CassCooks Blog Post
Chive-dill bread—even I can't come up with a witty title for that! Bake it any way.
2 1/2 teaspoons yeast
1/4 cup boiling water
1 tablespoon melted butter
1 teaspoon salt
1 Tablespoon finely chopped dill
1 cup cottage cheese
1 Tablespoon sugar
1 egg
10-15 fresh chives, snipped into small bits
2-3 cups all-purpose flour
Now you've heard me say before that you must never use hot ingredients to knead into bread dough as it will kill the yeast. In general, that's correct. But stay with me, kittens… In the bowl of your kitchen aid mixer, combine the boiling water and cottage cheese. Stir and behold! You now have tepid cottage cheese. Mix in sugar, herbs and yeast and a cup of flour. Stir thoroughly with a wooden spoon. Set aside in a warm spot for about twenty minutes to proof the yeast—Don't skip this step. There are a lot of ingredients to this recipe and you need to test the yeast to make sure it is strong enough to support all of them, otherwise you will have the grossest frittata in the world, instead of a lovely loaf of bread.
Once all is foamy, stir in at least one other cup of flour, the salt and and up to another one-half cup of flour. Let your dough hook take it from here and let your machine go at a moderate speed until the dough begins to clean the sides of the bowl. Butter your bread pans (two), hand knead your dough and cut it into two logs and rest each one in a prepared pan. Rise for at least an hour. Use an egg wash and then bake your bread at 325 degrees for about forty-five minutes. Ideally, and I do understand that we live in a fallen world, allow it to rest for at least fifteen minutes and then serve forthwith slathered in butter.
It has taken me longer to describe it than it will take you to do. The chive-dill combination can seem both Scandinavian and somehow Baltic. See the archive for Beef Paprikash. This bread is also surreal as the basis of a turkey sandwich, or if royalty is visiting (or you live in Alaska) smoked salmon….
Keep your life delicious!
Cass
When she looked up, there was a cup of tea in front of her. "It's nice to have visitors at the lodge this time of year. Right?"
Her husband agreed, unceremoniously lifting her feet from their perch and sliding his body under them. He rubbed her feet and she purred. She considered saying that a foot rub could be better than sex, which was absolutely true, but she suspected saying so might have deleterious affects on her bottom. Of course, foot rubs were not in the same stratosphere as sex with Killian. But really, how much clarifying could you do on a cold night in a cozy kitchen. "How bad will it be out on the boat tomorrow?" she asked.
"It won't matter." Killian sipped his beer.
"What do you mean?"
"Lloyd never catches anything. He is, without question, the worst fisherman ever. Can't catch fish in Alaska… Sad really."
Cass really didn't understand the ins and out of fishing. She still didn't really understand what fish could be fished when. She knew that salmon was freshwater part of the time and salt water others. She usually excused her ignorance by saying that she knew her way around a fish in the kitchen, but not on the open water. She had found that most Alaskans didn't expect much of her once they knew she was from Chicago.
Cass woke up the next morning to a steady stream of texts from the bride-to-be Ava. "Shades of green only, no red, not even flowers." Cass snorted to herself. Everyone was killing themselves for a Valentine's Day wedding for a bride who was opposed to red. Nothing capricious there. She padded towards the kitchen in her pajamas and fuzzy socks. It was always cooler in the main entryway than it was in the apartment. Right before she swung the kitchen door open, she froze. She could hear whispers on the other side of the door. Hazel was entreating someone. "I know, you are right. But give me just a little more time." With her typical clumsiness, Cass careened into the coatrack that presided over the entryway. Cass caught it at the last possible moment, and exhaled in relief. The rack rolled over and clattered to the floor leaving Cass holding an empty coat. After that, there was really no need for stealth. Cass picked up the coat rack and went into the now empty kitchen. She glanced out the window over the sink hoping to get an idea of who Hazel had been speaking to. Unfortunately, she couldn't see anything except that her industrious husband had shoveled the snow that had fallen the day before. The thing about marrying an Alaskan, she mused to herself, was that you would never be the hardest working person in your union.
