Kitchen Hint : Add any other veggies (chunked zucchini, summer squash, cooked Italian/Roma beans, cooked carrots) and increase the tomatoes and sauce to accommodate them. This recipe also works well in a crockery cooker if you sauté the vegetables before you add them. Like any good sauce, this one tastes best if it’s allowed to sit for several hours (or overnight in the fridge) to allow flavors to blend. Freezes well.
Easy Roasted Chicken
Here’s a recipe that expands easily to feed a crowd. While this version calls for baking in the oven, you could cook larger amounts—four or five chickens, say—in an electric roaster by increasing the other ingredients according to how many birds you cook.
1 chicken, cut into desired serving pieces
1 stick butter or margarine, melted
½ cup white vinegar
Lawry’s seasoning salt
Preheat oven to 350°F. Spray a 9 x 13-inch pan and arrange chicken pieces in a single layer. Mix the butter/margarine and the vinegar and drizzle over the chicken. Sprinkle with the Lawry’s seasoning. Bake uncovered without turning the chicken pieces. Check for doneness after an hour and bake longer if necessary (meat should be starting to separate from the bones).
Kitchen Hint : Avoiding salt? Season the chicken with garlic powder, salt substitute, some lemon pepper—whatever flavors you prefer. It’ll still taste great!
Overnight Kale Salad with Apples
I really wanted to embrace kale, but until I found this recipe I tossed more of it out than I ate. The difference? This salad marinates for several hours, so it soaks up the sweet-sour dressing. The apples and dried cranberries make it even tastier!
3 T. apple cider vinegar
3 T. olive oil
Salt, pepper, and sugar/sweetener
1 apple, any variety
5–6 cups fresh kale
½ cup dried cranberries
Pour the vinegar and the oil into a large lidded container (a one-gallon ice cream tub works well). Add sugar or sweetener to taste, along with some salt and pepper, then rotate the container to blend these ingredients. Wash, core, and cube the apple into the container. Wash the kale, cut out the tough stalks, and slice the leaves into ribbons. Add the kale and cranberries to the salad, put on the lid, and shake well to coat the kale and apples. Chill for several hours, preferably overnight, shaking occasionally. Serves 4–6. Keeps well in the fridge for 2 or 3 days.
Luke’s Scrambled Eggs
This is more of a technique than a recipe, and ever since I read about this method I’ve not scrambled my eggs any other way! Simple, quick, and delicious for breakfast or after a busy day when you don’t feel like fussing over food.
1 T. butter per person
2–3 eggs per person
Salt and pepper
Shredded cheese, cubed ham, bacon bits as desired
Spray a small skillet and melt butter in it over medium-low heat. Break the eggs directly into the butter, and season with salt and pepper to taste. When the whites start to become white, gently break the yolks with a spatula but don’t stir and don’t flip anything over—allow some yellow and some white to remain distinct as you gently move the mixture around in the skillet. While the eggs still look wet, add any additional toppings (cheese last). Remove from the heat before the eggs look dry. Enjoy!
Don’t miss the next Seasons of the Heart novel,
available this October.
Please read on for an excerpt from
Charlotte Hubbard’s
The Christmas Cradle.
Magdalena Esh wrapped the worn blanket more snugly around her shoulders, groaning from exhaustion and frustration. Fat, icy flakes were pelting the buggy, threatening to overwhelm the windshield wipers again. She had no idea where the side of the snow-packed road ended and the ditch began. She was so tired of riding—so stiff from clutching the bulge of her unborn child—she wanted to scream.
“Why are we pulling over, Josiah?” she demanded. “This can’t be Higher Ground. That Hiram fellow’s letter said there was a big stone sign out by the road, and—”
“We took a wrong turn a while back, got it?” the young man beside her snapped. He yanked on the lines to bring the horse to a halt. “And it’s probably because you haven’t stopped whining since we left this morning. I can’t think straight—can’t see a blasted thing because of this snowstorm—and your yammering is driving me nuts!”
Lena sat taller despite her desperately aching back. “I suppose it’s also all my fault that your horse threw a shoe?”
“Well, if you want to take the blame for that, I won’t stop you.” Josiah glared at her, his dark eyes narrowing beneath the brim of his black felt hat. “I should never have told you I was leaving Bloomfield. Should’ve kept it to myself that I had a new job in Higher Ground and just—”
“Taken off without me?” Lena finished hotly. “What a lovely thing to say, just a month before your baby’s to be born! You liked me well enough when we were—”
“You didn’t exactly push me away, Lena!” he countered. “Now be quiet! There’s a light in that building, so I’m going inside to see if somebody can—”
A sharp rapping on the side of the buggy made them both suck in their breath. Through the fogged window in the door Lena could make out the shape of a man’s head. She hoped by some far-flung miracle it would be the Hiram Knepp who’d hired Josiah rather than someone bent on taking advantage of their desperate situation.
Why did you ever think Josiah Witmer would look after you, much less marry you? Your parents warned you . . .
The baby shifted restlessly within her, kicking and poking her insides. Lena knew she’d start crying again if she didn’t get out of this rig soon.
Josiah opened the buggy door, letting in a gust of snowy air as the man’s face became visible. Lena was relieved that his broad-brimmed hat and beard were signs he was Plain. His expression appeared kind and concerned as he peered in at them.
“How can I help you folks?” he asked earnestly. “It’s not fit weather for man nor beast, and it’s gettin’ too dark to be out on these nasty roads.”
“Jah, we’ve veered off our route, I’m afraid,” Josiah replied. “Would you know where I might get my horse a new shoe, and maybe find a place to stay the night?”
The man’s face lit up. Lena couldn’t tell how old he might be, but she already liked him.
