Ms Cook’s Table

The more we sweat in peace, the less we bleed in war. Vijaya Lakshmi Pandit

Early on I put stock in the peace symbol. Somewhere in the 1960s, I zeroed in on the V sign. With extension of the index and middle fingers, the outward palm motion would, without a doubt (at least in my mind), prompt tranquil reactions, if only by members of the counterculture.

Unbound by language, the sign has since been universally accepted as a declaration of goodwill and is as convenient for personal use as our own hands. Theoretically my hunch about the token was that its timely use could soothe the savage beast in ourselves and in others. With hope, I remained confident that if tested, the little V would bring all parties to their knees in equanimity.

Even though I am supplied with an earth suit that some might call namby pamby, I was convinced that I packed the only heat I would need should hostile territory arise. Arise it did. That would be about 1995 as I unconsciously pulled out of the Whitthorne Middle School parking lot into oncoming traffic at about 6 miles an hour.

In defense of my namby pamby self, one of my daughters had dropped some sort of emergency topic whose response required utter attention and brilliance. Well, it had been a long day. The hostile bell of unfriendly territory rang out over the ‘life is a school’ air and a woman of rage swept past us with full body engagement of the car horn.

As we timidly followed her speed demonish vehicle to the next light, a hush fell over our car. In remorse, I accepted the responsibility of my poor choice with gratitude that the heart stopping consequences were over. Or so I prayed.

The stoplight was interminable so much so to stir the crazed woman’s ire. She leaped from her car window and as she approached our hunkered down bodies, I looked at my girls, put the car into park and pulled out my peace symbol.

Needless to say, she retreated in shock, but I like to think that we were stunned beyond words and there we remain in memory with something to think about. To this day, if I had her name and address, I would take a pudding in offering to seal the treaty. I’d be optimistic of a peaceful outcome because tapioca is good for what ails.

Tapioca Crockery

2 quarts (half gallon) milk
1 ½ cups sugar
1 cup small pearl tapioca
3 large eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Use a 4 quart slow cooker.
Combine the milk, sugar, and tapioca pearls in the stoneware.
Stir well to mix.
Cover and cook on high for 2 to 5 hours.
The tapioca should be soft, but it won’t be thick.
In a mixing bowl, whisk the eggs with the vanilla.
Measure out ½ cup of the hot milk and tapioca mixture and whisk it into the eggs.
Add another ½ cup of the hot milk and tapioca, and whisk that into the eggs, too.
Then add yet another.
Pour the contents of the bowl into the stoneware, and whisk until it is all thoroughly combined.
Cover and cook on high for 30 to 45 minutes, or until the tapioca is pudding-like in consistency.
Unplug the cooker and let the pudding sit for about 1 hour to cool.
Ladle into serving-serve bowls and chill in the refrigerator or eat it, hot, right out of the crock.

Bend and stretch
Reach for the stars
Stand on tippie toes
Oh so high
Romper Room

New Year’s Eve brings on a bit of melancholia for me. I understand that I am not alone. Maybe it’s because we have enough awareness that life is a brief proposition and true celebratory benefit would call for deep introspection and conversation. Alas, the current model involves dropping large objects and searching for altered states.

Some of the best New Year’s Eves can be spent with just one, dear one. Multiple memories serve visions of a young, best friend (Dr. Susan Gray). We would commit to a jar of dill pickles while listening to a countdown of the top 100. Introspection and conversation was limited. Intoxicated by sparking apple cider, we would jump up and down; our friendship pledged for another year.

My requirements are still simple when it comes to New Year’s Eve – a big hug and kiss from Dalton sets me straight. We toast the dandy attempts that we’ve made to traverse the challenges of the year before. I like that introspection and conversation are finally part of our tradition. It helps.

With so many years behind me, I’m beginning to understand that all around us are mystical clues, topics that can jump-start a better version of ourselves. I’ve noted that such themes show up when we least expect it. They have grabbed me by my crepey neck to say….have you ever considered this?

This year one such clue presented itself in the Columbia Daily Herald. A small press release from Scarritt Bennett in Nashville, announced a series entitled, Essential Conversations. With limited information, I bit and soon found myself stealing glances at a roomful of strangers while holding a lovely plate of food.

Then Rabbi Rami Shapiro spoke to the purpose of Essential Conversations, a yearlong sequence involving the language of spirituality. He read the perky story about Abraham’s energetic push to serve strangers in Genesis 18.

Afterwards, the group was invited to comment on the first discussion theme – hospitality. Stories unfurled with intelligence and fervor.

Rabbi Rami believes, as I do, in the power of conversation to transform. Such thoughts are not original, but I’ll bet in this era of righteous, an open hearted willingness to pull up to a table of good food and conversation would spark all sort of new insights and in some cases, reconciliation.

God knows that we could use some for the coming year.

