Oklahoma Pastry Cloth

Beef Vegetable Soup

September 1st, 2010

No, I am not going to give you a recipe for scorpion soup. Is there such a thing? Could be. It would make sense. I mean, just think about it. Who was the first person who dragged a lobster out of the sea and said, “Wow. I bet this thing would be good with drawn butter!!” For every thing that is edible, there is someone who considers it a delicacy. But no, today I will not give you such a recipe.

In Oklahoma, we do have scorpions. They scitter across the floor, clawed appendages extended like a mini forklift, making a clacking sound that just gives you the creeps. Seeing them is a good thing. Not seeing them results in pain that could not be reproduced if a 2000 lb wrecking ball was dropped on your foot. If one of these things gets into your clothes overnight, putting on a pair of pants the next morning can leave sting after sting as the awful critter wages fierce battle with your thigh. You hop around the room, screaming, swatting your pants and crashing to the floor as you struggle to get out of the offending garment. There is no good thing about a scorpion. Yes, God put them on this earth for a reason, but I will wait until I am before Him to ascertain that purpose. Until then, the only good scorpion is a dead scorpion.

I am certain that it is an interesting study into the macho masculine psyche of the average American male when it comes to crawly things. The most manly of our species is reduced to hopping from one tip-toe to the other when startled by a spider, snake, centipede or scorpion, while emitting high-pitched squeaks and other manner of unidentifiable sounds. Such was the case with my macho man as he spotted the first scorpion of the season creeping from under the stove and attempting to navigate the kitchen floor. I heard my name called in a higher than normal squeal, a command to appear and I arrived in time to find my husband hopping up and down, splayfooted (shoes of course) on the flattened remains of the struggling scorpion. Now, I might add in all fairness, that I can’t make too much fun of the opposite sex, since I and others of my ilk have been known to reach even higher decibels of screeching at the sign of a mouse, or in my case, a flying bat, in the house.

Oddly enough, the first sign of a scorpion in our home has turned into a ritual of planning for us because we have noticed, over the past many years, that with the appearance of the first brave critter, cooler weather is soon to follow exactly three weeks later. No joke. It was this year, however, that I decided to test our observation and theory most scientifically. As soon as the prehistoric-looking and dead, yucky bug was deposited in the yard for disposal, I grabbed the calendar and counted twenty-one days forward to August 24. I wrote on the calendar “Cool Weather??” With that bit of scientific notation accomplished, I promptly forgot about my experiment and continued to survive the 100++ degree heat that we had been experiencing much of the summer. Of course, you might think that I was seeking something on which to hang my hopes of some kind of relief from the dry inferno that is August in Oklahoma, however, would you blame me?

Last week, we of Central Oklahoma woke up to a day of normal heat, but joyfully watched as a front moved into the area around noon, dumping rain and 80 degree temps. I was ecstatic and noted that the forecast showed ever cooler nights with daytime temperatures ranging from the 80’s to mid 90’s ahead. The heatwave of Summer had broken. I flipped open my calendar, as I remembered my note, and checked the date on which I had scrawled my question. August 24th. And what was the day’s date? August 24th!! I am calling my discovery “The Scorpio Buggus Phenomenom” and I am hoping to win a Nobel prize in science for my diligent research. I need someone to nominate me. Hint. Hint. You can include in your nomination my theory as postulated thusly: “The season change from Summer to Fall is dependent solely on the appearance of Scorpiones Paruroctonus and occurs exactly 21 days from a first sighting. Summer cannot change to Fall without the sighting of these tiny arachnids.” I am expecting a government grant. I figure that this is much more critical to the issue of global climate change than the mating habits of the humpback whale.

Biology and Physics aside, the snappy feeling of Fall is in the air. Sights and sounds predict state fairs, pumpkin patches and a winter not too far away. It puts me in the soup mood and I have been canning my share. There is nothing more wonderful than opening your own jar of homemade soup, on a cold evening, to be enjoyed with cornbread or fresh homemade bread. If winter is a beast and ice storms steal your electricity, you can pop open a jar of your soup, put it into a pan over the fire, heat it and warm your insides. This is my own version of beef-vegetable soup and is a hearty blend of lean meat and vegetables galore!! It is easy to make and easy to can.

