Cooking in the West

“It takes a village to raise a child,” is is an Igbo and Yoruba proverb that exists in many different African languages, and we in rural America have borrowed the phrase. This proverb became reality in our village a couple weeks ago when my guest columnist, Gayle Grosfield Callinan, encountered my grandson Jasper on the sidewalk in front of our store. To help her overcome the trauma of that encounter, I encouraged her through my tears of laughter to write it down in the following guest column. As one of my former students, Gayle complied and even shared three of her grandmother’s recipes. Thanks, Gayle!

For the last decade, Tom Still and I have been thrilled to put on the Annual Christmas Benefit Concert at the Lutheran Church in Big Timber. As with all good things that end, more room is created for new and other exciting things to transpire. Part of this bittersweet end was to walk the streets taking down posters that had just been put up the day before. The following true story unfolded at my last stop to remove one of the last posters. I hope you enjoy reading about my hilarious adventure with Susan Metcalf’s likely-to-be-famous grandson, Jasper!

There we were--two faces peering into the darkened front windows of Crazy Peak Boutique. For several minutes prior to his arrival, I had searched for the Christmas Benefit Concert poster my family dropped by the day before to be posted in the store-front window. Seeing none and realizing the business was closed early for the Thanksgiving holiday, I shuffled to the other side of the glass door for one last glance around. By the time I lifted my cupped hands and face away from the glass, Jasper appeared--face glued to the front glass door with hands cupped to either side in similar fashion. Speaking out loud, mostly to himself--a very important clue I missed that would have sheared off our soon-to-be adventure altogether--dear, sweet little Jasper said as forlorn as a lonely, lost puppy, “I don’t know where my Mom is,” voice cracking appropriately to suck me in immediately.

My ear perked up and my instinct kicked in, being a mother myself with a child the same age: “Was she supposed to be here to pick you up?”, I asked. Still speaking mostly to himself but now semi-engaged, he replied something to the effect that he didn’t remember. Now I could see him searching his mind for what he was supposed to do but didn’t remember to do. As he muttered more ideas to himself, I addressed him by name, saying that I was the mother of Aysa, one of his pre-school classmates and offered up that I was only here because I needed to take down a poster for an event that had been cancelled. Suddenly more alert and directly addressing me now that it was my time of need, Jasper jumped into action to save the day, compelled to jet around the block to the alley and let a semi-stranger at dusk into the store. Before I could object and stop him, he darted off on his new mission. I tentatively waited on the sidewalk, thinking this is probably not a good idea and desperately hoping no alarms would go off that he didn’t know how to disengage.

In short order, Jasper arrived at the front door to let me in like a confident little shopkeeper. Warm and toasty on the inside, we set to looking around for the rogue poster. When none was to be found at the surface, I tried politely to excuse myself and say that I very much appreciated his help but that it wasn’t really a big deal. I could come back when the store would be open to make sure the now phantom poster would not be taped up. However, he was quite insistent that we find it and commenced to digging through piles of paperwork lying on the counter. My attempts to stop him and back out of the door were in vain, so I gently but firmly said that it was okay to be done looking for today, but thank you. As I neared the door, the “problem” of his ride home still loomed - at least in my mind - and I reminded myself I had better not leave until an adult showed up somewhere.

Already on the stick, he dialed his Mom using the shop phone. No answer. It didn’t even ring, he reported. Looking like he didn’t know what to do next, I instinctively asked his last name so I could call Brooke myself in case he had dialed the wrong number. All I could remember in that moment was Metcalf. Now looking at me a little owlie, he replied that he didn’t know his last name. I immediately furrowed my brow in wonderment about this but then quickly deduced that he had likely been told not to give out his last name to people he didn’t know. Very smart. I then pivoted to suggesting that I call his grandmother, a woman I assured him I personally knew. Now his brow was furrowed at me. The rising suspicion of me became clear in his expression, so I made the executive decision to call the grade school in a phone-a-friend kind of way. Dear Cheryl was like a life vest with contacts and numbers galore, all at her fingertips. She took down my name and number, none of which I noticed Jasper taking note of --just firmly planted with a definitive stare like a short executive behind the front counter on his high stool.

