Cooking/Kitchens

Chuck Wagon Cook vs. Wagon Train Cook: Two Kitchens on Wheels

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Hello, Lynne Lanning here.

When we picture the American West of the late 1800s, two iconic images come to mind — the dusty cattle drive and the hopeful wagon train. Both depended on a cook to keep body and soul together across hundreds of miles of unforgiving terrain. But while these two cooks shared a canvas kitchen and an iron skillet, their worlds were surprisingly different.

The Chuck Wagon Cook: King of the Cattle Drive

On a cattle drive, the cook was royalty. Second in authority only to the trail boss, and he demanded respect. Feeding ten to twenty cowboys three times every day, for months on end, he was scheduler, medic, barber, and camp manager all rolled into one weathered, flour-dusted package.

His chuck wagon was his kingdom. The chuck box held everything from sourdough starter to liniment. Nobody touched it without permission. He rode ahead of the herd each day to select a campsite, set up, and have a hot meal waiting when the cowboys arrived, dusty, tired, and hungry enough to eat the wagon wheels.

His menu was simple but essential: beans, biscuits, salt pork, dried fruit, and coffee so strong it could lasso a steer on its own. Cowboys who complained about the food quickly learned that a hungry trail was far worse than a humble one. The cook’s word around camp was law, and even the trail boss thought twice before crossing him.

His sourdough starter was often his most prized possession, kept warm against his body on cold nights to keep it alive. Losing it wasn’t just an inconvenience. It was a tragedy.

Speaking of tragedy… A cattle drive was full of dangers, ranging from harsh and sudden weather conditions, wild animals, rustlers, and of course, the dreaded stampede! Join a cattle drive adventure with my book – The Miracle of Peace – Dangers ahead!

Mail Order Stonemason –  is a perfect picture of the range wars and how the homesteaders braced themselves against an intentional stampede, meant to wipe out their houses and even their lives!

But let me get back to the cooks! The cantankerous cook in Caleb’s Brides –  was seriously injured, but that didn’t stop him from being cantankerous! This is a fun, lighthearted read!

The Wagon Train Cook: Servant of the Family

The wagon train cook operated in an entirely different world. Instead of cowboys, he… or very often, she, cooked for families. Westward pioneers brought their own supplies, recipes, and opinions, making the cook’s job considerably more complicated.

Not all wagon trains hired a cook. Sometimes, families prepared their own meals, around individual fires at the end of each day. When a cook was employed, the role carried far less authority than its cattle drive counterpart.

The wagon train cook had to stretch supplies over journeys that could last four to six months, using whatever game, water, or trading posts the trail provided. Cooking was done over open fires or small camp stoves, often in wind, rain, or suffocating dust. With the needs of an entire community to consider, flexibility and patience were as important as any recipe.

The menu looked similar: beans, cornmeal, dried meat, biscuits; but the spirit was different. This was for comfort, with a taste of home dragged across the prairie in a wooden wagon.

Join the 4 to 6 month trek across the country, as A Journey for Keelie gives descriptive details of the blessings and dangers along the way –  (This is one of my all-time best sellers!)

Back to the cooks!

What They Shared

Although different, both cooks kept people fed, healthy, and hopeful in some of the harshest conditions imaginable. Both worked before sunrise and long after sunset, improvising, knowing that a hot meal at the end of a brutal day was worth more than almost anything else on the trail. They knew food wasn’t just fuel, it was what held people together when everything else threatened to tear them apart.

The Bottom Line

The chuck wagon cook was an authority figure, ruling with an iron skillet and an iron will. The wagon train cook was a nurturer, feeding families and the fragile hope of building a better life.

Two cooks. Two kitchens on wheels. One unforgettable era in American history.

It’s an honor to share a glimpse of my passion for the Old West! For this special occasion of being here with you, all 4 ebooks mentioned above are on SALE for 99c each this weekend.

Today, there will be three winners to celebrate my sweet, new book releasing May 15th – Garden Belles – Quince (on pre-order!) Winners will receive ecopies of my 2 published books in the Garden Belles series – Violet and Jasmine. What a sweet series it is! Prepare to fall in love!

