Know what a “shrub” is? No, not that kind of shrub! The drink, silly!

A shrub: [according to wikipedia] popular during America’s colonial era, was made by mixing a vinegary syrup with spirits, water, or carbonated water. The term “shrub” can also be applied to the sweetened vinegar-based syrup, from which the cocktail is made; the syrup is also known as “drinking vinegar.” Drinking vinegar is often infused with fruit juice, herbs and spices for use in mixed drinks.

Since I like sparkling wine (or Champagne) in almost anything, I knew I’d like this drink. And it was so very festive for Thanksgiving. Everyone who tried it, liked it. I liked it so much I had a second one (but then I didn’t have any wine with dinner).

When I went to wikipedia to look up the origin of the shrub, I read through it all. Very interesting. Here I’ve copied some of it, in case you’re interested in the history (underlining inserted by me):

The early English version of the shrub arose from the medicinal cordials of the 15th century. The drink gained popularity among smugglers in the 1680s trying to avoid paying import taxes for goods shipped from mainland Europe: To avoid detection, smugglers would sometimes sink barrels of spirits off-shore to be retrieved later; the addition of fruit flavors aided in masking the taste of alcohol fouled by sea water. As a mixture of fruit and alcohol, the shrub is related to the punch, however punches were normally served immediately after mixing the ingredients, whereas shrubs tended to have a higher concentration of flavor and sugar and could be stored for later use, much like a pre-made drink mixer. The shrub was itself a common ingredient in punches, either on its own or as a simple mix with brandy or rum. It was also served during the Christmas season mixed with raisins, honey, lemon, sherry, rum and other spirits. The shrub was sold in most public houses throughout England in the 17th and 18th centuries, although the drink fell out of fashion by the late 1800s.

The American version of the shrub has its origins in 17th century England where vinegar was used as an alternative to citrus juices in the preservation of berries and other fruits for the off-season. Fruit preserves made in this fashion were themselves known as shrubs and the practice carried over to colonial America. By the 19th century, typical American recipes for shrubs used vinegar poured over fruit—traditionally berries—which was left to infuse anywhere from overnight up to several days; afterward the fruit would be strained out and the remaining liquid would be mixed with a sweetener such as sugar or honey and then reduced to make a syrup. The sweet-and-sour syrup could be mixed with either water or soda water and served as a soft drink, or it could be used as a mixer in alcoholic cocktails. Shrubs eventually fell out of popularity with the advent of home refrigeration.

The serving of vinegar-based shrub drinks became popular again in 2011 and 2012 in American restaurants and bars. The trend has also been noted in bars in Canada as well as London. The acidity of the shrub makes it well suited as an apéritif or used as an alternative to bitters in cocktails. Unlike cocktails acidulated with citrus, vinegar-based drinks will remain clear when shaken.

Recently I visited a cute little shop in my area called The Mixing Glass. It’s a tiny footprint of a store that carries a variety of more unusual alcohol types, drinking paraphernalia (nice gifts) and some mixes. I paused in the store to look around and I spotted this bottle (along with several other flavors, see above photo from their website) of a shrub mix. This one is a cranberry, but the small Berkeley-based company, Shrub & Co. makes a variety of flavors. Just click on the link and you can read all about them, and peruse their recipes. And read about where you can buy this in your area.

There were 12 people at our Thanksgiving dinner, and I think about 8 of them had at least one glass of this. Because the cranberry shrub mix is almost like bitters, but not as concentrated, you must add sugar, so the drink recipe below (provided to me by the shop owner) uses simple syrup. I bought Gloria Ferrer sparkling wine, which is a bit on the tart side anyway, so the drink wasn’t all that sweet. It was sweet, but not so much that people would be turned off by it. This recipe below isn’t on the company’s website, so I can’t give credit unless the store owner at The Mixing Glass came up with it herself. In any case, it’s really lovely.

The cranberry elixir also has Douglas fir in it. None of us could taste the fir or find the scent of it at all. But then, the drink recipe adds a sprig of rosemary to each glass, so perhaps it overwhelmed the Douglas fir. In any case, the drink was a success.

What’s GOOD: if you have the simple syrup made up ahead, chilled, and the bottle of shrub mix chilled, the drink will be nice and cold when you serve pour in the chilled sparkling wine. It’s a lovely, refreshing drink. Not too sweet, and not too tart. Perfect, we all thought. My daughter-in-law, Karen, asked me if I’d bring it to Christmas Eve at their house. So, I will, by all means! The drink uses very little of the cranberry mix (1/2 ounce per glass) so I have a LOT of it left. The mix would make a nice gift.

What’s NOT: only that you’ll likely have the bottle around for a long while – you don’t use much of it in each drink – and it must be kept refrigerated after opening. Fortunately I have a refrigerator in the garage, and that’s where it will stay until Christmas. I don’t know how long the shrub mix will keep – it doesn’t say – maybe forever. Don’t know. Oh, and I forgot to mention – the mix was $22.99.

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What a beauty she is! My DH just loved-loved-loved his boat. I took the picture at sunset.

A couple of weeks ago I told you that Dave’s sailboat is in escrow, and she has to have her sea trial this week, and some kind of an inspection to make sure she’s as seaworthy as I’m saying she is. I’m having lots of bittersweet feelings about selling her. Do I get seasick? Yes! So therefore, do I sail? No. Do I want to maintain her? Gosh no. Do I visit the yacht club regularly? No (too many memories there and it’s 90 miles away besides). And yet, selling her is tantamount to selling part of me, too. Dave and I bought this boat together. Me, for the entertaining aspect; Dave for the boat herself, to sail her, to go places on her (like the Channel Islands and Catalina). Whenever Dave got edgy, itchy, slightly grumpy (friends who knew him will say what? they never knew Dave as anything but up, always), he’d go to the boat and even a part of a day, or an overnight would put him back in tip-top mental shape. He’d come home with windblown hair (well, that was from driving his convertible with the top down) and the smell of the wind and the ocean in his sweatshirt. He liked to do almost all the work on the boat himself. You’ve heard the phrase, if you’re a sailor, the best day with a boat is the day you buy her and the day you sell her. I don’t think Dave would have agreed, but he did grumble sometimes about all the work on the teak. She has lots of wood up top and down below. Sea air does all kinds of rotten things, as well as the Southern California sun, to the condition of a boat.

There’s the crew in the cockpit: Yvette (Joe’s wife) sipping red wine, my best friend Cherrie, John (Dave’s old friend who captained the boat, and yes, he was reaching for the wheel), me, daughter Sara, daughter-in-law Karen, and Sara’s husband John with his back to the camera.