By the time she was dressed, Hazel came whirring down the hallway. Cass remembered the day after she had met Hazel she had wondered if the woman left dust clouds in her wake. She wondered no longer. Hazel absolutely did.
***
Cass had had to learn a whole new way of planning trips to the store. In Chicago, she could access any conceivable ingredient within a few blocks of her apartment and virtually around the clock. A few things could be picked up in Slicktrench. A very few. There was a gas station, a health care center with a pharmacy, a liquor store and a poky, jam-packed, overpriced grocery store. She had the advantage of learning from Hazel, the champion pantry builder. They stopped for pizza after they had gone to the gas station to fill the gas cans for the snow plow. No matter how long she lived in the town, Cass would never be able to see the sign bearing the legend 'Slicktrench Pizza' without giggling. She had learned that none of the town's denizens seemed aware of just how inappropriate the name of their beloved town was. She was shocked, and amused when Hazel loudly announced, "Let's get cocktails." It was 11:00 am. The waitress raised her eyebrows and Hazel hotly defended herself.
"Young lady, I have known your grandmother since before your mother was born and if I want a drink, so help me God I will have one." The waitress, shrugged her shoulders in the universal 'whatever' response. The pizza joint was staffed by a coterie of young female relations of the owners. They were all atrociously unskilled waitresses. Cass had previously referred to them as the 'pizza coven' to her best friend, the witty and stalwart Jen. However, since Stephen, the carbophobic fuckwit and Cass's former fiancé, had broken one of their hearts, Cass felt a certain reluctance to speak of them that way. However, unwittingly, Cass had brought Stephen into their sphere. She would not, however, hire any one them to cater the funeral of a dog she didn't like.
Hazel and Cass settled to the task that was taking over both of their lives—planning an impossible wedding, for a woman who was 300 miles away. Luckily, this was far from their first rodeo. Trench Outfitters had suddenly become the place to host a rural chic wedding. Cass had written a post for CassCooks about her own wedding and it had gone viral. Hazel insisted on making (over and over and over) the terrible joke that she was 'bugged' by the whole thing. No one thought this was at all funny. Probably because it was so clearly not funny at all.
Cass looked up from her phone. "Have you ever heard of lemon cake with dark chocolate frosting?"
Hazel looked up from her notebook. "On purpose?"
"You have accidentally?"
"Well, no. Can't say that I have."
"Well, it's what Ava wants."
Thus far, they had hosted weddings for guests with a wide range of connection to the great outdoors. There had been one memorable wedding in which the bride wore camo. Mostly though, they catered to people who wanted a gorgeous setting, delicious food and a convivial atmosphere in which to pledge their troth. Cass had been interviewed by White Gown magazine for an article on DIY weddings. Cass had a sneaking suspicion that she had blown the whole thing. The chat with the reporter had been wide ranging, they'd covered everything from menus, to invitations to choosing a dress for an outdoor wedding. Cass had fully enjoyed herself. She had thought that she had managed to proffer a lot of information whilst keeping the narrative lighthearted. She must have been wrong about that as she hadn't heard back from them and the article had not appeared. She wished she had not told everyone she knew about it because now she had to fi
eld questions about when it would be on their newsstands. A term she loved, although she hadn't seen an actual newsstand since she had been on the 'L' in Chicago.
Cocktails in hand, pizza on order, they split up the tasks. Hazel making lists of bar supplies and Cass coming up with sample menus. None of which had thus far appealed to Ava. Cass was trying to be nonchalant about the whole thing, but she was her wits end. Ava had pronounced crab as 'disgusting'. The most recent menu Cass had sent her had been sent back with the legend, "No offense, but could you think of things that are less gross." Ahem, thought Cass, very much offended. Although the requested cake flavor might go a long way to explaining that, she thought to herself. Cass was unsure what to make of Ava. She had been up for a visit right before Christmas, so that the family could meet her. As the newest Nelson, Cass was trying to maintain an open mind. No one was more astonished than Cassandra Elyce Harper-Nelson that she had found peace, joy and orgasms under the land of the midnight sun. She had though. She was trying not to judge Ava since she now understood that there was no predicting who would be called to Alaska.
