Fran Ginn

This weekly column, “Adventures in Good Eating,” by Back Door Café chef/owner Fran Ginn appears each Thursday in the Marion County Informer.

……I relish the opportunity of finding something new and different to eat wherever I go. I love to explore why people eat what they do and how food has shaped their lives. Adventures in Good Eating is my way of sharing the pleasure of culinary discovery and also the anticipation of tables and tastes yet to be found.

Do you have a moment in your life which is preserved in your memory like an insect in amber?  Can you remember everything about that moment…..what you were feeling, what the surroundings looked like, even what you were wearing?  Does it still seem fresh, more like yesterday that forty years ago?

I can recall in detail where I was and the taste of the most delicious peach I ever ate. I was thirteen years old, on a “Chevy Chase Family Vacation”-type trip with my family.  The date was June 10, 1967, the last day of the Arab-Israeli Six Day War.  We were in Johnson City, TX, on a  road leading to the LBJ Ranch.  There was a make-shift wooden fruit stand on the side of the road.  The fruit stand had an old cigar box (Roi-tan, I think) which served as a cash box.  There was a sign which gave the price of the peaches  ( .50 per basket) and instructed buyers to pay on the honor system. We passed by the fruit stand, but  my mother, who loved peaches, was insistent that we turn around and go back to the stand.  My daddy, whose temper was beginning to fray after 10 days on the road, reluctantly turned the car around in the middle of the road and drove back.  Mama and I got out.  My daddy and brothers were less than not interested in peaches.  The day was hot, with a light breeze,  the fields behind the fruit stand were full of wildflowers and the air was heavy with the scent of fresh peaches.  The sign offered one peach per customer as a free sample.  Mama carefully evaluated at least a dozen individual peaches before choosing one.  The peaches were small, not much larger than a plum.  The exterior was a deep pinky orange color, shading to almost burgundy toward the bottom of the fruit.  She rubbed off the velvet fuzz from the peach and took a bite.  My mother’s eyes flew open wide.  She had an expression of absolute bliss on her face.   When she handed the peach to me to taste, I understood.  The flesh of the peach had a consistency more reminiscent of a firm custard than a fruit.  The juice was wonderfully sweet and tasted of flowers.  Mama looked at me as she wiped the juice from her face and said, “This is what the peaches in heaven will taste like”.   We got my daddy’s pocket knife and cut open another peach.  The flesh was ivory,  shading to a deep magenta at the seed.  Neither Mama or I had ever seen a white peach before.  We were amazed by this new fruit – tiny, delectable and so sweet.  We bought 3 baskets.  To the end of her life, Mama always talked about those LBJ peaches.  We never found another peach quite so delicious. 

In the present day, thanks to the immediacy and plethora of information on the Internet, I found that white peaches have a lower acidity level than their orange colored cousins.  They are more delicate and don’t travel as well.  I also learned that the white peach is the more favored variety in the Far East, with the orange fleshed more acidic peach more popular in Europe.  The Chinese consider the peach a symbol of longevity.  Mention of the fruit has been documented in Chinese writings as early as the 10^th century BC.

Isn’t it wonderful what our brains retain?  As I have eaten peach after peach this summer – and it has been a good year for peaches – I’ve traveled back to that day in Texas in 1967 many times.  Memory does tend to intensify parts of an experience, but I truly believe that first peach that day was the best I had ever or would ever taste.  It really was heavenly.

Chloe Oliver

Chloe Oliver of Foxworth writes a community column for the Marion County Informer.

By Chloe Oliver

Those who have known me for only a few years find it difficult to believe that I was once shy. However, if you have known me since my youth, you would know that I  was what people refer to as painfully shy. When I overcame this handicap, I seemed to do it with gusto. I now find myself at the opposite end of the spectrum. In fact, my daughter frequently tells me that I have no filter. Maybe in another twenty years I can obtain a happy medium.

As a child in school, I had two teachers that made life miserable. While some teachers deplore rowdy behavior, these two seemed to abhor shy students. They called attention to my shyness at every opportunity.  “What’s the matter with you, cat got your tongue?” was a typical question often directed toward me in front of my classmates. Of course, this is what every shy person yearns for-someone to call attention to them on a daily basis.

It  also became obvious that these two teachers had labeled me as dumb because of my shyness. Even though  I will probably never work for NASA, neither am I a candidate for a “Rain Man” movie. What if I did have a learning problem?  Would the behavior of these two teachers  have been professional or helpful if I had a learning disability?  Fortunately, I had supportive parents and a couple of good teachers to counteract these two.

Too often, children are labeled by educators as dumb, worthless, not able to amount to much, or not college material because of learning disabilities, shyness, or behavior problems. What happens if these children don’t encounter good teachers or have supportive parents?

I think of flowers as beautiful blossoms. Some weeds have blossoms. Originally, all flowers were wildflowers or weeds. Garden flowers are simply cultivated wildflowers. There are still thousands of uncultivated flowering plants growing in the wild. Since they are not yet cultivated, some would consider them weeds. Yet, with proper cultivation and environment, you might someday purchase these “weeds” from a plant nursery. Each species grows best in a particular type of environment such as sun, shade, wet, dry, cool or warm. A flowering cactus won’t thrive in a water bog and the Artic Poppy would not adapt to the Florida heat.

