Tag Archives: friendship

Jan13

Ribbing the cook… ;)

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Ribbing the cook… ;)

An homage:
Perched atop a mountain on a cold January day, with our friend Bryan from the Philly area in town on his own and welcoming a home cooked dinner, I decided there was plenty of time for me to make the dish my friend Erin describes thus: “like strong, lasting relationships, this recipe takes time.” What an advertisement, huh?


I won’t paraphrase much more because I’d really prefer that you instead check out her blog, Breathing and Cooking, https://breathingandcooking.com/ and specifically this recipe: Port and Cherry Braised Short Ribs.

If you know me at all, you may have already heard me complain (as many folks do) about recipe/food blogs and the anecdotes that precede the formula. In fact, it is one reason why my own blog is so sparsely populated, because I tire of even my own kitschy chitchat. And yet here I go! So, while I DO wholeheartedly recommend that you read the entire entry on Erin’s blog first, on the actual day you need to make this recipe, I’d hit the “jump to recipe” button (thank God for those!) unless you plan on setting an alarm and getting up extra early that morning. But read it, do. Before it’s time to make the dish. Because in addition to the fact that this was the first meal she ever made for her hubby Eric (and the first dish she made for we Tweardys! She loves us! She really loves us!) There’s plenty of thoughtful and necessary information about how to make this dish a success. I will be honest though, and it will not surprise you to know that I very rarely do that. I’m a “jump”-er. However, I have low-key chops in the kitchen after so many years of having a healthy appetite paired with anxious, neurotic emotional spaces to fill. We have both amateur and professional chefs in our family as well, so I’m intuitive on the full backstory of advice for most recipes. But Erin is a friend, I’ve eaten at her table and breathed in her yoga class and as of today, we even share a hairdresser (shoutout to https://www.todaysheadlinesalon.com/), so I owe her my undivided attention on this one, and I give it wholeheartedly.

Erin and I have much in common: we both like to cook, we are interested in sustainable whole foods for health, we love yoga and in fact, we both teach yoga…we enjoy similar music (we once ran into each other when my number one songstress Lori McKenna came to Cleveland, and that says a lot!) and wine, we cry rather easily, we have achieved grandmother status, and…then there are all the ways we differ. Erin is blonde, and pretty, and lithe, and well-mannered, soft spoken. Erin’s kitchen and tools and methods (“mis en place,” which happens to be tattooed on my Chefew’s arm) are those of a patient and expert preparer of food. Oh, and she bakes. For restaurants, even. I, on the other hand, differ in that I am (ahem) brunette, loudly robust and raunchy, and I am the messiest and laziest ad hoc cook on the planet; impatient and haphazard. Oh, she wears an apron, by the way. I just buy new clothes instead.


Therefore, when I decided to make her elegant but earthy recipe live from Wilkes County, North Carolina, I thought it might be fun to do it her way, but also to share how I do it my way, so that if you too struggle with the details…we can have some fun together.


This dish is already in the oven as I begin typing this – while the process is still fresh in my memory and ongoing (there’s sauce to finish, among other things,) I’m going to pull up Erin’s blog on my phone and comment as I scroll though on the what and how of what I did, vs. the what and how recommended…remember that brief show, “Whatever, Martha!” where Martha Stewart’s daughter and her sidekick watched episodes of her mother’s TV shows and kind of…mocked? Well, I won’t be mocking, exactly. Not much, anyway. Especially if you consider the angle that I’m truly mocking my own self rather than Erin, who is doing things correctly. But she has a sense of humor, and let’s all just acknowledge that hers is the correct way before we begin. But there’s more than one way to skin a cat, in most cases. And no cats will be harmed in either version of this recipe.


*Short Ribs – Erin specifies that there are two types, flanken and English. I can report that at the closest available meat counter to me from my mountain perch, there are not two types at all. Check. Long or short? Mine are long. Check check. Bone in or out? Bone in. Check check check. See how I’m not even digressing into 7th grade humor about the long and the short of the bones?

