B.) It’s chilly.

C.) My husband was on a business trip this week meaning that I parented our five boys solo.

D.) My husband got in from that business trip at 1:30 a.m. this morning.

E.) I’ve been canning like a maniac for weeks on end.

F.) I have a hole in my heart that was created by [...]]]> A.) It’s rainy.

B.) It’s chilly.

C.) My husband was on a business trip this week meaning that I parented our five boys solo.

D.) My husband got in from that business trip at 1:30 a.m. this morning.

E.) I’ve been canning like a maniac for weeks on end.

F.) I have a hole in my heart that was created by my utter lack of time to watch my favorite movies lately.

G.) I spent all of yesterday at the Angelica Farmer’s Market with the kids (who were selling their Mortar Men and Room & Linen Sprays) on what turned out to be, according to the market’s coordinator “…the slowest day we’ve ever actually had at the Farmer’s Market.”

H.) I wanted to prove that I am still capable of writing a post that doesn’t involve putting food in jars. Although, you really could actually put this into jars.  Just a thought.

There.  This is what I like to think of as front-loading with my excuses reasons behind this post. And now that I’ve been all efficient, I can go straight to the good stuff; Sweet and Spicy Chipotle Kettle Corn. I never really cared much for kettle corn because of an unfortunate incident as an exchange student in France*. I found it an affront to the great and noble salted and buttered popcorn of my youth. I viewed it as an anemic impersonation of caramel corn; food of the gods. And last, but certainly not least, I really, really REALLY didn’t like how very many times I had seen it written ‘kettle korn’.**

*I had been in France for about three months when struck with an incredible craving for crunchy popcorn. I stopped in the first Supermarché I could find and gasped audibly when I found a bag of fluffy white popcorn on the shelf.  I grabbed. I paid. I tore it open. I stuffed a fistful in my mouth.  I spit it out into a garbage can.  I was not emotionally prepared for popcorn to be totally sweet. White Cheddar or Salted? Yes. Sickly sweet?  Not so much.  And so my prejudice against any sweet popcorn that wasn’t caramel corn was born.

**Korn with a ‘K’? No way. That rubs ever CDO** bone in my body the wrong way.

***CDO: Obsessive Compulsive Disorder in alphabetical order. The way God intended.

But inspiration strikes at odd moments.  As The Evil Genius and his progeny sat on the couch watching the Little League World Series (El Salvador vs. Saudi Arabia) our eldest pined -pointedly- in my direction, “I sure could go for something sweet to munch.  Sigh.”  The Evil Genius mouthed the words “kettle corn” in my direction and accompanied it with his most charming world-domination smile.  Then they all started ululating.*

*Sorry for all the asides, but this one is one-hundred percent necessary. The guys saw a Saudi mother ululating when her son hit a home run. They’ve been ululating since.  It’s been two hours.  Send help. Now.

Since I was afraid they’d carry on ululating if I didn’t whip up a batch of kettle corn I hied me hence to the kitchen.  I planned on doing one batch of the dreaded kettle corn for them and one batch of my favorite; salted with nutritional yeast (don’t you DARE gag.  It’s delicious.  Even if it DOES contain something called ‘nutritional yeast’ which admittedly sounds like it would be served by a very serious health food adherent with no sense of humour whatsoever.) I made the kettle corn, poured it into a bowl and -in an act that I really can’t remember consciously deciding to perform- sprinkled a generous quantity of ground chipotle powder over the top. Um. Whoops?

No.  Not whoops.  Divine.  Sweet, smoky, spicy, salty and crisp; this stuff knocked off my socks. Color me converted. Well, to the Sweet and Spicy Chipotle Kettle Corn anyway. You can keep the other stuff. And I mean that in the nicest possible way.

I ended up making several more batches because it was eaten almost as fast as I could make it. The kids loved it.  The Evil Genius loved it.  I loved it. Score.

Now if you’ll pardon me.  I’m going to go grab my bowl and catch up on my movies.  Middle Earth, here I come!

For a printable version of this recipe minus the photos and rambling, click here!

Sweet and Spicy Chipotle Kettle Corn

Ingredients:

• 3 Tablespoons canola oil
• 1/4 cup of your favorite unpopped popcorn kernels (I love ladyfinger popcorn.  So small, so cute, so tasty!) + 3 extra kernels
• 1/4 cup granulated white sugar
• salt to taste (start around 1/4 teaspoon and work up from there.)
• ground chipotle pepper powder to taste (start around 1/4 teaspoon and work up from there.)

Regular Pot Instructions:

In a large heavy-bottomed pan with a tight-fitting lid, heat the oil and the 3 extra kernels over medium high heat with the lid in place.  Shake the pan every 10 seconds.  When you hear the three kernels pop, act quickly (while wearing oven mitts.)  Dump in the 1/4 each of popcorn kernels and sugar.  Put the lid back on very quickly and start shaking in a circular motion. Listen to the popping of the kernels.  It should pick up in tempo until you can’t distinguish the popping of individual kernels.  Keep shaking the pan. After that it will gradually decrease. This is where you need to pay the most attention.  When the popping tapers off to the point where you hear a two to three second pause between pops, you need to pull the pan off the heat and empty it into a bowl very quickly.

Whirly Pop Instructions:

In a Whirly Pop pan, heat the oil and the 3 extra kernels over medium high heat with the lid in place.  Keep turning the Whirly Pop handle.  When you hear the three kernels pop, act quickly (while wearing oven mitts.)  Quickly open one side of the Whirly Pop and dump in the 1/4 each of popcorn kernels and sugar. Knock the lid back into place very quickly and start turning the handle. Listen to the popping of the kernels.  It should pick up in tempo until you can’t distinguish the popping of individual kernels.  Keep turning the handle. After that it will gradually decrease. This is where you need to pay the most attention.  When the popping tapers off to the point where you hear a two to three second pause between pops, you need to pull the pan off the heat and empty it into a bowl very quickly.

~~Now for the good stuff…

No matter which way you cook it, when you’ve emptied it into a large bowl, sprinkle with salt and chipotle powder to taste, toss and stir with a long wooden spoon.  You don’t want to stir by hand because that melted sugar seriously burns!  Let cool for a couple minutes and then dig in!  Kettle corn keeps well in a paper bag with the top folded down and crimped for a day or two at room temperature.

You will note that the word ‘law’ is contained within the word ‘coleslaw’.  That is because [...]]]> After my admonition to remember coleslaw and beans in the Corn Dog Bread post I realized something; I had loads of bean recipes here on Foodie With Family, but not one single coleslaw.  That was a problem requiring an immediate remedy.

