French Fry Pie....

A few years ago we were fortunate enough to get a Barnes & Noble bookstore adjacent to our neighborhood mall. After years of trekking to other neighborhoods to shop for books it was a welcome addition for a community that had long yearned for its own bookstore. At the time of its opening, my daughter had just turned one and my son was three. Staying home with my children had so far been a rewarding experience that I did not want to change, but I also had a need for something of my own, a desire for conversations that did not revolve around my children. Suddenly, our new store was offering this mother of two an opportunity to be doing something other than mothering. When they called back after my interview, I eagerly accepted.

Three and half years later, I am still working at the Northgate Barnes & Noble and looking back, amazed at the gifts that have come from the experience. From the beginning, it has taken me back to a part of myself that had been forgotten in the daily grind of mothering. I found that I could actually form complete and cogent sentences once again. To my amazement, the parts of my brain not necessary for parenting were still intact, a bit dusty, but ready for a challenge. Even better, many of the skills that I had mastered as a mama were transferable to the work place. For the first time in three years, I had a frame of reference for conversations that did not involve bodily functions, my children’s latest accomplishments, or battling the fatigue of parenting little ones. I was and still am challenged as well as blessed to be working with people who are often half my age. Being with them is a gift because I am able to see some of the ways that I might be getting a bit stuck in some of my thinking, gain friendships in places unexpected, learn a lot from them and occasionally (when I least expect it) am able to reciprocate. I have even been able to promote a book by a local photographer, Jennifer Loomis, who photographed me while I was pregnant with my daughter. My picture is one of many featured in Jennifer’s work “Portraits of Pregnancy: The Birth of a Mother”. Northgate Barnes & Noble has graciously hosted Jennifer two times for book signings that were successful both in the sale of books and also in the nurturing of the spirit for those of us fortunate enough to attend

Although these have been wonderful treasures and welcome opportunities, two significant doors have been reopened to me as a result of my bookselling path. In my life, God has a sneaky way of slipping in the back door, knowing full well that if He tries the front door, my stubbornness will kick in and the job will much more difficult. Most of the best things that have come to me were unforeseen, but in hindsight I am thankful for the ability to see how God was working to prepare me for what He wanted all along. Although I have always been a reader and a writer, life outside of my Self had previously dictated the ebb and flow of both of those activities in my life. Being at the bookstore, surrounded by so much writing and talk of writing and reading began to call to the forefront my passion for both. Suddenly, I wanted to read again and write something that other people might want to read.

But before that realization came to me, before the store even opened (those unique two weeks where we were the only people in the store, discovering all its bounty) another awakening began its formation. One lovely shift I began to assist my fellow booksellers in setting up the section for cookbooks. The rest dear ones is history. The array of books both beautiful and practical in the cookbook section beckoned to me loudly and clearly. It was the section I could not walk past without stopping to look. Even today I have to stop and check it for a minute when I walk by. In our store we have a beautiful feature armoire for the most aesthetically pleasing of our cookbooks. It has been my great pleasure to be the person who arranges the books on the armoire and gets to help select the best of them, gets to see customers stopping to enjoy them as well. I am pleased to have become the person that is generally called to the second floor when there is a cookbook question, and it is a special shift when a fellow foodie drops by my that section and I get to assist them with their selection. Equally enjoyable is locating the right cookbook for the person who is not a culinary expert but needs some guidance selecting a book. I love to see their faces light up when I hand them the book that might be the perfect selection.

Our Barnes & Noble is literally a 5-minute drive from home, making it possible for me to be with my children throughout the day before I go in for my closing shift. During my four-hour shift I get a 15-minute break. It is one of the sweetest pleasures of my day when that time rolls around. I grab an Americano from our fabulous café staff and head over to the newsstand meticulously maintained by the incredible Caitlin F. who always makes sure I get my weekly copy of The Economist. But during that break it’s the cooking section, not current events, which I am drawn to. For a few short, glorious minutes I peruse the best and most beautiful of the array of cooking magazines that we have at our store. Although I frequently find recipes that I am drawn to, think at the time I might cook, I rarely, if ever, actually make any of them (I am nothing if not consistent). But one evening dear ones, while thumbing through Real Simple’s annual collection of favorite recipes, a dish spoke so loudly to me that I knew we were destined to meet in my kitchen! It was called “French Fry Pie”…. just the mention of the making of it drew intrigue from my Facebook family. It was so compelling to me that I had to share the idea of it with several of my fellow booksellers. Being me, I had already begun to rework the recipe before my shift ended and my colleagues helped stoke that creativity. I did indeed, make the reworked pie and it delivered one hundred percent!