Anyway, last Sunday I gathered my local family and Dave’s closest friends and we went out on a last sail on her. We had a nice lunch at the yacht club first. There were 12 of us, I think (more than the boat can really handle in comfort, but we managed). John, the captain that day, and his wife live aboard their power boat at the yacht club, but he and Dave used to race sailboats years ago. I was so grateful for John’s help. I suppose I might have been able to maneuver her out of the slip and to the ocean, but I’m not a credible sailor.

In photo at left, daughter-in-law Karen, Joe (the dear friend who visits me now and then and spend the night when he’s in Orange County for business), son-in-law John (the back of his head), Bud (Cherrie’s husband) standing in the companionway, up top is son Powell leaning over the mainsail, and grandson John mostly invisible.

Once we got everyone aboard, John started the engine. I was sitting in the stern, and that was the first (of many) times that I “lost it.” Just hearing the engine start up was emotional. How many times had I sat in the comfy cockpit over the last 30 years and watched as Dave started the engine. It’s a Yanmar (diesel, of course) engine, and Dave would probably say he loved that engine. It never, ever gave us any trouble. It’s a unique gutteral, deep-throated chug-a chug-a sound. I’d recognize that motor anywhere. Kinda silly to be emotional over the sound of a diesel engine, huh? But this grief thing – you just never know when you’ll be hit with a memory. That was one.

Captain John got all the guys and grandson John to prepare to pull out the jib. This boat has a roller furling – so much easier to manipulate and maneuver than a full sail you have to stow down below. It rolls up on a special kind of main stay/mast on the bow of the boat. But when you’re underway, and there’s wind, it’s a job sometimes to get the sail out. In the photo at right is Joe, with Sara who was beside me, working the winch/crank, trying to get the jib out full. Finally got it. Son Powell was working some getting us out too. I was so proud of him – despite saying he doesn’t like to sail (it isn’t that – it’s that he doesn’t like the work required to own a boat) – he’s very adept at sailing and knows what to do and when. He was keeping his eye on Vaughan, though, their 7-year old who doesn’t know a whole lot about sailboats.

Here’s a photo of Vaughan, though, at left, standing up next to me at the helm. Grandpa Dave used to let him captain a little bit. When he was about 3-4 years old, Dave let him do that for the first time, and Vaughan got real peeved when Grandpa had to grab the wheel. He was SO funny, “no, Grandpa, I’m steering!” He screamed bloody murder as Grandpa held on to avoid a buoy or some boat. On Sunday, he couldn’t wait to take the wheel, which he did for about 15 minutes, then he was tired of it. John was watching him every minute. Vaughan was looking for some building John had pointed to, that Vaughan needed to steer towards. He did a really good job! That’s me beside him.

The downtown San Diego skyline. Wow, how that city has grown in recent years. It was absolutely plu-perfect weather on Sunday – 70° and a light breeze. Cherrie said Dave must have ordered it for us from heaven. He’d have been so happy to have all of us – most of his favorite people in the whole world aboard his boat!

We sailed down the harbor for about 45 minutes or so, to the Coronado Bay Bridge. Here we are just about to go under it. We made a u-turn after that and headed back toward Point Loma.

As soon as we turned around, of course the wind changed, so we tacked. We were going into the wind, so Powell had both of the kids lie down flat up on top of the bow. Then the sail began to luff and the sheets (the lines/ropes that hold the sail) began flapping all over everywhere. When you’re under sail, the noise of that can be deafening as metal fasteners and the lines themselves slap against everything in its way. Vaughan and John-John thought it was all very “cool.” Somebody had to crank the sheets to get the jib adjusted just right. No problem – we had no lack of manpower. We sailed back up the bay again and the boat heeled over some. Usually you don’t heel over much with only a jib sail up, but we heeled some because there was enough wind. If you’re a true sailor, you love to heel over, which means there’s plenty of wind!

There’s Sara and me as we sat in the stern. We had just both had a teary moment. Doesn’t look like it, but we had. I shed a bunch of tears, some of them no one noticed because I was wearing dark glasses, and there were conversations going on all over the boat. We were having some good red wine – I’d gone down in the wine cellar here at home and selected 3 good bottles (we drank 2). We had one big toast to Dave (uh, yea, I had another teary moment over that as well).

Oh, that’s such a good picture of Yvette and Cherrie, at left. Believe it or not, we weren’t cold. We all had on some light wraps – the wind made it a little cooler, but it really was a pretty day. That was taken as we headed back up the bay with the San Diego skyline in the background.

It probably took us another 45 minutes or so to sail back toward Point Loma. And as we approached the end of Shelter Island, a man-made drive-on “island,” we needed to take in the jib, so John gave orders to all the grunts and they cranked in the jib. It was hard, as we were in a fairly good breeze. Again, the sail flapped all over everywhere, with metal fasteners banging on the stays, etc. Very noisy. Normal. John turned on the motor and we motored in and easily docked with 2-3 of the guys who jumped off to make sure the boat stopped. There was little or no breeze in the marina, thankfully.

Picture at right is Joe and son-in-law John. John the captain said goodbye to us all as we thanked him profusely for taking the helm for us. Yvette & Joe left, as did Bud & Cherrie. Then I asked everybody – yes, everybody – to go ahead and go, that I needed time alone on the boat. I don’t know that anybody understood, but I really did want to be alone, to say goodbye to the boat, to Dave, all by myself. So everybody left.

I went down below in the salon, and yes, indeed, I cried and cried. I let go. I let myself go, let myself cry my heart out. It was something I needed to do. I walked into every part of the boat – the forward berth, the head and shower, the galley, I looked at the beautiful teak floor (called a cabin sole), at the varnish on the table, at the nav table. Dave re-did the varnish on the boat nearly every year and it took him days. I touched surfaces everywhere, knowing that last summer (a year ago) he’d been hard at work on all of that. I thought about the hours of labor he put in, and again how much he loved the boat. I looked at the pillows on the settees that Sara gave Dave some years ago. I sat down and sobbed some more.

As I sat, because it was quiet outside (it was just about dusk), I just kept thinking I would hear Dave’s footfall as he would step on the boat from the dock. Or, I’d see him stand up in the companionway. I looked at everything. All the portholes, the TV, the cute rug on the cabin floor, the long cockpit seat cushions we’d stowed in the quarter-berth. The boat was quite empty of “stuff,” so it didn’t look  normal down below. Usually, Dave had a light amount of clutter on the shelves -winch handles, flags, cords, etc. In April we cleaned everything personal off and stowed any of the items that would stay with the boat so it would look clean for a new buyer.