“You’re not as lost as ya thought, then, as I’m a farrier and this is my smithy,” he replied, gesturing toward the building behind him. “Let’s pull your rig over here and get you kids in out of the cold.”
“Oh, denki,” Josiah murmured. “You don’t know how glad I am to hear that. Show me where to park, all right?”
With a nod, the man took hold of the harness to guide the horse. When the buggy lurched forward, Josiah closed the door with a tired sigh.
Lena clutched her blanket. “What if . . . what if he turns us out when he realizes we’re not man and wife?” she asked with a hitch in her voice. “What if we’ve come all this way but we’re not even close to Higher Ground and—”
“We’ll deal with it, okay?” he muttered. “If I’d known you were the type to worry over every little thing, I’d never have—”
“You’re calling this baby a little thing?” Lena countered in a rising voice. “Josiah, when are you going to figure out that this little person will need food and clothes and a place to sleep and—”
The buggy came to a halt and once again a rapping on the window silenced them. As he flashed her a warning scowl, Josiah opened the door. When the man gestured for them to follow him inside the small building, Lena thought her companion might leave her to clamber awkwardly out of the rig by herself. Being short and eight months along in her pregnancy made even the simplest maneuver more difficult these days, so when Josiah offered her his hand, Lena grabbed it before he could change his mind.
As they stepped into the smithy, Lena was immediately grateful for the small fire burning in the forge.
She shook the snow from her old blanket, aware of how ratty it looked . . . sensing their host was assessing her and Josiah as he removed his hat and then offered his hand.
“Ben Hooley,” he said. “You’ve made it to Willow Ridge, but you intended to be somewhere else, I take it?”
“Jah, we’re going to the new colony at Higher Ground,” Josiah replied as he grasped Ben’s sturdy hand. “I’m Josiah Witmer, and Hiram Knepp’s hired me to cook in his new supper club there. This is Magdalena Esh. We’re mighty glad we found you when we did. I don’t think either of us could take much more of that rig and the road today.”
“It’s gotten dangerous out,” Ben agreed. His hazel eyes had widened while Josiah was talking, and he seemed to be considering his reply carefully.
He noticed we have different last names . . . might not let us stay, Lena fretted. She pressed her lips into a tight line to keep from crying. Yet another mess we’ve landed in. It’s been one disaster after another these past eight months—
“It’s awfully late to be gettin’ out the tools to shoe your gelding,” Ben remarked. “How about if I lead him to the stable for some feed and water, and then we’ll go to my house across the road? We’ve got a place for ya to stay, and my wife’ll fix ya some supper, but—”
Lena sucked in her breath. The mere mention of food and a warm room had sounded heavenly—until the fellow’s face hardened.
“You’ll have to stop your bickerin’,” he stated firmly. “My Miriam is also expectin’ a child soon—our first—and I won’t have our home turned into a battleground. The moment I see her gettin’ upset because of your raised voices, you’ll be on your way, understand?”
Lena’s face went hot with embarrassment. Had she and Josiah really been squabbling so loudly that their words had carried outside the buggy? It seemed all they did was fight, pushing each another’s buttons until one of them stalked off . . . although it hadn’t been that way before she’d told Josiah she was pregnant.
Lena sighed, glancing nervously at Josiah. “All right. I’m so tired of fighting—just tired all over,” she murmured as she pressed her hand into the small of her back. “I’ll hold my tongue if you will.”
Josiah’s eyebrows rose as though he intended to blame all of their arguing on her, but then he exhaled wearily. “All right, we’ll call a truce,” he agreed as he nodded at Ben. “It’s the least we can do if you and your wife are willing to take us in.”
“Glad to hear it. You two and the baby will feel better for speakin’ more kindly to each other,” Ben said with a nod. “I’ll tend your horse and be back in a few.”
Absently rubbing her distended belly, Lena watched their host head back outside into the flying snow. She had the impression that, like his farrier shop, Ben Hooley was a man who kept a place for everything, with everything in its place. The walls of his shop were lined with tools hung on pegs and cabinets that were cleared of all extraneous items. On a worktable near the fire she spotted something that drew her like a magnet.
“Oh, Josiah, it’s a cradle,” she murmured. As she ran her finger along the glossy wooden sides, she was in awe of the intricate metalwork design that adorned the cradle’s curved headboard. Like the old-fashioned cradles she’d seen in antique shops, this one sat on the floor rather than on tall legs. A pewter-colored hummingbird sipping from a morning glory bloom was centered at the top of the headboard’s curve, with vines and tinier blooms flowing along its edges. “Do you suppose Ben made this?”
“For his wife and their baby, most likely,” Josiah replied as he, too, admired the piece. With one finger, he made the cradle rock on the worktable—and then he backed away as though the hummingbird had stabbed him with its long, pointed beak.
Just goes to show how spooked he is about this whole baby thing, Lena thought ruefully. She had no doubt that Ben Hooley was devoted to his wife and was eagerly awaiting their child, and once again she yearned for the kind of love—the rock-solid relationship—she feared Josiah Witmer wasn’t ready to give her. Her mother had begged her not to leave with this good-looking, impetuous young man. Her dat had told her not to bother coming home if she took up with such a no-account, restless dreamer. If their Missouri adventure went wrong, Lena couldn’t return to Bloomfield, Iowa. She’d be all alone to face the consequences of loving a man who wouldn’t commit himself to her and their baby.
Lena swallowed the lump in her throat and wrapped her arms around her unborn child. Lord, every time I come to You I’m begging, but please, please get me through this ordeal. Help me raise this child right . . . even if I have to do it by myself.
ZEBRA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2015 by Charlotte Hubbard
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-1-4201-3309-7
First Electronic Edition: March 2015
eISBN-13: 978-1-4201-3310-3
eISBN-10: 1-4201-3310-1
Harvest of Blessings Page 28