Black-eyed peas and barley
A riff of hoppin’ john

8 ounces dried black-eyed peas (fresh when possible)
6 cups of water
¼ cup pearl barley
4 cups water
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 medium onions, chopped
1 smoked ham hock (12 ounces)
1 tablespoon chopped garlic
2 bay leaves’1 ½ teaspoon ground allspice
8 cups Chicken Broth
¼ cup shredded coconut
Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
¼ cup fresh lime juice
¼ cup chopped parsley
4 ripe tomatoes, diced when in season or 1 can of diced Muir Glen tomatoes

Pick through the peas, discarding any stones, and rinse.
Place the peas in a bowl, cover with water and soak overnight.
Drain and rinse the peas.
Place the barley in a medium size saucepan and cover with the water.
Bring to a boil over high heat, reduce the heat to medium, and simmer uncovered until tender but not mushy, 45 minutes.
Drain the barley and set aside.
Heat the oil in a large heavy pot over low heat.
Add the onions and cook until wilted.
Add the peas, ham hock, garlic, bay leaves, allspice, and chicken broth.
Bring to a boil, reduce the heat and simmer uncovered until the peas are tender, about 45 minutes, occasionally skimming off the foam that rises to the surface.
Add a bit more broth if the peas seem dry.
Remove the ham hock and let stand until cool enough to handle.
Shred any meat from the bones and return it to the peas.
Add the barley and coconut, season with salt and pepper and stir gently to combine.
Before serving, heat through and fold in the lime juice and parsley.
Serve in bowls topped with chopped fresh tomatoes or in the winter add canned tomatoes after adding the barley and coconut.
Can be made ahead and stored in the refrigerator for up to 2 days.

RESOURSES

Essential Conversations
www.scarrittbennett.org
1st and 3rd Wednesdays of the month
615-320-1182

We’ll all go out to meet her when she comes
Comin’ Round The Mountain

Have you ever encountered a cheese straw that you didn’t admire? Seems like everyone has a great aunt or grandmother who dabbled with a singular recipe that invited raves. To top such a family treasure – the cheese straw has a pedigree.

Most food historians agree that some semblance of cheese, butter and flour has been around since ye ole family party pusher offered a tray of beverages. Evidence has it that the first published recipe, Cayenne Cheeses, appeared in The Book of Household Management, a manual printed in London in 1861.

Cheese straws are particularly appealing housed in a tin because they can await service, poised as a partner to the cocktail or employed as a delicious treat for the milk and cookie set.

Which reminds me of my own grandmother’s prideful production involving a newfangled cookie press, sighs and serious debate about the degree of spice required. In her case, plenty, to combat a heavy hand used to set up the complimentary highball.

At the time, such details were not important to me; I liked them nearly as much as her pecan pie and besides, they were enchanting pieces of real food that I could place on my dolls’ plates.

The thought of homemade cheese straws sprung out of a long winter’s nap this season while considering the granddaughter experience and then lamenting that I had never taken a version of cheese straws for my own.

After floating my brother in law Harbour Mounger’s keeper statement – “What to do, what to do,” I settled into review of a few weathered cookbooks and realized that the cheese straw, showing up in cookbooks shortly after the Civil War, is primarily a southern device whether they present in strips, rounds or ridge backs.

In the end, one recipe prevailed. The chosen approach honored my reverence for virtuous ingredients and was literally as southern as a copy of Garden and Gun magazine. I found too, that whatever the anointed cheese straw blueprint maybe, a portion of Gruyere cheese adds kick, a soft southern flour like White Lily (less gluten) is best and the thinner you roll them, the flakier.

Obsessed, I know, but then such behavior is forgivable when the object is for sharing. Today I whipped up another post holiday batch. Gingerly the lot will be packed under some wax paper inside a Grandma style tin. The gift will serve as good company while I make way for Chicago, the imminent birthplace of dearest granddaughter number two.

Her mother and sister will need reinforcements from the south for the days to come.

Cheese Straws

Devised by Brian Noyes of Red Truck Bakery in Warrenton, Virginia, this blue ribbon recipe takes time to prepare and for best flavor do so at least a day before serving. Freezes beautifully.

1 cup of all-purpose flour (White Lily is recommended)
½ stick unsalted butter, slightly softened
½ teaspoon salt
½ pound shredded sharp orange cheddar cheese
¼ pound shredded white cheese (equal parts Gruyere and parmigiano Reggiano)
1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper
¼ to ½ teaspoon red pepper flakes
1 egg yolk

Optional for garnish:
2 Tablespoon chopped fresh rosemary
Sea salt

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
In the bowl of a food processor, add all the ingredients except rosemary and sea salt.
Pulse repeatedly until the dough becomes soft and starts to gather into a ball.
On a floured surface, with a floured rolling pin, roll the dough out into a rectangle approximately 11 inches wide by 8 inches tall; the dough should be ¼ inch thick.
Fold the dough in half (left side onto right side) and re-roll; continue this for several layers (this adds flakiness).
Finally, re-roll the dough to 11 inches wide and 8 inches tall.
With a spatula, carefully lift the dough onto an ungreased baking sheet with the longer 11 inch side at the top and bottom.
Square off all sides with a knife to create clean edges, and cut the dough into vertical strips, each a bit less than ½ inch wide.
Then cut each strip in half horizontally, creating approximately 40 cheese straws.
With a knife, gently move the straws to separate.
Sprinkle with chipped rosemary and sea salt.
Bake for 20 minutes or until just slightly golden.
Cool briefly, and then move to a rack until cooled.