First, I am immeasurably grateful to everyone who has read, commented, and shared my posts. You need to know that. As someone who shouts into the void, knowing that someone heard my cries means a lot. Thank you so much. Truly. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Second, there are only so many minutes in the day and there are people, animals, gardens, and ideas that deserve my attention. Stepping away might give them a better chance at growing and blossoming. Watering guilt because I don’t have the energy to contribute posts or engage in other people’s fine work is unfair, unhealthy, and uninteresting.

Third, this is now an attention economy that scrapes our creativity to power mediocrity and I refuse to play that game. Substack, as well as many other sites, is powered through paid subscriptions. Since I don’t ask for money, they have to get their cut somehow. It’s really boring being reduced to a mere tool that’s used both to pick the fruit of attention and squeeze out every ounce of creative juice and calories from it.

I haven’t completely closed down the site and you’ll be able to locate old posts for at least another few months. In the meantime, I have reduced the number of people I follow. If I’ve unsubscribed from your Substack, it’s absolutely nothing personal. My time is limited. If that means you unsubscribe from The Simmering Chef, so be it.

Life is for living and I want to live in a world where creativity and talent are celebrated, not commodified and turned into the sludge and detritus that power corporate machines.

Take care of each other and remember, at the end of the day, we are all simply trying to walk each other safely home. Thank you.

Janet

You thought things were expensive now? Just wait. If the Strait of Hormuz closes for any length of time, we will all finally realize that everything is linked to how much we rely on a secure and safe global infrastructure. No oil means higher transport costs, which lead to higher food prices. There’s a lot more to it than that, but that’s a simplified version of what we’ll be experiencing.

What we have to do is approach our food spending differently. The days of instant gratification, grabbing a bag of chips, or ordering delivered Thai food probably need to be paused for a while. Hopefully, not indefinitely, but at least for the foreseeable future. Sorry, restaurants. It’s going to get really tough in the days ahead, and everyone needs to hunker down.

Because this is going to be an interesting time for all of us, I knew we needed guidance from our elders. The UK’s approach to food control during World War II is inspirational. Whether you know this or not, the UK government started planning on food rationing and restrictions back in 1936. They knew that, as an island where most of the food is imported, any blockades would halt all food deliveries. No food delivery meant empty shelves and eventual starvation. A starving people become despondent and crater faster to authoritarian regimes. The British knew that hunger was a lethal weapon of war, so they planned accordingly and prepared to combat it. (1)

The UK Wartime Rationing Program (1940 - 1954) took a lot of planning. Two intrepid scientists (Widdowson and McCance) developed the program to see if it would sustain a person. To test its success they became their own guinea pigs. For three months, they followed their ration diet to the letter while hiking, biking, and spending their time outdoors in rigorous exercise, trying to simulate a labor-intensive lifestyle. The ration diet appeared to work, with the exception that they felt there was a lack of Vitamin C (2) and feared people may end up not consuming enough calcium. To solve the calcium issue, the government mandated that bread flour be fortified with calcium. Fruit was harder to come by in Great Britain, and unless you scavenged for blackberries or had an apple tree in the backyard, other fruit —especially oranges—was almost completely unavailable. The government’s true goal was to feed everyone in their country and to keep them as healthy and active as possible despite any German strangulating blockade. This goal and the system that doled out food equally to rich and poor helped the UK survive WW2.

Vegetable-heavy, with limited sugar, fat, dairy, and protein, the UK Wartime Rationing Diet is considered one of the healthiest diets to follow. (3) Certainly, studies showed that UK citizens were at their healthiest during that time, albeit with some nutritional challenges.

The premise was simple. Every person was allotted a certain amount of rations a week (eggs, dairy, meat, sugar), which were bulked out with items on a monthly point system (grains, beans, legumes, some tinned foods) and a selection of vegetables and bread that hopefully remained stable and always available.

Below are three tables I drew up as examples of one person’s allotted weekly rations, monthly points, and unrestricted items. These are not comprehensive, but should give you an idea of what a person’s weekly food allotment was.

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THE RATION DIET CHALLENGE: Follow the diet for at least one week. Utilize any stores you have to supplement the week’s meals. Be realistic. You will save money; you will eat a lot of vegetables; you will miss eating all that protein.

Very few people started rationing with completely empty cupboards. At least that’s the theory I’m working off of. The UK Government started the ration program on Monday, January 8th, 1940, having warned the public by distributing the ration books in December of ‘39, hoping everyone celebrated well during the holidays, and had a rousing, grand knees-up weekend before rationing began in earnest. Generous spirits.

I’ve been following a ration diet for a week now and can say it’s refreshing eating so many vegetables, and that I’ve barely touched the sugar ration. I guess that means I can hoard that item for something special. Saving ingredients up for special occasions was typical in UK households. Everyone needs a cake to help celebrate their special day—especially during the gloom. My weekly allotment of 14 chocolates is still in their jar, untouched, because I’m simply not interested.

One egg a week is hard, and I’ve already cheated. I keep telling myself I’d be living in the country and raising chickens! (6) I’ve also spread some maple butter on my toast with the thought that some Canadian cousin sent it to me in 1939’s Christmas package. Oh, and the grocer is sweet on me and put a handful of almonds in my grocery bag for me to enjoy later. It’s always helpful to be kind. You never know when it might garner you a little something extra.

Since I don’t really do milk, I transformed my ration into yogurt for a snack. The diet lacks fermented foods, so this was a simple way to incorporate some into it. I also added some oranges. They were in my cold storage, anyway, so no worries about lacking Vitamin C yet or cheating on the rationing. If I am going to continue this longterm, making sure I get Vitamin C will have to be part of the program.

So far, the greatest lesson has to do with simply analyzing my relationship with food. I love to eat and my weight shows how much I love to eat. Being a chef means I know how to cook well and along with that is the acknowledged hedonism that’s wrapped up in knowing how to cook well. What’s wrong with an extra splash of cream or using more oil? As my sister reminded me, Fraiser once said, “If less is more, think how much more ‘more’ is.” Words to live by in my line of work, but my waistline has suffered from it. With that in mind, when there isn’t an excess of food, and every ingredient needs to count, then appreciating what’s available becomes really important and I become less wantonly wasteful. If following a Wartime Ration Diet helps me appreciate the food I have, it’s a good start.

Let’s see what the next week brings.

ANNOTATIONS

(1) Pubs remained open during the war because lifting a pint is a great morale booster. By the way, given a choice, I’d rather lift a pint in the UK than in the US because a pint in England is 20 ounces, where a pint in the US is only 16 ounces.

(2) Low levels of Calcium and Vitamin D meant children could quickly develop Rickets. To help with Vitamin C consumption, children were encouraged to spend loads of time in the sun. Clever families sent their children out to pick rose hips. When they returned, the treasured jewels were turned into rose hip syrup. A spoonful supplied approximately 64 mg of Vitamin C a day—children’s recommended dosage is between 15 -75mg/day, depending on age.

(3) Studies conducted in 1942 and 1944 by the Oxford Nutrition Study on child-bearing-aged women showed them deficient in Fe (iron), protein, Vitamin C, and Vitamin A. The Government supplied additional supplements to help improve this group of women’s diets.

(4) The UK Wartime Rationing Diet used a lot of margarine. I simply refused to go down that road. Instead, my oil choices were olive and avocado oil.

(5) After the war ended, food restrictions increased to include bread and potatoes. The UK economy was practically devastated by WW2, and it took time to rebuild. Some of my friends mentioned not eating a piece of chocolate until 1954.

(6) Some people gave up their egg ration for additional chicken feed. Makes sense. No need to give me an egg when I have producers that give me EGGS!

RESOURCES

There are lots of resources concerning the UK Wartime Ration Diet and supplemental food programs. A simple search will bring up reams of information. Here are a few to start you on your way.

VIDEO: I Followed a World War 2 Ration Diet for 8 Days

Royal Society: World War Food

The Ration Book

The Wartime Kitchen’s National Loaf Recipe

Irish Black Tea Loaf (7)

British Geriatric Society: Wartime Rationing

Oxford Nutrition Survey on Pregnant Women During Rationing

Scientific American’s article: WII Sugar Rationing Gave Kids a Lifelong Health Boost

(7) The Irish were neutral in WW2. They called it “The Emergency.” The UK government wasn’t interested in them being neutral and restricted their access to food to get them to be more willing to help the Allies rather than be a tool of The Axis Powers. The Irish suffered terribly from starvation and economic devastation during the war. Listen to RTÉ’s Brainstorm Radio Podcast for a better idea about the Irish World War 2 experience: What Ireland Ate and Drank During WW2

GRATITUDE

A big thanks to David, Jill, Jane, Richard, Suzanne, and Mary Carolyn, who shared their knowledge, memories, and guidance. You helped me enormously. Thank you very much!

