It was 20 years before I could eat pecan pie again.

Fortunately, much like my aversion to whiskey which was achieved by somewhat similar methodology, I eventually overcame my repulsion to pecan pie. Pecan pie is an American tradition of southern cooking that is widely popular during the holiday season. Like many American traditions, its origins are somewhat murky and romanticized with advocates refusing to believe it could possibly be a recent innovation designed as a marketing scheme for product promotion. All evidence suggests Pecan Pie was a 20th century innovation designed to sell Karo corn syrup. Sorry. That doesn’t make it any less delicious though.

So if Pecan Pie is so delicious, why the need to constantly modify ingredients and ratios? Why are there so many different recipes? Two reasons. 1. Some people are just plain wrong. 2. Adding bacon and bourbon makes just about everything better.

Crust
1 1/4 cups of AP flour
1/2 tsp sugar
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 cup of cold solid fat (butter, bacon grease, lard, or {shudder} shortening)
3 tbsp of cold water

Start with the bacon. Line a baking tray with aluminum foil and pre heat your oven to 400f. Lay in 6 slices of bacon. Cooking time will vary depending on how thick your bacon is, how streaky it is, and how big your baking tray is. A good rule of thumb is to flip the bacon in the tray and rotate it every 10 minutes. 20 minutes is usually enough. Don’t completely crisp the bacon up as you would for breakfast, otherwise your pie will get a slight burnt bacon flavor.

Lining the tray with foil makes for easy cleanup, and allows you to easily pour off the grease to save for later use. Cooking the bacon in the oven allows the bacon to cook evenly without curling up. If you really prefer to fry it, do so, I’m not your mother.

I use a scratch made pie crust because I think Pillsbury is part of an international conspiracy to make me fat and stupid, and because it tastes better. You can use a pre-made crust if you hate yourself, America, and good pie. Making your own crust will take about 30 extra minutes and allow you to tell everyone how you made the whole thing from scratch. Feel free to use a superior tone of voice, you’ve earned it.

In a big bowl whisk together the AP flour, salt and sugar. Using a pastry blender or two forks, cut the fat into the flour until the mixture comes together in small nodules from the size of a pea to the size of meal.

A word on fat. Shortening sucks. It is scientifically proven to make you obese. Bacon fat, lard and butter, on the other hand, are pretty good for you as long as you don’t snack on them by the spoonful. Also, they are much more tasty than shortening. Each will yield slightly different textures. I like to use a half and half mixture of cold butter and cold bacon grease.

After the fat is cut in, sprinkle on the cold water in small amounts while tossing the dough with a spoon. How much water you’ll need depends entirely on the humidity where you are. Start with 3 tablespoons, add more as needed until the dough starts to form together and clumps easily when squeezed. This is something you’ll get better at the more you do, but is really hard to explain in text.

Dust your rolling surface with flour, and roll out your dough until it’s large enough to fit in your pie pan with about an inch of overhang. Pat the dough gently into the pan, and trim the edges. Pinch along the rim to make a decorative edge.

Cover with aluminum foil and lay in some pie weights. If you don’t have pie weights, you can use dried beans. Bake in your 400f oven for 20 minutes.

While the pie crust is baking, start on the filling.

2 cups pecan
1tbspn bacon grease
6 slices of bacon, cooked and chopped.
3 eggs
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup Maple syrup
1 cup corn syrup
5 tbsp butter
2 tsp vanilla
1/2 tsp salt
2 oz bourbon

Roughly chop the pecans. Mix the pecans with a tablespoon of bacon grease in a large non stick skillet. Heat over medium heat, to toast the nuts. Keep an eye on them, they will go from toasted to burnt very quickly.

In a large mixing bowl, whisk the eggs, salt and sugar until well combined. Melt the butter and whisk it into the eggs. Chop up the bacon you cooked and mix it, along with the rest of the ingredients into the egg mixture. When the pecans are toasted, set them aside until the pie crust is baked.

If you’re a vegetarian, or for some other inexplicable reason don’t want bacon in your pie, feel free to omit it. The real secret to the flavor here is the bourbon and the maple syrup.

When the pie crust is done, pull out the pie weights, and reduce the heat to 375f. Mix the pecans with the rest of the filling, and then pour it into the crust. Bake until the center quivers but is set, about 35-45 minutes.

