Guests

Guests are a large part of our life at NOLD due, in part, to the academic lifestyle which brings a wide variety of students and scholars through our door. This professional perk then extends to a worldwide web of colleagues, friends, and acquaintances who return as alums or supportive visitors. 

In addition, our families live halfway across the country, leading to extended visits, especially at the holidays. I have a fondness for the holidays throughout the academic year, beginning with Halloween, and enjoy hosting parties, which often bring people from these different parts of our lives together such that the network continues to grow.

The result is that NOLD gets plenty of use and, as anyone who owns an old house knows, our abode can also be uncooperative at times. A leak springs forth. An appliance dies. Plaster cracks. Masonry crumbles. Fortunately, at 85, NOLD's ailments have been minimal despite the fact that they seem to come in waves.

Sitting in my hovel (my small office at the top of the back stairwell) a few weeks ago, I began hearing scritches and scratches in the attic above. With the weather turning colder, I guessed that new neighbors were hoping to move in for the winter, but the freeloaders will have to go.

Nonetheless, they stimulated some reflection on guests, spurred my imagination, and inspired this poem, a lighthearted glimpse into the reality of homeownership at NOLD of late:

Uninvited Guests

Cobwebs drape the radiator

Mildew clings to the grout

Dust bunnies hop across the floor

Drips run down the spout

Spider spins webs in the corner

Ants march in the door

Red squirrel squats in the garage

Mice claim the third floor

The weeds have launched an invasion

Leaves block the entry

Mud wasps nest in between the bricks

Deer act as our sentry

Iron windows draught from all sides

Pipes knock and floors creak

Cracks appear daily on plaster

Strange smells rise and reek

This old house has welcomed many

To dance, dine, or rest

Too kind to ever exclude these

Uninvited guests

Freddy still fails to earn his keep in this regard. He cannot resist the need to inspect as soon as a door opens, even the dryer door. However, most of his conquests of uninvited guests remain imaginary -- he is a super hero only in his own mind.

I want to share one recipe that might come in handy over Thanksgiving and the weeks ahead as guests arrive at your house for the holidays. This simple dish bakes us beautifully for brunch or a light lunch and is sure to delight.

Asparagus, goat cheese, and eggs are favorites at our house, and this bread pudding includes all three.

Asparagus and Goat Cheese Bread Pudding

1 pound asparagus, tough ends removed and cut into 2-inch pieces
2 cups 1-inch cubes of hearty bread
¼ cup minced fresh herbs such as Italian flat-leaf parsley, tarragon, or thyme
8 ounces fresh goat cheese, crumbled
2 cups milk
3 eggs, beaten
Sea salt and ground black pepper, to taste

1. Lightly grease a 10-inch round baking dish.
2. Steam asparagus until just tender, or about 3 minutes
3. Combine bread, asparagus, and herbs in a large bowl. Spread mixture in baking dish.
4. Dot bread mixture with goat cheese.
5. Whisk together milk, eggs, salt and pepper in a medium bowl. Pour over bread and cheese.
6. Bake for 45 to 50 minutes at 350°F, or until pudding has set and is puffed and golden brown.

Yield: 6 servings

Adapted from Prairie Home Cooking by Judith Fertig

Reexamination

Fortunately, life sometimes offers us the opportunity for a second look, the time to pause and reexamine, review, or rethink a few things. No need to get too set in one's ways or forgo the opportunity to learn or try something new. Here are a few of the second glances I have taken recently:

The vine climbing the old oak right in front of the house had the most beautiful fall foliage again this year.

When the leaves were well past their prime, browned and brittle, I noticed for the first time that the vine produces a berry in autumn, well hidden beneath the color until the leaves give way.

I took a closer look and realized I had never noticed them before even though they were right outside my front door for two years.

I love that nature never fails to surprise and teach and provide.

I am also rethinking Thanksgiving dinner. Our house will be quiet this year, a gift after an incredibly busy fall. I plan to pare down what we prepare to the essentials: a small, stuffed turkey, mashed potatoes, sides, rolls, and pumpkin pie. I am even thinking of buying the gravy at a local butcher. The goal will be to increase down time and fun with my immediate family by reducing the work load considerably. I have to recommend Thanksgiving by Sam Sifton to anyone reexamining their holiday cooking or anyone interested in a concise read with all the necessary information to prepare the meal successfully.

Finally, with a substantial amount of entertaining ahead at NOLD throughout October, I wanted to try a healthier version of the standard artichoke dip with a mayo base. You know the one. I love artichokes and wanted to find a savory dip more complex in flavor. I hit the jackpot and here it is -- out with the old standard and in with the new. This reexamination is worth a second look on your part, too. Enjoy it this holiday season.