You will note that the word ‘law’ is contained within the word ‘coleslaw’.  That is because it is the law that you need to have coleslaw with summer classic meals; corn dogs, barbecued brisket or ribs, grilled chicken, and the like.  You can even go to jail if you fail to serve coleslaw with hamburgers*!

*That might not be strictly true, but it should be.

How have I gone so long without sharing my favorite coleslaw recipe with you?  I should be strung up by my toes and given fifty lashes with a wet noodle.  I am contrite.

This recipe came to me years ago from Val and we’ve been making it religiously ever since.  I should have the recipe memorized at this point, but the little cobwebby corners of my brain have been filled with knowledge helpful to tasks like not tripping over shoes in the middle of the floor, remembering to sweep the chair free of Legos before lowering myself into it, making the kids lock the chickens safely in the coop at night, and releasing the parking brake before easing Hannibal* out of the driveway.

*Hannibal is the new-to-us big burgundy passenger van we recently acquired.  It’s big, people.  Big big.  As in crossing the Alps on an elephant big. In fact, one friend pointed out how we would be providing a boost to the economy every time we filled the tank.  And her son helpfully mentioned that if I ever got confused after shopping I would have no trouble finding the van since all I had to think was, “Oh!  I know!  It’s the MASSIVE PURPLE VAN! It’s right THERE!” And I feed this child on occasion.  Why I oughta…

As I was saying, I should have this recipe long since memorized.  This means that I do not.  Thankfully, Val is on my speed dial. I use this speed dial very, very often.  In fact, the number assigned to her on my phone is starting to wear off and the phone is less than two months old. My itchy dialing finger may account for the fact that Val dropped her phone into the toilet this week thereby rendering the boys and me incapable of annoying her every fifteen minutes with ridiculous puns and questions like, “Do you remember that one thing we ate that one time at that one place?  Do you still have the recipe for it?”

Mercifully, step-maternal guilt kept her from happily taking a breather from our near-constant barrage against her peace; she kept her email window open the whole time.  And so, not even five minutes after a panicked email reading something like this:

“Hey!  Remember the cranberry coleslaw you make?  Do you still have the recipe?  I can’t find mine anywhere!”

Val kindly responded with the necessary ingredient list and equally kindly avoided mentioning that she gives me this recipe once quarterly on average.  And once again, she saved my dinner and life was good.

At least you didn’t know what you were missing, because if you’ve been having plain old coleslaw all this time, you are about to be pleasantly surprised.  I’m talking about Cranberry Coleslaw. I have to admit, the first time Val made this lo these many years ago I thought maybe she had jumped the shark.  The thought of stirring dried cranberries and almonds or sunflower seeds into a creamy coleslaw momentarily fired up my latent inner picky-eating 8 year old.  But then I remembered that Val has  never -for as long as I have known her-  presented me with something to eat that was anything shy of delicious.  After the first bite I stuffed my inner picky eater back into the box with a stern warning and a reminder that I’m a grown up now. I was convinced.  Cabbage and dried cranberries were meant to be together.  Sweet and tart cranberries turned out to be the perfect pairing for peppery and crunchy cabbage.  And when it was topped with a tangy, slightly honey-sweetened dressing and almonds or sunflower seeds it absolutely sang. Who knew?  Well, I mean aside from Val?

Are you ready for my usual “But wait!  There’s more!”? It’s healthy! It’s really, really good for you.  Because you replace all but a minute amount of the normal mayonnaise with Greek yogurt this is a coleslaw that you can eat with reckless abandon*. By using Greek yogurt, you preserve all the creaminess you would’ve had with mayonnaise but avoid all the fat and calories.  Can I get a “Glory, hallelu!”?

*I know, I know.  I say that a lot.  But I like eating with reckless abandon, so in all likelihood I’ll keep saying it.  Just so’s you know…

You can definitely do worse things than make a double batch.  It tastes better and better in the refrigerator.  In fact, as I type this, I’m tucking into a bowl of three day old coleslaw and it. is. amazing.  So if you were looking for a good coleslaw (or even if you weren’t) to go with your Corn Dog Bread, look no further.

For a printer friendly, photo-free version of this recipe, click here!

Cranberry Coleslaw: Printer Friendly Version

Adapted from Valerie Daly’s recipe

Ingredients:

• 1 pound bagged cabbage and carrot coleslaw mix (or 6 cups mixed shredded  cabbage and carrots)
• 1/2 cup Greek yogurt
• 1 Tablespoon mayonnaise
• 1 Tablespoon honey
• 1 Tablespoon lemon juice or white wine vinegar
• 1/2 teaspoon Kosher salt
• 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
• 1/2 teaspoon celery seed
• 1/4 cup plus 1 Tablespoon dried cranberries
• 2 Tablespoons plus 1 teaspoon shelled sunflower seeds or slivered almonds

Use a whisk to combine yogurt, honey, lemon juice (or vinegar), salt, pepper, and celery seed to make the dressing.  Set aside.

Add coleslaw vegetables to a mixing bowl.  Toss in 1/4 cup of the cranberries and 2 Tablespoons of the sunflower seeds.  Pour the dressing over the slaw and toss to coat completely.  Transfer to a serving dish and scatter reserved cranberries and sunflower seeds over the top.  Store leftovers, tightly lidded, in the refrigerator for up to 4 days.

“To which it do you refer?” I inquired.

“IT!” said Luke.

Luke was referring to this.

This sandwich blew my mind. It was the perfect sandwich. I do not use the phrase ‘perfect sandwich’ lightly. It is a very serious appellation to [...]]]> This last week, my baby brother Luke told me admiringly that I had finally done it.

“To which it do you refer?” I inquired.

“IT!” said Luke.

Luke was referring to this.

This sandwich blew my mind. It was the perfect sandwich. I do not use the phrase ‘perfect sandwich’ lightly. It is a very serious appellation to give a sandwich*. This one earned it.

*Could I possibly use the word ‘sandwich’ any more? There just doesn’t seem to be any way around it. And so I’d like every single English and composition teacher reading this to take a muscle relaxant right now to help them get through the rest of this post without cringing themselves into spasms.

Let me tell you what makes this bad boy so very bad*. The sandwich is built of naan brushed with ghee, tandoori style grilled chicken, cucumber and yogurt salsa, crunchy pickled onion rings and candied jalapenos. Un-bloody-believably delicious. The Evil Genius declared it to be ‘A Second-to-Naanwich’.

