 Hi all. Haven’t been able to stand writing much lately. Writer’s block has reared its ugly head and then another issue just gave me more excuses. Most of you know that I have Graves and Hashimoto’s Diseases with the accompanying Thyroid Eye Disease (also known as TED). Lately, focusing on a computer screen for any amount of time has not been fun. I’ve tried. Best intentions and all that kinda thing. My eyes throb, burn and tear up and then, everybody wants to know what I’m upset about and what should send me into tears. Of course, assuring, “nothing,” doesn’t cut it and pretty soon, discussions of Prozac and other drugs of comotosity (is that a word?) become whispers behind my back where my “mom’s eye in the back of my head” is also throbbing, burning and tearing up. I then win the day and all involved relax as I pile ice onto my face, over a sleep mask, and I lay down on the couch to listen to the clickity clack of the Wheel of Fortune wheel. Ya know, something gets lost in that show when one can’t see the board and can only hear the ‘dings’ of the letters turning and the squeals of the contestants. Just not much brain stimulation there. And there’s no use looking because with the occassional double vision of TED, when a contestant buys a vowel, two show up side-by-side along with double consonents and the board looks like Russian! Last night, I asked Mr. Fix-It if he noticed the firelike flames of the headlights of oncoming traffic. He looked sideways at me like I was crazy and said that there were no firelike flames. Huh. January is Thyroid Disease Awareness Month. Now, a year ago, I would have giggled and said, “Are you kidding? They have a month dedicated to the thyroid, of which nobody cares? Sheesh.” But things sure do change when you become one of the stories told by the countless number of people in all parts of the world who have been struck with these really aggravating autoimmune diseases. All of a sudden, you get this primal urge to wear a ribbon or get pledges and walk or something. You try all kinds of natural remedies and keep a journal of what works and what doesn’t work. I have to say that I have discovered that my Rosemary/Peppermint with Sage soap seems to sooth my painful eyes and keeps them from being so red. That’s pretty cool. Literally. But suffice it to say that one feels a new empathy for people who are struggling with diseases that are not necessarily life threatening but that are life altering. I went into Walmart awhile back and the checker was peering with difficulty at the price of my item. One eye was droopy and the other was terribly swollen and watery. I knew immediately that she had TED and I felt such a pain for her having to stand there, trying to see what wasn’t going to be easily seen. I wanted to just grab her to take her to a recliner for an ice pack and relief. I have been blessed. My eyes are not that bad yet. It is very possible that my day will come or it may not, but God has been gracious in allowing me just enough discomfort to keep me humble and not so serious a case so that it keeps me grateful. “For when I am weak, then I am strong.” (II Corinthians 12:10) But I’m still kind of impatient about sitting in front of a computer screen!!  Many things have been happening over the past month…pretty exciting things, in fact. We have the privilege of welcoming Eric and Denyce and their wonderful site Breadtopia.com. They have decided to carry the Oklahoma Pastry Cloth™ at their Iowa business. Be sure to hop over and check out their site and their great baking blog. You will learn a lot! Then, the gift store, The Pink Pistol, recently opened in Tishomingo, Oklahoma by country music singer Miranda Lambert, is carrying our soaps packaged especially for them. Privately labeled for The Pink Pistol, the soaps have swarovski crystals centered on the ribbon that ties around the package of pastel tissue paper for a tidy gift with ‘bling’! We have been humming here, producing like Lucy and Ethel in the chocolate bon bon factory and just as organized!! (note my sarcasm) So please accept my apology for the long absence. A combination of writer’s block, eye problems and sheer burnout have plagued this blogger granny. I’m thinking of getting a bottle of Vitameatavegamin. In the interim, reader Lacey from Texas, sent a recipe that Mr. Fix-It and I really liked. It is very easy and very tasty and REALLY fast. The recipe actually calls for chicken thighs with the bone in, but since we especially like white meat, I used boneless chicken breasts, cut into chunks. I think that next time, I will cut the breasts into strips but you can use any part of the chicken you like!! Thank you, Lacey, for a new recipe! 1 1/2 lbs chicken thighs or boneless breasts 1/2 cup Dijon mustard 1/4 cup Maple syrup 1 Tablespoon Rice/rice wine vinegar Fresh rosemary Salt and pepper Line a baking dish with aluminum foil and preheat oven to 450º  In a bowl, mix mustard, maple syrup and vinegar until creamy.  Place chicken pieces into foil lined casserole dish and salt and pepper chicken  Pour the sauce mixture over the chicken and turn pieces to dredge in the sauce.  Bake at 450º for 40 minutes, basting with the sauce halfway through the cooking. For breast strips, it may not take 40 minutes until done.  Remove the chicken from the oven and allow to cool for 5 minutes. Serve portions, spooning sauce over the meat and sprinkling fresh rosemary leaves liberally over the pieces. This is an important addition!!  I served the chicken over rice – but heh – that’s just me. We eat so much rice, we should invest in a rice paddy!! Enjoy!!  |
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Archive for the ‘A Day In the Life Of An Okie’ Category
Double The Fun and Chicken
Saturday, January 26th, 2013
You’ll Eat It Like Popcorn!!
Monday, December 31st, 2012
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I sure hope that everyone’s Christmas was beautiful, meaningful and filled with love. Our home was a little quieter this year, as much of the family was unable to make it due to weather, but those of us who were together had a lot of fun. The grandbaby was here and so all was well. Can’t go wrong with a one year old and her first real Christmas!!  The tree was bare underneath until presents magically appeared Christmas morning! They must have come by train. I can’t resist waxing philosophical after this past holiday season. Shopping was a truly different experience this year. I don’t know if I have just become more observant or if my patience isn’t what it used to be or if I just naturally see the absurd in my surroundings, but I picked up on a phenomenom at the department stores that I just hadn’t noticed before. People don’t read signs. The best way to get an individual to do exactly what you don’t want them to do is to put up a sign and watch them do the exact opposite – like the lady who was trying to force a baby stroller, full of baby, onto an escalator beside the sign that stated, unequivically, “Absolutely no strollers on the escalator!!!”. It’s like people’s minds go into reading in a foreign language because they obviously don’t understand the English before them. “Je ne comprend pas.” “No comprende.” “Me no speaka de English.” Now, I try very hard to be a patient line-stander. The reality of today’s society is that we stand in lines. We stand in lines at checkout stands. We stand in line for concert tickets. And we even purposely CHOOSE to stand in lines on Black Friday at 3:00 in the morning just to be first to make a dive for a Doggy Doo game where the child who gets three piles of dog poop on his shovel first, wins the game. I’m not sure if this teaches a child environmental responsibility or the best way to get worms, but it was certainly popular at Toys R Us. But I digress. I really do try to be a very patient line-stander. I use the time in line to pray for those people in front of me or for the checkout personnel. I browse over the titles of the magazines and make mental notes of Jennifer Aniston’s latest flame and what Vladimir Putin’s alien baby looks like. But on Christmas Eve afternoon, I’m ashamed to say, I kind of lost my patience – and I tapped my foot in frustration. I needed one, measly item that I had forgotten in all of my weeks and weeks of careful planning and lists (yeah, right). A run into Walmart gave me that item – and cheaply I might add – and I decided to go through the express ‘self-checkout’ line because it said “express”. Now, express to me means “faster” or “quicker” or at least “moderately speedier than nonexpress”. It means that the normal person would recognize the word and take it to dictate the necessity to have just a few items. Oh no. People on Christmas Eve can’t read. I think that they read the word “express” and think that it gives them permission to express themselves about every, single item of the 300 in their basket as they swipe them across the barcode reader. In the particular line in which I was standing, one such woman was at the stand with a buggy piled so high with purchases that she had to get a second buggy in which to place her finished bags because there was no room in the first buggy. There were 6 more people between me and her and these six people each had a maximum of 5 items. The first woman did not know how to use the scanner and contemplated each item, of her pile of approximately 400 things, to determine where in the world she was supposed to swipe for a price. She announced the price as there was final success and carefully moved to the next of her 600 items. The man in front of me held tightly to an ice scraper of which he must have been sorely in need because he tenaciously stood in this line with the optimism of Eeyore. He turned to me, rolled his eyes and said, “You would think that they would put ’10 Items or Less’ on the sign.” I thought to myself that if the word “Express” hadn’t been interpreted correctly, what made him think that this woman could count (with her basket heaping with 700 items)?! Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that the self-checkout to my left and in front of me was miraculously void of all but one customer. I hated to do it to the young man in front of me, but I made a beeline for that stand, careful not to knock him to the ground in my escape. I was also careful not to look smug at my stroke of luck. The woman, who was checking out at that moment, pulled out her card and pressed, “Finish and Pay”, right under the sign that stated, “Credit card, Debit card or Cash Only”. She ran the red card through the reader and promptly got a “Read Error” flashing light. She contemplated the card and tried again. Same response. She turned to her daughter and said, “I guess it wants me to pay the balance first and then use the gift card.” Gift card? The sign didn’t say anything about a gift card. But then, it didn’t say anything about a check either which didn’t stop her from writing one and trying to force it into the cash recepticle of the machine. The check was spit back out and a voice screeched, “Please wait for assistance!!” 15 minutes later, the store clerk, after working on the machine with no resolution, and continually reprimanding the customer for attempting to use a gift card on the machine, flatly stated, “Just go to my stand and I’ll have to check you out there.” She promptly wiped out the entire order and left the lane open for me and my one item. I quickly paid, turned to look at the line of people which had formed behind me and then, as I headed toward the exit, I noticed the young man with his ice scraper still standing in line behind the same lady with the two baskets who was evidently working on item number 800. I have a recipe for which my family stands in line. It is our traditional “New Year’s Day We Have To Have It To Watch Football Games” recipe. I always wind up making two batches – one before Christmas to give as gifts to neighbors and then one for munching. I have been making this for as long as I can remember and it is one of the recipes that you will find in my family cookbook at the shopping page. I really think that you will enjoy it if you like toffee popcorn and nuts crossed with Cracker Jacks. It is truly yummy. Oh, and my favorite popcorn to use in this is the Act II Butter Lovers brand. It takes 3 – 4 bags of popped corn to make a recipe. I pop it and then make sure to remove any unpopped kernels. This brand has no trans fats and quite a bit of the good fats. Candied Popcorn and Nuts Ingredients: 5 Quarts freshly popped corn 1 cup salted cocktail peanuts 1 cup butter (you have to use the real thing!) 2 cups packed light brown sugar 1/2 cup traditional pancake syrup like Karo 1/2 tsp baking soda 1/2 tsp vanilla 1/8 tsp butter flavoring (optional) Variation: Use pecans or roasted almonds instead of peanuts Preheat oven to 250º  In a very large bowl, place popcorn and nuts and toss  In a medium sauce pan, melt butter with brown sugar and syrup and bring to a boil.  Boil until the mixture reaches the soft ball stage. You can check this with a candy thermometer or by dropping a little of the syrup into a bowl of ice and water. Feel to see if the syrup forms a soft ball in the cold water.  When the soft ball stage is reached, remove the syrup from heat and stir in vanilla  And add the soda, stirring quickly. The soda will make the mixture start to bubble and turn to a foamy light tan color  Pour the mixture over the popcorn and nuts and then begin turning and mixing the popcorn and peanuts to coat  When all of the popcorn and nuts are coated, spread the mixture onto a large, buttered cookie sheet and bake in 250º oven for about an hour, stirring and turning about every 15 minutes to keep it from burning. When done, remove from oven and quickly transfer the hot popcorn by spatula to an airtight container. The popcorn will be a little sticky, but it will come off of the cookie sheet easily. It gets harder to remove as the popcorn candy begins to harden. Once the toffee coating has hardened, shake the popcorn to break it into individual pieces.  This is all that is left of the batch that I just made. Oh wait. No. I’m sorry. I just ate it!! |
