My dad grew up with a brother 2 years and 1 day younger than him. At some point in their childhood (I think when he was about 8 or 10), Tim had to have braces put on his legs for about 2 years. Something to do with the muscles in his legs. So, for those two years he had to be very careful and missed out on a lot of sports, etc. So, finally, it was time to take the braces off. That afternoon, he and my dad and a bunch of neighborhood kids played baseball in the front yard. Somehow, the ball ended up on the roof.
"I'll go get it!" Tim volunteered.
So, he climbed up to the roof, retrieved the ball, and said "Ken, throw me the bat. I'm gonna see how far I can hit it from up here."
So, my dad throws the bat at (I mean to) his brother, hits him with it, and knocks him off the roof.
"Ow! Ow! You broke my leg! You broke my leg!!!!" Tim bawled.
"I did not. Quit bein' such a stinkin' baby."
"Get mama! Tell her you broke my leg!"
"I'm not tellin' her I broke your leg! She'll whip the tarnation out of me!"
"Go get mama. Oh, you broke my leg, you broke my leg!"
Sure enough, Tim's leg was broken. Two years in metal braces followed by 6-8 weeks in a plaster cast. And my father lived to tell about it. :)
(c) 2010 Lisa Kuebler
*Originally published on Open Salon, January 2010.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
"Well I'll be John Brown!"
My Nanny had a colorful vocabulary. She didn't swear often (and when she did she usually apologized beforehand so you could brace yourself), but she did have many expressions she liked to use.
One of her favorites was "Well I'll be John Brown!" She typically said this when she was amazed or impressed with something. When I called her my sophomore year of high school to tell her I was the only 10th grader to have made the yearbook staff, her reply was "Well I'll be John Brown! That's wundaful, dahlin'!" Not sure which John Brown she was referring to or why he was always so amazed, but I will always remember that as one of my grandmother's favorite, most-used expressions.
Another of her favorites was one she used when she thought we were making things up. If she didn't believe something we were telling her, she'd say "Kiss my foot," or, the full expression, "Well, anybody believes that can kiss my foot." If she truly thought that what we were saying was ridiculous, she'd follow it with "...and I don't see any feet going up."
How I miss that fine southern lady!
(c) 2010 Lisa Kuebler
*Originally published on Open Salon, January 2010.
One of her favorites was "Well I'll be John Brown!" She typically said this when she was amazed or impressed with something. When I called her my sophomore year of high school to tell her I was the only 10th grader to have made the yearbook staff, her reply was "Well I'll be John Brown! That's wundaful, dahlin'!" Not sure which John Brown she was referring to or why he was always so amazed, but I will always remember that as one of my grandmother's favorite, most-used expressions.
Another of her favorites was one she used when she thought we were making things up. If she didn't believe something we were telling her, she'd say "Kiss my foot," or, the full expression, "Well, anybody believes that can kiss my foot." If she truly thought that what we were saying was ridiculous, she'd follow it with "...and I don't see any feet going up."
How I miss that fine southern lady!
(c) 2010 Lisa Kuebler
*Originally published on Open Salon, January 2010.
the flooded creek
I grew up in a huge neighborhood. There were about 400 houses, and probably at least that many kids. It took two whole school buses to bring all the kids in our neighborhood home from elementary school -- just to our neighborhood.
In the center of our neighborhood was the recreation area. We had a pool and tennis courts, and a big park with play equipment. And running through the center of that park was a creek. There were two bridges that crossed the creek so you could get from one side of the park to the other, and there was also a pipe that crossed it.
One spring day after a lot of heavy rain, that creek flooded.
And that pipe made a magnificent waterfall.
It took probably about 2.4 seconds for all of us kids to get home from school, change into old clothes, and jump into that creek to splash and play and pretend we were riding the rapids of some huge river as opposed to a little old neighborhood creek. Someone rigged a rope to a nearby tree and we took turns swinging out over the water and letting go. There were probably 100 kids in the creek that day, and tons of parents sitting on the sidelines, taking pictures and holding towels and bringing snacks. We were out there for hours.
It was an impromptu block party, where all the kids were laughing and splashing and having fun while their parents caught up with all the neighbors on what was going on in everyone's lives.
What happened to neighborhoods like that?
(c) 2010 Lisa Kuebler
*Originally published on Open Salon on January 16, 2010
In the center of our neighborhood was the recreation area. We had a pool and tennis courts, and a big park with play equipment. And running through the center of that park was a creek. There were two bridges that crossed the creek so you could get from one side of the park to the other, and there was also a pipe that crossed it.
One spring day after a lot of heavy rain, that creek flooded.
And that pipe made a magnificent waterfall.
It took probably about 2.4 seconds for all of us kids to get home from school, change into old clothes, and jump into that creek to splash and play and pretend we were riding the rapids of some huge river as opposed to a little old neighborhood creek. Someone rigged a rope to a nearby tree and we took turns swinging out over the water and letting go. There were probably 100 kids in the creek that day, and tons of parents sitting on the sidelines, taking pictures and holding towels and bringing snacks. We were out there for hours.
