Cooking in the West

When our son Bret bought into our ranching operation when he came back to the ranch after college, I no longer had to be the unpaid hired hand man in this operation. I was demoted to Assistant Nobody, which is a great title. I love my life of part-time cowgirl and part-time school teacher/dishwasher/journalist. However, occasionally I come to the conclusion that I need to get a full-time job. The problem with a part-time job is that the ranch manager/CEO/husband person feels that since my hours are somewhat flexible, I can be on call as needed in the operation, which is usually only when Bret is unavailable.

Such was the case one morning while I was leisurely thinking about getting ready to go to work. The CEO burst through the back door, which is always an ominous sound, and said, “That stupid fall calf is still in the wrong pasture. Do you have a minute to come help me get him back in?”

I knew from years of experience that this was a trick question on two levels. First of all, “a minute” might mean three hours, and secondly it was not a question. It meant, “Shake a leg, Woman, the truck is running, and at these diesel prices we can’t afford to let it idle.”

It was spitting sideways sleet as we headed out the door. The calf that had been an “oops” born in November was born in the wild, so he believed he was wild. For some reason known only to wild bovines, he had left his inept heifer mother, crawled through the fence, crossed the bridge, jumped the cattle guard, and was now running with the wrong bunch of cows. Remi had fed the cows right next to the gate into the pasture he belonged in, and he explained that the plan was that he would rope him, and we would drag him through the gate and turn him back in with his mother. Although he didn’t ask if I had any questions, I felt obligated to ask, “Uh, doesn’t he look kind of big? I think we might need a horse.”

“Oh, that’s mostly hair,” he replied as he stepped out of the truck door with his rope.

The dog and I watched as he crouched low behind the cows until he could get a clear shot at the calf. I said to Della, “This won’t work. We’ll be back in the house in a few minutes.” To my amazement, the first loop settled over the calf’s head like a scene out of World Champion Haven Meged’s dreams. However, the slack got tangled somewhere between his tattered coverall bottoms and his chore gloves, and the big calf ran through the loop. I settled deeper into the truck seat as he rebuilt his loop, because I knew the calf would be smarter this time. In fact, I could almost smell the coffee waiting for me back at the house. The second sneak and loop was even prettier than the first, and he jerked the slack with a front leg in it so the calf wouldn’t choke down. As he skidded across the frozen ground behind the calf, he was making hand gestures that indicated I should open the gate. Of course, I couldn’t get the gate open, because it was a woven wire man gate designed so that only a team of horses or a man can open it.

I grabbed onto the rope thinking that Remi would now be free to open the gate. The only problem with this phase of the plan was that the calf and I were quickly circling farther from the gate. I started to look for something to dally to, but there really wasn’t time anyway. Now, I am known for my deceptive speed--I am a lot slower than I look, but this calf was forcing my legs to run at a much higher RPM than they were designed for. Both arms felt dislocated, and I was completely winded as we made our third pass near the gate and Remi came to my rescue. We finally managed to drag the fuzzy little devil through the gate.

Now ALL we had to do was drag him through a jungle of cottonwood deadfall down into the creek bed, across the creek, and turn him loose with his mother. All of the commotion had caught her attention, and she began to bawl for him from across the creek. We drug him to the brink of a 15 foot embankment. Then we all stopped to gasp for air, which is when we came up with the brilliant plan to turn him loose now that he had surely spotted his bawling mother. The only problem with this plan was a lack of oxygen to our brains, because of course as soon as he was free, he wheeled and flew back through the open gate.

I voted that it was now half past time for me to go to work, so we should try this later today with a horse, but the way Remi was coiling the rope signaled that was not going to happen. The odds were against catching a twice educated calf between cow behinds while bundled up in coveralls, but either the roping gods were benevolent that day or he is a lot better roper than I realized, because the third loop settled perfectly also. This time, we didn’t turn the calf loose until we had pushed/dragged him down the steep bank, soaked ourselves completely “encouraging” him to cross the creek, and human winched him to a reluctant reunion with his mother who had helpfully taken off in terror for the opposite end of the pasture.

As we old timers hobbled back to the truck, I couldn’t resist saying, “It’s a good thing he was mostly hair, or I might have been more than two hours late for work today!”

I have a few favorite winter recipes to share this week!

Cream Cheese Cherry Pie

1 can cherry 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 4 to 5 hours. Pour pie filling over top. Refrigerate.

Chicken Tortilla Casserole

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 in bottom. Add layers of chicken, grated cheese, onion, and half of 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.

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. Served with whipped cream.