Mom's Wild Rice Casserole

 

Last year this season, from the beginning of fall on through to the new year, went by in such a hurry. Between gatherings and performances, shopping and getting it all done, there wasn't much time left for soaking it all in. This wonderful season with early nights all aglow in twinkle lights, where even the stop lights seem to join the festivities on those raining dark evenings when you have to dart out to get marshmallows for hot chocolate. There's a certain mystical magic in the air. Maybe a remnant of childlike anticipation, or maybe its a deeper tuning in to the changes within ourselves and our communities, or maybe it IS just magic. This year I'm turning my focus to being present during the fall and winter months. To not let it all go by in a blur. To remember to give thanks for each moment and to fully absorb each day. To let the transitions take a hold of me and prepare me for the new year. Part of this being present, I've discovered, is preparing traditional family meals on normal every day evenings. Cooking and baking are grounding activities, reminding me to take delight in the simple everyday moments. This is a recipe that my mom (or another family relative) has prepared every Thanksgiving for at least as long as I can remember. And unlike the Spinach Casserole that took some time to grow on me, I've loved this Wild Rice Casserole since I was little. It's earthy and delicious and will fill your kitchen with rich buttery warmth.

WILD RICE CASSEROLE

1/2 cup butter (I use 1/3 cup)
1 cup wild rice, well rinsed and drained
1/2 cup slivered almonds
2 T. chopped onions or chives
1/2 pound fresh mushrooms, trimmed and sliced
3 cups chicken broth (or vegetable broth for vegetarians)

Sauté first 5 ingredients for about 8-10 minutes, stirring almost constantly. Transfer to 2 quart casserole and add broth. Cover tightly and bake in a pre-heated 325 degree (F) oven for 1 1/2 to 2 hours.

Hallooooooooweeeeeen

MONSTER FINGERS A LA BLOOD

INGREDIENTS

01) pretzel sticks

02) white melting chocolate

03) food coloring (green, blue or purple, or perhaps you prefer human flesh colored, and red)

04) sliced almonds

METHOD

Break your pretzel stick in half and set aside. Melt your chocolate according to package instructions. Stir in food coloring and pour melted chocolate into a narrow glass for easy dipping. Dip, twirl, drip the broken pretzel end and place on a sheet of parchment paper. Press an almond sliver on top where the nail would be. For the bloody cuticle effect, I squeezed a small drop of red food coloring before pressing the nail on. My mom suggested later that I could have scratched in knuckle wrinkles with a tooth pick. You should definitely do that!

And that's it! Easier than pie.

Look at that bloody deliciousness! No, not the photo below. That's just disgusting.

There was a period of about 4 years when I was living in the Ozarks where Halloween was spent tucked in a hollow along the Buffalo River. We'd hike along a forest floor covered in a thick blanket of leaves searching for whatever camp suited our fancy, be it a rock overhang or an old homestead with nothing left but a stone fireplace and chimney or just nestled in a grove of oaks and hickories bedded down in leaves at least a foot deep. Having grown up in California, I'd never experienced the changing of the seasons the way I did during my time lived in Missouri. Those deep valleys rooted with the most brilliant array of colors. I loved being out there in the Buffalo Wilderness, lost for a few days in the middle of the map (sometimes figuratively, sometimes literally), immersed in the beauty of the passing of time. Fall in the Ozarks was such an adventure and I'm so grateful for those experiences and the way they have forever rearranged me.

Fall in California is different. It's slow to come on and slow to shift into winter. The seasons here gradually fade into the other almost imperceptibly, until one day you realize it's barely 40 degrees outside. Ha! I know, I know. We're so spoiled, it's pretty ridiculous. I had to go look that up, just to be certain, and sure enough in the Central Coast region over the course of a year, the temperature typically varies from 41F to 84F and is rarely below 33F or above 93F. I'll just stop talking, right there. But truth be told, I liked the extreme weather. I'm even a little envious of it now. It had a gravitas that was simultaneously humbling and empowering. That reminded me how small I was and at the mercy of the unknowns of a world spinning through space on its axis. And I wore it like a badge of honor. Those breathtaking fall vistas and brutal icy winters carved out a piece of my soul that I'm having trouble filling in these evergreen and ever dry 60F days.

Wait. What IS THAAAT? Pitter patter on the roof! Ohp, it stopped. Remember those California winters when it rained non-stop for days? Here's hoping we have one of those! Without the mudslides and flooding of course!

Anywho, I guess my point is, Fall, you have my heart. Go easy on her, will ya? She likes snuggling by a fire with warm mugs of honey chai tea, knitting projects and endless episodes of Deadwood while raindrops plip plop on the roof. Can you handle that, Fall? Much appreciated. 

