Rain dripping from the leaves of autumn trees, a drop in temperature signaling the start of sweater weather, and SEC college football. Fall has arrived. It's time to dust off the chili recipes and make a skillet of cornbread.
It wasn't until I was a young adult that I discovered that chili did not always come from a can. I guess I should have realized that as deer chili had been included in family potluck dinners. But it was my friend, L, who opened my eyes to the wonders of homemade chili when she shared with me her grandmother's recipe.
In more recent years, I've discovered that making chili has become an art. No longer does chili require beef and tomatoes. Substitutions include chicken, turkey, pork, or no meat at all. Other ingredients include navy beans, red beans, pinto beans, corn, carrots, parsnips... and even coffee. Anything goes.
Our church will soon be hosting a chili supper to honor our local emergency responders. It will be a wonderful opportunity to try various recipes while showing appreciation to those who protect and serve our community. My contribution will be cornbread. When it comes to cornbread, we like it moist and buttery but not too sweet. It's made from scratch (sorry, Jiffy) and tastes best when made in Mom's old iron skillet. Here is my recipe should you like to try it:
1 c. yellow cornmeal
1 c. all-purpose flour
2 Tbsp. sugar
1 Tbsp. baking powder
1 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt
1 egg
1-1/2 c. buttermilk (perhaps a little more to make a smooth, thick batter)
1/4 c. butter flavored Crisco
- Preheat oven to 425 degrees
- Place Crisco in iron skillet and place in oven to melt
- Mix dry ingredients in a large mixing bowl
- Add buttermilk and stir well to mix
- Make a well in the batter and add the egg. Mix well.
- Remove the hot skillet from oven, tilting to coat bottom and sides of the skillet. Pour hot shortening into the cornbread batter and mix well.
- Pour the batter into the skillet.
- Bake at 425 degrees for 25 minutes.
Automobile license plates once identified Arkansas as the "Land of Opportunity". It was officially changed to "The Natural State" in 1995 and, although the lawmakers considered changing it back, the nickname remains. I believe "The Natural State" is an appropriate nickname for this home of mine.
I was born in Little Rock and recall fond memories of traveling to the state capital at Christmastime to view the nativity. The diamond lakes provide plenty of opportunities for fishing and swimming. Fields filled with cotton, rice, and soybeans are common in the eastern part of the state as well as ponds filled with catfish and minnows.
In Southeast Arkansas, the pines grow tall, Main Street boasts lovely old homes, and the town square remains a shopping destination. What I love most about Southeast Arkansas are the clear starlit nights, the gentle breezes, and the Spanish moss hanging on the trees of Lake Enterprise. I never made it to Ding Dong Daddy Days in Dumas although I still staunchly defend Arkansas' claim to the song over that of Texas. OK, so maybe that has more to do with the old Arkansas/Texas rivalry.
Washington State Park in Southwest Arkansas in early spring is a daffodil paradise. It's also home to the Bowie knife. Although I have canoed down the tranquil Buffalo River, I've not tried the Cossatot River. "Skull crusher" just doesn't give me a warm, fuzzy feeling.
Northwest Arkansas is home to Tyson, JB Hunt, and Walmart. Booths at the War Eagle Craft Fair exhibit local treasures while Rosie the Riveter resides alongside other works of art at Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art. There is no shortage of dining options and some of my favorites include the Monte Ne Chicken House which serves family style chicken dinners, the Dairy Freeze (aka the Hiwasse Hilton) in Hiwasse where a juicy cheeseburger and battered onion rings await, and The Wooden Spoon in Gentry where the Friday evening line is long for fried catfish and Snicker Pie.
Home is The Natural State... whether it's north, south, east, west, or central. And as Dorothy said, "There's no place like home."
"The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of His hands." Psalm 19:1
Music has always been a part of my life. I was reared in a family where singing around the piano was a favorite pastime. Several of my uncles played piano by ear and their repertoire included a lively tune they called "Hot Cabbage". My family gathers annually for a reunion and we always enjoy gospel singing on Saturday night. It's a warm time of fellowship when our relationships extend beyond brothers, sisters, moms, dads, sons, daughters, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, and nephews to brothers and sisters in Christ.
I'm generally referred to as a contralto as my singing voice is quite low. For many years this was a challenge as some believed that women should sing only soprano or alto. I was blessed to sing in a Texas church choir with a director who allowed me to sing tenor, and bass whenever I had bronchitis, with the men.
Then my hearing loss threw me a curve ball. I stopped singing publicly about 12 years ago after my husband nudged me one Sunday morning in church and told me that I was singing off key. You notice that I say "publicly". I still sang in the shower and in the garage (great acoustics). The dogs didn't howl or run for the doggy door, so I considered home a safe environment in which to sing.
I joined the church choir two years ago after Pastor D, our music director, promised that he would not hesitate to let me know if I had regressed to singing off-key and loud. As to the latter, my husband says I have one volume: LOUD! Since then, I've re-learned much of the music fundamentals I had forgotten and enjoy worshipping God through music. God has blessed so many in our church with musical talent, some vocally and others instrumentally, which they humbly present to the Lord as an offering of praise.