Beef Vegetable Soup
3 lbs meat
1 cup onions
1 cup celery
2 cups diced potatoes
2 cups corn
2 cups peas, canned or frozen
2 cups green beans
pepper to taste

2 cans ranch style beans
1 can whole or chopped tomatoes
12 cups water
10 tsp. or 10 cubes of beef bouillon
1 tbsp minced garlic (or more if desired)
2 cups diced carrots
1/2 cup pearled barley
1/2 tsp thyme

I use a nice, lean, rump roast and cut it into little cubes	Brown the meat in two tbsp. of olive oil in a large stew pot. Add onions and cook.
Add chopped carrots, celery and green beans. (Hint: I cheat and chop the carrots and celery in the food processor)	Add corn. This is corn that I cut off of the cob and froze earlier in the summer.
I like to add new potatoes from the garden. These were harvested in June and have been boxed in a cool, dry place. You can use Russets too.	Ranch style beans give it just that little extra kick.
Continue cooking meat and veggies together. Add garlic and thyme.	YUM YUM!
Add tomatoes and stir	Add water, bouillon and pepper and let simmer for an hour. Add barley and simmer for 30 minutes longer.
Ladel into warm, sterilized jars to 1/2″ head space.	Place lids that have been warming in nearly boiling water onto jars and screw on rings, but not too tightly. Place jars into pressure canner that is filled with warm water about two inches deep.
Pressure according to canner directions at 10 lbs for 70 minutes.	Remove jars from canner and allow to cool. Listen for popping of the lids as they seal. Lids should be flat across the surface with no bulge in the center.

You can add anything else you like to this soup.
The sky is the limit – well, that is, except for scorpions.

Happy Cooking!!~~~~MB

Posted in Canning and Food Processing, Humorous, Let's Cook!, Soups | 9 Comments »

Milking A Cow

June 15th, 2010

A “Moo”ving Experience

My internal alarm clanged inside my head and I jerked awake at 5:35 a.m., dog and husband still curled beside me, both snoring, and the sun not yet ready to clock in. I tried to remember why I wanted to be up so early. Realizing that I had a real alarm set, I reached over and shut it off so it wouldn’t awaken either dog or husband. I stumbled out of bed to brush my teeth and wash my face. “Oh yes. I remember now. I’m going to a friend’s to milk a cow.”

Most women my age are facing this time of life with the realization that there is so much out there to do and just too little time to do it. Some of my friends are going on cruises, others are taking road trips to Yellowstone or the Grand Tetons and still others are going back to school. Of course, the cool women are bungee jumping and sky diving. I wasn’t cool in high school and not only am I NOT cool now, but I’m downright cowardly. I can’t even go across the Royal Gorge bridge without getting on my hands and knees to crawl across, carefully avoiding any chance of peeking through the cracks between the bridge timbers to the tens of millions of feet below. Yes, it was me you might have heard screaming, “I have to get off of here!!!” at Six Flags Over Texas, while my 11 year old daughter tried to calm me – on the kiddie Ferris Wheel. Well, I know I heard about those hapless people stuck on the big wheel, just last week!!

Therefore, my adventures into the unknown involve less likelihood of flattened bodies, heights above that of a step stool, or jumping out of any mode of transportation unless the tires are on the asphalt and the vehicle is at a dead standstill. When a young friend kindly offered to let me share in a cool, breezy morning of communing with a cow, I jumped at the opportunity – figuratively speaking of course.

God gave me such a morning! What a gorgeous day. It was a bit humid, but the cool, Oklahoma wind made me take a deep breath, thrilled at being alive in God’s creation. I arrived at the farm home which is nestled among big oak trees, promptly at 6:18am, and met my two young instructors, Jillian and Josiah. I was ready to be taught.

The first thing I noticed was their Wellingtons. I glanced down at my white tennis shoes and wondered if perhaps I had been too optimistic in my ability to stay clean. As we headed to the barnyard, I realized I should have borrowed my husband’s pair of rubber boots, no matter how foolish I’d have looked. I have to add here that I am no stranger to the barnyard. I should have known better. In my past life, as stated in my previous post, sheep, horses, cows, hay and muck were an everyday part of my existence. I’ve slept since then. I do remember one time on our farm, when an affluent aunt and uncle on the former husband’s side, from Georgia, came to our beautiful 375 Tennessee acres to see what in the world we were doing. The aunt arrived in a dress and high heels and insisted on seeing the massive sheep barn. As we traipsed across the barnyard to the front of the barn, Auntie sniffed, wrinkled her nose, looked down at her shoes and said, “I don’t know how you do this. It’s so…………..dirty.” Yep. It is that!

So, I should have known better. But no crying over spilt milk –eh? Well, over white shoes with green cow manure decorating them. There was actually no spilt milk except for that which missed the bucket because I can’t aim very well. The two youngsters put me to shame but I was certainly thrilled that I could get a stream of the white stuff going strong and that I didn’t get stepped on or knocked over once. The cow was too busy munching her breakfast to care that some stranger was getting up close and personal with her. I did catch her looking at my white sneakers, however, and I swear she frowned at me with a “What were you thinking?” look.

Now, I have a two gallons of milk cooling down as I prepare to make another leap into the unknown in an attempt at making cheddar cheese. Yes, I realize that at 56 years of age, I live dangerously, but hey, you only live once!!

