Alice Johnson brought these spiced nuts to our Christmas party last weekend, and when the nuts were gone well before the party was over, I wondered if there would be trouble. Paul Johnson got the last handful, and there were baleful glares in his direction. Fortunately, in keeping with the Christmas spirit, nobody mugged him for that handful.

Seriously, though, these nuts are incredibly good, sweet and spicy at the same time. Make some to eat, and if you can bring yourself to part with them, make some to give. That’s what I’ll be doing this weekend.

Spiced Nuts

Preheat the oven to 350 F °

8 cups of nuts: such as whole almonds, lightly salted dry roasted cashew and whole pecans
2 tablespoons margarine
1 ½ teaspoon chili powder
1 teaspoon each ground  cumin, ginger, and coriander
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/3 cup sugar
1 tablespoon water

1.      Line a roasting pan with foil.  Bake nuts for 10 minutes, stir after five minutes.

2.      Melt margarine and stir in spices, sugar, salt, and water.

3.      Pour mixture over nuts stir to thoroughly coat them

4.      Bake until nuts are brown. I check every 10 minutes to stir the nuts. This should take between 20 and 30 minutes. 

5.      Take out of oven, and cool completely in the roasting pan.

6.      Some of the nuts may stick together. Stir to break apart. Store in dry containers.

Addendum: Paul Johnson, the man who got the last handful of nuts, is not Alice’s husband, whose name is Joel. It seems I have quite a few friends with the last name of “Johnson.” A very good name indeed!

In the Good Eater household, Christmas is our favorite holiday, and we really don’t understand why some people like to grouse about it so much. What’s not to like about a holiday that brightens the darkest month of the year? About a holiday that encourages generosity (gift giving), cooking (food), and eating (more food)? Then there are the movies, ranging from A Christmas Carol to Elf to A Christmas Story to A Child’s Christmas in Wales. We watch them all. In fact, we usually watch several versions of A Christmas Carol, and a little eggnog and cognac makes the viewing even more enjoyable.

It must be noted that we are not a religious household, but that doesn’t matter at all. While the practice of Christianity has often been ugly and violent, the Christmas ideal of “Peace on Earth” is not. Unfortunately, the divergence of practice and ideals is all too common, and Christianity is hardly the only belief system where this has happened. And if you are not moved by the story of the nativity—the plight of Mary and Joseph—then you should ask yourself why.

We are also not an affluent family, and at times we have been quite poor. But we have never let this interfere with giving presents, and we do it without going into debt. How do we do this? With creativity and prior planning. All through the year, we are on the lookout for sale items that might appeal to family and friends. Library book sales are a favorite place for us to shop for presents. We also like Daedalus Books, which has a broad range of remaindered books, DVDs, and CDs. Finally, we make presents—jewelry, cards, calendars, framed photos, and, of course, food.

We also like to host a big party, which we will be giving this Saturday, and I have begun making goodies for it. Yesterday, it was peanut butter balls, and I have a big tin of them in the kitchen. It’s a good thing I made a lot because resistance is futile, and I have been “nipping” a peanut butter ball from the tin from time to time. (If I’m not careful, I’ll have to make another batch.)

Today, I’ll be making pie knots. I’m also going to make a potato, ham, cheese, and tomato galette, which will be an experimental dish (no recipe), and if it comes out well, I’ll be making a couple for the party. In the next two days, I’ll be moving on to chili, cornbread, cheddar cheese soup, and several other dishes. Then after the party will come the cooking for Christmas itself—breads, tourtière, and ice cream pies, to name a few. Oh, the list is long and delicious, and I will be writing about what I make.

To sweeten the mood of Grinches and non-Grinches alike, here is my recipe for Peanut Butter Balls.

