Almonds for Breakfast

Sitting here, late on Saturday morning, regretting the peanut butter graham crackers I ate at 2am when I couldn't sleep but really needing a little something to accompany the acidic, delicious coffee I am drinking.

It has been a funk inducing week. Family stuff – everyone okay, but still worrisome. Work stuff – superbly annoying to the point of resume searching.

But, the weekend is beginning and I will not let the week win.

Nectarine, Parmesan, Marcona Almonds. Would never have eaten this for breakfast 40 years ago.
But reading Provence 1970, and remembering our trip to Switzerland...

My go to weapon against this funk...

Food.

Now settle down. I know 'eating your emotions' is not healthy.

But, eating good food is a totally different treatment.

And good food doesn't mean fancy. Or expensive.

'Good food' triggers a sense of well being – safety and love from tomato soup and grilled cheese as a kid watching Saturday morning cartoons; excitement and laughter shared over a ridiculously large bag of whip cream served with key lime pie, closeness only good friends have shared over a glass of wine....

The second question to the family, after 'are you feeling okay' has been, what can I bring for lunch, dinner, snacks....

The powers that be at Work have fed us daily with lunches, snacks, even candy in areas where we aren't suppose to have candy...

There is nothing I love more than to cook a wonderful dinner for family and friends. Yes, it's a lot of work. But it's also therapy, creativity and ultimately an opportunity to create a shared experience.

And it's those memories of shared experience, triggered years later by that spicy salsa or that gooey breakfast biscuit which remind us of good times and provide hope for the future.

Food can't solve everything. But, sharing food, even the most modest meal, can sometimes be the most powerful medicine.

~Context and memory play powerful roles in all the truly great meals in one's life.~

Anthony Bourdain

1956-2018

(I don't like 'jumping on a bandwagon' but I also feel an obligation to use this medium for good. Suicide is a devastating act. It's effects reach much farther than just the victim. If you feel alone and need help, don't be ashamed. If you have a friend or family member you are worried about, don't hesitate. Call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline – 1-800-273-TALK (8255). We all need a little help every once in a while.)

Farmer Gene

I grew up on a farm.

Surrounded by farmers.

Autumn was a time of much activity. Corn and beans were picked, with combines and grain trucks running late into the evening. The slightly musty smell of dusty cornstalks and freshly tilled earth filled the air and settled on all the furniture. The grain bin fan was my lullaby.

Consequently, even though my 'farm' consists of four raised beds no larger than 6x8 each, when November rolls around, I have the uncontrollable urge to put up 'crops' and put the farm to bed.

I manage to refrain from the desire to run out and buy a pair of overalls...

Our garden was pretty sad this year. I got a passable crop of lettuce and radishes. I think we managed to find about 8 grape tomatoes. But where Miracle Grow dirt failed at zucchini and peppers, it excelled at carrots.

Weird, toe-shaped carrots.

But no matter their anatomical shape, they remain sweet and crisp.

Which is why I am roasting them for dinner.

I am just not sure how much longer I can open the crisper drawer and see that zipper bag full of orange tarsals.

 Roasted Carrots

as many carrots as will fit on a baking sheet

toss with enough olive oil to coat

sprinkle with salt, pepper and around 1-2 Tbs of fresh, crushed thyme and rosemary

roast at 400 for 20 minutes or until of desired doneness.

Drizzle with balsamic vinegar reduction

I had better luck with my herbs.

If you have never gardened and have the tiniest desire to give it a try, I highly recommend herbs. They are forgiving of most transgressions – failure to water, feed, weed, water... And there is nothing better than adding a fresh picked handful of basil to spaghetti sauce or lording it over a co-worker that you have fresh tarragon on the sauteed mushroom...

I mean adding some freshly picked rosemary to homemade bread.

As it was, I nearly missed getting the last of my basil picked.

Thank you 39 degree day last week.

But the basil stood strong with only a few brown leaves. And once it was picked and cleaned there was just enough for one last batch of pesto. 

