scott hutcheson

Breakfast for Supper

Originally published in thick and hearty newspapers on July 17, 2008

Since he was just 18 when he enlisted, Blaine (far right in photo) was only 22 when he finished his four years in the military. His return to civilian life took him right back to where he had been before he joined up - his mom and dad’s house. Things picked up right where they had left off with mom doing his laundry and fixing his favorite meals. All three of them - Blaine, his mom, his dad - knew this was a short-term arrangement. A few additional months of boyhood that had been cut a bit short when he enlisted.

I got to know Blaine when I was in grad school in Tennessee. My after-class job was at a print shop and Blaine was a co-worker, saving up money for his own place. About two o’clock each afternoon, Blaine would pick up the phone to make a call. When he replaced the receiver, he would give us all a report about what his mom was making for supper that evening. This kid loved to eat and he adored his mother’s cooking.

I was a Midwestern transplant but Blaine was a native and he had the accent to prove it. His drawl never got out of second gear so whatever he said took about a third longer than it would coming from a faster-talking Yankee. “Gentleman” he would say, “Tonight it’s fried chicken.”

Blaine also had very traditional ideas about the roles of men and women. He found it perplexing that I cooked and even more so that my wife occasionally wore a baseball cap. He thought we were an odd couple indeed. I used to needle him a bit about how he was going to eat once he moved out of his folk’s place. He figured he’d find himself another women to take care of him.

Blain was always excited about dinner - chicken, fish, whatever; but about once every two weeks he would go over the top with enthusiasm. “Boys, momma’s fixin’ breakfast for supper.” Sometimes it was hotcakes, other times it was simply bacon and eggs. It didn’t really matter. Breakfast for supper was to Blaine what lasagna is to Garfield the Cat.

Although my enthusiasm doesn’t match that of my former co-worker, I too am a fan of breakfast foods for the evening meal. Sometimes we’ll go out to a restaurant that serves breakfast all day long and I’ll opt for something off the breakfast menu even when my companions go for a more dinner-like selection. At home, I’ll often cook eggs, pancakes, waffles or any other number of foods more often associated with am than pm.

As a man in my 40s I am finding myself, with increasing frequency, dispensing both solicited and unsolicited advice to men younger than me. When I find myself talking with a guy with little or no experience in the kitchen, I encourage him to begin building a simple culinary repertoire. Breakfast foods, no matter what time of day they are eaten, is a good place to start.

To begin with, breakfast foods are usually some of the most inexpensive groceries you can buy. A dozen eggs, a pound of bacon, a loaf of bread, oatmeal or grits, potatoes for hash browns, these are all really cheap eats.

There are also a few tips that can help ensure success for even the most novice of short-order cooks. First, use a non-stick pan to cook eggs. Melt a little butter in it and you’re good to go - scrambled, sunny-side up, whatever.

When it comes to the bacon, I like to cook mine in the oven. Put a rack on a baking sheet, lay the bacon on it and bake at 350 degrees until it is as crisp as you want it to be. This is a lot less messy - no grease splatters. It also frees you up to work on something else while the bacon cooks. A basic toaster can take care of the bread. Brew some coffee or pour some OJ, and breakfast is served. Anyone who masters these basics can quickly move on to variations like French toast and omelets.

I’m not sure where Blaine is now. It has been 13 years or more since I’ve seen him. I’m sure he’s out of his mom and dads house by now. If he’s married, I’ll bet he waited until he found a women who could cook as well as his mother. Maybe, just maybe, he learned to cook himself after all. If he did, I bet breakfast for supper is one of his specialties.

The Earth's Crust

Originally published in warm and flaky newspapers on July 10, 2008

Between the farmers markets, the weekly delivery from our Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) program, and the generosity of green-thumbed friends and neighbors, my family is getting our fill of fresh, locally-grown produce. When lettuce was bursting out of the ground, we ate lots and lots of salad. On a night when we had a seemingly miss-matched selection of vegetables on hand, a stir fry made frugal and delicious use of them all.

Along with our vegetables, we’re enjoying the colorful parade of fruits and berries making their way to our kitchen. So far, we’ve had some juicy strawberries from Southern Indiana, lovely cherries grown by an Amish family, and plump blueberries from up north. We’re looking forward to melons, peaches, and a wide variety of apples that will be available through fall. As much as I love fresh fruits in their unadulterated goodness - I’m a fanatic about baking them in a pie.

