thanksgiving 2016

I'll never forget the Thanksgiving that I woke up and realized my left eye was swollen to the size of a ping pong ball and people from church were coming over for the meal. 

Ahh. 

Memories. 

     

 This year, my farmer and I hosted Thanksgiving for the first time. We felt like grown-ups.

And none of our eyeballs were swollen.

I'd consider that a success.

As a child, I spent a fair amount of Thanksgivings watching my mom whip up delicious meals in her red kitchen or staying out of my grandma's way while she made dish after dish after dish. It was like the food never stopped coming when it came to either one of them. 

One of my grandma's staples, and a favorite of mine because we never had it at home, was creamed corn. I was convinced no one could make it like my grandma could. 

Until one Thanksgiving I saw her pouring creamed corn out of a can. 

OUT OF A CAN. My world was upended.

I had no idea such deliciousness could just be gotten at the grocery store. It changed everything. 

So what we've learned thus far is this . . . normal-sized eyes and creamed corn: It doesn't take much to keep me happy. 

Beforehand we had wine and a charcuterie board with salami and Vermont cheddar and olives and goat cheese.  

We also nibbled on a new tradition: the Thanksgiving pumpkin cheeseball.

And by "tradition," I mean this is the second year I've made it. Does that make it an annual cheeseball now?

And really, isn't the goal of any appetizer just to hold your guests over long enough so that you can finish the rest of the meal? 

Or try to salvage the turkey if you wrecked it?

Both maybe?

    

Thankfully, these appetizers were just for fun. Once we prayed, we started passing the good stuff.

We started with a spinach and pear and pomegranate salad, mashed potatoes and gravy, and creamed corn.

Not the can kind.

The kind that involved three sticks of butter and two cream cheeses.

Sorry, arteries.

My farmer did a bang-up job of cooking an Alton Brown-approved turkey, and our dogs though the neck and the carcass were the best Thanksgiving feast they'd ever had.

So everyone came away a winner on that front.

We also had butternut squash and cranberries with honey and cinnamon and feta . . . and some sweet potatoes from our garden thrown in for good measure. 

It was like farm to table . . . except we were still on the farm so . . . farm to farm?

Did I mention the turkey was super moist? Alton Brown's theory is to go high heat--as in, 500--for a short time to basically sear the skin and hold all the juice in. And it worked. 

We had a cranberry-walnut-apple salad, green beans wrapped in bacon, stuffing, rolls and pumpkin cornbread, deviled eggs, a heart attack. 

Whoops. How'd that last one sneak in there? 

And maybe don't ask me if I got juice from the cranberries and apples all over the front of my cupboards--the night before Thanksgiving--while I was grinding the two in my KitchenAid.

Because I totally didn't. Not at all. 

I didn't even contemplate sitting down on the floor and crying. Not even for a second. 

I'm also a really bad liar.  

We moved past the cranberry and apple juice incident by eating delicious desserts, because when you've eaten your allowable caloric intake by the time you get through the mashed potatoes and pumpkin cornbread, why not go for the gold?

We had a hot cocoa bar, even though we were basically all so stuffed at that point that the thought of more decadent calories made us want to . . . well . . . let's just say we were full. 

    

We also gorged ourselves on slices of pecan and pumpkin pie, chewy brownies with hunks of dark chocolate, and a salted caramel pumpkin cheesecake, which the recipe swore wouldn't develop a crack if I left the oven door closed for an hour and a half after baking. 

It promised. 

IT LIES. 

But better than all of that, we gave thanks for one another, learned more about our family traditions, and even managed to talk theology and the election . . . and no one slung mashed potatoes or flipped the table or tossed a glass of wine . . . or went home with a bugged out eyeball. 

Sometimes, even on Thanksgiving, it's the little things.

winter babies

Good things about being pregnant in the winter: 

(1) You have no desire to be outside in the cold, so hunkering down is not a problem.

 

(2) A few extra pounds help keep you warm. No need for sweaters!

(3) When your husband brings you donuts, I mean, you HAVE to eat one because he went out in the snow to get them for crying outloud! It's basically your wifely duty. 

On the flip side, it also means that: 

(1) You act on your ultimate language: eating carbs. Maybe a little too much. 

Ahem. 

(2) It gets dark out early . . . because it's winter. And when baby needs to get up to eat every couple of hours, the night seems awfully long.

(3) You have no desire to leave the house. Who needs milk or fruit anyway? 

On the other hand (does this mean we're back to the first side of the hand? I'm confused.): 

(1) Babies are little heaters. And it doesn't matter how awesome Walmart or Amazon are. They don't sell snuggly, sweet-smelling little heat generators. 