Dear ones, this dish is hearty, caloric, comforting and not for the faint of heart in any way! The original recipe calls for ground beef that has been cooked in the skillet, mixed with pasta sauce and topped with French fries. When you click on this link and see the picture, I believe you will come to understand why I had no choice but to make this yummy dish! After a few conversations with my bookselling friends, I decided to omit the pasta sauce and exchange it for Trader Joe’s All Natural Barbecue Sauce. Don’t let the name fool you; this sauce is sweet and delicious, with a smoky kick of chipotle that lends itself to kicking up the most mundane dish. Use this sauce and you won’t require any other seasoning. After draining the meat (also from Trader Joes, the 80/20 blend) and adding the sauce, I put it in a glass pie dish and topped it with sharp cheddar cheese and let it bake at 350 long enough to melt the cheese. I then placed my fries, which I had already cooked and kept warm with some foil, on top of the dish and baked it long enough to brown the fries. I’m sure some of us could talk for days about the correct fries to use but really, there is no great gastronomical science happening here! You play with this dish any way you want…. which makes it the perfect thing to be cooked by me! It can easily accommodate a vegan/vegetarian palette using a meat analog and omitting the cheese for vegans. I’ll leave it to the comment section for us to debate the best techniques and tweaks.

Real Simple gives you menu ideas to serve with this dish. I must object at this point and say, really, unless you are a teenager or in your early twenties, (or a pro athlete) you will not need or WANT anything else to eat with this! As Caitlin F. put it, “You made it like a cheeseburger” Exactly! It is rich, satisfying and so filling that even Mr. Ling (husband of mine) could not eat more than one serving, albeit a very healthy one. If you are in your thirties, you will eat it all, and wonder the next day why you feel hung over…for those of us forty and over…. enjoy with caution…I have to go now and plan a French Fry Pie party with my bookselling friends. …more will be revealed…

It's Not That Far from Stewed Chicken.....

When I was first "setting up house" in my early twenties, I was sadly ignorant of how little I knew and how much growing up I had to do. Life was coming at me fast and I was bound and determined to dodge it and any self-examination that went with it. So I did exactly what my mother did, much to my horror of course. I went to college, got married, became "independent", and started playing house in an attempt to hatch my new and improved autonomous self who would never be like the adults who raised her.....right? Right.

Those days were lean in the pocket and in the spirit. I thought I had opted out of my family script (the hope and fantasy of most 20-somethings) but I had only managed to sever myself from everything that made me my-Self. In doing so, I set in motion a ten-year cycle of avoidance that would take another ten years to heal.


This hiding of Self is clear to me today in how my creativity suffered. For years I thought I had no creativity. Closing myself off the way I did, shutting down the truth, it rippled through every aspect of my being and living until I no longer recognized who I was. Although I sporadically journaled throughout those years, my writing greatly suffered. Ironically, I married a gifted and aspiring writer and supported him in his goals to be published. I lost sight of the fact that I ever even had the gift. I allowed my-Self to disappear in the shadows. Thankfully, God sent His angels, like He always does, to remind me of what He had given me. I recall a beloved Marshall University professor, Dr. Kenneth Ambrose, who always went out of his way to comment on the essays or papers I had written. He and others were beacons that didn't let me completely forget who I was.


But no where dear ones was this disparity in budget and psyche more apparent than in my lack of culinary finesse! While I still had my signature gumbo and a few other things that I could make well, some of my regular dishes still make me cringe a little! For instance there was my ramen noodle, Hillshire sausage casserole, a processed-food nightmare! Around that time, I fondly remember a comment made by one of my dearest friends Francie Hartsog Dolack who was also in her first marriage at the time. Francie and I were doing our best to be little Hope Steadmans "Thirtysomethings" seemingly all-together super-mom/wife. But like Hope, we often faltered and loved each other through all the mis-steps and victories. We wanted to be young, fun, successful in our careers and studies, perfect in our roles as wives and mother. We were young women of the 80's and we wanted everything right then. Francie observed, in that way that only a good friend can, that every recipe I ever made started out with stewed chicken! She was right!