Peanut Butter Balls

Note: This recipe originally called for paraffin to be added to the chocolate, and in our innocent past, we blithely did this, not only with peanut butter balls but with Needhams and other candy as well. Nowadays, we know that ingesting paraffin is not exactly the thing to do, and we add a bit of Crisco to the chocolate. We also realize that Crisco is not high on the list of health foods, but we figure that it’s at least a little higher than paraffin, which has even been labeled as “evil” by one foodie. When you come right down to it, nobody would dream of putting peanut butter balls on a list of healthy food. But remember, Christmas comes but once a year, and really the best place to put those sweet, little peanut butter confections is right in your mouth.

Chocolate Peanut Butter Balls

Mix:

2 sticks melted butter
¾ cup of peanut butter
2 cups crushed graham crackers
½ teaspoon vanilla
1 pound of powdered sugar

Roll teaspoonful of mixture in small balls and place on cookie sheet lined with wax paper.

In double boiler, melt 2 tablespoons of Crisco with 2 cups of semisweet or bittersweet chocolate. Be sure water simmers but does not boil.

With a fork (a long-handled one is best) and a looped candy dipper (use another fork if you don’t have one) roll the balls in the chocolate and then put them back on the wax-paper lined cookie sheet. Chill in the refrigerator for about 15 minutes, and then take them out. When they are hard, store in an airtight container. And remember, you want to save at least some of these for friends and family.

At first glance the title of this posting seems faintly ridiculous—the words “art” and “chicken soup” are an unlikely couple. After all, what could be more simple or more basic than chicken soup, a comfort food that nourishes the body and the spirit? But think back to chicken soup you have eaten, either in the home or at a restaurant. Has it always been rich, flavorful, and golden? After eating one bowl, did you want seconds? If your experience is anything like mine, then the answer is no. All too often, chicken soup is bland and watery, and one bowl is usually more than enough. Honesty compels me to admit that I have made chicken soup that is, shall we say, edible but forgettable. But over the years I have learned how to make a fragrant chicken soup, and here are some tips.

The first and most important one is this: Do not think you can make a decent chicken (or turkey) soup from bones that have been stripped of every shred of meat. I realize that frugal cooks love the idea of taking said bones and making, as it where, something from nothing. I like the idea myself, but sad experience has taught me that when you use chicken bones with only a hint of meat and try to make soup from them, what you get is a thin, boring soup. No, what chicken soup needs is a fair amount of chicken on the bone that can be simmered for hours. There are two ways you can do this. You can buy chicken just to make the soup, and I occasionally do this. But the better way is to purchase more than you need, say, two small birds or a very large one, and have roast chicken one day. (I season mine with oil, salt, pepper, and dried thyme.) Then, resisting the impulse to strip the chicken clean and make sandwiches, you leave most of the remaining meat on the bones and into the stockpot they all go with enough water to cover the bones. If there is a lot of chicken, I will remove a bit to add to the soup after the simmering is done. But only if there is a lot of chicken.

With this, you have a good start, but more is needed. To the stockpot I add one whole onion, with a few  cloves stuck in; two large carrots, peeled and cut in big chunks; three or so cloves of garlic, again peeled and cut in large chunks; a couple of stalks of coarsely chopped celery, if I have them (and I don’t always); and a bay leaf.

Now comes the tricky, watchful part. You want to bring this all to a slow boil, and just as it starts to bubble, turn the heat down so that you have a gentle simmer. (Leave the cover on as it simmers.) You don’t want to have a furious witch’s caldron of swirling bones, fat, and vegetables. You want things to merge and blend slowly. Depending on what kind of stove you have, this can take a fair amount of jiggering with the burner’s heat. Next comes the skimming, and do not skimp on this part. The more fat and froth you skim from the stock, the brighter the soup will be. So, for four or five hours, simmer those bones gently and periodically skim. I know. This is starting to sound like a Julia Child recipe. But a big pot of soup will last for several days and is oh so nice during the long, dark cold of winter. Soup made with boxed chicken broth is a sad, sad imitation, and I’m not even going to get into Campbell’s Chicken Noodle Soup.

