Grandma Ina's Peanut Butter Balls

This is one of my favorite recipes. And I look forward to making these every year. My Grandma didn't make Christmas candy, she preferred baking cookies. So when I met my husband and realized that his Grandma always made candy at Christmas time, I was more than excited. Her given name was Alexanderina but everyone called her Ina. Grandma Ina was a really good cook and and even better candy maker and cookie baker. She was from Aberdeen, Scotland and even though she had lived in this country for more than half of her life, she still had a very strong accent and often used Scottish slang words and even Gaelic in conversation. As you can imagine, it was always entertaining to talk with her. She insisted that this recipe came from Scotland, but I'm not so sure about that. I'm wondering if they make Rice Krispies in Scotland. If one is wise, they will never argue with a Scottish woman. At least if they know what's good for them. I never questioned her about the true origin of this recipe. And I won't even tell you my suspicions. She had it memorized but she also had it written on a very worn and discolored index card. I could barely read her writing, so when she said she wanted me to write it down and try to make them, I did my best to copy  the measurements and directions  correctly. I must've been successful because the recipe always turns out right. Years ago, when my husband was growing up, his Grandma would fill coffee cans with these Peanut Butter Balls, her famous fudge, and several other creations from her kitchen. She saw him, rifling through the can, searching for the Peanut Butter Balls and she asked him why he was doing that, didn't he like the other treats in the coffee can? He very carefully said, "No, not really." He didn't want to hurt her feelings. He was her first grandchild, and they had a special bond. From that year on, his Christmas Coffee Can of goodies only contained Peanut Butter Balls. I'm thinking that he was a bit spoiled. I think that she would have been the first one to admit that. I always enjoyed seeing them together. She loved hearing his impression of a Scottish accent. When she became upset or excited, her accent was even thicker. I will never forget hearing her laugh. I wish I could accurately describe it. Light, joyful and infectious. Simply filled with happiness. My husband would say something funny or tell a joke and once she started laughing, she couldn't stop. She could barely catch her breath.

Our daughter was her first great grandchild and she absolutely loved when we would visit. She took so many photos of her as she grew older. This photo was one of her favorites. I can see why. Grandma Ina looks completely and utterly happy with her great granddaughter. I think she would be pleased that her recipe is being shared with so many people. She passed away before Facebook was created. I wonder what she would have thought of my blog and that she is being included in it. I'm smiling, imagining that she would want me to interview her so that I could write many stories about her. She loved telling stories. What a sweet woman. I hope that this making this recipe and sharing these treats with your family and friends makes you smile like it does our family. From our home to yours....

Grandma Ina's Peanut Butter Balls

1/2 cup real butter
1 lb. powdered sugar
3 cups Rice Krispies
2 cups Creamy Peanut Butter (I always use 2 1/4 cups)
1 tsp vanilla

1/2 bar parafin wax
12 oz chocolate chips

In a large bowl, cream together (with hands) butter, sugar, peanut butter and vanilla. Add Rice Krispies, Form into small walnut sized balls and set on a sheet of waxed paper. Meanwhile, in a double boiler, melt wax and chocolate chips. Remove from heat once completely melted. Using tongs, drop balls one at a time  into chocolate to coat and set on waxed paper to dry. Store in airtight container. Lately, I've drizzled stripes of chocolate across the top of the balls. It seems to add a bit of pizazz. I just can't get away from using words that my Grandma used. Pizazz. Who talks like that nowadays? I guess I do. I also like a word that my Grandpa Zim used...Snicklefritz. He called me that when I was little. Good memories.

Also note the glass serving dish in the first photo. That belonged to my Grandma. I love that I have some of her things. Using them makes my heart smile. My Grandma Myrtle also loved Grandma Ina's Peanut Butter Balls. They only met a few times but enjoyed one another's company. Women from that generations seem so polite and well mannered. There are a lot of lessons we could learn from them.

Baked Potato Soup

It is that time of year when most of us crave hearty, rich soups and stews. Several years back, I bought a cookbook with over 500 recipes for soups, chilis, stews and chowders. This morning, I handed the book to my husband and told him to choose which recipe he would like me to try for dinner tonight. He chose two and let me decide. He truly is a meat and potatoes type of guy and this Baked Potato Soup is thick, creamy and incredibly filling, perfect for a chilly night when the snow is falling.

Baked Potato Soup

2/3 cup butter
2/3 cup all purpose flour
7 cups milk (I used whole milk for a richer taste)
4 large baking potatoes, baked, cooled, peeled and cubed (about 4 cups)
6 green onions, sliced
12 bacon strips, cooked and crumbled
1-1/4 cups shredded sharp cheddar cheese
1 cup (8oz) sour cream
3/4 tsp salt
1/2 tsp pepper

In a large soup kettle or Dutch oven, melt the butter. Stir in flour; heat and stir until smooth. Gradually add milk, stirring constantly until thickened. Add potatoes and onions.

Bring to a boil, stirring constantly. Reduce heat, simmer for 10 minutes. Add remaining ingredients; stir until cheese is melted. Serve immediately. Yield 8-10 servings (2-1/2 quarts)

Spinach and Bacon Bread

What could be better on a cold winter night than some fresh bread with a bowl of stew of soup? I found this recipe in one of my cookbooks and decided to give it a try. I was pleased with the results. This particular recipe makes two loaves, so I was able to  freeze one for later use and it thawed out perfectly. Since my Grandma passed away back in 2007, I have tried to incorporate as many new recipes into our routine as possible. She would be proud of me for trying so many new dishes. She had her favorite meals that she prepared often but she was always searching for something different to add in to the mix. I remember the time she made frogs legs. I was 7 or 8 at the time. Of course she couldn't tell me what we were actually eating so said that it was chicken. I believed her through the entire meal. It did taste like chicken so why doubt her? After we finished with dinner, she told me the truth. I can't recall if I became upset or not. She made them a few other times so I must have been fine with it. I was pretty good about trying new foods. We had a fig tree and I absolutely loved eating them right from the tree. Our next door neighbors had an avocado tree and we would pick those that were on our side of the fence. Many times I went to school with a mashed avocado sandwich. And yes, the kids did make fun of me for it. It bothered me, but not enough to not eat my sandwich. Avocados are delicious. Yes, Grandma Myrt would be really proud of me. I love to cook and I enjoy trying new recipes. She taught me well.
I hope you'll give this recipe a try. So much better than any store bought bread.

Spinach and Bacon Bread

scant 2 cups warm water
2 tsp active dry yeast
pinch of sugar
1 tbs olive oil
1 onion, chopped
4 ounces Canadian bacon slices, chopped
8 ounces chopped spinach, thawed if frozen
6 cups bread flour
1 1/2 tsp salt
1 1/2 tsp grated nutmeg
1/4 cup grated reduced-fat Cheddar cheese

1. Put the water in a bowl. Sprinkle the yeast on top and add the sugar. Mix well and let sit for 10 minutes. Lightly grease two 9-inch cake pans.

2. Heat the oil in a frying pan and fry the onion and Canadian bacon for 10 minutes, until golden brown. Meanwhile, if using frozen spinach, drain it thoroughly.

3. Sift the flour, salt and nutmeg into a mixing bowl and make a well in the center. Add the yeast mixture. Tip in the fried bacon and onion (with the oil), then add the spinach. Gradually incorporate the flour mixture and mix to a soft dough.

