Happy Father's Day, Pop

Hi Dad! As usual, I waited too long to put a card in the mail. But this year, instead of my usual last-second computer card, I decided to do something different. I baked you a pie! This pie, and this blog post, are my Father's Day greeting to you.

The pie is apple and it has grated sharp cheddar cheese rolled into the top crust. Yeah. . . I thought you might like that. I used a couple of different kinds of apples - Granny Smiths, Cameos, and Galas - because they all bake down differently. I like that partly mushy, partly well-formed apple thing. The filling is apples, sugar, a bit of flour, some cinnamon, some nutmeg and a dash of salt.

For this crust, I used all butter. That's the only thing that I do differently from Mom, because I know she's a Crisco gal. She makes great pie crust, so I learned from the best; but as you know, I'm a little ornery and I have to do things my way! I cut the cold butter (including that extra glob beyond what the recipe calls for) into the flour and used a fork to mix in the water to make the dough. I rolled out the two crusts with the precious old wooden rolling pin that I got as a wedding present so many years ago.

(My goodness, Dad. Do you remember how you and I waited in that back room of the church to walk down the aisle together at Kurt's and my wedding? I was so nervous! I never stopped to wonder until now if you were nervous, too. I was, after all, the first daughter that you had to "give away"!)

Once the filling was in the pan, I grated that cheese and rolled it into the top crust so it was pressed in. Then I laid the top crust over the apples with the cheese side up, sealed it, and baked it. IT SMELLED SO GOOD! And it didn't taste half-bad either!

So consider this your coupon - your chit - your ticket. Next time I come to visit you and Mom, I will bake this apple pie with cheddar cheese in the crust for you. I will do this because you deserve it for putting up with me through all of my goofy, sullen, cranky, bossy, weepy, argumentative years. And I will do this for you because you are a good and generous man and a wonderful Dad. Thanks, Pop. With love, your Rascal.

We *Heart* Smoothies!

I work both in an office in the big city of Seattle and also at home. Because my employer of 20 years is generous and lovely, and because it is a 2 hour commute from my front door to my desk in Seattle, I have the good fortune to regularly telecommute.

For me, the absolutely BEST thing about working from home is being able to make smoothies. Nothing - - really nothing - - beats a smoothie for lunch. It has to be lunch. For me, a smoothie doesn't quite cut it as a breakfast. I must have an egg for breakfast, preferably draped over some leftover from the night before. And dinner has to be cooked or at least chopped. After all, those leftovers that are going under that egg the next morning have to come from somewhere.

My dear friend and food maker extraordinaire, Jean, told me that she and Charlie are smoothie fans; and listening to her, I knew that I wanted to be one, too. I dug around in the cupboard and found my blender. I'm sure it must be nearly 30 years old. Isn't that about 130 in blender years? Happily, I determined that the machine worked, and I enthusiastically set out making my own cold, milkshaky happiness.

If you haven't made a smoothie since the 70s, let me remind you that the most essential ingredient for flavor, thickness, and smoothiness is frozen fruit. I buy the bags of fruit from Remlinger Farms that are labeled "Too Good to Hide" because they are packaged in clear bags. This is a local product for me, I can see the fruit that I'm buying, and it is darned good tasting. I try to always have some strawberries, blue berries or peaches on hand.

After the frozen fruit, its all improv. Most often, I will toss in a small handful of nuts, sometimes a banana, pretty regularly a dollop of plain yogurt, from time to time a spoonful of oat bran or wheat germ, occasionally a tiny bit of jam, rarely a drizzle of maple syrup, and frequently a substantial squirt of honey. Applesauce, cooked rhubarb, watermelon, toasted coconut or a chunk of fresh ginger are all delicious additions. My Mom, who I've recently enticed into my smoothie cult, likes to use sherbet. For liquid, I usually use milk, but just think of the possibilities: juice, coffee, chai tea, soda water. Go crazy - use what ya' got.

So far, the only thing I've tried in a smoothie that was a failure was peanut butter. It gave the smoothie a slick consistency that just wasn't appealing. Better to stick with whole peanuts if you want that flavor.

We slurp our smoothies out of quart canning jars - the largest drinking receptacles in the house. I wrap the jars in a cloth napkins, knotted like the scarves of tidy Boy Scouts, and stick straws in them. Nirvana. Bliss. Lunch.

It Must Be Magic

How do they do it? How do Joy the Baker and Heidi from 101 Cookbooks, and for cryin' out loud, Molly of Orangette, do it??? Those are all fabulous food blogs, that are well-written, with creative, thoughtful recipes and they seem to be newly posted almost daily.

How do they do it?

They are Martha Stewart to my Erma Bombeck. (Sorry, Erma.) They are Frank Shorter to my Rosie Ruiz (okay, that's too esoteric); they are the Duke of Wellington to my little, short Napoleon. They look so, so good and I look, well, not so good.

I even have a professional photographer on staff who insists that I not worry my pretty little head over taking pictures for my old food blog. Kurt would take pictures of every pot of water I ever boiled if I asked him to - bless him; but when the glisten is on the roasted garlic and the steam is rising off the pasta, I want to eat, not run around the house looking for the best light.

So tonight, with a tummy full of good food from Luna Bella, the pizza joint that we enjoy so much in our little town, I will post this writing and a photo that has mostly nothing to do with food. These are our resident dogs, Minnie and Buddha, who work with me in the kitchen while I cook - always on alert for dropped tidbits in need of cleaning up (read: always under foot). They are wearing flowers to honor the birthday last July of the Dalai Lama, spiritual leader of Tibetan Buddhism.

Life is short. Live, smile, breathe, cook, eat, scratch some dog ears, tell someone every single day that you love them and really mean it. And, if you're a food blogger, don't forget to do a new post every so often, or else your Mom's first words to you on the phone might be, "When are you going to write again?"