Once the stock has simmered for many hours, strain the broth, pick the meat from the bones, and set the meat aside. Discard the scraps and the vegetables. What you should have now is a golden broth that needs a bit of salt and pepper but not much else to flavor it. Because I am from Maine, I add potatoes and sliced carrots to the broth, but rice or pasta would do as well. Or, if you want a Mediterranean touch, white beans, celery, and a bit of rosemary could be used. The choice is yours, and they are all good ones.

Once the potatoes and carrots are tender, I add whatever reserved meat I have to the pot. Make some biscuits or some muffins, and you have yourself a pretty nice meal.

Ingredients Recap
My husband, Clif, always grouses at me if I don’t include some kind of recipe that more or less gives exact measurements. So here goes.

2 small chickens, adding up to ten pounds or so, or 1 large chicken. (If you are feeding a lot of people, you can up the ante to two large chickens.) Roast, have a meal, and leave a lot on the bones to simmer.

1 small onion, left whole and stuck with several cloves

2 large carrots, peeled and cut in chunks

2 stalks of celery, cut in chunks

3 cloves of garlic, peeled and cut in chunks

1 bay leaf

Salt and pepper to taste

Follow the aforementioned simmering and skimming instructions. This is pretty much an all-day event. For those who work outside the home, this will be a weekend meal. But here’s an added bonus: Your house will smell heavenly while the stock is simmering.

After all of this simmering and skimming, it seems very appropriate to end with a “bon appétit!” And perhaps a bonne chance?

“As we honor and pay tribute to soup, I also wish to encourage my readers to use the art of soup making to bring relief to the poor and the hungry near or around us. In ancient times, when monasteries were located within the city walls, monks and nuns provided soup and bread to the poor who daily knocked at their doors. Many monasteries still follow this ancient evangelical practice, and this is where the idea of “soup kitchens” to help the poor originated….Soup making, soup sharing, and soup giving done with love and a selfless spirit can be occasions for endless joy.”
—Brother Victor-Antoine d’Avila-Latourrette, Twelve Months of Monastery Soup

Thanks to my daughter Dee, I have a new favorite soup. When we were visiting recently with her in New York, she said, “Next to where I work is a shop that sells a really good tomato soup.” Oh? What kind of tomato soup? “Well, it has chickpeas and cauliflower.” What kind of spicing? “Curry. It was spiced with curry. Do you think you could make it?” Yes, I think I could.

I decided to roast the cauliflower, which has a mild—some might even say bland—taste. It seems to me that roasting improves almost any vegetable. From there I would go to onion and garlic, the basis for most soups, followed by a can of tomatoes, a can of chickpeas, and a teaspoon and a half of curry powder as well as a pinch of red pepper flakes. Readers, this is one of the best soups I have ever made. The nutty chickpeas complement the mild cauliflower, and the curry blends with the tomatoes to produce a spicy but smooth flavor. I could eat this soup once a week, and I’ll certainly be making it regularly during the impending months of cold weather, which in Maine stretches through three seasons and at least six months. With so much cold weather, soup can be a great consolation.

I began this piece with a quotation from Twelve Months of Monastery Soups. During the upcoming holiday season, indeed throughout the whole year, we should follow Brother Victor-Antoine d’Avila-Latourrette’s advice. Hunger and food insecurity are on the rise in the United States. According to yesterday’s New York Times, “the number of people in households that lacked consistent access to adequate nutrition rose to 49 million in 2008, 13 million more than in the previous year and the most since the federal government began keeping the data 14 years ago.” Surely the richest country in the world can do better than that, and what better way to start than with soup—nutritious, delicious, soothing, and economical.

Curried Tomato Soup with Chickpeas and Cauliflower

1 small onion, chopped fine
3 cloves of garlic, chopped fine
Olive oil
1 ½ teaspoon of curry powder
1 pinch of red pepper flakes (or more, if you like things hot)
1 head of roasted cauliflower
1 (19 oz.) can of chickpeas, drained and rinsed
1 (28 oz.) can of crushed tomatoes
1 can of water, using the tomato can

First, roast the cauliflower. Cut the cauliflower into small pieces, toss with some olive oil and bake at 375°F until the cauliflower is tender and slightly browned, about twenty-five minutes. When the cauliflower has cooled, chop into bite-sized pieces and set aside.