I often get asked about my favorite foods, pie included. When it comes to my favorite pie, I’m fickle. Like the old Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young song I “love the one I’m with.” So depending on when you ask me, I might offer up a different pie, usually the one I ate most recently ate. The one, when I close my eyes, I can still image on my palate. This week it was a piece (okay two pieces) of blueberry pie…aahhh blueberry pie.

Regardless of what fruit goes into a pie, the foundation is a great crust and there are as many variations on making pie crust as there are varieties of pie. Most pie makers have their own tried-and-true methods. I’ve experimented with lots of recipes and techniques and thought I had it down pat. This summer, however, I added a little trick that has made a huge difference in my pie making - fraisage.

Fraisage is a fancy-pants French term that sounds much more high falutin’ then it is. It’s basically smearing the butter into the flour as you work it, so that you end up with lots of buttery layers in your dough, resulting in a very flakey pie crust. Here is my recipe for pie dough including instructions on how to fraisage.

As much as I wish a piece of pie a day could keep the doctor away, I realize that pie is, as the new nutritionally-minded Cookie Monster calls, a “sometimes food.” As I’m toping my high-fiber cereal with fresh fruit in the morning, I’m day dreaming about a piece of warm pie ala mode

Flaky Pie Crust (for a two-crust pie)

• 2-1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/4 teaspoon baking powder
• 2 sticks cold unsalted butter
• 4-6 tablespoons cold water

In a large mixing bowl, stir together the flour, salt, and baking powder. Cut the butter into small pieces and drop one piece at a time into the flour. Use your hands to coat the butter pieces with flour. Next, use your hands and fingers to squeeze together the flour mixture and pieces of butter until all is well incorporated, the consistency of large gravel. Next add the cold water one tablespoon at a time, mixing with hands. Keep adding water until the mixture holds together when a handful is squeezed. You may not need all the water.

Transfer the dough to a floured work surface and use your hands to shape it into a mound. Start at the farthest end of the mound and use heel of your hand to smear small amount of dough against the work surface, pushing firmly down and away from you, to create separate pile of dough. Continue process until all dough has been worked. Gather dough back into a mound and repeat the smearing process. The dough will not have to be smeared as much as first time. Form dough into four-inch circle, wrap in plastic, and refrigerate until cold, 30 minutes to one hour. When ready to make your pie, divide the dough in half and roll out to form your two crusts.

Fireworks, Fast Cars, & Potato Salad

Originally published in snapping, crackling, and popping newspapers on July 3, 2008

“Blind! Jimmy feels that his life is over. No more swimming. No more Scout hikes. How can he ever have fun again?" These words are on the back cover of Follow My Leader by James B. Garfield, a book that sat on my boyhood bookshelf along with a collection of Hardy Boy mysteries, and classic adventures like Treasure Island. I’m not entirely sure how it made its way to my collection, perhaps a hand-me-down from an older sibling, or more likely a piece of propaganda placed there by my mother.

It is the story of a boy who is left blind after a firecracker mishap and Leader is the name of the his seeing-eye dog. I think the intent of the book was to help kids have a better understanding of people with disabilities. My mother’s motives were quite different - to keep me away from fireworks.

According to family folklore my very first word was not “momma” or “doggy” but rather “dangerous.” This, no doubt, due to a list of warnings that began when I was a baby. “The stove his hot.” “Be careful, you could fall down the stairs.” As I got a little older the areas of caution expanded to safety instructions about bicycles and skateboards. By the time I left for college the list of dangers was expansive covering everything from fast cars and fast women to expiration dates on dairy products.

My mom’s intentions were good. She wanted to do what she could to make sure her only son stayed alive and healthy with all four limbs securely attached to my body . Mission accomplished. I didn’t heed all of her warnings but a few took root. Fear of fireworks is one of them.

I’m not sure of Jimmy’s story contributed to my phobia or not but the very fact that I remember it some 30-plus years later is probably a good indication that it did. I don’t mind being around the rockets red glare, its just that I don’t want to be the one lighting the fuse. My own children are young enough that when dad breaks out the sparklers and smoke bombs, they think we’re living on the edge. I’m sure as they get older they’ll push me to up the ante a bit.

