the WESTERN WRITERS of AMERICA COOKBOOK

If you’re working on a book, you’ve probably been taxing your brain to the utmost, from morning until dusk. You’ve been staring into space, searching for the perfect word, the perfect organization, the perfect insight.

Nothing says “Stop working for the day!” when the cook in your house yells, “Come an’ get it!” Well, OK, they’re probably saying something like “Your dinner is getting cold” or “Are you ever coming out to eat?” If you’re alone, then it’s your stomach yelling the same thing at you.

We writers tend to hunker down and work for hours without a break or a meal. Why? It’s because we usually wait until the last minute to finish our project. We believe that deadlines were made for writers because without them, we’d never be published!

Pour yourself a glass of wine and treat yourself to one of these hearty dinners. This is your reward.

One of the dishes consumed by the Donner Party on Christmas was oxtail stew. Oxtail is a very tough cut of meat, and it says something about the scarcity of food that oxtail stew was celebratory fare. The version presented here likely is the oxtail stew they wished they were able to make.

I once was an instructor at a living history training session. The participants were divided into teams, and we encouraged competition between these divisions. All weekend long we dangled a rare prize, a delicacy meal prepared for the winning team. As the competition came to an end, the winners lorded their victory over the losers. I prepared buffalo tongue, a nineteenth-century delicacy appropriate to the study focus of the training. When a beautiful, tender, steaming-hot buffalo tongue was presented to the winners at their exclusive victory dinner, they looked at it with shocked expressions and said, “Can we share it with the others?”

Sauté the onion in the olive oil until it is caramelized.

Dip the oxtail meat in the apple cider vinegar, and sprinkle the salt, pepper, and Worcestershire sauce over the stew meat. Immediately sear the oxtail meat over a high-temperature fire until the exterior is lightly browned (this usually takes about 4 minutes).

Over moderate heat, place the water, browned oxtail meat, caramelized onion, celery, carrots, potatoes, corn, peas, green beans, tomato puree, garlic, and spices into a large covered pot. Bring the mixture to a rapid boil and allow it to boil for 30 minutes. Reduce the heat to a temperature sufficient to simmer the mixture. Simmer it overnight (a minimum of 6 hours, but no more than 10 hours). Be sure to stir the pot and sample the stew as you go so you can adjust the spices. You can make this recipe bolder by adding chili powder, cilantro, and/or hot sauce to taste.

Serve piping hot, and have a wonderful holiday.

Writing is like cooking. The more of your heart you put into it and stray from the recipe, the zestier the meal.

As a Texan living in New Mexico, it was hard to find anyone who could even spell chili correctly (they spell it with an e . . . chile), much less someone who could make honest-to-goodness Texas chili. I finally decided to just make my own. Since beer is involved in the recipe, I’ve been asked how I could eat after “all those beers.” There’s a very specific scientific formula about the ratio of portions of chili to Shiner Bock that allow you to keep functioning. Unfortunately, I can’t remember the formula. Most importantly, there are no beans in Texas chili!

In a large pot, heat the olive oil. Add the garlic paste and diced onion and sauté over medium heat for 5 minutes. Add the ground beef and sausage, brown until all redness is gone, and drain.

Season with the salt, seasoned salt, and ground pepper. Add the chili powder and cayenne pepper and cook for 2 more minutes.

Stir in the tomatoes, Ro-Tel tomatoes, tomato paste, cumin, oregano, paprika, parsley, and beer. Sprinkle liberally with hot sauce and stir.

Let the chili simmer for 2 to 3 hours. Taste it frequently. Stir it frequently. Drink another Shiner Bock.

Serve the chili in bowls. You may add the grated cheddar cheese, if desired. You may also add the jalapeños. You may even add the green chiles to assuage the guilt of New Mexicans who must come to terms with the fact they’re enjoying something from Texas. You can even cook up some pinto beans and have them available on the side for the uninformed who might want to add them, but never put them in the chili yourself!

Far be it for me to presume to give anyone writing tips, but here’s what works for me: Set aside a time each day for writing and stick to the schedule. Write something even if you don’t feel inspired. Once the juices are flowing, you never know what will come out.

In the 1950s, I left cowboyin’ and turned in my Levis and boots for Brooks Brothers suits. I worked in the broadcasting field for thirty-two years and picked up this chili recipe from a television station client in San Antonio, Texas. Along the way, I made it my own and won several California and Texas chili cook-off contests. I like Hatch Medium Chile Powder from the Chile Shop, Santa Fe, New Mexico. If you want to reduce the heat, cut back on the cayenne, not the chile powder. This chili goes well with a cooling slaw such as . . . Sandra McGee’s Southwest Slaw.

Heat the olive oil in a 6-quart pot. When the oil is hot, add the cubed meat and sear it over high heat, stirring constantly until the meat is gray (not brown). The meat will have the consistency of whole-grain hominy. Add 1 quart of water, cover, and cook at a bubbling simmer for 1½ to 2 hours.

Add the spices and seasonings, and cook another 30 minutes at the same bubbling simmer. If much fat was left on the meat, it will rise to the top after the spices have been added. Skim off most of the fat before the cornmeal thickening is added.

Mix 6 tablespoons of cornmeal with 1 cup of water and add it to the chili. Simmer for 5 minutes to determine if more cornmeal or water is needed for the desired consistency. Stir the chili to prevent its sticking to the pot after the cornmeal is added.

Serving suggestions:

If you insist on beans, cook them separately, with no seasoning except salt.

If you wish for onions, serve them on the side. Never cook onions in the chili.

Nice accompaniments are cornbread, corn chips, saltine crackers, beer, and—surprise—milk.

To anyone who has ever considered writing, there is only one way to do it—ass in chair.

I grew up in a log cabin without electricity or running water. My father was a writer and artist, and my mother was a genius at keeping the family warm, fed, and happy. She cooked on a wood range for years. When she was in her eighties, the Game and Fish Department gave her an antelope they had confiscated from a poacher, and she and I experimented until we came up with this delicious and filling way to use the ground game meat. I love it because I can work on my writing or other tasks between the simple cooking steps, and it can easily be adapted for ingredients I happen to have on hand. It makes enough for several meals for my small family.

Water, as needed

Brown the meat in a large stock pot over medium-high heat. Add the garlic and cook for a few minutes, but do not brown it.

Add the seasonings and blend well. Stir in the tomatoes and cook for 20 minutes.

Add the carrots and celery and cook for another 20 minutes.

Add the beans and cook for another 20 minutes.

Throughout the cooking process, add water as needed. Serve with rice.

Shoni Maulding’s Meatless Chili (aka Chili for When the City People Come to Visit)

Yep, I was sorta a vegetarian for a few years when I was in my thirties. Horrified when looking back at that now, as I ate lots of cheese to substitute for beef. Sometimes I still like to make a pot of this chili for myself. And it works great on Indian tacos, too.

Sauté the onion and garlic in the oil in a large stockpot until the onion is soft. Add the green pepper and sauté another 2 to 3 minutes. Add the vegetable stock, tomato sauce, corn, beans, and seasonings. Cook over low heat for 30 minutes.

*If you are cooking the kidney beans from scratch, use the liquid from cooking them for your vegetable stock. If you are using canned kidney beans, do not rinse them but dump in the whole can. Add more tomato sauce and/or water if no veggie stock is available.

If you become involved with another person(s) in a book project, it is best to have a written contract beforehand. The involvement can grow immensely, and the time and information given out grows with it.

Lions interrupted our safari camp stew dinner. We were told to go to our tents for safety. I knew that so many workers building the railroad from Nairobi to Mombasa were dragged out of tents by lions that the railroad hired hunters for protection. I slept fitfully hearing lions padding outside and drivers using the trucks to drive them away. At daybreak, I went to the campfire for coffee. There was no fire, no pot, no cooks, no drivers. They had slept in the trucks. Only we tourists spent the night in the tents! I asked Safari Chef Mbogo for the recipe for “Stew for the Lion-Hearted” and he obliged.

Place the meat and chicken broth in a Dutch oven and simmer until the meat is tender. Add the Ro-Tel and the liquid from the cans of green beans and corn. Add the onions, potatoes, and carrots and simmer until the vegetables are tender.

Add the beans, corn, Worcestershire sauce, black pepper, and Mrs. Dash. Stir the stew frequently and refrigerate it for 2 days. Heat it and serve it with cornbread.

