Fire No. 100: Inaugural Fire of the Fall Season

The kitchen addition to the Roediger House was completed in 2009, and upon the masons' recommendation we let the fireplace and chimney cure for almost a year before putting it to first use. More recently, under a frost advisory and awakening to temps just above 40°F on the final Saturday of October, I was pretty certain that a roaring morning fire was called for.

The logs and lighter wood were all laid, in waiting, when I cleaned the fireplace up last Spring, so all it took was a match and an open flue to get that blazer going. This was the 100th fire in the fireplace over these last 15 years.

It was also Homecoming Weekend for Wake Forest University, where I was once on faculty, and that brought former grad student Karen here to make one of the upstairs guest rooms her crash pad when she got to town. We stayed up way too late talking when she arrived Friday night but it was, as always, an awesome visit. We got to have coffee together by the fire on Saturday morning, after Sumner finally relinquished his cozy spot to her.

Then she scurried away to join her family and sorority sisters and WFU classmates for the football game and other festivities. But doggone it: we forgot to get a picture together! So I'm posting a shot of that Class of 2006 masters cohort in secondary social studies instead.

A Late Last Winter Gasp

It was a welcome sight to awake Sunday to bright sunshine after the exceptionally rare night of nine hours’ sleep. We were back in the upper 20s after the previous afternoon’s soothing sunshine, and we kept it chilly with only mid-40s highs. A day of rest was okay with me following a busy and intense start to the weekend.

If winter says she is not done with us, then I gladly partook of one of her small compensations: the pleasure of a roaring fire in the kitchen space. This was Fire No. 99, as the counting here continues.

The preceding Friday night had found me on the unbeloved campus of Wake Forest University to lend a hand to the initiation activities of my fraternity’s WFU chapter.

Saturday followed with an intense but excellent day with the newest cohort of aspiring administrators from High Point University. I love being with these amazing people, and they are terrific at responding to the challenges and provocations that come at them throughout the session. Although I can't rule out that some of them might have been occasionally and secretly looking at me like this:

And let's go ahead and note what was showing in the yard as of February 27th:

Those mini daffodils were the first appearance of all those varieties I've got near the high front wall, and nearby is the lone crocus that still seems active:

And I'll be counting down the days until the Bradford pear puts on its grand show announcing the imminent arrival of springtime:

Meal No. 3807: Mushroom and Shallot Salisbury Steak

The crew of marvelous regulars was here for the final Saturday night of February. Our gatherings haven’t had the frequency we had come to love but that makes it all the sweeter when the time of togetherness rolls around. It seemed like a good chance to bring out a recipe that I'd only made once before, back in the fall, when that issue of Bon Appétit was hot off the presses: mushroom and shallot Salisbury steak. Company mashed potatoes are also a consistent favorite, and a sheet pan of roasted hoisin whole green beans (with a spicy kick to boot) gave us green on the plates. For several of the bunch, the dinner conversation turned to reminiscence of the tv dinners they had growing up, although it was quickly noted that our dinner fare was in quite a different class.

As an evening like this approaches, I sometimes play out a silly conversation in my head, imagining these two couples doing an exchange of ideas about what predictable meal I might be serving up this time: lasagna? chili? nachos? burgers? I’d hoped to break that cycle on this occasion, and the menu choices seem to have gone over quite well. They made clear that a repeat of this dish would be welcome.

The morning dawned with a deep chill around us still, as the latest arctic air invasion was only begrudgingly surrendering its hold. That Saturday morning I awoke to 21°F. It warmed as the day went on, but the pups made good use of the indoor time to frolic and play-fight.

Guess that’s why the previous evening’s fire in the kitchen fireplace was all the sweeter: Fire No. 98 since the addition was completed.

It was mighty nice to have Sumner close by to enjoy its crackling warmth.

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”Mushroom and Shallot Salisbury Steak,” by Jesse Szewczyk. In Bon Appétit, October 2024, p. 18.

"Company Mashed Potatoes," a Jones family favorite.

