Storytelling – Page 2 – Backdoor Hospitality

Gluten-free Ice Cream Cone Cupcakes

Does anyone else feel like there is something altogether wonderful & magical about snow falling in the middle of the night, creating a quiet peace that is incomparable to any other? I wasn’t acquainted with this mystery in the deserts of Arizona. It wasn’t until I visited a high school friend during my freshman year Spring break in Providence, RI. It was a Friday, and all the students on the campus had left for their Spring break. Not only
was the campus and surrounding area quiet, but we soon found ourselves inside looking out to what would seem a snow globe world. Picturesque.

It reminds me of Arizona’s desert night sky. When you look up at the open clear sky, all you see is the infinite expanse of stars. Or what I refer to as “the stars beyond the stars.” Snow falling and covering the world at night creates the silence of peace beyond the silence. It reminds me of how finite I am amidst the vast accompaniment of sound. That’s a bit how I feel with every birthday celebrated, especially my kids’ birthday. This finite person, gets to relish in these moments of seeing the stars beyond the stars. Yet I get distracted or overwhelmed by the greatness of it all…the mystery. I would rather spend my time marveling and rejoicing over the unknown, the stillness of the fallen snow, or simply being given the pleasure to be still with the moment.

These moments, these treasures that I wish I could put in a locket and wear around my neck to serve as a reminder that life is worth living to its fullest. When I see my daughters laugh and hug one another, when I see the white flag of humility waving, or when I see Veronica’s progress developmentally and she isn’t even aware she has a delay (because she sees the stars beyond the stars). Oh how wonderful it is to look at the world like that. I think having Ice Cream Cone Cupcakes also makes it easier for a four years old (or 30, 40, 50 yrs).

A Year Ago: Ice Cream Cone Cupcakes, Split Pea Soup, & Mustard Roasted Cauliflower

Gluten-free Ice Cream Cone Cupcakes (printable recipe)

This recipe has been adapted from my non-GF recipe. Both are wonderful and they are a sure hit at kid’s parties and the adults like to eat them too. A note about measuring almond flour. I use a blanched almond flour and I scoop it out with a spoon and put it in my measuring cup. I encourage you to use a scale, which will get the most accurate results; however, I know that is not always an option. Do NOT scoop out with your measuring cup, because it will yield a higher weight than what my recipe requires.

Cupcakes Ingredients

2 1/2 cups (180 g) almond flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup (120 g) unsalted butter, room temperature
1/4 cup (65 g) light agave nectar
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2/3 cup (170 g) whole milk
1/4 cup (30 g) multi-colored confetti sprinkles
12 cupcake GF sugar wafer cones

Whipped Cream Frosting

1 cup cold heavy whipping cream
1-2 Tb light agave nectar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Directions

Preheat the oven to 350. Place the wafer cones in the muffin pan.

In a small bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder and salt. In the bowl of an electric mixer, cream together the butter & sugar until well blended. Beat in the egg and vanilla until light. With the mixer on low speed, gradually add half of the almond flour mixture, then the milk and then the rest of the flour mixture until well blended. Fold in the confetti sprinkles into the batter. Using a small ice cream scooper/cookie dough scooper, divide the batter evenly among the 12 cupcake cones.

Bake the cupcake cones for 20-25 minutes. When you press lightly in the middle of the cone, they should spring back. Let them cool on a cooling rack until they’re completely cooled.

While the cupcakes are in the oven. Put your metal mixing bowl and whisk attachment in the freezer. Allow them to get cold (about 15 minutes). Remove the bowl & whisk attachment. Add cold heavy whipping cream to the bowl. Beat on high speed until stiff peaks form. Add the agave nectar & vanilla and beat on low speed a bit more, just until they are mixed throughout the whipped cream. If you want to add a color to it, do so now and fold it in with a rubber spatula.

Prepare a pastry bag fitted with a star tip. Twist the bag right above the tip and push it gently inside the tip, in order to avoid the frosting from coming out. Turn down the opened end of the bag one inch down. Place the pastry bag, tip side down, into a glass. Using a rubber spatula, fill the bag with the whipped cream frosting. Twist the bag, in order to keep the frosting from squeezing out. Pipe the whipped cream frosting onto the cupcakes and sprinkle with additional confetti sprinkles.

Meaty Spaghetti Sauce on Spaghetti Squash

One of my favorite meals growing up was spaghetti. And I can see why my mom made it fairly often. It was quick, relatively easy and no one complained. Sometimes when money was tight, she might buy that really horrible powdered spaghetti sauce mix (I believe it’s in between the taco seasoning and biscuits & gravy powdered mixes). Talk about disappointment. You walk into the kitchen to find noodles boiling in water, spaghetti sauce on another burner and soon it would dinner paradise. Only to realize that my mom was trying to use chopped up olives & mushrooms to mask the taste of astronaut spaghetti sauce.

To give my mom credit, she did make a killer lasagna (thanks mom). And she wasn’t a ‘horrible’ cook or anything, it’s just that I may have branched out a bit more (does anyone else find it interesting that spices were a novelty in the 80s home?). Well, this Spaghetti Meat Sauce is good. And when I say meat sauce, I mean, MEAT SAUCE. I’m not talking about skimpy amounts of beef where the ratio between tomato sauce & meat is more like a “flavored” meat sauce. I’m not talking about Ragu. I’m talking about meat being the main ingredient. At the end of this meal you won’t find yourself saying, “Where’s the beef?” The 80s is gone my friends, so retire your lemon pepper, Lawry’s Seasoned Salt, dressing in a bottle for Iceburg lettuce salad (in case you still have it in your cupboard). Enjoy the first time ever–picture tutorial!

