Shopping at Wal-Mart Without Losing Your Soul

Shopping at Wal-Mart may be a necessary evil, but in order to tip the great moral balance of the universe to the other direction, I also shop at Sunflower Market, frequent the seasonal farmer's markets, and grow what I can in my own garden.

Here are a few reasons why shopping at Wal-Mart is A-okay:

• Sadly, my neighborhood Wal-Mart is plagued with criminal activity. I have a 50% chance of seeing a police car parked out front when I go to Wal-Mart. Going there ensures that there will be one more law-abiding shopper in the mix.
  

• This was taken in the Wal-Mart parking lot. I have pondered about this picture more than I care to admit. What does it mean? Does the car owner love cowboy playboys, but loves Jesus more? Does Jesus love the playboy sinners? Does it represent moral dilemma of the owner? Going to Wal-Mart inspires me to ponder such things.
  

• Speaking of, WWJS (Where Would Jesus Shop)? Whole Foods? I think not.
  

• Amazingly, the employees are remarkably kind and helpful, even after dealing with hours of rude people and shoplifters. This gives me profound hope.
  

• The greeter smiles at me every time I come in, and he means it.
  

• I save money shopping there. Generally, I avoid the meat department (I'm a meat department snob), but snap up the $2 milk, cheap cereal, health and beauty products and other stuff. I'd like to think that my family can eat like I spend a lot of money when I really don't.
  

So yes, Wal-Mart can be a maddening exercise in frustration, but if you have your patience pants on, you'll do just fine. There will be times where you'll want to kill the:

-weight watchers lady who dumped every last box of the clearance fiber bars into her cart (I'm watching you!)

-mother who thinks that it's okay to shop with her kids at 2 a.m.

-couple who is alternatively fighting and making out

-gal who thinks it's okay to vomit in the drinking fountain (hat tip, Mrs. Bear Cub)

but you won't. You'll instead think of your pioneer forbearers and how they'd faint at the sight of such ease and convenience. It'll make your day. Always.

Birthday Potstickers

Happy birthday, Beth! Tonight we feasted on pork potstickers and sweet & sour chicken. The potstickers are getting easier to make, although I would like to learn some different shaping techniques. This recipe is adapted from Ming Tsai's Pork Potstickers.

Pork Potstickers

1/2 small head Napa cabbage, finely chopped (can use food processor for this)
3/4 teaspoon kosher salt, plus 1/8 teaspoon for seasoning
1/2 pound ground pork (not too lean)
1 tablespoon fresh ginger, minced (from 1/2-inch knob)
1 small carrot, coarsely shredded
3 green onions, thinly sliced (about 1/4 cup)
2 cloves garlic, minced (about 2 teaspoons)
1 tablespoon soy sauce
2 teaspoons Asian (toasted) sesame oil
1 egg, lightly beaten
1/8 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
60 small gyoza (pot sticker) wrappers
1/4 cup canola oil

In large bowl, toss together cabbage and 3/4 teaspoon salt and set aside for 30 minutes. Transfer to clean dish towel or cheesecloth, gather ends together, and twist to squeeze out as much water as possible. Wipe bowl clean, then return cabbage to it. Add pork, ginger, carrots, scallions, and garlic and stir to combine.
In small bowl, whisk together soy sauce, sesame oil, and egg, then stir into cabbage-pork mixture. Stir in pepper and remaining 1/8 teaspoon salt.
On dry surface, lay out 1 gyoza wrapper, keeping remaining wrappers covered with dampened cloth or paper towel. Spoon 1 teaspoon filling into center, then moisten halfway around edge with wet finger. Fold moisture-free half of wrapper over moistened half to form open half-moon shape. To seal, using thumb and forefinger of one hand, form 6 tiny pleats along unmoistened edge of wrapper, pressing pleats against moistened border to enclose filling. Moistened border will stay smooth and will automatically curve in semicircle. Stand dumpling, seam-side up, on baking sheet and gently press to flatten bottom. Cover loosely with dampened cloth or paper towel. Form remaining dumplings in same manner.
In 10-inch, lidded, non-stick skillet over moderately high heat, heat oil until hot but not smoking, then remove from heat and arrange pot stickers in tight circular pattern standing up in oil (they should touch one another). Cook, uncovered, until bottoms are pale golden, 2 to 3 minutes. Add 1/2 cup water, tilting skillet to distribute, then cover tightly with lid and cook until liquid has evaporated and bottoms of dumplings are crisp and golden, 7 to 10 minutes. Add 2 tablespoons more water if skillet looks dry before bottoms are browned. Remove lid and cook, shaking skillet to loosen pot stickers, until steam dissipates, 1 to 2 minutes. Invert large plate with rim over skillet. Using pot holders, hold plate and skillet together and invert skillet. Remove skillet and serve pot stickers warm.

