Smells Like Home

One of our neighbors came into our house one day several years ago. She stopped and turned her head side to side nostrils flaring as she sniffed this way and that. I’m sure I blushed thinking that she smelled the results of one of our bad puppies or some such unfortunate odor.

Instead, she said “Your house never smells like anything. Normally, you smell a little onion from last night’s dinner or something, but your house never has any smell. It doesn’t smell like anyone lives here.”

After my first sense of relief, I spent some time thinking about that. I had set up an ionizer air purifier (remember the bad puppy) and obviously it was working. But, in my quest to rid our house of bad odor, I had also gotten rid of the rich wonderful aromas that makes a house a home.

I think of this when I notice the fragrance of the hand soap from the bathroom or Paula’s perfume and yes the lingering aromatic memory of last night’s dinner. These are the olfactory signals that our house is a home. Even the intermingling odor of the unwashed pet or burnt food adds to the sense of home. If you take that away, you take away part of what makes us real. Our lives are all a mixture of sweet and pungent, and if you take away part of what makes us essentially human, you do an injustice to what is left.

I was never more reminded of this than this past weekend. I spent most of Saturday making homemade chicken stock for the upcoming holidays and trying my hand at making apple butter for the first time. First, I channeled my inner Ina Garten meets Anne Burrelle and went shopping for my ingredients.

I picked out 3 of the plumpest whole chickens I could find. Then going down the produce aisle, I selected a few bundles of fresh herbs, parsley, sage and thyme. The carrots, celery and onions came next along with a few lemons (thank you Anne), cinnamon sticks and garlic. While I was getting the stock ingredients, Paula was collecting some Fuji, Granny Smith and Honeycrisp apples for the butter. We met at the register and my “feelgood” feeling for this cooking project was already in full swing.

Saturday morning found me wide awake early anticipating the day’s culinary adventure. I put my brand new stainless steel 20 quart stock pot on top of the stove and began adding ingredients. The 3 chickens went in first, followed by a palm full of salt, about that much black peppercorns and a small handful of red peppercorns. Then I added the fresh herbs, a spoonful of red pepper flakes, a few spoonfuls of dried sage, and about 6 bay leaves. I rough chopped the carrots, celery, onions and cut the garlic bulbs and lemons in half. I grated a teaspoon or so of nutmeg and added 3 small cinnamon sticks to the pot finishing with 8 quarts of water. I brought all that up to a boil then set it to simmer away for about 5 hours.

After getting everything in the pot, I decided it was time for a coffee break. As I sipped my coffee, I set my mind toward the apple butter. Memories of my parents putting up cases of apple butter every fall conjured up visions of them using a colander to get just the right consistency. That just seems too much work to me.

I read several recipes and settled on a crockpot recipe I found on The Homestead and Survival Facebook site with a few changes. I like the idea of keeping the skins on and using the food processor to get the “butter” texture. I took away most of the sugar and added allspice with wonderful results.

I started with coring and rough chopping a total of 18 apples. This filled my Ninja Cooker almost to overflow, but I knew they would cook down. I added about a ½ cup of water, ½ cup of brown sugar, 2 heaping tablespoons of ground cinnamon, and 1 tablespoon of Jamaican allspice. That was it, so simple. Now everything was cooking and cooking and cooking.

I vacuumed the floor, straightened the living room, made more coffee. Then I sat down with my kindle. I had such a sense of wellbeing. By this time the house was smelling amazing. The chicken stock wafting a savory undertone punctuated by the sweet spicy notes of the apple butter carried me along on a domestic fantasy magic carpet ride. This is what home smells like.

 

In spite of my confidence in the kitchen, there are some things that really intimidate me as a cook. One is butchering an animal. That is a challenge for some future date.  A couple of other things were New Mexican style red chile sauce and chile rellenos. 

I have read all kinds of recipes for red chile sauce.  Many start with a rue and use some sort of broth for the liquid.  I have seen recipes that call for using a package of white gravy mix.  Maybe it was just all of the different things I had read, but my head swam every time I thought of trying to make it.