The udder is sprayed with disinfectant

Josiah displays true skill! Look at those streams! It’s a team effort with Jillian on the other side.

Yours Truly with the telltale gray hair makes an attempt

Heh look!! There’s milk in that thar bovine.

This calf thought my fingers tasted like a milk bottle.

The milk is strained twice and put into a jug. And now it’s ready to go in the frig for ice cold milk and cream. See? You CAN teach an old dog new tricks!!

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Posted in Humorous, So You Have To Make It Educational!! | 5 Comments »

Making Granola

June 6th, 2010

Grain Ain’t Just For
Horses, You Know

My Gelding, Buzzard Bait (Real Name: Diamond Nicky)

In my former life, we raised horses. Quarter horses. And I loved them. Mucking out a stall was not so bad for me because it meant that riding came next. Rounding up our sheep on horseback was a daily joy. I can’t remember when I decided that horses were God’s greatest creatures ever given to man, but I know that I was really little. At 5 years old, I would feed grass to the two aging mares across the road from our house and dream of the day when I could have one all my own.

There was the time, in the fifth grade when I decided that I would have a horse all of my own. Of course, we lived in the city and though our yard was large, it wasn’t that large. However, I determined that I could make it work and so I began the tedious process of begging my parents to death. I cried. I begged. I searched the newspapers and came up with arguments “pro Ol’ Dobbins” that I was sure could not be dismissed. I thought that the labor-saving, non-machinery, grass-cutting qualities of the equine mammal had to be of some great benefit. I knew how to argue the environment early. Eventually, I decided that if I produced the money myself, there could be no argument. The result: A table at the street curb with broken toys, tiny multicolored ‘ratfinks’, and troll dolls with soft hair, all for sale and advertised by a large sign stating, “Help Kids Buy A Horse.” My sisters assisted in the hope of sharing in ownership. My eloquent pleading and early entrepreneurialship did little to impress my parents and I had to be satisfied with Marguerite Henry and Walter Farley books, along with a suitcase full of Breyer model horses with which to pretend.

It was marriage that brought me my first horse and a beautiful Tennessee farm. Kimmie was ½ Quarter Horse and ½ Thoroughbred so she was pretty tall – 16 hands – but she was gentle as a kitten and she was my pal . My one mare, eventually turned into over a half a dozen mares and geldings and one stud.

Feeding time was an experience of sounds and smells. Opening the trashcan of sweet feed drew my face down to drink in the aroma as fast as it attracted the flies. Oat grains slathered in molasses rattled into the measuring can and poured like tiny pebbles into the feed buckets with the most pleasant of “whooshing” sounds. As the grain was placed in each stall, muzzles pushing me away to bury deep into dinner, the steady, crunching of satisfied mouths made that feed sound like something I wanted to dig into as well! I must confess that I did so on many occasions – chewing on a little sweetened grain as I went about my work. I was eating granola before it was the world’s newest, healthy snack! Never mind that there were probably all kinds of horse vitamins in there. I never started counting with my foot and so I couldn’t have been too damaged. But as I said, that was in my other life.

So, as I make my granola these days, those sounds and smells come back as peaceful memories. Honey, instead of molasses, oats, nuts and fruits are all baked to a crunchy cereal that makes the same ‘whooshing’ sound as it is poured from its container. I wonder if some Swiss farmer just took some horse feed one day, mashed it and baked it and said, “Yah. Dis is goot! I tink I’ll call dis ‘granola’!” (translated from the Swedish)

I have to interject here that I have splurged and gone one step further in seeing what else I can add to my daily work routine. I purchased a Marga oat flaker and a bucket of oat groats from Debbie Barton at Sonrise Whole Grains, so that I can hover around the hot cereal isle in the grocery store and sidle up to strangers to whisper with authority, “I roll my own oats” and so that they can respond, “So what?” The flaker really is pretty cool to play with! It is neat to watch those tiny grains get mashed flat as you turn the handle to the rollers. It’s kind of mesmerizing. Oatmeal takes on a whole new flavor and consistency and this “I hate oatmeal” girl has turned into a “Let’s have oatmeal again for breakfast because I hear it lowers cholesterol” kind of addict. The hot oatmeal is nutty and chewy, not the usual bowl of gluey gruel fit for the movie “Oliver”. And so, fight as I might, I am being dragged into healthy eating through the seductive temptations of new kitchen gadgets. They’re so shiny and pretty!! Who can resist?

The oats comes in 45 lb buckets. Rolling is a cinch.

With that confession, I’ll end with a recipe for granola that my cousin contributed to our Then and Now Cookbook, a compilation of our family recipes (thanks Beth!). You can find the cookbook at the online store under the shop tab. I will put her recipe on one side and then on the other side, I’ll put what I have changed to suit my husband’s “I have a sweet tooth the size of a golf ball” taste buds. Either way, it is great and is what I use on the yogurt parfaits in the previous post. Enjoy the granola, and as you savor its crunch, you could retreat to the fantasy of youth and pretend that you are a horse masticating its sweet feed. However, be aware that it would mean you’re kind of weird!

