Neighbors

On a sad note, our neighbor across the street isn’t doing very well.

He’s 83 years old, and has been in poor health for a year or more. Being the tight-knit bunch that we are, the neighborhood has taken shifts watching after him, making sure he’s alright, has groceries, etc. A couple weeks ago his 89 year old sister – who is, incidentally, the cutest old woman in the history of the world – moved in to help take care of him.

Some member of my family is over there at least once a day, at which point we’re usually told stories of growing up on the farm, working on the lines at John Deere, raising children, and random Italian family traditions which I LOVE. A few nights back, Lucille (his sister) invited us over for a family treat: polenta topped with parmesan cheese and marinara sauce. As we ate, Lucille told us about her father and how he would serve the polenta on a large linen-covered board in the center of the table. With a cloth napkin draped over his arm, he would serve his guests like a waiter in a fine restaurant, and they would all drink homemade wine and have a merry old time.

To return the favor (and to stock their refrigerator with leftovers for when they got hungry) I thought I would make stuffed shells.

I started with a pound Graziano Brothers Italian sausage (a Central Iowa delicacy), a third of an onion, a large teaspoon of fresh garlic, dried oregano, and red pepper flakes – well salted and peppered, browned, and drained. In a large bowl, I combined the sausage mixture with two pieces of bread-worth of fresh bread crumbs, a large beaten egg, and equal parts Parmesan and Pecorino Romano cheeses – just enough so the mixture holds together well enough to fill the shells.

Boil half a pound of large/jumbo shell pasta in a large pot of salted water for 6-8 minutes – until softened but not ready to eat... they’ll finish cooking in the oven later. Drain and set aside to cool.

In a separate pot, combine two tablespoons of butter and three tablespoons of flour over medium-high heat. Wisk together and cook for two minutes to get rid of the floury taste. Gradually pour in a cup or two of warm milk or cream. Add a pinch of nutmeg, salt, pepper, oregano, and red pepper flakes if you like, and wisk occasionally to insure there are no lumps. The mixture will thicken to coat the back of a spoon, but add more milk if you feel it becomes too thick. After the sauce has had the opportunity to thicken, take it off the heat and add more grated Parmesan.

The best way to know if the end product is going to be any good is to taste the different components throughout the process. If the components are good, the result will be good too…unless it’s like that episode of “Friends” with the meat trifle..

The other component is marinara sauce. We happened to have homemade sauce in the freezer, but store bought will work just fine. If you’ve got an afternoon, make your own sauce and use it in this recipe, but no one will blame you if you don’t want to make your own marinara.

Spoon a ladle-full of the marinara into the bottom of a buttered 9x13” baking dish..enough to cover the bottom – this will keep the shells from sticking and will help finish cooking the pasta in the oven. Take a large tablespoon and fill each shell with the meat mixture. You can then fill in the gaps between the filled shells with remaining marinara and white sauce, making sure to cover the exposed portions of shells with sauce of some kind…otherwise the pasta dries out in the oven and can be kind of crunchy in spots.

Once you’ve drizzled your sauce over the shells, grate more cheese over top (including mozzarella this time), salt, pepper, oregano, and bake at 375 degrees until melty and bubbly.

Then, take the meal across the street to your neighbor and share it. I don’t care who you are, but this stuff if rich, filling, and awesome. If you don’t know your neighbors, invite friends over and make your own traditions! Mangia, mangia! J

Splainin' to do.

So, why – you might ask – would I buy a house that looks like this one? With the rotting, twisted garage and the layers and layers of shingles piled atop its tiny roof, it doesn’t make a very strong case for itself at times…and that’s before you see all the wallpaper and the knob and tube wiring.

The answer is that old real estate mantra: location, location, location!

Not only will my tiny, little house be about two blocks from my office, it’s also the same distance to several restaurants, a small grocery, the library, City Hall, and the microbrewery. Key among them: the microbrewery J Not only that, but my tiny, little house is located in one of the most architecturally diverse neighborhoods in town – something I really enjoy. So while the garage may have you spooked, or the next-door neighbor’s house with all its ills may be an eyesore for the moment, check out the views across the street!

And down the block:

Behind me:

Around the corner:

And, a couple blocks away:

Yes, my tiny house has its issues. But I’m sold on the big-old trees, the big-old houses, and the small-town charm. That’s all for now – come back soon!

