It's funny how birthdays kind of bunch up on the calendar. My mother's and my husband, Ace's, are one day apart. My brother's and our first cousin's, ditto. Also, my sister's and another cousin's, plus a cousin's and my ex-husband's. Well, let's not go there. I never had to share my own birthday with anybody but a turkey, my birthday coming as it does so close to Thanksgiving.
On our recent nine-day vacation to the Pacific Northwest, two of the seven of us celebrated a birthday.
Come to think of it, the eating seemed to bunch up, too, as our friends -- parents of three (ages 11, 13 and 16) -- Ace and I did our best to eat our way through a whole flat of strawberries. (A flat is 12 pints.) Eating "in season" comes naturally to me, a farmer's daughter, and my husband, who grew up in a berry field. We got used to living off the land. What a farm table menu lacks in variety, it makes up for in freshness and flavor.
Buying local is something we try to do, and our trip to Washington and Ory-gun (for those who already know how to pronounce the state, please excuse the italics) was no exception.
Our first purchase after flying into Seattle and having breakfast at Mitzel's American Kitchen in Fife, Wash., was to make a beeline to the berry fields near where Ace grew up.
The berry stand's shelves were as bare as a Pittsburgh farmers' market at closing time, but we were rewarded for our wait when a strawberry truck lumbered into view from the field across the road. I threw my body into the last parking space (there was no lawn chair in sight), so there would be a place for the truck to pull in. When the first customer in line bought three flats, the rest of us began to count and wonder if there would be enough for us.
There was.
And so it began. We ate strawberries right out of the box all the way to Oregon, though we did switch berries midroute to enjoy a marionberry milkshake in Madras.
When we arrived at Black Butte Ranch, we ate strawberry-romaine salad -- it also had red onion, avocado and vinaigrette. We ate strawberries on cereal and on pancakes. We had strawberry shortcake as a chaser to our bratwurst. When the strawberry bowl got low, we mixed in another fresh pint. The piece de resistance was the strawberry birthday pie.
When birthdays fall within 24 hours of each other, celebrants have to share a birthday cake. Luckily for us, the two birthdays in question came five days apart. Thus, we could enjoy pie on Tim's (the dad's) birthday and chocolate cake on Cody's (the son's) birthday.
You can use a prepared refrigerator piecrust, you can mix up a vanilla pudding from a box, but if you top the whole thing with a layer of the freshest, red-all-the-way-through strawberries, which are practically still warm from the picker's fingers, you have a birthday pie to remember. Oh, but don't forget the real whipped cream. We bought local cream, naturally, but there was a little surprise in store. Out of vanilla, we used a teaspoon of almond extract. Unusual, but delicious.
Two days later, if our daughter, Jessica, had been there, she would have had to share the chocolate cake with Cody. Jessica turned 26 the same day he turned 11. As I say, birthdays bunch up -- in our neighborhood, at least, and maybe yours, too.
Birthdays were just a small slice of our fun. While our husbands golfed, Linda, her daughter and I did some serious shopping in the little town of Sisters, Ore., which is smack-dab in the Cascade Mountains with the Three Sisters peaks as a focal point. Linda is a professional photographer, and her pictures are phenomenal. Unlike the children she photographed for the elementary school's annual and seniors having their portraits done, the Three Sisters don't move, though they do have their bad hair days and occasionally cloud over.
It was great having Tim and Linda's three kids (the eldest is 16-year-old Travis, and Amy's 13) with us at the kids' first rodeo. Oregon weather is, shall we say, changeable. We had packed in Pittsburgh's 90-degree heat, and sweatshirts were in short supply. You've heard the travel writer's famed advice to "layer"? That Sunday afternoon at the rodeo, I shucked a fringed suede cowboy jacket, then a long-sleeved cowboy shirt, down to a cowboy T-shirt. Just in time to get sunburned.
Thank goodness for my Pennsylvania "Simply Delicious" Produce cap. Except for shielding the sun, that hat is now passe, I guess. As our governor changed from Republican to Democrat, our new state motto is "Buy Fresh, Buy Local," and the produce photo is overlaid with "Western Pennsylvania" in a campaign that started last year in Eastern Pennsylvania.
We acted in the spirit of the motto, even if we were 3,000 miles west. We bought Pacific Northwest ice cream, including Umpqua and Eberhardt's, though I must say I outdid the kids on dedicated ice-cream eating, though they surely outclassed me in the salty snacks category. This trip made me realize how out of it Ace and I have become since our daughter left home -- don't even ask us either the initials or the numerals of their electronic gear. It's way over our heads.
By the way, when it came to bunching up birthdays, Tim took the cake, or rather the pie. He was born on his mother's birthday. None of us could top that. Come to think of it, we should have brought that last pint of berries home to her.
Tim's 1-2-3 Strawberry Birthday Pie
Unroll piecrust and bake according to package directions, making sure to prick bottom and sides of unbaked crust. Make pudding, according to package directions for pie filling (it usually takes less milk), either in the microwave or on top of the range. Pour into cooled crust.
Stem and wash berries and dry on paper towels; there's no need to add sugar. Slice berries in half and lay atop pudding. Refrigerate until pudding is set. Whip cream, sweeten with a little sugar and fold in almond extract. Serve on the side or spread on top of the berries. Place the candles (don't ask how many unless celebrant is 11) on the pie and light. It's time to sing.
Spicy Chili With Ground Beef Over Spaghetti
In between the strawberry salad, strawberry shortcake and strawberry pie, it's good to have a low-fat, low-calorie entree like this one. Served over spaghetti, "Cincinnati Chili" is one hearty dish. Often, it's topped with cheese and crumbled crackers. (We did the cheese, skipped the crackers.) In this "New American Plate" takeoff on the classic recipe, you increase the proportion of beans, tomatoes, peppers and spices while using just enough ground beef to provide a robust, meaty flavor. This shift in proportion provides body without weighing down the meal with calories and fat. A bit of cocoa powder (don't leave this out -- it's neat) adds a deep, rich flavor that mingles nicely with the more standard spices.
In a large, heavy pan, heat the oil over medium-high heat. Add 1 cup of the onion, garlic and jalapenos and saute for about 4 minutes, stirring often, until the onion is translucent.
Add the meat and cook for about 3 minutes, breaking up the meat with a wooden spoon, until just browned. Stir in the chili powder, cocoa, cumin and oregano. When the seasonings are fragrant, in about 30 seconds, add the beans, tomatoes with juice and salsa.
Bring to a boil, reduce heat, cover, and simmer the chili for about 10 minutes, stirring frequently. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Meanwhile, cook the spaghetti according to the package directions. Serve the chili over the spaghetti. Top each serving with equal parts of the remaining onion and the cheese and crackers. Serves 6.
Note: Wear rubber gloves to handle fresh chiles, and keep your hands away from your eyes.
Nutrition per serving (doesn't include garnishes): calories 375; carbohydrates 60 g; fat 7 g; protein 21 g; sodium 573 mg; fiber 15 g.
The American Institute for Cancer Research's "New American Plate Cookbook" (University of California Press; $24.95)