4. Transfer the dought to a floured surface and knead for 5 minutes, until smooth and elastic. Return to the clean bowl, cover with a damp dish towel and set aside in a warm pleace to rise for about 2 hours, until doubled in bulk.

5. Transfer the dough to a floured surface, knead briefly, then divide it in half. Shape each half into a ball, flatten slightly and place in a pan, pressing the dough so that it extends to the edges. Mark each loaf into eight wedges and sprinkle with the cheese. Cover loosely with a plastic bag and set aside in a warm place until well risen. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F.

6. Bake the loaves for 25-30 minutes, or until they sound hollow when they are tapped underneath. Transfer to a wire rack to cool.

Bob's Favorite Bavarian Apple Torte

Bavarian Apple Torte, served on my Grandma Myrtle's beautiful glass serving dish.

This is the recipe some of you have been waiting for....Bavarian Apple Torte!! Wow, is this good! My husband and I have a dear friend that loves my cooking, even my leftovers. He is a bachelor, and loves to cook for himself but a bit of variety never hurt anyone, so I share with him. He isn't big on sweets, except this recipe. He loves this torte. For the last three years I have made this for him in the Fall. I've been known to bribe him with this dessert. A bit of help with chores for a torte? He always agrees to anything when food is involved! This is the perfect mix of sweet, tart and rich. The more tart the apple, the better it will go with the sweetness of the cheesecake-like filling. A perfect Fall and Winter dessert and it really is more simple than you would think.

Ready to go in the oven. Who needs scented candles or potpourri when you can bake desserts that smell as good as this does? 

Bavarian Apple Torte

3/4 cup butter, softened
1/2 cup sugar
1 1/2 cups all purpose flour
1/2 tsp vanilla extract

Filling:
2 packages (8 oz each) cream cheese, softened
1/4 cup sugar
2 eggs
3/4 tsp vanilla extract

Topping:
3 cups thinly sliced peeled tart apples
1/2 cup sugar
1 tsp ground cinnamon

Directions:
Combine the first four ingredients. Press onto the bottom of an ungreased 9 inch springform pan. In a bowl, beat cream cheese and sugar. Add eggs and vanilla; mix well. Pour over the crust. Combine topping ingredients; spoon over filling. Bake at 350 F for 55-65 minutes or until the center is set. Cool on a wire rack. Store in the refrigerator. Cut into wedges with a serrated knife. Yield 12-14 servings.

Even a tight fitting springform pan may leak. To prevent drips, place the pan on a baking sheet in the oven. Also, be sure to use a 9 inch pan. Anything smaller will result in the crust being too thick.

Recipe from Taste of Home.

No Boxed Stuffing at Grandma's House!

One cannot have a holiday dinner without stuffing. It seems that the only times to prepare stuffing are for Thanksgiving and Christmas. That is how it was done when I was growing up. From what I can remember, Grandma usually made her Moist Bread Stuffing. It had the best aroma while cooking. And sometimes, I was lucky enough to help her chop the celery and onions. She trusted me with a knife at a pretty young age, after a few lessons of course. I loved her butcher knife. It had years of use, the handle was worn down in places but the blade was as sharp as if it were brand new. I remember shopping for holiday meals with her. She'd always buy a loaf of French bread for her stuffing. No boxed stuffing for our family. Everything was from scratch, even if it took more time. She said it was worth it. There were some convenience foods that she would use but not very often. I remember that she used her electric knife to cube the bread. When I hear that sound, I'm taken right back to childhood on Volante Drive. It's interesting how sounds and smells will bring back such vivid memories. That happens to me often. When I made this recipe for Thanksgiving this year, I had Bing Crosby playing on my Ipad, I was using many of my Grandparents kitchen gadgets and at one point, tears started to well up in my eyes, not the sort of tears that come from sadness though. These tears were from a place of gratitude. I felt incredibly thankful to have had such a rich and blessed childhood with these two people. I have many special memories to look back on. Treasured moments, words exchanged, comforting hugs, security. Continuing family traditions is necessary for me to handle life without them. I find peace when I do something as simple as prepare one of the recipes that Grandma made. Life is still good. I am happy and blessed. Memories keep me grounded. And I have amazing ones.

I hope you enjoy my grandma's recipe. It was our family's favorite.

Moist Bread Stuffing

1 cup butter
2 cups diced celery
1 1/2 cups chopped onions
1/4 cup minced parsely
2 1/4 tsp salt
2 tsp poultry seasoning
1/2 tsp pepper
18 cups French bread cubes
3 eggs, slightly beaten

1. In 8 qt Dutch oven over medium heat, in hot butter, cook celery and onions until tender, about 10 minutes.
2. Add parsley, salt, poultry seasoning and pepper; stir until thoroughly mixed.
3. Stir in bread cubes and eggs; mix together well.

Bake in a covered, greased casserole dish for 30-45 minutes.

I generally pour chicken broth over the top of the stuffing before baking. It is something that I always saw Grandma do. It seems to add extra moisture to the bread without leaving it soggy. 

Grandma Myrtle's "Famous" Pumpkin Pie

Oh yes, Pumpkin Pie. An autumn tradition for so many families. Even today, when I have a pie baking in the oven, the aroma wafting through the house floods my mind with memories of holidays past. I remember my Grandma baking several pies each Thanksgiving and her Pumpkin Pie was always my favorite. Just like so many of the dishes she made, I have no idea where the original recipe came from. She was a notorious newspaper and magazine recipe clipper. I have two file boxes filled with recipes that she had clipped and saved. Many of them tattered, the colors faded with age. Many have handwritten notes in the margins, which makes them that much more special. For all I know, this recipe for her "Famous" Pumpkin Pie could have come off of a can of pureed pumpkin that you can purchase in the grocery store. I don't think that makes her recipe any less special though. It would be just like her to tell everyone it was a special recipe, one that she created. And because it tasted so good, everyone would believe her. She used the same recipe for as long as I can remember, and I'm sure even before I was born. Grandma didn't have a large kitchen. Her house was built in the late 40's and the kitchens were not part of a "great room", like they are today. It was it's own room, separate from the dining room. Even with limited space, she managed to prepare meals for holidays with no problem. From a very young age, I remember being fascinated with watching her prepare food, especially large meals. She was so organized. She would write out a list of the dishes she would be cooking, and another list for items she needed to buy. Before heading to the store, she would check her cupboards for items on the list. Why buy something you already have on hand? I must have paid closer attention than I thought, because I'm finding myself doing the same thing.
I loved experiencing the Fall season while living at Grandma and Grandpa's house. Helping Grandpa Zim rake leaves and put them in the metal trash cans. Hearing Grandma say "Put your sweater on, you'll catch a chill." Fall meals were some of my favorites. She always made more soups and stews in the Fall. I loved when she'd make Chicken and Dumplings. I asked her for the recipe when I had grown up and had my family to cook for. She replied, "Oh, that? I don't have a recipe for that. I just throw a smidgen of this and a tidbit of that in the pot." I can tell you that I was a little frustrated that she couldn't just hand me a recipe to copy. I was a young woman, not experienced enough to successfully throw anything together without ending up with a complete disaster. She had been cooking for 60 plus years by that time and was an expert at knowing what ingredients to add, how long to cook it and what seasonings to add. I, on the other hand, needed much guidance. Especially when it came to her treasured Chicken and Dumplings. My first attempt at dumplings was not good. Not good at all. Looking back, I feel rather ridiculous. I can see what I did wrong. They turned out like big balls of uncooked dough that were warm on the outside and mushy and sticky on the inside. I mustered up the courage to call my Grandma and tell her about my horrible dumplings. After a little giggle, she assured me that she also had many cooking disasters. I can't think of a single one. Maybe she hid them well. She always appeared to have it all together, so competent and in control of her kitchen. I can't even picture her making a mistake. I'm sure I'll think of one...no one is perfect, right? Except Grandma's. Most Grandma's are perfect. Hmm. I'll  share her "Famous" Pumpkin Pie with you while I try to remember any cooking disasters to come out of her kitchen. I may be thinking for a while.

