Monthly Archives: August 2017

Going to Where I’m From

Posted in Whimsies by

I wonder how many times I’ve driven I-76 and I-80 between Denver and Columbus, Nebraska? Hundreds, probably, or close thereto. I seriously never get tired of it. Well, I don’t get tired of I-80 anyway; I have to admit that I-76 running through the eastern plains of Colorado is a bit of a snoozer. While I don’t want to lapse into hyperbole, there is virtually nothing on I-76.

In fact, one time many moons ago, Bill and I were driving back from Chicago in the middle of the night. We incorrectly assumed we could find a place to get gas along I-76; however, there were absolutely no gas stations open and paying at the pump was nonexistent. Anyhoo, by time we got to Keensburg (about 48 miles northeast of Denver), Bill insisted that we go no further since our gas gauge was hovering on empty. We slept in the car at the gas station until 6 o’clock or so, when someone finally opened up the station and turned on the coffee pot.

We made the trip this past weekend so that I could attend my 45th high school class reunion. Seven hours up on Friday and seven hours back to Denver on Sunday. Quick trip, but well worth it.

I never really entirely forget just what growing up in the Midwest was like and how it shaped who I am. However, when I am away from my Nebraska roots – either in Denver or in AZ – I give little thought to how much rain we’re getting or the price of soybeans. I worry instead about what color we will stain our hardwood and what I will make for dinner.

But the instant I drive over the Loup River bridge into Columbus, I’m 12 years old again. I find it funny that it always feels like I’m coming home, though I lived in Columbus a mere 18 years, and have lived in Colorado over twice as long.

The first thing I always notice is the sound of the train whistles. Columbus is a major thoroughfare for the Union Pacific railroad. The sound of the train whistles is heard regularly throughout the day and night as the trains – barely slowing down – go through the center of town and on to their next stop. When you live in Columbus, you get used to the sound of the whistles. Though our house was maybe half a mile from the tracks, I had many aunts and uncles who lived so close you would think the train was going to blast through their living room. Bill and I stayed at one of these houses when we were first married. In the middle of the night, Bill rolled over and said, “I have never heard so many trains in my life.” I had barely noticed……

To this day, the sound of a train whistle in the distance makes me nostalgic.

We ate dinner at Husker House Restaurant, about which I’ve spoken before. HH is the restaurant at which our family celebrated nearly every important event in our life until we moved to Colorado. The food is good and the décor hasn’t changed a single bit since I was a child…..

Bill and I had dinner with my friend Susie and her husband Sean.

Bill’s happy if he can stop at Glur’s Tavern (which proclaims to be the oldest tavern in Nebraska, and who am I to doubt?) and have a burger…..

I find a stop necessary at Ole’s Big Game Bar (in Paxton, NE), where you see the mostly-endangered-species that have been part of their décor since the species were not endangered…..

…..and a fried chicken dinner still costs only $8.99…..

But perhaps the most notable thing when I make my trip back to Nebraska is just how absolutely down to earth and funny and kind and interesting (and interestED) the people are. Most would agree with Tim McGraw that you should always be humble and kind.

I’m not sure when I’ll get back next, but I’m pretty sure things won’t have changed much. That’s something you can count on. There might be fast food restaurants that weren’t there when I was a kid, but at the end of the day, Nebraskans are still Nebraskans…..

Go Big Red.

Fill Up the Tub

Posted in Appetizers, Recipes, Whimsies by

I learn a lot when I’m driving my grandkids around. Have you ever noticed that? The same held true when I was rearing my son. He told me things in the car he would have never told me sitting at the kitchen table. I always theorized it was because he was in a closed space from which he couldn’t escape, and because I had to stare straight ahead while I drove, he didn’t have to look me in the eye. It led to honest conversation.

But back to conversations with my grandkids. I don’t have conversations in which I expect them to tell me deep, dark secrets. That’s up to their parents, and I’m just the nana. But they tell me very funny things.

For example, the other day I was driving Kaiya and Mylee to my house to spend the day. Now, almost-9-year-old Kaiya is the worst eater of my nine grandkids. She proclaims a dislike of meat, but isn’t particularly fond of vegetables either. That leaves carbs. Mostly she likes pasta with butter and parmesan cheese and Domino’s cheese pizza. So it was kind of a surprise when she informed me – out of the blue, by the way — that she loved the macaroni and cheese from Noodles & Co. Restaurant.

Don’t get me wrong. The mac-and-cheese at Noodles is amazing. I was just surprised that she liked something other than pasta with butter and cheese and Domino’s cheese pizza.

“Really,” I said, showing my surprise.