*Onion, carrots, celery – the classic mirepoix. Your grocery store will probably have them already cut up – feel free to use those, NO shame!! Unless I’m truly strapped for time, I almost always cut up my own as I did today. For one thing, I find the precut to be a little dryer, a little staler, and probably more expensive. And one more plastic container to dispose of. Hippie. While we are on the subject, I prefer to buy loose carrots and celery, organic carrots with the green still on when possible. Yes, I know how precious and privileged that makes me sound, and yet not as elite as Erin’s talk of her favorite dried cherries, which we will get to later, so I’ll allow it.

(I want to take a moment to talk about the enameled cast iron Dutch oven. I didn’t have one until I was about 40, and I didn’t procure one “because you’re supposed to have a Le Creuset…” that part is up to you. I do own one of those, but the one I used for this recipe is another brand and I can report that they both perform equally well. They’re heavy, they do everything, and they clean up easily. Martha Stewart has one, Bobby Flay, mine is Food Network, Sur La Table…you decide what you need, mmmkay?)

*Garlic – I smashed and minced here, but I often use a garlic press. Erin linked to her favorite, but I have a favorite too and it is the Pampered Chef version – you don’t even need to smash and peel first with that one! I remember a funny meme about garlic being high maintenance, each clove with it’s own little paperwork…


*Port – Tawny or Ruby? My store had both, Erin prefers tawny, so that’s what I purchased. RIP Tawny Kitaen. My wine department had three brand choices…I definitely did not buy the cheapest. But you totally could, yes you could! Since I like wine in general, and I like wine in cooking, I do know that reducing wine makes what you like or dislike about it more prominent. I would say go for the mid-level. (Don’t tell my husband, but I bought the expensive one. It still wasn’t that much.)

*Beef stock – Erin makes her own. I have made my own. But not in a very long time. I buy organic beef broth and if there’s time and inclination, simmer it with some spent beef bones and aromatics. Blah blah blah.
*Bay leaf, parsley, thyme, rosemary. I LOVE fresh herbs, but I often use dried – if you’re not totally prepared for anything and everything, you gotta use whatcha got. At this moment and location, I do happen to have fresh rosemary and thyme in a pot right outside my sliders, and when spring comes – parsley can join that party.

*Butter. Butter. Just use the butter. If you’re going to use a butter substitute, please…don’t use it at all. If you’re fancy…pure Irish butter for me.


*Dried cherries – see Erin’s blog! I did not have time to order her heirloom fancy cherries (link in her recipe), but I will look into it for the future. I see why she buys them in bulk, they’re expensive to ship for just a bag or two! However, her point about them not using seed oils or sugar is important to me. Meanwhile, I hunted for dried cherries in vain at my local store here and didn’t have time to look further. No dice, the only cherries were sweetened, which we do NOT want for this dish anyway…I even checked for frozen, and those were sweet cherries as well (not sweetened, but sweet, and I was craving the tartness and the dried texture and flavor). Egads, what to do? Here’s what I did, and the results remain to be seen. I bought an organic, single ingredient tart cherry juice in a jar. That was almost as expensive as a bottle of wine. And some fresh frozen cranberries. I plan to use a little combo of the two of them to almost imitate what I will be missing with the dried cherries. The cherries are literally in the name of the dish, a major ingredient, but Bryan from Philly won’t know and neither will my husband, so I consider this to actually be a grand time to perform this particular experiment. So, let’s gooooo!


Mis En Place – whatever, Martha.
Preheat the oven – always a must, truly.
Scrap bowl – what lil’ dynamo Rachel Ray used to call the “GB” – garbage bowl! This is a worthy idea for a messy cook, rather than with full and filthy hands trying to use your foot to open your trash bin where your husband has just tossed all the half-opened mail so that when you let go of your scraps, they slide onto the floor anyway and you find yourself stepping on yesterday’s coffee grounds and…
Sear – This step is so important, especially the meat being room temp before the beautiful crusty caramel sear. Here, even impatient MB is patient – you want the meat itself to have that texture, color, and flavor, and you also want your sauce to include flavor from the deglaze. You don’t want steam, therefore, so dry and season the meat and don’t crowd the pan – patience isn’t just for waiting to turn the ribs, but also might be for more ribs to wait their turn, if you need to sear in batches. I’ve crowded the pan in haste before and always regret it.


