Comme ci, comme ça

We're not entirely sure, but we suspect Nemo, the oddly fish-named winter storm ("Nemo" also means "no one," which is even odder when you think about it...), might have roared into the Northeast just to spite Punxsutawney Phil last week.

If you'll recall, Punxsutawney Phil didn't see his shadow on Feb. 2, which is supposed to mean spring is right around the proverbial corner. And then Nemo hit, with huge amounts of snow and big winds and power outages and very, very cold temps.

The French, in their infinite French wisdom, might say it's "comme ci, comme ça," or a little of this and a little of that.

To us it's enough to really mess with a foodie's mind, ya know? One minute we're being told to break out the pina coladas, whip up some teriyaki blend for pineappled burgers on the grill and put the mache in the salad spinner. Then, whammo! We're back to cheddar-beer soup cooked in a cast iron dutch oven and crusty loaves of artisan bread baked on sheets of foil in our fireplace, then eaten while we're gathered around the crackling logs... because the power's out, remember?

Well, here's a great recipe that requires power to be turned back on -- but we figure if you're reading this, your power has been restored. We call this a "shoulder season" yummy, because it will take you from the depths of winter and the confines of cabin fever right to the joys of springtime. Really. Enjoy, fellow foodies! And cheer up, because Nemo was a one-hit wonder, and Phil shows up every year.  

Caramelized Onion and Goat Cheese Pizza

From the Idaho-Eastern Oregon Onion Committee

Makes 1 10-inch pizza

Ingredients:

Pizza dough for 10-inch pizza

2 medium Idaho-Eastern Oregon Yellow Onions, julienned

2 Tbs.  olive oil

1/2 tsp. sea salt

1 tsp. sugar

4 oz. chevre goat cheese, plain or cranberry flavor

4 oz. cream cheese

2 crisp Idaho apples, sliced thin

1/2 c. toasted pecan pieces

1 c. roughly chopped fresh basil leaves

1/2 c. balsamic vinegar

Instructions:

Preheat oven to 400 F.

Balsamic Vinegar Reduction:

In a small saucepan over low heat warm vinegar for about 5 minutes. It will begin to simmer and steam. Remove from heat and set aside.

Caramelized Onions:

Heat olive oil in a sauté pan over medium heat. Add onions. Sprinkle sea salt and sauté until translucent. Add sugar and continue cooking until golden brown (about 20-30 minutes). Set aside.

Pizza: Roll out dough to 10-inch circle. Transfer to baking sheet. In a small sauce pan over low heat, combine cream cheese and chevre until melted.

Spread melted cheese evenly over the pizza crust,  allowing 1/2 inch at the edge. Distribute the caramelized onions evenly across the dough. Continue with the apple slices. Press the onions and apples into the dough slightly. Sprinkle pecans. Drizzle balsamic vinegar reduction over the top.

Place pizza in preheated oven and bake for 10-15 minutes until crust is golden brown. Remove from oven and top with fresh basil. Serve immediately.

Moms and Food: It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas parties...

Moms and Food: It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas parties...

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas parties...

This easy-peasy appetizer comes from our friends at the Colorado Potato Administrative Committee, where all things spudly hang out. On a cold, snowy day (which it is where we live), this is a fabulous lunch. Or snack at game time. Or fantastic appetizer for holiday party. Cheese and potatoes. What's not to love??? Enjoy!

Colorado Nacho Potato Appetizers

From the Colorado Potato Administrative Committee

Servings: A crowd!

Ingredients:

2 Colorado russet variety potatoes cut into 1/4 inch slices

1/4 c. taco sauce

1/4 c. roasted pepper, cut into julienne strips

1/4 c. pitted ripe olives, cut in wedges

1 1/2 c. cheddar or monterey jack cheese, shredded

1/4 c. sour cream or yogurt

1/2 c. salsa

Cilantro or parsley sprigs

Instructions:

Preheat oven to 375 F. Arrange potato slices on greased shallow baking pan. Brush tops with taco sauce. Bake for 10 minutes or until tender. Top with peppers, olives and cheese. Bake 5 minutes longer until cheese is melted. Garnish with cilantro or parley. Serve with sour cream and salsa.

Spring sprung and summer was bound to fall

The sunlight is coming in on its autumn trajectory, the angle that imparts a Winslow-Homer-watercolor shade to my little town.  And I love it. Autumn. Ahhhh-tum.

But where the heck does the time go? It seems like only yesterday -- OK, maybe only last week, but you get the picture -- we were talking about the spring thaw and planting our gardens. Now here it is, fall already. Another summer gone -- except for a few die-hard hollyhocks and one tiny cherry tomato that refuses to drop from the vine.
Kids are back in school, and moms and dads are back in the groove of packing lunches where that sort of thing is allowed or coughing up the dough for a prepared lunch served in the cafeteria. Either way, young students are back in the groove of buying, selling and bartering. Remember trading your baloney and mustard on white bread for egg salad on toast?

This time of year brings some really good stuff into our lives. First and foremost, it's football season again. That means tailgate season, heavy-duty grill season. Brats and suds season. Fun times, especially when the right team wins.