Some things she didn't miss at all. She didn't miss crowded sidewalks full of people you didn't know and who you didn't greet. She didn't miss high property taxes. She didn't miss sirens and locking her doors. She did miss her friends. Lately, that loss had sunk in. She had been so in love with Killian that she had thought she would never need anyone else. She adored Hazel, but even the coolest mother-in-law on the planet didn't take the place of a girlfriend. That reminded her she should skype Jen before it got too late. Jen was newly pregnant with her second baby and found it hard to be gracious when woken up by Cass's inability to remember the time difference.
They crossed the parking lot of the boat dock to get to the dollar store. Nothing in Alaska cost only a dollar, Cass had learned. She considered telling that Hazel that it was really more like the 'fifty-dollar store' but remembered how tired they all were of the 'bugging' pun and decided not to risk it. Hazel introduced her to a handsome young man who was wearing a camo jacket. "This is Zach. He's one of our most accomplished bear hunters."
"Oh," said Cass, trying to be polite. "Have you bagged a bear this week?" She was priding herself on knowing the term 'bagging' since in her previous life that was something that grocery store clerks and nightclubbing sluts did.
The man looked surprised, muttered, "No," and turned away.
At that moment. Killian's former fiancée, the upsettingly pretty Libby, appeared. "It's January," Libby said.
"I know what month it is." Seriously how did these people think she had lived to the ripe old age of thirty before they were around to prevent her from putting a fork in a light socket?
"Bear season ends in October. You just called him a poacher."
"Of course I did," said Cass with a bitter sigh. "When I make a fool of myself, I go all in."
Libby smiled and leaned in close. "Between you and me, he might be."
"Really?" Cass exclaimed much louder than was politic.
Libby smiled again. "No."
She had to admit it, the girl was funny, although Cass had zero intention of becoming friends with her.
"I'm sorry. We forget that you didn't grow up hunting." They did not forget; Cass was sure of it. Libby was sashaying down the convenience store aisle in a dress and her pharmacist's lab coat and she still looked more likely than Cass to be handling a rifle. This being an outsider was getting old.
Hazel came around the corner and gathered Libby into an embrace. "Hello, sweet pea. On a break?" Typical of Hazel, she added more questions before she allowed an answer. "Have you heard about Torsten's wedding? Killian is so glad to have him home."
Cass had a flicker of jealousy. Hazel called her 'sweet pea'. She knew she was being ridiculous though. Hazel had been nothing if not welcoming to her. Libby had practically grown up in Hazel's house, so it wasn't reasonable to expect them not to suddenly stop adoring each other.
"Yeah, I ran into him at Sam's," said the younger woman without looking either of the Nelson ladies in the eye.
Cass stopped feeling bad about her determination not to like the svelte blonde, since she was clearly still in love with Killian. Her husband had not mentioned seeing Libby at Sam's house. In fact, she had never heard of this god damned Sam. Her curiosity got the better of her. "Who's Sam?"
Hazel laughed at her. "It's the bar, sweet pea."
"The one with the broken sign? The sign says Yukon."
"It's Yukon Sam's, but the sign got hit by a falling boulder and they never fixed it." Hazel and Libby briefly caught each other's gaze. Libby couldn't hold it though and Cass knew why. However well liked, she was and would stay an outsider in Slicktrench. No matter how much Libby loved Hazel, she just could not warm up to Cass.
"I'll pay for this stuff." Cass took the items from Hazel and headed for the checkout line. Well, the checkout since there was never a line for anything in Slicktrench.
Noticing that Hazel was still chatting with Libby, Cass called, louder than she needed to have done, she'd admit, "I'm going to pick up the mail."
She strode out into the falling snow. She opened the door of the jeep with a wrenching motion and threw her ridiculously small, considering she'd just spent seventy dollars on it, bag into the back seat.
Chapter 3 - The Pervy PO Box
In Chicago, her mail had arrived daily at her very own front door. No such niceties existed in Slicktrench. "Hello Cassie," the young man behind the post office counter greeted her. "Do you want both sets of packages?"
