It’s November, which means my mind is on food again. I thought I’d share with you a couple of my current fall recipes to season the season. I posted my Stone Soup recipe, which is a favorite year-round, but this time I thought I’d give you a meat-less soup to try. Realm rarely lets me get by with a meat-less soup, or any soup that doesn’t end in “ili” and start with “ch.” The secret to getting your meat-loving husband to eat soup is to serve it with something that contains a little bit of meat. That’s where a hearty bread spread comes to the rescue.
Vegetable Lentil Soup
2 medium carrots, sliced
2 medium celery sticks, sliced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 medium onion, minced
2 cups dried lentils
1 ½ cups chicken broth
6 cups vegetable broth
½ cup water
salt & pepper
2 tsp dried basil
2 tsp thyme
1 tsp paprika
Add all ingredients to a big pot, except lentils. Bring it to a boil. Add lentils. Turn it down to simmer, and simmer on the stove for an hour. (Or realize you only have about 15 minutes before your hungry husband will be home, and crank that baby up to a raging boil!)
Hearty Italian Cheddar Bread
French or Italian bread loaf, sliced in half length-wise
2 tsp Italian dressing mix
1 cup chopped, fresh spinach
3 tablespoons butter, chopped in pieces
¼ cup of cooked ground beef
2 pieces of bacon, crumbled
¾ cup cheddar cheese, shredded
Mix the last six ingredients together. Spoon beef mixture onto the flat sides of each half of the bread loaf. Broil bread in oven for 5 minutes and serve with soup. (You can use any kind of meat you have: turkey, chicken, pepperoni, etc. Be creative.)
I used homemade flatbread instead of a store-bought loaf. That’s good, too. For gluten-free folks, you can top rice cakes with the spread and toast them in the oven, too. They come out crispy-browned on top and very, very flavorful.
I’m married to the grill master of my dreams. We’re having beautiful weather here, and Realm has been grilling out once a week. He’s a charcoal grill connoisseur. We tried gas once. The flavor’s not the same.
My favorite cologne for Realm is eau de Grill. I can smell it in his hair when he walks in from the porch. Some people sniff markers and glue; I tiptoe up to my husband and breathe in smoky bliss. He thinks it’s funny. I think it’s delicious.
He cooks steak to perfection…and herbed salmon, honey Italian marinated chicken, shish kabob—Oh! Shish kabob with garlic and onions, mushrooms, zucchini, and tomatoes is my favorite! I eat up all the cloves of garlic and onions before they reach the table. (My scent is eau de Halitosis.)
Of course, there’s the occasional burnt fare. Realm hates when this happens. I lurve it! The only thing better than grilled meat is charred grilled meat! I’m not saying I want ash here, but a burger that’s blackened is so yummy.
Realm and I just celebrated our 18th anniversary. Our marriage is an adult now. I’m very much in love with him. I think one secret to a happy 18 years is having a husband who knows how to woo his wife long after the “I do.” I like flowers. I like chocolate. But there is nothing like, “Honey, I cooked dinner.”
My sister the newlywed lives a few minutes away from me now. She’s new to the area and calls me when she’s shopping for groceries.
“Is this a good deal?”
“Do you like this brand?”
“Can I substitute in this recipe?”
I love it. I love being the one she calls when it comes to cooking. When it comes to cooking. Just wanted to emphasize that because I emphasized it to her.
“Marital advice is not my forte,” I told her before she got married. “Call Mom.”
She nodded and pretended I’d told her something she didn’t already know. She’s kind that way.
Her estimation of my cooking/grocery advice must be pretty high because, so far, I continue to receive her calls. This pleases me very much. It has also helped me realize that I have some pretty fantastic advice to give! So, now I’m going to give it to you. No need to thank me for my generosity. Really.
Advice for the Newbiewed Cook
Make a Weekly Menu.
The weekly menu is the hub of all kitchen activity for me. I’ve tried monthly, and I tired of it quickly—tired of the meals, tired of the planning. I can handle one week. I think most people can. If you can handle more, great! Most newlyweds have enough to handle, so why not start with one week?
Keep your Special Meals Special.
The majority of your evening meals should be something you can make in a reasonable amount of time. Pounding out meat and rubbing fresh herbs into it is special. Keep it special or you might get overwhelmed.
In my first year of marriage, I made so many new recipes. That got old fast, and not just for me. Realm looked up from his plate one evening after we’d finished some crazy dish and asked, “Can’t we just have fried chicken?”
Oh, and don’t turn your nose up at those staple meals you make so well. Your life is one big change right now; give yourself permission to make the staples. You have years to impress him with your culinary skilz.
