Hot dang I am so excited! I’ve always wanted one, but never knew their history or how to say their name. In fact, I just left tripod spice grinder thingy on my list to Santa. The kids were doubtful old Saint Nick baby would come through. Well step back nonbelievers, cause Santa delivered.

Three-toes, my new molcajete (mol-ka-HE-teh), is hand carved out of lava and was really rough when I got him. Yes, it is a he. I checked. Like my guns, I name my kitchen gadgets too. I wouldn’t hold a woman that way. Moving on.

Molcajetes means stone sauce bowl. According to Aztec lore, the three legs is thought to pay homage to the god of the hearth, Huehueteotl, who is associated with the number three. Who knew.

To season the three-legged beast you can take the pear-shaped grinder thingy called ajolote (ah-ho-LO-teh) and grind rice or corn. What this does is basically sands the inside of the bowl to make it a little “smooth”. (This is where we have a break down in communication, as it depends greatly what your definition of smooth is). Anyway I ground like a bored Aztec woman, whose kids had left the nest or cave, whichever. For days I ground, rinsed and repeated.

 Here’s the rice before.

And after.

On the third day Ben said, what you need is a wire brush on a drill. (A great idea really.) But I glared at him at explained I didn’t want to miff the god of the hearth, besides I’m a traditionalist. A traditionalist until I start getting blisters, that is. Then I ran out and bought a whole set of wire brushes and commenced to scrubbing. I don’t know if I’ll ever get there.

 There are a lot of imitations out there for real live molcajetes. If you want to order a real one, you can go to Melissa Guerra or if you want to read another post about them check out The Homesick Texan’s post here. Great stuff.

Knuckles and brushes be damned, I think I’m almost there. While cast iron is easier to season, it was kind of a earthly fun project. Like cast iron in Mexican kitchens you pass your molcajete down through the family. I will be putting this in my will as some sick joke to my kids after Mommy is long gone. *sphnicker sphnicker* If nothing else I’ll be remembered for my twisted sense of humor.

What do you think? Do you think my saucy new rice griding past time is cool or just plain weird?

Simply,

Sis

Having been raised by a cowboy, I’ve eaten a bean or two. Or three. In fact, there was one winter there where we didn’t have two pennies to rub together, a piggy bank to put them or a window to throw it out of and we ate nothing pinto beans. Well, we did have a few things canned from the garden, deer meat, some cheap pullet eggs from a well meaning neighbor and homemade bread from freshly ground wheat and some goats milk from the goats I got to milk. But really, that was about it. Mom claims it was the healthiest winter we have on record. Not that we kept track.

Anyway. I know my way around a bean. (I think ‘The Dry Bean’ is the coolest name for a tavern). You would think after all those years of beans, beans the musical fruit I would be sick of them, but I’m not. I still love them and much to the chagrin of my family, I fix them about once a week. Beans are a cheap protein that’s comforting and good to this former cowgirl. Besides it’s far too late to change my silly ways now.

Since I’m in a good mood and my dad’s birthday is coming up I’ll share his cowboy bean secrets with you today, in remembrance of him.

One Cowboy’s Bean Recipe

One kid to sort the good guys out of your bag of pinto beans.

from the bad…

After the beans are sorted rinse, drain and repeat…

until the water is clear and lovely. Then put in enough water to cover the beans.

Add one onion roughly chopped and four or five cloves of garlic. I smash and mince mine…Dad always smacked them once and threw them in the water and picked out the floating peels, but he was weird.

A handful of salt, that equates into a couple tablespoons.

 A ham bone. If a ham bone isn’t available use bacon, smoked turkey leg or a drip or two of liquid smoke. You can also throw in a beef, chicken, or vegetable bullion cube or four if you want too.

If you like your beans with a thick broth…put in a third navy beans. They break down fast when they cook, leaving a nice thick broth.

Cook with a wooden spoon so all the farts can climb out. 

And remember…to sing to your beans, just cause Dad did. 

Serve with cornbread, biscuits, fried taters or greens and a bunch of these pickled peppers to your best friends and family, only after saying a prayer of thankfulness that your eating beans cause you want to, not cause you have to. And as you serve them to your favorite people quote my Aunt Betty and say, “I wonder what the po folks are eating.”

Simply,

Sis

When I teach Dave Ramsey’sFinancial Peace University I try to bring a treat every week for the participants. I’m not bragging, but this was my last classes’ favorite. They inhaled it like a bunch of addicts. The mom of one of the families called it crack bread.

I said, “Crack bread? What’s that?”

She said, “Oh, that’s what my husband calls that banana bread you make. It’s that addicting.”