And we here at Moms and Food are gearing up for one of our fave times as well. Crock pot season! Soups, chilis, roasts, chicken stuff and, of course, crock pot cakes. So dust off your reading glasses, limber up your typing fingers and pull out those ideas for and memories of autumnal  goodness to share with us and your fellow M&F visitors.

Welcome back, y'all.

Vacay or Staycay?

All things being equal, many folks are choosing to Staycay rather than Vacay this summer. And that's not a bad thing, because every state in this great Republic of ours has something visit-worthy and memorable.

Delaware has, for example, the World's Biggest Ball of Rubber Bands. Good to look at as you chew your way through a crabcake.

One of our favorite towns, not to mention words, is Opelousas, which is in Louisiana. Opelousas is the site of the Yambilee Festival, where all things sweet potato are celebrated. Fun and food in one sweet package!

Kansas City, KS, is home to the World's Biggest Dead Catfish. You can ponder that as you lick your fingers after enjoying a piece of fried chicken, reportedly the state food.

Go north, young man! In a walk-in freezer in Vivian, SD, you can see the World's Largest Hailstone, which measures 8 inches across and 18.5 inches in circumference. Wouldn't that go perfectly with a grape sno-cone?.

Kathleen's home state of Colorado is famous for its 54 peaks taller than 14,000 feet. If you don't climb them, you can at least sit at the bottom and look up. But remember that Katharine Lee Bates sat atop Pikes Peak and was inspired to pen "America the Beautiful" in 1893. BTW, Colorado is also famous for its Rocky Mountain Oysters, and if you don't know what they are, we invite you to run an Internet search or call your local library.

Further west, in Rupert, ID, Sherise's home state, Bryan Jentzsch designed and constructed a 12,916.7-sq. ft. straw bale maze. You might not be surprised to learn the potato is Idaho's state food, and a straw bale maze practically screams for an order of fries to go with it.

Seriously, if you think staying home is not "getting away," just spend a few minutes noodling  on the Net. See? The possibilities for a really fun, family-time Staycay fun are limited not by any ol' economy but only by your imagination.

As our dad used to say, "Get in the car. And don't make me come back there."

With thanks and in loving memory

This weekend we will observe Memorial Day, a time set aside to honor those brave men and women who gave the ultimate sacrifice. Words just aren't enough to convey our gratitude. But to the families of those who've served and died, we extend our profound thanks. Your loved ones died that our loved ones might live in liberty. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

And to all our men and women in who have served or are now wearing the uniform of our Armed Forces, we are so very grateful. Thank you and God bless you for keeping our grandbabies safe.

Apple Pancakes for Mother's Day!

Here ya go. Enjoy!!

Apple Pancakes with Apple Cider Syrup

From Rainier Fruit Co.

Servings: Makes 20 3-inch pancakes

Ingredients:

2 c. all-purpose flour

2 Tbs. sugar

1 tsp. ground cinnamon

1/2 tsp. baking soda

1/2 tsp. salt

1 1/2 to 1 3/4 c. buttermilk

1 c. grated apple, peeled and cored

2 eggs

2 Tbs. vegetable oil

Apple Cider Syrup

Makes 1 1/4 c. syrup

Ingredients:

1/3 c. sugar

1 Tbs. cornstarch

1 tsp. ground cinnamon

1 c. apple cider

2 Tbs. butter

1/4 c. finely chopped apple

Pancake Instructions:

In large bowl combine flour, sugar, cinnamon, baking soda and salt. Mix well; set aside.

In a medium size bowl stir together buttermilk, grated apple, eggs,

and vegetable oil. Add buttermilk mixture to flour mixture. Stir together until well-mixed, about 1 minute.

On a pre-heated non-stick 10-inch skillet or griddle, place about 1/4 c. pancake mixture for each pancake. Heat on first side until golden brown, 2-3 minutes.

Using spatula, turn pancakes over and continue cooking on second side until cooked through, 1 to 2 minutes. Repeat with remaining batter. Set aside.

Cider Syrup Instructions:

In 2-qt. saucepan, place all Apple Cider Syrup ingredients, except butter. Over medium high heat, bring to a boil, 3-4 minutes. Continue cooking until cider has thickened slightly, 6-8 minutes. Remove from heat and stir in butter until melted. Serve immediately with Apple Pancakes.

Happy Mother's Day!

Kathleen: Happy Mother's Day to moms everywhere -- including those who invented or contributed to BAD food! We salute you; we love you; heck, we ARE you. I confess that in my own bad background a sandwich or two (or 2,000) might be found lurking.

When my sons were in their formative years, Wonder Bread was still on the table both literally and figuratively. "Whole wheat" was white bread with a suspect brown tinge to it. "Whole grain," ever so much healthier, was "whole wheat" with what appeared to be milled oats on top and scattered sparingly throughout. Not easily fooled, I stuck with what I knew -- white, soft -- and prayed my little ones' bodies were being built strong 12 ways, per the Wonder Bread slogan.

