Monthly Archives: September 2013

Kids’ Whimsical Cooking: Play Dough

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Hi this is Addie. Today I will tell you about making play dough. Making play dough is a simple and exciting way to have fun. I think the reason you should make play dough instead of buying it is because depending on the ingredients you use it could be cheaper. Some play dough recipes only involve household items such as water and flour. Kneading the dough is fun for kids especially kids 4-8. I liked the experience of making play dough and I think you should try it too.

Homemade Play Dough

Ingredients
2 c. all purpose flour
2 t. vegetable oil
½ c. salt
2 T. cream of tartar
1-1/2 c. boiling water (adding more in increments if needed)
Food coloring (optional)
Few drops glycerine (optional, add mores shine)

Process
Mix the flour, salt, cream of tartar and oil in a large mixing bowl. Add the boiling water. Stir continuously until it becomes a sticky, combined dough. Add the food coloring and glycerine. (I cut it into several sections so I could make different colored dough.) Allow it to cool down, then take it out of the bowl and knead it vigorously until the stickiness has gone. You might have to add more flour. This is the most important part of the process, so keep at it until it’s the perfect consistency.

Now play, play, play!

Notes from Nana: I’m not sure that you save a whole lot of money by making your own play dough, but it really is a lot of fun. I happen to like to make bread (though I’m not good at it, but that’s a blog for another time). Part of what I like about bread baking is the kneading process. I love the feel of the dough on my fingers, and I love how it goes from a mass of powdery floury mess into a soft, elastic dough. Making play dough allows kids to have that feeling. And what is more fun than playing with a floury mess? The kids can choose their colors and watch the dough take shape.

Two other notes: It seems to me that it ends up taking significantly more flour than originally called for, so don’t worry if that’s the case for you. Also, I never use the glycerine, though Addie tells me it is prettier if you do so. I don’t even know where to buy glycerine to be frank. I think it’s pretty without it.

Have fun and enjoy watching the kids make a mess!

Hey Edna, How’s Your Mom and ‘Em?

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I really try to be patient and upbeat about technology. It obviously benefits me tremendously. I am a blogger. Twenty years ago that word made no sense. Well, to be honest, it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me even now. But I am wholly cognizant of the things that technology does to improve my life.

However, one of my pet peeves is the endless loop that one gets in on the telephone when trying to take care of simple matters, like changing any kind of information. In the old days of rotary telephones, a person would simply call Edna at the phone company or Jerry at the bank and ask them to make the change. Edna would ask about your mom and dad, congratulate you on your daughter making the cheerleading squad, and make the necessary change. Same with Jerry.

Now, once it’s been established which language I speak, it is a series of loops, all of which almost NEVER get me to what I want. Sigh. By time I get to a human (by pressing the 0 button 10 or 20 times I have learned), I am so crabby that an apology is almost always necessary at the end of the conversation. After all, “Hank”, who claims to be in Texas, is actually in India and, no matter where he is, none of this is his fault. He is only trying to make a buck (or a rupee as it were).

But I guess if my grandmother could transition from a horse and carriage to a motor vehicle with grace, and accept that you could watch programs on a box in the living room, I should be able to be more patient when I am making a change that is allowing me to access nearly endless information on the world wide web.

Jabba the Hut Meets the Energizer Bunny (and guess which one I am)

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So, the cold which has been playing around with me for the past few days finally caught up with me. I awoke yesterday morning with a sore throat and it felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest. I’m really pretty hearty, but this one kind of knocked me on my behind.

So, I pretty much sat in my recliner chair in the family room and watched television all day. Let’s see, I watched three or four recorded Pioneer Woman shows (including one in which she made a yummy looking chicken Florentine in sixteen minutes), two episodes of Foyle’s War (my newest Masterpiece Theater obsession), an episode of Cedar Cove to meet my heightened need for romance in my weakened state, the Dancing With the Stars that we had recorded Monday night because we were watching our Denver Broncos TROUNCE the Oakland Raiders, an episode of Call the Midwife (my other new PBS obsession), and back to Food Network to watch Jamie Deen’s Home for Dinner. Count it out. It adds up to about nine hours of sitting on my rear end in my pajamas watching television. I did get up around noon and eat some canned chicken noodle soup.

