Thursday, January 15, 2026
Home Blog Page 4712

The Covered Dish: Stuffed apricots

0

Last week found our family hitting the road for Wichita and McPherson, Kansas.

After a fun Saturday morning at the Cook’s Nook we returned to Wichita. That

night we attended a big fall barn party at the home of our cousins, Becky &

Donnie Cornejo. What wonderful hosts these two people are. It was so nice to sit

back and enjoy an event where I wasn’t cooking. They entertained us with music

and entertainers from wild shoot-outs to crazy dance hall girls. My favorite was

the Mariachi band and the delicious fruit cobblers cooked in Dutch ovens. Wait,

I’m wrong, my favorite was the hayrack ride and then the Mariachi band!! Phillip,

our son, looked at me just before we were about to head to our motel and said:

‘Mom don’t you want to go on a hayride?’ ‘Let’s do it!’ I told him and the entire

family had such a fun fun time.

While I was in McPherson I stopped in at the Cook’s Nook as many of you are

aware. I gathered ‘ammunition’ for an upcoming football dinner at our home.

Yes this Friday we’ve invited a great group of 8th

before the high school home game. I still don’t know what the menu is going to

be, but I’m sure we will have a fun time. Phillip hates to see his Jr. High football

season come to an end. His play time has increased and he truly enjoys the

entire ‘team’ atmosphere.

I’m presenting you with a new little appetizer or dessert to use at one of your

tailgate events or baseball playoffs! (Go Royals, Go Cardinals) I would encourage

you to pick up the apricot halves way in advance of when you need them. For

some reason there were very few in the Branson West grocery stores. Another

thing I noticed was the varying sizes. One label had large plump apricots and the

next label had smaller ones. Try to stay with the same label so they are consistent

on your presentation. I also found the one tablespoon scoop was a bit too big

for most ‘canned’ apricots. Therefore the Ziploc bag approach may be the best

approach. Have you ever wondered how many halves are in a can of apricots?

It’s somewhere around 14-17 depending upon the size.

I did a ‘big’ dinner party for 30 yesterday and I can definitely say I am ready for

the weekend. (Monday and Tuesday for me) I’m grabbing some friends from

Minnesota and my husband, Ervin, and heading down to Eureka Springs, Arkansas

for lunch and a bit of shopping on Monday. Tuesday brings the final football

game of the year for the 8th

and working the concession stand on Tuesday nights.

Our friends from up north also told me they have a bag of Macintosh apples for

us. I can hardly wait, as they are so tasty and sweet. Have an enjoyable week

my friends and grab hold of a big slice of life. Simply yours, The Covered Dish.

Thecovereddish.com. Come cruise with me March 15th

Stuffed Apricots

Fresh or canned apricot halves

1 (8 ounce) cream cheese

1/4 cup Glazed roasted pecans, finely ground

Glazed roasted pecans, left in halves or smaller for garnish

2 tablespoons cinnamon syrup, (used sugar free this week)*

2 tablespoons brown sugar

Soften cream cheese in microwave and whisk in syrup, sugar and any extracts, if

used. Lastly stir in the chopped pecans. Place inside a Ziploc bag or pastry filler.

If using a Ziploc trim off one corner for filling the apricots. Some may choose to

fill using a one tablespoon cookie scoop. Place the filling inside the apricots and

top with a small piece of glazed roasted pecan.

*Another alternative could be praline syrup or 1 teaspoon of maple flavoring. I

added the brown sugar because the sugar free seemed to need it. If you’re not

using sugar free syrup you may need to omit the brown sugar.

The Glazed Pecans are found with the regular nuts on the baking aisle at big

stores like Walmart, etc.

