All posts by Clif Graves

News

WELCOME 2012

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A sparkling New Year's day

A quick little happy New Year’s post! I hope readers had a joyous holiday season with lots of merriment and good food.

My daughter Dee was with us for the week between Christmas and New Year’s. My husband, Clif, also took off the week. We had a great time and saw movies galore. My favorites were Tin-Tin, which utterly enchanted me, and The Descendants, which was beautifully acted and filmed and was very moving. Two completely different movies. Long live diversity!

Back to the swing of things on a cold, cold day. I’ll be bundling up in my “blanket” coat, an old wool thing from L. L. Bean, to take Liam for his walk this afternoon. Not at all stylish, but it’s warm, and that’s what counts in January.

Last night, I was sworn in as a library trustee. Tra-la-la! Now the fun begins as we try to raise 1.3 million dollars for an addition to the library. But if we succeed, what a gem the Bailey Public Library will be for the little town of Winthrop.

Onward to 2012 with its challenges and, I hope, its successes.

News

IT’S BEGINNING TO LOOK A LOT LIKE CHRISTMAS

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The big day is nearly here. The presents are wrapped. Much of the cooking is done, and tomorrow we head to Portland-town to collect our daughter Dee, who will be with us until after New Year’s. I’ll be taking a week’s vacation from blogging and will return sometime around January 3rd or 4th.

Happy holidays to you all! I hope 2012 is a healthy, creative year filled with good food, good books, family, and friends.

Must be Santa
Must be Santa

 

A white Christmas?
A white Christmas?

 

Christmas goodies
Christmas goodies

 

The animals' Christmas tree
The animals' Christmas tree

 

 

Books, Food for Thought, News

YEAR END THOUGHTS

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Christmas is coming, and what a cooking fool I’ve been! On the docket for today are peanut butter balls and lemon-frosted shortbread. Two ice cream pies—with homemade chocolate ice cream—are in the freezer. In keeping with this season of miracles, my husband, Clif, and I have actually been using a fair amount of self-restraint, and we haven’t gained any weight.

All of the treats I make are rather simple, using basic ingredients such as butter, eggs, and flour. What makes them special is that these are treats Clif and I only have very occasionally. Let’s face it. At our age, Clif and I do not need a steady supply of chocolate chip cookies, lemon-frosted shortbread, and peanut butter balls. But how nice it is to nibble on them during this time of long nights and twinkling lights.

I have just finished reading  One Man’s Wilderness: An Alaskan Odyssey, which is a selection of excerpts and photographs taken from the journals of Richard Proenneke. Devotees of Maine Public Television will be familiar with Richard Proennneke and his movie Alone in the Wilderness, which is a pledge-week favorite in our house. Shot in the late 1960s, Alone in the Wilderness follows Dick Proenneke as he builds a cabin in the Alaskan wilderness and lives a solitary life. (And, yes, Proenneke did all the filming.) Because I am probably the least handy person in Winthrop, and maybe even in Maine, this movie has a special fascination for me. Not only does Dick Proenneke, a mechanic by trade, build the cabin by himself, but he also pretty much makes everything that goes with it—hinges for the door, bunk beds, a stone fireplace, wooden spoons, and bowls. All the work, including felling the trees, is done with hand tools, and not surprisingly, Proenneke has a very lean body. And the man could cook. He makes stews and cranberry syrup and sour dough pancakes. He hunts and he fishes.

In addition to being the ultimate handyman, Proenneke was also a good writer and a keen observer of the natural world. His love of and his respect for nature thrum through One Man’s Wilderness as does his engagement with the world around him. There are even a few dramatic moments, as when he narrowly escapes being mauled by a bear, tries to rescue a caribou calf, and waits patiently for Babe Alsworth, a bush pilot, to bring missionary girls to the cabin for a visit. (I don’t think I’m giving too much away by revealing that like the famed Godot, the missionary girls never come.)

Those with a survivalist bent will be impressed with Proenneke’s self-sufficiency, and it is true that this man took doing things by hand to a level most of us only dream about. Yet, self-sufficiency isn’t entirely accurate. Proenneke gets regular supplies, delivered by Babe Alsworth every three weeks or so. Proenneke might be solitary, but he isn’t totally cut off from the outside world and indeed relies on it for some of what he uses.

