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This time of year I'm drawn to apple orchards like a fly to honey. So, as I was driving home from a recent trip to Minneapolis, it was no surprise when my car took a quick, unexpected turn to the left onto a winding country road. As I made the turn, I noticed, in small print on a homemade apple sign poking from the ditch, just under the arrow, it read "10 miles." The sun was shining brightly on the jewel-colored autumn leaves as I wound around curves and drove up and down rolling hills. The scenery was beautiful, but I went 10 miles and never saw an apple tree.
When the air becomes crisp and summer turns to fall, the Germans host a raucous event in Munich to mark the change of seasons. I've thought about what fun it would be to attend the festivities that, this year, begin Sept. 18 and continue through Oct. 4.
The sudden change in weather, from sunny and warm to cool, wet and dreary, put me in the mood to start "cleaning out." You know, cleaning out my clothes closet, cleaning out the refrigerator and cleaning out the kitchen pantry. I uncovered all kinds of things I had forgotten about. A flat plastic box of crystallized ginger was hidden way in the back of a pull-out shelf in my pantry, buried under a bag of aebleskiver mix and some semolina flour. A friend had given me the spicy-sweet dried slices of ginger late last winter.
At first glance of the cover of "The Minnesota Table: Recipes for Savoring Local Food Throughout the Year," one might think it's a book that would appeal to only those who live in Minnesota. But as the old adage goes, you can't judge a book by its cover. A quick peek inside of the book, just long enough to read a few paragraphs here and there, peruse one of the seasonal recipes and stop briefly at the beautiful illustrations, filled me with feelings of comfort, just like a cozy meal with family on a chilly autumn evening. Essays about the food adventures experienced as the two Twin Cities a
My granddaughters were talking with me recently about going back to school, wondering who their teachers would be and which of their friends might be in their classes this year. I think I was the one who steered the conversation to the topic of school lunch. They have a choice each day to eat the lunch the school offers or bring their own food from home. They often choose to bring a meal from home. School lunch doesn't always appeal to them. When I was in grade school, I was lucky there was a woman in the kitchen who loved children as much as she loved to cook for them.
Many years ago, when my husband and I bought our first house, I couldn't believe our luck when we moved in just as the beautiful vegetable garden in the small back yard was profusely producing and ready for harvest.
According to registered dietitian Diane Welland, there's no better way to take care of yourself and your family than by putting healthful, nutritious, clean food on the table. Clean food? Yes. Clean food is food that is free of chemicals, additives and preservatives.
Soft, succulent red raspberries are peeking from the plants growing in the ditch along my road. As I walk down my driveway, I pick a few of the bright wild berries with their velvety skin. I slide the sweet, fragrant fruit right into my mouth and as I do, the delectable juiciness of the berries and the earthy fragrance of the woods remind me of a time so many years ago when I attended a Girl Scout day camp.
Chopped ripe tomatoes, freshly snipped herbs, garlic and onions toppling over a slice of slightly toasted baguette is a summer treat I love. It's called bruschetta (bruce-ketta). I first learned of bruschetta when I watched television chef Mario Batali prepare the traditional Italian appetizer years ago on public television. Originating in the central band of Italy, basic bruschetta was always the same - 1/2 inch thick slice of homemade bread, usually an unsalted chewy type of bread with a good crust, at least two days old.
Just thinking of plump cream puffs stuffed with sweet cream as light as air makes my mouth water. Mounds of dough rich with eggs and butter expand with air like little balloons as they bake in a hot oven. When they cool, they can be split in half, their hollow shells filled with whipped cream, custard or ice cream and then sandwiched back together, the filling seeping out of the seam. I think cream puffs were enjoying a heyday in the 1960s and '70s. I remember my mom and her friends making them often.