When making a large amount of soup for like, say, a wedding(!), freeze the base without the liquids to save freezer space. For example, this is the start of six gallons of soup.

The meatballs are frozen separately, in bags. Come Crunch Week, I’ll thaw the base and add the remaining (gallons of) chicken broth and tomatoes.

I was explaining my soup plans to one of my friends (who stopped by to chat and ended up helping with the meatballs)…

… and she, impressed, said, “How did you know to do that?” (meaning, freeze the base and add liquids later), and I had no answer! I mean, my mom sometimes does it, so maybe I learned it from her? I kinda thought everyone knew this, but maybe not?

Do you do this?

***

From Kate, I learned that a stainless steel fridge is a perfect writing surface for dry erase markers, so now I’ve upgraded my weekly meal planning to the fridge door, as per her methods. 

This works so much better than keeping a menu on paper for one huge reason: I see it. The menu is right there, in my face, keeping me on track. 

I never realized how much brain energy goes towards thinking about a menu I already made (and jotted down on a piece of paper). So many times, throughout the day, I start pondering the menu and then, a quick glance at the fridge, and I’m like, “Oh yeah, already solved that one” and then I move on. 

Bonus: the whole family appreciates knowing what’s up. Having the menu posted makes them feel a little more included, I think.

***

Lately, I’ve been making gallons of yogurt at a time. Since I don’t want to run the risk of spoiling such a large batch with subpar starter, I always using fresh culture. This means I have to remember to buy little containers of plain Danon yogurt from the store and then there’s the yogurt containers to throw out (and I’m getting sick of plastic, plastic, plastic). But then I discovered a video that Kate posted in which she compared two kinds of freeze-dried yogurt culture: Yo-Cult versus ABY-2C. The ABY-2C sounded, and looked, so good that I decided to spring for it.

I got the large bottle (which is actually small and quite pricey— about 60 dollars, I think) but it’s supposed to culture up to 500 gallons of milk, there’s no plastic waste, and, since it’s stored in my freezer, I never have to think about running to the store for starter culture. Plus, I can use some of the yogurt to re-culture two or three more batches, which will stretch the starter even more. (Here’s a smaller container, if you want to try.)

The first batch set up beautifully and tastes delicious: mild, sweet, creamy. Round two, using some yogurt from the first batch for culture, is incubating now. 

I’ll keep you posted.

***

For our family Sunday night movie, we watched CODA, about a hearing (and singing) girl in a deaf family.

The actors who played her parents and brother are actually deaf, and the girl had to learn sign language for her role. The storyline is solid— simple, nuanced, funny, real— and the acting is fabulous. Highly, highly recommend. (AppleTV)

***

Ever since last week, I’ve been going on daily walks. Sometimes I walk with a friend, and a couple times I’ve carted along my phone in my boob holder so I could chat with my older daughter, but more often than not I go phoneless, by myself.

At first, without using that time to connect with another person and get my extrovert fix, the time spent walking felt like a waste. A whole hour, mindlessly tripping along— what a time suck! But now I’m beginning to look forward to being unconnected, quiet and alone save for the passing cars and the occasional deer, with nothing but my thoughts to occupy me.

***

Every winter when I go to dig out my twinkle lights, I inevitably discover that I don’t have the right length strand, or the lights are burned out, or I can’t find the the lights I KNEW I packed away. And then I have to go through the tedium of tracking down the right kind of light (soft white) except by the time I go looking, Christmas is practically upon us and the shelves are already half bare and all that’s left are the obnoxious multi flashing lights, or the retina-scorching LEDs. So last year, I made a note on my November calendar to ORDER 3 STRANDS OF TWENTY-FOOT LIGHTS. 

It was still complicated — the Amazon options overwhelmed me and my husband had to help me click my way through the choices because I am pathetic — but now I have them! I also ordered a short strand of lights; just one strand to make sure they were the right length and correct kind of light (because I never actually trust the description). Turns out, it was just what I wanted, so I ordered a few more.

Now I have one strand of twinkle lights above the jelly cupboard, another on our clothing wardrobe in our bedroom, and several more stashed away, just waiting to light up some dark corner. It’s amazing how such a simple thing can add so much warmth to a room. Go, team twinkle!

This same time, years previous: the quotidian (11.9.20), of mice and men and other matters, unleashing the curls!, the quotidian (11.10.14), maple roasted squash, pumpkin cranberry cream cheese muffins, mashed sweet potatoes.

The logistical challenge of preparing a home-cooked meal and then delivering it has always made my head spin. I much prefer to feed people at my house where the distance from stove to table is measured in feet, not miles. But back when Delta was surging and medical staff were struggling (and they still are, I think), I decided it was time I got over myself. For a month of Wednesdays, I’d make lunch for our local hospital’s critical care unit. 