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In all frankness, waste is a sin. It’s a sin against frugality, labor, resources, and planning. And I won’t rant about the damage food waste causes to the environment while decomposing in landfills. (For those interested, at the bottom of this post is a list of scholarly articles concerning this enormous problem.)

Why am I sounding so preachy? Much to my dismay, I accidentally left my freezer door open overnight and found a big soggy mess waiting for me in the morning. There was a lot of food loss. I mean, A LOT.

As I trashed and cleaned the freezer, I contemplated how amazing an invention the freezer is. Its innovation transformed food preservation, lengthening food life from days to months. But, like any vacuum, it must be filled, and fill it, I did. Because I filled that freezing hole, I ended up throwing out beef, chicken, bone broth, and an assortment of things I forgot were even in there. Way in the back was a bag of chopped spinach that I hoped could be saved if I used it immediately.

The inspiration for this is from the Greeks. If you want to learn about eating in the time of war, look to that country. They’ve spent several millennia being overrun, and, during World War II, when Germany, Italy, and Bulgaria occupied it, suffered mass starvation. But the Greeks prevailed because they were foragers, looking to their hills and shores for the sustenance to survive.

This recipe is simple. Mix spinach with sautéed onions, garlic, chopped radish greens or whatever your green of choice is, a multitude of dill and parsley, some oregano, a bit of lemon juice and zest, an egg, crumbled feta, and salt and pepper to taste. Stuff this concoction into some puff pastry or really go the whole hog and use phyllo dough. It’s baked in a hot oven until the pastry is golden. In my oven, it took about 45 minutes.

I found this delicious, and I must admit, there was a small feeling of accomplishment mixed with the lingering feeling of idiocy. I’ll take the small win with that enormous loss.

World Resources Institute: https://www.wri.org/insights/reducing-food-loss-and-food-waste

Harvard’s The Nutrition Source: https://nutritionsource.hsph.harvard.edu/sustainability/food-waste/

National Library of Medicine: https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC11241329/

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Preservation reminds me of softer days, steaming cups of tea, buttered toast, and thick books. If tranquility were a food, it would be a jar of something homemade using the best ingredients any season has to offer. It’s Memory captured in a jar.

As with most homemade foods, the act of preserving turns down the screech of everyday. My attention must be focused; my kitchen clean; my cuts exacting; my pan hot. Through this act of creation and transformation, I assure myself that not all is lost. I’ve saved a bit of my past for my future self to savor. Every jar I open shakes a fist at consuming other people’s expectations. Life is brief. War is hell. Since I still have the choice, best to live it on my own terms.

As I slather some of this bejeweled confiture onto my well-buttered toast, it reminds me that there still is some good in this world.

NOTES ON MARMALADE MAKING

Winter is the perfect season for making marmalade because citrus is abundant. If you were like me and bought more oranges, grapefruit, and clementines than one person could consume during the holidays, preserving is an excellent option.

There are three styles of marmalade: 1) whole fruit; 2) juice and peel; or 3) half and half. The whole fruit one is extremely bitter, while the juice and peel marmalade is the sweetest. I lean towards the third option of half a whole fruit and half juice because life is bitter enough, but it should never be completely eliminated. Bitterness adds complexity and nuance.

The typical ratio of fruit to sugar is 1:1, meaning 1 pound of fruit to 1 pound of sugar. Do not try to skimp on the sugar here. There are plenty of low-sugar jams and jellies recipes out there. Marmalade is too bitter and needs sugar to make it palatable. My suggestion is to use less marmalade on your toast.

Now, here’s the cool thing about marmalade. Yes, if you have access to Seville oranges—a true bitter orange—great. Use them to make your confiture. But naval oranges, Cara Cara, clementines, lemons, limes, kumquats, grapefruit, and pomelos will make equally fantastic marmalade too.

Use proper canning technique. Ball Canning has solid instructions, and you can never go wrong with them.

The more pith, the bitterer the marmalade. It’s that simple. Removing as much of the pith from your peels will help dampen that taste.

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DAVID LEBOVITZ’s PINK GRAPEFRUIT MARMALADE (1/2 and 1/2)

(I/2 recipe makes 3 - 4 eight-ounce jars of marmalade.)

My variation: I halved this recipe, added ½ teaspoon salt, bumped the sugar up by ¼ cup, and added more lemon juice—about ½ of a lemon more. I let the marmalade rest for five minutes before stirring in ¼ cup of Grand Marnier, then proceeded to processing.

SMALL BATCH CARA CARA AND APPLEJACK MARMALADE (WHOLE FRUIT)

(This recipe makes between 3 and 5 eight-ounce jars of marmalade.)

2 Cara Cara Oranges. Remove peels from the oranges and julienne into fine strips. Roughly chop the pulp. Don’t let any of the juice go to waste.

Weigh the pulp, peel, and juice so you can measure out an equal amount of sugar.

Place the fruit in a bowl and cover with 2.5 to 3 cups of water and a sprinkling of salt.

Cover the bowl and let it sit on the counter overnight or 24 hours.

The next day, drain the liquid, and place the fruit in the pan. Cover with 2.5 to 3 cups of water.

Stir in the previous day’s measured sugar with another healthy pinch of salt.

Add the juice of 1 to 2 lemons.

Bring the mixture to a boil and stir occasionally. Your goal is to get the mixture to 216°F (looser marmalade) or 220°F. (firmer).

Once you’ve reached the temperature, turn off the heat and let the mixture rest for five minutes. This helps the fruit stay suspended in the marmalade rather than sinking to the bottom. Stir in the applejack.

Ladle into clean and sanitized jars and follow proper processing procedures for your area.

SMALL BATCH BLOOD ORANGE AND CRYSTALIZED GINGER MARMALADE (JUICE AND PEEL METHOD)

Adapted from Marissa McClellan’s FOOD IN JARS, ©2011, Running Press Publishers, Philadelphia.

(This recipe makes a little more than 3 eight-ounce jars of marmalade.)

INGREDIENTS

• 4 blood oranges

• 4 ½ cups sugar

• ¼ teaspoon salt

• ½ cup fresh lemon juice

• 1 cup crystallized ginger, chopped finer

• ¼ cup Campari or Cointreau (optional)

METHOD

1. Wash the fruit well. Remove the peel, avoiding as much of the white pith as possible, and cut into fine strips. The finer the better.

2. Peel the oranges, removing as much of the white pith as possible. Add the oranges and any stray juice to a blender bowl and blitz.

3. Place a cheesecloth in a bowl. Pour the orange pulp into the cheesecloth and tie it up. Add the blood orange peel strips to the bowl.

4. Cover with 2 cups of water and a pinch of salt before covering with a towel and letting the mixture rest overnight or for 24 hours.

5. Gently squeeze the cheesecloth to extract as much juice as possible but without adding any pulp. Pour the liquid and strips of peel into a pot. Stir in the sugar and lemon juice. Bring the mixture to a boil and stir occasionally. Your goal is to get the mixture to 216°F (looser marmalade) or 220°F. (firmer). This one can get scummy. For a clear marmalade, skim the scum!

6. Once you’ve reached the temperature, turn off the heat and let the mixture rest for five minutes. This helps the peel stay suspended in the marmalade rather than sinking to the bottom. Stir in the crystallized ginger and the alcohol, if using.

7. Ladle into clean and sanitized jars and follow proper processing procedures for your area.

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If you’ve followed me for any time, you know I find poverty cooking the most flavorful the world has to offer.* La Soup de la Bonne Femme, The Good Woman Soup, may be classic French cuisine, but it must be acknowledged that it is cuisine of the poor. This traditional potato leek soup is made with very few ingredients and teaches the cook that something deliciously filling can be made when the cupboard is almost bare. Combining lowly potatoes, humble leeks, tap stock (water) or chicken stock, butter or oil, cream (optional), and seasoning, the cook makes a bowl of divinity. The keys to its success are understanding how to sweat your vegetables and season them.

The sister soup to La Bonne Femme is La Pêcheuse, The Fisher Woman. It’s the way to upgrade your potato leek soup—with the addition of any seafood and fish you choose—into more of a substantial meal. If cod is all you have on hand, that’s perfectly fine. It would taste equally good with only clams and/or mussels. Next time you are in your local grocery store, go look at the fish counter and check out the prices. A three-ounce piece of cod and a handful of mussels might be the perfect addition to give The Good Woman the profession of The Fisher Woman.

*For example, go look at Vietnam’s culinary culture to understand how politics, war, colonialism, and starvation spurred the creation of one of the lightest, healthiest, and most flavorful cuisines on the planet.

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LA SOUPE de la BONNE FEMME

(with additional instructions on how to upgrade it to LA PÊCHEUSE below it)

INGREDIENTS

• 2 ounces of butter or oil

• 2 leeks, tough outer leaves removed. White part quartered, sliced, and thoroughly rinsed under water to remove the sandy grit. Save the green part for stock making.

