GI Janet

Ladies and gentlemen...Christmas has left the building.

Tree...untrimmed. Halls...undecked. Cookies...consumed.

The only hint of holiday that remains is a stack of green and red Rubbermaid boxes perched patiently in the corner of the room waiting to be slid into the rafters...hopefully sometime before Easter.

Yes, we have even carried out our ceremonial gingerbread demolition: an admittedly twisted tradition of New Year's catharsis designed to ring out the old with a flying flurry of petrified ginger cookie, neon sprinkles and hardened icing.

As I sat on the curb this morning observing the aftermath of the gingerbread Armageddon, watching the kids scoop up the last remnants of Christmas 2011, I couldn't help but wonder, when I look back at this Christmas, what will I say it was "the Christmas that..."?

My mind started to drift, as it does, and I thought for a minute about happy ghosts of Christmas past and a parade of holiday memories marked by people and places and presents that,for one reason or another, stick to my psyche like a wayward piece of unwrapped candy cane hiding at the bottom of my purse.

I remember the Christmas that Greg and I got a new baby brother and Mom let me wear my go-go boots to church.

I remember the Christmas that Diane got chosen to be Mary in the class Nativity tableau and all I got to be was a stinkin' angel.

I remember the Christmas that Charlie and I celebrated together for the first time as husband and wife in our very first house. Yes, I am wearing a jumpsuit and yes, the star at the top of the tree is made of aluminum foil.

I remember the Christmas that we thought it would be clever to photograph our 3-week-old infant as if she was popping out of a Christmas package only to realize that it was probably ill-advised given that she couldn't even hold her head up on her own. The photos ended up looking like she was being sucked down into some sort of Christmas vortex by Thing from The Addams family.

Then there was the next Christmas that we had better luck with the whole baby-in-a-box concept...

There was the Christmas that Carly got her two-wheeler...

...and the next Christmas that she got her baby brother.

And, a few years later, there was the Christmas that baby brother finally got his two-wheeler too... 

There was the Christmas that Mom got a pair of real diamond earrings, the Christmas that I got mono in high school, the Christmas that I sat on the couch most of the day holding my breath, and my water, hoping that I could get to the 26th without giving birth (thankfully William waited another week).

But, of all my "Christmases that...", the one that brings the biggest smile to my face is the one when GI Janet came to dinner.

It was 1974 and, as we did every year, Christmas was celebrated with Grandmas and Grandpas, Auntie Janet, Uncle Jack and their three kids. Each year we would alternate venues, one year at the cousins' home in Concord then the next at ours in Fairfax.

This particular year, Christmas was at home and was filled with the usual hopped-up holiday antics: kids running up and down the stairs dodging cousin cooties, an endless flow of crumpled wrapping paper swirling overhead, Karen Carpenter belting out Christmas tunes from the hi-fi and this particular year, it seems, an abundance of Almaden Chablis flowing from jug to glass.

The cousins, juiced on chocolate cake and adrenalin, thought it would be funny to heist the cigars my parents kept for guests in a cut glass jar on the coffee table and march around the house holding them between our teeth like a squad of tiny little Castros.

Not to let a parade pass her by, Auntie Janet put out her cigarette, grabbed a cigar for herself, lit it up, snatched my little brother's official General Patton plastic army helmet from beneath the tree and led her minions in triumphant splendor past the spectators laughing and raising their glasses of Creme de Menthe in tribute.

Ah, such a proud family moment. Check out Michael with the cigar in the lower right of the photo...I think he was about three.

Poor Auntie Janet never lived it down and has since been lovingly referred to as GI Janet. Even 25 years later at a family party, my Dad stuck a bowl on her head, gave her a cigar and had her strike a pose for posterity...

...at 5 or 55 I guess big brothers never really stop teasing their baby sisters.

Aside from her military fame, Auntie Janet is also a legendary cook. Perfectly prepared roasts, creamy mashed potatoes, meticulously decorated cakes, holiday meals were always a treat when Auntie Janet was at the helm. But, no matter who hosted Christmas each year, she would always be the one to belly up to the stove and take her place as the official gravy-maker in the family.

One year, when I was in high school, I think, she summoned me to her post and told me it was time I learned the tricks of the trade. For a couple of years after that, until our families started to grow and spend the holidays apart, I stood by my Auntie's side and assisted as she patiently coaxed a silken gravy out of what started out as the seemingly unsavory dregs of a steaming hot roasting pan.