Crank up the Crockpot!
I make at least one meal a week with my Crockpot. Once you’re planning menus, throwing ingredients into the Crockpot is a breeze. I’m not one for “brown it first and add it to the Crockpot.” If it can’t go in all at once, I might make that one of my special meals for the week. I don’t have a timer on my Crockpot, so it’s only turned on low when I’m cooking overnight. My Crockpot generally goes on high in the mornings so it’s ready by 5:00 p.m. We eat later, but it can be on warm. (You can always make it cook slower, but you’re generally stuck once you figure out you need it to cook faster.)
Cut the Process in Half with a Food Processor
I can’t cut. I’ve discussed that more than once on my blog. Chopping on a chopping board isn’t my thing, either. I tried one of those manual choppers when they were thought to be so wonderful–you know, for cutting up onions and stuff. Meh.
I have two pieces of equipment I use in my kitchen every day: my Ninja* and my Salad Shooter*. The food section parts of both of these appliances are all dishwasher safe. I’ve gone through half a dozen food processors. That means I’ve rendered at least half a dozen food processors useless. I’m tough on them. The Ninja is the only one that’s lasted. I bought my Salad Shooter at a garage sale for $12. Or was it $7? Anyway, slicing is a joy.
Be Prepared to Paper-Plate-It.
Yes, I’ve turned ‘paper plate’ into a verb. I’ve repeated this one the most to my sister. It’s really my best advice. It’s true that paper products cost money, but scrambling to catch up with the dishes costs time and causes stress. Provide yourself with a fallback plan. I also keep plastic cups, forks, and bowls on hand, which makes life so much easier when the kitchen takes on the decor of a mass science project involving volcanic eruptions and tornado devastation. Yep, that happens sometimes. Just to clarify, this is a fallback plan. Regular dishes really should be the norm.
So, there you have my 5 amazing tips after 17 years of wedded cooking. What are some things you do to make your meal-making run smoothly?
*These links depict the models I use. I receive no money or other remuneration of any sort from Amazon or the manufacturers of these products.
Realm received a note the other day from a coworker who spent one Wednesday night with us months ago. This coworker—I’ll call him Alexander because I rarely get to call anyone Alexander, and I really like that name… What was I saying? Oh, yeah: So, Alexander doesn’t live here. He lives three states away. Realm, being the type of guy who doesn’t like to see another guy eating fried chicken from the grocery store deli or buying the very fresh and boring sandwich (call it a Panini or what you will, it’s still a sandwich), invited Alexander over to eat at our house.
I didn’t know very much about him when Realm invited him over but that he was from out-of-town and that he was on a diet similar to Realm’s: fresh veggies, low carbs, no sugar. He walked into the kitchen to greet me, and he was very polite. I was very nervous about what I was serving. It was my third week of making low carb dishes. I hoped the honey in my honey-mustard sauce drizzled over the baked ham wouldn’t be too bad of a diet no-no. Then I hoped my ham wasn’t a no-no! There are some religious groups, like Seventh-Day Adventists, who don’t do pork. Basically, I worried my way through the entire meal, even after he complimented me on the food.
That night, when we left the house for Bible study, Alexander rode with us. My kids fought over who would sit by him. I don’t know much about Alexander’s beliefs, but he told Realm afterward that he’d enjoyed the study.
In the weeks that followed, the kids asked repeatedly whether he’d be back to eat with us again. “He should come over on Sunday and eat, too. Then he could go to worship services with us two times!” my daughter said. I think she thought this was an offer that couldn’t be refused. But Alexander had to go back home, and he slipped out of our thoughts for a bit.
Recently, Realm learned Alexander was returning to town. He sent him a message that he should come over again for supper, that the kids had asked about him, and he hoped his work was going well. As it ended up, Alexander’s business trip was canceled. He messaged Realm, and this was one of the things he said about coming to our house that night:
“That will go down in history as one of the highlights in my life.”
Realm showed his message to me and had to explain it because I thought it was a strange joke when I read it. It completely flummoxed me. That night I’d been super nervous about whether my food worked with the diet, while Alexander wasn’t even looking at that. He was seeing our family gathered around a table, talking and laughing. He was watching us put away stuff quickly, grab our Bibles, and pile into the van. He was listening to us carry on various conversations on our way to the church building—little, insignificant thoughts and silly fights, I thought. But they were great big clues because they exposed our closeness, our regular communication, our peace.