I am so looking forward to music practice tomorrow now that I have new hearing aids. If you see me sitting quietly with my eyes closed, do not think that I'm napping. I'll be soaking in the sound of music.
"Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all ye lands. Serve the Lord with gladness: come before His presence with singing." Psalm 100:1-2
I recall when our television options expanded from ABC, CBS, and NBC to include PBS. Four channels! Amazing! Times have changed and technology continues to evolve. Now my car tells me when I'm low on gasoline, some disembodied female dictates directions to my destination, and social media has provided avenues to re-connect with old friends and keep up with family news. Sometimes technology is a good thing. Sometimes I'm not so sure. While those four channels cost nothing more than the electricity to power the television, we now pay a hefty price for over 100 channels when we find only a few worth watching.
Today I was introduced to new technology that I find fascinating: Bluetooth enabled hearing aids. I don't have the knack of it yet. I'm a low tech girl in a high tech world. I see possibilities with this technology, though, and am looking forward to learning how to pair them (I'm learning the lingo) with my laptop so I can hear YouTube gardening videos without my husband fleeing the room.
Thanks to the knowledge and expertise of Dr. M., I used these gadgets to participate in several telephone conversations today. I also listened to music from my cell phone. The clarity of sound is amazing. When the Bluetooth is engaged, the hearing aid speakers turn off so that ambient noise is not competing with the audio. More surprising is that others can hear me through a little box I wear.
I realized tonight, however, that I should be careful where and how I use this new technology. In anticipation of a lovely Italian dinner, I stopped at the local grocery store to purchase a loaf of garlic bread. While at the check-out, it occurred to me to call home and ask my husband to pre-heat the oven. I removed my cell phone from my purse long enough to hit the speed dial before returning it to its designated compartment. When my husband answered the call, I went directly into the conversation. Now I don't know if I called him "honey," "darling," or "baby." I DO know, however, that the male cashier who was scanning my purchase glanced at me inquisitively several times. I suppose I did look strange. So I'm putting everyone on notice. If you see me walking around seemingly talking to myself, don't worry. I'm just hearing voices... clear, non-metallic sounding, real voices. And it's a good thing.
"Bless the Lord, O my soul: and all that is within me, bless His holy name." Psalm 103:1
As a child, I thought I was extra special. While many classmates had two sets of grandparents, I had three. It was not until I was a bit older that I understood that, when I was a year old, God had taken my mother home to heaven after a battle with cancer. But God didn't plan for me to grow up without a maternal influence. He gave me Mom, a lovely, courageous lady who loved God, had spunk, was creative and artistic, and taught me to embrace adventure.
So I grew up with three grandmothers, each one with unique gifts and talents. But they all had one thing in common... they could cook!
The Frontier Woman must have known my Grandma S for Grandma S not only cooked but preserved any fruit and vegetable that was grown on their property by the bayou. The peaches picked from trees in the back yard became peach cobbler and peach preserves. Berries picked along the roadsides became jelly or jam. Yellow squash from her garden was preserved in glass canning jars for the winter day when the water was drained, the squash patted dry, battered, and fried. Fried squash in winter... a southerner's delight. I wish I remembered all that she taught me. I'm intimidated by the thought of canning food. I bought a pressure cooker a few years ago with the intent of canning vegetables from my garden. It's still in its unopened box on a shelf.
Grandma G always made a Thanksgiving dinner to remember. Her cornbread dressing was amazing! If I didn't make it to her house for Thanksgiving, she would freeze some turkey and dressing for me to enjoy during my next visit. After I married, she shared with me her recipes for cornbread dressing and her 7-Day Pickles (yes, I have a crock too... and I actually use it). It was Grandma G who taught me to take any boxed cake mix and substitute buttermilk for water and add a teaspoon of baking soda to make a deliciously moist cake.
When it came to soup, though, Grandma D made the best vegetable beef soup that ever touched my tongue. She gave me her recipe years ago. It was in general terms. There were no measurements... a bit of this and some of that. We affectionately call it "Grandma's Soup" and anyone who knows of Grandma's Soup understands the reference.
Autumn and soup go together so it's not surprising that I enjoyed Grandma's Soup today. Now I'm not one to hoard a good thing, so I'll share the recipe with you. I'm like Grandma D when it comes to measurements, so use more or less as you wish. I do take a shortcut with the use of frozen vegies.
Grandma's Soup
1 medium onion, diced
2 pounds ground beef
1/4 c. ketchup
1 Tbsp. Worcestershire sauce
1 Tbsp. beef bouillon granules
3 medium potatoes, diced
1 package frozen mixed vegetables
1 can diced tomatoes
1 large can/bottle tomato juice
Cook the beef and onion in a 4 qt. pot until the beef is done and the onion tender. Drain. Add ketchup, Worcestershire sauce, bouillon granules, potatoes, and enough water to cover the potatoes. Place a lid on the pot and cook until the potatoes are tender. Add the frozen mixed vegetables, a can of diced tomatoes, and the tomato juice. Season to taste. Simmer for a couple of hours to allow the flavors to blend. Enjoy!
