Day 5: Chicken Tortilla Soup

When I posted about my zucchini and asked for recipes, Valerie was first on the scene with a recipe for chicken tortilla soup.  Valerie and I have been friends since college where we met in society.  If you didn't go to a Christian university with societies, than there is really no way for me to describe what it is.  There is just no good context for explaining a mandatory, same-sex social group that meets once a week for activities like reciting poetry, putting on skits, playing mafia, and opening Hershey's kisses with your feet.  Like I said - impossible to explain - but it was the kind of social organization that formed lasting friendship (like Alaina, Kara, Sarah, Melissa, Valerie, Annaleisa, Katie, and the other Katie) so you always have someone on hand when you need a good zucchini recipe.

This, like every zucchini recipe we've tried so far, astonished me.  I know I'm prone to the superlatives and dramatics, but Matt is not. Last night he told me, "This might be my favorite thing you've ever made."  Not his favorite zucchini recipe from this week.  His favorite thing ever.  Out of everything I've cooked for him over the past seven years.

Day 4: Zucchini Cupcakes with Caramel Frosting

For no good reason, I am sensitive to the smell of raw garlic.  Possibly I have vampire in my family tree?  I love garlic flavor, and I use it with impunity.  But the smell of raw garlic makes my stomach turn.

Last night, I loaded up all the dishes from dinner and reached into the bag of dishwasher tablets just to come up empty.  Since we no longer live in a bustling metropolis, I had to leave them and plan on grabbing detergent today over my lunch.  This morning I woke up, and all I could smell was garlicky garlic with garlic.  That braised zucchini and leeks clinging to the dirty dishes in my dishwasher had made my house smell like an evil spirit's nightmare (at least to my sensitive nose - no complaints from Matt).

Our 180 degree lifestyle change has taught me many lessons in innovation, and I was highly motivated.  Gritting my teeth, and keeping one eye on the clock, I Googled "DIY dishwasher detergent."  I didn't have time to sort through the plethora of DIY mom blogs, but several clicks showed that all the instructions were about the same.  I mixed together my salt, Borax and washing soda, poured vinegar into the rinse cycle and crossed my fingers.  Keeping in the spirit of Pinterest, I even poured the remaining detergent in a mason jar (there was one sitting out on my counter, and my philosophy tends to be, "why put it away when you can stick something in it?").

The jury is still out on the results.  Now that I've had more time to research, I'd like to make some changes (add citric acid and a little dish soap).  But the fact remains that this morning, right after feeding the chickens, ducks and turkeys, I made dishwasher detergent.  Made it.  From scratch.  We're going completely Country over here, people.

Today's zucchini recipe comes from Taste of Home - which in a lot of ways was the original food blog but in magazine form because it was before food blogs existed.  Most lunchtimes, my sister and I would each grab a copy of Taste of Home and flip through the glossy pages while we ate.  I loved that magazine.  They had beautiful photos of food and personal anecdotes both touching and humorous.  Each recipe had a promising picture and a story.  And isn't that what is at the crux of food blogs?

Day 3: Braised Zucchini and Leeks

The summer of my senior year of college, I read Mireille Guiliano's French Women Don't Get Fat. I had just had to have my choir dress let out a little, and felt like emergency action was required.

What I remember from the book is the philosophy of thoughtfully eating what you like.  Guiliano doesn't frown on dessert, but she encourages eating one piece of quality bittersweet chocolate over eating a frosted Krispy Kreme doughnut or half a bag of M&Ms.  She writes about facing a craving for an apple pastry head on by eating slow roasted apples cooked in cabbage leaves.

(Who are we kidding?  Cabbage leaves instead of layer upon layer of crisp buttery pastry??  As I type this, I'm struck that she would likely support a cake that substitutes zucchini for Coca-Cola.)

But the concepts are good.  If you love the apple flavor, don't substitute a cheap, unsatisfying fiber bar - eat real apples.  Just limit yourself on the fats and sugars the majority of the time.

Guiliano also shares the diet plan that her family's doctor advised for her after she put on weight in the United States.  For the first 48 hours, she ate only what she deemed "Magical Leek Soup."  In glowing terms she describes how this was the catalyst of her life-long love for sweet, buttery leeks.  She drank the delicious and nourishing leek broth several times a day, and whenever she got hungry she would eat a boiled leek with a little olive oil and cracked pepper.  Not only were these leeks delectable, they filled her up; and she still lost some significant pounds (or kilos).

I was sold.

Day 2: Chocolate and Zucchini Cake

If obsessing over zucchini and pouring over recipes make me anything of an expert (they don't), the two most common pairings with zucchini are cheese and chocolate.  Which bodes well for my taste buds and not so well for my waistline.