Add the port – deglaze. This is actually fun but again requires patience for the reduction. Even the spoon-test for thickening is fun!

At this point I had to stop for my new favorite snack – cottage cheese sprinkled with cracked pepper and just a tad of cayenne! Congratulations on a comeback year, cottage cheese! Together with sourdough starter discard, you’ve really lived up to your potential lately, if the internet is to be believed.

What’s up with the cork? I hadn’t heard this before, but Erin claims to have read that adding a cork to a braise would add tenderness. Like her, I claim no shortage of corks but here in NC, my corks go into a lovely custom glass-fronted box which was a gift from our kids with a small hole on top to send the corks in…but no way to get them out. Different story if we were in Cleveland. Alas, no cork for my braise.

You’ll see other recipes for short ribs (and other meaty good things) calling for a 350 degree oven but believe Erin when she suggests 250 and “trust the process and walk away.” It works. After 2.5 hours, I went ahead and checked my ribs and decided to add another 30 minutes for good measure.


Once I let the ribs, removed from their silky pool, cool enough to handle, the removal of the bone was beyond easy. I used a sharp knife to separate a bit of the tougher fat and connective membrane near the bone and had really nice tender ribs left. I didn’t remove any liquid fat from the sauce because, well, #lazy. But if I had done the make-ahead directions, that would’ve been a no-brainer. And it would have helped the final product to be more cohesive.

At this point in the original recipe, the cherries are added to the sauce. So, this is where I added just a handful of cranberries. NOT Craisins, but fresh or frozen crans. I neglected to mention that I substituted about half a cup of the pure tart cherry juice (unsweetened) for that amount of the beef stock. I finished the sauce as the recipe specified and slipped the ribs back into their delicious bath.


What to serve with short ribs: I did old fashioned regular mashed potatoes, because I had russets on hand to peel. Typically, I would’ve enjoyed a smashed redskin (by the way, have you ever tossed a couple of handfuls of fresh baby spinach leaves into creamy smashed potatoes? Even with a glug of buttermilk? A trick I believe I learned from my sister Judy – it adds nutrition and color and is delish!) or polenta, but who doesn’t love mashed potatoes? Something green is good too – a warm kale Caesar?



Because men are messy and my table is sporting new cream-colored placemats, I plated these in the kitchen instead of lugging everything to the table. Looking at Erin’s original post, this is actually part of her advice! I did hit each plate with a sprinkling of chopped fresh parsley, but also with one of my favorite touches for hearty winter dishes – flash fried sage leaves! Speaking of messy – and blaming the men – the first time we were invited to gather around Erin’s dining table for this meal…guess who spilled the red wine? Yep, I’m the problem…it’s me. Thank goodness for Ruggable. Stemware is tricky.

My super rando iPhone photos will not make you want to prepare this dish, but Erin’s pictures will! I made the guys’ plates look better than my own but forgot to snap a pic until my own. You’ll notice her sauce is thicker – I think that’s the assistance of those blended cherries! Excuses, excuses!

Whose is whose?

Wanh Wanh Wanh…


Not everyone loves to cook slowly and patiently all day, but every now and then a day offers itself with the time and space to do that, and this is just the recipe for that day. With a mountain view and Lori McKenna’s music conspiring, I had my best day in weeks (don’t get me started on seasonal affective disorder) and this long-form cooking was just what I needed! Oh, and then you get to EAT it! Yum!
Wait, how did the substitutions go? I think it probably held up about as similarly to the original as it could be. I am such a lover of cherries, though, that I plan to invest in those bougie cherries for next time!

Jul27

Elaine

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Last week, we had not one, but two memorials to attend. Not just to “attend,” but to participate in because they celebrated the lives of such significant and beloved humans. My age, which is not so advanced at 54, allows an ever-increasing number of these losses. Which makes perfect sense, of course, but that doesn’t make a single thing about letting go of people you love easier. Tim and Elaine. As far as I know, mostly unbeknownst to each other, even though we all know we’ve got a Kevin Bacon thing going on with almost everyone. Elaine passed away just three days after Tim, so this latter post will be about her.

