Out my window today, I watch the sky in various shades of grey and I see the snow as it flurries, as it squalls, as it gently touches down on the ground and turns everything into delicate white lines. I’m happy to see it and thankful for an ever-changing scene. With Thanksgiving just a few days away, I think of other times and other snows.
When I was growing up Belgium, I was a part of a church youth group. We were a fairly close knit group who all went to the same school and participated in all of the church activities. We were friends and our parents were also friends. We each had our quirks but together we became a pretty close unit. My friend, Martin’s family were co-owners of a large farming property down in southern Belgium. He and his sister were both part of the youth group and they also lived right beside the church.
One late autumn when the youth group decided to have a weekend retreat, their family offered the use of the farm, “La Bicoque”, to us. So the trip was planned. My parents were to be the leaders and both my sister and I were to go along. As the group organized for the trip, my father, who was also the pastor of our church, suggested that everyone bring along their skis and sleds. The area where this farm was located was in the rolling hills of southern Belgium, out in the country where, if there were snow, these items would come in handy. Unfortunately, Belgium does not often get a lot of snow, not like Elkhart County. In fact, when it does snow there, everything stops because people aren’t used to driving on snowy roads. Cars spin out and slide and there is no heavy equipment to sand and salt the roads.
So on this note, my father’s urging us to bring our winter gear was taken with a grain of salt. Interestingly enough, everyone complied laughing at the possibilities. My father, falling into his role as guide of faith, suggested that we pray about it. “God answers prayer. He may not answer as we want but I will pray for snow.” Again, the group squeezed out some giggles and went along for the ride. My father was known to be unconventional in his church ministry and so to them, his suggestion was no surprise.
The trip down was uneventful. We were greeted by the caretakers and found our rooms. We unpacked and got the big house warmed up with a good fire. After a prayer of thanks for the safe trip and a call for blessings upon our gathering, my father added a precise request for a nighttime snowfall. We had a simple but tasty meal around the big wooden farmhouse table, enjoying good bread and soup shared with friends. After a time of reflection and later, some games, we all went to bed.
The next morning, the smell of coffee woke us up. Within the confines of the farm, the world outside seemed muted and still. But when we looked out the windows, we knew why. During the night, a beautiful white blanket of snow had covered the countryside and turned it into another world. My father’s prayers had worked. The unbelievers were surprised and quiet. Before starting in on breakfast, a prayer of thanks was given for the overnight snow and the answer to prayer. And then we all headed out with our skis and our sleds and spent an active morning enjoying our extra blessing. Those who were a part of that group will never forget my father’s faith in the possibility of snow. And as we remember it, laughing, we know that it was a good model of hope. Here is a good recipe to warm yourselves up after a roll in the snow.
Potato Corn Chowder
4 potatoes, diced
4 c. water
1 bay leaf
1/4 t. dried sage
1/2 t. cumin seeds
In large pot, bring above ingredients to a boil then simmer 15- 20 minutes, until tender.
3 T. butter
1 onion, minced
3 T. flour
1 1/4 c. cream
1 can corn
1/4 t. nutmeg
Salt and pepper to taste
2 T. each chives and parsley, minced
1 1/2 c. swiss cheese, grated
1/2 c. white wine
In saucepan, melt butter and saute onion until translucent. Add flour and mix well. Add cream, whisking well. Pour into soup and add corn, chives, parsley, nutmeg, salt and pepper. Simmer for ten minutes. Stir in cheese and wine. Heat until cheese is melted.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
An interesting walk in the dark -- Simple Bean Casserole
On a dark and chilly night, I head out for a walk in my neighborhood. My jacket keeps me warm against the biting wind but the drizzling rain feels a little like icicles scratching my face. I step gingerly trying to avoid the biggest puddles along the uneven sidewalk. It’s late and I walk as though I’m the only one out on the street when suddenly, I see a bicycle racing towards me. I stop short afraid the rider can’t see me and at the last second he veers off into a driveway. I plod on, trying to regain my walking rhythm. One, two, right, left. To my left, I see three huddled shapes that turn into three young men, out in the weather smoking. I try to walk by unobtrusively but hear a shout, “Hey, soldier! Hey, playboy!” They must be addressing someone else but I do speed up as I continue down the alley. Suddenly, out of my left eye, I see a human shape coming at me from the left. I freeze for an instant, scared, but it silently glides by engulfed in its own world.