Our house is a little divide on chocolate.  I prefer it to any other flavor, and Matt is indifferent.  He does enjoy high quality chocolate, but doesn't mind mixing things up once a while.

When I made that first batch of muffins, Matt looked at them and said, "What are those dark things?"

Me: Raisins.

Matt: Oh, good.  I thought they were chocolate chips.

Me: No, they're raisins.

Pause

Me: We're out of chocolate chips.

The Six Emotions of Shoo-Fly Pie

This is not intended to be a food blog.  I've never intended it to be anything other than an Elizabeth blog.  But I write about food often because it's important to me, it's universal, and it's easy: the ease of writing about food being a result of the first two reasons.  But under the surface it is more than that.


It has been a difficult week.  We have been negotiating for a house and property we very much want.  It seems that every time we reach an agreement on one issue with the seller, like the heads of Hydra two more issues arise.  And in the midst of that we lost a very dear little fur friend.  He had an important role in the Judge family, and his death has left a hole. 


Henry misses his friend.

Tonight, after dinner, Matthew said, "I would really like some pie."

Suddenly, I was picturing the layers of a shoo fly pie. I haven't made one in seven years, but in my mind I saw the sticky pudding layer and the layer like gingerbread topped with a crumbly, streusel layer. I did a mental check of the pantry.  I had everything I needed - molasses, butter, brown sugar.  I even had a pre-made pie crust in the fridge (don't judge).  I jumped up, grabbed my pink mixing bowls, started to break up butter in sugar and flour until it formed course crumbs. 

I was first introduced to shoo fly pie in Lois Lenski's Shoo Fly Girl.  Strawberry Girl may be the Newbery winner, but for me it couldn't compare to the story of the sincere little Amish girl.  I loved the book so much, I begged my mom to make me a shoo fly pie.  The hands-on mom that she is, she was pulling  one out of the oven not long after that.  I'm not sure what I expected, but it certainly wasn't the dark, mostly unfamiliar flavor of molasses.  Disappointed, I finished just one piece.

It wasn't until years later that I made my own shoo fly pie.  It is one of the first things I remember making all on my own - just because I felt like it  By this point, I loved molasses, and this time it did not disappoint.

When we were in college, lonely and tired of trying to figure out how to be adults, Rebekah quietly said to me, "I would love some shoo fly pie right now." 

My jaw dropped.  First, because I never knew Rebekah loved shoo fly pie, and I thought I knew everything about my little sister.  Second, because with startling clarity, I realized I too wanted that simple, comfortable pie.

Tonight I baked one for Matthew and me.  While the warm scent of it filled the kitchen I listed to Beethoven's Seventh and felt strongly.  Not a simple, easy to pin-point feeling.  But the whole kaleidoscope of feelings that comes from living a full life and baking a pie that has a plethora of memories mixed in with the sugar and cinnamon.

I am sad at the death of a sweet dog.
I am happy as I bake pie and listen to Matthew in the other room busy with his lizards.
I am nervous that we might get this house.  Nervous that we might not.
I am lonely for my family still as far away as they were when I was at college.  Only now Rebekah is further away too.
I am in love with the man in the room with the lizards.
And I am grateful. Grateful for my memories and the rich life I have now.

Not everyone likes molasses.  I get that.  But if you haven't had shoo fly pie, give it a try.  If nothing else, it will make your house smell like the safest place in the world. 

Shoo Fly Pie

1 9" inch pie crust

Crumb topping:
1 cup flour
1/2 cup brown sugar
2 Tablespoons butter
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon nutmeg
1/8 teaspoon ginger
1/8 teaspoon cloves

Filling:
3/4 cup corn syrup
3/4 cup hot water
1 well beaten egg
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 teaspoon baking soda

Preheat the oven to 400. Line a 9 inch pie pan with crust. Mix all the crumb ingredients together until rough crumbs form. Set aside. Combine corn syrup and hot water, then stir in remaining ingredients. Place a third of the crumbs in the pie crust. Pour half the syrup on top of the crumbs. Layer another third of the crumbs, followed by the remaining syrup. Top evenly with remaining crumbs. Bake at 400 for 20 -25 minutes.

Tomato Jam: A Love Story

Once upon a time, all throughout the land, people made tomato jam.  In heavy pots, chunks of tomatoes would simmer in sugar and spices until they were cooked down into garnet-colored jam.  The evocative scent of cinnamon, clove and garlic would linger in the kitchen long after the jam was carefully sealed into little glass jars. 

Keeping it Simple - Cream of Tomato Soup

This soup is pretty simple.  Put some canned tomatoes, a little chopped onion, some chicken broth, and butter in a pot, let it simmer for an hour, add whipping cream and you're ready to go.  It's also pretty delicious.