One year, I realized that, without any pomp and circumstance, the whisk had been passed to me and I had become our family's "Queen of the Gravy."

This year, I asked Carly to babysit the pan while I tended to some brussel sprouts or the like. Little does she know that I have begun her clandestine initiation and my little heir, like it or not, will one day wear the dubious crown. There she is, in action below..."just a little more stock, Princess...that's it...keep whisking...".

So, if you were to ask me how I will remember this Christmas, I'm actually not quite sure how I would respond. Maybe it's the year that Patti gave me that killer Toasted Pine nut and Rosemary Brittle recipe or the year Laura made me that vintage Christmas apron complete with red dingle ball trim. Or maybe it's simply the year that an unspoken family tradition began it's journey from one generation to the next.

It's kind of OK, I think, that every year isn't a big fat "Christmas that..." marked by a landmark gift or a special event, so I'm just fine looking back at Christmas 2011 and remembering with a smile that we got through the year just fine, thank you, and stand together walking strong into the new year.

In hopes that you too might give my gravy a go and share it with your family, I roasted a chicken and snapped some photos to walk you through my version of Auntie Janet's yummy goodness. It might not fit into your January resolution for low fat living, but promise me you won't wait until next Thanksgiving to give it a try.

Here's what the roasting pan looked like after I pulled out the bird to rest on a plate nearby. Not so pretty, I know, but this is where almost every bit of the gravy's flavor originates. Before roasting,I had rubbed the chicken down with generous amounts of butter, chopped garlic, salt and pepper and shoved an onion and a lemon into it's nether regions which, despite the indignity for the chicken, gave this gravy a really, really delicious, tangy, roasted garlic flavor. 

Pour the pan juices off into a measuring cup or a gravy fat separator. The fat will rise to the top and the flavor-packed drippings will sink to the bottom. Reserve it all.

Straddle the roasting pan over two burners on the stove top and set the heat to medium-high. Pour about two tablespoons of the fat back into the pan, add two tablespoons of butter and, using a wooden spoon, scrape up the brown bits from the pan.

Sprinkle about 4 tablespoons of flour over the melted fat and blend together over the heat being careful not to burn your concoction.

Now you have a roux. Cook this for a few minutes until it starts to thicken, darken and bubble.

Start to add your stock (chicken if you have roasted a chicken, beef if you have roasted a beef), slowly incorporating it with a whisk, waiting for the gravy to thicken slightly before each addition. My gravy took about two cups of stock this time to get the the consistency I wanted.

When your gravy is almost where you want it, skim as much fat as possible off the drippings you have reserved and add the gooey goodness that remains to the mix for a real flavor boost.

Adjust your seasoning with salt and pepper if you need it and serve warm over your perfectly roasted meat. This gravy ended up light brown with little flecks of roasted garlic...one of my best I'd say. Your version may be darker or lighter depending on the state of your drippings to start. If you look at the photo of Carly working the turkey gravy above, you can see that it was really deep and dark which had a lot to do with the hours and hours of roasting and the basting of butter and white wine...yum!  Any way you slice it, it's good stuff.

GI Janet's Pan Gravy

Ingredients:

• Pan drippings
• 2 Tablespoons butter
• 1/4 cup flour
• 2 cups stock

1.) Pour all of the roasting liquid from your pan into a glass measuring cup or gravy fat separator and reserve.

2.) Straddle the pan over two burners, set the heat to medium/high, add the two Tablespoons of butter and two Tablespoons of the reserved fat which has risen to the top of your measuring cup. Scrape brown bits from pan with a wooden spoon.

3.) Sprinkle flour over melted fat and cook the roux for a few minutes until it is thick and darkened.

4.) Begin to add the stock and little at a time, incorporating fully and letting thicken after each addition.Continue adding stock until you reach your desired consistency.

5.) Remove any remaining fat from your reserved juices and add to your gravy the rich dark drippings that remain.

6.) Season with salt and pepper if needed.

Makes enough to accompany one roasted chicken and some mashed potatoes on the side.

Gratitude and Granola

Today I found a penny on the pavement. I picked it up and made a wish. It made me happy.

I tossed the rusty brown coin into my purse, fumbled for my keys, wrangled myself into the car and shut the door. Immediately, I was enveloped by the sun-baked, silent squishiness of my mobile cocoon. 

