Foodie Friday: Long Island Pot Pie

I don't know what part of the country you are in, dear reader. I can tell you that here, in Southwestern Pennsylvania, it is cold. I am not describing just a brief chill but a deep, bone-chilling cold that makes one not want to go outside unless one has to walk one's large, obnoxious dog or break through layers of ice multiple times a day for one's animals to drink. With animals, one has no choice but to bundle up and get tasks done as quickly as possible. My bib overall-wearing buddy spoils me. He has been watering my chickens, feeding my geese, and caring for the goats so I don't have to go out into the cold. The only thing he doesn't do is walk Buster. Buster does not want to venture out for too long, either. Yesterday, given the choice of going for a walk or sleeping on a pile of The Bean's dirty laundry, he chose the latter.

Weather like we have experienced the past few weeks makes me crave warm, cozy comfort food. I have forced myself to refrain from making soup no more than once a week. However, dark winter weather makes my soul crave meals from my childhood, thick, comforting stews, and the occasional spiced baked treat. Our work in the studio is on track, and we are well caught up from the holiday rush. Our girls only produce an average of three cups of milk daily. When milk production is down, so is soap and moisturizer production. I have time to work on house projects and spend rare, nonplussed time in the kitchen. Today, I think I will take advantage of that time and begin my kitchen overhaul. That will begin with painting the ceiling. Sigh, I hate to paint ceilings. If I am working on painting the kitchen, I must simplify my meals. The recipe I share today can be made in the crockpot for hands-off simplicity or in the oven. I have done both and am pleased with the results.

When I was a kid, my mom made a simple meal she called Long Island Pot Pie. I have researched and Googled this recipe and the ingredients but have come up empty-handed. I am unsure where the recipe originated. However, as a kid, it was one of my favorites. The ingredients are pantry staples: tomato sauce, carrots, ground beef, onion, diced potatoes, Worcestershire sauce, a bit of sugar, and biscuits. My mom always made Bisquick biscuits, but you could substitute them with your favorite biscuit recipe. This recipe comes together rather quickly and is warm, comforting, and filling. It is the perfect cold-weather meal. Let's get started.

Long Island Pot Pie

-1 lb. ground beef, browned and drained of fat

-4 large potatoes: I like Yukon Gold potatoes

-5-6 carrots, cleaned, peeled, and sliced into chunks

-1 large onion chopped

-2 16oz. cans of tomato sauce

-1 TBLS. Worcestershire sauce

-1 TBLS. sugar

-1 tsp. garlic powder

-salt and pepper to taste

-In a Dutch oven or large, heavy skillet, brown the ground beef and drain the fat

-Add the onion and spices, cook until the onions are translucent

-Add the tomato and Worcestershire sauce and simmer for five minutes

-Add the potatoes and carrots if using a crockpot or Dutch oven. If using a large skillet, transfer the contents to a large, heavy baking dish.

-Combine all ingredients and bake for one hour to one hour and fifteen minutes at 350 degrees.

-Combine all ingredients and cook on low for six to eight hours if using a crockpot

-When thirty minutes of cooking time remain, mix up your biscuits and bake them following your recipe's directions

-Serve the stew in bowls and top with the biscuits

-Enjoy

On this cold January day, stay safe, be smart, enjoy delicious comfort food, and wash your hands.

There Is Luxury In Simplicity

My excitement for the new year continues. Much of this excitement surrounds new soaps, scents, products, and business growth. I LOVE creating new products. I genuinely enjoy seeing ideas become a reality. I like it even more when my new ideas are well received by my soap family. I think of new products from a problem-solving perspective. What problems are my soap family facing regarding skincare? How can I create something that will improve someone's life, make it a bit more comfortable, aid in healing, and add comfort and luxury to self-care? My new mantra is, "There is luxury in simplicity."

Allow me to share my skincare concerns with you. As a 50+ woman, I notice fine lines around my eyes and, even more disturbingly, my lips. I am not a smoker; I have never been one. I naively thought fine lines around one's lips only happened to smokers. Again, no one willingly or openly shares this information about aging. You don't have to live a life filled with harsh habits to suffer the effects of aging. Sigh. I also am noticing deeper lines around my eyes. Oh, and let's talk about eyelids. I have sagging eyelids. My Grandma Tillie was a beautiful woman. She loved to have her hair played with and her make-up done. Doing Gram's hair and make-up was a rare treat as a child. Nobody, and I mean nobody, wanted a six- or seven-year-old to do their hair except for Tillie. I remember using both hands to flatten her eyelids when applying eyeshadow. Rather than a smooth, flat surface, I would chase the saggy skin of her eyelids across the expanse of her face. She would always laugh at me for commenting on her loose skin. Where most women would take offense, Tillie laughed it off. She was a good sport.

I am sad to report, dear reader, that I seem to have inherited Tillie's saggy eyelids. Each morning, I wake up and cautiously look in the mirror, expecting to see my dad's "Boss Hog jowls" swaying in the draft. I am pleased to report this is one Tonkin trait I have yet to develop. I am sure the Boss Hog jowls are in my future, but for now, Tillie's saggy eyelids and fine lines around my lips are my main concert.

I pushed for hyaluronic acid to deal with the sagging eyelids and fine lines. One bib overall-wearing diplomat declares I am beautiful regardless of fine lines and wrinkles, which he lies and says do not exist. Although I appreciate his kindness, I am not a fool. After slathering myself in layers of hyaluronic acid cream, he claims he sees a difference in the appearance of the fine lines and wrinkles that concern me. I believe I see a difference, too. I also notice a new, dewy softness to my skin. I am continuing my love affair with hyaluronic acid.