A Stubborn Winter and Roaring Fire No. 97

A good night's sleep upstairs (where it's warm!) brought me into the pre-dawn awakening of this past Saturday morning. The happy routines of beginning another day here had the customary benefit of piping hot coffee in a giant mug, itself a bit soothing while the downstairs barely registered 60°F and the HVAC system gasped and whimpered. With rain approaching by 9 am, and the sour grey hanging over us, I knew it was time to get a roaring fire underway in the kitchen fireplace. I'd set myself up for a rolling agenda of tasks on my laptop, and the morning proved enormously productive. Some email correspondence, declining with regret a wedding invite (but choosing a nice gift from the registry!), prepping invoices for recent work I've done, cleaning up some folders on my laptop, organizing recent observation notes, and even a small bit of writing: the morning passed quickly and I enjoyed those small gestures of accomplishment!

The students from the University of North Carolina School of the Arts finished the last of their clean-up and reset, as well as the small patch jobs in the dining room, on Valentine's Day afternoon. They really did leave things as they'd found them, and the house was restored to its condition as if they'd never been here. I love what it says about this city that so many people gladly open up their homes and businesses to these student productions, and it is clear that the students and the faculty and staff at UNCSA exhibit enormous care and consideration in maintaining good will and good reputations wherever they undertake these film projects. I think it's great fun and marvelously educational to see it all play out, and I'm also glad for the added benefit that preparing spaces for them makes me tackle long-overdue cleaning and organizing of rooms and cabinets that have been neglected.

Meal No. 3777: Ultimate Cream of Tomato Soup

This past Sunday was definitely a winter's day, complete with temps around freezing, a tease of lovely snow, and a steady cold mix of sleet and rain and flurries for a good part of the afternoon. That means a smart chef would turn his attention to a pot of soothing soup, no? Because I remain ultimately satisfied with it, I stuck with the ultimate cream of roasted tomato soup from the ever-dependable folks at Cook's Illustrated, which is never a bad idea.

But I hankered also to pilot a new bread recipe, with grilled cheese sandwiches in mind. And here came author Crystal Wilkinson to fill that need, with a generationally-tested recipe for a hearty loaf that came out just right. Incredible flavor and unbelievably soft, it was awesome bread...but it did not stand up as well to the buttering and griddling as my peasant loaves. Still: there were no regrets by this patron of his own diner.

Awakening that morning to a 60-degree first floor wasn’t a shock, because I’ve been waiting for the heating system to once again blow its motor. Perhaps the cold snap was just the right stressor to this tenuous agreement, while the unit limps along into its nearing retirement (or euthanasia?). When Matt, who was on-call for my HVAC provider, got to the house mid-day, he was able to deliver good news: he got the system to re-start and it ran fine through a couple of cycles so that he could be satisfied it was back up and running. Just after he left is when it started to snow beautifully—outside, not inside!

Of course, the system being temporarily down made Sunday morning’s latest fire necessary (Fire No. 96 as these things are obsessively tallied). The ease of opening the chimney flue and simply striking a long match to the laid logs and lighter wood means there was a toasty warmth emanating in short order.

Losing the heat downstairs makes things harder but I don’t think I can rightly call it a hardship, and with the repair bill limited to the trip charge, I'll look ahead to some future day when the trigger is pulled on replacing the system—and I’ll cover that too. I’d best temper my urge to complain when I also know I can go where it’s not cold and still be in my home.

Count me on the exceptionally relieved side of the ledger, though, that we made it through all the holidays with all the company and events here before it acted up, even in this small way that was hardly inconvenient. An otherwise easy winter Sunday, a cozy fire, piddling kitchen pursuits, and a fresh loaf of bread...it was all good.

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"Ultimate Cream of Tomato Soup," from Cook's Illustrated, November 1999. Recipe can also be found online at Cookography.com.

"Hearty Sandwich Bread," from Crystal Wilkinson. In Praisesong for the Kichen Ghosts. New York: Clarkson Potter/Publishers, 2024, p. 98-99.