Clean Spaghetti Squash pricked with a fork all over–ready for destination oven.

Cooked for an hour in the oven at 350. Sliced in half, remove the seeds, and scrap with a fork to produce "noodles."

Meet the carrots, no need to peel.

Yes blurry, but do you see my fingers curved inward–do this!

Using the curved fingers to hold the carrot (above pic) and holding the knife with the other hand. Thinly slice off a side, turn it over to slice another. Until all sides are sliced.

Until it looks similar to a Lincoln Log.

Now cut them into four smaller logs, like so.

Get them lined up, ready for a small dice.

They should look something like this, but no one will judge if they're not.

Oh those cute little diced carrots.

Celery. Start the cut here and keep rocking it to get more julienne-like cuts. Then small dice.

Meet Mr. Onion who will only make you cry.

Once again, pay attention to finger positioning to avoid chopping your finger off. Cut off the top portion, not the scraggly root portion.

After slicing it in half and keeping the root intact. Put one hand on top.

With the edge of the chef knife, begin to make a slice at the bottom of the onion. Use your hand on top to help it through if need be.

As you can see, I've created three slices, which will give me four layers. And notice the knife has not come in contact with the root.

Here's a front shot of the sliced onion, now for the vertical slices.

Vertical slices. Use the tip of your chef knife to do this.

Now it's time to cut it into a small dice.

I poured about 2 Tb olive oil in my dutch oven over medium heat. After heated a bit, I added the mirepoix.

Skipped a couple steps, but do you blame me–I was hungry.

Dinner is served.

A Year Ago: Roasting a Chicken or Cleaning the Carpet

Meat Sauce with Spaghetti Squash (printable recipe)

I’m a big fan of meat sauce, not so much meatballs, but give me meat sauce and I’m a happy woman. However, I rarely make it for my family, because of the pasta noodles. This is a perfect little compromise in my book and my girls don’t care anyway, because they’ll eat just the meat sauce (my kind of girls).

Ingredients:

1 spaghetti squash

2 Tb extra virgin olive oil
1 medium yellow onion, small dice
2 carrots, small dice
1 celery stick, small dice
1 tsp sea salt
2 cloves garlic, finely diced
2 Tb tomato paste
3 sun-dried tomatoes, chopped up small (not oil packed)
1 lb grass-fed hamburger beef
1 lb pastured pork sausage (no flavoring, but you could if you want)
2 cans (14 oz ea) diced tomatoes
2 (more) Tb tomato paste
2 tsp dried oregano
1 bay leaf
salt & pepper to taste

Directions: Preheat oven to 350. Once it’s heated, place a sheet of aluminum foil on the middle rack and place your cleaned spaghetti squash on top. Bake for 1 hour.

Mirepoix: There are two types of mirepoix’s. The one I’m using is the traditional mirepoix, which is simply a mixture of diced carrots, onions, & celery. I am choosing extra virgin olive oil instead of butter to cook it. Do a small dice on each of the vegetables. Add the olive oil to your heavy duty pot and turn heat to medium. Give it a minute to heat up, then add the vegetables. Stirring and avoid burning or adding color at all to your onions. After it’s been cooking for 1 minute or so, add the salt. Stir and cook for an additional 4 minutes, or till the onions are soft.

Add the finely diced garlic to the mirepoix and stir constantly for 30 seconds. Now add the first round of 2 Tb tomato paste. Mix completely with the mirepoix and cook for 1 minute. Add the chopped up sun dried tomatoes. Stir an additional 20 seconds. Now add both meats. Stir the mirepoix/tomato mixture all into the meats, until thoroughly incorporated. Stir occasionally to evenly cook the meat. Once the meat is mostly cooked (small to little traces of pink left), add the diced tomatoes and stir around. Turn the heat to low/simmer.

Add the bay leaf. Place the oregano in your hand and grind it up in your hand to release the oils in it. Now add it to the pot. Add the remainder 2 Tb tomato paste & stir around. Cover and allow to simmer for anywhere between 20 minutes to 1 hour. If you have it on simmer for longer than 30 minutes, check on it periodically and stir. Season with salt & pepper before serving.

Your squash should be able to be sliced without any give. Scoop out the seeds. Get a medium bowl ready. With a fork, scrap the squash and you will begin to see it turn into miniature spaghetti “noodles.” Put the spaghetti squash into the bowl. Serve the squash and top with your meat sauce.

Serves: 8-10

Lemon Poppy Seed Strawberry Shortcake

My little girl loves Strawberry Shortcake. Well, the dessert, but mainly the cute character I grew to love at the same age. I’m sure if her and I were the same age, we’d probably be friends as we share similar affinities.

Growing up we would regularly eat strawberry shortcakes in the summer. My dad was (and is) the fruit king. It wasn’t uncommon to find heaping amounts of peaches, nectarines, plums & cherries all at the same time in June & July, with a couple of trips to the market throughout the week. It’s no surprise my younger brother at age three consumed two whole watermelons in one sitting at our church’s watermelon bust. Frequently on a Sunday evening, my father would begin cutting up fruit for the BIG fruit salad as we sat around like seagulls awaiting our victory.