Through the 1970s and '80s we ate baloney and potted meat sandwiches, tuna and sardine sandwiches, grilled cheese sandwiches, pb&j sandwiches, egg salad sandwiches, ham and egg sandwiches, peanut butter and bacon sandwiches, egg and bacon sandwiches and bacon and bacon sandwiches. If it could be sliced, spread, layered or slathered, it was fair game for two slices of white, fluffy bread.

 And, I might add, we almost always had potato chips on the side and a big glass of whole milk to wash that sandwich meal down!

Now, here's where it gets interesting: We loved our sandwiches and ate them with daring frequency. And we lived to tell the story! My sons grew to manhood and are fit and trim. Healthy specimens, in fact.With their own healthy kids who eat -- yes -- sandwiches.

OK, maybe grilled cheese sandwiches are called paninis these days, but they still go well with tomato soup (or gazpacho, if you must). Perhaps potted meat has been replaced by potted hummus and peanut butter by tahini. And eggs have been deemed in, out, in, out and in again.

Bread itself might go by a different name now, but it (covered with Peter Pan Crunchy and ridiculously sweet strawberry jam) will forever be a Wonder to me.

Eating for Two

Kathleen: Before my grown children and their growing children have a collective meltdown, this isn't what you might think. Unlike Sarah and Abraham, Abe and I are not going into our golden years with a baby in tow. (And for that we give thanks...) But after spending several months apart while he tended to familial matters in Florida, my husband and I are finding our common ground again. We're seniors. Our best times are spent at the dinner table. Fortunately, I love to cook, and it turns out Abe still loves to eat. His eating prompts me to eat. And I eat some more, and from thence springs the title. Portion-wise I'm cooking for three and eating for two. But if quantity is important, quality is paramount. And of course taste is everything. A fantastic marriage of those three attributes is provided in Litehouse Foods' Spinach Salad with Strawberries. Everything you need is in season, and you will -- I repeat, you WILL -- meet with rave reviews.

This recipe is in "My Mom Invented BAD Food," courtesy of our friends at Litehouse, and you can also find it at litehousefoods.com as well as right here under Featured Recipe. Enjoy, even if it's just the two of you...

Forty Isn't Old for a Tree. Or a son, either.

If you look closely at the top left photo on this page, you'll see a young mother and her infant son. That, friends, was me and my four-month-old baby, Noah. The year was 1972. I leave it to you to do the math.

March 29 is Noah's birthday (hint on the math: 2012 minus 1972 is 40), and we are celebrating with steaks on the barbecue, salt on the glass rims and, heck yeah, chocolate syrup on the ice cream. After all, it's not every day my firstborn catches up to me in age. (Wink wink.)

But of course there must be a couple of fabulous sides to accompany the perfectly seared-on-the-outside, medium-on-the-inside slabs of marbled meat.

For starters, Onion Chip Nachos from the Idaho-Eastern Oregon Onion Committee is a winner. And then we'll follow up with Litehouse Foods' Baked Asparagus with Bleu Cheese Crumbles.

Just before we reach the "too stuffed to move" stage of the evening, the grandchildren and I will carry a candled birthday cake and dishes of ice cream out onto the patio.

Forty years. And my son is telling me HE feels old...
Kathleen

Grillin' Time Again...

Kathleen: There aren't enough words in the dictionary to tell you how glad I am to see springtime in Colorado. Enough with the cold and snow already! (The fact that we had a mild winter here in my small town is besides the point...)

My freezer is full of goodies that are just begging to be grilled, not the least of which are some poblano peppers I froze last fall. Using a fabulous recipe from our fabulous book, My Mom Invented BAD Food, I am going to whip up a couple of Chiles Rellenos al Carbon. In addition to grilled poblanos and onions, the dish calls for fresh mangoes -- and they are readily available at this time of year!

And the dish costs less than a gallon of gas to prepare...

Nana's Nanners

With the cost of food where it is and the cost of gas to get to the food where it is, allowing any morsel to go uneaten is a sin in my house. Don't buy it if you're not going to eat it. Ya know?

So I bought a big bunch of bananas last weekend, and the two remaining are headed south at a gallop. Today it's do or die with them, and my first inclination was Banana Nut Bread. Then I hit on something a little different. So here we go...

Nana's Peanut Butter Nanner Cookies
Makes about 2 dozen, give or take

Ingredients

1 large egg
half cup mashed ripe banana (approximately 1 banana, which still leaves me with one to deal with)
half cup crunchy peanut butter
half teaspoon baking powder
half teaspoon baking soda
cup of sugar
cup and a half of flour (whole wheat makes them chewier, if you're into that)

Directions:


Preheat oven to 350°F and grease a baking sheet. In large bowl, combine egg, peanut butter, mashed nanner and sugar. Mix by hand or with electric mixer. Ad flour, baking soda and baking powder and mix well. Use teaspoon to measure, putting cookies-to-be about two inches apart. Bake 12 minutes until lightly browned. Since the dough is brown to start with, you'll need to keep a close eye on these. Cool on rack and enjoy with your grandkids. Big glass of milk is highly recommended.

A day without chocolate is like... there are no words bad enough!