Instead, what impressed me was Proenneke’s creativity, curiosity, and his utter engagement with his environment, which he measured, recorded, filmed, and wrote about. His energy and his capacity for hard work impressed me as well. I was also struck by his Zen-like attitude toward chores: They are necessary so you might as well take pleasure from them rather than resent and hurry through them. (A good lesson for me!)

On very little money, Proenneke nonetheless lived a “rich” and rewarding life. He did not live a life of squalor or misery. He had enough, and he knew it. (I certainly realize that many in this world do not have enough and indeed need more.) To a large extent, Proenneke used what was at hand to fashion a simple but comfortable life. It seems to me that Proenneke’s example can be followed by those of us who don’t live in the wilderness, that the creative, engaged, thrifty life is available to those who live in the country, the city, and even the suburbs.

As the population of the planet edges toward 8 billion, Proenneke’s lessons and wisdom are still relevant today.

 

Food for Thought, Recipes

AS WE HEAD TO THE LONGEST NIGHT OF THE YEAR

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December this year is green but crisp, and when I take the dog for a walk, I need to dress warmly—hat, down gloves, layers, and sometimes even a neck warmer. As we walk up the Narrows Pond Road, I notice there is often a skim of ice on the little swamp not far from our house, but the water hasn’t even begun to freeze underneath. The winter berries are plentiful this year, and little red dots punctuate the leafless woods. The ground is hard, which I like. When we come back from our walk, the dog’s paws hardly need to be wiped.

I love this cold season of lights and Christmas trees and wreaths, but it would be remiss of me to ignore the Grinches, who unfortunately are out in full force in Augusta this year. They want to stop providing health care for many low-income people, and they want to stop funding low-income elderly folks who are in assisted living facilities. They say that we are “broke” and that we can’t afford such niceties as health care and assisted living for those not making much money. Yet, of course, we can still afford tax cuts for the wealthy. I can only hope that this “Year of the Protester” (Time magazine’s designation) will somehow make itself felt in Maine. It is probably too much to wish that the Augusta Grinches will have hearts that suddenly swell in size. But these Grinches can be overruled, and they can be turned out of office, when the time comes.

In the meantime, here’s a recipe (maybe guidelines would be a more appropriate description) for a bean soup made from odds and ends but was very tasty nonetheless. So, good, in fact, that it would be worth making on its own. It’s a poor man’s soup, and a poor woman’s, too. I made it with meat, but I think mushrooms could be substituted to give it an earthy flavor.

This soup came about because I was making chili for a party where my husband, Clif, works. I had soaked and cooked 2 cups of black beans and 2 cups of kidney beans, and I knew I would have leftovers. Using the water that the kidney beans were simmered in, I made a soup.

But first I chopped some carrots—about half a soup bowl full—and sizzled them in a stockpot with olive oil until they were tender. I added 2 cloves of chopped garlic to the carrots and let it sizzle about a minute. Then I poured in the cooking water from the kidney beans, and I added just as much plain water. I didn’t have any fresh onion—actually, I did, but it was being saved for chicken soup, that soup of soups—so I used a tablespoon of dried onion flakes. From Clif’s chili, I had saved a bit of cooked ground beef and some cooked sausage balls, and into the pot they went. For spicing, I used 1 teaspoon of cumin, 1 teaspoon of chili powder, a pinch of red pepper flakes, 2 pinches of allspice, two or three shakes of soy sauce, and 2 tablespoons of tomato paste. I let all of this simmer for about a half an hour then added enough beans for a nice, thick soup and let it simmer a while longer. I also added a bit more water.

This made 4 servings—about a half a pot of soup. If I were going to make a full pot, I would use a pound of meat, a full soup bowl of carrots, and double everything else. Or use a big package of mushrooms in place of the meat. (I would probably cook the mushrooms with the carrots and add some water to them so that it would produce a nice little broth.)

And I would taste the soup constantly as it simmered. How else is a cook going to find her way?

 

News, Recipes

BUSY, BUSY—BUT WHAT A GREAT TIME OF YEAR!