Unable to find a homemade beef stew we liked, my wife created this winner. Don’t let the list of ingredients scare you away from this Old West standby. What really sets this stew off is the addition of bacon! bacon! bacon! After using a rugged three-pronged fork, a good lawman and his deputies use hot buttered biscuits or a thick slice of sourdough bread to sop up this stew from their tin plates. It also makes great Dutch oven grub over your campfire next to a hot pot of coffee.

Combine the flour, salt, and pepper. Coat the beef pieces in the flour mixture.

Heat the oil in a 6-quart Dutch oven over medium heat. Add the bacon pieces and sauté them until the bacon begins to brown. Add the beef in small batches and sauté it in the bacon drippings until it is browned.

Add the garlic and sauté it for 1 minute. Add the red wine and scrape up the browned bits from the bottom of the Dutch oven.

Stir in the broth, tomato sauce, vegetables, and seasonings. Don’t omit the hot sauce. It’s just enough to kick up the flavor a bit, but not enough to make it spicy. Of course, if you like it spicy, feel free to add more!

Bring the stew to a boil. Reduce the heat and let it simmer, stirring occasionally, until the vegetables and meat are tender and the gravy is thickened. The flavor is best if it simmers for a couple of hours.

I don’t believe in “writer’s block,” which is a self-imposed defeatist perspective. I find that a work slowdown or stoppage is due to lack of preparation and research.

The Tortolita Mountains are on the border between Pima and Pinal Counties, in Arizona. While not as imposing as some other ranges, they are equally interesting. They held a wild horse herd until recent times, and sightings are still reported but may have other sources. The area around Twin Owl Peaks, towards the east or Oro Valley side, was the last home of famed Indian scout and Cochise negotiator Tom Jeffords, who both resided and mined there until his death in 1914. You can reach it only from the back side, off of I-10 in Pinal; these little hills are tougher than they look. I lived within sight of those peaks for thirty years before finding out the Jeffords connection. And both eggplant and zucchini grow well up here.

Preheat the oven to 350ºF. Coat the sides and bottom of a 12-inch Dutch oven with the olive oil.

Spread the tomato soup over the bottom, but do not mix. Sprinkle generously with the basil leaves and garlic. Sprinkle the salt and sugar evenly on top.

Build a series of layers as follows: eggplant, red onion, and zucchini. Add a layer of the cheese on top of the vegetable layers. (I suggest you alternate the provolone and mozzarella.) Build the layers all the way to the top of the Dutch oven—about 4 to 6 layers, depending on your cutting accuracy.

Drizzle the wine on top, then spread the tomato sauce and sprinkle with the Parmesan. Sprinkle more basil on that, and feel free to add more chopped garlic.

Bake for 75 to 90 minutes. Check it after 60 minutes for doneness.

Ever wonder where the elusive tuna lives? I always thought it lived in the sea. But, apparently not. I have it on good authority that tuna resides on the shelves of grocery stores across the country. It is hidden in small tin cans and of late, can also be found in foil-lined flat packages touting the latest great catch of the day. Never one to shirk a good hunt, I can often be found “fishing” at a local store, hook, line, and sinker in hand. When caught, the “fun” catches can be turned into an excellent dinner selection. Add a few green veggies, fresh fruit, a hot roll or two, and voila! A complete meal is soon ready.

Preheat the oven to 375ºF.

Sauté the onion in the butter until tender and set aside. Combine the white rice, cheese, tuna, olives, salt, milk, and eggs. Stir in the sautéed onions.

Divide the mixture into 12 muffin cups. Bake the muffins for 20 minutes. Garnish them with the extra butter and parsley.

Here at the Cora Valley Angus Ranch, in Cora, Wyoming, I usually serve fifty for lunch every branding. My meal has become standard over the years and consists of barbequed beef ribs, baked beans, coleslaw, potato and onion casserole, cornbread and honey butter, and a table full of desserts. I always hope it doesn’t rain, not only so the job of branding gets done, but because the workers can eat outside. I have enough to clean with all the dishes, and I’m always thankful when I don’t have to clean all the chairs! Here’s my recipe for barbequed beef ribs.

