Belated Sunday Eats - Creamy Mac and Cheese

Temperatures in northern Illinois dropped from the 70's to the 20's within a couple of days.  I can't complain, as according to Facebook, a post of early November of last year was Abby romping in some snow in our backyard and this year we maintained spring-like weather (including heavy thunderstorms) until the third week of the month.

But it made for a weekend where it was just nice to stay inside, and warm. , ,

. . . and do some home cooking.

The last three years have been a blur, I got married, moved twice, wrote 3 books, put 36,000 miles under me back and forth to Dad's and 30,700 miles between crash pad and home every weekend before I could get transferred.  I lost my beloved brother and my dog Barkley and adopted Abby Lab - the best thing I could have done.  FINALLY, I have time to just sit and read that big stack of books that I keep here and also at my  ninety-six-year-old Dad's house.

My husband and Dad - enjoying their reading.

I also plan on trying out some new recipes. I made this for dinner Sunday night and it was a huge hit and some of the creamiest mac and cheese I'd ever made.

After I made this Abby was begging (she did get the little shreds of cheese stuck to the food processor blade and bowl) and my husband was stealing spoonfuls as it cooled, I looked at him and said: "has anyone in your generation actually eaten homemade mac and cheese?"  He shook his head - mac and cheese comes in a blue box or a frozen red box. . right?

This was the best mac and cheese I've made in several years, and aside from standing at the stove stirring for 14 minutes (with wine - I'm ambidextrous when it comes to whisking and drinking wine), it was super easy to make and my husband raved about how good it was.  Even these pictures, taken two days later as leftovers with some fresh breakfast bacon (it was too dark when I first made it for photos), doesn't do it justice as to how creamy it was when it came out of the oven.

Creamy Mac and Cheese (serves 4 as a main dish, and 6-8 as a side dish)

1 and 3/4 cups dry macaroni

12 ounces sharp cheddar (I used 8 ounces of sharp cheddar, grated from a block and 4 ounces of pre-shredded cheddar/jack leftover from making enchiladas Saturday). If you can, grate your own. Pre-shredded cheese doesn't have the moisture of block and has preservatives. Shredding your own tastes SO much better; is cheaper, and makes a creamier mac and cheese.

3 Tablespoons butter
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 tsp dry mustard (in the spice aisle for you new cooks)
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon Nutmeg
4  to 5 shakes of a jar of crushed red pepper (about 1/4 tsp.)

2 and 1/2 cups milk (I used 1 % -  what I had in the fridge)

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.  Grease or non-stick spray an 8 x 8 casserole dish.

Mix flour and spices in a small cereal bowl.

Bring a saucepan of water to a rolling full boil.  Stir in pasta.  Cover and turn off heat.  Set timer for six minutes. (seriously - for servings up to four -  I never stand and boil my pasta any more, a trick I learned from Murphy and Stanley's Mom. I just give it a quick stir, cover with a tight lid, turn off the heat, and walk away, using the normal time on the box).  Since this will cook further in the oven, I only cooked it to "al-dente", so it was still a bit firm to the bite.

Grate the cheese - you want 3 cups total.

When the timer goes off for the macaroni - drain, then rinse with very cold water and drain again so it quits cooking and place the pasta in a large mixing bowl.

Get timer, beverage of choice, and potholder on standby and in reach.  Once you start the next step you do NOT want to step away from it for "another glass" or "let the dog out" or you will  likely scald the milk or end up with lumps.

Melt butter over medium-high heat in a heavy saucepan. Set a timer for 14 minutes. Whisk in flour and spice mixture, over medium/high heat, whisking constantly for two minutes.  Use a real whisk, (even WalMart has them), rather than a fork.   In a slow stream, add the milk, whisking constantly. Whisk until the timer goes off and the mixture is thickening at medium-high heat.  You want it steaming but NOT coming to a full simmer (bubbles).

Turn off heat and stir in grated cheese, stirring until it's melted.

Pour cheese sauce over macaroni, stirring to break up macaroni and place in 8 x 8 x pan.  Bake uncovered at 375 for 20-25 minutes until bubbling around all of the edges and just starting to brown. Let cool for 3-5 minutes.

Top with chopped bacon or buttered bread crumbs for a vegetarian version. I believe there was a vegetable in the room so we covered all food groups.

