by jphilo | Apr 23, 2014 | Recipes
Once again I’ve been on the road, which means very little time for trying new recipes. So today’s recipe comes from my cousin and fellow writer, Gary. He was a volunteer fireman in Hudson, Iowa for many years. (In fact, one of his projects was to compile and write a thorough and interesting history of the fire department.)
Before retiring, he was one of the department’s chief cooks. Recently he sent several crowd favorites to share at Down the Gravel Road. Today’s offering is the recipe he and his late wife, Maxine, cooked up. Gary says, “Maxine also helped proportion the family-sized recipe for the scalloped corn. Fire house left overs of this scalloped corn are divvied up by seniority or by lottery after fire department parties. It is really good.”
The first recipe is the family-sized version, while the second is so big it’s prepared in an electric roster and will feed an entire fire department.
Hudson Fire Department Scalloped Corn: Family-sized Version
2–14 oz. cans whole kernel corn
1–14 oz. can creamed corn
8 oz. carton of sour cream
1 box Jiffy Corn Muffin Mix
1 egg
1 stick butter
4 oz (1 cup) shredded cheddar cheese
Preheat oven to 350°. Drain whole kernel corn Mix corn, sour cream, egg and muffin mix in a bowl. Melt butter and pour into mix, and stir. Stir in cheddar cheese
Spray a 8 X 8 baking pan with cooking spray and pour mixture into baking pan. Cover with aluminum foil. Poke 4 small vent holes in aluminum foil. Bake for 1 to 1 1/2 hours or until done. Center should be firm, not soupy.
Hudson Fire Department Scalloped Corn: Fire Department Version
2-1 gallon cans whole kernel corn, drained
1-1 gallon can creamed corn
48 oz sour cream
70 oz (10 boxes) muffin mix
12 eggs
32 oz butter
32 oz cheddar cheese
Spray roaster with cooking spray. Mix the ingredients together in the electric roaster. Cover with aluminum foil. Cook at 325–350° for 2 1/2 to 3 hours. Stir after 1 hour and again after 2 hours.
At the 2 hour mark, poke 5 vent holes in the foil. Watch closely to prevent scorching. If it starts crusting on the sides, stir every half hour. Remove from roaster and let cool 30 minutes before serving.
Mix together, cover, cook at 325-350 for about 2 ½ to 3 hours. Stir after one hour and after 2 hours. After 2 hours, poke 5 vent holes in foil. Watch closely to prevent scorching. If crusting on the sides, stir every half hour. Remove and let cool 30 minutes before serving.
Photo Source
by jphilo | Jan 25, 2011 | Family
This week’s recycled post comes from two years ago. The manuscript for A Different Dream for My Child had recently been sent to the publisher. Allen was job hunting in the midst of the worst recession since the early 1980s. Mom had decided to sell her house and permanently move in with my brother’s family. Looking back on that busy winter, I’m grateful for this quieter January with enough time in it to complete my new book. Much has changed in the past two years, but one thing remains true. God’s timing is always perfect.
Neither Easy or Quick – Recycled
What with digging out from frequent snowfalls, figuring out Mom’s finances, helping our son get back on his feet, and meeting church obligations, very little has been easy or quick this month. Every week, I’ve sandwiched in a little writing time here and there, but much of it has been shoved to the side.
Last week, my calendar for the following week looked relatively free, so I though things would turn around when it arrived. But then Allen called. “I start a new job on Wednesday, so I’m driving down Monday to pick up some things I’ll need and spend the night.” Then my cousin Gail called. “I’ll be in Ames Monday. Can I stop by to visit?” Suddenly Monday was booked, but after Allen left early Tuesday I would have all morning to write before spending the afternoon with Mom.
Monday night Allen asked, “Do you want to go to the bakery for a quick breakfast?” Every cell in my body wanted to shout, “No, I want to write,” but I held those pesky words in check. We had gone seven long years without the small delight of breakfast at the bakery, I reminded myself. So Tuesday morning we braved the frigid dawn and spent an hour talking over pastries and coffee.
The cold swirled around my ankles as we drove home. “I think I’ll walk indoors instead of bundling up and going outside,” I told Allen.
“But Mom,” he said. “it’s not windy. And the sun’s shining. Do you want to miss that?”
The sun warmed my back as I walked. The snow drifts sculpted by last week’s ground blizzards flaunted their ridges and curves with every step I took. The walk was what I needed. I thought about the momentary, fleeting gifts I’d already received that morning – confidences shared at breakfast and the parade of stark winter beauty lining my gravel road. Neither easy or quick, yet happiness sank deep into my heart.
by jphilo | Mar 27, 2009 | Current Events
I’m up early this cold morning, waiting for the sun and the temperature to rise before I take my walk. Waiting can be hard. I cope with it by finding something constructive to do because the activity, no matter how meaningless, gives me an illusion of control.
For days now, the residents of Fargo have been waiting for the Red River to crest. My cousin Karen and her family live near the flood plain. Their days and nights have been filled with activity. They’ve helped sandbag the river and moved everything to the second story of their house. Two of my southwest Minnesota cousins have daughters at college in Fargo. While the kids are sandbagging the city, their parents wait for their children to call or email, and make plans about how to get them safely home.
With a catastrophe this large, there’s no way to create an illusion of human control. Everyone in Fargo and all of us watching know this situation is beyond us. We need more help than men can offer, hope beyond what we can see. That’s why people, including many who claim not to believe in God, resort to prayer.
Waiting isn’t easy. Most of us turn to it when we come face-to-face with our own helplessness, when there’s nothing more to do. I’ve been in that place often in the last few years. Whenever my lack of control drives me to prayer, the same truth emerges: kneeling before the God who is in control is the most constructive thing I can do.
Father in heaven, only you can help Karen and her family, Kalli, Briana, and all the people suffering in Fargo. Give them wisdom. Keep them safe. Give them the hope of Christ, the God who suffered for their sins and rose again. Amen.
