The Story of Charlie

 

Charlie at four weeks,
when he was rescued

After years of both Christian and me saying, “No more cats,” a kitten lives in the family room in the main house. Jordan was visiting at a neighbor’s lake house, and the two of them found an apparently feral kitten, probably about four weeks old. Far too young to survive on its own. They brought it inside, gave it milk, and decided to co-parent. There was no sign of the momma, though in later days they did see other kittens. None were as lucky as Charlie to be adopted.

Since Christian really didn’t want a cat and since they already had Cricket, the remaining Cavalier Spaniel, the kitten went to live with the neighbors. Jordan made regular trips to feed, play, and love. When the kitten was about ten weeks old, the neighbors decided it was time for it to be an outdoor cat. Even I, not particularly a cat lover, know that the survival statistics for outdoor cats are pretty grim: an average life span of three years as opposed to fifteen or more for an indoor cat. At ten weeks, the poor thing was doomed, and Jordan of course couldn’t stand that. I’ll never know what she said to Christian, but the kitten, still unnamed, came to live in our compound.

The first order of business was to find the kitten a name. Charlie seemed to fit, for whatever reason. For now, he periodically gets the run of the house but for the most part is confined to the family room, an add-on that sprawls across the back of the house. Jordan spends time loving on him, playing with him, and so on. Jacob, who has a perfectly good bed in his adjacent bedroom, chooses to sleep on the wrap-around couch in the family room—and then complains the kitten wakes him up. When he’s past kitten stage, Charlie will have the run of the house.

A bit of an explanation here: Jordan has always loved kittens. Me, not so much, though I had one cat, Wynona Judley (commonly known as Wywy) that I adored. Christian says he had cats growing up, but I think his first real experience came with the cat Jordan bought ($5 at a pet store) when she was in middle school. Pardon my French but Graffiti was the cat from hell. She peed everywhere, in obvious defiance—sometimes right in front of you. I spent hundreds of dollars reupholstering furniture and even then our house smelled of cat pee. When I found myself living alone with Graffiti and Wywy I banished Grafitti to the guest house, which was empty, so she lived alone; Jordan came to visit, and I made her pay a monthly fee for the a/c to keep the cat cool (give me credit: I was trying to teach responsibility). I was also honestly at the end of my cat rope. Graffiti ended her long life living in the bathroom in Jordan and Christian’s first apartment. She died one night where she was happiest: sleeping on the floor next to Jordan. The details of what ensued after her death are hilarious, a story for another time. But that background is why I was not enthusiastic about a kitten, and I was amazed that Christian acquiesced as easily as he did. I think that boy really loves my daughter.

Charlie has been once to the cottage, a complicated maneuver in which Christian kept Sophie in the house. Sophie has demonstrated, in various veterinary trips, that she hates cats, and I see no reason to bring him out here again. Sophie knows where he is, and it bugs her. Jordan has put paper across the lower panels of the windows in the back door, but that’s an exercise in futility. The vet tells us Sophie is blind, so it’s not vision that tells her a cat is in there. It’s instinct, hearing, and smell. Some days I can see Charlie from my desk, sitting in the window, surveying that world he cannot be part of. Once I saw him stalking Sophie.

Charlie at three months

I suspect Charlie will outlast me as a resident of the Alter/Burton compound. And that’s okay with me. I wish him no harm. I’m just not intrigued. But I have to redeem myself with the many cat lovers among my friends: I absolutely adored Wywy, the cat Jamie found as a kitten abandoned on a roadside in Minnesota (do not ask what he was doing there). For the first year of his life, we thought he was female; after the vet corrected us (another hilarious story), Wywy lived a life of gender confusion. Today’s aggressive Christians would have had a field day had they known of his transition. We like to believe Wywy was part Maine Coon—he was big, with a fluffy gray coat and a wonderful full tail. But beyond that he was sweet and affectionate, and I loved him dearly. Wywy was helped over the Rainbow Bridge at the age of nineteen, when he was truly miserable and trying to sneak off to the back of a closet to die. He holds a special place in my heart yet.