Finally, I knew I needed to leave. I couldn’t stop crying as long as I was on the boat. So, I grabbed the wood slats that go into the companionway, took a couple of times to get them right (Dave always stacked them “just so,” so you wouldn’t have to guess which slat went which way, but that hadn’t happened when one of our group opened up the boat that afternoon). I pulled the hatch cover closed. I sat in the cockpit for another minute and stared at it. And cried some more. I said goodbye to her. Oh, it was so hard. How can a hatch be something to generate tears and sorrow? Well, it can, trust me! How many times had Dave’s hands grabbed those upper edges as he hopped onto the top step of the ladder to go below? Hundreds and hundreds. How many times had he stacked the slats? Pulled the hatch closed? Scrubbed that fiberglass? Washed the boat?

My family was waiting for me in the parking lot. Both Powell and Sara came to me and we hugged for a long time as I continued to cry. Finally, though, I explained I wanted to be alone – Powell would have driven me home (they were worried about me because I was crying), but truly, I needed to be by myself to mourn. Those of you who have been through this know that part. It was something about pulling Dave’s memory to me, me alone, because of the love and marriage we shared. I wanted to burrow down, fall within myself somehow and protect that last little bit of special sorrow that was there as part of saying goodbye to the boat. Sounds crazy, I suppose, but until you’ve been there, you just don’t know what that’s all about.

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five-spice fruit salad

It’s always nice, at a brunch, to have some kind of a fruit dish. You could certainly do plain, fresh fruit, but you can also make it special with this recipe that has some spice additions that are certainly a little off the usual list – five-spice and vanilla bean.

We had this lovely, fun brunch. We sat outside (a few weeks ago, here in California, we were still having full-on summer) so gathering on a Sunday, at nearly mid-day, we enjoyed the waning days of summer with a delicious mixture of brunch dishes. This being one of them. Peggy brought this one, a delicious marinated fruit mixture that contains some five-spice powder and a half of a vanilla bean. It’s marinated in a honey-based mixture, which also gave it a lovely sweetness. The recipe came from epicurious a couple of months ago. Peggy couldn’t find any figs, since they’re out of season, so she used peaches, the plums, and she added a few prunes to give it some alternate color. I think this dish could be very adaptable – use whatever fruit is in season, though not apples unless you cooked them a bit. Pears would probably work also.

The spiced honey syrup is made ahead, cooled, then poured over the fruit. It’s refrigerated for a few hours. It probably would be fine made the day before as well. I would think this could be made with less honey syrup – starting with 3/4 cup of honey is a lot. I might try making half the amount of honey and water (but use all the spices), marinate in a plastic bag, and turn the bag over several times in the refrigerator.

What’s GOOD: well, you know me, I like foods and recipes that have something different about them, and this definitely fits the bill here, with the five-spice (not overwhelming at all) and the vanilla bean. Of all the dishes we had at the brunch, this was the only one I went back to for seconds. Use fruit that have different colors to them if at all possible. The syrup could be used again – strain it, freeze it and use it weeks or months later.

What’s NOT: nothing at all – it was a really lovely fruit salad.

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This photo of Newport (Beach) Harbor, is almost looking west. If you don’t live here and haven’t studied a map, and even for some people who do but just don’t know better, the coastline in SoCal is almost east-west. There’s smog off in the distance, that pinkish haze just above the rooftops.

Before I went to a Thanksgiving Day dinner with family, I drove down to Corona del Mar. There’s a beautiful bluff there overlooking the entrance to the harbor, and at one place you can peek through the trees and shrubbery for a glimpse of the harbor itself (the photo above). There were a surprising number of boats out that day. I’d intended to go earlier, take my Kindle and read. I forgot the Kindle, and I definitely didn’t even think of taking a folding chair. There are cement benches dotting the park/bluff area, but every one was in full, intense sun – absolutely no one was sitting on any of the benches. It was in the mid-80’s and it felt blisteringly hot. I certainly hadn’t thought about putting on sunscreen! There were oodles of people out also and very few parking places.

That’s the breakwater where any boats entering Newport Harbor come in. I cropped the top as the sun reflecting on the water was just blinding! I think the beach you can see at bottom center is called “Little Corona.” It’s a very small beach and much coveted by beach-goers. I’m not sure there is car access – walking is how you get there. The people you see are way above the actual beach – you can just barely see a sliver of the beach.

Even though Dave hadn’t kept his boat in Newport for many years (he used to), I thought I’d feel some closeness to him if I went to the bluffs to watch the boat traffic. It might have been a sad time for me – and I was okay with that, but as it turned out, I never sat down anywhere.  Never had time for contemplation of this new status of mine: widow. I walked (slowly) a couple of blocks (my foot was okay for that much) and then back to my car. I drove some of the neighborhoods, trying to find another place to park my car in the shade – but where the water was visible. Couldn’t find any. Too hot to sit in the car. Best laid plans . . . . I finally found a shady spot on a side street and played Candy Crush. I’m stuck on level 123 (I hope you’re laughing).

If that’s not quintessential Newport Beach, I sure don’t know what is:  sunshine, blue water, sand, palm trees, green grass, beach, ocean and boats.

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It’s Wednesday morning as I’m sitting here at my computer in the kitchen. It’s chilly outside and I have my latte beside me as I wake up, before I begin working on a couple of projects. I’ve already made the cranberry relish that I’m supposed to take to the dinner tomorrow. Next is the simple syrup I need for the cranberry shrub I’m taking, to serve with bubbly, so I’m taking a couple of bottles of good Champagne. I’ll try to remember to take pictures! I bought a bottle of a cranberry mixture (liquid shrub mix) at a cute shop a couple of weeks ago – a store devoted to unusual spirits and gifts for the connoisseur of them.

Music is playing on my Sonos speakers from my Pandora Radio set-up. I’ve created a John Rutter “station,” which plays his music, but as I have taught it what I like, Pandora has found lots of similar music. A good part of it is choral music and a bunch of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir (which I enjoy anyway). I don’t want to listen to news. Nothing much good to watch or listen to on world news today. I’m more introspective this morning. Classical music comforts me most of the time.

