Cooking in the West

Since I am retiring from my County Superintendent of Schools job at the end of this month, I am trying to clean out file cabinets and computer files. Some days I don't get a lot accomplished, because it is like taking a 41 year trip down memory lane in my career as an educator, and there are a lot of things to read and reminisce about. One of the treasures that I found was this essay that my daughter Brooke wrote for a college "sense of place" essay in an advanced composition class. My father, Glen Roberts, died right after Christmas in 1997, so Brooke's essay is a fitting tribute to a man we miss greatly.

The Apex of My Childhood

—by Brooke Metcalf Bare

I can still remember the feel of the cool evening air on my youthful cheeks and smell the sweet clover, which carpeted the ground below. I could hear cows in the distance and hidden creatures in the wild rose bushes. The taste of strawberries from Grandpa’s garden lingered on my tongue, and the horizon, God’s canvas, was painted pink and orange. Although diminutive, I could see for miles, and my imagination was liberated when I was on top of my secret sand rock on our Musselshell place.

I imitated a Crow Indian woman by carving my name into the sand stone next to the historic Indian hieroglyphics. Hours passed quickly as I meticulously etched with an arrowhead I had borrowed from Grandpa. Turkey feathers I found beneath pine trees dressed my uncombed hair, my arms and face were decorated with dandelion yellow and wild raspberry juice, and I reeked of sagebrush perfume. As an Indian woman, I prepared delectable meals consisting of hoppers, beetles, dirt, needle grass, and yucca blossoms. My "Indian" brother sometimes hunted for the main entree with handmade spears, but I generally preferred to be alone to take pleasure in the tranquility of my covert place.

After a tedious climb to the pinnacle of my rock, I often caught my breath whilst peering down at the coulee below. In silent anticipation I awaited the appearance of grazing wildlife. Deer frequently caught my eye, and in the spring I admired fawns experiencing the new and frightening, but wonderful world. The rest of the world seemed insignificant when I was up above, in the realm of the birds. My favorite song was that of the meadowlark, whose melodic soprano trill sounded ethereally in my ears.

Although below the clouds, I was near heaven when perched upon my beloved summit. Even angels were tangible from this place God had created; I believe to resemble an area of his kingdom. Only omnipotent hands could create the landscape I saw, the animals I revered, and the sounds and smells which continually aroused my senses. I always felt blessed when witnessing divinity on earth.

I have revisited my celestial place many times since I was a child, and though many aspects have remained the same, it is now holier to me. For below my secret sand rock, between two towering pine trees rests my dear Grandpa Glen, my childhood mentor and friend. I still love to sit on my rock and reminisce about my childhood memories, especially those pertaining to my grandpa.

I can remember the way Grandpa looked with his silver hair and mustache, gray worn-out cowboy hat, duct taped boots, holey, stained Levis, interminable sparkle in his eye, and earnest smile, and how he smelled of horse sweat, breath mints, and wood smoke from the old Monarch kitchen stove.

Grandpa and I would sit on the porch swing outside the log cabin he had built in 1975, and discuss his childhood stories and views on life while chewing on blades of crested wheatgrass. The windmill by the dusty road spun ‘round as I listened to his astute remarks until the sun escaped behind the silhouette of the Bull Mountains. In the late evening, we watched the news and shared a bowl of Cheerios sweetened with honey, and in the morning, I awoke to the tantalizing smell of his pancakes, eggs, and bacon.

I have fond memories of riding ol’ Pokey Smoke up the coulee, below my sand rock after breakfast with my grandpa, past my great great grandparents’ homestead. The meager remains consisting of log fragments and a caved-in root cellar are representative of my family’s history, which reminds me to be thankful for the lavish contemporary lifestyle I enjoy. My great great grandparents were pioneers of the land where I spent my summers as a child, and their courage and strength enabled me to experience the breathtaking features surrounding my rock. Although I am dissimilar to my early relatives, surely we have all stood at the apex of the remarkable sand rock, which overlooks the now holy gulch, and transcended to another place all our own.

This week I have recipes from one of my favorite recipe collections that have been sent to me over the years. The "Ringling Recipes" cookbook was put out by the Ringling Women's Club. Thank you, ladies of the Ringling Women's Club!

Michele Hereim's Cream Cheese Pie:

1 can fruit pie filling

8 oz. cream cheese (room temperature)

6 oz. can sweetened condensed milk

1/3 C. lemon juice

1 t. vanilla

1 graham cracker crust

Beat cream cheese and condensed milk. Then add lemon juice and vanilla. Mix well. Pour batter into pie crust. Let chill for 4 to 5 hours. Pour pie filling over top. Refrigerate.

Rosemarie Brewer's Chicken Tortilla:

1 dozen tortillas

4 whole chicken breasts, chopped (can use any diced chicken or turkey)

1 can cream of mushroom soup

1 can cream of chicken soup

1 can evaporated milk

1 grated onion

1 jar salsa

1 can green chilies

1 lb. sharp Cheddar cheese

Grease a 3 quart casserole. Cut 6 tortilla shells into bite-sized pieces and place them on the bottom. Add layers of chicken, grated cheese, onion, and half of the sauce mixture (made by mixing soups, milk, salsa and chilies). Repeat layers starting with the other 6 tortilla shells and ending with grated cheese. Refrigerate 24 hours. Bake at 300 degrees for 90 minutes.

Michele Hereim's Fruit Cocktail Cake:

1 can (2 C.) fruit cocktail with juice

1 egg

1 C. sugar

1/2 C. oil

1 1/2 C. flour

1 t. baking soda

1/2 t. salt

3/4 t. cinnamon

3/4 t. nutmeg

1/2 C. chopped nuts

1/2 C. brown sugar, mixed

Mix all together except the brown sugar and nuts. Pour into a greased and floured 9 X 13 inch pan and sprinkle with brown sugar and nuts. Bake at 350 degrees for 35 to 40 minutes. Serve with whipped cream.