Wywy on my desk
helping me work

I am ambivalent about Charlie. I’ll never feel about him the way I did about Wywy, but Charlie and I haven’t crossed paths much and probably won’t. Meantime he makes Jordan happy. She loves him. Who am I to quibble. You know what? He’s kind of cute when he stares out the window. I think he’s looking straight at me and trying to win me over.

 

Some retro happy hour ideas

 

Football and tailgating aren’t the only reasons that happy hour is such an easy way to entertain in the fall. It has to do with crisp cool afternoons and the new energy that fall and the start of the year brings. Lately I find I have all sorts of ideas for appetizers and snacks, some of them recipes I’ve resurrected from long ago.

Take for instance Jezebel sauce, a sweet and spicy sauce—yes, it gets its name from the Biblical woman. Years ago when I had huge Christmas parties, I used to serve Jezebel sauce on a brick of cream cheese, but somewhere along the way I lost the recipe I really liked. There are lots of versions of this southern staple online, but I never found one I liked until recently. I think what got me is that the base is apricot preserves—and I love apricot in any version. So here’s what  you do:

Jezebel sauce

Ingredients

1 8 oz. jar apricot preserves

1 Tbsp. Dijon mustard

2-3 Tbsp. horseradish (not the stuff in a cream sauce, but plain horseradish)

Fresh cracked pepper to taste

1 block cream cheese

Crackers for serving.

Mix together the preserves, mustard and horseradish. Pour over cream cheese. Serve with crackers. The Jezebel sauce tends to disappear faster than the crema cheese, so keep a little back to refresh the dish somewhere along the way.

And if you’re serving blocks of cream cheese with topping for an appetizer, don’t forget some people like to top it with Pickapeppa sauce (not me). A real splurge to me is opening a can of flaked crab, spreading it over cream cheese, and tooping with bottled cocktail sauce. Today, you might try using the refrigerated faux crab (Krab). Caution: all these get messy and sticky quickly, so have plenty of napkins and be prepared to refresh the toppings.

Did your mom serve a relish tray for an appetizer or with a big dinner? Mine did, though she was noted for forgetting to put it out because she had so many other dishes. Next day, we’d find it in the outdoor refrigerator. But a staple of any relish tray was stuffed celery. I came across a recipe (who thought you needed a recipe to do that?) the other day and tried it, liked it a lot. Here’s what you need:

Stuffed celery

Ingredients

10 oz. or thereabouts of prepared cheese spread (I used a Pub Cheese from Trader Joe’s, but you could use two 5-oz. jars of Kraft Old English spread

1 heaping Tbsp. mayonnaise

1 tsp. Worcestershire sauce

½ tsp. horseradish

½ Tbsp. dried, minced onion

¼ tsp. cayenne (optional; I omitted it)

½ Tbsp. garlic powder

¼  tsp. celery salt

¼ tsp. black pepper

6-8 celery stalks

2 green onions, minced for garnish

Here’s the big deal: string the celery. Wash each stalk and pat dry, and then peel the strings from the back. Use a vegetable peeler or a paring knife. If you look, you can see the strings—and see when you’ve missed some. This is important, because it’s no fun to bite into a piece of celery and find yourself fighting with long strings.

Mix remaining ingredients except the green onion. You can make a pastry bag by cutting a corner off a bag, filling the baggie with cheese, and squeezing cheese into the inside of each celery stalk. Or you can wing it and spoon it in with an iced tea spoon—I actually used a marrow spoon and it worked great.

Cut each celery stalk into three- or four-inch pieces and place on plate, being sure to keep them upright. Sprinkle with green onion.

Note: The stuffed celery does not keep well, but the cheese spread does. You can also serve it is a spread in a bowl, with celery and crackers on the side. It’s that good, but I was initially attracted by the idea of stuffed celery which I hadn’t seen in years.

Many years ago a friend gave me this recipe for a sliced egg appetizer. I smiled sweetly, thanked her, and thought, “Well, I won’t be doing that.” It just didn’t sound right to me. For some reason, I got around to trying it—and it was not at all what I expected, and was wonderful!

