Weber County, and that spells CHEESE!

We did our summer family vacation this year in spring--May to be exact, to see our daughter graduate from college in NYC. So, I looked bleakly ahead to a summer without something special to look forward to and knew I had to come up with a plan. So, I thought and I thought and I thought and then EUREKA--I came up with a wonderful idea.  Visit every county in Utah. Doesn't that sound fun! I've always wanted to do that and now I had an excuse.

I presented the idea to my lovely husband and children and it went over about as well as a lead balloon. I forged ahead anyway and thought that I would just plan little outings and they could come if they wanted to. You know how I love an adventure solo or ensemble--especially if it involves driving and so I didn't get discouraged--No, not me!

A while back in some national magazine I read about an internationally recognized cheese maker in Utah with the company name Beehive Cheese, located in Uintah. Don't confuse Uintah City, which is in Weber County, with Unintah County, like I did. When I looked up the address for Beehive Cheese I was a little disappointed, I was hoping for a trip a bit further away, but then realized that it was only about 40 minutes from my house. Which is great in the long run, because now if I have a hankering for the cheese I can just hop up to Uintah for a fix. 

I was able to talk most of my family to go with me--you ask how?! I bribed them with award winning cheese and it worked! 

How can you pass up a marketing
ploy like this "Handcrafted Cheese and Curds!"

Well, we headed up to the mouth of Weber Canyon, just barely off of Highway 89 and gave it a try. Yum. Yum. Yum.  They've won both American Cheese Society awards (their Promontory Cheese won first place) and World Cheese Awards (the Full Moon cheese won a bronze medal in 2010).

We bought the Promontory, Promontory with Habanero and Ragin' Cajun squeaky cheese curds and they were all wonderful. They are extra creamy and buttery, which I guess is part of their process. They explain it all on the website.

The store inside was tiny and the building itself was tucked away from the highway and behind several other buildings, but it was well stocked and we left a little poorer and a little heavier.

Salt Lake City 1st Presbyterian Church

I've suddenly have this yen to take pictures of architecture. It's become a bit of an obsession. Last Mother's Day, my wonderful husband, Dan, gave me a camera that could take some great pictures. First, I was obsessed with flowers and nature (still am). Then I add architecture to the nature compulsion. I bet you all wonder if I am still stuck on food--well, yes I am. I will keep cooking my grandma's recipes for good or ill, but for today you get the Salt Lake City 1st Presbyterian Church.

This is just the side door.

I didn't even take pictures of the front because I thought the side was so beautiful.

Little window -- would make anyone want to pray.

Lovely!

Arizona -- The Beautiful and the Bizarre

As you know if you read this blog--I love to drive. This love translates into encouraging road trips--I have an unwritten rule that if a destination is under 15 hours or so, we get to have some family togetherness in the car!

My husband loves music and often I combine my love for driving with his love for music.  When a band he likes isn't coming to Utah, but is coming within that 15 hour zone of fun I try to get tickets. For Dan's birthday I bought tickets to Jethro Tull in Phoenix (12 hours or so! Yippeee!) I know getting tickets to Jethro Tull dates us and is geeky proof that we are stuck in a music time warp, but there you are. (The Jethro Tull concert is a whole different blog post.)

I have never driven to Phoenix (I am not counting the debate tournament in high school--because we drove all night and it was winter--and I was in a school bus!). We approached from the Las Vegas side, after having a nice visit with some family there. Then after the rocking concert we drove home the other way through  Sedona and Flagstaff.

I came to one major conclusion, besides the fact that Arizona is beautiful, they have freaking strange plants! I kept having to pull over and take pictures. It had been an unusually wet spring in Arizona and almost every plant decided to bloom.

Do you think there could have been a few more prickles added to this stem?

This flower only bloomed at night and it was truly astonishing.

Doesn't this look like it needs to be growing on the ocean floor.

Time to grow--I know--sideways!

 Thumbs up!

I had to pull about thirty of these lovely little prickles out of running shoe with tweazers.

We're not in Kansas anymore.