Hey - there's still some cheese left Mom.  Angry bird wants some!

Sunday Black and White

Thanks to our hosts:

New Chapters

Abby Lab here - a Chapter from Mom's new book and then she promises to quit barking about it!  The main character of the book is a young rookie police officer who has to move from Chicago, where she just graduated University, to a tiny rural town after her only relative dies and leaves her a small home.  With grades that would have taken her to the FBI, it's a big setback, in her eyes, but with her recently rescued dog Clyde and new friends, it's one that opens up a wonderful new life full of humor and hope.

Chapter 16

Occasionally I have to drive into Oz, as I call the big city of Chicago, which rises out of the cornfields. I go less and less, surprisingly not missing large malls and nightclubs like I did when I arrived in this small town. I’m enjoying just working and coming home to relax in the house, to bake bread with new friends. I may be turning into a younger version of my aunt, and I don’t care.

As I made several stops before hitting the freeway home, there were some people panhandling. I have learned to recognize the signs of, “I’m just scamming for money,” $300 shoes, smoking cigarettes constantly between green lights (if you can afford a pack-a-day habit, you don’t need my cash). There was one young lady, dressed in torn and shabby clothing sporting a very recent and intricate hair highlighting job that I know costs close to $200 to get done, even though it looked like she washed her hair with vegetable oil. And look, a new smartphone! Then there was the young man that just looked hungry until you noted how small his pupils are, looking for his next high. Nice try, but they’re not getting anything from me. Sometimes I would see someone that had that slightly unhinged look in eyes or actions that made me make sure I avoided eye contact as I ensured my doors were locked, not wishing to put myself in the point blank range of mentally unstable rage.

Once in a while, I saw something in the clear eyes of one of them, noting hands calloused by years of hard work, and realized that whether they were truly homeless or not, they did need something more than cash, an uplifting of the spirit. So on those occasions, I would roll down the window and put out a couple of bucks, but most importantly, I would look them in the eye and treat them with the respect of a kind word and an accepting smile. I remember one of them with tears in his eyes, an older man with a straight back and hands curled by arthritis, simply because I give him a fairly large and crisp bill, called him Sir, and wished him God’s blessings for a comfortable night of rest.

Sure, maybe I’m just being played, but I’d rather make the occasional attempt than leave them alone as they sifted through the ghosts of past riches, coming up with empty hands. I’ve been just one bad decision away from where I had only the clothes on my back and enough gas to make an escape. It can happen to any of us, though I’m thankful I had parents and an aunt and uncle that instilled in me the value of hard work and sweat, never being taught the world owed me something like so many of my peers.

In looking at them, I realize how very precious the smallest of things are, how the most ordinary of things, the simplest of possessions can contain the deep, profound integrity of a work of art. You also realize that you can’t hold onto something so hard, so afraid of losing it, that your efforts only fracture what once was whole. I look at some butterflies from Africa under glass that my aunt left in the house when she died. They have such frail and beautiful wings that almost look like they would flutter with life if I softly blew my breath on them. Yet it would only take one accidental drop off the table to destroy them forever, wings tearing from glass that cuts as cleanly as tears.

In our neighborhood, there is this very elderly gentleman, hunched over with pain, barely able to walk. His tidy home on the next block has a wheelchair ramp, for a deceased spouse or himself, I do not know. He walks with great difficulty as if the movement is foreign to him. Each day he takes out his little dog for a walk, likely his only companion as I’ve never seen him with any family member. Holding a leash in one hand and a cane in another, he passes by, indistinctly and quietly as a shadow, yet with movements that are precise with pain, as his little dog hovers with glee over invisible things in a carpet of grass. When we first passed, and I looked at his face, I expected his countenance to reflect the hampered efforts of a hampered body, pain in his eyes and defeat in his form. Instead, I got a happy glint and a smile as he gazed down at his furry best friend, delighting in just being outside in the warm sunshine with a creature he loved.

Our lives all begin in the same way, in the unleashing of pain as our mothers birth us, in that first deep cry as we take in the air around us. From there, the journeys are as different as our fingerprints, on various paths, some strange, some wonderful, some littered with stones that make us bleed. Some don’t survive the journey, others find at its end, they hold a single treasured thing, or nothing at all but their labored breathing. I’ve learned the hard way that each person, each moment is important.