Tell me about your experiences of cooking or eating outside. Campfire? Backyard grilling? What is your favorite campfire food?

If you were going to work as a cook on the trail, which would you choose: cattle drive or wagon train? Why?

Pot or Kettle?

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I was in my forties before I knew that people didn’t call  pots and pans “kettles”.  Embarrassingly, I was writing a book with a cook as a hero and my editor gently pointed out to me that kettles are used for tea. Sometimes they’re used for things like rendering fat during the butchering process or making soap. They are not used in everyday cooking. That was news to me because I grew up cooking in kettles.

One of my favorites was the mush kettle, which was a one quart aluminum “pot” (as some people call it) with a handle. We cooked oatmeal, cream of wheat and Malto-Meal in the mush kettle. It was all mush. According to my husband, it’s actually hot cereal. Right.

The mush kettle wasn’t the only specialized kettle we had. There was also the rice kettle and the stew kettle, both stainless steal and the perfect size for the stated purposes. Sometimes we used the stew kettle for other things, such as soaking beans, but it was always the stew kettle. Oddly we didn’t have cast iron kettles, even though we had cast iron everything. Cast iron kettles are, of course, called Dutch ovens.

Speaking of cast iron, we had a lot of perfectly seasoned frying pans. (Occasionally called skillets in my house, but not often.) We had enough of them that I think I took four when I moved out and no one seemed to notice. Yes, we used soap in our frying pans, but only after meat was cooked in them. If there was no meat, it was a wipe-clean situation. If we washed them in water, we put them on the stove to dry, hopefully remembering to stay nearby so as not to wonder about that nasty hot metal odor permeating house a few minutes later. If the pan was not red hot, there’d be a quick application of Crisco on a rag if mom or dad were in charge, and no Crisco if my brother or I were in charge . I still have my pans. They’re still perfectly seasoned and I use soap.  I haven’t turned one red hot by forgetting it in the drying process in a long time, and have finally reached the level of maturity where I do wipe them with Crisco after washing.

Long story short, I occasionally use soap in my 100-year old cast iron and I still cook in kettles. Do you?

Churning Butter and a Give Away

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When I was eight years-old we started getting our milk directly from the local dairy. After the glass gallon jars sat in the fridge overnight, there was a good two inches of cream at the top. I’m sorry to say that I thought cream was gross. I’d scoop it off when mom wasn’t looking, instead of shaking it up as directed, so that the “good” milk didn’t get contaminated with butter fats. Silly child. But the one good thing about all that cream was that sometimes my dad would scoop into a quart jar and make butter by simply shaking the jar. He had pretty good stamina because I remember him shaking for a long time. Then with a little salt, you had a very decent glob of butter. I loved butter.

All this came back to me the other day when I was whipping cream for a frosting and overwhipped it and came up with, you guessed it, whipped butter. I still put it on the cake, but it was a little greasier than it should have been. My husband is not particular, thank goodness.

Butter churning has been around for thousands of years. The earliest butter churns date back around 6,500 years to Israel. They were ceramic vessels that mimicked animal skins. Why? Because that was how nomadic cultures churned butter and made kefir. They put the cream in a vessel made of animal skin and shook it, very much like the way my dad would shake his quart jar, or even easier, simply tie it to a pack animal. The butter would churn as the animal walked. The ceramic churns were made to lay on their sides and rocked back and forth, sometimes with the aid of a rope.

The plunge churn was used in early America and is the churn I think of most often. It consists of a wooden contain into which the cream is poured, a flat lid with a hole and a plunger, which is worked up and down until butter forms. After the butter forms, the buttermilk (yes, that’s where it came from) is poured off and the butter is placed in a shallow trough called a butter worker. A fluted roller was rolled over the butter, water was added, then drained off. This process continued until all the buttermilk was removed from the butter.

 

The paddle churn is what my dad should have had. It’s a container, sometimes glass, that has a lid and a handle that turns a churn, which creates the butter.

The barrel churn appeared in 18th century Europe and works on the same principle as the paddle churn only on a larger scale.