Sauté the garlic and onion for a few minutes in a couple of tablespoons of olive oil. Add the chickpeas, the tomatoes, the can of water, the curry, and the pepper flakes. Simmer for 45 minutes or so. Add the chopped cauliflower and simmer another ten minutes. Garnish with either sour cream or yogurt if you like, which I always do.

In my last post, I wrote about my friend Jill and her mother’s handwritten recipe for chili eggs. (Jill had invited us over for brunch, and this was the dish she made.) Jill’s mother passed away several years ago, and Jill spoke of the connection she felt with her mother via the handwritten recipe. 

Reminiscence and connection can take many forms, but it seems to me that a handwritten recipe is an especially lovely way to remember loved ones who have died. And as we approach the Day of the Dead (or All Soul’s Day) on November 1^st, this is a very appropriate time to do so. 

This started me thinking about recipes I have received from family and friends who have passed away. Because it is soup season, one of the first recipes that came to mind is one for Spicy Peanut Soup, given to me by my friend Barbara Johnson, who died four years ago at the much-too-young age of sixty-eight. 

At the time of her death, Barbara and I had been friends for about fifteen years. Simply put, we were kindred spirits. We loved  many of the same things—nature, Shakespeare, Tolkien, Jane Austen, England, tea, books, and movies. Even now, when I read or see something that I know would be interesting to her, I want to give her a call. She was a cat fancier, and I am a dog lover, but we somehow managed to reconcile this difference so that it did not affect our friendship. Seriously, though, we were such good friends that we felt completely at ease in each other’s company, so relaxed that we could just be ourselves. As an added bonus, Barbara was a terrific cook, one of the best home cooks I know. She won several cooking competitions, and I was lucky enough to be invited to her home on many occasions for lunch and dinner. 

The following recipe for Spicy Peanut Soup, which I have in Barbara’s handwriting, is at the top of my “favorite soups” list. It is easy to make; the ingredients are inexpensive; and the combination of tangy spices, sweet squash, and peanut butter give it an irresistible taste. Plus, it’s good for you. 

Bon appètit, indeed! 

Spicy Peanut Soup
Serves 4-6, depending on appetite 

4 tablespoons of butter
1 medium onion, thinly sliced
1 cup cooked & pureed pumpkin or squash
½ teaspoon ground cinnamon
½ teaspoon chili powder
½ teaspoon cumin
¼ teaspoon cayenne (More can be added to taste)
5 cups water or chicken stock (For a thicker soup, use less liquid, and for a thinner one, add a little more)
4 tablespoons tomato paste
1 cup peanut butter (Crunchy is best)
Salt & pepper to taste
Sour cream and/or croutons for garnish 

Melt butter over medium heat in a soup pot. Add the onion. Cover and cook about ten minutes or until onion is translucent. Check to make sure onion does not burn. (The heat might need to be adjusted.) 

Add the water, squash, tomato paste, peanut butter, and spices. Blend to smoothness. Cover and simmer at least 20 minutes. Season with salt and pepper.

Last weekend was the kind of weekend I like best—one filled with food, family, and friends. (Yes, I know. Many of my weekends are filled this way.)  To add to the mix, there was also an environmental event on Saturday, and I am as keen about the environment as I am about food. After all, the two are inextricably twined.

On Friday, we met our friends Alice Rohman and Roger Carpentter at the Café de Bangkok in Hallowell. While the food was good, the view was even better. The restaurant sits right next to the Kennebec River, and we were lucky enough to get window seats and watch as night settled over the river. At one point, the light was dark gray, giving the narrow river a moody, even British look. Inside, we discussed books, politics, and movies, but we were very much aware of the river, just outside, and the gathering darkness.