July, of course, is all about backyard explosions but another of my fears emerges this time of year - outdoor mayonnaise. I attended lots of picnics growing up. My step father was a pastor and we had an annual 4th of July picnic, often with 200 or more people in attendance. My mom would always caution me to steer clear of the potato salad and anything else with mayo in it. For years, when at picnics I would pass on anything that looked like it might have mayo in it.

I learned recently that my mom was wrong about this one. As it turns out, store-bought mayonnaise will not actually make you sick, even when left out in the sun for a couple of hours. University of Georgia Microbiologist Michael Doyle notes that there is sufficient acid (vinegar) in store-bought mayonnaise to keep harmful bacteria at bay. It might eventually spoil, resulting in an off-taste, but it will not make you sick (see the full mayo story here).

Learning this was pretty liberating. Since getting this new information, I’ve been a little more bold in filling my paper plate at picnics, dinners-on-the-grounds, and other outdoor eating occasions. I’m still not going to be launching any Roman candles or going to NASCAR fantasy camp but you may spot me enjoying a generous helping of picnic potato salad along with my baked beans and hotdog. Just don’t tell my mom. She’ll be worried sick.

Hot Buttered Rum

Originally published in rich and creamy newspapers on December 13, 2007

I’m not so sure if Christmas has an “official” beverage but there are a few that are strongly associated with this time of year. Eggnog, for instance, is typically not part of our non-holiday beverage consumption. When you go to Wrigley to catch a game, there is no vender, yelling, “Eggnog, get your eggnog here - cool and frothy eggnog.” The month of December is about the only time anyone is drinking the stuff.

The best anyone can tell, eggnog comes from medieval Europe and started out being called egg-and-grog (and later shortened to eggnog). It seems to be a seasonal drink just about everywhere but Australia where it is available year round. I wonder if you can get a cup at a rugby match?

Wassail is another of our holiday-only beverage. This one comes from northern Europe and is quite popular in Germanic countries. The term is a contraction of an Old North toast - ves heill. Today’s wassail is much like a mulled cider but it started off as something much more like a mulled beer. Speaking of mulled alcohol, mulled wine is yet another holiday drink.

In some parts of the south, Hot Dr. Pepper is an much-loved holiday tradition. It is basically heated up Dr. Pepper with a slice of lemon. This particular celebratory drink is part of my own history. When I was three my mother and sister and I married into a family of eight. My new step-family drank hot Dr. Pepper on Christmas Eve. I love my step-family and many of their traditions became my own, but not this one. As far as I’m concerned, this stuff tastes like cough syrup.

There’s even a fictional holiday beverage with which many might be familiar. In the Christmas classic, It’s A Wonderful Life, Clarence the angel is dispatched to help out George Bailey. When he wanders into a bar with George, he tells the bartender he would like a Flaming Rum Punch. As best I can tell, there is no such drink but it has become part of our holiday lexicon.

My favorite holiday drink also features a bit of rum. Hot Buttered Rum is a creamy, spicy, warm delight that is perfect for the a holiday party or to sip by the tree. It can be made with out the rum and is nearly as delicious. It requires a bit of pre-work but the mixture can be kept in the freezer throughout the holiday season.

Regardless of which beverage you choose to enjoy this holiday season, or even if you stick with a year-round standby like coffee, holiday food and drink is best enjoyed in the company of friends and family. If you would like to try my favorite, Hot Buttered Rum, here is the recipe.

Hot Buttered Rum

• 1/2 pound (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
• 1 cup brown sugar
• 2 cups confectioners’ sugar
• 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
• 1/2 teaspoon freshly-grated nutmeg
• 1/2 teaspoon allspice
• 1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
• 1 pint vanilla ice cream, softened
• Rum
• Boiling Water

Using a hand mixer, cream together the butter, sugars, and spices then blend in the ice cream. Pack into a covered, freezer-safe container and store in freezer. When ready to serve, put a generous spoonful of the butter-ice cream mixture into a mug. Add 2 ounces of rum and boiling water to fill, stir, and serve immediately. You may want to adjust the amount of butter-ice cream mixture according to the size of the mug used. This will make enough of the mix for about 25 servings.