Many children are labeled as weeds. However, like the flowers, they only need the right environment and proper cultivation for some to realize that they too are flowers. For example, a child with dyslexia is not dumb. He merely learns differently than others. He is just an Artic Poppy in the Southern heat.

I know that there are many capable teachers and parents. I also know that there are those parents and teachers who destroy instead of build. As the school year begins, I hope that parents and teachers will think before they label a child as dumb or tell a student that he is not college material.You see, the only difference between a weed and a flower, is a judgment.

Chloe Oliver

Chloe Oliver of Foxworth writes a weekly community column for the Marion County Informer.

By Chloe Oliver

With few exceptions, I think that our actions are reflective of our beliefs. For example, the simple act of voting for a political candidate is a reflection of a belief. Those with liberal beliefs will vote for a liberal candidate and conservative thinkers usually vote for a conservative politician. The act of praying is a reflection of a belief.  Likewise, a belief in the sanctity of all living creations will lead to the action of being kind to animals.

One of my favorite scriptures is found in Matthew: “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these, my brethren, ye have done it unto me.” Whether our actions are good or bad, I believe in the validity of that scripture. If we refer to ourselves as Christians and believe that we are each His children, then we should also realize that each person has value. That belief should change attitudes and actions.

Often, we hear folks say  “it’s just business” or ” anything goes in politics.” These people plot, connive, betray their fellow man, and destroy lives, livelihoods, and reputations over petty personal biases, lust for power, personal monetary gain, promotion, or to get a friend or family member hired or promoted. 

Sadly, some of the worst offenders participate weekly at their respective churches. They speak of brotherly love and carry baskets of goodies to the homeless or local nursing homes. Meanwhile, their dishonest and unwarranted, unfair business or political dealings have a direct cause on someone’s children being without food and shelter. Ironically, they hide under the skirt of religion and pretend to alleviate human misery,but they are a wellspring of human suffering. How do they reconcile their supposed beliefs with their actions?  I can only assume they think that if they hold their heads high enough, no one will question their integrity. 

The dictionary defines integrity as an “uncompromising adherence to a moral code.”  Uncompromising. That means no compromise at  work or in politics. It is not just a Sunday behavior or action. “No man… can wear one face to himself, and another  to the multitude, without finally getting bewildered as to which may be true,” wrote Nathaniel Hawthorne. Vacillating belief equals vacillating integrity and conduct. Yet, there is no shortage of people filled with all sorts of excuses for their actions. They act, as Shakespeare said, “as though they are villains of necessity, fools by heavenly compulsion.” They may delude themselves-they may even delude the public-but they will not delude their creator.

Some  just lay the groundwork for another’s downfall. They wrongly think that if they are not the one to actually “swing the axe,” then they are not responsible. These people moderately distort the truth or spread half-truths and then silently wait for the consequences. In reality, a half-truth is a whole lie. Beware of half-truths, you may get hold of the wrong half. As for silence, it often speaks. If truth is not defended, then silence gives consent. The cruelest lies are often told in silence. Who among us would silently watch someone load a gun in preparation to kill another and give no voice of warning or defense?

When plotted against, there is always the temptation to “get even.” My parents never allowed such behavior, stating, ” regardless of what others do, you do what is right.” My mother always said to let God mete out the punishment because this would be far worse than anything I could inflict. She was right. Through the years, I have seen it happen, even though waiting for that equalizing takes patience. I confess that it is often hard to follow my parent’s counsel, especially when my child or grandchildren are wronged. I suspect that our Father is not too happy when His children are wronged. Nevertheless, my parent’s counsel is correct and should also be a circumstance of uncompromising standard. 

Honest behavior toward our fellow man comes from repeated practice and remaining true to our principles, beliefs, and convictions under all circumstances and at all times. Honest hearts produce honest actions. Yes, Virginia, I do believe that there is a God who will one day hold each of us accountable for inhumanities toward His children.

Fran Ginn

This weekly column, “Adventures in Good Eating,” by Back Door Café chef/owner Fran Ginn appears each Thursday in the Marion County Informer.

……I relish the opportunity of finding something new and different to eat wherever I go. I love to explore why people eat what they do and how food has shaped their lives. Adventures in Good Eating is my way of sharing the pleasure of culinary discovery and also the anticipation of tables and tastes yet to be found.

Last Friday I was shopping in my favorite store for finding things I had no idea I needed (Dirt Cheap).  On an aisle of books marked “2 for $ 1 – my favorite kind of books -  I spotted a paperback book entitled Death Dines at 8:30.  The blurb on the cover promised “Sixteen stories of crime and cuisine – with recipes included.”  How perfect, a mystery with a recipe…..what a way to spend a rainy afternoon and become re-acquainted with some of my favorite authors.  The editors of this anthology, culinary mystery writers themselves, Claudia Bishop and Nick DiChario, asked a group of their peers to vary from their usual book length writing and submit a short story based around the common theme of a murder committed at the dinner hour of 8:30.  The results are delicious.