*Bad in a good way. As in phat. Not fat. It’s totally fly. I should probably stop now. Fo shizzle.

Every single component of this sandwich was made from scratch. Okay, so I didn’t grow the lettuce greens, spices or the chicken, but shy of that, all homemade. And over the next few posts, I will give you the recipes to make each component needed to reproduce this amazing sandwich in your own kitchen.

Even though this sandwich alone is worth the work of making each of these building blocks, you’re not just canning, yogurt, bread, and grilling for one purpose. Each of the ingredients can be used for multiple recipes. This is a springboard recipe. Once you’ve mastered each component, the world is your oyster. Are you ready for the first part? Here we go!

We’re starting with Candied Jalapenos for a very good reason. After being made, they need to sit for at least two weeks before you crack open the jar to start eating them. And by need, I mean it’s strictly optional, but you’ll be glad that you did. The flavors need time to meld and marry.

Candied Jalapenos. Ah. There’s a story here. A couple months ago, my friend Katie casually mentioned eating a sandwich made with candied jalapenos. She was singing the praises of what she described as an addictive jar of goodies. Then she said the magic words, “I wish I could figure out how to make these at home.” By this point, you know me enough to know what affect that statement has on me, right?  I quizzed her on the texture, flavor, and appearance of the jalapeno rings. I begged for photographs. I had her send me a picture of the ingredient list on the label. I asked her to describe the flavor to the very best of her food blogging abilities. She was game. She provided all the information and even sent a link to a recipe that she thought looked like it would come close to the benchmark for her.

After carefully examining close to thirty recipes on candied jalapenos (who KNEW there were so many people candying jalapenos?) I called my local Cooperative Extension office to pick the brain of their home food preservation specialists. Since jalapenos are a low-acid food, some precautions need to be taken when canning them. You have two choices for safely canning peppers of any kind; you can pressure can them or you can acidify (i.e. add vinegar, lemon juice, etc…) the liquid in which you pack the peck of pickled peppers.

I opted for acidifying the pepper liquid because I wanted to maintain some of the texture of the peppers through the process.  Pressure canning these would turn them to flavorful mush.  The result was gobsmackingly, head-spinningly, brain-addlingly delicious.  Sweet, spicy and savory, candied jalapeno rings are way too easy to eat on just about everything.  I’ve stashed them in sandwiches, chopped them up on baked beans, tucked them into tacos, used the syrup to brush meat on the grill, perched a couple rings on top of a cream cheese laden cracker and all sorts of other evil things.

For such a simple thing to can, these pack tons of flavor.  You’re going to want to make as many of these as you possibly can simultaneously, because once that first jar is cracked open you’re not going to be able to stop eating them.  And I mean it.

Hey!  Don’t forget to come back over the next few days to get the other components to my Second-to-Naanwich.  You will love me.  That’s a promise.

For a printer-friendly, photo-free version of this recipe, click here!

Candied Jalapenos (Cowboy Candy)

Yield: About 9 half-pint jars of Candied Jalapenos plus additional jalapeno syrup.

Ingredients:

• 3 pounds fresh, firm, jalapeno peppers, washed
• 2 cups cider vinegar
• 6 cups white granulated sugar
• 1/2 teaspoon turmeric
• 1/2 teaspoon celery seed
• 3 teaspoons granulated garlic
• 1 teaspoon ground cayenne pepper

Wearing gloves, remove the stems from all of the jalapeno peppers.  The easiest way to do this is to slice a small disc off of the stem-end along with the stem.  Discard the stems.

Slice the peppers into uniform 1/8-1/4 inch rounds.  Set aside.

In a large pot, bring cider vinegar, white sugar, turmeric, celery seed, granulated garlic and cayenne pepper to a boil.  Reduce heat and simmer for 5 minutes.  Add the pepper slices and simmer for exactly 4 minutes.  Use a slotted spoon to transfer the peppers, loading into clean, sterile canning jars to within 1/4 inch of the upper rim of the jar.

Turn heat up under the pot with the syrup and bring to a full rolling boil.  Boil hard for 6 minutes.

Use a ladle to pour the boiling syrup into the jars over the jalapeno slices to within 1/4-inch of the rim.  Insert a cooking chopstick to the bottom of the jar two or three times to release any trapped pockets of air.  Adjust the level of the syrup if necessary.  Wipe the rims of the jars with a clean, damp paper towel and fix on new, two-piece lids to finger-tip tightness.

*If you have leftover syrup, and it is likely that you will, you may can it in half-pint or pint jars, too.  It’s wonderful brushed on meat on the grill or added to potato salad or, or, or…  In short, don’t toss it out!

Place jars in a canner, cover with water by 2-inches.  Bring the water to a full rolling boil.  When it reaches a full rolling boil, set the timer for 10 minutes for half-pints or 15 minutes for pints.  When timer goes off, use canning tongs to transfer the jars to a cooling rack.  Leave them to cool, undisturbed, for 24 hours.  When fully cooled, wipe them with a clean, damp washcloth then label.

Allow to mellow for at least two weeks, but preferably a month before eating. Or don’t.  I won’t tell!

If you’ve been with me here at Foodie With Family for a while [...]]]> If I live to be a thousand years old I will never exhaust the possibilities offered by beans.  And what is there not to like about beans? They are- all at once- so inexpensive, so nutritious, so easy to store, so delicious, so versatile.

If you’ve been with me here at Foodie With Family for a while you’re pretty familiar with my adoration of beans.  They’re a quick, filling, el-cheapo way to feed a growing family.

“Quick?  Beans? Well, surely you aren’t making them from the dried state,” sayeth the doubting crowd.  Ah, but yes.  Yes, I am.  And here is where this post morphs from singing the praises of beans to evangelizing about canning.  Pressure canning, specifically.  And this requires a diversion of some length from beans…

Even if you were raised in a family who canned a great deal of food (as I was) chances are you heard something like this regarding pressure canning, “Pressure canners are DANGEROUS!  My Aunt Bertha had one explode on her once.  She leapt in front of it to protect the baby who was walking through the kitchen. They had to pull shrapnel from her neck.  Just missed the jugular.”  (The preceding cautionary tale was an amalgam of the pressure-canning horror stories from my own family members and friends.)  The truth is that pressure canners were dangerous.

The operative word here is ‘were’.  The reason so many of us have heirloom pressure canner tales of gore from ages of yore is because there were so many of them that actually exploded. But there is a whole new generation of pressure canners on the market now.  They have ratcheting, locking lids with metal-to-metal seals instead of  the inferior rubber gasket seals and their disturbing likelihood to warp, crack or otherwise deteriorate.