Trespassing..

Seeing as I’ve got nothing but time while I wait for the legalities to be worked out, I thought "What better to do with that time than trespass?" J

OK, so technically it’s trespassing – but I’m going to own the house soon, anyway. If anyone can tip-toe through the yard, it’s me. Plus, I wanted to document the ‘before’ portion of the house. I can rationalize most things.

Anyway, as you can see, the house has good points and bad points. I will contend that everything looks worse at this point in the year. We’re not snow-covered and pretty, and we’re not springy and new…we’re just gray and brown. Which accents my peeling paint really nicely. These pictures should give you a better idea of what we’ll ultimately be dealing with. It is – as I said – a tiny, little, Victorian home.

Many of the original details – like the bay window, and the overall scale of the house – have been left intact. Same goes for the interior; there’s a fireplace and all kinds of original woodwork and moldings. Some aspects of the house may have to go for budgetary reasons. In making these changes, I’m also keeping an eye on future maintenance concerns. That said, I’m probably going to do some things that will ADD to future maintenance because they look good and satisfy my need to make this house my home.

Anyway – here are pictures for today. Don’t get discouraged…this is the beginning of a big, fun project. A lot of work…but a lot of fun!

Here's the view you're familiar with - from the contentious driveway:

The front steps could use some work – I plan to keep the bricks.

The massive amount of shingles. In my unqualified opinion: the weight of the roof is pushing the west chimney away from the house, resulting in cracks.

The side entrance – from the driveway.

The rear of the house – this is the master bedroom (right) and the mudroom/side entry (left).

And here’s my problem child: the garage. Sorry garage, but you’re going down.. But I'm keeping your door.



Leftover ham makes me happy :)

A few days ago I celebrated my 24th birthday - yay me! On the heels of said birthday, I decided to make the two hour trek to my alma mater, the University of Northern Iowa, to see friends and partake in copious amounts of birthday libations.

Mission: Accomplished.

On my return home, I found the house to be thoroughly cleaned and organized and with a batch of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and a cherry coffee cake sitting proudly on the kitchen counter. The jury’s still out, but mom was either A) bored and lonesome without my companionship, or B) so overjoyed at her newfound freedom that she felt compelled to twirl about the kitchen, singing and baking while birds chirped and woodland critters scampered at her feet. She claims boredom..

Also in the fridge was a leftover bone-in ham. When I saw this, I knew the jury was no longer deliberating, this woman was deliriously happy that I skipped town for the weekend.

That said, I find the most delicious way to enjoy leftover ham short of simply gnawing on the bone like a stray dog is the Croque Monsieur; the French make a mean ham and cheese. This particular ham and cheese happens to be drenched in a saucy, Swissy goodness with just the right amount of heat from the cracked black pepper and warmth from the nutmeg. My only regret is that I didn’t have more Parmesan to sprinkle over top. Yes, I know it’s blasphemous to cook Parmesan – thank you Mario Batali. Yes, I realize I’m putting an Italian cheese on a decidedly French entrée. But I don’t care…it’s glorious, and I will not apologize. J

Anyway, the sandwich is also quite easy to make. Toasted bread, Dijon mustard, leftover (or deli-fresh) ham, Gruyere (Swiss) cheese, and a cheese sauce from a simple béchamel (white sauce) base. Broil until brownish and bubbly on top and drool all over yourself. A nice side bonus is that this sandwich actually reheats well – so, make it the night before and have it for lunch the next day at work. Granted, it’s not as crisply company-ready, but it’s absolutely delicious as the cheese sauce soaks deeper into the bread and oozes out the sides of the sandwich as you eat it.

And, now I’m hungry again..

My point, exactly

I just finished reading this article that a friend of mine had linked to his Facebook account:

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748704409004576146321725889448.html?mod=wsj_share_facebook

While I don't necessarily agree with everything the article says, I think she's probably on the right track..unfortunately.


So, in the meantime, I have to go back to work.. at my grown-up job.. and think about my house..the one I'm buying. Also, I don't play video games..or watch Cartoon Network.

..feel free to set me up with nice girls you may know :)

I bake because I'm a patriot.

Happy (late) President's Day to all!

I celebrated my day off by doing almost nothing. A nice luxury. Though, after a day of pretty much lounging around, I tend to get restless and usually end up making something good to eat after everyone else has gone to bed. For those of you who may be concerned, I always share with the "roommates."

