Broccoli and Cheese Soup

How many times have you ordered soup in a restaurant only to be disappointed? I have many times. Disappointments can sometimes lead you to great things.

I love soup especially creamy based thick soups that are full of flavor. I always knew the potential of broccoli soup but could never get the bowl that tasted just perfect….until I developed my own version of broccoli and cheese soup.

This is a fairly quick meal to prepare but it is full of flavor and will keep your family wanting more.

Broccoli and Cheese Soup

2 medium onions chopped
4 tablespoons of butter
1 quart of chicken stock
1 quart of water
2 bags of frozen chopped broccoli
½ package of the large box of Velveeta cheese – cubed
Half and half- about 2 cups-depending on how thick you want your soup
Heavy cream –about ¾ cup

(I didn’t say this was fat free)

Melt butter in large pot add onions and cook until tender- you can add a little water if they start to burn. Add chicken stock and water-bring to a boil and add broccoli. Cook until broccoli is done. Mash broccoli with potato masher- leave some chunks-add cheese and half and half. Cook on low until cheese is melted-stir often. Stir in heavy cream. Serve hot. YUMMY YUMMY!

I served this with my veggie sandwiches tonight.

Hold on to the Land and make a Connection

Thomas Wolfe wrote “You Can’t Go Home Again”, sadly that is so. My brother has moved to Louisiana and has placed his home on the market for sale. This is the land that I grew up on- I never knew of another home until I married and moved to my own home.

I grew up in a single wide trailer-it was purchased new by my parents and they made monthly payments of $78.00. It only had two bedrooms so my little sister and brother and I all shared a room. As we grew older, my parents knew we needed our own rooms so they built a whole house around the trailer- it did not even look like a trailer by the time they were finished. That old house saw lots of laughter, tears, milestones, holiday celebrations all of which created memories, some good and some bad but all my memories.

When my brother married my parents moved out to a smaller place on the property below my brother- my brother tore down the old house (that was sad) and built his own home on the same land. I understand that- what breaks my heart is that the land my family has owned for over 60 years will be sold to someone outside our family and I will no longer be able to go “home”. I understand the importance of owning the land- it is a precious thing and if you can hold on to it do so with all your might.

I love the land and working on the land makes me remember my grandparents most of all-they were connected to the land and it sustained them. They relied on the land for survival and it was a faithful servant. This I did not understand when I was young, and how I wish I could have…I would have sat at my grandparents feet and absorbed all the secrets to tending the land, but youth does not allow for such wisdom only the passing of time can beg for such.

In the past few years I have yearned to grow my own garden and last year I was very successful in “making a garden”. I cannot explain to you how wonderful that was to put tiny seeds into the ground and watch them grow and produce food. So many evenings, I would go out to my garden and harvest the very food I would prepare for dinner. My little 4 year old planted watermelon and pumpkin seeds and you can only imagine the look on his face the first time he saw his effort producing the orange and green beauties.

We had a friend come over on Saturday and turn our soil-the smell of that fresh dirt pulled the memories from my mind –memories of my grandparents, parents, children-connecting me to the land.

Steamy Windows and a Warm Kitchen

When I was growing up on East Cope Creek most nights our dinner table was filled with beans and cornbread. Pinto beans, green beans, shucky beans (leather britches) were the choices just depended on what was available to fix. We would also have potatoes in some fashion, stewed, fried, or baked. Meat was only served a couple of times a week. We didn’t have convenience foods on hand and we rarely went out to eat and when I say rarely I mean maybe three times a year. We just did not have that kind of money, but we did always have food and a warm house. These were two things my parents made sure of. I remember learning to cook “different” types of food in Home Ec. I was so excited not to be cooking beans, cornbread and potatoes. I continued to broaden my cooking experience, trying new things. Funny but my mom never really cared for the new things I was learning to cook. My Daddy liked everything but he is a BIG eater.

