Black-eyed peas, collard greens, cornbread… all these foods are indelibly linked to the South.  No matter which city, town, county or mountain holler you call home, if you’re from the South it’s a pretty safe bet that you have a family recipe for these rattling around somewhere.  I have not one, not two, but three recipes for greens all written longhand by my Grandma Shaffer on laminated recipe cards.  They are my heirlooms.

Collard greens are one of the foods that are traditionally served in southern homes on New Year’s Day.  While black-eyed peas represent coins, collard greens represent paper money.  Combining the two dishes for the first meal eaten in the New Year traditionally represents a forthcoming time of prosperity. Since my family is worth much more than its weight in gold, I’d say the practice has been effective.

There is some disagreement among collard green lovers as to how long they should be simmered.  My vote is for however long it takes for them to become fall-apart tender. I think it is nearly impossible to overcook collard greens.  On the stove top this usually translates to anywhere between one and a half hours to four hours.  In a slow-cooker -provided you have enough ‘pot liquor’ (cooking liquid) you can easily let them simmer away overnight.  (Assuming you can sleep with the glorious smell of greens wafting through your home.)

There is a small but vocal crowd who like their greens chewier and would simmer their greens for a far shorter time than I would. I ignore them.

This is my special occasion version of greens and nothing screams,”Special Occasion!” quite like salted pork products.  I do believe my Grandpa Shaffer would’ve agreed with me heartily. Provided, that is, that your special occasion is not a dinner party for your vegetarian friends.  You always have the option of making this vegetarian friendly by omitting the salt pork and replacing the pan drippings with olive or canola oil.

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Slow-Simmered Collard Greens

Ingredients:

• 3 pounds washed, trimmed and cut collard greens
• 1 large red onion
• 6 ounces salt pork
• 4-8 cloves garlic, according to preference, thinly sliced
• 2 cups water, plus additional water as needed
• 1-1/2 cups dry white wine or chicken broth
• Coarsely ground black pepper, to taste (I like a great deal of pepper and usually use between two teaspoons and a tablespoon.)
• 1/2 teaspoon Kosher salt

Thinly slice the salt pork (about 1/8 of an inch thick) then cut the slices into thin strips (about 1/4 of an inch thick.)  Transfer salt pork strips to a deep, heavy bottomed skillet, pot or dutch oven with a tight fitting lid over medium heat.  Stirring frequently -taking care because salt pork pops and spits a lot as it browns- cook the salt pork until crispy all over and golden brown.  Use a slotted spoon to transfer the crispy salt pork strips to a paper towel lined plate and set aside.*  Remove any excess fat drippings from the pan, leaving only 1/4 cup of drippings in the pan.

*The reserved crispy salt pork can either be scattered over the greens before serving or baked into the best cornbread you’ll ever taste.  I’ve done both and I’ve loved them equally.

Cut onion in half and peel.  Lay -cut side down- on the cutting board and slice into moderately sized half-moons (between 1/4 and 1/2 of an inch thick.)  Move onions and garlic into the pork drippings in the hot pan still over medium heat.  Cook for one to two minutes or until fragrant but not browned.

Add a handful or two of greens to the pot and stir until reduced slightly in size (about one minute).  Repeat with greens, one handful or two at a time, until all the greens have been incorporated and slightly wilted.  Add water, white wine, salt and black pepper and stir.  Bring liquids to a boil, tightly lid the pan and turn the heat to low.  Allow to simmer for about one and a half hours, checking liquids and adding as necessary, or until the greens are fall-apart tender.

Serve hot with cornbread, black-eyed peas and hot pepper vinegar for greens are so good they’ll make you say, “Well, shave my legs and call me smoothy.”  Because I’m pretty sure  that’s what my Grandpa would’ve said…

*I cry over food that makes me happy.  Do you think that’s a problem?

When I stumble back to the house chilled and tired after preparing the garden for the winter, raking leaves,  hiking with the kids, or pumpkin and apple picking there are few things that make me feel more like God’s in his heaven and all’s right with the world than the mouth-watering smell of my favorite Fall pot roast braised in apple cider and ale.  Good food should warm you three times; when you prepare it, when you smell it and when you eat it.