 Pesto

1- 2 cups fresh basil

1-3 cloves of garlic

1/4 or so cups of pine nuts

drizzles of olive oil

blend to a paste

Add to pasta sauce, salad dressing, or use as a topping on toast when the hipsters have nabbed all the avocados.

(As you can tell, pesto is not an exact science. But, it tastes wonderful and smells even better. You can keep it in the fridge for around a week or bag it in small zip lock baggies and freeze for later use. Preferable in the dead of winter when the scent of fresh basil makes you forget the fact that you haven't seen the yard flamingo in 3 weeks as its buried under twelve feet of snow.)

Rosemary also outperformed this year. 

Sadly, rosemary does not over-winter on this Coast. I have tried repotting and bringing it inside but I just can't bear to watch as those beautiful fragrant leaves pine for the great wide open and slowly shrivel and die.

This year I cut the plant back to about 6 inches in height, mulched it with half a ton of leaves (leaving only 17.5 tons on the grass to be mulched) and brought the remaining stalks in to dry. Where I can watch it shrivel and turn brown but without the guilt of seeing the entire plant fade to a pitiful twig.

I have only recently arrived at a love of rosemary. But I am making up for lost time. I love adding it to roasted veggies (see carrots above) and homemade breads.

Or if you are short on the homemade bread department, you can add it to softened butter and spread it on whatever bread type product you have.

Plus it just looks so homey hanging in the window. 

I managed to finish up my tiny harvest just in time to watch as the storms began to blow in.

See all those leaves on those trees?

Tomorrow morning they will all be in our back yard.

Even though they are on the neighbor's trees.

Across the street.

And I will enjoy watching Rob push the mulching mower over them as I eat pesto toast for breakfast and prepare to clean all the furniture which is coated with leaf dust.

Its not grain bins and combines, but it will do.

Not My Uncle's Lake of the Ozarks

It seems that as soon as I find a place I dearly love, the Universe has a way of either shutting it down or making it so darn popular that it loses it's oddball appeal.

~Rossino's (basement Italian where the waiters and tall guests dodged pipes)– closed

~Saleem's (where garlic is king) - closed

~Blueberry Hill and the Delmar Loop-too touristy; less Rocky Horror-y

~Broadway Oyster Bar – too packed and busy; less uni-sex bathroom whose door barely shuts

Although I suppose it is great for those last two businesses that their appeal has transcended the rather specific, cash only, beer in bottles crowd which frequented them when I first discovered them. And those two places that closed? Well, they had been in business for decades. I am sure the owners needed a vacation.

Consequently, I am taking a huge chance by writing this.

We had the pleasure of spending the weekend at Lake of the Ozarks with two of our three dinner club couples. The plan was for shopping one day, sailing the next and  in between a whole lot of delicious food and wine.

For those not familiar with Lake of the Ozarks – it is a gigantic man-made lake in the center of Missouri. Easily accessible from nearly every state boarding. It is a mere three hour drive from the Coast of Illinois. Both my husband and I grew up vacationing here – spending time on power boats with skis strapped to our feet then eating at motor-boat fish joints along the lake. In the evening we were entertained by Baldknobbers and folks hawking Indian Moccasins and salt-water taffy.

(Yes, I know 'Indian' is not the political correct term, but back in the 70's that is what we went with. And if you haven't heard or seen a Baldknobber, well, I am sorry. Click here:baldknobbers.com  Although I am sad? to say, the show has moved to Branson, Mo)

Anyway. There is a certain expectation when one vacations at Lake of the Ozarks. And trust me, it is not a high one. (Think tin-shower rustic and deep fried fish.)

So, I can tell you first hand what a treat it was to stay at Shawnee Bluff Winery.

(as per usual, this is NOT a paid post)

The location is near the main drag, just a mile or so from the Ozark Yacht Club and the Bagnell Dam strip and perched on a bluff overlooking the lake. Shawnee Bluff may have the absolute best view of Lake Ozark that I have ever seen.

morning view looking up lake

evening view looking down lake

The Winery has eight units, each with a slight variation of this amazing view. 

Granite stone cottages, always adorable.

Red doors. What's more inviting?

