April 16, 2017
Another wonderful Easter in the books, or almost so, as it’s nearly sundown.
We’ve gorged ourselves on a traditional Easter repast of ham, mac and cheese (because I have carb-loading children, and they require mac and cheese), corn casserole, asparagus, green peas, deviled eggs, rolls, lemon icebox pie, and strawberries.
We’ve hunted eggs at church, with the cutest kids on the face of the planet, led, of course, by my very own, because, well, he’s about the cutest kid on the planet, except for my other two grandkids, with whom he’s tied. Sorry. I calls ’em like I sees ’em. YMMV.
I mean, seriously. Are there any cuter kids? I submit there are not.
October 10, 2016
I love it when fall finally starts creeping around. When you break out your fuzzy slippers (those of us permanently afflicted with chilly feet). When the morning nip in the air perks you up when you take the dog outside. When the leaves start to drift downward, when you smell wood smoke, when you want to go spend a day hiking in the woods.
When you want to braise something.
I’m trying to empty my freezer, as my yearly allotment of cow will be arriving later this month. One of the things in it was an eight-pound pork roast I’d picked up when Kroger had a good sale on shoulder roasts a while back. I decided it was time.
March 27, 2016
Some years, the stars align to make a perfectly glorious Easter. This was one such year.
Spectacularly gorgeous weather (windows open, breeze blowing, sun shining). Kids all spic and span, shined up and dressed up for church (even if two of them were in Jackson, Miss., with two-thirds of my grandchildren. Bacon, sausage and pancakes for Easter breakfast at church after the early service, and a marvelous Easter dinner that didn’t leave me exhausted, because I did most everything the night before.
March 14, 2016
Sometimes, you just need to get back to the basics.
As in, a Sunday dinner of roast chicken, baked beans, green peas and corn casserole. Made each of ’em a gazillion times. Always good.
This was one of my organic, farm-raised chickens (with apologies to my friend Don, who worked for the Poultry Federation and assures me factory-farmed chickens are just as healthy and just as good. Don, they may be just as healthy. They ain’t just as good.). The last several such chickens I’ve cooked, I’ve either cut them up or just spatchcocked them so they’d cook quicker.
But I was tired. We’d come in from Nashvegas, it had been a busy weekend, and I’d forgotten until I was about to go to bed that I’d laid a chicken out to thaw with the intention of cutting it up and putting it in a marinade overnight. Not happening at that point. I stuck it in the fridge still in its little freezer packaging.