Let’s just talk about the smell for a moment, shall we?  The theme is heady scents of sweet apple cider, malty beer, beef and onions tied together with grace notes of ginger, British-style hot mustard, garlic and Worcestershire sauce and the smallest touch of curry powder.  The combination is drool-inducing and perhaps hypnotic.*

*Well, I was hypnotized anyway. How else would you explain my absolute inability to do any other work while smelling this roast cook?  I just stood in the kitchen like a doofus and grinned for eight hours while watching the wind blow the leaves off the trees.  It smelled so stinkin’ good.  It was such a perfect moment.  If you can call eight hours a moment.

There is more to recommend this roast other than the fact that it makes me weep with its smells and makes my head swim by virtue of the fact that it tastes so good.  Really.  It takes all of five minutes to get this roast going in the slow-cooker.  You don’t pre-brown the meat and this step alone saves you time by eliminating the messiest, trickiest step of most roasts.  And having tested the recipe both ways, I am compelled to say that this particular roast doesn’t suffer in the least from skipping the ubiquitous browning step.  So.  Before you head off for the day to work, or church, or apple pick, toss one of these together and be rewarded by a spectacular dinner when you get home.  Or just put it together and stand in your kitchen watching the seasons change.  Either way, you just might weep with joy, too.

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Whilst on the subject of photos, let me warn you.  The quality of these images is all over the place.  The weather was, as I mentioned, inclement.  Wind whipped, clouds covered and then uncovered the sun, and I  just didn’t care enough to spend time fixing it.  The point I’m belabouring is that the food transcends the photos taken of it.  Just make the roast.  Trust me.

I would also like to point out one other thing before we start with the recipe.  Look at that beer can.

I snorted with laughter in public when I saw it.  I bought it.  I’m not too proud to admit I bought it because it was ridiculous.  The beer inside, however, was anything but ridiculous.  I have never, ever had canned beer that good.  It was worth the price tag and it came with bonus laughter;  my kind of food.

Apple Cider and Beer Braised Pot Roast

Ingredients:

2-1/2 to 3-1/2 pound Top or Bottom Round beef roast

1 large onion, peeled and sliced into thick rounds

1 packet dry beefy onion soup mix (Any brand will do.  Most come in boxes with two envelopes.  Just use one!)

2 cups fresh apple cider

1 (12 ounce) can good beer (Do not skimp here.  Use a good beer that you like; porter, stout, or ale.  I prefer ale in this dish.)

1-1/2 Tablespoons British-style hot mustard (I use Coleman’s mustard)

1-1/2 Tablespoons Worcestershire sauce

1 clove garlic, peeled and minced

1 teaspoon dried ground ginger

3/4 teaspoon mild curry powder

Place the thick rounds of onion over the base of the crock of your slow cooker.

Trim as much surface fat from the roast as you can.  Place roast on top of the onion rounds.  Smear the top of the roast with the hot mustard and sprinkle the dry onion soup mix, curry powder and dried ginger over the top.

Drizzle the apple cider, beer and Worcestershire sauce over and around the roast.

Add the garlic to the liquid surrounding the roast. It ain’t perty at this point, folks, but stick with it.  It’s like an ugly duckling about to turn into a swan.  But beefier.

Cover and cook on low for 8-9 hours or until a piece of the roast is easily pulled apart with a fork.

Transfer the roast to a cutting board.

Helpful note:  As counterintuitive as it may seem, meats that are braised have a frightening tendency to dry out at warp speed.  (See the top of roast in the picture below for proof.)  To combat this tendency I always toss my braised roasts in their pan juices prior to serving.  As often as not, I serve them in their pan juices as well.

Slice or shred the the roast into large pieces and return to the cooking liquids in the crock.  Toss gently to coat and serve.  My favorite accompaniments are broiled polenta squares (or Italian grits as my kids call them) topped with grated Romano or Fontina cheese, roasted cauliflower, a tossed salad, and hot crusty bread covered in butter.    It is equally wonderful with mashed or roasted potatoes and glazed carrots.  Sure, this dinner is fifteen shades of brown, but who cares? It’s Fall!  Brown is savoury!  Brown is delicious!  Brown is good!  Embrace the brown!

