Hands Down the VERY Best Salad Ever, Ever, Ever

I like to script things out in my head. Sort of a “what if” scenario. Like, if I’m talking to my mom about not wanting to let baby girl come visit her because she returns my child all spoiled and bratty and she says that ‘m just being tooky (yeah, tooky -- don’t look at me, ask her) and then I’ll say, well, I wouldn’t have to be so tooky if you weren’t such a hippie and would actually discipline my kid and then she’d say that I wouldn’t say that if I wasn’t such an uppity conservative and then I’d gasp at being called a conservative and look all offended, shocked and hurt and say that I’m only a conservative when you look through her bleeding heart fantasyland glasses and she’d remember that she got new glasses this week and she’d tell me about it and about the woman she met in the waiting room at the eye doctor whose daughter’s boyfriend once met Prince and now he can’t get past it and keeps dressing like something out of Purple Rain and the woman wonders what will happen if her daughter marries this guy and will the kids have any chance of being normal and then just when the lady was about to tell about her husband’s pet monkey who plays some musical instrument mom got called into see the doctor who still, after all these years -- doesn’t remember that her one near-sighted eye and one far-sighted eye cancel each other out and tried to tell her she needed bifocals much to her horror and then gave her the wrong prescription and then I’d remind her that she DOES need reading glasses and that would remind me of my stepdad’s reading glasses that he CLEARLY got by using his secret personal time machine and traveling back to a dime store ladies department in 1982 and mom would get a good laugh out of that and we’d wonder together what on earth we were all thinking when we wore those oversized glasses... you see how it goes... none of this discussion actually took place but it COULD have taken place and just in case it DOES take place, I’ve scripted it out real nice.

We eat out way too much. It’s rather like an addiction. I think I’m a pretty good cook. I actually enjoy cooking. When we eat out, I usually find myself scripting out the interview where I’m applying for the job of head chef and I’m explaining to these clowns how to properly make Bolognese or that you can’t use skim milk in bread pudding or ... or...

I don’t really understand why we eat out. I like my food better than most restaurants’. I suppose it has something to do with being served and not having to scrape dishes, although my mom would say it’s because I evidently have too much money lining my big-business, money-grubbing wallet and that I feel the much deserved guilt for joining “the man” and am trying to buy my way to happiness -- or some such nonsense. Okay, she probably wouldn’t reference “the man” but she’d find a way to work George Bush (Jr. and Sr.) into it.

This is the really long way of saying that after I eat out, I like to try recreate and perhaps even improve upon the dishes I’ve had. Recently we’ve eaten at O’Charlie’s and Longhorn. They both have salads that I adore. But, since I don’t have a Fry Daddy and can’t seem to make a really GOOD chicken tender in the oven, I’ve modified the two salads and come up with what I believe is the ultimate (although not diet-friendly) salad.

Rain’s Spring Green and Strawberry Salad

Ingredients
as usual -- it’s all give or take, I don’t think I’ve ever measured a single ingredient in this “recipe”

1/2 bag Spring Green Mix
1/2 bag Baby Spinach
1 Carton Fresh Strawberries (frozen won’t do, so don’t even think about it)
1 cup Pecans, shelled and halved
Some Blue Cheese Crumbles
4 TBSP more or less Butter
1/3-ish cup Brown Sugar
Sweet Onion (preferably Vidalia)
Marzetti’s Light Berry Balsamic Dressing (or other berry balsamic dressing)

Directions
Pre-heat oven to 400.

In a microwave-safe dish (ugh, yes, microwave) melt the butter. Stir in the brown sugar and nuke in 30 second increments until bubbly and gooey, stirring between each.

Coat the pecan halves in the brown sugar goop and pour into a single layer on a baking stone (or cookie sheet, lined with parchment paper might work) and place in oven for 10 - 15 minutes --- until you start to smell the pecans roasting. Don’t burn them!

Mix the spring greens and baby spinach in a large salad serving bowl.

Slice strawberries and toss into the salad mix.

Cut ends off of onion, then cut in half. Using 1/4 of the onion (cause sweet onions are usually large) make slices of the onion as paper think as you can. These should end up being little semi-circles of onion -- not cubes, or anything like that. Toss onions into salad.

When pecans are ready, let them cool as long as you can wait (hot pecans will wilt the greens). Then toss those into the salad as well -- dregs of crumbly brown sugar goo and all.

Toss the salad. Top with blue Cheese crumbles. Let each person add the salad dressing -- cause it’s sweet, so kids will want more, adults probably less.

Dig in -- yum-a-licious!