Oh nooooooooooooooo! If you're anything like me and instinctively reach for chocolate when life gets a little stressful (or when it's not stressful in the least, for that matter), then you know full well what this photo says: It says, "Danger, Will Robinson! You are thisclose to being completely out of chocolate. So put on your shoes, grab your purse (Will didn't really carry one) and your keys, get in the car and go to the chocolate store before it's too late." Or something like that.

How important is the dark, velvety smooth food-group-unto-itself to me? Well, I eat it for breakfast. Seriously. And I have a midmorning bump. And another around noon. In fact, if I were banished to a desert island and could take only one food with me, it would be chocolate. So you could say it's worth its weight in gold around my house.

Here are a few little known but interesting facts about chocolate and cocoa, or cacao, as they say in other countries: The ancient Mayans in what is today southeast Mexico used cacao beans as currency. So did the Aztecs who came later. The Spaniards who came along even later still used chocolate as medicine (as do I; as do I...)

In the 17th century Europe had "chocolate houses." Think Amsterdam without the haze. And the first chocolate candy came along in the 1800s.

All that's food for thought. But food for the chocoholic? I'm getting my purse and keys and heading out the door...

February on the patio... when frozen cherries are in season.

Cherry-Stuffed Grilled Chicken

Courtesy of Northwest Cherries

Servings: 4

Ingredients:

1-1/2 c. pitted and coarsely chopped Northwest fresh sweet cherries

1/4 c. chopped onion

1 tsp. chopped fresh sage

1/2 tsp. each salt and chopped fresh thyme

4 boneless, skinless chicken breast halves, 4-6 oz. each

3 Tbs. olive oil

2 Tbs. white wine vinegar

1 1/2 tsp. garlic salt

1/2 tsp. coarsely ground pepper

Instructions:

Combine cherries, onion, sage, salt and

thyme; mix well. Cut a pocket on the

thicker side of the chicken breast; sprinkle

lightly with salt if desired. Stuff 1/4

of cherry mixture into the pocket; close

opening with metal skewers or wooden

picks. Combine oil, vinegar, garlic salt

and pepper; mix well. Marinate stuffed

chicken breasts 1/2 hour in refrigerator.

Broil or grill chicken breasts, brushing

with marinade, until fully cooked and juices run clear when sliced.

Oven Method: Brown stuffed chicken in oven-safe skillet on both

sides. Bake at 375 F 12 to 15 minutes or until juices run clear. Serve

immediately.

Sing a song of sixpence... and some Davis Pear Custard Pie

As promised, here is the recipe for the Davis Pear Custard Pie, provided by our friends at Oneonta Starr Ranch Growers in Wenatchee, WA. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!!!!!

My Oh My What a Pie!

 Pear Custard Pie

From Oneonta Starr Ranch Growers

 Makes 1 9-inch pie

Davis Ingredients:

6-8 Diamond Starr Comice or Bartlett Pears

1 9-inch pie shell, unbaked

Juice of 1/2 lemon

1/4 c. butter or margarine

1 c. sugar

1/4 c. flour

3 eggs

1 tsp. vanilla

1/8 tsp. salt

1/8 tsp. mace (very important)

Instructions:

Peel and slice pears, sprinkle with lemon juice. Cream together butter and sugar. Beat in flour, eggs, vanilla and salt. Place fruit in pie crust, pour egg mixture over the top and sprinkle lightly with mace. Bake in oven at 350 F for 45-60 minutes or until filling is set and lightly brown.

If the Shoes Fit

In our book, My Mom Invented BAD Food, we share a vignette on cooking a beef tongue. How, you ask, does that relate to shoes? Ah, my friend, just close your eyes and picture... an Acorn slipper simmering in a dutch oven, surrounded by clove-studded onions and a few merry carrots. Yeah, that's the image, all right.

Today, on the other foot, shoes factor in only on the periphery. Next to my front door is a mat, and on the mat are several pairs of footwear. See photo at right. Snowboots. (I know! Aren't they awesome? And I need them today!). Running shoes. (As if.) Abe's clunkers in the background. (For when he comes home to me.) And my cutest pair of flipflops, all beaded and fun, to wear when the thermometer hits 70 again like it did last week.

Last week, shod in those little bits of nothingness, I was thinking in food terms of light and airy, like the fabulous Spinach Salad with Strawberries, a recipe in MMIBF contributed by our friends at Litehouse Foods. And not that it wouldn't be delish today, but as the snow falls outside, my mind is going slightly more toward Davis Pear Custard Pie, coming to us from the fine folks at Oneonta Starr Ranch Growers.

Davis Pear Custard Pie baking in the oven. Shoes and boots and dog leash by the door. Life is good.

                                        

Between a Rock and a Hard Spot/Biscuit

One of my favorite movie lines of all time is the Cowardly Lion's comment to his compatriots, all of whom had fallen asleep in a poppy field and were awakened by falling snow courtesy of Glinda the Good Witch. "Unusual weather we're having, ain't it?"

Here in Colorado's Banana Belt of Canon City and the Arkansas Valley, I have personally experienced a dozen or so climate changes in the past two weeks. One afternoon at 4:45 it was 67F. The next day we were bundled up and waiting for snow. Then the willows started budding leaves. 

