Where I Am Right Now

I guess it’s happened, folks: I haven’t felt like posting recently. I mean, I’ve been writing blog entries, but I haven’t been sharing them with you.

No—it’s nothing to do with you. It’s me. I created this blog, in part, as a way to help jockey myself out of my depressive mind-set. The idea is, I’m trying to focus on things that I like, or even love, and maybe that will help me to like my life—myself—better. Feeling depressed is a habit, I know, so writing here, regularly, is a way of retraining myself to see the “bright side” of things.

But recently it’s been kind of rough, and I’m having a hard time feeling clever or hopeful or optimistic.

Those of you who know me well know that I’ve more or less been able to keep blogging even while I’m “slogging,” and for the most part I’ve been able to keep the tone celebratory here in this virtual space where I can indeed be virtually upbeat.

And I apologize for polluting my lovely, happy blog with my whining. Maybe tomorrow I’ll have something happier to write about.

Usually I’m not the kind of depressive person who gets especially blue over the holidays—though I know a lot of people do. But no: usually, Christmas and New Year’s are okay for me—maybe it’s because it’s a time of year that I generally know what to do (apart from my usual anxiety about trying to figure out what to give people on my list—my giving is usually more in the form of “doing” as opposed to shopping, so I’m a huge failure when it comes to buying presents).

(This year it’s especially hard, with my “freelance” business being worse than usual. Also, both of the checks I was anticipating this past month got held up somehow. These were for projects that kept me busy for months with all pay deferred to the end. And to have both of my invoices somehow not even get “into the system” until this week? Ouch. I feel crapped on, even though I know it’s nothing personal against me. But hey, being broke at Christmastime is just not . . . optimal. If you’re wondering where the “annual lebkuchen post” is, well, take a look at how much candied fruit costs!)

So all my self-doubts are back again. What am I good for? Apparently not freelancing! And in the job market, I find I’m breathtakingly inexperienced in anything “computer” and simultaneously way too old in a market filled with fresh college students. I’m thinking the only job I could get is at a grocery store or something. Phi beta kappa! This should be funny, right?

I’ve been profoundly sad the last few weeks. I’m sure my close friends are all sick of hearing me complain—indeed, I’m sick of this, too. I’ve tried doing the usual Christmassy stuff, such as attending Christkindelfest, but I couldn’t even stay there very long. I couldn’t sing. I choked on the lyrics “joyful and triumphant,” and I decided to just leave. If you went, I hope you had a good time; there are always so many delicious goodies there to buy . . .

Anyway.

When I’m having a hard time figuring out what to write, when I’m feeling behind and need to get “caught up,” when I feel like my stories aren’t reflecting what I really feel, I usually can rely on “Here Is Where I Am Right Now” to get me back in synch with reality, so I can move on to something current.

So here is where I am right now: I’m sitting in the living room typing. It’s really cold. I just got finished cleaning up some stuff in the basement, including the cat boxes. Soon, I’ll see what I can find in the fridge for lunch, and I’ll try to figure out what to fix for supper. I will clean and straighten the second floor today—the part of the house that company sees—in preparation for putting up the Christmas tree. Also this afternoon, I will check the mail, again, to see if any paycheck has arrived.

And that is where I am right now.

Red Cabbage with Apples

Now that I’ve told you the Red Cabbage Story, I guess it’s time to share my recipe with you. Red cabbage is perfect for the Christmas dinner table, even if you’re not German. First, I mean, gosh, it’s so pretty!




Red cabbage is a terrific alternative to the ubiquitous sauerkraut that is generally served with “German” meals in our country. If you’re planning a Germanic dinner with bratwurst, sauerbraten, rouladen, or some such; and with a starchy side of potatoes or spaetzel; then red cabbage can complete the “trinity” quite nicely. The sweetness of the cabbage especially complements pork dishes, the way fried apples do.

It’s not rocket science to fix this, though you do need to shred the cabbage. If you have a lot of time, you could schnittle it up with a sharp chef’s knife. But I use a Joyce Chen mandoline—it’s not the Rolls Royce of kitchen equipment, but like my trusty Honda Civic, it works fine. With this and all shredding devices, you need to be very careful not to slice off parts of your knuckles, fingertips, fingernails, etc. (Trust me, it’s easy to do, and it happens very quickly. I’m just sayin’. . .)