Merry Christmas, you’re now the most popular person you know.

What’s up ladies? Looking for some loving?

With our weeknight schedules being so tight, Cameron and I knew we wouldn’t have any time for something special tonight. It’s a shame, but that’s one of the challenges of being a parent. To make up for it, I planned a picnic lunch adventure at Spring Mountain Ranch State Park.

Spring Mountain Ranch is inside the Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area, just west of Las Vegas. The ranch has a colorful history as a way point on the Old Spanish Trail and was the base camp for several well known outlaw raids. Sitting directly under the eastern cliffs of the Wilson Range, the ranch sports a number of natural springs for which it was named. Sitting at 3800 feet above sea level, the ranch is well above most of the rest of the Las Vegas valley in elevation, and the result is a significantly cooler local climate.

A number of historic buildings are preserved on the ranch and are home to living history programs that feature costumed guides, demonstrations and reenactments of historic events. In the summer the ranch hosts a night time theater program that’s having it’s 35 season this year.

I’ve lived in Las Vegas for seventeen years now, and I’ve never been.

So I raided the pantry and packed a picnic kit with the essentials. Some nice crackers, bits of cheese, olives, salami, roast pork medallions and a bottle of Pinot Noir. We would head out as soon as Logan was done with his nap, cutting it a bit short to accommodate for the day’s adventures. To start the morning off though, we ran some essential errands. And that’s where things started to go wrong.

Things went well at the hardware store. I got what was on the list, and Logan picked out a cordless reciprocating saw. He was disappointed that I wouldn’t let him keep it, but was instantly mollified when we let him play with a yard stick.

A trip to Barnes and Noble to use a gift card was in order, and while Logan got some new books that he seems to enjoy, the Starbucks wouldn’t take my gift card, and I got so irritated by the long line at check out that I forgot to use the gift card for the books. The long line also meant we were off schedule to get back home in time for nap, which meant nap ran long.

The drive out to the Ranch also took longer than expected, closer to an hour than the half hour I had estimated. We puled into the ranch at 3:20. Closing time at this time of the year is… 4:30.

We rushed out the picnic area and made the best of it, trying to take in the mountains and the clean air while Logan did his level best to step in all the food. The wine helped.

We let him wander in the grassy meadow for a bit. Not straying far, he would occasionally return with an interesting looking treasure; a stick, a rock, a discarded cigarette butt, some horse manure. He seemed to enjoy himself, but eventually, and too soon, the park was closing and he had to be reined in.

On the way out we stopped at nearby Bonnie Springs. Bonnie Springs was another way stop on the Old Spanish Trail, now gussied up as an old western town and petting zoo. I hear they stage gunfights in the street and have regular hangings. We seemed to show up just as everything was closing down. We had just enough time to wander around a bit, let Logan fall into a merry go round and bust his lip, and then get locked up in the city jail.

The adjacent petting zoo featured the largest number of free range peacocks I’ve ever seen. Wandering the grounds, perching on vehicles and scratching in the dirt for seeds, they were something of mystery to Logan. He spent a good deal of time point at them, softly exclaiming his toddler word for bird and making them nervous.

I was a little disappointed that the trip didn’t go off as planned, but such is life. We can’t plan for everything, only try and mitigate the disasters as they occur. So we stopped at Havana Grill on the way back into town for Cuban food. Roast pork will cure any ill.

In only a year Logan has grown out of being a warm to the touch biological machine designed to process food into poop, pushed straight on through infancy, and become a little boy.

He had his first birthday and all the sudden he’s a little man.

Still not really walking though. Kind of a lazy little man. He’ll stand up sometimes, and every once in a while he’ll take a step or two. Not soon after though, a confused expression wanders across his face that says “Why am I using my legs like a sucker?” and he gently settles back into a crawl.

His birthday party went off splendidly. A lot of our friends showed up to help him celebrate. The Taco Man came, and made tacos for everyone. The BEST tacos. Little street tacos prepared on the spot. He brought his own griddle so the meat was hot and fresh, a whole table of salsas and condiments and giant jug of pineapple juice. It was like having authentic Mexican street tacos right in our backyard, without all the pesky dysentery. Taco Man is awesome.

Our friend Kat made Logan just about the best cake ever. Three tiers with an edible train that ran along the outside toting a little tiny personal cake for the birthday boy. I helped. I made the little sculptures of Logan and Puddles out of gum paste.

