Cookbooks are an interesting medium.  I love getting them as gifts.  I will set aside time to pour over them and then my imagination takes over: which guests will I prepare it for? when shall I try the dish on my family? do I have the ingredients in the house right now? etc. etc.

My cookbook collection is so well used that I now have to keep many of the worn and torn books in cardboard magazine holders on my bookshelf (which is actually the space around my micro-wave when I converted the first humongous one that we received as a wedding gift to the more practical and streamlined variety of today).  In truth, I would like to eliminate my microwave altogether and fill the entire space with cookbooks, but that is another story…

Over the years I have had my favourites, in the 80′s I cooked almost entirely from the Best of Bridge Series and still refer to them from time to time.  In the 90′s my cooking “lightened” up and Canadians Bonnie Stern and Anne Lindsay became my premiere resources.  During these times I also subscribed to Time Life  Cookbook Series and had two entire collections.  But like encyclopedias, their usefulness seemed to diminish.  More recently, my largest collection is of Jamie Oliver books. The first one was a gift to me by J1 and J2 (my son and daughter-in-law).  I love when my kids try to teach their old momma new tricks.

I can’t get rid of a beloved cookbook-they become like family photo albums for me.  Like a collection of memories, I believe they deserve a permanent position on my bookshelf.

This weekend and Eat Write Retreat, I was gifted with three books.  The first was written by Michael Natkin and contains vibrant vegetarian recipes.  Michael spent part of the weekend with us and was an inspiration to us all.  I am trying to adopt the attitude that if most of  the world can cook creatively with beans,  lentils and more veggies, then so can I.

One of the weekend’s creators-Robyn Webb is the author of the second book: The Diabetes Comfort Food Cookbook.  This one is close to my heart for two reasons.  Comfort food is what I am all about, in fact, I am learning to find other means of comfort (like walks in the park and bubble baths) so that I will turn to food for solace, less often.  In addition, diabetes is rampant for us in Manitoba and has penetrated into my own family.  So far I have kept it bay and intend to continue to do so.  Interestingly, when my youngest flipped through my new cookbooks, she found this one to be the most appealing.  So Robyn is successfully enticing a new generation of foodies.

The last one that I lugged home from Washington in my carry on bag (for fear that the weight of my books would necessitate an extra checked baggage charge)  is a collection of recipes by bloggers with this dedication: “To food bloggers everywhere.  Thanks for leading us back into our kitchens”.  This is a collection of easy weeknight meals.  Midweek cooking is everyone’s challenge isn’t it?  Putting wholesome and nutritional meals in front of our families when we are just dashing in the doors ourselves, can be a frustrating experience without some great resources (like this one).  A collection of bloggers recipes….I think that I maybe onto something!

Kath’s quote: “When treasures are recipes they are less clearly, less distinctly remembered than when they are tangible objects. They evoke however quite as vivid a feeling-that is, to some of use who, considering cooking an art, feel that a way of cooking can produce something that approaches an aesthetic emotion. What more can one say? If one had the choice of again hearing Pachmann play the two Chopin sonatas or dining once more at the Cafe Anglais, which would one choose?”-Alice B. Toklas

Jamie Oliver is my kind of guy-his recipes use affordable ingredients, he is an ambassador of “real” food, he loves his kids and his wife, his success has apparently not changed his wardrobe and he writes his recipes as if he were standing in the kitchen next to you:  “don’t worry about technique, just chop away until fine”, “if you’re ready to tuck in,  just drape the warm slices over the lettuce and serve” , “it would be lovely if everyone had a go at making things like tarts, tortes or pastries at home…..”

My prized “Food Revolution” Cookbook was a gift from my son and daughter (in law) #3.  This past Sunday dinner (mandatory) I prepared a big batch of spaghetti and then sent everybody home with left overs.  I added a couple of my own modifications and the kids had their own improvement as well.  Here is the result:

2 slices of bacon, chopped

2 medium onions, peeled and chopped

2 cloves garlic, chopped

2 carrots, chopped

2 celery stalks, chopped

olive oil

2 heaped t of dried oregano

1 lb good quality beef 

28 oz. can of diced tomatoes

s&p

a small bunch of fresh basil

4 oz. Parmesan cheese

1 lb. dried spaghetti

I doubled the recipe and used a lb. of ground beef and a thinly sliced flank steak from the freezer.  I soaked both in milk before cooking (a technique I had seen in another Bolognese recipe) and then finely chopped up the flank steak.