There were of course many variations on these themes, including one in which the churn was attached to a rocking chair and the churner rocked their way to butter.  Someone else came up with a treadmill upon which a sheep or dog would walk to turn the crank and churn the butter. One of the more realistic designs involved a foot treadle like those on old fashioned sewing machines. That would have been my go-to.

Now let’s get silly. For a chance at a $10 Amazon gift card, what is the most creative way you can think of  to churn milk into butter?

A Short Story of Victorian Mourning Cookies

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“Imagine a knock at the door, and when you answer, the caller hands you a package. It contains a package. It contains a wrapped packet of biscuits tied with a black ribbon. Instantly, you know there’s been a death, and this is your invitation to the funeral.”

While searching for cookies popular in the mid-to-late 19th century, for my September release, Caroline’s Challenge (Westward Home and Hearts), a link to funeral cookies popped up. Having never heard of this concept, my interest was piqued for two reasons. First, the topic sounded so unusual that I wondered if any readers of Petticoats & Pistols might have knowledge of it, and second, maybe I could use it for a scene in the book! And while it might appear a bit creepy at first, I came to understand that it was a way the family and mourners honored the deceased.

Funeral biscuits were part of the ritual of a funeral in the mid-to-late 19th century in the United Kingdom and America. These were not made at home, but by a confectioner, or baker, as this was considered a sign of status. They varied in size, shape, and consistency, but carried a message of mourning, honor, and remembrance. Between two and six biscuits were bundled in wax paper, sealed with black wax, and tied with black ribbon. Sometimes, this wrapping bore a design with the usual hearts, cupids, and (gasp!) skulls. At other times, the wrapper was the death notice of the deceased, a poem, or a Bible verse.

At the height of the Victorian Age — around the same time as the U.S. Civil War — the Victorian poetry on funeral biscuit wrappings was as maudlin and overwrought as the Victorian garden cemeteries to which the dead were dispatched.

While surviving recipes are rare, those that do exist suggest a sweet similar to shortbread or a molasses cookie. The shortbread style was often pressed into a wooden mold that bore a design such as an hourglass, heart, cross, or cupid.

The ingredients chosen for these biscuits were laden with symbolism. Anise, known for its soothing properties, was often included for its calming effect on the mourners. Caraway seeds, with their slightly bitter taste, symbolized the bitterness of loss. And a touch of rosewater added a delicate floral note, evoking memories of the departed.

     

Funeral biscuits were common among British and German Americans from Virginia to Pennsylvania, and some traditions even included the practice of consuming them with wine or spirits.

Sometimes, the biscuits were delivered to mourners in advance, acting as a death announcement and invitation to the funeral, similar to the opening quote above. Some were given out when people went to the house to pay their respects. One account from Montgomery County near Philadelphia stated that mourners going from the church to the graveyard would first stop by a young woman holding a tray of biscuits, and then again at a young man inviting them to sip on spirits, ending up with a mouthful of each. Other biscuits were handed out at the viewing, to be opened and eaten at home, with the printed wrapper as a memento, or mailed to those who couldn’t attend the funeral.

Prior to the oh-so-hygienic funeral homes of today, family members awaited burial in the home–in the parlor, if the house had such a room. (Author’s Note: My late mother-in-law owned a quintessential two-story Victorian house on Cape Cod with a wrap-around porch, a borning room upstairs, and a dying room downstairs, just inside the front door.)

In the end, Victorian Mourning Biscuits remind us that food has always played a role beyond nourishment. It has the power to connect us with our past, express our emotions, and provide comfort in times of sorrow. So, next time you enjoy a biscuit, take a moment to appreciate the rich history and heartfelt sentiments that can be woven into every bite.

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For a chance to win a $10 Amazon gift card, comment on the question below.

Tell us a fun or unusual fact you discovered while browsing the internet.

 

Here’s a sneak peek of my upcoming release, Caroline’s Challenge (Westward Home and Hearts Book #65)

“Next stop, Pine Ridge. Twenty minutes lay over only,” the conductor bellowed as he passed through the car.