As I was growing up and learning to cook, my grandmother, who mostly raised me, was, unknown to the family very slowly deteriorating from Alzheimer's and Parkinson's disease. I remember the earliest sign of her leaving herself was the dinners she prepared for my mother and me. My dear Gram had raised two children, widowed, and alone, during the depression. She knew how to cook from the leanest pantry and stretch a meal. She also never fully recovered from that experience and so all times were sparse to her from that time on, both in the purse and places held more deeply. While she had been an accomplished cook and baker in her day those skills left her in the earliest portion of her mental decline. Dinners were often bland and uninviting, she had done the best she could just getting a plain stewed chicken on the table...often. I knew how to stew a chicken! And dear ones, I knew that 3 women could eat several meals from one stewed chicken.


Something in me also knew how to take that chicken and turn it in to something more inviting, cozy, comforting. Flash forward 20 some years and I lovingly laugh at Francie's observation, because my friends, it is still true! With astonishing regularity, every Thursday morning, I trek to our neighborhood QFC deli to purchase their 12 piece baked chicken. I have at least abandoned, forever I believe, stewed chicken. As a mother of two spirited children my time is precious and the time it takes for me to skin and stew a whole chicken is not very family friendly! However, more undesirable to me is handling raw chicken, in fact, I actually refuse to do it!


I spent a year as a vegetarian and another two as a vegan. During that time one of the things I loved when I cooked was the absence of handling raw meat. While I do cook and eat meat now, I draw the line with raw chicken! So I rely on my favorite Holman Road QFC where the service is friendly and fast. Go at 10:00 or right before dinner and you will find the juiciest, most flavorful baked chicken ever....and at 9.99 for 12 pieces, it is very budget friendly (more to come) (price based on having a QFC club card).


When I first started cooking again, here in Seattle, I pledged to use the very best, finest, most fresh, organic ingredients. That was a lovely time when I ate and cooked some of the best food in my life and I was able to expand my culinary education in valuable ways. However, in these current economic times it is not always budget-friendly for a family to purchase food that I now refer to as "pampered". Don't get me wrong, it's still my favorite food and it still remains an issue of social justice for me that the best food is unavailable to the people who need it. But that dear ones is another blog entry..... At QFC, my chicken may have not had a wide-open field of organic grass to nosh on but it is hormone and antibiotic-free, a concession I can accept.


I generally make one dinner from serving the chicken on the actual bone as it is intended. But the value of this chicken for me comes from cutting the meat off the bone after dinner is over and meat is still warm and moist. Once all the chicken has been removed (as well as any skin or fat) I store it in a glass container with a lid and dole it out for the rest of the week in a variety of delicious and creative ways.


There is a cornucopia of books at your local bookstore about ways to use rotisserie chickens so I can't claim to be doing anything innovative. Here are some of the ways that I regularly stretch my 12-piece chicken from QFC. These are 10 easy, quick, healthy meals that are are also family/budget friendly. I think they would make my Gram proud...