• 2 Russet potatoes, peeled and diced

• 2 teaspoons of vinegar (white wine or champagne vinegar would be great here, but if all you have is apple cider, use it. Do not use distilled vinegar in this. Please and thank you.)

• salt

• 3 cups of tap stock (That’s water, to the laypeople) or chicken stock

• 1, 2, or 3 bay leaves

• 1 or 2 sprig of fresh thyme

• 2 to 4 Tablespoons of heavy cream (more or less)

• salt and pepper

• minced parsley for garnish (At least 1 Tablespoon, but more would be better.)

• a couple of gratings of fresh nutmeg

• a pinch of cayenne

METHOD

1. In a heavy-bottomed pot, melt the butter over medium heat.

2. Stir in the leek to coat, cover with a lid, and allow the leeks to soften for about ten minutes before adding the potatoes. Do not brown the leek. You want it to have opacity, not caramelization.

3. Stir in the potatoes, vinegar, and a sprinkling of salt.

4. Reduce the vinegar to almost dry before adding the stock, bay leaves, and thyme.

5. Bring the liquid to a boil, reduce to a simmer, and simmer until the potatoes are tender—about 15 minutes-ish.

6. At this point, fish our the bay leaves and thyme, stir in the cream (if using), half of the minced parsley, the nutmeg, and cayenne.

7. Taste and adjust your seasoning with salt and pepper. Potatoes love salt, so don’t be shy.

8. Ladle into warm bowls and garnish with more minced parsley.

9. Serve immediately. Great with some crusty bread and a chunk of cheese.

LA SOUPE de la PÊCHEUSE UPGRADE

ADDITIONAL INGREDIENTS

• Use fresh lemon juice and lemon zest instead of the vinegar

• 5 mussels per person, undamaged, shells closed, cleaned and beards removed

• 5 clams per person, undamaged, shells closed, and cleaned

• 2 or 3 shrimp per person, tail on is fine, but remove the rest of the shell and the vein down the back

• 2 to 3 ounces of cod per person, cut into cubes

• 2 to 3 scallops per person, foot removed

• 2 to 3 calamari tentacles per person

• 1 or 2 calamari tubes per person, sliced into circles—not strips

ADDITIONAL METHOD

1. Once the potatoes are cooked, return the soup to a boil.

2. Add in your seafood and fish in the following order, waiting between each addition before adding the next.

3. Shells first. Add them, then place the lid back on to encourage the mussels and clams to open. Wait three to five minutes. Discard any shelled fish that do not open.

4. Add the shrimp and wait 90 seconds.

5. Add the fish and wait 90 seconds.

6. Stir in the scallop and calamari and wait 90 seconds.

7. Stir in the cream and follow the remaining steps from La Bonne Femme’s recipe.

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Yesterday was tough. Tough enough that I needed to find something that I could soften and transform through the alchemy of combining fat, acid, heat, and salt. In so doing, I turned the inedible into a humble, filling stew that comforts and nourishes. In essence, I made a bowl of poetry.

A well-made beef rib stew requires focus, concentration, and time—a sort of meditative process where I purposefully build, nurture, and wait for it to become something better. This cooking technique is called a long braise, and one that most people love to eat but loathe to cook because this type of cooking does not deliver instant gratification. I embrace braising as an act of resistance. I transform tough into tender, and in this moment, we could all use some tenderness.

BEEF RIB STEW

(I know. Lots of ingredients. Instead of following the recipe to the letter, put in it what you can afford and like. Just carrots, onions, and potatoes will be equally as delicious as all the other stuff.)

INGREDIENTS

• 2 to 3 slices of bacon, sliced down the middle and then sliced into ¼-inch pieces

• olive oil

• 1 or 2 bone-in beef ribs

• Some flour mixed with salt and pepper ( I used quinoa flour to make it gluten-free)

• beef stew meat

• 1 small yellow onion, medium diced

• 2 carrots, peeled and sliced into half moons or bias-cut

• 1 parsnip, peeled and sliced into half moons or bias cut

• 1 red beet, peeled and medium-diced

• 1 turnip, peeled and medium-diced

• 1 tablespoon tomato paste

• 2 Tablespoons sherry vinegar

• ¼ cup red wine

• Beef stock or water

• 2 bay leaves

• Fresh rosemary stem

• Fresh thyme stems

• 1 Russet potato, peeled and medium diced (If you do this ahead, cover with water to keep it from browning. Strain the water off before adding the potatoes to the stew.)

• salt and pepper

• fresh parsley, minced

METHOD

1. In a heavy pot, one large enough to make the soup in, render the bacon to crispy.

2. Remove the bacon bits to a bowl for later.

3. Reduce the heat to medium and add a splash or two of olive oil to the pan.

4. Dredge the rib and stew meat in the flour.

5. Shake off the excess flour and carefully add the meat to the pot.

6. Do the following in batches: brown the meat on all sides—you want a beautiful char but not burnt—then transfer to a bowl to hold. Add more oil and brown more meat.

7. Once all the meat is browned, add a splash more olive oil and add your onions to the pan.

8. Stir around a bit to help scrape off the delicious bit from the bottom of the pan while your onions caramelize.

9. Once you see some nice browning on the onions, stir in the rest of the vegetables except the potatoes.

10. Plop a lid on it and let the vegetables steam for about five minutes.

11. Remove the lid, give the vegetables a stir, then stir in the tomato paste.

12. Let the paste caramelize for about two to three minutes before adding the vinegar.

13. Bring the vinegar to a boil and reduce it until it is almost gone.

14. Add the wine and bring it to a boil. Reduce it until it’s almost gone.

15. Return the crispy bacon and the meat to the pot and cover with beef stock or water.

16. Slide in the bay leaves, rosemary, and thyme.

17. Bring the pot to a boil, then reduce the heat so that the liquid gently simmers.

18. Add the lid so it partially covers the pot. Keep an eye on it because you might need to add more liquid.

19. Now, let this simmer for at least 90 minutes, or until the beef rib meat is ready to fall off the bone.

20. Remove the rib meat before adding the potatoes.

21. Return the liquid to a gentle boil to cook the potatoes. This will be about fifteen to twenty minutes.

22. Remove the rib meat from the bone and chop it into chunks. Stir the chunks into the stew.

23. Now is the time to taste it a season appropriately to your taste. You will notice that I did not season early on. That’s because this is a reduction. If I seasoned to my liking in the beginning, the reduction would intensify the flavor to the point of making it inedible.

24. Serve in warm bowls with lots of crusty bread. Garnish with the parsley and enjoy! This is even better when eaten on the second and third days.

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Last night, when most US citizens slept, the current administration bombed Venezuela and seized the Venezuelan president and his wife, transporting them to the Southern District of New York to stand trial. There is no question that Maduro was awful. There is a question whether this action was constitutionally legal.

From a moral perspective, our current president, a president of a large nation, dropped bombs on a small country. Venezuela’s population is estimated to be around 31.8 million people. To give you a better idea of size, combine New York City’s metropolitan area of approximately 19.3 million people with Los Angeles’s metro area of roughly 13.2 million people, and you come close to a comparison. It’s not that we physically bombed 31.8 million people, but we certainly did emotionally and psychologically.

We weren’t supposed to do this. The international agreements made after the ending of World War II promised to ensure that large aggressors never again flexed their military powers against smaller ones. Sadly, yet another confirmation that humankind is notoriously bad at keeping promises is on full display.

As I write this, the US president is probably broadcasting, letting us know the whys and wherefores of this action. I don’t have the stomach to listen. All I know is that we may be at war, and I have spent a year preparing for this.

For someone who cooks, preparation is key. We call it mise en place—everything in its place. This habit of looking ahead farther than others often angered my coworkers. I had action files in place with plans on how to deal with every eventual disaster, while others thought winging it was the better approach. “Why court calamity,” they’d ask. “It’s just giving people a reason to think disaster will happen and then panic or take advantage of us.” That’s not how I see it. My parents should have called me Cassandra, because there is no “thinking” about it. The truth is, disasters are inevitable. How people respond to them is their choice. My power is being ready for almost every inevitable outcome.

On this first day of what possibly could be a long and bitter engagement, it’s essential to eat in such a way that keeps you going. So, I’m starting with a breakfast of Bircher Muesli and heading to a bowl of comforting vegetable beef stew. Both are healthy, filling, and loaded with fiber, probiotics, and antioxidants. They are guaranteed to help me stay focused while I watch and wait for the fog to clear, and the fallout sees the full light of day. What we have done is probably unforgivable. I’ve prepared for that.

