Snow Day Soup

Snowed in again, for the fourth or fifth time this short winter. My thoughts turn to what delicious hot concoction I can manage to muster from my somewhat beleaguered pantry and freezer. There's still some leftover Thanksgiving turkey, which was sublime in its original savory juiciness. I boiled the carcass to make stock, which I froze in two cup portions, ready for just this culinary emergency. There are some containers of grilled corn-straight-off-the-cob I froze in July, evocative of a warmer, sunnier time. Turkey vegetable soup may be just the thing, if the veggie drawer will yield some usable produce. Ah, yes, the gigantic carrots I got from the last Iowa Food Co-op distribution; perhaps some fingerling potatoes. Would a lone acorn squash work in turkey soup? Why not?!

I quit following some types of recipes awhile ago, and have since found a certain freedom in the kitchen. As long as you understand the basics of certain processes---roasting, sauteeing, stir-frying---you can mix and match ingredients to your heart's content. Some people have a gourmand's sense of flavor blending, which I have not yet acquired. But I do know that some spices fit better with some types of food and methods than others. Having a moderately well-stocked pantry helps facilitate impromptu recipe development---oils, vinegars, wine, spices and herbs, onions, garlic---all are necessary at some point for the type of cooking I enjoy. I frequently consult a cookbook for proportions of liquid to solids, and timing, but often the ingredient combination becomes my own.

Baking is another story---I'm not brave enough to veer from a recipe for bread, cookies or muffins. There is still something mysterious to me about the miraculous transformation of gloppy batter into fluffy fragrant morsels. So I will consult the back of the cornmeal box for the recipe for cornbread to accompany the soup.

My family patiently goes along with my passion for soups and stews in the winter. I sometimes feel I must apologize for the frequency of their appearance on the table. But why? The ingredients are often organic, fresh frozen by me, served appealingly with fresh bread or muffins and fruit. It's the perfect winter meal. A little variation from time to time, based on available ingredients, makes it a new taste each time. An extra-large batch for our small family insures at least another delicious meal on a hectic day when I don't have the luxury of enforced time at home.

Since I'll be in the kitchen anyway, perhaps I'll mix up a batch of our favorite peanut butter-M&M cookies, faithfully following the recipe I have used for 25 some years. It works every time.

Oven Failure: Fatal Error

The beautiful organic Thanksgiving turkey had been rubbed with herbs, stuffed with onions, lemons and fresh sage. It had been in the oven almost thirty minutes, just long enough for the tantalizing aroma to waft from the kitchen to the other rooms of the house. As I relaxed for a few moments before charging ahead on side-dish preparation, I was alarmed by a shrill repetitive beeping from the oven. Flashing in ominous green where the temperature should have been displayed was the code “F1”.

What the heck did F1 mean? I pressed the clear/off button to get the infernal beeping to stop, then I re-set the temperature, upon which the F1 resumed its flashing and beeping. I stuck my hand in the oven and realized it was barely warm. F1 apparently meant something really bad, worse than “reset the clock since the power went out again”.

I did then what I always do whenever electrical things fail around me. I called my ridiculously handy husband to come figure it out. Then I got out the owner’s manual and read the heart-stopping words: Green flashing F+ number or letter means "Function Error." Fatal error. Thanksgiving Feast-ruining error. Trouble-shooting advice from the manual stated “Disconnect power, reconnect after 30 seconds. If function error code repeats, call for service.” I noted with dismay it was the only Problem in the owner’s manual that required an unequivocal “Call for Service.”

Right, like I’m calling an appliance repair person on Thanksgiving Day, if such a person would even answer a phone. My flexible cook’s mind immediately started working on alternatives. I got on-line and looked up recipes for grilling a turkey---possible, but not optimal, as I hadn’t marinated the bird overnight as recommended, and I wasn’t sure we had enough propane. I figured I could still use the microwave and stove-top for the side dishes. We didn’t have company coming so we could eat whenever we wanted. There really was no pressure to have the perfect feast, except that we had an exceptional Turkey that would be a shame not to roast to perfection and serve with the most luscious side dishes.

After tinkering with power switches and circuit breakers for awhile, my husband decided it was indeed the oven at fault and not some external power issue. Part of his handiness comes from his genius at looking things up on-line. He somehow found a compendium of other people’s solutions for how to fix the type of oven we have. Shortly, he had removed the touch-panel on the front of the oven and exposed the circuit ribbons that enervate the control pad. He carefully cut a piece of index card and inserted it in between the two circuit ribbons, replaced the control pad, and turned the oven on. The F1 did not flash; the control pad allowed me to enter a baking temperature and asked me to please reset the clock. Within minutes, the oven was once again heating up. It had been out of commission for 20 minutes.

Apparently, the circuitry had rubbed together and short-circuited itself. The index card fix was an underground (and free) alternative solution for an official appliance repair job. Only a real-world handy computer geek could find the solution as fast as my husband did, whip out his tools, dismantle the appliance and apply the absurd repair with such confidence---and actually make it work.

The turkey had barely begun to cool by the time it was returned to the oven, which happily continued to work all day and has showed no further problems since then. Why it would choose the high-stakes baking day of Thanksgiving to short circuit itself is one of those mysteries of appliance operation. The aromas intensified and eventually lured our three sleeping children out of bed. They had missed the drama and were just a bit skeptical of the absurdly simple-minded repair their father had effected.

But oh, were we all rewarded with the results of that repair: a succulent turkey, roasted to perfection, happily oblivious to its near-fatal function error.