It was ten years ago this month that we lost Hap, my dad, a loss that I have written about numerous times, but it was at exactly that time when Elaine reentered our lives. On purpose. A lot of people showed up for us when we lost Hap. Most didn’t know what to say or do, and of course–there was nothing to say or do. But Elaine found something to do.

She’s not “mine” to talk about, which is why I haven’t written or posted anything yet about her passing. I don’t know her children well enough to share any news on their behalf about their mother. But this is what I do, write/talk/share to process, and no one has to read it anyway. But I have an ever-present fear that I will forget things, or that others will. And I don’t ever want to forget–or to be unable to conjure the memories.

I first met Elaine when I was only about five or six years old. Even from that long ago, my impression of her is strong because she was so pretty. Sounds shallow, maybe, but to a young child, all moms look like moms. Elaine had a unique, attractive energy about her. Her daughter Lisa and my sister Judy were classmates and friends, and that’s the context of my exposure to Elaine. I remember her pretty smile, the way she spoke to me as if I was just another person worthy of conversation rather than the incidental Kindergartener. I remember her dog, Raindrop. She was social, I got that about her before I knew what the word meant. And as a child, I felt singularly unintimidated by her adulthood. She was a tall woman, not unlike the woman I would grow up to be. Stylish hair and clothes, broad hands and tan feet. Wearing jewelry. These are the details I recall as I see her in our driveway in the 1970’s in my mind’s eye.

At some point during our childhoods, Elaine’s family moved a suburb over, and I know that my parents socialized or saw her at various locales and events over the years. However long it had been, greeting cards would still come in the mailbox for big occasions from Elaine, and she was always on the invite list for our family showers, weddings, anniversary parties…

Ten years ago when Hap died, Elaine was a single woman still living just minutes away from us, still in touch as much or as little as anyone else was with my mom. I’m sure, although I have no recollection, that she showed up at the visitation and/or funeral for my dad. I’m certain she sent cards…plural. And clearly she called or otherwise “checked in” with my mom, Dolores.

When my dad passed away, he had been in a nursing home and we had really lost him in the two years leading up to his death to the harrowing Lewy Body dementia. So although we grieved, our grief had already been in process and his death was a release from an earthly body and mind that he had well outgrown. We were sad, but not in shock or traumatized by his passing. But because of his disease, each of us had spent a great deal of our time with him; his death left quite a literal void in the daily schedule, mostly for our mom.

It wasn’t long after Hap died that my mom came to my sisters and me saying, “Elaine has invited me to go to Florida for a month or two this winter.”

I think Coleen, Judy and I all thought it was a grand idea, but my mom had never gone anywhere without our dad. They were not the couple who had separate trips of any kind, and they loved their travel together or with the rest of us as a family. I was truly surprised to hear Dolores finish the conversation by saying, “…and I think I’d like to say yes.”

Thus began a renewal of friendship that has helped sustain my mom through her widowhood this past decade. Elaine was not widowed; she didn’t pretend to know what my mom might be going through. She just knew that they both liked each other, and shopping, and cute shoes, and eating lunch, among many other things. Turns out, they were completely compatible winter travelers despite one being an early bird (Elaine) and one being a sleeper-inner (Dolores.) That first winter and every one after that (with the exception of the global pandemic travel interruption) they rented condos in various Florida locations for four or six weeks. They made vodka and tonics in the evenings and they drove their rental car onto the beaches where they set up a chair and talked. They bought groceries and had their breakfasts and coffee at home, and they hung out at the pool. They rented movies and went out to dinners sometimes. I wish they’d gone out even more, and not worried about the cost! My mom was the driver and Elaine, the navigator and copilot. They found flea markets and fish fries and sometimes bought so much that another bag was needed on the return trip home in March. They complemented each other well on those trips. I must admit that I came to enjoy picking Elaine and her suitcases up on an icy January morning before dawn to deliver the two of them to the airport, and likewise for the March airport pickup, when the weather wasn’t any better yet than when they departed.