In a large roasting pan, submerge the beef ribs in water and boil them for several hours, until the meat is tender. After cooling, trim off the fat and remove the bones.

While the ribs are cooking, mix all the sauce ingredients together. Heat the sauce, place the rib meat in a casserole dish, and smother it with the warm sauce.

The above recipe makes a small portion of sauce, so double, triple, or quadruple—as needed!

Eating beans always reminds me of my childhood. When it got near payday and money was short, there was always a pot of beans and cornbread. Instead of warming them the next day as leftovers, Mom threw in some brown sugar and ketchup, and with a couple of hot dogs, it was a whole new dish.

Pour 5 cups of water into an 8-quart saucepot set on high and heat the pork, salt, pepper, garlic, and bay leaf to boiling. Simmer for 1½ hours.

Meanwhile, rinse the beans in water. Put 9 to 10 cups of boiling water in a 4-quart saucepan over high heat and add the beans. Boil for 2 minutes. Remove the beans from the heat and let them sit for 1 hour.

Drain the liquid from the beans. Add the beans to the hocks mixture and simmer for 30 minutes.

Stick the cloves into the one onion that you left whole. Add to the pot all the onions and carrots. Heat the mixture to boiling again, then reduce the heat and simmer until the meat and vegetables are done. Add the lemon juice at the end. Pick out the hocks and remove the meat. Return this meat to the pot.

My dad was a meat-and-potatoes kind of man. Spaghetti? He recoiled in horror. Any kind of pasta was a treat we got only if he was away at suppertime, although he would—under protest—eat macaroni salad with shrimp. I wonder what he’d think of this recipe. I only know my family likes it enough to ask me to make it now and again. I’ve got to say they like it better since I began using smoked turkey, pesto, and fettuccine noodles instead of spaghetti and walnuts. I like it because it makes enough for a couple of meals.

2 cups cooked turkey* (I prefer smoked turkey breast in a medium-size dice.)

Cook the celery, green pepper, and onion in butter until the vegetables are soft. Do not brown.

Add the milk, soup, pesto, salt and pepper, Worcestershire sauce, and cheese. Cook, stirring, until the cheese melts.

Stir in the turkey and fettuccine. At this point, if you’re pressed for time, you can heat it through and serve it with a sprinkling of the Parmesan. Or, turn the ingredients into a shallow, greased 2½-quart casserole, sprinkle with the Parmesan and nuts, and bake at 350ºF degrees for about 25 minutes.

*You can substitute diced ham for the turkey.

My mother, Olive Jensen, was a farm woman who cooked simple, but hearty, fare. Her secret was farm-raised beef, home-grown vegetables, and, of course, meat and potatoes at every meal. Her cabbage meatloaf is a company meal, beautiful in presentation, though simple to prepare. I still make it every fall when the garden is overflowing with fresh cabbage. You may notice that she uses onion powder instead of chopped onions. Her concession to onion powder was because of me, the middle kid with a picky appetite. Thanks, Mom, it still warms my heart to remember. Mama always served this dish with baked squash and mashed potatoes.

Preheat the oven to 350ºF.

Mix the above ingredients, except the cabbage and chicken broth, together and set them aside.

Slice the bottom of the cabbage to make it flat. Hollow out the inside of the cabbage so it is large enough for the meat mixture to fit inside. (The meat mixture should be even with the top of the cabbage.)

Place the cabbage, with the meat mixture inside it, in an ovenproof dish. Add the chicken broth around the cabbage.

Cover the dish and bake for 1½ hours. Uncover for the last 15 minutes to allow browning.

Carefully remove the cabbage from the dish and place it on a serving platter. Allow it to rest for a few minutes. Slice it into individual servings.

While I’m in the middle of a writing project, I have a rule that I must work on it at least one minute a day. That means sitting in front of the computer screen with the manuscript in front of me; just thinking about it doesn’t count. Why one minute? For me, the hardest part is forcing myself to start. Once I start working, I forget the clock. It works for me!

A lot of lasagna is bland. Face it, Richard and I like things with a little kick to them, lots of basil and cinnamon and garlic and other spices guaranteed to give you Technicolor dreams. If you’re afraid of nightmares, just dial back on the spices. We also added some Italian sausage for an extra boost. At our house, after the Thanksgiving turkey, we like to cook up a mess of what’s known in our family as the traditional Christmas lasagna.