1. Southwest Chicken
*mix chicken, your favorite jarred salsa, 1 can pintos (or home-cooked 1 cup), cover w/shredded cheddar cheese or cheese blend, bake 30 minutes at 350
2. Chicken Curry
*chicken, Trader Joe's yellow or red curry sauce, frozen spinach, garbanzo beans, mix & heat serve w/rice
3. Pepper Chicken
*chicken, Trader Joe's Black Pepper sauce, green onion, Trader Joe's Rice Sticks (rice noodle), saute onion and chicken in sesame oil, add pepper sauce to taste, prepare and saute noodles in same skillet add pepper sauce to taste
4. Chicken Quesadillas
*Trader Joe's handmade corn tortillas, sliced chicken, cheddar cheese and whatever else you like to add, if you are lucky enough to have access to Trader Joe's handmade corn tortillas, you really don't need much else as they are quite tasty and filling
5. Chicken Tacos
*sky's the limit! great way to clean out the frig and use up veggies
6. Caesar Salad w/Chicken
7. Chicken Salad
*endless options...I prefer mine w/Best Foods Mayonnaise (known as Hellmann's, East of the Rocky Mountains) sliced grapes or mandarin oranges, fresh black pepper and kosher salt. My friend Linda Knight Jerrnigan used to make it with pineapple and almonds...she also introduced me to the use of scissors for cutting food while making her chicken salad. The best kitchen tip ever!
8. Chicken Fried Rice
9. Chicken Potato Hash
*this can be made w/leftover potatoes from your frig or frozen diced potatoes although I prefer the former...add whatever veggies in the frig you have and some seasoning for a hearty meal. Salsa adds a nice kick...
10. Chicken Burritos
*add whatever you like to your burrito, but your leftover Southwest chicken, chicken curry, chicken salad, Chicken Caesar, Chicken Fried Rice, or Chicken Potato Hash all make excellent fillings.


We put forth all that effort to stretch our wings and fly from the women who raised us, do our best to try to be different from them and finally come home to find out that we're not that different after all and what a wonderful thing that can be...more will be revealed.....

COMING ATTRACTIONS!!! Stay tuned for French Fry Pie!

My Two Moms.....

It is my fortune to boast that I was blessed with two mothers. However, there are some days I view my blessing less as fortune and more certainly the genesis of every neurosis that sent me to therapy. Naturally, Mother's Day is a day when I reflect on the dichotomies that sprang out of the complex maternal relationships from being raised both by my grandmother as well as my mother, all three generations of females under the same roof for 15 of my formative years.

My grandmother, who actually raised me, was the epitome of the old-school Southern lady. A lady never raises her voice, always leaves the house in gloves and a hat, is always in possession of her Self. Decorum was essential for a woman to be perceived in a positive light. On the other hand, my dear, Bod Dylan loving, hippy mama was the polar opposite of most of what her mother represented. She generally did raise her voice about anything that she felt deserved a platform, was seldom a fan of decorum and often was not in possession of her Self. Although the latter was sometimes a choice, it was more often than not the manifestation of a mental illness that was more covert than obvious well into her adulthood. My mother was brilliant in her intelligence, so far ahead of her time in many ways. Like many people with chronic mental illness her brilliance often masked the darkness of the mental instability that plagued her from childhood till her passing in 2008.

I am often aware of the ways that I sit somewhere in the middle of the two extremes that are represented by the personalities of these two women. In fact, I could probably dedicate a blog to that topic and cancel the rest of my therapy appointments! But this is a food blog and I am most at peace and thankful for the ways that my two moms contributed to my love, understanding, and passion for all things food related.

It is my grandmother's practical creativity and I believe, hidden inner foodie, who informs the more traditional, homey part of my cooking and food interests. Gram raised two children as a single, widowed mother, during the height of the Great Depression. In the sweet small town of Spencer, WV my grandmother was well-established as the woman who taught you how to play the piano, played the organ at your church, your wedding, or your funeral at one of the town's two funeral homes. It was not uncommon dear ones, that she would be present for all those occasions for any one given person. It was the income from those four jobs that put food on the table for my mom and her younger brother. I think it was during those years that my Gram learned how to combine her homey technique with a practical and necessary frugality, that she frankly never really was able to let go of, even in more bountiful times.

Whenever I put together an amazing meal or casserole with barely anything in the refrigerator (look for my yummy enchilada casserole recipe coming soon!) without any recipe at all, it is an homage to my Gram's practical and essential creativity. I think I must have picked up on this through the osmosis of watching her cook and consuming the fruits of her labor. One area she excelled in that I did not come by, either via osmosis or otherwise, was her exceptional baking skill. She knew, innately, how to follow the exact science of the recipe and also make it her own. I can still see her stained recipe for Honey Bear Brownies, with her scrawled comment "delicious" in the margins of her hand-crafted cookbook in a binder (a cookbook I hope to have someday!)...and I will always remember her secret for the most mouth-watering chocolate cake. (can you guess what it is?)