This last week I’ve spent a considerable amount of time cleaning out my hubby Dave’s closet. That has to be one of the hardest tasks for family to do after the loss of a loved one. I remember helping my mother with my Dad’s clothes when he passed away, then I did it myself after my mother passed. I paused at one particular blouse of hers (days later, and ever since, I wish I’d saved it). So I’ve saved a number of Dave’s things – one particular polo shirt that I loved on him, a sport coat (black and beige plaid) that I always complimented him on whenever he wore it. I’ve saved his baseball cap with the boat’s name embroidered on it. Also his lava lava, a kind of a man’s sarong. It has to be 50 years old, and in recent years he didn’t wear it because he’d have to go back upstairs to dress later, and with 2 artificial legs, he limited the number of times he’d have to do that in a day. He also got cold more easily.  I saved his favorite belt with nautical flags embroidered on it. He’d worn it the day before his stroke. It was something I hadn’t noticed in his closet – that the shorts were on a shelf with the belt still in it. I pulled it to me and tried to find Dave’s scent. None. I’ve also saved the pajamas he was wearing – they’re sealed in a ziploc bag, but unfortunately his scent isn’t there either. It makes me so sad. Recently I did find a jacket he wore frequently, hoping because it hadn’t been washed, that I’d find even the smell of his sweat. Maybe that sounds weird to people, but when you lose a beloved spouse, you want to find anything you can that makes them more “alive,” even though you know they’re not. So sweat would have comforted me some, but no, none there. I’ve also saved his big, long thermal robe, bright red, with his name embroidered on it. I don’t know that I’ll wear it, but for some reason I can’t quite part with it. Some people just throw everything out. I’ve been judicious about that because of my regrets about my mother’s blouse. So even though I may not look at these things very often, I want to save them. To look at occasionally, to hold, to hug. Just writing about this makes me cry.

Overall, though, I’m doing okay. My friend Linda phoned me the other day after she’d read my post about grieving this week. She thought I was not in a good place. But I think I am okay. On that scale of 1-10, I’m about a 6 and I haven’t budged from that for awhile. I’ve been quite busy this week (always a good thing – at least it is for me) so I haven’t had too much time to be sad. I’m hoping tomorrow will be okay. I’ll be surrounded by family, and it will be loud, boisterous and busy-busy, so that will keep my mind from wandering to my grief. I’ll try to hold it off in abeyance. If that’s possible.

Dave’s sailboat is in escrow, so on Sunday, the family and a few friends are going to the boat to do the “memorial sail” in Dave’s memory. I hope the pleasant weather holds so we don’t freeze to death. There will be about 10-11 of us (that’s a lot for the boat to accommodate easily) so we probably won’t go out for long. As I mentioned before, I’ll take along some wine from the cellar, some soft drinks for the kids, maybe some coffee would be good, and we’ll go out to motor around a bit and tell stories. If I have time I’m going to write a letter to the new owners which I’ll leave with the yacht broker to give them after the close of escrow, when he gives them the keys. I just want them to know the history of the boat, as much as I can give them anyway. I don’t know a whole lot about the mechanics, other than the fact that Dave took very good care of her, so I don’t think there will be any issues at the sea trial which is scheduled next week. For a 30 year old boat, she’s in beautiful condition.

Next week I’ll post again, and hopefully have some photos to share.

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Without a doubt, this soup could be made with leftover turkey – in which case you wouldn’t need to use the slow cooker. But the flavors are lovely. Simple to make. Hearty for a cold night.

Making this soup was a milestone for me in more ways than one. If you’re not a regular reader of my blog, you won’t know that I’ve been suffering from plantar fasciitis in my left foot, and the most painful thing I do is stand still. So standing at my kitchen counter is painful.

When I do stand there, usually for just a very short time, I put more weight on the other foot, which then makes my right hip talk to me. I also try putting more of my weight on the ball of my foot, which doesn’t hurt. But that isn’t exactly comfortable for any length of time, either. Anyway, I’ve purchased another pair of the shoes that are so much better (Brooks Glycerin 12’s) and now I’ve added in two more things: Aetrex arch supports (which have a cloud-like feeling to me) and Feetures cushioned socks. Those have made a huge – and I mean huge – difference in my walking ability. Even some of the standing-still ability as well. Of course, if I’d lose 50 pounds, my foot might not hurt so much.

I’m tired of eating out. Not that I’ve done that every day – I don’t. I’ve dug things out of the freezer lots of nights. I had more of that fabulous Moroccan Harira Chicken Soup, that I can’t get enough of, some lentil soup I made many months ago, before my injury to my foot, and I’ve defrosted some pork chops and have managed to stand long enough to cook those in a skillet. I’ll make some fresh vegetables – love Brussels sprouts with dried cranberries and a tiny bit of maple syrup drizzled in at the end. Or zucchini and onion with thyme. Nothing very exciting for veggies, but they’re something I can do without too much standing. I visit my local Mexican place once a week. And I buy any number of things at Trader Joe’s. I’ve poached salmon in my Lekue case on a number of occasions because it’s done in the microwave. And I stick a few veggies in there too, so it’s a meal in one. I discovered an ancient bag of soup in my frozen Soup Library that was made in 2009 – a Mexican Black Bean Sausage Chili. Oh my goodness was it delicious. I ate it 3 nights in a row. Who says frozen food doesn’t taste good after a year. I thought it was great, and it was 5 years old! I also make myself an omelet for dinner once in awhile. If I have a big lunch out, then I eat salad (often one from Trader Joe’s ready-made ones, my current favorite being Chicken Citrus Salad) or soup, or even cold cereal on occasion.

All that story leading up to the fact that the other night I WANTED to cook. That’s the other milestone. Since Dave died (8 months ago now), my interest in cooking has been only because I needed to feed myself. The joy of cooking had completely vanished. I won’t say that I didn’t enjoy eating the food I ate, I just didn’t want to cook it and if I cooked, it wasn’t fun at all. This particular morning, though, I thought about what I’d like to have and felt that I’d be able to do something in my small crockpot. I went to one of my crockpot cookbooks and found this one. I had all the ingredients, so that made the decision very easy. What appealed to me was beef stew, but I didn’t have any beef chunks in the freezer, so that idea went down the drain. I did have chicken, though. I almost always have chicken breasts and thighs on hand.

So with this recipe I’m celebrating the fact that I wanted to cook and that I was able to stand up at the kitchen counter long enough to do the food prep. Hooray! I had 2 pounds of boneless, skinless chicken thighs. I cut them up into large-ish bite-sizes. I sautéed the onions, added the garlic in at the end, sort of browned the chicken, then added in everything else and let it slow cook for about 2 1/2 hours. The recipe said 6-8 on low, 3-4 on high. Well, that didn’t work for me – this soup was completely done in about 2+ hours on low. I went online and read another website with this recipe (which came from Andrew Schloss’s Art of the Slow Cooker: 80 Exciting New Recipes). Others commented that the chicken was dry after that many hours, so I’d definitely not leave this to cook all day. Chicken thighs do have a lot more moisture, but chicken breasts would probably be done in an hour. You could slow it down by using chilled chicken broth, chilled canned tomatoes, etc.