Crazy, Red-Headed Old Aunt Estelle

When I was a little girl, my mom's family all lived right near each other. I think the story went something like: Mama Wiehunt and Daddy Bill (my maternal great-grands) had a house on Sylvan Circle in Brookhaven. They had four kids: Willie May (aka Billie, my grandmother), Violet, Albert, and Estelle. The three girls were evidently as different as sisters could be -- right down to the color of their hair. Grandmother had black hair, Violet had blond hair and Estelle, well, she had red hair. And, in our family, that meant something. What, I'm not sure, but it "told us a lot about her." Legend has it that she actually willed her straight hair to be curly.

Anyway, I think the second house on the left past Mama Wiehunt and Daddy Bill's was Estelle and her husband John's. But, for most of my memory, they lived a few miles away in a big house with carpeting and stairs. You see, Aunt Estelle married a "Cheek" which meant she married into a family that was well-established in Dunwoody -- at least that's what Grandmother always told me. Most of what I remember about Aunt Estelle was stuff my grandmother TOLD me about her. Not that I didn't spend time with Aunt Estelle -- I did -- but because my dear grandmother never -- and I mean never -- shut up. And, when she ran out of new stuff to talk about, she'd talk about her sisters.

My other memories about Estelle were, of course, having meals. She made the BEST macaroni and cheese I ever had. She actually used spaghetti instead of macaroni. Whenever we had a family dinner I'd run to greet her and the first thing out of my mouth was always a query as to whether or not she'd brought mac and cheese. By the time I was old enough to start caring about recipes, Aunt Estelle was already gone to be with Jesus. So, I've done my best to create a recipe that brings to mind Aunt Estelle's mac n cheese.

The other memory -- since I'm on the subject -- was that Aunt Estelle had Fiesta Ware. Those beautiful, richly-colored plates and bowls that were mixed-matched. So I could be eating on an orange plate while my brother had a blue one and mom's was yellow. It was VERY groovy. No one in my family was groovy, so Aunt Estelle having groovy plates was a big deal.

Since I don't have her recipe, I've had to make up my own. The one thing I'll mention about this recipe is that a dish is never any better than the ingredients you put into it. If you use skim milk and cheap or pre-shredded cheese it's NOT going to taste right and you MAY not claim that you've made my mac n cheese. You must use the right stuff and realize that one or two servings of this stuff won't kill you.

Macaroni and Cheese

Ingredients

• 1 box Cavatappi (this is spiral macaroni that is hollow and has ridges on it. See the picture? This is important to the texture, heft and cheeziness of the mac n cheese. You can use elbow macaroni if you MUST)
• 1 tbsp dry mustard
• 2 tbsp corn starch (you can buy non-GMO corn starch, and I recommend doing so)
• 2.5 cups whole milk
• 2 pounds Good-Quality Sharp Cheddar Cheese (Cracker Barrel or Kraft is fine)
• 1 sleeve Ritz Crackers
• 4 tbsp butter, melted

Directions
Bring a stock pot of water to a boil and pour in the Cavatappi. Return it to a boil and cook pasta for 7 minutes. Pasta should be al dente, or firm, but done. When this is done, strain it, return it to the large stock pot and add a little butter so that it doesn't all stick together. For heaven's sake don't go rinsing that pasta after your drain it. you need all of the starch on the pasta to help the cheese stick.

While pasta is boiling, in a large saucepan place the mustard and corn starch. Slowly add the milk, stirring with a whisk. Put this over medium-high heat and whisk occasionally until the sauce is thickened. While this cooks, grate your cheese.

DO NOT use pre-grated cheese. It's just plain nasty. One time, when I couldn't get the stuff to melt right and noticed that it had this white powder-y stuff on it, I researched it... just don't use it. It doesn't melt, it tastes bad, it's more expensive and, well, it's nasty.

Let the sauce boil for about 1 minute then turn off the heat.

Add most of the grated cheese, saving aside enough cheese to lightly cover the top later. Stir the sauce and cheese until all cheese is melted and pour over macaroni. Mix it all up. Pour it into 9 x 13" casserole dish. Top the macaroni and cheese with the cheese you set aside.

Take the crackers and pulverize them. I like to leave them in the sleeve and just mash them up in there. Just be careful not to tear the sleeve or you'll have Ritz Cracker dust all over your kitchen.

Pour the pulverized cracker crumbs into the melted butter and use a fork to stir until thoroughly mixed. Put mixture all over the top of the macaroni and cheese.

Bake in oven at 350 for about 30 minutes or until it is bubbling.

YUM.

Bread

I love real bread. Not that wondrous white stuff that Mom served me as a kid that started out so fluffy but was quickly shrink-rayed into tiny instant play-dough balls with a couple of good mashes. To be fair, every good mom served that stuff to her children way back in the olden days, and, it had its merits. It made wonderfully doughy dumplings in my cream of tomato soup Grandmother served when I was sick.