Artichoke Fondue Dip

1 14-ounce can brined artichoke hearts, drained and chopped
1 cup shredded Parmesan cheese
1 cup shredded aged Gouda Cheese
½ cup heavy cream
3 tablespoons dry white wine
1 tablespoon chopped fresh Italian flat-leaf parsley
2 teaspoons cornstarch
Fine sea salt and ground black pepper, to taste

1. In a medium bowl, thoroughly combine ingredients.
2. Pour into a 9-inch, shallow baking dish.
3. Bake at 325°F for 35 to 40 minutes, or until lightly browned on edges.
4. Serve with baguette slices or crackers of choice.

Yield: 2 cups dip

Adapted from The New Midwestern Table by Amy Thielen

Darkness

First snow and a November moon....

The Darkest Hour Beckons

I slam the front door behind me and step into the early hours of night,

The stone steps slick in the meager days just prior to the winter solstice.

I stop suddenly, dropping the scheduled meeting from my mind’s calendar,

My face turned upward into an unexpected sprinkle of gentle flurries.

The stillness is lit from above as the moon, nearly full, rises and floats, so

I turn round and round, breathing in deeply and releasing more than air.

The following morning, the door slams again as I retrace my steps and

See numerous tracks in fresh snow, evidence of a burst of activity.

Birds and white tail deer, squirrel and rabbit, even the neighbor’s cat

Out and about to hunt and forage, prowl and taunt in faintest light.

Yet, each seemed to pause in the exact same spot as if to hold a meeting

Or find respite from the cold or reprieve from a demanding schedule.

Did each creature lift face upward as well for even the briefest moment,

Snow falling and clinging to fur and feather just as it had to my skin?

Did each being give a nod of approval to the heavens for Luna’s assistance,

A luminescent sky to ease the burden of chores necessary for survival?

What remained were fresh tracks scattered among my own from heavy boots and
Knowledge that even as the darkest hour beckons, I will not stand alone.

Patience

Patience is a hopeful practice. It looks to the future and anticipates what might be and figures it is well worth the wait. Patience knows an outcome cannot be rushed and will be savored all the more with the passing of time.

Each autumn, I have to remind myself to be patient with the two ancient Japanese maples in front of NOLD. After a summer dressed in leaves of burgundy, the pair of trees undergoes a slow transformation. Their color evolves incrementally from crimson to brick to cardinal red or from eye catching to blazing to breathtaking.

When I think the Japanese maples could never surpass such beauty, one more day passes and proves me wrong. The morning comes, and the intensity of red in the sunlight cannot be matched anywhere else I look despite the ample color that dots the wooded hills all around our community in early November. I have learned to appreciate this process of coloration in our midst, a gift of evolution for the patient observer.

Yesterday, it rained, sleeted, snowed, and blew nearly every single red jewel from our grand dames. The trees let go of their vanity and gave in to the power of this planet's yearly elliptical revolution around the sun on tilted axis that shortens our days and will shortly bring winter to the northern hemisphere.

Baking has taught me patience as well. Beat and scrap. Beat and scrape. For pound cake or Bundt, the addition of air and the process of emulsion cannot be rushed anymore than a Japanese maple. So, I choose my largest mixing bowl and begin with butter, so soft and willing it surrenders to the will of the mixer. The cream which was churned into a solid block transforms again into something light and fluffy.

Add sugar first, then eggs one at a time, and finally vanilla, always beating and scraping and feeling the rhythm of the beaters. The ingredients get to know one another, to expand and snake up the sides of the bowl. When the raucous party seems like it is about to lose control and spill over the edge, I stop and immerse my forefinger deep into the batter. I lick and the heavenly combination melts in my mouth.

Really, I am practicing patience right now while I wait and plan for the holiday cookie baking season to begin, a yearly ritual I anticipate and enjoy to the fullest, In the meantime, I made a new Bundt cake that I wanted to share -- so dense and rich a small slice satisfies.

Mocha Chocolate Chip Bundt Cake with Chocolate Glaze

1 ⅔ cups unbleached all-purpose flour

½ teaspoon baking powder

½ teaspoon salt

1 ½ cups unsalted butter, softened

2 ½ cups granulated sugar

5 large eggs

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 cup unsweetened cocoa

1 tablespoon finely ground deep-roasted coffee

1 cup buttermilk

¼ cup water

1 cup mini chocolate chips, preferably bittersweet

1. Grease a 10-inch Bundt pan and dust with flour, tapping out excess. Set aside.
2. Combine flour, baking powder, and salt in a medium bowl. Set aside.
3. Beat butter until light and fluffy. Add sugar and beat for 5 minutes. Add eggs, one at a time, and vanilla; beating until fluffy and scraping down sides of bowl as needed. Add cocoa and coffee and blend well.
4. Add dry ingredients, alternating with buttermilk and water, until the batter is fully combined and smooth, scraping the bowl as needed. Fold in mini chocolate chips.
5. Pour batter into prepared Bundt pan and smooth top.
6. Bake at 350°F until cake pulls away from the sides of the pan and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean, or about 70 to 80 minutes
7. Transfer cake to wire rack to cool for 30 to 45 minutes, allowing cake to deflate a bit.
8. Invert cake onto a serving plate to cool completely.
9. Pour chocolate glaze over top of cake, if desired, and allow to set for 10 to 15 minutes before serving.