As I drove into the city today, I saw a woman on a corner in designer business clothing, everything about her bright and shining, but for her eyes. On another was someone in the faded clothes of a working man, which had seen better days, holding a cardboard sign that said, “Need help. God bless.” She did everything she could to avoid looking at him, as I handed $5 out the window to him and received an honest and grateful thank-you. I think of what I saw in their eyes—in hers, fear; in his, truth.

Truth, however painful, like beauty, hovers around us, obscured in the still silent waters of a day, waiting for us to stretch out a hand and grab on to it. As I accelerated away, I saw their forms on the sidewalk, joined by others on their way to work, or simply finding their way, looking in the gleaming light like the slats of a fence, some straight, some bent and damaged, all simply trying to hold something together.

Tonight as I type, I look out on my old truck, at a strand of white that’s appeared in my strawberry blond hair when I’m barely even thirty, at a scar on my upper chest that marks the time I escaped that opening grave with gentle triumph when a skin cancer was detected early. Others might think it odd that I give money to strangers while driving a nine-year-old vehicle that’s seen better days. It has nothing to do with income and all to do with how I can live with myself. Like anyone, I’ve made mistakes, I’ve hurt others, and I’ve known too well those truths that are found in a field where nothing is left but crime scene tape and regret. In those truths is the understanding that none of us are immune from failure, lack of empathy, or fate, but we are still all capable of reaching out a hand to a good soul in need, as Christ did. To be ignored is to disappear, to vanish without provoking either mourning or curiosity, a death in and of itself.

The next time I go out for my walk, I’ll take some homemade cookies and share with the old man that walks his dog, I will learn his name, and I will remember it. For he understands too, what many of us know, that no matter how much or how little we have, we all want that same thing—to have a place where we are safe and valued, a place that even the most humble of us deserve to know.

Things That Made My Mom Smile #221

Abby Lab

Update - My Book was published TODAY!

Surprise - my book, my first fiction piece (family/relationships/Christian genre) is out a week early and is available on Amazon while it makes it way to the bookstores. 

To order click

• HERE

All sales the first week are going to Lab Rescue LRCP in Maryland and Kevlar for K9s (which provides life saving vests to K9 Police Officers who otherwise wouldn't have one).

Small Town Roads is kind, gentle, poetic, but grippingly bittersweet in the meeting and meshing of the times and values of two distinctly different — but so much the same — women in a small American town. L.B. Johnson is a writer to watch for tomorrow, but she is also someone to enjoy today”.

--John L. Moore — award-winning novelist and journalist, author of The Breaking of Ezra Riley and other novels.

“In the tradition of Kent Haruf’s best-selling Plainsong, L.B. Johnson has written a lyrical, meditative story that acknowledges the dangers and comforts of our world.  Small Town Roads is a loving story about an old, slow place where the terrible loneliness of grief eases because ordinary people decide to be community."

--Katie Andraski, author of The River Caught Sunlight

Evelyn Ahlgren, a widow and retired teacher, enjoys the quiet comforts of her tranquil neighborhood. That’s why she is intrigued to see what her new neighbor, rookie police officer Rachel Raines, will add to their charming small town.

Rachel had big-city plans that hadn't included inheriting a tiny home in a rural community, a place with no coffee baristas and where the town’s only restaurant had a giant plastic cow on the roof.

  

Evelyn believes that God brought the two together to find renewed purposes in His will, and they begin an unlikely friendship that surpasses age and experiences. When an unexpected act of violence impacts them both, their concept of faith and family is tested with life-changing results.

Small Town Roads, by best-selling author L.B. Johnson, accurately depicts the feeling of small town life, where residents know each other’s names and become neighbors, and friends, for a lifetime.

L.B. Johnson has a Ph.D. in Criminal Justice and lives in Chicago with her engineer husband and rescue black Lab.   100% of her writing proceeds are donated to animal rescue, Kevlar for K9s, and Search Dog Foundation.

Wordless Wednesday - Telework Dog

Sugar and Spice

When I got home, the little caddy in the kitchen was slightly askew. I figured my husband bumped into it as he left for work.