I don’t realize sometimes what I have. I didn’t realize it when I was growing up around our family table, where my father sat at the head and we bowed our heads in prayer. The blessing of family comes from God. It is a blessing that is distorted when God is taken out of the center of it. It is a quiet haven that is destroyed when God’s words of kindness, real love, and commitment are ignored.
Alexander is divorced. His kids are almost grown, and he doesn’t get to see them often. There’s a part of him that craves the haven of home. We only have one life. That’s it. Don’t miss the haven. Even if you’ve missed it here, don’t miss the eternal haven with God. Seek Him. Pray to Him. He invites you to His table. Accept His invitation, and He will take you home with Him forever.
“But when he came to himself, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have bread enough and to spare, and I perish with hunger! I will arise and go to my father, and will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you, and I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Make me like one of your hired servants.”’
“And he arose and came to his father. But when he was still a great way off, his father saw him and had compassion, and ran and fell on his neck and kissed him. And the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and in your sight, and am no longer worthy to be called your son.’
“But the father said to his servants, ‘Bring out the best robe and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand and sandals on his feet. And bring the fatted calf here and kill it, and let us eat and be merry; for this my son was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ – Luke 15:17-26a
Before Realm and I married, we sat down and talked about our expectations for married life. We used a workbook to help direct our discussions and jotted down our answers in it. I still have that workbook. When we came to the his tasks/her tasks section, it went pretty smoothly. It was simple to say, “Yeah, I can take the trash out every week. No biggie.”
“Sure, I can handle paying the bills.”
“Mow the lawn? No problem.”
“Can I wash a toilet? Like a pro.”
One of the things I signed up for was making breakfast. Easy, right? I certainly thought it would be easy. Married bliss began with Little Rilla Homemaker in the kitchen overcooking scrambled eggs and burning bacon. Plus, the orange juice was watered down. He was disappointed; I was disappointed. But I would not be so easily dissuaded! I couldn’t make eggs and bacon…so what? I could make muffins from a package and turkey bacon! We were still good, right?
Realm is an eggs, bacon, toast and o.j. man. Some people need their morning coffee. My husband needs his morning breakfast. No deviations. (Well, maybe biscuits instead of toast, and maybe sausage instead of bacon, but absolutely no turkey bacon. Blech.)
I, on the other hand, can’t eat when I first get up. Hunger does not hit me at 6:30-ish, but nausea from the aroma of eggs cooking on the stove does. I love my husband. I love to cook. Making eggs in the morning for him was pure torture for me. Go figure.
Gradually, I began to quit cooking breakfast. Okay, it wasn’t that gradual. It happened in that first year. Now here we are, fifteen years later, and I haven’t made breakfast for my husband in…um…fifteen years. Do I feel bad about this? Yes. I feel like I’ve defaulted on our original agreement. Realm has long past forgiven me. He’s over it, so why can’t I just let it go?
So guess what I found this week? A recipe for Egg and Sausage Muffins. I think I found it on some gluten-free website—or maybe it was a low-carb recipes website. I can’t remember. Anyway, I touched up the recipe a bit, and here it is:
It makes 18 regular-sized muffins. And it’s so simple!
I pre-heated the oven to 350 degrees, greased the muffin pans, and browned the sausage and onion in the skillet. I whisked the eggs, heavy cream, and pepper while the sausage mixture was cooling in a bowl, then poured the egg mixture over it. I added the cheese, mixed it all up nice n’ cozy, and spooned it into each muffin cup. 18 minutes in the oven, and they were done.
Realm tried one.
His eyes lit up.
It was love.
And the darling muffins can be packed away in the fridge to be warmed up in just a few seconds in the microwave.
For the first time in fifteen years, I’ve made breakfast for my husband. And I don’t feel sick to my stomach from the smell of eggs! Go, Little Rilla Homemaker! Don’t you love life’s tiny triumphs?
There are two things I have a knack for. One is cooking, as long as there’s no serious pastry work involved. (Pastry and I stare at each other and circle distrustfully.) I enjoy trying out new recipes with ingredients I can incorporate in other recipes. I want to use up what I buy, not use it once and have it taking up space in my fridge until it curls up and dies, rots, and stinks. For example, there is an almost full bottle of Sriracha Hot Chili Sauce in my fridge leftover from an Asian dish I tried during our China unit study. It’s a niggling reminder every time I open the fridge. (The spiciness is not getting the thumbs-up from my kids. Someone please give me some mild-tasting ways to make it palatable, else I have a feeling I’m going to become all thrifty and try to add it to a homemade shampoo or facial toner. Save me!)
