My friend Mush stood beside me at
the kitchen counter, her hands working the sharp paring knife, cutting carrots
into uniform pieces. I grabbed the half
gallon of olive oil from my cupboard and swirled some into my large stewing
pot, turned on the flame, then turned toward the kitchen sink where thick beef short
ribs were warming to room temperature.
We chatted as we worked, the kind of comfortable talking where if there
were two minutes of just working and no words, it would not have bothered
either of us.
Mush, short for Marsha, is a
connoisseur of deliciousness, and our tastes are similar, though not exactly
the same. She is a mighty fine cooker, and she is a master gardener, which makes
for some fabulous ingredients in her cooking.
She and her husband Robert have an amazing back yard, filled with grow boxes and a greenhouse that Robert built himself, and a chicken coop with real peckers roaming their yard. They never buy eggs. They have fruit trees, and walking paths, and they can tell you where the sun will be on any given hour of any given day. Her pantry and cold storage are bulging with the fruits of their labors. Literally. Robert makes a to-die-for mango salsa. (I will have to ask for the recipe, and if I get it I promise to post it.) Mush and I have shared a lot. She was a divine gift of a friend to me when I was forced to spend months recovering from Guillain Barre Syndrome.
And it was at my kitchen table where we were making head wreaths for her daughter’s flower girls when I looked up at her and noticed her eyes had a yellow tint to them. I looked closer, and realized that her skin had that yellow tint as well. She is an outdoorsy, athletic gal, so it could have been mistaken for a sun tan, but on second look it was really more yellow. So like a friend who is a friend would do, I said something diplomatic like: "Hey, your eyes are yellow."
We both shuffled into the bathroom to look in the mirror with better light, and decided then and there we needed to see a doctor. So I took her to my doc, and he took action, and long story short we went from wedding preparations to processing the reality of pancreatic cancer. Yeah, that’s what I said, Pancreatic Cancer. People don’t survive that one. She knew that. And so did I. So there were tears, and there was hope, and there were more tears, and more hope. One doctor said she should just get her affairs in order. And so did another. But then one said, with the cocky confidence you are kind of grateful for in a surgeon, “I will do surgery on you and I will save your life.” And lo and behold, that’s what he did! After a thirteen hour surgery he nodded his head and told her, with a matter-of-fact tone of satisfaction, “I just saved your life. You’re welcome.”
She and her husband Robert have an amazing back yard, filled with grow boxes and a greenhouse that Robert built himself, and a chicken coop with real peckers roaming their yard. They never buy eggs. They have fruit trees, and walking paths, and they can tell you where the sun will be on any given hour of any given day. Her pantry and cold storage are bulging with the fruits of their labors. Literally. Robert makes a to-die-for mango salsa. (I will have to ask for the recipe, and if I get it I promise to post it.) Mush and I have shared a lot. She was a divine gift of a friend to me when I was forced to spend months recovering from Guillain Barre Syndrome.
And it was at my kitchen table where we were making head wreaths for her daughter’s flower girls when I looked up at her and noticed her eyes had a yellow tint to them. I looked closer, and realized that her skin had that yellow tint as well. She is an outdoorsy, athletic gal, so it could have been mistaken for a sun tan, but on second look it was really more yellow. So like a friend who is a friend would do, I said something diplomatic like: "Hey, your eyes are yellow."
We both shuffled into the bathroom to look in the mirror with better light, and decided then and there we needed to see a doctor. So I took her to my doc, and he took action, and long story short we went from wedding preparations to processing the reality of pancreatic cancer. Yeah, that’s what I said, Pancreatic Cancer. People don’t survive that one. She knew that. And so did I. So there were tears, and there was hope, and there were more tears, and more hope. One doctor said she should just get her affairs in order. And so did another. But then one said, with the cocky confidence you are kind of grateful for in a surgeon, “I will do surgery on you and I will save your life.” And lo and behold, that’s what he did! After a thirteen hour surgery he nodded his head and told her, with a matter-of-fact tone of satisfaction, “I just saved your life. You’re welcome.”
That was over ten years ago. Last week Mush met us for lunch for my
birthday. Something happens deep under
my heart every time I see her. Some
divine little angel whispers that she is a gift - her life is a gift, and she is
a gift of a friend. Many weeks or even
months may pass between our reunions, but it does not alter the strength of the
sisterhood. We share much, most importantly history. And love. And recipes… an awful lot of what we have shared has been in
the preparation of nourishment and comfort.
This kitchen of mine has been
blessed with all sorts of aromas and splattering’s of flavor. But mostly it has been blessed with the
company of beautiful friends.
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| This is what Marsha does with part of her bounty. |
Beef Barley Soup
2 lb beef short ribs - with or without bone
¼ c
olive oil or vegetable oil
1 c
barley (not instant barley, or even quick barley. Get the good old fashioned kind that
takes a long time to cook)
1
onion
6-10
carrots
celery
– a handful of the inner bitter part, chopped with leaves.
crushed
tomatoes (1 large can, or peeled crushed fresh tomatoes [crush in
blender]) or tomato sauce
beef
soup bones or 4 cans canned beef
broth Boil bones in water and 2 T salt for at least an hour to get
broth)
beef bouillon
salt
and pepper
Add clean sliced carrots to soup and simmer for another 15 minutes, till carrots and barley are tender.
Add crushed tomatoes, or if tomato chunks bug you, use tomato sauce.
Heat oil in large heavy pot. Salt and pepper raw beef,
lightly coat with flour, and brown full pieces in hot oil. You want nice dark brown drippings for
flavor, so be sure the oil is hot enough to really sizzle. Meanwhile, boil soup bones or canned broth in
a separate pot. When meat is brown all over pour hot broth over them and simmer
for an hour, or until meat is tender. Be
sure meat is fully covered. Add water if
necessary. Add onion, cut into 1/8ths, and a handful of chopped celery, with
celery leaves included. That inner
bitter portion of a bunch of celery is best for soups.
When meat is tender remove meat from broth and cut into
small pieces. Rinse 1 c. barley in cool
water, then add to boiling broth. Boil
gently for 30 minutes. Taste the broth and see if it has enough flavor, add bouillon
and salt and pepper to taste. Do not be
afraid to add plenty (I use Wyler’s bouillon crystals).
Add clean sliced carrots to soup and simmer for another 15 minutes, till carrots and barley are tender.
Add crushed tomatoes, or if tomato chunks bug you, use tomato sauce.
Your best tool is your taste. If there is not enough flavor, add salt and
pepper and bouillon.







Yay! I love all your writings, and especially when it is about my sweet mother. Thank you for writing this. See you soon!
ReplyDeleteActually my dear friend Cori, it was YOU that saved my life....and I will forever be in your debt. Thank you so much for this sweet, sweet blog, I had missed a few days and was just now catching up. I am so,so lucky to know you and to call you friend.
ReplyDelete