My next area of concern is my feet, more explicitly, my heels. My dear, twenty-four-year-old buddy Jenna pointed out that my heels are "nasty." Sigh. Jenna still has youth on her side, growth hormones, and doesn't creak and crack when she bends over to pumice the dead skin off her heels. Oh, the things we take for granted when we are young! Jenna is correct in her observation that my heels are nasty. I have always struggled with calloused, dry, cracked heels. Well, dear reader, since my bib overall-wearing buddy has been so open and agreeable to using hyaluronic acid, I am now making my pitch for a line of foot care products. In my little mind, I envision a milk-based foot soak, a milk-based foot scrub, a pumice soap for feet, and a hyaluronic acid-filled foot balm to complete the foot care process. I went rogue and ordered crushed pumice for the soap and scrubs without conferring with my business partner. It's coming, dear reader. I'm going to get this done while he is weak and agreeable. Insert a wink.

What are your areas of concern, dear reader? I would love to hear what you, as my soap family, want to see regarding new products. Is there a problem area, a new ingredient, or something I could help combat? I am open to suggestions. Now is a great time to strike. One bib overall wearing nay-sayer is feeling very agreeable.

On this gloomy, grey January day, stay safe, be smart, and let me know what you think; we can age gracefully together; there truly is luxury in simplicity, and keep washing your hands.

Sweet Sixteen

Well, dear reader, we have hit yet another milestone here at the farm. My baby, my favorite human bean, turned sixteen yesterday. The Bean turning sixteen is bittersweet. There are times I long for her to be my little love nugget so badly that my teeth hurt. Yes, it's real. I have a terrible habit of clenching my teeth when under stress, duress, or extreme emotion. I unconsciously clench my teeth so tightly that my jaw and teeth ache. It's probably not the healthiest coping mechanism, but it's what I do. My jaw has been aching for almost two weeks. Sigh.

When she was a baby, I would look at her adorable little wardrobe and think, "Oh, my! She's never going to be big enough to wear that!" Inevitably, she would grow into the next size. When it was time to go to preschool, I had difficulty letting her go. Poor Mrs. Presloid, Jordan's preschool teacher at SSCD! She often had to escort me out of the room while I was on the verge of tears. She was as kind and gentle with me as she was my child. Often, I would spend Tuesday and Thursday mornings at a small coffee shop waiting anxiously for the four hours to pass while she was in preschool. I was not a mother who looked at preschool as a much-needed break from my child. I was anxiety-ridden and heartbroken she was away from me. Despite my being heartbroken as she was growing up, The Bean thrived in social settings. She loved her school, her friends, and her teachers.

As we have celebrated birthdays and milestones, I have had the gift of watching her grow into an exceptional little individual with strong convictions, a good head on her shoulders, a kind heart, and a contagious joy for life. She loves big, knows her worth, is strong and brave, and understands the value of hard work. I can say with sincerity that she makes me proud every single day. It is not that life is perfect and without challenges. Life can be tough, especially when you are a young adult. However, she faces challenges and hardships with a spirit that can overcome anything that gets in her way. She learns from her mistakes, grows, and rarely repeats a bad decision. What more could a parent ask for in a child?

Yesterday, she met yet another milestone. The day came, and despite my denial that my baby would never be as old as sixteen, it was far, far away; turn sixteen she did. We celebrated with our usual birthday tradition of one's favorite meal, cake, and gifts with a small crowd of those she holds most dear. She has chosen to celebrate her birthday at the new Texas Roadhouse this weekend. I convinced her to wait until the weather was nice before holding her sweet sixteen party. She has to decide whether to hold it here, at the farm, or rent a small venue. Right now, she is leaning towards the farm. However, like most teens, her mind changes with the direction of the wind. We host a big birthday bash every five years. Her last big birthday party was when she turned ten. I do not believe in taxing her friends and their families with gift commitments every year. Even if I ask for no gifts, generous friends always shower her with gifts.

She will also take her driver's permit test this weekend. Gasp! The Bibbed Wonder has requested the privilege of taking her for her test. I will graciously stay home and let them do their father/daughter bonding. He generously gives me the freedom to participate in all her activities. I have been a classroom mom throughout her elementary years, chaperoned field trips, went on vacations, and done all the mother/daughter excursions like spa days, shopping trips, and any fun activities one can think of doing with one's child. At the same time, he took a backseat to allow me to have a one-time experience. He's a good man, a fantastic husband, and an exceptional dad. He deserves to enjoy this milestone with her.

So, we begin 2025 with a sixteen-year-old student driver and an incredible young woman. It blows my mind that she will graduate from high school in two years, attend a school of her choosing, and build a life outside this farm and her adoring parents. I am choosing to believe that it is far, far away, and my baby will never be so old that she will leave. Of course, I know this is a lie, but I tell myself to cope. If I am being transparent, I am thrilled and excited to see where her path will take her. She will continue to make me proud, just as she has since taking her first breath while in my arms sixteen years ago. My jaw will probably develop arthritis from all the teeth clenching, but I will smile through the pain and celebrate each and every milestone I have been gifted to be a part of. Being her mother has been my greatest gift, my most exciting adventure, and more than I could have ever hoped for.

On this cold and blustery Wednesday, stay safe, be smart, tell yourself the lies you need to hear to keep your heart from breaking, embrace the gift of loving others, smile through the tears, and keep washing your hands.