I absolutely love chile rellenos!  I could eat my way across the Southwest trying all of the different versions of this dish.  I did try one time to make some and was not at all pleased with the results.  I have since been content with satisfying my craving at restaurants.  Many times, they are less than spectacular and often they are downright terrible.

When Paula and I began planning our recent trip to Santa Fe, I was determined to de-mystify the red chile sauce and conquer the chile relleno.  From Tucumcari Westward, I tried green and red chile sauce at every meal. The red sauce varied in texture, color and intensity.  It was all delicious.  I was anxious to explore the Farmer’s Market in Santa Fe hoping to find some clues to the perfect red sauce.

The Farmer’s Market is in the Rail Yard district.  It is an area rich in history and culture and for me, rivals the downtown area as the place to visit while in Santa Fe.  After an early breakfast, we arrived at the market greeted with all of the sights and aromas you might expect. The smell of fresh baked bread and pastries gave way to the sweet and pungent fragrances of herbs and homemade soaps as I strolled up one long aisle and down the next.

I was drawn to a particular booth that had baskets of red chile powder packaged in simple ziplock bags labeled with their level of heat.  She also had varieties of heirloom beans originating in the New Mexico area, pasole and chicos, a smoked and dried sweet corn. She had an obvious pride in her product that made me want to try everything.  She explained to me that she and her husband grew all of the product and processed it as well.  She beamed as she showed me a photograph of her husband standing beside their clay oven used for smoking peppers and corn.

I found myself asking her all kinds of questions, particularly about the red chile powder.  I told her of the many recipes I had read and that I was confused as to where to start to make this sauce.  She reached out to touch my arm and shook her head.  “It’s so simple” she said. “Just add water and maybe a little salt.  Remember, it’s a dehydrated vegetable.” Well, that just floored me.  With that statement, she explained what all these recipes had not.  I was thinking of the red chile powder as a spice, not a vegetable. I couldn’t wait to get home and try this.  I knew it was going to work.

Later that evening, on the recommendation of a friend of ours, we tried a restaurant in the Tesuque Village.  There I had the most beautiful chile relleno I have ever had. Here’s the thing, it was not battered, it was not fried. The poblano pepper was lightly charred, relieved of its seeds and filled with yellow squash, mushrooms and toasted pine nuts.  The finished pepper rested on a pool of red chile sauce and was topped with a smattering of white cheese.  Beautiful, simple and delicious!

After arriving home, I thought of the red sauce all week.  On Friday, I made the sauce.  In a small sauce pan, I put the powder, some water and a little bit of salt.  I heated it to a boil then turned in down to simmer and thicken.  When it was the consistency I wanted, I covered it and put it in the refrigerator until the next day. Saturday turned out to be a cool rainy day.  I sat on our porch watching the steam rise from my hot mug of coffee. I had put red sauce on the stove to heat.  I was making cheese enchiladas and chile rellenos for dinner.  I had already roasted the poblanos on top of our gas stove and they were waiting in a covered bowl to be seeded.

As I sat there drinking my coffee, enjoying being home and breathing in the aromas wafting out of my kitchen I was reminded of our wonderful time in Santa Fe and my life with Paula.  We don’t have a glamorous life. Our life is full of friends, our fur kids and each other.  I spent most of my youth chasing after who I thought I was supposed to be, what I thought I was supposed to do.  It all seemed so complicated back then.

This trip to Santa Fe had been the best.  No fancy hotel or fancy dinners.  Just time with my love, laughing, being quiet, being silly, talking. Just time doing whatever we wanted to do. It was so simple. Something has clicked for me. Life really isn’t so complicated.

 I went into the house to finish dinner.  I sautéed the squash with some onion and mushrooms and stuffed the peppers and full and I could.  I topped them with the toasted pine nuts and some white cheddar cheese, then put them in a hot oven just long enough to melt the cheese. I placed the pepper in the midst of the pooled sauce I had already spooned onto my plate.  So beautiful, so simple. 

My life is good.  All I really need is some water and a little bit of salt.