While I was masquerading as a giant blob, my husband was working on his remodel project. He was busily sanding, hammering, painting, and cleaning paintbrushes. In between home improvement projects he was emptying mouse traps, paying the bills for which he is responsible, and getting the garbage cans out for the collectors to pick up.

The pinnacle was tonight, around 10, as we were heading up the stairs (my legs were weak from having not been used all day), he says to me, “Do you mind if I put up some shelves in my office tonight?” Ten o’clock at night and he is going to put up shelving. That’s what he’s doing right now. The man is the Energizer Bunny.

That, of course, makes me Jabba the Hut.

And, because I was sick, here is my soup recipe of the day:

Mickey Mouse Visits the House

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So enough of my waxing eloquent about autumn. Football, baseball, cool weather. Blah blah blah. In the first place, the weather only stayed cool a couple of days, and has been near or above 80 most days since. Now I just feel foolish.

Plus, there is a lot about the fall that makes me cranky.

Every summer we have a bird feeder. Our feeder attracts the prettiest little birds – chickadees, house finches, wrens. Some bigger birds graze on the leftovers that fall to the earth. Squirrels too, but that’s a given. Anyway, I enjoy watching the little birds all summer long.

However, as with most things good, there is a down side. In this case, it’s the mice that appear around this time each year. They are apparently stocking up for the winter months, and they like the seeds that drop to the ground. I see them scurrying around, in and out of the rocks that make up the garden area in which our feeder is located. I really don’t mind seeing them running around outside. After all, they are God’s creatures too, and part of nature. But the other evening as I was sitting at my kitchen table near the back door, I looked out to see a tiny little mouse sitting just outside the door looking in at me. I half expected him to knock on the door and ask to come in. Perhaps I have been watching too much Mickey Mouse Clubhouse with my grandkids. He did kind of look like this, however.

Anyway, all of my warm feelings about the sweet little mice being part of nature went out the window. I pounded heartily on the door and yelled, “Scram!” at the top of my lungs. He did. Probably through a tiny hole into my basement.

So it was time to set the traps. We started out with the old standby traps, but quickly learned that the squirrels are able to trip those bad boys and get the bait without a problem. So my husband sent me to the hardware store for Plan B, the covered traps. Squirrel-proof. Unfortunately, apparently our mice are too small to trip the traps, so they can just munch on the bait without a care in the world. I expected them to wave over at me and tell me thanks for the snack.

Finally, my husband sent me to the store for Plan C. (By the way, in case you are wondering why my husband is sending me to the store rather than going himself, it’s because he is in the final stages of a room remodel which has been going on for approximately 750 years. I am so ready for him to be done that I will do anything to keep him working. I would sleep for him at night if that was possible.) Anyway, Plan C is the sticky trap. I’m not even going to talk about that.

But I will talk about this delicious soup. It is a copycat version of Olive Garden’s Zuppa Toscana, and I think it is very close. How can you go wrong with Italian sausage and cream in the same recipe. I got this recipe from Annie’s Eats.

Zuppa Toscana

Ingredients
1 lb. Italian sausage
1 large onion, chopped
3-4 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 c. white wine to deglaze the pan
1/2 t. red pepper flakes
2 potatoes, peeled and cut into small chunks
2 c. fresh kale, chopped
3 c. chicken broth
2-1/2 c. water
1 c. heavy cream
salt and pepper

Process
Place a large stockpot on the stove over medium heat. Crumble the sausage into the pan and cook until well browned. Remove the sausage with a slotted spoon and set aside. Add the onion to the pan and saute until tender, 5-7 min.