She had no idea what he meant by this, but she was tired of asking stupid questions. Apparently, she should have known that you couldn't hunt bears in January and that a bar clearly designated with a sign reading 'Yukon' was actually called Sam's. She blew her bangs off of her face. So be it. "Yes, I do," she said firmly.
Hazel was still not at the jeep, so Cass climbed in and put the key in the ignition. There were a number of packages addressed to the lodge. She shuffled through them. There were the cake pans she had ordered. Ava, was opposed to red flowers but pro heart-shaped wedding cakes, a stance with which Cass heartily disagreed. There was a photo album her mother had sent. Cass's mother had been a serious scrap booker all of Cass's life and the digital revolution had hit her hard. She just could not give up her deckle edged scissors, so her children still received fussily decorated scrapbooks several times a year. She set the stack of bills aside and turned her attention to the other package. It had been shipped to a C Nelson c/o a post office box. Cass wasn't aware of having a PO box. Maybe it just automatically happened when you moved here, she thought. She used a spare key that was deep in the recesses of her bag to slit open the paper tape. Digging through the packing peanuts she spied something that was bright blue. She reached in and to her amazement was pulling a small bright blue paddle out of the box when the passenger door swung open.
She stuffed the vividly colored contraband back into the box with such force that she broke though the bottom of the parcel. The action unleashed a torrent of static ridden packing peanuts that suddenly seemed to fill up the jeep.
"What's in the box?" queried her mother-in-law.
Cass tossed the box over her shoulder. It arced, leaking like a rocket shedding jet fuel, into the back seat. Cassandra spat out a packing peanut. As per usual when she was caught off guard, she began to babble. "Mom sent me a scrapbook—you can't see it now. I'll show you later, but I'll definitely show you later. Nothing to hide." She cackled like a lunatic of criminal intent. "Or maybe the cake pans were in here. I'm not sure. Something was in there. But it really doesn't matter. We have to get home right now!" Hazel was deep in her own thoughts and barely seemed to notice the bizarre behavior of her daughter-in-law.
Cass was unsure how she would distract her mother-in-law long enough to smuggle into the lodge the S&M contraband that she had apparently been too drunk to know she was having delivered to the PO box that she didn't know that she had. She needn't have wor
ried. Hazel said, "Oh, I forgot to put clean towels in Cabin Two. I'll unload the jeep later," and nearly threw herself out of the still moving jeep as soon as they were through the open gates of the lodge.
Just to be on the safe side, Cass removed her coat and wrapped it around the third box. Now that it was denuded of packing material, Cass was sure she could hear the paddle rattling around inside the box as she raced through the frigid outdoors. Killian was in the kitchen. Even with just the two of them present, Cass could not bring herself to actually speak of the package. She frantically nodded her head in the direction of their apartment.
Killian's eyes grew nervous. "Things okay, babe?" he asked
She could only whisper, "No. Things are not okay. Follow me."
"Why are we whispering?" he whispered. Cass glared at him and moved forcefully towards their quarters.
She took the precaution of locking the hall door and then their bedroom door behind them. Still keeping her coat over the encumbrance, she closed the interior shutters of their bedroom.
"You know we are on the second floor, right, babe?" Killian was so close behind her that she shrieked and dropped the box.
Killian bent to pick it up and a smile split his handsome face. "Sweet!"
"You ordered this thing?"
Killian nodded happily as he felt the heft of the paddle. "Its light—see. Feel it."
Cass reluctantly reached for it. "It is a beautiful color."
Killian was entirely too delighted with his newest acquisition. "It will make something else turn an even more beautiful color. Ha! Or some one else."
She crossed her arms in front of herself, the paddle still in her right hand. "Were you even going to discuss this with me?"
"Why?"
The blue paddle was like a red cape in front of a bull. "Seriously? First of all, isn't your taking out a PO box for me, like mail fraud or something? Second of all—"
Relish (The Cass Chronicles Book 2) Page 2