So many years have passed since those high school Home Ec. Days and I have learned to make many, many different foods and have even developed my own recipes but on cold, rainy days there is nothing I want more than a big crock pot of mixed beans and cornbread. When my kitchen windows steam over from the warmth of the inside against the cold of the outside-I am that young girl again in my momma’s kitchen coming home after a long day at school knowing my mom loves me and is doing the very best she knows how.

Live Life to it's Fullest

I received the below in an email-I thought it was beautiful and I am very proud to say that I do many of these things already but I need reminding every now and then of what is important. Enjoy!

IF I HAD MY LIFE TO LIVE OVER - by Erma Bombeck
(written after she found out she was dying from cancer).

I would have gone to bed when I was sick instead of pretending the earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren't there for the day.

I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage.

I would have talked less and listened more.

I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained, or the sofa faded.

I would have eaten the popcorn in the 'good' living room and worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace.

I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.

I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband.

I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.

I would have sat on the lawn with my grass stains.

I would have cried and laughed less while watching television and more while watching life.

I would never have bought anything just because it was practical, wouldn't show soil, or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.

Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy, I'd have cherished every moment and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.

When my kids kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, 'Later. Now go get washed up for dinner.' There would have been more 'I love you's' More 'I'm sorry's.'

But mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute.look at it and really see it . . live it and never give it back. STOP SWEATING THE SMALL STUFF!!!

Don't worry about who doesn't like you, who has more, or who's doing what
Instead, let's cherish the relationships we have with those who do love us.

Fried Chicken and Tater Biscuits

Is there anything that says Sunday dinner like fried chicken? I think not. Good fried chicken is one of my favorite meals. I know what you might be thinking….this girl has lost her mind…today is not Sunday. No I haven’t lost anything, I just won’t get the chance to have my fried chicken this Sunday because my son Aaron had a piece of his art work selected to be in the youth art show at Western Carolina University. The show is tomorrow and it begins too close to lunch. No one at my house minded one little bit that we had it tonight!

I soaked the chicken breasts all day in brine (kosher salt and water) and then I drained the water and skinned the chicken. Make sure to rinse and pat dry chicken before dipping in your choice of something for the flour to stick to. I had some leftover homemade ranch dressing so I chose to use it up before it went bad. Put some flour in a deep bowl and season with salt and pepper. Dip chicken breasts into ranch dressing and then dip into flour. Then fry on low until done. Flour tends to burn if you leave it on one side too long…turn often …after the chicken is almost done put a lid on it and let it finish cooking on low-bone side down.

I also had leftover mashed potatoes that I had served earlier in the week with meatloaf. These are the best to make potato pancakes with or as my mom has always called them tater biscuits. I used a little bacon grease on the griddle to cook them. As they cooked and the potatoes, onions and bacon dripping mixed together, I was taken to a different time long ago when I was a child in my granny Mills kitchen. She always cooked on a woodstove and everything tasted so good, so very good. The sense of smell is a powerful thing and can so quickly take you to a place you were not even thinking of prior to the scent that transported you. So for a little while tonight I was back in my Granny’s kitchen smelling wood smoke, bacon frying, biscuits baking and coffee brewing, and for a moment I had my Granny back.

Saturday's are the Best Breakfast Mornings

Saturday morning's are the greatest days for having a nice breakfast. School morning are just too hectic and three of us do not like to eat first thing when we wake up (the kids do eat but it is a quick one). Sunday morning’s are so busy getting ready for church – so Saturday is the BEST! This morning I made whole grain oatmeal in the rice cooker (I tell you these are the greatest for cooking rice, oats and grits. I am sure I will find other uses for it too. When the oats were almost done-I added some tropical dried fruit mix and pecans, with brown sugar and a touch of butter. This was delicious and good for you. I also made canned croissants special by rolling up a piece of chocolate in each one before I baked them. The mini Hershey chocolate bars work great – break one in half for each croissant. I put smoked apple wood bacon in the oven and made scrambled cheesy eggs. I also made smoothies but left them thick so they would fit into fancy little glasses. (The kids love these). That is one think I look for in thrift stores – fancy little glasses that I can serve special items in like the thick smoothie or cut up fruit, pudding, and so much more.