*I should be more specific.  I mean to say they scattered like bowling pins do when someone other than me is bowling.  I am horrible at bowling.  I do not joke or exaggerate in the least when I tell you that the last time I went bowling, I bowled a ’12′.  I was pregnant for my first child, wearing business clothes and refused to put those shoes *OH THE GERMS* on over my pantyhose.  That might account for something.  And it’s been years… (The fact that I was wearing pantyhose should be a dead giveaway.  The last time I wore those and business clothes was before my eldest was born.) Maybe I’m not so awful anymore, but I’m sure not wasting my luxury weekend finding out…

Back to my girl food.  I could’ve made more of an effort to share with the boys.  All I have to do to get the eldest three to try it is call it ‘gourmet’ and they’re on it like fleas on a dog.  But you know what?  I didn’t really feel like sharing today.  This was mine.  All mine.  So I made it into exactly what I wanted without a thought about anyone else’s tastes.  Sometimes you just have to do that, you know…

Have you ever had watermelon and feta cheese together?  There’s a special kind of alchemy that occurs when you put the sweet, juicy, cold watermelon with the creamy, salty feta cheese.  And you can put those two things together with some cracked black pepper and call it a day.  But since I was indulging (There’s that word again.  I’m sorry, but I do this so infrequently that I haven’t developed a great vocabulary to describe it.) I went whole hog, great guns, damn-the-torpedos-full-speed-ahead and threw the works at it. I layered impossibly cute slices of watermelon and homemade feta cheese on a bed of baby arugula, squeezed a little fresh lime juice and drizzled the tiniest bit of balsamic vinegar and first press extra virgin olive oil over the top.  I brushed my hair, put on mascara and lip gloss and sat with perfect posture at the table all by myself.  It tasted out of this world.  And you know what else?

Dang.  It. Felt. Great.

As I was finishing off the last bite, one boy darted between my legs chasing the dog who, despite being fat and lazy, can really kick out the jams when threatened with grooming while another boy ‘accidentally’ bounced a beany-baby soccer ball off of the back of my head.  The interlude was over.  But for one brief, shining moment, I was footloose and fancy free with my hoity-toity lunch.

Today’s Watermelon Feta Salad, in addition to being a brief escape to dream-land, was the perfect food for Think Pink Thursday.  To refresh your memory, I’m posting pink foods on Thursdays in my effort, paltry as it may be, to remind folks of the importance of early detection of breast cancer.  My step-Mom, and sometimes partner-in-crime on this website, Valerie, was diagnosed about one month ago with breast cancer after finding a lump during a self check.  It’s crucial and vital if you love people or have people who love you to remember to do a self-check monthly.  If you don’t know how to perform a self-exam on your breasts, visit here, here or here among other places.  And  a reminder to my male readers, because I have faith that there are at least a couple out there: Please encourage the women you love to do self-exams.  If you don’t know how to do it or are too embarassed to use the words to explain why it’s crucial, simply forward the link to this recipe to them.

Once again, back to my girl food.  Watermelon Feta Salad, in addition to being the embodiment of umami, fits the Holy Trimverate of ‘girl food’ distinction.

1. It’s healthy.
2. It’s pretty.
3. It’s delicious.

Don’t let the girl food nature of it stop you from serving it to a passel of men.  They might look at you funny, but as soon as they take a bite, they’ll love you forever.  Well, as long as you serve it with a big, bloody steak or tell them something like, “It was General George S. Patton’s favorite salad.”

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Watermelon Feta Salad

You won’t need the whole block of feta cheese or the whole watermelon… just take as much of each as you need for the number of mouths you’re serving.  For myself, I used about 3 ounces of feta cheese and 1/8 of a seedless watermelon.  What?!?  I was hungry.

