Our family moved to Germany in September, so we have once again found ourselves adjusting to cooking what we can find in a new country.
It feels as though I had just gotten used to the grocery stores in Scotland, but now I am wandering stores where all the packaging is in another language.
I was super excited to find large white beans, because I am a big fan of hearty bean soups. Black Eyed Peas and Petit Jean Ham used to be a regular at our house, as well as French Lentil Soup. But lately we are enjoying a tomato and spinach broth with these butter beans.
I love a good vegetarian dish that is hearty enough to be dinner for a house full of boys!
Enjoy!
Alison Chino is a born and bred Arkansan who recently moved to Germany from Scotland, where she is learning to walk everywhere and to live with tiny appliances. She loves hiking with her husband and kids on the weekends. She blogs at the Chino House and she’s pretty much obsessed with Instagram.
Today we are linking up our favorite ways to celebrate the new year. Share your party foods and ideas. Do you have traditions you and your family always bring out when a new year rolls around? Goals? Resolutions? Intentions? Share those posts. As always, we are looking forward to what you have to say.
Merry Christmas from the ARWB Team!
Fa La La La La, SWEET MERCY, it is already Christmas Day and a new year is right around the corner. I want to thank all of you who have jumped in and breathed life into this mission of gathering, growing and connecting here at Arkansas Women Bloggers yet again this year. Seven years ago when this little seed took root, we could have never known that it would become what it is today.
Our community continues to get stronger. Many new faces, many who have continually stepped up to make this a more beautiful, loving group, and many whose life season does not include blogging, but still are a part of this community. We welcome any and all that have a true heart for community and are willing to open up and help one another with true kindness and giving. That is what this Christmas season is about, right? And, we try to keep that going all year long.
Business is booming in the influencer world and those of you who choose to grow as a business in some way, 2017 is going to rock your world. More and more brands are looking to partner with influencers, and yes, there are more and more blogs and social media accounts established every single day. Remember, comparison is the thief of joy, there is room for everyone, so be open to the amazing. Let The Women Bloggers be your training wheels, helping you to learn and keep upright in this busy, ever-changing world, while helping you to refine your message and your goals.
I look back with gratitude for the Lord’s many blessings on my family and this community in the past year. And I look forward to another great year with you.
Remember to exhale, to seek the beauty, the peace and the love that this season is all about. And carry it in your heart all year long.
Stephanie, @TheParkWife
I have only a few memories of my great-grandmother, Granny Mary. I remember sitting on her front screened in porch, in Hattiesburg, Mississippi and drinking my first cup of coffee around age six (which meant I was really drinking milk with a little bit of coffee.) I remember walking down the street to the Five and Dime and buying a sun-hat, making sure to leave the tags on like Minnie Pearl, and I remember her Chicken-and-Dumplings. They were legendary. The dumplings thick, the soup silky, the chicken chunky.
I have done my best to recreate her recipe from memory, and my Paw (Granny’s) said I got awfully close, which is good enough for me. This recipe has now become a family favorite and my boys ask for it most in the winter months, when the wind is cold and the nights long. This is a large recipe—enough for twelve adults.
Note: You can use homemade or store-bought chicken stock, or a combination of both.
Ingredients
Instructions
Notes
My good friend and baking mentor Lynn taught me this great kitchen tip: When rolling out dough, spread out a smooth kitchen towel on your counter (I prefer the flour sack variety) and cover it with a good dusting of flour. This will be your rolling surface, and after you are done, you can simply fold the towel up and take it outside to shake off the excess.
Photos by Judea Jackson Robinett
Jerusalem Jackson Greer is a writer, blogger, speaker and Minister to Children, Youth, and Families at St. Peter’s Episcopal Church in Conway, Her first book A Homemade Year: The Blessings of Cooking, Crafting and Coming Together was published in 2013, and her second book, At Home in this Life, will be released spring of 2017. Jerusalem, her husband Nathan, and their two boys Wylie and Miles live in rural Arkansas where they are attempting to live a slower version of modern life. She blogs about all of this and more at jerusalemgreer.com.
We’d been invited to a carry-in dinner. I love those. We were each giving the other the gift of a fine meal amidst gentle company, everyone contributing some, and all receiving a lot.
Cheery aromas met us when we arrived. I quickly popped my food offering into a warm oven.
The tables were decorated. The company—carefully chosen to be compatible—was chatting with small laughter and anticipation. There was even entertainment.
How irritating, that someone had merely grabbed some southern-fried, pretend chicken and shrugged it off to the luck of the draw! I was shocked.
These friends may think they were invited to a pot luck, but it was a dinner. I mean, we were going to dine. Each of us had brought a carefully planned special dish to complete this meal, to gift each other.
Into this amiable atmosphere, someone had inserted the harsh fragrance of overused grease and overbrowned double coating.
Somewhere there is a disconnect. People sometimes don’t get it. Just because it looks pretty on the package and the label has food words, does not mean it really is food. Not all that glitters is gold.
However, not all of us have the Midas touch. Fine food can be expensive, time-consuming, right?
Nope. Just because it would do in a pinch does not mean you have to be in a pinch.
