30.0 A Little Thanksgiving

Starring Erin, Mike and Sarah
Filmed on Location in Beautiful Downtown Sellwood
Soundtrack: Poems, Prayer & Promises by John Denver

“How long it’s been since yesterday and what about tomorrow?”

Erin’s intro: If I had to pick my favorite thing about Thanksgiving Dinner, I'd pick the leftover mini-sandwiches on rolls. We always use Rhodes rolls, they're in the frozen section, and I think they make the sandwich amazing. Actually I prefer these sandwiches to the Thanksgiving meal its self. Maybe it's just the nostalgia.

Everyone has their own Thanksgiving traditions – this only occurred to me as I got older, of course. We used to have a Turkey Bowl in the pasture. Football, with a break to listen to “Alice's Restaurant” at noon, followed by more football, followed by more food than humans should ever consume in one sitting. Afterwards, we’d lie on the floor in front of the fire, watching movies, until (finally) late night mini leftover sandwiches! Ah, tradition!

Of course things change. We haven't had a Turkey Bowl in a long time. I'm hosting this year for the first time, so Thanksgiving will evolve. We'll start our own traditions like families do. But I will make sure of two things: Always listen to “Alice's Restaurant”, and always save room for the mini sandwiches.

On Sunday, November 8 at 1:58pm, I put on my pajamas (well, my pajama bottoms and a Uniglo Jean-Michel Basquiat Bear t-shirt). My outside errands for the day were done. It was now time to prepare for our Pre-Thanksgiving Pretend After-Thanksgiving Leftover Meal!

Having already donned said sleepwear, I was ahead of the game. When I was younger, the Thanksgiving television viewing tradition, besides watching the Dallas Cowboys play, was the triumvirate of Giant Ape movies: King Kong, Son of Kong and Mighty Joe Young. WOR Chanel 9 showed them every year on Long Island (along with a slew of Christmas commercials).

Later in the afternoon (late afternoon, or maybe early evening, or maybe it wasn’t even Thanksgiving Day at all), we’d tune in to WPIX (that’s Ch. 11 to you old New Yorkers) to watch Laurel & Hardy in “March of the Wooden Soldiers”, which I think was officially titled “Babes in Toyland” but syndication had its way with it, and they might’ve been right, since dopey kids my age were more likely to watch a movie about wooden soldiers than babes (boy, we’re we dumb!). Can you imagine? There used to be a time when 12-year olds watched forty-year old black & white films.

Recently, Thanksgiving, as glorious as that day is, has become the “Christmas Eve” of our harvest holiday. The Day after Thanksgiving is the big day now (although, by “big”, we mean small and quiet and comfy. And our NEW television tradition entails the viewing of the “Lord of the Rings” trilogy. Erin made the startling statement that watching LOTR on a rainy day with smells of warm Thanksgiving leftovers in the air is just a notch less wondrous to her than being in Disneyland. A powerful declaration!

SETTING: The pretend morning after fake Thanksgiving. Rainy. Cold. The office is closed (in this fantasy, as opposed to “real life” where I have to “go in for a few hours”).

“That was some parade yesterday, huh? Remember when the girl from that show sang that song the kids dance to?” I mused. Despite eating everything yesterday, I’m hungry again. Is it time for lunch?

“Is it time for lunch?”

“You’re 40 years old – lunch is whenever you want it,” says Erin.

Yes, but what I meant was: is lunch being made for me? Erin knew what I meant. Presently, she and Sarah were redesigning Thanksgiving’s leftovers into phenomenally ambrosial (hence, edible) architecture.

“What are you writing about, the sandwiches?” asks Erin.

“Not yet. I haven’t written enough words about old holiday specials they’ve stopped broadcasting. “

“What’s that one with the weird Mickey Mouse?”

Surely, Erin is referring to “March of the Wooden Soldiers!” Said character resembled Disney’s ambassador. You know, it was a capuchin monkey in a costume! Monkey Mouse. But don’t ever watch the colorized version. It’s dumb. Everything colorized is dumb.

Type, type, type. Sniff, sniff. “Let’s hunt some orc!” the television calls. New traditions are forming – this is the soft thrill, the ironic promise of nostalgia: in this obsession with the past, there is the antidote of renewal. Life constantly, insistently, spools out a fresh past, the best moments of which keep us tethered to the present, and by extension, the future.

“What are you gals working on in there?” The smells were, if this is at all possible (and if it is, the pews in my new church will be hewn from self-rising rolls), even more pleasurable than their virginal releases of yesterday.

“THE BEST MEAL EVER!” they shout back.

Agreed.

Happy Thanksgiving Etcetera from the Sellwood Kitchen!

