Log Cabins, Mile High Pies and Mom-Kimmswick, Mo.

History is one subject that I can’t get enough of. My mother is the same way-after all, she majored in History at the University of Arizona. So, I blame her for my bad habit of asking inane questions that most wouldn’t dare say out loud.

For example, Mom and I went to a tiny town called Kimmswick, Mo. It’s known for its pioneer era buildings and mile-high pies. Each cute little shop is bedecked with pretties that would make most women break the bank. You can buy tutu’s for your little girl, ceramic figurines, sparkly shoes, chocolates, stuffed sock monkeys and most anything else that you “must have”.

But, instead of shopping, I ask these types of questions while we walk around the town.

“How old do you think this building is? What was it’s original purpose? Who built it?”

To which my sweet mother typically responds very kindly to my 5 year old questions: “I don’t know. Are you hungry yet?”

I press on, curiosity getting the best of me. “Do you think those wooden gutters were original or an addition? How many times was this added on to?”

My mother states that pioneers wouldn’t be concerned with gutters and no, they weren’t original.

I ask how she knows that, and she says, “I don’t know, I just do. What should we eat? Oh, shoot. Where’s my phone?”

A cute little teenage bird calls to me, its fluffy head feathers waving in the wind. “Do you think he fell out of his nest? Do you think he knows that he’s hanging out on a 200 year old porch?”

“Nope,” mom says to both questions, probably wondering when her adult daughter is going to quit asking inane questions. She walks towards a tiny shack of a building, just behind this one.

I follow her to the tiny shack-which was a homesteader’s home in 1876. The bed was lofted above the kitchen/living/dining room and the entire thing couldn’t have been more than 100 square feet.

“I can’t believe that a whole family lived here in 100 square feet. No wonder everyone frowned in their pictures and died around 45. Everyone was sick of each other!,” I said and laughed my hearty, embarrassing laugh.

“They frowned because they couldn’t move in the pictures and they died early due to disease, childbirth and unsanitary conditions,” mom said.

I liked my explanation better.

This building sat vacant, but used to be the “fancy” restaurant in town. I guess it was too fancy and the prices were its demise. That didn’t stop the two curious kittens (mom and I) from pressing our noses against the glass to get a good look.
The linens were still on the table, a mop propped against the wall, spiderwebs caking everything.

“I think this must have been a stage coach stop or something, originally,” mom said.

“Really?”

“I don’t know. I just think it’s too big to have been a home.” Mom led me to go look at the menus that still were still behind a glass display case-although most of the glass was broken.

“So, why do you guess it would be a stagecoach stop? Is this indicative of what they looked like-you know-since you were alive then?” I said.

I got a punch in the arm for that one.

By this time, I had started to annoy even myself with my questions. There’s no point in asking questions that cannot be answered-unless you’re me and you just can’t help yourself.

We gave up our historical search of Kimmswick and decided to go grab lunch at the Blue Owl-the famous mile high pie maker and the best restaurant in town.

“Do you think we’ll get pie?,” mom asked.

“Definitely. You’ve earned it.”

Thanks for putting up with me and my inane questions, Mommy. I love you.

The Case of the Missing Half Banana

This past week, I flew off to St. Louis to visit my parents and Grandmother. I left behind a sad Biceps and two kittens, but that’s another story for another day.

My parents moved in with my widowed 94 year old Grandmother years ago, allowing our visits to encompass a multi-generational fun fest.

She is quite the character-often praying for the squirrels “swollen bellies” and asking God to provide enough food for them. Little does she know, my dad scares the squirrels off the bird feeder with his BB gun-“motivating them to go into another yard”.

It’s quite the sitcom around that house.

Grandma is notorious for rising in the middle of the night and having a little snack. But she often won’t admit to it, or conveniently forgets she’s done so, when the next morning Mom tests her sugar levels and they are too high or too low.

I woke up one morning to Grandma and Mom already bustling around the kitchen and to this question posed by my Grandmother, “Did you eat half a banana last night?”.

