3:30 pm, with no particular plan in mind, just to take a ride and see if there were any pheasant roosters out to be seen.  The sun was beginning to set when we got out to the area that my husband hunts, the sky was overcast, and it was cold.  I'm always grateful for those heated seats on days like that.  For some reason, it had been a particularly discouraging day, and I was feeling pretty down when we left.  In fact, the only reason that I went was that I knew that if I stayed home I would get nothing done at all.  Going for a ride seemed to be a great way to dodge the work at home, and, at the same time, get some one on one with the hubby.
I made myself a cocktail to go, my husband an iced tea to go, put on warm boots and took my warm jacket.  We had not gone very far when I opened up on my husband.  Now, let me just say this.  He is a saint.  No, not perfect, but when it comes to understanding me, there is no-one that can compare with him.  He doesn't always try to fix what's wrong, he just listens sometimes.  He points out things that I have overlooked, and doesn't judge the way I feel.  He lets me vent.  He listens to my frustrations and my tantrums.  He reminds me of what is really important.  He just loves me and our children and our childrens' children.  Just like they are.  With faults and flaws and blessings.  He just loves us.
Needless to say, when we arrived back home, well after dark, we were both tired and hungry.  I was exhausted from my mental day, and he was tired from his physical day.  He offered McDonalds.  I declined.  We got home and I whipped up a homemade hamburger for each of us.  Real ground beef, mixed with spices and a new ingredient, some precooked bacon added to the mixture.  Fired up the cast iron skillet, fried them with some red onions and topped them with cheese.  Got buns out of the freezer, threw them in the oven and toasted them lightly.  Dressed the buns, popped on the burgers, dug out some chips and a soda and had the hands down most amazing burger ever.  OK, maybe we were really hungry, but that bacon mixed in just did something extra for the whole burger.  I'll never mix them up without it again (if I can help it). 
Anyway, I just want to say how fortunate I am to be able to connect with those I love.  Maybe I can't everyday.  Maybe it's on a ride or over a pedicure, or when my son needs a recipe or something else.  But we do connect.  And I have to remember that sometimes its not that I have to try to connect, but just I have to let it happen, and don't resist.  Just go along for the ride.
Here's to happy days and hamburgers!