To shred it, I quarter the red cabbage first, then start shredding from the top part of each quarter, where the leaves are the loosest, then work my way down to the core. Again: be careful.




One time I had some cooked red cabbage that had been “shredded” with a food processor on “pulse”—the cabbage had been turned into dots of confetti instead of thin little shreds. It tasted okay, but the texture was pretty horrible.

Some recipes for cooked red cabbage—even ones from fairly reputable cookbook publishers—say to add the vinegar while you are cooking the cabbage. And I’m telling you: Don’t try it.

It’s just like when you’re cooking beans: If you add a bunch of salt, or acidic ingredients, or alcohol (red wine, for instance) at the beginning of the cooking, you only lengthen the cooking time. Pickled veggies get their “crunch” from vinegar. So adding vinegar before your red cabbage is tender only makes it stay hard, longer. So don’t do it. Tough cabbage isn’t any more fun than tough beans!

I repeat: Cook the shredded cabbage in just a bit of plain water, first, and then add the vinegar at the end. Got it?

By the way, you will love how adding the vinegar at the end causes the cabbage to shift from purple to red. It’s really cool.

And of course, the apples are optional. I don’t think Grandma Schroeder added apples when she cooked red cabbage. But they are a nice touch.




Also, as you can see from the pictures, last time I made red cabbage, early in the cooking I threw in a handful of lovely, huge golden raisins I bought at an international market. They were a wonderful addition! (I’m not sure that black raisins would look as appetizing, however.)

And no, this is not an heirloom recipe, which is rather sad. I wasn’t interested in cooking when Grandma was still alive and still creating her wonderful meals, so I didn’t follow her around the kitchen with a notepad the way I should have. Alas.

So this recipe is essentially from one of my mom’s cookbooks. I’ve altered it somewhat, reducing the apples quite a bit, for one thing. Also, the book doesn’t specify the type of vinegar, but I insist on using apple cider vinegar. (And I’ve found that Heinz, as a matter of fact, is indeed much more flavorful than generic.) Grandma didn’t use red wine vinegar or any of that high-falutin’ stuff!

The book reports that it makes about six servings. When I have my big sauerbraten dinners for fifteen to twenty, I have doubled it, depending on how big the cabbages are at the store and how badly I want leftovers. Also, of course, how much cabbage people eat depends on how many other side dishes you’re serving!

In my family, it is customary for most people to take seconds of the red cabbage!

—Yeah. It’s that special.


Cooked Red Cabbage with Apples

Adapted from Bountiful Harvest, by Mary Beth Jung (Reiman Publications, 1994).


1 to 2 1/2 lbs. red cabbage, shredded (about 1 head)
3/4 to 1 cup boiling (or very hot) water

1 large cooking apple, sliced in thin pieces

3 tbsp. butter
1/4 cup apple cider vinegar

1 1/2 tsp. flour
1/4 cup brown sugar, packed
2 tsp. salt
dash of pepper

Put cabbage into a large saucepan; pour boiling or very hot water over, cover, and simmer for about 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Stir in the apples; cook another 10 minutes or so or until cabbage and apples are tender. Add remaining ingredients, stirring gently to combine, and heat through.




You can prepare for this ahead of time: I’ve added spaces in the ingredients list to show groups that can be prepared the night before your dinner and stored together: Shred the cabbage and put it in one plastic bag. Slice the apple, dash a little of the vinegar on it so it doesn’t turn brown, and store that in another plastic bag. Put the butter and vinegar in a little storage bowl and put in the fridge. Then measure and store the dry ingredients on the counter. This way, putting the dish together the next day is easy-peasy, a back-burner affair.

The Red Cabbage Story

Here’s a story that’s just for you, about my great-grandparents Albert and Wilhelmina Thomas. They were my Grandma Schroeder’s mom and dad; they were married in 1885 and came over from Germany not long after that. I told you a little about them before.




I’m telling you this story tonight, because we just looked outside and noticed that snow is accumulating on the road. This is our first snow of the winter! And it’s miserably cold out there, with wind gusts up to 45 mph. I’m glad to be inside tonight. This is the perfect time to share this story with you.