Soon, the train began to slow, the brakes screeching in protest as Pine Ridge came into view. It was larger than Caroline had expected, a proper town rather than the cluster of rough buildings she’d imagined. A church steeple rose above the pines, and a main street lined with wooden buildings stretched to meet the horizon. In the distance, the mountains loomed with their peaks still capped with snow.

Caroline smoothed her hands down the front of her dress and collected her belongings with trembling hands as the comfortable routine of the journey came to an end and reality awaited her on the platform ahead. Jane Trahern had disembarked in North Platte, Nebraska, leaving her to face the final moment alone.

“Watch your step, ma’am,” the conductor advised, providing a wooden block for passengers to make the transition from the train to the platform. “I had the porter put your trunk near the ticket office. Enjoy your stay in Pine Ridge.”

The station was considerably smaller than Boston’s, but no less busy. Miners, cowboys, and farmers crowded the platform, calling out greetings and searching for familiar faces. Caroline scanned the crowd anxiously, looking for the face that matched the daguerreotype she held in her reticule. But as the minutes ticked by and the crowd dispersed, she saw no sign of James Murdock.

Ignoring the niggling panic running down her spine and the unexpected afternoon heat, Caroline made her way to the ticket office. The man behind the counter never looked up as his pencil scratched across the paper in front of him. Finally, she cleared her throat.

“Excuse me, sir. I’m looking for James Murdock. He was supposed to meet me here.”

The clerk stopped his scribbling long enough to look up. His expression shifted from annoyance to something uncomfortably close to pity. “Murdock? The mercantile owner?”

“Yes, we’ve been corresponding for some months regarding a matrimonial arrangement. ”Heat burned in her cheeks at the admission to a complete stranger.

The man cleared his throat, suddenly returning with great interest to his ledger. “Miss, perhaps you should speak with Sheriff Landers in the morning. I believe there’s been a situation with Mr. Murdock.”

Something in his tone made Caroline’s stomach lurch. As the other passengers found their parties and left, she remained on the platform watching her dream of a new life and family fade into nothingness. The weight of her decision to seek out Millie Crenshaw, to accept James Murdock’s proposal, and travel to Pine Creek pressed down on her shoulders like a millstone.

Her fingers found her cross, gripping it as if it were a lifeline, her lips moving in silent prayer. Though she had coins in her reticule, it certainly wasn’t enough for a return ticket, nor did she have any connections in Colorado.

She stepped off the platform onto the street, shading her eyes with one hand against the sun and dust motes swirling in the air. The main street of Pine Creek stretched out before her, a mixture of wooden boardwalks and false-fronted buildings that reached toward the wide Colorado sky. Women in practical dresses hurried about their errands while cowboys lounged outside the saloon, their spurs catching the late afternoon sun. Going up on her toes, she stretched her neck toward the horizon as if the movement might produce her intended groom.

As the sun began its descent, painting the sky in brilliant hues of purple and gold, Caroline returned to stand alone on the platform. She breathed deeply of the pine-scented air, straightened her spine as she had done so many times at St. Girard’s when facing challenging tasks. Whatever came next, she would confront it with courage and faith.

Little did she know that the Lord’s plan for her life was about to change in ways she could never have imagined.

 

 

 

Cowgirls in the Kitchen – Jo-Ann Roberts

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I descend from a family of excellent Italian cooks and bakers, and in the case of my grandparents, specifically my maternal grandfather, Luigi D’Ambrosi, prolific gardeners.

After he married my grandmother, Olivetta, a widow with four children, they set up housekeeping on Willow Street in Rensselaer, NY, just over the Hudson River from Albany. To pay the bills for their growing family (they added five more children!), he took a job at Huyuck Paper Mill. But his true passion was his garden.

The four-bedroom house was nestled into the side of a hill. It was on that hill where my grandfather worked his magic. In those dozens or more raised beds, he grew tomatoes, peppers, Italian pole beans (planted from seeds he carried from Italy), lettuce, and zucchini. Sprawling vines of watermelons, cucumbers, and cantalopes spilled down the other side of the hill, past rows of corn.

But further up on that hill, wild blueberries grew on low bushes…bushes just right for his grandchildren to pick a bucket or two for supper or for baking a Blueberry Tea Cake.