Death Warmed Over: The Food Order for my Funeral

Disclaimer:
These comments in no way are meant to malign any funeral food or those sacrifice to make it, no matter what it is. If you want to be mean, wait until I'm dead.

In our ward we have a funeral about every two months. The menu is down to a science: ham, funeral potatoes, rolls, bagged salad, and cakes. It works, people like it, and yet, I find myself wanting to change the system. I am on the committee that organizes these luncheons, so I've had some time to think about this. I'm clearly psychotic.

A few weeks ago we were standing around the church kitchen during a funeral luncheon sampling the leftover funeral potatoes, guessing which condensed soups were used and how each one was a little different.

Then someone asked: "What did we do before funeral potatoes?"

We stood there, mouths stuffed with hash brown potatoes and cream of chicken soup. Silence.

Finally a lady in her 70's piped up. "What about scalloped potatoes?"

Oh yeah. Scalloped potatoes. Half of us pretended we knew what they were.

It got me thinking, what do I want served at my funeral luncheon? (Side note: don't be alarmed, I'm obsessed with food and death, so this is not a stretch. I planned my funeral when I was eight years old and think about food every 27 seconds.) While many of us have thought about what our last meal would be, what would you have people eat when they're thinking about you? (Other than them being mad because you so selfishly changed up the long-standing funeral menu.)

This is going to ruffle some feathers, but hey, I'll be dead so I don't care if you're mad.

Meat: No ham. I mean it. I like Losing me is bad enough without having to eat a nice thick slice of HAM. What about a nice pot roast or roast chicken? Even a chicken casserole would be lovely.

Potatoes: No canned soups. Go retro and make scalloped potatoes. Or real mashed potatoes.

Salad: I'm ambivalent about salad. This one you can do what you want. You're welcome.

Rolls: If anyone brings grocery store rolls I will personally come back from the dead and sneak them into the garbage. Please, can someone make some good homemade rolls? Cheers.

Dessert: Pies. Fruit pies. Apple, cherry, berry, with real fruit and real crust. Cakes are for celebration. Pies are for going home.

I think I need this book: Being Dead is no Excuse: the Southern Ladies Guide to Hosting the Perfect Funeral.

Aw, who am I kidding? By the time I die we'll probably all be living off MREs, government cheese and canned beef chunks.

Addendum

I must add some foods that have made it on to the funeral food table of shame:

- A meatless meatloaf made from some sort of barley and soy product. It was so bad, we sat and laughed our guts out while the younger ones spat it back out on their plates. I don't think Aunt Till would have minded.

- A sad, half-set green Jell-O in a metal cake pan with 3 lonely pear halves sliding around in it.

And lastly, because it's better to be grateful than ungracious and snarky:

Thanks to the awesome Relief Society that served a luncheon for 170 family members when my grandpa passed away. Straight to heaven for you ladies.

California Salad

I love remembering cooking fads, and I've been thinking about all of the salad fads that have come and gone. Let's take a journey.

In the 40's there were aspic salads, as in tomato and shrimp aspic. I'm glad I wasn't alive in the 40's. I also missed the heyday of molded Jell-O salads, ambrosia, and wooden salad bowls.

In the 70's it seemed every macaroni salad had those little salty shrimp, celery, olives, and loads of mayo. Don't forget the Seven Layer salad. If you showed up with one of those bad boys in a glass trifle bowl, you were a hit (well, until someone got a lump of the mayo layer). That was also about the time fruit salads started containing things besides fruit, like colored marshmallows, red jell-o powder, nuts, and cottage cheese.

 

In the 80's they started doing that spinach salad with bacon, mushrooms, and strawberries. So cutting edge! Then there was the Frito Salad, which made its appearance at more than a few church functions. Don't forget the ubiquitous chicken caesar salad, henceforth to remain on every menu in America for the next 20 years. Then it was Chinese chicken salad, broccoli/raisin salad, and 1000's of iterations of pasta salad. I will not discuss Suddenly Salad.

