A strangely shapped UK pay phone hung on the yellowed papered wall beside the front door of the small hotel in the burgh of Girvan in Carrick, South Ayrshire, Scotland. There were small glass windows either side of the huge, raised panel door so that while using the phone, the caller could view the beach and the Irish Sea to the West. 

I stood there looking out into the the sea where Arran Craig is perfectly a part of the scene as I awaited my call to go through to the USA in the pre-satelite telecommunication system.  I had been gone 11 days playing golf at the world’s greatest seaside linksland courses with my golf buddy, Michael Ray Foil.  He was in the bar nipping away at 12 year McCallan as I made my call  home to tell Holly all about the trip so far and talk about coming home two days hence.  We’d been gone 10 days.  She stayed at home with our daughter while I golfed Scotland.

You can hear me now, a guilt tinged “Hi Holly, how are things at home.”  So cheerful, trying to dodge the darts I knew were coming my way.  Instead she “Oh, I am so glad you called today. I went to see our lawyer today”.

I gasped, a second later when I caught my breath, “Why?”  It is easy to imagine what was going on in my head.   With that she told me that a home had come on the market and that she had gone to see it.  She said, “Chris, I must have that house. I called him to find out what to do since the agent said it would not last on the market long.”

On and on I could go, but it is enough to say that three days later, the first thing on the first morning I was home, we went to look at the home.  To me it was Dr. McLean’s home, great neighborhod, cottage style, one story home. It was brick, painted green.  We walked through the raised panel front door, on either side of which were paned windows just like in the Girvan hotel, into the foyer; and I looked to the right into a small wood paneled room through which one could see the kitchen.  Above that kitchen door, here is what I saw.

Arran 1957

See that little white plaque mounted just under the staghorn? It was inscribed “Arran 1957″. I was dumb struck. There was way too much co-incidence here and I knew I was trapped nad would have to buy this home. If it could speak so clearly from so far away, and also had the voice of my wife, the mother of my child, I would have to buy it.

The little room measures only 7.5′ wide and 12′ deep. The home is a cottage design whose plan came from Scotland brought by the Dr. Ramsey back home from one of  his hunting trips. He used this little room, as did his successor, Dr. McLean, for a place to see patients during House Calls, his house, not theirs.  Try that today!  In such a cottage, the room is called a cozy.  It’s a small room, just off the kitchen, where things are warm from the stoves and ovens. It’s a place for tea and reading.

This one is just that, except music became this ones other use.  What with all my hobbies needing their space, here I could hang my instruments, store my books, display my golf treasures, hang some art.  While cooking each night, here I could play and sing or listen to radio or CD’s.

My chair and my Dad’s old chopping block are heavy and confortable.

The “Little Man” hangs in one spot.

“Da Baby” has her place, as she has for 47 years.

The old paneling is outdated. It’s knotty pine, with a certain stain that makes it look less important than it should.  The woodwork is simple, cut and edged by whatever old carpenter finished this part of the home.

There is today a very popular web site, “My Space”.   It seems to be just that- a person’s own place to say who they are, what they think. They can put their ’stuff’ there for all to see.

I got my own back in 1994 when I bought this wonderful home.

Sister Mary Virginia

Chris & Jeff Holder

So Much More

Bring Me The Menu, Signore

The origins vary, depending on who you ask, but usually Sicilians did not eat meat on Christmas Eve since it was the birth of Jesus. That does not mean that they don’t plan to eat meat on Christmas day. Perhaps that is the joy of a big hungry family coming together to do what big hungry families do best: EAT.

The Christmas celebration often began with a hog harvest. That’s a better word, harvest. The cold weather made things a bit safer by the standards of the day. Understanding “Waste not, want not” brought the sausage to the stove.

So suddenly it was Christmas Eve at midnight and that is the time when people would start cooking the sausage for Christmas Dinner, and often the eating would go on until the late/early morning hours. This fits my style perfectly.

Begin with lean pork butt and pork trimmings. 60% lean and 40% trimmings made the ratio for perfect texture in Jimmy Tant’s mind. He was a master industrial salumist, owner of Tant Packing Company, and my very dear friend. I can hear his reply now tot the question, “How are you today, Jimmy?” “Barely making it!”, would come the reply. Truth is he was usually officiating the Making of some of the best sausage, cured ham, hogshead cheese under this blue sky.

Get seasonings ready, which in the case of Italian Sausage is headed by Fennel. Add some garlic, salt, paprika, and a few others in the mix and you are all set. Cut the meat into 1” cubes, add red wine, the seasonings, and mix thoroughly. Chill it all to get the meat very firm. This allows for the grinder to do it job of cutting the meat rather then smearing the stuff into a bologna like texture.

Once it is chilled, grind up the meat. One sees the red lean bits and the white fat bits mixed all through the sausage. Now comes the fun. Put the sausage in casings, real hog casings that hold the meat close and allow for that natural feel that makes cooking so personal.