But it didn’t end there, with the winters away. Elaine became the friend who would invite Dolores to the local outdoor pavilion band concert, to the senior club lunch, to the free dinner that came with a community center talk on finances. It is Elaine who suggested that they pick up lunch or pack snacks and open their portable chairs to sit and watch people like me kayak or paddleboard on Coe Lake. I didn’t realize until it was already happening how valuable Elaine’s invitations were. What would my mom have done with so much extra time on her hands if not for these invitations?

My mom’s best friend of over 55 years, Ellie, was always in the picture, and since they were widowed within a year of each other, they leaned heavily on each other. We’ve always done holidays together with Ellie’s family, our family, and they did weekend Mass and dinner or breakfast together, so it seemed a natural progression to put all of these “golden girls” together. At some point I started referring to them that way, along with Ellie’s son in law’s mom Lois (it sounds reductive to me to even explain these relationships because they are simply all “family.”)

It’s no secret that I have not worked a “real” job more than a decade now, so it felt incumbent upon me to plan the occasional fun outing with my Golden Girls. We started with annual Dyngus Day, the day after Easter, a street festival celebration in Cleveland with Polish food and beer, pierogies, and plenty of polka music. Eventually, the ladies sported matching shirts for this yearly event. We’ve driven to look at Christmas lights, a farmer’s market for fall cider, even an afternoon on a rented pontoon boat. During all these times, the most enjoyable part of the date was hearing the ladies talk about old times…old Cleveland buildings where they had worked, danced, shopped. Where they lived, how they met their husbands, the kind of food their mothers made for dinner. After each outing, I would receive an email from Elaine, or a thank you card, a box of chocolates or even a wrapped gift. More often that not, all of the above. She shared a birthday with my husband and never forgot to wish him a happy one.

These outings won’t stop now in Elaine’s absence; in fact, they began before she was part of them. Even though she was the second eldest of the crew, I didn’t expect she’d be the first we’d lose. She was not frail and didn’t act old. She may have had struggles like knee pain and diminishing eyesight, but she remained enthusiastic and charming in her pursuit of her days’ endeavors. She lit up talking about her grandchildren and great-grandchildren, one or two of which were brand new at the time of her death.

A couple of weeks ago, she and my mom attended their usual chair yoga class together. Later that day, Elaine took herself to the doctor, where it was discovered that she was experiencing heart arrhythmia. She was transferred to the hospital where she had a suspected mild stroke, but was doing well enough to not only visit with family, but to compliment and make friends with the staff. A couple of days later, still in the hospital, she experienced a more catastrophic event that she could not recover from. Thankfully, hospice was her next stop. My mom and I were able to visit her there, as she slumbered peacefully with her beloved family around her, filling her ears and heart with the love she had passed around for years.

As I type this, my mom is out “bopping,” as she calls it, after her hair appointment. Last night, she went to an ice cream social at her church. I know there’s an Elaine-shaped hole in her heart and in her days, but she’s trying, and I’m proud of her for it. If not for Elaine’s intervention a decade ago, Dolores might be a much older version of the woman she is today. Maybe less independent, maybe less fun. A guest on The Modern Yoga Podcast recently spoke about “watering your friends, rather than watering your friends’ plants,” and I can’t think of a better description of Elaine’s friendship. When my mom needed nurturing, “watering,” Elaine didn’t just ask if we needed anything. She showed up, without expectation or pressure.

I’m so grateful she was still independently living the fullness of life right up until the day of her hospitalization. One of God’s angels on earth, and I know she will keep watering her loved ones from a higher ground now. As the saying goes, we are all just walking each other home. What a blessing Elaine has been as a companion.

https://obits.cleveland.com/us/obituaries/cleveland/name/elaine-gommel-obituary?id=52423333

Jan18

BLAH-g.

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I’ve been urging, stalling, resolving, beating myself up for literally YEARS now about using this little blog. Just to get myself to write, no matter how insignificant. And on the rare occasion when I have myself in front of the keyboard with my iphone list of notes/reminders of what to write about…I remain uninspired.