Our rooms, recently renovated, were a nice mixture of modern and rustic. And clean. Very, very clean. 

tiny but unbelievably clean bathroom

AND a choice of in room wines...

The patio furniture supplied to each unit was old, but functional, and exactly what is expected when you vacation in the Ozarks. 

Rob feeding the local animals....

Thanks to widely varying plans, our group met up around 5pm. Just in time to catch the evening music guest. (Shawnee Bluff has live music Friday 5-8, Sat and Sun 1-4 and Saturday evening 5-8.)

pool/patio with bar. yes, that is an enormous wine bottle spritzing into the pool.

We opted to sit on the Winery patio and grab dinner. The menu is small offering several appetizer choices, wood-fire pizzas with a variety of toppings in both traditional and flatbread styles. Burger options and several main course selections round out the menu.

I chose salmon served with rice and broccoli – quite delicious. The wood-fire pizzas are amazing and the burgers looked to be a great choice.

Of course, this is also a winery.

And I must, in the interest of full disclosure mention, that I am not – overall- a fan of local wines. We have found a few Chardonnays made in Missouri and Illinois which are 'okay'. Rob really enjoyed the Flappers and Philosophers Chardonnay made by Shawnee Bluff. It was light and crisp and quite nice with the salmon or to just sip while enjoying the view.

White Wine List here: http://shawneebluffwinery.com/white-wine-list/

Local red wines, in my opinion – which is not educated or scientific in any manner – tend to taste a little like the soybean fertilizer used in the region. However – Shawnee Bluff's Que Syrah Syrah was fantastic – to the tune of two bottles over two days. It was slightly peppery and had just the right amount of body to enjoy on a brisk spring afternoon. 

And Red Wine List here: http://shawneebluffwinery.com/red-wine-list/

The winery offers a nice variety of their house wines and a small but nicely curated menu of nationally produced varieties. They also have good options for beer, if you are so inclined. 

Our second day's activities, which I will go into in a later post, were cut short due to excessive wind and a lack of a sit-down eatery at the Osage Beach Outlet Mall. So we returned to Shawnee Bluff for an afternoon snack. Once again, we were treated to music and some surprising appetizers.

Rob and I ordered the Charcuterie Platter- a nice array of cheeses, salami, crackers and toasted pita with the most amazing little goat-cheese stuffed roasted peppers.

Those peppers, next to the grapes. OMG!

The real star of the afternoon food-fest were the Sweet Potato Fries. 

They took a little longer than anticipated to arrive at our table but they were absolutely worth the wait. The 'fries' were more like huge wedges of fresh sweet potato which had been roasted, my guess is in the wood-fire oven, to a nice brown on the edges and melt in your mouth softness throughout. They were served with a BBQ sauce to dip in.

They did not last long. 

 

So tasty I almost didn't get a photo!

Rooms at the winery go for around $120 a night and guests receive 10% off their food, wine and gift shop purchases. I should mention that the music is easily heard from the rental unit patios. However, as the music and the winery itself pretty much shuts down by 9pm this never caused an issue with sleep. The Vineyard, which is about 15 minutes away, also hosts concerts from time to time and winery guests can take advantage of a shuttle to and from.

If you ever find yourself in need of an Ozark vacation, I would highly recommend Shawnee Bluff Winery.

Just please don't book ALL the rooms when I decide to go there. 

Links to click on!

http://shawneebluffwinery.com/

http://www.premiumoutlets.com/outlet/osage-beach
http://www.ozarkyachtclub.com/
www.funlake.com

And as mentioned previously, this is not a paid post. However, I am willing to negotiate for the second weekend in September...

Namaste, Salmon. Namaste.

A little while back, we had dinner at one of our favorite cafes. They serve an Americana style menu with a little French flair. The atmosphere is one of a French bistro – warm wood interior with tall tables and hidden booths. The patio is cobblestone with two and four tops at the intersection of a charming corner of the city.

The food has always been first rate. 

I am a little concerned over the health of the ranchers, what with their lack of antibiotics. Although I applaud their refusal to use hormones; unless they are menopausal. At that point, anything goes.

