Oh my Rhoda’s. (If you don’t know why I call you Rhoda, click here.) I had high hopes of posting pictures,  menus, recipes and such of my adventure of cooking for a wheat harvest. I can tell that’s not going to happen. The past three weeks that have been a blur of food and frenzy. 

I made a plan, followed it…for the most part…and even took a few pictures. Here we are at the end and I haven’t posted anything but my menu. “Oh the horror. I’m such a failure. A blogging misfit…A…”

So, on my last day, before I fire myself, I’ll post one of their favorite meals. So here’s the quick and dirty…

This is my third kitchen, in the office of a feedlot. (If you missed my first kitchen remodel you can check it out here. If you missed my second kitchen remodel you can check it out here.)

Isn’t it dreamy? (A feedlot is where cattle get fatten up before it goes to market. Kids around here call them peed-lots or cowboy poop because they smell so nice.)

This is my fourth kitchen, in the community building of our small town.

(The lights when out for a couple of days out at the ranch and derned if it ain’t hard to cook on an electric stove when the power is out, so I commandeered this kitchen because it had power.)

Here’s what the harvest crew looked like this year. It consists of three brothers, a son, and an extra. Some days we have more extras, maybe a friend, a banker, stray truck driver, a couple kids, an extra husband or wife. Who knows. I just cook big and hope for plenty.

You’ll notice…here in wheat country…usually the meals get taken out to the field by said cook and served out of the back of a vehicle. I don’t. I’m one of those liberated cooks, the crew comes to me. I like that.

Here’s what a typical meal looked like. Brisket, tossed salad, fruit salad, twice baked potatoes (not in the half shell), garlic bread and Miss Vickie’s dump cake. Yes, they are spoiled. I call it job security.

I like to travel through food. It’s a game I play. The guys will come in and say, “Where are we going today, Sis?”

“South of the border, on a ranch in Oklahoma, or to my house.” It just depends where the recipe came from. Not that I follow those very well. Anyway, we ‘take a trip without leaving the farm’ getting back in record time, just after the hungry hostages slick everything. Then we’re I am back at the feedlot to clean up and pack a picnic for their supper.

So, this is it, 21 meals and 126 sandwiches later…I’m done…finished..fineto. It’s been fun. I love the folks I cook for, but I’m off to fire myself. Hey, somebody has to, and the guy in charge won’t. Then I’m off to spend my paycheck. So, I’ll see you in a month.

Okay a week.

Tomorrow.

Probably tomorrow.

A few minutes.

It will just take a few minutes.

Simply,

Sis