Tag: Food

Blog

Coffee for a Large Group

ellenparkerwrites

Are you hosting Thanksgiving? Lots of coffee drinkers in your family?
Allow me to introduce you to Boiled Coffee a.k.a. Crew or Church Coffee.
You’ll need a large pot. The ones I remember were enamelware – the gray speckled or white – with the slightly tapered body and a spout near the top. The volumes referenced here are from a 1961 edition of Betty Crocker’s Cook Book. Method is combination of memory and print.
Place 7 quarts of water in pot. Heat just to a boil.
Place 1 pound coffee and 1 egg (including shell) into a mixing bowl with one cup cold water. Mix.
Pour grounds into heated water, mix, and bring to a full boil. It will foam, be prepared to stir.
Boil one or two minutes.
Remove from heat.
Allow time for grounds to settle. The egg will collect little bits of debris and make for a clearer coffee.
Pour into serving pot for ease of handling and serve.
This should satisfy a dozen men that drink coffee with their meal with plenty of refills.

Perfect for Boiled Coffee
Perfect for Boiled Coffee
Blog

Eggs, eggs, and more eggs

ellenparkerwrites

Chicks. Pullets. Laying hens. Roosters.

The chickens arrived at our farm as “day old chicks” in the spring. It’s still chilly in Wisconsin then and head lamps suspended in the brooder shed (small tight building, ours was movable via skids).
They ate, drank, and grew. Yellow down was replaced with white feathers. They got over their panic and didn’t go fleeing into a corner (sometimes smothering their companions) each time the door was opened or a car drove past.
Soon we could tell the roosters from the hens by the size and shape of their coombs. We ordered all hens, but determining the sex of a chick a few days before hatching is not a perfect science (and we owned a frying pan).
By autumn the hen became pullets and began to lay eggs. This was the product our family was interested in. We gathered eggs several times a day. Most were in the nests we provided, but a few were in other favorite places in the chicken coop.
Every day or two we washed and packed them. Of course, the more hens we had that year meant more eggs to gather, wash, pack, and store for the Saturday morning trip to the buyer. We had a lot of hens. The most was the year we had 600. We were thankful for our egg washer that year. It was a counter top machine that we hooked up to the water supply – utility room sink. A long brush rotated on the top. A rubber coated auger moved the eggs along on the bottom.
My brother and I often worked the job together. Putting eggs into the washer. Then removing the clean eggs and packing them into the cases.
A case held 30 dozen. A corrugated cardboard divider separated the two “stacks” of lighter cardboard flats and uprights. Six by six in a layer. Then a new flat and upright to pack the next.
Thirty dozen equals three hundred and sixty eggs. Most weeks we transported five cases to the buyer, sometimes six. One thousand eight hundred eggs — touched by human hands to gather, place in washer, remove from washer and place in case.

We needed the protein in the cracked, checked, and rejects to maintain our strength!!!

Looking for a sweet romantic suspense in a rural to small town setting? Check out Starr Tree Farm.
Available at: http://www.amazon.com/Starr-Tree-Farm-Crimson-Romance-ebook/dp/B00DV0XJB8/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1384540893&sr=8-1&keywords=starr+tree+farm
OR: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/starr-tree-farm-ellen-parker/1116059079?ean=9781440571596

Blog

Dog Cake

ellenparkerwrites

Our family always had a dog – for short times more than one – when we lived on the farm. I doubt if my parents ever bought a bag of dog food at the store in their lives. They just didn’t do it.

Now don’t get me wrong. We didn’t feed the dogs at the table. They ate scraps and leftovers out of their own dish after the people ate. And outside -or barn – dogs got food in a dish in addition to a portion of milk twice a day. (Cats were all barn cats. They got a pan of very fresh, warm milk morning and evening. They hunted additional protein. Think rodent control.)

The first few years we lived on the farm we owned a German Shepard. (At the insistence of mother.) He was a house dog and took his duty of protecting my mother from strangers serious. He also was a large dog with an appetite to match.