Who knew Hickory Burgers would give me a feminist crisis!

Cooking these burgers sent me into a feminist crisis. I grew up a no holds barred feminist--a product of the Seventies. My father actually gave me Gloria Steinem books to read. I went to college fully intending to mix family and work, but I turned out to have a very conventional mother/housewife life. For almost 2 decades I turned out to be a feminist in thought more than deed.

My grandmother as I have said was quite amazing, she taught at the University of Utah, wrote articles and wrote a book. She was on the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, Young Women General Board for decades. She traveled with the church extensively throughout the world, so I asked my mom how she did it. My mom told me that all their dinners were prepared ahead of time and frozen and that Grandma did most of the housework. On Saturday mornings everyone worked, but they did different things. I say she was pretty liberated in deeds, but I am not sure about thoughts. Her book is full of advice for women taking care of families and the importance of that role.

I went to work several years ago, when my youngest was 9. I kind-of always knew I would be the kind that would want to work outside the home. The only way I can describe myself when I am home all day is lethargic--I stretch out the most mundane tasks to take all day and end up feeling like I never get anything done. I don't like housework and I wasn't disciplined enough to get it done and then go on to other things. Don't get me wrong, I love being a mother and I am really grateful that I was able to stay home with my kids while they were toddlers. I am also grateful that most days I am off by three and can be home when my kids get home from school.

When I went to work my husband got everyone to do their own laundry, but other than that I am still mostly in charge of the house and cooking. We all clean up after dinner and everyone helps clean the house on Saturday, but if I want the bed made or our bedroom cleaned, I do it. I work 30 hours a week and my husband works 40-50 hours a week--it makes sense that I do most of the housework. Is it a gender role?--probably. Although I have no problem asking for help and I make my children do all the same chores regardless of gender.

I am going to take you back in time (insert wavy lines here emphasizing time travel) where men are men and women are there to prepare things for men--yes, back to the 1960's. This time travel brought to you by a section in my grandmother's cookbook labeled "Barbecuing--A Man's Delight:," note the italics added by me:

"A man loves an informal party, especially an outside barbecue, calling for no tie, sport shirt, slacks, and soft shoes.  It isn't just the comfortable clothes that sell the barbecue idea to him, but outdoor cooking is man's cooking.  He is king, and the food has a zest. It's fun, as a guest, to watch dinner in preparation,and as an added dividend here is the wonderful fragrance of tangy sauces, of charcoal, and of sputtering meat.  The following are recipes he will enjoy preparing. As a wife, see that all ingredients are handy and that there is a big apron to cover the expanse of him, and then stop hovering, walk away, and be the happy hostess."

I totally love that big apron line to cover the "expanse of him!"

In today's world, where many of the lines are blurred between gender roles, I find it really interesting that not that long ago there was such certainty in who does what and why. Grandma makes statements that are quite funny to read today and she said them without a hint of irony. There was no hedging--this is what he does and this is what she does. In some ways in a world where we don't really have to accept any limits or roles this certainty seems confining, but also just a little comforting to know exactly what is expected. I don't know--I think it's better to negotiate in a family and come to a conclusion that is fair to everyone.

Anyway, all I really wanted to write about was burgers!

Hickory Burgers

1/3 c catsup
1/2 c finely chopped onion
1 t salt
1/2 t pepper
4 soda crackers, finely crumbled (I put mine in a sandwhich bag and rolled over it with a rolling pin.)
8 slices Cheddar cheese
Hickory Salt (I couldn't find a hickory salt so I used McCormick Grill Mates Mesquite)

2  pounds ground beef

2  eggs

Combine all ingredients except cheese. Mix well. (Isn't all that raw hamburger appetizing?)  I ended up having to use my mega spoon and then fingers!

Form 16 thin patties.  Place the cheese slices on half the patties; completely cover with the second pattie.  Seal edges well. Sprinkle with hickory salt (Mesquite), grill. (I had to broil mine due to weather issues.)

Serve on toasted buns with sliced tomatoes and sliced dill pickles.