Based on info I found in the comments at that website, I added a large can of tomatoes and more chicken broth. For myself, and because I’d added more liquid volume to it, I also amped up the spices just a little – rounded the teaspoons for all of them. I added regular grocery-store chili powder, which doesn’t have much heat – use your own judgment about that for you and your family. If I served this again, I might also add just a little bit of frozen corn (just to give it some color). Corn isn’t necessary, but it would be a nice addition. I’ve added it into the recipe below even though I didn’t use it. The chocolate – well, it wasn’t noticeable, to me. I think it would need more than an ounce. Someone else used chocolate chips, chopped up some.

What’s GOOD: how easy and quick it was to put together. You do need to sauté the onions (which gives them more flavor). My small crockpot allows me to sauté in the pot. I took out the onions then added in the chicken, then added all the ingredients (except the cilantro and chocolate added at the last). It was really delish. For a quick meal you could do this on the stove and it would be ready in about 30 minutes, I suppose. I decided to use the slow cooker because I was going to be gone for awhile in the afternoon (went to a movie). When I got home the soup was done to perfection.

What’s NOT: this isn’t really complex chili – although by adding your own type of chili powder (ancho? New Mexico?) it might change the flavors some. I was completely satisfied, though, for a quick dinner. I now have frozen half of it and will eat the rest for another 2 meals. If you’re feeing 6 hungry people, it might not be enough. Add another can of beans perhaps?

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bacon, tomato & cheddar breakfast bake with eggs

You’ll remember that our little gourmet group had a recent brunch. This was the main dish – a delicious casserole with toasted bread croutons, tomatoes, bacon, oodles of grated Cheddar & Jack and other goodies, baked awhile, then during the last 15+ minutes you make little indentations in the casserole and plop in raw eggs and bake until the yolks are just smooth and runny. Of course, if you don’t like runny egg yolks, you can bake it longer.

My friend Cherrie made this dish. She said it was a little bit more work than she’d anticipated, but she did almost all of it the day before. Buy good bread, first of all. I think Cherrie used ciabatta. Chop it up in cubes and toast it – but only baked it some, because the dish gets baked once you put it all together. It makes a really beautiful presentation – we all oohed and aahed when she delivered it to the buffet area, hot out of the oven.

What this is, is a savory bread pudding. There’s chicken broth in it to soften the bread, and there’s onion and chives too. It was altogether wonderful. I’d definitely make it myself. The recipe came from Food & Wine, from Grace Parisi (I like her recipes – she’s a frequent contributor to the magazine) from November, 2010. The only thing Cherrie and I decided to change (we talked about it the day before when she was working on this dish) was the type of tomatoes – the recipe called for canned tomatoes that you dice up – well, you can buy already diced tomatoes – I think that type is wonderful! So I changed that in the recipe.

What’s GOOD: it feeds a crowd, that’s for sure. You might be able to stretch this to feed 12 – obviously add 2 more eggs. It’s pretty, and it’s really delicious. If we hadn’t had other dishes to choose from (I made the Pineapple Upside Down French Toast) I’d have had seconds. It doesn’t take long to put it together if you have all the ingredients ready to go – cook things partially and refrigerate (not the bread, of course) and put it all together just before it goes in the oven.

What’s NOT: nary a thing. Just know it does take some time to prepare – from reading the recipe you might not think so.

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I wasn’t sure I should write a post about grieving, this close to Thanksgiving, but then I thought I should, but I will post this early, not just a day or two before the holiday. I don’t want my sadness to impinge on other people’s joy and thanks-giving.

As the months have gone by, my grieving has changed, as it is wont to do. If there’s nothing else you learn from this post, it is that everyone – and I mean every person – grieves differently, at different levels and for different lengths of time. Some grieve openly. Others do not. Some are so stoic and I’m amazed. I’ve always worn my emotions on my sleeve, as the saying goes. I still get teary-eyed sometimes at church, particularly over a very resonant hymn or hearing the choir sing a poignant piece of music (I’ve not been singing for awhile because of my cataract surgery, but am returning to it this week). I can shed a tear when someone comes up to me and tells me a story about Dave, or tell me they thought about him because of something or somebody else. Often it’s because they’d seen someone with artificial legs. Just the other day friends remarked on Dave’s “I-can-do-this” attitude because of being a double amputee. In grief, some people experience anger, which can be a stage of grief. I’ve not had that at all, not once. It’s been 8 months now and I’ve never had a moment of anger at him for leaving me. I know he wouldn’t have left if he could have made the decision. It was in God’s hands, I know it.

Some people whose loved one had a long, dreadful, lingering illness, grieve as a part of the process of the illness, and when the loved one goes, it’s a relief and a joy that they’re not in pain. That  survivor’s grieving cycle can be more rapid. Note the word can. My circumstances were different, as Dave was fine until the moment he had his stroke. We spoke very few words between then and when he died 9 days later. And he was in a coma during 6+ of those days. As I’ve said it here many times, he knew I loved him and I know he loved me. I wish I knew what it was he was trying to tell us (Sara, my daughter, and me) as they wheeled him into surgery on day 3. He had brain swelling, and the effects of the stroke were much more pronounced. He had very slurred speech and we just couldn’t figure out what he was trying to tell us. We both hugged him as best we could on the gurney. They were in a hurry to get in there and relieve the pressure in the brain, so we had no time to try to talk to him. They had called me at about 6am to tell me they were going to have to do emergency surgery, that I needed to get to the hospital immediately, the surgeon was on his way. Sara and I got there just a couple of minutes before the surgeon came to talk to us. Anyway, we don’t know if Dave would have been able to converse – and we knew we couldn’t understand him. He seemed a bit agitated, but he might have been telling us to check his blood sugar or something very simple. We don’t know. So many unknowns. When my mother died in 1997, her heart just stopped. She was fine the evening before, had even driven to our house the day before. I’ve been selfish all these years in thinking that I never got to say goodbye to her. How silly is that? She knew I loved her, though.