God love her for saying so. Folks, if you want to butter me up, just brag on my cookin’. Plain and simple. I gave everyone a copy of this recipe and have been wanting to share it with you. But wanted a picture of it and so far it hasn’t stuck around long enough to have it’s picture taken. Ben has been known to tap his foot while I’m clicking away and then say, “Can I eat it now or do I have to wait until it gets cold?” You know what they say…behind every good man is a woman rolling her eyes.

Speaking of cold. This is really rocking if you put it in the frig over night and slice it the next day for breakfast. It turns the crust into some kind of yummy and with coffee– Aww, it just makes me bang my head on the ground.  And did I mention it’s moist? Oh Rhodas, it’s fresh cooked. (If you don’t know why I call you Rhoda, please click here to investigate. Thank you.)

Banana Bread a.k.a. Crack Bread

3 Eggs

11/2 Cup Smashed Bananas (I use 3 or 4 empty bananas.)

3/4 Cup Applesauce

2 Cup Sugar

1 Cup Oil

3 Teaspoon Vanilla

3 Cup Flour

1 Teaspoon Salt

1 Teaspoon Baking Powder

1 Teaspoon Baking Soda

1 1/2 Teaspoon Cinnamon

Walnuts If you want. (I don’t, as I think they are high risk food.)

Beat eggs until foamy. Add oil, sugar, bananas and vanilla; mix well. Add flour, soda, powder and cinnamon. Mix again. Pour into greased and floured pans. Bake at 325 degrees for 35 to 40 minutes. (I always stick something it into it to test for doneness, like a tooth pick, steak knife or something. If it comes out clean…it’s time to eat some crack bread.) I almost forgot, this makes three loaves. It’s great in a cake pan too. Feel free to use what you have.

Enjoy!

Sis

PS ~ This recipe isn’t original to me. I stole it from a Western Kansas Southern Baptist cookbook. It’s no secret Baptist women can cook. Thank you Miss Stephanie where ever you are. I doubt angels cook this well.

Like some kind of twisted foodie I take pictures of veggies and fruit in all sorts of states, from naked to streaking and now empty. Then I expoit them by writing about them and giving them funny names. I’m sorry. I’m weak. Bananas are not immune when I’m around, either.

I love to discover new ways to save money esspecially on food. Today it’s banana specific, but works with peaches too. Back when I was a nanny baking these yummy kid pleasing waffles, I learned you could freeze bananas. That was just after I opened their frig and a frozen banana fell out. I screamed, said ewwwwwe and was heading for the trash can when I was stopped by Lynn, the lady of the house. Turned out when their bananas got over ripe she would throw them into the freezer. Just like that, no baggie, no nothing; just naked freezing to be saved for baking banana bread.

On the day you bake banana bread just set them out to thaw (it doesn’t take long.) Or you can throw them into the microwave for a couple minutes and your ready to make them empty. Just cut off the end and the bananas slip out like a theif in the night. What is surprising about this is, they aren’t brown, they’re perfect, and that funny tasting thingy on the end stays in the peel, leaving you with an empty banana. 

Currently I have 32 bananas in my freezer, leftovers from banana sales and poor little fruit that just didn’t get eaten up. I could make enough banana bread to feed a small army. Or give everyone I know a some banana bread for Christmas. Don’t you know, it’s the new fruit cake?

How do you save money buying fresh fruit?

Simply,

Sis

Oh Rhodas, I can’t believe I’m telling you this. But, if you want Santa to stop at your house first, bake these sugar cookies and leave them for him Christmas eve. These will make Rudolf’s nose light up. These will make Blitzen for-go the hooch for the long night if you leave some extra for him. These will make Mrs. Clause call you for the recipe. (She has me on speed dial.) I’ll telling you, there is something magic about these cookies.

Santa’s Favorite Sugar Cookies

1 1/2 Cups Butter, softened

2 Cups Sugar

4 Eggs

11/2 Teaspoon vanilla

5 Cups Flour

2 Teaspoon Baking Powder

1 Teaspoon Salt

Cream butter and sugar together until smooth. Add eggs and vanilla and beat. Stir in flour, baking powder, and salt. Cover or put in large baggie for an hour or overnight.

Roll out dough on floured surface 1/2 inch thick. Cut into shapes. Place cookies one inch apart on ungreased cookie sheet.

Bake 6 to 8 minutes in preheated oven. Cool completely. Then decorate for Santa, his reindeer and anyone you want to impress.

Don’t tell call ahead and tell Santa you’re baking them. If you do, I’ll tell him you stole the recipe from me and to leave you coal. But, if you can keep a secret, I’ll send him to your house next. Deal? Deal!

Merry Christmas

Silly Sandhill Sis

SINthia, my evil twin, and I have a birthday coming up here real soon. Ben, in typical Ben fashion, has surprised me. Well kinda. As much as you can surprise someone you’ve lived with for almost fifteen years. Last year, we were making like bums on one of his days off and went into a flea market to see what we could see. I saw this.