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Celebrating A Life
Wednesday, November 28th, 2012
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I’m listening to saved messages on my cell phone. Do you ever save the voice messages of the ones you love? I do. I don’t know why. I just do. And so, I just pulled up the latest message that I have from my dear Aunt Lois. I listened and laughed, through tears. “Heh girl. It’s your little old aunt, who lives in a little old house on a little old lot (my uncle’s voice says something in the background) – with a little old man he says! Well, you’re SUPPOSED to be available when I call. I’m not sure what to do with this!” Yesterday was the funeral for my precious Aunt Lois Wyrick. On Saturday, she died suddenly while having breakfast with the love of her life, my uncle, at their regular Saturday restaurant. The news was a shock to us all. Nobody is ever prepared for that kind of suddeness. She was 88 years young with a sharp wit, crystal clear memory and the will to go square dancing, though her body said, “I don’t THINK so”. Aunt Lois was an inspiration, an encourager, a teacher – the epitome of the strong, southern woman. She mentored many a young woman, always ready with a scripture and a life lesson. I was one of those women. She and I spent hours on the phone, and cheek to cheek when Mr. Fix-It and I would make the long trek to Georgia, discussing faith and life always with humor and laughter. She embraced our little Ellie dog and always asked if we were bringing her to entertain her. Ellie would lay at her feet, or at the feet of my uncle, and wait for a word from either one of them so she could pound her tail in appreciation.  Aunt Lois walked with me at a very tough time in my life and held counseling sessions with me from 850 miles away. She encouraged me to start my business and had not a few brilliant ideas. She gave me my first huge order and gushed over the presentation of the packaging. She always made me feel like I could do anything and that whatever I did and do is important. She let me know that she was proud of me and of the older woman I have become.  My aunt and I were partners in crime at antiquing. My poor uncle followed meekly behind us, clutching his wallet in fear. My aunt fostered my love of antique, cobalt blue glassware and had a collection that she proudly displayed in front of a window, so that it cast beams of blue across the room in the morning sun. Our personal contest was to proudly find the best bargain of the century and then convince each other that life would never be the same if one or the other did not purchase the item and carry it home, to the chagrin of our husbands. I would talk her into pieces of crystal that she would purchase for her crystal collection from which she always gifted many brides who were fortunate to benefit from Aunt Lois’ good taste. I also talked her into a dining room suite that was purchased for her granddaughter’s new home. That furniture wasn’t much to look at, but when the granddaughter got hold of it and plied the hereditary artistic eye of her mom and grandmother, that suite took on a new appearance which graced the dining room with beauty. Aunt Lois talked me into a set of hand cut stemware that I have treasured for years.  Of course, she – with her sense of humor – most recently talked me into another set of stemware which I’m thinking is a source of laughter for her now. I am at a loss at what to do with these things.  A prolific writer, Aunt Lois shared my love of writing and I have posted some of her writing here, as well as our experiences shared on our many trips to their home. She wrote for a Georgia publication and included some of my writing and experiences in her pieces. Between my aunt and my dad, who also has a gift of the word, I feel that I have been left a legacy of family history that assures that generations will always know the roots, the heritage, the stories and the humor of our varied and colorful family tree. There is no greater gift than written memories passed on from generation to generation.  I could write so much more, but suffice it to say that my aunt was well-loved and most admired. As I wrote on Facebook , “She accepted me lock, stock and barrel, warts and all. She loved me and encouraged me to not be afraid to make a leap of faith. She lovingly supported me in my walk with Christ, creating a bond of faith between us that gives me no doubt that she is having those discussions with Christ right now!!…Though I rejoice that Aunt Lois is at peace with God, is whole and not infirm anymore and knows the true peace and joy that we, as Christians, look forward to with yearning, I am still heartbroken and sad for her family, especially Uncle Ed, and for me, because a vibrant part of our lives is now missing.” Aunt Lois’ message on my phone ends with this: “Hope things are well. I love you much, honey. Bye”…..I love you too, Aunt Lois. Bye for now. |
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How To Freezer Wrap Meat Like the Professionals
Friday, October 12th, 2012
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Today, we cooks have all kinds of new products to process the various meats that we love to store in the freezer. Electronic sealers, zippered freezer bags and machines that vacuum pack into plastic bags can be costly and, though they promise no freezer burn, often times, the frost and freezer burn still appear. I love my FoodSaver Vacuum sealing system, but I have to say, the tried and true wrapping in freezer paper, like I did at my job in the meat department many years ago, still seems to be the best way to preserve food in the freezer. In fact, if you really want to preserve your meats, you can vacuum pack them and THEN wrap them in freezer paper. I continue to wrap most of my meats in the wax coated freezer paper that can be found at any store. It comes in a large roll that is found in the same grocery section with the plastic wrap and aluminum foil and wax paper. The most common brand is Reynolds. I thought that I would show you how I have wrapped my meats for the past 35 years, having cut and packaged meat professionally after graduating college. (An art degree just didn’t put food on the table – let alone wrap it!!! ) What you need: Roll of freezer Paper Freezer tape or Masking tape Sharpie for labeling  Cut paper to at least 6″ wider than the object that is going to be wrapped. If you are doing large steaks, use two thicknesses of wax paper to place between the steaks. If you are wrapping small steaks or pork chops, chicken breasts, etc, lay the meat side-by-side with large end of the first piece of meat next to the small end of the second piece of meat. The freezer paper should be at least 6″ wider than the width of the two together.  Place the meat in the center of the paper. Here, I am wrapping one pound balls of ground beef.  Pull uncut ends of the paper up between fingers and match the edges so that they are equal and even.  Fold over and slide fingers across the crease to make flat and crisp  Continue folding and creasing over and over until your fingers are stopped by the meat inside the package  Press the flattened roll to the top of the package to make a flat seam  Turn package over to seam side down  Press finger tips into the end of the package to force down the top paper into the bottom, as done when wrapping a present  As in wrapping a present, fold the edges over to a point  Pull pointed end over to the back of the package and tape. Repeat process for the other end of the package  Turn the package over to the seam end and write the date and what type of meat has been wrapped.  Stack packaged meat and then carry to the freezer. Lay meats into the freezer in layers of one to two packages deep on several shelves until they are completely frozen. Stacking too much unfrozen meat into one area of the freezer keeps flash freezing from occuring and can make the packages freeze unevenly. Once frozen, you can move and stack them however deep you wish. |