Homemade Granola

Beth’s Recipe:

1 box of rolled oats (1 lb 2 oz)
1/2 cup sunflower seeds
1/2 cup sliced almonds
1/2 cup honey
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 cup raisins

My Changes and Additions
1 box rolled oats (1 lb 2oz)
1/2 cup sunflower seeds
1/2 cup sliced almonds
1/2 cup chopped pecans
3/4 cups honey
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 cup dried/sweetened cranberries

The recipe instructs to combine oats and nuts in a long, shallow baking dish, but I found that mixing it in a large bowl worked better for me. It is much easier to mix in the oil and honey.

Heat the oil and honey; then add cinnamon. Pour over oat and nut mixture. Mix well, so all oats are moistened.

Spread on a cookie sheet with a lip. Bake at 300º about 30 minutes.

Immediately add the raisins or cranberries and store in a covered container in the frig.

Happy Cooking!!
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Posted in Breakfast, Humorous, Let's Cook! | 10 Comments »

Strawberry Yogurt Parfaits

May 21st, 2010

A Quick Treat For Breakfast,
Brunch and Light Dessert

The sun is shining and the Oklahoma Pastry Cloth™ Company’s world is absolutely gorgeous. This morning’s haul of strawberries completed one of my favorite breakfast treats – strawberry-yogurt parfaits. They are gorgeous for light desserts and brunch when entertaining.

We have had a bumper crop of strawberries this year and it is so fun to find the red fruits peeping from under their green canopies like ruby gems hidden from would be thieves – slugs, turtles and birds. These lucious fruits have been plump and juicy; the products of an unusually cool Spring.

Of course, what comes with a great crop of strawberries is strawberry shortcake, strawberry smoothies, strawberry topped cheesecake and strawberry muffins with homemade strawberry jam. Freezing and drying strawberries also gives the opportunity to enjoy these treats in the winter too.

And then, there is the strawberry-yogurt parfait. Ours are made with homemade yogurt, homemade granola and freshpicked strawberries. You can do any variation that you like, but I thought that I would explain how I put ours together and I suppose I should throw in how to make yogurt too!

For the parfaits, I use ice cream cups that you can get cheaply at any discount store, including Walmart and Dollar Tree. For each cup, I layer a total of 1/2 cup of sweetened strawberries and 1/2 cup of yogurt. Crumbled granola goes on top. If you don’t make homemade granola, the Nature’s Valley granola bar works great when broken in the package and then sprinkled on top. You can garnish with a strawberry, mint leaves or anything else your creative mind can concoct.

Yogurt is very simple to make. I use a Salton Yogurt maker that I’ve had for years. You can find them online and I know that there are always some on ebay. Mine is the Cosmopolitan style and holds five 8 oz jars. However, if you do not have access to a yogurt maker, you can use your oven just as easily. You will need an oven thermometer to double-check your oven temp. You will also need a candy/jelly thermometer to place in the milk as you heat it and cool it. The following are the ingredients to gather together:

4 cups of milk (I use skim for nonfat yogurt)
1/2 cup instant nonfat milk
3 tablespoons plain, unsweetened yogurt
vanilla
sweetener like sugar, splenda or stevia
5 – 8 oz jelly jars used for canning
5 rings and lids

Place the jelly jars onto a cookie sheet. Preheat oven to 110º. You can test the temperature with an oven thermometer. Place the milk and powdered milk into a saucepan and whisk until powdered milk is well dissolved. Continue stirring as you heat the milk to 180º. Do not bring the milk to a boil because you are just scalding it. At this point, some people cool the milk down quickly in a pan of ice water but I just let mine cool slowly until it reaches 110º. When the milk has cooled sufficiently, you can add sweetener and vanilla to your taste, or if you would like to have a variety of flavored and unflavored jars, you can add 1 tbsp sugar, 1/2 tbsp splenda or 1/4 tsp stevia to each of the jars that you wish to sweeten, and then put 1/4 tsp of vanilla as well. You will stir these once you put the milk into them.

Back to the milk…it has now cooled to 110º. In a glass jar or cup, place 3 tbsp yogurt and pour in about 1/3 cup of the warm milk. Stir with a plastic spoon until nice and smooth. There may be some small lumps. Pour this back into the pot of warmed milk and stir to incorporate throughout. Now you can pour the milk into each of the jelly jars. Place a lid and a ring over each jar and tighten. You can reuse the rings and lids for each new batch of yogurt, because you are not sealing the jars, just protecting them from contamination. Place the cookie sheet supporting the jars into the oven and leave overnight or for 8-10 hours for tasty and tangy yogurt. Remove from the oven and place in the refrigerator.