In the early 1980’s Virginia Rich, a former food writer for the Chicago Tribune and food editor of Sunset Magazine, began writing a series of mystery stories which were set in Arizona and New England, places where she lived.  These light-hearted stories always included a dead body and several good recipes.

Her sleuth, Eugenia Potter, was openly based on herself.  Eugenia  lived in Tucson and summered on the coast of Maine.   Unknowingly, Rich created a new genre of mystery writing – the culinary mystery. This genre has come to be known in the trade as a “cozy”, meaning an escapist, fun book, largely directed at an older, usually female reader.  Somehow the method of murder – poisoning at a church baked bean supper or dropping a stuffed moose head from a restaurant wall onto a mean-spirited diner – are bloodless and tidy when compared with Mickey Spillane or James Patterson.  These “gentle” murders are more about solving the puzzle of identity of the murderer and recording the daily life of the sleuth, hence the recipes.

I remember reading Virginia Rich’s The Cooking School Murders many years ago.  I was entranced by the entire thought process of her book.  I do love mysteries, but had stopped reading many authors because of the gory content.  How wonderful to find a mystery book essentially written for me.   A good story and good recipes – a perfect book.

Many other writers followed Rich’s lead.  Some of the best known are Diane Mott Davidson, Claudia Bishop and Tamar Myers.  Each has unusual sleuths with different occupations.  Davidson’s Goldy Schulz is a caterer and Episcopalian (just like me!), Claudia Bishop has sisters Meg and Sarah Quilliam,  who run a country inn and restaurant, while Tamar Myers’ detective is a Mennonite woman named Magdalena Yoder, proprietor of the Penn-Dutch Inn. 

The books have outrageous titles and are more comic than serious.  Among my favorite quotations are:

From Davidson’s Goldy Schulz:  “I did not expect to find Edith Blanton’s body in my walk-in refrigerator.”   She says it in such an off-handed manner and my first reaction is …oh my goodness – a body in the walk-in…..what will the health department say? 

Myers’ Magdalena Yoder introduces herself by saying, “My cook, Freni Hostetler is Amish, and we are double second cousins once removed.  The branches of my family tree are so tangled that I am, in fact, my own cousin and require only a sandwich to make it a family picnic.”  How could one not be entertained with prose like that!

The titles of the books are extremely witty.  Perhaps the authors come up with the names, then create the stories around them.  The names are so tongue in cheek and are often parodies of other more serious works.  Some of my favorite titles are:

• Thyme of Death
• Fried by Jury
• Shades of Earl Grey
• The Last Suppers
• Immaculate Reception
• Dim Sum Dead
• Dial M for Meat Loaf
• Roux the Day
• Between a Wok and a Hard Place
• Play it Again Spam
• Just Plain Pickled to Death

The placement of recipes in these books vary from author to author.  Some include a recipe just after the dish is mentioned in the story, while others wait and compile the recipes, cook-book style, at the end.  For the most part, from a professional cook’s perspective, the majority of the recipes “read well” to me – meaning that the techniques and proportions of ingredients make sense.

During these dog days of the end of summer, perhaps  a great, light-hearted read is just the ingredient for an afternoon’s relaxation.  Who knows, the menu for supper just might be in the back of the book.

From the book which started the entire genre, The Cooking School Murders:

Green Tomato-Apple Pie

Makes one 9 inch pie

Pastry for a 2-crust pie (find these in the refrigerated section of the grocery)

2 c. green tomatoes, peeled, quartered and thinly sliced

3 c. of apples, peeled, cored and thinly sliced

2/3 c. brown sugar, firmly packed

1/3 c. granulated sugar

2 to 3 Tblsp. all-purpose flour

½ tsp. cinnamon

2 Tblsp. butter

Preparation:

Place one crust in a 9 inch pie plate.  Gently press the crust into the plate.

To peel green tomatoes:  place in boiling water.  Let stand 3 minutes.  Skins Will slip off easily.  Combine tomatoes, apples, sugars, flour, and cinnamon.

Place apple and tomato mixture into the pie crust.  Dot with butter.  Place the second crust over the apples and tomatoes.  Pinch the top and the bottom  crusts together, removing the excess pie crust if necessary.  Cut several vents in the top crust.

Bake in a preheated 425 degree oven for 50 – 60 minutes or until the crust is  golden.

Chloe Oliver

Chloe Oliver of Foxworth writes a weekly community column for the Marion County Informer.

By Chloe Oliver

I used to read stories by Edgar Allen Poe. His tales were often filled with terror and suspense. As a child, I remember that Vincent Price was the star of many horror films, many of which were Poe classics. The video shelves are now replete with movies that strive to elicit  fear, horror, panic, dread and alarm. These movies invoke our hidden or worst fears. Many people enjoy watching this film genre that often involves the macabre.

I enjoyed watching “Misery.” In the film, James Caan’s character, a writer, was held captive and tortured by one of his fans. When I first saw the film, it was just entertainment. No more. I think that I may be living my own horror film. I too, am a captive of sorts.