No, what I love is REAL bread.

YUM.

Here’s a picture of the bread I made today.



I wish I could save the smell in a .sml file and post it here, but I’m not that technically savvy.

Here’s a picture of a dog who knows I’ve made bread.


See how nicely he sits? He knows there's bread.

Here’s a picture of a dog who knows Mommy is a sucker and will give him the first piece.


Doggie alien eyes are a side effect of bread deficiency... or the lack of Photoshop.

Here’s a picture of the first piece being devoured.


He may be old and blind, but he can devour a piece of bread in 2.8 seconds.


Here’s the lovely second piece, slathered with butter.



Don’t judge me! I’m eating freshly milled, whole grain bread -- see the nutritious flax seed in the background? A little butter is in order.


Like any good wife, I do not eat the bread of idleness. Rather, I make my bread with my own two hands. I push the button on the electric grain mill mill my own wheat flour from a carefully blended mixture of organic hard red and hard white wheat. Then toss it in the bread machine with a few other ingredients carefully blend it with other wholesome organic ingredients and ensure that it is properly kneaded and risen. Then I press the on button and impatiently wait 2 hours and 28 minutes until the machine beeps bake it to perfection.

Makes you want a slice, doesn’t it?

Makes you long for the days of yore when families farmed their own grain and made bread daily... or not...

Makes my soul serene.

So, here's the recipe. And, since this is my very own version that at one point started out as Sue Becker's recipe that I tweaked and twisted, I want to make certain that I take a moment to plug Breadbeckers, the place I get all of my grain, yeast, chocolate chips and other bread and pastry-making supplies.

Go there. Learn stuff. Live better.

They have a free "Getting Started Class" on September 19, 2009, sign up.

Bread, 2 Pound Loaf

This, like all of my recipes, has some "ishes" -- which means that it's not an exact measurement. HOWEVER, I will say that bread-making is a very exact science, so the measurements that I do give are pretty important. Now, you can make this recipe by hand or in a bread machine. What I think makes my bread so dang tasty is the particular bread machine that I use, the Zojirushi Home Bakery. If you actually own this or go out and buy one, give me a holler and I'll tell you my settings.

Ingredients
1.5 cups warm water
1/2-ish of 1/3 cup of Coconut Oil
the other 1/2-ish of 1/3 cup of Olive Oil
2 teaspoons salt
2 eggs
3 cups of freshly milled organic hard white wheat
1.5 cups of freshly milled organic hard red wheat
1 cup freshly ground flax seed
1 tbsp dry yeast

Place ingredients in machine in order listed. Bake according to manufacturer's directions for your bread machine UNLESS you have the Zojirushi, then ask me for settings.

Camping and the Opposite

Last weekend my very good friend Mary and I took our kids camping. It was my very first camping trip and therefore my kids' first camping trip. I really didn't know what to expect. I thought there'd be a grill, but wasn't certain how to use it -- do I bring wood? charcoal? What if it rains??? I knew that Mary was bringing her camp stove, but wasn't really certain how that would work. So, in typical Lorraine fashion, i over-prepared for the weekend.

Now, I don't like to be without the conveniences of home. Not at all. Even when traveling to stay in a hotel, cruise ship or even a friend's house, I bring just about everything I might ever need with me: pillows, Pepto, hand soap, books, tissues, toilet paper, etc. So, of course, this was my mentality when envisioning camping. BUT -- since I didn't want to be surrounded by RV's, I had asked Mary to book us a "walk-in" site, which the Web site said could be up to 1500 feet from the parking. SO.... I had to re-think my packing! 1500 feet is a lonnnggg way.

I began to make lists -- this is what I do when I'm anxious. I reckon that if it's all down on paper and everything is there and makes sense, then all of life will be okay. So, I had to prioritize. What was important? My blow up mattress, for one. No way was I going to sleep on the ground. Bread -- and lots of it -- I wasn't going to be forced to use public bathrooms without the advantage of a high-fiber diet. So, muffins and brownies were near the top of the list since I make them with fresh-milled whole wheat, too.

After making the whole packing list including new camping pillows, Petzl head lamps, plenty of tarps (the thought of soggy bedding wasn't attractive) and a water-proofing product for all soggy-able items, I was ready to begin making menus! So, what does one make for three days of meals when one had no idea what the cooking situation will be?

Hot dogs, of course.

But, I can only endure hot dogs for one meal about once every six months or so. So, I needed to come up with some other ideas.