Turns out, making that decision was seventy-five percent of the battle. Once I committed, I no longer spent all my mental energy waffling. Instead, I could focus on the task at hand: cooking.

Below are the four meals I made, plus my notes. Having a record of this will, I hope, make it a little easier for me to cook for someone in the future. Here’s what you did, Jennifer. Remember? The hard work of thinking and planning has already been done! Now get off your duff and go cook.

Or something like that. 

First up, here are a few pointers I gleaned over the last several weeks.

Contact Person
I had a staff contact, which was tremendously helpful. I could text my questions — how many people would I be feeding, did they have a freezer for ice cream, should I send along any plates or utensils — as well as my arrival time. At the hospital, I simply called the CCU and someone ran down with a cart. I’d load up the food, explain it, and then home again, home again, jiggety-jig!

Scale Up
They told me there’d be about 8-10 people at lunch so I tried to plan for about 12, but I actually have no idea if the food ran short or they had tons leftover.

Variety
I didn’t cook for special food needs (or even really inquire about it), but I did try to have a couple items without meat each time. I figured not everyone would actually eat all the components.

Labeling
I tried to label each item, either with a piece of written-on tape, or by writing on the foil directly. I also included include a piece of paper listing the entire menu. Sometimes, if the components weren’t entirely obvious (like with quiche), I jotted down the ingredient list.

Cost
I tried to plan my meals around what I had on hand. What I could easily make. What was economical. Fancy, special food was off the metaphorical (and literal) table).

Containers
This is important! As much as possible, I tried to use containers that I no longer needed: junk plastics I’d collected, bags, and old, thrift store dishes. (The few items I did eventually want back, I labeled.) I also stocked up on assorted, purchased foil containers, but even so, by the end I had almost nothing left. From now on, I’m going to try to stay supplied with to-go items, like rolls of aluminum foil, extra tea towels, cheap plastic trays, random baskets, small jars for condiments, and bulk lidded containers like pretzel tubs and mayo and peanut butter containers, etc.

Time Commitment
It takes time to make up a full meal like this, which kinda surprised me since I’m used to casually cooking large quantities of food on the reg. But having a deadline, and needing to plan each detail — no jumping up from the table last minute to grab the ketchup! — was time consuming. However, even though I spent each Wednesday morning cooking, it really wasn’t that bad. Bonus: Wednesday nights we ate well.

Repetition! Repetition!
The first meal was the biggest hurdle. Everything was new: cooking in the morning, making a noontime delivery, learning the route, calling the desk, etc. The next times were much easier. So if signing up to make one meal delivery, might as well agree to doing several. Eventually, the process becomes familiar and doesn’t feel like such a big deal.

Menu Number One: Quiche

Spinach and sausage quiche (3)
Brown butter green beans (about 2 quarts)
Hot buttered rolls, butter and jelly (20-24)
Applesauce (1½ quarts)
Key Lime Pie Bars (a bunch, cut into small pieces)

*I used second-hand, washed, foil pie pans from the bakery for the quiches. (Probably used bakery pastry scraps, too.)
*I parbaked the pastry crusts and made the sausage spinach filling the day before. 
*The key lime bars I’d made awhile back (from surplus bakery pie components) and stuck in the freezer. Sending them along was totally an after thought. I wasn’t even going to take dessert.
*Remember to take a cloth to cover the hot rolls. Transporting fresh bread, uncovered, in a hospital probably isn’t good protocol (oops). 

Meal Number Two: Meat and Potatoes

Mini meatloaves (20-ish)
Hashbrown potatoes (1 big foil pan)
Ketchup
Cole Slaw (a Costco-sized mayo container full)
Single layer chocolate peanut butter cake

*Mayo containers are fabulous to giving away food — save them!
*Hashbrown potatoes don’t get sufficiently crispy in foil pans.
*Muffin tins are great for little meatloaf balls.
*I felt like this meal was a little too down-homey. Maybe I should’ve added fresh bread?

Meal Number Three: Brown Rice Bowls 

Brown Rice
Red beans
Corn
Chopped lettuce
Tortilla chips
Sour cream, salsa, grated cheese, lime wedges
Avocados, uncut
Grape Pie (1)
Vanilla Ice Cream

*I could’ve called this “taco salad,” and I could’ve added ground beef, but I decided to keep it simple. 
*Except there’s nothing simple about a meal with lots of different components!
*Grape pie is so rich that a little bit goes a long way, so I only baked one and made a note so they’d know to stretch it.

Meal Number Four: Soup
(Shucks. I forgot to take a photo.)

Sausage and Lentil Soup with spinach
Braided Bread, butter and jelly
Fruit salad
Blondies

*I always struggle with finding a veggie (that’s not salad) to serve with soup. In the end, I just added a pack of frozen, chopped spinach to the soup for a hit of green.
*For the fruit salad, I shopped my pantry and freezer for nectarines and peaches and sweet cherries and then pulled out a couple store bought tins of mandarine oranges and pineapple chunks to round it out. 
*Braided bread is too big for plastic bags, so I stuck the loaves in a brown paper bag.