 

Anyway, the upshot of weird weather for me is what to eat. Do I eat summery, light fare? Or do I fry up those pork chops and potatoes? To be honest, right now I could easily find myself in between a rock and a hard spot (which in my kitchen is defined as a biscuit). BUT, thanks to the incredibly versatile, easy and season-appropriate recipes in My Mom Invented BAD Food, I can tailor my meals to what's going on outside my window! Today it's going to be (excuse me while I check the sky...) Caramelized Onion and Goat Cheese Pizza from the Idaho-Eastern Oregon Onion Committee, shown at right.

Hey, if you're between a rock and a biscuit but hungry for bacon, consider this Mom's Quick Tip: Mayonnaise added to a peanut butter, bacon and lettuce sandwich will keep it from sticking to the roof of your mouth. We've heard that, anyway. Not that we'd eat anything like peanut butter and bacon sandwiches... in public.

Milk foam to DIE for!

Last weekend I drove from Boise, Idaho to the Portland, Oregon in an ice storm to buy “stuff” at the local IKEA store. I know this seems strange to risk one's life for furniture you have to spend hours putting together, but my sister and I considered it a road trip. We planned to see with my daughter and grand-daughter for a bit while there AND we were totally jazzed about sampling the famous IKEA $2.99 Swedish Meatballs.  I know... not too bright.

We barely made it back alive with a truck full of Swedish treasures—minus the meatballs. When I was able to pry my white knuckles off the steering wheel in the driveway at home, I swore I would never do it again.  Particularly, since the only things that I purchased were two packs of napkins and a milk frother/foamer.  You see my sister had a basement to furnish and I had payday around the corner.

Anyway, it's been a week since the adventure.  Every day since, I have had morning coffee and evening cocoa with big peaks of frothy delicious milk foam.  These creamy good hot drinks together with my “over-50” failing memory made the trip one of the best ever taken.   That was until I realized, while searching on the web this today, you can buy the thing online: http://www.ikea.com/us/en/catalog/products/10076320/

What kitchen gadget would you drive through an ice storm to buy? 

Cherry Bruschetta rules!

We served Cherry Bruschetta -- shown on the cover of My Mom Invented Bad Food -- at our Aug. 5 signing in Canon City, CO, and it met with rave reviews. Zoe Gauss, age 17 months, was wildly enthusiastic about the cherry salsa-like topping and the fresh, lively flavor combo of dark sweet cherries, scallions, peppers, cilantro, hint of garlic, lime juice and a snip of basil all atop mild mozzarella cheese on a homemade slice of baguette. YUMMY! "My Mom" may have invented bad food, but the recipes in our book are stellar.

And to the many folks who stopped by Words of Life in Canon City, thanks so much for your support and your enthusiasm!  We love sharing our stories and hearing yours!

Watch this blog and our web site, www.momsandfood.com, as well as our Facebook page, for news on upcoming signings in Idaho and Oregon as well as more in Colorado. And don't forget the book is available on momsandfood.com and on amazon.com, too!

What's Your Sign(ing)?

Update on our book signing Friday, Aug. 5, starting at 5 p.m. at Words of Life bookstore in Canon City, CO: We are feeding you! Yes! Two fabulous dishes from the pages of our new book, My Mom Invented BAD Food, will be served -- along with witty repartee from authors Sherise Thomas Jones and Kathleen Thomas Gaspar. So not only will your mind be stuffed with funny stories, but your tummy will also be filled with yummy fare. Just to whet your appetites a bit, the dishes are Cherry Bruschetta, recipe courtesy of the Northwest Cherry Commission, and Spinach Salad with Strawberries, courtesy of Litehouse Foods.

And to drag you down Memory Lane with us, we'll have an assortment of foodstuffs from our stories. Could be you'll recognize and fondly remember an item or two.

Hope to see you there!
Kathleen

Book signing for "My Mom Invented BAD Food" coming soon!!

Blogolicious!! Sherise and Kathleen will be at their very first book signing Friday, Aug. 5, at Words of Life in Canon City, CO. Signing will begin at 5 p.m. and will include samples from recipes in their book, "My Mom Invented BAD Food." Stay tuned for more info!!

You got some 'splainin' to do

My husband's parents emigrated to this country from Cuba back in the 1940s, and my feisty little mother-in-law brought with her a treasure trove of good food knowledge. Plantains? Swimming in melted butter, thank you very much. Rice and beans? Every single day for as long as she's been in the United States. Two kinds of meat for dinner? Frequently. In recent years -- or at least in my perception it's been recent -- the island's unique cuisine has been "discovered" by mainstream America. Recently I saw two different recipes for "Cuban pizza," one on You Tube and another in a weekly food magazine. What sets a Cuban pizza apart from, oh, a Midwest Lutheran Hot Dish Pizza? Pickles. You add pickle slices to your Cuban pizza, along with a big bunch of grated Swiss cheese, chopped ham and spicy sauce. We are talking goodness defined here, folks. And best of all, you can fix them on your grill.