Grandma Myrtle's "Famous" Pumpkin Pie

2 eggs, slightly beaten
1 cup pureed pumpkin, or plain canned pumpkin
3/4 cup sugar
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp flour
1/2 tsp ground ginger
1/4 tsp ground cloves
1/2 tsp vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups evaporated milk
1 pie crust, homemade or refrigerated pie crust

Preheat oven to 375 degress F

Mix all ingredients with mixer until well blended. Pour into pie shell. Cover edges of pie crust to keep from browning.
Bake for 70 minutes.
Makes one unbelievably delicious pumpkin pie.
Enjoy!!!
Bake for 70 minutes. 

Autumn Potato Gratin

Years ago, we had dinner with friends and they prepared the best tasting potato casserole. I asked for the recipe and have been preparing it for special occasions and most holidays ever since. (I promise to post the recipe here at some point)
 This year, since Thanksgiving would be celebrated with just my husband and myself, I decided to try something new. I really like Rachel Ray's recipes and I found this dish on www.foodnetwork.com. It's incredibly creamy, cheesy and rich. And well worth the extra calories. This is definitely a special occasion dish. Although it is simple to prepare, and incredibly delicious, it's the sort of dish that merits only being made for special days. Another plus, I grew some herbs over the summer and brought them in for the winter. I had four large pots with beautiful herbs happily growing in them, sitting in my kitchen window, waiting to be used. This recipe calls for sage, thyme and rosemary. All three were right here, fresh and ready. Of course, we had plenty of leftovers and I'm happy to report that they heat up well and the consistency and flavors stay the same. I hope you enjoy making this.

Autumn Potato Gratin

8 servings

4 lbs mixed baby potatoes, such as Red Bliss. Peruvian Purples, and Fingerlings
2 cups heavy cream, plus some to cover
4 tbs butter (1/2 stick)
2 sprigs each fresh thyme, sage, and rosemary
2 garlic cloves, cracked
Salt and pepper
1/2 cup grated Parmesan

Directions:
Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.

Halve the potatoes and toss them into a large baking dish and season with salt and pepper.

Meanwhile, put the cream, butter, herbs, and garlic in a small saucepan and bring to a simmer over medium heat. Cook for about 5 minutes, to infuse the cream with flavor. Season with salt and pepper.

Pour the hot cream mixture through a strainer over the potatoes, (discard the herbs and garlic), if there is not enough cream to go 3/4 of the way up the potatoes then pour some additional cream on top to make up the difference. Sprinkle the Parmesan evenly over the top. Bake for 30 to 35 minutes, until the potatoes are cooked through and the top begins to brown. Cover and keep warm until ready to serve.

It's Elf Season!

 Today is a big day. For the last several years, I have been Santa's Elf. Today is our first appearance of the month. We spoke on the phone yesterday, and reminded one another of how important this is to so many children, and parents. Santa (Rick) and I were friends before we began this adventure. We make appearances all over this little town, the DHS Foster Family Christmas Party, both of the local assisted living facilities, the library, a local toy shop, we even make visits to the courthouse, city hall and the police station. Rick is retired law enforcement and feels that it is important to visit the employees to express our thanks for all of hard work. Even something as simple as a candy cane and a smile can make such a difference. Today, we are a part of the annual Festival of Trees Family Day and our local Kiwanis Club is offering photos with Santa. I wrote the following story, Elf Magic, two years ago, after a day of posing for photos and visiting with children. I hope that you can feel the magic of this season.

Elf Magic

by Marna Fahrney on Wednesday, 08 December 2010 

I woke up with butterflies, filled with excitement. As I ate breakfast, I recalled the conversation that Rick (Santa) and I had the week before. He called to remind me that on this day, we were to leave all troubles, worries and personal issues aside and become Santa and his Elf. This day was important. This day was magical, spiritual. He then told me that we would be remembered for a lifetime in some of these children's hearts. What a wonderful man he is, to take on the task of becoming Santa with such respect and responsibility.

I had laid out my Elf Costume the night before. Jingly hat, Red knickers, Elf Booties, all in red and green, of course. I braided my hair, added sparkly eyeshadow and glitter to my everyday make up, because everyone knows that Elves sparkle. Still feeling butterflies, I gathered the rest of my things and headed into town. Stopping at the store for a few 'extras', I noticed the peculiar looks from adults. I guess it takes the mind and heart of a child to truly understand the enchantment of an Elf.

The snow was gently falling which added even more of a sense of wonder to the day. I knew that I was ready for whatever was in store.

Our photographer specializes in families and children and we knew that she was going to capture some amazing memories today. The Santa Photo staff, members of our local Kiwanis Club were setting up and preparing for the arrival of the many children, eager to tell Santa what they wanted. Order forms, check, printers and paper, check, photographer, check, Santa and his Elf, check....5,4,3,2,1....GO!

We saw the usual type of child, excited to spend a few minutes with jolly ol' St. Nick, and of course, the little ones that would scream at the very sight of him. A few even remembered me from last year, which of course, confirmed the actual existence of Elves in their minds. As the children stood in line, I approached them and bent down, so that I was at their level. The smile in my heart spread to my face and I asked if they were ready to see Santa. Some of the children said that they were scared and did their best to hide behind the legs of any nearby adult. I gently peered around the adult and told them that I had something special that would take away all of their scared feelings. I pulled out a small jar of Magic Elf Dust from my pocket and opened the lid. Asking them to hold out their hands, I sprinkled the sparkly magic onto their heads and let it fall onto their hands. I wanted to know if they felt scared now, they shook their heads and we grasped hands and walked slowly over to where Santa sat in his large chair. The magic was working...we could all feel it. The pictures were the proof and the looks on the children's faces was the icing on the cake.Some of the children brought gifts to Santa, one that stands out was a small bag of carrots for the Reindeer. A few brought special artwork that they had created just for Santa, a few had written out their lists and one even brought a melted piece of candy that looked partially eaten. I told them all that I would place them in Santa's Big Gift Box so that he could take them back to the North Pole.

While children were in the room, I never saw Rick break from the character of Santa. He really was Santa, a real snowy white beard, wire rimmed glasses, sparkle in his eye, a voice that enchanted even the adults. During one of the slow moments, I stood back and pondered the thought of an average wife and mother, becoming an Elf for a day. How often does this really happen? How lucky was I, that I could give a gift such as this to all of these children? Children from all types of families. Rich, poor, those from religious homes and those that knew nothing of the traditional meaning of Christmas. I gave the same attention to all of the children because they each deserved my best.