BIRCHER MUESLI

INGREDIENTS

The overnight preparation:

• 1 cup of old-fashioned rolled oats

• 1 cup of milk

• 2 or 3 clementines or 1 large orange

• 1 Tablespoon raisins (optional)

• 1 Tablespoon slivered almonds (optional)

The morning preparation:

• 1 cup Icelandic Skyr or Greek yogurt

• 1 large apple, grated

• 1 Tablespoon chia seeds

• a handful of fresh blueberries

• 1 Tablespoon of maple syrup or ½ Tablespoon of honey

METHOD

The overnight preparation:

1. In a bowl, stir to combine the oats, milk, citrus, and the raisins and almonds, ff using.

2. Smash the citrus to release the juices. These help make the nutrients in the oats more bioavailable.

3. Wrap and refrigerate overnight.

The morning preparation

1. When you are ready, pull the oatmeal out of the refrigerator, remove the cover, and stir in the yogurt and apples.

2. Dollop your desired portion into a bowl.

3. Top off with a sprinkling of chia seeds and blueberries and a dash of maple syrup or honey.

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If someone asked me what I wanted at my last meal, these Swedish Pepperkakar cookies would definitely be on the menu. They are seductively spicy, comfortingly fragrant, and smoothly sweet on the tongue. Once a plate with a pile of these—accompanied by a piping hot mug of tea or coffee—is on the table, I know it’s officially the holidays.

I had plans to do gorgeous designs on these, but the season has been crazy busy. With a catering event on Christmas Eve and brunch for six following fast after on Christmas Day, time was not on my side to get everything I wanted to do done. And you know what? That’s okay. Sometimes, a humble slather of Royal Icing and a few sprinkles gets the job done. During the busy season, less fuss brings more enjoyment. They are good enough, and they taste delicious. I’m happy.

To all my subscribers, old and new, thank you for following along this year. I really appreciate your time and energy and sharing both to read or listen to me natter on.

May your holidays land the way you like them to, hopefully with a mug of tea and a plate of these cookies. May your 2026 be delightful and fulfilling. Catch you in the new year!

~Janet, The Simmering Chef

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SWEDISH PEPPERKAKAR COOKIES

(This dough makes great cut-out cookies, but you can just as easily roll the dough out and cut it all into squares.

INGREDIENTS

• 3 ¼ cups unbleached flour

• 1 Tablespoon ground ginger

• 2 teaspoons ground cinnamon

• 1 teaspoon ground cloves

• ½ teaspoon ground allspice

• ½ teaspoon ground nutmeg

• 1 teaspoon baking soda

• ½ teaspoon salt

• 1 cup unsalted butter

• 1 cup granulated sugar

• 1 egg

• ½ cup blackstrap molasses

METHOD

1. Preheat oven to 350° F.

2. Sift all the dry ingredients together.

3. Cream the butter and sugar.

4. Add the egg and molasses.

5. Slowly add the flour to the egg mixture.

6. Flatten the dough into a disc and wrap well in wax paper.

7. Chill overnight.

8. Roll the dough out between two pieces of parchment paper to about ¼-inch.

9. Cut into squares or into shapes with cookie cutters.

10. Bake on a greased or parchment-lines baking sheet pan for 8 to 10 minutes.

11. Remove to a rack to cool.

12. Cool completely before icing with Royal icing or simply leave plain.

ROYAL ICING

INGREDIENTS

• 1 egg white, beaten to a froth

• 1 ¾ cup powdered sugar, sifted

• ¼ teaspoon cream of tartar

• ¼ teaspoon salt

• a few drops of lemon juice

• food coloring, if that’s your thing

• sprinkles and sugars, for decorating

METHOD

1. Combine the sugar and salt and stir into the frothed egg white.

2. Thin with a few drops of lemon juice if the Royal icing appears too thick.

3. Decorate your cookies however you like. Simply remember to add the sprinkles after you’ve slathered the icing onto a few of the cookies. It hardens fast, and the sprinkles need something to stick to if you want them to stay put.

4. After you’ve decorated the cookies, let them rest so that the icing completely hardens. Then you can pack them into an airtight container. They can last for up to three weeks in the container, or freeze them. Usually, they never last three weeks.

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This holiday, I’m feeling as if everything is rushed. Gads! I need to find time to send out the holiday cards. (Gnashes teeth.) Holidays are supposed to be enjoyable, not reduced to things on long lists to check off once accomplished. I am not bloody Santa Claus.

Maybe this rush is a product of Thanksgiving falling on a late date this year. We only get four weeks of preparation instead of five. Which is why I like early Thanksgivings. I get more time to prepare. That’s hilarious since I have scheduled in my calendar a monthly “Think About Christmas” notification. When it pops up, I promptly put it to sleep. Nothing like procrastination and faith that my future self will surely get to it.

Of course, I’ve taken on two major projects this year. One is fostering very sick dogs. The latest one arrived Friday night. Someone had left him out in the cold to freeze to death. Thankfully, he didn’t, but after a stint in rehab, he’s recuperating at my house. His name is Little Drummer Boy, but I call him Drummer. He’s a fighter, a wobbly one, but he’s not giving up. The other project is building and furnishing a miniature dollhouse room for my great nieces. Because I never do easy things, this is a job. Luckily, I am thoroughly enjoying myself. I am, after all, a craftswoman at heart.

Today’s lunch needed to be substantial, filling, and require little thought. With onions, apples, cabbage, and some chicken sausages in the fridge, I had the makings that ticked off those three requirements.

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CHICKEN SAUSAGES with CABBAGE, APPLES, and ONIONS

There’s no recipe here. This is cooking at the bone. Chop up your veg and apple. Heat your pan up with a bit of olive or neutral oil. Sear your sausages until golden brown. Transfer them to a plate and hold them on the side while you caramelize your onions. Toss in your apples and brown a bit. Add your sausage back in and top off with the cabbage. Add a dash of water or beer and plonk on a lid. Once it has all steamed and the cabbage has wilted, plop in a pat of butter, season, stir, and eat. I served mine with some leftover cranberry relish and an enormous dollop of nose-clearing Dijon mustard, but you do you. Just remember to pause and enjoy.

Happy holidays!

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Everyone is probably frantically cooking, cleaning, organizing, decorating, and finishing up the bits and bobs needed to pull off a successful feast day tomorrow, so I will keep this short.

My final contribution to your Thanksgiving table is a simple salad. Note that it’s the dressing that gives it an orbital twist with the use of a homemade cranberry thyme vinegar.

The salad is simple. Toss together your favorite lettuce with chopped green onions, candied pecans, chunks of (roasted—if you have time) pears and apples, and shreds of rich and intensely flavored Stilton or any other blue cheese with the cranberry dressing. Feel free to garnish with some pomegranates to give it a delightful pop. You’ll note that I added some slivers of prosciutto. That's because this was today’s lunch, and I wanted a bit more in the dish. You can do the same, but it is absolutely not necessary.

Happy Thanksgiving! May it roll exactly the way you like it.

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CRANBERRY THYME VINEGAR

Adapted from COLD CANNING by Bruce Weinstein and Mark Scarbrough

INGREDIENTS

• 360 ml (1½ cups) of apple cider vinegar or champagne vinegar

• 60 g (heaping ¼ cup) sugar

• 340 g (12 oz) fresh or frozen cranberries

• several stalks of fresh thyme, no need to remove the leaves from the stalk.

METHOD

1. Add the vinegar and sugar to a medium-sized pot and place the pot onto the stove over medium heat.

2. Stir until the sugar dissolves.

3. Reduce the heat to low and stir in the cranberries.

4. Stir frequently until the cranberries pop. (This took me 15 minutes, but I had it over a very low heat.)

5. NOTE: DO NOT BOIL! Boiling messes with the vinegar’s clarity.

6. Plop the thyme into the pot, remove from the heat, and allow the vinegar to steep for two hours.

7. Over a bowl, strain the vinegar through a jelly bag or a few layers of cheesecloth. Gently press the fruit to extract more juice, but be careful not to add the cloudy, pulpy bits.

8. Transfer to clean jars and refrigerate for up to 3 months or freeze for up to a year.

CRANBERRY DRESSING

INGREDIENTS

• 60 ml (¼ cup) cranberry vinegar

• 1 shallot, minced

• ½ teaspoon salt

• 1 Tablespoon honey

• 2 teaspoons Dijon mustard

• 177 ml (¾ cup) neutral oil such as avocado

• 60 ml (¼ cup) olive oil

• salt and pepper to taste

METHOD

1. In the bowl of a blender, add the vinegar, shallot, and salt and macerate (let it sit so that flavors combine) for 10 minutes.

2. Add the honey and mustard and blend.

3. While the blender is running, slowly drizzle in the neutral oil and then the olive oil to create a thick dressing. If it’s getting too thick, thin it with either a little more vinegar or some water.

4. Add a few twists of freshly cracked peppercorns and taste by dipping a lettuce leaf into the dressing, tasting it, and then adjusting your seasoning.