Ingredients:

• a block of plain feta cheese, blotted dry
• a seedless watermelon
• cracked black pepper
• extra virgin olive oil
• balsamic vinegar
• fresh lime
• cleaned baby arugula (or other peppery greens)

Begin by cutting your feta cheese block lengthwise into thin slices.  See the feta below? It’s homemade.  You can still see the patterns left by the cheesecloth on the thin edges…  You’re under no obligation to use homemade feta here. (Like my word would obligate you anyway *snort*…)  It’s every bit as good made with purchased feta cheese.

Now you’re going to want to dismantle your watermelon.  There really is no wrong or right way to do this, other than perhaps throwing the watermelon in the air and trying to slice through it in midflight; which still wouldn’t necessarily be as wrong as it would be foolish.  The goal is basically to remove a chunk of the watermelon safely.  I usually lob off one end of a long, seedless watermelon.  And, for Pete’s sake (whoever and wherever Pete may be), please make sure both your cutting board and your watermelon aren’t sliding around all arsey versey.  You want that thing to hold still while you’re taking a sharp knife to it!

After I get one end off, I lay the flat, stable cut side down on the cutting board and cut it into a more manageable piece.

Now I take one of those more manageably sized wedges and use a mid-sized, sharp knife to slice the watermelon flesh away from the rind.  I do this by starting with shallow cuts along the contours of the inside of the melon rind and gradually slicing deeper and deeper into the melon instead of lobbing away half the flesh with the rind.  Do it however works best for you.  This is just the method that floats my peculiar and particular boat.

…Ain’t it perty?

Here’s where I usually take the big knife and slice the watermelon into flat, slab-like pieces that are about 1/2″ thick.  Again, you can adjust up or down depending on how much you love watermelon.

And now for assembly:  Begin by putting a nice handful of clean arugula or other salad greens on each serving plate. Top it with a slice of feta.

Top the feta with a pretty, pink, juicy slice of watermelon.  Oh, watermelon.  How do I love thee?  Let me count the ways.  I love thee to the depth and breadth and height that my soul can reach.

Top the watermelon with another slice of feta and grind some serious pepper on it.  I mean that!  It’s really hard to overdo it on the pepper here.  Unless, of course, you hate pepper.  Then you can just forget I said that.  Moving on…

Now, repeat those layers twice more.  Or more if you’re an engineer.  Me?  I was just hungry so three layers of watermelon was plenty for me!

Squeeze a wedge of lime over each serving.  In my case the limes I got were really tiny, so I squeezed half a lime over my serving.

This is what I call gilding the lily.  Drizzle the greens with a wee bit of balsamic.  I didn’t measure it, but if you pressed me, I’d tell you about 3/4 of a teaspoon over the greens.  And drizzle a slightly more generous amount of extra virgin olive oil over the whole thing.  Use the good stuff here if you have it and if you don’t?  Don’t sweat it!  Just use extra virgin olive oil.

…Once just isn’t enough.  Look at that again.

And before I ate it, I dropped a little piece of infant arugula on top and drizzled it once more with extra virgin olive oil.  It’s good for your skin, you know.  This whole dish is practically a health cocktail.

Oh yes.  Oh my, yes.  This was just what the doctor ordered.  I may have to indulge more often!

I love to grocery shop.  I love to examine labels, produce, proteins and liquids.  I get giddy trying to decide which mangos and avocados to choose.  I carefully flip through piles of cilantro bunches looking to find the bundle likeliest to survive a week or so in my fridge.  I pick through the ‘Manager’s Special’ carts like a prospector.  And, boy, can I hit a sale. *

*All of this presumes, of course, that the boys are home with their Dad, an Evil Genius- but one heckuva Dad,  and not clinging to my thighs begging for Lucky Charms (they can have those when hell freezes over) or leaning precariously off the back of the cart or accidentally goosing unsuspecting shoppers who magically appeared on the third tile in a rousing game of ‘leap over every third tile or suffer the consequences!’   If they’re with me I run through the store like a woman haunted by cute little demons who conspire to make her forget everything she needs to feed her family that week.  But if they’re not with me?  Well then…