Generally, when toddlers come to see Santa, they are excited and when asked what they would like for Christmas, they respond with a list of their favorite toys. A small boy, about 3 years old, approached with a middle aged woman. We did what we normally do; Santa greeted him, I helped to position him on Santa's lap and then the question of what he wanted was asked. We were not prepared for his response. With a quiet voice he stated that he wanted his adoption to be finished so that he could have a mom and dad. Silence. Rick and I shot a glance at one another, realizing the enormity of what had just been said. Holding back the tears until the little boy and his guardian left the room, we then held up the line of children so that we could break down. With that one little boy, the entire meaning behind what we were there to do, came into focus. I wept. I couldn't stop. Rick and I just sat and cried. What are we supposed to do with a wish like that? If Elf Magic did exist, I was heaping it onto this little child, engaging the powers of Santa, all of the Elves and each of the Reindeer to make this Christmas wish come true. How insignificant are all of our problems and complaints in comparison to what this 3 year old wished for Christmas? We were in awe. I cannot recall a time in my entire life where I felt so small and powerless. Being a mother as well as an Elf, I just wanted to hug, nurture, and care for this little boy. How in the world could I get through the rest of the day?

Somehow, we managed to pull ourselves together and continue on. We talked with big kids, who of course, thought that they were much too old to visit Santa, much less sit on his lap! At the slightest doubt of Santa's existence, out came the Magic Elf Dust...sprinkling the wonderful sparkles onto older children always resulted in giggles and a look of embarrassment. I could tell that there was now a question in their minds...just maybe, there really was a Santa? An older girl, that I remembered from the year before came in with her mother. I guessed her age to be 13 or 14 but she was obviously mentally delayed and was more like a child of 6 or 7. She remembered me also. Since there were no other children in line, Santa and I spent a little more time with her. She wanted a baby doll and stuffed dog for Christmas. She liked my striped socks and my hat with jingle bells. She knew this was the real Santa because of his beard. As she got up to leave, I asked her if she wanted to know what extra special thing I brought with me. I stood next to her and we looked eye to eye. She was entranced and ready to see what I had. As I pulled the Magic Elf Dust out of my pocket, her eyes lit up, her smile broadened and she began to giggle. I sprinkled the sparkly dust all over her and as her mother stood by, I again, felt the magic of the moment. Not surprisingly, tears started to form in the corners of my eyes. Keep it together for a few more minutes, I told myself. As she closely inspected the fallen glitter that was now covering her hands, her mother pulled me aside and told me how much I had meant to her daughter over the last year. She talked about 'The Elf' for an entire year. And here I was again, to confirm in her mind, the reality of Elf Magic. This 'job' of being the Elf was so much more than just a volunteer position for the day. This was an honor, a privilege, something that I could do to 'pay it forward'. Those that know me, know that I am a huge supporter of volunteering. It seems that each time I give of myself, be it time, talent, work of some kind...I am always left with the feeling that I was given far more that what I offered to start with. I believe that true magic happened in that little room that day. I saw it, I felt it and I have no doubts that Elf Magic was present through each moment.

For the Love of Con

“Until one has loved an animal, a part of one's soul remains unawakened.”

                                                             ~Anatole France

Something amazing happens to us as humans when we open our hearts to an animal. It could be a cat, or a dog. A bird, fish or reptile. For many it is a horse or other farm animal. The type of pet that you love and care for is not as important as the process of falling in utter and complete love with your pet. Animals that capture our souls are unique and unbelievably special. This week, one of my best friends had to say good bye to her special boy. He crossed over the Rainbow Bridge after a battle with congestive heart failure. Con was the most majestic Irish Wolfhound. He was born on St. Patrick's Day. Kate first met Con when he was five months old. His owners brought a group of their Irish Wolfhounds to our local Highland Games as a sort of exhibit. The group of puppies were being walked across the grassy field when Kate's grandson, Tristan, at only 18 months old, stopped and watched the procession. It must have been a sight for a toddler to witness...even at 5 months old, Irish Wolfhounds are large dogs. Con stopped when his eyes gazed upon Tristan. They connected in that moment. Almost as if they knew they needed one another. Something magical happened as the two stared at one another. A bonding between a little boy and a dog. Kate, being unbelievably perceptive, sensed this and decided almost instantly that she wanted Con. He had a gentleness about him that made his size seem less intimidating. He really was gigantic.Being so large did not keep him from loving and nuzzling Kate's little grandson. They were buddies, Con and Tristan. I'm sure if Con had lived longer, he and Tristan would have had many adventures.Con loved to sit on the couch, rump up on the seat and front legs on the floor. It was probably a pretty comfortable place to sit for a 140 lb dog. Whenever Kate would stand still, Con would lean up against her. I'm sure there were times that she had to brace herself to keep from falling over. We all knew how special this dog was. His calm and loving demeanor were unmistakable. Kisses from Con were something I always looked forward to. Big, slurpy, wet doggie kisses.
Con was only three. Much too young. It feels like we didn't get enough time with him. But sometimes, rather than question why, or exclaim that life isn't fair, it's easier to appreciate the time you had and know that you gave your treasured pet the best possible life. We all knew that Con was sick. We could see him slowly declining over the summer. Kate's son in law dug a grave over a month ago. You can prepare. You can know, in your mind that the end is near but when it finally happens, you find that no amount of preparation can soften the blow to your soul. Kate loved this dog. She bonded with him before she brought him home. Anyone that met Con was immediately captivated by his presence. If it's possible for a dog to have charm, then Con was given a double dose. Have you ever seen a dog smile? Isn't that the most incredible thing? Con seemed to always be smiling.
When I found out that Con had passed, I knew that Kate was saddened beyond belief. It seems that one of the ways that I comfort my loved ones is through food. Food is comforting. And in my mind, food equals love. Especially when you prepare it with good intentions and sweet thoughts. I set out to make a double recipe of a batch of Oatmeal Raisin Cinnamon Cookies. I've taken cookies to her office before so it wouldn't necessarily be unusual for cookies to magically show up again. Having to work the day after your beloved dog passes away has to be difficult. And cookies and a big comforting hug would at least make it more bearable for her. I've always believed that the little things, the gestures of love, kindness and encouragement were more important than an entire book of lofty intentions.

Oatmeal Raisin Cinnamon Cookies (also known as Hugs in Cookie Form)

2/3 cup granulated sugar
2/3 cup packed brown sugar
1/2 cup real butter
1/2 cup shortening
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1 tsp vanilla
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
2 large eggs
3 cups old fashioned oats
1 cup all purpose flour
1 cup raisins

1. Heat oven to 375 degrees
2. Beat all ingredients except oats,flour and raisins in large bowl with electric mixer on medium speed. Stir in oats, flour and raisins.
3. Drop dough by rounded tablespoonfuls about 2 inches apart onto ungreased cookie sheet. ( I always use parchment paper)
4. Bake 9-11 minutes or until light brown. ( 10 minutes seemed to be the perfect amount of time, at least for my oven)
5. Immediately remove from cookie sheet to wire rack.

I made a double recipe. While there are 10 people working in Kate's office, one batch should have been enough. But, as with everything I do, I go all out. I generally seem to cook and bake as if I'm feeding a group of 20. I guess I'd rather have more than enough than to have someone go hungry. I'm wondering if there are any cookies left. I noticed that Kate ate three of them, just while we were visiting. Ooops. I wasn't supposed to tell anyone.
While baking cookies seems to be a simple thing to do to help someone through their grief, I think the gesture behind it is what really counts. Close friends just seem to understand that. I didn't know how else to comfort her and reassure her that I care. Cooking is just what I do. It's part of who I am. I cook when I'm happy. I cook when I'm sad. I cook for other people, to show them how much they mean to me. I cook to celebrate, to entertain and to love. And on a side note, since I did make a double batch, I knew I'd have enough to take a small bag to another friend that I simply adore. She is my official taste-tester. I simply love taking her little portions of cookies or cake. And sometimes, I end up dropping by with a plate of happiness, just when she needs a little pick me up.I don't believe that there are any coincidences in life. You meet the people that are meant to be in your life, for one reason or another. And Kate is like a sister to me. My official taste tester, Tami, is such a sweetheart. I truly love my friends, through all of their ups and downs. True friends just have a knack of knowing when you need a hug. It just so happens that sometimes those hugs come in the form of Oatmeal Cookies.
Peace and Love,
Marna
Rest in Peace Sweet Con...you were loved and treasured.