Add the garlic and red pepper flakes to the pan and cook for a minute more, just until fragrant. Add the wine to the pot and stir, scraping the bottom of the pan to loosen any browned bits. Add the potatoes, kale, chicken broth and water to the pot. Return the sausage to the pot. Increase the heat to medium high, bring to a boil, and then reduce heat to simmer. Cover and let simmer for about 20 minutes, or until the potatoes are fork-tender.

Stir in the heavy cream and season with salt and pepper to taste.

Bon appetito! Don’t leave any crumbs for the mice.

Brushing Teeth

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I’m going to give you a great soup recipe, but first a funny story….

The other morning I agreed to watch my 3-year-old granddaughter for the morning while her mommy acted as a chaperone for her sister’s school field trip. As usual, Little Missy was glad to see me, and my morning look like a walk in the park.

As my daughter-in-law was walking out the door, she called back to me, “By the way, could you please help Mylee brush her teeth?”

“Of course,” I replied. “No problem.”

Or so I thought.

“Which toothbrush is yours, Mylee?” I asked.

“I don’t want to brush my teeth,” was her response.

“Well, of course you must brush your teeth,” I said. “It will only take a minute.”

“I don’t want to brush my teeth,” she said again.

And so our morning went. I know this sounds silly. After all, I’m nearly 60, and she’s only 3. I outweigh her by a good 100 lbs. I should be able to make her brush her teeth. But, I swear to you Ladies and Gentlemen, there was no way she was going to let me brush her teeth. When I tried to use psychology (“all good girls brush their teeth; that way they will have pretty smiles”), she responded, “I don’t want to brush my teeth.” When I tried to use bribery (“I will read you that funny Halloween story AFTER you have brushed your teeth”), she said, “I don’t want to brush my teeth.” And when I tried more direct persuasion (that is, picking her up, carrying her into the bathroom, putting her onto her little stool and coming at her with the toothbrush), she clamped her mouth shut tighter than the doors at the Strategic Air Command in Omaha, Nebraska.

It was getting closer and closer to the time when Mommy was to come home. I had only been given one substantive task, and I had failed. I finally just crouched down to her level and simply asked her, “Mylee, why do you not want to brush your teeth?”

“I’m afraid of the toothpaste,” she replied.

There you have it. That was it. I don’t know now, nor will I probably ever, just why she found the toothpaste so scary. However, when I washed the toothpaste off of the brush, she opened her mouth and let me brush her teeth. This is a true story.

Doesn’t she look innocent?

And Mom doesn’t need to know this story.

Now, about soup….

When I was newly married and a very bad cook, I joined a subscription service offered by, hmmm, maybe McCall’s Magazine (which I don’t think even exists anymore). Each month, McCalls sent me a series of recipe cards for a fee. As I recall, most of the recipes were not good or were too complicated for my little newlywed brain (which at the time was also concentrating on college as well as marriage). I also recall that it was kind of expensive, at least for two college students on a very limited budget, but hey, I really was a very bad cook.

Out of that subscription service, this was the only recipe that I continue to use. By the way, the image was posted online as a “vintage recipe card.” It’s the same recipe card I use. Guess that makes me old.

Sunday Supper Soup

Ingredients
1-1/2 lb. ground chuck
1 egg, beaten
½ c. soft bread crumbs
¼ t. salt
1 T. chopped parsley
2 T. butter
1 10-1/2 oz. can beef broth
1 28-oz can tomatoes, undrained
1 envelope (1-3/4 oz.) dry onion soup mix
4-5 carrots, peeled and sliced
¼ c. chopped celery
¼ c. chopped parsley
¼ t. pepper
¼ t/ dried parsley
¼ t/ dried basil
1 bay leaf

Process
Make meatballs: In medium bowl, combine beef, egg, 3 T. water, bread crumbs, salt, and parsley; mix lightly. With hands, lightly shape into 24 balls.

In hot butter in 5-qt. Dutch oven, sauté meatballs, a few at a time, until browned on all sides. Drain off fat. Set meatballs aside.