Ah, the sales.  I am a firm believer in bulk buying items that my family uses regularly.  Emphasis intended.  We bulk buy olive oil, canola oil, potatoes, onions, flour, yeast, carrots, coffee (that’s so the Evil Genius is less evil and more genius), tea (so I can maintain some semblance of sanity), dried beans, oats and peanut butter, among other things. (Like toilet paper.  I mean really.  Seven people and two toilets?  We buy toilet paper in bulk.)  We have quite a lot of good frozen meat in our chill chest but every now and then a deal comes along that’s too good to leave alone.  Last week, Monsieur Le Evil Genius was at the grocery store doing my bidding. (Actually he was there with a list for me since we had sick kids and I was housebound myself with the crud.)  He has stumbled upon a sale so good that he felt compelled to stock the heck up: pork shoulder for $0.69 per pound.  Oh yes.  The Evil Genius’s not-so-inner cheapskate was singing for joy.  He came home with three of them.  That would be roughly 30 pounds of pork shoulder for those who haven’t experienced the stuff.  I stuffed two pork shoulders into our crowded freezer and rubbed my greedy little hands together.  A 9-pound pork shoulder means only one thing to me.  Slow-cooked shredded pork.

There are a billion things you can do to pork that are delicious.  But let me tell you, what I did with that pork shoulder last week is my all-time favorite.  I’m going to walk you through making the phantasmagorical Cuban Pork and the two most wonderful side dishes in the world: FMC Mango Salsa and Spicy Black Beans*. Oh.  Let’s just talk about this pork for a minute.  The pork, courtesy of it’s long braise in the slow-cooker, is juicy and so mind-meltingly tender and flavorful that you’ll be sorely tempted to eat until you hurt.

Don’t freak out when I tell you this recipe takes a couple days.  It’s not like you’ll be slaving over a hot pan for those couple days.  It’s actually incredibly simple and the hands on time is less than roasting a chicken or making spaghetti. You just have to plan ahead.  And buy a big, honkin’ pork shoulder.  If you’re wondering whether it’s worth it, just have a gander at this…

Cuban Pork and FMC Mango Salsa with rice on a tortilla. Not pictured? The Spicy Black Beans...

* See?  The beans again! This week we’ll be doing black beans.  The bean recipe will be here on Friday so you can have the weekend to prepare your feast and then eat off of it all next week.  I got your back!

Yes.  This recipe makes a gigantic amount of pork.  Much too much for even my family to eat in one meal unless we have a good deal of company eating with us.  But that’s the idea.   This falls in the category that I like to call ‘component foods’.  If you make this dish and freeze the leftovers in individual serving sizes, you have instant meals at your fingertips.  You have the leaping-off point for so many good dishes like pulled pork sandwiches, shredded pork and pineapple pizzas, pork burritos and more.  By all means, though, prepare this for a party.  The work is all done ahead of time and you’ll feed your guests like royalty.

This is a strategy food that requires a little forethought.  While that limits the speed with which this can be made, it also makes it the ’do-ahead’ food.  You can prepare it ahead of time and refrigerate it or freeze it.  I have the strategy all mapped out for you.  Here’s how it works.

You cook your pork on ‘Day 1′.  You let it rest overnight in the fridge -call it ‘Day 2′, and shred it on ‘Day 3′.  After you’ve shredded it, it’s good for eating or freezing as is, but there are some fun things you can do to take it to the next level.  For now, though, let’s talk ‘Day 1′.

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Cuban Pork: Day 1

Ingredients:

• 1 (8-1o pound) bone-in pork shoulder, make sure it fits into your slow-cooker.  Cut to fit if necessary.
• 1/2 cup frozen 100% orange juice concentrate
• 1/3 cup lime juice (fresh squeezed or bottled)
• 1 Tablespoon olive oil
• 8 whole peeled cloves fresh garlic (or 1 Tablespoon granulated dried garlic)
• 1 Tablespoon (or more, to taste) ground cumin
• 1 Tablespoon dry oregano leaves
• 1 Tablespoon or more fresh ground pepper
• 2 teaspoons kosher or sea salt
• 1 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes, optional
• if available, 2 stems (no leaves, just stems) fresh cilantro

Drizzle the olive oil in the slow-cooker bowl.

Remove the pork shoulder from packaging and rinse with cold water.

