RUN RABBIT

A recipe, clipped from a magazine and yellowed with age, fell out of an overstuffed folder and into my memory, taking me back to the time when I was eighteen, married, and did not cook.

When I found the recipe for ‘Ragout of Rabbit’ I thought I had found the perfect recipe which would transport me into the realm of gourmet cook. I would also impress our very sophisticated cousin by inviting him to have dinner with us in our tiny third floor apartment. My first mistake came with pronouncing Ragout as it is spelled, but coming from a family of cooks who never used garlic, and wouldn’t think of using wine, what could you expect? The recipe called for both, and much more, including herbs I had never heard of.

After a long and complicated preparation, the recipe ended with the question “And did you notice that this recipe bears a startling resemblance to that one of Apicius?” I had never heard of the old Roman Apicius and his cookbook, and had no idea where to find it. I have since wondered if it took Apicius as long to prepare it as it did me.

We invited our cousin, and I struggled through the recipe, but he did not arrive on our doorstep. We ate the entire rabbit, which was rich with unfamiliar flavors, threw away the bones and I never made the rabbit recipe again.

Many years later, my mother raised some rabbits, along with geese and chickens, on their small property in Oregon. The geese became a problem as they considered that side of the ditch their own and attacked all intruders. This large ditch ran for miles from Medford, through their property and on into Grants Pass. It kept a moderate flow which made floating on inner tubes great fun. You could float along all the way into the town of Grants Pass if you had someone to pick you up and bring you home. My dad’s big collie dog went out of his mind barking if my mother tried to cool off by swimming and threatened to jump in when the children got in. It was strange how he knew all this water could be dangerous.

I have always liked the idea of rabbits, ever since Peter Rabbit captured my imagination. I had an unpleasant picture of Mrs. McGregor, and thought rabbits were much nicer than cabbages. When I was eight or nine, I received a sweet bunny rabbit at Easter, which promptly bit my finger. The crooked nail has been a constant reminder of how unpredictable the small creatures can be.

I have often wondered how rabbits came to be associated with the celebration of Easter, and who was the first to imagine that they could lay colored eggs. Who had the idea that a rabbit’s foot was lucky? It certainly wasn’t lucky for the rabbit.

THE MAGIC OF SOUP

My mother always told me to order clam chowder on a Friday, because that is when it would be freshest, and not to order chili or baked beans in the middle of the week as it would probably be warmed over. I don’t know if that is true, but soup at any time of the week is a heart warming pleasure.

For centuries soup has given sustenance to weary travelers, hungry families, babes in arms and ancient toothless grandmas alike. Soup can’t be eaten with a weapon, so it was one of the first offerings of friendship to a stranger. Sitting around a campfire in the desert, or on a snow-covered mountaintop, it opens and warms the hearts while filling the belly. A bowl of soup can either be a beginning or the complete meal.

During times of need, soup kitchens feed the resident or transient homeless. It’s like a friendly hand up the ladder to make it through another day. You hardly ever see a salad or dessert kitchen, though a dessert kitchen isn’t a bad idea.

Soup strengthens the bonds of friendship as news, gossip and confidences are shared. A soup kettle is bottomless because it holds Love, the most important part of any meal. It is frequently added to, even as it is diminished. The soup spoon is the largest one on the right hand side because it is the first utensil to be used, thus the most important. Soup can’t be eaten with a knife or a fork so there is no misunderstanding as to which implement to pick up.

The weather is cooling, just as the leaves are slowly drifting to the ground, the days are growing shorter, and we close the blinds against the dark. It’s good to smell a pot of soup bubbling on the back of the stove, it’s like a hug around the heart.

We each have our favorite soups of course, and mine is anything which lasts two or three days, because everyone knows soup is better the next day. Chicken soup has long been considered a cure-all for what ails you, and there is some truth in its stand against a head cold.
Several dear people have brought me chicken soup after an unforeseen glitch in health, which was much appreciated. I still have a container belonging to one of them waiting in my garage. I plan to return it to her even if she doesn’t get sick! I have a small stash of plastic bowls etc. belonging to other people; in fact, there are a couple whose ownership escapes me. Perhaps I should simply throw a party and have them go out and help themselves.