This is a really flavorful hamburger and putting cheese in the middle made it quite moist. The only problem was I couldn't really taste the cheese--which I like to do on a cheeseburger.  I think because of the mesquite salt, it ended tasting a bit like a sausage burger, which was really quite yummy.  The hickory salt added a smoked flavor that I liked, but I think I would like this better as meatloaf rather than a hamburger.

The kids and husband gave it a thumbs up though and would eat it again.

The Shamrock Plant

My sisters (both by birth and marriage) are remarkable. It has been a huge blessing in my life. They alway seem to know when to call and they also give thoughtful gifts on special occasions. I have to share one particular example--sister E gave me these purple Shamrocks on my birthday. I just had to take pictures of them with my new Mother's Day camera (thanks hubby).

This particular plant changes throughout the day as the light changes. I rotate it each day because it bends towards the light like sunbathers at the beach. I have it at work so I can stare at it all day. It is even forgiving--one weekend I forgot to water it before I left and all the stems were completely wilted--but after a good dousing and a couple of days it was back to its present glory!

I've put a photo stream of this plant on the blog, just so I can enjoy it wherever I go.

Notice the fluorescent light reflection
in the window!

In Memory of Amy

Amy

A year ago today my sister-in-law Amy died. I have not been able to write about her all year and find it just as hard to write about today.  Amy was everything. She was a joy to be around, funny, beautiful, silly, infuriating, thoughtful, selfish, good, short-sighted, anxious and bright.  I personally think her ultimate quality was goodness. Everyone loved her and she genuinely wanted to make people happy.

At her funeral I was shocked by the number of people that came through from "Sharon's" the restaurant where she worked. Everyone had a nice story to tell about how she brightened their day. This included teenagers, to families, and to an elderly gentleman from my neighborhood.

We moved two days after she died and it turned out to be a quite a time of turmoil. We had to find homes for pets, pack, start a new school and experience her passing and funeral with respect and care. I especially wanted to give my husband Dan room to do what he needed to do. I found that I have had a hard time mourning--I am not usual a denial type of person, but in this case I have been.  The funeral was beautiful and everyone (all 6 siblings) gave wonderful talks. We received a beautiful bound copy of all the talks from Dan's sister and I can't seem to even get through one to this day without crying. So I prefer not to read them or even think about it.

Yet, I drive her car.

My camera's broken so here is a good
likeness of "Zippy"

It is the thing that reminds me most of her.  Her Volkswagen new beetle--a bright orange bug. It has the fake orange flower in the little vase by the steering wheel and everything, a total girlie car! After she passed we took over payments and my 17 year old daughter was supposed to drive it, but it's a manual transmission that I can't seem to find the time to teach her (of course I don't really want to).

It is a fun, impractical and turbo charged car. We've named it Zippy Naranja because it is orange (the Spanish word for orange is supposed to add an exotic flair) and Zippy because well it is quite zippy! It is a car to be noticed in--I used to prefer to be understated while driving, but not anymore.  I see people giving each other slugs as I drive by. Many mornings as I drive my other daughter to junior high I pass these two adorable girls with long red hair that must be twins, and I watch to see who slugs who as I drive by.

I've had several elderly ladies stop me as I've parked and ask if I like to drive it. I tell them that I love it--they look at it longingly and them tell me how much they hate to park their SUV's and then one even sighed. At a stop light in Logan, Utah I had a little boy who was probably 8 lean out his window and tell me, "I love your car." Then just two weeks ago a little girl stopped by it and say to her mom, "I want a car like this." When I stopped to unlock it she said to me, "Do you like your car." Of course I said "yes."

Every experience I've had reminds me of Amy. Even her car brought joy to people even though it is so impractical. It is terrible in the snow, it hardly fits two comfortably (and I am a mother of 5), the windows don't like to roll up, but they love to roll down. It is made for little people, I have a hard time fitting my groceries in it let alone me bum!  Yet, I find myself not encouraging my daughter to learn how to drive it--let her have the mini-van--it keeps her humble.