One Man's Hamburger Is Another Mom's Steak

Originally published in sweet and tangy newspapers on November 29, 2007

Coming from a large family, eating out was a rare treat. To make even the occasional restaurant meal financially feasible, we had to wait until a few of the oldest had left the nest. Once the numbers were cut in half, restaurant meals become a once- or twice-a-year occurrence. As more of my older siblings left home, the frequency with which we dined out increased significantly.

As the youngest of the bunch, with five years separating me and my closest-in-age sister, there was a half decade when it was just my parents and me. During this period, we ate out quite a bit, mostly Sunday night after church when we would go for inexpensive burgers or pizza with a few other families from church.  Meals at fancy restaurants remained a rarity - Mother’s Day at my mom’s favorite home-style chicken restaurant and the occasional Saturday late-afternoon drive for dinner at one of the notable restaurants in nearby towns.

Steak dinners were the holy grail of eating out - a sizzling hunk of beef, a giant baked potato loaded with butter, sour cream, bacon bits, and chives, a crisp dinner salad with thick bleu cheese dressing all washed down with iced tea. This was the steak dinner of my youth. For my parents this remains the pinnacle of dining out. When we visit each other and there is reason to celebrate, my dad will inevitably suggest with enthusiasm, “let’s get s steak dinner!”
   
For at least the last 40 or so years, when we go out for a steak dinner my mother almost always orders the "chopped steak." My dad tries to persuade her to get the filet mignon but she says something like, "Oh, I like a good chopped steak just as much as a filet." Now I understand that she orders the chopped steak because it is the least expensive entree on the menu.

The other day I was in a beef mood so I stopped by the store to check out the offering in the meat department. I had every intent to purchase a couple of ribeyes or maybe filets. As I wandered the meat counter I saw a two-pack of perfectly formed chopped steaks. I paused and thought this would certainly be what my mom would pick out if she had been with me. My quick math showed I could pay $3.00 for chopped steak, $15 for two ribeyes, or $23 for two filets. I said to myself, "You know I like a good chopped steak just as well as a filet." I bought the less expensive chopped steak. Evidently I'm becoming my mother.

I rarely order a chopped steak when eating out but I do occasionally go for this bargain choice for home-cooked dinners. Even this frugal dinner can be jazzed up a bit with a simple pan sauce. Resist the temptation to grab the A-1 or Heinz 57 and try this sauce made with reduced port wine and blue cheese. It is sweet, rich, and serves a great accompaniment to the chopped steak.

Port Reduction with Bleu Cheese

• 1 teaspoon butter
• 2 tablespoon finely minced shallot
• 1/2 cup port wine
• 1/2 cup beef stock
• 1 ounce blue cheese, crumbled

In a small sauté pan heat the butter to medium-high. Add the shallot  and sauté until the shallot just begins to brown. Stir in the port, lower to simmer, and let the wine reduce by half. Add the beef stock and reduce it by half. Just before serving, increase heat to medium-high and add the Gorgonzola. Whisk until smooth. Serve on top of the chopped steak or in a small ramekin for dipping. This recipe makes enough for about two servings of beef. Double, triple, etc. as needed.

Pumpkin Flatbread

Originally published in melt-in-your-mouth newspapers on October 11, 2007

With the holiday season just around the corner, many of us will have homes filled with family and friends - parties, open houses, and social visits occupying much of our calendars during the cooler months. We start this season with Halloween parties and Thanksgiving gatherings and nearly every weekend in December can be filled with holiday parties and we conclude the season with New Years festivities and Super Bowl shindigs.

With all that entertaining, many of us find ourselves cooking more and looking for foods that can hold up in buffet lines and have staying power during those come-and-go open houses. We all have our go-to favorites like the crock pot full of meatballs, the cheese log, and the vegetable tray.

Low-maintenance dishes are a must, unless you want an excuse to stay in the kitchen and away from Uncle Ned. There are lots of good fix-it-and-forget-it choices and I’ve got a new one in my repertoire for this holiday season - Pumpkin Flatbread with Caramelized Onions, Gorgonzola, and Crispy Sage. I realize this is one of those pretentious recipe titles that sounds more like a grocery list than an actual food, but I can’t come up with a better name.