I am being haunted by a demonic,psychotic and possessed, monster. My days are filled with fright and dread. I am even stalked in my dreams as I have visions of my demise. After all, this demon has already tried to cripple me by injuring my back and knees. It won’t take much more to finish me. At the very least,I may be left a gnarled creature. Maybe I should try to feign death.

Fear has left me nearly homebound. If I leave, the monster will surely overtake me. I can’t shop at the store or go away overnight because of fear and wonder of what this monster is doing. 

Now, he has an accomplice. I doubt that I can win between the both of them. Who knows if others will join in the crusade against me? I tried to pawn them off on the neighbors and friends-all to no avail. It is me they are after. It is me that they want. They will not be happy until I am completely consumed or destroyed. Why?

Some say that it is my own fault and that I brought it all upon myself. Maybe it is true. I did once love the monster and his friend. I tried to attend to their every need with tenderness. To think that I once adored them. Hah! Now they disgust me. I am filled with revulsion. How could I have been so foolish? I suppose you should never dance with the devil. Now, I battle day after day as I try to keep them at bay.

I am sure that the reader will wonder why I do not contact law enforcement. Like some supernatural character in a horror movie, the monster and his friend are beyond the reach of law officers. It’s as though they respond to some hidden or unknown power.

Rain fuels the monsters’ desire. In sunshine and shadow they grow in strength. Now, the only thing that slows them is the deplorable heat. Like a vampire’s Achilles’ heel is the cross,so cold and frost is to the monsters. If I can make it till the first frost, I will get a reprieve. Until then, I am still vulnerable for attack.

As a last resort, I tried to counsel with family and friends.They don’t care or understand. In fact, I believe they think that I am paranoid, melodramatic, delusional, or neurotic. I think they want me to see a psychiatrist. Images of “The Little Red Hen” now flood my thoughts as the monsters’ tendrils continue to envelope me.

I will try to hold on until the monsters are gone. At that time maybe I can write a book about the experience. These are the titles I am considering: Devil’s Dirt, Green Beasts, My Garden’s Misdeeds, The Self – Punished Gardener, The Far Side of Horticulture, The Tiller and the Old Woman, Fool’s Feast, or Attack the Monster Tomato Plants and Killer Squash: How My Garden Got the Best of Me. Now, if I can just figure out what to write on my tombstone.

Fran Ginn

This weekly column, “Adventures in Good Eating,” by Back Door Café chef/owner Fran Ginn appears each Thursday in the Marion County Informer.

……I relish the opportunity of finding something new and different to eat wherever I go. I love to explore why people eat what they do and how food has shaped their lives. Adventures in Good Eating is my way of sharing the pleasure of culinary discovery and also the anticipation of tables and tastes yet to be found.

Garrison Keillor’s tales of Lake Woebegon have long been a favorite of mine.  The stories of the stalwart Scandinavian Lutherans of Minnesota always make me smile.  I noticed that Garrison often mentions “hotdish”.  He uses it in several contexts, including jokes, such as:  “you must be Lutheran if……..you think anyone who says “casserole” instead of “hotdish” is trying to be uppity (or maybe even Episcopalian!)” 

 and ……….you think “hotdish” is one of the major food groups.”

I went right to the source, the Prairie Home Companion web-site.  There was an explanation of “hotdish” from Garrison himself.  These are his words:

 “ It’s a meal in one dish, vegetables and grain and perhaps meat, and its good peasant cooking and it exists in every culture. Surely you ate it growing up. It might have rice or noodles and it needs some sauce and then you add what ingredients you are moved to add. Be inventive. If you want to start with a classic, do the tuna noodle hotdish, which employs a can of cream of mushroom soup (don’t add water), a can of tuna, a bag of egg noodles, and perhaps a package of frozen peas. Cook the noodles, glop in the soup, add the tuna and peas, and if you want to be fancy, crush some potato chips for a topping.”

In my further exploration of this casserole with a special name, I learned that it did in fact originate in the basement halls of Lutheran churches in the frozen northern states, especially Minnesota.  It is as ubiquitous there as rice and gravy is in the South.  The farm wives of the early days of the last century discovered a new ready made ingredient – cream of mushroom soup.

This miracle ingredient gained such favor with the church ladies of the region that it became known as “Lutheran binder” and was considered a de rigueur item in recipes submitted for church cookbooks.  As flavors of condensed cream soups were added, it became fashionable to combine flavors of soup in the same hotdish.  As time passed, home-cut potatoes and onions gave way to Tater Tots, canned French-fried Onion Rings and chow mein noodles.   (I have been told that confession is good for the soul…….this is very hard for  me…….one of my favorite dishes in the world is the Green Bean Casserole on the side of the onion ring can…..please help me keep this secret and -  I love Tater Tots with a passion usually reserved for things like lobster.) 

