Category Archives: In the Kitchen

Tomato Basil Soup

04 Friday Dec 2009

Posted by in In the Kitchen, Life at Home, Prayer, Soul Care

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The memories of tasting a new soup can be as wonderful as the soup itself.  And so it is with this particular soup.

I don’t remember the year but I recall it was around Valentines Day when I was first treated to a taste of this simple soup.  My friends Kathy and Litha had conspired to give twelve of their shared girlfriends the best sort of Valentine ever – an invitation to a luncheon, to share and bask in love from their kitchens and in the love of God herself.

These women did all the cooking in advance.  So guests arrived to be welcomed by the hostesses, to tables so prettily set, that we knew ourselves for the special company we were.  We were seated and waited on, one course after another.  The creamy red soup came first, served with dainty cheese wafers, all home-made.  Then the sweet ending was some type of raspberry and chocolate confection that was almost too pretty to eat.  And I don’t recall what came in between, nor do I remember what was said by any one at the table, though I recall that later we circled up in Litha’s living room to share our favorite biblical passage about God’s love.

But I’ll never forget how it felt to have a seat at the table amidst such fine company.  I felt that this is how the world should be…everyday, not just on special occasions. I felt love all around me.  And the love made me feel infinitely precious.

And how rare this feeling is, that I should still be warmed by the memory of that day, seven or eight years later.  That this should be so tells me that we don’t love each other nearly as well as we could, even those in our closest knit circle of friends and family, forgetting for a moment the poor, the hungry, the homeless, the lonely, the grieving that are strangers in our midst that so desperately need a sign of our love and God’s.

Our knowledge of love grows out of a place of belonging, a place where we feel at home, a place where we are loved and accepted no matter what.  And it hits me hard that I could do this more myself.  And should do this more myself.  And though I try to create a place of belonging within that monthly contemplative prayer class I facilitate, I wonder how the experience would differ if I were to  host the group in my home, at least on occasion, instead of meeting at the church.

It’s food for thought.  And in the meantime, I think I’ll carry Kathy’s soup to next Thursday’s pot-luck supper.  Maybe a taste of it will warm their hearts as much as mine… and maybe it will warm your heart too.  From my life to yours.

Tomato Basil Soup

(Original Recipe — 10 cups of Soup) (My adaption of Kathy’s recipe follows)

1 28 oz can and 1 14 oz can crushed tomatoes
4 cups of tomato juice or chicken broth

Simmer together in a large sauce pan over medium heat for 30 minutes.

14 basil leaves

Adding basil, puree in small batches in blender or food process (note:  small batches are important as hot liquid is very explosive when being processed or blended).  Alternatively, use an immersion blender and leave the soup in the sauce pan as I do.

Return to the sauce pan.  Add remaining ingredients; heat through, careful not to boil.

1 cup of heavy cream
1/4 pound butter
salt & pepper to taste.

Alternative Ingredient List – Makes about 7 cups

I reduced the fat content and changed the ingredient list for staples I keep on hand.

Using same recipe process described above…

2 14.5 oz cans of petite diced tomatoes, briefly processed in a blender or food processor
1 8 oz can tomato sauce
1 14 oz can chicken broth
7 – 10 basil leaves
2 Tbsp butter
1/2 cup light cream
1/4 tsp salt
1/4 tsp pepper

Oatmeal Cherry Cookies

27 Friday Nov 2009

Posted by in In the Kitchen, Life at Home

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It’s hard to think about anything heavy to eat after Thanksgiving.

After a big holiday meal like yesterday, I prefer a simple hamburger from one of our nearby burger places.  But I’d be willing to eat other food as well…as long as it’s not turkey and someone else is doing the cooking.

Soon, I’ll head back into my kitchen.  Later this afternoon, perhaps, since these “just right” cookies my friend Ann makes have been on my mind.  Moist and a just little tart with dried cherries, these cookies taste as good as they smell.   Part of their simplicity is that the ingredients are so basic that they are likely stored in your kitchen cupboard.  And as they bake and cool on my kitchen counter, they fill the house with an aroma of simple everyday goodness.

Turkey and cranberries, as good as they are, are foods I enjoy but once a year.  It’s food like hamburgers and oatmeal cookies that remind me that the best of life is not found in holiday feasts or in those special days where we receive some nice certificate to hang on our wall or hide in our safe deposit boxes; yet, isn’t it ironic that we remember the times when certificates change hands —  like  for a marriage or the birth of a child or a college graduation — and forget that the best of real life is found sandwiched in between?

These everyday cookies remind me of all that is good about everyday life.  Bake and serve them for those certificate days of celebration or on one of the many, many days in-between.  From my life to yours.