• Friday, lunch -- KFC, since we'd just arrived
• Friday, dinner -- Chicken Salad Sandwiches, spring greens and chips
• Saturday, breakfast -- Yogurt, fruit, muffins (although Holt had Cheetos)
• Saturday, lunch -- tuna salad sandwiches with spring greens and PB&J (for Mary, Annie and Holt)
• Saturday, dinner -- hot dogs, potato salad, baked beans (actually just Bush's heated up on the awesome camp stove)
• Sunday, breakfast -- Muffins and my all-new Camping Frittata (recipe below)

Now I know that the camping stove is actually really cool and I could have done a lot more with it. But, as it was, I had all of the food pretty much prepared before we left, so all I had to do was assemble and heat. That left more time for fun things -- like the Nature Trail...

ahhh, the "Nature Trail."

Well, I'll admit that they didn't lie -- it was a trail and there was nature. But, frankly, when I hear that there's a "one mile nature trail," I envision a nice, clear path around the grounds that features signs about the various plants so that one can leisurely stroll there and learn about indigenous plants...nature. So, we set off for the trail -- myself, Mary, Holt (age 3) and Annie.

We easily found the trail and the first bit of it were sort of steps up a pretty steep incline. I thought, "oh, good. We'll get the steep part out of the way so that we don't have it when we're tired." We approached the first sign which talked about, I don't know, something like leaves. I read the entire thing to Annie and pointed out the leaves (or whatever it was) as described. We continued to walk up the incline and arrived at a second sign. A little winded, I summarized it for Annie and sort of pointed in the general direction of whatever it described. By the time we'd gone 1/4 mile straight up hill and arrived at the fifth or sixth sign, I panted, "It's about birds" and waved in the general direction of the air.

So, the "one mile nature trail" was a one mile wooded torture. Half a mile straight up. Half a mile straight down. At one point the path was actually almost overgrown. I had to literally push my way through branches. Now, perhaps a more seasoned camper/hiker -- say, Mary -- wouldn't have found this to be at all surprising. She didn't. And, a person in better shape -- say, Holt (age 3) -- wouldn't have even been winded. He wasn't. He actually had the audacity, the little booger, to say, "That was EASY!" as he scampered off, leaving me clinging to life and the handrail at the bottom of the trail.

After mostly recovering from the jaunt around the trail, I did indeed enjoy the beautiful lake, the calm, cool summer breeze, S'mores by the campfire and I actually really like sleeping in the woods. It was so quite it almost hurt. Now a suburban housewife, I'd nearly forgotten what that was like. It took my back to a sweet time in my life, when the biggest concern (and it was big) was whether my brother or I got to sleep on the swing on my grandmother's front porch.

So, camping is, indeed for me! Who'd of thunk it! Me, Lorraine "Where is the Nearest Hilton" Rose (according to Amanda). And, in honor of my new-found love of camping and my survival of the nature trail, I give you two awesome recipes:

S'mores (in case you don't know this time-honored recipe, I take NO credit)

• Get some Graham crackers. Not Cinnamon Graham crackers, and, for goodness sake, don't ruin this by buying "healthy" crackers -- just plain, good graham crackers.
• Buy a good supply of Hershey's bars (no nuts).
• Buy some large marshmallows.
• Find a thin, green stick.
• Burn the stick for a moment to "sanitize it" (yeah, right).
• Place one (or preferably two) marshmallows on the stick and place it over the fire. Now, there are two philosophies on how to properly roast a marshmallow. The first is to hold it well above the fire and rotate it so that it slowly and evenly browns ever-so-slightly while still getting all melty on the inside. This is all well and good, but I haven't the patience for it. I say hold it close to the flame for as long as you can stand it and when you get bored catch the whole thing on fire and quickly blow it out. This ought to provide a well melted marshmallow with a bit of a crunchy outside.
• Here's where true artistry comes into play. You need two halves (squares) of a graham cracker. Place on one of the halves enough Hershey chocolate to cover the cracker. Take the Marshmallow(s) -- still on the stick-- and place it/them on the cracker with chocolate then place the other cracker half on top of the marshmallows and squeeze the crackers together while pulling the stick out. This should result in a monumentally fantastic S'more -- which you eat before it cools down. As a kid I could eat these all night. As an adult, my limit is just less than one.

Camping Frittata
(I'd love to be able to call it "Campfire Frittata, but I'll have to wait until the next trip to try cooking it over an open fire)

Ingredients (can vary)

• 7 - 10 Eggs
• 1 - 1.5 cups whole (black-market raw) milk
• 1 cup of shredded cheddar cheese
• 1/2 lb ground sausage (yes, like Jimmy Dean, not healthy, but tasty)
• 1/2 bag of shredded potatoes (you can usually get these near the eggs in the supermarket)
• chopped onions to taste
• Plenty of Adobo (or your favorite season-all)
• salt, maybe pepper
  

Instructions
Brown and thoroughly cook the sausage. As the sausage finishes cooking, add the onions and then the potatoes. Cover the potatoes with an appropriate amount of Adobo. Stir and cook this for a couple of minutes, until the potatoes begin to barely brown.

