Tag Archives: love

on being rescued from the gypsies and apple pie

Posted on by
3

I have an emotional attachment to my Cuisinart.  It’s a food processor, from 1975, when that’s about all they made.  It wasn’t mine originally.  It was a gift from a husband to a wife.  My rescue parents.

Growing up I waited (as did most kids) for my real (cooler, kinder, more together) parents to rescue me from the home that had raised me until puberty hit.  No offense meant to my biological family, after all you were surely there as teens yourself.  My rescue parents were real.  They were friends of my mother.  They were not a perfect couple, or perfect parents.  They were perfect for me.  They did indeed rescue me, brought me to the cold winters and hot summers of New England.  They gave me a little extra time in the nest, to be spoiled and learn things that I appreciated then, as well as some  I’d fail to appreciate until years later..

At some point after I left home my rescue mom gave me the Cuisinart.  At first I used this workhorse to chop, shred and mix everything.  I used it like a rented horse- lots of miles and little concern.  Lately, though, I’ve come to appreciate that this can’t be replaced.  I’m aware of it’s emotional value.  I love my rescue parents.  As I age, so do they.  I’m not ready to cope with the eventual loss of these treasures in my life.  This food processor is tangled up in my heart with the end of my childhood, the tentative branching out to independence and the people who protected me with a safety net of love.  I’m aware of the strain I’ve put on the Cuisinart (and them, but that’s another story!).  I pamper it now, I’m afraid of the funny sounds it makes if I ask it to shred carrots, to chop ice.  I’m starting to find other ways of doing things.  I’m sparing it, bringing it out for ceremonial dishes and easy runs.

I always used the Cuisinart to make pie crust.   I’ve found another way to make crust.  Instead I’m using the large hole setting on my box grater to shred frozen butter.  I now mix it right into the bowl, without chopping and grinding.  It works well.  I made some pies for a pot luck affair on Wednesday  The pie is the same, crust just as flaky.

My rescue parents live almost 2 hours away, and I don’t get to see them as often as I’d like.  It’s something I need to do more often.  I’m planning to make another pie this week.  This one I’ll take to their home.

Apple Pie 

In a large bowl mix 2 1/2 cups all purpose flour, 1/2 cup sugar. Using a grater with large holes, shred 12 ox frozen (salted) butter over dry mix.  Use your fingers to toss this around so each piece of butter is lightly covered with flour.  Now add 1/4 cup shortening or lard(if you really love them, use lard. You won’t be sorry).  Use a pastry blender, fork or (see my) broken spatula to mix it together.

Now add ice cold water, a tablespoon at a time, until the mixture comes together as a moist dough. Divide the dough into two equal halves and wrap in plastic wrap, shaping into a disc (this photo shows 4, I’d doubled the recipe for 2 pies). Place these into fridge for at least 30 minutes to chill.

Now for the filling: Peel and thickly slice the apples.  I used about 3 lbs of Macintosh with 3 large granny smiths.  I like to saute them briefly.  First put them into a large bowl with 1/4 cup lemon juice.  I also add lemon zest from at least one of the lemons.  Add 3/4 cup sugar, 3/4 cup brown sugar, 1 tsp cinnamon, 1 pinch ground cloves and a pinch of nutmeg.  The spice mixture can be changed to suit your preference. You can add allspice, more or less of anything, whatever your want.

In a saucepan melt 1/2 stick (salted) butter.  Toss in all the apple mixture, and saute until the liquid starts to leave the apples, but before they are cooked through (apples should still have some crispness). This took about 8 minutes on medium-high for me.  Stoves vary greatly- use your judgement. Now I remove the apples to a bowl, and continue to simmer the liquid in the pan, reducing it until it makes a thick sauce.  While doing this be sure to taste and adjust the sauce until you really love it. I ended up adding more lemon. Now- this is optional- I don’t like a really wet pie.  I added about 3 tablespoons of corn starch at the end. Whisk it into the sauce and it thickens up quickly.

Preheat oven to 425f.  I put a pizza stone in my oven (okay- I really just leave it there almost all the time).  It gets super hot, and will ensure the bottom crust is not soggy.  Therefore, I don’t prebake the crust. Go ahead- call my lazy.

Now get the dough out, sprinkle your surface and place the dough on the flour. Press it into the flour, flip it and press again.  This should be enough to keep it from sticking.  Brush the extra flour away, roll the dough out until it’s at least 2″ larger than the diameter of your pie pan.  Place it in pan (try folding it in half, pulling it over pan and spreading it back out).