I remember this cake having blueberries bursting in every bite. But for me, the crumb topping just added that sweetness that every kid enjoyed licking off their fingers.

Since those carefree summer days, four generations of our family have enjoyed baking and eating this cake.  And the best part is that anyone can pretty much whip up this cake on a moment’s notice, as all of the ingredients (besides the berries) are pantry staples and it takes so little time to assemble. Buon Apetito!

 

Blueberry Tea Cake

Yields 9-12 servings

Ingredients:

  • 2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 2 teaspoons baking powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened
  • 3/4 cup sugar
  • 1 large egg
  • 1/2 cup milk
  • 1 3/4 cups fresh or frozen blueberries

For the crumb topping:

  • 1/4 cup all-purpose flour
  • 1/2 cup brown sugar
  • 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
  • Pinch of salt
  • 1/4 cup (1/2 stick) cold unsalted butter, cut into bits

Directions:

  1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Lightly oil an 8×8 baking dish or coat with nonstick spray.
  2. To make the crumb topping, combine the flour, brown sugar, cinnamon and salt in a medium bowl.
  3. Add the cold butter and toss to coat, using your fingers to work the butter into the dry ingredients until it resembles coarse crumbs; set aside.
  4. In a large bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder and salt.
  5. In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat butter and sugar on medium-high until light and fluffy, about 2-3 minutes.
  6. Beat in egg and milk until well combined.
  7. Gradually add flour mixture to the sugar mixture at low speed, beating just until incorporated.
  8. Gently fold in the blueberries.
  9. Spread the batter into the prepared baking dish.
  10. Sprinkle the crumb topping evenly over the batter.
  11. Place into oven and bake for 35-40 minutes, or until golden brown.
  12. Remove from oven and cool on a wire rack.

 

Looking for Love in Christmassy Places…

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We’re pleased to welcome special guest author, Valerie Comer, back to the junction!

Howdy Ladies of the Cowgirl Persuasion!

My name’s Eli. Eli Thornton. I’m not much of a cowboy for all I grew up on the Flying Horseshoe Ranch during the years my dad was foreman. I liked horses fine, don’t get me wrong, but engines have always been my thing. Still are.

Watching the boss’s headstrong daughter from afar was also my thing back then. Not in a creepy way, of course. I was a few years older, same age as her brother, my best friend, but Meg Carmichael always fascinated me.

Wow, she was something, and she knew it. All rebellion and sass. She never noticed me. I might as well have been one more tree in the forest. Just as well, really, all things considered.

Then came the fateful night when my dad’s carelessness caused a horrendous accident that nearly took Meg’s father’s life and ultimately cost him the use of his legs. Dad couldn’t face it — he packed Mom and me up and we ran. He should’ve known the Carmichaels would forgive him, but he couldn’t live with his guilt.

But Dad’s gone now, and I’ve returned to the Flying Horseshoe to make amends on his behalf, if such a thing were even possible. They welcomed me with open arms like the Christ-followers they are and offered me a job as the ranch mechanic.

Pretty safe, all things considered. Last I knew, Meg lived far away. She’d been whooping it up until her social media went dark about a year ago. Yeah, I’d been keeping an eye. I couldn’t help myself.

But her parents could not only forgive my father and me, but their Prodigal Daughter. Meg had returned, baby in tow, and found forgiveness and love in Jesus and her family.

How could I stay away when the new, improved Meg finally saw me for myself?

 

Blue sky, red barn, snow on ground and a cowboy tipping his cowboy hat. Text "The Cowboy's Forever Crush by Valerie Comer"

In this story, you’ll find:

  • A high school crush
  • A prodigal daughter
  • His best friend’s sister
  • A single mom
  • Cinnamon shortbread cookies
  • Little Town of Bethlehem
  • Aurora Borealis
  • Redemption and second chances
  • A faith-filled romance

Want to read The Cowboy’s Forever Crush? This complete romance novella is free for subscribers to Valerie Comer’s newsletter — that’s me!

