Oh, Pioneers!

Me, Ree Drummond, and Older Daughter
I did not dress like the PW on purpose. 

Ree Drummond, better known as The Pioneer Woman,

likes to describe herself, “an accidental country girl.” It’s no accident, though, that her website and blog are highly successful, as are her books and Food Network cooking show. She works hard, has an appealing way of looking at the world and a “voice” that's witty and sisterly.  I’m a longtime fan. 

On Tuesday night, Ree signed her new cookbook, The PioneerWoman Cooks: A Year of Holidays at the Blue Willow Bookshop in Houston. I wouldn't have missed the event for anything and went, accompanied by Older Daughter. Both of us have successfully reproduced many of the Pioneer Woman’s recipes.

There’s a lot of talk nowadays about independent bookstores closing. Blue Willow thrives. It’s carved a niche for itself among young-adult authors and readers but attracts marquee authors of all stripes. YA authors Ally Carter and Jen Barnes will sign at Blue Willow this Saturday. Sue Monk Kidd will sign her latest, The Invention of Wings, February 17. 

The Pioneer Woman was scheduled to sign from six p.m. on. A week before, I reserved copies of the new cookbook and places in line and was told not to show up before 8:30. You read that right. The Pioneer Woman is one popular lady. 

At eight-forty-five, Older Daughter and I drove to Blue Willow, collected our “will call” books and signing-group numbers, and were told to report back in sixty to ninety minutes. You read that right. We could have hung with the convivial crowd in the parking lot where a food truck dispensed sustenance, but because the night was chilly and we’re caffeine hounds, we drove to a nearby Starbucks.

The coffee shop crawled with Ree Drummond fans comparing their signing-group numbers and exclaiming over the photographs and recipes in the new book. At nine-fifty, the barista announced the place would close at ten, and Older Daughter and I returned to the bookstore to find our number had just been called. We hurried inside and got on line.

From that point on, things moved fast. As we approached the signing table, a bookstore employee whisked away our coats and purses. Another employee took Older Daughter’s cell phone to capture photos of us with Ree.

 Since I’m a rabid fan, you probably think I mentioned my favorite PW blog posts or recipes to Ree.

Nope.

You figure I told her how my family enjoyed her brownie recipe, oven brisket, and meatballs.

Sadly, no.

I was tongue-tied. Struck dumb. You read that right. I couldn’t think of a thing to say except, “Hi, I’m so glad you’re here.”

Poor Ree Drummond, who had already been signing books for hours, coaxed conversation out of me. She asked if I liked the cold weather.

“Yes.”

She apologized for the long wait but pointed out that Old Daughter and I got to spend quality time together.

“Yes,” I repeated.

I attest to the fact The Pioneer Woman is charming, gracious, and can put the most awkward fan at ease.

The Blue Willow staffers made sure all our books were signed, bundled us back into our coats, handed us our purses, and returned Older Daughter’s cell phone with four shots of us and The Pioneer Woman. What paragons of organization!

We exited the bookstore at ten-thirty. Ree Drummond had vowed to remain until every book was signed, so Blue Willow must have stayed open into the wee hours of Wednesday.

Outside, the waiting fans were in good spirits. The Pioneer Woman has that effect on people.

Hot Town! Summer in the City

I misplaced June and July. I know! Who loses whole months? I glimpsed them in passing but have no idea where they went.

Blame the heat for my absent-mindedness. My adopted city, Houston, shows its worst side in summer. We get lots of sunshine, true, but with it come high temperatures and humidity so thick, I'm tempted to doggy paddle rather than walk. I long for the cooler air of late October but didn't mean to wish away two months.

In Texas, schools typically reopen in late August, and the Houston Independent School District welcomes students on the 26th--just 25 days from now.

That means I have 25 days to enjoy the pleasures summer brings.  I vow to appreciate each of the following:

1.) Shandy - This drink is half lager, half carbonated lemonade (think lemon soda). If you're in the UK, use Schweppes lemonade. If you're in the US or Canada, try Sprite, Squirt, or 7-Up. 

2.) Watermelon - Summer's gift comes with or without seeds and in sizes suited to big and small households. It tastes like summer to me.

3. Haagen Dazs mango sorbet -  Stow a pint of this in the freezer and consume as needed to prevent heat-induced crankiness. 

4. Pools and lakes - Water and summer go together. Don't discount the simple pleasure of a dip in a kiddie pool in your own backyard.

5. Air conditioning - What would we do without it? 

6. Crepe myrtles - These trees never let us see them sweat. They put on a show when the heat roars and the plants around them close the shutters and take siestas.

7. Ceiling fans, oscillating fans, paper fans - What would we do without these air movers/relief givers? 

8. Sprinklers--The twap-twap-twap-hiss of automatic sprinklers means relief is on the way for stressed plants, and the sight of kids playing in the old-fashioned rotary kind takes me back to long-ago summers. 

9. Peaches cooked on the grill - Grilled veggies are my go-to meal accompaniment during the summer, but I recently discovered the joy of grilled fruit, particularly peaches. I offer you two recipes. The first is a dessert grilled peach from The Pioneer Woman.

The second is from Molly Watson and works with main dishes like chicken or fish but has dessert potential, too. 