I’m thinking that so far, this has been an interesting walk in the neighborhood. Then I hear a whistle. I can’t tell if it’s meant for me. The second time around, I realize it’s not a wolf whistle because it’s followed by a man’s voice calling, “Sunshine! Sunshine! Here, sunshine!” I’m slightly afraid that a huge dog will come bounding out of the yard ahead but after I pass the pet seeker, I finally get into my walking groove. A brisk step accompanies the intake of fresh air. My muscles, sore from a long day at work, slowly warm up and move me along. Despite the chill and dampness, I find energy and solace in this ritual.
I turn the corner into the darkest portion of my walk. This side street has little light and barely any sidewalk. As I head for the brighter main street, a cat crosses my path. I lean down to pet its white and black fur and realize at the last second that this cat is a skunk! I take in the beautiful shiny black fur with a broad shaggy stripe of white, a cute pointy nose and a long tail before both I and it discover we were not meant for each other. I veer into the street, he darts for the yard and laughing out loud, I reach the broader avenue.
Now it’s just a straight walk back to my house. Hands in my pockets, I ponder my outing, and again, I hear female voices calling for Sunshine, Sunshine. So I join in as I walk. “Sunshine, where are you?” All of sudden, I lose my footing on something soft and slippery. I think I just stepped on a dead squirrel. How further is it to my house?!
I see the porch light shining through the moist air. I turn into my entry, glad to be home. On the unheated front porch, I take off my wet and dirty shoes then make my way into the warm inner sanctum, plop myself down on the couch and say to Jim, “I just had a very interesting walk.” I tell the story. We have a good laugh. And now we wonder if maybe I did find Sunshine and just didn’t know it! I hope your walks are joyous and bright. And when you get home, maybe you’ll find a pot beans cooking in the oven for supper.
Simple Bean Casserole
Fry together:
1 lb. ground chuck
1 onion, chopped
In a round casserole dish, mix:
2 c. cooked kidney beans
2 c. cooked butter beans
2 c. cooked pinto beans
You can use canned beans. Just make sure to drain and rinse.
Mix in:
3/4 c. brown sugar
1/2 c. catsup
2 T. vinegar
pinch of salt
Add meat and onion. Bake uncovered at 350 degrees for one hour.
I’m thinking that so far, this has been an interesting walk in the neighborhood. Then I hear a whistle. I can’t tell if it’s meant for me. The second time around, I realize it’s not a wolf whistle because it’s followed by a man’s voice calling, “Sunshine! Sunshine! Here, sunshine!” I’m slightly afraid that a huge dog will come bounding out of the yard ahead but after I pass the pet seeker, I finally get into my walking groove. A brisk step accompanies the intake of fresh air. My muscles, sore from a long day at work, slowly warm up and move me along. Despite the chill and dampness, I find energy and solace in this ritual.
I turn the corner into the darkest portion of my walk. This side street has little light and barely any sidewalk. As I head for the brighter main street, a cat crosses my path. I lean down to pet its white and black fur and realize at the last second that this cat is a skunk! I take in the beautiful shiny black fur with a broad shaggy stripe of white, a cute pointy nose and a long tail before both I and it discover we were not meant for each other. I veer into the street, he darts for the yard and laughing out loud, I reach the broader avenue.
Now it’s just a straight walk back to my house. Hands in my pockets, I ponder my outing, and again, I hear female voices calling for Sunshine, Sunshine. So I join in as I walk. “Sunshine, where are you?” All of sudden, I lose my footing on something soft and slippery. I think I just stepped on a dead squirrel. How further is it to my house?!
I see the porch light shining through the moist air. I turn into my entry, glad to be home. On the unheated front porch, I take off my wet and dirty shoes then make my way into the warm inner sanctum, plop myself down on the couch and say to Jim, “I just had a very interesting walk.” I tell the story. We have a good laugh. And now we wonder if maybe I did find Sunshine and just didn’t know it! I hope your walks are joyous and bright. And when you get home, maybe you’ll find a pot beans cooking in the oven for supper.
