in a pickle

The afternoon my Nanny first told me we'd be having squash pickles with lunch, I distinctly remember thinking, "Ew." Daddy Tom had fried up a huge mess of crappie that had been plucked from the lake a couple miles from their house, and along with the usual mac-and-cheese, salad, and bread, Nanny brought out the squash pickles.

I bit into one, and distinctly remember thinking, "Wow, these are light, sweet, crunchy, and delicious and may be better than any normal pickles I've eaten. I simply must obtain the recipe!"

(Okay, I was really thinking along the lines of "yum," but I digress...)

And since my second cousin planted a big bag of homegrown squash in my mom's hands and the yellow jewels ended up in my fridge, I finally had the opportunity to make my very own jar of weird pickles. I wish I had some fried crappie to go along with that, (sigh), but they're pretty awesome all on their own.

Squash Pickles

8 cups squash, sliced
2 cups chopped bell pepper
2 cups chopped onions
1 large jar pimiento

Mix the vegetables and soak in 3 quarts of water and 2/3 cup salt for one hour. Drain and rinse, set aside. Then bring the following to a boil:

3 cups sugar
2 teaspoons celery seed
2 teaspoons mustard seed
2 cups white vinegar

Once the sugar-vinegar mixture is boiling, drop in the vegetables and bring back to a boil for one minute. Remove from heat and pack in jars. Let cool, then refrigerate.

a brantastic welcome

(Please forgive the terrible wordplay in the title...)

My thoughtful mother has always extended her thoughtfulness to those she hardly knows, namely, anyone who moves within a block of her home. When I was little, I remember hearing of a new neighbor, and Mom's immediate reaction was to take out the cookbook and turn to the bran muffin recipe. She'd whip up a dozen or so and we'd carry them down the street.

That's true Southern hospitality, and from a woman who isn't even a born-and-bred Texan!

And now that we have our own beautiful home in a rolling, tree-filled neighborhood, I feel compelled to continue the tradition. A retired couple just moved in on our cul-de-sac, and out came the bran flakes and flour. This recipe is wonderful, very simple and quick, and produces muffins that are just lightly sweet and perfect with your morning coffee. Or a neighbor's.

Bran Muffins

1 1/4 cups flour
1/2 cup sugar
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 cups bran flakes (all-bran cereal works fine)
1 1/4 cups milk
1 large egg
1/4 cup vegetable oil
Sprinkle of nutmeg

Stir together the first four ingredients and set aside. In a bowl, let the bran flakes sit in the milk for 3 minutes. Pour into a stand mixer and add the egg and oil, mixing well. Add the flour mixture and stir until just combined. Spoon into a greased muffin tin and bake for 20 minutes at 400 degrees.

susan's squash

I made good use of the shockingly sunny produce my mom passed along from my second cousin’s summer garden -- a whole mess of crookneck squash! I fixed them my favorite way, and it’s so simple you could go pick some and have them on a plate in 15 minutes flat.

(It’s a short post for a short recipe. Hope you don’t mind.)

Perfect Squash

Several yellow squash, firm and bright
A shallot
Olive oil
S&P

Thinly slice the shallot and squash. Warm olive oil in a pan, add the veggies and S&P, and sauté for a good 10-12 minutes. Wait till that dark brown crust just touches the edges of the squash… you won’t regret it.

led by our stomachs, part 2

The next morning we drove the hellish, abandoned stretch of earth toward the border and ended up in Terlingua, a desolate place with a single open restaurant and, seemingly, 12 inhabitants, all sitting immobile on the porch of the trading post with cigarettes in hand. We ate at the Ghost Town Café, and Daniel had great chili (as well he should, considering Terlingua hosts the statewide chili cookoff) and I had a good patty melt. The owners watched us carefully for our reactions, and we smiled weakly, mainly because even the air conditioning couldn’t defeat the oppressive heat.



After a long, dry, monotone trip through the Big Bend Nat’l Park (not as cool as you think it’d be…), we left the dusty stretch of West Texas behind us and traveled to the Hill Country, perhaps Texas’s most beautiful body part. Gentle rolls of land swathed in emerald and streams criss-crossing, it’s also home to the great tourist stop of Fredericksburg, which hosted Daniel’s favorite dinner. We ate at Der Lindenbaum, an (obviously) German restaurant on Main Street, and he adored the pepper-topped wiener schnitzel and fuchsia cabbage. I had the traditional schnitzel with potatoes and found it quite yummy.