Ah, silence, solitude…I took a deep breath and thought to myself, no one can find me here…at least for the next few minutes.

Click. I locked the door, put back my head, closed my eyes and let my mind drift freely, for just a minute or two, beyond the gallon of milk I forgot to buy, the dentist appointment I just remembered, and the distinctive aroma of soccer socks and four day-old lunches wafting from the nether regions of my SUV.

I started to think about that penny.

Would my wish come true? What a gift to just sit for a minute, there alone in the middle of the mall parking lot, and think good thoughts…all for the price of someone’s lost penny. “It’s the little things”, I thought, "those little injections of emotional B-12 that transform ordinary days into a string of bite-sized extraordinary moments…if we let them."

I began to rewind my day, my week, my month…focusing less and less every second on my marinating car and that forgotten gallon of milk and more and more on the penny and some of the countless other opportunities someone or something recently gave me to smile. I thought about…

The rumpled stranger just minutes ago in the check-out line who said “God Bless You” when I sneezed…and really meant it.

An old school-mate I ran into at my reunion and our conversation about my Mom and the cardboard costumes she made for our second grade Christmas play.

The fact that Mom still lives down the street and helps me with every costume I make to this day.

The distinctive humor of an 8-year old boy aptly demonstrated when he is given a set of markers and asked to decorate his sister’s birthday gift wrap...

..and a teenage sister still sweet enough to sit with him and his buddies and help them decorate gingerbread houses.

The smell of coffee drifting upstairs and the confidence that every morning, without fail, Charlie will grind me a fresh batch of beans and perch them atop my favorite cup, ready for me to brew when I eventually stumble down.

This morning's milk in reindeer glasses and knowing we get to use them for a whole month.

Christmas ornaments made from macaroni.

A perfect pear plucked from a friend’s tree.

Sunsets.

Gratitude is a powerful elixir and I felt quiet and full from its effects. I slowly lifted my head. It was time to go. My groceries were melting, I needed to call that dentist before his office closed for the day, and it was my turn to pick up the kids from the Dojo. I would probably be late. I should call.

I looked down at my phone and realized that my outdated Star Trek mock flip communicator-style phone had died...again. Now I’ve really gotta go. I looked back, began to pull out and caught eyes with the woman who had been waiting for my parking spot. She glared back at me, raised her hands in frustration and tapped on her steering wheel as I pulled away.

"Someone needs a penny," I thought. So I shot her a sincere smile and said a little prayer that her day would get better.

I started to think more about the little things I try to do to create bright moments in friends and strangers’ days and challenged myself to work consciously toward creating more of them.

Maybe tomorrow morning I’ll sneak out to Charlie’s frosty car-sicle a few minutes early and blast the heater for him. Perhaps I’ll pull my neighbor’s garbage cans in from the street for her today before she gets home from work. And, for sure, the next time I drop a penny on the ground, I’ll leave it there for someone else to find. I hope their wish comes true.

With the holidays here, it is no surprise that one of my favorite ways to spread good cheer, so to speak, is through the gift of something yummy. Although I don’t always have my act together, I try to almost always have, on-hand, something homemade to bring to friends' homes when we go-a-visitin’.

There’s something so retro-licious about the whole "hostess gift" thing. Nothing big…just a few little hand soaps, a set of taper candles or a jar of Farmer’s Market local honey; it’s a lost tradition for the most part, it seems, but one of those little niceties that is worth bringing back...don't you think?

So, here’s an idea for you to chew on: homemade granola. It doesn’t get much easier (note my four-year-old jammie-clad assistant in the photos below) and makes for a fun and unusual presentation. I grabbed some cool little jars at the new Dollar Store in town (OK, I admit it...I'm excited) whipped up a crunchy batch and set it aside to bring to Mike and Lib’s party this Saturday night.

I’m guessing they won’t be getting a jar of homemade granola from any of their other guests and I’d like to think it will bring a smile to their faces Sunday morning when they push aside the half-empty bottles of wine and find it on their counter…that’s the effect I’m going for anyway!

Here's what you will need...most of the items are simple pantry basics...

Sprinkle the nuts over the oats on a rimmed baking sheet (no need to butter or oil the pan).

 ...then drizzle the decadent goo over the oats and nuts...

...and toss to coat.

Sprinkle and mix with brown sugar, cinnamon and kosher salt.