The Evil Genius has inspected Carol (Yes, my pressure canner has a name.  Don’t you name your appliances?) and pronounced her to be the domestic equivalent of a small-scale industrial sterilizer.  (And the man ought to know, he stares at/operates/programs/troubleshoots the real thing all day long every day. If the fellow who sits in front of the blast window on an industrial sterilizer waiting for little glass vials to explode says it’s safe, I think you can take his word for it.  And since I’m incapable of remaining on topic for more than three sentences, let me just ask one thing.  Does anyone else find it amusing that a man who is clearly NOT sterile [I remind you we had five sons in nine years] specializes in sterilizers?)

Hello?

Is anyone out there?

“Get back on topic already!”

I can take a hint…

Yes, well.  Here’s where I was going with this.  Pressure canning is very safe now.  Provided you use a new model pressure canner and follow the safety instructions.  And don’t let Aunt Bertha near it.  Just saying.

As for which pressure canner to use, I prefer this beauty:

This is the second to the largest model made by the Wisconsin Aluminum Foundry.  Yes, it’s a little more expensive than its smaller siblings or cheap knock-offs made by other companies, but it can hold and process fourteen quarts simultaneously.  Come on!  That’s seriously amazing.  That means that it twice as efficient as models that hold seven quarts.  And it can double as a big old boiling water canner.  There’s no boiling water canner on earth that can do double duty like Carol.

I have major warm fuzzies for this company.  When I broke my gauge (read: my fault completely.  I didn’t read the directions.) they replaced it –free of charge- even after I confessed what happened to it.  They sent it via Priority Mail.  Did I mention they sent it for free?  As in gratis?  I declared my love for them over the phone.  I think they’re used to it. But we were talking about beans, weren’t we?

Ah yes, these beans.

As if Facebook wasn’t a giant enough time hoover for me, I recently discovered the existence of the fabulous and aptly named ‘Canning’ group.  In this group was a picture of a batch of barbecue beans one member had made. The original recipe described them as being a clone of El Pollo Loco’s  BBQ Black Beans.  Having never been to an El  Pollo Loco, I had no idea what that meant.  One look at the recipe, though, and I knew I had to try it.  The method was so simple.  And the payoff was huge.

The hardest part of the whole project was waiting two weeks after processing to try them. Their hermetically sealed jars beckoned from their shelf in the basement, “Eat me!”

And boy, oh boy, these beans are good.  There is no hint at all of the paltry ten minutes of hands-on time (well, alright, twenty minutes if you count wiping and labeling the jars.) that went into creating this masterpiece. Smoky, spicy, saucy- they taste like beans that have baked for hours upon hours in the oven rather than beans poured from a jar that sat in the basement.  These beans alone are reason enough to justify the price of a new pressure canner even if they’re the only thing you ever make in it. How can that possibly be?

Let me paint you a little mental picture.  Let’s say, hypothetically, that you have five sons.  (Could happen, you know…) And let’s say that two of them are in a play; rehearsal is on Tuesday and the show is on Thursday, a column due Wednesday, paperwork to fill out at the bank on Thursday morning, a house full of company coming for the weekend on Friday and they’re planning on eating with you.  Right.  So, where in there are you going to find time to make a delicious and filling dinner for your company?  Try this one on for size.  Throw on a pot of rice.  Open and reheat a couple jars of Canned Barbecue Beans.  Put a couple links of your favorite sausage on the grill (Kielbasa, smoked sausage, link-chorizo, what-have-you…) and toss together a salad. Fluff the rice, top with the beans and sausage and serve with a salad and something icy cold to drink.

But hang on. It’s cheap, people!  It’s dirt cheap!  You can’t get food much cheaper than this, and you certainly can’t buy food of this quality for anywhere near this little in any store. And more banging of the drum… it’s so very good for you.  Fiber, vitamins, minerals, no funky preservatives or additives.  It’s great food the way food was intended to be.

For a printer-friendly version of this recipe, with no photos and sidebars, click here!

Canned Barbecue Beans

adapted from Creative Canning and Mary Kay Craig

• 1 pound (or slightly more) black beans or a mix of pinto and black beans, rinsed, picked over and soaked 8 hours or overnight
• 2 onions, peeled and small
• 5 small cloves garlic, minced
• 2 1/2 cups barbecue sauce (I used my favorite homemade Kansas City style sauce, but bottled sauce will do the job in a pinch.)
• 2-3 drops liquid smoke per pint jar
• 1/4-1/2 teaspoon ground chipotle powder per pint jar, to taste, or 1/2 of a fresh jalapeno, minced, per pint jar.

After the beans have soaked overnight, drain and rinse them.  What you see below is mixture of black beans and pinto beans that is approximately equal by weight.

Divide the beans between five clean pint jars. The beans should fill the jars about halfway.  Divide the onions and minced garlic evenly between the jars.

Add the chipotle powder (or minced jalapenos) and liquid smoke to each jar.

Add 1/2 cup of barbecue sauce to each jar. Notice how the pinto beans have been stained by the black beans?  That’s just inevitable.  Don’t let it worry you.

Then add clean, fresh water to the jars to within an inch of the top rim.  Insert a chopstick to the bottom of the jar two or three times per jar to release any trapped air bubbles.

Adjust the liquid if needed to maintain one-inch of clearance  from the upper rim.  Wipe the rims, add new two-piece lids and process, according to your canner’s manufacturer’s recommendations, at 15 pounds of pressure for 90 minutes.

How is that possible that you don’t have to cook the beans first? Pressure canning is more than just efficient, it’s convenient.  As you’re processing the jars, you’re also cooking the beans inside the jars.  It’s like doing a little bit of kitchen magic.

And now comes the tricky part.   You have to wait at least two weeks for the beans to soak up the liquid in the jar.  You could even wait four weeks for the ultimate experience, if you can stand it.  You’ll be making another batch as soon as you open up that first jar, though.  I guarantee you that!

P.S.  There was a really neat phenomenon that happened with these jars.  Because you form a vacuum inside the jars (by design) when pressure canning, the liquid inside the jars can continue to boil long after they’re removed from the canner.  One jar’s contents boiled for thirty-five minutes after it was sitting on the cooling rack!  The Evil Genius assures me that this is perfectly normal and safe.

Hummus is the first rite of spring that I [...]]]> I spent nearly seven years as a vegetarian; those years were spent subsisting mainly on hummus, cheese and big green salads. I long ago enthusiastically re-entered the omnivore world* but still spend a great deal of time conveying hummus to my mouth on various crudites and pita chips.