Welcome to 2025

The holiday spirit never settled on me this year, even though I cherished gatherings with friends and the delightful addition of my brother-in-law to the household during the break between semesters. I very nearly failed in my annual Christmas card tradition, scrambling to get them all done in an uncharacteristically quick three days, all the while reveling in how much I enjoy turning my thoughts while signing each one to people I’ve known far and wide and long and short. This year’s Roediger House card seemed to strike quite a few people in some kind of way because there was a spike in texted responses from folks that was so very appreciated.

It was a December of much movie-watching and idle projects, and not nearly enough of the cooking that I want to do when there’s this ample supply of uncommitted time, because my morning weigh-ins were bent on being a persistent warning and things got a little out of control. (Last Saturday morning was my highest pounds reading since 2018 and I was not amused.)

The nondescript weekend nestled between two holidays, when it’s a mystery as to what day or date it is, was also a wild weather ride. I’ve already belly-ached about the cold and drear of Friday and Saturday, and that misty malaise and those well-chilled temps led to a quick second fire of the season. (I obsessively count things: this was Fire No. 95 since the kitchen renovation and addition of that wood-burning fireplace in 2009.)

Sunday was winter’s Southern sensation of weird warm temps, high humidity, more precipitation, but also an ongoing watch for thunderstorms that never quite materialized here. If Saturday trapped us in the 40s, waking up to 60°F that morning was a mixed blessing. But hey: I prepped a set of logs to be ready for whenever the next fire needs to be lit, and I was glad it was warm and not raining while the coffee brewed so that the task could be more comfortably accomplished.

But here we are to begin a new year. My honest report on this first day of 2025 is that the life of home and work is marvelous but my fears for our nation’s future are always sitting nearby, waiting to pounce with their oppressive depressing weight at any moment. I will bear in mind the useful guidance found in what my mother had placed and positioned all over her house, because she was a wise woman: I will change the things I can; I will find a way to accept the things I cannot change; and I will choose as wisely as I can where my energies will be placed and what costs I will bear. As others have noted with helpful sagacity: it is a time for choosing. I hope the coming year bears marvelous fruit from all of your own wise and necessary choices!

First Fire of the Season

With last week's winter solstice, we made the official change to the season of winter. But this has been an abnormally cold December all along, and I've been looking forward to reveling in the warmth of a roaring fire in the kitchen fireplace. That first burning of the season occurred Friday morning (Fire No. 94), when we were plagued by a gross grey chill and an ongoing threat of rain to make it even more miserable. I started that day with an aggressive 3-mile downtown hustle so that it could be accomplished before we got any precipitation. I even managed to work up a good sweat underneath all the layers I'd donned.

Outside it barely tapped 40°F before slipping back into the upper 30s for the duration. It was a good day to be mostly inside and near the soothing heat, since that night was a gathering of the fellas for a fine meal and hanging out. More on that in tomorrow's blog post.

Meal No. 3530: Korean Beef & Broccoli Bowls

Ready for something a smidge different, I adapted a Korean beef stir fry on the final day of January, added roasted broccoli, brought out leftover rice to make it even more substantial, and kept tinkering with the ginger-hoisin-soy sauce until it was just right for serving. It wasn't stupendous but it satisfied.

With a couple of Zoom sessions on tap that Wednesday, which for me occur in the North Parlour, I never could quite shake a chill. We did not break out of the upper 40s here, so before I started on dinner prep I struck a happy match to the fire I'd already laid. Scarlett and Sumner were happy to nestle in nearby as well, as that potent heat from yet another raging blaze made us all feel so much more cozy. This was Fire No. 93 since the wood-burning fireplace was included with the new kitchen on the rear of the house.