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The “Old Lioness” died three years ago today, and I thought, “Time. Flies.” It’s not that we’ve moved on, but life forces us to move forward eventually. Each heartbeat paces us through days, weeks, months, years, until it’s been three, four, or more. Although the pangs of grief catch me unaware, and I frequently whisper, “I miss you,” she would never have wanted us to turn her death maudlin. “Fine. Miss me, but I see a pile of laundry needs doing, and my! Look how dirty your floors are. Have you called MC?” For her, life should be spent living, doing, and loving.

This morning, I texted my sister the photo above. I wrote, “When I lived on the Isle of Man, Mom bought a set of these for me. Notice the text. She hated chocolate, so it was easy for her to love anyone more than it. That bar was set pretty low.” All joking aside, she loved deeply and generously showered it upon everyone.

Three years and I still miss you, Mom. Now, time to go fold laundry and call M.C.

*Oops. My dyslexia kicked in and I initially wrote 1929. My mother was born in 1926. DOH! For those who received an email, you saw 1929. It’s now fixed to the correct dates.

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Yes, yes. I am posting inconsistently. My apologies for that. I am remarkably human and finding that there are too many distractions, too many responsibilities, and too little time.

The dip recipe will be basic, and I encourage you to flavor it to your liking. Throw in some ginger or make the flavors more East Indian-focused. The important thing you are looking for is a balance of flavors. It works well with a variety of dippers. As you can see, I used chips, crisps, and vegetables.

The bonus recipe is a Creamy Pumpkin Soup made from the leftover dip. I really like getting a second use out of something, making it even more economical.

With any luck, I’ll post the salad recipe tomorrow or Tuesday, and then call it a day. There’s simply too much going on. I don’t have time to cook and write and I bet you don’t have time to read. HA!

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FIERY PUMPKIN DIP

INGREDIENTS

• Olive oil

• ¼ yellow onion, medium diced

• 2 to 4 garlic cloves, minced

• ¼ to ½ teaspoon cumin

• ¼ teaspoon coriander

• Juice from ½ lime

• ~½ tablespoon honey

• 1 can of pumpkin purée. (This should be plain with absolutely no seasoning.)

• ¼ to 1 habanero, depending on how hot you like things

• sea salt

• freshly cracked pepper

• Garnish: freshly chopped cilantro and pumpkin seeds

METHOD

1. Heat the oil in a heavy-bottomed pan over medium heat.

2. Add the onion and sauté until it starts to brown.

3. Stir in the garlic, cumin, and coriander. Bloom until everything smells fragrant.

4. Add in the lime juice, honey, and pumpkin purée.

5. Reduce the heat and stir occasionally as the pumpkin heats up.

6. Add the cooked ingredients and the habanero to a food processor or blender and blitz until smooth.

7. Season with salt and pepper.

8. Taste and adjust with either more lime juice, chili, salt, or pepper.

9. Transfer to a bowl.

10. Feel free to garnish with pumpkin seeds and cilantro or not.

11. Serve warm with an array of chips and vegetables.

CREAMY PUMPKIN SOUP

This is not a glamorous soup, but it is warming and uses up leftovers. If you have them, adding a few croutons would make it more filling too. Of course, I made mine with a grilled blue cheese sandwich because I wanted SUBSTANTIAL!

INGREDIENTS

• Leftover pumpkin dip

• Enough water or stock to thin the dip out to a soup consistency

• Heavy cream (optional)

• salt and black pepper to taste

METHOD

1. Add the pumpkin dip and water or stock to a pan and whisk to remove clumps.

2. Gently heat over medium-low until the soup begins to bubble.

3. If using, stir in the cream now.

4. Taste and adjust the seasoning.

5. Feel free to garnish with any leftover cilantro and pumpkin seeds.

6. Serve warm.

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You have spoken! Safe Harbor is the cocktail you wanted me to make, and so I did. I love the name and feel it’s a good start to this series. Thank you for taking the time and choosing. (Apologies for the delay. My days are filled with an abundance of foster dogs.)

Invented long before 1914 by the Royal Navy stationed somewhere around Bermuda, the Sage Harbor cocktail is a cousin of the Dark and Stormy cocktail—the beverage du jour in the early 2000s. It is an easy-to-make dark rum and ginger ale cooler, and, when poured into a well-chilled copper mug, makes the drinker imagine they are some sort of upscale pirate. Sea shanty, anyone? An old beau introduced me to it. He loathed dark rum, so he made his with white rum, but didn’t have a new name for it. Without missing a beat, I called it a Light and Misty. With a few tweaks, it transforms into a Safe Harbor.

The traditional Safe Harbor cocktail is similar to a Dark and Stormy, but uses spiced rum and mixes in fresh lime juice, ginger syrup, and bitters. In honor of that distant beau, I made mine with the damnedest darkest aged rum I could find—I’m not bitter, but feel free to use your rum of choice. For those who want the non-alcoholic version, I made one with Lyre’s White Rum Alternative, which was quite good. They make a dark rum alternative, too, that I hear is exceptional. If you really want to make your own rum alternative, I suggest getting Grant Achatz’s book about superbly crafted, non-alcoholic cocktails, ZERO. Within its pages is a wonderful rum alternative recipe. I’d share a photo of it, but I daren’t infringe on the copyright. Achatz makes a lot more money than I do and probably has better lawyers….

You’ll find the Safe Harbor cocktail recipe below this week’s polls. Please use my recipe as guidance, but not as gospel. You might like yours sweeter or spicier, or even more alcoholic. Play! Just remember to drink responsibly. Instead of getting behind the wheel, make the day of an Uber or Lyft driver by hiring one to take you home.

This is great as a two or three person-project. Next to the turkey, a bottle of rum or rum alternative will cost some bucks.

With that, I leave you with one more thought and two polls. First, during this holiday season, creating safe and welcoming spaces may be the most important thing we do for our communities. Storms blow whether we want them to or not, but behind our doors, gifting people with camaraderie, comfort, and a shared, soothing libation may make all the difference in someone’s life.

Thank you for reading.

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SAFE HARBOR COCKTAIL

INGREDIENTS

• ice

• 2 ounces rum or rum alternative (see above)

• 1 ounce freshly squeezed lime juice

• 2 to 3 Tablespoons allspice-ginger simple syrup

• 2 to 4 dashes of bitters ( I used a mix of Fee Brothers rhubarb bitters and Jack Rudy orange bitters)

• 3 to 4 ounces of a spicy ginger beer (I used Fever Tree this time. I also love Reed’s, because it is extra spicy.)

• Garnish: lime wedge or slice, and, if you are feeling festive, a maraschino or bada bing cherry or two.

METHOD

1. Fill a highball or rocks glass with ice.

2. Pour in the rum, lime juice, simple syrup, and bitters.

3. Top off with the ginger beer.

4. Taste and adjust with more simple syrup, lime juice, alcohol, or ginger beer.

5. Garnish with a lime wedge and cherries.

6. Toast.

ALLSPICE-GINGER SIMPLE SYRUP

INGREDIENTS

• ½ cup sugar

• ½ cup water

• 4 or 5 whole allspice berries, gently crushed (The bottom of a jar or pan works well to crush these)

• 6 to 9 whole black peppercorns, gently crushed (see the note next to the whole allspice crushing)

• a pinch of salt

• ¼ cup chopped ginger, peel on or one 5-ounce bottle of Ginger People’s ginger juice

METHOD

1. Add the sugar, water, whole allspice berries, and pinch of salt (and fresh ginger, if using) to a pan.

2. Bring to a boil and boil until the sugar crystals are melted and it starts to thicken slightly.

3. Stir in the full bottle of ginger juice here.

4. Remove from the heat and cool.

5. Once cool, strain into a clean container.

6. Refrigerate.

7. Use within two weeks.

NOTE: Simple syrup is a tasty addition to your coffee if that’s how you like to take it. This allspice-ginger simple syrup gives you an edge in your holiday coffee crafting.

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Below is a Sea Shanty, because this may be the best way to end this post. Until next week, my friends!

Hello and welcome to all my current and new subscribers. You are what keeps this blog/podcast going, and I appreciate you more than you know. Thank you for reading, listening, commenting, and sharing. Without you, I am simply waving from the other side of a miles-wide canyon.

What will you do? In 39 days (November 27th), Thanksgiving Day in the U.S. of A. arrives. This may be our biggest holiday, and this year, it may be our most expensive. One person trying to put on the biggest spread of the year is impossible; even a few people might find it financially daunting and physically exhausting. My suggestion? Spread the wealth and energy; open your doors to friends and family and let everyone contribute something, while maybe two or three of you purchase and cook the turkey, ham, salmon, or whatever protein suits you.

The Italian idea of taking doors off their hinges, laying them upon sawhorses placed in the garden or largest room, and covering them with clean sheets before setting the table for a big group sounds very appealing. Give two or three people that job of setting the table, another couple should bring the flowers, while a few others bring the booze and beverages. Maybe everyone brings their own chair? It’s a gathering, so gather, but don’t come empty-handed.