Hummus is the first rite of spring that I observe every year and it’s on nearly every family-get-together-buffet. When the weather warms up my brain starts nagging me, “Hummus. You want hummus. You need some hummus. Make some hummus.” And like all good voices in the head, it only goes away when it’s obeyed. But I jest. I don’t have voices in my head nagging me about hummus; they nag me to eat chocolate. But that’s another cuppa tea…

The point is this. When I posted about the dreadfully addictive Mediterranean Hummus Pizza I mentioned that I was willing to share my hummus recipe if anyone wanted it.  I assumed everyone had their own hummus recipe and that everyone had spent years as a vegetarian living mainly on hummus.  That’s the way my thought process works, you see… “If I have done it, everyone has done it, too.” Let’s just say this; apparently not everyone went through a seven-year vegetarian phase the way I did.  And equally apparently, not everyone has made a cubic ton of hummus over their lifetime.  I see this now.  I understand.  And I’m going to show you the way.

Extraordinary hummus is so easy to make at home that you’ll never pay for deli-case hummus again.  Unless, of course, you’re away from your home and food processor and are struck with a sudden, unabating craving for hummus and there is a tub of Tribe of Umpteen Sheiks staring you in the face.  In that case, I fully stand behind spending way too much money on a snack.  It could be worse, after all; you could be spending it on Ho-Ho’s. *

*Note to self: Put Ho-Ho’s on grocery list in code so the kids don’t see it.  Hide the Ho-Ho’s in apron pocket, hide in closet and apply directly to mouth when needed (i.e. when kids are fighting, arguing, breathing, etc…)

There are a couple of camps in the hummus loving crowd; the smooth hummus lovers and the rustic hummus aficianados.  The rustic-hummus crowd is a good one to which to belong if you don’t own a food processor.  It is full of coarse pieces of garbanzo beans and bits of minced garlic. It is easily accomplished by mooshing all the hummus ingredients together with a potato masher or -in a gadgetless kitchen- with the clean bottom of a heavy can.

I am an unapologetic, card-carrying member of the smooth hummus contingent.  I like a super-smooth, chunk-free hummus that can be spread as easily inside a pita pocket as it is dipped onto a carrot stick or tortilla chip.  And since I’m making it, I’m in control here. (This, quite honestly, is probably one of the main reasons I love cooking so much.  Control.  For more musings on control as a common trait among obsessive cooks -and a killer coffee cake recipe-, see this hilarious post from my ‘Evil’ friend.)

When you make your hummus, you’ll be the one in control.  If you want it more coarse, just stop processing it earlier or use something less efficient than a food processor to do your squishing work for you.

Having a container of hummus in the refrigerator is like having one of those Jetson’s food synthesizing devices in your kitchen.  Stuff a pita pocket with a layer of hummus, some thinly sliced vegetables and a handful of sprouts and you have a filling, light, healthy lunch in less than five minutes.  Feeling peckish?  Scoop some hummus into a bowl and serve with a fistful of carrot and celery sticks or tortilla chips.

*Well, like a Jetson’s Food-A-Rac-A-Cycle minus Rosie the Robot Maid and the button that makes food materialize.  But you catch my drift, right?

For a photo-free, Chatty-Cathy-free, printer-friendly version of this recipe, click here!

Homemade Hummus

Basic Ingredients:

• 1-4 peeled garlic cloves, minced or pressed
• 3 cups cooked chickpeas (or 2 [15.5 ounce] cans, drained with liquid reserved) + 1/2 cup of the cooking liquid
• 6 Tablespoons tahini
• 6 Tablespoons lemon juice
• up to 2 Tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil
• 1/4 cup fresh parsley leaves, curly or flat, rinsed and drained
• 1/2 to 1-1/2 teaspoons salt, to taste
• 1/8 to 3/4 teaspoons cayenne pepper (or other ground hot chile pepper), to taste
• fresh ground black pepper, to taste

Optional, but delicious possible additions:

• Minced green onions, cumin, roasted red peppers, roasted garlic, curry powder, fresh cilantro leaves, and garlic scapes.  But probably not all at once, eh?

Add garlic cloves, chickpeas, tahini, and lemon juice to the bowl of a food processor fitted with a blade.  After putting the lid tightly in place, process until a thick, coarse paste is formed, about 1 to 2 minutes.  Check the consistency of the hummus.  If you’re happy with the texture of the hummus, add the salt, parsley, black pepper and cayenne pepper, and any optional add-ins, and pulse until evenly combined.

If you would like it to be thinner and/or smoother, add the olive oil and process for an additional minute.  If you would like it thinner yet, add some of the cooking liquid from the chickpeas along with the parsley, salt, black pepper and cayenne pepper, and any optional add-ins and process for an additional 3 to 4 minutes.

Serve plain as pictured below, or with a sprinkling of minced parsley as pictured above.  Either way it’s magnificent!

Don’t forget the goodies for dipping!

Really, The Evil Genius and I complete each other. While I sit here on the couch with the laptop, contemplating pimiento cheese, he is watching ‘Alien vs. Predator’ and talking about which characters he thinks will be eaten. So see? We’re both [...]]]> This is the second installment of my Southern New Year’s Foods series.  Happy New Year!

Really, The Evil Genius and I complete each other. While I sit here on the couch with the laptop, contemplating pimiento cheese, he is watching ‘Alien vs. Predator’ and talking about which characters he thinks will be eaten. So see? We’re both thinking about food.

This family marches on its stomach. Long before I met my southern transplant husband, I was learning to cook southern food from my Arkansan grandma. And while I’m certain he didn’t marry me just for  Grandma’s pimiento cheese, collard greens, and cornbread recipes, I’m equally certain that the ability to execute those dishes well contributed to my charms.

Although I wouldn’t swear to it, I do believe that I detected tears of joy in his gorgeous blue eyes when I placed a dish of this pimiento cheese along with a plate of crackers in front of him so many years ago. Just for the record, there’s no shame in a good ole boy weeping over food like Grandma used to make… He may be Evil, but he still loves his Mammy.

Pimiento cheese is a food that is as big a part of the South as the phrase “y’all”.  This flavorful creamy cheese spread is flecked with bits of sharp cheddar and bright roasted red peppers.  It is as at-home on an elegant buffet table as it is on humble celery sticks for an after-school snack.  Thrown together in a flash, pimiento cheese is big on flavor and low on effort.