The Sicilians love Christmas and all the food that goes with it. We can learn. Here is the best recipe I know for a success:

Make something together,

Cook it together

Enjoy that with a glass of good wine,

Bless it together, then

Eat it together.

Merry Christmas.

My knife was very sharp.  It was to dissect some venison for fresh sausage to be made at the Bullet Proof Cafe. One cut was almost buttery in its tenderness as the knife slipped through it.  I had found, hidden deep in the  Hind Quarter that a friend brought over was a Pearl of lean meat.  I cleaned it carefully and sliced it into a block and went on with the sausage making.

For that I used only the lean, having cleaned the meat perfectly.  I had 11 pounds to which I added 4 pounds fresh pork trimmings from the Pig Wig.  Seasonings included sage, red pepper flakes, onion powder, thyme, oregano, salt, black pepper, & fresh garlic.  Fresh casings were clean & handy. They turned out so perfectly, links about 6″ long.

Time for dinner.  Here is what it looked like.

You can see the thick cut bacon.  Lard the Venison roast to get some moisture working. Make sure you have the garnish.

I do love the way it looks just before hitting the hot pan.

Now it’s time for the heat.  Searing the meat in a very hot pan to crisp the bacon is a huge key.  Being one who prefers the rare side of meat, I want a Pittsburgh chat going on the exterior.  Here we go………….SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!

Notice the links on the side.  Black Iron!

Venison is so good.  …………  Bon Appetite….

Some disbelieve that the Bullet Proof Cafe exists. Some say, ‘NO WAY!’. Time to show the goods, boys & girls. Robbie Scruggs, photographer extraordinaire, tells the story in this fantastic look into the pots & pans being clanked by un autre ami, Juice Cato Round. A roux, a veal stock reduction, fresh bread, red wine,… & friends. So, prepared especially for you this evening………the chef says ‘enjoy’.

Bullet Proof Cafe on a School Night

Good friends never fail to make food good.  No matter what’s on the menu, no matter the turnout of the recipe; good friends, oh, and a taste of red wine, make for a warm table. 

I begin my Thanksgiving Season being thankful for good friends.

Change is so tough.  When it comes to my comfort zone, it’s really tough.  I like dinner with meat, a starchy side, and something green.  What happens when wife Holly brings in something new, some thing I just know that I will and always have hated?  List the things we can all say about how terrible they are?   

Just like that Holly walks in one day last month holding some dark, dusty red brown, scraggly eared bulbs. They have a rat’s tail and some very, very knarly red stubs on the other end surely hacked by a frenzied farm worker working with a rough saw by the piece.

“We’re having fresh beets”, she says. 
Most folks know that it is so hard to get an opinion out of me.  I replied that she was using the wrong pronoun.  Instead of We, she should have said I. Out came a reminder of the “Rule”.  

There is the Rule at my house.  It goes like this, “You don’t have to like what’s put on your plate, but you do have to try it.”  My daughter Elizabeth was not the only one who had to live with this rule.   

That night dinner involved some quick research.  How can one roast a fresh Beet and make the thing eatable?  It’s easy.  In the oven for an hour on 350° F, peal it easily, and eat up.  How clever is that?   

A few weeks ago due to the darn Rule, I ate a Persimmon.  Some of these really pretty fruits were sitting there coloring up the kitchen, so I stuck them in alongside the beets. Ok, there sat a sweet potato too.  Why not roast it along side these others? So I did and when all were fork tender, it was time to season.  The sweet potato is easy, just add a taste of balsamic vinegar, a dob of butter, and some black pepper.  The others had to be pealed, salted.  They then got the sweet sour thing going with some goat cheese.  You gotta try something, right? 

The oven was hot, so a quick roasting of my favorite Miss Goldie cut, the leg quarter, seemed just right.  If all else fails, hand me a thigh. A few asparagus brought on the colors. It all was finished with a garlic pan sauce, dark and savory.

I am converted. This beet thing is amazing. They are so earthy sweet.  It’s not like you are eating canned beets, or beets pickled in a jar.  Trust me!  From here on, I’m a fan.   The Rule proved once again to be worth following.   I might not like it, but I gotta try it.   

So we are back to Change. I did, I have, and perhaps, if I stay lucky, I will again.  Just follow the rule.

Then there is the magic of the emply plate bonus.  

 ♫ Bon Appetit

A bright fellow called a meeting this past Tuesday. When I walked in, it was clear that, of the 9 already there, 6, I knew from past experience, were true leaders, confident people. I thought to myself, Didn’t kow the others, but had the sense to be careful. I mused, “This meeting could turn in any direction”.