Deer hunts from the past

0
Steve Gilliland
Steve Gilliland

As I sit writing this week’s column, the 2014 deer firearms season is in the wings and deer

hunting stories from my past flood my memory, so I’ve decided to tell you a few. In Ohio where I grew

up the only legal firearm for deer was a shotgun shooting slugs; a deadly load if a deer is hit well, but not

real accurate at any distance, especially with the over-the-counter shotguns we owned back then. Our

usual hunting style differed too; we hunted deer like many people hunted rabbits. There were a group

of us “locals” that hunted together and the more seasoned deer men in the group took a few of us kids

under their wings and let us hunt with them. We all owned land in the area so each of us came to know

how the deer moved through our farms. It then became sort of communal effort. Each day we’d gather

in a group of six to eight and head for one of our farms. If we had a fresh dusting of snow, so much the

better, as we would drive around the blocks and look for fresh tracks crossing the road. When fresh

tracks were found, we’d go to the other side of the block to see if they exited. If not, a couple guys were

dropped off where we knew deer normally crossed, and the rest of us walked through from the other

side, attempting to get the deer moving and count on someone getting a good shot. This method was

pretty effective, but required great trust in our fellow hunters, and was perfect for teaching us kids safe

shooting and target identification. In fact, this method was so effective and so prevalent in our area,

that those of us land owners often sat alone in stands for the first day or two, counting on other hunters

to move deer past us.

My nearest neighbor, Dave, a policeman in a local town, was practically a local deer hunting

legend and could always be counted on to hunt with our group. His home had a large kitchen/dining

room with windows facing three directions and was the spot where we often met to warm up and drink

a cup of hot coffee or cocoa. I cannot count the number of times that someone, usually him, saw a deer

cross the road somewhere near as we all sat there warming up and shooting the breeze. A cry would go

up and coffee cups and chairs would fly as we all scrambled out the door and into pickups, attempting to

get some shooters to the other side of the block before the deer moved completely through.

Then there was the day when we were walking through another neighbor’s woods and a nice

buck erupted from a big brush pile in front of us. The land owner was the only one of the group with a

clean, safe shot, and shoot he did, emptying both barrels of his old double barrel at the buck that just

cantered off in disgust at having his nap interrupted. As I recall, Don, the land owner traded guns the

very next week.

Another year on opening morning I sat in a fencerow overlooking a small patch of woods on our

farm. The morning was as clear, calm and frosty as it could be, and shortly after sun-up a buck stepped

out of the woods about seventy-five yards away. It was so calm and frosty that I actually heard each

step he took, and could see his breath as he stopped to survey his surroundings. I clicked off the safety,

put the sights behind his shoulder and squeezed off the perfect shot, only to watch him flee the scene

without a scratch. I promptly took my shotgun to a local gunsmith for help in sighting it in.

I suppose the most memorable story of all involves my brother and his first deer. I got Joe

involved with our annual neighborhood hunting group and he was soon as hooked as I. As I remember

it, this particular weekend during deer firearms season I was gone during the day for some reason, and

when I returned home that evening, a nice buck hung in my barn. You have to understand that at this

point I had hunted for two or three years without yet harvesting my first deer, and here I came home to

find my “little” brother had harvested his first deer, a dandy buck, from my woods, and right where I’d

missed the perfect shot in the story above. Today I’m ashamed of how I first reacted back then; I believe

I asked him where he planned to find land to hunt the next year.

Today Joe is a still a better deer hunter than I, has harvested many more deer than I and both

his son and daughter and their families are all deer hunters because of him. My wife Joyce now hunts

deer and we hope to pass our love of hunting and of the outdoors on to our young grandson as well.

That’s what it’s all about and that’s how it’s supposed to work! As our various Kansas deer seasons come

and go for 2014, be safe, be patient and may your freezers be full! Continue to Explore Kansas

Outdoors.

Steve can be contacted by email at [email protected]

Marryin’, Buryin’ & Carrion

0
lee pitts

Realizing they have an untapped resource for making money, many ranch families have extended their operations to include income streams besides livestock. Some have resorted to wrangling dudes, guiding hunters or renting out their ranches for weddings. After all, there is a certain symmetry, whether you’re trying to find a buck or you’re getting married, both have about the same odds for success. You also have to have a license for both and there is a bag limit, so to speak.