For the next few weeks, my plan is to give you several inexpensive recipes for the big feast day. Each Monday until Thanksgiving week, you will see a poll of possible recipes that could be part of your Thanksgiving dinner. The following Monday, when the next poll opens, I’ll share the recipe and photos of your top pick.

This first poll is all about the beverage. Wine, beer, and non-alcoholic drinks are always welcome, but sometimes you want something that is special for this particular day. The cranberry-rosemary liqueur is splendid mixed with champagne. The apple and sage wine adds complementary notes of sweet and herbal when served with your turkey, and the Safe Harbor Cocktail, spiced heavily with ginger and a healthy dose of rum, will welcome everyone with its spicy, heady aroma.

Let me know what appeals to you because I’m ready to get crackin’ on these recipes.

~Janet

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In four days, these doors close. Propped ajar since June, something great couldn’t withstand the obstacles of rising rents, slow growth, dead nights, and just being a fraction too east of the cool section of town. 

So, I’m here, like many, celebrating a wake for an idea that just didn’t have the grip to hang on. The owners are far more philosophical. This was the top of the turnstile they had to cross to get to the other side. Better things are on their trail and I couldn’t be more excited for them. They’re artists at heart.

The Mystic was conceived and brought to life by Kevin and Amy Smith, owners of the amazingly hip Cajun Blackbird Boutique. Its feel is beachcomber meets pirate, as if Captain Jack Sparrow decided he should tone it down just enough to become a respectable businessman, and his route to respectability was by opening a pub. In a different time period, we’d find Leon Russel tinkling the keys of that old, turquoise piano in the corner while Jackson Brown jotted down lyrics that captured the moment. This time-capsule of a bar would entice any of the greats back to play one more song. Luckily, their wonderful notes are on constant play when live music isn’t on the stage.

In December of 2024, I stopped by Cajun Blackbird looking for holiday presents and asked about what was going on next door. Amy was delighted to tell me. Her enthusiasm was infectious. She chatted away about their plans as she walked me through the groovy space, and I was duly impressed. It looked like it was going to hop, and in my imagination I could hear the soft rumble of glass clinking, people chatting and laughing, and a musician’s guitar strumming. I could envision the potential, and that vision was exciting. Kevin and his mate were outside working on the patio, and slowly but surely, it was coming along. I proffered my card, saying I’d love to help with the food if they wanted. They hoped for a big opening party in February, and might be in touch. But, as the letter at the bottom states, they opened in June. Anything connected with projected openings for restaurants and bars is always months behind schedule.

There is no hate here for the Smiths. They had a dream, and they went for it, and that’s admirable. In a business where 95+ percent of restaurants and bars close, people need to accept that’s a risky roll of the dice, and in this game, there are a lot of obstacles preventing a successful roll. But I get why they did it. Who doesn’t want a place that reflects who you are while encouraging community and supporting the arts? I’m glad they tried, but I’m sad they didn’t make it. Hello and goodbye. I hope we get to meet again soon. (I hear it will be in The Pearl District in the not-too-distant future. Every pirate believes in silver linings.)

The Mystic is open three more days, so get in while it’s still around. Friday, October 10 - Sunday, October 12th. Please say “hey” to Kevin and Amy and promise to meet them at their new location in Tulsa.

The Mystic: 601 E. Main Street, Jenks, OK 74037.

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Forty years ago this month, in the wee hours of a humid September morning, my father flagged down a train in rural Kansas and loaded me and my one bag onto it. My father was a stoic, so emotions were told in fractional hints. The wrinkles in his forehead were a little more pronounced. His head held a little higher with his chest following suit, but his eyes were moist, and his brief, firm hug lasted forever. He was both proud and sad because his littlest girl was off on the first steps of trying to make a life, and that started with education and training in a faraway place. I was bound for the C.I.A., the Culinary Institute of America, to learn how to be a professional cook.

Rows upon rows of corn lined both sides of the track, standing tall as they waited for the last bits of harvesting before tilling in the stover. As the buttery landscape flew by me, I saw it melt from rural farmland, bubble into designed and plotted suburbs, and sizzle into a large city’s activity. I landed in Chicago with a three-hour stopover before transferring to another train heading for Poughkeepsie, NY. It was time to wait.

These layovers always remind me of in-between times, or, as I call them, Shoulder Seasons. One is neither here nor there. It’s that period when you’ve hurried up but must now wait for the next thing to happen. We all have them. It’s similar to the interminable wait in doctors’ offices or the mud season in Colorado. Here in Tulsa, I am in a sort of Shoulder Season, waiting for trees to finally turn, the rush of the holidays, and crisper air to cool the land. I’m waiting to exhale and breathe again. The thing is, one must make the best of the moment, even the between times.

With that thought of finding entertaining things to do while you wait, I present you with caramelized ribs with a slaw of mixed vegetables. You could skip the slaw and go straight for mashed potatoes, but I wanted something that reflected both the upcoming cooler weather, while still celebrating Summer’s abundance. Be forewarned: these ribs got me a marriage proposal. His wife was almost happy about giving him up—as long as she could take the rest of the platter of ribs. Oh my god. She thought that was a fair trade.

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CARAMELIZED PORK RIBS with a SLAW OF MIXED VEGETABLES

(Adapted from David Lebovitz’s MY PARIS KITCHEN)

RIB RECIPE INGREDIENTS

• 1.8 kg (4 pounds) pork ribs, cut into 3-rib portions

• 150 g (¾ cup) granulated raw cane sugar

• 45 g (¼ cup) firmly packed dark muscavado sugar

• 180 ml (¾ cup) extra spicy ginger beer (I use Reed’s strongest because I want that ginger punch.)

• 60 ml (¼ cup) bourbon (If you don’t want to use bourbon, substitute with coffee or apple cider.)

• ½ cup apple cider vinegar

• 3 Tablespoons ketchup

• 2 cm (½-inch) piece of ginger, peeled and minced—optional, if not using the extra spicy ginger beer, or you really like the flavor of ginger

• 3 Tablespoons soy sauce or tamari

• 1 Tablespoon of your favorite red hot sauce. (I’m using Heartbeat’s Scorpion Hot Sauce. They are out of Ontario, Canada, and I bought a lot of it before our weird tariffs kicked in.)

• 1 teaspoon of Dijon mustard (Trader Joe’s has an excellent Dijon mustard. It has the kick I like and better flavor than Grey Poupon, but use what you can find, or—because the holidays are on the way—make your own.)

• ½ teaspoon freshly cracked ground black pepper

• ¼ cup of water

SLAW DRESSING INGREDIENTS

• 4 teaspoons red wine vinegar

• 2 Tablespoons minced shallot

• ½ teaspoon Kosher or sea salt

• 1 cup of mayonnaise, store-bought or homemade

• 1½ teaspoons Dijon mustard

• 1 Tablespoon honey

• ½ teaspoon freshly cracked black pepper

SLAW SALAD INGREDIENTS

• 460 g (about 6 cups) of shredded or sliced raw vegetables. Mix it up with anything you like. I used: 1 bag of slaw mix containing green cabbage, red cabbage, and carrot, and added radishes, apple, broccoli, and green onions

• a handful of your favorite nuts and/ore seeds, chopped up

RIB and SLAW METHODS

1. Cut the ribs into 3- or 4-rib portions. Set aside.

2. Preheat the oven to 180°C/350°F.

3. Prep your ingredients for the slaw and ribs.

4. In a bowl, macerate the shallot in the red wine vinegar and salt for 10 minutes.

5. Stir the mayonnaise, mustard, honey, and black pepper into the shallot and vinegar mixture. Cover and chill until ready to make the slaw.

6. Using either a large pot or a Dutch oven that has a lid, spread the granulated sugar evenly over its bottom and cook over medium heat. You will see the sugar starting to melt around the edges or, if you’re like me with a small burner, it will melt in the middle. Keep an eye on it. Your first goal is for it to get to a pale copper color. When you see that, gently stir the sugar from the edge to the center and continue cooking. Stir frequently but gently until the sugar is deeply copper-colored and liquified. Aim for a maple syrup color, but not burnt! When it starts to look like it’s smoking, that’s when you go to the next step.

7. Turn off the heat and stir in the brown sugar. After the brown sugar is stirred in, stir in the ginger beer. The mixture will seize up and harden. That’s normal.

8. Let the sugar mixture cool down for about 10 minutes before stirring in the bourbon, cider vinegar, ketchup, ginger (if using), soy sauce, hot sauce, mustard, pepper, and water. Bring the mixture to a boil and stir until the hardened sugar melts.

9. Place the ribs into the pot and heat until you see the liquid boiling. Turn the ribs a few times to coat in the liquid, cover, and roast in the oven for 1½ to 2 hours. Set a timer to remember to turn the ribs—coating them with sauce—several times during the roasting. You want the ribs to be tender, so start checking to see if the one is loose around the 1½-hour mark.