Simple Bean Casserole
Fry together:
1 lb. ground chuck
1 onion, chopped
In a round casserole dish, mix:
2 c. cooked kidney beans
2 c. cooked butter beans
2 c. cooked pinto beans
You can use canned beans. Just make sure to drain and rinse.
Mix in:
3/4 c. brown sugar
1/2 c. catsup
2 T. vinegar
pinch of salt
Add meat and onion. Bake uncovered at 350 degrees for one hour.
Food shares hope with others -- Apple Nut Pudding
As the rain gently falls and the leaves slowly spiral down, it sometimes feels like the world around me is dreary and dying. I like the feel of the raindrops against my skin as I run through the woods. Everything glistens and drips and the last of the fall colours still try to shine through. But autumn is the season of closure and with winter not far behind, it might seem like an endless downward spiral of dried up dreams and hopes. What keeps me going in those more dismal times are the glimmers I see around me of growth and colour: the smell of pine cones on my fingers, the last bunch of parsley in the garden, the greenness of mint against the crumpled leaves, the activity of birds and squirrels despite inclement weather. Maybe that’s what keeps me hanging on until another spring comes around.
Despite the troubles that I face, the pain I endure, the losses I suffer, as long as I have that little glimmer of hope, I feel that I can make it to a brighter day. Throughout history humans have lived through incredible odds. Sometimes faith, sometimes a relationship or even something in the natural world has sustained those living in the autumn of life. And somehow we know in our guts that the spring will come again as it has time and time again.
I’m reminded of a story told to me by a man who spent time in hiding during World War II. With the very real thought of life and death in front of him, his one solace was the bread that a village woman brought to his hiding place every day. That sustained him through a very tough period and maybe that’s why he is still alive today.
During a tough part of my life, when I lost my job and our family had no income, I discovered a strength within myself that I didn’t know I had. I also found that a community surrounded me. So today I want to be part of that community where we all feel each other’s pain and find a way to ease it.
Food has often played a part in that sharing of hope with others. We often cook and bake when others are sick or have lost a family member or are in transition. Sharing food is an intimate act that conveys our care and our hope. Making food for others can also energize the giver. So hope can grow as we share together.
Obviously, the slowing down of nature turns my thoughts inward. So enough philosophizing. Share your hopes with others. Here is an autumn dessert my mother made that provided a glimmer of good in my world. I hope it does in yours.
Apple Nut Pudding
1/2 c. flour
2 t. baking powder
1/2 t. salt
2 eggs
1 c. brown sugar
2 t. vanilla
1 c. chopped walnuts
1 c. chopped apples
Mix flour, baking powder and salt. In a mixing bowl, beat eggs well, add sugar and beat with a mixer until creamy. Stir in the dry ingredients and mix. Add vanilla, nuts and apples. Pour this mixture into a well-greased 10 inch pie pan and bake at 350 degrees for 35 minutes or until set. Serve warm with whipped cream. Serves six.
Despite the troubles that I face, the pain I endure, the losses I suffer, as long as I have that little glimmer of hope, I feel that I can make it to a brighter day. Throughout history humans have lived through incredible odds. Sometimes faith, sometimes a relationship or even something in the natural world has sustained those living in the autumn of life. And somehow we know in our guts that the spring will come again as it has time and time again.
I’m reminded of a story told to me by a man who spent time in hiding during World War II. With the very real thought of life and death in front of him, his one solace was the bread that a village woman brought to his hiding place every day. That sustained him through a very tough period and maybe that’s why he is still alive today.
During a tough part of my life, when I lost my job and our family had no income, I discovered a strength within myself that I didn’t know I had. I also found that a community surrounded me. So today I want to be part of that community where we all feel each other’s pain and find a way to ease it.
Food has often played a part in that sharing of hope with others. We often cook and bake when others are sick or have lost a family member or are in transition. Sharing food is an intimate act that conveys our care and our hope. Making food for others can also energize the giver. So hope can grow as we share together.
Obviously, the slowing down of nature turns my thoughts inward. So enough philosophizing. Share your hopes with others. Here is an autumn dessert my mother made that provided a glimmer of good in my world. I hope it does in yours.
