Comfort Food - Home Memories

Heading toward the holidays, the media bombard us with new ways to cook the old standards. While I'm sure many enjoy the adventure of new foods on the holidays, for me these meals are all about 'going home.' Enjoying family and friends surrounded by the aromas of the old standard comfort foods.

CBS Sunday Morning took the memory of comfort food one step further last weekend with an homage to macaroni and cheese. They showcased trendy restaurants that serve nothing other than variations on this home and childhood favorite. One New York restaurant serves mac and cheese with shaved white truffles and charges $95! My mother would be appalled.

Macaroni and cheese was one of Mom's signature dishes. She took it to church potlucks, school picnics, family reunions. We had it for supper on a regular basis. I can still see her heavy blue casserole filled to the brim with macaroni and cheese, the cheese burned just slightly on the top from spending a little too long in the oven.

After watching that show, I fixed mac and cheese for supper on Sunday night. How could I not? Homemade, using Mom's recipe. As I stood at the stove stirring in the cheese, I realized mac and cheese from scratch is every bit as easy as making mac and cheese out of a box. And a whole lot better.

Mom's Macaroni & Cheese

Elbow macaroni - cooked al dente - drained
Sprinkle a tablespoon or two of flour on the macaroni
Add enough milk to make a sauce, return to heat, stirring constantly so milk thickens
Add Velveeta cheese - cubed - and keep stirring until cheese is melted
Salt and pepper to taste

Don't bother adding a shaved white truffle. This is as good as it gets.

Home memories. Comfort food. What a great start to the holidays.

Strands of gold

The trees outside my office window are devoid of leaves. Even our sugar maple finally gave up. It's brilliant yellow leaves turned brown and now cover the ground with an ankle-deep, brittle blanket.

No denying it. We're marching steadily toward the inevitable black and white of winter.

The only tree on our property still wearing fall color is our weeping willow. It, too, is losing leaves fast, but for now it glitters yellow in the sun. Having never had a willow tree before, I don't really know what constitutes a 'branch' or a 'leaf.' Is each long, weeping thread one leaf? With each leaflet part of a larger whole? Or are the threads branches in training and the leaflets true leaves?

The willow tree has been an ongoing source of thought-provoking lessons. I'll probably look up the answer to this leaf question sometime over the winter. When the landscape is black and white. I may even draw some larger life lesson from the answer.

Right now, I'm enjoying the idea that the willow tree looks as though it is dripping with strands of gold, each leaf a link in the multitude of chains that hang from the branches. So much jewelry on a human would be gaudy, an ostentatious display. On our willow tree, though, the display is a last colorful fall display carrying me into winter.

A day like today

When I was in 8th grade, my teacher had us memorize a poem each week. One week it was Helen Hunt Jackson's "October's Bright Blue Weather." I still remember the first stanza:

O SUNS and skies and clouds of June,
And flowers of June together,
Ye cannot rival for one hour
October's bright blue weather

Every year when October's cerulean skies reflect autumn sun, I think of that poem. To me there is nothing better than October skies. Until this year. Cold. Wind. Rain. That was October.

But today - in November - we saw an October sky and enjoyed October weather. With temperatures in the 60s, the wind in my face, the sun kissing my cheeks, I headed out for a walk. Who could be anything but cheerful on a day like today?

The yellow leaves clinging steadfastly to the sugar maple flashed against the brilliant blue sky. Plump red crab apples begged to be appreciated. The laughs of children charging out of the school for recess floated on the breeze. People passing in cars smiled and waved.

It's easy to be cheerful on a day like today. And thankful. An October day in November is a special blessing.

On a day like today, run outside, lift your arms to the sky, laugh, and yell, Thank You!

Seeds that last

The prairie is brown now. As my county extension agent promised, the crab grass died with the first hard frost. Dropping millions of seeds before letting go. A gift for future years.

I mowed off most of the plant residue on the prairie, leaving only one swath of tall crab grass. A ground cover experiment for the winter.

The mown area reveals little flashes of green. Prairie forbs that took hold in spite of the crab grass and continue to thrive in spite of the frost. And dandelions. The dandelions can yet be treated with glyphosate, though dandelion seeds are as persistent as crab grass. The common sunflowers that began blooming at the start of October, continue to push forth new blossoms, tiny flashes of yellow against the brown.

In mid October, my husband and I visited a prairie 'remnant' that is part of the Honey Creek Resort on Rathbun Lake. A remnant is a bit of Iowa's original prairie that somehow escaped the plow all these years - amazing since 99% of Iowa's original prairie has given way to agricultural production.

As we walked the trail through this original bit of Iowa landscape, I watched birds soaring high over the trees, felt the breeze that rippled through the Big Bluestem, listened hard for the echo of bygone horses, buffalo, Native Americans and pioneer settlers.

I could not help myself. I gathered a few of the seeds from this remnant prairie - grasses and flowers. Is this legal? I expect not. But I just had to bring some seeds - descendants from Iowa's original prairie - home with me.

Scattering those seeds, I imagine years from now walking through Big Bluestem, watching birds soar over head, listening for the echo of Iowa's bygone prairie right in my own front yard.