I really love strawberry season and this one has been a dandy!

I even puree strawberry jam with cream cheese for bagels!

Happy Cooking!!

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Tornado Alley

May 16th, 2010

A Shout Out To
Special Neighbors

This past week was a really rough one for many Oklahomans in the Oklahoma Pastry Cloth™ Company area. A total of 25 tornadoes pummeled our communities that left homes, businesses and churches in shambles and thousands of people hurting and baffled. Many are still without electricity. We, here, got to play “Little House on the Prairie”, ourselves, for three days.

I am amazed at the Okie spirit that permeates the people here. No sooner had these wind monsters attacked and vanished, then neighbors, safe in storm shelters, emerged to check from home to home to make sure that fellow neighbors were OK. Just yesterday, we were amazed by the stories of two of our neighbors, one of whom we were helping to recover what was left of their yard and their home. It seems that the wife of this particular family sought shelter with her little boy in their cellar, only to have a tree fall on top of the cellar, while their house was being torn to bits. The two were trapped, unable to lift the door under the weight of the heavy tree. Another neighbor was checking each home and heard the wife screaming. With the help of others, the tree was removed and the scared and exhausted duo gratefully emerged to the shock of seeing their destroyed home.

The house immediately to their east looks like a giant game of “Pick-up Sticks” and the owner’s story is even more incredible. The same neighbor who discovered the two trapped in the cellar, saw that the only thing standing in the next home, was the very center of the home, next to where the garage had been and with door barely intact. Inside was the owner of the home. As his home disentegrated around him, this poor man was protected by the tiny closet in which he took refuge. He was obviously in shock when the neighbor found him, but he will be fine.

All across this area, friends, neighbors and even people from other cities have joined together in the cleanup effort, giving of time, money, food, clothes and household goods. In the subdivision where we worked on Wednesday and Thursday, alongside friends of ours, it was just amazing to see the tough resolve that the affected families exhibited. They cut downed trees, hauled load after load after load to the street curbs, piled bricks and two-by-fours, covered destroyed roofs if they had any roof left at all, starting at first light and finishing near dark, only to return to start again the next day. There was no anger and no bitterness, just a deep resolve to move on. The police officers at the entrance to the disaster areas have been friendly and sympathetic, asking for IDs, names and addresses in order to keep an accounting of people who enter and leave the areas. It has been announced that no looting has occurred. That is also amazing.

I just want to say that I am so proud to be an Oklahoman. We have been through so many tragedies including the Dust Bowl, the Oklahoma City bombing, the May 3rd, 1999 tornado that was the mother of all tornadoes, the collapse of the I-40 bridge at Gore and these tornadoes this week. Throughout this state’s history “True Grit” has been a characteristic and the character of the people who live here shines through every time. So here’s a shout out to the special people in the Sooner State. You know what the term “neighbor” really means!!

In a neighborhood, where we were able to help with a large group of friends, nearly every home was damaged

It was just painful to see the damage to the beautiful homes.

Just over from the neighborhood, on I-40, Anderson’s Truck Plaza and Love’s Truck Plaza were obliterated.

Those who just suffered roof damage had to work precariously to place tarps over the affected areas.

photo MaryBethKathyandJoshuaclearingdebris_zps8e71b612.jpg

Many people willingly volunteered to do the dirty work of cutting up mangled and toppled trees, piling debris and fixing meals for those doing the dirty work. Thanks everybody!!

Proud to be an Okie!

MB

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Okie Quiche

May 7th, 2010

Real Men Eat Egg Pie

~~A recipe follows~~

I have a certain soft spot in my heart for the French language. I took five years of French in school and feel sure that after all of this indepth study, I might be able to find the train station – la gare, a bathroom – salle de bains, flatter any waiter as “my little cabbage” – mon petite chou and wage war – la guerre, if ever I make it to that city of cities; Paris. I can read signs fairly efficiently, however, reading and speaking are two different things. I may be able to decifer words on a sign, but when speaking off-the-cuff, I eventually descend into a mixture of English and French with a voice growing ever louder as if the object of my discourse is deaf. Most Americans assume that if one does not understand English, the only problem is that the English is not being pronounced slowly or loudly enough.

One of my most memorable excursions into the world of translation occurred when I was in high school and I had finished my third year of this Romance language. We were visiting the Quebec Province of Canada, in a little town where nobody spoke English. Now, if you are honest with yourself about this know-it-all age of 14-18, you will admit that you thought yourself far superior to any adult with a college education and/or work experience. You were in high school and what you were learning was new and different and more advanced than anything adults could have possibly gotten when they were in school! I could regurgitate French phrases to a teacher, and noone else in my family could! Therefore, I was special. I was the authority when it came to coping with menus and the poulet, the bœuf and the jambon. It was with this air of superiority that I announced to my mother, who was anxious about all of our dirty clothes, that I would speak with the motel clerk and get directions to a laundramat.