I was sad when I realized in December that the car no longer smelled like Amy. Then just this week when it was finally warm I got in the car and the smell was there. Amy was still there. I've kept most of her radio pre-sets (I had to add NPR) and I can't seem to throw out this one particularly Amy-like frosted pink lip gloss in the arm rest.

The car is full of contradictions, and so was Amy. She was a tragedy and a triumph. She'd had problems but had been sober for three years. She battled anorexia until the end. She brought happiness and frustration to all who loved her. She was fastidious and careless. Just before she passed she had the flu and my wonderful mother-in-law had been with her all evening trying to keep her hydrated and get her to go to the Emergency Room. She refused to go and later that night Amy passed away.

Because she was alone when she died an autopsy was required.  All they could say was that she died of natural causes. No specific thing, just a tired body.  She was a couple of years younger than me, but her body wasn't. It seems like such a waste of joy to have her gone, but it also seems such a triumph that she overcame so much.

Well, I like to think she is still spreading the joy in her little orange Volkswagen even if it does have a new driver.

In a culinary rut? Try salad burgers!

My grandma's cookbook, Of Food and Thought, begins with January. The sub-headings are "Think Up New Project," "Wheat for Man," "Fun to Get Up in the Morning," "Let's Turn Over a New Leaf," "There is a Silver Lining," and "Quicker by the Dozen."

I've thought up a new project (borrowing heavily from grandma). Check! I made wheat for man--which I will share with you another day. Check!   I never find it fun to get up. No Check!  I've turned over a new leaf and found dirt below (I guess I need to start digging).  Check!  I'm looking for the silver lining but let's just leave it at that--after all nothing really is shiny in an inversion. No Check!  I am looking and I have yet to crack the code of quicker by the dozen.  Maybe in February. No Check!   This paragraph is a little depressing--sorry--I find the cookbook inspiring, tender, and most of all, intimidating.

Here's a sample of how I feel inadequate from January's chapter:

"Fun and nourishing lunch bag ideas:

1.  Chopped meat turn-overs in place of sandwiches
2.  Chopped peanuts added to ground ham and salad dressing for a nourishing sandwich filling.
3.  Dates stuffed with creamed cheese.
4.  Graham crackers put together with creamed cheese.
5.  Dried fruit, dampened and rolled in powdered sugar.
6.  Corned beef sandwich. Break the corned beef into pieces and combine with pickle relish, prepared mustard, and mayonnaise.  Season to taste and spread on rye bread.
7.  Spiced apple cider or apple juice--good with ham on rye.
8.  Thinly slice the top of hamburger buns.  Scoop out the center, butter, toast lightly.  Fill with egg salad and sprinkle with minced chives. Cover with top of bun.
9.  Sandwich made with three parts salted peanuts and 1 part carrot put through the grinder. Spread on graham bread. (What is graham bread?)
10. Scoop out the core of an apple and fill with chopped raisins."

Did I mention this cookbook came out in 1965? Before the feminist revolution!  Lunch at my house is make your own or eat at school.

For January grandma has 36 recipes.  This does not include the 40 or so mini recipes she throws in like the ones above or a fun new idea for supper--"Pancakes can be used for dinner as well as for breakfast.  Try them some night with creamed salmon over them and a crisp salad on the side." Somethings are better left untried! She has lists to liven up breakfast and after school snacks. I have to admit she is a little bit daunting. Breakfast at my house (similar to my lunch philosophy) is peanut butter toast or cereal, period--where my motto is everyone fends for themselves. 

 I remember thinking when my twins were about two and poked their darling heads up next to my bed at 6AM every single morning saying, "I want to eat," that I could not wait to teach them how to pour milk. Which I did as soon as they were strong enough to hold a one gallon milk jug. I am often, a do the simplest thing kind of woman, not the make anything extra type. So, reading my grandma's book is good for me! Right? 

So I studied the recipes to find one outside my comfort zone, as well as my family's, and had a brilliant idea, Salad Burgers!

Grandma said, "High protein salads contain eggs, meat, fish, cheese, or gelatin and may become the piece de resistance of the meal."