It is easy to see how Hotdish became so popular in the frozen north.  The basic ingredients were ground meat (from a cow raised on the farm and butchered and in the freezer), canned soup, canned corn or the canned vegetable mixture known as “Veg-All”, and some type of starch, noodles, rice or potatoes – all grocery items which could be purchased in bulk and stored in a pantry when deep snow made the trek into town difficult.  In the early days there were no foreign spices, such as garlic, thyme or (God forbid, Tabasco).  Just good plain salt and pepper as the only seasoning.  As time passed, the inventive Lutheran ladies began to vary their ingredients.  A search of recipes on the Internet produced some of these versions of hotdish:

• Sauerkraut Hotdish
• Reuben Hotdish
• Chicken Crouton Hot Dish
• Pasta Ham Hotdish
• Creamy Chicken Hotdish
• Pepperoni and Tomato Hotdish
• Sweet and Sour Chicken Hotdish
• Tater Tot Hotdish
• Church Supper Hotdish
• Hamburger Hotdish
• Mashed Potato Hotdish
• Hula Hotdish (Spam and pineapple)
• Cheeseburger and French Fry Hotdish
• Wild Rice and Sausage Hotdish

Did I remember to mention that the number one condiment for hotdish is ketchup?  Midwest Living, which I gather is similar to our Southern Living, has more than 50 different recipes for hotdish.

To give you an idea of how dear this very basic food is to the hearts of the people of Minnesota, especially Lutherans,  I’d like to leave you with a very tongue in cheek version of the Christmas carol, “Hark the Herald Angels Sing”, as sung on a Prairie Home Companion.

 Hark, the herald angels sing

Is there hotdish we can bring?

Peace on earth and mercy mild

Tuna hotdish, family style.

Joyful all ye nations rise,

Casseroles and shepherd’s pies –

With angelic hosts proclaim,

This is really good chow mein.

Hark the herald angels sing,

Is there hotdish we can bring?

This week’s recipe touted itself to be the leading hotdish recipe ever.  It hits on every delicious, carb-laden, item available to go into a pan.  We have amended the more bland seasonings from up north, and spiced this hotdish up Southern style.

Tater Tot Hotdish a la Back Door

1 ½ pounds lean ground beef

1 medium onion, chopped

1  tsp. salt

1 tsp. black pepper

2 garlic cloves, finely chopped

1 (32 oz.) tater tots, thawed

1 can condensed cream of celery soup

1 can condensed cream of mushroom soup

1 Tblsp. worchestershire sauce

2 cans French-cut green beans, well drained

1 (6 oz.) can French-fried onion rings

Preheat oven to 350.

In a large skillet, brown ground beef with onion, salt, pepper, and garlic.

Spread meat mixture in the bottom of a 9 x 13 baking dish.  Cover the

meat with a layer of thawed Tater Tots.  Spread drained green beans over the potatoes.  In a mixing bowl, combine the two soups and worchestershire sauce.  Spread over the layer of green beans.  Top with onion rings. Bake uncovered for 45 minutes or until golden brown and bubbly.

Chloe Oliver

Chloe Oliver of Foxworth writes a weekly community column for the Marion County Informer.

By Chloe Oliver

According to the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, scientists are going to study why Ozzy Osbourne is still alive. The rocker who is legendary for his substance abuse, eerie screams, and biting the heads off of doves and bats will have DNA extracted from his blood. The blood will be sent to researchers in Missouri who will sequence his genome. The drug abuse generation is now graying. It seems that scientists want to discover why this  king of consumption has been able to tolerate his diet of drugs and alcohol  for so long. If something unique is discovered in Osbourne, I wonder if Ozzy clones  might ensue because of the study? Frightening.

There is a virtual roster of stars who could qualify for such a study. What about Keith Richards and Courtney Love? Tutankhamen’s  corpse looks better than these two.

Surely, the cost of this study on Osbourne will be expensive. A closer examination might save the time and expense.

Of course, the scientific study is based on the assumption that Osbourne is alive. Think about the clues: He has an odd gait, preference for night, pale skin,and eats the heads off of doves and bats. He  grunts, mumbles and groans  as a substitute for  coherent speech. In my opinion, he might be a vampire or a zombie. He might be kept erect and moving by means of cattle prods and electric shock, metal rods, or formaldehyde. Osbourne may be a better candidate for the “Amazing Creatures” program. Recollections of the movie, “Weekend at Bernie’s” also come to mind.

Even if Osbourne is still alive and not a zombie, he appears to be brain dead. If they try to study his brain, scientists probably won’t find more than a piece or two of cerebral  cortex. Studying his brain would be as fruitless as drilling for oil in a grain silo.

His longevity might be attributed to the fact that he has not had to toil at a regular job like most of us. He gets a lot more time to recuperate from his indulgences.

He  might really be the prince of darkness.

Behind that flat affect, he could be the Energizer Bunny.

On an episode of the television show, “The Simpsons,” Mr. Burns learns that the only reason that he is still alive is because all the diseases in his body are so busy fighting each other that they haven’t gotten around to killing him yet. Could this be the answer to Osbourne’s survival?

Freidrich Neitzsche has an even simpler explanation: “What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger.”

Studying his children may yield more scientific evidence. Why has it taken his children a shorter space of time to reach the same state that it has taken Osbourne some 61 years to attain?