In same Dutch oven, combine 2 c. water, beef broth, tomatoes, soup mix, carrots, celery, parsley, pepper, oregano, basil and bay leaf. Bring to boiling, then reduce heat and simmer, covered, but stirring occasionally to break up tomatoes, 30 min. Add meatballs and simmer 20 min. longer.

6 servings

Dodging Raindrops

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Last night, probably around midnight, I woke up to the sound of falling rain. I’m not sure how long it had been raining, but the sound of the steady falling raindrops was soothing.

Before going to bed, I had taken dose of Nyquil because somewhere along the line I have managed to catch a cold and I felt like a good night’s sleep would be helpful. So I was in kind of a groggy, Nyquil-induced coma-like state as I listened to the rain fall. It was really raining hard.

All of the sudden, I remembered that when I drove to the mall yesterday afternoon, I had cracked the sunroof on my little yellow Volkswagen Beetle (dubbed Nana’s Bug by all of the grandkids), which I left outside rather than parking in the garage. Had I closed the sunroof? Couldn’t remember. Being anesthetized by Nyquil didn’t help my memory.

I leaped out of bed and ran to the window, but I couldn’t see a thing. I did, however, awaken my husband, who can generally sleep through anything, but apparently not me running around the bedroom in only-somewhat-controlled hysteria.

“What’s the matter?” he asked. I explained, and asked him if he knew the location of any of the 40 or 50 umbrellas we own. Of course he didn’t. And I’m not complaining about him, because I had no clue as to where they were either. That’s why we own 40 or 50. We can never find one when we need it, so we buy another. Somewhere in this house there is a pile of umbrellas the size of Mt. Fuji.

I don’t own any rubber boots, but I knew I didn’t want to go outside in my bedroom slippers. So I put on a pair of hiking boots. And I don’t own a raincoat. (Hey! I live in Denver, not Seattle. I own a ski jacket.) So I grabbed the jacket to my workout clothes and threw it over my shoulders. There I was, wearing a blue nightgown, hiking boots, and a bright green Nike jacket. I looked like Granny Clampett. But it doesn’t matter how I looked. The point is I was wearing absolutely nothing that would keep me dry.

Anyway, the good news is that I hadn’t left my window open and my car was locked up tight as a drum. More good news is that I didn’t even have to go outside, which I would have realized had I not been medicated. Kids, don’t use drugs. I simply opened the garage door and looked outside at my cozily-locked-up-tight-as-a-drum car.

Bill had fallen back to sleep, but I laid awake a long while listening to the rain.

Soup’s On

This week I am going to feature recipes for soup. Soup is one of my favorite things to eat, and my mom had a lot of soup recipes. She prepared soup every day for the little coffee shop/restaurant they owned in Leadville, Colorado, for a few years. She gave me this recipe that she called Cream of Anything. I always thought it was very clever of her to have come up with the idea.

Cream of Anything Soup

Ingredients
¾ c. butter
1 onion, chopped
2 stalks celery, chopped
2 c. chopped vegetables
2 T. chicken broth seasoning, or 2 chicken bouillon cubes
2 c. milk
2 c. half and half
1 qt. hot water
Salt and pepper
Seasonings

Process
Melt butter in Dutch oven. Add onion and celery. Sauté until onion is translucent, about 5 minutes. Add chopped vegetables, and sauté, covered, for about 10 minutes, until the vegetables are becoming tender. Stir in flour. Cook, stirring occasionally, 2 or 3 minutes. Add water, chicken seasoning and milk. Cook, stirring, until thickened.

Season with salt and pepper to taste. Stir in half and half. Bring to simmer, but not to a boil. Add seasonings according to vegetables used.

Lord Help the Mister That Comes Between Me and My Sister

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Sisters can drive you crazy. I should know. I have two of them.

Your parents dress you alike. And even when they don’t, the younger sisters end up wearing the older sisters’ hand-me-downs. I remember having to wear my sister’s hand-me-down First Communion dress and thinking I just wanted to die of embarrassment. That was 50 years ago and I still cringe when I think of it.