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As the countdown to Christmas begins in earnest, the tempo at our little house in the big woods has gone from busy to very busy. I love Christmas, and, for me, the preparations are part of the pleasure. Last weekend, my husband, Clif, and I set up the Christmas tree and decorated it. We went into the woods by our house to gather winter berries and greenery for the window box. Clif hung lights on the hedges outside, and now the house looks all twinkly after dark, of which there is plenty to be had this time of year.

I’ve outlined a cooking schedule for myself, and yesterday I made pumpkin bread, which went into the freezer. The pumpkin bread will come out the day before Christmas, and it will be what we nibble on as we open our presents. Today, I’ll be making regular bread, also to freeze—toast and scrambled eggs will follow the pumpkin bread on Christmas morning. I expect this might even qualify as a hobbit’s second breakfast. I’ll also be making a chili for Clif to take to a work potluck tomorrow.

Pumpkin bread for Christmas morning
Pumpkin bread for Christmas morning

As the days lead to Christmas, there will be more things to bake—-additional loaves of bread, some to keep and some to give; peanut butter buddy bars; lemon-frosted shortbread; cinnamon pie knots; chocolate-covered pretzels; homemade ice cream for ice cream pie; and peanut butter balls. Phew! No wonder I had to devise a cooking schedule to keep it all straight. Fortunately, Clif will be helping me with some of the more time-consuming items such as the pretzels and the peanut butter balls.

Last night, inspired by Tamar Adler’s An Everlasting Meal—I wrote about this book in the previous post—I decided to make a soup using odds and ends and enhanced by a mushroom broth. I had a bit of leftover turkey, 1 cup of stock, and a small amount of left over rice. Not enough for two adults, especially when one of them has an appetite like Clif’s. Adler is a big advocate of making stock from whatever is on hand—vegetables or bones—and I decided to see what I could do with a small package of mushrooms I had as well as some leftover celery. I cut the mushrooms into fairly thick slices and chopped the celery, including the leaves. (Adler would definitely approve of this.) Into a big skillet, I drizzled a fair amount of olive oil—No, Shannon, I didn’t measure—and when it was hot, I added the mushrooms and celery. I sautéed them for a few minutes then added two chopped cloves of garlic. I sautéed all of this for another minute—I didn’t want the garlic to burn—and then added enough water to barely cover the mushrooms. For some reason, it seemed to me that a bit of butter would make a nice addition, and I put some in. Again, I didn’t measure, but I probably used a little over a teaspoon full. Now, for some spicing. Believe it or not, I have some rosemary outside in a pot, and the rosemary is holding its own. I snipped a sprig and chopped about a teaspoon full of rosemary to go in the mushroom mixture. (For those of you who don’t have rosemary in a pot, it would be perfectly acceptable to use dried rosemary.) I let this mixture simmer, adding more water as needed, until the mushrooms were tender but not ridiculously shrunken. I tasted it, and then I had Clif taste it.

“Really good!” he said.

Good enough to use as a base on its own, and I began to think of the possibilities, of adding some white beans to this mixture and serving it over rice. But since I had the stock, the chicken, and the rice, I mixed them all together and had enough soup to satisfy Clif.

His verdict? “Really, really good!”

The beauty of this “dish” is that it can be adapted to accommodate personal tastes and what’s in the refrigerator.  I’m a big fan of garlic, but you might prefer onions, leeks, or shallots. So use them. I had leftover celery, but carrots would also be a good addition. As would zucchini, sweet red peppers, and any number of vegetables. I think mushrooms really add an essential earthiness to this broth, and I just used the white button mushrooms available at the store. But I bet other varieties would be delicious, too. (My mouth waters just thinking about them.)

An inexpensive meal, a filling meal, and one that we ate with pleasure.

Come, Christmas, come.

 

 

Books

A BOOK TO RECOMMEND: AN EVERLASTING MEAL: COOKING WITH ECONOMY AND GRACE BY TAMAR ADLER

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Most of the books I read, including those that are about food, come from the library. In Maine, we have a wonderful interlibrary loan system, and this gives me access to a wide range of books. As a rule, I can return the books after having read them and not long to own them. At least not too much. But every once in a while a book comes along that I feel I simply must have, and An Everlasting Meal by Tamar Adler is one of those books. If I don’t receive it for Christmas, then I will order it after the holidays.