As with a contractor who builds a house, the real money to be made in marrying or hunting is in the “add-ons” you can charge for. For example, if you have to be at the scene of the accident anyway, you might as well get paid to be the one who marries the lucky couple. Granted, it does require some sort of certification but the barrier to entry is quite low. When my sister wanted me to marry her, not in a literal sense, I got my certification from the Rose Ministries of Las Vegas, Nevada, for $35.00. And I got to pick whether I wanted to be known as Pastor Pitts or Reverend Lee. (For a few dollars more I could have received a framed certificate instead of the cheap plastic card I settled for.) After the wedding at the reception you could charge for being the DJ who spins the country western music. (I’m assuming the young couple aren’t going to want hip hop or rap music,  and I use the word “music” with great reservation.)

What better to serve at the barbecue afterwards than your own branded beef, mountain oysters and jerky. You could also charge for the bouquets and boutonnieres made out of leafy spurge, sagebrush or kudzu. If your wife can sew, why not sell the bride and bridesmaid’s dresses or rent out footwear like they do at the bowling alley. And what guests wouldn’t pay for valet parking, umbrellas and pay toilets, after all, I don’t think wedding guests should be expected to use nature’s facilities. I think many affluent guests would also pay a pretty penny for upgrading their seating arrangements from a hay bale to a plastic chair.

You could sell grass seed in cute little sacks to throw at the couple afterwards instead of rice. This brings in more income and will also reseed a pasture. If the party goers imbibe too much you can provide wagons and carriages with designated drivers to haul them home. Because they got their car dirty on your dirt road, of course you’re going to want to offer car washes as they exit your property. And if the father of the bride can’t pay for all these add-ons, why not serve as his loan shark or bookie by carrying a note at an exorbitant rate of interest, or by placing his bets? After all, any man who lets his precious daughter marry a cowboy has got to be a BIG gambler.

Granted, there are not so many opportunities for add-ons with hunting. Oh sure, you can charge a consultant fee to advise the hunter when he’s about to shoot one of your cows instead of a moose. You can also charge for a sleeping bag, guide services, port-a-potty, field dressing and for carrying out his buck. Speaking of carrying, if you can’t get to the buck or elk your guest shot you would quite naturally add on a charge for cleanup services performed by the carrion that patrol your place. Naturally, if your guest killed an animal out of season, or an endangered species, I’m quite sure they’d expect you to charge for burial services too. I can envision a fee for dog rental, tree stand or duck blind rental, ammunition and artillery, cutting and wrapping, bribing the game warden, taxidermy, and tee shirts and caps advertising your ranch.

To really hit the jackpot you could combine marrying and hunting by offering a hunting honeymoon after the ranch wedding. Or a dude honeymoon by charging them for fixing your fence, flanking calves at your branding, or putting up your hay.

Just think my ranching friends, the world is your oyster and all you have to do is not be afraid to charge for them. The oysters, I mean.
wwwLeePittsbooks.com

I remember: The 2014 Writer’s Convention

0

By Doris Schroeder

On Sunday we finished our yearly state-wide writer’s convention of 2014 in Hutchinson at the former Ramada Convention Center. Again, it felt like a giant family reunion, not because we were related by birth but by the camaraderie of a shared passion that was given to us by our Creator. Our theme coincides with our share passion of writing: “The salt of the earth!”

The Kansas Authors Club is probably one of the oldest writing groups in America and perhaps in the world. It was started in Topeka in 1904 and has continued through the years with such illustrious members as Margaret Hill McCarter, the first woman to address a Republican National Convention.

There was  William Allen White, the well-known newspaper editor and writer from the Emporia Gazette who wrote “I am not afraid of tomorrow, for I have seen yesterday and I love today.”

