Nov13

Chicken Balls

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Chicken Balls

My husband had these growing up, and they’re a comfort food for him.  Many thanks to my mother-in-law, who is a brilliant cook.

Ingredients:

  • 3 T. butter
  • 1/2 c. celery, finely diced
  • 1/2 c. green onion, chopped + 2 more green onions sliced on the diagonal for garnish
  • 2 T. flour
  • 1/2 c. chicken stock
  • 2 c. cooked rice, cold
  • 1.5 c. cooked chicken, small dice
  • 1/2 c. white cheddar cheese, diced or fine shred
  • 1 egg
  • salt & pepper to taste
  • pick your seasonings/herbs: we sometimes use poultry seasoning, sometimes Italian herb blend, sometimes just a little nutmeg
  • 1 c. crushed corn flakes, FINELY crushed, to the consistency of bread crumbs
  • 1 can cream of mushroom soup
  • 1/4 c. milk

Melt the butter in a medium saucepan, and saute the celery and green onion until just softened, not more than 2 minutes.  Transfer contents to a large mixing bowl.  Add fllour, rice, chicken, and white cheddar cheese.  Add 1/2 of the chicken stock.  Lightly beat the egg, then add to mixture.  Add salt, pepper, and herbs.  You’re going to have to use your hands on this one to mix thoroughly.  You want to make ping pong ball sized balls.  Check the density, and add the remaining chicken stock by tablespoons full as needed.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.  Do something non-stick to a cookie sheet:  parchment paper, non-stick spray, or trust your Teflon.

Roll each ball into the crushed cornflakes until completely coated and place on cookie sheet 1 inch apart.  Bake in oven 10 minutes or until your cornflake crust is crisp.

While baking the balls, combine the mushroom soup and milk in a small saucepan and bring up to heat.

To serve, drizzle a good amount of the sauce over the chicken balls, but don’t drench them in it so they get mushy.  Sprinkle with remainder of the green onions.  This recipe makes 2 meals for my husband and I, or serves 6 as part of a finger-food buffet.

 

Nov12

Channelling June Cleaver

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Channelling June Cleaver

November 12.

Less than 2 weeks until Thanksgiving, which doubles as the starting gun to the Christmas Season.

I’m a little obsessive over the winter holidays.  My sister once said that she is never “done” preparing for Christmas; she simply admits defeat at some point on Christmas Eve and begins preparing for next year.  I completely relate.

There are 2 reasons that the holiday celebrations are so important to me.   The first is that Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas were the happiest days I remember from my childhood.  A busy kitchen making holiday food, parades and decorations and new dresses, records on the stereo and pictures taken.  They were SPECIAL days.  At least until someone got drunk and started a feud that would rage loud and long, which was as much a holiday tradition as the turkey.  Hey, our family wasn’t perfect, but it was always entertaining.

I want to recreate SPECIAL days for my family; ones that are remembered long after I’m gone.  I want the pictures to bring back memories and stories and laughter.

Like many women of my generation, wonderful holidays are a way to express devotion to my family.  My children haven’t had what you’d call a traditional upbringing.  They didn’t have extended family around; they’ve dealt with divorce; adjusted to relocations; transitioned the family dynamic as step-parents came into the picture.  They have a Mom who would be described as harsh on even her best day, more so now that they’re adults than when they were kids.  I travel a lot, give much of my energy to my job, and am not always there to offer a shoulder to cry on or an ear to listen.  The holidays are my way of saying “You’re still the most important thing to me.”

The second reason is that I’m just weird.

So, my Thanksgiving menu has been prepared and tweaked and the grocery list double checked.  My calendar is out.  I’m sketching out schedules for wreath making, and tree trimming, and baking, and hanging the giant Santa picture.  I’m researching Thanksgiving centerpieces and table-scapes.

A real life Norman Rockwell scene?  Not quite.  While I’ve broken the drunken rage traditions, there is no lack of bickering and sniping and hurt feelings at our holiday gatherings.  This year will be no different.  There are already bets being made about whether or not one of my daughters will show up; my son-in-law will be wound tight as a spring and speak less than 10 words throughout the day, a result of a very shaky relationship with “our side” of the family; I will over analyze every word that’s said, resulting in more than one snarky comment.