This story must be from the 1930s or early 1940s, because Dad and Uncle Richard remember it, and Albert and Wilhelmina died, respectively, in 1942 and 1943.

Sometimes, though, when a story gets told and retold, you have to wonder how much of the story is a clear, direct memory, and how much has become “lore.” I’m not naming names, but some of us Schroeders are particularly marvelous storytellers, and sometimes you tend to add extra details to make a story more, um, colorful. . . . And what could be more colorful than the red cabbage story?




Let me refresh your memory on the setup. The Thomas/Schroeder family lived on the second and third floors of the house. The first floor was rented out to another family. When my dad and uncle Richard were boys, they and my grandparents slept in bedrooms on the third floor. My great-grandparents slept in the front bedroom on the second floor, and the bedroom across the hall from them was rented to a lady who worked for state government.

Anyway, apparently one night there was an argument. No one remembers what it was about, or who started it. But apparently it was between Albert and Wilhelmina. Deeply upset, Wilhelmina stomped off into their bedroom and locked the door behind her. She absolutely refused to come out. She was incredibly angry. Nothing anyone said could soften her up. She was resolute. The door stayed locked.

Oh my. What to do.

This was in the dead of winter, but Albert put on his coat and boots and tromped away into the snowy night. It was late. To this day, no one knows where he went. The family was wondering if they had to start being worried about him, now, too.

But he finally returned, stomping snow off his boots, swinging open the big wooden front door, ruddy from the cold, and with frost on his mustache. And he had with him a big, beautiful head of red cabbage. No one knew where he got it on such a cold, snowy night.

He knocked on the door of their bedroom and spoke quietly to Wilhelmina, and in a moment she opened the door a little bit. He showed her the red cabbage—and her anger immediately dissolved. Or, as the story is often worded in the retelling, she “forgot her anger.”




You know what it was. It was the pure joy of a perfect, beautiful vegetable. I totally understand, because there have been times I’ve almost wept with joy in a lovely, well-stocked produce section or farm market.

And also: it was Albert’s sweetness—that he was willing to go out in the bitter cold and somehow obtain that big, perfect head of cabbage for her.

And it was the comfort that he knew her so well that he could be confident this gift would turn her frown upside down. That’s love, you know.




Yeah, we’ve had Black Friday, Cyber Monday, and all that, but as for me, I’m going to keep the Red Cabbage story in mind when I think of gifts this year.




And each time I make our annual holiday sauerbraten dinner and present the big dish of cooked red cabbage, I remember the wintry gift that melted the anger of Grandma Thomas.

Cheese Haven, Port Clinton, Ohio

Though we live in Missouri, Sue and I make it at least once a year to Cheesehaven—preferably before the holidays, so we can stock up on goodies for our entertaining. And in our checked luggage, we always smuggle back to Missouri a couple pounds of extra sharp, ten- or eleven-year-old white cheddar, some smoked fish, and a bierwurst.

(When we’re in northern Ohio, we also try to make it to the Vermilion Farm Market, which I’ve told you about before.)

Why am I writing about northern Ohio, in a blog by a Missouri gal? (1) Because it’s where Sue’s from, and we go there often to visit her family. It’s part of our life, and this blog is about our shenanigans. (Yes?) (2) Because northern Ohio’s a great place to visit. (3) Because I’m trying to reinforce a general point, here, about celebrating local businesses and local flavors. (4) And because the Midwest isn’t as lame and homogenized as the TV makes it out to be.

To be honest, the first time I saw a billboard for Cheese Haven (though the logo closes it up as “Cheesehaven,” I think it’s technically two words), I figured it was some kind of tourist-trap cheese outlet filled with lots of ultraprocessed and rubbery, flavorless cheeses for the masses. And lots of nightmare salty jerky. They’re right on a highway exit! In other words, because I read Gourmet magazine and watched the Food Network, I figured I was more classy than Cheese Haven.




I was wrong. There are treasures at Cheese Haven for every culinary taste, from the common to the extraordinary. And if you are looking for some local specialties, you can find them here. (Well, okay, if you’re vegan, you’re probably out of luck. But I digress.)