Everyone knows how much I love cast iron. I use it in my first, second and third kitchens. And Ben knows how much I love gifts I can use and don’t have to dust (trinkets are really not my thing).What can I say? I’m very practical. When I saw this the first time, my eyes lit up. I thought of all the chicken fried steak I could fry, pineapple upside-down cakes over the campfire I could do, and how I would probably have to will it one of the kids when I die, to keep the family. (In case you don’t know, that’s what you do with cast iron.)

And Ben, God love him, always remembers when my eyes light up. Truthfully, it doesn’t happen very often. I simply don’t want for much of anything. They say a rich person isn’t the one with the most, but one who needs the least. That would be me. I’m very rich.

So a year later, we are making like bums again. I said, “Lets stop and see if that skillet is still there.”

We stopped. He bought it and explained, with a bummed look on his face, how he was going to buy it the day before and surprise me with it, but something came up at work, and he couldn’t.

I had to laugh. Everyone knows he can’t keep a secret from me. That’s okay. I can’t keep one from him either. Anyone else’s secret, we are both okay; but the soul mate thing throws a wrench in our secrets. At Christmas last year I got him some stag grips for his pistol. He knew something was up and said, “If I guess it will you tell me?” *Sis nodding* Weeks later he asks, “Does it rhyme with gag strips?”

Anyway. Thanks Ben, for my new/very old cast iron skillet. I love it and know there is no need to pick up a flower and wonder if he loves me…

I already know.

Sis

If you have been reading this blog for a while, you know I’m an addict. I’m addicted to lots of things, not the least of which is hot pickled peppers.

It all started with my Dad. He was a New Mexican cowboy who, when he was 18, was transplanted from a ranch in New Mexico to a ranch in Nebraska. He loved hot foods, namely jalapeno peppers. When he married my Mom she couldn’t stand the smell of hot stuff much less to eat any of it. Fast forward forty years and you find a family who will eat a quart of pickled peppers when pinto beans and cornbread is on the menu.

Our favorites are jalapenos and Hungarian hots (similar to hot yellow banana peppers.) We grow a bunch of them. When I say a bunch, I mean enough where if one family member has a bad crop, we have them and their friends covered. We hate to see people go without peppers.

After we get them grown we pickle like Peter Piper on steroids. We are talking gallons and gallons, people. I’m not bragging, but we do have the worlds best pickled pepper recipe. We call it the “I promise I won’t tell…” recipe.

We got it from an aunt who schmoozed it off of a Mexican restaurant in Omaha (I think), promising not to tell. God bless her. So anyway, here it is, Rhodas. Hold on to your hats, it’s slap yer mama good.

I Promise I Won’t Tell Pickled Pepper Recipe

Pickling Brine

1/2 Gallon Water

1/2 Gallon White Vinegar

 1 Cup Sugar

 1 Cup Canning Salt

Spices for the jars…

Bay Leaves (3-6 per quart jar)

Garlic (4 large cloves per quart jar)

Celery Seeds (3 tsp per quart jar)

Wash and cut up peppers. I use a food processor, but most of my family does this by hand. Sterilize your jars like I showed you in this post. While your jars are getting happy, combine the ingredients for the pickling brine and bring to a boil on the stove, stirring to dissolve the sugar and salt. In a clean jar place 1 tsp of celery seeds, 1 clove of garlic and 2 bay leaves in the bottom. Then fill halfway with peppers, packing them tightly as you go. Then put 1 tsp of celery seeds, 1 clove of garlic and 2 bay leaves over the peppers. Finish out the jar with more tightly packed peppers and for the last time add 1 tsp of celery seeds, 1 clove of garlic and 2 bay leaves. Pour the hot pickling brine over the peppers and spices (leaving an inch or so of head space). Wipe off the top of the jar, place hot seal and ring and tighten. Remember: don’t touch them until they have cooled completely, to ensure a good seal. Don’t eat for 3-4 weeks while they sit in the happy juice, getting happy.

Tips: The peppers will float so don’t be alarmed. Use gloves while handling the peppers, or you will be miserable later. You can pickle veggies with the peppers for a spicy treat called Giardiniera. After all the peppers are gone, leaving just the juice, add hard boiled eggs for some homemade hot mamas. (Hot mamas like to sit and get happy a few weeks before you eat them too.)

Lord have mercy!

Simply,

Sis

There is two words you need to know for pickles. Mrs. Wages.

I’ve looked at dozens of recipes for sweet and dill pickles. Short ones, long ones, some lasting for 14 days. Brine and rinse brine and rinse for the perfect crunch. Who has that much time to donate to a pickle? I don’t. As bad as I like to stick to family traditions… and good old fashion type recipes…when it comes to pickles. I don’t. *Gasp* I know, please don’t tell anyone. Thank you.