(2) Heating up the kitchen by baking bread is virtually a necessity. A happy mama -- because who doesn't perk up when there's warm, fresh bread on the counter? -- means a happy baby. Get that flour and yeast out!

(3) Spring is on its way. And just when baby is starting to notice what's going on in the world, you can head outside for long walks, fresh air and sunshine!

At least, that's what we're telling ourselves. 

Bake the bread. Get out the jam. Tickle the baby. Don't fret too much if you pack on an extra carb or two. 

Winter won't last forever . . . and neither will those baby snuggles!

Easy Artisan Bread 

3 cups warm water

1 T. instant yeast

2 1/2 tsp. salt

3 1/2 c. whole wheat flour

3 c. flour

Mix yeast and salt. Add water. 

Add flour and mix well. 

Cover with a towel or plastic wrap and let sit someplace warm (or at least room temperature) for 1 1/2 hours. 

Store in the refrigerator for a week or bake immediately. 

If baking, head enamel dutch oven and lid in oven at 450 degrees. 

Lightly dust dough with flour. Cut off amount of dough you desire to bake and shape into a ball. Place on parchment paper-covered cookie sheet and let sit for 30 minutes. 

Cut the top of the dough with serrated knife and transfer dough to dutch oven, including parchment paper. 

Bake for 15-17 minutes covered. 

Remove lid and bake for another 15-17 minutes until loaf is golden brown. 

paula teen's green tomato chutney

Our garden wasn't much of a garden last year. The rain washed out half the stuff I planted and the leaves on most of the other plants were yellow from . . . you guessed it . . . too much rain.

We had a few tomatoes, some sad-looking corn, a lot of sweet potatoes, a handful of zucchini and about four cucumbers. 

And a lot of grass. 

As we said last summer, "It'll be better next year."

Riiiiight. 

So before the bugs got the tomatoes or the rain washed them away in yet another toad strangler, I whipped up a batch of Paula Deen's green tomato chutney. 

 

Because Missouri is the farthest South I've ever lived, I feel like green tomatoes should be a thing, but frying sort of terrifies me so this is the closest I get. 

Ok, so it wasn't close at all. 

This chutney pairs well with meat, which comes in handy because between our families raising cows and chickens and hogs, we're pretty much set in the meat department around here. 

You can also scoop it up on biscuits or crackers, and pour yourself a glass of wine for a little mid-afternoon snack or pre-supper appetizer. 

Or mid-morning snack, I guess, if it's a really rough day.

It also goes pretty dang well with squash or sweet potatoes, and we love us some sweet potatoes. My farmer usually grows enough to get us through the winter. Just pop a couple of those bad boys in the steamer while you make supper, slather on some chutney and pat your belly in satisfaction. 

Or you can pat your baby. Babies are usually cuter than bellies anyway. Although to be fair, baby bellies are even cuter than regular bellies. 

I'm betting this would even taste pretty good on grilled cheese. And I'm not just saying that because my husband's a dairy farmer. 

But seriously . . . who doesn't love grilled cheese? 

The days are getting longer. The weather will eventually get warmer. Gardeners will start to plan their gardens. And if you're one of them, add an extra tomato plant or two so you can nab the green tomatoes for this chutney. Your squash . . . and even your sandwiches . . . will thank you. 

thanksgiving 2015

It's never good to step on the scale after Thanksgiving. It's an especially bad idea when you're pregnant. Nothing good can come of it. Just don't. Or don't look. Or live in denial. You have options. 

That's really the only downside to Thanksgiving. The upsides are countless. You get to spend time with your family, discussing everything from manure management plans to how to build life together in churches. Because that's what happens when you've got a pastor and farmers in the family. 

You can also wear princess dresses and help your grandma make the cranberries, but I really only recommend that if you're a 3-4-year-old girl. 

You can peel potatoes because you're the mashed potato queen . . . Ok, so the KitchenAid is the mashed potato queen but somebody has to show that thing who's boss. It also helps to have cute nephews nearby to pick up any scraps you may drop. 

You can eat until you feel like you're about to pass out. Or you can't breathe, which is really just like any other day if you're pregnant. Juicy Alton Brown turkey, lumpless mashed potatoes with sour cream and butter, homemade rolls, sweet potato bread pudding, strawberry pretzel salad . . . 

You can order up a pie flight: gooseberry, raisin cream, caramel apple and pumpkin. Or just eat a piece every hour on the hour through the entire Thanksgiving weekend. 

Or you can try to sample them before the meal even starts and while the girls aren't looking. It must be a guy thing. 