On Saturday, our friend Diane Friese invited Clif and I to her house in Brunswick for lunch. Our daughter Shannon and her fiancé Mike were also invited. We always make this trip with a merry heart, as we know that delectable food will be waiting for us. This time was no exception. The centerpiece was a creamy squash soup, slightly sweet and pleasingly thick. (I am hoping she will give me the recipe.) After the soup came coleslaw, curried vegetables, and a simmered sweet potato and apple mixture. What else could follow this but cookies and tea, always a satisfying ending?

With full stomachs, we walked in the rain to Bowdoin College, about five minutes from Diane’s house. On campus was a 350 event, one of many around the world to be held that day to bring attention to climate change and to how many parts per million of carbon dioxide there should be in the atmosphere—350, of course. (Right now, we are at about 387 and rising.) The rain undoubtedly kept many people away, but since the event was held indoors, this was probably just as well. The room was pretty crowded, and when we formed a “human” 350 so that a picture could be taken, there wasn’t much space to move. Governor Baldacci and Representatives Chellie Pingree and Michael Michaud were there as well as quite a few veterans to offer their perspective. This gave the event a twist that I haven’t often seen at environmental gatherings. That is, climate change is also a security issue for the United States. Our reliance on fossil fuels, one of the prime causes of climate change, also makes us vulnerable to countries that don’t always have our best interests at heart. Also, the weather disruptions will cause famines and migrations, and, as one veteran put it, our military will have to be there to hand out food and water and to help keep some kind of order. I hope these veterans speak up at various events around the state and the country. Many of them have served in Iraq, and they bring real heft to the promotion of alternative energy, one that can’t be easily dismissed by the not-in-my-backyard contingency.

On Sunday morning, we went to Jill Lectka’s house for brunch. We became friends with Jill in a rather unusual way. Our eldest daughter, Dee, moved to New York City when she graduated from college. Her first job was with Macmillan Library Reference, and Jill was Dee’s boss. One day, a few years ago, Dee called and asked, “Guess where my boss Jill is moving?” Naturally, I couldn’t guess. “To Waterville, Maine.” Waterville, Maine? From New York City? Why? “She’s going to work for Thorndike Press in Waterville.” Thorndike, like Macmillan, is owned by Gale, so it made a strange kind of sense. But still. A very, very small world.  As it turned out, Jill moved to Hallowell, Maine, and she has become good friends with our family, even spending Thanksgiving with us.

On Sunday, the weather was warm enough to have drinks—mimosas—on Jill’s porch, which is nearly two stories up and gives the impression of being above the trees. A sort of bird’s eye view. Then in we went for a rich egg casserole she had made. After drinking—we moved on to coffee and tea—and eating until about 2 P. M., we felt very lazy indeed and reluctant to leave. But leave we did, heading home to the dog who had been left alone this weekend far too much for his liking.

Chili Eggs

(This recipe came from Jill’s mother, who passed away several years ago. The recipe was handwritten by her mother, and each time Jill makes this dish, she feels a connection—via the handwriting—to her mother.)

10 eggs
½ cup of flour
1 teaspoon of baking powder
½ teaspoon of salt
1 pint of small curd cottage cheese
1 pound of jack cheese, shredded
1 stick of butter, softened
2 four-ounce cans chopped chilies

Beat eggs until light. Combine flour with baking powder and salt. Add to eggs. Add remaining ingredients. Bake in buttered 9 x 13 pan at 350ºF for 35 minutes. Serves ten.

When the loons have left the Narrows Pond and the humming birds are no longer whirring among the flowers and yellow leaves cover the patio and the porch needs to be swept almost every day, my mind quite naturally turns to soup. It must be said that we are a family of soup enthusiasts, and Maine is certainly the perfect place for us to live. For nine months of the year, we can eat soup without ever breaking into a sweat. (I do wonder if we would be as keen on soup if we lived, say, in Florida. How much of what we eat is dictated by climate and locale, even in these globalized times?)