At odds with  what most parents believe, psychologists at Glascow Caledonian University in Scotland assert that listening to loud rock music may actually boost brain power. This also could be studied instead of Osbourne’s blood. Just look at what loud music has done for Ozzy.

I wonder if the bat and dove populations are holding nightly prayer services  in  anticipation that a diet of bat and dove heads has not contributed to Osbourne’s well-being? They should keep their talons and webbed fingers crossed.

Instead of scientists, the question of  Ozzy Osbourne’s long survival will probably be better answered by comedians,theologians, late-night talk show hosts, and philosphers.

In the meantime, those scientists should be careful with that extracted blood from Osbourne. I would think that  a few drops would be enough to keep a large herd of rhinos, a pack of wolves, and small school of dolphins stoned for weeks.

Fran Ginn

This weekly column, “Adventures in Good Eating,” by Back Door Café chef/owner Fran Ginn appears each Thursday in the Marion County Informer.

……I relish the opportunity of finding something new and different to eat wherever I go. I love to explore why people eat what they do and how food has shaped their lives. Adventures in Good Eating is my way of sharing the pleasure of culinary discovery and also the anticipation of tables and tastes yet to be found.

A couple of months ago, driving home from Jackson, I felt the siren song of a flea market calling me.  This particular market is large, very neat, and always has an article with my name on it.  On this day the article(s) wanting to go home with me were a stack of cookbooks.  There are millions of cookbooks out in the universe and I seem to have a sixth sense about those which are supposed to live in my library.  Don’t ask me what it is……there is absolutely no rhyme or reason.  Somehow, I just know.  In this stack of cookbooks were a book on Gasparilla cuisine from Florida – yes, a 1966 date book with recipes by Samuel Champlain – yes, a community cookbook from Virginia – no, a 1940’s book on cakes – no, and a book titled Pearl’s Kitchen, An Extraordinary Cookbook by Pearl Bailey – yes.  Pearl Bailey, an amazing jazz singer from the years of my growing up, had written a  cookbook.  I picked it up, remembering how much I had enjoyed hearing her sing on a number of television shows, really not expecting much cooking, just a good read about a celebrity I admired.  I was so wrong.

Pearl Bailey was born in 1918 in Virginia, but moved to Philadelphia as a young child.  At age 15 she entered an amateur entertainment contest at Philadelphia’s Pearl Theater and won first prize.  A subsequent win at Harlem’s famous Apollo Theater convinced her that her future lay in show business.  She began entertaining in small nightclubs and eventually worked her way into a solo night club performer.  During World War II  Pearl took pride in entertaining troops with the USO.  She later teamed up with band greats Cab Calloway and Duke Ellington.  Her club career led her to Hollywood, Broadway and recording studios.  She starred with friend Cab Calloway in 1967 in an all-black touring company of “Hello, Dolly”, for which she won a special Tony Award.   In 1952 she married jazz drummer, Louis Bellson, after a whirlwind four day courtship.  They adopted two children, Tony and DeeDee.   They were a devoted couple, marking 39 years of marriage when Pearl died in 1990.

Knowing about Pearl Bailey only as an entertainer, I was so surprised to read in this book of her passion as a cook and homemaker.  The book contains recipes, but it is more an essay on her feelings about  cooking, love of her family and her home.  I want to share some of these thoughts in Pearl’s own words.  It amazed me to read some of my own feelings mirrored in her writing.

From the chapter titled “Sanctuary”:

My kitchen is a mystical place, a kind of temple for me.  It is a place where the surfaces seem to have significance, where the sounds and odors carry meaning that transfers from the past and bridges to the future.  It is that place in my life where the memories of Mama and Papa and my brother and sisters are located.  It is a place where show business and bright lights fade away, leaving my consciousness clear for understanding.  It is a room in which to find sanctuary in the enjoyment of the best lingering recollections of times gone by, a room where the circumstances of the present and the good or bad possibilities for the future can be dealt with…..

My primary ritual in the kitchen is an exercise of sharing.  It is a place where I cook for my family, whose images pervade my thoughts while I work.  I cook not only for my family and loved ones, but also for unseen guests, strangers who might happen upon my door.  Cooking is not drudgery for me, anytime.  During the festive seasons, I love to keep my house full of festive smells.  I like to spread the finest table that my pocketbook will allow.  It gets back to my feeling about the kitchen and food as a way of sharing and giving……..I love the days that I have at home, uncluttered by business – days when I can look forward to each mealtime with the ones I love the most.  In the preparation, I find my meaning.  And in the joy of mealtime, I find my reward.

When considering a recipe from the book, there was only one choice,.   I’m going to give it just as she wrote it.

“Macaroni and Cheese If I Say So Myself”

Nobody every has just a little bit of my macaroni and cheese.  Tony Bennett once ate so much of it at one meal he claimed he couldn’t eat for a month afterward.  Macaroni and cheese is my most famous personal recipe…….No matter how closely you follow my instructions, your macaroni and cheese will never taste exactly like mine, but we’ll hope..  I never made the dish exactly the same way twice, but each time it gets more divine.  I’ve had people come back to me and say, “Pearl, I tried it, but it didn’t taste like did over at your house.”  I could have told them that before they went away.  You see, no two cooks get exactly the same taste in a dish.  I’m not saying that one is better or worse than the other.  I’m just saying that each cook puts a certain amount of himself in there.