I also remember, however, that my mom made my sister take me along with her on her dates when she was in high school. That must have been a riot for her and definitely evened out the embarrassment levels a bit. I’m surprised she speaks to me at all.

Of course, we would have gone to the mat for each other, even when we were children. And now we are the best of friends.

I keep this in mind when I watch the sisters among my grandchildren. And I particularly noticed it recently when I watched two of my grandchildren, sisters, ages 3 and 5. They have very different personalities and interests. While the 5-year-old wants to help me make cookies, the younger one uses the plastic hand mitts as shark puppets.

What kind of cookies should we make, I asked them. “M&M cookies.” “Chocolate Chip Cookies.” They speak simultaneously. What do you want for lunch, I ask. “Macaroni and cheese.” “Rice with soy sauce.” Once again simultaneously.

So we divide the dough in half and put chocolate chips in one half and M&Ms in the other. And thank goodness for those little individual containers of rice and mac and cheese because I can please them both.

Before long, the two of them are in the playroom having a tea party. I can hear them talking to each other and I know that they, too, would go to the mat for each other. Well, maybe not today, but sometime soon.

By the way, the title comes from a song from the movie White Christmas that is sung by Rosemary Clooney and Vera-Ellen. It’s become the theme song for my sisters and me!

Apple Cakes Like My Mommy Makes

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In 2008, Bill and I took the trip of a lifetime. We traveled for 3-1/2 months in Europe. We took a 2-1/2 week cruise across the Atlantic, and then traveled around much of western Europe, concentrating on France and Italy. In fact, we spent an entire month living in a small town in Tuscany.

A couple of years later, we again cruised across the Atlantic to Rome, and then cruised around the Mediterranean to such places as southern Italy, Greece, Turkey, and Egypt. Very nice travels. Remind me to tell you about it sometime.

My mom and dad didn’t travel nearly as much as Bill and I. Still, they went to Hawaii a couple of times, and saw a fair bit of the United States thanks mostly to my sister who married a career army man who was stationed in several locations throughout his career.

But mostly I think my parents – and particularly my mom – liked to stay home. She loved her family and loved spending time with them. So her travels consisted almost entirely of visits to my sister and her family and my brother and his family (who live in Phoenix). And, of course, she enjoyed traveling to any places where she could travel with her kids and her grandkids.

One such trip was to Lancaster, Pennsylvania – Amish country, in 1989, probably as an addendum to a visit to my sister’s home in northern Virginia outside Washington, DC. I only know the year because as I was going through my mother’s recipe box, I came across an envelope from Historic Paul Sours Plantation House in Bendersville, PA, and it was addressed to my mother. That seemed like an odd thing to find in a recipe box. It was date-stamped October 1989. I opened it, and a note card fell out. It was a recipe for Apple Cake.

That was when I recalled that trip, and how much my mother loved that apple cake. What I didn’t remember is that she must have loved it so much that she talked the bed-and-breakfast proprietor into giving her the recipe. That is probably not something most chefs are wont to do, preferring to keep the recipe their own little secret. My mother, however, could be charming and persuasive.

Enjoy this apple cake. By the way, I looked it up and can find no sign that the Historic Paul Sours Plantation House still exists. But thanks to my mom, their apple cake does!

Historic Paul Sours Plantation House Apple Cake

Ingredients
2 c. flour
2 c. sugar
2 t. cinnamon
1 t. baking soda
1 t. baking powder
1 c. shopped walnuts
1 c. vegetable oil
2 t. vanilla
2 eggs, beaten
1/4 c. brandy
4 c. chopped apples (peeled)

Process
Mix all ingredients and press into a greased 9 x 11 baking dish. Bake at 350 for 1 hour or until center bounces back when touched. Don’t know how the B&B served it, but I plan on serving mine with a dollop of fresh whipped cream.