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Good Intentions
Friday, October 5th, 2012
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I’m a big ol’ softy when it comes to animals, especially hurt animals. That awful ASPCA commercial on television that uses the Sarah McGlaughlin song, Angel, just sends me into sobs and now, I just have to turn the channel at the first strains of the song. Dump a dog and I’ll hunt you down. Bugs and snakes, I could care less about, but birds and mammals hit my tender spot. And so, this morning, as I was preparing to leave the house for the day, that instinct kicked in. I heard Mr. Fix-It come back in the front door after I thought he had left for work. “There’s a hurt cardinal in the flower bed. He must have hit the window,” he said matter-of-factly. Actually, Mr. Fix-It wasn’t expecting for me to do anything about it. He was just informing me in the same manner that he would tell me that the UPS truck had just driven up. He headed back out of the door, hopped into the car and was gone. I, of course, went out to check on our feathered friend. My heart broke to see this gorgeous, male cardinal flopping around under a rose bush, wing dragging, and obviously broken, and mouth open in a pant. I had to do something!! And so, I went into the house, slipped on my pair of leather gardening gloves and went back out to retrieve my patient. I have this bad habit of acting before I think, and this time was no different. I tried to gently capture the bird, but he dove farther into the rose bush. I managed to finally grab him with one hand and he let out a squawk that so surprised me that I nearly dropped him. He grabbed a gloved finger of my other hand and bit down for all he was worth. He would not let go. I stood in the garden, unable to free my hand, unwilling to turn him loose from the other hand’s grip, and contemplating the fact that I had not made preparations for this invalid in the way of a “hospital” setting. I stayed stock still in an attempt to keep the bird calm and for me to decide what to do. Mr. Cardinal let out another squawk which released my finger. Then he looked at me, calmly, with the biggest, blackest, most unsettling eye as if to say, “OK, dummy. What’s your big plan?” I opened the front door with my free hand and wandered around the house, carrying the bird and trying to be creative. I thought of our pet carrier, but thought the cat smells might upset the birdie. “I tawt I taw a pootie tat.” I spotted a couple of laundry baskets and a brilliant idea formed in my pea brain. With my one hand, I grabbed newsprint and lined one basket with the newsprint. Dragging the basket into the front guest bedroom, I situated it in a draft free location and went to retrieve the second basket. And of course, Mr. Cardinal was still trapped in my left hand, being whisked from room to room in my frenzy to solve my problem. I grabbed a small bowl and filled it with water, went to the garage and got cardinal food with whole sunflowers and then placed the water and the food into the floor of the papered basket. I gently placed the bird onto the floor of the basket and quickly put the second basket upside down on top of the first basket. Mr. Cardinal just sat on the paper and stared at me. It was then that I remembered my suet that I had made and proudly announced to the stricken bird that he was in luck. I grabbed some of the suet from the frig and shoved it through a slat in the laundry basket right in front of the cardinal. I shut the door to the bedroom to protect the bird against our aging, but agile, Mr. Sway Cat.  I had to get on my way and so I decided that I would call an animal rescue mission near us and see if I could bring the bird by later in the day. In the meantime, I would text my friend down the road to see if she might have a bird cage. Feeling rather proud of myself, I took off to accomplish my various required journeys. It was around 1:30 in the afternoon when Mr. Fix-It called me to let me know he had gotten home early. I told him about my brilliant accommodations for the bird and I explained that he could not open the door or leave the door open to the bedroom because of the cat. I neglected to tell Mr. Fix-It that I wanted to take pictures of my friend before I took him to the shelter. A few minutes after this conversation, my phone rang again and it was Mr. Fix-It. He nearly screamed, “There’s a cardinal flying around the bedroom!!!” I told him to shut the door so the cat wouldn’t get it. He seemed to think that was a little condescending for me to think I would need to tell him that! And then he said, “Now he’s perched on top of the curtain rods of the window! He’s going to mess on everything!!” I asked Mr. Fix-It, rather incredulously, if the bird was actually flying. I got a very curt “of course…how do you think he got onto the curtain rod??” I then asked Mr. Fix-It if he had taken the top laundry basket off of the bottom one. I was definitely NOT making any Brownie points with him at this point. He said that he had opened the door to the room and that the bird had already escaped. It was my fault. I hadn’t tied the baskets together. I guess cardinals are strong little suckers. And I guess this cardinal didn’t have a broken wing after all. He had just been stunned. I told Mr. Fix-It to just wait until I got there and that we would figure something out. I was mentally visualizing a butterfly or fishing net, neither of which we own. My hubby wasn’t too happy. I could just see him standing in the room next to the antique 4-poster bed, ducking each time the red bird dive bombed him. And he couldn’t open the door to leave because..well, yes…because of the cat. Of course, my blogger brain was calculating, “I’ll take a picture of the cardinal on the curtains, for the blog, and THEN we’ll catch him. I kind of giggled, because I was certain that the distinctive cardinal ‘peep peep’ was being aimed at my husband and that the cat was probably outside the door in a fury. Poor Mr. Fix-It. However, I don’t give my husband enough credit. Before I ever reached the front door, Mr. Fix-It had managed to get the window open and the screen removed so that Mr. Cardinal ‘flew the coop’ without so much as an ‘au revoir’. I got no picture – just bird poop on the carpet, the comforter, the curtains and the window table, bird seed scattered all over the carpet and a soggy mess of water and newsprint in the bottom of my laundry basket. But, yay for the bird. He’s off somewhere happily reunited with his wife and hopefully a little wiser about big windows.   I know they say that hell is paved with good intentions, but this time, I like to think that I gave that bird some R & R so that he could gather his wits before a dog or cat got him. At least he lived to fly another day!! |
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Suet For The Birds!
