Wendy's Cranberry Salad

I met my mother-in-law before I even met my husband. I like to tease him that he stood me up on a double date to the amusement park, but he swears it doesn't count. Anyway, I met his parents for lunch that day and instantly felt comfortable. Such gracious people. 

Wendy Jo is a spunky women that raised four energetic boys---each two years apart, sporting dark hair, brown eyes and no shirts in summer. She's a tomboy at heart, happiest when she's outdoors, enjoying nature and sunshine. She even had a pet squirrel in high school. She holds onto material things loosely and people tightly. I've never seen her be anything but warm and loving to the people who filter through her home. When anything disquieting happens, she simply says, "I'll pray about that" and you know she is. 

The entire family gathered together for thanksgiving this year. Twelve people, down to the littlest newborn, arranged at a long table down the center of the living room. There was turkey and stuffing and sweet potatoes, the normal delicious fare. And this cranberry salad. A vibrant, crunchy side, filled with fruits and veggies and nuts. I've never had it anywhere else and look forward to it every thanksgiving we spend with Brad's side of the family. It reminds me of her---bright, sweet and chock-full of good things. 

Corn Pudding

My parents came to visit last week. Since we were together (and won't be on Thanksgiving), we decided to do an early Thanksgiving feast. I'm not brave enough to tackle a turkey yet, so we did roast beef, complete with veggies and gravy. There was homemade applesauce and my Grammy's crescent rolls and dill pickles. Salad for my dad, pies for dessert and this corn pudding. 

It's a recipe my mom tweaked, using corn that we process and freeze ourselves. Many corn pudding recipes call for cornbread mix and cans of creamed corn. But this recipe uses simple, real ingredients that make all the difference in taste. Don't believe me? The proof is in the pudding. 

Pumpkin Pie

"Pie is part of the family."

This is what my husband said when I asked him to describe the role of pie in my family. 

We cracked up laughing because it's so true. It would not be Thanksgiving or Christmas without many assortments of pie. It would not be my birthday without a strawberry pie. It would not be a trip home without a showing of one or two pies. 

How-To: Pumpkin Puree

I grew up on pie that started with an actual pumpkin. I remember, as a girl, watching my mom cut up a pumpkin, steam the skin off, cook it down and process it through a food mill. And only then came the actual pie making.

It instilled in me a love for pie made truly from scratch. I love the texture and flavor of pie made from a real pumpkin. Of course, it's a lot to do in one day. So now I make the puree on one day and then the pie on another. Or I freeze the pumpkin puree and store it up for a surprise pie in the winter. 

As with a lot of food processing, it may seem a little daunting. But the thing I like about it is that you do it in steps and the steps can be completed while you do other things during your day. The pumpkin steams while you are doing dishes, or eating lunch. And then it cools while your chasing your kids around or running to the store for a forgotten ingredient. Real food made while doing real life. 

Pumpkin Sheet Cake

I really enjoyed Halloween last year. My family didn't do much with the holiday growing up. We lived way out in the country and I only remember someone coming to the door for candy once! But last year was Jack's first Halloween, and one of our first in our new home. My sister was living with us at the time and she was really the impetus behind getting Jack dressed up. We decided on a lumberjack costume, dressing him up in a flannel shirt, carhartts, a beanie hat and an axe made out of a toilet paper tube and tin foil. And to complete the look, a scruffy little beard fashioned out of mascara on my sweet ten-month old's face. 

He was so cute. 

Chicken Noodle Soup

There's something about chicken noodle soup that speaks of home. Maybe it's the warm broth, soothing many a sore throat or steaming red faces fresh out of the snow banks. Or maybe it's the tender chicken and perfectly cooked veggies, wholesome goodness that fills hungry stomachs. Or it could be the noodles, each one slightly different, homemade and hearty.

How-To: Homemade Noodles

Homemade noodles can take a soup from good to amazing. There's something about the texture of a homemade noodle that leaps past the cookie-cutter sameness of store-bought and gives a soup individuality. Store-bought noodles tend to be a little bland and they slip right off your spoon before you are able to get them to your mouth. Homemade noodles are different. Toothsome. Hearty. They put the love in your soup.

Pumpkin Bread

I remember the first time that I had this bread. I think I was about eight or nine years old. We went to a friend's house for dinner after church. It must have been late fall or early winter because I remember it being cold outside. We all sat down to eat dinner and I nervously eyed what lay on the table. I tend to be a picky eater and always dreaded going to someone's house because I was afraid that I wouldn't like what they served. And when you are eight, such things are very important. 

That's when I spied the pumpkin bread in the basket across from me. Ah, here was something I knew that I liked. I don't remember much about the rest of the meal. I'm sure it was all tasty stuff. But I do remember I ate a lot of that bread. I think the hostess noticed too because she gave me the recipe before I left and I've been making it ever since. 

Molasses Crinkles

There's nothing better than getting something in the mail from someone you love. Whether it's a letter, flowers to cheer a dreary day or a homemade treat when you're far away, it's nice to be remembered. 

This seemed to be especially true when I was in college. Package notifications always brought out expectant smiles and quickened my pace to the student center. 

Corn Chowder

Car rides to Maine to visit my grandparents always ended the same. We'd pull into the driveway, the tall red barn standing sentinel on one side of the driveway and the light beckoning welcome from the breezeway on the other. We'd pile out of the car and pass through the porch into the kitchen, usually eyeing a pie or two that sat on the washer to keep cool. Hugs would be given all around, car trip woes related and then we'd sit down for a bite, despite the late hour.