Red barn with blue sky and snowy ground. Kindle with cover of The Cowboy’s Forever Crush by Valerie Comer

Some folks subscribe to a newsletter, download their freebie, then unsubscribe immediately. There’s no law against that! But why not hang around for a month or two and see if my emails might be something you enjoy? Give me a chance to prove I can keep on entertaining you!

FREE!!! Get your copy of The Cowboy’s Forever Crush here! 

Tell me, what keeps you subscribed to an author’s emails? What makes you hit the unsubscribe button faster than you can blink? Let’s talk!

***

Valerie shared her recipe for Cinnamon Shortbread! Yum!

About Valerie Comer ~

Author photo of Valerie Comer

Valerie Comer is a USA Today bestselling author and a two-time Word Award winner. She writes engaging characters, strong communities, and deep faith into her green clean romances.

Valerie’s life on a small farm in western Canada provides the seed for stories of contemporary Christian romance. Like many of her characters, Valerie grows much of her own food and is active in the local foods movement as well as her church. She only hopes her imaginary friends enjoy their happily-ever-afters as much as she does hers, shared with her husband, adult kids, and adorable grandkids.

Apron Fun and Giveaway Game

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Morning everyone,

I thought it might be fun today to combine a little bit of history on aprons with a game and a giveaway. Now, I know aprons have been featured before on Petticoats and Pistols, but I’m going to take a different approach.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When we think aprons, most of us picture Mom or Grandma in the kitchen wearing a traditional bib or half apron. Maybe an image of Dad grilling in the back yard or kids making crafts come to mind. People in restaurants and bakeries often wear aprons, everyone from the head chef to the servers to the dishwashers. It’s part of the uniform and often promotes the establishment’s brand.

Interestingly, aprons have been around for at least the last seven hundred years, if not longer. Their primary function was to keep clothes clean as an apron is much easier to wash than an entire outfit. This can in handy during the pre automatic washer and dryer days. Over the centuries, aprons progressed, becoming a useful tool that included pockets and fasteners to making a fashion statement — those with money had aprons constructed of luxury material while those without used flour sacks or even a hand towel tied at the waist. And just in case you were wondering, the word apron came from the French medieval word “naperon”, which was a small tablecloth placed over a larger one to protect it from spills.

 

You probably know aprons aren’t used solely by people in the kitchen or those working in the food preparation/serving industry, though that’s likely our first thought. My late mother, who painted and made pottery, used to wear an artist’s apron (sometimes called a smock). I can still see her sitting at an easel, paint brushes sticking out of her apron pockets. Many of the blacksmiths we’ve used wore a farrier’s apron when they came to shoe our horses. And who hasn’t been to the grocery store and seen the butcher behind the counter wearing an apron or sometimes a white jacket?

Well, here’s where the fun and giveaway come in. Who else wears an apron and why? I can think of a bunch more, but I want you to submit your answers in the comments. And it’s fine if there are duplicate answers. There are no hard and fast rules to this game. The winner will get this awesome and adorable cowboy apron – to be used however you want – two backlist print books and some author goodies.

Come on, play along. I’ll randomly draw a winner from everyone who comments and announce the winner tomorrow. In the meantime, I’ll break out my writer’s apron and get back to writing.

Okay, that last part was a joke. I don’t have a writer’s apron. But it’s kind of a cool idea. Maybe I could…….

 

Good Morning, everyone. There are so many comments, and I love all of them, that I’m not going to respond individually. Know that I’m reading all of them and writing down names. Thanks for playing along, and let’s keep the fun going!

Chocolate Chip Cookie Day

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Today is National Chocolate Chip Day!

It made me think of how good our house smelled when I’d walk in the door after school and Mom would have a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies. They were my favorites.

I tried and failed so many times over the years to recreate her cookies and couldn’t.

Mom was never good about writing down recipes or sharing them, so I finally gave up.

After she passed away, I happened to find her recipe, tried it, and the cookies were just like the ones she used to make.  With every bite of chocolate-imbued nostalgia, they took me back to those days when I’d come home and she’d ask about my day while I sat at the counter and had a glass of milk with a cookie or two.

If you need a good chocolate chip cookie recipe, here’s the one from my mama.