Don’t just stop with at the crudites and crackers, though.  Whether you trim the crusts and add watercress for sophisticated tea-time  sandwiches or slap it between two slices of buttery white bread, pimiento cheese makes a delicious and satisfying savoury sandwich filling.  You can’t get much more Southern than a having a pimiento cheese sandwich and a glass of sweet tea for lunch on the front porch. And you just may have the best grilled cheese of your life if you toast two slices of hearty wheat bread filled with pimiento cheese.

A party just isn’t a party without pimiento cheese in some form, and New Year’s Eve is the biggest fete of the year!  So break out a bowl this festive spread and have copies of the recipe handy to pass out, because you will be asked.  It is that good.

Happy New Year Y’all!

For a printer friendly, photo free version of this recipe, click here!

Pimiento Cheese

Ingredients:

• 1 (3 ounce) package cream cheese, softened to room temperature
• 16 ounces grated Cheddar cheese (I like to use a blend of extra sharp and sharp cheddar.)
• 1/2 cup mayonnaise
• 1/2 of a small onion
• 2-3 Tablespoons pimientos (or roasted red peppers) smashed with juice from the jar.
• 1/2 teaspoon each granulated garlic, granulated onion, coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper

Add the cream cheese, mayonnaise, granulated garlic and onion, salt and freshly ground pepper to the work bowl of your food processor that has been fitted with the blade.

Grate the onion into the the food processor on top of the other ingredients.

Pulse until smooth.

Scrape down the sides of the bowl and add the shredded cheddar.  Pulse seven or eight short bursts; just until the cheese is mixed into the cream cheese.  Scrape down the bowl again and add the pimientos with their juice.

Pulse four or five more short bursts; just until the pimientos are chopped to the point where they are blended in, but still in recognizable pieces.

Use a silicone scraper or spatula to transfer the mixture to a serving dish or storage container.  Cover tightly with plastic wrap and refrigerate for about an hour prior to serving to allow the flavors to meld.

Leftovers can be kept tightly wrapped in the refrigerator for up to a week.

*If you do not have a food processor simply combine all the ingredients in a large bowl and stir vigorously with a sturdy spoon until thoroughly blended.

Now slather this on some celery sticks, pour yourself a tall glass of sweet tea and say y’all a few times.  You might just like it.

We lived in Le Roy for just over a decade.  We loved our home, our church, our community. We had rebuilt the house while living in it.  (This process was helped along by the fact that it was bare studs, floors and outer walls and absolutely-nothing-else when we bought it.)  We could’ve stayed [...]]]> Is it soup yet?

We lived in Le Roy for just over a decade.  We loved our home, our church, our community. We had rebuilt the house while living in it.  (This process was helped along by the fact that it was bare studs, floors and outer walls and absolutely-nothing-else when we bought it.)  We could’ve stayed and stayed and stayed until we passed beyond the veil.  So why did we leave?  By the time we made an offer on our current home, we were a family of seven with two morbidly obese dogs and many musical instruments crammed into a 1300 square foot home.

It started way back with the birth of my first son.  When we brought Liam home, the phone was ringing and it was the community outreach coordinator from church.  She informed me that it was the practice of the church women to provide meals to new mothers for the first two weeks after a baby was born.  I accepted (because how can you say no to that?) but secretly thought to myself that I didn’t know why they thought I wouldn’t be able to make our family’s meals.  I learned.  Quickly.

Those meals came for fourteen days and fourteen nights and they were good.

When, two months later, baby Liam was rushed to the hospital for a life-saving surgery, the women once again provided meals so we could focus on helping Liam recover.

Two years later, just before Aidan was born, my meal angel called again.  I was shocked.  I said, “I thought the meals were just for new mothers!”  She laughed and said, “Well, this baby will be new, won’t he?”  I gratefully accepted the offer and the meals.  This time, since I had a c-section, the meals were the only thing standing stalwartly between us and a steady diet of cold cereal.

And once again,  the meals came for fourteen days and fourteen nights and they were good.

Another two years on, and another beautiful baby boy, the meals rolled in for another two weeks.  Ty nursed happily.  I reheated happily. I cherished the food I received after the births of my children.  You could say they were like manna from heaven.  After the births of Leif and Rowan, they kept the meals a-coming like the loaves and the fishes.

I don’t mean to suggest that I carried on having more kids in order to get the free meals from those amazing cooks over at Calvary.  That would be just wrong.  It’s pure coincidence that I haven’t had any more kids since moving. I kept having children because I loved my boys.  Okay. And the meals. Those women were GOOD cooks.

~~~   ~~~   ~~~

If you happen to find yourself in Le Roy, New York on a Sunday morning, stop in at the golf-ball church.  The preaching is great, the people are friendly and if you’re lucky they’ll be hosting a potluck or a fellowship meal.  It’s worth your time.  Trust me.

~~~    ~~~   ~~~

This family-favorite, Taco Soup, was one of those fabulous meals and was brought to us by my dear friend, Carolyn.  It has graced our table many times, and in many forms, over the years since Carolyn came into my kitchen bearing a steaming crock of soup, tortilla chips, grated cheese, and sour cream.

This is a memory soup.  One whiff of this bubbling away on the stovetop and my entire body remembers the feeling of cradling a sweet smelling, impossibly soft newborn.  I watch my boys eat this and remember their little balled fists resting on my chest as they nursed to sleep.  When I eat this I remember my friends who tramped through snow storms  to bring my family sustenance and companionship.

When I cook this, I remember taking it to my little sister, Jessamine, after her baby boy, Ezra was born.  That time it had a little extra something special in it.  When Jessie sat down later that evening to eat it, she found a spider floating in her soup.  Whether it came with the soup from my house or jumped in in a fit of despair somewhere else along the road we’ll never know.  Her husband ate it anyway.  The soup, that is.

As with most soups, many of the ingredients are changeable.  Don’t fancy chili beans or pinto beans?  Add some pork and beans or kidney beans instead.  Do you prefer home-cooked beans?  Believe me when I tell you this soup is sublime with them.  Replace the chicken broth with beer, add a couple handfuls of masa and you will have an excellent pot of chili. To make a hearty vegetarian soup, replace the chicken broth with beer or vegetable broth, and omit the meat.  You can leave as is or add in crumbles or TVP.  Feel free to add spiders if you like ‘em.  My sister and I will go without.

It’s cold out there.  You need soup.  You need this soup!

For a photo-free, printer friendly version, click here!