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Based loosely on "Korean Ground Beef Stir Fry with Gochujang," by Rika Agustini of Posh Journal. [Published 27 June 2019]

Meal No. 3525: Cheddar Potato Soup

Boy howdy, has it been a very January-styled January thus far. Quite a bit colder, as will be grumbled about in subsequent paragraphs, but let’s be clear about how appropriate was the determination that a pot of potato cheddar soup was ideal for last Sunday night. A long-held and regularly-resurrected recipe originally from a now-defunct cooking store in Indiana, this rich creamy fully-flavored bowl of deliciousness is consistent and loved and consistently loved.

This past Friday and Saturday were work days for me, when I led the pair of sessions designed to commence an instructional leadership institute with the newest cohort in the High Point University Leadership Academy. Over the last seven years, this has been a pretty phenomenal experience, with amazing educators preparing to be school administrators, and this eighth group was no exception. They were engaged and responsive, thoughtful and reflective, and offered the double bonus of being both gracious and fun. I’m excited about my next 18 months with them.

We experienced a pretty significant deviation from normal temps as we moved into the latter half of January. Last Saturday we maxed out at 29°F for the briefest moment mid-afternoon, and then overnight dropped down to the mid-teens (18°F at the house; 16°F at our airport.

That’s why a fire was called for as Sunday got underway, following coffee time and a bit of work up on the third floor. [Fire No. 92, in my endless need to tally things.] That way I could turn my attention to delightful kitchen endeavors, like that big pot of soup and, later, a special dessert (catalogued in tomorrow’s blog post).

And look at my delightful sidekick for Monday morning's coffee time:

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"Cheddar Potato Soup," from the Roediger House. Adapted from "Potato and Cheese Soup," from KitchenArt: The Store for Cooks [now closed] in West Lafayette, Indiana.

New York-Style Bagels

Back in the shutdown days of the coronavirus pandemic in 2020, I tried making homemade pretzels, which was not a bad little experiment. As we came into National Bagel Day on the Martin Luther King Jr. Holiday last Monday, I figured it was time to also give bagels a go as well. And man-o-man, were they fantastic!

For a first-timer, expectations were far exceeded. A spongy light-enough tender interior, and a soft-but-stretchy outer crust with perfect chew, and slathered with another new recipe—for honey-walnut cream cheese—this was one amazing mid-day snack.

Perhaps that exterior really did benefit from adding barley malt to the boiling water bath that preceded the oven bake.

The small threat of winter weather never really materialized, even though there was a brief cascade of scattered lazy-dropping snow flakes, and a few instances of very short-lived sleet shows, and light bouts of minimal rain. The kitchen time with the bagel project and the miserable grey and cold of that day made Fire No. 91 an easy move to make.

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"New York-Style Bagel Recipe," from Kamran Siddiqi of SophisticatedGourmet.com. [Published 12 October 2009]

"Panera Bread Copycat Honey Walnut Cream Cheese," from Stephanie Manley of CopyKat.com. [Published 26 October 2023]

Meal No. 3517: Carne Adovada

It was a second night in a row with the always appreciated Mookie over for a hang, thanks to the packed agenda his dear Kristen was following elsewhere, and we tried to make do without her delightful company. With the cold and rainy (but fortunately ice-free!) start to that Saturday, a pot of comforting something seemed wise, so I pulled a good one from recipe obscurity and served up heaping plates of carne adovada, a New Mexico chile-braised pork dish with a luxurious sauce and awesome flavors. I’d avoided making a grocery run as the forecast had certainly bred a likelihood of consumer chaos on those aisles of want. That left us with sides convenient to the state of my pantry: roasted spiced potatoes and canned green beans.

My typical early awakening that cold dark Saturday came with a pressing question: were we to be blessed with a winter glaze from the passing high moisture system overrunning the cold air in place? I’d prepped a built fire ready for its match strike, and the instant transformation to a cozy kitchen with coffee and quiet was delightful. While no icing or glazing happened here, it was nonetheless dreary and cold and rainy until early afternoon, so this old man was quite happy to keep Fire No. 90 going for the duration.

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"Braised New Mexico-Style Pork in Red Chile Sauce (Carne Adovada)," by Annie Petito. In Cook's Illustrated, Number 154 (September/October 2018), p. 6-7.