Saute bacon with oregano and cook until golden.  Add veggies and stir every frequently until softened and lightly coloured.  Stir in the meat (drained if soaked in milk) and tomatoes.  Now Jamie adds a can of water but the kids think that this makes the sauce too soupy, so go by your own preference.  Let simmer until veggies or to your desired firmness (approx. 20 minutes).  Add S&P to taste.  Add freshly torn basil leaves.  Cook pasta to your liking and when it is el dente, drain and stir into the sauce.    Sprinkle with Parmesan.

For more beef ideas, go to www.beefinfo.org.  I am dreaming of time away at Eat, Write, Retreat www.eatwriteretreat.com.

Kath’s quote: “The strands of spaghetti were vital, almost alive in my mouth, and the olive oil was singing with flavor. It was hard to imagine that four simple ingredients [olive oil, pasta, garlic and cheese] could marry so perfectly.”-Ruth Reichl

My favourite kind of cookbooks are the ones that include personal reflections and anecdotes about a person’s life and their relationship with food.  I have received one such collection this Christmas from my Mom-in-law and I wanted to share this Christmas story with you.

“If everything special, warm, and happy in my formative years could have been consolidated into one word, that word would have been Christmas.  So, by the time the building blocks of my days had piled themselves into something as formidable as late adolescence, Christmas had a lot to live up to.

Christmas, by then, meant fireplaces and the bustle of a big, excited family complete with aunts, uncles and cousins.  It meant great smells from the kitchen, home-made bread, and cranberries bubbling on the stove, pumpkin pies and turkey. It meant Grandma’s cheery voice raising to be the first to holler “Christmas gift!” as we came in the door.  It meant real cedar Christmas trees, handmade foil ornaments, and lots of secrets.  It meant unfolding in the arms of our great family the lonely or forsaken of our village who had no place to go.  It meant all the good and lovely things we said about Christmas being in your heart and the joy being in giving.

Then came another year.

There were many things that conspired to bring me to the situation in which I would test all my glibly accepted theories.  Grandma was gone, leaving in my heart a vacuum that wouldn’t go away.  My sister was married now and had the responsibility of sharing her holidays with her husband’s family.  The other relatives were far away …… I wasn’t there when they moved from the parsonage to a tiny cottage at the lake that a concerned businessman had helped them build.  Nor was I prepared that winter day for the barrenness that can be found only in resort  areas build for summer fun.

There was no fireplace.  There was no bustle of a big excited family.  Gone was the sense of tradition and history that only the aged can provide, and gone was the thrill of the immediate future that comes with the breathless anticipation of children.

The dinner was going to be small, just the three of us, and there just wasn’t any ring in the brave attempt at shouting “Christmas gift!” that Mother made as I came in the door.  Daddy suggested that because I’d always loved it, he and I should go to the woods to cut our own tree.  I knew that now, of all times, I could not let my disappointment show.  I put on my boots and my cheeriest face, and off through the knee-deep snow we trudged into the Michigan woods.  My heart was heavy, and I knew that Mother was back at the stove fighting back the tears-for all that was not there. 

There was a loveliness as the forest lay blanketed in its heavy comforter of snow, but there was not a comforter to wrap around the chill in my heart.  Daddy whistled as he chopped the small cedar tree.  (He always whistled when there was something bothering him).  As the simple tuneless melody cut though the silent frozen air, I got a hint of the quiet burdens adults carry, and for the first time felt myself on the brink of becoming one.  So as I picked up the end of the scraggy, disappointingly small cedar, I also picked up my end of grown-up responsibility.

I felt the times shift.  I was no longer a child to be sheltered and cared for and entertained.  My folks had put good stuffing in me.  Now, as I trudged back through the snow, watching the back of my father’s head, his breath making smoke signals in the morning air, the weary curve of his shoulders, I vowed to put some good stuff back into their lives.  The day was somehow different after that.  We sat around our little table, stringing cranberries and making foil cut outs.  This time it was not the activity of a child but sort of a ceremonial tribute to the child I somehow could never again afford to be and the people who had filled that childhood with such wealth and beauty.”

Excerpt from Gloria Gaither “He started the whole world singing”

Kath’s quote:“There is nothing sadder in this world than to awake Christmas morning and not be a child.”-Erma Bombeck

As we drove down Henderson Hwy. recently, we read a sign that went “Mennonite Girls Can Cook-262 sold”.  A cryptic message, but I understood it perfectly.  “Mennonite Girls Can Cook” is the title of a blog that I enjoy very much and the “girls” have now produced a cookbook by the same title.  Sales have started off modestly… 262 to be exact.