Taco Soup

Ingredients:

• 1 pound ground beef, browned and drained ~or~ 3 cups leftover cooked meat, chopped
• 1 can (28 ounces) crushed or diced tomatoes
• 2-3 cups chicken broth or stock (Depending on how soupy you like your soup. Using less broth will result in a thicker soup.)
• 1 packet Ranch Dressing Mix
• 1 packet taco or enchilada seasoning (If using seasoned meat, this can be omitted!)
• 1 can black beans, drained and rinsed
• 1 can chili beans with sauce
• 1 can pinto beans, drained and rinsed
• 2 cups frozen corn kernels

Optional for serving:

• Tortilla or corn chips
• Grated cheese
• Sour Cream or plain yogurt
• Sliced green onions
• Minced fresh cilantro
• Diced tomatoes

Slow Cooker Directions (see below for Stove top directions):

In a slow cooker crock stir together meat, tomatoes, dressing and seasoning mixes (if using), black beans, chili beans with sauce, pinto beans and corn.  Place lid on crock, turn slow cooker to ‘LOW’ and cook for 6-8 hours.

Serve with or without toppings.

Store leftovers, tightly covered, in the refrigerator for up to a week.  You can also portion the leftover soup into individual servings and store in the freezer for up to 6 months.

Stove top Directions:

Stir together meat, tomatoes, dressing and seasoning mixes (if using), black beans, chili beans with sauce, pinto beans and corn in an appropriately sized soup pot.  Place lid on pot, put pot over medium low heat and bring to a simmer.  Remove the lid and allow to simmer gently for 30-40 minutes or until soup is slightly thickened.

Serve with or without toppings.  Store leftovers, tightly covered, in the refrigerator for up to a week.  You can also portion the leftover soup into individual servings and store in the freezer for up to 6 months.

We are currently in Week Three of a full-immersion ‘get-to-know-influenza’ unit study of our homeschool.  One, two, three, four, five, six, and seven. We like to space things out around here [...]]]> Hey!  We have a giveaway this week.  Details are after the recipe.  Stick with me, it’s worthwhile and will make your upcoming holiday baking projects sing!

We are currently in Week Three of a full-immersion ‘get-to-know-influenza’ unit study of our homeschool.  One, two, three, four, five, six, and seven. We like to space things out around here -move at a leisurely pace- and we subscribe to rugged individualism, so we’ve each started our full-body look at the flu at a distinctly different time.  This is also great for our math studies.  Check out the following word problem we composed:

If each person in a family of seven begins a sickness of two-weeks’ duration at a rate of one every fourth day, how long will that family be stuck at home? (And I’m not answering it for you.  If I did, what kind of self-respecting homeschool mom would I be?)

So the stomachs (there’s part of this unit’s anatomy study) around here have been craving mild, easy-to-prepare* food. Our normal super-spicy fare swimming in hot sauce has been off the table, quite literally, for the past couple weeks.  We’ve been turning to simple comfort food; steamed rice, mild fruit, soups, and stews (Liam, since a babe in arms, has held the immovable conviction that beef stew cures everything.  So stew is de rigeur when anyone in our household is ill, even if they refuse to eat it.)  And new to the sickbay rotation is Vietnamese Yogurt.

*Well, my stomach has anyway.  The rest of the stomachs don’t care how difficult something is to prepare so long as it’s mild.  Since I’m the one wielding the tongs, spatulas and whisks, I get to add the easy-to-prepare dictum.

I first read about Vietnamese Yogurt in a post by Todd  of White on Rice Couple (two of the blogosphere’s sweetest sweeties ever to be sweet) a couple months ago.  Intrigued by the promise of a silky, sweeter-than-its-Western-counterpart yogurt, I decided to give it a go.  Since the recipe calls for pantry staples, it was simple to whip it up on a whim.  Todd promised in no uncertain terms that it was easy, and boy howdy it was.  I raided the cupboard and grabbed a bunch of small glasses (read: jelly jars.  What?  You use real glasses?).  The kids hovered, as they are wont to do, over me as I mixed up the yogurt, peppering me with questions; “Hey!  What’s that for?”, “Can I just dip my finger in that sweetened condensed milk?”, “Can I just drink that sweetened condensed milk?”, “Can I at least lick the empty can of sweetened condensed milk?”, “What are you making, Mom?”, “Do I have to eat that stuff?”, “You do know I don’t like yogurt, right?”, etc…  So this was the environment in which I made my first batch of Vietnamese Yogurt.  If I could do it in the midst of this household’s chaos, anyone could.  Next came the hard part.  The waiting.

I’ve gone my whole life thinking yogurt is one. thing. only.  And don’t get me wrong, I like yogurt.  In fact, I make what I think of as ‘regular’ yogurt a couple times a month. And it’s a bit of a production. But what a revelation this particular yogurt was.  It was not tangy and sour enough to make my tongue curl back up in my mouth like parchment the way many Western yogurts did; It was mild and gently tart and sweet and totally set my mental picture of yogurt on its ear.  If you’ve never had Vietnamese Yogurt before let me clue you in on one of it’s more interesting differences.  While it’s totally spoon-able (that is, you can eat it top to bottom with a spoon) it’s also imminently slurp-able (in other words, you could pop a straw in there and drink it down.)  It’s almost like a short-cut to a yogurt smoothie.  Not to be ignored is the fact that every single one of my kids love it.  Even the three inveterate yogurt haters can’t get enough of it.  The fact that I found a simple-to-make, inexpensive yogurt that all of my kids like in time to be really grateful for the fringe benefits* yogurt offers is nothing short of a miracle.

*Healthy bacteria for the gut, improved digestion, etc…

For a photo-free, printer friendly version of this recipe, click here!

Vietnamese Yogurt

This recipe is my take on the original  White On Rice Couple recipe.  The ingredients and ratios are all theirs but I played a bit with the method. Because I’m incorrigible.  I should also mention that this recipe doubles and triples beautifully!

Ingredients:

• 1 can (14 ounces) sweetened condensed milk
• 1 1/2 cups water (It should be hot enough that a great deal of steam is coming from the surface of the water, but it should not be boiling.)
• 1 1/4 cups cold milk (Using cold milk helps bring down the temperature of the mixture to just the right point to encourage the yogurt to set nicely.)
  
• 1 cup plain yogurt (This can be any plain or vanilla yogurt you can get at the grocery store.  Plain is preferable, but vanilla stands in nicely.  Just as good a quality yogurt as you can find.)

Optional for serving:

• Assorted toppings: jam, fresh fruit, syrups, granola…  Whatever floats your boat!
  