“Really, Nana,” she answered. “In fact, I like it so much that I wish I could eat a bathtub full of Noodles mac-and-cheese.”

That led to a conversation about how we would like to design a bathtub that had a closed-in section in which we could sit with a spoon or fork so that we could eat everything that was in the bathtub without having to actually sit in what we are eating.

I asked Mylee if she would fill her bathtub with Noodles mac-and-cheese as well.

“No, Nana,” she said. “I don’t really like mac-and-cheese that much. But I know what I would fill my bathtub with.”

She went on to describe a total rebuild of the bathtub. It would be sectioned into two halves, with the closed-in section in the middle. One half of the bathtub would be filled with sushi and the other half would be filled with soy sauce.

“That way I could take the sushi from one side and dip it into the soy sauce on the other,” she noted happily.

I loved that conversation with Kaiya and Mylee. I think we pondered a fun question. It’s a bit different than the age-old question about what you would take to a desert island if you could only take one food (the answer which, for me, is always chicken-and-bean burritos smothered with hot green chili from Santiago’s  — a Mexican restaurant in the Denver area). It’s different because the question isn’t what is your favorite food; instead, it’s what is the food that, once you start eating, you can’t stop.

For me, it would have to be tortilla chips and salsa and/or guacamole. I guess I would need a modified version of Mylee’s modified version – chips on one side, and the other side divided in half with guacamole on one side and my nephew Christopher’s spicy homemade salsa on the other side. It’s true, my friends; once I dip a chip into salsa, I can’t stop until the chips are gone. And then I’m liable to ask for more.

When I relayed the conversation to their father, I asked him what food he would choose. He thought for a few moments, and then said chicken wings. I’m distrustful of that answer. Chicken wings would fill you up too quickly. I believe that’s what he would take to a desert island. But maybe I’m overthinking.

And Court’s thought on what food would fill up Cole’s bathtub? Chef Boyardee ABCs with meatballs.

I insist that anyone who comments on my blog today must include what they would have in their bathtub. And here is Christopher’s salsa recipe….

Christopher’s Salsa

Ingredients
1 can diced tomatoes, drained
1 can Rotel tomatoes, drained
1 green onion
1/4 c. cilantro
1-2 jalapenos, seeds and membrane removed (unless you want it hot)
1 serrano pepper
1/4 t. garlic salt
1 clove garlic, minced
Juice from one lime

Process
Place all of the ingredients in a blender or food processor and blend until it’s the consistency you like. The serrano pepper adds lots of heat, so use accordingly.

This post linked to Grand Social.

Saturday Smile: Old Friends

Posted in Whimsies by

Old friends, old friends, sat on their park bench like bookends. A newspaper blown through the grass falls in the round toes of the high shoes of the old friends.

Can you imagine us years from today sharing a park bench quietly. How terribly strange to be seventy. Old friends, memory brushes the same years, silently sharing the same fears. — Paul Simon

The past few days, I’ve had occasion to spend time with people with whom I have been friends for more than 55 years. Imagine that. What a blessing to have friends with whom you have aged but who laugh with you and cry with you as though we are still 7 years old. It’s a gift to have these old friends.

Have a great weekend.

Friday Book Whimsy: The Summer Before the War

Posted in Book Reviews, Whimsies by

Touted as a replacement for Downton Abbey, The Summer Before the War, by Helen Simonson, the story didn’t fill that niche at all for this reader. Nevertheless, I found it to be an interesting story.

Much like Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand, also by the same author, I found The Summer Before the War to be difficult to sink my teeth into. Once the story caught me, I mostly enjoyed the book despite some misgivings.

It is 1914, and there are rumblings of war. Nevertheless, encouraged by a strong-willed woman whose husband has political connections, the little town of Rye in East Sussex, England selects Beatrice Nash to be the Latin professor in the local school. A woman teaching Latin? And a young and attractive woman to boot? Unheard of!

Beatrice is mourning the death of her beloved father, himself a professor. He has left her without a penny to her name, but with lots of ambition and a strong head on her shoulders. She is ready to take on the naysayers who doubt her abilities. It is the summer before the war that no one actually believes will take place.

Agatha – her outspoken supporter – along with her two nephews, both as different as night is from day and devoted to their aunt, roll with the punches as they fight the battles against the townspeople and eventually the actual battles against Germany.

Simonson’s novel paints a clear portrait of the impact that war has on those fighting the battles on the field and those fighting to keep their homes and their families together. Her characters are well-drawn and interesting. The novel has unexpected twists, and an ending that I wouldn’t have predicted. It was a surprise, if somewhat confusing.