Apple Nut Pudding
1/2 c. flour
2 t. baking powder
1/2 t. salt
2 eggs
1 c. brown sugar
2 t. vanilla
1 c. chopped walnuts
1 c. chopped apples
Mix flour, baking powder and salt. In a mixing bowl, beat eggs well, add sugar and beat with a mixer until creamy. Stir in the dry ingredients and mix. Add vanilla, nuts and apples. Pour this mixture into a well-greased 10 inch pie pan and bake at 350 degrees for 35 minutes or until set. Serve warm with whipped cream. Serves six.
It feels like Christmas - Hawaiian Rice Casserole
A week ago today, I awoke from a deep and refreshing sleep. I could see that the light of a new day had come as my body and mind slowly focused. No alarm had called out the time; only the natural end of sleep prodded me awake. Outside the cocoon of blankets, the room felt chilly and fresh. I sniffed the air; there was just something there. Everything felt right with the world and I said aloud to Jim, “ It feels like Christmas morning.”
Have you ever had that feeling? It’s a feeling that gives you comfort, a sense of wonder, a satisfied fullness and maybe a realization that despite all the bad news, there’s a place where I’m free from all that because the good things outweigh the bad, even if it’s just for that moment.
I think the reason I felt this way came from the day before. With the season slowly turning from summer to fall, and the first few days of frosty weather knocking at the door, I planned a seasonal get-together with my coworkers. Just as I do for any holiday, before I have people over, I like to get my house in order for myself. So we did our recycling, picked up our magazines and papers, vacuumed and mopped and generally made the little house sparkle a bit. Then there was the shopping. I went to the market and bought acorn, butternut and kabocha squash and long island cheese pumpkins, bags of McIntosh apples, a jug of fresh cider and lanky leeks. I brought up some tomatoes from the canning shelf in the basement. I bought some cheeses, including ricotta, parmesan and goat, and found a lemon in my fridge. I brought out the black currant wine that our friend, Vicki brought back from South Dakota, made from currants grown on her brother’s farm. I brought home some of the plump, smooth chestnuts that Darrel Weirich brought to me in his bucket from his farm. And I also found a pomegranate at Martin’s! It is a joyful thing when I’m gathering good things to eat and thinking of good friends.
So now I was ready to make some good food in step with the season. We started with cheeses and nuts, coupled with black currant wine. Then we dug into roasted vegetables with pumpkin goat cheese dip, a butternut squash and leek gratin, wontons filled with a butternut and cheese filling, baked and served with a spicy tomato sauce, bread as needed, and an arugula and greens salad with sliced apples, asiago cheese and pomegranate seeds. For dessert, I whipped up some chocolate lava cakes and we ate them piping hot from the oven with good vanilla ice cream. Then I remembered the green tea with roses that a friend brought back from India. As the tea steeped, I roasted chestnuts. So we pushed back our chairs and relaxed with our mugs of hot tea and warmed our hands peeling chestnuts to eat. Good food, good conversations (yes, we had to pull out the dictionary!) and some entertaining cats gave our bodies good memories. And that’s why, the next morning after everyone is gone, there is still that feeling in the air of Christmas.
Later on that week, Jim and I make a comforting casserole after a brisk walk at the park. I’ll leave you with that recipe which came to me from Elizabeth Bauman, a friend who has passed on but was a mother to me for a little while and shared Christmas with me.
Hawaiian Rice Casserole
Brown in large skillet:
1 lb. ground chuck
1 medium onion, chopped
Add:
2 c. chopped mushrooms
Stir in:
1/4 c. flour
Then 2 c. milk until slightly thickened
In a casserole dish, put:
1 1/2 c. raw rice
2 1/2 t. curry powder
1 clove garlic, minced
1 can pineapple chunks, in their own juice, drained
2 c. water
Stir in the meat mixture and make sure it is evenly distributed.
Bake, covered, for 1 to 1 1/2 hours at 350 degrees, or until liquid is nicely absorbed and rice is tender. Serves 6.
Have you ever had that feeling? It’s a feeling that gives you comfort, a sense of wonder, a satisfied fullness and maybe a realization that despite all the bad news, there’s a place where I’m free from all that because the good things outweigh the bad, even if it’s just for that moment.