Here’s What They Carry

Cheese, and lots of it. I’m partial to the aged white cheddar, but there is much more. They’re famous for their smoked cheese, and they have a large selection of flavored types (salami, garlic, hot pepper, and caraway cheeses, for example); standard varieties such as Swiss, Colby, bleu, Gouda, Muenster, and Brie; and a growing list of imported cheeses. They usually have samples available (though I don’t think you’re supposed to make a free meal out of it).

Sausage, meats, and smoked fish. Their beef snack sticks are quite popular, and these make “Slim Jims” seem like parts of a brine-soaked old shoe. Which is to say, the beef snack sticks are actually quite meaty and delicious.




They carry a full line of deli meats, but perhaps the most notable is the store’s own bierwurst, which is made locally for Cheese Haven, using a family recipe that’s been used by the store since it opened in 1949. (It reminds me a lot of the Hott & Asel “baloney,” or garlic sausage, that my own neighborhood association has had made up, based on another vintage recipe, and sold as a fund-raiser.) I think the bierwurst is just the kind of thing you need at your New Year’s Eve party.




And the smoked fish is something we don’t get much around here in Missouri. Until I went to Cheese Haven, the only smoked fish I knew was the raw-looking salmon type—basically lox. But this is the dry-smoked stuff, and although it looks rather creepy and mummified, it is absolutely delicious! It’s intensely flavorful. It’s generally local fish from Lake Erie. Cheese Haven always has some kind of smoked fish available, though the types vary by season. The smoked catfish, for instance, is only available in the spring.

I particularly love the smoked trout and salmon. When I’m feeling decadent, I’ll make a quick pâté out of a bit of it (crumbled) beaten into some cream cheese and chopped shallot. Triscuits really love that kind of thing!

Condiments and relishes. Here again, it’s local. They sell their own brand of mustard, made in the store, as well as the complete line of Woeber’s mustards (from Springfield, Ohio). They also sell “Perfetto” marinara sauce from Sloopy’s Sports Café, a popular area restaurant. And there are jams and jellies, salsas, hot sauces, relishes, and pickles. And pickled eggs!

Wines. Cheese and sausage lead naturally to wine, and northern Ohio is a major grape- and wine-producing region. There are several small wineries on the Lake Erie islands and on the mainland, producing decent reds, cool, rich whites that make you truly appreciate the very soul of the grape, and sweet, regal ice wines. And if you’re not into wines, Cheese Haven sells other beverages, as well.

Candy. I usually don’t spend a lot of time in the candy section of Cheese Haven, but I need to point out that they have lots of candy you don’t find much anymore, including penny candy. They have every flavor of saltwater taffy imaginable, including sassafras! They have lots of old-fashioned candy, too. You can see why I avoid this section—it’s the only way I stand a chance!




Well! It’s looking more and more like a picnic, isn’t it! When I was there last week, I asked them if a lot of their business comes from Cedar Point tourism (Cedar Point is a huge amusement park near Sandusky). And they said that most of their tourism-related business is with people headed to the Lake Erie islands: Put-In Bay and Kelley’s Island, for example, plus local tourism for the Marblehead area, famous for its picturesque historic lighthouse.




This part of northern Ohio is branded to tourists as “America’s North Coast,” and it’s a good slogan. Boating, fishing, and swimming are big draws here. Put-In Bay, on South Bass Island, is a magnet all by itself. People take ferries to the island from Port Clinton, then rent golf carts or bicycles to get around on the island. Put-In Bay’s big lovely waterside park and its many cozy vacation cottages beg for you to bring along a cooler with bread, cheese, sausage, and wine. Which naturally leads you to Cheese Haven!




You might think that, like other businesses that cater to a tourist market, Cheese Haven might close during the off-season—but no way! They’re open year-round; they are closed Mondays and Tuesdays, but they certainly don’t shut down for the winter. (Hey, they have to stay open in order to sell you goodies for the holidays!)

The Cheese Haven Story

When we were there just after Thanksgiving, we noticed a sign that said “Under New Management.” We didn’t see the sign until we were exiting the parking lot on our way back home, so that night the clan sat around and discussed what might have happened at this landmark local business.

I was wondering, too, so I called to get the low-down. Here’s what I found out. Cheese Haven opened in 1949. Its original location was at Old Route 2 and State Route 53. A decade later, it moved to a location that was right across the street from where it is now. In 1989, Cheese Haven moved to its current address.