Sliced egg and parsley

Ingredients

2 cloves garlic, peeled

4 Tbsp parsley finely chopped

Salt and pepper

1/8 tsp. paprika

6 Tbsp. olive oil

5 hard-boiled eggs, thinly sliced crosswise

Grated carrot and sliced olives for garnish, according to your taste (that means I never use the olives but I’m wondering what anchovies would do)

Lay out the eggs on a plate and garnish with carrotd, olives, and whatever else you want. Sprinkle with salt. Make a sauce of remaining ingredients and pour over the eggs. Refrigerate until very well chilled. Will keep overnight but not much longer.

Watch for more happy hour recipes next week. It’s the mood I’m in. Salut! Slainte!  Santé! Prost!

Time for football—and the crockpot

Not quite ready for prime time.

Yay! The Texas Rangers finally won the World Series. Much rejoicing—and then it will be time for football. I admit I’m already frustrated on Sunday nights when I want to watch the news and it’s been pre-empted by football, But I’m resigned—I know it’s the American way. And I know that in households across America families will be spellbound by the games—while snacking on some really good food.

It's definitely time to bring out the crockpot and fix some hearty hot dips. I call this one Colin’s Queso because my oldest son just loves it. When my kids were in high school, I used to put corn chips in the bottom of a soup bowl, ladle this dip over it, and call it supper. But it’s also great to put out on the coffee table in the crockpot with a big bowl of chips beside it. Here’s what you do:

Colin’s Queso

1 lb. hamburger

1 lb. sausage (choose mild or hot, according to your taste)

1 lb. Velveeta

1 can cream of mushroom soup

1 16 oz. jar Pace picante sauce (the recipe says no other brand, and I tend to agre—choose mild or hot according to your taste

Brown hamburger and sausage, breaking up the chunks of meat until it is all crumbly. Drain and put in the crockpot. Add Velveeta, cut in chunks, and melt. Add mushroom soup and picante sauce.

Keep sauce hot, even if you have to plug in the crockpot a time or two.

 

Quick and easy queso

Want a quick and easy last-minute queso? Mix equal parts Velveeta and Wolf Brand chili without beans. Serve with chips. I have gone to Boy Scout chili cook-offs where this was served in a bowl, like regular chili. Keep it warm but don’t overcook or the texture gets funky.

Happy football season!

 

Green noodles

Sounds a bit like Dr. Seuss’ Green Eggs and Ham, doesn’t it? Don’t be misled. When Jordan was recovering from Covid this week, the first meal she wanted was green noodles, a favorite of both my girls since their schooldays. I don’t remember the boys liked it as much. But it’s such an old recipe that I’m sure I’ve presented it here before, and I make it from scratch, so amounts will be approximate. Adjust to the number you’re serving.

There is a story behind this: Chefs don’t just follow recipes from Julia Child and James Beard and others—they develop their own recipes. Me? I follow other people’s ideas, which is why I’m a cook and not a chef. But green noodles is one recipe I can claim to have developed. The story begins when I was in graduate school and living with my brother and his then-wife in a small, Missouri town.

She told the story of one evening, before they married, when John was coming for supper, and she had no grocery money. She cooked with what was in the fridge and pantry, and the result was spaghetti in lemon butter—she called it meatless spaghetti. John and her children liked it well enough that she fixed it often, and when I left, I took the idea (it wasn’t really a recipe) with me in my head. Gradually over the years, I added things. First, was to substitute spinach fettucine for spaghetti; then I added sliced mushrooms (they soak up the lemon and are delicious); because we love them, I chopped and drained a can of artichoke hearts and added that; next came chopped green onions and a fat garlic clove sliced; then I added an ice-cub size hunk of pesto (I sometimes freeze it in an ice cube tray). Somewhere along the way I began to  sprinkle fresh grated parmesan on the dish just before serving (these days I prefer pecorino). And that’s it—my signature dish!