In the introduction to An Everlasting Meal, Adler pays tribute to the late, great M. F. K. Fisher and her book How to Cook a Wolf, which “is not a cookbook or a memoir or a story about one person or one thing. It is a book about cooking defiantly, amid the mess of war and the pains of a bare pantry.” (How to Cook a Wolf was published in 1942.) Adler writes “I love that book. I have modeled this one on it.”

I, too, love How to Cook a Wolf. Indeed, I own a copy. Given that Adler is such a fine writer and has such a feel for how various food can be combined, it’s no wonder that I love her book, too. While there are recipes in An Everlasting Meal,  Adler’s focus is more on the philosophy of food and eating. In the wrong hands, a book like this could have been as dry as Melba toast. But An Everlasting Meal was most definitely in the right hands, and after I read the book, I felt as though my cooking horizons had been expanded. I have begun looking at food in a new way, seeing the myriad possibilities in simple, humble ingredients that are often thrown away.

The subtitle of this book is Cooking with Economy and Grace, and Adler means business. She believes that every bit of food from a plant or animal should be used (hence, Economy) to prepare meals that are not only nutritious but also satisfying and good (hence, Grace). Radish greens, parsley stems, celery leaves, the water from cooking pasta and vegetables, bacon fat, chicken fat, and chicken bones all can and should be used—not necessarily together, of course. This is the way our grandmothers and great-grandmothers cooked in a time when they had to raise much of their own food and were therefore ever so careful about using it all. As the population of our planet has just reached 7 billion, this advice to use everything and waste nothing could not be more timely.

Not surprisingly, Adler is big fan of broth, which can come from either animal or vegetable, with a bit of doctoring up by way of onion or garlic and herbs and spices. And into the broth can go a variety of food, either specially cooked for the broth or left over from another meal.

Greatly inspired by Adler, I considered a pasta dish I made a couple of nights ago. Along with the pasta there was red peppers, broccoli, toasted almonds, garlic, feta cheese, sage, and olive oil. There were leftovers, but not enough for a really satisfying meal for two, at least not for my husband, Clif. Keeping Adler’s advice in mind, I had saved some of the pasta water, which I had used to moisten the original dish. I also had two cups of turkey stock in my freezer. (I am beginning to consider homemade turkey or chicken stock liquid gold. The boxed stuff just can’t compare with it.) So, I thought, why not add the leftover pasta to the broth along with a cup of the pasta water to stretch things out?

This is just what I did, and in the oven, we toasted homemade bread with olive oil to go with the soup.

“What do you think?” I asked Clif.

“Great!” he replied.

I must admit, the soup was pretty good. What a way to use leftovers!

Using Adler as my guide, I am thinking ahead to other combinations, such as a soup made with the water broccoli is cooked in. Naturally, this soup would include broccoli as well as onion and garlic or both. Some potatoes to thicken it? After simmering the broccoli and potato water with onion and garlic, I would add some cooked potatoes and broccoli to the broth and blend them with my immersion blender. I would also save chunks of potato and broccoli to add afterward. A bit of grated cheddar cheese would be good, too. Maybe some rosemary.

I’ll let you know how this soup turns out.

In the meantime, you might want to add An Everlasting Meal to your own Christmas list.

 

Food for Thought

A THRIFTY BUT ABUNDANT CHRISTMAS

Not long ago, a friend asked me how I managed to make Christmas merry but affordable. He came to the right person for advice. For most of my adult life, I have lived on a very modest budget, so I’ve had plenty of practice with what might called Frugality 101. Nevertheless, our family’s holidays and celebrations are always jolly. We love getting together, eating, and giving presents. You can still do these things on a modest budget, you just have to plan ahead.