The day is beautiful so I am going out to enjoy. I plan to plant some dahlias – my granny always had the most beautiful ones ever and I look forward to trying my hand at them. I will share with you at another time how these were grown and used to decorate the graves of loved ones on decoration day. This is a tradition that is not done many places but was a huge part of my life as a child. I am also going to plant a beautiful rose bush today.

Enjoy life my friends!

Meet the Author

Tonight was for me! I don't take too many of those nights but one of my favorite authors was at City Lights tonight reading from his new book and doing book signings. His name is Ron Rash and if you want a good book that has a regional setting with characters that you know-then his books are worth reading. My favorite of his so far is Saints at the River. I have included the prolouge from it and even though it is deals with a 12 year old drowning - it turns into a powerful story about the bonds of family. His most well known book right now is Serena. City Lights is a great book store and I believe in supporting the local merchants so it was a pleasure to attend this event tonight.


Prologue to the novel Saints at the River by Ron Rash
She follows the river trail downstream, leaving behind her parents and younger brother who still eat their picnic lunch. She is twelve years old and it is her school's Easter break. Her father has taken time off from his job and they have followed the Appalachian Mountains south, stopping first in Gatlinburg, then the Smokies, and finally this river. She finds a place above a falls where the water looks shallow and slow. The river is a boundary between South Carolina and Georgia, and she wants to wade into the middle and place one foot in South Carolina and one in Georgia so she can tell her friends back in Minnesota she has been in two states at the same time.

She kicks off her sandals and enters, the water so much colder than she imagined, and quickly deeper, up to her kneecaps, surging under the smooth surface. She shivers. Fifty yards downstream a granite cliff rises two hundred feet into the air to cast this section of river into shadow. She glances back to where her parents and brother sit on the blanket. It is warmer there, the sun full upon them. She thinks about going back but is almost halfway now. She takes a step and the water rises higher on her knees. Four more steps, she tells herself. Just four more and I'll turn back. She takes another step and the bottom she tries to set her foot on is no longer there and she is being shoved downstream and she does not panic because she is a good swimmer and has passed all of her Red Cross courses. The water shallows and her face breaks the surface and she breathes deep. She tries to turn her body so she won't hit her head on a rock and as she thinks this for the first time she's afraid and she's suddenly back underwater and hears the rush of water against her ears. She tries to hold her breath but her knee smashes against a boulder and she gasps in pain and water pours into her mouth. Then for a few moments the water pools and slows. She rises coughing up water, gasping air, her feet dragging the bottom like an anchor trying to snag waterlogged wood or rock jut and as the current quickens again she sees her family running along the shore and she knows they are shouting her name though she cannot hear them and as the current turns her she hears the falls and knows there is nothing that will keep her from it and the current quickens and quickens and another rock smashes against her knee but she hardly feels it as she snatches another breath before the river pulls her under and she feels the river fall and she falls with it as water whitens around her and she falls deep into darkness and as she rises her head scrapes against a rock ceiling and all is black and silent and she tells herself don't breathe but the need rises inside her beginning in the upper stomach then up through the chest and throat and as that need reaches her mouth her mouth and nose open at the same time and the lungs explode in pain and then the pain is gone along with the dark as bright colors shatter around her like glass shards, and she remembers her sixth grade science class, the gurgle of the aquarium at the back of the room that morning the teacher held a prism out the window so it might fill with color, and she has a final, beautiful thought--that she is now inside that prism and knows something even the teacher does not know, that the prism's colors are voices, voices that swirl around her head like a crown, and at that moment her arms and legs she did not even know were flailing cease and she becomes part of the river.