When it came time for strawberry shortcakes, I was designated strawberry huller. I must say that I am a veteran strawberry huller. I don’t mess around with the huller device, but a small paring knife, removing the stem & inner middle (not just chopping off the top–isn’t that a crime?). Unfortunately, our idea of shortcakes was the spongy prepackaged cakes. It’s interesting that I wasn’t completely fond of them as a kid. However, when I would taste various versions of biscuit shortcakes in former years, they were either dry, or felt like gravy should be the topping.

I had put off the search for a while, then shortly after Ben & I got married I came across this recipe thinking that it might just be the summer to redeem the strawberry shortcake. And folks, this is it. The lemon poppy seed version was first made two weeks ago, while I normally stick to the original cream version. They’re reminiscent of flaky, creamy English cream scones, except with more cream. And this isn’t time to watch your figure, but completely indulge in summer goodness of sweet, seasonal strawberries, flaky cream shortcakes & billows of freshly whipped cream. A perfect end to a fourth of July meal. You could easily make the original version (directions below) or put a spin on it with the lemon & poppy seed. Whatever you do–these should be on your menu this weekend (also try Heirloom Tomato & Watermelon Salad). What are some of your fourth of July food memories? Don’t forget to take part in the free giveaway!

Lemon-Poppy Seed Shortcakes (printable recipe)

This recipe is from Fine Cooking magazine. You can easily make these shortcakes as plain, by omitting the poppy seeds & lemon juice, and using 1 1/2 cups of heavy cream instead. Another option for the lemon poppy seed shortcakes is by using half strawberries & the other half blueberries.

Ingredients:

For Shortcakes:
3 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 cup plus 2 Tb granulated sugar
1 1/2 Tb baking powder
3/4 tsp kosher salt
1/4 cup plus 2 Tb lemon zest
6 ounces (3/4 cup) cold unsalted butter, cut into 1-inch pieces
2 Tb poppy seeds
1 1/4 cup heavy cream
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice

For Strawberries:
5 cups sliced strawberries
1 – 2 Tb granulated sugar

For Whipped Cream:
1 1/2 cups cold heavy whipping cream
2 Tb granulated sugar
1 tsp vanilla

Shortcakes Directions: Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Sift together flour, sugar, baking powder & salt into a large bowl. Add the lemon zest and toss throughout the mixture. Cut the butter into the dry mixture with a pastry blender or two knives until the largest butter is the size of peas. Add the poppy seeds and mix around lightly.

Make a well in the center of the mixture and pour in the cream. Mix with a fork until the dough is evenly moistened and just combined; it should look shaggy and still feel a little dry.

Gently knead by hand five or six times to pick up any dry ingredients remaining in the bottom of the bowl and to create a loose ball.

Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and pat it into an 8-inch square, 3/4 to 1 inch thick. Transfer to parchment-lined baking sheet, cover with plastic to chill for 20 minutes.

While dough is chilling, Heat oven to 425. Remove dough from fridge & cut (using a sharp chef’s knife or bench knife) and cut into 9 squares. Space apart on parchment-lined baking sheet about 2 inches apart. Brush each shortcake with cream & sprinkle coarse sugar on top. Bake for 18 to 20 minutes. When done, let cool at room temperature.

Strawberries: While shortcakes are baking, slice strawberries and place in bowl, along with one tablespoon of sugar. Mix together and allow to macerate for 30 minutes at room temperature.

Whipped Cream: In a chilled bowl of an electric mixer with a chilled whisk, add cold whipped cream. Beat on high until it begins to thicken. Add vanilla & sugar, then continue beating till billowy, soft peaks form. **If you want lemon whipped cream, then add 2 Tb of lemon juice in place of vanilla.

Strawberry Margaritas

Nothing says summer quite like strawberries. I keep holding back at the grocery store as they taunt me to succumb to temptation (and while my three-year old shouts, “OH MAMA—IT’S STRAWBERRIES). But, I’m standing firm, waiting patiently for local strawberries. And let me tell you, we bought this small little pint of strawberries a week back at the Wednesday market, which were divine. They were everything a strawberry should be…slightly firm, sweet little jewels to be eaten solo. The girls had theirs with lunch while I sneaked a few in my spinach, chevre salad.

I have fond memories of my dad bringing home a flat of strawberries and we would devour them. There was one not so fond memory when I was seven years old. Our good family friends were in town visiting, my dad had a flat of strawberries out and let it be said, “kids don’t care about dirt,” let alone on strawberries. I would pick one up and kind of brush it off and take a bite. Hit repeat…again and again.

Then, I spotted one of the big, really red strawberries at the bottom of one of the baskets, thinking I hit the mother lode. I pulled back the green leaves and took a big bite; when all of a sudden, I felt something move in my mouth. I still shudder thinking about it. I spit everything out all over the carpet and scream. Then, I see what it was and shiver saying, “EWWW!!! ACCKKK!” My family probably thinking I was dramatizing the part no sooner started saying the same “ewww’s & aaacckk’s.” What was in that strawberry?

An earwig. Absolutely, positively one of the most disgusting things to be in my mouth. However, did it stop me from eating from the flat of strawberries? No. What it did was it made me the designated cleaner & huller of the strawberries. It’s because they’re that good. With sun on the horizon in the PacNW, or already in clear view in your neighborhood, kick it off right by making these Strawberry Margaritas. And since the recipe uses a strawberry puree you’ll be sure to know it will be earwig free.

