The Autodidact

Here's a recipe so simple, I can write this from memory. Sweet and sour, this dish can be prepared in advance and clean up is a snap. Place 3-4 pounds boneless chicken in an oven-proof dish. In a medium sized mixing bowl, whisk together: * a can of cranberry relish (or the same amount of freshly prepared cranberries), * one package onion soup mix (or 2 tablespoons each dried, minced onion and beef bullion) * a generous measuring cup of French dressing (or your own homemade version) This can be very convenient if you use the prepackaged ingredients, but not as healthful. Or, you can use homemade ingredients with a bit more effort. Either way it is delicious! You can see from the picture I used homemade cranberry relish and it does add a nice texture to the dish. Pour over the chicken and cover. Refrigerate for a few hours, or all afternoon, if you can. Bake, covered, for an hour at 325 degrees. Uncover for the last 15 minutes or so. Serve over rice with a side o

This is an easy but messy recipe. The good news is, you can prep it up to 24 hours in advance, giving you plenty of time to clean up! 6 whole, boneless chicken breasts 12-14 thin slices ham 12-14 thin slices Swiss cheese (provolone would work, too) 1/2 cup melted butter (melt in a pie pan for easy rolling) 2 cups Italian bread crumbs and 1/4 cup Parmesan or Romano cheese, mixed in another pie pan Ziploc bag meat mallet The first messy part is flattening out the chicken breasts. You need a sturdy ziploc bag- not a cheap imitation. And a meat mallet. Don't have one? I don't either, but my husband has a handy looking tool that I borrowed, and it worked wonderfully: Anyway, just don't use a hammer, as I did the first time I made this. Not a good idea. Flatten all the breasts individually and lay aside. Mine looked like this: On each breast, lay a couple of slices each of Swiss cheese and ham: Roll up and roll it in melted butter, then bread cr

It was one of those days when I winged it and dinner turned out great, and everyone (even the 3 year old) loved it. And now I have to write it down before I forget! Saute a flour dusted pork loin in olive oil in a skillet. (The roast I used was about 3 pounds). Brown on all sides. Transfer to an oven proof dutch oven. Cast iron is best. All measurements are approximate. In a food processor, blend thoroughly: 1/2- 3/4 cups walnuts 1/4 cup olive oil 3 T balsamic vinegar 3 T soy sauce  (or Bragg's Amino Acids) 2 T vegetable bullion 1/3 cup water 1 t basil 1 t garlic powder 1/2 t black pepper 1/2 t  tarragon 1 t parsley Mixture should be watery. Pour mixture over the roast, and cook on the stove for about an hour and a half on low heat. Transfer to a 325 degree oven and cook for another hour and a half to two hours. Serve with mashed potatoes and a green vegetable, and watch it disappear.

This week's paper carried an article listing items being proposed by the Charter Review Board. Among the proposed changes, varying in degrees of sensibility, was the non-sensible suggestion that the charter's language itself be altered to a more "gender neutral" one by substituting "he or she" and "him or her" whenever plain old "he" or "him" appear. Groan. I believe most reasonable intelligent and educated people know that context is important in all forms of communication, and so I find this proposal insulting. Sigh. As if I am an ignoramus. As if I have to point this out, and clearly, I must. Excuse me while I proceed to insult 90% of the population. The male pronouns "he" and "him" (as well as "his") can refer to one particular male, or they can refer to a male or female when the audience or reader is unknown or unclear. It all depends on the context, which is nearly always clear. So, in tryin

21 years. A lifetime. A blink of an eye. Not a year goes by that I don't think of my first born. Some years were hard. Some were easy. Some found me so busy  I hardly had time to ponder his birth and death. And today marks 21 years. He would have been a full-on adult. He never shared his life with the rest of us; only I was privileged enough to share my body and a few months with him. I still cry for him. For what could have been, for more time with him, for a chance to watch him grow and become a man. A part of my heart is just for him. The rest of my heart is for everyone else. The other kids all know about their big brother, and they occasionally talk of him, but no one else knew him; not even my husband. And so he is buried deep in my soul. But I also see him in my other children's faces. In the sweet young faces: In the growing-all-too-quickly faces: In the faces that don't want to show themselves too early in the morning: In faces th

Watching kids grow up is a mystery to me. It's so gradual and stealthy, from babyhood to maturity seems so quick and so slow at the same time. I have graduated one child already, but not much changed. She still lives at home and attends college. She comes and goes but is here for many a meal or a family movie. She is gone more than before, but as with growing up, the changes have been slow and steady. But then my next graduate, my oldest son, did things a bit differently. He has spent most of his life pretending to be a police officer or fireman or hunter or soldier.  He was always ready to save the city from danger or engage in heroic deeds.   He has read countless books and articles pertaining to those things. He has almost always had a weapon in his hand or near by, many times one he made himself. When he was three, he fashioned his hand in to the shape of a gun and whispered to me he was armed.  So it came as no surprise when he started talking about enlisting in the military