I want to add here that I distinctly remember the price that we paid for our rooms. We had gotten three motel rooms in this tiny town, to accommodate my father and mother and then two each of us four girls in each room. The grand total of the bill for one night was $18. Even then, in the early ‘70’s, that was pretty incredible. It must have been, to have made such an impression on me. Anyway, I left our suite of rooms to traipse across the lawn to the motel office, little sister in tow. I had already looked in my English to French dictionary to make sure that I knew the word for “laundry”. Since there was no word for “laundramat” I decided that laundry – blanchisserie – was the next best thing. I entered the office and spoke to the nice lady behind the counter. My little sister looked up at me adoringly. I gathered all 5’4” of my high school ignorance and said, in perfect pronunciation – I must say – “Où est une blanchisserie?”

The young woman looked at me quizzically. She said, “Blanchisserie?” I said, “Oui.” My little sister was all the more impressed. We were having a conversation! The woman studied for a moment and then said, “Ahhh!! Oui!” and disappeared into the back room. The next thing we knew, she was bringing me a tall stack of extra towels and sheets with the definitive statement, “Blanchisserie!” I grimmaced and said, “Non. Non. Blanchisserie!” and fell into my best pantomime of washing clothes on a washboard. An air guitar expert had nothing on me. I washed the pretend clothes, wrung the pretend clothes and then hung them on a pretend line. The woman watched my antics with a frown, trying to discern the French words that I was spelling out in theatrics. “Ahhhhhhhh!” she finally said, with the joy of having figured out the answer to a game show question. “Une laundramat!” She drew me a map and I sheepishly took it to my mother and father. I couldn’t gloss over the incident and pretend that I had intelligently conversed with a native so fluently as to have obtained the directions we needed. There were two young eyes who witnessed the whole thing. The good Lord knows how to take us down a knotch.

So, it was with a continuation of that lesson learning, that I have discovered in my research that one of my favorite dishes, Quiche, did not originate in France. All of these years, I have taught my children that Quiche was created in the Alsace-Lorraine region of France, although it could be argued that it is logical that it was named after some Lorraine lady who love to eat it. Not so, mon frère! How will I ever be the brilliant authority figure in my progeny’s lives again? According to foodreference.com, Quiche originated in Germany. I bet you didn’t know or care that the Alsace-Lorraine was actually part of Germany until the late 1500’s! That is one of those things that we all should know. At that time, the area was known as Lothringen. The word ‘quiche’ is based on the German word for an open pie filled with an egg/cream custard and smoked bacon, ‘Kuchen’. The crust of this pie was made from bread dough. The French changed it to a pie crust, added cheese and onions and voila, came up with Quiche Lorraine. It didn’t become popular here in America until the 1950’s, after WWII, when eggs were no longer $1000 a dozen.

With that enthralling bit of information under your belt, you’ll find my recipe for Quiche below. For the base, I use my pie crust recipe that you can also find on the blog. Quiche is great for any meal – breakfast, lunch or dinner – and is fast and easy. You can even make it the night before, leave it in the frig and bake it the next morning.

Now that you know the real history behind this tasty dish, we can no longer say that real men don’t eat Quiche. All men eat eggs and all men love pies, therefore, all men eat egg pies. See? I learned deductive reasoning in high school too!

OKIE QUICHE
That Won’t Clog Your Arteries

Pie crust
6 whole large eggs
2 egg whites from large eggs
3 tbsp flour
1/2 tsp sea salt
pepper to taste
4 spears asparagus in 1/2″ pieces

1 cup spinach leaves chopped (optional)
4 baby carrots sliced thin
3 mushrooms thinly sliced
1/4 cup diced onion
1/4 cup Hormel bacon bits
or 4 slices cooked bacon
4 slices Swiss cheese
1 1/2 cup skim milk

Note: If you want a creamy, amazing Quiche, you can use half and half instead of milk or 1 cup half and half + 1/2 cup heavy cream. However, don’t blame me if your doctor puts you on life support.

Make pie crust according to directions and roll out into a circle. For ease in transfer to a quiche pan or pie pan, fold the crust in half and then in fourths.

Place the folded dough into the quiche pan or pie pan and open to a half circle. Open the rest of the dough to fill the pan. Press and shape to completely bring the dough up the sides and onto the lip.

Cut dough flush with the edge of the quiche pan. Flute the dough by using the thumb and first finger as a crevice in which to push the dough with the blunt end of a knife. Pinch as you push the knife into the dough.