It does feel a little neglectful to let those poor cows wander aimlessly throughout the Midwest. There are a lot of grasses available but from the smell of my last train ride, not all of those grasses are legal.

All we need round these parts are a bunch of sky-high bovines with the munchies running rampant through St. Louis.

Now don't get me wrong.

I enjoy a nice cut of beef. And I have discovered that there is actually a difference between grass-fed and grain-fed steak.

Usually it's about three dollars more a pound.

And then there was the Salmon Feature...

Once we ascertained that this was, in fact, a menu item and NOT a growth on one of the waiters...

This raises so many more questions than it answers.

What sort of foods 'meant for human consumption' are we talking about here?

Where do these foods come from?

Are there tiny Irish fishes stealing food from fishermen kitchens?

Does that mean that Irish fishermen are starving in order to provide me with salmon?

Sour Patch Kids are meant for human consumption. I think it might violate several animal rights treaties, feeding these to any fish, let alone salmon.

And who does the hand feeding? That sounds super tedious.

Unless they have giant food dispensers dispensing fruits and vegetables and bits of meat into the hands of tiny Irish school children on field trips. Because then it would be awesome.

And if that ocean pen is 99.5% water...what is the other .5%?

Given as it's Ireland I am assuming it is beer. Which might actually be pretty tasty.

I don't even want to think about the net cleaning process. Except to say I hope they use fluoride netpaste. It would be cruel to have a bunch of school children trying to hand feed salmon snack cakes only to find the fishes teeth have fallen out due to lack of fluoride.

In the end, I was not sure if I should order the Salmon or adopt it.

I eventually ordered the quiche.

Dinner, Deck, Disclosure...

Well, today's post was suppose to be about the first Deck Dinner of Spring.

And while I was actually home in time to fix a quick dinner and it was still light enough to enjoy the outside, it was so windy that you would have thought I was in the ocean on a boat trying to learn a new skill, but really only succeeding in throwing up over the side.*

(Rob has informed me that, should I manage to vomit on this years vacation I will have, in fact, created the Regurgitation equivalent of the Bermuda Triangle. He is thoughtful that way. I do not think the map with push pins and yarn boundaries is necessary.)

But back to the letter D.

Work night dinners are pretty hit or miss around here, as I am sure they are in most working households. Still, when I do fix my dinner I like it to be warm, tasty and look nice.

I have taken a lot of grief over the years from certain family members for having the ability to make even a grilled cheese sandwich look appealing.

Presentation, People.

For my preempted dinner I fixed my new favorite fancy food – Louisa's Ravioli.**

Boiled, mushroom and cheese tossed in a butter and garlic sauce – 10 minutes.

And

Toasted, meat stuffed with a red sauce to dip – 15 minutes.

That's right. Toasted. The East Coast may have lobster rolls and the West Coast may have...California Rolls. Chicago has steaks. New Orleans has gumbo. But here in the Midwest we have deep fryers.

We tossed some leftover roasted veggies and olives on the side.

And ate in the kitchen, looking out over the deck.

Speaking of Deck...

(That alphabet challenge, which I am feeling pretty psyched about at present, Day two and all)

I, and by 'I' I mean Rob, drug my palm trees out onto the deck over the weekend, mostly because the weatherman promised mild temps but also because Robert Palm tree and Alicia Trees were both looking faint. They manage pretty good through the winter but beginning to droop when April hits, desiring nothing more than a peaceful sunny afternoon on the deck with a magazine and a boat drink.

          (Robert Palm Tree)

Of course, the weatherman reneged and last nights temps got dangerously into the artic circle so both trees got the beach towels around the base treatment. I am pretty sure I heard Robert Palm Tree scratching at our bedroom window, begging to be let back in.

             (Alicia Trees)

Stick around until 'P' and we will all see how this palm tree saga shakes out.

*Click here: http://www.coastofillinois.com/2015/02/the-first-rule-of-sailing-school.html

or here: http://www.coastofillinois.com/2016/01/well-played-neptunewell-played.html

**We are very lucky, here on the Coast of Illinois, to have a strong Italian background with the delicious restaurants and foods to support that claim. Louisa's is a local company and her ravioli is the best, in my opinion. As always, NOT a paid opinion.