Tuesday, September 25th, 2012
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Three posts ago, I showed you how to render tallow from beef fat for soap making and for old-fashioned candle making as well. The tallow can be used for incredible biscuits and pie crust too and the same process is used for rendering lard from pig fat for the same purchase. On Friday and Saturday, I cooked down 30 lbs of beef kidney fat to render about 15 lbs of beautiful, white tallow that went into the freezer. And it was when I finished the second run that I had a “well, duh” moment. As you saw from the photos, there is a lot of fat globules left over from the process and dumb me had thrown that away. As I was staring at my most recent by-product mess, it dawned on me that our bird feeders have cages for suet and we spend money every year on the stuff. Here, I had tons of the makings for suet cakes right in front of me.  Sooooo, I grabbed a bunch of my square and rectangular cake pans and poured the fat leftovers into the pans and evened out the surface. Then, I sprinkled bird seed on top and patted it down into the fat. The pans went into our big, anique Dr. Pepper cooler to cool down overnight.  The fat hardened nicely  When the suet was hard, I ran hot water over the backs of the pans and the suet popped right out onto a cutting surface.  A long blade knife worked perfectly to slice the block into squares that fit our bird feeders.  Those squares went into freezer bags and are now stored in the freezer until winter. So I got the tallow and some suet too!! I’m thinkin’ we are gonna have some pretty happy birdies!! |
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Fair Food At Home!!
Thursday, September 20th, 2012
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Well, it’s that time of year. Fair time…and in Oklahoma, as the song states over the radio, ♪♪ It’s a great state of a-fair! ♪♪ Okies look forward to the Oklahoma State Fair. Even in this hoity-toity, modern world, the exhibit buildings are still full of canning and garden entries, photography contests and the tasty baked goods from home cooks itching for a ribbon and winner cash. The barns overflow with show cattle, sheep, pigs and horses and the drone of announcers instructing showmen in the rings permeates the agriculture part of the fairgrounds. And of course, every tornado shelter company, shop building firm and hot tub emporium has a display of their particular pride and joy features, not to mention the thousands of home product hawkers housed in the fairgound’s numerous, spacious expanses of concrete and skylights. This year, Mr. Fix-It and I got to spend a day at the fair with the daughter, son-in-law and 9 month old granddaughter. Now THAT was a trip!! Watching my little grandbaby taking in all of the sights was pretty funny. And sights there were. Oh my goodness. I crawled out of my cave and noticed today’s fashions, evidently for the first time. I’ve decided that the fair is the excuse for any human being to leave home without ever looking in a mirror or even opening their eyes to judge their clothing before walking out the door. Older men and women in jeans obviously from a time when they were in high school and 200 lbs lighter, thought nothing of leaning over to expose bare buttocks and rotund waists. Lace shirts over brightly colored underwear and shorts with holes so big that I wanted to run to the rescue with a safety pin to help them avoid any humiliation – which they obviously felt none. We giggled at men with the dumbest hats, won at various arcades, and they wore them proudly to the chagrin of their wives or girlfriends. Of course, the callers at the arcades wore the same, dumb hats.  The strangest piece of clothing we saw came in the form of boots worn by a boatload of men. I’ve never seen them before. Back in “the day” here in the midwest, we used to have pointy-toed cowboy boats called, “Roach Killers” because one could trap a roach in a corner and squash it with the very pointed toe of the boot. But these new boots defy explanation, as the toes are so long that the longer worn, the more they curl back toward the ankle. We saw one pair of candy apple red and cream boots that curled so much, they looked like jester’s shoes. And I thought our 70’s fashions were weird!  The dirty little secret about going to the fair, though, is that inside every fair-goer’s heart is this lame excuse to go berserk over foods that no ordinary individual would consider logical, let alone healthy! And my daughter is the fair-goer food officianado. She enters the front gate, brushing past the ticket taker with a wave of her receipt and a single-minded purpose in her eyes – heading toward the various food shrines like a teenager preparing to pay homage to Lady GaGa. My daughter walks the entire length of kiosks that stretch for a 100 miles (it felt that way to my feet anyway), to assess what kind of damage can be done to one body in the form of calories, grease and salmonella. Then, she maticulously makes a list in her mind ordering which confection will be first and which will be last. Sweet always comes first and protein comes last.       One of the fair treats that is of lesser offense to the health conscious psyche is the funnel cake. The batter is very basic and if cooked in a healthy fat and dusted with just a little powdered sugar, one can share a fair-sized cake with nine or ten people and really feel smug over the idiot eating the chocolate bacon!   The batter is poured into a funnel and then evenly distributed in concentric rings into a deep vat of hot peanut oil to achieve the characteristic pile of crisp and tender bread dusted with powdered sugar. For extra money, the cooks will add fresh strawberries topped with whipped cream to make this confection so much more healthy. I said that it’s fruit, right?!! Well, funnel cakes are something that this cook has been making at home for years. The kids loved them and it was a treat that I could give them on occassion without having to fork over $100 for tickets to go have someone else make them at the fair. I thought that I’d share my recipe with you and that way, you can have your own fair experience at home, just in case you don’t make it to the real thing!! Ingredients: 2 cups milk 2 eggs 1 tsp baking powder 1 tsp salt 1/2 tsp vanilla 1 tbsp melted butter 2 to 2 1/2 cups sifted flour Directions:  Add milk to eggs and beat until frothy. I use my small, electric hand mixer.  Add salt  And vanilla  In a separate bowl, mix 1 cup of flour with baking powder.  Add the one cup of flour and baking powder, a little at a time, to the egg mixture and continue to beat.  Continue to add second cup of flour, slowly, until batter has the consistency of a thin pancake batter or pudding. Add more if needed, but do so slowly so as to not add too much.  Beat in melted butter  Pour batter into a medium sized funnel, keeping the tip of your finger over the funnel end to prevent any batter from running through.  Over a skillet of 1/2″ to 1″ oil – peanut or coconut oil is good – heated to 350º, remove finger from the end of the funnel and move the funnel around to create concentric circles in the hot oil. After getting the size cake you want, bring the batter back over the cake to add more circles.  Turn the funnel cake when browned and cook the other side.  Remove and drain on a paper towel. Sprinkle with powdered sugar, using a shaker or sifter. Serve hot. For an added tasty treat, put fresh, sliced and sweetened strawberries on top and a dollop of whipped cream. I hope the fair is coming near you!! |