My mother-in-law found the recipe in an old issue of Taste of Home, liked it, and set it aside to share with me.  With it, she gave me two quarts tomatoes that they grew, picked and canned. 

Last night Matthew and I savored the final hours of our weekend and gratefully ate this soup.  In spite of this hot and humid South Carolina summer, and we both had seconds.  Even Matthew who generally does not care for soup. 

Don't let the simplicity or the ingredients (butter and whipping cream!) concern you.  One pot makes 8 servings, and one serving is right under 300 calories (if online calorie counters are to be trusted).  Because the soup has so few ingredients, I recommend using the best quality you have available.  Use real chicken broth rather than bullion and high quality canned tomatoes. 

So without a lot of fuss or fanfare, here is the recipe carefully saved for me by my mother-in-law.  I wish I could give each of you a jar of homegrown tomatoes to go with it.

Old-Fashioned Cream of Tomato Soup
Adapted from from Taste of Home

1 quart of diced tomatoes, undrained
1 cup chicken broth (I used Trader Joe's organic, free-range)
1/4 cup butter
1 Tablespoon onion, chopped
1/8 teaspoon baking soda
2 cups heavy whipping cream

In a large nonreactive pot combine the first five ingredients.  Bring to a boil.  Lower heat, cover, and simmer for 1 hour.  In a heavy saucepan, heat whipping cream.  Do not let the whipping cream boil.  Just before serving, use an immersion blender to puree the soup.  Slowly add one cup of soup to whipping cream.  Add whipping cream mixture to pot of soup.  Serve immediately.  Makes 8 servings.

From My Binder: Italian Birthday (Week)Night

I mentioned in my post on hospitality that I keep a binder for meal planning.  I am a sucker for food blogs and Pinterest, and I love to plan a meals with a theme. 

Unless it's just Matthew and I: then cereal, leftover salami, and string cheese are a meal. 

Themes give me a structure to work in and make me feel like my meal is complete.  They can also give me a headache and make me want to take on way too much work.  But I'm getting better at keeping my expectations real even if it means adapting what I see in food magazines.

As I've mentioned (just a couple times), I work a lot, and if I'm going to pull off hospitality on a weeknight the food has to be mostly make-ahead. 

Grilled Bruschetta Chicken

Our tomatoes aren’t quite ripe yet.  Every day I go out and water the big green plants with prayers and pleading.  In the meantime, my father-in-law has given me tomatoes to tide me over until mine come through.  C’mon , little buddies.  Ripen!

                Food is miraculous. Tomatoes are the only vegetable (fruit?) that we grow in our tiny yard, so the miracle unfolds in front us under the spray of our water hose.   I buy my tomato plants in the plant stage because I have no green phalanges.  The way they start out as little plants, stretch up through their inadequate cages, and push out tomatoes bursting with the flavors of summer – it all makes me pause in admiration and gratitude. 

No One is Safe

Sunday was a rainy day.  And a bit nippy.  I wore a sweatshirt as we ran errands.  Then when we got home, I wanted to bake.  I'd had my eye on this for a while, and I had all the ingredients.  Before I could give myself time to reconsider, the butter was melting in my cast-iron skillet.  In less than twenty minutes, I was eating a giant warm cookie out of a skillet.  With a spoon.  By myself.

I texted Jennifer a picture with a plea, "Save me!"

She wrote back, "YOU ARE SO BAD!"

Summer Lasagna and Cupcakes

It's been a while since I've written. 

I've been spending some time with this:

Santa Rosa Beach, FL

And this:

R enjoyed Aunt Lizzie's raspberries.

But now I'm back. 

That Salad. THAT SALAD

The recipe for THAT SALAD comes from here.  I'm not sure what it was the caught and held my interest - was it the picture of the pig conjuring up mixed memories or the writer's over-the-top description of being teased and pushed to your limits?  I don't know, but after a kaleidoscope of a day at work I found myself at Whole Foods putting the ingredients in my cart. 

The author at Food52 wrote about April Bloomfield's Lemon Caper dressing in glowing terms. It was the kind of description that makes you stop half-way through reading, look back , and question if you are still, in fact, talking about salad dressing. As opposed to Mother Theresa. Or penicillin. But I was intrigued by the idea of lemon segments in the dressing and her description of the acids working with the fats (which in April Bloomfield's case were fried pig ears).

I sent the link to Jennifer and she wrote back, "What on earth could you substitute for pig ears?" I wanted to find out.

Back with Banana Cake

Tax season is finally crawling to a close.  I'm finally dreaming about things other than work.  Like last night, I dreamt I was trying to cover super greasy hair with a big headband.  It didn't work.  But hey, at least it wasn't about taxes.

In the meantime, I made banana cake.  Through a series of peculiar events, I actually lost a bunch of bananas.  I found them a week later at which point they were good only for baking.  This was perfect, because I'd had my eye on this recipe. 