So. Halloween my friends, was AHHHMAZING. Imagine, Freddy on the big screen behind you (and peeking out the window), Jack the Ripper strung up on a cross out in the walkway, zombies hiding in the bushes, monster fingers served up with a side of blood, throngs of little Elsas crying and clinging to their mothers while reluctantly holding out their candy sacks. Muahahahaha, it was a glorious dark and spooky night. JUST KIDDING YOU GUYS. We did NOT scare little children......on purpose. They had to be at least 8 years old or out past 9:00 to warrant the triple-threat zombie, Jack, Freddy jump-out. We're not heartless, guys. 

Chateau Boo in all its glory. 

Careful folks, he's real.

From Chateau Boo, a few of us brave souls decided to trek on over to this neighborhood boo crew haunted house where we got our comeuppance for terrifying the neighborhood children. This whole operation is volunteer and donation based. Every year the owners of this very normal suburban home transform their front and side yard into a bonafide haunted castle in a different spooktacular scene each year. This year it was a mine, replete with moving box cars, dying men in tar pits, a real live Big Foot, and the creepiest woman with swollen fingers sitting on a chair in the middle of the walkway who grabbed at you as you went by. I screamed no less than around every corner. It was truly magical.

And then to wrap up the holiday weekend, there was Bridge, the greatest card game known to man. And nope, not a single one of us playing was over 80. 

Not a bad supporting hand my friends. 

THE END.

soup's on: stories about autumn

Wait. I started a blog? Good grief, WHAT was I thinking? Something along the lines of pretty pictures, documenting life, pushing myself into a creative outlet. I knew there'd be growing pains. A mixture of embarrassment, not good enough, this is lame growing pains. But if puberty taught me anything, it's that there's only one way to grow up: the hard way. No wait, that can't be right. Actually puberty wasn't that mean to me. It was the college years that really dropped me on my ass, kicked me in the gut, smeared dirt on my face, and then held a mirror up for me to see. Ahhh, good times. Anyways, the point is I have grown. I have learned. And I make very different mistakes than I used to. Wink wink. So as it was in my college years, so shall it be in the beginning of this blog. We'll get through it. Someday, down the road, I'll be able to look back and see a record of the path I walked. Just in the mean time, don't go telling anyone I have a blog.

Look out, there's about to be a new stretch mark in the making (am I reaching on this metaphor, this gross metaphor, too far?) and a whole lotta pictures.

I'm nostalgic for Fall in the worst way.

The vibrant yellows and oranges and fiery reds. The crisp morning air mixing with smoke rising out the chimney. I want to rush out in between rains and walk the wet neighborhood sidewalks in knee-high boots as the wind carries away all the energy of the past year. I want to watch the leaves fall and twirl together in the street for one last dance. I want to kick off my galoshes on the porch next to the pumpkins and enter the embrace of a warm home on a cold rainy day. I want to cuddle up with a blanket and a book on the couch counting my blessings as sounds of family echo through the hallways.

I want to feel Fall in my heart and all around me. To be made stronger in each fallen leaf. To feel the beauty of death and rebirth in my core. I want the struggles of the past year to be swept away with the wind, buried in the snow and transformed in the spring. I want to marvel at the ease in which a tree lets go of its leaves. Unfortunately, the central coast isn't putting on much of a show this year.

Ugh, it hurts. Nostalgia, you wicked thing.

^^ Hey here's some color  ^^

 

I'm happy to report that it rained a couple of days ago. And then the sun came out and dried up all the rain and the itsy bitsy spider and all of her large creepy friends found their way into my humble abode.

Blessings aren't at all like chickens. You should count them often and repetitively and especially before they hatch. Just something I've been thinking about.

Sure is pretty in these thar them hills, bro. 

Seasonally speaking, the farm fields round here know what's up. Here's my recommendation for beating the Where's Fall Blues. Grab all the ugly root vegetables and throw them in a pot. I call this my...

CLEAN OUT THE REFRIGERATOR/PANTRY SOUP

INGREDIENTS /

ONE / the contents of your fridge.

(beets, dinosaur kale, carrots, potatoes, fresh herbs)

TWO / the contents in your pantry.

(pasta, vegetable broth, dried herbs)

METHOD /

ONE / peel everything.

TWO / combine all found items into a large pot on the stove over medium heat.

THREE / forget about pot on the stove for about an hour.

FOUR / serve delicious soup.

FIVE / note modifications for next time.

The last of the pot. Extra pink. Light on kale. 

Worth noting: Go eeeeasy on the pasta. Actually, just replace all pasta with more dinosaur kale. It got to the point where if I threw little cheese on top, it became a casserole, which was delicious, but not what I was going for. Aiming for more chicken noodle and less casserole. 

And oh yeah, Happy Halloween ya turkeys.