Overall, I enjoyed the book. I found it a bit slow in parts and can’t quite explain the ending. Still, it’s worth a read, especially if you read and enjoyed Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand.

Here is a link to the book.

Thursday Thoughts

Posted in Whimsies by

Masterpieces
I know I keep showing you photos of pies that I have made, but that’s because I love pie. What’s more, I think a homemade pie is about the prettiest looking and yummiest tasting thing ever. Yesterday I made my first peach pie of the season. Well, it’s actually my second, but the first made with Colorado peaches, which are out of this world…..

 

The other pie I made on Monday came as a result of my peering into the cookie jar in which I keep the Oreos that Bill and all of the grandkids eat great quantities. What I saw was no more whole Oreos, and many broken-up Oreos. The last package I’d opened had included many broken Oreos. Rather than throwing them away, I made them into a pie crust. I then filled it with vanilla pudding poured over bananas — my mom’s banana cream pie. Except she would never in a million years use Oreos for the crust. Thought, admittedly, she might applaud my frugality. And it was eaten in its entirety following one dinner, thanks to grandkids…..

But I’m not the only one to create a masterpiece. Following our pickle-making experience, Alastair and Dagny created their own special treat from my pantry…..

The Falling Leaves
I’m trying to be a bit more anticipatory when it comes to my Etsy creations. Here is something I’ve been working on for fall…..

They can be placemats or they can be stitched together to make a table runner. Cute, no? I’m in the process of making ghost coasters for Halloween. Click on the Nana’s Whimsies link at the top of my post.

Boulder Cooking
While Jen and I were perusing the cookbooks at the Peppercorn in Boulder last weekend, I noticed a collection of cookbooks that I bet many of you don’t find in the cookbook section of your favorite bookstore. You gotta love Colorado…..

 

Corny Cole
Sweet corn from Olathe, CO,  is in the local grocery stores now, and no one is happier than 3-year-old Cole. Court and the kids have eaten with us for a couple of nights recently, and both times I served  Olathe sweet corn. Cole just gnaws through one, and reaches for another…..

No salt. No butter. This isn’t an acquired taste for him. I have this photo proving that even when he was a baby, he enjoyed sweet corn….

I’m happy to say he eats it without as much of the mess. I unfortunately cannot eat corn on my low-fiber diet. While I can cheat on a few things, corn, well, really not. Nevertheless, I am going to make some more in a few days, and I’m going to treat myself to a bite. It is really good corn.

Ciao.

 

 

 

 

Shoppingless Spree

Posted in Recipes, Side Dishes, Whimsies by

In my past few blog posts, I have made vague allusions to being in Boulder with my sister Jen last Saturday. In fact, I think in yesterday’s post, I mentioned lunch and shopping in Boulder. I think it’s important to clarify something. I don’t shop.

In fact, I think it’s safe to say that any combination of my sisters and me would never go shopping the way most women go shopping. There would never, for example, be a time when either Jen or Bec would call me and say, “Would you like to go wander around XYZ Mall and try on clothes?” I think it’s safe to say that shopping for clothes is, for us, kind of like going to the dentist. It ain’t fun, but you have to do it once in a while. And you have to do it alone.

So, while Jen and I shopped, we didn’t come even thiiiiiis close to clothes shopping. Our idea of shopping is spending an hour or so at McGuckin’s Hardware Store – an amazing hardware-store-on-steroids in Boulder at which you can buy almost anything. After looking at garden supplies and various household items for an hour, I purchased a colorful rug for my kitchen…..

…..and a couple of plastic containers that I have a hard time finding, and in which I love to keep leftover soups or stews. They’re also good to take food to shut-ins. While it’s true that I don’t know a lot of shut-ins (mostly because I’m mostly a shut-in myself), I did have occasion to take food to my sister-in-law following her accident this winter. And I took it in one of those containers.

Following McGuckins, we spent the next hour at the Peppercorn, an astoundingly awesome cooking/kitchen store. We meandered through the store, touching things, reminiscing about things Mom owned, chatting about things we own but shouldn’t, talking about cooking. At Peppercorn, I bought a portable electric can opener, and came mighty darn close to buying a couple of smallish rocks glasses for martinis on the rocks, but remembered that I have a dining room table full of glasses we took out of our family room cabinets when we removed them and which we plan to take to Goodwill. I’m pretty sure if I had walked in with new glasses, Bill would have immediately called a recovery therapist.

For any combination of the three sisters, so-called “shopping” would really mean walking through a few stores and then having lunch. So we had lunch. Hapa Sushi, right down the street from the Peppercorn. We ordered what we considered to be an obscene amount of food that included a large bowl of poke for each of us, an order of shishito peppers (which are the newest Thing in appetizers and which I thought sort of ordinary, though Jen assured me that she has eaten some that were scrumptious),…..

