Fall foods: Long
Pie and Casper pumpkins and Sunshine winter squash
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In November, autumn
tumbles into early winter. A series of
cold fronts out of Canada blew through last week bringing a thin covering of
snow, stripping the last leaves, toppling power lines, tossing the lawn chairs
around the yard, and sending overnight temperatures down into the teens. This morning, a quartet of deer browsed the
back field, their pale summer coats darker now, allowing them to blend into the
dull landscape and making it hard to see them as they wander back and forth.
Then as the sun rose beyond the bare-boned trees, they disappear like ghosts
into the woods. The new beaver pond at
the bridge across Salmon Lake Brook is rimed with ice in the morning; the sun
sets earlier and we pull the curtains closed against the cold and darkness. The pace of life slows as we settle in,
bracing for the months of snow and cold that follow.
Black ice is a
danger at this time of year. The
frequent rains that mark the changing of the season leave the earth damp, the
moisture wicking up through the pavement and freezing overnight as the
temperatures drop. We drive slower,
vigilant to the deceptive dark stains on the roads that can send cars careening
into the ditch, or worse into trees or other vehicles. We travel less now, planning our trips around
the middle of the day when the glassy sheen melts to simple moisture, and we
take up indoor activities that will fill our days: fall cleaning, piecing
quilts cut during the warmer summer months, grading papers, and catching up on
reading we set aside in favor of spending our time outdoors in the golden days
of summer.
The grill has been
cleaned and tucked into the lean-to, the freezers filled with rainbow rows of
garden vegetables we have tucked away for winter meals. We find ourselves
craving comfort foods that take longer to cook and turn our attention to old
recipes handed down from one generation to the next. I come from a meat-and-potatoes heritage, and
a long line of good cooks. Some of my
earliest memories are of rushing home from school on a cold November day. I would fairly fly along the sidewalk, and,
pushing open the heavy front door of my great grandmother’s house, I would be
enveloped in a rush of heat and the
fragrance of fresh baked cookies and pot roast or roasting chicken destined for
the supper table. It was a childhood heaven and meant all was safe and secure.
Simmering soup
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Food has always played
a big role in our lives, and I find myself flipping through my great grand’s cookbooks from the beginning of the last
century. Although I have modified the
recipes over the years, we still turn more to substantial meals, succulent with
the aromas of garlic and roasting meats, homemade breads, and bubbling fruit
desserts that come warm from the oven. Homemade
soups simmer on the stove while bread rises in a patch of sunshine. The house
is warm from the baking and roasting and we feel secure from the fretful
weather outside. But not all meals come completely
from the stove.
Today, a pork roast
simmers in the slow cooker. While most
people think that pork is best roasted to a lovely crispness in the oven, this
recipe is easy and, because it cooks slowly all day, allows us to focus on
other projects and chores we need to finish as the days shorten. I begin with a three- to four-pound fresh
picnic or blade roast, with the fat on, and lard it liberally with thin slices
of a clove of our garlic. We grow about twenty pounds of garlic every year and
the cloves are always large – one easily equaling two store-bought cloves. The roast then goes into the cooker, fat side
down, and over it I pour a third of a cup of fresh cider, toss in a half cup of
fresh or dried cranberries, and sprinkle a quarter teaspoon of rubbed sage, a
grind or two of fresh pepper and a generous pinch of kosher salt over the roast.
Put the cover on and set the temperature at high for about two hours. Reduce to low and let simmer for about seven
to eight hours total. Although this amount of
time seems perfect, I always use a meat thermometer to check to make sure the
pork is thoroughly and safely cooked. The
combination of cider and cranberries, garlic and sage are heavenly to smell and
give the pork an especially wonderful taste.
Cranberry –cider slow
cooked pork
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The sides for this
roast vary from one meal to another, but today, I have chosen a wild rice and
mushroom casserole that is a nutty counterpoint to the sweet richness of the
pork. I think the original recipe came
off a can of cream of mushroom soup, but I’ve added my own touch.
The ingredients are simple:
Wild
Rice and Mushroom Casserole
6 ounces of long
grain and wild rice mix (not instant) – I get mine from an organic supermarket
downstate
1 can low-fat,
low-sodium cream of mushroom soup
1 cup warm water
1 cup sliced fresh
mushrooms – any kind will do, but a mix of several is best
1 small onion,
diced
1 tablespoon olive
oil
First,
heat the oil over medium heat in a medium frying pan and add in the onion. Cook,
stirring often until the onion softens. Now add the mushrooms, reduce heat to
low and cook until they soften and wilt. Remove from burner and set aside.
Combine
the soup and water in a bowl and mix well.
Grease a medium casserole dish with olive oil and pour in the rice mix.
