Fall Comfort in a Bowl: Blue Owl’s Hot Tamale Soup Made Simple

 

Lately I’ve been paging through cookbooks from area restaurants — both past and present — and finding some wonderful recipes that are new to me. Today’s comes from the Blue Owl Restaurant in Kimmswick, Missouri, as published in their Treasures from the Heart Cookbook.

 The Blue Owl has a charming story. Mary Hostetter began baking from her home kitchen in 1983. By the 1984 holiday season she was filling more than 30,000 Christmas cookie orders, working 21-hour days. In 1985 she took over the restaurant in the historic river town of Kimmswick (the building had been restored by Lucianna Gladney-Ross, the 7UP heiress often called the matriarch of Kimmswick). 

What started as a country tearoom grew into a destination known for homemade comfort food and, most famously, its pies. The towering Levee High Apple Pie, created after the Great Flood of 1993 and packed with about 18 apples, has been featured by the Food Network, the Today Show, Forbes, and more. Today the restaurant continues under Mary’s daughter Kim Byerly and her husband Dan, still serving those legendary pies alongside hearty meals.

 The house filled with the most wonderful aroma as this luscious Hot Tamale Soup simmered while I went about my chores, which was exactly what I wanted on a fall day.

 A few practical notes and swaps: Use 90% or 80% lean ground beef. It makes a real difference and rarely needs draining, which eliminates an extra step. If you don’t have a fresh red bell pepper, reach for the roasted red peppers from Melissa’s Produce that come in a jar (I’ve been talking about them for more than a decade. Same with garlic: two fresh cloves are ideal, but Melissa’s minced garlic is a convenient pantry staple I’ve relied on since I began this blog in 2010.) I was out of frozen corn kernels (as well as canned corn) — don’t ask me why — but had creamed corn on hand for Caribbean cornbread (which I made to go alongside), so I used that. Use whatever corn you have. There is no salt in the recipe and I thought this dish needed some, so I added ½ t. seasoned salt.

 I allowed it to simmer twice as long as the recipe indicated because I wanted my soup a bit thicker. 

Hot Tamale Soup

 1 lb. lean ground beef

1 onion, chopped

1 red bell pepper, chopped

2 garlic cloves, chopped

1 T. chili powder

2 t. ground cumin

½ t. cayenne pepper

Pinch of ground cinnamon

3 c. canned chicken broth

1 14.5- oz. can diced tomatoes, with juices

12 tamales, 3 oz. each

1 15.5-oz. can pinto beans, rinsed and drained

1 c. frozen corn kernels

Shredded cheddar

Sour cream

 Cook the first 4 ingredients over medium-high heat, breaking up the meat until browned. Add chili powder, cumin, cayenne, and cinnamon and cook 1 minute. Add broth and tomatoes with juices. Cover and simmer 30 minutes.

 Meanwhile, heat the tamales according to package instructions. Stir beans and corn into the soup. Simmer until the corn is just heated through, about 3 minutes. Place 2 tamales into each of 6 bowls. Ladle soup into the bowls.

 Sprinkle with cheese and sour cream and serve.

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Fall Baking: Butterscotch Browned Butter Pumpkin Loaf

 

It’s hard to believe it’s already October and this is the first pumpkin loaf I’ve baked this year. Usually the craving hits in August, and a quick look back at past posts proves it; I’ve rarely let that month go by without something pumpkin-spiced in the oven. I just get excited for the season.

 This time, though, I baked the loaf on a 95° day. Completely unseasonable. Most of us around here are about ready to run screaming into the streets… except we’d just get even sweatier. But I digress.

I adapted this recipe from one I found at chindeep.com. What caught my eye was the instant butterscotch pudding mix. Having whipped up a batch of cooked butterscotch pudding at 4:30 in the morning not long ago, you might think I’m becoming a little butterscotch-obsessed. Honestly? I wouldn’t mind if I were.

 The result was absolutely delicious. The pudding makes a noticeable difference, and the brown butter adds wonderful depth and complexity. This is a dense, flavorful, yet still moist loaf. Somehow the flavors feel richer and more developed than other pumpkin breads I’ve made in the past. It’s definitely a keeper.

If you haven’t baked your first pumpkin loaf of the season yet, you might want to give this one a try.

Butterscotch Pudding Browned Butter Pumpkin Bread

 1¾ c. flour

1 3.4-oz. pkg. instant butterscotch pudding (dry powder, unprepared)

1 T. baking powder

1 t. baking soda

2 t. pumpkin pie spice

1 t. cinnamon

¼ t. freshly ground nutmeg

¼ t. ginger

⅛ t. ground cloves

½ c. butter, melted in a skillet until browned and fragrant

1 c. brown sugar

1 15-oz. can pumpkin puree

2 large eggs, lightly beaten

1 T. granulated sugar (for sprinkling)

 Preheat the oven to 350°F. Spray an 8×4-inch loaf pan with Baker’s Joy and set aside.