Chill Out

 When I was growing up in the Fifties and Sixties, throwing any food away was cause for such a smack. No matter if it was heisted potato chips, "borrowed" apples (you're going to have to read the book, My Mom Invented Bad Food, to get to the bottom of those references) or too-salty meatloaf, we Thomas kids ate every bite on our plates or suffered the consequences of a swat and a guilt trip.

The dreaded culinary double whammy.

I suspect that fetchin'-up regimen used by my mother had something to do with both my clean-plate attitude and my hip measurement today.

Well, that and the fact I eat all organic. Everything -- spices, condiments, dairy, meat, produce, even chocolate -- that passes my lips is certified organic and pricey. And throwing organic food away is at least triple the guilt trip of conventional stuff. Trust me.

When I travel, I haul my food with me. Virtually all of my trips are by car, and I have developed a cool packing technique that involves two recyclable bags, one for the dog's snacks and one for mine, that go on the floor below the passenger's seat.

Then I have a standard-issue, zippered cooler that holds canned food, the aforementioned spices, my recyclable cutlery and dishes and my can opener. Another cooler that plugs into my car's accessory module (in the olden days, kiddies, they were called "cigarette lighters") keeps my milk, orange juice and yogurt cold and my cheese from melting. When I am eating chocolate -- which I am not at this time -- it keeps that cold as well. The coolers are stowed in the car's hatch.

So right now I am in Columbus, MS, three days into a 2,300-mile drive to South Florida. And I just finished yet another yummy dinner of canned beans heated in a hotel room microwave and topped with cold cheese cubes, oregano flakes, ground turmeric and shoyu. And corn chips. Can't forget the corn chips. Mmmmmm.

What made it even yummier was the fact that my cooler, a 5-year-old, two-six-pack-capacity beauty with telescoping handle and wheels, is once again among the 12-volt living after a rather miraculous resurrection last night in Texarkana, AR.

It died on Day One, somewhere between my Canon City, CO, home and the Texas Panhandle town of Dumas. Thinking it was gone forever, I stopped at the Dumas Walmart and bought a new cooler. A much bigger cooler. A fuse-blowin' cooler.

Initially the new beast worked fine, humming in the Subaru hatch and keeping the milk, yogurt, etc., from reaching room temperature. But along about Claude, TX, the humming stopped. And by Clarendon it was obvious I was in deep trouble. Warm yogurt. Not good.

The next morning, Day Two, I stopped to exchange it, but the Childress, TX, Walmart didn't have a smaller sized cooler. Neither did the next three towns' Walmarts or Targets. And by 5 p.m. I knew that my electrician gifts were being called into action, first to change out the car's blown fuses.

Yep. Silver-haired granny under the hood.

That handled, I bought an accessory plug and a roll of electrical tape at an auto parts store and, with an out-loud prayer, wired that sucker onto my old cooler. Then I plugged it in. And when the fan started turning, I heaved a big sigh of relief and set about fixing dinner.
 
Tip: Always, always, always check for polarity. In the case of a cooler, wait about 45 seconds and then open the lid. If the interior is hot, you've reversed the polarity and need to rewire. Otherwise, if you're a child of the Fifties and Sixties and remember getting such a smack for not cleaning your plate, you'll find yourself with curdled milk, juice that's separated and some very angry yogurt.

It very nearly happened to me, but I remembered my own tip and checked the inside temp of the cooler, which in five minutes had hit about 95. I was not the only thing going south at that point.

But my cooler head prevailed, and so did my cooler. In the end, the juice was cool, and the yogurt remained relatively tame. 

And after a long, hot day, I was able to completely redefine the phrase "chill out."

And, of course, clean my plate.

Just when you think you know someone...

Over the past couple of months Abe and I have been bit by bit relocating to Canon City, CO, from our Park County, also CO, digs. The distance between our two homes is just 60 miles, but bear in mind Canon's elevation is 5,332 feet above sea level, whereas the ParkCo house sits slightly below cloud level at 9,000 feet. The more than 3,000 feet difference in elevation translates to a significant temperature/season difference as well. And, as you might guess, it also translates to a different way of eating. It's chili weather up there; it's sit-on-the-patio-and-sweat weather here. So I'm fixing summer meals as October crests on the calendar.

One of the meals I've fixed twice in the past months is fried chicken. I've spent an inordinate amount of time on it, too -- getting the spice blend just right and getting the coating extra crunchy. Hint: Potato chips. It's all about potato chips.
Even as I write this, I'm wishing I had leftovers. It's that good.

Qualifier: To me, it's that good. To my husband -- a man I've known for multiple decades, a man I could pick out of a crowd by the sound of his sneeze, a man I would die for even though the smell of his feet can blister paint... that man -- my chicken falls short.

Just when you think you know someone...

Still, he knows better than to fully explain it to me. But in a sore-thumb way, he passes on second helpings.

OK. Lest you think I am completely unhappy by this situation, let me assure you I am not. First, the obvious: More for me. And secondly, this snub keeps me on my culinary toes.

If Abe doesn't like it, there is that remote possibility someone else might not like my chicken. And if that someone is a child or grandchild sharing my DNA, someday there could be a book on shelves everywhere.