10: Swings--Young families have moved onto my street and and re-energized the neighborhood. Two neighbors hung swings from the big tress in their front yards. One's a tire swing and the other has a wooden seat. The joy of kids at play is infectious.

Last month, record-high heat struck the country. Did you wring something positive out of temperatures that hovered near or above the three-digit mark? How'd you do it? (I have at least ten weeks of summer-like heat to get through and NEED suggestions.)

The Feedback Sandwich: Disappearing from a Menu near You

The feedback sandwich, a staple of the workplace and writers' groups, has fallen out of favor. Even Human Resources people, who foisted it on us in the first place, diss it now. The problem is, once a person develops a taste for the feedback sandwich, the open-faced variety or, worse, a slab of mystery meat on a plate, doesn't satisfy.

Ooh, shiny mailbox!

Remember the recipe for a feedback sandwich? A supervisor, co-worker, or critique partner delivers criticism by sandwiching it between two positive comments. A writer might hear the following from critique partner: "You write believable characters. I wish you'd give those characters something to do besides guzzle coffee and think about the big mistake they made long ago. Hey, good job conveying a sense of place in a sentence or two."

If you're like me, you brace yourself for bad news as soon as you hear a compliment. Maybe you're a skeptic and consider the praise nothing more than a delivery system for the criticism. Maybe you think a nice comment about your silver ballet flats has nothing whatsoever to do with your ability to craft a compelling press release about the city's recycling program.

The feedback sandwich may be hard to swallow at first, but I contend it causes less indigestion later.

After the fact, isn't it nice to take a break from stewing about the criticism and recall the words of praise even if you're not 100 percent sure they were sincere? Wow! I may not contribute a thing at team meetings, but I'm always prompt and work past quitting time without complaint.

Go on, make fun of the praise sandwich. You, too, will miss it if it goes the way of the dinosaur.

Last week, I opened a letter from my homeowners' association and was surprised by its one and only message: Paint your mailbox.

Wha-a-at?

I read the thing three times looking for a snippet of praise for my roses-for-dummies (Knock-Outs) that bloomed lushly or the pot by the front gate planted with a thriller (a tall grass), a filler (cora vinca), and a spiller (potato vine). Did the HOA notice the society garlic I planted where I lost an agapanthus to drought? 

No, no, and no.

Sunday morning, I painted my mailbox. I began the task grudgingly, but at some point between the initial sanding and the final stroke with black semi-gloss, I let go of my resentment. My roses deserve a shiny mailbox.

Thanks, HOA for the work you do to make sure our neighborhood looks nice.  Don't be afraid to point out what people are doing right and praise it since a focus-on-the-negative approach often backfires. Hey, nice letterhead!

A person whose biggest problem is a letter from the HOA about her mailbox is lucky, indeed. Here, the Pioneer Woman, Oklahoma-based blogger and cookbook author Ree Drummond, lists ways to help the tornado victims in Moore and Oklahoma City. 

How the Internet Saved My Dinner Party

This is the ideal. My version's yet to come.

I'm planning a dinner party for friends visiting from out of state. The party part is easy because they're the kind of people who bring the celebration with them. It's dinner that's tricky. Know the feeling?

Are you wondering why I don't pull out one of my three tried-and-true menus for company? Alas, these friends know the first names and nicknames of my old standards. It's possible they left Texas to get away from my Artichoke 'n' Chicken Alfredo over Wilted Spinach. (It's an easy yet impressive recipe from Southern Living, but I've lost count of the number of times I prepared it.) 

Because my pals spent ten weeks in France last summer, I decided on French food but not as a theme. Instead, I want to pay homage to their grand adventure. 

I rifled through my cookbooks, but nothing looked right AND easy. What to do? I called on Monsieur Google, who came to my aide with the Barefoot Contessa's recipe for Boeuf Bourguignon. 

Who doesn't like Ina Garten, aka the Barefoot Contessa? On her cooking show, she exudes calm and friendliness. Alas, I am a worrier and a big believer in Murphy's Law, so I asked Monsieur Google for examples of real people who had made the Barefoot Contessa's Boeuf Bourguignon. He did not disappoint. Indeed, he ushered me into the world of food bloggers.

Mon dieu! I've long been a fan of The Pioneer Woman and appreciate the photos that accompany her step-by-step recipes. I've seen Julie and Julia and read the memoir by Julie Powell that inspired the movie. Yet, did I know there are thousands of camera-wielding food bloggers out there? I did not. Nevertheless, they exist and form America's test kitchen.

These food bloggers tweak and modify recipes--just as I do. Of course, I tweak in the privacy of my own kitchen and hate to admit I left out a certain ingredient because my kids won't eat it or went without something else because it cost the earth. Food bloggers, bless 'em, tell all. And because they do, I am going to use The Amateur Gourmet's trick for lighting cognac and Confessions of a Chocoholic's tweak of tossing in the onions earlier in the process. (Confessions of a Chocoholic wanted to make sure the onions cooked. I want to be able to talk to my guests without the distraction of running into the kitchen to add an ingredient late in the cooking.)

Whew! With an appetizer, salad, and some crusty French bread, I'm home free. Wait! I forgot the best part.

Monsieur Google, s'il vous plait, find me a fast and easy French dessert.

Your turn: Who or what saves your bacon when you plan a meal for company? Recommend a food blogger to me, won't you? I need kitchen inspiration.