 In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, dry pudding mix, baking powder, baking soda, and all the spices. Set aside.

 In a separate bowl, combine the browned butter (melted over medium heat, stirred occasionally until fragrant—watch carefully so it doesn’t burn), brown sugar, pumpkin puree, and eggs. Stir until just combined.

 Add the wet ingredients to the dry ingredients and mix until just combined—don’t over mix.

 Pour the batter into the prepared pan and sprinkle the top with the granulated sugar.

 Bake for 60–65 minutes, or until the top is set and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out with a few moist crumbs.

 Cool in the pan for 10 minutes, then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely. Slice and enjoy once mostly cool.

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Making Halloween Postcards from a Master Board

 

I love Halloween, but that wasn’t always the case. As a shy only child, trick-or-treating felt like pure stress. I wanted that pillowcase full of candy and homemade treats, yet the idea of putting on a costume and knocking on doors (even with friends) made me want to hide. Back then, many neighbors expected a performance: come inside, tell a joke, sing a song, or recite a poem before the goodies appeared. It was a nightmare.

I’m grateful those days are behind me. (I buy my own candy now.) Instead of going door-to-door, I go all-out at home. I decorate every room—tables set with spooky flair, the whole house transformed, and even the bedroom dressed in Halloween quilts and shams. I simply can’t resist the seasonal cheer. 

 As an avid card-maker, I also wanted a quick way to stay in touch. So this year I supplemented my usual Halloween cards with simple postcards to let people know I’m thinking of them. Anyone can make these using the “master board” technique.

 Here’s how: 

Take the lightweight backing from a 12” × 12” scrapbook paper pad (about the weight of a file folder, not heavy chipboard). Lightly pencil lines to divide it into six 4” × 6” postcard blanks. 

Then the fun begins. Tear up any Halloween-colored ephemera you have on hand—catalogs, packaging, junk mail, receipts, anything that arrives this time of year is perfect (I cut images from the front of the Vermont Country Store Catalogue)—and glue the pieces down across the sections. Add rubber stamping, a light spatter of gold paint, and any other details you like.

 Once dry, cut the board into six finished postcards. Mail them by adhering spooky stamps.

It’s a quick, satisfying project that’s perfect for Halloween-loving adults and kids. You end up with charming, personal cards ready to mail, and a fun afternoon of creating.

 Halloween has become pure joy for me: cozy decorations, thoughtful handmade notes, and zero pressure to perform for candy. 

 

How do you celebrate the season these days?

Rolling Scones Cookbook: Beautiful Photos, Familiar Recipes, Surprising Breads

 

I love a good scone. So when I spotted Rolling Scones, my mind immediately filled with images of flaky, buttery batches baking in my future. I was genuinely excited.

That excitement faded a little once I opened the book. The title is delightfully misleading. Yes, there are scone recipes, but only a handful. The rest of the pages are packed with muffins, breads, cookies, cakes, pastries, pies, tarts, and galettes. My own blog probably has more (and, if I’m being honest, more interesting and varied) scone recipes than this collection offers. That’s less a complaint and more an observation.What surprised me in the best way was the bread section. Those recipes look genuinely intriguing, and they’re the ones I’ll be baking first. The muffins, cookies, and cakes, by contrast, felt familiar, cleverly renamed (sometimes a bit too cutesy for my taste, which started to wear on me), but essentially versions of things I’ve made before under different titles.The photography, though? Outstanding. Nearly every recipe gets a beautiful photo, which makes flipping through the pages a pleasure.If your cookbook shelf isn’t already overflowing, this could be a solid addition. You’ll find a wide mix of approachable recipes that rely on everyday ingredients you probably already have or can easily grab at the grocery store. The instructions are clear, concise, and easy to follow.It’s not a bad book. I just expected more scones and a bit less of everything else. Still, those breads have my attention.

 3 ½ stars

 You can order a copy here.

 Thanks to NetGalley, the author and publisher for providing me with an advanced digital copy in exchange for an honest review.

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The Rachel Sandwich: A Turkey-Lover’s Reuben

 

It’s officially hot sandwich season, and nothing hits the spot quite like a perfectly grilled, melty masterpiece. Enter the Rachel Sandwich. It’s basically a Reuben’s cooler cousin that swaps corned beef for turkey. As a turkey fan, I knew I had to try it. I made one small but mighty tweak: provolone instead of Swiss. Swiss cheese, I find, is largely insipid and rarely, in my opinion, does much to enhance a sandwich. But you do you.