Artfully arrange (dump) your apples on top of the crust.  Pour the thick, yummy apple-spice sauce over the apples.  Repeat the rolling out thing with the other crust.  Place the dough on top.  Sometimes, when I’m feeling fancy, I’ll take the extra dough and roll up little balls to decorate the edge of the pie crust. Then too, instead of just cutting little slices into the top to vent, I’ll use tiny cookie cutters to cut out little shapes (apples, leaves, ducks) from the top crust and artfully arrange them over the cut outs.  That’s not happening today.  I’m hobbling around the kitchen on an aircast, trying to rest my foot a bit.  This is the other kind of pie: the one where I grab a handful of crust at the edges and just squeeze it together, leaving a whole lot of thick crust at the sides.  I actually used kitchen scissors to snip some air vents.  I’ll be it tastes the same.So- anyway, brush some cream (or if you don’t have cream, beaten egg white) on top of the crust and sprinkle with a little sugar.

Put into that 425f oven, bake for 15 minutes.  Then reduce heat to 350f and bake for another 35 minutes. Take out to cool.  Doesn’t that look fine?

Now the most important thing about apple pie: it’s a perfect holiday or special occasion dessert because you can make it a day ahead.  It actually tastes better the next day.  Enjoy!

The Shopping Games

Posted on by
Reply

I had the day planned so carefully.  Take the early train to North Station.  Spend half hour prowling the stalls, chatting up the vendors, spotting the deals.  Then work 5 hours, leave at 2, stop at bank for ready cash.  Return to Hay Market and spend another 30-40 minutes comparing, returning to favorite vendors.  Wait for the old man by the hotel to go on break- he sneaks old peas into your bag instead of the sweet fresh ones.  Try to negotiate  with the nice woman who only speaks Cambodian.

Then, it all went south.  How many patients can they cram into a 5 hour shift? Yesterday there were three.  Today, eleven.  Two of them had twins, so technically that makes thirteen.  Unlucky 13.  Several new patients, some with little or no ability to speak English.  Filling out paperwork, log books, completing reports in THREE of our five computer systems (yes, the bureaucracy in hospitals is that stupid).  I finally left work at 3:15.

Do I even have time for the Hay Market? Grab a quick subway to the station.  It’s 3:35.  The train leaves at 4pm.  Sharp. You’d better be on it.  No time for the bank.  Quick check of the wallet reveals $8.  It will have to be enough.  I want green beans.  The kids like them, but it has to be a bargain.  Rules of the game.  I have $8, ten minutes, and no wiggle room for either.

The score:  First stop- by the hotel.  The old man is there: fail.  Next stop- the nice Brazilian guy.  Has nice baby eggplants.  $1 per pound.  They’re really nice, though.  Offers to throw in yellow squash at 2lbs for $1. For that ratatouille that my kids love.  OMG- he knows what my kids like. How could I say no?  Calling it a win.  While I’m talking,  notice the guy at the next stall has nice corn, 4 ears for $1. Score!  Then I go back to hotel.  Old man isn’t around.  Ask young guy for artichokes.  2 for $1, I’ll take 4.  Then, that old buzzard pops up his head and hands me a bag.  I really can’t stand him.  I just know, when I get home, that they’ll be rotten inside.  Ugh! I really want to take them out and inspect them.  How much of a jerk do I want to be?  What to do? No time to argue.  Not sure here- but I think I’m batting .50 again.  Last stop- nice Cambodian lady.  Beautiful green beans.  But still $1.50 a pound.  Ugh! I ask her if I can have 3lbs for $3. No go.  Maybe 2.5 pounds for $3? Nope.  I give up.  “You know what?”  I say.  “You are always fair to me, and your stuff is good.  I give up. I’ll take 2 pounds”.  She carefully weighs out 2 pounds.  Then, she looks at me, winks and smiles, and throws another 1/2 pound of green beans in the bag.   I just love her.  I love the the Hay Market, the vendors, and this city.  I’m filled with love.

Back at North Station.  I lug my bounty, arms heavy, half running, and charge up the steps towards the train.  It’s 3:50.  I made it!  Oops!  The train doesn’t really leave until 4:40pm.  I’m an idiot.  Really.  This is so typical.  You know what?  I don’t care.  I’m still feeling the love.  And I have time to read.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch…I try once again to interest the kids in corn-on-the-cob.  Nope.  It’s not even June, and they are bored with fresh corn.  Really!  Who are these kids anyway?  You know what they want instead?  Green BeansCan’t get enough of them.  They are stealing and eating them raw.  Like they’re candy.  Thank you, nice lady.  My kids are hoping that you and I spend a lot more Fridays haggling over those beans.   I can’t wait!