The 13-week grief class helped me some. But I also found that each week, as we gathered together, we’d watch a video, talk about it, then go around the room and each person shared an update about their week (grief process) and provide their score (1-10, how are you feeling today?). In those conversations we’d hear the sad stories of the other widows and widowers, which left me even more sad than I already was. I’d go home and just be sad all the rest of the evening. That’s not enough reason to not take a grief class – I think it offered me insight (the class part). Some of the ladies and men in the group may not have had many friends and were very glad to have met a kindred spirit. But it’s not enough motivation, for me anyway, to take the class again, which often is recommended. I’m finding that even reading some of the books about grieving (I have many) now make me sad – sadder. More and more, I don’t want to read them because I always end up in tears. When I have a crying time, the effects of it last for awhile – sometimes a few hours, sometimes the rest of the day. So for now, that stack of books in the photo up top are tucked onto a shelf. I know where they are if I need them.

Gratitude figures significantly in my life right now – not only for my loving God, in whom I trust – but in my many Christian friends who have come along side me week by week, month by month. My friend Cherrie is the one I turn to first – I call her any time of day or night when I’m having a sad spell. She listens, comforts and sometimes even cries along with me. And gratitude for my family as well. I don’t see them very often, but they lead very busy lives and I understand that.

I’m in negotiations, as I write this, to sell Dave’s sailboat. My heart breaks at selling it, but gosh, the boat has sat at the dock for all these 8 months without ever leaving the yacht club. She’s cared for superficially, but nobody has taken her out. Dave was an excellent sailor. He began sailing when he was 8, and there was no turning back. He used to race in his younger years (20s and 30s). He owned a 27-foot Catalina that he raced for years and years. Then when I came into his life, we bought this boat together (a new 38-foot boat with a wide berth which makes for a very nice salon down below, a bigger cockpit for sitting, but isn’t sleek for racing) – not only for Dave to pleasure-sail her, but also for us to entertain on, which we did a lot, for about 15 years. Dave’s two best sailing buddies (Gary and Tony) died some years ago, so he had to teach some other people how to sail with him – Joe (my/our good friend who comes to stay with me every couple of weeks) was Dave’s most frequent helpmate on the boat. Joe’s wife Yvette went along sometimes. And Lindy, a sweet gal who was Gary’s girlfriend. She lives near the boat and Dave would call her once in awhile to go check on the boat – to make sure the lines were holding, the sail covers were all attached and not flapping – particularly after a windy or wet storm. She isn’t an adept sailor, but she learned how to help Dave.

You’re hearing a lot more about boating than you might have wanted, but I’m feeling good writing about this. I’m needing to give Dave a lot of credit for his boating skills. Yacht clubs docks, or any docks and slips for that matter, are often very tightly packed and maneuvering a big boat in and out of slips can be challenging, especially if there is wind. A cross breeze is the most difficult. Dave was a wizard at it, and hardly anyone wanted to back her out or pull her in. Dave took over always. I think there was only one time in my recollection that he didn’t quite aim right and the wind was gusting and he bumped the next-door boat. But that’s why boats have protection (bumpers) for that. No harm done, except to Dave’s ego. If there was excessive wind, Dave would cell phone call one or two of his friends on other boats – or he’d hail them as he was motoring in – and ask them to come help tie her up. Boaters are a fiercely loyal lot – and with Dave being a double amputee, everyone was willing to help. God bless them!

There’s a very funny story – I don’t think I’ve ever told this one here on my blog – Gary, who didn’t own a boat – was a happy 60-ish bachelor who loved to sail but never wanted to own a boat himself. He was perfectly content to sail on other people’s boats. He loved Dave’s boat and he liked to help keep the boat maintained. He was a wizard with electronics and mechanical stuff, so Dave relied on him often to fix things. After his sudden death a few years ago, we finally learned that he worked for Naval Intelligence. We always wondered – we thought he might have been FBI or CIA. He worked for the Navy as a civilian (we thought that was his “cover”) but because Gary couldn’t ever tell us about the reason for any of his assignments, we figured it was top secret stuff. Sure enough it was. He was sent all over the world – he’d be gone for a few months with no communications at all – then he’d tell us he’d been in Panama, or Spain. Anyway, I can’t tell you how many girlfriends Gary had over the years. We met oodles of them, and most were not suitable as mates. Lindy would have been a wonderful mate for him. He always said he didn’t think he could be faithful to just one person, that he’d wander, hence he never married.

Anyway, because Gary worked near the yacht club, and because Dave had given him permission to use the boat when he wanted, he’d often take dates to the boat for a picnic dinner or a tryst. Occasionally he’d take the boat out for a motor around the harbor. Once he had a “fender bender” with another boat inside the dock area which caused some damage to both boats. From there on out Gary never took the boat out, but just stayed on-board at the dock. In the boat file in Dave’s desk I found a letter Gary wrote Dave where Gary promised to give Dave an endless number of hours of hard labor because of the accident he had. Dave paid for the repairs to both boats, even though it wasn’t his doing, but that’s kind of a rule of sailing/boating. Well, anyway, the story to tell is that one day Gary took a gal to the boat. Gary didn’t tell Dave, and it just happened that Dave decided at mid-afternoon he was going to go to the boat, stay overnight and come back the next day. He didn’t call Gary either. It was summertime – nice weather. Dave parked and walked out the docks to the boat, and there was Gary, with a girl aboard, as he was just about to back out of the slip. Gary saw Dave and said “oh, hi Dave.” Obviously he was embarrassed. He said something to his date like “that’s Dave, who helps me with the boat.” Dave realized that this girl thought Gary owned the boat. Dave said, “you’re going out for a sail?” Obviously, Gary didn’t want Dave to go along in any case. So, Dave sucked it up, and said “okay, captain, have a good sail.” Gary grinned from ear to ear and said “yea, thanks Dave.” So, Dave went into the yacht club and had dinner and waited for them to return, which they did several hours later. They didn’t encounter each other (Dave thought it best not to). The next morning Gary showed up and profusely apologized and knew he was in the wrong to try to imply he owned the boat. Gary often did that, he said, to impress the girls. But, I don’t think he ever did that again!

The boat is so “Dave.” The plan is, whenever I do sell the boat, that the family and a few friends are going to go out for a one-last-sail in memory of Dave. I’ll be an absolute emotional wreck. We won’t go out in the ocean (which is what Dave most loved to do, to actually sail, not just motor – that’s why I rarely went with him) because I get seasick, but just motor around San Diego harbor, which is huge. I’m fine in the harbor. We’ll likely tell stories about Dave. There are lots of them to share. We will have wine – I’ll take several bottles from the wine cellar. We’ll all shed a tear, I know. We’ll take John and Renee along too. They live aboard their boat at the yacht club, and they knew Dave long before I met him. John is a great sailor – he’ll be an excellent captain. In a way I’m dreading doing this because it will be the last piece of Dave – a physical piece – that I’ll have to say goodbye to. It’s going to be heart-wrenching. I’m sure every widow or widower has similar stories. I’ve decided that I’m going to write a letter to the new owners to tell them some of these stories. I don’t want to sell her to someone who won’t take care of her – she’s a beautiful boat. He loved that boat so much. Sailing was really his only hobby and he took great care of her.  He was fiercely proud of her, too.