Living in the Moment

 Rock Creek Recipes is back! I have been away far too long. I've missed the process of writing and sharing.. What a busy summer it's been around here. We've crammed as many small trips and adventures into the weekends as humanly possible. Sometimes it felt like we were in a whirlwind. Was it worth it? You bet. Life goes by too fast. I have no intention of sitting in a chair and watching it go by. While I enjoy quiet, relaxed days, I also love being busy and active. Life needs balance. And looking back on the past several months, I'm sure we could have taken things at a slower pace but in doing that, we would not have been able to experience as much as we did. Living here, we know that we have a limited amount of time for summer related outdoor activities, we realize that fall and winter are a slower, more relaxed time of year while spring and summer are filled with activity! And I do mean filled!

 I started out the spring with taking numerous walks in the area that we live. I took a lot of photos because I wanted to give you all an idea of the beauty that surrounds us.These grand trees are less than half a mile from home. When I walk down the road, I'm always captivated by their presence. I can't quite explain it. We drive by them everyday, almost without noticing. But when I walk past, I always slow down and gaze at them. I take in their beauty, their calming presence. It is almost as if they are beckoning to me, to stop, to take notice, to appreciate, to breathe.

 Spring is a gorgeous season here. Everything new, fresh, coming to life after a snowy winter. I eagerly anticipate the ground thawing, the leaves returning to the lilacs, the tiny buds of flowers forming then blooming practically overnight. As I watch the transformation of our yard, from a frozen, white landscape to a lush, green oasis, I do my best to live in the moment. To truly appreciate the changing of the seasons, the fragility of life, and the air that I breathe. It seems that this place brings about awareness and appreciation. I was raised to be an outdoor type of girl. We camped and hiked, fished, picnicked, and often ate our summer dinners on the patio. I guess it's only natural that I would continue to have that desire, to be out in nature.

  

When life gets a bit hectic, you can find my by the water. This is just a simple irrigation canal that runs through the corner of our front yard, from Rock Creek but hearing the water move across the rounded stones is so soothing and peaceful. I know that my grandparents would have loved it here. I can imagine my Grandma, barefoot, pants rolled up, wading into the cool water. It seemed that anywhere we traveled, if there was a body of water, she had her feet in it. I have at least a dozen photos of her standing at the edge of a creek or lake, toes dipped in and smiling. In my imagination, Grandpa is sitting by our little "creek", in the shade with his straw hat on, his hand gently petting our dog, Nalah, He had such a love and appreciation for all  animals. I can't remember a time when we didn't have at least one pet when I was growing up. He was always so sweet and kind to them. Yes, I think that they would have felt right at home here. After all, this place has the look and feel of so many of the places we camped over the years. And life goes on, they may not be here any longer, but they will forever remain in my heart and in my thoughts. They know how much I miss them. I try to not let sadness consume me, I try to live with joy, the way they would want me to. So I encourage you to get out in nature, feel the earth, feel the magic it has to offer. Live in the moment, take it all in. Life goes by too fast.

Strawberry Custard Torte

Strawberry Custard Torte

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A little slice of heaven....

 

 

One of my favorite things to do is to make dessert. And if I'm lucky, I'll make that dessert for friends. Rock Creek Hubby and I love to entertain. Looking back on our 20-plus years together, I think that we always have. We've hosted parties, holiday meals, game and movie nights, meetings. I remember cooking Thanksgiving dinner for close to 20 people once. I enjoy the process of cooking and preparing food but I also enjoy feeding my friends. Sharing food is a special thing. When you find friends that you enjoy spending time with, sharing a meal with them is even more special. And having the opportunity to cook for them? It's simply amazing.
This past Saturday we had a group of our friends over, to celebrate the 4th a little early. We have about four acres here and since we've worked so much in the yard this year, we figured that it was about time we enjoy the beautiful space we have here.
Luckily, I found out ahead of time that our friends don't care for chocolate and peanut butter, which was my original plan. I switched gears and opted for something light and cool. This torte was perfect. It reminded me a lot of Strawberry Shortcake. And I love the fact that the custard is homemade while the cake comes from a mix. I had a friend ask if it was possible to add a lemon flavor and I definitely think so, either use a lemon cake mix instead of the plain yellow or add lemon to the custard. I think that would be a delicious alternative. The entire Torte is served cold, which added so much to the flavor and texture. Perfect for a summer BBQ.

There are times that I worry about how my food is presented, especially when we have company. It seems that no matter how hard I try, I have such trouble getting my creations to look like the photos in my cookbooks. But then I remind myself that this is something I enjoy, a hobby and not how I make my living. I don't need to be obsessive or overly meticulous. This is supposed to be fun. So, if you notice the crumbs scattered about in the whipped topping of the Strawberry Torte, like I did, then you'll have to excuse me. I was enjoying the process of cooking so much that things got a little wild in the kitchen. My daughter shared a quote with me today and I think it fits perfectly, on many levels.    "Approach love and cooking with reckless abandon."  That describes me completely. 

Strawberry Custard Torte

1 package (18-1/4 oz) yellow cake mix
1/3 cup sugar
1 tbs cornstarch
1/8 tsp salt
1 cup milk
2 egg yolks, lightly beaten
1 tbs butter
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 carton (8 oz) frozen whipped topping, thawed
1 package (12 oz) frozen sweetened sliced strawberries, thawed and drained
Sliced fresh strawberries for garnish

Prepare and bake cake according to package directions, using two greased and floured 9 inch round baking pans. Cool for 10 minutes; remove from pans to wire racks to cool completely.
In a saucepan, combine the sugar, cornstarch and salt; gradually stir in milk until smooth. Bring to a boil over medium heat; cook and stir for 2 minutes or until thickened. Remove from the heat. Stir a small amount of hot filling into egg yolks; return all to pan, stirring constantly. Brind to a gentle boil; cook and stir for 2 minutes. Remove from the heat. Stir in butter and vanilla. Cover and refrigerate until chilled.
Place half of the whipped topping in a bowl; add strawberries. Split each cake into two horizontal layers; place one layer on a serving plate. Spread with half of the strawberry mixture. Top with a second layer; spread with custard. Add third layer; spread with remaining strawberry mixture. Top with remaining cake and whipped topping. Refrigerate overnight. Garnish with sliced fresh strawberries.
Yield 12 servings

A Nail Polish Destiny

I wrote the following story back in December. Tomorrow is Nail Day and I wanted to share this with all of you.