Breaking From Taxes to Talk About Cooking

"If you are what you eat, then I only want to eat the good stuff." - from Ratatouille

My mom made breakfast, lunch and dinner.  I'd do my algebra homework to the scent of bean soup and freshly baked bread.  Our mac and cheese was always homemade.  So naturally, by the time I moved out, I knew how to follow a recipe and make a meal.  And it was when I was cooking for myself tht I really learned to cook.

Handling Hospitality

Seven years ago, I would never have invited  friends over for a bucket of fried chicken.  I knew how to fry my own chicken, thank you very much! But let me tell you about the only time I ever tried to fry chicken for company. My grease caught fire, I poured a full bag of flour on it, and we all ended up in the front yard eating take-out pizza while the smoke cleared.  Thankfully, the man I was trying to impress didn't mind too much and now lets me burn food for him all the time.  So glad I went that homemade route!

I think that those of us that enjoy cooking and entertaining have the hardest time doing it. We are so full of ideas. When it comes to executing all these ideas under time constraints  and with an audience, things often unravel.  My inner Crazy-Hostess still haunts me, but I've learned some things that help me be more realistic and successful with entertaining.

A Dish Best Served Cold

"For what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbours, and laugh at them in our turn?'' - from Jane Austen's Pride and Predjudice

I recently heard of a couple, having just adopted a child, who were asked, "Did you not want any children of your own?" Now I could dissect that statement and point out the at least four things wrong with it, but I imagine you can do that yourself.  Conversations like that make my stomach sink or make me squirm in discomfort.   I am left shaking my head and blinking my eyes in disbelief.

Then there are the times that render me speechless.  Like the time a well-meaning individual told me that the reason Matt has spina bifida is because his mother stood in front of the microwave while she was pregnant. I stood staring at her and not saying anything.  I considered quoting random Bible verses just to avoid saying the wrong thing.

Secret BBQ Ribs

Have you tried my friend Josh's peanut butter cookies?  The recipe is here, and I suggest you take out a stick of butter and let it start softening now.  And while you do that, I will let you in on a little secret.  I didn't successfully make cookies until about four years ago.  I'm still not sure what I was doing wrong.  In high school and college while other girls were gathering around mixing bowls and bonding over the process of making cookies, I was staring dismally at a pan of flattened, crispy disks of sugar, butter and chocolate chips.  My oatmeal cookies turned out like day-old biscuits and my peanut butter cookies crumbled like sawdust at the first bite. 

What I came to realize is that although some people have success with the recipe on the back of the bag or the side of the oatmeal tin, I had to carefully research and find the recipe that works for me.  Josh's peanut butter cookie works for me every time.  When I take that cookie places, people sit up and take notice. 

So when Josh told us he had a trick for cooking BBQ ribs, I pulled out a pen and a pad of paper.

These ribs will make you look like the crackerjack of outdoor cooking.  People's eyes will roll back in their heads, and they will try to hide the fact that they are sucking on the bones.  And when they ask you what your secret is, you'll act all coy becaues you won't want to admit that you made them in the slow-cooker.

That's right: a slow-cooker!

Then There's a Pair of Us



Chairs by Hazelnuts



I'm nobody! Who are you?

Are you nobody, too?

Then there's a pair of us — don't tell!

They'd banish us, you know.

How dreary to be somebody!

How public, like a frog

To tell your name the livelong day

To an admiring bog!

- Emily Dickinson

My friend Charis likes to change the end of this poem to "To tell your name the livelong day/To an admiring blog." A pun that always makes me smile.

Here are some of my favorite frogs on the world wide bog:

Cloud Nine Banana Cream Pie

Homeschooling traditionally is hands-on learning.  My experience was no different.  For everything we studied, there was an accompanying hands-on project that generally included food.   A study of Jewish holidays would not have been complete without latkes.  When we were studying the Dark Ages, we all tried some cow tongue.  And I was extremely jealous of my sister Rebekah the year she decided to do a science fair project on leavening agents in brownies. 

Some of these experiences were of epic proportion.  When we studied Queen Victoria, we made queen cakes.  Mom mixed up the batter and let us fill the cupcake tins.  After about ten minutes in the oven, the cupcake tins overflowed and the bottom of the oven caught on fire.  

Chicken Soup with Spinach and Orzo

A number of years ago, I called my mom and boasted, "I just roasted a chicken!" 


She was nonplussed.  "Anyone can roast a chicken.  It's taking the meat off the bones that is the hard part."


There is something to that.  Deboning a chicken is greasy, mindless work.  When we were kids, my parents would scare us into doing homework by regaling us with stories of chicken factories.  Now I pull meat off the pokey bones off a chicken and mutter, "I went to college...I went to college."