Would it be "Son of My Mom Invented BAD Food" or "My Mom Invented REALLY BAD Food."

Holy mole

My good friend Pam is signed on as a follower, and so I'm going to put her in the hot (pepper) seat right now. Will you share your mole, with an accent over the e, recipe with us, Pam? Abe loved your enchiladas. They are most definitely NOT bad food.

And while you're at it (sharing, that is), if you have a BAD food story you'd like to get off your chest, well, darlin', that's what we're here for.

The rest of you, too. Come clean.

ktg

Don't sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me...

In our soon-to-be released cookbook, "My Mom Invented BAD Food," Sherise and I share some of our most painful -- and some of our most poignant -- food memories. For me, the memory of pilfering apples from our neighbor is a 10 on the poignancy Richter scale. Below is a snippet:

It was in Manitou Springs, Colorado, during the summer of 1958. Our mother was ill with multiple sclerosis, and we lived on public assistance. By today’s rules, we three kids – my older brother, my younger sister and I – should have seen ourselves cast in a Dickens-like drama.


Instead, we saw ourselves as heroes in a grand adventure, particularly when the welfare check was late in coming and the pantry was all but bare.


“All but” that weekend allowed for a bag of flour, a little bit of sugar and some salt. And where a less determined woman might give up, our Mom said, “See if you can find some apples.”

We did, and Mom worked magic on the fruit. It was without doubt the best apple pie ever, and I think back on it with a sugared heart. How could that moment be matched? Oh, but it has.

Recently my brother, George, took a casual comment I made many months ago and ran with it. "I'm tired of tripping over snowdrifts," I groused about my home at 9,000 feet in elevation. "I want to step outside and pick an apple."

So, as a housewarming gift for my modest little winter digs in the wonderful community of Canon City, Colorado, George delivered and even oversaw the planting of a Golden Delicious tree for my front yard.

I have my very own apple tree! And it came with apples already on it! Now, when I acquire another for cross-pollination, I will call myself "orchardist" and make some pies. And isn't it grand that my pilfering days are, hallelujah, behind me for sure? KTG

Remember, 'stressed' spelled backwards is 'desserts'

For longer than I can remember (and on a good day, that's two, maybe three hours) I have been on deadline. It's the life of a writer. Heck, it's the DNA of a writer.

And for most of that time, I've rammed my way to the finish line of every deadline by some sort of fortification. Twenty-five years ago I fortified with multiple pots of coffee and dozens of cigarettes late into the night. The word "Eeeewwwww" comes to mind, doesn't it?

It was stress eating/indulging, relying on caffeine and nicotine to keep me going. But since I kicked butts on Jan. 17, 1990, I've eschewed tobacco. Good Nana. At the same time, I've been on a pretty much non-stop chocolate binge. And while "kicking butts" was a positive thing,  "expanding butts" is quite another. I have become the poster grandma for bad (as in overindulging, bad-for-the-bod) food.

Still stress eating, still ramming through those deadlines. BUT (butt?), here is one good reason for me to get off the crazy, runaway cocoa puff train: sugar contributes to wrinkles. So I'm putting a mirror on my freezer compartment door, behind which sits my chocolate chip stash. It probably won't stop the train, but it might prevent a wreck. Might prevent me from getting my just desserts, as it were.

If anyone has a hint to share -- how do you temper your cravings during times of stress -- let me know. I'm open to suggestions. ktg

Burning [at] the steak

My neighbor and good friend, Linda, related her personal "bad food" tale to me yesterday, and I cannot let a good bad story go to waste. It's not unlike not letting a good crisis go to waste. But I digress.

Last year Linda bought a fancy, new propane bbq grill, but not being one to rush into things, she didn't assemble it until relatively recently. And not wanting to, you know, jump the gun and use it immediately, she waited for a few weeks.

At any rate, last weekend she decided it was time to test drive that bad boy, and she brought forth two ribeyes for the occasion. So far, so very good.

The electronic ignition made lighting the grill pretty darn simple, and after things had heated up sufficiently, Linda turned the knob to "low" and threw the steaks on.

Within a few minutes she noticed flames shooting out from under the grill lid, and when she opened it, she caught what I believe is known as "backdraft" in fire department lingo. For her efforts, she received singed eyebrows and a bad case of chapped lips.

But she did manage to grab the meat with tongs and get dinner on a plate.

Only problem was it was on fire. Dinner, that is. So using the best tool she had at hand, Linda bravely fought back the flames with... the tongs.

Whap! Sizzle! Pop! Holy A-1, Batman!

Eventually the flames died out, and Linda sat down to a, as she put it, "well, well done"  ribeye, one that gave a whole new meaning to burning [at] the steak.

Moral of the story? Simple.

Mountain women. Hardy. Courageous. Resourceful. And, most of all, hot.

ktg

Let the chips fall where they may

Last night I was slaving over a hot kitchen counter . I wasn't so much cooking as I was prepping, and the heat of the day had finally seeped into my little mountain home and settled in the kitchen.