Please pretend this picture is of me removing the packaging and rinsing the roast. Thank you.

Place untrimmed pork, fat side down in the bowl.

Fat side down.

…Then flip it fat side up.  This coats both sides with a wee bit of olive oil.  Everything’s better with a wee bit of olive oil.

Sprinkle with salt, pepper, cumin, oregano and crushed red pepper flakes.

Cumin

Black pepper. I loves black pepper.

Oregano. I rolled my 'r' when I said that. Try it with me. O-rrrrr-egano.

Red pepper flakes. Be still my heart. If I could find a way to make this into perfume I would. The Evil Genius likes the chiles.

Use a spoon to dollop the frozen orange juice concentrate over the top of the roast.

Pour the lime juice around the edges of the roast.

Fresh is best. We all know that already. But if you have to use bottled stuff it isn't the end of the world. Use the best bottled stuff you can find.

Throw garlic cloves around the roast.

Peel your whole garlic cloves easily by pressing down on them firmly with the edge of a bench knife or a heavy pan. Voila! The skin will come away as easily as can be.

Toss on cilantro stems- if using.

Please keep your cilantro stems in the freezer in a zipper top bag. Right next to your onion tops. I KNOW I sound so cheap, but there is an incredible amount of flavor in the bits and pieces of food that most of us throw away. Form the habit of saving these and you'll be grateful you did!

Cover, and turn cooker to ‘HIGH’.

And away we go!

Allow to cook for 1 hour, turn the heat to ’LOW’  and continue cooking for another 12 hours or until meat falls apart when prodded with a fork. When the meat is tender, turn off slow cooker and place the slow cooker bowl in the fridge. (If your slow-cooker doesn’t have a removable insert, transfer the contents to a large container with a tight-fitting lid and pop that into the fridge.

See you back here on Thursday for shredding and the first of our side dishes: spicy black beans!

On deck for Thursday: Shredding and saucing our Cuban Pork,  and Spicy Black Beans!

In the hole for Friday:  FMC Mango Salsa (a.k.a. The best side dish of all time.  Ever.  Amen.)

Tangent alert:  I will clear this up right now.  I have no claim to being an expert in the field of jook/juk/congee/lugau/rice porridge.   None whatsoever.  Crave info on it?  See this link.   I just know that millions upon millions of people eat some version of it daily and they do it for a multitude of reasons.  Among those reasons: It’s simple to prepare.  It’s dirt cheap to make.  It’s delicious.  It’s filling.  And it’s really, really hard to screw up.  This is a major bonus when you can hardly see through the bleary, cold-addled eyes in your head. Tangent over.

Okay, wait.  One more little bit of tangent.  I’m probably going to horrify a bunch of traditionalists with this recipe, but I’d like to reiterate that I’m not an expert.  I simply know how I like it.  Now the tangent is officially, seriously over.

How many of you out there want to slave over a pot of soup when you feel like crud?  I don’t see any hands going up. Yeah, I thought so.  I don’t either.  This is where jook is the king of all soups.

Last tangent today.  I promise.  Is it a soup?  Is it a porridge?  It’s both.  Depending on the rice/water ratio you use you can push it in either direction.  More water?  More like soup.  More rice?  More porridge like…

Jook is traditionally served with all kinds of accompaniments that vary depending on where in Asia you’re eating it.  In Korea it might get a side of kimchi.  In Japan?  Maybe some umeboshi or salmon.  In China it could be served with fish or century eggs, among other acoutrements.  I, not being bound by tradition, can put whatever the heck appeals to me.  And what appealed to me was the way I usually make it; chicken broth and short grain rice simmered until the rice disintigrates topped with green onions, sesame oil and Sriracha and a hard boiled egg.  Take that  you nasty cold virus!

My head is clearing up just looking at this.