Thanksgiving Leftover Minis

Shepherd's Pie-Inspired Casserole Ingredients:(From Leftovers)

Green Bean Casserole

Carrots, Onions, Celery from stuffing if you had extra (diced)

Gravy

Turkey , diced

Stuffing

Mashed Potatoes

Sautéed Mushrooms

This can be assembled in individual ramekins, if you have them, or one large casserole dish if you don't. In the dish, place a layer of green bean casserole with sautéed mushrooms. Add a small amount of carrots, onions and celery if you have it. Then add a layer of diced turkey. Ladle a few spoonfuls of gravy over the ingredients. Next, press a layer of leftover stuffing over the top of the veggies and turkey. If you don't have leftover stuffing, whip up a box of stovetop, you won't be sorry. Finally, cover the casserole with a layer of mashed potatoes, like a shepherd's pie. Refrigerate. When ready to serve, place the mini casseroles on a baking dish in the oven at 350 degrees for about a half hour, or until hot through. Serve with Mini Sandwiches and the cutest mini apple pie in the world, or just pie.

Mini Sandwiches

Do whatever you want! Mine always include mayo, cranberry sauce, turkey, maybe stuffing, on a dinner roll. Yum!

The “In the Sellwood Kitchen” cast and crew can be contacted at: erinandmike@sellwoodkitchen.com

29.0 You're Out of Your Gourd!

Starring Erin & Mike and Kelly & Celia
Filmed on Location in Beautiful Downtown Sellwood
Soundtrack: A potpourri of jazz sides

“Song with Orange”

Autumn. Deep in it. It was raining a bit as I shuffled down Linn through a tarp of wet leaves. Earlier that afternoon, I’d fallen asleep on the couch listening to a live version of Coltrane’s “A Love Supreme”. At times my stride matched the dance of Elvin Jones’ drums. But now, through the leaves, all I could hear was the bow across Jimmy Garrison’s bass.

Our autumn began late September in Ohio’s Amish country. The town has an actual name, but I just call it “Amish Country” even though I purchased some delightful cookies from a sweet Mennonite gal. We were visiting our friends Paul & Donna, who made an appearance in the October 2008 episode of ITSK. They have opened a deli in the “big city” near them, a small town center that makes Milwaukie look like Manhattan. Donna is a terrific cook, made all the sweeter by their refusal to take any payment for our meals (which was darn middle-American of them). Also the visit marked thirty years since Paul and I had first met in grade school, and if he HAD charged me for the beef stew (which was out of this world), I would’ve thrown down my cheesecake-covered fork (also on the house) and stormed out of there!

On the Saturday of our visit, the deli participated in the town’s Scarecrow Festival. I bought a cheese-filled sausage and strolled through the fair, judging the entries on my own. “Woodstock Scarecrow” got a “thumbs up,” as did “Scarecrow Spiderman” displayed in a manner on his stake, I found myself silently musing, “Spiderman died for our sins”.

The orange and red sunsets over the cornfields of Ohio made the perfect autumnal entrance for Erin and me.

Back in Sellwood, we embraced the season. To the pumpkin patch! As luck would have it, our friends the elusive (and bitingly satirical) Kelly and Celia were also in the market for gourds. They met us at the Sellwood Kitchen.

Behold! Upon entering our humble abode one encounters the newly constructed O’Shaughnessy Public Library, five bookshelves, charmingly categorized, and containing more unread than read volumes. That’s my fault – I’m a slow reader, but a perpetual collector (though nothing suitable for the Antiques Roadshow, mind you).

Celia seemed more impressed with the library than Kelly who, reflecting on the Travel section’s proximity to the Poetry shelf, offered, “Let’s see what Whitman has to say about Paris.”

Curiously, I don’t have any Whitman.

Off to Alice’s Country Market in Damascus, not so much a pumpkin patch as a pumpkin pile, pre-picked and unmuddied, which was fine with me as I had worn my new Skechers. A hay pyramid, of the Aztec variety, displayed dozens of pumpkins on its ledges. Kelly scaled the monument and in the bright noonday sun, the silhouette looked familiar to the Tanis dig scene in “Raiders of the Lost Ark”.

It was an uneasy scaling, and indeed as she wobbled up the bales, she warned all subsequent climbers that this was not “stable hay” as she had presumed. Luckily, she descended unharmed.

Erin made the fortuitous decision to purchase a pair of butternut squash, a gourd whose playful name would serve well as a 1950’s sock hop dance, performed in tight high-waisted slacks. Later that evening she would turn squash to soup, whose shade so closely matched the color of our cat’s coat, we called it Simba Soup. Unofficially of course, because any cook or writer knows that beyond the Middle Ages, “cat” and “soup” is a poor advertisement for a hot, comforting belly-smile of a meal.


Erin’s Intro: Its autumn, you’ve got to eat this soup!

Creamy Butternut Squash Soup

2 Butternut squash
1 yellow onion, diced
4 tablespoons butter
3-4 Cups whole milk
1 can broth
1 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1 teaspoon curry powder
Salt and pepper

Cut each squash in half length wise and scoop out seeds. Coat a roasting pan with non-stick cooking spray and place the squash halves inside cut side down. Roast at 350 degrees for one hour. After squash has cooled slightly, scoop out all of the squash and throw away the skins. Bring a large stock pot to medium heat; add a small amount of oil, the butter, and the diced onion. Cook until onion is translucent, about five minutes. Add the squash, broth and half of the milk. Add seasoning and salt and pepper to taste. Using an immersion blender, blend to a smooth consistency. Add more milk to reach your desired consistency, blend again. Heat through but do not simmer. Adjust seasoning if necessary. Serve and Enjoy!