Yield: 12 to 16 slices of one 10-inch bundt cake

Chocolate Glaze

1 tablespoon unsalted butter

1 ounce unsweetened chocolate

1 cup confectioners’ sugar

½ teaspoon vanilla extract

2 to 3 tablespoons hot milk

Melt butter and chocolate together. Whisk in confectioners’ sugar, vanilla, and enough milk to make a smooth glaze – thick and pourable to stick and coat but not runny or it will run right off.

Welcome

In April what you see is your own intentions. In October you see their unexpected wreck and fulfillment. (171) The Rural Life by Verlyn Klinkenborg

One letter changes unseasonable to unreasonable. Somehow that thought entered my mind last week as I struggled to stay awake long enough to read five pages, just five simple pages. I guess what I am really trying to say is that it doesn't take much to throw me off of my routine and best intentions. Our family life is full on a regular basis. Add a few more things to our plate, and our hectic pace becomes frenetic. This has been the ongoing story for the last month, perhaps longer.

So many of the goals I set in April have simply not been met like the books I had hoped to read, the gardening and cooking I had hoped to accomplish, the words I had hoped to write. Of course, our family time has been great (including hosting an exchange student), the traveling was memorable and rejuvenating, and plenty of work of all sorts has been accomplished. Yet, October is perhaps my favorite month and this unseasonable busyness has felt unreasonable to the very core.

In the waning days of October, I returned home one evening as the sky turned luminescent, and I found myself looking forward to breathing in some cold air, the cold air that generally arrives along with November. I found myself thinking, "Welcome November." Before I knew it, the new month blew in yesterday with north wind and hints of snowfall. I breathed in deeply with gratitude for I actually see space on the calendar despite the upcoming holidays such that November looks promising, and a new set of intentions is already percolating.....

Of course, November must begin with comfort food, hearty meals that stick to the ribs and provide sustenance to brace the cold, head into the wind. So, here are a few dishes to put on the family dinner table or share with friends in front of the fire. Falling temperatures and shortening days require we nurture ourselves in the most basic of ways, so we can welcome the coming season with gusto. Enjoy!

Oat Bran and Zucchini Turkey Meatloaf

2 teaspoons vegetable oil

2 cups grated zucchini

1 medium yellow onion, minced

3 cloves garlic, minced

2 pounds ground turkey (or, 1 pound ground turkey and 1 pound ground beef)

¾ cup oat bran

1 egg, lightly beaten

3 tablespoons tomato paste

1 tablespoon brown sugar

1 tablespoon minced fresh thyme or rosemary

1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce

1 teaspoon table salt

½ teaspoon ground black pepper

1. Heat oil in skillet and cook zucchini and onion about 10 minutes, or until softened. Add garlic, and sauté for 1 minute more. Remove from heat.
2. Combine sautéed vegetables with remaining ingredients and place in a meatloaf-baking pan. Bake at 350ºF for 1 hour.  Let stand 10 minutes before serving.

Yield: 8 to 10 slices

North African Beef Pot Roast

1 ½ tablespoons olive oil

1 (3-pound) chuck roast, well trimmed of fat

1 teaspoon sea salt

½ teaspoon ground black pepper

2 large leeks, cleaned, trimmed, and chopped

6 carrots (about 1 pound), peeled, trimmed, and cut into 2-inch-long portions

2 cloves garlic, peeled and minced

2 tablespoons ground paprika

2 teaspoons ground cinnamon

2 teaspoons ground cumin

Leaves from one large sprig of tarragon

4 cups (32 ounces) beef or vegetable broth

1 (15-ounce) can chickpeas, rinsed and drained

1 cup chopped dried apricots

1 cup golden raisins

½ cup chopped fresh cilantro

¼ cup chopped fresh mint

1. Heat olive oil in a large heavy-duty roaster or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Sprinkle roast with sea salt and pepper. Sear roast in pan, about 4 minutes per side or until well browned. Remove from pan and set aside.
2. Add leeks, carrots, and garlic cloves to pan, and cook, stirring constantly, for 3 minutes. Combine paprika, cinnamon, cumin, and tarragon leaves in a small bowl; add to vegetables, and cook, stirring constantly, about 2 more minutes. Add broth, and return roast to pan.
3. Cover and bake at 325˚F for 3 to 3 ½ hours or until fork-tender. Remove from oven.
4. Add chickpeas, apricots, raisins, cilantro, and mint. Stir gently to combine and return to oven for 10 to 15 minutes or until ingredients are fully heated and flavors combined.

Yield: 8 generous servings