Of course my answer was “No”. I like green bananas-not the bananas Grandma keeps that are on the verge of meltdown.

“Well, someone did,” Grandma responded. I looked at Mom who rolled her eyes.

So, I posed the question back to Grandma. “Did you eat half a banana, Grandma?”.

“No, or at least I don’t think I did,” she said and dug into her watered down cereal.

Hm….

“Well, if I didn’t and mom didn’t and dad didn’t…,” I said, pausing for her to come to her own conclusion.

“It must have been the cat!,” she said, victoriously. And took a bite from her toast, confident she had solved the case.

It’s about Bloomin’ Time!

Guess what’s blooming around my backyard? My garden is showing the signs of its intended purposes.

Hello, little banana peppers. Soon, you will be pickled in hopes of adorning one of my Whole Wheat Pizzas. Get ready. I have a lot of plans for you.

And my dear spicy jalapenos…how could I not have a garden without you? Not only will I dehydrate you and can you, but I will be making sweet, sweet Jalapeno Jelly out of you. (Geez, what were you thinking?)

Dear Tiny Tomatoes. How I long for you to ripen, to turn red and to be atop a crispy baguette slice in bruschetta glory! Or, perhaps I will make a little Spicy Salsa out of you. The possibilities are endless.

I count down the days for the harvest, eagerly awaiting your maturity. I love you, dear garden.
In the words of many a pastor across the midwest that I’ve met, eaten chicken fingers with and sang on their stage as a pre-teen, “Don’t let me down, cuz’ my waterin’s real good.” Amen.

Simple, Spicy Salsa

I’m off to visit these weirdos for the next couple of days, leaving behind Biceps and two very needy kitties. I think Biceps might be stressed out a little about the kittens’ extreme cuddle needs-I’ve set the bar pretty high for cuddles around our house. Pray for him…

But, I love you dear readers and didn’t want to leave you without something simple and yummy to make this weekend. After all, it’s Memorial Day Weekend and I bet most of you are cooking up a storm, heading out to your yachts and tanning yourself in your hot little bikinis.

However, I will be going to a feed store and a Holocaust museum. Almost the same thing, right?
And since my garden is in full swing, I am getting excited about making and canning my own salsa once more. When life gives you tomatoes, jalapenos and other assorted peppers, what else do you do, but make Simple, Spicy Salsa!

(I originally posted this back in 2010, but not many got to see it before my site went belly up. So, it’s back for your viewing pleasure.)

Here’s what you’ll need to make this Simple, Spicy Salsa:

Food Processor
5+ Beefy Tomatoes-I used several different varieties
1/2 Bunch Cilantro
3 Garlic Cloves
2 Tbsp Lime Juice
2-3 Jalapeno or Spicy Chili Peppers
3 Banana Peppers

You’ll want to balance these with….

…with these nice fellas to make your Spicy Salsa. Now, let’s get to work.

Throw whole tomatoes into your food processor and set it to ‘Puree’.

I know most people would tell you to seed them, take the cores out, etc. But, I promised you “simple” and you are getting “simple”. Plus, it doesn’t taste any different, so there.

It should look like this when you are done beating the puddin’ out of it.

Now, see those little unassuming jalapenos and that red pepper? Take the stems off of the tops and throw them in-you may seed them if you want it to be less spicy.
Hit the ‘Puree’ button once more and laugh evil-like for good measure.

Add the Chartreuse (Banana) Peppers and do the same. You may “evil laugh” at your own discretion.

Toss in your cilantro and turn the ‘Puree’ button down to a nice ‘Chop’.

Mince 3 cloves of garlic and add it to the  mix.
‘Chop’ this for a few seconds, using the ‘Pulse’ button if you have one.
Add the lime juice and hit the ‘Mix’ button for a few more seconds.

Hello, yummy. This stuff is a little spicy, but oh so good. If you need to tone it down for daintier pallets, seed the spicy peppers or add a tad bit of sugar.

Now, grab yourself a bag of chips and get busy. Chef’s orders.

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