My favourite Mennonite recipe is Platz.  When I say the name out loud, I giggle because it sounds like something that has been deposited in a field by a range animal.  In fact, it is the German name for Coffee Cake.  I like the German take on coffee cake because it is not filled with carbs and sugar.  The cake is flat and the emphasis is on seasonal fruit and berries.  I made one recently and the Daughter #2′s Frenchman (who is half German) was very impressed.

Here’s the recipe:

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.  Grease a 9 x13″ pan.

In the food processor, combine 1 c flour, 1/2 c sugar, 1 t baking powder, 1/4 c butter untill crumbly.  Or the cut the butter into the above ingredients with a plenty blender.  Add 1/2 c milk, 1 egg, 1 t vanilla.  Spread into the prepared pan.  Top with finely diced fresh or frozen fruit of your choice.  The “girls” prefere rhubarb or halved Italian plams.  On this day I combined rubarb, frozen strawberries, blueberries and a over ripe banana.

Combine the following for the crumb topping: 1 1/2 c of flour, 1/2 c melted butter and 1 1/2 c sugar (white or brown for a different taste).  Sprinkle over the fruit.  Bake in the top 1/3 of your oven until golden brown (about 30 minutes).  If you have overloaded the fruit (as I have a tendency to do), you may want to put a second baking sheet near the bottom of the oven to catch the drips.

A couple of weeks ago, Mom#2 picked a bucket of fresh local strawberries for me.  I froze them individually on cookie sheets before I bagged them.  Instead of turning into one frozen hunk, they come out individually frozen and are so easy to use.

 I may have posted this recipe before-who cares, it is so good that it deserves an encore. 

Kath’s quote: “You can tell when you have crossed the frontier into Germany because of the badness of the coffee.”-Edward VII

I tried to go back and reference the first time I heard the term “wife-saver”.  It was from my much-loved “Best of Bridge” cookbook series.  And I say tried because these cook books have been used so thoroughly over the years, that the front cover of this one (which would have included the date of publishing) is long gone.  Suffice it to say, that it was when my kids were babies and my oldest just turned 26. 

So we can safely establish that roles have changed.  But in this particular case the adage is an accurate one.  Sister #2 holds down one of those all-consuming jobs that makes weekends at the cottage particularly precious.  A time when she can sleep in, walk with the dogs, read, nap and rejuvenate for the weekdays ahead.  And so it is, that on weekends (especially long weekends), when she is assigned to the preparation of breakfasts for a gang, she dips into her “wife-saving” repertoire.

Don’t know what this was called, but it was satisfying and delicious.  Some of our gang took left over squares that they could eat on the run without reheating.

8 hash brown patties

2 cups of shaved ham (or chunks of leftover baked ham)

1 c milk

1/2 t dry mustard

4 c grated cheddar

7 eggs

1/2 t salt

Assemble a double layer of hash brown patties in appropriately sized pan.  Place ham on top.  Mix all other ingredients together and pour over top.  Cover and bake for 1 hour at 375 degrees.  Uncover and bake 15 minutes more.

Prepare for a sweet fix with this dish.  Don’t know the official name for it either but describe it as a “Pecan Carmel French Toast”.

1 c brown sugar

1/2 c butter

2 T corn syrup

1 c pecans, loosely chopped

12 slices of multi-grain bread

6 eggs

1 1/2 c milk

1 t vanilla

1 t cinnamon

1/4 t salt

Caramel sauce

1/2 c brown sugar

1/4 c butter

1 T corn syrup

To make this decadent dish even more so-we browned up split pork sausages to serve alongside

Combine sugar, butter, syrup.  Cook on med heat until sugar dissolves and it thickens.  Pour 1/2 sauce into 9 x 13 baking dish.  Place 6 slices of bread on top and then pecans.  Repeat.  Mix eggs, milk, spices.  Pour over bread.  Cover and refidgerate,  Bake 40-45 minutes at 350 degrees.  Make caramel sauce and pour over at table or when serving. 

Kath’s quote: “Often has the affectionate wife caused her husband a sleepless night and severe distress, which, had an enemy inflicted, she would scarcely have forgiven — because she has prepared for him food which did not agree with his constitution or habits.”-Sarah Josepha Hale, ‘The Good Housekeeper’