Because of our country’s hard economic times, my husband, Clif, thought I should share my response to my friend, so here it is: “I love Christmas, and I love giving presents. It’s the one time of year where I give in to glorious excess. However, because of our modest budget, I have developed a series of strategies. The first is that I’m always keeping an eye out for sales, and this includes books that are in great condition on the Friends cart at Bailey Library. When I see something on sale that I think someone will like, I pick it up. Second, and this goes along with the first, I start early. I don’t save it all for the month of December. I begin in earnest in the fall. Third, I order quite a bit from Daedalus Books, which, as I’m sure you know, has DVDs, calendars, and other small gifts. Fourth, we use our credit card points for gift certificates. Fifth, Reny’s Department Store, which actually shares its profits with its employees! Sixth, I like to make goodies to add to gift bags and baskets. This year we’re going to experiment with chocolate-covered pretzels and homemade cracker jack. Seventh, I go to local craft fairs. Sometimes you can get really cute things at a bargain.”

From the above advice, I’m sure it can be gathered that there is seldom anything big or grand under our tree. (Unless, of course, I found it in mint condition at a yard sale.)  Nevertheless, we have a lot of fun and make the unwrapping of gifts last as long as possible, with one person at a time opening a present so the others can see and admire what was given.

I could have added one more thing to my list of strategies and that is to enjoy simple things. If you do, then you will find many pleasures in this life, pleasures that might even elude those with plenty of money. I know this sounds like a Bob Cratchit approach to life, but you have to admit, he and his family were happy.

Food for Thought

THE LET THEM EAT BREAD REPORT: THOUGHTS ON GIVING AND HOARDING

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Last month, in the middle of November, I reached my goal of giving away 52 loaves of bread this year, and I decided to stop giving bread away on a weekly basis. I’ll be making bread to give as Christmas presents, and my year-end total should be somewhere in the high 50s.

This has been an illuminating project. Talk of generosity is cheap, and I have been guilty of extolling the virtues of giving without actually doing much. Giving homemade bread away, every week, was actually quite a bit of work. Readers might wonder, how much work can one little loaf of homemade bread be? A fair question, but there are a couple of factors to consider. First, it meant that every week I had to make an extra batch of bread so that my husband, Clif, and I would have enough bread, too. Sometimes the weather was too hot, or I was too busy. Nevertheless, I made the extra bread. I had made a commitment to the project, and neither hot weather nor lack of time was going to deter me. The second problem I had was also a time problem. Because we only have one car, getting fresh bread to the week’s recipient often was not easy. And while homemade bread is perfectly good the day after it is baked, it is best the day it is made, when the bread is soft and fresh. I learned I had to plan ahead to make sure that the recipient would actually be home when the bread was baked AND I had use of the car. A couple of times there were misses, and I had to give the bread away to someone else.

Last night, I went to a party that included a group of women—writers and editors—that I have known for nearly 20 years. One of my friends—Lynne—has turned to a different form of communication and is now an ordained minister. (Lucky the church that has Lynne! She is compassionate, tolerant, articulate, and optimistic yet realistic.)

I told her about my bread project, and she reflected on two human responses to the scarcity we are facing because of climate change and overpopulation. One response is to clutch as tightly as possible to resources, to not share, to not value the community. The other response is to open the hand, to give as much as possible while still maintaining a healthy, individual surplus. Lynne, of course, advocates the second response, using the parable of the loaves and the fish as an example not only of a miracle but also as a story of sharing and feeding people.

Lynne then went on to tell a story of giving. A parishioner in her church, an elderly man who has been diagnosed with cancer and is undergoing treatment, recently approached her. He wanted to donate $500 to the church’s special needs fund, money that is given to those who find themselves in a tight spot and need a little extra to help pay for rent, food, or fuel. He wanted her to chose 5 people, who would each receive $100. He wanted to remain anonymous, and he wanted Lynne to do the choosing. In fact, he didn’t want to know who received the money.

Lynne came up with 8 people and was debating whom she should choose. When the man found out, his response was, “Well, why not make it $800 then?” Eight very grateful people received $100, and when the man heard how much the extra $100 had helped, he said, “Let’s do it again for Christmas.”

As I know from personal experience, cancer treatment is no fun at all. Yet rather than turning inward, this man has turned out and is giving.

We all can’t give away $800. My husband and I certainly can’t. But just because we can’t give a lot, doesn’t mean we can’t give a little. A loaf of bread? A few jars of peanut butter to the local food pantry? A gift basket full of good things to eat to a friend who is struggling?