Sidetracked. That’s what I am . . . back to grieving. Holidays are a very rough time for grieving spouses. I managed to get through Dave’s birthday in July only because I wasn’t home (I was in Washington, D.C. with my granddaughter). I’m glad, in one way, that Dave died in March because it’s given me months to get used to his absence (as much as that is possible). Thanksgiving was Dave’s favorite holiday. For the last many years, we’ve had the big turkey dinner at our house or our house in the desert (we sold our desert house last year, thank goodness, or I’d be having that on my mind too). I cooked like crazy for days ahead of time, and Dave did lots of work too. But with me and my foot problem (my foot is better, by the way, but I still have a long way to healing completely) I knew I couldn’t do the big dinner as usual. Sara and her family are taking a vacation to the San Francisco area for most of the week. So my daughter-in-law’s sister Janice and her husband Julian are having Thanksgiving at their house and I’m invited. I hope I’ll be okay.

Christmas will be even harder for me.  Christmas is my favorite holiday. My cousin Gary will be here with me for a week or so (thank goodness, and thank you, Gary – he reads my blog). We’ll be at our son Powell’s home locally on Christmas Eve. They have a big family gathering (mostly Karen’s side of the family) for prime rib and a gift-giving game, the one where you can steal a gift up to 3 times. On Christmas morning Gary and I will do what little gift giving there will be between us, then we’ll drive to San Diego to spend the rest of the day with daughter Sara and her family. We’re going to do something on the 26th – maybe visit Seaport Village, or . .. I don’t know what. Maybe nothing. Don’t know. Gary usually flies home before New Year’s. Maybe I should plan a get-together with some widow friends on that evening. Good idea – I’ll think about that. Dave and I never did celebrate NYEve – it was a crazy time to drive anywhere, so we usually had a nice dinner at home and went to bed early. Probably Powell will have a New Year’s Day dinner. Or maybe Janice will. Don’t know. Can’t think that far ahead.  They probably haven’t, either.

All of that being said, my mental wanderings, just know that people in grief need extra care – extra love, extra hugs, extra kindness, and especially understanding and patience. Don’t ever say to someone in grief – even if it’s been way too long, you think – “hey, get out of your depression/grief” or “get past it.” It doesn’t help. It only hurts. The emotional loss is deep, and it’s only brought more to the surface at holiday time. Doesn’t matter what holiday, or a birthday or a wedding anniversary. Be encouraging. Call a friend who is a widow and take him/her out to lunch, invite them to your home over the holidays, even if they weren’t regularly part of your family. This is especially important for grievers who have no local family. Just food for thought. If you do have a fully intact family, be thankful. Praise God. Say grace every time, but especially before your Thanksgiving feast. Tell your loved ones you love them. Please. Don’t do it for me, but do it for yourself or for that friend in need. You just never know what could happen tomorrow. Thank you for listening . . . . if you feel so inclined, you can say a prayer for me that for Thanksgiving and Christmas I will be able to celebrate the joy of life with my family, and not dwell on my significant loss of my dear husband Dave. I wish for all of you that you have a very special Thanksgiving with someone you love or care about.

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Each year one of my book groups gets together (this year at my home) and we go around the room and each person shares something about a book, or more than one, that they think might make a good Christmas gift. All the women are 60+. I love this particular meeting because we aren’t there to discuss a specific book we’ve all read, but just to share ideas. I love to give books as gifts – not only because I try to nurture reading as a pastime to everyone I know or meet, but sometimes the ideas that come from this group get me outside my box. Also a good thing. So, I thought I’d share this year’s suggested books. Understand, please, I haven’t read but a few, and I’ll say so below.

If you’re anything like me, you can’t really keep up with all the books that get published. It’s overwhelming. To keep track, I use an app on my phone called Evernote, a note-taking app. One of my note-taking sections on Evernote is “Books.” This is where I add a title or an author when I’m out and about. Perhaps someone has told me about a book. I know I’ll never remember the title, so I just whip out my iPhone and add it to Evernote. That list is SO long, I wonder if I’ll ever winnow it down. Why? Because I keep adding more and more. It’s enough that I try to keep up with the reading in 3 book groups. If it weren’t for the fact that some reading in the 3 groups overlap, I’d never be able to manage it. Generally, now, I read when I go to bed, for about 30-45 minutes. Unless I’m stuck at home for some other reason, I don’t read books during the daytime. Unless I’m under the gun and need to finish something before one of the meetings.

The links below go to amazon, and if you happen to order a book, amazon gives me a few cents. It’s no big deal one way or the other. Once in awhile I get a dollar or two – it’s by month, I think, and orders have to reach some minimum threshold (most of the time I don’t meet the minimums), then they credit my amazon account. So, here’s the list:

A Redbird Christmas: A Novel by Fannie Flagg. It’s not one of her newer books, but it’s apparently a very cute story and a red bird figures significantly in the story. There’s faith in the book. It takes place in the American South.

Somewhere Safe with Somebody Good: The New Mitford Novel (A Mitford Novel) by Jan Karon. Two of the gals were currently reading the book and loving every page.

Make It Ahead: A Barefoot Contessa Cookbook by Ina Garten. This is her newest one. It was passed around our group, and even though I don’t need another cookbook, I just may have to get it anyway.

One Summer: America, 1927 by Bill Bryson. He writes the most interesting narrative books. Several in our group had heard of it, and also mentioned that their husbands had read it and liked it a lot. This isn’t a new book.

Killing Patton: The Strange Death of World War II’s Most Audacious General by Bill O’Reilly and Martin Dugard. I’ve read two of O’Reilly’s books, and been very impressed. Most of the research is done by Mr. Dugard, a history wizard as far as I’m concerned. Two in our group had already read this and liked it very much. It’s all history. Period. It’s not political, even though O’Reilly is a political commentator.

Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption by Hillenbrand. What a book. You could hardly have existed without hearing people talk about this book. Great book for a man, too. I read it some months ago. I wish Dave had read it – he would have loved it.