Ingredients

16 oz. Spinach fettucine (will serve four generously)

1 stick real butter, salted

1 fat garlic clove

4 green onions, chopped

1 can quartered artichoke hearts (not marinated)

½ lb. baby Bella mushrooms, wiped clean and sliced, stems discarded (you can choose to include the stems if you trim off the end)

1 Tbsp. pesto (optional)

Juice of one lemon (you might start with less and taste—a whole lemon gets it very lemony)

Fresh grated parmesan or pecorino

Cook, drain, and rinse noodles. Melt butter in a skillet. (Megan, weight-conscious in high school, used to insist that was too much butter, and it may be, but it’s so good.) Sauté the mushrooms, artichoke hearts, scallions and garlic in the butter. Add lemon juice and pesto. Finally add noodles and toss to coat. Reheat just until noodles are warm again. Top with Parmesan. I serve it in soup plates and often offer crusty baguette slices.

A meatless, one-dish meal.

 

Chicken tetrazzini, chicken spaghetti—or whatever your mom called it

 

 

Image for the algorithms

We didn’t eat much pasta in our house when I was growing up. Dad was a roast beef man, and Mom brought her German heritage to the kitchen. The closest I came to pasta was Franco-American spaghetti in a can. But as a young adult, I had a friend who was much my senior—probably close to fifty years. Freda Powell taught drama at the college level—with some famous students, notably among them Dan Blocker. And she entertained those drama majors in her home frequently. Her go-to dish was chicken tetrazzini which she would make in huge batches. We all loved it.

Recently I had some cooked chicken that I wanted to do something with, but what? It wasn’t enough for a full meal, so I was looking for something for one. And came across a recipe for tetrazzini that I could cut down to fit my need. Aha! Freda’s dish. Finding the recipe was like a reminder of meals from the past. When I made it, it turned out enough to feed me and Christian, who said he didn’t think his mom made tetrazzini. But when he tasted it, it was familiar.

Chicken tetrazzini or whatever you call it is easy, quick, and adaptable. You can make it for two or twenty. And you can make it ahead. Sometimes it just takes a little reminder to put a familiar dish in your dinner rotation. So consider this your reminder.

 

Chicken tetrazzini or chicken spaghetti (or whatever your mom called it)

Ingredients

16 oz linguini

½ cup butter, softened

4 half chicken breasts, cooked and chopped

2 cans cream of chicken soup

2 cups sour cream

1 tsp. garlic salt

½ tsp. dried parsley

½ tsp. pepper

1 cup chicken broth

2 Tbsp. Parmesan cheese, grated (fresh)

2 cups Mozarella cheese, shredded

Directions:

Cook noodles al dente, drain, and set aside

In a large bowl, combine chicken, soup, sour cream, butter, chicken broth, garlic salt, parsley, and pepper. Mix together thoroughly and then stir in the cooked, drained noodles.

Pour into a greased 9x13 baking dish and spread evenly. Sprinkle both cheeses on top.

Bake, uncovered, in 350^o degree oven 35-40 minutes or until cheeses are melting and bubbly. Let it collect itself a bit before serving.

Serves 8. Leftovers will keep in the fridge, well covered, for three day. Frozen leftovers in air-tight contained may be kept for two months.

If freezing uncooked casserole, do not add cheese. Thaw in refrigerator, add cheese, and bake as above.

You may have garlic salt with parsley in your cupboard. That’s what the recipe specifies, but I don’t think it’s worth buying just for this recipe when you can combine dried—or fresh—parsley and garlic salt. That’s a bit of my mom’ d Depression-era frugality coming out in me.

A dish fit for a queen!

 

 

Coronation chicken Salad.

Coronation chicken salad was created for the 1953 coronation of Queen Elizabeth. I thought King Charles was trying to economize a bit and did not serve it at his festivities, but I’m told that’s wrong. He did serve it, with all its traces of the long British occupation of India. According to The New York Times, the salad was wildly popular in this country in the Eighties.

Last week, as I blogged, an out-of-town author/friend was coming for lunch. Since I have some small reputation as the foodie on the listserv where we are both active, I felt under the gun to produce something special. In fact, even before the lunch, the list buzzed with questions about what I would serve. My guest told me she’s allergic to gluten, so that limited my menu somewhat. I decided on coronation chicken in lettuce cups and a small fruit salad. Another friend from the Texas writing community joined us, but there was plenty of chicken salad. This recipe serves at least eight.