10. Remove the lid from the pot and continue to roast and turn the ribs for another 20 to 30 minutes. You want the liquid in the pot to thicken and coat the ribs.

11. Remove the pan from the oven, skim off any visible fat, and rest for 10 minutes.

12. Make the slaw by tossing the vegetables with the dressing in a large bowl, and mix well.

13. Plate and serve the slaw and ribs and enjoy thoroughly.

    

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I've been sitting on this for months because I had no idea how to tie these two authors together. They are vastly different in their culinary approaches and food styles, but what they are is—as the 60s kids used to say—cool. That's a good thing! (Apologies to the doyenne of late 20th-century homekeeping, Martha Stewart. IYKYK.)

This past spring, KD, a member of The Cookbook Club, suggested we read and cook from a cookbook her mother gifted her decades ago: Lee Bailey's SOUP MEALS (1989). I have to be honest about not looking at that book since the mid-90s. Yes, I own every Lee Bailey cookbook, but I grew out of them. My tastes changed. At the time, along with Martha Stewart and a handful of others, his books were the ones you wanted to proudly display on your shelves. (FYI: I kept my Baileys and ditched the Stewarts. That was a mistake because the Stewart books are worth a bloody fortune now.) He represented the genteel South wrapped in New York sophistication, and he made everything look so effortlessly cool. Who wouldn't want a New Year's Eve repast of champagne, caviar, and homemade blinis set by a roaring fire? To my midwestern eyes, he was some kind of divine.

Rereading SOUP MEALS reminded me of a far easier time—one when being concerned about an expanding waistline and cholesterol levels were not even on the horizon. Honestly, he LOVED butter, but, eventually, he would be out-buttered by Paul Dean, but only just. Forewarned, butter is a main ingredient in 99% of the recipes.

If he had lived in Oklahoma, maybe this would have been his license plate:

In this cookbook, Mr. Bailey took his love of soup and created complete meals around that humble bowl. He broke down the sections into warm-weather and cold-weather soups, with each section trying to reflect what was seasonally available. (NOTE: This was the 90s in New York City. Everything was available.) Some of the combinations are a little OTT, but if you wanted to glean anything from this collection, it's that soup can be the main attraction; simply add salad, bread, dessert, and something to drink, and "Vi-O-La," as my mother would exclaim. You have a meal.

MENU EXAMPLE: Cold-Weather Menu: Sausage and White Bean Soup with Cottage Cheese Biscuits, Piperade Pie (Basque Tomato-Pepper Pie), and Fresh Figs Marinated in Lemon. Warm-Weather Menu: Gorgonzola Souflé with Cucumber Sauce, Corn Cob Soup, Hot-Water Biscuits with Chives, and Blueberry Shortcake.

OUR REVIEW: Solid book, but very old-fashioned. The amount of butter Mr. Bailey uses is aggressively saturating. Reading it might clog your arteries. The photos are dated, but get past those, and what you hold in your hands is a book filled with ideas that can be mixed, matched, jettisoned, or upgraded to suit your current tastes.

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STANLEY TUCCI'S THE TUCCI COOKBOOK (2012) and THE TUCCI TABLE (2014)

As an actor, Stanley Tucci makes any movie worth watching—except "Lovely Bones". There are certain subjects I can't stomach, so I simply don't force myself to watch them. I hear he was marvelous in it. Simply stated, he's a damn fine actor.

The other thing he does well is celebrate his Italian heritage by cooking exactly what he loves. Now that's cool. Sure, he lives with Felicity Blunt and their kids in London—WAY COOL!—and during the pandemic, he was videoed making cocktails. Utterly cool. Currently, you can catch him on CNN or stream his series where he eats his way through Italy. Enviably cool. Cracking open his cookbooks made me feel cool-adjacent.

Before opening the pages of either book, I highly recommend having a stack of Post-it notes or page markers, because you will need a lot. The recipes are accessible, easy, and mostly effortless. He tends to cook seasonally, but again, he lives in London. Almost everything is available to him, but he doesn't look like the kind of guy who tries to impress by buying his out-of-season ingredients at Fortnum and Mason. He seems like the kind of guy who is on friendly terms with his neighborhood butcher and picks up a bit of tripe or liver when said butcher says it's good. He comes across as down-to-earth. These days, there's comfort in that.

EXAMPLE RECIPE TITLES: Eggplant Antipasto, Eggs with Peppers, Fettuccini with Shrimp and Tomatoes, Cornish Game Hens with Sage and Pancetta, Strawberries in Prosecco

OUR REVIEW: All four of us loved these books. We'd recommend them, give them as gifts, and cook from them again and again. Honestly, I don't know why I waited until May of 2025 to pick up my copies of Mr. Tucci's cookbooks. My apologies, Stan. Let’s not focus that I was late to the party but celebrate that I finally made it. Please let me say, it’s a pretty cool party.

THE NEXT COOKBOOK CLUB MEETING

OUR NEXT MEETING: November 15th at 6:30 pm CT.

COOKBOOKS BEING REVIEWED: Michael Symon's FIX IT WITH FOOD and FIX IT WITH FOOD EVERY MEAL EASY (Chose one, the other, or both.)

WANT TO JOIN: Message me and I’ll send you an invitation.

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And now, for the much-belated post.

If you were a fly on the wall, scratching your legs and cleaning your wings as I try to write this at my kitchen table, you would see me flit from giggles to despair to eye-rubbing weariness. Like my drawer of seasonings I use to jazz up my cooking, my words seem to just sit in the dark waiting for me to slide the drawer open and—for the love of god—unscrew their damn tops and use them. It’s a form of hoarding, and some kind person might say I’m waiting for a rainy day. Kind as that statement is, they’d be wrong.

Plain and simple, I am suffering from writer’s block. I’ve been cooking, hosting the Cookbook Club, walking my dog, fostering, and socializing, but the idea of collecting everything and sitting to write it all down seems…torturous.

When I was very young, dragging my feet, whining, and generally being stubborn, my mother would sit me down and say, “Janet, get on with it.” So, this morning, I’ve sat myself down and heard the echoes of my mother’s voice within the chambers of my brain say, “Get on with it.” It’s time to open that spice drawer.

Below is a collection of various meals I was working on. Some of the photos are good, and some are really ugly.

For about a month, I decided exploring raw food cookery would be interesting because I’m a big believer in getting more vegetables into one’s daily diet. Since I already own a spiralizer, cold-extraction juicer, nut milk bags, and turbo blender, it was pretty easy to journey through this cooking approach. Praise the lord, I stopped myself before dropping a load of money on the Excalibur dehydrator, but I am tempted….

Next came an atrociously hot summer day where even thinking about expending energy was making me break out in a sweat. I turned to my mother’s wisdom again and prepared something she always made when it was so hot, an egg could be scrambled on the front walk. That was a good day for the dog.

NOTE: Some of these recipes were inspired by the cookbook club’s review of Stanley Tucci’s cookbooks. The Cookbook Club’s review will be in another post.

Of course, tomato season hit hard, and my cravings kicked in as hard. That meant a loaf of sourdough bread leading to a de rigueur BLT.

For some wild-hair of a reason, I decided that I HAD to make a boiled egg look sexy.

Lastly, below is the photo of the day I thought celery was underused and that it might make a really great faux pasta. I cannot accurately express to you how terribly misguided I was in thinking this.

All I can say is that I think this summer’s heat baked my brain. Thankfully, it’s getting cooler now, and along with the cooler weather, I am making plans. Oh, shit. As the tag said above, the road to hell is paved with…. Let’s make it food and drink, so at least we wanderers will have something to chew and slurp on as we stroll down that particular lane.

The Cookbook Club’s reviews for the past six months will be posted soon. Thank you, and keep cooking!

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Yesterday, the news broke that one of our American chefs who passed in June actually died by suicide. Anne Burrell was a bright and shiny penny, bringing happiness and laughter to many who watched her on TV, read her cookbooks, or saw her in person. You’d see her crazy hair and that big, red-painted smile, and you couldn’t help but share in her joy. That’s what she was, pure joy.

Did I know her? No, but I knew of her. We didn’t run in the same circles, and she went toward fame and fortune, whereas I was more attracted to grit, grime, poverty, and working the line—a true artist’s life. At the time, I thought of myself as a real working chef, burnt, scarred, and doing a “chef wash” by switching over my double-vested chef coat to the clean side, and those people on TV? I thought they were pompous puppets, dressed up, acting like chefs, adding polish to a dirty industry. I never thought them real in any way. We had nothing in common.

That’s not true. Sure, we both graduated from The Culinary Institute of America, but in different years. Now I realize, we shared more than I ever thought. We both looked into The Abyss.