While we waited for Cheryl to figure out where Jasper was supposed to be and who would be coming to pick him up, I tried to return to the leisurely small talk of our minutes-ago conversation. Still fidgety and appearing a bit concerned, I tried to put him at ease when I was thankfully and swiftly saved by her return call. One of his brothers would arrive to pick him up. Fantastic. Now, the wait. I failed to ask just how long this commute might take and before I knew it, Jasper had jumped off the stool behind the counter to make himself busy about the store. The short-lived shopkeeper role dissolved rather hastily into 8-year old boy mode and as such, I had no choice but to launch into parenting mode.

Jasper, do you think it is really a good idea to take those sharp scissors and stab at the rotten pumpkin outside the front door? Jasper, no really - let’s put those scissors down okay? Jasper, put the scissors down right now and go inside. I’m not sure we should be playing with those cuff rings, Jasper. Okay, you can try them on but please don’t lose one, okay? (Oh thank goodness, he has put them down). Uh-oh, no, no - don’t pull the ribbon and price tag off the embossed rolling pin and for heaven’s sake, don’t beat on anything with it (as I run around behind this little bull in a china shop, at the ready to catch anything before it is destroyed). I’m not sure we should handle those soaps, Jasper. Jasper.....

What is beginning to transpire into a mini “Night at the Museum,” abruptly ended when Jasper stopped, flatly stated how hot it now feels in here and that he doesn’t want to wait here any longer. “Well, how much longer do you think it will be until your brother arrives?” I say to break the fever.

“Oh, he works at the IGA and I usually just go there until he shows up.” Wait. What? This whole time there was a back-up plan? A slow dawning that I had seriously put a wrench in this kid’s mojo came too late. An all-encompassing awareness that I might be the only one overly concerned about Jasper’s after school plan descended too late as he grabbed his backpack and coat. But determined to see it all through, I headed out the back door with him, saying “Well, I will walk you to the IGA then.” Jasper didn’t skip a beat when he replied, “I really shouldn’t be walking anywhere with strangers.”

This lady on the sidewalk, turned mother of a former classmate, turned temporary parent and now once-again stranger ignored his concerns as we pressed forward through the alley to the grocery store. Now quite late for dinner with my own family, I could only laugh at myself as I turned him over to the familiar IGA clerk who texted his commuting brother. Off the hook, I ambled around the block to my car and onto home with a shake of my head and a huge grin on my face. Jasper, you may not have remembered me from preschool days and someday, when you are older and read this story with your own smile, you may not remember me yet. But, I sure had fun with you that night!

In the name of traditions, some of which have faded away, and in the name of small town hospitality and concern for each other, here are some of my favorite seasonal recipes to help celebrate the holidays with family, friends, neighbors and perhaps those we don’t know so well that we might take in, if only for the moment. The following recipes were traditions in our Norwegian family, never to be made as well as Mabel Anderson Grosfield made them but faithfully attempted during the holiday season nonetheless!

Flutekage

1 C dark syrup

1 C buttermilk

1 C cream

1 egg

2 tsp baking soda

5-6 C flour

Combine all wet ingredients well. Mix in flour and soda. Roll into about 20 rounds, approximately 10-12 inches in diameter. Bake on a griddle at 350 degrees. Mix equal parts butter and powdered sugar and spread between 2 cooled layers. Cut into wedges and serve.

Kumla (Norwegian Dumplings)

2 C of grated raw potatoes

2 C cooked, mashed potatoes

2 C of uncooked oatmeal

1 1/2 C white flour

1 1/2 tsp salt

1/4 C ham broth

Mix ingredients well and moisten with broth if needed. Form into balls by shaping with the hands, about the size of a tennis ball. Raw dumpling balls should be firm - not too wet, just enough to stick together. Use a large kettle to allow for plenty of room so dumplings don’t stick to each other. Add about 5 quarts of broth, preferably ham bone broth. Drop the dumplings into boiling broth, shaking the pot occasionally. Do not put a lid on the pot as the dumplings will fall apart. Add starch to keep dumplings from sticking to the bottom of the pot. Cook one hour, leaving uncovered. Serve with melted butter or your favorite pancake syrup and sliced ham. Serves 6-8.

Rommegrøt

1 quart cream

1 C flour

6 C milk (divided)

1/4 C rice

2 TBSP sugar

1/4 tsp salt

In a double broiler add 4 cups milk and the rice. Cook till done. Boil the cream 5 minutes, then add the flour. Beat until butter oozes out. Pour off the butter and keep it warm. Add rice and remainder of the milk to the cream mixture. Boil 5 minutes to a smooth consistency. Add sugar and salt - cooking until well blended. Pour into serving dishes and sprinkle with additional sugar and cinnamon. Top with the melted butter.