Beans Cookbook Legacy

       Bean loved her vegetables! She always had a pot of homemade soup bubbling away on the stove top. Every week like clockwork she'd pull out her big soup pot and concoct a soup, usually vegetable, with whatever needed using up or was left over. Nothing would ever go to waste. If she had a quantity of fresh corn it would become corn chowder, creamy and thickened I with potatoes. Rich multi bean, deeply caramelized French Onion, thick potato cheese, just-picked tasting Cream of Asparagus, or velvety butternut squash. Her favorite though had to be a good hearty minestrone filled with beans, zucchini, tomatoes and whatever else she felt inspired to throw in. In fact, I don't remember a day that she didn't have a mug of soup for breakfast, especially in her later years, it was her comfort food. She'd always put in a pat of butter and plenty of fresh cracked black pepper.         Raised on a farm she grew up on fresh vegetables and growing up during WWII she knew first ha

      A Fresh Herb Platter  just seems like the perfect cookbook to share this week as May Day is this weekend and I've been lovingly planting and tending my herb and vegetable seeds over the past few weeks. Winter has been playing a teasing game in this transitional time but I think at last Spring is here to stay. It's been raining gently this week but the sun has now come out but there is a moist softness to the air.       Growing up with my Mom, affectionately called Bean and later Grandma Bean by her grandchildren, we always had a garden. The exception was when we lived in the Sierra's and the growing season was incredibly short though she would never concede defeat. Pots of fresh herbs were at hand and the odd tomato plant that stood rather forlorn yet green on the deck but the fruit never ripened. She tried countless methods and the one time she had some hint of color a bear ate it! She was a farm girl at heart though and she kept trying. This blog Beans Cookbook Lega

     Today would have been Bean's 85th Birthday! Bean, aka my Mom, Lill-Sie Knower,  loved this affectionate nickname and Grandma Bean especially. She was a self proclaimed 'cookie monster'. She loved her cookies in any way, shape or form. To have a cookie with a cup of hot, black coffee was sheer ambrosia to her. Oatmeal raisin was probably her favorite but she did not discriminate. If offered dessert at a restaurant her question was always the hopeful "do you have any cookies?" Why more restaurants don't offer a fancy cookie plate I do not understand but anyway... so assuredly for us kids it meant never finding the cookie jar empty.       Speaking of cookie jars I found a picture on-line of the one I grew up with. The classic 1960s log- look jar with fruit and vine...it held a lot of cookies. She had the matching cannister set. Eventually she found her favorite which graced the countertop evermore...the chubby monk, "Thou shalt not Steal cookies",

       As you may or may not know Beans Cookbook Legacy shares the wonderfully diverse and vast collection of cookbooks that my dear mother Lill-Sie Knower, affectionately called Bean by all who loved her, amassed in her lifetime. Bean was an amazing cook; imaginative, fearless, a master of seasoning, innovative, inspired, gracious and adventurous. Her spice cabinets (yes plural) held herbs and spices from around the world. Her pantry was always abundantly stocked, her cookie jar was never empty, and dinner invitations were coveted. Need a copper pudding mold, or an aebleskiver pan (for forming round Danish apple-filled pancakes), or perhaps a tagine for a Moroccan dish? Bean had one. Even beyond her cooking though her greatest gift was for making people feel welcome, cared for and loved. Here on this blog I choose a cook book to share and highlight, reminisce about Bean and then cook one recipe from the book to share with you. By making one recipe that I have never made before it keep

       Winter winds blow against ours windows sharp with cold as nature rests quietly beneath her mantle of white. Shorter grey-veiled days lead into longer, darker nights. Trees stand at attention against the colorless horizon where few birds fly these days having taken wing months ago for warmer climes. This is a dreaming time, a time for restoring and resting. So isn't it natural that our own instincts whisper for us to curl up in our own respective nests and burrows to dream?        The dark months of winter used to herald a time for slowing down and resting, a time to spend in quiet contemplation, planning, taking stock of the past year now behind us, and dreaming. The harvest carefully preserved and safely tucked away in the pantry and root cellar would nourish you and the family through until Spring.       On my grandparents farm in upstate Massachusetts winter days were spent in the kitchen near the big stove, sitting at the long wooden table while Mom and Grandmother cooke

       When I was growing up in the late 60s and 70s “having company” was normal, looked upon with enthusiasm, expected on a regular basis and prepared for with gladness. And company regularly showed up completely unannounced yet Mom was always gracious and usually prepared, and if not she happily, quickly and quietly went about making a thoughtful plate or two of food and put the coffee pot on to brew. I swear she could whip up a coffee cake in five minutes flat and pop it in the oven without so much as a blink of the eye! Before long it’s heavenly fragrance would be filling the room and guests felt special and welcome.       A popular comedian today actually talks about our very different attitude towards company in his routine; how now, when the door bell rings, everyone drops and whispers as they search for weapons hidden under the sofa and attempt to figure out who would have the audacity to just drop in. Heaven forbid! Personally, I miss having company.       Of course with the C