Anyway, I was prepping for taco salads for myself and my beloved, who was already feet-up in his recliner, watching the evening news. Lined up on the counter were sliced heirloom tomatoes, chopped green onions, grated cheese, beans that had been simmered with garlic and ground chicken meat that had been browned with onions. It was a counter of beauty.

And then I reached for the base layer, tortilla chips that I had stashed in the cupboard behind organic rice cakes and boxed macaroni and cheese. Abe would never find the chips there, I had reasoned, because he has a force field that keeps him safe from rice cakes and face mac 'n' cheese.

Wrong-o, buck-o. The bag of chips, new the day before, was less than half full. Certianly not enough for two salads.

There are two transgressions I have a hard time letting go (and  I spend a lot of time repenting over that fact). One is malicious gossip, and the other is eating all the chips but leaving the bag in the cupboard to make the casual observer think there are chips in it. And to be honest with you, I'm not sure which transgression ticks me off more.

All's well that ultimately ends well. Sort of. Abe ate his "salad" on steamed rice. Me? I was just steamed, eating my salad on corn chip crumbs. KTG

You say tomato and I say... bread machine!

Whoever invented bread machines has my undying admiration, although I suggest that a microwave version would be a logical follow-up. You know -- 4 G in the world of kitchen appliances. Sprint, you listenin'?

But I'm using the washing-machine-sized machine I have now to bake a loaf of Italian that will be the basis for tonight's dinner. Ready for application are some heirloom cherry tomatoes (the yellow, tear-drop shaped are sooooo sweet and flavorful), goat mozzarella, organic basil leaves and a drizzle of good oil.

Last night it was pasta with potatoes. If you've never tried it, you just have no idea how good crispy fried tatoes (done with a light oil, of course) with sauteed onions and garlic can be spooned over pasta al dente. Sounds like carb gluttony. And I guess it is. KTG

Move over, Gordon Ramsay

You wimps who think Chef Gordon Ramsay is a tough cookie obviously have never tried to get an 8-year-old boy to eat tomatoes. My grandson Milo HATES tomatoes and most things tomato-based, but last night he plowed through a variation on the Ropas theme con mucho gusto. I told him the dish is Cuban; Milo loves his Cuban Zampa Abe; ergo, he decided he loves tomatoes in this application. But the sweat beads were popping out on my brow as he sat down to sample it. That first bite told the story...

Today we're off on a mini fishing trip, and if we're lucky, some new food experience will also raise its head during the day. Ants? Exotic cheese? Or Tater Tots at Sonic? As they say in the blog world, I'll keep you posted. K.

Biological warfare of the culinary kind

In the Eighties, when we aging hippies brewed our own beer (in the bathtub, which might have been slightly illegal) and grew our own organic vegetables, I was determined to make my own garam masala, which is an Indian blend of spices that can be mild or incendiary, depending on what you toast in your little cast iron skillet. OK. Here's a tip: Don't do it. You can toast cinnamon and cardamom and even cloves without too much fallout, but when you get to the big guns of cayenne and other peppers, all hell breaks loose when the spice hits the heat. Kids were dropping like flies, and even the houseplants wilted. I survived probably due to my previous exposure to tear gas. That's another story for another time, however...

I HATE Mice, but I love cheese!

Living in Fruitland, Idaho definitely has it's benefits.  Clean air, friendly people, beautiful scenery!  Did I say beautiful scenery?  Well, that means farm country.  That means fields.  That means MICE!  I have gone to battle with mice for nearly two years and although I think I occasionally win the fight, the battle rages on.

Last week, my nine year old niece informed me that YouTube had the best mouse video on the planet.  I have no idea why I agreed to watch it, but I am a loving and supportive aunt so I put my fears aside and held my hand over my eyes spreading my fingers to watch.

I must say, this is one of the funniest things I have ever seen.  I still HATE mice, but I am now on a quest to buy NOLAN'S CHEESE... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YqlQS5CCmwI

Day 1: Bad food does not include anything chocolate

Before my feet even hit my fuzzy slippers, my mind is on my breakfast of chocolate chips. It's always been that way, for as long as I can remember... which is actually only as far back as about two weeks ago. I'm someone's grandmother (times four!), after all.

At any rate, this first post is a hearty "howdy" and a hand-shake; Sherise and I will be visiting this spot frequently, she from her digs in Idaho, and I from my home in Colorado. And we will be updating the blog with news about our book, My Mom Invented Bad Food, which will be available this summer through our web site, http://www.momsandfood.com/. We are very excited to share some of our very favorite, not to mention scariest, food memories -- mine of chocolate that go back, lo, those two weeks as well as "Skittering Calamari" and "Pinto Bean Pie" -- and hers of "Burnt Boyfriend Cookies" and the famous "Eggs a la Blue Light Special."

And we're willing to wager everyone out there has at least one bad food story to share, even you big, burly men. If it's not too painful, take a stroll/stumble down Memory Lane and dredge up the tale and the recipe for "Mom's Lead-Filled Pancakes" or whatever, and keep your notes close by. We'll have special instructions for you to send them to us later on, and we'll share them with the world.

In the meantime, as they say in those fancy restaurants, "Bon appetit!" (That's French for "pass the chocolate, Bogart!")

Love y'all
Kathleen