Pancake days

Posted on by
3

Some days I do try to be a good wife and mother. Mostly mother.  I figure that I’ve pretty much covered the wife thing.  Certainly if you could ask my mother (GRHS).  Her motto was “tell him you can only promise to be good in one room of the house.  Pick that room and OWN it.  If you do well with that one room, that’s all he can expect”.   I chose the kitchen.  Mom did not.  It’s well established that the kitchen was not her place.  Enough said.

My husband went along with this grudgingly.  He didn’t really expect me to pick the kitchen.  But after all, I mean, 4 kids?  Not like I was ALWAYS in the kitchen. Still, he sometimes seems disappointed.  Oh well.

I’m also going to add here that it’s a lot harder to be a stellar wife and mother when you work outside the home.  I know, there are a lot of mom’s who are “stay at homes” who work 8 days a week, etc.  Don’t even go there-  I’ll just start whining again.  This week it’s 2 jobs, 52 hours work scheduled, 18 hours commuting time and 3 kids who miss their mom.  Okay, that’s me assuming.  Fact is mom misses them.  A lot.  So on Friday I’ll stop back at the Haymarket, stock up on fruits and veggies, maybe some fish.  But midweek I’m feeding them love and pancakes.  I know- white flour, sugar, butter.  Bite me.  Right on my tender fluffy pancakes.  Because sometimes we all just need a little comfort.

Here’s my recipe for comfort dinner, Love-pancake style:

First, I stock up on bacon ends at the butcher.  Those are the ends left over when they make those perfect slices.  Fry those up in big diced pieces.  The kids like them; you pick them up with a fork.  That yellow part- it’s fat.  No apology here.  Don’t do a face plant or anything- just enjoy it.

Next, my super-deluxe- homemade- from- scratch-easy- peasey pancakes.  Kind of a long name.  It almost takes longer to write it than to make them.  It’s a 3 step process:

First step: Melt 6Tbls (salted) butter in (2-4 cup) a glass measuring cup.

While this is happening, put your griddle or pan on to heat up.  If you usually add butter to the pan, do so.  If you usually use a cooking spray or vegetable oil- use butter instead.  Those things have no business being out of the pantry on pancake-love dinner night.  Now put these (3) things in a mixing bowl: 2 cups flour, a heaping 1/4 cup sugar, 1 tsp baking powder.  Give it a quick whisk.

Now take that butter out of the microwave and add 2 cups of milk and 2 eggs.  If you don’t have room, just add 1 cup of milk, mix and dump into flour mixture.  Now put another cup of milk into measuring cup, add 2 eggs, whisk briefly and add to the mixing bowl.  Stir just until mixed.  If it’s a little too thin, add flour.  If too thick, a little milk. Get the idea? Did I mention that PJ has been making LOVE-pancakes since he was 9 years old? You can do this.

Now cook on griddle or pan in the usual fashion.  Flip when bubbles form, before you’ve burned the bottom etc.  Now those are the best pancakes ever.  Even the dogs love them.  Yup- it’s true.  When momma’s making love-pancakes they stand by the stove and watch the whole thing, begging with their big brown doggie eyes until they get theirs.  With bacon.  You know what they don’t get?

What they don’t get is the homemade from scratch hot chocolate.  It’s the one on the Hershey’s cocoa can.  And I make it with milk from the dairy, but that’s another story.  And that’s not why.  Why?  Because, my dogs only love pancakes and bacon.  Not because I’m responsible.  I think we’ve established that.  If I could be a stay at home mom I might be responsible everyday.  But I’m not, and it’s Wednesday.  And I think it’s raining.  And I really wish we had marshmallows.

This is why I love my boys…

Posted on by
2

Here is a conversation with my PJ…

If you could have anything for your birthday what would it be?

I would like another dog.

Do you remember when you got your first dog?

No, I don’t remember ever not having a dog.

You have a schnoodle dog now. What do you like about him?

Well, he’s kind of smart.  And he’s fluffy.  Or he was.  Then you shaved him.  

What don’t you like about him?

Well, you know.  He’s a wuss. 

What would you look for in a dog now?

He’d have to be big.  Really big. I like big dogs.

What would you call him?

Waldo.  That’s a good name for a dog.  Or Fredwardo.

What kind of dog would Fredwardo-Waldo be?

Well, he should be smart.  I like smart dogs. Maybe a border collie.  One that could herd chickens.

What chickens would Waldo herd?

The chickens we want to get. 

To go with the dog.

Oh! Of course, those chickens.  

And that is why I love my boy.