We love all kinds of soup, from chunky meat stews to bean soups to cream soups. Because my husband, Clif, is lactose intolerant, cream soups can be problematic for him. Yes, there is Lactaid, but as a rule we don’t like to burden our digestive systems with food they have a hard time tolerating. As luck would have it, cream soups are at the top of my favorite food list (FFL), just slightly behind donuts, pie, and chocolate. So, then, how to have cream soups on a regular basis without Clif resorting to Lactaid? The answer is simple—potatoes, the tuber of Maine. (I do realize that other states grow potatoes, but as a Mainer who comes from a family of potato farmers, I tend to equate Maine with potatoes.)

In most cream soup recipes, potatoes can be added to give soups that creamy texture I love so much. Clif doesn’t have to hit the Lactaid, and I get to eat cream soups more often. And, as an added bonus, soups thickened with potatoes are not as fattening as soups made with cream.

Last weekend, we stopped at Stevenson’s vegetable stand, which will, alas, be closing next Sunday. Among other vegetables, we bought potatoes and bright orange carrots, a perfect start for ginger, carrot soup. I had garlic, onions, and ginger root at home, and with the potatoes and carrots, that’s all I would need. Along with a little salt, pepper, olive oil, and water, of course. Again, all readily available at home.

By my reckoning, this carrot soup must rank pretty close to the top of frugal meals that are not only good for you but also have you going back for seconds. Add some muffins or a salad, and no sensible person could ask for anything more. Except, perhaps, for some homemade croutons for the soup, which take about seven minutes from beginning to end.

I made the soup last night, and luckily, there is enough leftover for my lunch this afternoon. All morning, I have been thinking of the bright taste of carrots, the undertones of garlic, onion, and ginger, and the smooth texture of this soup. I wish I had doubled the recipe so I had more leftover. Well, I’ll just have to make ginger, carrot soup again sometime soon.

“Creamy” Carrot Soup
Serves four, if you have someone with an appetite like Clif’s. Otherwise, you might be able to get five or even six servings from this recipe.

Oil
4 cups of chopped carrots (about six large carrots). Use a food processor, if you have one.
2 potatoes, diced
4 thick slices of gingerroot, chopped
2 large cloves of garlic, chopped
I medium onion, chopped
3 cups of water
Salt and pepper to taste

In a large soup pot, heat enough oil to barely cover the bottom. Add onion and garlic and cook for a couple of minutes, stirring pretty much constantly. Add the carrots and the potatoes and cook for three minutes, stirring frequently. Add the ginger root and cook for a couple more minutes, again, stirring frequently. Add the water and cook the vegetables until they are tender, about twenty to thirty minutes. Puree the soup in either a blender or a food processor. An immersion blender works well, too. With 3 cups of water, this is a very thick soup. If you prefer a thinner soup, then simply add more water. Season with salt and pepper.

Homemade Croutons
These are so much better than crackers, and they are easy to make. Why deprive yourself?

Four slices of bread, cut in cubes
Oil

In a large fry pan, heat the oil and add the cubed bread, turning them as they brown. When they are brown and crisp all over, drain on a paper towel in a plate.

If you want more croutons, they can be oven baked (375ºF) on a cookie sheet. Use more bread, put cubes on an ungreased cookie sheet, drizzle with oil, and bake until crisp and dry, stirring every five minutes.

While hot, salt can be sprinkled on the croutons as well as herbs, dried or fresh, and/or grated Parmesan cheese. Or just use them plain. They are good anyway.

Being a frugal home cook, I frequently have nights when I look into my refrigerator, survey the clutter of leftovers, and decide it’s time to see how I can use them to make a tasty meal. Usually, the leftovers consist of vegetables and cheese, sometimes meat, and sometimes condiments or sour cream. Last night it was broccoli and parsley as well as feta cheese. There was also some wine leftover from a dinner party from last weekend. In addition, I had some garlic from Farmer Kev, a little zucchini from my own garden, and a nice sweet red pepper from Stevenson’s vegetable stand, which, alas, will be closing this weekend. With such an assemblage, my mind turned to pasta, and luckily I had a mostly full box of penne in the cupboard.  Below, is a recipe that I put together from what I had, but this is a wonderfully flexible dish that will take a variety of vegetables, leftover chicken, shrimp (who has leftover shrimp?), and herbs. I used parley because that’s what was in the refrigerator, but basil, mint, rosemary or a combination of all three would taste even better. In the summer, when I have all these things growing in pots on the patio, I often make an herbed pasta, using a cup or so of the fresh herbs. (Oh, summer where art thou?) If worse comes to worst and you didn’t have any fresh leftover herbs, then you could even use a little dried oregano or perhaps Herbes de Provence.