It turned out to be a meeting without structure or agenda. As it would happen, I left with both.  It was attended by 13 of God’s children under the sun, none of whom were there 2 minutes before being aware that we were there to consider our common need to climb over walls built by our fathers.  Not all of us would face the same direction when climbing.

Sitting in those chairs around that table most every one of the 13 people was comfortable presenting clearly their thoughts as applied to the thread of subjects that popped up. I used the word, “clearly”, on purpose, since it is important that the reader know that the people who sat around that table were not the uninformed, unaccomplished, unable of our community.

Were any solutions to the great problems facing our time found? Were any put forward? Were there any conclusions drawn? Was there ever a theme?

A theme? Yes, indeed there arose a theme, at least for me. Without a doubt the theme was that all of us live together under a sky with clouds. If we are to build shelter, we must do it together, for the good of all.

Truth is, two conclusions were drawn:

1. There is a ditch full of water and filled with alligators lying between us and a fair land. I later learned that this ditch, with or without alligators, is both metaphor and literal. Both built by man.
2. We shall meet again to talk about climbing those walls.

Pasta is only some water & some flour, an occasional egg, NaCl. It, like bread, has been on menus since the dawn of man’s (persons) picking seeds to chew.   I do love it so, & so when I awoke one day with a craving for pasta & only a day or so after my wife, Holly, said she was going to make Macaroni & Cheese, I took the high ground.  Kill two birds, maybe three.  So here is it.

Item                                                  Number

____________________________________

Unsalted Butter                                 6 T

White Onion                                      1, small, chopped very fine

Garlic Toes                                        3, minced

All purpose flour                               3 T

“Crystal” Green Hot Sauce             1 T

Sharp Cheddar Cheese                    8 oz, grated

Gruyere Cheese                                16 oz, grated

Parmesan cheese                               ½ Cup,  fresh shaved

Whole Milk                                       1 quart

Nutmeg                                              ¼ tsp, fresh ground

Yellow Mustard                                1 tsp

Kosher salt                                         to taste

Black Pepper                                     1 T, fresh ground

Elbow Macaroni, #24 large             1 #

Bread Crumbs                                 1Cup, toasted   (Panko)

Tomatoes, fresh                             Pealed, then Sliced, ½” thick

Green Onions                                  4 stalks, chopped

Preheat Oven to 375° F.

Coat the inside of a baking dish with oil/Pam, then sprinkle a few of the bread crumbs to stick to the edges.

In a large pot cook Macaroni in salt seasoned water until barely done.  (6 -8 min.)  Set aside in colander draining.

In the now empty Macaroni pot, pour the milk & heat, but do not boil. Keep warm.

In a sauce pan sauté the Onion in the butter.  When cooked add garlic, cook until limp.

Add the flour, mixing well, & use a whisk to stir until smooth.  Once smooth & fully incorporated, add slowly the warm milk whisking as you do so.  The mixture will begin to thicken.

Add Cheddar & Gruyere Cheeses, pepper, hot sauce, nutmeg, & mustard at which point you have a really fine sauce blanc full of flavor.  Add all the Macaroni.  Mix well, tossing to coat fully.  Adjust salt, carefully.

Pour the mixture into the Baking Dish smoothing the top.  Sprinkle the Parmesan cheese over the top & carefully stir it just into the top surface.

Arrange the sliced tomatoes over the top. Sprinkle the top with the remaining bread crumbs.  Place in preheated oven for 30 minutes.   When cooked, removed & let it rest for 15 minutes minimum.  (It gets set during this time.)

Sprinkle top with green onions…Serve wedges…garnish with fresh parsley.

Like I said, I do love it so.

 People came from all ’round to enjoy it.

 Enjoy!

• Sort of!  It’s almost the Katrina Day.   I shall never be the same.  It always comes at summer’s end.  Even 100 miles inland, here in Laurel, Jones County, Mississippi, we got hit hard.I am thankful to have recovered.  So many have not, some never will.  Katrina highlighted a great life’s lesson.  ”Life is short.  Enjoy our days.” Here is partly how we enjoyed ours this summer.

The herb garden was busy growing the Italian ones for sauces and sausages.

We made our 2 week pickle recipe, the ones I adore on roast beef sandwiches and in tuna salad.  They are so fine. Holly seasons them just like my Mom did with the right taste of black pepper.

I found small red Jones County plumbs at the vegetable market.  They make the most wonderful jelly for Sunday morning brunch.  Fresh made in my kitchen, french bread toasted with butter topped with this jelly is something so perfectly sweet and tarte.  It is exactly like my grandmother would make it, the color clear, fresh, and clean.  Open a jar, watch it bob and jiggle. 

Then came the field ripened tomatoes.  Perhaps, the ones from  Jones County are the best in the world.  I do love them so and never get enough.  The summer’s bounty so short and incomplete. 

We grew these treasures to the eye on our deck. Like I said, “Life is short. Enjoy our days.”