It was an impromptu block party, where all the kids were laughing and splashing and having fun while their parents caught up with all the neighbors on what was going on in everyone's lives.
What happened to neighborhoods like that?
(c) 2010 Lisa Kuebler
*Originally published on Open Salon on January 16, 2010
Pot Roast for Your Love (a beef stew, of sorts)
As a child, I dreaded the days when my mom would announce pot roast for dinner. The meat was “weird,” the vegetables “all tasted like the meat,” and I would much rather have something more exotic like lasagna. Something was clearly wrong with me.
It wasn’t until I reached adulthood and got married that pot roast entered my cooking repertoire. My husband has always lauded me as a fantastic cook. I’m lucky enough to have a guy who’s adventurous and not picky and generally likes anything I make. It’s rare for him to make suggestions, as he tends to trust me in the kitchen realm (until it’s time to clean up…then he rolls up his sleeves, stands in front of the sink to wash, and I hail him as my hero). Then one night, many moons ago, he mentioned casually, offhand – I can’t even remember how we got on the subject – that he loved pot roast. I was intrigued. Really?? Pot roast?? With the potatoes and carrots cooked alongside?? Yes, he said, and I swear I saw his eyes roll back into his head a little bit.
I was floored. Clearly this was not the man I thought I had married. Either that, or it was not the meat I thought I knew. I was on a mission now…to figure out what was to love about pot roast. To learn to cook it. To make it well.
I consulted a few cookbooks to learn the basic technique. It seemed deceptively easy. What was the trick? I tossed the cookbooks aside, holed up in the kitchen, and threw caution to the wind.
The aroma wafting through my house that afternoon was enough to erase the worst life could dish out. The sound of the bubbling caused one’s mouth to water. The sight of the fork-tender beef, the caramelized onions and mushrooms, and the perfectly cooked carrots and potatoes was enough to make one sigh with happy anticipation. Pot roast, done well, is comfort food at its best.
Pot Roast of Beef
(measurements need not be exact...use more or less of each ingredient to suit your own taste)
2-4 pound beef chuck roast
1-2 large sweet onions
3-4 large carrots, cut in chunks, or the equivalent amount of peeled baby carrots
8 oz package of white mushrooms, halved
3-4 medium potatoes, peeled and quartered (eighthed if large)
3-4 cloves of garlic
1 package mushroom gravy mix
Red wine - a few "glugs"
Worchestershire - a few less "glugs"
Herbs and seasonings as you feel inspired: rosemary, thyme, Montreal steak seasoning, salt, pepper, dried minced onions
Early in the day: Cut onion in half and then slice crosswise into 1/2 inch(ish) slices. Spread in bottom of crock pot. Season your meat with salt, pepper, and any herbs or spices you're choosing to use. Place in crock pot on top of onions. Whisk gravy mix into 1 cup cold water and pour over the meat. Add the wine and Worchestershire, as well as dried minced onions (if using) and garlic cloves (smash them under the side of your knife, but no need to chop or mince). Cover and cook on low for 2-3 hours. At this point, turn the meat over and nestle the vegetables around it and under it. Cook for 3-4 more hours, until vegetables are cooked and meat is fork tender. At this point, remove meat from crock and either cut into bite-sized pieces or shred with two forks. Return to crock pot and stir into vegetables.
Serve over rice (our preference), hot cooked egg noodles, or even mashed potatoes.
(c) 2010 Lisa Kuebler
It wasn’t until I reached adulthood and got married that pot roast entered my cooking repertoire. My husband has always lauded me as a fantastic cook. I’m lucky enough to have a guy who’s adventurous and not picky and generally likes anything I make. It’s rare for him to make suggestions, as he tends to trust me in the kitchen realm (until it’s time to clean up…then he rolls up his sleeves, stands in front of the sink to wash, and I hail him as my hero). Then one night, many moons ago, he mentioned casually, offhand – I can’t even remember how we got on the subject – that he loved pot roast. I was intrigued. Really?? Pot roast?? With the potatoes and carrots cooked alongside?? Yes, he said, and I swear I saw his eyes roll back into his head a little bit.
I was floored. Clearly this was not the man I thought I had married. Either that, or it was not the meat I thought I knew. I was on a mission now…to figure out what was to love about pot roast. To learn to cook it. To make it well.
I consulted a few cookbooks to learn the basic technique. It seemed deceptively easy. What was the trick? I tossed the cookbooks aside, holed up in the kitchen, and threw caution to the wind.
The aroma wafting through my house that afternoon was enough to erase the worst life could dish out. The sound of the bubbling caused one’s mouth to water. The sight of the fork-tender beef, the caramelized onions and mushrooms, and the perfectly cooked carrots and potatoes was enough to make one sigh with happy anticipation. Pot roast, done well, is comfort food at its best.