In a deep bowl, scramble the eggs with the 3 tbsp of flour. Whip egg whites until stiff and fold into the eggs. Add salt, pepper and milk or cream and stir.

Chop vegetables

Place all of the vegetables into the pie shell and sprinkle with Hormel Crumbled Bacon or lay strips of bacon or ham across the veggies. Carefully pour half of the egg mixture over filling.

Place slices of cheese to cover the surface and pour the rest of the egg mixture over the cheese. Dot with a few pats of butter.

Bake in a preheated 375º oven for 35 minutes or until set, puffy and golden brown. Allow to cool slightly.

Slice and serve with fruit or salad. Pictured here, the quiche is served with strawberries and vanilla yogurt.

Posted in Breakfast, Humorous, Let's Cook!, So You Have To Make It Educational!! | 7 Comments »

Meet Herbert

April 30th, 2010

Meet Herbert

Oklahoma is known for its abundant wildlife – its deer, buffalo, turkey, sandcranes, snow geese…..and even for those of us who do not live out in the woolly west of our state, the simple Oklahoma garden can provide a plethora of photo opportunities in the animal department.

With this being the reality of Oklahoma gardening, I know that I should never be surprised by any critter that might introduce itself, whether on purpose or by accident. My nerves should be steel. My attitude should be blasé as I move a wayward skink or disgusted toad out of my way. It is not “country macho” to freak over the sudden centipede. A startled, “Oh!” might be acceptable, but screaming and running around in circles is definitely not good country etiquette toward those of lessor status on the food chain.

It is therefore, with slight dismay that I admit my initial reaction to finding Herbert. I did scream. I did run away, but my redeeming moment came when I stopped, turned around and went back to gaze at Herbert and to introduce myself. It is possible that my first unseemly display of bigotry miffed Herbert as he did not appear to be at all interested in what I had to say. However, he stayed still long enough for me to go get Hubby so that both of us could offer our friendly curiosity.

I nearly stumbled on Herbert while I was admiring my strawberry beds. They are full this year and I am anxiously awaiting a crop of the ruby red gems with anticipation. Strawberry freezer jam, frozen strawberries for smoothies and shakes, fresh strawberries on shortcake and in pies – mmm – makes my mouth water. But you want to know about Herbert. I was stepping around the strawberry bed and backed up to one of the peach trees to go to the other end of the garden beds, when I looked down and nearly stepped on Herbert. All 4 1/2 or 5 feet of him. He was fat and had lumps all down his body. He must have had a grand meal of field mice with perhaps a quail egg thrown in for dessert.

I snapped a picture but Herbert decided he’d had enough of the two- legged critters that had disturbed his reverie and so he undulated to the nearest peach tree, lifted the front 1/3 of his body up to the bottom branch, hoisted himself up onto said branch and then wrapped his way around ascending branches until he was high enough in the tree to stare me in the eye. I figure that he felt he had a better advantage at that level vs. being on the ground next to my foot. I feel sure that he was well acquainted with the verse out of Genesis where the snake is told, “he will crush your head, and you will strike his heel.” Most people don’t wait to have any heel striking going on and are all about head crushing when it comes to snakes! Herbert probably knew that.

So, Herbert wrapped himself cozily among the peach branches and stared at me. That was when I named him Herbert. Don’t ask me why. I don’t even know a Herbert to say he looked like a Herbert. It just seemed right. I took portraits of him and then left him to determine how to unknot himself out of his predicament. He was gone when I checked a few hours later. Herbert is out there now, chasing all the field mice and boppin’ ’em on the head – and then swallowing them. But they won’t be eating my strawberries!!

Doesn’t he look like a Herbert to you too?

Posted in A Day In the Life Of An Okie, Humorous, So You Have To Make It Educational!! | 8 Comments »

Quick Kitchen Tip

April 25th, 2010

Did You Know?

Did you know that if you are out of buttermilk, you can make a quick substitute by adding 1 cup of milk, whole, 2/% or skim, to 1 tablespoon of white vinegar in the bottom of a glass bowl and let it rest for 30 minutes to clabber? If you are in a hurry, you can even put the mixture in the microwave for 20 seconds and get the same result. Adjust the amounts according to how much buttermilk you need and add to any recipe requiring buttermilk or soured milk. Works like a charm!

Posted in Quick Tips | 4 Comments »

Lois’ Corner

April 13th, 2010

Lois’ Corner

I get kind of tired of reading my own words – it’s kind of like having to hear yourself talk all of the time. Of course my hubby would argue that this isn’t a problem for me! I am never short on words. However, I do enjoy sharing other’s ideas and thoughts and my dear Aunt Lois – my dad’s sister – provided me with the opportunity. I am going to give her a platform all her own at The Oklahoma Pastry Cloth™ Blog to teach the young’un’s and to remind us oldun’s about life in general. I’ll add a few pictures for fun.