Regardless of what you want to call it, this is good stuff. The caramelized onions carry plenty of sweetness and the gorgonzola adds a distinctive earthiness. The crispy sage helps bring it all together.

This is great for a buffet or open house because it is a good at room temperature as it is right out of the hot oven. Cut it into small pieces and put it on a platter and you forget about it completely. When in non-party mode, pair it with a nice-sized salad for a surprisingly hearty meal.

Pumpkin Flatbread with Caramelized Onions, Gorgonzola, and Crispy Sage

Flatbread

• 3/4 cup warm water (about 115 degrees)
• 1 envelope active dry yeast
• 2-1/4 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon sugar
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1/3 cup canned pumpkin
• 3 tablespoons olive oil

Toppings

• 4 large onions, peeled and sliced thin
• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• Salt and Pepper
• 8 ounces gorgonzola cheese, crumbled
• 24 fresh sage leaves, washed

Fill a small bowl with the 3/4 cup warm water and stir in the yeast. Let this stand for about five minutes or until the yeast dissolves. Mix the two flours, salt, and sugar in a food processor, pulsing a few times to combine. Add the water and yeast, along with the olive oil and processes until it forms into a ball.

Move this to a floured work surface and knead until smooth, adding more all purpose flour, if needed, until the dough is smooth and not sticky. Transfer the dough to a lightly oiled bowl, cover with plastic wrap and place in a warm dry place to rise until doubled in volume, about an hour.

Punch down  and the dough is ready to use immediately or placed in a plastic zipper bag (quart-size is perfect) and stored in the refrigerator overnight.

When ready to make the flatbread preheat oven to 475 degrees. Heat a large skillet to medium heat and add the olive oil. Saute the onions, adding salt and pepper to taste, until caramelized. About 10 minutes.

Remove the dough from the fridge, if refrigerated, to get the chill off (handles better when not too cold) and divide the dough in half for two flatbreads. Use a floured surface, a rolling, pin, and your hands to get the flatbread very thin. Work on getting it into a 13-1/2 by 8-1/2 rectangle. Do this with both portions of dough. Transfer to baking sheets lined with parchment paper. Top each flatbread with half the onions and gorgonzola. Place in oven for 10 minutes. Remove, top with sage leaves, return to oven for an additional five minutes. Cut into pieces about 3” by 3.” As an appetizer, two flatbreads will serve about 12.

Family Day: Sharing More than Meals

Originally published in light and crispy newspapers on September 21, 2007

As a parent of two boys, I sometimes lie awake at night wondering if either of them will wind up in juvenile detention, or worse. At ages six and two the infractions are not serious. The little one throws toys and sometimes fits and the older one gets warnings at school for things like talking too much, and most recently, ill-timed exercising of his newly-acquired ability to whistle. So far, there do not seem to be any signs of a life of crime. Still, it keeps me on my toes, looking for the most effective ways to parent.

I know I’m not alone. Most moms and dads, grandparents, uncles and aunts, and other adults want the best for the kids in their lives. If we knew of a fool-proof way to assure a happy and productive life for them, we would certainly take advantage of it. Unfortunately there are no guarantees.

There is, however, some rock-solid research that tells us there are steps we can take to significantly reduce the chances of our kids getting mixed up in drinking, smoking, and using other drugs. So, what’s the secret? Well, it is not some new discipline technique or complex parenting theory. It is, in fact, quite simple. Eat dinner with your kids.

The National Center for Addiction and Substance Abuse (CASA) at Columbia University has conducted rigorous social science research for over a decade and they have found that compared to kids who have fewer than three family dinners per week, children and teens who have five to seven family dinners per week are: 70 percent lower risk for substance abuse; half as likely to try cigarettes or marijuana; and one-third less likely to try alcohol. In the world of research, these are very significant findings - about as close to a magic bullet as you can get.

Beginning in 2001, CASA began promoting the fourth Monday of each September as Family Day: A Day to Eat Dinner with Your Kids. This year, Family Day is Monday the 24^th. The purpose of this once-a-year declaration is to remind parents that what kids really need at the dinner table is us.

