Snow fun

For an end-of-February treat, Himself took the kids off to western Maine for a few days of downhill and cross-country.  (Yeah, I'm only just now getting around to posting the pics... there's a lot of competition for computer time in this house.)

They stayed in a little off-the-grid cabin - no road, no car; just snowshoes and packs.

The kids spent two days burning up the trails at Sunday River.  Day Three was XC with Dad.

While they were gone, back here on the coast we got more than a foot of snow in a matter of hours and the plow boy (whom I used to babysit, curse him, though now he's got babies of his own) did not come and I got royally stuck in the driveway coming home from work that Friday.

My plow bill last month was $285. 

I think I'm ready for spring.

Winter visitors, wearing out their welcome

I swear, they wait in the woods and listen for the bird feeders to be filled up.  I don't like to think about how many dollars in black oil sunflower seeds are going down the collective gullet of this flock of turkeys; they're showing up three or four times a day, much to the dismay of our resident chickadees and nuthatches.

A couple of weeks ago, my tightwad side got the better of me and I decided to leave the feeders empty until the turkeys reached back into the dim, dark recesses of their pea-sized turkey brains and regained a passing familiarity with whatever mechanisms had enabled the species to survive for thousands of years before misguided, soft-hearted liberals started throwing tons of commercially cultivated seed at them.

That lasted about half a day.  The turkeys came and stood in the yard for three hours, heads and tails drooping, gazing forlornly at the empty feeders.

I know when I'm beat.

It's much better to keep the turkeys happy.  

These two are very happy.

"Mom, the turkeys are fighting!"

The remaining pictures in this series are CENSORED

No-Brain French Onion Soup

Not fancy, just good honest soup from the slow cooker. 


No-Brain French Onion Soup.

8 onions, sliced into rings

8 tablespoons butter

6 cups beef stock (1 48-oz can)

1 bay leaf

½ teaspoon dried thyme

Salt & pepper, to taste

Croutons (homemade if you can) or stale bread cut into 1/2" cubes and dried thoroughly

Shredded Gruyere cheese

Place the onions in a 4-quart slow cooker.  Cut the butter into pieces and sprinkle on top of the onions.  Cover and cook on low, overnight, stirring once or twice before you go to bed and mounding the onions toward the center so the edges don’t burn.

In the morning, stir the onions and add the beef stock, bay leaf, and thyme.  Cover and cook on low all day.

About 5 minutes before serving, adjust seasonings and preheat broiler.  Ladle into soup crocks, top with croutons, and sprinkle cheese generously over the croutons.  Broil until cheese is browned and bubbly.  Serve immediately.


Serves 6.

2011 Toboggan Nationals

 

Last weekend was the Toboggan Nationals at the Camden Snow Bowl.  People from all over the region - all over the world, actually - converge in Camden, Maine for a couple of days of wintertime fun, food, and frolic.

(This is a frozen pond we're convening on, incidentally.)

The point of this event is to see who can make it down a toboggan run in the least amount of time.  Here's the shack at the top of the toboggan run.

And here's a shot of the whole run.  The best sleds can make it in under nine seconds at top speeds of nearly 40 mph.

No thank you.

I live vicariously.

Through my son and his friends.  This is the third year they've entered.










We parents have been at this long enough to have a grasp on the essentials.  Chairs, a camp fire, and lots of hot chili; this year we had a tent too but it was a bit gusty. 

 

We also brought Wilson the Agoraphobic Goldendoodle.  (He's very friendly and smart and generally happy but just a teensy bit insecure, and outside of his comfort zone he becomes extreme Velcro Dog; hence climbing into the lap of any family member so thoughtful as to sit down.)

As prepared as we are, we are bush league compared to the teams that bring ice shacks and sofas.  And carpets and sound systems and generators.

The "serious" teams are all about the best time.  These are the guys you see waxing their sleds and arguing about friction coefficients.

The not so serious teams are all about the costumes.  These guys are "Return of the Sledi."  Clever, what?

 

Some of the team names are amusing:

   

There’s a Royal Dutch National Toboggan Team – who knew?  They wear orange, natch.  And gold lame.  Slays me.

 

        

Dejected Penguin with Beer:

Sumo with Beer:

(Sorry.  Distance shot.  The dude in the pink dress?  WTF?)

Partying college kids with beer.  I see a theme here.

Anyhoo.  Our costumes always go pretty low-budget:  Tyvek suits and spraypaint. 

Outside of the frat party teams, there are lots of families and lots of fun – impromptu ice hockey, anyone?

Or maybe just seeing how much fun you can have sliding on a patch of ice.

 

Oh, right, we're here for the toboggan race...

Watch this space:  helmet cam video link available shortly!