I think the reason I felt this way came from the day before. With the season slowly turning from summer to fall, and the first few days of frosty weather knocking at the door, I planned a seasonal get-together with my coworkers. Just as I do for any holiday, before I have people over, I like to get my house in order for myself. So we did our recycling, picked up our magazines and papers, vacuumed and mopped and generally made the little house sparkle a bit. Then there was the shopping. I went to the market and bought acorn, butternut and kabocha squash and long island cheese pumpkins, bags of McIntosh apples, a jug of fresh cider and lanky leeks. I brought up some tomatoes from the canning shelf in the basement. I bought some cheeses, including ricotta, parmesan and goat, and found a lemon in my fridge. I brought out the black currant wine that our friend, Vicki brought back from South Dakota, made from currants grown on her brother’s farm. I brought home some of the plump, smooth chestnuts that Darrel Weirich brought to me in his bucket from his farm. And I also found a pomegranate at Martin’s! It is a joyful thing when I’m gathering good things to eat and thinking of good friends.
So now I was ready to make some good food in step with the season. We started with cheeses and nuts, coupled with black currant wine. Then we dug into roasted vegetables with pumpkin goat cheese dip, a butternut squash and leek gratin, wontons filled with a butternut and cheese filling, baked and served with a spicy tomato sauce, bread as needed, and an arugula and greens salad with sliced apples, asiago cheese and pomegranate seeds. For dessert, I whipped up some chocolate lava cakes and we ate them piping hot from the oven with good vanilla ice cream. Then I remembered the green tea with roses that a friend brought back from India. As the tea steeped, I roasted chestnuts. So we pushed back our chairs and relaxed with our mugs of hot tea and warmed our hands peeling chestnuts to eat. Good food, good conversations (yes, we had to pull out the dictionary!) and some entertaining cats gave our bodies good memories. And that’s why, the next morning after everyone is gone, there is still that feeling in the air of Christmas.
Later on that week, Jim and I make a comforting casserole after a brisk walk at the park. I’ll leave you with that recipe which came to me from Elizabeth Bauman, a friend who has passed on but was a mother to me for a little while and shared Christmas with me.
Hawaiian Rice Casserole
Brown in large skillet:
1 lb. ground chuck
1 medium onion, chopped
Add:
2 c. chopped mushrooms
Stir in:
1/4 c. flour
Then 2 c. milk until slightly thickened
In a casserole dish, put:
1 1/2 c. raw rice
2 1/2 t. curry powder
1 clove garlic, minced
1 can pineapple chunks, in their own juice, drained
2 c. water
Stir in the meat mixture and make sure it is evenly distributed.
Bake, covered, for 1 to 1 1/2 hours at 350 degrees, or until liquid is nicely absorbed and rice is tender. Serves 6.
All Saints Day celebrated in Belgium -- Red Cabbage with Apples and Juniper Berries
I like October with its clear blue skies and striking bright red, orange and yellow leaves. My hands tell me it’s time to wear gloves when I go outside as they dry and turn red. The chill in the early morning air is never quite erased by the sunshine’s warmth. These are the beautiful days of fall.
In Belgium, late October and early November usually meant grey and rainy days, the perfect setting for All Saints Day which we celebrated instead of Halloween. It usually meant a long weekend vacation from school but also represented a time when families gathered to remember those who had gone on before. The first of November was the official holiday so most businesses were closed as well as post offices and banks. More often than not, the weather cooperated with the holiday: dead leaves laying in piles slowly starting to decompose on the wet streets, a chilling rain falling from solid grey skies, and gatherings of people dressed in somber colours stopping at the cemetery to put flowers on family tombstones. The florist would sell chrysanthemums, large bursts of yellow and white coloured flowers, for families to take to the graveyard. After laying the flowers down, and silently remembering the loved ones, everyone would gather together as families to celebrate life.
When I would get back to school the following week, I would hear the stories from my friends. “We drove down south to my aunt’s house and after going to the cemetery, we had an amazing meal. All of my uncles and aunts were there and I even got to see all of my cousins. When the adults started getting crazy, we went out to the backyard and played games. Some of us went hiking around the little village. It was just a great time. Then we drove back and had a quiet weekend at home.” All Saints Day focused on the family both here and gone and somehow reminded us that life and death are a continuous cycle, always present in this world. It seems appropriate that it also coincides with the waning of life in nature, when trees and plants (and even some animals) go dormant.