The actual food on the plate is secondary - whether it is a homemade meatloaf or take-out Chinese - the point is spending time together. Family Day is designed to encourage parents to frequently eat dinner with our kids and be involved in our children’s lives. The conversations that go hand-in-hand with dinner help us learn more about our kids’ lives and help us better understand the challenges our kids face. CASA provides several suggestions for integrating this family practice:

1. Start the pattern of family dinners when children are young;
2. Encourage kids to create menu ideas and participate in meal preparation;
3. Turn off the TV and let voice mail answer calls during dinnertime;
4. Talk about what happened in everyone's day - school, work, extracurricular activities, or current events;
5. Establish a routine (light candles, giving thanks, telling a story to start and end each meal);
6. Play a board game or serve dessert after dinner to encourage the family to continue the conversation; and
7. Keep conversation positive and make sure everyone gets a chance to speak.

With kids who are just six and two I understand that my busiest kid days are ahead of me - sports, music, scouts, church youth group, or whatever. Ask me in 15 years or so how successful we’ve been in having five to seven family meals together each week. We’re going to do what we can to make sure that more often than not, we’re paying attention to both the quality and quantity of our time together. Likely about the time I sleep soundly without worrying about my kids’ futures, I’ll have grandchildren to start worrying about. More information about Family Day is available at www.casafamilyday.org. 

The 'ber Months

Originally published in warm and gooey newspapers on September 13, 2007

“You love Air Supply?, I love Air Supply!” Ok, so it wasn’t really the truth, but most guys, in search of romance, will establish common ground even if when it means bending the truth a little. Fortunately I did not have to live a life built on that particular white lie. The relationship didn’t last but I do have a musical-memory black hole in 1981 - eight months of nothing but “The One that You Love” and “Sweet Dreams.”

After several failed relationships, I decided to be myself from day-one of a new romance. So, when a pretty young co-ed and I spent hours getting acquainted by talking in the student union and even more hours in late-night phone conversations from our respective dorms, I told her early on that I liked Monty Python and the Three Stooges and she was fine with it. When I discovered she loved classical piano I didn’t sign up for lessons. When she revealed that her favorite time of year was the fall, I was being completely honest when I agreed. Common ground.

We took to calling these the ‘ber months -  SeptemBER, OctoBER, NovemBER, and DecemBER. Ber months became an important time in our relationship. We had our first date in a ‘ber month. We got engaged in a ‘ber month, We even got married in a ‘ber month. Lot’s more reasons to love the ‘ber months.

We love it all - cool mornings, drives to look at the turning leaves, and the trifecta of fourth-quarter holidays - Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. I know lots of people get all bent out of shape when they see Frosty and Santa showing up in stores earlier and earlier each year. Frankly, as long as I don’t see them in August, I’m fine with it. Anytime after Labor Day is okay with me. We’ve been known to unpack the Christmas music on September 1st and start watching holiday movie classics long before the temperatures drop.      

Another great part of this time of year is the change we see in the foods we eat and cook -  the season’s first pot of chili, a belly-warming stew, soul-soothing soups, apple everything, and pumpkin anything. Sure I miss the garden-fresh tomatoes and beans but a platter of roasted root vegetables is a nearly-spiritual experience.

One of the many projects I would like to undertake is to build an old-fashioned root cellar. My grandmother had one and when we visited her at her rural Arkansas home, I was always amazed when, in the middle of winter, she would venture to the cellar and returned with potatoes, carrots, and turnips nested in her upturned apron. At the time, it seemed to me that she possessed some mystical powers. We were mere mortals, having to exchange money for food at the local supermarket. My grandmother defied the seasons and commanded the elements, conjuring food at will.

I probably won’t get that cellar built anytime soon so as we settle into the ‘ber months I’ll be enjoying the last few weekends of the farmers market and eventually settle for the grocery store produce. Roasted root vegetables will be on my dinner menu several times this fall. Here is a recipe that makes a great side dish for beef, pork, or chicken. It also takes advantage of rosemary which will grow well into the ‘ber months.

Roasted Root Vegetables with Rosemary

• 8 carrots, peeled and cut
• 2 russet potatoes, washed and cut
• 2 turnips, peeled, cut
• 2 parsnips, peeled, trimmed, and cut
• 2 medium yellow onions, trimmed, peeled and cut
• 1 celery root, trimmed and cut
• 1 whole head garlic, separated into cloves, peeled
• 3 sprigs fresh rosemary
• Extra-virgin olive oil
• Salt
• Freshly ground black pepper

Note: cut vegetables into bite-sized pieces

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Put vegetables in a large mixing bowl. Remove rosemary needles from the sprig and add needles to the bowl. Drizzle with olive oil and salt and pepper to taste. Use your hands to coat them evenly. 

