Out of My Mind

I grew my own zucchini this year in the SFG.

And I made this zucchini casserole that smells so good when it is baking and tastes like fall.

Summer is officially over when Ms. Brenda starts to cook again.

Cherries in Cups

You know I have a thing about cherries with stems in little cups.  Well, I have found something I like better. Stemless, pitted cherries in a glass measuring cup.

Ready to be folded into gluten free muffin batter.

Baked in reusable silicon muffin cups, served warm from the oven with chai tea.

(Reason # 192 that I'm the STP's favorite wife!)

FYI--I purchased the measuring cup and the baking cups at yard sales this summer.  Two things on my mental 'want list' that I was not willing to pay full price for.  Because of my new job I had a short garage sale season, but it was a good one. 

Wrap It In Bacon

A week of firsts.  The Goob got his first hunting license.  A one day bird license.  I could only be more surprised if he had ridden his bike to hunt the pheasants. 

This presented another first.   Cooking pheasant.   (Thanks to the STP I didn't have to clean the pheasant and I have new feathers in my fly tying arsenal.) 
And I just wish Mary Baron could see me now. 

Everything I know about roasting a pheasant I learned from the internet.  And I learned a lot.  For instance, I learned how to bard the bird. 

For your benefit, I will explain bard.  Bard was formerly a person who composed and recited epic or heroic poems, often while playing the harp, lyre, or the like.  Bard can be ornamental armor for a horse, or a Celtic Poet, or a piece of larding bacon or pork fat placed on game or lean meat during roasting to prevent drying out.
So I recited all the Celtic poems I know (which amounted to a man going up a hill with all the strawberries) while I wrapped the birds in bacon.  And put them in the roaster breast side down.  And then I photographed it.

Because this was either going to be really good or really bad.
I adjusted the bird and the oven temperature a couple of times and then I put the bird in a tent. 

And while it rested I made rosemary roasted potatoes and a spinach salad.  The anticipation was building along with the aroma of bacon.   The dog could hardly wait.

The recipe online also suggested I serve it with a rustic bread and a light dessert. Really?  I mean some people must have nothing better to do than cook.  All I can say is good thing pheasant season is not in the summer. 

In conclusion, any meal which includes a pound of bacon gets 4 stars in our house.

When Life Gives You Lemons

You can make lemon meringue pie.  No, really.  If I can do it, you can do it. 

Since the arrival of 6 lemons in our last bountiful basket the Goob has been plotting a pie.  I have been plotting how not to make a pie.  How about lemon bars?  Lemonade?  Just putting the lemons in a clear glass container or a bowl on the table? 
I was not sure if I had ever made a lemon meringue pie.  Half-way through the meringue spreading, I was sure I had never made a lemon meringue pie.  I would remember this.  (Although maybe I had it filed deep in my memory file.  Under "Things I never want to do again.")

The Goob crossed 'zesting a lemon' off the list of life skills he should aquire before leaving home.  And he learned that 'stirring constantly' and 'remove from heat' are important instructions to follow.  And we both were surprised to learn that the yellow color of lemon pie filling comes from egg yolks, not lemons as we had suspected.  Also, making a lemon meringue pie takes about three days.  And only uses 3 lemons.  But it is so doable.  And so much better made with fresh lemons than with a box of lemon pudding/pie filling.  In fact, it is downright delicious.  I was so impressed with myself and my pie baking skill (note 'shiny', 'peaks' and 'lightly browned' in relation to my meringue!) that I was thinking of changing my last name to Crocker.  Then I remembered that I had unrolled the crust from a box labelled "Pillsbury."

We have three lemons left.  I am going to make them into lemonade before the Goob gets home from school.