So when Halloween rolls around and I see the children in costumes and carrying candy bags, I also spend a little time thinking about my family, those that are here and those that are gone, and I feel fortunate to be a part of such a varied family tree.
When the cold and wet days of November come, food becomes warmth. Hearty stews, filling casseroles and piping hot desserts appear on my menu. I make sure to have pasta and rice in my cupboard, along with root vegetables in my pantry basket. One of my favorite combinations is pork served with a red cabbage and apple dish. Featuring both vegetable and fruit and combining sweet with tart, it is one of those dishes that brings the earth to the table and makes me feel solidly a part of this world.
Red Cabbage with Apples and Juniper
1 medium head of red cabbage, sliced thinly
4 apples (I like McIntosh)
3 T. butter
1 red onion, diced
3 juniper berries
1/4 c. red wine vinegar
1/4 c. vegetable stock
1/2 t/ salt
1/2 t. pepper
Cube two of the apples. In a heavy saucepan, melt the butter. Add onion and sauté until translucent. Add cubed apples and sauté until slightly softened. Add cabbage and juniper berries and sauté until cabbage is glistening and color has lightened, about five minutes. Add vinegar and stir. Add stock, salt and pepper and simmer until cabbage is tender, about 15 minutes.
Peel then grate the two remaining apples. Add to the cabbage when it is done cooking. Serve with a good pork roast.
In Belgium, late October and early November usually meant grey and rainy days, the perfect setting for All Saints Day which we celebrated instead of Halloween. It usually meant a long weekend vacation from school but also represented a time when families gathered to remember those who had gone on before. The first of November was the official holiday so most businesses were closed as well as post offices and banks. More often than not, the weather cooperated with the holiday: dead leaves laying in piles slowly starting to decompose on the wet streets, a chilling rain falling from solid grey skies, and gatherings of people dressed in somber colours stopping at the cemetery to put flowers on family tombstones. The florist would sell chrysanthemums, large bursts of yellow and white coloured flowers, for families to take to the graveyard. After laying the flowers down, and silently remembering the loved ones, everyone would gather together as families to celebrate life.
When I would get back to school the following week, I would hear the stories from my friends. “We drove down south to my aunt’s house and after going to the cemetery, we had an amazing meal. All of my uncles and aunts were there and I even got to see all of my cousins. When the adults started getting crazy, we went out to the backyard and played games. Some of us went hiking around the little village. It was just a great time. Then we drove back and had a quiet weekend at home.” All Saints Day focused on the family both here and gone and somehow reminded us that life and death are a continuous cycle, always present in this world. It seems appropriate that it also coincides with the waning of life in nature, when trees and plants (and even some animals) go dormant.
So when Halloween rolls around and I see the children in costumes and carrying candy bags, I also spend a little time thinking about my family, those that are here and those that are gone, and I feel fortunate to be a part of such a varied family tree.
When the cold and wet days of November come, food becomes warmth. Hearty stews, filling casseroles and piping hot desserts appear on my menu. I make sure to have pasta and rice in my cupboard, along with root vegetables in my pantry basket. One of my favorite combinations is pork served with a red cabbage and apple dish. Featuring both vegetable and fruit and combining sweet with tart, it is one of those dishes that brings the earth to the table and makes me feel solidly a part of this world.
Red Cabbage with Apples and Juniper
1 medium head of red cabbage, sliced thinly
4 apples (I like McIntosh)
3 T. butter
1 red onion, diced
3 juniper berries
1/4 c. red wine vinegar
1/4 c. vegetable stock
1/2 t/ salt
1/2 t. pepper
Cube two of the apples. In a heavy saucepan, melt the butter. Add onion and sauté until translucent. Add cubed apples and sauté until slightly softened. Add cabbage and juniper berries and sauté until cabbage is glistening and color has lightened, about five minutes. Add vinegar and stir. Add stock, salt and pepper and simmer until cabbage is tender, about 15 minutes.
Peel then grate the two remaining apples. Add to the cabbage when it is done cooking. Serve with a good pork roast.
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