Strawberry Margaritas (printable recipe)

This recipe is adapted from Rick Bayless website.

Ingredients:

1/4 cup fresh lime juice
1/8 cup unrefined sugar
1/3 cup water
1/2 cup strawberry puree
1/2 cup tequila
about 1/2 cup ice
coarse salt

In a measuring cup, combine lime, sugar, and water. Set aside. In another measuring cup, measure out tequila & strawberry puree–mix. Prepare two martini or margarita glasses by rubbing lime around the rim, then dip them in a dish of coarse salt. Pour limeade mixture & liquor mixture into a shaker, add ice & shake for 10-15 seconds. Pour the margarita into prepared glasses. Serves 2 large margaritas or 3 small.

Carnations

When the second Sunday of May hit, I don’t think I ever truly recognized how wonderful this day should be for my mother. We would go to Sunday service where it seemed every year Mrs. McCloud would lead us kids through the making of the tissue carnation scented with some perfume to give to our mothers. I would proudly give my mom the special carnation, while just moments before sitting in the service (pre-sermon) receiving real carnations. They had white ones, red ones, & pink ones.

Now, it just so happens that my mom’s favorite flower is a carnation. Nothing spectacular about the carnation really, but seems fitting that on Mother’s Day, she was guaranteed to get at least one real one and 2-3 tissue ones. The red carnation was for the women who held the long-honored job as mama. The pink carnation was for those who’s mother was living & celebrate her. While the white, was for the people who have lost their mother–to honor them & recognize the mourning which comes for those who don’t get celebrate that special woman.

My Grandma Cox, brother & me

On the way to church service today, with my two girls in the back, me actually dressed nice & Ben (the best husband & father I could ask for), I began to ponder what it would be like to hold that white carnation on a day like this.

I spoke to Ben about my Grandma Cox. She died at a very early age to cancer. When I was a kid (and even a teenager), I never truly grasped how death robbed her in her young age. For me, 57 seemed old. My mom was 31 when my Grandma died. I’m 30 and I cannot imagine my mom not being here the same time next year. There was my mom, holding that white carnation & red carnation at 32–bittersweet.

I’m thankful I have no white carnations in my bouquet. I’m thankful to be a mama, which I take for granted as many women long for this prized gift, yet have not seen their hope fulfilled. I’m especially thankful & grateful for my mom & my mother-in-law, Cherie.

My mother-in-law, Cherie, Me, & father-in-law, Steve

My mother-in-law, Cherie is certainly the best second mom I could ask for. Ben takes after his mom with her quiet demeanor and steady/patient love. She has always welcomed me into their home. One thing I love about her is how important sending cards in the mail is to her. That’s part of her welcoming me in & making sure I’m cared for. There is always a birthday card for me before my birthday, or cards for the girls, or Ben. She makes a big deal of these days & it means so much to me. Her attention to detail is truly phenomenal. When we go to a restaurant, she is sure to have Grandma toys in her purse & snacks. She’s a devoted wife (36 years). She works without complaining and is very insightful about life in general. She is completely smitten over her granddaughters & turns a $5 Goodwill find into a treasure. Happy Mother’s Day Cherie–we love you!

Me & my mom

And my mom. She has taught me how to be gracious and ask forgiveness when she’s wrong. I can recall many instances where she lost her temper, but came to me in tears admitting her wrong & asking for forgiveness. Her humility has imprinted itself upon the way I parent. She knows how to have fun & not take life so seriously. She has defended me & is probably my biggest advocate. She is quick to heap words of praise upon me, give me fresh perspective or wipe away doubt in my parenting troubles. She respects me as a person. I’ve seen our relationship blossom more & more over the years, as she takes heart to what I say & doesn’t undermine me. My mom has an approachability about her. She has a teachable spirit. She has had a tough life. And although she’s definitely not perfect–I think she’s done the best with what she’s been given. She adores her children & grandchildren. If you ever have a chance to meet her–I’m sure you’ll be at ease right away & be laughing. I love you mom!

Both my mom & Cherie have said, “I’m not a kid person,” or “I’m not very good with other people’s kids…but once I had my kids, well that’s different.” Thanks to my two moms who have sacrificed with sleepless nights, terrible twos (3, 4, 13-18), worried, prayed hard, cried & cried, released us out of your hands, taught us, encouraged us & never stopped loving us. We love you!

Comfort of Chicken-n-Dumplings

One of my favorite summer events was going camping with other family’s from our church family. We would go to Indian Hills in the Laguna Mountains right outside of San Diego (one benefit of growing up in a town like Yuma, AZ). The parents would do who knows what, while us kids would find the most willing & easily taken advantage of adult to take us to the pool. We would also try to get some wax paper from the ladies who made the meals, because there was the monster of all slides with other puny playground equipment around.

After watching Swiss Family Robinson, I was convinced that living on a deserted island in a tree was pretty much the best place ever. And here in the middle of Indian Hills was a tree house that emulated all I ever dreamed. Aside from the stairs leading up to the tree house (the key was “Don’t Look Down!”), once you got to the top we would run toward our destiny–our anticipated ride down. The ride being the largest slide I have ever encountered. It was as if we were Fred Flintstone for a mere section in the opening credits as he slid down the Brontosaurus’ neck. In fact, the camp specifically had painted on the wooden side enclosing the slide, “NO WAX PAPER.” But we threw caution to the wind. At that very moment, we embraced all that we knew to be a kid. So what did we do? We would sneak some up anyway. There was a thrill knowing we were breaking the rules, in order to gain that perfect amount of speed and a little bit of vertigo. All for round two & three and so one as we raced back to the stairs to start again. It’s no wonder that kids are innately born with tons of energy with no awareness that their play is actually exercise. Any rational person would quickly realize the time it took us to climb up wasn’t worth the ride down. But we were living dangerously with our smuggled in wax paper.