It’s not perfect, but it’s what we’ve got.  I hope that years from now, the food, the laughter, and hopefully this year’s FABULOUS centerpiece will come up in the “remember when” conversations more than the malfunctions of the day.  I hope they look back and realize that no matter what didn’t get done, what pies got burned, what verbal venom got unleashed over the green bean casserole, that what I was really trying to do was say “You’re still the most important thing, and I love you.”

 

Sep17

Echo’s New Chapter

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Echo’s New Chapter

I don’t know the family that surrendered their Great Dane nearly two and a half years ago.  I know they had fallen on challenging times. A change in their financial situation required a move to a trailer home, and the landlord wouldn’t allow an inside dog. I know they tried to keep her outside, chained up near the trailer, because there was a 10 year old boy in that family who loved this dog. Loved her a lot.

Eventually, they realized that this sweet animal couldn’t live like that anymore, and surrendered her to the Humane Society.

I know that must have been a sad day for all of them, humans and canine alike.

A couple of days after Echo was surrendered, I got a call to ask if I’d be willing to foster her.  I was told she was a big sweetie, a little under weight, and a lot scared.  Steve and I loaded up our other dog, Moose, to go meet Echo and see if we could let her crash with us until she found a new home.

We weren’t looking for another dog permanently.  On the contrary, we’d decided that being a one dog family was best for us.  No one told Echo that, though.

We arrived at the meeting place and let Moose outside to sniff around, hoping that if they met in a neutral outdoor spot they’d be less intimidated by each other.  Echo’s caretaker waited until we were all out in the open before leading Echo out on a leash to make introductions.

She pulled so hard that the caretaker dropped the leash.  Echo started towards me at a dead run.  I didn’t have time to react at all, let alone get out of the way.  In mere seconds, she was up against me, nuzzling her head against my rib cage, then nudging her nose against my hand.  She was forcing me to pet her head.

Amazingly, she and Moose had zero reaction to each other.  My faithful Moo-Pie, who I have always known would protect any of his humans to the death, had not paid one iota of attention when some strange dog had made a bee-line for me.

My husband, the caretaker, and I all looked back and forth at each other.  The caretaker said, “If I didn’t know better, I would swear this was your dog.”

Finally, we forced Echo and Moose to say hello. It happened again.  Both dogs acted like they’d known each other since they were pups.  It was amazing.  We came prepared to spend a couple of hours getting everyone acclimated, and 10 minutes after our arrival, it was like we’d been a unit forever.

The question was in the air, and both the caretaker and my husband were waiting for me to address it.   Was this really going to be a foster situation?  If ever a human had been adopted by a dog, I had just been.

Finally, the caretaker said that if I was amenable, the Humane Society would like to give Echo some time to relax and maybe put on a pound or two before trying to place her permanently.  I nodded.  We all knew I’d be writing a check for the adoption fee, but at least I could wait a few days before admitting that Echo had already chosen her new home.

That was the beginning.  For several days, she wouldn’t let me leave her sight.  I took her to work with me.  She laid on the floor next to my bed when I went to sleep at night, and I woke every morning with all six feet of her stretched out on the bed.  She put on those couple of pounds…..plus about 20 more.  She ate all the cupcakes for my daughter’s baby shower while we were in the other room opening gifts.  She has intestinal challenges (due to situations like the cupcake incident) that require carpet cleaning on a regular basis.  There was no “establishing Alpha Dog” in the house, she just automatically knew that Moose was in charge; there’s never been the slightest scuffle.  She chases deer and squirrels out of her yard.  When there are children here, she must remember that boy who loved her so much, because she is simply joyful.

I will be forever grateful to that family for doing the right thing by Echo.    My entire family is grateful, too, because she’s brought so much to our lives.     They surrendered her on faith that the Humane Society would find a good home for her, and I think they’d approve  of the life she has now.

I’m sorry that they don’t know the rest of the story, but maybe, somehow, they’ll see this.  I hope so.

Echo The Great Dane

Are you talking about me?