Salad Burgers

Makes 10 rolls

1/4 lb grated cheese

3 sliced hard-cooked eggs

1 can tuna

2 T chopped green pepper

2 T chopped onion

2 T chopped stuffed olives

2 T chopped sweet pickles (my family would have revolted at this so I used dill)

1/2 c mayonnaise

(I love ingredient pictures, I just think each individual food is so beautiful, just by itself!)

Mix all the ingredients.

Cut 10 wiener rolls (hot dog buns for those of us who don't like saying the word wiener).

Spread salad on rolls.

 Wrap each roll in aluminum foil and bake for 30 minutes in a 250 degree F oven.

That's a lot of foil. 

Unwrap and eat.

Now for my turn--I think this could actually be good, but no one in my family  liked them because the buns got soggy! Yuck! Even I, who can for all intents and purposes eat anything--seriously anything (except cow liver), did not like this. I got about 3/4th the way through one. I made my son try it and he gagged--yes it's true, but he also gags on yummy food so I'm not sure it's a definitive judgement. 


Honestly, forget the tin foil. Toast the buns, put on the spread, then broil. It would make a yummy and festive tuna melt--If you like that sort of thing.

Poor Man's Fruit Cake - The fruit cake that brought me to tears (actually to weeping)!

I saved "Poor Man's Fruit Cake" for January with two reasons in mind. First, how fitting is that a fruit cake for January is called Poor Man's. Second, by the end of December I was really tired!!! So, I thought I'll do it the first week of January, then the second and so on and so on. Here we are the last day of January and I finally finished my fruit cake odyssey.

Everything was going really well. It was an easy recipe and since it had no candied fruit in it I thought it had a good chance of being my favorite. So yesterday, Sunday afternoon, my family wanted to go for a little ride to get out of the gloomy inversion, but I had to stay home because the recipe calls for 1 1/2 hours of baking. I put two loaves in the oven--one was a little over full so I knew to watch them because they would finish at different times. I was being extra careful because I wanted to give one to my Dad for his birthday that day--he just loves fruit cake. The first loaf finishes--and I thought--c'est magnifique! I had created a beautiful, golden brown, shiny fruit cake. It had little scalloped edges from the pan it was baked in--it was a cutie patootie!  I knew the second one would not be as beautiful--it was a little bloated on top and wouldn't have that perfect curve that is so important in quick breads. I also thought it might get a little too brown before it finished baking inside. Not to worry I at least had one perfect loaf to give!

I take it out of the pan to cool and go into my bedroom to rest for 10 minutes (who wouldn't need to rest after plumping raisins etc!). My family arrives home and I hear them talking happily in the kitchen. I ignore my exhaustion and go to greet them.  They were huddled around the carcass of my beautiful fruit cake as they ate and hacked at it. Not a slice or plate in sight, just eating where they stood. They looked at me and said something like, "slurp, slurp, gobble, gobble, yum, smack, lick."

My baby--they were eating my baby. They looked like dingos eating my baby! I exploded and started to weep. This is not an exaggeration--I was weeping over my little perfect cake--for about a half an hour. I tried to explain to myself and them why, I stuttered, "I stayed home to make this, It was for my aged father, Didn't you see how perfect it was? I take pictures of my food now before we eat it you know! Who eats like this--what are you savages?" They looked at me like I was from outer space and vacated the kitchen. I then took the carcass and was able to slice up half of it and take a picture for the blog. Alas, my father had to make due with the slightly bloated, a little too brown, excuse for a fruit cake that then emerged from the oven.

Once you weep over a fruit cake you really have had the complete fruit cake experience and probably shouldn't make any more for at least another 11 months.

Here's what my grandmother says about "Poor Man's Fruit Cake." "When you make such a rich cake, it is always good to make a poor man's cake for the children to enjoy during the holidays."

This cake is much healthier than the others - with less fat and sugar. It has a ton of raisins and currants and some nuts. It is yummy though and also a much easier recipe.

It has one funny ingredient 2 teaspoons of cocoa, and I honestly think it is just to give it a darker color so it looks richer than it is! Although I do think the cocoa does add a bit to the flavor profile.