Add the sautéed onions and mushrooms and gently mix together. Pour the soup and
water mixture over all. Cover and bake in a 350 degree oven for about two
hours. You’ll need to check it after the
first hour to be sure the liquid doesn’t all evaporate. You can add an additional quarter cup of
water if necessary. This easily serves four people.
We have picked kale
and will sauté it with apples and onions and a pinch of nutmeg in olive oil in
a large frying pan. You need a good sized
bunch of kale – about seven to eight stems, two to three medium apples, cored
and quartered, and one medium onion, sliced.
Stem and coarsely chop the kale. Peel
and slice the onion and core and cut the apple into wedges about a half inch
thick. Heat one tablespoon of olive oil in the pan and sauté the onion until it
is barely translucent. Add in the chopped kale and the pinch of nutmeg and stir
fry with the onion until wilted. Now add
in the apple, cover and reduce heat to low, stirring occasionally.
I also like a good
caraway rye bread with this. Caraway grows wild here, lacing the roadsides with
a white froth of bloom in very early summer and ripening into umbrels of
fragrant seed by mid-August. I take
paper shopping bags, scissors and the grand boys and wander up our road, snipping
the seeds into the bags to hang in the garage to dry. Once dry, I shake the seeds off the stems and
pour them into a fine wire strainer then plunge them into a pot of boiling
water. Caraway is a sweet herb and attracts insects which might otherwise ruin
the seed by burrowing into them. Boiling
thwarts that possibility and sharpens the flavor. I turn the seeds on a paper towel and let
them dry well – usually overnight – before storing them for winter use.
Rye bread has a reputation
for being difficult to make, perhaps because rye doesn’t have as high a gluten
content as wheat, but I have never had any problems. It’s likely because my
recipe comes from a 1960s version of The
Joy of Cooking, I use only King Arthur flours, and I let my bread machine do the kneading.
Swedish Rye Bread
1-1/2 cups lukewarm
water
2 packages active
dry yeast (not quick rising)
¼ c. dark molasses
(preferably unsulphured)
1/3 cup white sugar
1 tablespoon kosher
salt
2 tablespoons
grated orange rind
4 tablespoons
caraway seed
2 tablespoons
softened unsalted butter
2-1/2 cups rye flour,
sifted
3 cups white bread flour
Place
the liquid ingredients and the butter into the bread machine pan. Then, in this
order, add white flour, rye flour, salt, grated orange peel, and finally
yeast. Place pan in machine and set to
the dough cycle, and start the machine.
Add the caraway seeds when the machine beeps for add ins. This varies from one machine to another.
The
dough cycle allows the bread to rise once, and when it is done, turn the dough
onto a lightly floured surface and knead until it is smooth and elastic. Some people put their rye bread in loaf pans,
but I prefer round loaves, so divide the dough in half and shape into round
loaves. Place the loaves on a large cookie sheet dusted with cornmeal. Cover with
a light towel and let rise in a warm place until double – about an hour. Now make four ¼ inch deep slashes on top of
each loaf. Bake in a preheated 375 degree oven for 30 to 35 minutes, or until
the bread gives a nice hollow sound when tapped. Place on wire racks to cool.
Nothing
says fall more than apples baking, so dessert today is a Swedish apple pie
which I learned years ago from Kasey’s godmother, Carleen. The apples are a blend of our own, wildings from the overgrown fields nearby and store bought. This fast and yummy pie is great warm from
the oven with vanilla ice cream or a dollop of whipped cream.
Swedish
Apple Pie
5-6
medium apples (peeled, cored, and sliced)
1
1/4 cups sugar (divided)
3
teaspoons cinnamon
1/8
teaspoon ground nutmeg
Pinch
of ground clove
3/4
cup butter or margarine
1
cup flour
1
large egg
Preheat
oven to 350 degrees. Fill a 9-inch pie plate with the apples. Mix 1/4 cup
sugar with cinnamon, nutmeg and clove. Sprinkle over apples.
In
a saucepan, melt butter and remove from heat.
Add remaining cup of sugar and the flour to the butter, and beat
together well. Beat the egg until light
yellow and mix in with butter, sugar and flour mixture and pour evenly over
apples in the pie plate.
Bake
45 minutes until golden.
Chicken Pie
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When I was young
and my mother tried hard to instill in me the value of being a good cook, I was
much too busy with the things that usually preoccupy a teenage girl. In fact, when I left home for college, I took
pride in saying I couldn’t even boil water. Life’s realities have a way of catching up,
and over the decades, food and preparing it well to nourish both body and soul
became increasingly important. Here in
the north, where we must plan ahead and guarantee that our meals nourish both
body and soul, cooking is essential to our survival and doing it well is never a
matter of chance.
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