Not only was it beautiful, it was delicious.

Logan though so to. It was his first taste of cake. Pretty near to his first experience with refined sugar, as his mother and I have very carefully warded his diet.

He seemed to enjoy it.

He also enjoyed opening his gifts.

Although sometimes it appears he enjoys the paper included with the gift more than the gift.

I’m  not sure what I was expecting when I heard about the Gilcrease Orchard. Sandy dunes separated with sickly rows of brown twigs hung with crow picked rotters perhaps. What I didn’t expect to find was a proper orchard. Long rows of green fruit trees laden with plump offerings. This wasn’t simply near Las Vegas, or in the same county as Las Vegas, this was in Las Vegas. Bordered on several sides by residential neighborhoods.

Frankly, I’m still a bit in shock.

We pulled in some nice zucchini, apricots, Yukon Gold potatoes and some ridiculously delicious apple cider.

On Sunday, we tucked over to Grandma Cora’s to combine Logan’s 8 month birthday a week late, with Father’s Day, a week early. Like all proper secular holidays, age related celebrations and themed parades, we celebrated with barbecue ribs and Boston cream pie. Since the week had warmed from two days of cooling clouds and light rain, we opted for a bit of a swim. This was Logan’s first experience with a swimming pool. He didn’t appear to enjoy it much.

I have an odd relationship with birthdays. I’m sure that as a child I enjoyed the attention and the gifts. For just about as long as I can remember though, I find most of the spectacle awkward and somewhat embarrassing.

I get intensely uncomfortable when people sing Happy Birthday, or ask me what kind of gift I want. When my wife asked me what I wanted to do for my birthday, I replied that all I wanted to do was hang out with my friends. Nothing fancy. Nothing elaborate.

I’m aware that at some level, this seems to make everyone believe I’m petulant or ill humored.

Sorry about that. I don’t think it can be helped.

In league with my discomfort over the celebration, is the growing presence of my age. Thirty eight isn’t a significant milestone with regards to aging, and in many respects it’s not all that old. When I think about my age in comparison to the parts of my life that have already transpired, it starts to blow my mind a little bit.

It’s been ten years since I started dating my wife. It’s been twenty years since I graduated from high school and joined the Army. It’s been thirty years since I first shot a gun. It’s one thing to think of a childhood location and think, “I haven’t been to that place in twenty years or more.” It’s another thing to find myself in a rarely visited part of Vegas and think, “I haven’t been to this part of town in 15 years” and reflect that when last I visited, I was an adult.

Now I have a son, and I keep thinking of my the years in my life in relationship to my father and his life. My father was younger than I am now when I was born, but he always seemed like an old man to me. I don’t feel old, except when I try to sit on the floor, but I realize now that I will always be old in the eyes of my son.

I like food.

If I like food so much, why should my son eat processed food pastes?

Logan started eating solid food recently, and while he seems more confused and curious about the experience than anything else, he dutifully eats his servings. I want my son to be healthy. I want him to have a fair chance of beating the odds against the diabetes epidemic that is sweeping our country. I want him to LIKE food.

So I make his baby food.

This is so much easier than it seems on the surface. About an hour of my time and $3 worth of produce can yield nearly 40 servings for the little fella. When I’ve completed the task, not only am I filled with the sense that I am having a positive impact on my son’s life during his most formative years, but I’m left wondering why anyone buys baby food.

First of all, it’s expensive. Even in bulk it can cost more than a dollar a jar for baby food, leaving me to believe that most of the purchase cost is subsidizing the miniature glass jar industry. The food in those jars has typically been processed to a high degree, and while it increasingly includes organic ingredients, the provenience of these fruits and vegetables is unclear. Where did that food come from? What shape was it in before being sent through a mass production process watched over by robots more interested in preserving profit than the health of the customers? And what of those preservatives? What is the long term impact of ingesting calcium benzoate or sodium metabisulphite?

So, I make my own baby food. Following is the recipe I used for sweet potatoes. You can use the same recipe and preparation method for virtually any vegetable, the only difference being the amount of time needed to steam the product. Some vegetables, like the delicious and nutritious avocado, don’t need to be steamed at all. If you don’t have a steam basket, buy one, they’re super cheap and it will last you decades.

• 3 sweet potatoes
• 1 1/4 cup of water

Peel the sweet potatoes and then cut into  3/4″ to 1″ cubes.