Here’s how I made a marvelously rich and fork-tender roast, just for my friends, with only about $5.00 and maybe fifteen minutes effort. You can do this, or something like it, instead of letting the discount store make your apologies.
In addition, I’m gifting you with a recipe requested more than once, last week, to go with the fruitcake recipe: That is, the cranberry/cream cheese sauce I mentioned and pictured with it.
And, yes, I actually also did bring the fruitcake to the dinner. The sauce can make a good gift for the hostess at holiday time. It can also be served refrigerated as a spread, elevating anything whether fruitcake or a lowly bagel and looks appropriately festive.
What’s not to love?
Especially when you experiment with add-ins.
You’ll want to sample these two foods until they are gone, so it might be wise to make one round just for the family and to become confident with the procedure. This will allow you to nail your preferences as to the variations. It might also ensure you will have some to carry to that dinner.
Besides, practice makes perfect, don’t you think?
Katharine Trauger is a retired educator and a women’s counselor. She has spent 25 years managing a home and school for children who would otherwise have been homeless, and has worked 15 years as contributor and/or columnist for several small professional magazines, with over 60 published articles. She blogs about the rising popularity of “being at home” from a sun room on a wooded hilltop in the Deep South at: Home’s Cool! and The Conquering Mom and tweets at Katharine Trauger (@KathaTrau). She is currently working on a self-help book entitled: Yes, It Hurts, But . .
Trust me. This is one fruitcake you and your Friends Will LIKE!
My introduction to the joys of the candied fruit found in fruitcake came early in my life. My mother made German cookies with chopped, candied citron every winter. Chewy-soft with mysteriously perfumed bits in them and the scant smear of glaze to make them shine, Lebkuchen were an adored part of our heritage from the Old Country.
But fruitcakes are not German.
My dad often received gifts of dried/candied fruits, displayed on decorative platters. These we found interesting and delicious when our dad allowed us samples.
But fruitcakes are not simply fruit.
Sometimes my dad received the gift of a fruitcake.
Like shy maidens with an ugly suitor, we ran and hid when our parents opened fruitcake packages. Our dad, a gleam in his eyes, no doubt reminiscing about fruitcakes of yore, insisted on sharing these tough, repugnant slabs of spiced cardboard.
We whimpered.
Were we alone in not adoring fruitcake? No!
Many, like us, have suffered from gifting of a winter fruitcake! Why, I heard of one family, among which a gift fruitcake passed around from branch to branch, for decades, until it finally had traversed the entire family tree, unopened and unsampled! I get that.
Reality dawns.
I was in my mid-twenties when I encountered a really good fruitcake. I’m not sure what possessed me to try one—maybe memories of my dad? It had such a bizarre name: Rainbow Party Bar. It was small, the length of a loaf pan but half the width, like a squared sausage. When I saw the price, I was shocked, but for some crazy reason, I just wanted it.
I brought it home and unwrapped it.
It smelled good, so I sampled.
It was amazing. I could not stay out of it. I could not even believe it. My heart leapt with happiness every time I snuck yet another slice.
I was addicted.
Before long, I had analyzed the label, looking for some mysterious ingredient. (This thing was really, really good; did I mention that?)
Near the top of the ingredients list lay the secret:
Butter.
Yes, this fruitcake had more butter than it had any one type of fruit, and I think it safe to say, more butter than any other fruitcake I’d ever eaten. As I kept sampling, I knew the butter was one major difference from all the fruitcakes that had gone before.
Nothing would do but to find a recipe for this delicacy.
I tried several (really bad ones) before I devised the perfect recipe. We have become so enamored with this cake that many of us, who did not like fruitcake, have learned to find cheer in the mere thought of it.
Our friends beg for it.
Now, I’m not promising that if you make this fruitcake, your whole family and all your friends will fall into proper love with the idea of eating it. I will say this: It is so good, you will not ever again be sad if some uninitiated child leaves “more for you”.
But it probably won’t happen often.
Have fun making this one! Have fun eating it!
And have fun gifting it.
Ingredients
Instructions
Notes
The best time to slice is after freezing. It slices more neatly when frozen or even when frozen and then thawed. Otherwise, expect wasteful crumbs and broken slices. For gifts, I pre-slice it (to the paper, not through the paper) since few people realize it should be frozen first. Traditionally, we do not remove or slice through the bottom paper until serving. Even when you buy it, you’ll often find it pre-sliced with the bottom paper remaining. This is because this cake is nearly equally batter and fruit, and will fall apart easily. The paper just holds the cake together so you can better manage it. This fruitcake is amazing with fresh, black coffee. For the sugar-immune, it is also amazing with eggnog. I’ve enjoyed it with a cranberry/cream cheese topping. The recommended wine pairing is a tawny port, but we like something drier, such as our own semi-sec apple wine.
Katharine Trauger is a retired educator and a women’s counselor. She has spent 25 years managing a home and school for children who would otherwise have been homeless, and has worked 15 years as contributor and/or columnist for several small professional magazines, with over 60 published articles. She blogs about the rising popularity of “being at home” from a sun room on a wooded hilltop in the Deep South at: Home’s Cool! and The Conquering Mom and tweets at Katharine Trauger (@KathaTrau). She is currently working on a self-help book entitled: Yes, It Hurts, But . . .