In the meantime, beat the eggs with the milk and salt to taste (also pepper, if you like). Add the cheese and pour mixture over the sausage and potatoes. Scramble this just a bit until the eggs begin to become a tiny bit cooked. Then, leave it alone, letting it cook as slowly as possible until the whole thing is firm. Cool for about 3 minutes and then slice and eat.

Of course, if you're having difficulty controlling the heat source and, like us on the trip (but not in the initial test kitchen) find that the eggs are getting quite cooked in places and still completely runny in other places. Just scramble the whole thing and serve it with a spoon instead of in slices. It's all the same, just not a pretty.

So, this was, after all, entitled "Camping and The Opposite."

We left the camping weekend doing so well. We'd made plenty of vitamin D while playing at the beach; gotten plenty of exercise walking, swimming and hiking the infamous nature trail, we'd eaten very healthy -- including organic fruits, bread baked with fresh-milled wheat, tons of water, etc. I was tired, but felt well! Healthy! Invigorated! Which was the whole hope of the weekend, knowing what lay ahead!

The entire following week is a wonderful blur. I was completely engrossed in preparations for a huge outreach called Give a Kid a Chance. This is where we help every kid "in need" in Cherokee County be able to start school on the same footing as all of the other kids. We have one big day where the kids and their families come and we do medical, dental, vision, hearing and scoliosis screenings for the kids. They get their hair cut by professionals, many of whom normally charge a LOT of money. They get a backpack filled with all of the school supplies they need as well as new socks and undies. Then they can go "shopping" in our nearly new clothing section and choose up to five outfits. After all of that, they can sit down and enjoy a free meal with their family and even get their faces painted! How cool is that!

I am the volunteer coordinator for the event. This year we had nearly 600 volunteers at our two locations and we served more than 1500 kids!

How is this "The Opposite?"

Well, I spent the entire week buried at my computer assigning and re-assigning volunteers. Checking up and checking-in volunteers. Answering questions, attending meetings, moving chairs, sorting clothes, carrying backpacks and even screening videos (to make sure they weren't too scary for little kids). My body didn't get any exercise. My skin didn't see a ray of sun. There was no "Nature Trail" and all I remember eating was pizza and Chick-fil-A. It's Tuesday of the following week and I still haven't made any bread!

BUT -- I wouldn't change it for all the S'mores in the forest!

While being virtually the opposite of camping, I have never had a better weekend than this! To see the faces of the kids -- feeling so proud of their new haircuts and their cool backpacks. To see old friends that I met the very first year we did this outreach --watching those kids grow up! To see the beaming faces of the volunteers as they are blessed more than they imagined by serving God's children the way God tells us to -- clothing the ill-clad, feeding the hungry... I can't imagine a better way to bookend a frenetic week of typing that with camping on one side and Give a Kid a Chance on the other.

well, except I did sleep virtually ALL of Sunday, except the hour and a half I was a church.

If you're interested in helping with Give a Kid a Chance for next year, it's never too early to let me know! We're already starting to plan for next year! Shoot me an e-mail at cippierose@yahoo.com and I'll get your on our volunteer e-mail list. No spam, just info about GAKAC.

"What I'm interested in seeing you do is: sharing your food with the hungry, inviting the homeless poor into your homes, putting clothes on the shivering ill-clad, being available to your own families. Do this and the lights will turn on, and your lives will turn around at once.

Your righteousness will pave your way.

The God of glory will secure your passage.

Then when you pray, God will answer.

You'll call out for help and I'll say, 'Here I am.'" -- God (in Isaiah 58:6-9-ish)

Journey To The Perfect Meatloaf

I love meatloaf. I know it's passé to admit and it's so very "middle America" and "normal" that you probably can't believe I would eat it much less adore it. But, adore it I do!

Long ago I set out to figure out how to make meatloaf.

My mother, who, bless her heart, has never been a great cook, told me to just take some hamburger meat and mix it with ketchup and some dried onions and make it into a circle in a pie pan that was slightly larger than the loaf and cook it till it is done. This is NOT the meatloaf I adore.

So, I went to the trusty Red and White Checkerboard cookbook and tried their recipe. Nope, not what I was looking for. Some recipes even called for brown gravy and canned, sliced, button mushrooms; which I will not abide. I bought a cookbook called 50 Great Meatloaves! And made about 10 of them before chucking that out.

