Chris is out doing burgers on the grill---a quick, easy settle-in supper on trays with some of the many new-season regular shows we’ve missed this busy Autumn.
Last night we also had a homey supper, for cozying in our easy chairs with the likes of The Mentalist and Fringe (the latter for viewing only AFTER supper’s over---sometimes it’s pretty tame, and then occasionally, it can JUMP at you. But we love Walter).
A pot of field peas, cooked softly with onion and bacon, then tiny pods of okra placed atop, to steam soft and luscious; some leftover pork roast, sliced and baked in foil with barbecue sauce and crushed pineapple; a pan of crusty jalapeno/cheese cornbread, and a little bowl each of Summer Salad---juicy tomatoes, English cucumber, Vidalias, all cut and salted a while before supper, to bring out their juices into the bowl and meld the flavors.
We also had a couple of cups of fresh blueberries left in the fridge, so I made a little gratin-dish-for-two of Blueberry Sankers:
You can see that it did not brown much, as most of the batter is still submerged---a mixture of flour, sugar, melted butter, milk and vanilla drizzled over the five-minutes-in-Buttershot-in-a-skillet-popped blueberries. A little more butter drizzled on top, a scatter of Turbinado, and into the oven with both cornbread and pork. I love having dinner all cooking and ready to pull out hot and fragrant, when we’re ready to sit down.
And there’s a satisfaction in the KNOWING of it, the COPING of it, in that you’ve prepared things, tidied the kitchen, and naught is left but getting ice in glasses and pouring the tea. It's a lovely thing, on a Fall or Winter afternoon, to have something sending out its aromas into the warm house, whether rich, meaty odors of pot roast or roast chicken, or the cinnamony scent of scones or acorn squash or banana bread.
The house can be a mess, your hair needing the attention of a brush, your apron and cheeks flour-dusted, but opening the door into a fragrant kitchen is as welcoming and warm as a hug.
I’d stirred a little turbinado into a smitch of ricotta, right in the container, ready and waiting in the fridge, and left the dessert sitting on the stove.
We ate, watched, poured more tea. I took trays to the sink, made two bowls of dessert with their sweet, creamy topping, and it was a nice ending to a busy, blustery day.
And the history and provenance of Sankers can be found here: