Cooking in the West

A fear that almost every ranch mother has felt is when she discovers her child is "missing." Tami Jo Arvik Blake was a former editor of the Western Ag Reporter who recently had that harrowing experience that turned out to have a happy ending.

Her story reminded me of when my grandson Alex was four and being "watched" by his grandfather and his uncle. They left him napping after lunch while they went out to quickly tag a few calves. No one is sure how long that took, but when they returned he was nowhere to be found. In a panic, they called his mother at work. She tore out of work at 100 plus miles per hour, which resulted in being pulled over by the sheriff. He didn't ticket her, but he followed her home and launched a search and rescue effort. The creek was high, so a dog and a plane and an army of volunteers were brought into the search quickly. Two and a half hours went by painfully slow before the neighbor's sheepherder communicated through mostly sign language that he had seen a "bambino" down in the coulee. With darkness approaching he was found over a mile up a steep brushy hill from home, but he was accompanied by our faithful dogs. In fact, the only thing that had given us hope was that we had realized the dogs were gone and had not come back. Needless to say, it was quite a while before Grandpa and Uncle Bret drew babysitting duty again.

Tami Jo and her husband Beau manage the PV Ranch at Hysham, and they have four children. Muggins is their youngest. The following is her story:

Please pray for Muggins's mama. I lost him one day this week for an extended period of time. When I realized he wasn't in the yard, like I thought he was, I somewhat casually searched the garden, the camper, and the bum calf pen. No Muggins. I recruited his siblings for the search and we combed the barnyard and the bunkhouse. The back room of the barn where a new batch of kittens invites kids to stay and play a spell. Still nothing.

With rising concern I checked to see if he was maybe riding his bike in the shop. Nope. Maybe he was down at the shipping pens watching the welder at work? Or the manure haulers as they maneuvered their trucks and loaders? No. We checked the goat shed. Nothing.

I sent Big Sister No. 1 into the horse pasture, up the coulee to the spring cistern. I sent Big Sister No. 2 towards the pond above the arena. I was walking the bank of the irrigation ditch calling his name when I heard a faint "Yes, Mama?" His 6-year-old voice was hesitating slightly, like it had maybe just occurred to him that he might be in big trouble. "Stay right where you are!" I screamed back, realizing he was standing right smack dab in our yard.

I vaulted over the fences between us and, with shaking hands and voice, called off the search. I ushered this little boy of ours into the house by the ear. I spotted a bungee cord lying on the kitchen floor and used it to secure him to a kitchen chair. I looked him right in his big, hazel, lash-fringed eyeballs.

Then I realized how funny it was that I had bungeed a little boy to a chair. Also, how thankful I was that he was alive and well. So I released him and I hugged him tight. (This is what happens when you have four kids- by the time you get to the last one, you've lost the will to discipline because you've been worn down like the Velveteen Rabbit and all that's left of you is the gentlest, softest, tiredest version.)

Anyhow, turns out he had been playing inside a cattle pot, down where we park the semis... Which is not that close to our yard unless you believe that the world is your playground. He hadn't realized we were looking for him, as he no doubt was completely immersed in a make-believe world where he loaded as many imaginary cattle as would fit on that ol' truck. When he was satisfied that he was finished with his work, he had meandered home by his own free will, only to quickly discover that the rest of us were gone looking for him and that the situation had escalated to almost desperate.

That night at bedtime a look of true remorse crossed his face for an instant when I kissed him good night. "I'm sorry I scared you today, Mama," he said. And of course, sucker that I am these days, right then and there I completely forgave him. But I didn't forget- because I knew this would make a great story!

Tami Jo did not send any recipes, but I just happen to have some fabulous holiday recipes she has shared over the years. Thanks, Tami Jo for sharing your story and your recipes! Tami Jo said since her husband Beau is from the Deep South, no holiday is worth celebrating without ham nor is any ham dinner complete without pineapple casserole. She noted that her niece always makes the pie for Christmas as it is a family recipe. She takes the dip to the All Cousins Bash every year on Christmas Eve.

Pineapple Casserole

2 lg. cans pineapple tidbits

5 T. flour

3/4 C. sugar

1 sleeve of Ritz crumbs

1-1/2 C. shredded cheese

1/2 C. margarine or butter, melted

Pour pineapple with juice into greased casserole dish. Combine flour and sugar; sprinkle over pineapple. Cover with cheese, then crumbs, then butter. Bake at 350 uncovered for 45 minutes.

Sour Cream Raisin Pie

2 C. raisins

2 C. water

1 C. brown sugar

2 T. flour (heaping)

1 C. sour cream

1/4 t. cinnamon

4 egg yolks

1/4 C. butter

pinch salt

Boil raisins in water. Set aside until cool. Then mix remaining ingredients in and cook until thick over medium heat. Pour into a pre-baked pie shell. Bake at 350 degrees for 8 to 10 minutes. Meanwhile use egg whites to make meringue, adding 5 T. sugar. Put on pie. Return to oven until peaks are brown.

Sausage Dip

1 lb. mild bulk sausage

1 can Rotel

8 oz. cream cheese, softened

Brown and drain the sausage. Return to the skillet and add the cream cheese over low heat. Mix in the Rotel and warm until the cheese is melted. Serve with chips.