We settled on a recipe that included a bunch of sautéed veggies, but it never held together well. Which, may not sound like a big problem, but, since the one thing I adore more than meatloaf is meatloaf sandwiches, it's a problem when the meatloaf falls apart. How can you take the cold meatloaf and properly arrange it on the bread so that every bite has just the right amount of meatloaf, ketchup and bread if the meatloaf is all falling apart??!?!

I watched some FOOD Network shows and copied down those recipes. Again, not the loaf I was looking for. I saw Roseanne teach Darleen's class (or was it Becky's) how to make meatloaf by adding corn flakes to the meat mixture, but I can't imagine even trying that! So, I tried using stuffing instead of corn flakes in Roseann's recipe and, well, let's just say I'm sorry -- truly sorry to have put the meat and the stuffing to such a dismal end. Now, I realize that I was pretty desperate trying a recipe that was part of a sitcom.... but, I wanted some meatloaf!

I saw a show on PBS where some guy was showing a second grade class how to make meatloaf and he talked about just knowing when the ratio of breadcrumbs to meat to wet was right by the way it held together. That was promising.... an "un-recipe." I like un-recipes.

A little while after that and totally unrelated at the time, I started making meatballs from a recipe I found online. It included breadcrumbs, eggs, sautéed onions, tomato sauce, Parmesan cheese, and, of course, lean meat (both beef and pork). Since I don't do the whole pork thing, I make them with just beef. naturally, being from the south and seeing most food as vehicles for ketchup, I substituted ketchup for the tomato sauce. And, once I accidentally left out the eggs and I liked the way it tasted better, so I kept that. Eventually I started leaving out the milk -- probably because Annie drank the glass I was going to pour in and it worked without that, too.

So, remembering the un-recipe for meatloaf I saw on PBS and pairing that with the altered meatball recipe, I have stumbled on what I think is almost the ultimate recipe for meatloaf.

Meatloaf, Rain Style

• 1.5 - 2 pounds of lean ground beef
• Some Bread crumbs (preferably just ground up homemade wheat bread)
• Some Parmesan cheese (preferably the kind you get at the market that was ground up in the store, but Kraft will do in a pinch)
• Ketchup (organic, of course, and I like the Whole Foods brand)
• Yellow Mustard
• Steak Seasoning (homemade or store bought which includes salt, pepper, garlic and other goodies for beef)
• An egg for good measure
• 1 onion, chopped and sautéed

Mix the above ingredients in the amounts you see fit. I tend to use about 1 - 2 cups of bread crumbs and at least a cup of Parmesan and a lot of ketchup. The mix should be moist but not wet and should hold together when you turn it out, but not be a tight blob. Only mix as much as you need to in order to distribute the ingredients evenly.

I put it in a 8 x 8 Pampered Chef stoneware pan, but you can use just about anything that leaves room around the loaf. I make a loaf shape in the center of the pan that stretches from one side to the other longways but is much shorter the other way, so there's plenty of room for the grease to drain out and not get re-absorbed into the loaf.

Cook this for about 1 - 1.5 hours at 350. Make sure the center is at least 157 degrees, minimum. Just before it's done, I brush on a coating of ketchup on the top and let it cook for about 2 - 3 minutes.

Have a better recipe or un-recipe? I'm still looking for the ultimate!

Roast Chicken and Raw Milk

When I was young and lived in what seemed to me to be a BIG house on Roswell Road in Buckhead (before anyone knew where Buckhead was) we used to have a milk box. This was a little tin box that sat outside the back door. From time to time milk appeared there. As an adult looking back, I'm sure there was a weekly delivery schedule and the milk man actually delivered the milk. Sometimes he also brought cottage cheese, which was a favorite of mine. My brother was partial to applesauce, though -- but that's another story.

Anyway, the milk man brought the BEST milk! It came in these beautiful glass bottles and had little foil caps that were fun to sorta peel off. The best part, though, was that you had to shake up the bottle before pouring out the milk. You see, my mom ordered raw milk from the dairy and the cream in raw milk rises to the top and needs to either be skimmed off or shaken up into the rest of the milk. Of course, not long before that you didn't actually have to specify "raw" milk, because it was the only milk. I drank raw milk for most of my young life.

My mom was a sort of very "early adopter" of the health nut craze. From Yoga classes to a largely vegetarian diet, we were health conscious. The first time anyone ever fed me pizza I freaked out and could barely make myself eat it.

My step-mother, Keri, was an even bigger health nut -- edging on health freak status. At her house we had kefir, alfalfa sprout and avocado sandwiches on pita bread and lots of almonds all purchased from weird little food co-ops. This fostered in me a great love for healthy foods. I can eat some junk, don't get me wrong, but I really love the healthier stuff and I think it has to do with the taste I developed for it early on.