Bake at 350° for about 5-10 minutes until the nuts begin to turn very light brown, checking and stirring once or twice along the way. Remove from the oven, add the coconut, stir well, return to the oven and bake for another 5-10 minutes or so, making sure nothing scorches and the coconut toasts just right.

Remove from the oven, sprinkle in your dried fruit (I used golden raisins and cranberries this time), toss and cool.

Honey Almond Granola

Preheat oven to 350°.

Mix on a rimmed baking sheet:

• 2 1/2 cups oats
• 1 cup slivered almonds (or other nuts)

Melt:

• 1/4 cup unsalted butter

Add to it:

• 1/4 cup honey

Drizzle mixture over nuts and oats, mix well.

Sprinkle over, mix in and bake, stirring often, until lightly browned:

• 1/3 cup packed brown sugar
• cinnamon to taste
• kosher salt to taste

Sprinkle over, mix and bake until golden brown:

• 1 cup flaked coconut

Add, mix in and toss to cool:

• 1 cup dried fruit to taste (try raisins, cranberries, apricots...)

Enjoy!

Makes about 4 cups

My Formerly Feathered Friend

Fall is here.

First day of school...check. Umbrellas and rain boots pulled out of storage...check. Gutters cleaned...check.  First runny nose of the season...check.

Yep. It was Typhoid Willy and I must say, I felt a little ill-prepared.


It seems that just last week we were wearing floppy hats, dangling our feet off the back of the boat and sucking down snow cones.

But suntans gave way to sniffles last week so I found myself running to the trusty medicine basket only to find that our anti-viral arsenal was pitifully depleted.

A couple lingering Airbornes rattled in the plastic vial, an oddball Emergen-C poked itself out of a re-purposed sippy cup with some calcium chews stuck to the bottom, and a dusty tub of assorted Gummy-Vites snuggled up against a vat of Kirkland Ibuprofen...this isn't gonna do it, I thought...this calls for the big guns: chicken soup...STAT!

Time to drag out the cauldron and start brewing my witchy elixir...good old Grandma's penicillin...guaranteed to cure what ails ya.

I don't really know what it is about chicken soup but somehow, just putting it to simmer on the stove, makes me feel like I've got the answer. The answer to what, you ask. Well, I'm really not quite sure. Every time I plop a roaster into a pot filled with veggies and herbs, it just feels like I'm doing something right...something healing, something nurturing...unless you're the chicken, I guess.


Every year it seems I start to "soup up" sometime around Halloween only to hoist the big copper stock pot back onto the garage shelves shortly after the last spring sniffle.


During those months, you'll likely find a pot of stock simmering on my stove most murky Sunday afternoons. Generally I find motivation in my crisper drawer as I clear out for the week's fresh produce.

Ahhhh...a few floppy celery stalks, a carrot or two that have seen better days, a a couple of onion halves shoved toward the back of the drawer, wayward remnants of Tuesday's stir fry and Thursday's spaghetti sauce...together with the chicken-sicle I usually keep handy in the freezer, the dregs of my pantry are mere hours from transforming into something magically delicious.

So, into the pot it all goes: a decent-sized bird, about four stalks of celery or so, a few carrots, and an onion. If I have a bunch of parsley in the drawer, I rip of the stems and throw them in for good measure too. If you've got organic goods, all the better, but this time, I'm using the good old pesticide-ridden, hormone-laden stuff I have.

Next, fill the pot with water...enough to cover the chicken and veggies but not so much that it will boil over when your brew starts to bubble. At this point, I toss in a few peppercorns and a bay leaf or two.

Now, let the games begin. Turn the heat up to high until it starts to boil.  Skim off any yucky stuff that starts to float to the top then reduce the heat and let it simmer for about 45 minutes or so (or until your chicken is cooked through). This will depend on the size of your formerly feathered friend.

Carefully remove your chicken from the broth and place it in a bowl to rest until it is cool enough to handle then pick all of the meat from the bones and return them (the bones) to the pot. Reserve the meat for your soup.


At this point, the house should be filled with the smells of homey goodness. Look to the couch and find whatever loved one happens to be stretched out at the time and snuggle on up. Doze off to the muted sounds of cartoons, football or trashy TV and take deep breaths of the warm, steamy air wafting from the kitchen.


Now, let that stock simmer for at least a couple more hours or so on low heat to complete it's transformation from bath time for chicky to rich chicken stock.