Based on Ina Garten's Summer Fruit Crostata from her book "Barefoot Contessa At Home", my Winter Fruit Crostata was soooo good and pretty easy to make! (A crostata is to Italians what a galette is to the French - a rustic, free-form, pie-esque pastry. My dad noted that it’s actually just a pie without the pan. Point: Dad.)

I followed the pastry recipe to the letter. By the time the dough had relaxed in the fridge long enough, I was done peeling, chopping, and seasoning the apples and had time to do my happy dance around the kitchen a time or two.

I used Gala apples because that's what I had on hand. Ina recommends (and I agree) that you use a tart apple such as Granny Smith. This gives the crostata a little extra flavor. Alas, I had Gala, and it's nearly gone, anyway. Must not have been too bad..
For the seasonings, I just went with what tasted the best along the way. A good pinch of salt to bring out the rest of the flavors, a few big shakes of cinnamon and nutmeg, a clump of brown sugar, and enough sugar and flour to create the right amount of "goo" - a technical baking term. To loosen the mixture and contribute to the goo, I added water - though, orange or lemon juice tastes amazing and provides the right amount of zing which, again, keeps the apples from tasting like every other apple pie you’ve ever had.

Bake at 450F for 20 minutes and you've got yourself a tasty little President's Day treat. And because the tart is supposed to look rustic, no one will notice when you rip it completely in half while moving it to the cooling rack :)

The re-assembled result.

Waiting...

Well.. where to begin?

The joy of home ownership has already begun. Or, not begun..depending on how you view it. At this point in the game, I’m still waiting for legal issues to be resolved.

Storytime:

The man who lived in the house next door was very ambitious. He had big ideas of taking his older home and restoring it into something beautiful – much the way I do. Working by himself on the weekends, he would dive into home-improvement projects with the best of intentions. As anyone involved in these sorts of things will tell you, once he started one project he would invariably run into another..and another…and another. Before long, he had fixes and repairs started all throughout the house, with very few – if any – actually finished.

About that time, he suffered a severe stroke. By all accounts, he’s doing better, though not well enough to move back into his house. So, what’s left is something of an eyesore…which is putting it delicately. In the years since, his house has become what we in the insurance industry would call an “attractive nuisance.” Teenagers looking for a thrill, critters, and even building material scavengers have been through the house – all the while, breaking windows, spray painting graffitti on the walls… generally up to no good. The house sits there, open and exposed to the elements. With the rain and snow we’ve had this past year, you can bet any attempt to restore the place would be expensive and time consuming if not impossible given budgetary constraints.

And so comes the holdup. As I’ve said, my little house and my neighbor’s big house share a driveway.

When my house was built in the late 1860’s, it sat on a double lot. Presumably, the open lot was used for gardening…maybe even a carriage house at one time as several in the neighborhood had carriage houses or even full barns. Around 1915, the owners of my house sold off the open lot to members of their family who built a big, gorgeous house. It had a large formal living room, a grand paneled staircase in the entryway, leaded glass windows and doors, and a surprisingly spacious kitchen for the time. That said, there was a separate staircase off the kitchen for servants access to the upper and lower floors.

When this house was built, they also built adjoining garages at the end of their shared driveway and, because they were family, everything was hunky dorey. Fast forward a few decades, and the big house is owned by a new family. So, to keep everything on the up and up, the neighbors contact the folks who draw up abstracts and titles and other legalities to formally spell out who owns what. For me, that means my house owns about two or three feet of the driveway and all of my leaning, rotting garage. In order to insure everything stays on the up and up, my realtor, attorney, title company and banker have been working to resolve the issues created by the fact that the original easment inexplicably expired after 50 years.

By the way, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it, but my house has been in the same family since 1868 – how cool is that?! Which, also adds to the fun: my abstract hadn’t been updated since 1923…

In the meantime, we all wait for the ‘yea’ or ‘nay’ from a judge. I have been repeatedly assured by my banker that this is NOT the way the things normally go. Because of the conservatorship holding the neighboring house, we’re having to jump through hoops that wouldn't ordinarily exist. That said, with foreclosures at their highest levels, professionals in the business are seeing these types of situations play out more and more.

More generally – as we know – with old houses you really never know what you’re going to get.