Poor Man's Fruit Cake

1 cup seedless raising
1 package currants (still don't know exact amount, I found a box at the supermarket and used that.)
3 cups water
2 cups sugar
1/2 cup butter (grandma calls for shortening, but I hate shortening and only use it if I'm scared butter won't give the right texture after baking.  Butter just tastes so much better to me and it worked great in this recipe.)

Put all ingredients in a sauce pan and cook for 15 minutes.  Cool to lukewarm.
This was really yummy smelling! Can't you just smell it -- buttery, sugary, plumpy raisins.

4 c sifted flour (remember I never sift)
1 t salt
2 t cinnamon
2 t nutmeg
2 t cocoa
1 1/2 t soda
1 t boiling water
2 eggs, beaten
1 cup broken walnuts

(A lot less ingredients than the previous cakes) 

Beat the eggs well, add the soda that has been dissolved in the 1 teaspoon boiling water. (Still don't know why we put the soda in boiling water.) Fold in the sifted dry ingredients alternately with the cooked fruit and liquid.  (I just poured the dry ingredients over the wet and folded away).  Fold in the walnuts.

Line the pans with waxed paper and grease them well. (I just greased my pans and it came out fine--it was a risk though.) Bake in 300 degrees F. oven for about an hour and a half. Place pan of a water on lower shelf of oven while baking the cake.  This amount will make 2 regular sized loaf pans and one small one. (For some reason I totally missed putting water on lower shelf and the part about it making a 3rd smaller loaf. I better start reading through the recipes better. No wonder my second loaf was bloated!)


Here are the 4 and 1/2 slices I had left after the vultures vacated the kitchen. If you like raisins it is very YUM!

Marriage Myth Number Uno: Over time we will grow more alike. Ha!

I've been married 22 years 1 month and 8 days. I am not an expert--but let's just say I am experienced! I think it would be valuable at this time to share my vast experience with all of you, to help you along that rose strewn rocky path, by uncovering some marriage myths.

So young and so hopeful!

I think one of the most dangerous myths is: Over time we will grow more alike!

I love my husband--I look at him today and think how lucky I am. I could never have guessed all the good he had in him. I still find him astonishingly handsome and still sexy (kids don't read that part). But -- I have no idea what is going on in that brain of his.

We have given up even being interested in each other's t.v. He finds my shows boring! Fantastic shows like America's Next Top Model. (I love watching dumb beautiful people! I can't help it - they can be teenage vampires, hot burned ex-spies, hot disgraced doctors, you get the picture.) He hates cooking shows and he's bored by home decorating shows (okay so no shocker there). He is even bored by --yes, you should be prepared to gasp -- Law and Order!  He has an aversion to gruesome detective dramas like the CSI's of the world. I don't know why but I love those (maybe it's back to the pretty people doing anything, even gross things).  He also doesn't love B end of the world movies that I've grown oh so fond of.

So what do I find him watching when I come into the bedroom --Arrested Development over and over and over, Thirty Rock (ok I love that too) and anything that has Chevy Chase, Mike Meyers, John Belushi, John Candy, or anyone who was ever on Saturday Night Live ever! I like these guys too the first time I see the movie, but the tenth, no way. Also what is it with men and movies where people throw-up. I hate seeing people throw-up!

Then there's music. I know he is the expert, but I am tired of classic rock. You can boo me all you want, but I want something new. He has a huge aversion to basic pop -- I don't -- because I need something in my life that I don't have to think so hard about even if it's Delilah! We do have common ground on Eric Clapton, Beatles, John Mayer and Radio Head. Phew.

A few years ago - a few pounds ago and blond hair! Oh my!

The saving grace after 22 years is that we are much more tolerant. If he listens to Led Zeppelin, I don't tell him that he is going to H E double hockey sticks. When I'm watching the Lifetime Movie Network he just snorts and leaves instead of thinking he has to sit and watch and then finds himself unable to keep from making wisecracks all the way through.

Now that's heaven.