Make it any old which way you choose.  Throw a chicken neck in there and nix the chicken broth if that floats your boat.  Got a squirrely tummy?  Nix the chicken completely and prepare with just the rice and water and serve it with a drizzle of honey or sprinkling of brown sugar.  Feelin crazy?  Toss in some minced chile peppers while the rice and water simmer.  Make it yours.  As long as you keep close to the basic 1 part-rice-to-10-parts-water ratio you can do what you want to make it taste the way you want.  Make it for breakfast, lunch or dinner. The best part of this recipe is that it prepares itself in the slow-cooker while you loll about in your flannel jammie pants with a box of tissues and a good book. Isn’t cooking fun?

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Basic Jook

• 1 cup short grain rice (I use sushi rice)
• 10 cups chicken broth (or you can use 10 cups water and 4 bouillon cubes *gasp*.  It’s not all awful, you know…)
• 1 teaspoon neutral oil (like canola, vegetable, peanut, etc…)

Not pictured? Chicken broth. If you've seen one mason jar of chicken broth you've seen 'em all...

Have you seen sushi rice before? See the stubby little grains? They are fabulous.

optional for serving:

• 1 cup milk, either dairy or soy
• thinly sliced green onions
• leftover shredded meat
• hard-boiled eggs
• julienned carrots
• soy sauce
• hot sauce
• toasted sesame oil
• congee eggs

In the bowl of a large slow-cooker, stir together 1 teaspoon of neutral oil and the short-grain rice until the rice grains are coated.  Add the chicken broth (or your desired substitute) and stir to combine.  Place the lid on the slow-cooker, turn heat to ‘LOW’ and allow to cook for 8 hours.  Just prior to serving, bump the heat up to ‘HIGH’.  If you’re using milk, stir it in now.  Recover the slow-cooker and allow to cook for 30 minutes.  Turn off the cooker, uncover and stir prior to serving.

To eat the Foodie With Family way, drizzle with a little toasted sesame oil and soy sauce, top with sliced green onions, add a few drops of Sriracha and chop a hard-boiled egg into the jook.  This may not cure the cold, but it sure makes you feel better!

This is my comfort food. This makes me very, very happy.

Back to normal programming tomorrow.  If you want to play along here’s what you’ll need:

• 2 lbs dried cannelini beans (a.k.a. white kidney beans)
• 1 onion (or the frozen tops of two onions… were you paying attention here last week???)
• olive oil
• Herbes de Provence
• salt and pepper.   But you had that anyway, right?  Please say yes.
• garlic, darling… You must have the garlic.
• pita chips, crackers, breadsticks or bread.

Are you interested?

…Just in case you, like me, live in the middle of nowhere and can’t buy sushi rice at your local mini-grocery, here’s a link to my life-line: Amazon.com.  What do these people NOT sell I ask you.

So, today’s venture:  Outside of a few minor chores, I spent much of today reading, but when this afternoon rolled around, I knew I wanted to come up with something warm and savory for supper, since Jim was spending a good deal of the day outside dealing with some hefty chores in the cold Northern Michigan air. (We are preparing for our first major snowfall that is expected tomorrow night, and he was ‘battening down the hatches.”)  When I checked the refrigerator looking for supper inspiration, I found a few slices of fairly lean bacon, some sliced mushrooms and a couple cups of leftover beef broth, and that was enough to get things going. I started by chopping the bacon into large pieces and threw them into a pot to brown and render their fat. While the bacon fried, I took a couple of minutes to roughly chop some onion and a handful of potatoes. Once the bacon was browned, I tossed in the onion for a few minutes, threw in the mushrooms for a bit longer, then tossed in the potatoes, letting it all cook together for a couple minutes more. Everything in the pan went into the crockpot, I deglazed the pan with the beef broth, pouring that over the ingredients in the pot, added a little more water, some pepper and a good amount of dried thyme leaf. Popping the lid on, I turned the pot on high and went back to my book.

Before…

About a half hour before dinner time, I added some bits of buerre manie (flour and butter creamed together) into the soup to thicken the broth a bit, wrapped a loaf of cheese bread in foild and tossed it in the oven to heat. Half an hour later, dinner is served! Bowls full of good hearty soup, warmed slices of bread, followed by a handful of cold, juicy green grapes.  Simple, warm, delicious and satisfying–Pretty Good Soup.

After…

Sorry, we gobbled it all up before we even thought about getting the camera out!!