Growing pangs, dogs, and an anticipated guest

          

dogs in motion

  Last night as we sat on the patio, we had four dogs racing around the yard—well, Cricket didn’t race. She sat on whatever lap would accommodate her. But Sophie had a high old time running. She couldn’t quite figure out why Merry Berry was so fixated on chasing that scruffy old tennis ball, but she was glad to run along next to her and never did try to get the ball. I was doubly glad we’d put in the ground cover, because they can tromp through it and do no damage.

We also had two teenagers—well, if you fudge a bit for Jacob who will be thirteen in June—and it was a lesson in the different growth rate of boys and girls. Eva is two months older than he but at least a head taller. They played together back in the days when both were in cribs but have pretty much gone their separate ways these days, though they will always be good friends.

Today, as we worry under the threat of unpredictable and possibly severe storms this afternoon, we are preparing for the arrival of Dylan, my children’s half-sister. Her plane is scheduled to touch down right at 5:30—in the midst of not only those dire storm predictions but also rush hour. Jordan and Christian will pick her up, and Jordan is worrying ahead about being on the highway during a storm, while I’m worrying about Dylan and a rough landing or a diverted flight.

I do hope she makes it because I spent the morning fixing dinner. We’ll have my old standby and family favorite—Doris’ casserole. (Shhh! Don’t tell Colin! This is what he requests whenever he comes to visit.)

Probably over fifty years ago, my ex- and I were invited to a small dinner party—several residents in training at the hospital and their wives. The hostess, whose name was Doris, fixed a beef casserole that she got from the Mrs. America contest. It’s sort of like American lasagna—in fact, I have another friend whose family calls it that. It’s basically a meat layer, a noodle layer, and grated cheddar. It quickly became a standard for my family, its original boring name replaced by casual references to Doris. Once years later when I told Doris how much we like it, she didn’t even remember the recipe. Or the dinner party.

The casserole is a bit of a pain to put together, so I have come to think of it as cooking two separate meals. I fix the meat sauce layer and clean up my dishes; then I fix the noddle layer and clean up those dishes. It can be refrigerated, but I wait until just before popping it in the oven to grate the cheese and spread it. But today I’ve done it, cleaned all the dishes and my tiny kitchen sparkles, and I also cooked two artichokes (per Jacob’s request). We feast tonight.

Doris’ casserole has been featured in articles, blogs, a cookbook. It’s been shared with friends, including the late Bobbi Simms who tried so hard to convince me the noodle layer belongs on the bottom; no, Bobbi, it doesn’t. The casserole was even served at a luncheon at TCU once. If I am famous for any dish that’s it.

Watch for the recipe in tomorrow’s blog, http://www.gourmetonahotplate.blogspot.com

Keep an eye out on the weather and be prepared to take shelter. Stay safe.