Oatmeal Cherry Cookies

Makes approximately 5 dozen

1 1/2 cups sifted all-purpose flour
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
1/2 cup firmly packed dark brown sugar
1 cup granulated sugar
1 large egg, well-beaten
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups old-fashioned rolled oats
1 cup dried cherries

Sift together the flour, baking soda and cinnamon. and set aside.  Cream the butter and sugars until fluffy, about 3 minutes.  Mix the beaten egg in thoroughly, then stir in the vanilla.  Add the dry mixture.  Then mix in the oatmeal and then the cherries.  Give it a final mixing.

Refrigerate, covered for 1 hour.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.  Pam a cookie sheet.  Place walnut-size pieces of dough on the prepared sheet, allowing space for cookies to spread.  Bake for 10 minutes, or until set.

Granny’s Cornbread Dressing

24 Tuesday Nov 2009

Posted by in In the Kitchen, Life at Home

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I am drying torn up pieces of bread so that I can later wet it  with home-made chicken and turkey broth.  This seems an odd process when I let my mind rest on it.  But at its most essential, that’s what cornbread dressing is — lots of hot broth and lots and lots of dry bread.  Somehow, within this humble combination a miracle happens, which makes the ordinary anything but.  And this was especially true when Granny took the stuff to task.

I’m not sure, but I have a hunch that Granny used whatever bread she had around:  maybe a few hamburger buns, left-over brown-‘n’-serve rolls from Sunday’s dinner, a few leftover canned biscuits that my Grandfather wanted at every meal, in addition to store-bought loaves of bread.  And of course, Granny would have baked fresh cornbread to dry, probably from a store-bought mix.

Maybe I like to think Granny did this because this is what I do.  I don’t purchase store-bought loaves of bread often, though I did have half a loaf sitting in my freezer that went into my drying pans.  This year’s assortment  also includes freshly baked cornbread from 3 packages of a Shawnee Mills mix, a dozen plus left-over Sure Shot Rolls from Sunday’s dinner and a few baguettes bought from the local French Saigon bakery.

Long after I’d mastered Granny’s egg noodles, I never thought to recreate Granny’s dressing in my own kitchen.  The thought seemed not just intimidating but a sacrilege; to attempt this miracle would be to walk on hallowed ground.  But one  too warm November  day in Texas —  when I was  hungry for a taste of home and probably not in my right mind —  I decided to metaphorically shed my shoes and take a few baby steps.

Like most of Granny’s best dishes, no written recipe exists.  I know this since I inherited Granny’s one and only cookbook; all her prized Thanksgiving jewels are missing; no noodles, no cranberry relish, no cornbread dressing.  So when I called Granny, she had to  come up with a recipe on the spot.  And while I don’t kid myself that my dressing, even with Granny’s recipe, tastes anything like Granny’s, it’s better than any I could make with any other recipe.

Perhaps it’s time to hunt down the missing recipe of Granny’s Thanksgiving trilogy —  surely one of the aunts has Granny’s recipe for cranberry relish.  I know my brother would be mighty grateful for a taste of it.  In the meantime, try Granny’s dressing for a taste of the best in southern comfort food.  From my life to yours.

Cornbread Dressing

8 to 10 Servings

5 cups dried cornbread pieces
5 cups dried yeast bread pieces
5 to 6 cups hot chicken or turkey broth
3 stalks of celery, diced
1 small onion, diced
3 Tbsp butter
2 eggs, slightly beaten
1 tsp poultry seasoning
1 tsp sage
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp pepper

Three days before (see note for quick dry method)

Tear up bread into a large cake pan or roaster; spread thin enough that bread is able to easily dry.  Stir daily until dried.  Leave on counter, covered at night.

One day before:

Bring broth to a boil.

Saute vegetables in butter until softened, over medium low heat.

In a large bowl, add dried bread crumbs and mix in spices.  Add all other ingredients (except for eggs.)  Taste to adjust seasonings.  I often double the sage and poultry seasoning; and depending on the amount of salt in the broth, I may add more salt as well.   The consistency of your dressing mix should be more than just moist, rather like cooked oatmeal.  Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and place in refrigerator overnight.

Serving Day:

Spray a 9 x 13 pan liberally with Pam.  Do one final taste test to adjust seasonings before adding eggs.  Add more broth if dressing  has lost its oatmeal-like consistency.  Then add eggs  to the dressing and mix well.  Pour dressing into pan and bake in a 400 oven for 20-30 minutes.

Note for quicker dry: Preheat oven to 250 degrees and turn it off.  Place bread pieces in oven proof pan, to dry.  Every couple of hours stir bread pieces and reheat then turn off the oven.  In the evening, the bread should be removed from the oven, and once cooled it can be covered.  The process can begin again the next day until bread is dried.  This was my Mother’s solution, when she  would inevitably remember on Tuesday that she’d forgotten to begin drying on Sunday.  Once dried, leave on top of the counter, still exposed to air, until time to mix.