 The result? Absolutely delicious. The beauty of a homemade sandwich is how easily you can make it your own—swap the creamy coleslaw for kimchi if you’re feeling bold, or adjust the toppings to suit your mood. Fair warning: depending on the size of your rye bread, this is a serious sandwich. I can usually only manage half, so grab a friend to share it with. 

Rachel Sandwich

Makes 1 generous sandwich

 Thousand Island Dressing

(You’ll have some left over—perfect for other sandwiches or a quick salad dressing)

¼ c. Duke’s mayonnaise

1 T. grated onion

1 T. Heinz ketchup

1 T. sweet pickle relish

Pinch McCormick’s Smoky Garlic & Paprika Seasoning

 Sandwich

2 slices rye bread

2 slices provolone cheese

¼–⅓ c. creamy coleslaw

¼ lb. sliced deli turkey

1–2 T. butter, softened

Make the dressing:

In a small bowl, stir together the mayonnaise, grated onion, ketchup, sweet pickle relish, paprika, and garlic seasoning until well blended.

 Assemble and grill:

Layer one slice of provolone on a piece of rye bread. Spread the coleslaw over the cheese. Slather the turkey with a generous tablespoon (or more) of the Thousand Island dressing, then place it on top of the coleslaw. Add the second slice of provolone and top with the remaining rye bread.

Butter the outside of both slices of bread. Place the sandwich buttered-side down in a skillet over medium-low heat. While the first side cooks, butter the top. Loosely cover the skillet with foil and cook until the bottom is golden brown and the cheese starts to melt. Carefully flip, cover again, and cook until the second side is golden and the cheese is fully melted.

Serve hot and dig in.

 Simple assembly order: buttered rye → cheese → coleslaw → deli turkey → cheese → buttered rye → grill to perfection.

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Rage Between the Lines

More than sixteen years ago, when my first grandchild was born, my aunt gave me a guided journal called Grandmother's Journal: Memories and Keepsakes for My Grandchild. She though that it was something every grandmother should leave behind.

 So I put it in a drawer.

 Not because I didn’t like the idea. Quite the opposite.

 The truth was that I never really had the chance to make many of the memories the book wanted me to write about.

As is often the case, I was the paternal grandmother. The maternal grandparents got most of the time, most of the holidays, most of the sleepovers, most of the ordinary Tuesdays that eventually become cherished memories.

Me? Birthdays. Christmas. The occasional visit.

I’m not bitter.

 No. Not me.

 So the book sat untouched for more than a decade. The other day, I pulled it out.

 As much as I hate to admit it, I feel like I’m hurtling toward that white light, so I realized that if I didn’t write in it now, I might never get the chance.

 What I didn’t expect was that this innocent little keepsake journal would turn into therapy…without the copay.

Many of the prompts ask things like:

“What games did you play with your grandchildren?”

“Where did you like to take them?”

“What traditions did you share?”

 I couldn’t answer those questions honestly because they simply never happened.

So I decided to answer a different question.

What would I have done if I’d been given the chance?

 In many ways, the journal has become less about preserving memories and more about telling my side of the story.

Then came the question that absolutely blindsided me.

“What toys did you play with as a child?”

 Seems harmless enough, doesn’t it?

 Oh, no.

 That one question unleashed a volcano.

 I loved Barbie.

She had only been around about five years when I was born, and she was the doll to have.

Now, I was already the neighborhood oddity. I was the only Protestant in an otherwise Catholic neighborhood. I was the only only child surrounded by families with three, four, and five kids.

 So naturally my mother bought me…the short-haired Barbie.

Not the glamorous ponytail Barbie every little girl wanted.

The short-haired one.

 Thanks, Mom.

 Nothing says, “Let’s help this child fit in,” quite like making sure her Barbie was different too.

 What I really wanted, though, wasn’t Barbie at all. I wanted a Ginny doll. Every Christmas. Every birthday.

 Every occasion that remotely involved gift-giving.

 I asked.

 And asked.

 And asked.

I never got one.

 To this day I have absolutely no idea why.

 Perhaps it was an early lesson that life isn’t fair. If so, mission accomplished.

 Every Christmas we went to my Aunt Lois and Uncle Charles’s house for dinner. My cousins, Mary and Jane, always had their beloved Ginny dolls. They’d happily play together while I watched.

 I wasn’t allowed to bring my own toys.

 So there I sat.

 Watching.

 Meanwhile, Aunt Lois faithfully gave me the exact same Christmas gift every single year.

 A blouse.

 A blouse.

 Not a toy.

 Not a game.

 Not even a book.

 A Bobbie Brooks blouse.

 If you’re old enough to remember Bobbie Brooks, you know exactly what I’m talking about.

 I’d sit there holding that shirt box in my lap while Mary and Jane played with their dolls.