…..pork gyozas, and a spicy tuna roll. We warned the server that we were ordering a lot of food. When we finished ordering, he looked puzzled and said, “Ladies, I hate to disappoint you, but that really isn’t that much food.”

Well, we didn’t eat it all, Mister Smartypants. Apparently he must wait on sumo wrestlers.

But, Boulder being Boulder, we were entertained by a man (who I would guess lives in Colorado NOT because of the mountain scenery but because of its herbal offerings) create “art” by putting a variety of leaves onto the side of a water feature…..

We were further able to observe a 10- or 12-year-old boy grab a bunch of the leaves and run away, while his parents looked on. While I perhaps shared the boy’s sentiment, I think I would have whooped his bottom (oops, I mean given him a time out) nevertheless. But I’m not the mom.

All-in-all, we had a very pleasant day in Boulder….

By the way, the closest we came to clothes shopping was when we talked briefly about stopping into Fresh Produce.Yeah, it didn’t happen.

And, for your consideration, here is a link to a recipe for shishito peppers.

I Think I Can

Posted in Whimsies by

It started on Saturday, when I met my sister Jen in Boulder for lunch and some shopping. She brought me the most beautiful bouquet (because, yes, that’s exactly what it was) of dill from her garden. While my dill this year kind of petered out, her’s blossomed into more than she could possibly use for her salmon filet that she has maybe once a month…..

Sunday, I decided to go to Nick’s Farm Store – a garden center and farm store a few miles from my house. They always have a good selection of fruits and vegetables each summer. And about this time every year they have pickling cucumbers, along with Colorado peaches and homegrown tomatoes.

But it was the pickling cucumbers I was after. Jen’s dill just called to be put into a few jars of sour pickles in vinegar brine.

I don’t know how I learned to can. I guess I taught myself. But I learned to love pickles from both sides of my family. Every year when the pickling cucumbers were available, Mom would prepare a batch of her three-day dill pickles. These pickles were not designed to be processed and saved. They were meant to be prepared, kept in the brine for three days, and then eaten. Unfortunately, the pickles never lasted three days. By that first night, you could see one of us (usually Dad was the first) reaching under the plate that held the cucumbers down into the brine, weighted down by a large can of tomatoes or pork n’ beans. The pickles were long gone by Day Three.

But as soon as I had a place of my own, I taught myself to can. I bought a big canning pot and all of the accoutrement necessary for canning fruits and pickles. I make pickles and dilly beans. I prepare and process Colorado’s delicious Palisade peaches for eating all year long. If I can get ahold of a lot of tomatoes, I can tomatoes to use in soups and stews throughout the winter.

Sometime during Sunday night, it occurred to me that I needed to begin passing along my canning knowledge to my grandkids. So yesterday morning, I sent a text message to Jll asking if any of the kids would be interested in watching/helping me make pickles. Yep, she responded.

Bill brought up my canning equipment from the basement, and I washed the pickling cukes. About that time, Alastair, Dagny, and Maggie Faith arrived. How in the world do you make pickles? Maggie asked. She didn’t even realize that pickles came from cucumbers. I put them to work cutting up the cucumbers, which they did without slicing nary a finger. I then had them drop into each of six pint jars: a garlic clove, a finger full of dill seed, a sprig of fresh dill, a pinch of red pepper flakes, and a good pinch of black peppercorns. In the meantime, I prepared the brine, which consisted of apple cider vinegar, salt, and a touch of sugar. Dagny tasted it and proclaimed it to be perfect. In fact, I finally had to stop her from just drinking the brine as I was fearful it would make her sick.

When the spices were in the jar, I put them to work stuffing the jars with the cut-up cukes…..

The brine went in….

….and the jars were closed and placed in the boiling water of the large canning pot. Fifteen minutes later, voila……

When they left for home, I sent a jar of the pickles with them. They were on their bicycles, and I presumed they had some sort of basket. When I saw there was no basket, I suggested they let me bring them a jar later.

“Nana,” said Dagny. “I can carry a jar of pickles, because I ride my bike without using my hands.”

Well of course you do.

With great trepidation, I wished her a fond farewell with her jar of pickles…..

I’m sorry to tell you that a mere 15 seconds after I took this photo, disaster struck. She didn’t make it to the end of our sidewalk before she dropped the jar and there were pickles and pickle juice everywhere. She had the saddest look on her face.

I promised to deliver a jar of pickles today, something I will do this morning.

Maybe next I will make dilly beans.

This post linked to Blogging Grandmother’s Link Party.