Mother’s solution to feeding him became Dog Cake. We didn’t measure a lot with this recipe and things varied. But here are the basics.
Chicken mash — 1 quart
White flour –
Sugar
Baking powder
Bacon drippings
Eggs — the ones that could not be sold due to cracks, etc.
Milk or water
Pour into greased 9×13 pan and bake.

I’m sure I tried a few crumbs on occasion. I don’t remember the taste as either good or bad. Certainly nothing in here that would hurt me. And it was not near as dry as the Milkbone biscuit I ate on a dare years later.

Dog Cake Connoisseur
Dog Cake Connoisseur
Blog

End of Season

ellenparkerwrites

We’ve all learned the seasons early in our formal education: spring, summer, fall, and winter.

And along the way we’ve picked up the start and finish of others, the ones you won’t find on most calendars. Fishing season, deer season, planting season, jump rope and marbles season as well as baseball and football for an incomplete list.

Today we highlight patio season. Especially, patio dining. It runs parallel to baseball season in St. Louis, yet it has a certain independence. The exact start date is not determined by a conference of sports exectutives in a hotel room months in advance. No, it’s decided by individual managers with an eye to the local weather and perhaps a determining factor of obtaining an extra server or two.

Size varies from two or three tiny tables on the sidwalk to larger areas with boundaries defined by short fences. Many will allow well behaved dogs on an outing with their owners. Some of the sports bars feature one or two screens to watch the game.

Sunset comes early now that we’ve set the clocks back to “standard” time. The number of patrons requesting outdoor seating dwindles to zero. (Unless a very hearty soul with a Saint Bernard in tow walks up.) The umbrellas remain folded. Soon the tables and chairs will be put into storage. We’ll be back. When fresh flowers poke up in the planters and light jackets become warm in the lunchtime sunshine.

See you in the Spring!
See you in the Spring!
Blog

October Color

ellenparkerwrites

Colors of the harvest. The mature greens. Bright yellows. Deep reds.

Don’t forget orange!

You see them first at the supermarkets these days. Unless you planted a vine or two in your garden. (I hope it’s larger than mine. One vine of this would run over my entire plot.)

This native North American provides color and nutrition to the diet. Plus the entertainment and artistic expression for All Hallows Eve. (Pardon me — Halloween.)

I like mine as pie. I especially enjoy the story of some of the early colonists efforts. Take one pumpkin, cut it to make a deep dish out of the bottom. Remove seeds and pulp. Sprinkle with sweet – honey? maple syrup? expensive imported sugar? — bake. Ala! Pumpkin pie served in the shell. No crust mess. No pie plate.

Actually — I follow a recipe from my mother. She used a pie plate. And a single pastry crust. And she added eggs, sugar, and spices to pre-cooked pumpkin. (Usually from a can.) Mmmm.

PIE!!!
PIE!!!

Starr Tree Farm, a fictional Wisconsin farm, raises five acres of pumpkins as well as Christmas Trees. Read more on the Starr Tree Farm page. Order electronic book from Amazon or Barnes & Noble.

S

Blog

Harvest Tradition

ellenparkerwrites

Autumn is a busy time on a farm. The small dairy farm where I grew up was no exception.

The beginning of the school year (last week of August, usually) did not change the rhythm of work, but it did influence the ratio of youth and adult labor for some tasks.

The garden produced a final push of items to be dug, picked, and then stored in cool, dry places or processed in quart jars. Fields of corn were drying, the kernels drawing moisture from stalk and leaves before hardening inside the husk.

On a pleasant day during this time, my parents would discuss, plan, and take us on a trip to the orchard. In our region this meant apples. Exactly which orchard depended on which variety of apples each offered. Distance from home was also a consideration, but dad was willing to drive more than a few miles.

We didn’t “pick your own” although some of the locations may have offered the options. I remember walking into the storage shed with baskets and baskets of red and green apples lining the aisles. Their sweet and tart aromas filled the senses and begged for a sample of each.

Wealthy. McIntosh. Jonathan. Red Delicious. Northwest Greening.

Do they keep well? Do they make good pie? Are they an eating apple?

Mother asked the questions if the varieties were new to her. Selections were made. One bushel of those. Another bushel of that one. Just a peck if we were uncertain. And a gallon of cider if it was available.