Now I guess I had better tell try to tell you how it’s done.  I prefer elbow macaroni to any other kind.  When I start to make macaroni and cheese, I make the whole roast pan full, because macaroni and cheese is good day after day.  I start with about 2 pounds of macaroni, boil it in the usual way until is about ¾ done.  Then I run cold water over it and wash away all the milky whiteness (starch) that will come off.  In fact, I try to make sure I get every bit of it away from the macaroni.  I even put my hands down there to separate the pieces so that the water touches every part of the macaroni.  There’s nothing worse, you know, than sticky macaroni.

Then I season the macaroni with salt, pepper and butter.  Usually 2 sticks of butter for this amount of macaroni.  The next important thing to know is that you should use sharp Cheddar cheese, and pretty good cheese at that.  The biggest mistake that most people make in trying to prepare macaroni and cheese is that they go a little short on the cheese  I use tons of cheese in mine, enough to go all the way through.  After, when the thing is done I know I’m going to call it macaroni and cheese, and not macaroni and macaroni.  Just chop it up into hunks so you can spread it around generously.

Once I have the seasoned macaroni and the cheese in my roast pan, I pour milk right up to the top of the macaroni.  By the way, when you’re salting the macaroni, keep in mind that cheese has a certain saltiness in itself.  So temper yourself.  Next I slide the whole thing in the oven at 350 degrees (do not cover), and cook it until I see the cheese starting to melt.  Then I take it out again and stir everything up real good with a spoon.  I want to make sure that the melting cheese goes all the way through the macaroni.  This is important.  At this point, I taste it to see that the mixture is right.  If anything is missing, I put the finishing touches on right at this moment.  Then I shove it back in the oven (still no cover) and let that baby just get bubbly brown until I’m sure the cheese is fully melted all the way to the bottom.

Now, of course, you can serve it hot.  Then the next day it’s better and the third day it’s better still.  When it’s cold, you can even slice it.  That’s good, too!  When I’m going to reheat it, I just dip into the roast pan, which I keep in the icebox, and get out as much as I expect to use.  Then I add a little milk so that I preserve that wonderful softness, and heat the whole thing up very slowly.  I’m serious when I say it’s better the second day.

That’s all there is to it, and there’s nothing I would rather put in front of guests than my macaroni and cheese.

To conclude, I’ll take a word from Pearl’s  forward to the book:

The kitchen is the center of activity in my house and it the center of my silence on nights like this.  It is the room where the forms of living seem to start and end; it is the room where I make sense of life, birth, death, work, play, hurt and joy.  With this book I reach out for an audience of people who love to live simply, people who understand about the mystical side of cooking, people who could join me happily in a good solid one-pot meal, a full three-course dinner, or just a plain cup of good coffee.

Oh, my, how I would have loved to join Pearl for that cup of coffee.

Chloe Oliver

Chloe Oliver of Foxworth writes a community column for the Marion County Informer. Her column appears every Wednesday.

By Chloe Oliver

On Sunday, July 4, I gravitated toward patriotic thoughts and feelings of thankfulness for the country in which we live. My thoughts turned toward the many great leaders of the past to whom we owe a debt of gratitude.

Such a list would certainly include the names of George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Thomas Jefferson, Franklin D. Roosevelt, Douglas McArthur and George Patton. Some textbooks now seek to cast aspersions on the character of these men and belittle their and other past leader’s accomplishments. The fact remains that without such leaders, we might have enjoyed fish and chips and kidney pie this past Sunday. We each might have started some  other sort of holiday with sauerkraut and bratwurst and concluded the day with a Nazi salute.

When I speak of leaders, I am not merely referring to one who is elected. There is more to leadership and service to country than being elected to office. Today, many elected to office want no more than prestige and power. They place more value in power groups’ opinions, re-election, and personal preferences than in honor and duty to country and citizens. By contrast, consider the words of George Washington when urging his countrymen to be anxiously engaged in the cause of the Revolution: “It is a duty we owe our country; a claim which posterity has upon us.” Also remember, that before Washington was a great leader, hero, and president, he was, from the British point of view, a notorious rebel and insurrectionist. If Washington and his fellow Patriots had failed instead of succeeded, he and they would have been hanged from the nearest tree. His name would be remembered in the annals of British history as a traitor.

Neither should political prowess be confused with valor or true understanding of the economic distress that has descended upon many Americans. Reflect upon the leadership of one such as FDR. Although raised with the advantages of wealth, he was keenly aware of the plight of the average citizen. He seemed to believe that wealth came with responsibility toward those less fortunate. He knew that the war abroad could not be won without first conquering the problems at home. He instituted visionary programs and policies for relief and victory. He led-and he led with a disability. The simple act of standing up with his heavy leg braces was an ordeal. Ponder also, what would have happened to this country if he had not been successful.