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Random Thoughts: Reunions and Things
Thursday, August 30th, 2012
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It’s been rather crazy around here. Much, much traveling with back-to-back trips. One trip was to Georgia so that Mr. Fix-It could do some training while I got to spend time with my precious Aunt Lois and Uncle Ed and see the new cottage that they are building. It is next to what will be their daughter’s home. They are in a retirement home right now and all I can say is that I am THRILLED that they are getting out of there and into their own place. I am not lying. I felt 90 years old when I left that retirement home. No smiles. No laughter. No sound. No nothing. Very dismal. It is so gratifying to see how my cousins are willing to give their parents the support, encouragement and help that honors the sacrifices that my aunt and uncle made for their children over the years.  Of course, if one is in Georgia during peach season, one MUST buy peaches and that is exactly what Mr. Fix-It and I did at the most enormous peach orchard I’d ever seen. There was no end to the peach trees and it just made me tired to think of all the work that goes into dealing with that many peaches. This family-owned orchard also supplies homemade peach ice cream to perspiring customers who brave the heat and humidity to purchase baskets of huge fruit. And what fruit it was! “Like candy,” comes to mind.      Mr. Fix-It and I came home to an even hotter Oklahoma of 110º – 114º days with no rain. We watched as grasses dried to a crunchy carpet of brown and trees slowly died, even though Mr. Fix-It diligently watered everything as best he could. Fires raged in nearby areas and the thought of leaving again was not really an option. But I had a high school class reunion to attend and I am sure that y’all can imagine that Mr. Fix-It was chomping at the bit to attend it with me!! This reunion, I am willing to admit, was my 40th year shindig. Yep. My classmates are all old. I’m not old, but they are! Fortunately, we Okies got about an inch of rain to alleviate any fears of leaving home to the fires and so Mr. Fix-It got his wish to be dragged, kicking and screaming, to a party where he was to converse with people he’d never met, didn’t know and who played absolutely no part in his world. As for my part, I agonized over what to wear. You know: “What outfit will make me look like I stepped out of Vogue even though, I don’t know what Vogue is or how one steps out of it? What jewelry will give the appearance that the Queen of England felt obliged to give me the crown jewels? Sandals or dress shoes? Heels or flats? Teeth whitening or ventriloquize through closed lips?” And my Thyroid Eye Disease tends to make me look like I’m either drunk or shocked at the sight of everything – wide, red, watery and exaggerated – how was I going to downplay that? Let me tell you, if you make it to your 40th reunion, you no longer care what the guys think. You simply want the girls…er..women..er…mature females…to look at you and gush, “Oh MY! You haven’t changed a bit! Why, you are just as cute as a bug’s ear and pretty as a peach,” while thinking, “Oh my gosh. I’d have never known her without a name tag. Her hair is platinum (remember?! We don’t say gray!) and I thought she used to be thin! I’m thinkin’ she’s eaten one buttermilk pie short of a bakery!!” And so I chose my wardrobe carefully to reflect only half a bakery and settled for a raid on James Avery for jewelry. There was nothing to be done about my eyes, except to keep them closed – along with my lips. The trip was uneventful – 15 hours of driving through drought-stricken Oklahoma and Arkansas and a stop at Trader Joe’s in Nashville, Tennessee. Trader Joe’s is my favorite. I’ve begged them to come to Oklahoma but was told by a number of their young, geographical geniuses that it isn’t possible to get over the Oklahoma mountains. What part of “wind comes sweepin’ down the PLAINS” do they not get?? We rolled into Knoxville to the home of our dear friends, Clyde and Mary, and settled in for the evening. It was then, that my vanity reared its ugly head. (Yes, admitting one’s flaws is a direct road to continuing them without embarrassment.) I had taken my wedding rings off. I wanted to wear these beautiful gifts from Mr. Fix-It the next day, to prove to my classmates that I had really talked somebody into sharing his paycheck with me on a regular basis, but my ring finger knuckle had swollen twenty times its normal size. Not to be deterred, at 11:30 that night, with Mr. Fix-It and our host and hostess already in bed, I decided to make sure that I could wear the rings. I don’t know why. Don’t even ask me. All I know is that I was determined. I slathered a ton of hand cream all over my hand and finger and got the rings to the knuckle and then, with tongue stuck out between my unwhitened teeth, I forced them the rest of the way into place. There!! They were on. And as I happily looked at them, my finger began to swell more. Oh no. I knew that my finger was going to turn blue. I tip-toed in to Mr. Fix-It, at midnight, and woke him up to inform him that my rings were stuck. You can imagine the sense of compassion and urgency he felt. He said, “I really wish you hadn’t done that. It’s midnight.” Long story short, he watched as I walked around the room with my hand over my head, stuck my hand in the freezer, ran cold water over my finger and tried another round of lotion to no avail. Clyde and Mary, stayed asleep, I think. By 12:30 am, the swelling had at least stopped and since my finger had not fallen off, Mr. Fix-It chose sleep over panic and I slept on the couch with my hand on the back cushions to keep it elevated. About 2 am, Mr. Fix-It came in to check on me, scared me to death and said, “I really wish you hadn’t done that. It’s 2 in the morning.” The next morning, finger still immensely swollen, our friends recommended their family jeweler, Lamon Jewelers, for rescue and I was driven to a very painful experience of getting my rings cut off of my sausage finger. It hurt!!!! And when my precious jewelry had finally been removed, it lay in a bent and twisted heap of metal and jewels that looked nothing like a set of wedding rings. I didn’t cry, but I wanted to. However, this afternoon, I signed for a FedEx package that contained my repaired and glistening rings, shipped all the way from Tennessee and they look just like new. Thank goodness for skilled craftsmen!!! The day of the reunion was full of fun, including a luncheon with a group of my former girlfriends and an afternoon spent with my friend, Robyn, traipsing through old neighborhoods to find