Just as important, we need to give as a society so that all people have health care, a good education and other things that are beyond the capacity of individuals, however generous they might be, to provide wide scale on a societal level. Unfortunately, our country has a very hard time with this concept.

See how lessons from loaves of bread can ripple outward?

News

SO MUCH HOLIDAY CHEER

Last weekend, there was so much holiday cheer that it’s a wonder Clif and I have recovered from all the fun. Winthrop had its holiday parade, and that’s what today’s post will revolve around. Truly, for a town of 6,000, it was bang-up little parade, and Bailey Public Library was well represented. Liz and Mary Jane marched with our lovely banner, and Richard, the director, and Shane, the adult services librarian, marched as well.

Blue balloons were everywhere on the main street, and at one point, a single blue balloon flew over the white spire of the Congregational Church. The Lions parked their their snack stand on the side of the street, and from it came the delectable smell of French fries and fried dough. The Flaky Tart was doing a very brisk business, and Clif and I each got a treat, a cupcake and a piece of stollen.

Then came the parade, with its homemade floats, the dancing girls, and the marchers passing out candy. One of the marchers—and I didn’t catch whom she was marching for—was throwing wrapped peppermints so zealously that they become something akin to incoming missiles. “Whoa!” I heard a bunch of children yell as they scattered to avoid being hit by the hard candy. Still, it was taken in good cheer, and when the candy had safely landed, the children scrambled for the candy.

Waiting for fries
Our library banner
Dancing girls

 

News

CHRISTMAS COOKING BEGINS

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Last year at this time, I was just finishing radiation treatment for breast cancer, and while I did some cooking for the holidays, I was too tired to cook as much as I usually do. This year, however, I am back on track, as the saying goes. I feel healthy and strong, and my energy level is pretty much where it was before I had cancer. A wonderful present! How great it feels not to be tired all of the time.

With my energy back, I have all sorts of holiday folderol planned for goodies to make and give. I’ll be starting out with a bang this weekend as I make brownies for our library’s open house; chocolate ice cream to go in an ice cream pie (thank you oh thank you, Bob and Kate, for the ice cream maker!); chocolate-covered pretzels with little sprinkles; and caramel popcorn.

I’ve never done chocolate-covered pretzels, but when my daughter Dee mentioned how much she liked them, I thought, well, why not dip your own? It can’t be much different from dipping peanut butter balls. We shall see later on this afternoon.

I’ve made popcorn balls before, but not caramel popcorn. For some reason, the caramel popcorn sounds more appealing to me. Probably because it doesn’t involve burning your hands as you form the balls.

I make a delicious homemade chocolate ice cream, but I’ve never put it into a crumb pie shell. I bought little peppermint chips to add to the ice cream so that there will be a mint taste along with the chocolate. We’ll be bringing this pie to our friends’ house tomorrow night, and if tastes as good as I think it will, then I’ll be making more pies in the weeks to come. (I’ll also be bringing homemade crackers, which I made yesterday, and a spread.)

I love this holiday cooking, and I love tucking homemade goodies into gift bags for family and friends. Somehow, there is such a feeling of satisfaction to give gifts made by hand.

In between all the cooking and planning, I found time to go on a bike ride this afternoon. After yesterday’s brisk ride, I decided to really bundle up today. I put on leggings and fleece pants as well as a turtle neck, a heavy sweater, and a fleece jacket. All this clothing did the trick. I was much warmer on today’s ride, and the fleece was flexible as I biked.

Today Maranacook Lake was gray—no blue sky reflected in the water. As I pedaled by one section, a flock of ducks skimmed and flapped away from shore, heading to the middle of the lake.

I have no idea how much longer I’ll be able to ride, but even the past two days have been a wonderful reprieve. And who knows? If the snow holds off, maybe I’ll make it to the middle of the month.

Later: The chocolate-covered pretzels were a smashing success. As I suspected, covering the pretzels with chocolate was not at all difficult, and when the chocolate is Ghiradelli, you have yourself a pretty tasty chocolate-covered pretzel. The only really annoying thing was that I burnt the first batch of chocolate by having the water in the double boiler boil too hard and by not stirring the chocolate constantly. With the second batch of chocolate, I was much more careful, and there was no more burnt chocolate.

Chocolate-covered pretzels