I follow some kindred spirit food blogs—those are blogs that promote recipes with comforting staple ingredients—like Maggiesonebuttkitchen. Yes, the word “butt” is in the title of a food blog, and it happens to be a good food blog. Many of Maggie’s recipes require simple, everyday ingredients, like her Peach Snack Cake. She also showed me how to roast garlic, and her Dolma is on my “gotta try this” list. Okay, so grape leaves in brine aren’t hanging out in my pantry, but Maggie persuades me not to listen to myself about leftover ingredients. Mmm.
Last month I was introduced to at350degrees. Warning! This one’s pretty much all about sweets. Just going to the blog homepage will make you drool. At least, it makes me drool. Carissa finds recipes, tries them, and provides links for the recipe. My next guilt trip will be the Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Fudge. And then I will be dead of sweets overdose and become an example to food bloggerdom of what not to tempt your readers to try. But until then, let’s be optimistic and pretend I can get away with eating things that pair cookie dough and fudge together, shall we?
I also have a knack for writing. Surprised? Yeah, I’m full of surprises. My forte is character-driven fiction, and I have a ton to learn. I receive a lot of encouragement in my craft from the thoughts, questions, and discoveries of other WordPress writer-bloggers. Here are the ones on my instant email list, the ones who often speak to my writer’s soul: (They are in chronological order, the first being the one I’ve followed the longest.)
Twisting Threads: There’s a rhythm to Twithre’s thoughts. I can relate to her frustrations. She talks about floundering at times. She’s not afraid to admit defeat. In fact, she gains ground as she think-writes her way through situations. Her post Home Sweet Park is a glimpse into her interesting childhood experiences.
Joseph M Kurtenbach likes to entertain with his posts, and he is super imaginative. I think we share a dread of posting something we’ll regret, but I’m not certain about that one. Maybe that’s just me. 😳 One of his adventures that makes me laugh is My Run In with a Ninja Ant.
Have you been slurping soup to stay warm this month? Good, because it’s National Soup Month. One of my favorite soups is Stone Soup. A rather anticlimactic name, eh? Why not a more appealing title, like Chicken Tortilla or Mushroom and Brie? Stone Soup may sound unimaginative, but in my family this soup is magical.
When I was growing up, my brother brought home Stone Soup from the library. He begged my mom to make it. Of course, I had to read the book, too. Any book that can make you ask your mom to make soup from a rock must be incredible.
And that’s where the magic began. If I’d been given the soup without the story, I might have liked it. Maybe. It was the story that made me crave a soup with a stone.
Bringing magic to the mundane often relies on how you introduce it. I remembered this when I made the first pot of Stone Soup for my kids. Toddlers have finicky taste buds, so I didn’t think they’d go for turnip greens floating in their bowl. (How many of us do?) I told my kids the story of Stone Soup just before I served it—my version. Wanting them to anticipate the soup, I played up the flavor with lines like, “Oh, it smelled so good!” and “They took the first bite, and it was delicious!” and “They ate it all up.” I told my kids it was a magic stone. I romanticized the whole experience and then put the bowls of soup in front of them.
It was really funny the first time because they didn’t know how to react to that first bite. It was a wholly new taste, but the story made it wonderful. Over the next few weeks, I introduced the soup again. They brought rocks to me, asking “Dis make S’one Soup?” If I’d cooked a ham recently, then I’d tell them they’d found the magic stone to make Stone Soup! (I never actually put a stone in the soup. In my version of the story, the magic stone disappears when the soup is made.)
Here’s my recipe:
Rilla’s Stone Soup
3 cups of water 1 hambone with some meat pieces still attached
Heat to a boil in pot on the stove. Simmer until the meat falls off the bone. Remove any pieces with gristle and remove the bone. Add:
5-6 potatoes, diced 4-5 carrots, sliced 1 onion, minced (almost puree for tikes) salt & pepper to taste 3 cups of water 1/4 to 1/3 cup ham drippings
Cook until carrots and potatoes are done. Add:
14 ½ oz can turnip greens
Simmer a few more minutes. Serve with bread or crackers.
And here are two important ingredients for storytelling:
1. Be animated. Use your hands and your expressions. Play the parts. Be vocally dynamic to convey the mood of the story and the feelings of the characters.
2. Use tangibles. Anything that is experienced through the senses sticks in a child’s mind like glue. And it doesn’t have to be food. Stealing out of the house to a patch of woods beside a buggy little pond to share a book like The Witch of Blackbird Pond makes a setting come alive for a young mind.
Essentially, aren’t these the things that make a book magical, too? We write about the physical actions of the characters, how they feel, and their mannerisms. We write about what they see and smell and hear to make it come alive, to make it memorable.
So, the moral of this story is: Never judge soup by its name.