You think that if you can figure out how it started for someone, you know how it ends. Happily ever after, right? Fame, fortune, family. It’s what we’re told is what we want and should strive for. Why would we end something that everyone dreams of and was supposed to be more than enough? Let me tell you. It’s the business.

THE BEAR might give you an idea of what it’s like to be in this business. When it came out, it was difficult for me to watch. Except for the scene with the 5-gallon bucket of stock stored on the very top shelf of the walk-in—no one in their right mind would do that!—it hit too close to the bone. It’s still difficult for me to watch. My anxiety ratchets up, my palms begin to sweat, and ancient harpies screech, swarm, and buzz, reminding me that I was never good enough.

That’s the thing. Once you’ve been told you are not and will never be good enough, it’s what the DNA remembers. It seeps into the pores, pumps the blood, blinds the senses, and echoes off the skull’s walls. In an industry where sarcasm savages lesser mortals,— like brûlée-ing a crème—“you are not good enough” can drive people to greatness, swallow them whole, or turn them to look and find another way. 

Anne looked into The Abyss and found its deep, unending silence comforting. I hope she rests in power. Many people will blame her choice as a fault in her character, but not me. I know.

Let me tell you a story.

I remember my family sitting around the dinner table, chatting, as we did when my mother was alive. We laughed and told stories. Those times are mostly good memories, except for when my mother, out of the blue, once said, “I think people who commit suicide are simply selfish.” The intake of breath, and the stilted gasps to say something relevant and counter her argument stuttered and spluttered before I said, “You’re wrong, you know.” My sisters’ eyes turned to me; one sister spread her hands to show I had the floor. They gave me this grace because I had been there. Who better to speak on this subject than the person who had faced The Abyss?

No one ever told my mother she was wrong, and she wouldn’t let anyone say the same about my father. But when she said that about people who commit suicide, she was dead wrong—no pun intended—and I told her so. Well people, mentally stable people always are wrong when they try to impose their healthy thoughts on the ones with minds and thoughts violently rebelling against the reality surrounding them. How could a healthy person know other than through experience?

You want to know what it’s like to be in the head of a suicide? Imagine the darkest place you’ve ever been, and that’s where you live, always. There’s absolutely no light. Add suffocation, sweating, terror, a heart pounding out of its rib cage, and a constant, chaotic stream of unintelligible derision jabbering away in your head, but with one clear message seeping through. The world would be infinitely better without you in it. Everyone would be happier, healthier, and far, far better off without you. These thoughts are a crushing vice, a slow form of strangulation, and, God, what sweet relief it would be to simply not to feel any of that any more.

Intelligently, you might be able to acknowledge that it’s your brain doing this to you, creating this storm that has no exit and only one perceived end. If you’re lucky, you get help, have support, and claw your way out of the exit. Unfortunately, a lot of people just cannot move away from the maelstrom.

If you can imagine all of that, then perhaps you will be close to walking a mile in a suicide’s shoes. Most people can’t, and I am glad you can’t, and hope you never will. People who do know, usually, they don’t live to warn or help others.

You might ask, how are you here to tell this? I had support from my family and friends, doctors and medicine, lots of exercise, and I left professional kitchens and turned towards teaching others how to cook. But the main reason I chose life is because of legacy. Suicide is a terrible legacy for families. When one family member does it, others think it’s an acceptable option. “Aunt Janet did it. It was her out. Maybe it’s mine too.” I love my family too much to leave them with such an inheritance that only brings and perpetuates sorrow. Even writing that, I can’t say for sure those were the only reasons. All I can really say is, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.

If you or someone you know is struggling with mental health issues or thoughts of suicide, please call or text 988. (That’s for the US. I’m sorry that I do not have a list for other countries.)

If you are in the industry, The Burnt Chef Project is an organization helping bring mental health awareness to people in the hospitality industry and promote a healthier business climate. Please consider joining, donating, or both.

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Enough said about that. May Day is around the corner, and in Finland, this mead is used to toast in long and lazy summers. It is very refreshing, only slightly alcoholic, and wonderfully fizzy. If you want easy access to fermenting your own foods, here’s your gateway.

NOTES:

1. What is a mead, you ask? Usually, it’s a type of alcohol made by fermenting honey, yeast, and water. Fruits and spices may be added for additional flavors. The typical alcohol content range is 3.5 to 20 percent. The lower alcohol content beverages are typically called hydromels, but that word lacks the romanticism that the word "mead" conjures. "Barman! Bring me a hydromel at once!"

2. You can make this with just white sugar for a pale yellow mead, but the brown sugar adds nice caramel notes to the beverage. Do use organic sugar; it helps with the fermentation process.

3. Use less lemons for a sweeter beverage; use more lemons for a tarter version.

4. You may use baker’s yeast or dry yeast instead of the champagne yeast. Each one gives a different flavor to this mead. I prefer the flavor of the champagne yeast to the others. I want my bread to taste like bread and my alcohol to taste like alcohol. Bread-flavored drinks are rather blah. I know this because we made wine in high school biology; it was the foulest thing I had ever had up to that point in my innocent life. No need to question what we were doing learning how to make wine in school. It was a religious school, and wine and beer making were part of the curriculum. We might not have become monks and nuns (mainly because it was an Episcopalian school), but we understood how to be ones. It’s a wise person who takes with them the best their education has to offer.

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SIMA - FINNISH FERMENTED LEMONADE

INGREDIENTS

• 11 cups/2¾ liters water

• 4 - 6 lemons

• ¾ cups/150 grams organic white sugar

• ¾ cups/135 grams organic brown sugar

• ⅛ teaspoon champagne yeast

• raisins (optional)

METHOD

PREPARING THE WORT

1. The night before, measure out the water into a pan and let it sit overnight so the chlorination dissipates.

2. Peel the skin (the yellow part only) into a non-reactive bowl, such as heat-safe glass or ceramic.

3. Cut away the pith (the white part) and discard. (The pith and seeds will make the mead bitter.)

4. Slice the lemon flesh and remove the seeds. Place the lemon flesh into the bowl with the peels.

5. Add the sugar to the lemon peels and flesh.

6. Bring the water to a boil.

7. Pour the boiling liquid over the sugar, lemon peels, and lemon flesh, and stir to help the sugar dissolve.

8. Cool the lemon liquid down until it’s lukewarm to the touch. You are aiming for slightly warmer than body temperature, ~105°F.

9. Reconstitute the yeast in 1 Tablespoon of lukewarm water and wait five minutes. (When it's ready to use, it should look nice and bubbly.)

10. Stir the yeast into the lemon mixture.

PRIMARY FERMENTATION

1. Cover with some cheesecloth and rest on the counter for 24 hours.

BOTTLE FERMENTATION

1. Strain the liquid through a sieve into another bowl, and discard the lemon peels and flesh.

2. If using, add a few raisins to your bottles or jars. These help you see that your fermentation is active and producing carbon dioxide, but if you hate raisins—I see you, Brother Bob!—simply don’t use.

3. Close your bottles and let the mixture sit on the counter for 12 hours. Now, here’s the thing: Keep an eye on them. If your kitchen is warm—like mine was yesterday—the carbon dioxide builds up faster. You may have to do a quick burp of all the bottles to allow the gas to escape, or you will have a BOOM! too.

4. Keep fermenting for twelve hours to get a lovely, bubbly concoction, but remember to burp the bottles or jars every few hours to alleviate the gas buildup.

5. Taste it. If you want it to be more fizzy, allow it to ferment for another twelve hours, but keep quickly releasing pressure every once in a while to prevent explosions.

6. Once the raisons have risen to the top, refrigerate the bottles.

7. Refrigerate for at least 24 hours before serving. When you open the bottle, it's best to do it over the sink. The carbon dioxide buildup inside the bottle is similar to that of a shaken soda. Remember what happens when you shake a can of soda? Well, the same can happen here.

ADDITIONAL NOTES:

WORT: A sweet infusion, usually made from grains and ground malt, before starting the fermenting process.

PRIMARY FERMENTATION: This is a biological process where sugars are converted into energy. The by-products are ethanol and carbon dioxide. When this is used in making alcohol, it is known as alcohol fermentation, which is what we are doing above.

BOTTLE FERMENTATION: This additional step allows the mead to get very fizzy.

REFRIGERATION: Refrigeration stops the fermentation process.

PUPDATE:

Sadie is mending well. She had her 8-week X-ray to see how the bone is healing and the vet is pleased. Walks and massages are scheduled for another eight weeks. What a life!

Freddy got diagnosed with Cognitive Canine Decline, and his arthritis has really slowed him down. He will stand in front of the black cabinets waiting for me to give him a treat because he thinks those cabinets are me. Bless his soul. We bought him a stroller so he can enjoy the long walks without having to remember how to move his painful legs.

With those two, my life is less about cooking right now. If I post once a month, that will be pushing it, but I’ll do my best. Enjoy the spring! ~Janet

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