After I dropped off my first meal, my contact person texted me this photo of the team: 

Those sparkling eyes! I couldn’t stop smiling.

This same time, years previous: wait for it, old-fashioned apple roll-ups, cinnamon pretzels, meatloaf, when your child can’t read, the quotidian (11.4.13), awkward, chatty time.

Hello, frenz.

I’m sitting here on the couch, conducting mental warfare against the tin of caramel popcorn “hiding” atop the jelly cupboard. I want to eat it all. I shouldn’t. I probably will anyway. Self-control is hard. 

A few gallons of milk are [new word alert] rennetizing on the stove top for a batch of Butterkäse, and soon I’ll have to pop up off the sofa and go cut the curd— 

Speaking of large kettles (in a roundabout way, I suppose, since saying “a few gallons of milk” is the same as saying “I’m using a large pot”): I have been asking around to all my friends, searching for a 6-8 gallon pot to borrow for cheesemaking. I could buy one (like this), but I’d really like to try a big batch of cheese to see how it works before spending the money. I thought that surely someone would have a big pot banging around their attic, but no. NO ONE has a large pot. I mean, everyone has large pots, or at least they think they do, but then they go check and it’s only a four-gallon pot, like the one I have which is, apparently, the largest size that homecooks tend to use. So I guess I’m condemned to making cheese in four-gallon increments. 

There’s also a pie in the oven — sweet cherry with an almond coconut crumb topping (I’ve yet to find a sweet cherry pie I like) — and there are two pans of half-baked granola sitting on the table waiting to pop back into the oven. Also, there’s a batch of chai tea concentrate cooling on the counter, and my younger son is washing up the first big round of dishes from today. 

It’s a cozy, deliciously dreary day and, once the butterkäse is in the press, I’m gonna go for a walk because I read this post and now I’m feeling inspired so I better quick take advantage. 

But first, back to that chai tea concentrate.

Last week I made a gallon batch, as per the instructions, but even though I cut back on the sugar, I still found it too sweet. Plus, it wasn’t spicy enough. So I made it again today, this time in a smaller quantity, with less sugar and more spice. Once I get back from my walk, I’ll fix myself a chai to sip while I make supper. 

Except: what to make? I’ve been consistently bumping up against this problem so maybe, prior to making anything, I should sit down, cup of chai in hand, and map out a menu for the next few days.

Yes, that’s what I’ll do. 

I started with two full quarts. A bunch of water boiled away,
so next time I’ll start with a little more water to account for evaporation.

P.S. The popcorn’s all gone.

P.P.S. The cheese is pressing.

P.P.P.S. I went on the walk and visited on the phone with my older daughter for a couple of those miles…

P.P.P.P.S. Pie’s baked!

P.P.P.P.P.S. Supper’s gonna be a tinned beef stew (I found in the pantry) over rice, peas, Magpie biscuits, pie and ice cream.  

P.P.P.P.P.P.S. Just realized, sipping this tea, that it didn’t taste much stronger than the first batch and then I realized I’d forgotten the ginger, ha! (It’s still good, though.)

Chai Tea Concentrate
Adapted from Kate’s recipe from Venison For Dinner.

Since I want to have this tea as a bedtime option, I made this with decaf. I would’ve used loose leaf, which is more economical, but our grocery didn’t have any.

Been reading up on additions. Some ideas: use honey or brown sugar instead of white. Add star anise. Try some allspice, or some fennel. Maple syrup. Vanilla. I feel like that’s straying pretty far from the original stuff, but if you like it, does that really matter?

2 quarts water (plus a couple extra cups, since some will evaporate)
4 cinnamon sticks
20 whole black peppercorns
12 whole cloves
⅓ cup cardamom pods
⅔ cup chopped fresh ginger
½ teaspoon salt
12-16 decaf black tea bags
¾ cup white sugar

Rough-crush the cinnamon, pepper, cloves, and cardamom pods. It doesn’t need to be a powder, but break them up enough that they release more of their flavor. Working in batches, I used my little mortar and pestle.

Put the water in a kettle and add the spices, ginger, and salt. Bring to a boil before reducing the heat to low, lidding, and simmering for about 45 minutes. Add the tea bags and sugar and simmer another 10 minutes. Strain the tea concentrate (discard the spices and tea) and store in jars in the fridge. 

To serve: heat a mixture of milk and tea concentrate in a saucepan — I use about a third cup concentrate and two-thirds cup milk, but you can do less or more, according to taste — and then pour into a mug.

This same time, years previous: #holdtheline2020, egg bagels, sour cream coffee cake, apple dumplings, 2015 garden stats and notes, cheesy broccoli potato soup, sweet and sour lentils.