But then I opened an email to a group of ladies at the gym to let them know about a couple of yoga events, and in “talking” to them, I ended up with a big fat email that they probably don’t have time to read…but also, “chatting” with them via email like that changed my mood and my day. The thought occurred to me that I could’ve written the same thing, organically, for this little blog and it would be the same–probably too long and without purpose, but so what? Read it or don’t, what do I care? I can still check off the “I wrote SOMETHING today” box. And now I will, just by copying and pasting that email. And in thinking of the things that email took my mind to…well, they made my day better.

Who cares if anyone gets anything from it? I DID! Duh. The elementary insights that come in my 50’s never cease to astound me.

Maybe by age 80 I will be like a functioning adult.

Email:

“Happy Monday. Happy MLK Jr. Day. Happy inauguration week. Happy second half of January. For a laugh, I looked up what “month” January is and the following things came up:

  • National Bath Safety Month
  • National Blood Donor Month
  • National Braille Literacy Month
  • National Hobby Month
  • Hot Tea Month
  • National Oatmeal Month
  • National Soup Month

Soooo, be careful in the tub–no hair dryers, ya hear? If you feel safe donating blood, give it a try. If you are ever interested in hearing about the process of donating platelets/plasma, let me know…a longer process, but so valuable for many people (cancer patients for example) and you get your own red blood cells back so it can be less taxing on your own energy. I don’t have much to share about Braille literacy, other than I remain truly amazed at what people can accomplish and “read” through their fingers. As for National Hobby month, do you have a good one? Let’s not call yoga one, since it’s just part of your lifestyle. I would call cooking one of mine, or writing. Hot tea month? PREACH! All winter, I’m drinking hot tea. My go-to is Earl Grey with a bit of honey and a splash of milk in a favorite mug. Thich Nhat Hanh says of tea:

“You must be completely awake in the present to enjoy the tea.
Only in the awareness of the present, can your hands feel the pleasant warmth of the cup.
Only in the present, can you savor the aroma, taste the sweetness, appreciate the delicacy.
If you are ruminating about the past, or worrying about the
future, you will completely miss the experience of enjoying the cup of
tea.
You will look down at the cup, and the tea will be gone.
Life is like that.
If you are not fully present, you will look around and it will be gone.
You will have missed the feel, the aroma, the delicacy and beauty of life.
It will seem to be speeding past you. The past is finished.
Learn from it and let it go.
The future is not even here yet. Plan for it, but do not waste your time worrying about it.
Worrying is worthless.
When you stop ruminating about what has already happened, when
you stop worrying about what might never happen, then you will be in the
present moment.
Then you will begin to experience joy in life”

National Oatmeal month? I can report that Panera has a delicious steel-cut oatmeal on the menu, even for call ahead/takeout if it is morning, with pecans and berries. Delicious! Remember you can make a batch of oatmeal in the crock pot and reheat it with more milk or whatever days later. That way you don’t have to stand over it cooking. Because that slow cook oatmeal is so much yummier than the instant, really….and that way you control what goes in. I like raisins, cinnamon, a little honey. And as for National Soup month, that’s every month for me because my sister who lives almost across the street LOVES soup, and with her kids now grown and gone, she shares some at least every week!! Best part is, she usually just makes them up as she goes along. I find that some of my friends who don’t consider themselves good cooks are intimidated by soups. If that’s you, just dive in and try! You can roast any vegetables in the oven or steam them or sautee’ them or boil them (tomatoes…. or butternut squash…leeks…broccoli….sweet potatoes…ANYTHING) and then add veggie, chicken, or beef broth…or canned tomatoes…or leftover V-8….use the blender or potato masher or immersion blender… add leftover rice from last night’s dinner! Or a can of black beans. Frozen peas. Fresh garlic. See where I’m going with this? Just make it up. If you’re not an expert on spices, look at some recipes just for inspiration. Tomatoes like garlic and basil. Pork likes sage or thyme. Cauliflower likes a little milk, cheese, and caraway seeds…. 
Okay, well didn’t THIS turn into a giant long email! It changed my day, because I woke up cranky and blue and just hopped on to send you all the free yoga link– so thanks for being here and helping my day take a turn!!
Peace, love, and namaste….MB