Pasta with feta and vegetables

Serves 4, depending upon age and appetite

3 tablespoons or so of olive oil
3 cloves of garlic, minced
1 small red pepper, chopped
1 small zucchini, cut in rounds
1 small head of broccoli, cut in small pieces and barely steamed
½ cup of white wine
1 cup of feta, crumbled
3 tablespoons of chopped parsley
7 or so ounces of pasta
Salt and pepper to taste
Grated parmigiano-reggiano, if you wish, and I always do

Assemble the garlic, red pepper, zucchini, broccoli, wine, feta, and parsley in separate little bowls and place them on the counter next to your stove. In a large pot, boil some salted water and cook the penne, about ten minutes or so. In the meantime, after the penne has cooked for several minutes, heat the olive oil in a large skillet. When the oil is hot, add the garlic, zucchini, and red pepper, stirring constantly so that the garlic doesn’t burn. After the vegetables have softened but are still crisp, you might want to add a bit of the pasta water, say, half a ladle full. It all depends on how saucy you like things. Then add the wine and let simmer a bit. By now the pasta should be done. Before draining, reserve more of the pasta water, just in case, and then add the drained pasta to the skillet. Sprinkle the feta over everything. This makes a nice little cream sauce. If you want it creamer still, use a little of the reserved pasta water. If not, season with salt and pepper and top with parsley. Serve immediately with the grated cheese. Who said leftovers can’t taste good?

September seems to be quite the month for birthdays—mine and Clif’s as well as the birthdays of two good friends, Diane and Claire. Last weekend, we celebrated Clif’s and Diane’s. 

Diane’s came first. She is a fellow foodie, and for her gift I decided to put together a basket with homemade goodies as well as some other food-related items. Our plans were to get together on Saturday for a trip to Peaks Island, so Friday was a flurry of cooking—bread, spiced walnuts, and cinnamon pie knots (recipe below), all to go in the basket. I’m always a little nervous when I make food for presents. I want the food to be especially good. Luck was with me that Friday, and everything came out just the way I hoped it would. Along with the food, into the basket I tucked Julia Child’s My Life in France and some food photo note cards that Clif made. I must admit that both Clif and I were pleased with the results, mostly made-from-scratch gifts that came from the home and the heart. 

Luck was also with us on Saturday for our trip to Peaks Island, which is a ten- to fifteen-minute ferry ride from Portland, Maine. The weather was September gorgeous—warm, dry, sunny, with a brilliant blue sky. There were five of us: Diane, Clif, our daughter Shannon, her fiancé, Mike, and me. Oddly enough, none of us had ever been to Peaks Island before, and we unanimously decided that this was one of our favorite places in Maine. Even though Peaks Island is only ten minutes or so from Portland, it nevertheless has the charm and tranquility of an island community. There is hardly any traffic, and indeed many people use golf carts to zip from place to place. A three-and-a-half mile road loops around the circumference of the island, and most of that road goes along the edge of the sea so that walkers and bikers have the sparkling ocean, rocks, birds, a lighthouse, purple asters, and rose hips to delight them as they walk and ride. Benches are strategically placed along the way, and one of the most impressive thing about the island and this walk is that most of the shoreline is accessible to the public. The lovely houses are across the road, and while they have a fine prospect, they don’t monopolize the oceanfront. Outside of a state or a national park, this is rare, and, again, very impressive. Over and over, we asked ourselves why we had never been to Peaks Island, but one thing is certain—we will return. We are thinking it might even be an annual September event. 

