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Montana rancher: Kim Summers, cattle rancher from Gold Creek, Montana."Wake up Jenie, it's time to milk the cow." Was I dreaming, or did I just hear my high school friend waking me in the wee hours of the morning to milk a cow? In the night, did the sleep fairy visit, endowing me with bloomers, a gingham dress and bonnet? Have I become Laura Ingalls Wilder? Am I on the prairie?
Photo courtesy of Estrella Family Creamery
Story by Jenie Skoy
On Mother's Day, this story is to honor my mother who is a holy terror in the kitchen. I inherited her furious flare for throwing food around and leaving the kitchen resembling a war zone, yet winding up with something truly delicious!
Mom, thank you–for teaching me how to cook and how to serve. Rest assured this tradition will continue … for generations to come. From the examples of you and grandmother, I have learned that sharing food is the ultimate act of service, and that receiving is the ultimate gift.
Grandma Tic Toc
Just over a year ago, a very special person in my life passed away.
My grammie's hands were her measuring cups, her thumb and forefinger her measuring spoons. Baking biscuits at the Country Kitchen, she wore a coarse work dress that was as white as the flour, sugar and salt her hands and fingers put into this and that. Whatever amount was always just enough, and the oven-hot result was always just right. At her home the sounds of summer were best heard from the back porch, from just outside the white screen door: we could hear the oven door groan open, the oven rack ring, the tin foil crinkle, and the oven door groan closed. We didn't always know what it was she placed in that windowed box of magic, but we knew we'd soon enjoy it.
In the beginning, there was ... well, not jarred baby food, certainly. Who can explain why a product that’s the subject of so many jokes and derisive comments is so eagerly fed to our most cherished population? If it’s not something you would eat, why on earth would you feed it to your child? (I'll get to this with Rule #6.) Instead, just give your little one the real thing: real food.
Here are thirteen rules for parents eager to break free of those dreaded jars and bring up healthy, adventurous eaters.
Rule #1: Anything that can be turned into mush is appropriate for first feedings.
As a college student living in the Willamette Valley, the presence of the rich agricultural history of the region was ever-present. On bike rides through the wine country I would witness the change in color of the vineyards from lush green to gold. The farmer’s market downtown featured every variety of apple-crisp and sweet, firm and tart.
Here's an Ole Scandinavian Lefse Recipe (a little lefse humor) Compliments of www.lefsetime.com
Yew tak yust ten big potatoes
Den yew boil dem til dar don,
Yew add to dis some sveet cream
And by cups it measures vun.Den yew steal 'tree ounces of butter
And vit two fingers pench some salt,
Yew beat dis wery lightly
If it ain't gude it is your fault.
It’s your grandmother who explains it, hands still wet from the dishwater, twisting a gold ring onto a wide-mouthed jar: how quart bottles work as well as anything, the same jar, maybe, that held the corn or tomatoes, if the lid isn’t too puckered.
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