Coronation Chicken

Ingredients:

6 cups cooked, diced chicken – you can boil your own or use a rotisserie chicken; I chose to brown and then simmer four half chicken breasts

½ cup mayonnaise (more if it seems dry at serving time)

½ cup sour cream or yogurt (I used sour cream, because I always have it on hand)

3 Tbsp. mango chutney (If there are large pieces of mango, chop them a bit)

1 Tbsp. curry powder

1/3 cup dried apricots, chopped, or golden raisins (I used raisins because chopping dried fruit is a pain, though I do love apricots)

3 Tbsp. fresh lemon or lime juice (I used lime, just for a different taste)

½ cup sliced almonds, toasted (no, I did not burn the first batch)

¼ cup cilantro, chopped (I forgot to add it at the last minute)

Salt and pepper to taste.

Directions:

Dice the chicken into a large bowl. Separately, mix other ingredients and taste—you may want to add more chutney, curry, or citrus juice (curries and chutneys vary wildly in taste). Pour dressing over chicken and mix thoroughly. Refrigerate at least half an hour before serving.

Leftovers will keep in the refrigerator for about three days. After that, you want to be cautious about chicken.

We really didn’t need dessert, but I got a box of bonbons from Central Market—salted caramel ice cream encased in chocolate. One bite each!

Long live the King!

PS: I saw this dessert recipe this week and plan to try it. I thought maybe some of you might like to try it too. I’ve been debating flavors, but right now I think I’ll go with yellow cake and cherry pie filling. What sounds good to you?

Are You Kiddng Me Cake?

3 eggs

1 box cake mix

1 can pie filling

9x12 pan   350 for 35 minutes.

A different salad

I forgot to take a picture, 
so this is borrowed from kathleenashmore.com.
You'll note it shows chickpeas, which I omitted

.

A high in the eighties is a cool snap if you’re in Texas, and we’re having said cool snap today after thunderstorms and brief but heavy rain last night. But I’m always on the lookout for new salads that will serve as the main dish for family meals. So when I came across this one, called LaScala Chopped Salad, I was intrigued by ingredients I don’t usually think of with salad.

The salad has nothing to do with the famous theater in Milan but everything to do with a Beverly Hills restaurant called, appropriately, La Scala and famed for its chopped salad. According to rumor, the Kardashians are extremely fond of this salad, but it is not the famous Kardashian salad which has chicken and carrots and who knows what. Frankly, I don’t care what the Kardashians eat. I am one of those who has never watched the show (it is a show, isn’t it?). But the salad, aside from the source of its fame, was surprisingly good—and popular with my family.

Here's the recipe:

Ingredients:

1 head iceberg lettuce

¼ lb. salami

¼ lb. shredded mozzarella

1-1/2 can chickpeas, drained (I don’t happen to care much for chickpeas and didn’t have any on hand, so I omitted this)

3 Tbsp. olive oil

2 Tbsp. red wine vinegar

1 tsp. Dijon mustard

½ tsp. each salt and pepper

Dressing:

½ cup olive oil

¼ cup red wine vinegar

2 tsp Dijon

½ tsp. each salt and pepper

¼ cup grated pecorino

Sound like the salad gets dressed twice, doesn’t it? Bear with me. Cut the salami into thin strips, not so long as to be difficult to eat. Chop the lettuce.

If you’re using chickpeas, whisk together the oil and vinegar, mustard, salt and pepper listed in ingredients and toss in the chickpeas. Trust me, it was good without them.

Mix together the dressing ingredients and shake or stir to emulsify.

Put the lettuce in a large bowl and toss with half the dressing. Add the salami and mozzarella and taste to adjust the seasoning. Add remaining dressing but be careful not to make your salad soupy.

Presentation is complicated if you use the chickpeas: drain and put in the bottom of a bowl. Pack your salad on top. Then, using a plate to keep everything in place, flip it so that the chickpeas are on top for serving. See? I told you it’s easier to leave out the chickpeas.

Not using the chickpeas? Serve in soup plates and top each serving with a bit more pecorino for appearance sake.