Sunday was Clif’s birthday, and this meant more cooking. In our family, the tradition is for the birthday boy or girl to choose the meal. Clif decided on scalloped scallops, a simple but rich dish that has cream and buttered crumbs to go along with the scallops. It’s a Yankee dish, which yet again proves the point that plain food can be delicious if the ingredients are first rate. We also had roasted chicken, baked potatoes, corn on the cob, and buttermilk spice cake, made fresh that morning. 

Claire’s birthday is next. She has left the dinner choice to me, and I can’t decide whether I should make rolled chicken breasts with an herbed cream cheese filling or beef cooked with wine and spices, a sort of boeuf bourguignon. Stay tuned!

 Cinnamon Pie Knots

For the pie dough: 

2 cups of flour
1 teaspoon of salt
¾ cup of shortening
½ cup of cold water 

Combine the flour with the salt. Cut in the shortening until the mixture is crumbly. Add the cold water and stir until the ingredients form a ball. Do not overmix or the dough will be tough. 

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees. 

On a floured cloth or counter, roll the dough into two long rectangles, one at a time, of course. On each rectangle, brush a tablespoon or so of melted butter. Then sprinkle with a cinnamon-sugar mixture. Clif always complains that much of my cooking doesn’t rely on exact recipes, and he is right. Basically, I put some sugar into a small soup bowl and add cinnamon until I get the color I like. Then, I cover the dough with a layer of the sugar and cinnamon mixture. Don’t be stingy with the mixture. You want a good cinnamon taste. 

Roll the dough from the wide end so that you have a thick rope of dough. Make cuts, halfway through, along the rope in two or three inch intervals so that you have will have nice little pieces when the dough is cooked. Place on an ungreased cookie sheet and cook for twenty minutes or until the dough is golden brown. Once the dough has cooled, finish cutting so that you have indivdual pie knots.

 (In Machias, Maine, Liz Fauver runs a cozy Bed and Breakfast called the Blue Butterfly, and she is not exaggerating even a little bit about how eagerly guests anticipate her breakfasts. Clif and I have stayed at the Blue Butterfly several times, and we have come to the conclusion that Liz Fauver is one of the best home cooks we know.—LMG)  

People are my pleasure. Food is my passion. 

A natural transition after thirty-plus years in a classroom was to open a small bed and breakfast. This allows ample opportunity to meet and greet people and to show off my culinary skills. 

My B & B guests choose the time they want breakfast on the table. Coffee is ready a half hour earlier. I do try to have good aromas wafting up stairs, causing the salivary glands to start flowing. 

For first-time guests it may be baked blueberry French toast. I can then give them a lesson on the wild blueberry industry here in Washington County, Maine. Or I may have decided to have spicy scrambled eggs and popovers. I have been surprised with the number of guests who have never had popovers. Some cookbooks may call them individual Yorkshire puddings. I have homemade blueberry jam and rhubarb conserve to serve with the popovers. 

It is great for my ego to hear the guests commenting on the wonderful fragrances as they sit down for breakfast. They fill up and have a good start for their busy day. I often think of the radio commercial from childhood. “Eat a better breakfast, feel better all day.” A very good motto for an innkeeper. 

On the desk in the guest room there is a book to sign. Many comments have been in reference to breakfast. One guest, upon checking in, spent an hour in her room before coming down. When she came down her comment was “I just read the guest book. I can’t wait for breakfast.” She wasn’t disappointed. 

With retirement my B & B keeps me interested, busy, and doing what I enjoy. Life is good. 

Next I’ll tell you about giving a dinner party. 

POPOVERS 

2 eggs, room temperature
1 cup of milk, room temperature
1 cup flour
1/4 teaspoon salt 

Preheat oven to 450 degrees. Beat eggs with milk. Thoroughly whisk in flour and salt. Pour 1 teaspoon oil into each muffin tin and place in 450 degree oven for 5 minutes. Remove pan and fill each cup 2/3 full. Bake for 20 minutes or until browned and puffed. 

Ideally you will have a regular popover pan. So much better than a muffin pan.