Then I walk into the dining room.  On the floor is a bag of whole wheat flour and a slightly drooled on but not chewed up bag of brown sugar the contents of both untouched, but for carrying them out here.  It was then I noticed the open cabinet on the caddy.

Abby apparently thought I was hiding some strange stuffies in the cabinet and put them out on the floor with the rest of her toys.

Seriously Mom quit being a cheapskate.  Next time buy the flour that squeaks.

Sunday Black and White - Kitties in the Kitchen

Thanks to our bloghop hosts Nola and Sugar.

Sepia Saturday and some POTP for Sully

On this Sepia Saturday please send some Power of the Paw for my friend

• Sully Texas Scottie

Sully's Mom relayed to a friend in Blogville that Sully isn't eating but is drinking a lot and peeing a lot. He is at the dogtor for liver tests. Being at the dogtor for liver TREATS is good, but NOT tests.

Saturday Eats - Woof Woof!

Abby Lab here - this is a French Onion Baked Potato. It's not pretty, being somewhat bland in color, but Mom literally moaned when she bit into it.  I didn't get any as it had onions which are very toxic for dogs but she fed me some little nibbles of cheese. If you're vegetarian you can use veggie stock, but try and stick to a low sodium or homemade.

You will need (per person, Mom just made one as Dad was out of town)
1 large potato
1 sweet onion
Malbec wine
summer savory (that is a spice - Mom got her's online from Penzey's)
thyme
a bay leaf
salt and pepper
beef broth (Mom used some leftover homemade beef stock in which had earlier cooked a garlic-studded roast beast, but canned will work)
extra virgin olive oil

To Start: Rub your scrubbed and clean potato with olive oil. Mom used one that is made of olives that taste like butter, from Artesano's in Indianapolis.

After your potato is oiled, poke a few holes in it so it doesn't blow up in your oven, resulting in potato residue on your clothing that will likely get you secondary screening by Security Canine Abby. Then place directly on the rack of a 400 degree F. oven and set the timer for 60 minutes.

Next, get one sweet onion, fairly large but not a Jabba the Hut sized one, and chop it into fairly thin slivers or pieces. .


SNIFF. No, it wasn't the onions. Mom was thinking about last night's game of Cribbage with Dad that did not end well as apparently, a skunk showed up, whatever that means.


The onions, when chopped, will look to be almost the same mass as the potato, but they cook down quite a bit.

Put the onions in a pan with 2-3 tablespoons of olive oil and a couple of pinches of salt (which help caramelize it) and cook on the low/medium heat. Stir every few minutes, for at least 30 minutes. The onions should be VERY soft and caramelized, starting to turn golden. In the last five minutes raise the heat to medium, and cook until very light golden brown, constantly stirring, if needed. You want soft, not crunchy onions, so watch they don't burn, adding a teaspoon more olive oil as needed.

Remove the onions, putting them in a little saucepan and keep warm. Do not rinse fry pan. Remove it from heat, let cool a minute and then put in a healthy splash of Malbec wine (if you don't have a dry red wine, a splash of Chardonnay and Vermouth would work.)


With the wine in the pan, stir up the little bits of onion left with a spatula. Return to low heat and add 1/3 to 1/2 cup beef broth. Add a heaping half teaspoon of Summer Savory (if you can't find, use extra thyme), a bay leaf,  a pinch of thyme, 1/4 heaping teaspoon fresh ground pepper and a dash of salt. Simmer on low to medium low until reduced to 1/4 cup of liquid (by the time the potato is done, it should be ready).


While this simmers, shred just shy of a half cup of Gruyere cheese and also cut four thin slices (about an inch by 4 inches) of cheese for the top of the potato. Add the shredded cheese to the onion mixture. Reserve the strips. Mom used a really good quality Swiss Gruyere.


At an hour, remove potato from oven and turn oven to broil, positioning the top rack two rungs down. Cut off a thin wedge off the top of the potato and then scoop the potato flesh out of the potato as well as the little bit of flesh from the top piece, which you won't need. Mix the potato flesh with the broth over low heat (bay leaf removed and any extra broth removed with a spoon if you think after simmering it's more than 1/4 cup). Add onion mixture to wine infused broth and potato mixture. Mix with a spoon until combined and creamy with the cheese starting to melt. You can add additional salt and pepper to taste (I didn't think it needed it). Spoon the mixture back into the potato carefully. It will be more than the potato will hold, so you end up with a nice little Mt. McKinley of potato goodness on the top.