As I cast my eyes to the current political arena, I see a pool of political pygmies. Most seem phlegmatic instead of visionary. I yearn for noble and great leaders. Just because true leadership is not often witnessed today, it does not mean that it cannot robustly exist again. Hopefully, those in politics will not only honor those who have led the way, but learn from them as well.

Regardless of the political party or politician in power, we should still concur that our privileges outweigh our privations. We are blessed. I give thanks to God for the country in which we live and the great leaders on whose coattails we exist. We should not take our privileges and comforts for granted or become complacent.

“These are the times that try men’s souls,” wrote Thomas Paine as he marched in the winter snow with George Washington. The following words read by Washington to his troops ring as relevant and true now as then: “The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in crisis, shrink from the service of their country;but he that stands now, deserves the thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap,we esteem too lightly; it is the dearness only that gives everything its value. Heaven knows how to put a proper price upon its goods; and it would be strange indeed if so celestial an article as freedom should not be highly rated.” (Thomas Paine)

Fran Ginn

This weekly column, “Adventures in Good Eating,” by Back Door Café chef/owner Fran Ginn appears each Thursday in the Marion County Informer.

……I relish the opportunity of finding something new and different to eat wherever I go. I love to explore why people eat what they do and how food has shaped their lives. Adventures in Good Eating is my way of sharing the pleasure of culinary discovery and also the anticipation of tables and tastes yet to be found.

The only thing better than a homegrown tomato is two home-grown tomatoes.  This time of the year we have the blessing of  an abundance of  juicy, drippy, sweet orbs of crimson delight.  The long winter of pale, hard, tasteless cardboard things called tomatoes is just a distant memory.  For these warm months, I can’t get enough tomatoes.

Culinary historians tell us that the tomato is a native of South America.  The early Mesoamerican people named the fruit “tomatl” or swelling fruit.  It is believed that the first tomatoes were yellow, not red, and were small….perhaps the size of modern cherry tomatoes.  The explorer, Cortes, is often credited with bringing the tomato to Spain.  Others have credited Christopher Columbus.  Regardless, the rapid spread of the tomato through Europe, the Caribbean and Asia came from the Spanish settling of these areas.  The English were not exposed to the tomato until the 16^th century.  Since the tomato is a member of the nightshade family (the stem and leaves are poisonous), the English originally believed that the tomato itself was poisonous as well.  It was not until the 18^th century that tomatoes were widely consumed in England. 

Tomatoes have many interesting names.  Known as the love apple, “foreign plum” (Iran).

In certain parts of Europe the tomato was called the “wolf peach”, stemming from its being part of the nightshade family.  Evidently, in early Germanic werewolf myths the werewolves were summoned using nightshade.  My favorite name came from the Aztecs who called  tomatoes “plump thing with a navel”.

Is the tomato a fruit or a vegetable?   From a botanical point of view, the tomato is a fruit, most properly, it is a berry.   However, given its use more as a salad or entrée, it is generally considered to be a vegetable.  In 1887 the United States imposed a tariff on fruits brought into the United States, but not on vegetables.  The question – fruit or vegetable – eventually made it to the United States Supreme Court where the decision Nix v. Hedden officially declared the tomato to be a vegetable based on its common use as a savory, not sweet.

Tomatoes, both the  tomato itself as well as the plant can be poisonous to dogs.  The acid in tomatoes can cause lead to leach from pewter and will also pit silver.  Some tomatoes, especially yellow tomatoes are much less acidic than the red variety.

The latest thing in tomatoes is the surge of interest in heirloom tomatoes.  During the last 40 years tomatoes have been developed to ship well, fit conveniently in cases and travel long distances.  The heirloom varieties are not beautiful and perfect.  In fact, some are real ugly ducklings.  The heirlooms come in a range of colors – pink, orange, yellow, purple, brown, white, ivory and black.   They have wonderful names like Green Zebra,  Brandywine, Cherokee Purple and Hillbilly.

Last, but certainly not least, is the tomato’s amazing antioxidant properties.  Tomatoes contain lycopene which is believed to be an anti-cancer agent.

I’ve heard it said that the only thing better than a home-grown tomato is two home grown tomatoes.  I know I will eat them for the next few weeks  – until the acid in them makes my mouth break out – because I know that once these are gone, I’ll have to wait until next summer.

Tomato Jam

1 ½ pounds ripe tomatoes, peeled, cored, seeded and coarsely chopped

1 cup sugar

Juice of one orange

Zest of one orange

1 Tblsp. grated fresh ginger

Seasoning package – tied up in cheesecloth:

    1 cinnamon stick

    1 tsp. whole allspice

     ½ tsp. whole cloves

Pinch sea salt

½ tsp. dried red pepper flakes

Combine all ingredients in a heavy medium saucepan.  Slowly bring to a boil, stirring often.  Take care that the mixture does not burn. 

When the mixture has come to a boil, reduce the heat and simmer, uncovered, for 45 minutes or until the mixture has the texture of a thick jam.  Remove the cheesecloth bag.  Cool and refrigerate.

This is delicious served over cream cheese, with a pork roast or on a grilled cheese sandwich.