In Praise of Roasted Garlic

My husband and I discovered several years ago that we love roasted garlic. I used to add two or three bulbs to the roasting pan when I was cooking a big “Sunday” chicken, along with carrots and onions. Only recently, however, have I realized that this nutritious, flavor-packed powerhouse is beyond great when added to almost any soup or sauce. Some of our garlic-infused favorites are navy bean and split pea soups, mashed redskin potatoes, and tomato sauce.

If you have discovered that sautéing chopped onions in extra virgin olive oil adds a whole new dimension to so many dishes, then you probably know that if you want to add garlic, you add it when the onions are almost done, since garlic burns easily and gets bitter when overdone. I used to cook garlic this way all the time, with mixed results depending upon how long I let it stay in the hot pan. Too many times, I tried to do a few things at once and would accidentally overcook it, resulting in the dish having a slightly off taste. I finally decided to try gently roasting the garlic first and then adding it to the pot. I used the word “gently” because it really only takes about 45 minutes in a 350 oven for the garlic to get soft enough to squeeze. Any longer than that, and you may burn it.

When the garlic feels soft to the touch, remove it from the oven and let it cool until you can comfortably handle it. The easiest and fastest way to remove the delicate cloves from their papery covers is to pierce the round part that was attached to the plant with a paring knife, going carefully around the circle. Pull that part off.  Then, turn the bulb over and, holding it above your simmering soup, sauce or mashed potatoes, squeeze it until every clove is in the pot. Mix well. The rich, deep flavor that this adds cannot be overstated. It has completely reformed many of our favorite concoctions, most notably soups, such as navy bean and split pea. Occasionally, I will add it to mashed potatoes to give them a different, “gourmet” flair. Now, I always add roasted garlic to my tomato sauce because it has made such a drastic improvement. The sauce is great with spaghetti, of course, but also with all other pasta dishes as well, including my favorite addiction, lasagna. But that’s a whole other story!

Daydreams

I was just doing dishes and thinking about listening to some music on my i-pod. I thought that maybe I would listen to Journey, a favorite from my younger years. I was imagining how listening to an old favorite can, in a way, transport you to that earlier time, and all the images of my childhood surroundings started to come to mind: My bedroom with the receiver, turntable, cassette player and speakers set up on a six-foot long cherry dresser; the wallpaper that I picked out with tiny blue, red and pink flowers which my mother said was almost exactly like the paper covering my nursery walls in the home we left before my fourth birthday; the twin bed with the tall, cherry four-poster and the red and white toile bedspread  from an elegant shop in Petoskey, Michigan.There were also hardwood floors in a medium-oak shade and a beautiful Persian-style rug near the door. In addition, there was a massive walk-in closet, almost unheard of in houses made in the sixties. My room was also well-lit by two large windows on adjacent walls.

In this daydream, I really wanted to see Mom, Dad and my sister, Amy, again, as they were then. I would love to see my Dad when his hair was still mostly pepper, with just a little salt. I would love to see him when he was still strong, vibrant, in the middle of his very successful public relations career, on-call to field problems for his company at any given time. His flashing, dancing blue eyes never missed a trick. I’d love to see Mom’s face again, the way it was then, when the heavy load of troubles she already bore hadn’t yet become her undoing, as in the last few years of her life, when she seemed to have given up hope. My sister – sharp, witty, strange, but not yet labeled as a paranoid schizophrenic. Now, looking back, there were a lot of signs that something was not right with her, even from the beginning. But, during this peek into the past, I am willfully seeing her happy, in kind of an observant way, as though she is just enjoying watching everyone else. As a child, she always watched me and once confessed to a therapist (and later, my mother) that she constantly felt as though she came up short in comparison. At this moment, however, there is just peace and happiness.

If we ever can travel through time, this is where I would go: to my old house in southeastern Michigan, where I grew up, spoiled and catered to by parents who were raised with nothing following the Great Depression and wanted to give us everything. I didn’t appreciate it then, as kids don’t. I would love to be able to summon my young parents, once again, to sit on the black vinyl sofa under the Calder print, a reproduction of a statue that was outside my Dad’s office in downtown Detroit, and watch as Amy and I would “perform” yet another song for them.  I would love another chance to “interview” my Dad as I played a make-believe talk show host named Gladys Bagman and he pretended to be some very interesting celebrity, golf pro, or English gentleman.

I recently attended the Bat Mitzvah of my mom’s first cousin’s daughter, and having some extra time, we drove to the my childhood home since it was only about fifteen minutes from the temple.  My husband waited in the Trailblazer at the end of the drive while I walked up to the front door.  Even after all these years—about 40 – it still says, “Amy & Nancy live here. Yeah!” on the red brick under the house number sign to the right of the door.  I couldn’t believe that it was still there—that someone hadn’t tried to clean it off many years ago.  It made me happy to think that perhaps the people who live there now don’t want to clean it off.  Maybe they like to see it and imagine two little girls and some happy times and laughter that once filled those rooms.  

Getting Ready for College Writing

As a veteran homeschooling parent with twenty successful years of experience, plus work as a writer and editor, I sometimes get calls from parents whose teenage children need help writing. What I concentrate on when I tutor this age group is mastery of a basic, five-paragraph essay. If your child knows how to properly organize and construct this type of paper by the time he graduates, he will be well on his way to academic success in college. There is a simple, almost mathematical formula for constructing such an essay. If your child follows these steps and applies my top two tips, success is only a matter of time: Know the material;  jot down whatever comes to mind, otherwise known as freewriting; create an outline; draft a strong thesis statement and solid topic sentences; pay attention to organization and flow; and rewrite if necessary.

If the student is new to essay writing, it is best to first assign descriptive or narrative essays that are based on personal experience. These don’t require research, so a bibliography is unnecessary. A descriptive essay can simply be about which restaurant makes the best pizza, and a narrative essay can be about the student’s best or worst day. Since the subject matter is familiar, the actual writing and structure of the paper become the focal points, so the teacher or tutor will more easily see where help is needed, if any.

A Letter to Young Christian Women

I’m finally at an age when younger Christian women might look up to me for “wisdom” and advice. That is a daunting thought and I don’t feel at all qualified to be that person. Somehow, though, in spite of what I know are major flaws and weaknesses, I have been through enough trials and struggles to be able, perhaps, to provide some insight and perspective. After having been around for so long, I have made some observations and come to certain conclusions that no one would have been able to explain to me years ago. Some things you have to see, experience, and understand for yourself. For instance, the following is a great truth that is becoming more powerful to me as time goes on: One of the most important things a newly-married Christian couple will ever hear is that their marriage is triangular. God is the top “point,” and the husband and wife are the others. The spouses will stay connected and their marriage will be a healthy one if they acknowledge God in His proper place; He is not only an integral part, but most importantly, He is at the top. The more the couple draws near to Him, the closer to each other they will also be.