So, fast forward to nowadays and I want to give my children the same awesome, healthy things I grew up with. I make them wheat bread and forbid white bread in the house. I buy organic whenever possible and focus on local produce. I cook from scratch and use very few pre-packaged items. I also want to feed my children the same raw milk I was raised on. It's actually the same milk my sons were raised on at their biological grandmother's house in Latvia and at the orphanage where they lived until we adopted them at 13. But, since I live in the state of Georgia, I can't buy raw milk for human consumption. Nope, I can only buy "Pet Milk" that is labeled "Not for Human Consumption." It's still the same thing, just a different label, so, whatever.

If it didn't make me madder than a wet hen, it'd be humorous to me. I can't feed my family milk from a trusted, clean dairy just down the street that uses grass-fed cows who are pastured (free range) and lovingly cared for and not fed antibiotics or hormones but I can feed my family milk that is from cows halfway across the country which are bred to produce massive amounts of milk and fed hormones and lots of antibiotics in order to keep their milk production at extreme levels even though they're fed soy mush or chicken waste or other such un-cow-like foods. Now, if the milk wasn't bad and disgusting enough, we'll just go and cook it and high temperatures to make it safe, because there is massive amounts of e. coli and other harmful if not deadly bacteria spread in these large-scale "dairies."

Did you know that cows at commercial dairies that produce pasteurized milk do not have to pass a health inspection for disease -- after all, the milk's going to be cooked halfway to hades so why bother! According to The Real Milk campaign, pasteurizing the milk "diminishes vitamin content, denatures fragile milk proteins, destroys vitamins C, B12 and B6, kills beneficial bacteria, promotes pathogens and is associated with allergies, increased tooth decay, colic in infants, growth problems in children, osteoporosis, arthritis, heart disease and cancer." They claim that "Calves fed pasteurized milk do poorly and many die before maturity. " If that didn't gross you out enough, "raw milk sours naturally(which I can attest to) but pasteurized milk turns putrid; processors must remove slime and pus from pasteurized milk by a process of centrifugal clarification." EWWWWWWWWWW (quoted from www.realmilk.com as of 6/2/08)

Recent advertisements for milk try to make you believe that drinking milk (pasteurized) will help with weight loss due to the calcium. Not so! Drinking Whole Fat Raw Milk from Grass-Fed Cows will help you lose weight and used to be used successfully at the Mayo Clinic as a cure for cancer, chronic fatigue, allergies, skin problems. Want to know more? Click here and scroll down to the comment section where Dr. Mercola comments about raw milk and cites actual scientific studies.

I could go on to talk about the link of heart disease to homogenization, but, well, that's just beating a dead horse... or cow....

I won't settle for that! My family deserves better than that! As I'm always telling my kids, I don't want "normal" for them, they're better than "normal" and "normal" these days is just sorry! So, after much research and even reading the CDC's diatribe about the dangers of raw milk, my husband and I believe that it is the best option for our family. So, we've found a source for raw milk and I have to go to pick it up each week. Yup! We go and get a gallon or two each week and boy is it good. The boys really had refused to drink the pasteurized stuff (a.k.a. cooked milk, as Annie calls it). But the first gallon of raw milk I brought home disappeared quickly.

Now, what does all of this have to do with Roasted Chicken?

Well, I'll tell you. You see, when you start doing "crazy" things like milling your own wheat and drinking raw milk, you start to meet a whole new group of people -- others who share your views of eating the foods that the Good Lord provides for us in a state as close to the way He provides it. So, my wheat lady lets my milk guy do a "milk drop" in her parking lot and, in addition to the milk, he sells raw honey (and creamed honey) from a bee keeper up the road and pastured, organic chickens (when he can get them from his farmer friend) off the back of his truck.

This week my milk guy was running low on milk. in other words, he had orders for more gallons than he actually had. And, rather than trying to force the cows to give more milk to meet the demand, he simply asked folks who ordered multiple gallons if they could spare a gallon. So, last week was a low-milk week in our family and I offered to not pick up a gallon this week. But, since he had chickens this week, I took one of those.

Tonight I cooked it and it was yummy. I use what I think is the simplest recipe possible. You just can't mess up a really good bird. Now, the ones you get at the grocery store that are all yellow and plumped up -- now those take some skill to make taste good. But a free-range, organic chicken just tastes good all by itself. So, here's my recipe.

Roast Chicken
First, in case you didn't get it from the above tirade, start with a good bird that isn't chock-full of chemicals. I'd also recommend using organic everything else, but if you can just get the bird right, the other stuff will probably not kill you today!