A Nail Polish Destiny

by Marna Fahrney on Sunday, 18 December 2011

Have you ever done something that felt like destiny, like you've either always done it or have done this particular thing in another time or place? As if it just fits and feels like home?  I can't recall exactly how I became the Nail Girl at Settler's Park, one of our local assisted living facilities. Almost an entire year ago I signed up to volunteer to read to the seniors every other week. And somehow, out of that, came an entire bag of nail polish, cotton balls, nail files, cuticle oil, and lots of music from the 40's and 50's.
Their activity room is located in a large open area just past the main entrance and directly in front of the dining room. There are two long tables lined up end to end with a couch behind them. Each week, when I arrive, nail bag slung over my shoulder, my ladies are lined up on one side of the table. I never would have thought that getting your nails done would be such a popular thing to do. What a warm greeting I receive when they notice me. I quickly get set up, knowing that I only have a couple of hours before they go to dinner and I don't want anyone to be left out. I have even filed and clipped nails on some of the gentlemen residents (which they thoroughly enjoy). They have all decided that their favorite part of the entire experience is the last step...lotion. I use cocoa butter lotion and massage it into their hands. Proof again that human touch is healing in many ways. I try not to rush this part because I know how they enjoy it. I only spend an average of six hours a month with these ladies. I wish I could be there more , it doesn't seem like enough, yet in that short amount of time, I feel like we've become such great friends.
We laugh together, about all sorts of silly things. We sing along with the songs that play on my radio. I have stations that I know they will enjoy, like Dean Martin, Perry Como, Loretta Lynn and their latest favorite, Doris Day. A few weeks ago, there were several conversations going on at the table while I was busy filing, clipping and painting nails  when Que Sera, Sera came on the radio. First it was one lady singing along. Then two, then the rest joined in on the chorus. A table of 16 women, most in the 70's or older, all singing,
"Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be."

I had tears in my eyes. Not because of our impromptu sing-a-long, we actually sounded quite good, but because I was realizing how precious this moment was. Each of these women has come from a different background, each has their own story, and each of them now live in this retirement facility. Even if they wouldn't have been friends in their younger years, they are finding common ground now, and seeming to enjoy the small, special things that life brings their way. There was such joy in that moment. I will never hear that song the same way again.

I hear such great stories in those few hours. Stories of young love, marriage, raising families, children and grandchildren. Some are still married, most are widows. But each and every one of them has a story to tell. And much love to give. We've laughed till our sides hurt, we've shed tears when one passes away, we've worried when another is not at the nail table due to illness. They have become a family, and I'm somehow included in that. How fortunate am I?
This started as a simple way to give back. I've always loved spending time with seniors. Growing up, I was incredibly close to all four of my grandparents. This is just an extension of my love for them. And now, after a year of twice a month nail visits, I have found friendship, love, affection and a deep appreciation for these beautiful women. I see past the wheelchairs, the walkers, the memory loss, limbs that don't move the way they used to. In my mind and heart, they are young women, falling in love, helping their children with homework, in their kitchens cooking meals, with endless supplies of energy, living life to the fullest. Age is only a number. Beauty is where you find it and I've found it here with my lovely friends. This is my destiny. I know when I walk through that door on Wednesday afternoons, that I am exactly where I am supposed to be.

Close to my Heart

Spinning, twirling, and tracing the outline of the stones in Grandpa's turquoise ring as I sat next to him on the couch, my chubby little fingers, touching his strong, weathered hands. I loved that ring. He didn't wear it often but it still seemed to be a part of him. It symbolized his spirit, kind, generous, loving and strong. Both he and Grandma loved turquoise jewelry. We would often go camping in the Sierra Nevada mountains and there were several little shops that carried Native American goods and turquoise jewelry. If their good friends Noel and Vera were camping with us, we had to be sure and stop because Vera loved Minnetonka  Moccasins. She always had a pair in her trailer and they looked so comfortable.On one of these trips, they bought me a small and simple ring, something appropriate for a little girl. I treasured that ring and wore it almost everyday. I remember when the stone developed a crack across the center and I had to stop wearing it. It was just about too small for me at that point but I think I would have gladly switched it to my pinky finger just so I could continue wearing it longer. Fast forward to two years ago...I now have my own business. One of my clients gave me the best gift ever. She went on vacation to Arizona and chose a turquoise ring almost exactly like my original, and I wear it on the same finger. She did not know the story of my ring or how much it meant to me. I opened the box and almost cried. I am in awe that life has a way of bringing you back to special times and involving new people in the journey. What a precious gift she gave me, without even knowing the entire background story. I wear that ring each day and while it's not the exact same ring that Grandma and Grandpa gave me, it brings a smile to my heart and comforts me.
Grandma Myrt had a wonderful collection of turquoise. She was always so careful in her purchases. She never wanted to appear gaudy or tacky in any way so she would only wear one or two pieces at a time. She was petite and I remember her saying that one should never wear overly large jewelry, even costume jewelry. She said that it would overpower our natural beauty. I loved looking at her hands and touching her rings. She had the most beautiful and elegant hands that I have ever seen. She was 52 when I was born, not necessarily old but not a young woman either. I've often wondered how different her hands were when she was twenty-one and first married. I can remember each crease, each wrinkle, every line, and how her rings fit on each finger. I must have appeared strange while staring at their hands. I don't know why I was so fascinated by their hands and their rings. I'm glad that I have those visual memories stored in my heart. I can see my grandpa Zim's hands holding a pencil, working on a design project at his drafting table in the garage. I can see Grandma's fingers glide across the keys of her organ and hear the occasional click that her long nails make as they touch the ivory. She took lessons and practiced almost daily, a hobby that she took up when I was little. Grandpa would hold my hand when we'd walk through a parking lot and I loved how rough and masculine his hands felt. He passed away last fall. I was given his turquoise ring and I knew that it was too big for me to wear. I certainly did not want this beautiful ring to sit in a box to never be enjoyed. I went to one of our local jewelers, J. Tabor, with an idea of turning the ring into a pendant that I could wear with a silver chain. He was able to create a masterpiece. It is exactly what I wanted and so much more than I hoped for. He kept the shape of the ring on the underside of the stones. The curve in the ring, where my Grandpa's finger touched it, is still there. Sometimes, when I wear it, I smooth my finger over that curve and close my eyes and think of the many times I held his hand, the many times that he wiped my tears, comforted me and held me. When I wear my Grandpa's ring, I feel safe, secure and loved. His spirit is always with me but I especially feel it on the days when I have the pendant on.