Mom’s Chocolate Chip Cookies

Ingredients: 

1 cup salted butter, softened

1 cup brown sugar, packed

1/4 cup granulated sugar

1 egg

1 teaspoon vanilla

1 teaspoon baking soda

pinch of salt

2 1/2 cups flour

2 cups semi-sweet chocolate chips

Directions:

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Cream butter and sugars. Add egg and combine. Add vanilla. Stir baking soda and salt into flour then add a little at a time to dough. Stir in chocolate chips.

Use a cookie scoop, or a tablespoon to drop dough on parchment lined baking sheet.

Bake for 10 minutes until cookie are just set and barely starting to brown. Remove from oven and cool for a minute before transferring to a wire rack to cool.

Yield: 36 cookies

What is your favorite way to enjoy chocolate chips?

If you aren’t a chocolate fan, what is your favorite cookie?

Post your comment for a chance to win a set of recipe cards!

 

The Delights of Cottagecore

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Light gray background with sprays of purple flowers. Text "The Delights of Cottagecore. Petticoats & Pistols"

As usual, I’m late to the party when it comes to trends. Are you familiar with the term Cottagecore?

According to “What is Cottagecore? A Simple Guide” by Kristin Hohenadel via The Spruce, “Cottagecore is a social media hashtag and internet-based lifestyle trend inspired by a quaint vision of country life. Based on an idealized back-to-nature concept of simpler times, its romanticized aesthetics center on natural materials, wholesome pastimes, handmade crafts, homemade baked goods, gardening, and other hallmarks of bucolic domesticity.”

I stumbled across it last year while scrolling through Instagram Reels. Every so often, I’d see a video of a cute country kitchen. There would be a lit candle on a butcher block counter. Cozy instrumental music would be playing. A loaf of homemade bread might be on the counter along with a bouquet of wildflowers.

Watching a Cottagecore video provided the same relaxation as sipping a hot cup of tea. I was hooked.

 

Photo by Forté Foundry on Unsplash

I need more beauty in my life. And if they center on homemaking, all the better. I’ve always enjoyed simple pleasures like baking, crafts, lighting candles, and reading.

The Delights of Cottagecore (in no particular order)

  • Vintage linens and curtains
  • A kitchen that reminds you of visiting your grandma
  • Candles with flames dancing
  • Mellow, happy instrumental music
  • A teapot steaming on a stove
  • Fresh bread on the counter
  • A jar of homemade jam next to it
  • Birds singing outside
  • Handpicked flowers in a rustic vase or mason jar
  • A wooden table that looks like it’s been used for generations
  • Crafts! Sewing, knitting, flower arranging, baking…
  • Cozy, cozy, cozy

I could go on and on. I’m enamored. I hope you are, too!

Photo by Vicky Sim on Unsplash

Below is a link to a video with a Cottagecore playlist if you’d like to get in the mood.

A Cottagecore Playlist to Feel Like You’re in Nature

Have you heard of Cottagecore? What about it appeals to you the most?

Enjoy your day!

Pecans – Fun Facts & Trivia

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Hello everyone, Winnie Griggs here. November is pecan season here in NW Louisiana. There are quite a few pecan trees in hubby’s pastures and even one in my own backyard and they’ve all been carpeting the ground with their fruit the past few weeks. And since I’ve got pecans on my mind lately I thought I’d share some facts and trivia I discovered

HISTORY

  • Pecans are the only nut tree species that originated in America.
  • Native American tribes have relied on pecans as a valuable food source for thousands of years. They harvested pecans from the wild and incorporated them into their diets, using the nuts fresh from the tree and also storing them for later use. Pecans served as a crucial source of nutrition, especially during the lean winter months. The name “pecan” is actually a Native American word that comes from the Algonquin word “paccan” that was used to describe “all nuts requiring a stone to crack.”
  • The introduction of pecans to European settlers was a significant milestone in pecan history. Early European explorers and colonists encountered pecans in the New World, and they were quick to recognize their value. Pecans were collected, cultivated, and integrated into European cuisine. This marked the beginning of the pecan’s journey from a regional Native American staple to a broader American and international audience.
  • During the American Civil War, pecans played a vital role in providing sustenance to both soldiers and civilians on both sides. Pecans were a readily available food source in the South, and their nutritional value made them a valuable addition to rations. Pecan trees dotted the landscape, providing a reliable and accessible food source when other supplies were scarce.

