A Sunday Drive, A Sunday Dinner, and Bourbon Glazed Carrots

Sunday dinners at my house are not what you might expect to see in a Norman Rockwell painting. Since my daughter's house is not yet done and she has no kitchen, her new Sunday tradition has begun while they're staying with me, with an open invitation to all who might like to join. While ours is not a Rockwellian family composition, it is a happy group and our current round-up includes Katie, Bill and Henry with any and all grandparents (me, Bill's father Richard and his significant other Sydney, and Bill's mother Penelope). Also invited are Henry's aunts and uncles, though my sons Joe and Jeffrey are the only ones to make it so far. Meghan and Tricia typically work on Sundays and haven't yet joined us at my new table, though they are palpably missed and I am looking forward to the time when they will be able to make it.

Hayden the Bloodhound and Oden the Black Lab would be eager dinner participants, but I insist that they go outside when dinner is served, lest we all deal with the pathetic eyes and jowl-ful drooling that inevitably accompany their presence. They are fed well ahead of the rest of us, and just as dinner is about to be served, I lure them outside with two dog biscuits with an invitation to play in the yard. They are welcomed back in as soon as the table is cleared. I don't know about you, but for me it's pretty difficult to enjoy dinner when there's a whining dog waiting anxiously by your side. Perhaps a session with the Dog Whisperer is in order.

Last night Katie made individual meat loaves (I have a special pan), mashed potatoes, and bourbon-glazed carrots. I exchanged kitchen duties for Henry supervision, happily. Katie, Penny, and Sydney peeled carrots, apples, and potatoes. I read to Henry. I did set the table and took care of the dishes, so I don't feel too guilty about it! Sydney put together another one of her lovely apple pies, and with it we served Mann's scrumptious pumpkin ice cream, hand-packed at the "Ice Cream Mann" shop in Greenwich, New York. We'd traveled through Greenwich earlier in the day on our way to see a lovely house for sale, just for fun. My sister Anne is a local realtor and she was hosting this open house for the owners who are being transferred. It was a beautiful, light-filled farm house in Salem, New York (a very New England-y town, just a few miles from the Vermont border, and about 45 minutes from Saratoga) with nine acres of rolling hills, two barns, fancy chickens, friendly goats, and a sun-drenched front porch! The huge country kitchen is perfect for preparing big, celebratory dinners. It will make a lovely home for one fortunate family.


Katie's Bourbon Carrots

5 lbs. carrots, peeled and cut in to 1/4 inch slices
3 tbs. butter
3 tbs. dark brown sugar
1 shot bourbon (1 oz.)

In large skillet, melt butter and add brown sugar. Add carrots and simmer till soft. Add bourbon and cook a few minutes more.

Norman Rocwell's Freedom From Want: http://farmchronicles.files.wordpress.com/2006/10/1943-03-06-saturday-evening-post-norman-rockwell-article-freedom-from-want-430-digimarc.jpg

Dinner in the Country

Traveling east of Saratoga Springs last Thursday evening, my friend Claire (of Bitchin’ Bette’s fame) and I drove to have dinner with her sister Kathleen and her husband Ed. Recent transplants from Westchester, PA, Kathleen's and Ed’s new home sits on six acres on a quiet country road somewhere between Greenwich and the Vermont border! There’s a garden started, and six new chickens have begun laying eggs. Before we arrived, Claire and I stopped at the Hand Melon Farm and picked up Georgia peaches and nectarines.

Upon our arrival, Kathleen greeted us with South Hamptons, a refreshing non-alcoholic drink of tonic water, lime juice, bitters, and a slice of lime. Just a splash of bitters gives the drink a pretty pink color. Perfect for a summer night. Ed makes a wicked Manhattan, but I wanted to be able to function. Claire and I always talk about how much we love Ed’s “Mahhnhaaatans.” That’s what that drink does to me!

We sat chatting in the kitchen while Kathleen effortlessly (it seemed) prepared chicken a la king. She’d picked up fresh asparagus and a chicken at a local farmers market. I remember this dish from my childhood, though ours was prepared by S.S. Pierce (an especially good specialty food company) and my parents had to open many small cans to feed a family of nine! Kathleen’s version stirred up happy memories of my family enjoying that meal together. I watched as Kathleen thickened chicken stock with flour, added mushrooms, pimento and shredded chicken, and I’m sure other ingredients, but I wasn’t paying complete attention since I talk a lot! We ate dinner outside on their screened-in porch. The chicken a la king was served with brown rice, perfectly steamed asparagus, and a simple salad of baby greens with Kathleen’s own vinaigrette. It was perfect.