Winter visitors

We never quite know what's going to wander through our yard.  The occasional deer; a moose once; the neighbor's dog; a pack of Webelos.  Seriously.  We probably get more confused hikers than anything else.

Periodically, a flock of turkey hens will decant from the woods.

The bird feeders are very attractive this time of year; a veritable smorgasbord.

They scurry back and forth between the seed feeders and the corn.   (See the full corncob!)

(See the empty corn cob!)

If we stand very, very still...

 ...they will come to the feeders right outside the windows.  

 

Hello, ladies!

Repurposing Leftovers: Chicken and Cut Dumplings

I have a love/hate relationship with dumplings, both the Northern (gobs of slack dough dropped on top of a simmering stew and steamed into light, fluffy wads of deliciousness) and Southern (stiffer dough rolled thin and sliced into broad squares, then dropped into a soup and boiled to tender, noodley goodness) kinds. 

I adore them both, but dang, they can be problematic. 

Northern dumplings are a topic for another time, however; this week I hankered for the Southern kind, and there was a chicken carcass with a fair amount of meat left over from Sunday’s dinner; though this was really about using up that chicken, I'm going to focus on the dumplings.

My earliest and probably best memory of cut (or flat or rolled, depending on where you grew up) dumplings was watching Ann Hemp prepare them.  Ann Hemp was one of the women in the rural Shenandoah Valley church where my father was briefly the pastor, and she was the quintessential farm wife.  She whipped up a batch for chicken and dumplings – no recipe, no measurements, flour everywhere – and my pre-adolescent self thought 1) they were the most delicious thing I’d ever put in my mouth and 2) someday I wanted to cook like that.

My many attempts at "authentic" recipes produced dumplings that are hit or miss - just as likely to be gummy, gooey, chewy or dense as not.  Eventually I arrived at this combination of ingredients, which results in reliably tender, puffy, satisfying dumplings. 

Start by mixing together two cups of flour, two teaspoons baking powder, and half a teaspoon of salt.  Cut in 1/3 cup shortening.

 Combine an egg with enough buttermilk to equal half a cup. 

                           

Add the egg mixture to the dry ingredients and mix... 

...until just combined.  Add additional buttermilk, a tablespoon or so at a time, if required. 

  My helper.  Once a scavenger, always a scavenger.

Turn the dough out on a well-floured surface and knead a few turns, until it's smooth.  Avoid over-handling the dough.     

Gratuitous gadget plug:  flour wand. Love. It.

Roll the dough out to 1/8" thickness.  Keep the work surface and the top of the dough well-floured - extra flour on the dumplings' surface will keep them from sticking and also thicken the stew.

Cut into rough squares or rectangles.  (Perfect Martha Stewart dumplings these are not.)

This will make a good many dumplings.  If you're going to make dumplings, make lots, say I.

 Drop the dumplings one at a time into boiling soup, stirring constantly.

Cover tightly and boil for 8-10 minutes.

And... 

...try to wait a few minutes before eating it or you will scorch your tongue. 

I hate that.

Chicken and Cut Dumplings

1 meaty carcass and reserved pan juices from a roast chicken

4 tablespoons butter

2 yellow onions, chopped

2 carrots, peeled and sliced

2 stalks celery, trimmed and sliced

2 tablespoons minced garlic

2 bay leaves

1/8 teaspoon red pepper flakes (or to taste)

2 tablespoons parsley flakes

½ teaspoon dried thyme

Salt & pepper to taste

For the dumplings:

2 cups all-purpose flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/3 cup shortening

1 egg plus enough buttermilk to equal 1/2 cup (plus additional buttermilk if required)

Bone the chicken carcass; coarsely chop and reserve the meat.  Melt the butter in a large skillet over medium heat; add the onions, carrots, celery and garlic and sauté until the onion is translucent.

Place vegetables and chicken bones in a 6-quart slow cooker.  Add two bay leaves and enough water to submerge the bones.  Bring to a boil; reduce heat, cover and simmer for an hour or so.

Add reserved chicken meat along with pan juices, red pepper flakes, parsley and thyme.  Increase heat and bring to an enthusiastic boil.

Prepare the dumplings:  combine flour, baking powder and salt in large bowl.  Cut in shortening until mixture is the texture of coarse crumbs.  Blend egg and buttermilk and stir into dry ingredients; mix until it just holds together.  Turn onto a well-floured work surface and knead briefly, until the dough forms a smooth ball.  Roll to 1/8" thickness and cut into 1 x 1 1/2" (more or less) rectangles.  Drop into boiling soup, stirring constantly.  Cover tightly and boil for 8-10 minutes.

Correct seasonings and allow to cool slightly before serving.

Yield:  a lot.