All those years, it was owned by the same fellow: Richard Brassel, who is called “Pops” by all the locals. He is the father of Tom Geisheimer, who, with his wife, Lisa, recently bought the business. Thus it remains a family-owned store! APPARENTLY I got this wrong--see the comments below! Needless to say, there's been a change in management, but apparently it's still locally run. (—JS, 6-24-11)

We did notice a few changes—most obviously in signage—but you can expect to see some other changes as well. They will be increasing the number of imported cheeses, for example. One thing you won’t see is a big turnover in staff: in this family-run business, the longtime workers are friendly with the owners, and a feeling of mutual goodwill prevails. Alas, alack, apparently I was wrong here, as well. Again, see the comments below.




One More Thing

They sell by mail order, yes they do! You can find Cheese Haven online here. They sell their cheese and sausages individually, plus they also offer gift baskets—combinations of goodies at reasonable prices. If you don’t see it online, give them a call—I’m betting they’ll ship it to you.

Why I Care

If you’re a regular reader, you already know what I’m going to tell you: Please support your local, family-run businesses. They are treasures, full of color and community pride, home of the American Dream. Even if they’re quirky places at times, they nevertheless have genuine character and a commitment to their community. Whether it’s Cheese Haven or another mom-and-pop shop just two blocks away from you, don’t let Walmart and its faceless international corporate cronies squeeze them out of the ring.

Leftover Greens

Namely, kale. Yesterday we talked about cooking kale. I know it’s an elementary thing, but to be honest, I didn’t grow up with cooked kale, and if my mom had made it, I probably wouldn’t have touched it. You know how kids are: anything green and wilty is questionable.

But we’re not kids anymore, and we’re trying to build sensible “food pyramids” for ourselves. Maybe you don’t cook with greens much.

So let’s say you made that kale I told you about, and now you’ve got some leftovers. Here are some of my favorite things to do with it!

1. Grilled cheese sandwich. Oh, this is easy, but if you choose good cheese and good bread, you end up with a sandwich that you’d pay, oh, $6.60 or $8.80 for at a downtown restaurant. The kale has a nutty-earthy flavor, so I’d go with a creamy or nutty cheese. Manchego, Swiss, or Monterey Jack, for instance.




2. Poached-egg breakfast. This one requires some pasta sauce, salsa, or other tomatoey sauce (which could be from leftovers, too). Top poached eggs with some reheated greens and drizzle some tomato sauce over. This is pretty darned good. And if you don’t feel like poaching eggs, soft-cooked will do just as well. (Dress it up a little with some crumbled feta? Your call.) I’m pretty sure this is Atkins-friendly, though I myself like a piece of toast for sop.

3. Colcannon soup. Well, or a quick version of this Scottish/Irish classic. This requires some leftover mashed potatoes. Easy, easy, easy: reheat the mashed potatoes, and stir in milk and butter to make a thick, creamy soup. Add the kale to the potato soup. Great for a cold day!




4. Pasta loves leftover kale, too. It can be added to any kind of pasta salad—for instance, you could take it in a “Mediterranean” direction, with Kalamata olives, feta, bell peppers, tomatoes, onions, cucumbers. Or whatever. You can add it to hot pasta, too.

Just ideas. I mean, you know you need more veggies in your diet, right? And aren’t you getting bored with broccoli and green beans?

Cooked Kale

Not everyone appreciates cooked greens like they ought to—I think it’s because they hated them as kids and never figured out how to “reclaim” them as adults. It bugs me when grown-ups claim to hate greens. Seriously. Think of the vitamins, folks! Think of the fiber!




If you’re reading this and “greens” seem kind of challenging, I recommend you experiment some this winter. Come on: you especially need good stuff in your diet in the winter months. I suggest starting with kale. It’s in season now. Plus, it’s pretty forgiving in the pan; it doesn’t turn into sick-looking army-green mush very quickly.

Kale’s in the cabbage group in the mustard family: antioxidants, beta carotene, vitamin K, vitamin C, calcium, and a number of anticancer compounds. It is incredibly versatile and is one of my favorite vegetables!