Flea Market

Oh, the treasures you can find at a flea market! Locally, at least within a 45 minute drive from our house, there is a great flea market, held three times a year; Memorial Day weekend, the weekend for 4th of July and Labor Day. Last year we didn't have the greatest luck with the weather. Spring and early summer in this part of the state are quite unpredictable when it comes to weather. It can change at a moments notice sometimes and end up making the weather forecasts look more like comic strips. Since this has sort of become a yearly tradition for my husband and I, we dressed warm, and headed out. We had worked for 12 days straight and needed to spend our weekend doing something fun. The previous day we went to the theater to see a movie, which is something we don't do often enough. We are incredibly fortunate to have a wonderful historic theater right downtown. After seeing movies there for the last five years, it would be incredibly difficult to go back to the big city and view a movie in one of their megaplexes. Yesterday was flea market day. We decided that we'd take our dog. She needs the socialization and many folks bring their four legged friends along. This flea market is held in a small mountain town, where snowmobiles and four- wheelers are king. Vendors come from all over, bringing all sorts of treasures to sell. As we peruse the many tables and stands filled with items, I need to remember that one man's trash is another man's treasure. I'm always on the lookout for vintage or rare cookbooks to add to my ever increasing collection. Luckily, I found two. Rock Creek Hubby never has anything in particular in mind. He always says that he'll know it when he sees it. He found a used skill saw for $5.00 which we both thought was a pretty good deal. I've never seen it as crowded as it was yesterday. I love to see local events grow, it's good for the community. Sometimes we can see things we'd like but don't need, then we play that wonderful mental game of either talking ourselves out of buying it or convincing ourselves that we definitely do not need that particular item. I really enjoy watching other folks shop. Everyone is on a mission of some sort. Some of the things that I wouldn't give a second look to seem to interest others to no end. And the men....oh my goodness. They either appear interested, as if they actually want to be there, or they look very out of place and uncomfortable. I'll have to admit, just the experience of it all is fun and entertaining.
I can't recall ever going to a flea market as I was growing up. Grandma and Grandpa weren't really the yard sale type. They attended a Christian Camp up in the mountains and the camp would hold a yearly auction and yard sale. They brought back interesting things each time. I did go to a few swap meets that were held in the parking lot of closed down drive-in theater. But now that I've been to a flea market, and know what fun they can be, I think I'll continue going each and every year. The food alone is entertainment! How often do we have the opportunity to eat fresh Kettle Corn, deep fried pickles and Twinkies or roasted corn on the cob? Every single food vendor that we passed had a line of people. It was pure excitement. How do you choose which treat to enjoy? And watching our diet on a day like this? Where is the fun in that? 
I love that there is a good mixture of new, used and antique items. It makes for a really interesting day. I wonder what Grandma and Grandpa would have thought of the menagerie of items and people? I think they would have enjoyed it just as much as I did.

Greek Chicken with Vegetables and Potatoes

Greek Chicken with Vegetables and Potatoes

On my quest for healthier recipes, I purchased a new cookbook, something I love to do. My collection continues to grow. This book has some pretty amazing recipes, all under 400 calories each. And a lot of information on better options when cooking and eating out. I don't think that each and every meal should be 100% "Healthy." That simply isn't realistic for our lifestyle. We enjoy junk food and treats once in a while but realize that it needs to be in moderation. For most of the week, we limit our calorie intake, and we basically earn our treats. It doesn't always work out that way, sometimes we give into temptation more than we should. But for the most part, we are on a good path as far as food is concerned. I've managed to talk Rock Creek Hubby into trying a much wider variety of foods than he used to. Which is incredibly helpful since I like to cook so much. It would put a damper on the whole experience if I had to cook for a picky eater. Grandma Myrt didn't have much tolerance for people that were unwilling to try new things. She figured that if she put in the effort and time to prepare a good meal, the least folks could do was to eat it. I have a relative that will not eat anything green. Anything. I cannot even imagine cooking for this person. It would drastically limit the variety of meals that would be brought to the table. And what a sad way to live...there are so many wonderful foods out there. Who wants to eat the same thing over and over? Not me.
When I saw this recipe for Greek Chicken, I knew right away that I'd eventually try it. I love Greek food. Years ago, when I was a waitress, I worked for a Greek restaurant where everything was made from scratch. I hadn't had much experience with Greek food before that, other than enjoying Baklava and Gyros. I learned so much while working there. The owner encouraged his employees to sample everything on the menu. It was important to him for us to know what we were selling. I loved the way he prepared Spanokopita. I have yet to find a restaurant that makes it as good. His mother in law made the Baklava and it was to die for! And impossible to eat just one small piece. So began my love of Greek/Mediterranean food.
This recipe calls for Kalamata Olives, which are a bit pricey but so worth it. They add such a great flavor to the chicken and vegetables. We've decided that orange bell peppers are so much better than green, at least in this dish. Next time, I'll make a few minor changes but overall, this was a hit. I love dishes that smell as good as they look. The entire time this was in the oven, we were watching the clock, mouths watering, stomachs growling.

Greek Chicken with Vegetables and Chicken

4 skinless, bone-in split chicken breasts (about 1 1/2 lbs) I used boneless chicken breasts and they cooked just fine
1 medium red bell pepper, seeded and cut into 8 wedges
1 medium green bell pepper, seeded and cut into 8 wedges (next time I'll try red or yellow bell pepper)
3/4 lb Yukon gold potatoes, cut into 12 wedges and microwaved for two minutes
1 medium red onion, cut into 8 wedges
2 medium zucchini, cut into 1/2 " slices
20 pitted Kalamata olives
1 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil
Juice and grated peel of 1 lemon
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 tsp dried oregano or 1 Tbsp fresh oregano
3/4 tsp freshly ground black pepper
3/4 tsp paprika

1. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Coat a roasting pan with cooking spray, or prepare a 17'x12 rimmed baking pan: Tear off 2 sheets of nonstick aluminum foil, each 24" long. Put the dull (nonstick) sides together and fold over the edge on one side twice, to make a seam. Open up the seam and line and cover the edges of the baking pan. The dull side of the foil should face up.
2. Place the chicken on one side of the pan. Place the bell peppers, potatoes, onion, and zucchini on the other.
3. Puree the olives, olive oil, lemon peel and juice, garlic, oregano, black pepper, and paprika in a small food processor. Spread the puree over the chicken and the vegetables. Toss the vegetables to coat. (I put the veggies in a large bowl to coat them with the puree)
4. Roast, turning the chicken and stirring the vegetables halfway through cooking, for 40-45 minutes, or until a meat thermometer registers 160 degrees when inserted into the thickest part of the chicken. If the chicken is done before the vegetables are tender, remove the chicken and cover with foil. Increase the temperature to 450 and cook the vegetables for an additional 5-10 minutes. Arrange 1 chicken breast and one-quarter of the vegetables on each of the four plates.

Makes 4 servings
Calories: 350

"Good to Hear From You."

 

Grandpa Zim in Yosemite National Park during the early 70's. Wasn't he handsome? This is one of my favorite photographs of him. I loved it when he'd wear his Levi's and boots. And just look at his smile. So warm and welcoming.

I wrote the following story in 2010. Grandpa passed away this past September a week before his 95th birthday. While I miss my grandparents terribly, I find so much comfort in all of the wonderful memories that I have of them. I was blessed to be loved by them.

"Good to hear from you."

by Marna Fahrney on Saturday, 27 November 2010

I think about my grandparents nearly everyday. I hear a song, catch a glimpse of my life growing up in their home, remember particular memories and usually that is where it ends. I wish I had the time, or made the time to call my grandpa every time I thought of him. Life gets in the way, work, home, cooking, cleaning. Too many weeks go by without hearing his voice. So, I pick up the phone and hope he understands that I love him just the same, even if I don't talk to him every week. In a perfect world, I would visit him in California every few months, call him weekly and send care packages of goodies every month. I have even thought of making him a member of the Marna's Cookie of the Month Club. If I could just follow through with my ideas...
I spoke to him today. If find it amazing that at 94, he is still sarcastic and funny. He sounded good, as if he were 30 years younger. It takes a bit to get the conversation going and occasionally there are a few silent moments but after the initial hello, the conversation flows and we talk about my busy life and his quiet, slow days spent sitting in his backyard or reading the newspaper. He always asks how my family is doing, and what the weather is like. I ramble on to try to make time stand still. I know that eventually, we will run out of things to talk about, so I linger on certain subjects a bit. We don't talk too much about grandma or how much he must miss her. We talk of fun memories, times together and shared interests.
Since I moved away, and my only way to talk with him is by telephone, he has always said the same five words at the end of every conversation; "Good to hear from you." I look forward to hearing those five words more than anything. He has never been the mushy, overly emotional type and while he does tell me he loves me, it is the other kind words, terms of endearment or sayings that I really yearn for. He has been the only constant father figure in my life, my rock, the one I knew I could count on and the one I never wanted to disappoint.
It's strange, after my grandma passed away, I was so afraid of forgetting her, what her voice sounded like, the look in her eyes, her essence. And the opposite has happened. I remember things daily. And now, with my grandpa, weeks can pass by without talking to him, and the moment he picks up the phone, and I hear his familiar voice, something happens inside me. I breathe deep, maybe a sigh of relief that he is there to answer my call and also, a calming and soothing presence surrounds me as we talk. Life is good, once again.
So, we end another phone call, he tells me to not work too hard, I promise to send him cookies for Christmas, and he says those five amazing words; "Good to hear from you."