The “In the Sellwood Kitchen” cast and crew can be contacted at: erinandmike@sellwoodkitchen.com

28.0 Black Bean/White Album

Starring Erin, Mike & Sarah
Filmed on Location in Beautiful Downtown Sellwood
Soundtrack: The Beatles by the Beatles

“Half of what I say is meaningless…”

So, Erin was supposed to be baking cookies for this month’s article (the announcement of which emptied my salivary glands) but apparently something happened to the dough, and we had a TOTAL #&$%! DISASTER on our hands! Well, not on my hands – I was halfway across the room flipping through a TV Guide from November 1976. I was conjuring the autumns of my youth for this first article of the fall.

When I was a kid, in the 1970s, the fall was the best of times and the worst of times (I just made that up). School restarted, and while I always enjoyed the first few days (what with the fresh notebooks and new dungarees), the seeming endlessness of it, the unbearable distance from the next summer, marked my biological calendar for life. Even today, at September’s cusp, a strange twinge in my gut triggers a phantom panic.

Tonight it’s raining. We still have the windows open, but the telepathy of fall has sent a cool transmission. It is faint, and in the rain. The train passes through and the wind carries the call-and-response of the mournful whistle and the canine baying. I’m reminded of the outro of the Beatles’ “Good Morning, Good Morning.” You know, with the barking…

You do own Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, right? So maybe it’s not the masterpiece it’s held up to be (for my money, there weren’t enough oboes), but it’s certainly influential. Though my brother Jim vehemently disagrees, I’m more impressed with their follow-up, popularly known as the White Album. I’ve owned the LP for years (jeez, I bet I bought it around ‘86?). But I’d never owned the CD until I purchased the new re-mastered version last week.

The Beatles White Album doesn’t have much to do with soup, although the word is uttered once during “Revolution 9”. My cursory research yields this is the only reference to soup in all of the Beatles lyrics. But the White Album holds no shortage of food: “Glass Onion”, “Wild Honey Pie”, and “Savoy Truffle”. “Piggies” sets the protagonists at the dinner table; “Cry Baby Cry” tackles a royal breakfast.

Ah, my thoughts are all a’swirl! You see, with fall approaching, my nostalgia grows a thicker coat, a bit ragged and ursine with each turned page of the calendar. The Fall TV Lineup of 1982, bare trees trembling outside a library window, shopping for Halloween costumes at Richie’s Variety, and the Beatles: these are loose bits in the pockets of my autumns. Especially the Beatles. Especially the White Album.

I close my eyes and see myself crunching through the oranged maple leaves while “Rocky Raccoon” tumbles through my ears. I feel like “Mother Nature’s Son” hiking up the mountain for blackberries. I saw a “Blackbird” fly! It’s such a “Long, Long, Long” walk that when I return home, “I’m So Tired.” “’Good Night’,” I mumble as I slog to the bedroom. But I’ve forgotten something – I’m hungry! The house is a bit chilly; rain and its dark clouds banished a fair piece of heat today. I’m starving! It’s fall!

“It’s black bean soup. You want any?” asks Sarah.

“Nah, I don’t like black beans,” I reply.

“He really doesn’t,” says Erin, “but I’ll have a bowl.”

Later, I’m on the couch eating macaroni & cheese, when my eyes start burning. But in the good way; in the grilling onion way. I peer into Erin’s bowl. A dollop of pure white sour cream floats on the surface of the black bean soup. Erin takes a picture. She swirls the sour cream into the soup. For a moment, the yin and the yang appear. Then yang swallows yin. Or the other way around. Is yang the spicy one?

I try a spoonful. That’s a pretty nice soup, nice and spicy! Then a flash, like a pulse of disco and it’s fall again. The evening sky is pumpkin red. There’s a cold anticipation to the air, as if cooling its jets for the winter. The steam climbs like ivy into the high dark corners of the house. The soup at once is exquisite and comforting.

Soon, the new Fall TV season, Halloween, stuffing & gravy, Time-Life Music Christmas album commercials…

Soon the butter cookies, the apple cider, the leftover bag of Midnight Milky Ways and Snickers Dark…

For now, keep the soup simmering, and I’ll tell you about the walrus & me…


BLACK BEAN SOUP

2 cloves of garlic, crushed
1 onion, diced
1 red pepper, diced
1 green pepper, diced
Oil
Salt & pepper
1 can beef broth
3 cans black beans, rinsed
1 ½ tsp cumin
¼ tsp ginger
½ tsp coriander
Cayenne pepper
Cilantro & sour cream to top

Ina large pot on medium heat, add oil. Sautee diced onions, peppers, and crushed garlic. When softened, add beef broth, rinsed black beans, and spices. Reduce to medium-low heat and simmer covered for 10 minutes. Partially mash mixture. Simmer uncovered for 10 minutes, to thicken. Garnish with tortilla chips, sour cream and parsley. Salt & pepper to taste.

The “In the Sellwood Kitchen” cast and crew can be contacted at: erinandmike@sellwoodkitchen.com