Transfer to a parchment-lined baking sheet and spread into a single layer. Place baking sheet in oven and roast until they are golden brown, about 45 minutes. Stir and move around the vegetables a couple of times while baking.

It's Easy Being Green!

Be sure to check out this month's Indianapolis Monthly magazine for the cover article, "It's Easy Being Green." It has sections on eating, living, recycling, and getting around. I wrote the pieces on eating and recycling. The entire text is also available on-line (see IM link above).

The Witham Gala: The Prom I Never Had

Originally published in the Lebanon Reporter on May 24, 2007

Growing up with a Baptist preacher as my step dad, I had a pretty extensive list of ‎forbidden activities from which to refrain. This sins-of-the-flesh quartet was summed up ‎in the warning, “Don’t dance, drink, chew, or go with girls who do.” Last Saturday night ‎I violated at least a couple of these.‎

My wife grew up in a family with similar rules so neither of us went to middle school ‎dances, the prom, or the many other events at which young people writhed to worldly ‎rhythms. That is one reason, the annual Witham Health Services Foundation Gala is so ‎much fun for us. ‎

I imagine if I had attended the prom in high school, the afternoon before the evening’s ‎big event, I might have waxed my car to be sure my date was impressed with my sweet ‎ride. For this year’s gala, I at least found time to vacuum out the fishy-cracker crumbs for ‎the floorboards of our minivan.‎

I’m sure in high school, the conversation with my date would have included mention of a ‎cool new song by Hall and Oats (check out this for a stroll down Memory Lane circa 1983), my lame attempts to make her laugh, and tales of ‎soccer-field prowess, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’ll get a soccer scholarship or maybe make ‎the ‘84 Olympic Team.”‎

Last Saturday night’s small talk included checking with one another to make sure we had ‎enough cash for the babysitter, complaints about how badly our feet hurt after two ‎dances, and the worry that eating so late would keep me up all night, “Shoot, I forgot to ‎bring my Tagamet.”‎

Even though the gala wasn’t the prom, we still had a great time. It is one event we look ‎forward to each year - an elegant evening with friends and an annual reminder of how ‎fortunate we are to have Witham Health Services and the Witham Health Services ‎Foundation in our community.‎

Some of you know, that my day job is in economic development. There are two or three ‎key ingredients that must be in place for a community to have much of a chance for a ‎vibrant and sustainable local economy and quality of life. Access to first-class healthcare ‎is one of those necessary components. We’ve got that in Witham and we’re fortunate in ‎that regard. ‎

This is a food column so I guess I ought to mention the gala cuisine. The venue changed ‎this year to the Palomino Ballroom located between here and Zionsville. It’s a lovely ‎room and the cocktail hour and dinner was executed well by the Palomino staff. The meal ‎began and ended on solid ground. ‎ First up to bat was a salad of leafy field greens with shaved Parmesan, Mandarin oranges, ‎and candied walnuts. Batting clean-up were giant slices of six-layer cakes - carrot and ‎chocolate.

The main plate held both a bleu cheese-topped filet mignon and a pesto-stuffed ‎chicken breast with a twice-baked potato and sugar snapped peas as sides. Some of the ‎main-course items were better than others but considering the fact that 300 people were ‎being served all at once, everything was about as well as one could expect.‎

After dinner, most of us worked off a few calories dancing to the musical stylings of the ‎First Impressions, who’s set included a good mix of standards and classic R&B. They did ‎a fine job but the Flip Miller Band, who has played the last few galas, is a hard act to ‎follow. Somehow it wasn’t the same without Flip calling Chadd Wheat up to the mic to ‎take us all to Margaritaville.‎

Even though I don’t have adolescent memories of spring dances on which to look back, I ‎have no doubt that forty years from now, when I’m puttering around my condo in Boca ‎Raton, I’ll recall my near middle-age years cutting the rug at the gala, how beautiful my ‎date looked, and the great time we had with friends.‎