Now salad is out of control. Everything is a salad. Snickers salad, anyone? Did a six-year-old invent that one? Tasty it is; a salad it ain't. Roasted beets and goat cheese (so 2004), herbs and microgreens, berries and jicama. Ever been to a restaurant and say demurely, "oh, I'll just have a salad", and they cart out something that would feed a family of eight?

I don't have much to say about this salad, except that it's delicious, fresh, and perfect in the winter. Crisp romaine and red onions, creamy avocado, and fresh citrus in a sweet and tangy dressing. Make it while grapefruits are still 4/$1.

California Salad

For the salad:

2-3 hearts of romaine, washed and chopped

1/2 lg. red onion, thinly sliced

2-3 avocados

2-3 oranges, cut into supremes

1-2 pink grapefruits, cut into supremes

These proportions are rather loose, so just use as much as you want of whatever you want. I like to go heavy on the avocado and citrus, but you do want you like. I also like to scoop out the flesh of the avocado with a spoon so it makes rounded pieces rather than cut-up shapes. How to make citrus supremes. (That is not me.)

For the dressing:

1/3 to 1/2 c. sugar (to taste)

1/2 t. dry mustard

1/2 t. paprika (not smoked)

pinch of cayenne (to taste)

3/4 c. salad oil

1/2 c. white wine vinegar

2 T. lemon juice

2 T. grated onion

salt and pepper to taste

Pour everything in food pro or use and immersion blender in a tall glass jar (I use a wide-mouth canning jar). Make sure you taste the dressing and adjust the sweetness and acidity to your liking. Dress the salad immediately before serving. You'll likely have some leftover dressing to save.

Banana Oatmeal Cookies with Chocolate Chips

Remember the scene from Ratatouille where the critic has an out-of-body experience when he eats a favorite childhood dish of  ratatouille? He is transformed to a scene from childhood where the food his mother made gives him comfort and salve from a sore knee. Somehow, eating that once again gave him a taste of that same peace and comfort, and the effect is both shocking and touching. 

That's what happens to me when I eat these cookies.

I remember walking home from school (my mother hardly ever picked us up; walking is good for you!) and entering the back door to the smell of these cookies. She'd stir up the batter in her big yellow tupperware bowl and the countertop would be covered with dozens and dozens of cookies. They were always made in big batches, as in, at least 100. Anything less would hardly be worth it when you have seven kids. These cookies kept well, but she'd always bag most of them up and put them in the basement freezer to be taken out for sack lunches or hungry teenagers who were too lazy to go upstairs for a snack. I remember studying at my desk and chewing my way through a sack of these sweet, spicy cookies.

We didn't buy many store-bought cookies in those days. Animal crackers occasionally crept in, Mother's Molasses cookies made it if they were on sale, and there would be hell to pay if you dared to take a Mystic Mint from the secret cupboard. But my mother made these cookies by the hundreds. 

These cookies are not going to win any beauty contests. Don't you dare use an ice cream scoop to fill your cookie sheets -- a hefty tablespoon will do just fine. If you have an old tupperware bowl, get that out too. Don't overbake them (they should look a little wet on the top when taking them out of the oven). Store between paper towels in your favorite cookie tin. They taste better (and moister) the next day. And when you eat them, think of your mother, and how she looked when you walked in the door, like sweet, soft angel.

Banana Oatmeal Cookies with Chocolate Chips

1. c shortening

1/2 c. unsalted butter (if it's 1975, us all shortening)

3 c. sugar

2 eggs

1 t. vanilla

3 c. mashed bananas

1 t. salt

1 t. baking soda

1 1/2 T. cinnamon

1/2 t. nutmeg

1/2 t. cloves

1 t. allspice

3 c. flour

2 c. oats (if using old fashioned oats, blend half of half of them in your food processor. Or not.)

1 c. nuts

2 c. chocolate chips (or 1 1/2 c. chopped raisins)

Cream shortening/butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Add vanilla and mashed bananas. Sift together dry ingredients and stir into banana mixture. The dough is going to look a little loose, more like a batter. You can add more flour if you want but I prefer to refrigerate the dough for at least 2 hour or overnight.

Scoop onto parchment-lined cookie sheet and bake at 350 for about 13 minutes. Let finish baking on trays. Don't overbake.