Yum!

This Blogpost Will Be Complete...

I love flan.

Problem is, no one else in this house likes flan. And while I say I could eat an entire flan...

I can't.

However, if you take tiny ramekins and fill them with a custard like substance, let it set and add sugar

what's not to love? cream, sugar, cream?

and a BLOWTORCH

The people most concerned with me using this were the ones who gave it to me. What were you thinking?

SOME people, felt I wasn't doing this right.

You wind up with French Flan*, or Creme Bruleé. 

a little spotty but no less delicious.

It took us a while to remember how to actually use the tiny blowtorch, causing me to state, 'dessert will be ready as soon as I figure out how to work this blowtorch'.

Around this house, nothing says 'Honey, thanks for all you do' like a dessert which requires a blowtorch.

It also spawns a whole new perspective on life.

I'm going to do the dishes, ONCE I FIGURE OUT HOW TO WORK THIS BLOWTORCH.

I'm running to the grocery store, ONCE I FIGURE OUT HOW TO WORK THIS BLOWTORCH.

I am going to take care of the cat box, ONCE I FIGURE OUT HOW TO WORK THIS BLOWTORCH.

Just don't let the cat near the blowtorch.

I'll never have to ask them for food again, ONCE I FIGURE OUT HOW TO WORK THIS BLOWTORCH.

*I am aware that flan is more of an egg based custard while creme bruleé is more of a cream based custard. But seriously, they are not so different as to warrant the complete refusal to eat one and not the other, people.

I will make more flan, creme bruleé, once I figure out how to work this blowtorch. Again.

No animals or humans were injured in the writing of this blog, or eating of this dessert. There was one minor incident involving the blowtorch and its can of propane refill which thankfully was made to code. I am a little concerned that we may have planted a seed with the cat.

Hello? Most Ridiculous Complaint Department?

I am a TurkeyDay Prepper. For the past eight hours I have been systematically chopping, baking, sauteing, pre-blending, displacement measuring and brining. All in preparation for a day of thanks. As I was stuffing the last plastic container of turkey broth gravy base into the fridge I uttered the Most Ridiculous Complaint ever uttered.

"There is too much food in this refrigerator."

As the twelve pounds of cranberry sauce slid to the left, providing a domino effect of open space between the brussel sprouts with bacon and the three gallons of whipping cream, it occurred to me that having 'too much food' was possibly the Most Ridiculous thing to complain about. Ever.

It ranks right up there with "there are too many people coming for dinner" and "this stupid huge house is a pain to clean".

Perhaps if we looked at these Most Ridiculous Complaints in a mirror we might spend more than one day a year purposely giving thanks. 

Wait! I think there's a spot between the water pitcher and the OJ

Happy Thanksgiving from the Coast of Illinois! May you have a year full of Most Ridiculous Complaints and not a single serious or sad one.

Suck It Dr, Atkins

So, not only am I devoted to getting people to see the weird and interesting in their everyday life. I am also dedicated to getting people to eat the weird and interesting as well. Food, that is, not people. Calm down, that's not what I meant either, this is not THAT sort of site...

Anyway... I have always been an adventurous eater and have happily raised a family of the same. We were enjoying hummus WAY before it was hip. Which leads me to the introduction of one of our favorite snacks: Scroodles.

These are boiled then fried corkscrew macaroni. That's right. Boiled. Then fried. And then liberally doused with garlic salt. The trifecta of dietary no-no's. Totally white flour CARBS – fried in CRISCO – the covered with SALT.

Yum. 

its like my arteries on a really hot day...

Oh, and Sorry about the Suck It, Dr. Atkins. That was really just an attention getting ploy. I am sure Dr. Atkins was a wonderfully delightful person, who before he became all Anti-Carb would have enjoyed Scroodles. God Rest His Soul.

 

 

Scroodles. Or, the crap they pull of out or your arteries.

PS - didn't Dr. Atkins actually die of a heart attack? Perhaps if he had re-examined the joy of deep fat fried noodles...