I gathered several of my favorite soup recipes this morning for the coming days, and I will be making Sweet Potato-Corn, Potato Leek, Potato Kale and Sausage, Green Chili Pork Posole, Beer Cheese Soup, Split Pea (to use a few pieces of ham in my freezer) and a wonderful Italian Wedding Soup. Those may take me into the winter and even more delicious meals. The homemade bread I make is wonderful lightly toasted and dipped into the broth.

So many soups gravitate from one country to another, and take on slightly different qualities. Matzo ball soup and the Clump Soup of the Danes, is quite similar, although clump isn’t made from matzo meal. Both are served in a flavorful chicken broth, though I like to spike them up with a few pieces of carrot for color.

Sweet Potato and Corn Soup

1 large yellow onion, chopped
1 1/2 Tbs. butter
saalt to taste
2 lbs. sweet potatoes
2 cups water
4 cups vegetable or chicken broth (I use chicken)
3 cups yellow or white sweet corn kernels
1 medium red bell pepper, finely diced
1 small fresh jalapeno pepper, finely chopped
1 cup milk
juice of 1/2 lemon
pinch of cayenne
2-3 Tbs. cream

Cook the onion slowly in the butter, with a little salt, stirring often, until it is golden brown. At the same time peel and dice the sweet potatoes, combine them in a pot with the water and the broth and simmer until the potatoes are tender, about 20-30 minutes. Add the carmelized onions to the soup, deglaze the onion pan with a little of the broth and add it back then puree this mixture in batches in a blender.

Return the puree to the pot and add the corn kernels, diced red bell pepper, chopped jalapeno and milk. Simmer until the peppers and corn are tender. Stir in the lemon juice and cayenne, taste and correct the seasoning if needed. Finish the soup with a little cream.
Garnish with coarsely chopped cilantro leaves.

Serves 8

USE IT OR LOSE IT!

On this last day of the year 2012, I’m reminded of all the people who like to say “I can’t believe how fast this year has gone!”

Well, I don’t think it went very fast, in fact sometimes it went downright slow.

For me personally, this was a “put and take” year. Something in was a new shouler; something out became the rest of my hard working teeth. However, I admit to being forgivably vain about the new teeth.

In the spirit of “use it or lose it”, we continued our entertainment schedule, as long as the invited guests did not object to a liquid meal. I found the turkey for the 2011 Thanksgiving dinner rather difficult to stuff into a blender.

We are very fond of soup, and since our diet this past year contained a lot of it, there were many new recipes tried and created.

One imaginative production, containing a great number of vegetables and chicken as I remember, cried out for heat, so that became jalapeno pepper which I liberally tossed in at the last minute. The assembled guests eagerly dipped their spoons and let out a collective scream for water. “I thought we’d never come back friom that one” said one friend the next day. She’s lucky they did, because shortly after that, I made this beer/cheese soup, which is a warm soul-satifying luncheon dish, or a light supper.

BEER CHEESE SOUP

3/4 cup butter
1/2 c. 1/8″ diced celery
1/2 c. 1/8″ diced onion
1/2 c. 1/8″ diced carrot
3-4 cloves garlic chopped fine
Saute vegetables until done
Add 1/2 c. flour, 1/2 tsp. dry mustard
2 1/2 pts. chicken stock
cook 5 minutes
Blend in 6 oz. grated Cheddar cheese, 2 Tbs. Parmegiano cheese
12 oz bottle of beer
Simmer 10 min.
Salt and pepper to taste

Essentially, that’s it, but the addition of a few meatballs is a nice idea too.

MEATBALLS FOR SOUP

1/2 # grnd beef
1 egg lightly beaten
2 Tbs. finely chopped onion
Tsp. olive oil
Enough fine bread crumbs to make a stiff ball

Poach meatballs in hot water for 5 min. to take off all the extra fat
which clouds the broth if using them in a brothy soup

If you sometimes have leftover greens such as chard, spinach, etc. it can be a nice addition too.

Remember what your mamas told you and don’t slurp your soup! And do have a Happy New Year!

Worry, like rust, never sleeps.

THE PERFECT WOMAN

I had a reply to my cake-baking post from my cousin saying she had our grandmother’s White House cookbook from 1910.  It made me remember that I too had a White House cookbook so I began pawing through our library, and found a 1922 edition of the same cookbook.