While my mother could duplicate my Gram's dishes with ease and skill, her influence on my culinary interests has been, like her influence in other areas of my life, more eccentric, out of the boundaries of the cultural norm. My mother spent many years living with relatives in Southern California, where I was born, and where she met my father. (at a Civil Rights demonstration where they were both arrested!) Thankfully the experience of living on the West Coast never left her even after returning to her hometown in Spencer, WV with me in tow. I still remember, with absolute fascination, her stories of staying with my grandfather's sister who had avocado trees in her yard. My mother would walk out in to the yard in the mornings and pick fresh avocados...right off the tree, for breakfast. Such decadence! Even my eight year old brain understood her morning ritual was a rare treat that she must have missed. I would envision her, with her long dark hair flowing, walking out to those trees in the early morning sun. Unusually tall for a woman of that time, I could imagine her carefully selecting the best, most ripe avocado, reaching up with grace and ease......beautiful!

It was my mother who introduced me to my life-long love, the avocado. She ignited a desire by offering me that first bite of creamy, nutty, fresh goodness. After we finished it, she amazed me even more by actually growing an avocado tree from the pit. Although it sadly never bore fruit, it was so healthy and sturdy that it served as my own personal Christmas tree for many years. I don't think any of my classmates had an avocado tree that they decorated at Christmas!

Mom opened the door for my palette, opened it to adventure. She brought home enchiladas and tamales, albeit Swanson's, spicy and a bit tinny from the tray! She talked about jambalaya, Mexican food, and her beloved avocados, nurturing this future foodie all the way. Although my first forays in the kitchen were more closely aligned with my grandmother's tastes and served to meet the requirements of my 4-H projects, my later experiments as a teen reflected my mother's influence and were designed to please and impress her. My first huge success was a gumbo recipe, very complicated and thankfully very delicious, right off the pages of "Glamour" magazine. I felt very sophisticated and it was my signature dish for many years.

Some of mom's passions took a little longer than others to take root. My mother loved and appreciated the virtues of tofu long before it was "cool" or healthy, like most things she was way ahead of her time. Now I need to digress a bit and share with you a bit of history about our hometown, Spencer, WV. It remains one of the lovely and unusual things about Spencer that right on Main Street, there was what my mother called a tofu dairy! A small and mysterious establishment, unavoidable because of its prominent location, they made tofu and shipped it across the country. How could such a business develop and survive in the heart of West Virginia where biscuits and gravy, baked apples, pork chops and fried potatoes reigned supreme? Let me explain dear ones...

In the late sixties and 70's there was an influx of "hippies" who moved to rural West Virginia, drawn to the availability of cheap, private, yet incredibly beautiful land, ideal for urbanite granolas to come and develop communities for peaceful living. According to Barbara Fisher, said hippies were unable to make a living farming so they decided to sell the tofu that they had been making at home. Twenty-five year later, there remains, in the heart of Roane County a successful tofu business, Spring Creek Natural Foods, that ships it's tofu nationally! I am sure that between my mother's influence and that of the people we knew from this community that I can trace my own granola tendencies!

My mother tried in vain to get me to eat tofu. It wasn't until I moved to Seattle and spent four years as a vegetarian/vegan that I grew to appreciate its versatility and yummy goodness. Sadly by then, my mother's mental illness had made it difficult for me to have quality conversations with her. However, I believe that she knows and is sending me a loving "I told you so" even now!

It is the gifts of these two very different women that often will show up on the pages of this blog. So it seemed appropriate on this day we celebrate our Mothers to give credit where credit is due. Thank you Frances Owen and Leith Owen for the things you instilled in me, for laying the foundation for things borne and things yet to come..I still miss you both...

more will be revealed...

"Angels lay her away...

Lay her 6 feet under the clay"

Josh Ritter "So Runs the World Away"

P.S. I wrote the previous piece this afternoon at my favorite Northgate Barnes & Noble. It was significant to me that as I finished the last sentences I became aware of the beautiful, folksy music that was playing and of the above lyrics, poignant on their own right, but even more meaningful to me in the context of what I had just completed writing. The Josh Ritter CD is a wonderful, Ritter has outdone himself, far superior to his previous CD. I know my hippy mama would have loved it!