Fiesta Grilled Flank Steak with Avocado Pineapple Salsa

Delicious Fiesta Grilled Flank Steak with Avocado Pineapple Salsa

 

Now that the weather is warming up, I am always on the lookout for a recipe that incorporates having Rock Creek Hubby run the grill. He knows how to BBQ much better than I do. It's always seemed to be his job. I guess with practice I could master it, but I wouldn't want to take away his job. He seems to enjoy it.
This recipe caught my eye because of the avocado. I simply adore avocados. Having had an endless supply from our neighbors tree growing up, I just can't seem to get enough. The combination of the salsa verde, pineapple, avocado and cilantro was divine! I honestly don't crave red meat like Rock Creek Hubby does, but I really liked the flavor that the marinade gave to the steak. A really delicious meal and definitely one that we'll have again. And a plus? It's healthy! This recipe came from Healthy Cooking, Taste of Home 2012 Annual Recipes

Fiesta Grilled Flank Steak with Avocado Pineapple Salsa

4 servings
1/2 cup unsweetened pineapple juice
1 Tbsp. lime juice
1/2 tsp garlic salt
1/2 tsp ground cumin
1 beef flank steak (1 lb)
1 cup cubed fresh pineapple
1/2 cup salsa verde
1 medium ripe avocado, peeled and cubed (I used two, because I LOVE avocados)
1 green onion, finely chopped
1 Tbsp minced fresh cilantro

1. In a large resealable plastic bag, combine the pineapple juice, lime juice, garlic salt and cumin. Score the surface of the beef, making diamond shapes 1/4 inch deep; place in bag. Seal bag and turn to coat; refrigerate for 8 hours or overnight.
2. In a small bowl, combine the pineapple, salsa, avocado, green onion and cilantro. Cover and chill until serving.
3. Drain beef and discard marinade. Using long handled tongs, moisten a paper towel with cooking oil and lightly coat the grill rack. Grill steak, covered, over medium heat or broil 4 inches from the heat for 6-8 minutes or until meat reaches desired doneness (for medium rare, a thermometer should read 145 degrees, 160 for well done.)
4. Let stand for 5 minutes; thinly slice across the grain. Serve with salsa.

3 oz cooked beef with 1/2 cup salsa equals 274 calories

Happy grilling!

Thanks for the Memories

Grandpa Zim and Grandma Myrt, camping in Yosemite in the 70's

I wrote the following story about a year ago while I was coming home from a visit with Grandpa Zim. I thought I'd share it with all of you.

Thanks for the Memories

by Marna Fahrney on Monday, 25 April 2011 at 12:47 ·

Headed back to Rock Creek, I am experiencing a rush of emotions and memories. Having spent the weekend in the house I grew up in I am now feeling a bit nostalgic. Growing up, we never know which moment will create a lasting impression and become a treasured memory. As a child, I just lived. I didn’t realize that the daily activities, regular camping trips and time spent together would one day be the memories that I look back on with love and gratitude.
Forty years have passed since Myrtle and Zim chose to care for their granddaughter Marna. Time goes forward. There is no way of stopping it or slowing it down. I see the changes when I look in the mirror. I saw the changes not only in Grandpa, but also in his house. I took for granted that they would both remain the same forever. There are more age spots and veins showing in Grandpa’s hands. There are an increasing amount of cobwebs and areas of peeling paint on the outside of his home. He now walks slower and a bit more carefully. The house, which he purchased in 1955, is finally showing its age with a rusty iron gate, empty flower beds and hazy windows. I never put much thought into the fact that in order to keep a house looking well kept; one must put in hours upon hours of work. I recall the many trips that Grandma and Grandpa made to the local hardware store and the nursery. But it never dawned on me that this was actual work for them. Their house was always the same, lived in but tidy, homey and comfortable. Their yard was filled with flowers, trees and hidden places. We had oranges, avocados, lemons, figs and a garden full of delicious vegetables to enjoy. In Elementary School, my Grandpa still worked. Not once did I ever wonder what my Grandma did all day. Now that she is gone, and Grandpa has slowed down, the house on Volante Drive, the one with the enormous orange tree in the front yard is missing their special touch. I want to relive those years so that I can appreciate them more and be more in the moment. I now understand that even at 40 years of age, I am making memories each day, with each moment.
Grandma shared many of her memories of being a child growing up in Monterey Park, before paved streets and tall buildings and rows of houses. She had a dog named Bob. He was a bull terrier and followed her on her many adventures through the dirt fields near her home. This was a time when children roamed free, explored, played and enjoyed the great outdoors.  Before she met Grandpa Zim, she would swim at the pool in Alhambra. They wouldn’t find out till much later that they both spent many Saturdays there and were more than likely at the pool at the same time.
The year was 1937. They had both graduated from High School and each got a job at Kress’s Department Store on Main St. in Alhambra. My Grandma was petite with hazel eyes, warm coffee colored hair, and the most beautiful feminine hands and long dainty fingernails. Grandpa was tall, dashing in a dress shirt and slacks and had a shock of wavy auburn hair. He worked in the back of the store, stocking and making deliveries.  She worked behind the counters of jewelry, makeup, perfume and gloves. Becoming involved with a fellow employee was strictly forbidden. Grandpa recalls, with great disdain, the person that enforced that rule, and many others. “Old Lady Dunn.” She was a rather large woman with an even larger voice and manner. It was never a good idea to cross Ms. Dunn, if you knew what was good for you. I heard this story so many times, mainly because I asked to hear it again and again, that it now plays in my mind like a movie.  I can clearly see Ms. Dunn setting forth her rules of expected behavior. It was fate or destiny that my Grandparents met and began seeing one another. I always asked if they were worried about “Old Lady Dunn” finding out that they were a couple. Grandma gave the same answer every time. She didn’t care. She wasn’t about to let someone tell her what to do. She was somewhat feisty for a young church-going girl in the late 30’s, but that was my Grandma, filled with determination and purpose. Grandpa told me that one of their first dates was at a Chinese restaurant just down the street from Kress’s. He still loves Chinese food to this day. Grandma said that she was very excited to go on a date with Zim when they first met, her reason? He had a car! Her last boyfriend only had a bicycle. It wasn’t until after several dates that she found out the car actually belonged to Grandpa’s father. “So much for that!” she’d say.
They told me these stories with such detail that it seems I was a part of them as well. Either they were great storytellers or I was a good listener. I am now yearning to hear more stories, and also looking forward to writing about those that I already have in my heart. I wonder if I have what it takes to make my memories come alive again. Bob Hope’s famous song is now playing in my mind and I am humming along…”Thanks for the Memories.”