The blouse never fit.

 It wasn’t my style. Always high-necked and ruffled.

 It was always exchanged after Christmas for some other article of clothing.

 Because you know what every seven-year-old dreams of on Christmas morning?

 Sportswear.

 It wasn’t until I was in college that Aunt Lois finally broke tradition.

 She gave me…

 …a book on aquariums.

 I still remember it. I loved it. I was quite the ichthyologist back in the day, so I spent most of Christmas paging through that book.

 That’s how monumental the change was.

 By the time I’d finished answering one simple journal prompt, I had also written about loving Monopoly, Clue, Chutes and Ladders, and every other board game imaginable.

 I owned almost none of them.

 Not because I didn’t want them.

 Because I had no one to play with.

 People sometimes tell only children how lucky they are.

I always smile politely.

 Then I think to myself…

 Lucky?

 It was lonely.

 It was isolating.

And being the center of your parents’ universe meant there was never another sibling around to distract them while you quietly got away with something.

 No wild oats were ever sown; wild oats require accomplices.

So here I am, decades later, writing in a book that was supposed to preserve happy memories for my grandchildren.

Instead, it has become an archaeological dig into my own childhood.

 Who knew a question about Barbie dolls could uncover decades worth of unanswered questions?

 I’m still writing in the journal every day.

 I’m just a little nervous about turning the page.

 Because if one innocent prompt about childhood toys can unleash all of that…

 …I’m almost afraid to find out what tomorrow’s question is.

If you can take revealing the hidden rage, you might want to get a copy and write a journal of your own. You can buy a copy here.

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Make Olive Garden’s Famous Ravioli di Portobello at Home

 

I can’t remember the last time I actually sat down in an Olive Garden. Why bother when their best dishes are so easy to recreate at home?

One item that always stood out (but wasn’t always on the menu) was the Ravioli di Portobello. It made a limited return through early 2026, though availability still depended upon location. If it’s not near you right now (or you just don’t feel like going out), you can make a nearly identical version in your own kitchen with store-bought mushroom ravioli and a homemade sun-dried tomato pesto cream sauce.

 Fair warning from my first try: this dish is rich. Extremely rich. I managed only four ravioli before I was completely stuffed. It actually shines best, I think,  as an appetizer —one or two ravioli topped with a generous spoonful of sauce, a sprinkle of parsley, and diced tomatoes. As a full entrée, keep portions modest and maybe have some Pepto on standby.

Either way, the result is pure comfort: tender mushroom-filled pasta swimming in a silky, garlicky, cheese-laced cream sauce with bright pops of sun-dried tomato. Restaurant flavor, zero wait time.

Olive Garden Ravioli di Portobello Copycat

Servings: 6 (or more if served as an appetizer)

 18 oz. mushroom ravioli

2 T. good olive oil (for tossing cooked ravioli)

4 T. butter

2 cloves garlic, crushed

2 T. flour

2 T. Melissa’s sun-dried tomato pesto

½ c. chicken broth

1 c. heavy cream

⅓ c. grated Parmesan cheese

¼ c. grated Fontina cheese

1 tomato, diced

1 t. dried parsley

 Cook the mushroom ravioli according to package directions. Drain, rinse briefly with cold water, and toss with 2 tablespoons oil so they don’t stick. Set aside.

In a medium saucepan over medium heat, melt the butter. Add the crushed garlic and cook for about 1 minute until fragrant.

 Sprinkle in the flour and stir continuously for 1–2 minutes until the mixture turns light golden.

 Stir in the sun-dried tomato pesto until fully combined.

Gradually pour in the chicken broth and heavy cream, whisking constantly to keep the sauce smooth.

 Add the Parmesan and Fontina cheeses. Stir until the cheeses melt and the sauce is creamy and slightly thickened, about 3–5 minutes. Taste and adjust seasoning if needed.

Divide the cooked ravioli among plates or a serving dish. Ladle the warm sauce over the top. Garnish with diced tomato and a sprinkle of dried parsley. Serve immediately.

 Leftover Sauce Ideas

You may have extra sauce, if so, here are easy ways to use it:

•  Toss with plain pasta, tortellini, or gnocchi for a quick second meal

•  Spoon over grilled chicken, pork chops, or steak

•  Use as a base for a creamy baked pasta or lasagna

•  Drizzle on roasted vegetables (especially mushrooms, zucchini, or asparagus)

•  Stir into scrambled eggs or an omelet for a luxurious breakfast

•  Thin slightly with broth and use as a soup base with extra mushrooms and spinach

•  Spread on flatbread or pizza with mozzarella and fresh basil

•  Serve as a dipping sauce for garlic bread or breadsticks

Enjoy your homemade Olive Garden night—no reservations required!