Place in a steam basket, making sure the water doesn’t rise into the basket. Steam for 20 minutes.

Add the water and steamed sweet potatoes to a blender, and blend until smooth. It won’t take long. I’m using a Blendtec blender, because I have one, and they are awesome. Realistically, once steamed the sweet potatoes are tender enough you could probably blend them with a fork.

While you’re waiting for the mixture to cool a bit, scoop some out and make yourself a snack. Here I’ve added a little butter, some cinnamon and maple syrup. It’s delicious and the perfect reward for doing the right thing for your child.

Once you’ve had your snack, the mixture is probably cool enough to prep. Line a baking tray with waxed paper and scoop out little portions in neat rows. I’m aiming for 2 teaspoons, and so I’m using a #60 scoop because it’s easy to use. You could use teaspoons, serving spoons or a garden spade, it really depends on how big your baby is.

I’m also using quarter sheet pans because they fit in my freezer just right. You can get either of these two important cookery tools at any commercial cooking supply store. Most sell to the public.

Pop the trays in the freezer and in about 20-30 minutes, you’ll have frozen little pucks of nutritious baby food. Peel them off the wax paper and pop them into a freezer bag for cold storage. They’ll last in the freezer for months. Probably longer. The three sweet potatoes I used yielded 36 baby servings and 2 adult servings and it cost me about $2.60.

His five month birthday was on Tuesday and we celebrated by introducing him to solid foods. The doctor said we could start with things like pureed avocado, butternut squash and sweet potatoes. We elected to start with avocado because the only prep required was vigorously beating it with a fork. The others require steaming before vigorous beating with a fork. Since I seem to have trouble updating a blog more than once a week, foods requiring two prep steps are right out.

At first Logan was pretty excited about it. He loves to grab things and cram them into his spit hole. Once the little spoon covered in green goo got in though, he quickly cycled through a series of emotions, starting with surprise and ending with confusion.

That first time yielded some pretty poor results. He spent most of the time slowly pushing the avocado around with his tongue. His brow furrowed and leaped and if he had eyebrows, they would have danced like a silk worm choking on opium. If he managed to consume any of the avocado during that session it was in error.

The second session went better, and he even seemed to be pleased to participate. He still makes funny faces, but that’s because he’s a baby. He puts down about 2 teaspoons at every sitting and tries to grab at the spoon when he can.

He’s even started to interact with cups and glasses. He’ll suck on the spout of a sippy cup without prompting, and gum at the edges of mugs and glasses. We’re not sure if he’s mimicking us, relieving some teething issues, or genuinely desires drinking from them.

Grandpa Glenn and Lori visited, requiring a visit to a restaurant. A once regular occurrence that we only occasionally indulge in these days. Logan took this opportunity to try out his glass skills on something more challenging.

With only minor assistance Logan will stand now, and he can pull himself up to a standing position. His balance is still about equitable to mine after a liter of whiskey though.

More and more often he is sitting up under his own power, and he really seems to enjoy the bumpo seat for this.

Although these pictures seem to give the impression that he enjoys playing with things laid on the tray, these photos were stages. As far as Logan is concerned the tray serves two purposes. It is primarily a place from which to toss things onto the floor, failing that, it is a fine target for spirited beating and slapping.

Still no inclination to crawl. I suspect that this is a skill that will be learned during a flash of insight and mastered while our back is momentarily turned.

Each year we rotate hosting duties so that everyone gets a chance to fill their house with drunk family and everyone gets an opportunity to experience the slapstick comedy of holiday travel. Due to a unique set of circumstances, we have hosted two years in a row.

This year was Logan’s first Thanksgiving and he celebrated like all Hawkins men do, by sitting around with a glassy eyed expression, over eating, and releasing the infrequent fart or belch.

Because I had to split my attention between infant duties and cooking, I dialed it down a bit this year, and even requested help with some of the cooking. My father helped out considerably, for which I am grateful.

The menu was lighter than in the past; Turkey, pulled pork, mashed potatoes, maple roasted turnips, Brussels sprouts with hazel nut butter, grilled carrots glazed with honey and balsamic vinegar, stuffing, cranberry sauce, gravy, pumpkin pie and pecan pie.  All made from scratch, of course.

Despite the light menu, everyone seemed satisfied.