It was also no wonder that when dinner time hit, we were starving like the deserted inhabitants we envisioned ourselves to be. While the Swiss Family Robinson’s dream hit the fan around 4:30, as we whimpered to our parents about our stomachs eating themselves. I strolled on over to the eating area around 4:00 where Gramma Naomi Quinn was preparing dinner for us. Now, Gramma Quinn was that quintessential, older lady that you envision having rhythm in the kitchen. She knew what paired well. She knew how to feed an army. And she knew how to give some of the best, big Gramma hugs a child (or adult) could imagine.

She was known by everyone as Gramma Quinn. When our church did a baking auction to raise money for the Youth Group, her homemade cinnamon rolls were the big ticket item. Because with those simple six words, “They were made by Gramma Quinn,” had more clout than a notary stamp. She came up to me, as I shivered in the cool breeze, and asked, “Kamille, what would you like me to fix for dinner?” By her asking me that question, it made me think the following: a.) I would be picking dinner for everyone else b.) that “Gramma Quinn” only asked me & no one else and c.) knowing she made the best (and only) Chicken-n-Dumplings I ever tasted in my whole seven years of living. “Your chicken-n-dumplings please!”, I replied. She smiled and said, “Well, I think that would be perfect on a cool evening like this. (and indulging me a little bit) And do you think that would hit the spot for you?” “Oh YES!,” I said.

Me (8 yrs), Andrew (2 1/2 yrs), Willy (10 yrs)

That wouldn’t be the only time Gramma Quinn would make me chicken-n-dumplings, but this was the first where she made them to order on my request. Whenever I think about the creamy, salty, buttery dumpling laced with the gravy-like stew sprinkled with pepper on top, I always think of her and how she nourished my body and my soul with her big pot of goodness and her big Gramma bear hug. And so in her memory and my childhood nostalgia, make this hearty pot of chicken-n-dumplings. I think you’ll be recalling your own childhood dinner stories as you take your first bite.

My recipe is a transfiguration of sorts, which I find very handy when you’re trying to cook from scratch with shortcuts..if you will.

Chicken-n-Dumplings (printable recipe)

Now there are so many ways in which you could use chicken for the recipe. You could boil down a whole chicken, then use the chicken stock & the chicken for the soup. Or you could use some chicken breasts & pre-made chicken stock. Or you could buy a rotisserie chicken, remove the meat, then boil the carcass with the veggies to make your own stock. You be the judge.

Ingredients:

One rotissiere chicken, meat removed & cut into bite sized chunks
6 cups water
2 carrots, big chunk slices
1 onion, cut into quarters
2 stalks of celery, roughly chopped
1/2 tsp kosher salt
1 cup milk
1/2 tsp freshly ground pepper

Dumplings

2 cups flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp kosher salt
3 Tb shortening
3/4 cup buttermilk

Directions:

Making the broth: In a dutch oven or big stock pot, add your chicken carcass, cold water, carrots, onion, celery & salt. Bring to a boil, cover & lower heat. Simmer for 45 minutes (Time saving tips below). Remove chicken carcass. Strain veggies out & reserve the carrots & celery (discard the onion). Put a sieve over a bowl and ladle the chicken broth to separate any remaining particles. Rinse your pot, pour the broth back in and keep heat on medium heat. Now make those dumplings.

Make the dumplings: Combine the flour, baking soda and 1/2 tsp salt; cut in the shortening with a pastry blender or two knives until the mixture is consistency of coarse meal. Add the buttermilk, stirring just until dry ingredients are moistened. Turn dough out onto a floured surface and knead 4 or 5 times–no more, you’re going for biscuit like. Pat the dough down to a 1/4-inch thickness. Set aside.

Bringing it altogether: Put the pot of broth on medium-high heat & bring it to a boil, and stir in the milk & pepper. Correct seasonings, if you so desire. Take the dumplings and pinch off 1 1/2-inch pieces, one or two at a time and drop into the boiling broth & reduce the heat to medium-low. Stir from time to time to keep the dumplings from sticking. Continue dropping in the dumplings until there are no more. Cook for 8 to 10 minutes. Add the cut chicken, carrots, & celery to the pot and simmer until heated through. Remove from heat, a couple of grinds with pepper & serve.

Time Saving Tips:

Use the rotisserie chicken for the chicken, but use boxed chicken broth instead of making your own.
The original recipe calls for cooking up a whole chicken for 60-70 minutes to make the broth; however, I find an already roasted chicken makes for a deeper & richer broth.

Rhubarb Crisp

Or in this instance, a rhubarb crisp. Okay, so I have a little bit of an infatuation with this long, sometimes slender, sometimes chunky, red/speckled red & green/green vegetable. Yes, rhubarb is actually classified as a vegetable, but heaven’s to Betsy–whatever Pioneer woman made use of this manna–I am forever grateful. While Ben and I were dating, we would be walking in some new neighborhood of Bellingham & I would stop in my tracks. Ben thinking I found something remarkable or writhing in pain, because of the deep sigh & deer in head lights stare. What? What? He’d ask. Then, I would point.

rhubarb leaves

I had a gift of spotting those huge, elephant like leaves protruding from behind a high backyard fence at least 100 meters away. In fact, as I sat gazing at some (meanwhile, Ben was probably thinking how silly it was) rhubarb, the owner of the house came out back and said hello. But also kind of wondered what I was looking at. I said I was admiring his rhubarb and then he offered me to take some. I really wanted to, but I felt like that was crossing a line.

rhubarb stalks

Rhubarb to me says Springtime. The quintessential springtime pie is a Strawberry-Rhubarb (I’ll be saving that recipe for a bit later). The house I lived in the year I was engaged had a big window looking out to the neighbors yard. I had been admiring their rhubarb plant in early April (I even inspected it for it’s bounty). When it hit May, the time at which the stalks were ready for harvesting, I walked to the neighbor’s door to ask them if they were going to use their rhubarb (that line I was fine crossing–they were college students who most likely didn’t have a clue as to a rhubarb plant being there). My prediction was correct and they didn’t know anything about it and gave me the green light.

Well, I wasn’t quite ready for pulling off the stalks as I needed some strawberries. A few days later, in the morning, I got awoken by the sound of a tractor outside my window. When I came into the kitchen, I absolutely freaked out. There was a mini bulldozer/tractor (I have girls, not boys) something or other outside my window. It was pulling up all of the ground along the side of the house and I feared for the safety of my rhubarb. They were plowing right next to my love and I didn’t know if they were alright. There was only one thing to do. I went outside in my pajamas to stop the man on the John Deere to see what he was doing and if he was aware of my bounty awaiting its fate I had planned out? And there, like a diamond in the rough lay my rhubarb–right next to plowed up ground. I didn’t hesitate and pulled them up right there on the spot, brought them into the safety of my home. Where they intoxicated me with their tangy, red smell as I cut them into slices and mixed them up with sliced strawberries. We enjoyed our first Strawberry-Rhubarb pie of the season that night.

And last night we had our Japanese Community friends over. Their names are Ayumi & Maho and I taught them how to make spaghetti from scratch & introduced them to what will hopefully not be their last taste of rhubarb. I found rhubarb at the Farmer’s Market yesterday, but strawberries are not quite in season. So, we made do & made a crisp, which to me is just as satisfying without all the primping that comes from a pie. Here’s to kicking off Spring!

Rhubarb Crisp (printable recipe)

I made this on the fly, because crisps are so forgiving & easy. It’s a humble cousin to a rhubarb pie, but I find it just as good. It reminds me of my favorite summer breakfast of plain yogurt, fresh fruit & granola, except in dessert form. And if you don’t have a food processor for the crisp, then use a pastry cutter, or a fork, or best of all–your hands.

Rhubarb Filling

4-5 cups sliced rhubarb (around 6 rhubarb)
1 cup unrefined sugar
1 tsp lemon zest
1 tsp orange zest
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp ground cardamom

Crisp Crust

1/2 cup light brown sugar
1/2 cup coarsely chopped pistachio
1/2 cup rolled oats
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
6 Tb unsalted butter, cold cut into 1/4 inch squares
pinch of salt

Directions: Preheat oven to 350. Clean rhubarb stalks & slice into roughly 1/4-1/2 inch slices. Put sliced rhubarb into a medium bowl, along with 1 cup granulated sugar, cinnamon, cardamom, orange & lemon zest. Dive in with your hands and mix it all together. Dump this into an 8 or 9 inch square baking dish. Set aside.

Combine the flour, oats, brown sugar, pistachios, & salt into a bowl of a food processor. Mix to combine (3 seconds). Put in the butter & pulse 7-9 times. Some of the butter will most likely still be in whole form. Dump the contents into a large bowl. Then, use your hands & fingers to cut the butter into the dry ingredients. Don’t be bashful, imagine you’re a kid playing with play dough. At the end, your crisp part will look comparable to wet sand. Spread the mixture atop the rhubarb mixture.

Bake for 30-40 minutes. Okay, so I didn’t time it unfortunately. But what you’re looking for is a golden crust, the smell of rhubarb-spiced goodness & if you can pierce a fork through the rhubarb–it’s good to go. You can let it cool for a bit (10-15 minutes), or serve it up right away. No judgment. Top with some vanilla ice cream as any crisp always tastes better with it. And there you have a slice of Spring.

Palace Temple & Hospitality

When I think about hospitality and what that really looks like…I typically find myself watching other people to see what they’ve come up with. And on Friday night as Ben and I were sitting in a living room listening to the story of a lady we both know, it was at that moment that I took a mental picture. I take these pictures of moments that I don’t want to forget. Unless it’s really standout, I most often forget if I don’t write it down. Well, here I am, writing it down…it being the story of Trudy & John and The Whatcom Dream.

I’ve heard Trudy’s story a couple times now, but it’s still phenomenal to me. She grew up knowing & using the welfare system. Not thinking much about what future she could have, she bought into the system and became a product of all she knew. There wasn’t a way out until she encountered T.W.D. However, T.W.D. was more than an organization, but it was people who met Trudy & John where they were. T.W.D. teaches financial classes to empower those who are financially destitute to give them a hope, yet not a handout. Trudy would call herself a sassy young woman with the mouth of a sailor (both verbally & what went in).