That ended up being a blessed day, because we happened upon MY favorite restaurant that evening, back near our motel in Kerrville, a tiny, elegant room hovering over the Guadalupe River, which was solidly dark as melted sapphire and just as lovely. The place was called River’s Edge, and I had a Bolognese so spicy it made my annoyance of a cold clear up for one precious hour.



On our last day away, we drove to Blanco for the lavender festival and had lavender lemonade, one of the best drinks I’ve ever had in my life! It was cold and crisp and just kissed with lavender sugar, and I simply must try it soon. Will post recipe, I swear, because how chic would it be to serve lavender lemonade to your next guests?



The final restaurant on our list was the ages-old Bluebonnet Café in Marble Falls. We arrived at 1:45 and had to wait in line to be seated… and there were a LOT of tables. But it was obvious why the place was so packed from the second she set down my plate, shimmering with fried eggs and stacked high with fluffy biscuits. Oh. My. Goodness. I went all out and even got the breakfast plate with chicken fried steak, and I did not regret it.



But the Bluebonnet is known primarily for their pies, and once you catch sight of a slice, you understand completely. The meringue-topped varieties are piled with 6 inches of cloudlike meringue, and the apple pie made me swear off my hatred for apple pie instantly. The real kicker was the peanut butter pie, creamy and eggy and rich and delish. A very sweet ending.

led by our stomachs, part 1

At yesterday’s twilight, we rolled into our driveway, bellies full and legs stiff from an ambitious road trip across our great state (former a republic, lest we forget) centered almost exclusively around food. Where most people would spend time deciding on recreational activities, nice hotels, and cultural fripperies, we spent hours finding quirky restaurants in strange towns. I mean, why else would ANYONE intentionally drive to Amarillo, the un-deodorized armpit of Texas?!

Our first stop was not far away, the Chef Point Café in Watauga, just northeast of Fort Worth. Guy Fieri of “Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives” had done a piece on this eatery that says it’s a “five-star restaurant in a gas station,” but we found it a bit underwhelming on the quality side. Certainly charming and full of local yokels, the café sports fold-up tables and paper napkins with escargot and scallops on the menu.



I tried the stuffed blackened pork chop, which was actually TOO stuffed with crab, though it swam in a delectable asiago cream sauce. I’d go again, but I’d stick to a cheaper entrée, like the chicken scampi, which was less ambitious and more delicious.



Next was the famed Big Texan Steakhouse in Amarillo, and it’s one of those wonderful places that advertises its 72-oz. steak-eating challenge every few exits for 100 miles outside the city. We had steak, predictably, rolls, potatoes and mac-and-cheese, and it was good and fun, though eating under such a wide variety of dead, stuffed animals was a tad creepy.



For breakfast the next morning, we were the first customers at Biti Pies, a bakery that specializes in itty-bitty pies. (And yes, the primary reason we had to go was my female obsession with all things miniature.) Went to a local coffeehouse to eat them and discovered the best darn chocolate meringue pie I’ve ever eaten. Though the buttermilk, pecan, and coconut cream varieties were just as perfect!


We drove down the flat, crusty expanse of the Panhandle down to the flat, dusty expanse of Odessa for lunch at Rockin’ Q Smokehouse and had pulled pork that just about melted in your mouth. The ranch beans were sweltering with jalapenos but the cole slaw cooled it right off.



On to Marfa, to see the fabulous Prada Marfa and see the alien lights dipping over the horizon (and yes, Scully, we saw them!). We were out so late our only option was a 24-hour diner near our motel in Alpine. Nothing to write home about.

I shall continue relating our culinary adventures on the morrow.

fresh at last!

It has been an atrociously long time since I last cooked or wrote, but you may blame the taxing needs of young Mexican children running about the disorderly charter school where I teach.

The summer has begun with two wonderful things: a huge sigh of relief (anyone who thinks teachers have an absurd amount of time off should spend a single hour in a classroom) and my first harvest from my fecund veggie/herb garden!

A solitary banana pepper, pale and pendulous, hung from a rather spindly green plant, and I watched it devotedly for weeks until it almost fell off in my hand. Then I split it open, cut it into tiny slivers, and spread it on a grilled turkey-and-cheese sandwich. Its flavor was crisp, light, and ever so delicate, and my mouth sang!

Then, a week later, another jewel: a firm jalapeno, ripe and dying to dive into a vat of salsa (as soon as tomatoes are ready). It is now waiting with the shallots and garlic near my stove.

*Sidenote: Tomorrow Daniel and I leave for an extraordinary trip, one governed entirely by food. Many colorful blogs to come.