SOME  TRIVIA

  • Pecan trees come in a wide range of varieties, In fact there are over 1,000 varieties but just a few of them make up the majority of the production in the US and each has its own unique characteristics. Here are three of the more popular varieties
      • The Stuart pecan is one of the most common varieties. It’s known for its robust flavor and large-sized nuts. These pecans are popular for their rich, buttery taste and versatility in various recipes. They also do well farther north than most other pecan varieties.
      • The Desirable pecan lives up to its name, offering a desirable taste. Another thing that sets it apart is its relatively easy-to-crack shells, which can be a time-saver for home bakers and commercial producers alike.
      • The Elliot pecan is appreciated for its consistent quality and reliable production, making it a favorite choice among pecan growers. Its moderate size and thin shell also make it a popular pick.
  • Pecans thrive in primarily the Southeast and South Central states. Georgia is often called the “Pecan State” and leads the nation in pecan production, contributing approximately 100 million pounds to the annual harvest. Texas is another major pecan producer as are New Mexico, Oklahoma, and Arizona (I was surprised that I didn’t see Louisiana and Mississippi in that list).
  • In Native American culture, pecan trees are seen as symbols of strength, endurance, and wisdom, representing the connection between humans and nature.
  • The pecan pie is a quintessential American dessert and is believed to have originated in the southern United States. One theory is that it was created by the French people who had settled in New Orleans. The classic pecan pie consists of a sweet, gooey filling made from pecans, sugar, butter, and often corn syrup, all nestled in a flaky pie crust.
  • Pecan pralines are another true Southern delight. Pecan pralines are a confectionery masterpiece that combine the richness of pecans with a sweet, buttery, and creamy caramelized sugar mixture. The result is a texture that’s simultaneously smooth and crunchy, with the unmistakable taste of pecans running through every bite.
  • Thomas Jefferson had pecan trees imported from Louisiana for his Monticello orchards.
  • During World War II, pecans played a surprising role in the war effort. Pecan oil, extracted from pecans, was used in the production of explosives and lubricants. The nut’s high oil content made it a valuable resource for the military.
  • Pecan shells have also been utilized in unusual ways. During WW II roasted pecan shells were often used as a substitute for coffee. And they have more recently been utilized as a base material for mulch and even as a natural abrasive in industrial cleaning products.
  • Georgia pecan wood was selected by the Atlanta Committee to make the handles of the torches for the 1996 Olympic Games. The torches were carried in the 15,000-mile U.S.A. relay and in the lighting of the Olympic flame in Atlanta on July 19, 1996.

STATISTICS

  • In 2022 there were approximately 407,000 acres of bearing pecan trees.
  • The U.S. produces about 80 percent of the world’s pecan crop.
  • It takes around 12 years for pecan trees to mature enough to begin producing pecans.
  • Pecan trees can live for several centuries, and some of the oldest known pecan trees in the U.S. are estimated to be well over 200 years old.
  • Pecans are one of the largest fruit-bearing trees. The largest pecan tree on record had a canopy that spanned over 200 feet.
  • Pecans are not only tasty but also incredibly nutritious. A one-ounce serving provides around 196 calories, 2.6 grams of protein, 20.3 grams of healthy fats, and a good dose of dietary fiber. They are also an excellent source of vitamin E, manganese, and other essential nutrients. These nutrients make pecans a nutritious snack or ingredient for various dishes.
  • And average Pecan pie uses about 78 pecans.
  • The “Oldest Continuous Pecan Festival” in the U.S. is the Sorghum Festival and Pecan Festival in the small town of Blairsville, Georgia, which has been celebrating pecans for over 50 years.

 

So there you have it, my curated list of everything you always wanted to know about pecans. Did any of this surprise you? Do you have a favorite recipe that includes pecans? Do you even like pecans?  Leave a comment to be entered into a drawing for one of my books.