For dessert, Kathleen served sliced organic strawberries topped with a little bit of vanilla ice cream. As we enjoyed our meal, we were entertained by a mother bird feeding her young in a nest perched just outside the porch. There were all kinds of little country animals and birds on display. Bunnies, hummingbirds, squirrels – as if Walt Disney himself had set the stage for our beautiful evening.

Here is Kathleen's recipe:

CHICKEN A LA KING

2 TBS butter or substitute
3 TBS flour
¾ tsp salt
1/8 tsp pepper
¾ cup half and half or canned skim milk
½ cup hot water
1 tsp instant chicken bouillon
2 cups cut up chicken or turkey (cooked)
1 can mushroom stems and pieces (small can)
2 TBS chopped pimiento (or cut up roasted red peppers from jar)


Melt butter, add flour, salt pepper and gradually add milk, stirring constantly. Add hot water and bouillon. Stir until thickened. Add remaining ingredients and cook until heated through. Serve on toast points, over rice, or puff pastry. Serves 4


Photo by Jeannie Eddy

Next blog: dogs

Bitchin' Bette's Blueberry Pie

Sometimes bad situations have happy repercussions. Such is the case for my friend Claire who, when visiting her last living cousin Bette in Maine, enjoyed an incredible blueberry pie.

Even though they’d been invited, Bette didn’t seem all that happy to see Claire, yet was very pleasant to Claire’s sister Kathleen. Claire could do no right in Bette’s eyes, and was criticized for the most minor infractions. The visit became so unpleasant that Claire and Kathleen packed their bags in the middle of the night and escaped before dawn, but not before she secured Bette’s recipe for an amazing blueberry pie, now renamed in honor of that challenging weekend!

Personally, I can claim happier memories of blueberry pie. For a number of Augusts in the 1980s we used to take our kids to a relative’s farm in East Corinth, Vermont. Betsy’s (not to be confused with Bette of Claire’s recipe story) family owned hundreds of acres with a huge yellow farm house, a big red barn, and a couple of ponds, all carved out of a pine forest at the top of a mountain. On this farm there were cows and chickens galore. The rule was that while we were there (three moms and twelve kids, from infants to early teens!) there was no TV. It was before cell phones and texting so no TV meant the kids had to find other ways to entertain themselves. Books were read. Cows were mooed at. Chickens were fed. Picnics were shared. Tennis was played. Hikes were taken. Art was created. Boats were rowed. Charades were performed. S’mores were eaten, wild blueberries were picked, and pies were baked. It was magical and those times created some of the happiest memories of all our children’s lives. I fondly remember, too, that when the kids went to bed in what was referred to as “the barracks” Betsy, Carolyn, and I broke out the wine coolers and red licorice! We indulged in a color-coordinated social hour! Actually, most nights we were so tired that we spent a few minutes together folding clothes, laughing about the day’s activity and then crawled into our respective beds.

While wild blueberry season is months away, I’m posting this now. Buy some blueberries in the produce section or save this recipe for the waning days of summer, and create happy memories of your own.

Bitchin’ Bette’s Blueberry Pie
by Claire

1 pie shell, precooked
4 cups blueberries (fresh)
¼ cup water
2/3 cup granulated sugar
3 tbsp. corn starch
1 tsp. cinnamon
1 tsp. lemon juice
1 tbsp. butter
Pinch salt

Put 2 cups of the raw berries in the cooked pie shell. In a saucepan on medium heat, combine the remaining two cups of blueberries with the remaining ingredients; cook until thick. Cool a little. Pour over raw berries in the pie shell. Refrigerate.

Top with whipped cream or ice cream before serving.

Illustration credit: http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://comps.fotosearch.com/comp/ILW/ILW004/small-bunch-blueberries_~ungerj0055s.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.fotosearch.com/ILW004/ungerj0055s/&usg=__KK42kbRfRPJcxntpdxyQEOoujsc=&h=283&w=300&sz=20&hl=en&start=21&tbnid=v5AroxrcRLfLWM:&tbnh=109&tbnw=116&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dphotosearch%2Bblueberries%26gbv%3D2%26ndsp%3D20%26hl%3Den%26sa%3DN%26start%3D20

If you have a recipe story you'd like to share, and a photo if you're so inclined, please email it to me at jeddy001@hotmail.com. I'd love to feature your recipe in my blog.

Tomorrow's blog ~ shower cakes!