That potato summit then will be conquered by the strips of cheese which you will lay across the top of the potato in a small baking dish. Place the dish in the oven under the broiler and broil the potato until the cheese is melted and starting to brown (watch carefully, better light gold than burnt). Top with a sprig of fresh thyme and serve with a green salad.


Try not to make those little noises when you eat it. It makes the neighbors wonder.

click to enlarge

For Lexi's Mom - a Poem for the Dog and One for their Human

For My Dog 

I've loved a dog in numerous form, in formless way
in day upon day, in age upon age.
Til I could not breathe another sigh, a tear
til stopping to take the love you gave me.
My hopeful heart remaking a collar of broken hopes
that you took as a gift,wearing around your neck
in numerous form, and in formless way.

I read those tales of dogs gone before, pages of age-old pain
family torn apart and separated by time
I learned to love in their past, and took hope in you
bathed in the bright that pierces the darkness of such days
Your light illuminates what is remembered always.
for you and I have traveled those waters that flow from the earth
at the core of time, the love of dog and his human

We have journeyed and danced alongside hundreds of days
we've shared slow sweetness of meeting, the tears of farewell
Ancient devotion, in new shape renewed forever.
today it's curled up at my feet, it's ended in you.
The loving companion of all my days, both past and always
the memories of all of you merge with this one of ours
and the joy of happy barks, past and forever.

Before I knew your name or your face
you were with me, in spirit, in shapeless flame.
Still with me now, in limitless space
your nearness still warm in the air.
What time I have in the passing of the night
you will also pass, somehow, somewhere
beside me in numerous form, in formless way.

You are my dog, and I am your human
and our tale is as old as time.

LB Johnson

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For My Human

I love you 

is it time for supper yet?

Abby Lab

It's Election Time!

It's time to vote for our new mayor of Blogville!

Polls are now open at:
Hailey and Zaphod
Zaphod Beeblebrox has been appointed Blogville 2016 Electoral Judge and Oz is Poll Verifier. Both take their jobs very seriously.

Rules:

-Your blog must have been active within the past 3 months
-Only votes cast between 12:01 am EST and midnight tonight will be counted. If you miss the deadline your vote will be disqualified.
 -You MUST include the name of the candy-date you are voting for AND your blog address so Oz and Zaphod can verify you (it is your Blogville ID because they don't have time to sniff everyone's bums)
- Oz and Zaphod will tally the votes, destroy them and then announce the winner. (They hope to do this by Thursday this week but they have 5 days). They will never disclose the final count or who voted for who. They have taken a solemn vow.
 
Then when you are done, for those of you living in the United States, don't forget to vote for President.

Sunday Black and White - Daylight Savings *&#@

Abby Lab - I don't CARE what the clock says - my tummy says it's dinner time!

My Best Friend

Post World Series

I got to bed at 2 a.m. due to the Cubs winning  the World Series Game - I was up at 5 for work.

After doing an 8 hour work day and a 3 hour commute, taking care of laundry, housework, and dealing with my 96-year-old Dad's medical billing paperwork, dinner was pork shoulder on steak fries covered with white cheddar cheese sauce with pickled jalapenos and bacon topped with a fried egg on a TV Tray in the living room.

Someone also opened a bottle of white wine.

Abby Lab, after her normal supper, three Salmon and Potato Blue (Buffalo) Stix treats and a large bowl of fresh water,  is joining me in my coma.

My husband is in Texas, I told him all was well and  I ate salad.

Pigs Fly Just Fine - The World Series

I have to start this by saying, I am not a sports fan.  I was into science, not sports.  But I married a guy from Chicago and so, as they said in the Bible in the book of Ruth:

But Ruth replied, Don't urge me to leave you or to turn back from you. Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God.

So, this household was up til after midnight, even if have to get up at 4:30 for work, as I really wanted to see the Cubs win.  As a Cleveland resident for six years when I was single, I had mixed feelings, but this is my home and I support my home team.

Wordless Wednesday - For Frankie My Favorite Wiener Dog