I recommend a big nonstick skillet with a good-fitting glass lid. You’ll want to watch.




I suggest using about a teaspoon and a half of bacon grease. Yes. (The bacon itself, crumbled, can be optional as a garnish.) And about the same amount of olive oil. (Look: it’s just one tablespoon of bacon grease for an entire bunch of kale. And what would you have instead? Canned green beans? Frozen broccoli florets? Again?) Use all olive oil if you want, but I’m tellin ya, the bacon grease ensures that everyone will like the flavor.

A chopped-up onion, white or yellow. A chopped-up bell pepper. By the way, if you use a red bell pepper, it will make it look Christmassy.

. . . And a bunch of kale from the supermarket. Rinse it well, then get rid of the stems. Either tear the stems out of the leaves (or pick the leaves from the stems), or fold the leaves in half lengthwise and slice the stems out with a knife. (Why? Because the stems take too long to cook; just ditch them.)






Wad up the kale leaves and then slice it every half inch or so.

Up to this point, you can do everything the night before: Pack the chopped onion and bell pepper into separate sandwich bags. The kale will keep fine overnight if you splash some water onto it and store it in a bag or covered container.




The cooking goes pretty quickly once you begin. Start it just before you’re ready to serve your meal.

When you’re ready to cook, heat the oil and grease in the skillet, then, on medium-high, sauté the onions and red bell pepper until is starts getting a little done.




Then add the heap of kale. Make sure there’s a little water with it.




Then cover the skillet and cook (really, you’re steaming it) over medium until the kale wilts, is soft enough to eat, but still has good texture and—for the love of God!—make sure you stop cooking before it turns olive green.




Your goal is for it to be a beautiful jewel green. (See why I told you to use a pan with a glass lid?)




Toss it a little to make sure the onions, peppers, and kale are mixed together, and salt and pepper to taste. Garnish with some crumbled bacon if you want. Serve immediately.




I think you’ll be surprised at how well this goes with all kinds of dishes—meat and potatoes; a Creole-inspired medley of cooked tomatoes, peppers, and shrimp; chicken paprikash—heck, all sorts of stuff!

Next? Things to do with leftover kale.

Jeff City’s Annual Christmassy Weekend

There’s lots of Christmas partying this weekend in the capital city!




It started tonight with the official lighting of the Mayor’s Christmas Tree, which is on the north end of Bolivar Street overlooking the river. Free cookies, hot cider, and hot chocolate! Hot popcorn, too! The Helias High School choir sang, the regional head of the Rotary club spoke, and Mayor Landwehr gave a little speech, too, emphasizing the importance of the river to Jefferson City. And then the tree was lit up! Hooray!

There are more festivities, too. And they’re all free. Here’s the schedule.

Living Windows is tomorrow (Friday) night, 6:00–9:00 p.m. Downtown Jeff City is all duded up, and kids put on little vignettes or sing in the shop windows. More goodies are available. Stroll around and enjoy the wholesomeness of it all.

Candlelight tours of the Governor’s Mansion are also tomorrow night, 6:30–9:00 p.m. If you have never been in our state’s lovely Governor’s Mansion, this is a fabulous time to see it. The Christmas decorations are lovely and everyone’s in a jolly mood. A high school choir sings carols on the grand staircase, and docents are dressed in nineteenth-century costumes. And the governor and first lady are there to greet you personally. It’s really a pleasant thing to do.

To see pictures from last year’s Candlelight tours, click here.

Christkindelfest is on Saturday, Dec. 4, 9:30 a.m.–1:30 p.m. The kaffeeklatch and bake sale is 9:30 – 11:00; the worship service, which includes the spirited singing of Esther Seidel and a rare and unusual German mass by “Silent Night” composer Franz Gruber, starts at 11:00; after the service (around noon) is a yummy lunch of Burger’s ham and other dishes; and at 1:00 p.m. Rev. Buchholz will lead a tour of the church.

For more information, see my earlier post about Christkindelfest.

The Jefferson City Christmas Parade is also on Saturday, starting at 4:30 p.m. It used to take place in the early afternoon, but they moved it to the evening so that the lights on all the floats would be prettier. And they are pretty!

To see pictures of some pictures from last year’s festivities, click here.