Of course an illustrious member was Arthur Capper, a two term governor of Kansas and a five term senator who demonstrated his interest in young people with the establishment of the Capper Foundation for crippled children. He was an active member of the Kansas Authors Club. He believed “If we are to perpetuate the state, we must not only produce citizens but good citizens…men and women of sound bodies, clear minds and clean souls.” To him, it started with the children.

We have continued the passion to help young people become writers by our Youth Contests.  Last Friday night was the ultimate for them at the convention as the prize winners of the Youth contests were announced at the hotel. Parents were present and had a chance to hear a little of their work. This was followed with a celebration of cake and punch. How exciting it was for the future generation of writers!

Saturday was the big day of the convention for those of us no longer children. During the day we got together for a business meeting, enjoyed the wisdom of writers at our choice of six work shops, given in the morning and afternoon sessions. The leaders were  Roy Beckemeyer on Technical Writing, Allen Krehbiel on Heart Strings: Crafting Lyrics and Melody, Tom Mach: Stories with a Twist.  The second group was Ronda Miller: Stand up Poetry, Nancy Julien Kopp: Basics of Writing, and Roy Wenzl: Telling True Stories.

In the later afternoon, we saw The History of the Salt Industry in Hutchinson by Steve Conard and Steve Harmon and  later participated in  a Read Around. In the evening we enjoyed a banquet with Roger Cornish, Wichita KTVH newscaster, telling about “Television: Changing more than just the Channel.”

Book awards were given out by Roy Beckemeyer, KAC vice-president. Membership awards by William Karnowski, KAC president, and Merit and Service Awards by Cynthia Ross. The evening concluded with special music by Allen Krehbiel.

On Sunday we started out with our general business meeting and the state officers were voted on and introduced. We had a Rosemary time followed by a worship service “The Salt of the earth” with Pastor Wayne Pittman, the pastor for seniors at the Crossroads Christian Church. A workshop “A children’s book? Can you make it happen?” by Marilyn Hope Lake was the next item on the program.

The luncheon was followed  by the annual contest winners and awards ceremony by Alan D’Souza and Ronda Miller. They awarded the prizes for the annual KAC writing contest This was followed by the KAC District 1 members inviting everyone to the next annual convention in 2015.

During the convention we had a book room operating by the 7th District of the KAC Convention. They sold books by the authors of our group and it was well attended. It gives a wonderful situation for both new and old writers.

Our theme this year was “The Salt of the Earth.”  When you think about it, isn’t that very true. We love to read about God’s creation with descriptive phrases that we relate to. We find peace in reading words that will help us in this life’s journey that is full of scary discontent. Good writing in this world by writers who are helpful are truly the salt of the earth.

Our convention was closed for another year. Somehow it reminded me of the motto of our  Buhler high school graduating class of 195l… “Enter to learn, depart to serve!” That is what our conventions do for us. Anyone who has any talent  or wish of writing is welcome to join our Kansas Authors Club. You will find out anything you need to know  by looking up the website of Kansas Authors Club or we will be more than happy to inform you. Come and join our family of writers.

Doris welcomes your comments and can be reached at [email protected]

 

Laugh tracks in the dust

0
Thayne Cozart
Milo Yield

                What in the world is the world coming to — a place where boys ain’t boys, girls ain’t girls, men ain’t men and women ain’t women? Apparently so in Lincoln, Neb., (Of all places. I’d have suspected California or New York.) where the schools are encouraging teachers to call students by “gender-neutral” terms. One of the suggested terms is Purple Penguins.

Good grief! Purple Penguins! How about Beefy Bovines? Nope, that suggests obesity. Or, Porky Porcupines? Nope, obesity again, plus the oak trees might be offended. Perhaps Furry Felines? Nope, those hairless Mexican cats might bring a lawsuit. How about Brown Blackbirds? Rejected! Much too racial for school children. (Whoops! I’m not sure the term “children” is neutral-enuf to be acceptable.)