Ingredients

• Whole Chicken (roaster)
• 5 -6 medium carrots peeled and sliced into large, bite-sized pieces
• 4 - 5 medium potatoes, peeled and sliced into large, bite-sized pieces
• 1-2 medium onions (I use Vidalia) peeled and quartered
• Adobo or Spike or whatever seasoning you usually like to use

In a roasting pan (I use, and love, the Pampered Chef roaster with lid) scatter the carrots, potatoes and onions. Season. Place the bird on top, breast side down (so it gets all of the fat dripping into it and remains moist). Season the bird with what you seasoned the veggies. Place a lid on the roaster or cover tightly with foil. Cook until the chicken is done -- about an hour and a half, probably. Carefully remove the lid/foil away from you so as not to get burned by the steam. Carve the chicken and put it on a platter, scoop up the veggies from the bottom and put them in a serving bowl. If you want, you can make gravy form the drippings, but I usually don't bother.

How easy is that?

Want more info about Raw Milk? I have found www.RealMilk.com to be a great jumping off point for your research. And, just so ya know. I don't serve others raw milk without a warning and never give it to kids unless I have permission from their parents.

Celery, Cobbler and Half-Moon Pies

My Grandmother was a good cook -- almost as good as my Granddaddy.

For most of my life she lived in a little house on Sylvan Circle in Brookhaven, next door to Mama Wiehunt and Daddy Bill (her parents) and her siblings -- each in houses in a row. Last week I visited Roosevelt's "Little White House" in Warm Springs, Georgia. As I walked into the house, which is now a museum, I was swept away by a familiar and comforting smell -- the smell of aged wood that's heated up. It's the way my Grandmother's house always smelled. As best as I can remember, the walls of her house were wood on the inside. The house always had this wonderful aroma, especially in the hot summer.

Grandmother always had food -- ALWAYS. I have wonderful memories of sitting on top of her deep freezer (which was dressed with a tablecloth and sat in the middle of her kitchen) watching her cook. One of my fondest memories of the kitchen was the Swing-Away can opener. It was mounted to the side of the cabinets and literally swung over the sink when you needed to use it. This fascinated me. We had an ugly old electric one at home.

Another fond memory was of helping her make cobbler. I wish I knew her recipe, but before she went home to Jesus I didn't really care about domestic things and didn't bother to get her to tell it to me. But, what I do remember is that there was fruit -- any kind, but my favorite was blackberry -- and that was covered by a crust which was placed in strips across the fruit in a 9 x 13 inch Pyrex dish. Then you had to add little tiny pats of butter all over the top and sprinkle on sugar -- this was my job, which I took seriously!

The best part, though, was that there was always crust left over! We'd make Half Moon Pies with that crust. She'd let me roll out the crust into a small circle and then put a dollop of Applesauce topped with butter and sugar, in the middle, fold it over and crimp the edges with a fork. We'd cook this in the toaster oven. YUM-MY!

Grandmother was always eccentric. I think she was just plumb born that way. I can't remember a time when she wasn't peculiar -- in an endearing way. Not all of her peculiarities revolved around food, but many did. One of my favorite memories of eating at Grandmother's came after she'd sold her house and moved into one of Tomlinson's apartments on Peachtree.

The family -- including Aunt Estelle and Uncle John -- gathered for dinner at Grandmother's one evening. My brother, Robert, and I were helping take the dishes of food to the table when I noticed an odd-looking food that appeared to be a vegetable. It was sort of green and a little white-ish and was long and slender, but not asparagus. I asked her what it was. She seemed perplexed by the question, looked at it then at me and declared, "Why, it's celery, of course" as if cooked celery was a family favorite. I glanced at Robert and then to my step-dad, Wayne, who shrugged his shoulders. This was a new one -- and not exactly appetizing.

We all sat down, Uncle John asked a blessing and we began to pass the food around. Each of us waiting to see if there was any way to get out of eating the celery. Finally Wayne buckled and served himself a portion. I watched as the limp stalk sagged over the cup of the serving spoon. Wayne then passed it along to my brother and I who, took the obligatory spoonful. After pushing it around the plate, pretending to eat it but really waiting each other out, Wayne finally took a bite of the nefarious food and began to chuckle.

"Billie," (that was my grandmother's name) he offered, "this is broccoli!"

"Well," she declared, "of course it's broccoli, what did you think it was???"

"What on EARTH happened to this broccoli?"

"Way - ull," she explained in her southern drawl, "the tops looked a little brown, so I cut them off and boiled the stalks."

That was Grandmother in a nutshell -- adapt, improvise and overcome -- in her own, not always appetizing way. I sure miss her.



Don't overwork your biscuit or they'll come out tough as hardtack!