What’s even more degrading, my brother, Uncle Knothead, who cans everything but pickles gave me the best canning tip ever. If your pickles are crunchy for three to six months after canning then turn off mushy. It may be the minerals in your tap water. Use distilled vinegar instead. Presto-changeo.

So if you’re looking for some deep family tradition pass from one to another, I’m not giving it up today. I telling you, go out and buy some Mrs. Wages and forgetaboutit.

One other thing. As you might have guess. I don’t water bathe my pickles either, like they suggest. I risk the botulism and go for more crunch by cold packing the cucumbers into hot jars and pouring hot pickle juice over them. That’s all.

Simply,

Sis

I promise I’ll write about something else besides canning tommorrow. I’m in the middle of a bathroom redo. How about a little home improvement before and after? Hope to see you then.

A huge thanks for Sine86 on Flicker for letting me borrow this picture she took.

I know I’ve been hitting this canning thing hard, But. (And that’s a big BUTT.) Tis the season. You gotta make hay while the sun shines. Right?

You all know I’m a lazy squirrel. I store up food for my family, but after a while, I get tired. Esspecially in the fall, after school starts and the garden is still loaded even though you’ve been canning for weeks. Whew! Something’s gotta give. Well, Rhoda’s, here’s a break brought to you by, Grams, my mother.

Preheat your oven to 225 degrees. Wash and core your tomatoes. If you prefer naked tomatoes, make them naked. Here’s how. Then stuff your clean jars with whole tomatoes. Leaving some head space at the top of your jar to ensure a good seal.

If your tomatoes aren’t covered by their own juice, top off with a little water. (Remember to leave that head space we talked about above.) Add 1 teaspoon of salt per quart and 1/2 teaspoon for a pint. Set the seal on top long with the ring (not screwed down–just setting loosly). Place the jar in preheated oven. Bake for 1 hour and 15 minutes. Take the hot jars out, tighten the rings and let cool on the counter. The end.

Special tips from my mother….

Grams likes to have her tomatoes bubble a little (say 10 minutes). Not boil, just bubble, before removing from the oven. She also said you can do two racks at a time, but will have to increase your baking time. Again, just watch for the bubbles. After ten bubbly minutes…take them out and tighten.

This recipe will work for fruit too. Instead of using salt, you can just cover in water or make a simple syrup (sugar and water) to cover. If you can fruit this way you need to bake it a little longer, say 90 minutes. Remember bubbles are your friends.

Since you now have all sorts of time on your hands, give yourself a pedicure. Any lazy canner deserves a pedicure.

Happy Canning!

Sis

PS ~ Grams wanted me to tell you…’This recipe is not USDA approved. I guess ‘they’ come up with ‘canning guidelines’. Who knew? This is just how we do it. Dad gum! You ought to stay away from blogs with warning labels.

Oh my Rhodas! I feel like I’ve let you down. I was talking to a great lifetime friend I grew up with last night and she said, “Oh Sis. Colorado peaches are down at the feed store now, and I don’t have time this weekend to buy them and put them up.” I was terrified. I thought I’d told all my friends how to be a lazy canner or a lazy squirrel, as it were, storing up food for the winter. I guess not.

Listen people. A girl has to have fresh peaches for the winter. Period. You can do this. You have time. Go buy a box of fresh peaches. Take them home. Spread them out on a cookie sheet WITHOUT WASHING THEM and put them in the freezer. Let them freeze over night or until they are solid and place six in gallon baggies. (That’s how many it takes for a fresh pie.) Put all the gallon baggies in the freezer until you need them.

Okay. Now, imagine it’s winter. You’re sitting by the fire and you get a hankering for a fresh peach pie. Go out to the freezer, grab a gallon baggie with peaches in it, take the peaches out and run them under hot water. Guess what happens, Rhodas! Their clothes fall off. Naked. Woo hoo. It’s easier than talking maters out of their clothes for sure.

Above is a picture of a fully clothed frozen peach. I don’t have a good picture of one that is naked. Sorry. No peach porn today.

Let them set until your pie crust is ready. Then slice while still frozen. Sprinkle one cup of sugar, and 1/2 cup flour over the sliced peaches and pour into unbaked pie crust throw on your top crust or top with a crumble topping, or a crisp topping…whatever and bake at 400 degrees for 30 minutes and then back the oven off to 350 for the rest of the time (usually 45 minutes to 1 hour). Take it out when it’s light brown and bubbly. It’s fresh cooked, Rhoda!

If your not a pie fan and just want peaches to eat…make the peaches naked, slice, and sprinkle with fruit fresh or lemon juice (I prefer fruit fresh) and sugar. Stir and let sit. Enjoy alone, with ice cream or in a fruit salad.

There. I feel better.

Simply,

Sis