Corn Chowder!

Beautiful, bright veggies and basic pantry staples are your new BFFs in this delicious, easy recipe for corn chowder. 

Coahn chowdah.  Whatevah. 

I tweaked and overhauled this method over the past ten years or so after finding a good basic corn chowder recipe and realizing just how delicious it can be.  It was an epiphany.

On a lark- and for no good reason- I decided to make it as a first course for our Christmas dinner this year.  I served one ladleful in oversized white bowls, topped with a few pieces of chopped bacon.  Its sweet and creamy smokiness was a perfect starter for the tastiness that followed: prime rib and grilled pork tenderloin, green beans and a mixed greens salad with grapefruit and Parmesan. 

Everything was great, but the chowder was so good I decided I needed more.  So I made it again for New Year's Eve, and served it this time in tiny shooter cups at a delicious fondue dinner party. 

Homemade soup is just so worth a little extra time, and this recipe is pretty foolproof.  Even better, it reheats beautifully so it's perfect for weeknight dinners or when playing the hostess-with-the-mostess.

As-is, it's been tested and approved by everyone from toddlers to picky eaters to foodies.  But just because you like the recipe doesn't mean ya hafta marry it.  Change it up however you like- make it vegetarian, add mexican spices or smoked peppers.  A dash of nutmeg would be fab, or a little cayenne would make it super great.  Make it your own.

Corn Chowder
4 bacon slices
1/2 each red, green, and yellow bell peppers (or any combination equaling about 1 1/2 peppers), chopped
5 c frozen corn
1 medium onion, chopped
2 celery stalks, chopped
1/3 c all purpose flour
6 c low sodium chicken stock
1 t dried thyme
1-2 c skim milk
salt
pepper

Over medium-high heat, saute bacon, then cool on paper towels and chop.  Set aside 2-3 tablespoons of chopped bacon.  Reduce pan to medium heat, drain some bacon grease if desired (but leave at least a little).  Add vegetables and saute until onions are translucent. 

Sprinkle with flour and stir, then cook for 1-2 minutes.  Stir in chicken stock and bacon, then rub thyme between fingers to release the flavor and add it to the pot.  Cover and simmer about 20 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the chowder thickens.  Stir milk into soup, then puree using a blender or food processor.  For a chunky soup, set aside half and puree the rest, then combine together.  If you prefer a smoother texture, puree all until smooth.

Season with salt and pepper to taste.  Bring to a simmer, thin with additional chicken stock if desired.  Top each serving with reserved bacon bits and enjoy!

Mid-Century Penguins

Hello, my little friends.  Does your army work for forces of good or evil? 

Take me to your leader.

I love olive you.

Don't make a such a beak deal of it. 

Sorry. 

So anyway I made these black olive penguins for New Year's Eve, thanks to this recipe from Foodie With Family.  Ri.Di.Cu.Lous.  Seriously worth a few extra minutes... And that's coming from me, and I ne-e-e-e-e-ver make fussy food.

As in, I like to make peanut brittle at the holidays because instead of icing and decorating cookies, I whack a sheet of brittle with a knife and call it done.

Appetizers on a tray with toothpicks and olives and cream cheese?  I feel so 1950s.  Jello salad is calling me.

I don't know what came over me, but since I went to the trouble of acting all domestic-y and Little Susie Homemaker-y, I wanted to document it.


  

Homecoming

For the last six and a half years my horse Sam has been my escape, my challenge, my sweet and spoiled horse.  One thing he has never been is my neighbor. 

When I bought him in 2005, I boarded him at a wonderful barn on Colorado's front range.  There, I reveled in the gorgeous surroundings and tried to trust in a happy ending for the two of us.  Tucked down a half mile long driveway off a country road, the barns perched on a rise at the edge of a pine forest.  On clear days, Pike's Peak was clearly visible from the outdoor arena.  But even when I couldn't see the mountains, it was just peaceful and glorious.

That barn was forty-five minutes from my home, and a few times the roads from me to him became impassable from snow and ice.  It was worth the inconvenience, though, for the excellent care and wonderful community of fellow horsemen.  Some of the best horses and horsemen in the region all shared arena space with Sam and me, and although I trained him myself, we were warmly welcomed and easily accepted.

The only reason I contemplated moving Sam was that I was moving to Texas to be with Cabbage. 

In May of 2007 I left Sam at our beloved barn, in the able care of the managers, and moved myself to Texas.  That was not easy for me to do, since I'm a no-man-left-behind kind of person, but it was the right choice for his well-being.  Once in Texas I quickly found the barn you've seen in all my pictures, and there Sam has lived since 2007.  Same stall, same paddock, same arenas.  Consistency is good for horses, and he had it. 

I struck gold a second time with that barn, sharing space with more wonderful and warm people, their hilarious horses, and finding that second home all horsemen need.  Having spent my adolescence in a barn teeming with lessons, students, and a busy atmosphere, there's nothing I like better than riding in a busy arena.

Lately, though, it seemed a burden to have one more stop at the end of each long day.  I couldn't carve out time to drive there to ride, or even brush Sam, if Cabbage was busy or the baby was napping or any number of small everyday obstacles.  And then there was the cost... Although the price was fair, it was very expensive to board Sam. 

Even Sam himself seemed to say it was time; in Colorado he was notorious for galloping wildly (and foolishly) through his pasture.  Over the past few years, though, he's mellowed and learned to be a bit wiser.  In talking with Cabbage I discovered that I really felt Sam could deal with our rocky, treed pastures.

I was still nervous.  Moving him meant taking us both out of our comfort zones, and I was worried the change might go badly or he might hurt himself.  And... there's no place to really ride on our little ranch.  We have land, yes, but it's peppered with rocks and studded with trees and cactus.  Cabbage has done a lot to clean it up but it's not as if there is an arena or open field- or even a good perimeter- to ride Sam along.  Oh, for the open grassiness of the ranch in Ocala!

Ok.  All misgivings aside, every argument weighed out, and each caution addressed, I realized that it was just time to bring Sammy home. 

I rubbed Sam's star and said "Will you come home and live with me?"  So on the last day of the year, Cabbage left with the trailer to bring home my horse.

Meanwhile, I rearranged our other four-legged friends.  Earlier, Cabbage had cleared the front junkyard pasture of some last-minute junk. (thank you, previous owners!) 

Cedar and Goldie were then turned out in that pasture.  It meant drama.  Crazy galloping and much drama.

And snorting.

They were foolish.  They were wild.  They were exuberant.  I described it to Cabbage later and said "That is what equine joy looks like."

Eventually (finally!) they settled a bit.

Junior was next.  Because of his colic surgery last summer and some slow healing at the incision site, he has been on stall rest for five months.  That's an extremely long time for any horse to be confined, but especially one so young and vibrant.

And that, my friends, is why he was sedated. 

Without some good drugs, Bro would have been nutso.  With some chemical help, he merely paced and hung out, trotted a little, watched the girls' antics from across the fence, and nibbled on some hay.  Pharmaceutical companies: holla!

Just as the sun dropped low, my husband and his precious cargo rounded the bend in the road outside Cabbage Ranch.

Hello, my horse.

Please stay here with me, and be happy.