Midwest Love
I’m sending a shout out to my home–sharing my Midwest love. Missouri, specifically. No, it’s not flyover country. While some people see it as the space between the coasts, it is my beloved home, and I’m fiercely proud of it!
I love living in a rural area, and small town life suits me well. Our values are different here, a little more Good Book oriented, but I won’t apologize for that. Most of us are content with the everyday blessings that cross our paths: A warm, fresh breeze scented with something floral. Trees blooming in shades of pink and white. A laugh shared with my spouse. A spicy, hot cup of orange pekoe. Just a few of my blessings du jour.
Days like these I feel invigorated. Glad to be alive. Happy to be here. Fortunate to be living this life on the land I love.
Lost
They tore the old chicken house
down the other day.
A place I’d known for always.
The chickens left not long
after Grandpa did.
(Not by choice, he died.)
But the name stuck through
years and seasons.
It has held a variety of things:
Rusting motors, tomato cages,
buckets of nails, vet meds, old boards,
even calves, from time to time,
when space was in short supply.
It’s amazing how empty
the landscape now looks.
Brushed clean of all
but foundation.
Even the tree,
once hidden behind it,
looks a little lost.
From my Kitchen to Yours
I have a confession to make. While the kitchen is generally a place of warmth and comfort, I have a love-dislike relationship with cooking. Mostly I welcome the creative outlet. I like trying new recipes and doing a riff off an old favorite. Other times I resist the urge to run screaming from the room when Hubs asks, “What’s for supper?” I think it’s the “cooking on demand” aspect that’s a turnoff.
For times like these when I must come up with something and I don’t feel like spending hours in the kitchen, I have a few faithful standbys. Today I share one with you: Roasted Chicken Thighs.
Roasted Chicken Thighs
serves 2 – 4
–4 frozen chicken thighs bone in and with skin
–2 – 4 tablespoons of chilled bacon grease (keep it in the fridge ’til it becomes solid)
–seasonings: salt, pepper, onion powder, and garlic powder
Preheat oven to 375. Take the frozen thighs and place them in a baking pan skin side up, not overcrowding them. (A 9 x 13 would work well.) Smear bacon grease over the top and sides of them. Season with salt, pepper, onion and garlic powders to taste. Place thighs in the oven and roast until the skin is golden brown, approximately 80 – 90 minutes.
Notes: I have used thawed chicken thighs and grease drippings from my morning bacon, and it will work (adjust baking time accordingly), but what makes the frozen thighs and chilled bacon grease work so well is that the grease sticks to the meat longer, resulting in a crispy skin with all that bacon-y goodness. When serving, I spoon some of the pan drippings over my meat for even more flavor.
Ovens vary widely, and if yours tends to run hotter than most, you might start checking about an hour into cooking time.
For a side dish, I sometimes add frozen green beans in the pan, roughly halfway through the cooking. I hasten to add I like my green beans cooked thoroughly. No crunch for me! A fresh garden salad works equally well for a side.
Sorry I have no pictures to go with the recipe. At a later date I will repost and do it proper. If you give it a try, leave me a comment.
Like this simple meal? You might also enjoy 4-Ingredient Simple Pizza.
Jake: A Dog’s Eulogy
Mom’s dog, Jake, died yesterday, and it occurred to me that when a good farm dog passes on, he ought to get the tribute he’s due. Here’s mine.
Jake has been on this farm since puppyhood, about eight or nine years—we’re not entirely sure of the date, but he lived here a good long while. The thing that stood out the most to me about him was his soulful eyes. Although quite large, even for a lab, he tended to be a gentle giant. He had quite an appetite and was not one to miss a meal, or a snack, or anything else you might want to give him, like a pat on the head. He was particularly sensitive to Mom crying, coming to her side to comfort her.
He had a deep bark for strangers when they approached, and he took his role as Mom and Dad’s protector seriously. And then just Mom’s. He’d felt Dad’s absence, too, since January, sleeping many nights beside her bed.
I remember taking care of Jake and his sister Honey about five years ago when Mom and Dad took a ten-day vacation to see my brother. I felt sorry for them because they didn’t understand where their masters had gone, and they were out of sorts. Jake took to spending his days outside my house, needing that connection. Days later, when Mom and Dad pulled into their driveway and Mom called him, he bounded over the field, finding the shortcut through the holes in the fence to get to her side. Pure joy. Made me smile.
Jake had many human friends. Brian the postman, various UPS drivers who tolerated Jake jumping on to their trucks in anticipation of a treat, family friend Bobby who has helped my parents immeasurably since Dad’s decline. Jake also never fussed when my nieces and nephews hopped on his back to ride him like a horse.
Admittedly, Jake had a habit I wasn’t so crazy about. In the summer time, he’d sort of sneak up on me and lick my toes whenever I wore my sandals. I’m going to miss that.
His absence is already felt, particularly when Honey stopped by today, alone, wandering but not staying. Something not quite right. She feels it, too.
Mom texted me last night, saying that Jake was up with Dad now. A picture came to me, then. Dad on a dirt road walking, Jake bounding toward him for that pat on the head. Dad bends over to oblige, saying, “What are you doing here, boy?”
Rest in peace, my canine friend. You were a good and faithful dog.
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