The stock will look pretty ugly at this point: tired old veggies, chicken bones and all. Time to strain everything out and reserve the broth. I used a cheesecloth to remove any sediment this time as my stock was a little more murky than usual. Note: try not to let the pot boil beyond the initial heat up as this can make your stock cloudy.

Toss out the gross stuff (veggies and bones) and place the stock in the fridge. Most of the fat will rise and solidify on the top so you can easily scoop it off. Feel free to reserve the fat for later...it's good stuff! In Jewish cooking, it's called schmaltz and is a key ingredient in making matzo ball soup...rumored to be a more potent cure than penicillin! If nothing else, save it just cause it's fun to say the word schmaltz when someone asks what the gunk in the fridge is.

  

So, you've got your skimmed stock and your beautiful poached chicken...time to make some soup.

For a big pot of soup, I use about 2 cups of celery, about the same of carrots and about one cup of onion (all fresh...not the droopy stuff). Sometimes I like my veggies chunky but lately I've been in a small dice kind of mood. I find that if you plan to freeze your soup, the veggies can get a little rubbery if they are too big.

Saute your diced veggies in a combo of olive oil and butter until they are tender.

Add your yummy stock and the reserved chicken. I usually like to shred it into irregular pieces but feel free to cube it or whatever suits your taste at the time.

Time to season. I like to add a handful of finely minced fresh parsley, about a half tablespoon or so of dried crumbled thyme and lots of salt and freshly cracked pepper to taste (you'll be surprised how much salt it takes).

A couple of notes about seasoning: 1.) Under-salt the soup at first. Put a little in a bowl and let it cool. Taste it warm, taste it cool and go from there. I find that after smelling soup in my house all day, my taste buds are a little off...easier to add salt when you serve it than try to remove it later (no can do). Also, if you are making this for sickies, their taste buds are probably off too so they may need to adjust as well 2.) Feel free to experiment. I like my soup simple...just parsley, thyme, salt and pepper but you may have other ideas. 3.) I generally add noodles or rice at serving time. Boil them separately and add to the bowl as you serve. That way, you get an even distribution of the goodies and they don't soak up all of the broth during cooking or storage.

This recipe is the perfect base from which you can create a million different meals. In our house, we pour it steaming hot into a bowl filled with a big mound of shredded cheese (just like my Mama does).  Eat the first batch like this, then freeze some for later and try these add-to's:

Matzo Ball Soup: add parsnips, dill and matzo balls (use that schmaltz)!

Tortilla Soup: toss in some diced roasted Ortega chilies, diced tomatoes, a little cumin, chili powder, some tortillas strips, shredded Mexican cheese cilantro and diced avocado to garnish

Chicken and Dumplings: grab a box of Bisquick, mix up some dumplings, plop them in to steam and yum!

Asian Noodle Soup: throw in some rice noodles, cilantro, fresh ginger, bean sprouts, a splash of fish sauce, soy sauce, chopped scallions, maybe some chili paste and a squeeze of lime

Minestrone-Style Soup: add big fat rigatoni, white or kidney beans, diced tomato, oregano, shredded Swiss chard or other veggies on hand,chopped garlic and lots of Parmesan sprinkled on top

Last Sunday, I just happened to be going to see a friend who was down for the count so I thought I'd fill a Mason jar, steaming hot right off the stove and bring it on by. This time, I had some ABC pasta on hand and decided to toss it in...I thought it might make her smile. It did.

Chicken Soup

Place in a large stock pot and cover with water:

• 1 roasting chicken
• about 4 stalks of celery
• about 4 carrots
• about 1 onion
• maybe a handful of parsley stems if you have them
• a few whole peppercorns
• a bay leaf or two

Bring to a boil, skim off scum, reduce heat to simmer until chicken is cooked through (about 45 minutes). Remove chicken, cool, remove meat from bones, reserve meat, add bones back to pot and simmer for a couple of more hours until stock is rich and concentrated. Strain stock, chill and skim fat.


Saute in a large pot:

• 2 Tablespoons olive oil
• 2 Tablespoons butter
• about 2 cups of diced celery
• about 2 cups of diced carrots
• about 1 cup of diced onion
• about 1/2 Tablespoon dried crumbled thyme

Add:

• reserved shredded chicken

Season with :

• a big handful of chopped fresh parsley
• salt and pepper to taste

Enjoy in good health...L'Chaim!