But, as the members of T.W.D. met her where she was at, she also soon realized that Jesus wanted to meet her where she was at. She and John got married, started serving the Lord, and moved out of Bellingham’s renown poorest/highest crime rate neighborhood into safe suburbia. But (yes there’s always a ‘but’), God told her that she needed to move back to the neighborhood where she came from and be evangitality to meet the people where they were at.

So they packed up their stuff, sold their place, and bought the little pink house which was once a well-known meth house on the Texas block. They were redeeming the evil for the good. Fast forward ahead and Trudy & John still live in that old meth house, except they have been living out true hospitality to their neighbors & neighborhood. They have started a community garden, host bonfires, and simply go out through their neighborhood to know the people who live there. People flock to John & Trudy. And I think it’s because they emanate a pure goodness.

What struck me on Friday night was something new as Trudy spoke. She & John are shining lights in their neighborhood and I know they genuinely love their neighbors. Their authenticity is what makes them so attractive. But what got me was this…I shouldn’t feel guilty that I’m not living in the “ghetto” doing hard core hospitality. However, I began to ask God, “what would you have us do and where?” You see, when you hear stories like Trudy’s you cannot help, but want to pack up all your stuff and give it away for the less fortunate. Yet, I don’t think that’s necessarily the answer all the time (sometimes yes, most the time…no). Do I have the answer for myself and my family? No.

But, what I do know, at this very moment is this. I truly believe that wherever I find myself, in whatever circumstance, I need to seek out contentment. When I think about Ben and my dream to own a house suitable for hospitality I can get discouraged. However, when I think about what we are blessed with…the size really doesn’t matter. Isn’t it more about making due with what you have? And when I recall my formative years, it’s not about the size, style, or aesthetic quality of the house which gave me hospitality. No, it was the about the size of the heart, the style in grace and the attention to detail that the person gave me (as a person worthy of dignity), which brought me hospitality. It didn’t even matter how immaculate their house was, but how they preserved me as a person.

And that’s what spoke to me the most on Friday night. Trudy is speaking worth into these people’s lives. She is doing opposite of what the money changers were doing in the temple 2000+ years ago when Jesus turned over their tables. She is viewing each person as God’s Palace Temple and that’s not anything to be taken lightly.

But where do I find my place to extend hospitality these days? Honestly, (and I hope this isn’t a cop out) I think a vast majority comes in the form of mothering. How do I treat my children as God’s Palace Temple on an hourly basis? Although most of my time is dedicated to this life-long journey of mothering at the moment, I am constantly seeking where else I can meet people where they are at to reassure them that they too are God’s Palace Temple, which I think is the very core of genuine hospitality.

Split Pea Soup

One of the things I love about food is it’s ability to create emotions and stories (well I guess that’s two). I’m sure we can all recall those certain foods, which caused stomach upset. Or better yet are the foods we ate once and have endlessly tried to recreate or capture that moment again.

Split Pea was the former in my food story recollection bank for many years. It was New Year’s Eve and I was seven years old. Our church had a Talent Show and being the center of attention seeker I am, I had a performance in mind. I practiced the song endlessly in my room, in the car and anywhere life found me. Well, wouldn’t you know it, come New Year’s Eve Eve…I came down with the stomach bug. No one else in my family did.

And somehow our good family friend offered to have me stay at their house, so my mom could attend the event. I was in the second day of sickness, so I wasn’t feeling as bad or in need of my mom. Although I was sad about missing out on the Talent Show, I was happy to spend the night at Mr & Mrs Sievert’s house. That is until she said she made some split pea soup, which was rare because I was not a picky eater. However, this was green mush that looked like what comes out of a body, not to be consumed. It tainted my view of split pea for sometime. But I’m glad to say that it all changed when my housemate made it in college using some ham from their family farm (does it get any better?).

What are some of your food stories or emotions? Ones you’ve run away from, ones that resurfaced (like the split pea) and you enjoyed, or ones you’ve tried to recreate?

Split Pea Soup (printable recipe)

This is such a forgiving soup. If you want to use some chicken or vegetable broth instead, go ahead. If you want more vegetables or less, go ahead. You can make it vegetarian easily, but I would recommend using some or all vegetable broth in place of the water, in order to give it that extra depth of flavor. If you are needing to serve more than 10 people, simply increase the split peas and water amount (ratio of water to split peas–2 or 2 1/2 cups to 1 cup).

Ingredients

1 yellow onion, medium chop
3 cups cubed ham, (I bought ham steaks from Costco, which is sold in three round slabs, 98% fat free but tasty)
4 large carrots, peeled and sliced into 1/8 inch slices
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 cups yukon potatoes, peeled and cut into 1/4 inch cubes or chunks
2 teaspoons kosher salt
2 1/2 – 3 cups dried split peas
8-10 cups cold water
2 bay leaves
salt & pepper to taste

Preparation

In a dutch oven or large stock pan, add cubed ham & chopped onions over medium heat. Cook, stirring occasionally. If your meat or onion is sticking to the pan, then add olive oil. I didn’t need any, because of the condensation from the meat & onion. Cook until onions are softened and the some of the ham browns a bit.

Add minced garlic, cook for 30 seconds while stirring. Then, add the carrots, potatoes & salt and cook for 1-1 1/2 minutes. Add the dried split peas and pour 6 cups of cold water on top. If the peas & vegetables are not completely covered by water, keep adding one more cup of cold water until they are covered. Add the bay leaves. Cover & cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until soup begins to bubble. Once it bubbles, turn heat to low and simmer–keeping it covered. You can still stir occasionally and checking to see if you need to add more water. It will take about an hour to an hour and a half to cook to completion.