And when it's all over, you can go right back to the beginning: spending time with your family, talking about the things that matter and maybe, just maybe, sneaking a bite of turkey off the bone when nobody's looking before remembering that the scale knows . . . especially when you're pregnant. 

bread inside of a cake

Being the baby of the family has its advantages. Your parents aren't as strict with you as they were with your siblings. Your bedtime is a little more flexible. 

And you don't have to cook the Thanksgiving turkey, no matter what age you are, because you're the baby, and babies just don't know how to do that very important adult-ish stuff.

Clearly.

What we CAN handle, however, is bread. 

Or cake. Or bread cake. Or brake. Or ca-ad. Kind of like turducken but more carby.

The instructions are super difficult, so you have to follow closely.

(1) Bake pumpkin bread. (2) Cut out said bread in the shape of pumpkin. (3) Bake the shapes inside a pound cake. (4) Eat. 

But don't be deterred. It's totally do-able. Maybe even more do-able than roasting a turkey. 

Plus, you get to load up on the scraps of the bread that don't get cut into the shape of pumpkins. 

I also cut turkey legs out of pumpkin bread, so I'm pretty sure that almost counts as making my own turkey, right, Mom?

Mom? 

You can use pound cake and pumpkin bread mixes or make your own from scratch. I do recommend adding a little pound cake mix to the bottom of the pan before stacking your cut-out bread inside it. 

Otherwise the bottom of your pumpkins/turkey legs get a little cut off, and if you're showing up to Thanksgiving with something as awesome as this, you can't afford one little flub-up. 

Older siblings are all over that nonsense. 

Once your bread-cake-combo-of-deliciousness has cooled, slice that beauty up and impress the turkey legs off the rest of your family. 

But mostly your older brothers and sisters. 

They can brine and roast and fry their birds. But only YOU can show up with a pumpkin inside a cake. See? Being the baby really does have its advantages!

day 14 of farmacology: ever ready

One of the things you may not know about farm folks is that

we try to keep baked goods in our freezers. 

Because you never know when neighbors will stop by for coffee. You have to be prepared for these kinds of things. 

I tried it once. I baked a pan of bars, ate some with family, put the rest in the freezer . . . and then promptly proceeded to eat the rest one at a time over the course of the next week. 

Whoops. 

But when done properly, a person living in the country can always be ready for the moment anyone might stop by. 

Take one of my mom's friends, for example. She realized that she was in charge of taking cookies to the PTO meeting one evening, but the small-town grocery store was already closed for the night. 

So she called her neighbor and frantically asked if she had any cookies in her freezer that the neighbor would give up for a price. 

Of course the neighbor obliged. Because she had cookies. In her freezer. 

So whether you're living in the country or living in the city, pop those bars in the freezer. Double wrap that coffee cake. At least have some cookie dough handy. 

You never know when the neighbors might stop by. 

Or just need to borrow some. 

Because cups of sugar and an egg are so yesterday. 

Penzey's Banana Nut Coffee Cake

• BREAD
• 1/2 Cup pecans, chopped
• 1/4 Cup Cinnamon Sugar
• 1/2 Cup shortening
• 1 Cup sugar
• 2 eggs
• 1 Cup bananas, mashed (2 medium to large very ripe bananas)
• 1 TB. pure Vanilla extract
• 1/2 Cup sour cream
• 2 Cups flour
• 1 tsp. baking powder
• 1 tsp. baking soda
• 1/4 tsp. salt
• 
  
• CARAMEL ICING
• 6 TB. butter
• 3/4 Cup brown sugar, packed
• 6 TB. milk
• 1 tsp. pure Vanilla extract
• 2 Cups powdered sugar

• 1
  Bread: Preheat the oven to 350°. Grease either a bundt or tube pan and set aside. Combine the chopped pecans and CINNAMON SUGAR, set aside. With a mixer, cream the shortening and sugar together until light and fluffy. Beat in the eggs, mashed banana and PURE VANILLA EXTRACT. Add the sour cream and mix until blended. Sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Add to the batter and beat until blended. Sprinkle half of the sugar/nut mixture into the greased pan. Top with half of the cake batter. Follow with the second half of the sugar/nut mixture and end with the rest of the cake batter. Bake for 40-45 minutes or until a toothpick comes out clean. Cool 5 minutes in the pan then turn out the cake to finish cooling. Top with Caramel Icing.
• 2 Icing: Melt the butter in a saucepan. Add the sugar and the milk. Bring to a boil and continue to boil for 1 minute. Remove from the heat, add the VANILLA EXTRACT and gradually mix in the powdered sugar. This icing hardens up rather quickly so you need to work fast. If it hardens up too quickly for you add some more milk to thin it out.

Want to read more of my 31 day farmacology writing challenge? Click here.