Stephanie says

Halloween today in small town America.   Katie stops by the office with three year old Dillon in full dinosaur attire and younger brother Derek in something unrecognizable but his chubby baby cheeks are so adorable and he’s such a flirt, flashing me a coy smile, looking away then glancing back to make sure I’m paying attention.   Watch out for this one, Katie.   Dillon’s desires are clearer:   I hold the candy basket and he selects treats by an array of color.   But just one of each – he’s not greedy. Heidi who works at the insurance company next door peeks her head in the door.   She is dressed as Snow White and says she’s feeling a little embarrassed going to the bank in this garb.   She adds that she needs a flock of birds to fully carry off the costume.   I can visualize those birds!   A group of preschool kids are dressed to the hilt meander past.   Very cute. I make it home sans any candy whatsoever, pull the blinds and let ...

So what makes a recipe a chowder?  Corn?  I haven't a clue - but this is one tasty Chili Chowder. The spice combination is wonderful. A recipe from Alberta Pulse (Pulses are dry grain legumes that contain a fixed number of seeds in a pod - I've seen the term but good thing I looked it up because I thought it was a Brit term for squashed beans like hummus.) Alberta Pulse has a number of interesting recipes including some desserts!  The photo is also from Alberta Pulse - the only change I made besides doubling the diced onions was to add tofu just because the expire date was nearing...  It promptly crumbled and didn't look anywhere as appetizing as this photo. Ingredients 1/4 cup onion 1 tbsp. jalapeno pepper 1/4 cup celery, chopped 1 clove garlic, minced 2 tsp. chili powder 1/2 tsp. ground cumin 1/2 tsp.  smoked paprika 1 tsp. dried mustard ...

The fig produced enough fruit this year to warrant preserving.   That and my girl (whose love of figs is the reason I planted this tree,) will be home for Christmas so I want to have some special treats on hand.   I’ve made fig jam before – which was well received, but I wanted to try something a bit different and found a recipe for poached figs at “Over a Tuscan Stove” blog.     It’s a straight forward recipe: Weigh figs.   Place in saucepan.   Cover with their weight in sugar.   (I had 1400 grams of figs so I covered them with 1400 grams of white sugar.)   Thinly slice a lemon and place on top.   (I had limes on hand so I used two.) Place saucepan on stove top burner over low heat.   The sugar will turn to liquid and the figs poach in the syrup.   This step took about 45 minutes.   Place the figs in a glass jar.   Top with Brandy.   Refrigerate until use. One serving idea fr...

Harvested yesterday in Oregon coastal range. Can't decide which photo version I prefer - so here's both.   Photo credits to Terry. Here's the original photo.  I thought Terry was showing off his extensive kitchen implement collection - note the mushroom brush/knife in front - but he assures me it was in the photo for scale as these were the largest chanterelles he'd ever harvested.  Makes sense, uhum. He gave me 4lbs or so of these beauties. I'm thinking of serving them with something really, really beefy.  I'll let you know.

Noticing my waistband seemed snug, I stepped on the scales.   To my horror, I was up 8 lbs in five weeks.   Now some people would just own it, but not me.   There was just no way.   However improbable – or better stated, of vast biblical miracle significance, I must be pregnant.   I ran that past Terry, who, to his credit made no comment whatsoever.   I then recalled my brother’s visit – not that I could possibly gain 8 lbs during his short visit – but that he is such a prankster and very capable of recalibrating my scale.   I gave that some thought.   The only reason I wasn’t fully convinced it was Bruce was his behavior. He'd have been so delighted at his deceit, the prospect of me flipping out long after his leaving, he’d have been all smirky and I’d have suspected something. Brothers... There is some history:   Grandmother Ethel weighing in on the bathroom scale and Grandfather Elmer sneaking up behind and putting ...

My brother and SIL just visited, which I thoroughly enjoyed.   Sitting around the kitchen table we got to reminiscing and laughing our fool heads off about the Salem days. Bruce got a dog, named Pud, from somebody or other at the State Penitentiary.   Pud was fully grown when we got him, his name was short for Puddles for obvious puppyhood reasons, which was completely incongruous as the adult dog was big, strong, and fierce.   He was brown and black in color with a curled tail; we suspected some Norwegian Elkhound lineage. He was fiercely protective.   In sort of a “Take Back the Night” move, I’d leash him up and we’d go walking around town.   With his ominous growl and flashing bared white fangs, we never had a lick of trouble. He hated men in general, but particularly men in uniform.   One day hearing a commotion, I went outside and there was the mailman fending off the attacking dog with a (fortuitously) large package.   I was able t...