The soup will be done once the split peas turn to mush. Season with salt & pepper to taste. Discard the bay leaves and serve warm. This makes enough for 8-10 servings, so leftovers are a given for a family of four. Once the soup is refrigerated, it will congeal and you can simply add some water to reconstitute it.

Swedish Tea Ring (Vetekrans)

What was Christmas morning like in your family growing up? Waking up at the crack of dawn, scurrying to see what booty hung from the stockings, and a candy frenzied gaze after all the gifts were opened might be a typical American memory of a not too distant past. There’s also the spiritual side in the retelling of the Christmas story. Where a young girl, chosen by God, is to carry the Savior of the world in her womb. Having found favor with God, but is in the least of finding favor with her fellow neighbors, as I’m sure they snickered and cringed as she passed since the idea of a virgin birth was less than plausible for them.

As the only daughter, middle child between two brothers, Christmas morning turned from the coveted, “let’s just open our presents,” to drawn out expectation, but not due to a spiritual exercise. My father turned the one morning of glory into a full fledge DMV line. We would awaken bright and early with “OOO’S & AWWW’S” and running to our parents bedrooms to waken them from their slumber, in hopes of opening our presents. My mom would shuffle into the living room with half opened eyes & gingerly sit on the couch. On the other spectrum was our dad. Although he would rarely eat a full course breakfast the other 364 days of the year, he thought Christmas morning was the perfect morning to do so.

You might be thinking that a breakfast of ham, eggs, toast, coffee & orange juice, which Kenny the Bear eats regularly (Richard Scarry), is a splendid Christmas morning meal. You would be right if it wasn’t the prelude. Not only did my dad insist on eating Denny’s Grand Slam prior to opening presents, but personal hygiene tied for first on Christmas morning. When he woke up, he headed to the bathroom to shower, neatly comb his hair, clothe with a belt and put on some socks. Meanwhile, us kids, all under the age of 10 salivated at all the presents. But once he was done with his hygiene, he would head to the kitchen to make & eat his breakfast. No matter how much we tried to rush him, he would not budge.

With us on his heels, watching that final drop finish off his fork, we ran to the living room mumbling about our slaughter. However, my dad liked to teach us about anticipation & patience by saying, “Not yet, I need to get the camcorder out.” Now, we had one of those heavy duty kind, which my dad had to get just the right lighting, put it on the tripod, and connect it with the TV to see the final product. Finally, it was time to begin. But when the present opening actually started, my dad instituted the following rule, ‘We take turns opening presents, no two people at the same time, and say thank you for every gift received.’ I can still recall my older brother Willy’s friend Steve calling to see what he got for Christmas. Willy said, “I dunno, we’re not done opening our gifts yet…yeah, I know, by this rate we’re never gonna make it to San Diego (we went every year to my Aunt’s house).”

And now, as I experience Christmas on the other end, being the parent watching my girls experience the joy of what lies beneath the green/red wrapping…I can understand some of what my dad gave to us on Christmas morning. He taught us to slow down & to avoid the consumerist spirit, which lie so deep in my seven year old body. It was a gift to know that it’s okay to breathe in what I was being given and appreciate it; rather, than just throw it aside and search for more hidden treasure to rip to shreds. This is one tradition I hope to pass down to my girls. Well, the slowing down when it comes to opening the presents part, but not the four course breakfast eaten beforehand…instead, we’ve instituted the Vetekrans for Christmas morning. And that’s what I love about family traditions…you can keep some, throw some out, and create new ones altogether. **We’re also throwing out the camcorder.

Vetekrans (printable recipe)

This recipe is taken from The Great Scandinavian Baking Book. This is a refrigerator yeast dough, which is also a no-knead. This is a perfect sweet bread to have on Christmas morning, New Year’s or some other brunch where you don’t want to spend all your time with kneading & proofing.

Ingredients

2 packages active dry yeast (one packet is 2 1/4 teaspoons)

1 cup warm water, 105 to 115 degrees

1/2 cup melted butter

1/2 cup sugar

3 slightly beaten eggs

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon ground cardamom

4 to 4 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

1/2 cup softened butter

1/2 cup sugar

1 tablespoon ground cinnamon

Glaze

1 cup powdered sugar

3 tablespoons hot coffee or milk

1/2 teaspoon almond extract

Directions: In a large bowl, dissolve the yeast in the warm water and let stand for 5 minutes. Stir in the 1/2 cup melted butter, 1/2 cup sugar, the eggs, salt, cardamom, and 4 cups of flour until dough is smooth (I used about 4 1/2 cups). Cover and refrigerate 2 to 24 hours.

Turn dough onto a floured board and roll out to make a 20-to 24-inch square. Spread with a thin layer of softened butter right to the edge. Mix 1/2 cup sugar and the cinnamon and sprinkle over the butter. Roll up like a jelly roll.

Grease a baking sheet or use parchment and place the roll on the sheet, shaping it into a ring. Pinch ends together to close the circle. With scissors, cut almost through the ring at 1/2-inch intervals. Turn each piece so that the cut side is exposed. Let rise until almost doubled.

Preheat oven to 375. Bake for 20 – 25 minutes or until just golden. While ring bakes, mix the glaze ingredients. Brush while hot with the glaze.