If this avant guard trend catches on world-wide for all species, we’re gonna have chaos and the world will be a hungry place without bulls and cows, boars and sows, rams and ewes, roosters and hens. And what will the cowboys and cowgirls, er … I mean CowPenguins ride without stallions and mares. Sorry, but cows are female so CowPenguins won’t work. Darned if I can think of an acceptable term to describe folks who ride horses and work bovines.

Gosh, even most plants aren’t gender-neutral. So, I guess the wise educators in Lincoln would have us all eating what? Algae? Soylent? Who knows?

The stupidity of political correctness has reached a critical level. Let’s all hope it never reaches critical mass and stays confined to the brilliant Purple Penguin educators of Lincoln, Neb.

***

For the first time in more than 15 years, I worked (a little bit) at a farm show last weekend at the Ozark Fall Farmfest in Springfield, Mo. I wuz back amongst the folks where I cut my column writing teeth and many of the oldsters in the crowd remembered our early days together. And, thankfully, some of them even told me column-worthy true stories.

The best one wuz about an ol’ Missouri feller who wuz feeding a bunch of steers and heifers. One day, he hung up his Carhartt jacket on a post and forgot it. When he realized what he’d done, he went back for his jacket, but it wuz no where to be found. So, he figgered it had blown off the post and been trampled in the mud and manure of the feedlot.

Wrong! A few days later one of the heifers went off feed and had every indication that she wuz in labor trying to have a calf. The situation required the attention of the local veterinarian who decided a C-section wuz in order.

Surprise! When he opened up that heifer, it wuz one of her stomachs that had the problem and it turned out to be a wadded-up Carhartt jacket. She’d eaten the whole thing. The vet extracted the jacket, sewed the heifer up, and she recovered from her gastronomical adventure. But the best part of the story is that the farmer took the jacket home, washed it, and continued to wear it.

***

Another feller said that in the course of keeping peace in his family, he agreed to take in a pet cat that a family member could no longer keep in a big city apartment. This wuz an act of family devotion because the feller dislikes cats in the first place, and especially cats acclimated to living in a comfy home.

In a matter of days, the newly-rural cat developed a yen for a nightly excursion to investigate the great outdoors. To get attention, the cat would go to the sliding screen door and meow loudly and scratch the screen until the feller let it out.

Then, just about the time he got settled back into his bed, the cat would decide it had seen enuf of the outdoors and would meow loudly and scratch on the screen to be let back into the house.

Several weeks of this nightly routine wore the feller’s patience thin and he decided to teach the cat a lesson. So that night he brought his electric cattle prod into the house and when the cat decided to prowl for the night, the feller slid the screen door open just a bit and, when the cat started outside, he “stanchioned” its head between the screen door and the door jamb and applied the hot-shot a couple of times before he opened the screen and let the cat outside.

The feller said he never saw that cat again and he truthfully told the family member and previous cat owner that he’d let the cat out one night and it never came back.

“I didn’t lie, but I didn’t tell the whole truth either. I think I over-charged its battery,” he grinned.

***

We’ve had quite a change in the weather. Yesterday it wuz sunny and 80 degrees and today it’s rainy and in the 50s. Next thing to happen is a frost, I guess, and then fall will be here for sure.

Another indication of fall is the baseball playoffs. I can hardly believe that the Kansas City Royals, a team I’ve faithfully followed since the 1950s, is in the playoffs again. They need to win eight more game to be world champions, but I’m happy for them just to be playing in the post season.

I’ll close will these few wise words about fall from Chinese philosopher Zhuangzi. He said, “We cling to our own point of view, as thought everything depended on it. Yet our opinions have no permanence; like autumn and winter, they gradually pass away.” Those words are especially pertinent to an opinionated person like me. Have a good ‘un.