the homes in which we had grown up. We found them and shot pictures of ourselves in front of the structures and even met the people who currently live in them. I found out that my old home is haunted – yep – that’s what they tried to tell me – and Robyn traded email addresses with the lovely woman who now calls her place “home” in order to send photos of the house from 50 years ago. The reunion was grand and I so enjoyed seeing the gang that I ran around with in high school, some of whom read this blog and were eager to meet Mr. Fix-It to verify that he is truly the wonderful man portrayed! They were in agreement. The trip back to Oklahoma the next day was also uneventful except for the moment that I came out of a restroom stop and calmly entered the car, wondering where Mr. Fix-It had gone, only to see him sitting in another car nearby. I was in the wrong car. He was laughing his head off. 1900 miles in four days is a bit rough, but it was worth it and I will treasure the memories of seeing so many people from my past. I thought that I would show those of you who haven’t ever made a peach pie before, how I do mine if I am not using my homemade peach pie filling. That was the case with the peaches from Georgia. I froze them in slices and thawed a gallon to make a pie, but I also use fresh. I figure that I’ll be ready for the next reunion where they can say that I only look like I’ve been eating one peach pie short of an orchard. Much healthier, I think. 1 gallon sliced peaches 1/2 cup flour 1/2 cup sugar 1/2 tsp cinnamon 1/4 tsp nutmeg 1 double pie shell 2 pats butter cinnamon sugar Make your pie crust. My recipe for multiple pie crusts is great for a quick pie.  Put peach slices into a large bowl with flour, sugar, cinnamon and nutmeg and toss until pieces are coated.  Pour coated peaches into an unbaked pie shell  Wet the edges of the bottom crust with ice water and lay top crust on top.  Roll bottom and top crust edges together to form a coil around the edge of the pie.  Flute the edges by using a floured knife end and pushing the pie dough into the pinched fingers of your opposite hand  Cut slits in the top of the pie dough to vent the pie  Sprinkle cinnamon/sugar over the top of the pie crust and dot with butter. Bake in a preheated 400º oven for one hour or until golden brown and filling is bubbling. Remove from the oven and allow to cool on a rack for an hour before cutting.  |
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Buttermilk Pie
Tuesday, August 21st, 2012
 (Don’t forget to comment to enter our newest giveaway for this heavy, heavy, marble and wooden rolling pin and package of a Made In Oklahoma mix to roll out! Winner will be announced Labor Day weekend.) Those of you who have been reading this blog over the past four years – yes, y’all! Four years! – know that I am a little crazy. Well, not certifiable, just nutty. Sometimes, I wonder if God wired my brain differently from other people so that it operates just a tad off-the-wall. It just seems that I look at my situations, circumstances and just plain life with the oddest revelations. I can’t just say, “Oh! Look! Fresh corn is on sale!” No. I have to ponder the price, calculate how many ears it will take to fill 50 wide-mouthed pint jars, and, though it’s June, immediately plan who I will be inviting to Thanksgiving dinner in order to determine if 50 wide-mouthed jars of corn can meet the yellow vegetable requirement on the menu! And a simple act of compassion in nature of taking in an orphaned raccoon to bottle feed until it is old enough to make it in the wild on its own, turns into an emergency room visit with a leg broken in five places and a doctor who doesn’t believe I wasn’t up in a tree with the raccoon. OK. So who does that anyway? So, this past weekend, I made Mr. Fix-It a pretty, darned good buttermilk pie, if I do say so myself. And the kitchen smelled heavenly. If you haven’t ever had a Buttermilk Pie, you HAVE to try it! According to Wikipedia, it was originally a British desert that became a standard here in the deep south. Evidently, it offered a sweet alternative to fruit pies when fruit was out of season. However, Wikipedia also said that you just don’t hear about these pies anymore. I don’t know what they are talking about, because Buttermilk Pie is served in restaurants around here, and Texans claim that, of course, their’s is the best there is! There is a drastic difference between a Buttermilk Pie and a Chess Pie as there is no corn syrup or corn meal in a Buttermilk Pie, and individual cooks like to add their own touches of extra nutmeg and cinnamon, or cloves, lemon extract and rind, or other various flavorings to this versatile custard pie. Anyway, I’m guessing you won’t be surprised that as I made my pie, rolling out the pastry, beating the eggs and such, even though I had no clue that this was a British confection, my brain had a 1960’s British Invasion, and I couldn’t stop singing the Beatles’ Uncle Albert song. You know – “so I had a cup of tea and a butter pie (you have to pronounce it ‘buttah’); the butter wouldn’t melt so I put it in the pie”. And I’m STILL singing it. ~Sigh~ Parts of the tune are hauntingly beautiful and the lyrics are harmless enough, although those boys must have had way too much pie as they came up with that song – or maybe something else. Here, you can click on the song so that it will rattle around in YOUR head for a week. Here is my recipe for Buttermilk Pie. It’s a pretty ancient one. I sure hope you enjoy it as much as Mr. Fix-It. And as you munch on it, just contemplate what a special man he is to patiently endure my crazier side!! Ingredients: 2 cups sugar 1/2 cup butter, softened (1 stick) 3 tablespoons all-purpose flour 3 eggs beaten 1 cup buttermilk 1 teaspoon vanilla extract 1/8 teaspoon nutmeg 1 9″ pie unbaked pie shell variations: Add 1 tsp cinnamon and 1/4 tsp ground cloves or Add 1 tablespoon lemon extract and 1 tsp lemon zest  You can use any pie crust recipe. Of course, I use my recipe! I like my recipe because it has butter in it instead of just shortening. Flaky and buttery! Roll out your crust and place it in a 9″ pie tin. Of course, you CAN use a store bought pie crust..cough..cough.  Cream the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add the flour and mix further.  In a separate bowl, lightly beat the eggs.  Add the beaten eggs to the creamed butter and sugar mixture  Add the buttermilk and vanilla  Add the nutmeg. If you want to add cinnamon, cloves, more nutmeg or any other flavorings, you would do that here. Mix until well incorporated and creamy.  Pour the creamy custard into the pie shell. Dust the top of the custard with cinnamon. Bake in a 425º oven for 15 minutes and turn down to 350º to continue baking for 30-40 more minutes or until top is golden brown and center is firm, not liquid. It will jiggle a bit but won’t be sloshy. The center will solidify as it cools. Chill and serve cold, but some people like it at room temperature.  Serve with whipped cream and unhook your belt!! Singing! |
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Warm Spiced Parsley Ginger Marinade!Yummy!!
Tuesday, August 14th, 2012
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(Don’t forget to comment to enter our newest giveaway for this heavy, heavy, marble and wooden rolling pin and package of a Made In Oklahoma mix to roll out! Winner will be announced Labor Day weekend.) I’ve been sitting here, patiently twiddling my thumbs, having dutifully turned off all computers and the water heater due to a power outage this afternoon, that occurred without warning. I called the power company to alert them that we are without electricity and the woman laughed at me! She did. I asked if she had any idea how long this outage would last, and again, she laughed. Did I sound that funny? Or maybe she heard the terror in my voice as I assumed that she was hinting to me that we would never have electricity again? Mr. Fix-It isn’t here this afternoon and so I am totally on my own. I am like Mrs. Ingles on the prairie, only with two dogs and two cats instead of children. And you can’t eat your dogs and cats any more than you can eat your children!!! How will we survive? I have already assessed my stock of deydrated food stuffs, mentally preparing what could be on the menu for the evening meal. I still have two quart jars of my homemade beef jerky that I have managed to hide from Mr. Fix-It and lots of veggies. I have water in the Berkey to boil and pour in with the veggies and meat to make soup and figure that could last us a few weeks. But it just dawned on me that we are under a burn ban so there will be no fire to boil the water. And it is getting stuffy in here. Never mind that the 115 degree days have broken. It has been 88º outside and who can live in 88º without air conditioning? I mean, really? Well, that’s all there is to it. We are all going to die. I remember the nice man who came to talk to us about a generator. We had all chuckled that if we invested that much money into something, we would end up never needing it. That is how Murphy’s Law works, you know. We didn’t buy one. Now it is payback. No generator – no electricity. I can’t even get the car out of the garage because the door is electric and HEAVY and I haven’t competed with Olympic heavy-weight lifters in some time now. And I have no water! Ack. The well pump is not working. All I have is what is in the Berkey. I have to conserve and I feel like it’s been weeks since I had a drink of water. My tongue is sticking to the roof of my mouth. This is rough. Oh wait. Never mind. The lights just came on. Yep! And water is coming out of the faucets. I’m tellin’ you. That was the longest ordeal! The electricity was off, like…let’s see…hmm…an hour and a half? Really? Huh. I thought it was weeks. You know, you just lose all track of time when you are having to rough it. OK. So I’m being silly. The fact of the matter is that Mr. Fix-It is looking into a generator and I’m thinking this episode will give him a little extra boost toward that purchase! We lose electricity a lot in Oklahoma. And this has given more pause for thought on our water situation, as well. A hand pump would be a handy addition to our well system or a windmill with a tank. We’ll have to think about that too. We all need to be thinking about ways that we can live more sustainably without depending so much on outside forces. And trust me, two quarts of beef jerky won’t cut it!! This kind of thinking always sends my tastebuds to grilling out. Unfortunately, we can’t do that right now. Too dangerous with a chance of a grass fire. But it hasn’t been that long ago that we weren’t under a burn ban and I tried a meat marinade that Mr. Fix-It found online that is just to die for. He said that he found it at American’s Test Kitchen. It is wonderful and unique and doesn’t take much time. Try this out. I promise that you that you will be hugging yourself and saying, “Who needs a Steak House??!” So, here’s hoping that you have electricity all the days of your life…and that you will be well-prepared just in case you don’t!! Warm-Spiced Parsley Marinade with Ginger 1/2 cup (packed) fresh parsley leaves 1 jalapeno chile pepper, seeded and chopped course 1 (2-inch) piece fresh ginger, peeled and chopped course 3 medium cloves garlic, peeled 1 tsp ground cumin 1 tsp ground cardamom 1 tsp ground cinnamon 1/s cup olive oil 1 tsp salt 1/8 tsp ground black pepper 3 or 4 one inch to one and a half inch thick steaks, preferably New York Strip, Ribeye, Filets or Sirloin  Place first 10 ingredients into a food processor or blender  Process until all ingredients are well-blended and fine  For Kabobs, trim all fat from steaks and cut into 1″ cubes. Sprinkle with tenderizer. Or, leave steaks whole and sprinkle with tenderizer.  Place steaks or cubes into a container that has a tight lid and add marinade from the food processor. Seal with lid.  Toss until all cubes or steaks are coated with the marinade. Place in the refrigerator, covered, from 4 up to 24 hours. I did mine overnight and until the next evening – probably 18 hours.  For kabobs, on skewers, alternate meat with pineapple, sweet onions, green pepper or you can also add mushrooms and parboiled new potatoes.  Place steaks or kabobs on a hot fire. Coals should be gray, glowing red. And these are now my instructions about how we cook a steak. Sear one side of the meat until browned and quickly turn to the other side. Immediately cover the grill with lid and allow steaks or kabobs to cook, undisturbed for 7 minutes for medium-well, 6 minutes for medium and 5 minutes for medium rare.  Immediately remove steaks or kabobs to a platter and cover with aluminum foil. Allow to rest for 10 minutes.  Serve immediately |
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Homestead Revival
Paratus Familia
Rural Revolution