My aunt lives in Georgia and is a happy, talented and fun-loving woman of great faith and great humor. At 86, she writes for several sources and it will be a joy to share some of her memories, thoughts on life and brilliant observations on a regular basis here. Sit at her feet and learn!

Answer To A Question You
Didn’t Think To Ask

Written By Lois Wyrick
The question surfaced as I was preparing a program to give to a group of women. The topic was all that women do or not do to attain happiness and yes, it was a “tongue in cheek” response to what we do. One of the topics had to do with how woman struggles with her hair and how important hair is to her happiness.
I used my life as an example and told of my first hair permanent and all that I have gone through to have curly hair. Straight hair is in fashion now but that was not the case in my life. So, I went to Google to find out about the permanent machine that we used to get a long lasting wave and I was surprised with the answer.
The article begins with the fact that Caucasian women have never been content with straight hair and have gone to many lengths to get the curl. I remember mother telling how she and her sisters slept in “rags.” My understanding was they wrapped sections of their hair around strips of cloth and wearing this overnight gave a curl to their hair.

Rags were used as rollers

Did you know that the first permanent machine surfaced in 1872? I couldn’t believe how dangerous it sounded and wondered about the bravery or desperateness of the woman who tried it. Several machines were developed after that but it was in 1906 that a machine was developed that used rollers, solution and heat. The inventor tried it on his wife and it burned off her hair and gave painful scalp burns. The article didn’t say if the marriage survived the ordeal.

A Vintage Permanent Machine

Long hair was a woman’s crowning glory and it wasn’t until the beginning of the 20th century that woman began cutting her hair. This began with woman doing man’s work during WW1 and long hair got in the way of her work. Short hair became a fashion statement in the 1920s and the wave that women got with the cut came with a “curling iron.” The wave style was called a “marcel” named after the man who invented the method.
I remember mother telling the story of when she had her first cut and wave. Mother’s hair was long enough for her to sit on and it was my dad’s pride and joy. All of the women in his family had long hair but none was as pretty as my mother’s hair.
Mother’s younger sister, Susie, was the first to get her hair cut short and Dad’s mother told my mother that Aunt Susie would go to hell. Mother envied her sister’s sense of freedom with her short hair and decided to do likewise. She waited until Dad had to go out of town, took ,my piggy bank money and her grocery money and got her hair cut and “marcelled.” I never heard what anyone said about it, including Dad and his mother. Mother just smiled and shook her head, “no” when I would ask about it. As far as I know this was the most defiant act my mother ever did. Which says a lot about the relationship of woman and her hair.

Mother with her hair “marcelled”

The rest of the story: It wasn’t too many years later that Dad’s sisters followed mother with short hair and waves. It was about ten years later that my paternal grandmother had her hair cut and waved. However, she HAD to do it – Her explanation to everyone that the weight of her long hair gave her headaches and the doctor ordered her to cut her hair. I loved my grandmother but even I wondered about that.
I do remember my first permanent. I was fourteen and I’m sure my dad wasn’t too pleased about it. I had short brown hair with bangs and I was so ready for wavy hair like movie stars had. The machine used for permanents in the 1930s looked like something from outer space. It was round and had electrical cords hanging down with clamps at the end. A horrible smelling solution was applied to each section of your hair and the hair was then placed around rollers. The hanging clamps were then attached to each roller and electricity was then turned on and, for what seemed forever, your hair received heat to cook your hair. And yes, it came out curly and every woman and young girl looked like an overgrown Shirley Temple. It took forever for the smell to leave your hair.
The “cold wave” method that we use today came into our life in 1938 and I’m not sure when it replaced the heat method.
A lot of men worked on developing a way for women to have curly hair. They would be surprised at today’s hair fashion. Straight hair is “in” and it causes women to use a machine to press their curly hair straight. And so it goes with life.

Thanks, Aunt Lois, for reminding us just how far we women have come! Or have we?!

Posted in Humorous, Lois' Corner, So You Have To Make It Educational!! | 5 Comments »

Taste Of Home Cooking Show

April 12th, 2010

Excuses, Excuses

It appears that I am running a bit late on my contributions this month to the blog. I really do have a good excuse. Really. Creating Concepts, Ent. participated, for the first time, with the Taste of Home Cooking School show and we had so much fun. However, it meant that all of my time was spent in preparation and the thought of sitting down to the computer was last on my mind. We had an absolute blast, met tons of nice people and enjoyed it immensely. Thanks to all who came by the booth! We had a drawing at the booth and the winner was from Seminole, Oklahoma. She won a Breadbasket Gift Set. Here is a picture of the booth and my trusty helpers. Oh! And we introduced the new line of aprons made from vintage patterns. The aprons will be up on the shopping page by the weekend!

And now I’ll move on to a real post!