Pot Roast of Beef
(measurements need not be exact...use more or less of each ingredient to suit your own taste)
2-4 pound beef chuck roast
1-2 large sweet onions
3-4 large carrots, cut in chunks, or the equivalent amount of peeled baby carrots
8 oz package of white mushrooms, halved
3-4 medium potatoes, peeled and quartered (eighthed if large)
3-4 cloves of garlic
1 package mushroom gravy mix
Red wine - a few "glugs"
Worchestershire - a few less "glugs"
Herbs and seasonings as you feel inspired: rosemary, thyme, Montreal steak seasoning, salt, pepper, dried minced onions
Early in the day: Cut onion in half and then slice crosswise into 1/2 inch(ish) slices. Spread in bottom of crock pot. Season your meat with salt, pepper, and any herbs or spices you're choosing to use. Place in crock pot on top of onions. Whisk gravy mix into 1 cup cold water and pour over the meat. Add the wine and Worchestershire, as well as dried minced onions (if using) and garlic cloves (smash them under the side of your knife, but no need to chop or mince). Cover and cook on low for 2-3 hours. At this point, turn the meat over and nestle the vegetables around it and under it. Cook for 3-4 more hours, until vegetables are cooked and meat is fork tender. At this point, remove meat from crock and either cut into bite-sized pieces or shred with two forks. Return to crock pot and stir into vegetables.
Serve over rice (our preference), hot cooked egg noodles, or even mashed potatoes.
(c) 2010 Lisa Kuebler
Saturday, July 4, 2009
"Ken broke my leg!!!"
My dad grew up with a brother 2 years and 1 day younger than him. At some point in their childhood (I think when he was about 8 or 10), Tim had to have braces put on his legs for about 2 years. Something to do with the muscles in his legs. So, for those two years he had to be very careful and missed out on a lot of sports, etc. So, finally, it was time to take the braces off. That afternoon, he and my dad and a bunch of neighborhood kids played baseball in the front yard. Somehow, the ball ended up on the roof.
"I'll go get it!" Tim volunteered.
So, he climbed up to the roof, retrieved the ball, and said "Ken, throw me the bat. I'm gonna see how far I can hit it from up here."
So, my dad throws the bat at (I mean to) his brother, hits him with it, and knocks him off the roof.
"Ow! Ow! You broke my leg! You broke my leg!!!!" Tim bawled.
"I did not. Quit bein' such a stinkin' baby."
"Get mama! Tell her you broke my leg!"
"I'm not tellin' her I broke your leg! She'll whip the tarnation out of me!"
"Go get mama. Oh, you broke my leg, you broke my leg!"
Sure enough, Tim's leg was broken. Two years in metal braces followed by 6-8 weeks in a plaster cast. And my father lived to tell about it. :)
"I'll go get it!" Tim volunteered.
So, he climbed up to the roof, retrieved the ball, and said "Ken, throw me the bat. I'm gonna see how far I can hit it from up here."
So, my dad throws the bat at (I mean to) his brother, hits him with it, and knocks him off the roof.
"Ow! Ow! You broke my leg! You broke my leg!!!!" Tim bawled.
"I did not. Quit bein' such a stinkin' baby."
"Get mama! Tell her you broke my leg!"
"I'm not tellin' her I broke your leg! She'll whip the tarnation out of me!"
"Go get mama. Oh, you broke my leg, you broke my leg!"
Sure enough, Tim's leg was broken. Two years in metal braces followed by 6-8 weeks in a plaster cast. And my father lived to tell about it. :)
I think Nan would be proud
I "cooked Southern" this week. I do it on occasion, but it makes A LOT of dishes. This time around we had friend chicken tenders (homemade with free range all-natural chicken because I've gotten freakishly OCD about meat and where it comes from), rice grits with red pea gravy, and green beans cooked with ham hocks. All I can say is, "YUM!" And the best part was, all 4 of us ate it. Woo-hoo. :)
The only thing missing was Nanny's fried cornbread. Shoot. I'll make that next time, for sure. (What's one more pot when you've already used 4??) :)
The only thing missing was Nanny's fried cornbread. Shoot. I'll make that next time, for sure. (What's one more pot when you've already used 4??) :)
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Sweet Peas
When I wrote the first entry for this blog, and I mentioned wanting my boys to experience shelling peas on a porch in the afternoon, I never really thought it would happen. Well, yesterday, it happened.
We picked up our box from the CSA, and in it was a bag of English peas, still in their pods. I showed Zach how to crack them open and pull the fat round peas out. He loves peas, so he was pretty excited. These peas were so sweet that the two of us sat there and shelled them and ate them raw. It was a very nostalgic moment. I remember doing that with my grandmother one day when I was very little, and now Zach's done it with me. The only thing missing was the screened porch and the rocking chairs.
We picked up our box from the CSA, and in it was a bag of English peas, still in their pods. I showed Zach how to crack them open and pull the fat round peas out. He loves peas, so he was pretty excited. These peas were so sweet that the two of us sat there and shelled them and ate them raw. It was a very nostalgic moment. I remember doing that with my grandmother one day when I was very little, and now Zach's done it with me. The only thing missing was the screened porch and the rocking chairs.
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