Fond memories. A good family outing with delicious results sprinkled through the months in cobblers, applesauce, and pie.   Mmmmmmmm.

Fresh and Tasty
Fresh and Tasty
Blog

Just Enough

ellenparkerwrites

I’m writing this a few minutes before lunchtime.

I’ll make a short detour to my garden and collect just enough tiny ripe tomatoes to garnish my salad.

Gardens in my youth covered a portion of an acre. Crops were referenced by rows or half rows. Bedding plants were purchased by the half dozen or more. And they required work. Hours with the hoe in the never ending battle against weeds and dirt that tended to resemble pottery after a hot, dry day. Multiple trips with buckets of water to aid new plants to get established.

The harvest began with peas, salad greens, and strawberries. This also signaled the beginning of canning season. Pint jars, quart jars, boiling water bath. Cucumbers to scrub. Beans to cut. Peas to shell. Each crop in season – from a few days to a few weeks – graced our farm table as fresh produce and filled jars on the basement shelf.

I don’t depend on my garden for a year’s worth of vegetables. My two tomato plants give me just enough…to garnish a daily salad, satisfy my palate, and please my eye.

Fresh & Tasty
Fresh & Tasty

Thank you for visiting. Tomorrow, Writer Wednesday, we have the second in a series featuring romance authors. Come by and sample Claudia Shelton’s unique view of life.

Blog

Friday Fish Fry

ellenparkerwrites

Where’s a good place for supper?

If you ask the above question in a small Wisconsin town don’t be surprised if the final word of the answer is “Tavern” or “Bar”.

The year round Friday night fish fry is a tradition in the region. During Lent the number of options increase, but on any given Friday you can satisfy that nagging desire for hot fish fillets. I never gave it much thought. It was just part of life. And it wasn’t confined to small towns. The summer I worked in Milwaukee, decades ago, our office over a corner bar was filled with the mouth-watering scent on Friday afternoon of beer batter, hot oil, and fresh fish.

Step into a small town tavern with me. Bring the children. We can order any of the usual beverages. Some, true to that German heritage that has seeped into the fabric of the region will include alcohol. But other choices will be available. Now since it’s Friday we’ll have the special. Two fish fillets served piping hot and coated with beer batter. (Each establishment has a variation on the recipe.) Sides of slender french fries and small cups of coleslaw fill out the meal. Some places add a thick slice of hot, buttered toast. Others offer baked beans.

So if you visit a small town on Friday, ask around for the fish fry. Delicious comes in unexpected places.

Blog

Clever Packaging

ellenparkerwrites

Several weeks ago I received bottle of wine as a gift. It was much appreciated. Family and friends know my tastes and a bottle of local or regional wine passes between us on visits.

This wine originated in western New York State. In case you were unaware — New York has a large wine industry from the Finger Lakes and extending westward and the vineyards cross the border in Pennsylvania. If you drive through this area allow some time to stop, sample, and shop along one of the many “Wine Trails”.

About a week ago I had occasion to celebrate. An excellent time to accompany my dinner with a special treat.

I set the chilled bottle on the table, plucked a wine glass from the cabinet, and rummaged in the drawer for the corkscrew. (My everyday wine arrives in a box and does not require one.)

To my delight and surprise the corkscrew could have stayed in the drawer. All I had to do was to tease up the end of the pull strip, remove the tight plastic seal, and push up a small glass stopper. Easy!!! Neat!! A small O-ring facilitated a good seal on the portion remaining.

For the Corkscrew Chanllanged
For the Corkscrew Challenged
Blog

No Peeking Allowed

ellenparkerwrites

Do you like the anticipation of a gift?   Or are you the sort to go beyond picking a package up for a quick weight and rattle test?

A few days ago I found a big package. Huge sheets of brown paper now conceal open construction space formerly within sight of pedestrians.

No bow. No festive touch at the door.

Will not be open for Christmas.   Will not be open New Year’s Day.

Please return when the 2013 diet resolutions have flitted away to the closet with those of previous years. Come and enjoy a new buffet restaurant when the wrapping paper comes off, the tables are set, and the food steaming hot.

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