So I lit a fire and we had S’mores.

Then we discovered that a pit fire seems to give babies nasal congestion. Now he and mommy both have a cold.

Lesson learned.

Everyone’s left now, and we’re slowly recovering from a house full of family and cleaning the kitchen four times a day. Our house seems a little more empty, and a little more lonely. You can see the rest of the pictures, including such fan favorites as; my Nephew Nathaniel Wearing A Pirate Hat, Logan Smiling, and Aromatics I Stuffed Into The Turkey, here.

It’s going to be a full house for Thanksgiving.

I’ve got a menu on paper, my dad is helping with the cooking, and I got some of the prep work out of the way today. I got a pecan pie and the cranberry sauce out of the way, and the pumpkin roasted and pureed for a pumpkin pie. After picking up my sister from the airport, I’ll start the kahlua pulled pork and later tomorrow I’ll put the turkey in the brine.

I’ll be sure to take lots of pictures of Logan’s first Thanksgiving. Until then, here’s the cranberry sauce recipe I developed this afternoon. This should hold you over for a few days.

Pinot Noir Cranberry Sauce

12 oz Cranberries
1/2 cup water
1/4 cup Pinot Noir
1 Orange – zest and juiced
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup Maple syrup
1/4 oz crystallized ginger – Chopped
1 sprig rosemary

Zest and juice the orange. The orange should yield about 1/4 cup of juice. Wash and pick over the cranberries. Add the water, wine, orange zest, orange juice, sugar, maple syrup, crystalized ginger, to a sauce pan. Toss in the sprig of rosemary whole. Boil over medium high until the sugar is dissolved. When the sugar is dissolved, add in the cranberries and continue to boil for 10-13 minutes. Don’t boil any longer than 15 minutes as the pectin will start to break down. The Cranberries will pop, you may want to use a splatter screen. Remove from heat. Remove the rosemary and discard it. Cover  the pan and allow to cool completely. Use immediately, or save in the refrigerator for later use.

The major difference between the two is the construction. The Baby K’Tan is two loops of fabric joined by a smaller one and it loops over both shoulders and in front of the chest like a cotton pretzel without salt or cheese sauce. This means that it’s sized for the wearer.

My wife is tiny, and I am not. We can not use the same Baby K’Tan.

This is wear the Moby Wrap is different. The Moby Wrap is a single lengthy piece of fabric that you loop and wind over your shoulders and around your waist and tie utilizing any simple knot you can remember from Webelos. It is, literally and without hyperbole, eighteen feet long.

It’s a little bit intimidating at first.

Fortunately the Moby Wrap came with detailed instructions featuring photographs of pleasant looking people demonstrating step by step how to bind yourself up like a mummy. Because it’s a single length of fabric, both my wife and I can use the same wrap. I was dubious that it would work effectively, and I remarked that it was not the kind of thing I’d want to try and don in a windy parking lot. How would I, hazy with lack of sleep, be able to remember how to do this?

After only a few attempts I was donning the Moby Wrap like a pro. Within a matter of days I had acquired the skill so well that I’m sure I could wrap up a lunging black bear.

Using the Moby Wrap, I can pop Logan in and have both hands free for essential father tasks like; taking the garbage out, writing blog updates, playing video games, and making pancakes.

Orange Cranberry Pancakes

1.5 cups of AP flour
3 tablespoons of sugar
1.5 teaspoons of baking powder
.5 teaspoon of salt

1 cup of milk
.25 cup of heavy cream
.25 cup of juice of an orange
3 tablespoons of butter, melted
.5 teaspoons vanilla
.5 to 1 cup of dried sweetened cranberries
zest of 1 orange

Whisk together in a mixing bowl the flour, sugar, baking powder and salt. In a separate mixing bowl whisk together the milk, cream, butter and vanilla. Zest the orange into the milk mixture. Juice the orange and whisk .25 cup of the juice to the milk mixture until well combined. Pour the wet ingredients over the dry and whisk gently until just combined. Lumps are okay.

If you whisk the mixture too much, gluten will form and your pancakes will be tough and rubbery. If that happens, let the batter sit for 10 minutes before continuing, this will allow the gluten to relax slightly. Gently fold the cranberries into the batter.

Drop batter by large spoonfuls onto a hot greased griddle for the size of pancake you want. Flip the cakes when bubbles form in the center.