Mine had not belonged to our maternal grandmother, but to the stepmother of great-aunt Hazel on my father’s side of the family.  Her name, Mammie Whipple, was unfamiliar to me, so I began reading my father’s geneology, written by a cousin of my father.  There was no mention of her except the line on the first page of the book, stating her relationship to a known relative.

Every blank page in the book was filled with her handwritten recipes—all of which strangely enough, are recipes for booze!  One side of my family were teetotal, the other was not, so that explained why Mammie was on my father’s side!  There are recipes for every kind of fruit wine imagineable, also a very detailed recipe for 15 gallons of beer, which included boiling 3/4 pound of hops!

I once picked hops in Grants Pass, Oregon during the war when field help was unavailable.  The entire town closed down until the crop was in.  School was delayed, banks and retail stores closed for several days.  It took a very large amount of hops to weigh 3/4 pound!

Whether Mammie was a good cook I cannot say, but she certainly knew her liquor!  Since Prohibition began in 1920, it would not be a stretch to imagine that there were many households brewing their own in that period.

Alongside the White House book I found another I had not looked at for some time—The Perfect Woman.  It is a large, musty volume dated 1903, with my grandmother’s name in it.  I imagine it is a book which I suspect may have been given to a young lady to guide them in the ways of womanhood.    It announces itself as “Perfect Womanhood for Maidens, Wives Mothers,”  and as a book giving full information on all the mysterious and complex matters pertaining to women.  A voluminous subject covered in 448 pages.

It includes  subjects such as “The Body, the Temple of the Soul”, on through the wedding night, Heredity and How it May Be Overcome” , “Graceful Development of the Body”, child rearing, constipation, and how to cure unimagineable ailments.  A few letters are tucked in here and there from friends giving home recipes and remedies for various childhood indispositions.  One very long letter of 8 pages explains how to cure worms!  Her child, Ralph. suffered terribly from the malady, and when she described what she gave that poor child I wonder if he ever grew to adulthood.

With all those terrifying and unseen dangers lurking for a poor innocent unsuspecting woman, maybe Mammie had the right idea for curing all our ills!

What The Hell!

KSR

WHAT THE HECK IS A DOLLOP?

Cooking is a book of life I can refer back to.  I love looking through my grandmother’s old cookbooks, or to rummage through yellowed scraps of paper with scribbled notes of treasured “receipts” from friends.

What I don’t understand is their terminology; what is a dollop?  A pinch or a smattering?  It seems that a handful of chopped nuts was enough, and you could just add a sprinkle of something to finish it off.

I became hungry for a taste of Aunt Georgia’s Hot Milk Cake the other day and found the recipe she had written for me when I was about twelve years old.  I tucked away everything I have learned through the years about baking and began.

The milk is heated until hot but not too hot.  OK, I’ve got that.  The usual flour, sugar and baking powder were pretty clear too.  Boy, is this going to taste good.  Then add butter the size of a walnut.  What!!  Using my skills as a sculptor, I carefully molded a walnut.  That is not easy ecause I buy my walnuts already cracked.  When we were poor I promised myself that when I could afford them I would never sit on the floor and crack a bag of walnuts again.  I’ve been buying cracked walnuts for a very long time now.

After putting all the ingredients together in what looked like a cake batter, I dipped a finger in and tasted it.  It was blah, so I added a little vanilla, and it was much better.

When I went to put it into the oven, the instructions told me to bake it in a “nice warm oven until it was done”.

I took out some old recipes of Grandma’s, and one sounded as if it might be a good sauce on the cake.  She wrote in her own hand in red ink several different versions of cherry sauce.  Then she wrote” spiced cherries are nice too—no recipe though.  At the end she wrote: “Don’t let me forget to send you my black berry jam.  It’s in the Kerr canning book.”

Her notes are still so dear to me, and she did turn out some delicious food—-written measurements or not.

And by the way, the cake was pretty lousy.  Not at all the way I remembered it from my childhood.  Maybe you had to be there.

I think every generation has memories of warm kitchens with our mothers, grandmothers and other women we have loved cooking the food which nourished not only our bodies but gave us memories to last all of our life.