Mean Streak by Sandra Brown. Although her books have some romance to them, she also weaves, always, a very good mystery in with it. Light reading.

Gray Mountain: A Novel by John Grisham. Two in our group had already read this one, his newest. Always good for a page-turning read.

Under the Wide and Starry Sky: A Novel by Nancy Horan. I’ll for-sure have to get this one on my Kindle as I really liked her other book about Frank Lloyd Wright. This one is about Robert Louis Stevenson and his love, a woman 10 years his senior.

Mud Pies and Other Recipes (New York Review Children’s Collection)– this is a children’s book (5-9 year old girls it says). Originally written decades ago, it’s been re-published by, as you can read above, the New York Review Children’s Collection. It has stories, but also some “recipes.”  It has a 5-star rating on amazon.

Peter Pan Picture Book: Shape Book – also a children’s book. It’s for very young readers, or even pre-readers. One of our members brought the whole collection of these books. They’re short, maybe 10-12 pages each, and this is just one of them. If you’re interested in others, google “shape book” and you’ll find the others in the series. If you’re an artist, you’ll really appreciate the exquisite 4-color art which are reproductions from old nursery rhymes and stories of old. Very sweet book.

For Love of Country: What Our Veterans Can Teach Us About Citizenship, Heroism, and Sacrifice Miracles: What They Are, Why They Happen, and How They Can Change Your Life by Eric Metaxes – the title is pretty self-explanatory. Was mentioned as a good book for a man, though the gal said she liked reading it very much herself, then she passed it on to her husband.

Miracles: What They Are, Why They Happen, and How They Can Change Your Life As this book was discussed, the gal who recommended it explained that this book is often suggested to people who are not-so-sure they believe in miracles  – or even for people who are non-believers. The author (who also wrote the recent definitive book on Bonhoefer) is analytical, yet he’s a believer. There’s a scientific element to this book which might appeal to some. One review read: “ . . . will blow your mind with stories of phenomena beyond anything we might classify as merely natural. And he will bless your heart with what can happen in your life personally as you read stories of people (very smart people I might add) who “extra-ordinarily” encountered God’s majestic purpose converging with their daily lives, stunning and humbling them forever.” I’ll be buying this book, probably in hardback just for my own reading.

The Boys in the Boat: Nine Americans and Their Epic Quest for Gold at the 1936 Berlin Olympicsby Daniel James Brown. I read this book several months ago and wrote it up on my sidebar. One of the best books I’ve read in a long, long time. Great book for men and women. The one word description: teamwork.

An American Bride in Kabul: A Memoir – Phyllis Chesler is a PhD and Jewish. She married a Westernized Afghani who was attending graduate school with her. She did it with eyes closed (obviously), trusted him and his family when she moved to Kabul. At which point she lost everything – her American passport and any form of freedom. Not a book you’d give every woman as there is certainly a message here, but it’s an eye-opening reveal about day to day Islamic life. She escaped eventually, but she’s forever scarred.

The Drunken Botanist: The Plants That Create the World’s Great Drinks by Amy Stewart. This is a book I recommended. Not for every reader. My friend Darlene gave me the autographed book for my birthday. It’s a dense book about the history, the botany, and the uses of every kind of natural flora and fauna which contribute to the making of spirits. So, for instance – agave, juniper, grains of paradise (a very special pepper), casava, prickly pear. Very interesting reading. If you don’t drink spirits, I’d not buy this. If you’re a gardener and interested in such things, it would make a good read or a gift. Amy Stewart has also written several other books about poisonous plants and about the life of the earthworm. Just google her name on amazon and you’ll see them all. If you have family members who are particular interested in bugs, there are a couple that would make a great gift.

Marcus Off Duty: The Recipes I Cook at Home by Marcus Samuelsson. I think I wrote up something about this on my blog already. This is his most recent cookbook and it’s chock-full of stories about all the recipes. For being a native Nigerian, but raised in Sweden, Marcus has certainly embraced our American foods and I’m glad of it! The recipe for the mac ‘n cheese that my granddaughter ate at his restaurant in Harlem when we were there in July, is in the cookbook. Haven’t tried it yet.

Christmas Memories Book – one member of the group forgot to bring it, but she shared with us about a gift that she bought many years ago when her first child was born. It’s a method of keeping memories alive of every Christmas in your family. You fill in who was there, what was special that year, gifts given, what you had for breakfast or dinner, and other little bits of trivia that contribute to your family’s Christmas traditions. And a place for a photo or two. The link is to the only one I found on amazon that seemed to be similar to hers which she purchased 30+ years ago. She has completely filled the book and had to move on to another one, different size and shape because she couldn’t find one like the first one. Anyway, it was a sweet idea, particularly for a young family, just married or on the arrival of their first child.

Photo at top from The Guardian, found through Google images

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Kale Salad with butternut squash and a warm cider vinaigrette. Delicious!

Has kale salad reached its zenith? Perhaps. And waning? Or not? I really don’t know. We realize, because it’s shouted from the magazine rooftops, that it’s one of those super foods, so very good for us. And there are recipes by the gazillion on the internet for it. So, here’s one more!

There are 4 couples of us – oh, see, there I go – I still think of myself as part of a couple – probably always will – so there are 3 couples and me, the widow, who meet for a gourmet dinner, lunch or brunch every few months. We have plenty of good laughter, conversation about food, travel, sports, etc. You know, the usual, when any group gathers. Except that this group says a prayer before every dinner, which is really nice. And we have wonderful food. So I’m sharing the recipes for a couple of the dishes from that last gathering. It was a brunch. This salad is served cold, not hot. Hence it’s a salad, of course, not a hot side dish. Silly me! Anyway, Dianne made this salad and we all loved it. It’s a slight riff on an Ina Garten recipe. Ina’s called for arugula, and her version is tossed with the dressing just before serving.

This riff on Ina’s salad is made with baby kale (if you can find it – it’s a bit softer and not quite so chewy) and Dianne allowed the dressing to sit on the greens for awhile (so technically it’s no longer a “warm” salad dressing) to help soften up the kale, then she added in the other ingredients and garnished with shaved Parm.

What’s GOOD: loved the color, for sure. The slightly bitter, from the kale, and sweet, from the squash, made a lovely taste in the mouth. A different side dish. Very nice. I liked it.

What’s NOT: nothing really – finding baby kale can sometimes be a challenge (I’d  use arugula if you can’t find the baby kale, but if you really like the regular kale, go for it).

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Files: MasterCook 5+ and MasterCook 14 (click on link to open recipe in MC)

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