Category: family (Page 5 of 5)

The Casserole My Mom Liked

This is the casserole my mom liked.

I found the recipe in a torn and tattered cookbook. It’s falling apart and the pages crumble between my fingers. I handle them as delicately as possible, turning them with two fingers. The typed words appear to be mimeographed, not photocopied. And each page contains a single recipe.
This book is a culinary tribute from the students in my mother’s second grade class to their own mothers. 
Earlier this year, I took home a stack of old cookbooks from my parents’ old house. I was surprised to find my one with mom’s hand print traced on the front cover and her name, neatly written in cursive, in the entree section beneath a recipe for Green Bean Casserole. It’s funny how handwriting doesn’t change much over time. 

Five days ago, the fourth anniversary of my mom’s death quietly passed. In fact, it passed so quietly that I mostly forgot. 
My mom must have liked this recipe. So much so, that she chose this recipe over any others for this class cookbook. My grandma was a wonderful cook. She gave me my first sip of coffee (of which I spit onto her white table cloth), whipped cream by hand, and showed me how to make homemade mashed potatoes. So, when I studied this recipe of nothing more than canned green beans, mushroom soup, American cheese, and French fried onions, I had to smile. 
When my mom was grew up, canned vegetables must have been all the rage. When I grew up, they were frozen. And now that I’m an adult, I seek out those that are fresh and local. 
But this must have been one of my mom’s favorite dishes, so I had to try it. In honor of my mom, I made the casserole, almost exactly as it was written, adding a few additional seasonings. I tried to restrain myself so I would not ruin the integrity of the experience. 
I made a face as I sniffed the uncooked casserole in all of its canned glory. Fortunately, it tasted better when baked. In fact, it was pretty darn good, though I am one who enjoys that traditional green bean casserole, preferably made with canned beans. 
Cheesy, creamy, salty and crispy. No wonder she liked it.
Green Bean Casserole
Recipe from Dorothy Bossen. Cookbook published by Bittinger-Wolford, 1959. Recipes compiled from second grade students, rooms six and seven, Richardson School, Cuyahoga Falls, OH.

Ingredients:
2 cans green beans (cut or French style). I recommend using lower sodium varieties
1 can cream of mushroom soup
1/2 cup of American cheese
Black pepper
1 pinch of white pepper
2 pinches smoked paprika
Dash of garlic salt
French fried onions
Instructions:
  1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.
  2. Combine the green beans, mushroom soup, cheese, and seasonings. 
  3. Place in small casserole dish.
  4. Top with French fried onions.
  5. Bake for about 30 minutes or until bubbly. Check part-way through baking to make sure fried onions aren’t burning. Cover casserole with foil if onions are becoming too brown.

My Mom’s Garlic Toasts

Writing my last article for Simple, And Tasty’s Farm To Fork, A CSA Series brought back memories of my mom’s cooking.

I reflected on my adaptation of the mini cheesecakes my mom used to make each Christmas. These treats were the vanilla wafer and cherry pie filling crown jewels on our Christmas Eve dinners. I haven’t thought about them for years and enjoyed the process of recreating them as an adult. Writing the last Farm To Fork article also brought to mind of carving pumpkins as children, as my mom roasted the pumpkin seeds.

This time of year has been difficult since my mother passed away in 2008. Whether I want to or not, I can’t help but think about her passing. Our recent wedding was fun, and our wedding was hard. Not an occasion from which I’d ever imagined her being absent.

Then I thought about her garlic toasts. The majority of my mom’s cooking was simple and hearty and some of it was semi-homemade. My dad often traveled for work and was gone for 11 days at a time while she stayed home to take care of my brother and I.  For her, cooking was more work than fun, though she seemed to enjoy trying new recipes as we finished high school and went to college.

During our last Christmas Eves together, she prepared our favorite artichoke dip and garlic toasts. I remember enjoying the leftover toasts days later, even when became so stale and sharp, they were painful to eat. This fall, I baked big batches of the toasts to nibble for breakfast or for snacks.

I make these toasts and think of my mom. To honor the memories we all shared together and for the new family I’ve found in Jake.  I also make them because they just taste good and are easy to prepare.

Ingredients:
French bread
Olive oil
Garlic salt
Black pepper
Optional: Cayenne pepper, ground
Marjoram, dried
Parmesan cheese, grated
Instructions:
  1. Cut French bread into thin slices and place in a single layer on a sheet pan.
  2. Lightly drizzle with olive oil. Flip bread and rub oil on both sides.
  3. Season with garlic salt, black pepper, cayenne, and marjoram. Sprinkle with Parmesan cheese.
  4. Bake until golden brown.

Asparagus For My Mother

I visited my mom’s grave for the first time.

For the first time in four years and for the first time, ever.

On Saturday, it just felt right to sit with her for a while.

Finding myself without flowers, I left a stalk of spring asparagus at her grave.  It was either that or the rhubarb.

I planted the stalk inside a tiny pot of yellow calendula my father must have left.  I’m sure he was rather puzzled when he visited on Sunday.

When I left Lakewood, I sought consolation in Potter’s Pasties.

The crust was rich and flaky.  Jake and I split a traditional pasty and one filled with pork and apple.

They made me feel a little better.

My Grandma’s Grandma’s Soft Ginger Cookies With Spring Rhubarb

I must confess that before this recipe, my experience with rhubarb had been limited to eating an occasional slice of rhubarb pie.

When I noticed fresh stalks of rosy rhubarb at Sidney’s Health Market in Moorhead, MN, I grabbed a fistful.

The past work week was kind of a doozy, so I decided to bake a treat that I hoped would provide a little cheer.  Or some delicious empty calories, at the very least.

I found my Grandma Bossen’s recipe for her Grandma Bossen’s ginger cookies in an old, cloth covered cookbook published by her church’s alter guild, circa 1976.  For as long as my mother was living, we baked these ginger cookies each Christmas season.

We rolled the dough into little balls and dunked them into brightly colored sugars and sprinkles.  Now that I think of it, I don’t remember eating these ginger cookies since my mom passed away.

I took a gamble and added fresh rhubarb to the cookie dough.  The fruit added a tiny burst of tartness that melded nicely with the fragrant ginger cookie.  My grandma’s cookies were hard and ginger snappy, while the fruit also lent some moisture to mine.

Ingredients
1 cup sugar
3/4 cup unsalted butter, softened
4 Tbsp. light molasses (I used 3 Tbsp. “regular” molasses)
1 egg
2 cups flour
2 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp each of ginger, cloves, cinnamon, & salt
1 1/2 stalks of rhubarb +, cut into small pieces

Directions
Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.

Cream the butter and sugar.  Add the molasses.

Sift together the flour, baking soda, ginger, cloves, and cinnamon.  Add the salt and incorporate.

Stir the dry ingredients into the wet, adding half at a time.

Roll the dough into small balls, dip into sugar, and place on a baking sheet covered with parchment paper.

Bake for 10-12 minutes.  The cookies should crackle at the top.  Mine were firmer out the outside and soft on the inside.

Cool completely before storing.

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