Prepare a water bath for the yogurt by adding about two inches of water to a wide, deep pot (for example, a canning pot, pasta pot, soup pot, etc…) Place the pan over high heat and bring the water to a temperature where a great deal of steam is pouring from the surface of the water but it is not boiling.  Place a tight fitting lid on the pan and turn off the heat.  Put a separate kettle of water on over medium heat on another burner.  While that heats, prepare the yogurt as follows.

In a large mixing bowl, whisk together the sweetened condensed milk and water until thoroughly combined.  And don’t take any guff from that can of sweetened condensed milk.  Use brute force to open it if necessary.

Whisk in the cold milk.  Set aside.

Measure the cup of yogurt into a medium sized mixing bowl.  Gently whisk in a ladle full of the warm milk/water/condensed milk mixture until smooth.  Repeat with two more ladles of milk.  When it is completely smooth, pour into the remaining hot milk and whisk gently until smooth.  Position a fine-mesh strainer or a colander lined with cheesecloth over another bowl and pour the liquid through the strainer.  Use a spatula or wooden spoon to press any lumps through the strainer.  This guarantees a silky finished yogurt.  If you don’t mind a few lumps you can skip this step.

Pour the prepared yogurt into clean and empty jelly or baby food jars or into small drinking glasses.  If using 8 ounce jars, this will fill about five or six jars.  It is helpful to use jars or cups of a uniform height since you will be putting them in a water bath. Do not put lids on the jars. Why the paper towel covers you might ask?  We’re not just fighting the flu around here, we’re also fighting cluster flies.  If you have them, you are probably cringing right now.  If you don’t have them, let’s just say you don’t want them in/near/on your yogurt.

Remove the lid from the pan of hot water, steam should still be coming from the surface of the water, but not quite as vigorously.  If there is no steam, reheat the water slightly.  Transfer the pan of hot water to a heat-proof surface.  Arrange the jars in the hot water. Yes, that is most of a double-batch down there.  Remember I’m feeding a family of seven.  Little batches are a pointless tease.  And this proves that I know, from experience, that the recipe doubles and even triples beautifully.

Use the kettle to add enough water, if necessary, to come about 4/5 of the way up the sides of the jars.  Todd recommends using a funnel to add the extra water to direct it away from splashing into the yogurt cups.  I agree wholeheartedly! Lay a bath towel over the pot in such a way that it covers the top of the pot but does not fall down into the yogurt or water.  Now the hard part is done.  All that remains is to let the water return to room temperature.  In my house this takes about four or five hours.  You may have to adjust this time slightly depending on how warm your climate (or thermostat) is at the time you make it.

When the water is room temperature, the yogurt should be set (in other words, it may wiggle like a firm jelly when gently shaken, but it won’t be a liquid.)  Transfer the jars from the pot to a tea towel.

If using jars, you can screw or clamp on lids.  If using cups, cover lightly with plastic wrap.  Either way, refrigerate for two hours or more before eating.  Around these parts, we like them with a dollop of homemade blueberry jam.

…Or strawberry jam.

Don’t forget to try it with a fistful of fresh fruit sometime; peach slices, crushed or cubed pineapple, pomegranate arils, and mango cubes are all wonderful compliments to the velvety texture of the yogurt. (Don’t tell anyone I said this, but it’s also really good with a healthy spoonful of dulce de leche [yes, I am aware of the irony inherent in that statement] on top for dessert.)

Now, I promised a giveaway and I have a real humdinger of one to share with you.  But first, a quick story.  A few months ago, one of my Record-Eagle readers, Amy Martin,  contacted me to share her recipe for chocolate syrup (which is delicious, by the bye) and some fellow-harried-mom stories.  We exchanged a few emails back and forth and in one of them she mentioned that she made and sold hard-to-find vanilla products.  She has graciously offered to sponsor a giveaway of a gift pack of the more popular items she sells on her Etsy site. (and if you can browse her Etsy site without becoming famished then you’re a stronger beast than I am.)  Can you even imagine a better time of year to get a box full of vanilla goodies?  Look at what  that temptress Amy is giving to one lucky Foodie With Family reader:

These images all come from Amy’s Etsy shop, SoVanilla.

• 2 ounces of Ground Bourbon Vanilla.  Imagine this baked into some pots de creme or a pound cake.  Pure heaven.

• 15 (count ‘em FIFTEEN!) Bourbon plus 5 (like fifteen wasn’t generous enough) Tahitian Vanilla Beans.  Make your own vanilla extract or vanilla sugar.  The possibilities are almost limitless.

• A bottle of Vanilla Bean Syrup.  Drizzle that over some oatmeal with a handful of dried cherries (or just straight into your mouth) and tell me the world doesn’t like a better place.

And finally…

• A package of BourbonVanilla Bean and Pecan Granola.  Oh yes.  Now you see the tie-in to my recipe?  If you sprinkle a fistful of this crisp and full-bodied vanilla granola over the top of a serving of silky smooth Vietnamese Yogurt you will think you’ve died and gone to heaven.  The kicker is that it’s great for you!  Healthy and decadent tasting?  That’s a recipe for success.

So, what do you need to do to win this generous package?  In Amy’s words:

So Vanilla Giveaway Rules!

The Details:

Simply find the answers to the three questions below by going to the following links:  Sovanilla.etsy.com and amyecotarian.wordpress.com.  One name will be drawn from all correct answers for the grand prize:  A package including 2 ounces of ground bourbon vanilla, 15 Bourbon and 5 Tahitian vanilla beans, a bottle of vanilla syrup and a package of Vanilla Bean and Pecan Granola.

3 other people who have correctly answered the questions will be randomly drawn to receive 3 Bourbon Vanilla Beans. (Rebecca here.  I just had to emphasize this.  Three other folks are going to receive a prize, too.  I’m only terribly jealous that I can’t enter my own giveaway.)

The Questions:

From my blog:  amyecotarian.wordpress.com

From the post “Pickled Pink! And Other Things of the Summer”

What wildlife did Amy have to rescue and relocate this summer?

From my Esty Shop:  sovanilla.etsy.com

What’s the “fishy” name for the vanilla seeds inside a vanilla pod?

And the last one:

What is one interesting thing you learned from either the blog, Confessions of an Everyday Ecotarian or the So Vanilla shop that you didn’t know before?

Now for my details.  This contest is open until Friday of this week, November 6th, 2009.  You have until 12 noon, EST on Friday to enter.  The grand prize winner and the three other vanilla bean package winners will be announced by  8 PM, EST on Friday.  Good luck folks.  This is some great stuff!