A good country cook

 

When my children were little, we spent many a happy weekend—and sometimes a week at a time—at a guest ranch near Ben Wheeler, Texas owned by good friends. Charles Ogilvie taught radiology at the Texas College of Osteopathic Medicine, and his wife, Reva, ran the B&B and did all the cooking. They had several guest cabins on the property, although the children were dismayed to learn that other people stayed in “our” cabin and that it wasn’t really ours. There was a stocked small lake, with paddleboats, where my boys loved to fish so much that they would get up at dawn. We hiked Charles’ nature trails, watched the beavers transform a pond, petted the horse, sometimes burros, and once a doomed Longhorn steer, went to town on Saturday nights for catfish, and watched corny movies in the conference center they had built. The kids thought it was the best place in the world.

While the children fished and dabbled their toes in the water at the small beach area, Reva and I cooked. She was a great, down-home cook, a Missouri farm girl transplanted to Texas. We had huge feasts on the screened-in front porch of their house, looking over the lake at twilight. It’s about as close to heaven as I’ve come.

Charles leased his pastures, since he couldn’t care for livestock during the week, but he often kept one feeder calf in a pen not far from the house. One particular calf, however, was so adept at escaping that he was named Houdini. The kids loved him and always stopped to pet him on the way from the main house to our cabin (a good half-mile walk that included making your way across two cattle guards). One night we had beef for dinner—I don’t remember what cut or how it was cooked—and Charles asked, “How do you like the meat, kids?” They all chorused that it was great. With a grin, Charles said, “You’re eating Houdini.” Nobody ate much after that.

Here are some of Reva’s recipes that still use often. A note I feel compelled to add: I do not like bell peppers, especially green, and they don’t like me. I never use them—except to make Reva’s good beans, and then I slice the half pepper in pieces big enough that I can pick them out. Somehow the beans wouldn’t be the same without that pepper.

 

Aunt Reva’s good beans

1 3-lb.-4-oz. can Ranch Style beans

1 28-oz. can diced tomatoes (or two 14-oz. cans)

1 onion, chopped

½ green pepper, seeded and diced

Drain beans, but do not rinse. Put into crockpot along with other ingredients and simmer all day if you have to. (You can probably get by with less, but it’s nice to let them thicken up.)

 

Aunt Reva’s chili relleños

2 4-oz. cans whole green chilies

½ lb. sharp cheddar (or as much as you want to use)

5 eggs

¼ c. milk

Grease and butter a pie pan. Spread chilies in a single layer on the pan. Cover with grated cheese. Mix eggs and milk and pour over cheese and chilies. Bake at 325° for 30 minutes or until eggs have set. Great, easy breakfast.

 

Aunt Reva’s asparagus

2 c. asparagus (The recipe called for canned, but I use one bunch of fresh, trimmed and lightly cooked.)

1 c. sour cream

¼ c. mayonnaise

2 Tbsp. lemon juice

Buttered breadcrumbs

This actually doesn’t come with directions, but Reva used to lay the asparagus, fan-shaped, in a pie plate. For easier serving, I put it in single layer in a small rectangular baking dish. Mix sour cream, mayonnaise, and lemon juice and pour over asparagus. Top with breadcrumbs and bake until topping is brown, and dish is heated through.

Reva and Charles are long gone, and the kids and I treasure these memories. We also treasure the recipes. Nothing like learning from a good country cook.

With this column, I hope to get back to posting my “Gourmet on a Hot Plate” blog every Thursday. Happy cooking, folks.