Preheat the oven to 350ºF.

Dice the onion and red bell pepper. Sauté the onion in the olive oil, add the red bell pepper, and cook until soft.

Mix in the ground lamb and sweet Italian sausage, and cook until the meat is no longer pink. Add the red wine to taste and reduce down.

Add the spaghetti sauce and stir. Add all the spices after the spaghetti sauce and cook for 30 minutes until the flavors are appropriately mixed.

Layer the meat sauce, noodles, ricotta, and mozzarella cheese, repeatedly in that order. Top with the Italian 6-cheese blend.

Cover the lasagna with foil and bake for 45 minutes. Uncover it and cook 15 minutes more to brown the top. Allow the lasagna to rest for 10 more minutes and then serve.

I originally discovered coq au vin in the Southern Living Cookbook. Boy, do those folks know how to live! Almost every recipe starts with a quarter pound of butter. Our version starts with a quarter cup and is lighter, but it still has the rich flavor because we add extra wine and more and different spices. Amish roll butter, if you can find it, is really flavorful (I could eat it like cheese). We then simmer it down to a nice, thick sauce and serve it over our choice of rice. It’s good with white rice, but a mix of wild and brown rice is our favorite. Bon appétit!

Cut the onion, bell pepper, and carrots into small pieces. Peel and finely chop the garlic cloves or smash them under the flat of a large chef’s knife, then chop.

Put the coating ingredients in a gallon ziplock bag, add the chicken pieces, and shake and turn to coat.

In an electric skillet or large cast-iron skillet, melt the butter. Add the chicken and brown.

Add the red wine and onion, bell pepper, carrots, and garlic. Simmer covered, adding water periodically to thin the sauce, until chicken is tender and carrots are cooked through. Uncover and let the sauce thicken, watching carefully so it doesn’t stick.

Serve coq au vin over a bed of rice, perhaps with a little more red wine in a goblet!

When my wife, Rocío, came to Wyoming from Chihuahua, Mexico, she brought a wealth of culture to share with me. My interests and hers are very compatible, as we raise our own garlic, chives, onions, chiles of various kinds, tomatoes, and more. I go out and hunt deer and antelope, and one of my favorite combinations of Wyoming and Mexican fare is this recipe. It is for chile colorado (the red chile) as it is made in northern Mexico. The sauce is used in enchiladas, as well as in other dishes. Rocío instructed me in the details of this recipe, and I have carried it out myself, as a way of sharing ownership of the recipe. The chile sauce is good for any other meat, of course, but for me, it is best for deer or antelope I have hunted myself. It gives a higher ratio of self-sufficiency in every bite.

15–20 dried red chiles, all of one kind or a mix, depending on what you have

1 tablespoon cooking oil, plus a couple of tablespoons more for frying the meat

Fill a 4- or 5-quart saucepan half-full of water, and put the water on to boil.

Wash the chiles, removing any dust, spoiled, or moldy bits. It is not necessary to remove the seeds at this point, but if some fall out it’s okay.

Put the clean chile shells in the heating water. They will float, so it is necessary to weigh them down with something like a glass lid that is a size smaller than the one you are using. When the water comes back to a boil, lower the heat and let the chiles cook at a low boil for about 20 minutes.

When the chiles are soft, take them from the water and put them in a blender. Add 2 to 3 cups of water, either from the pan in which the chiles just boiled or from the tap. Sometimes the pan water has a bit of sand or other residue in the bottom, so some people prefer to use fresh water.

Place the clean pan on the stove, add a tablespoon of cooking oil. Sprinkle a tablespoon of flour in the pan and brown it. Put a second tablespoon of flour into the blender as well.

As for writing, learn to saddle your own horses. That goes for writing sentences and for knowing your subject matter at first hand.

Add to the blender the granulated garlic and onion, cumin, oregano, chives, salt, and pepper. Some people use fresh garlic and onions, and some add a bit of parsley. Blend all of these ingredients with the chiles for about 3 minutes, until the mixture has an even consistency.

Using a strainer that fits into the pan, pour the mixture into the strainer and move the sludge around with a spoon so that the watery sauce will drain into the pan. Press the mash against the strainer as needed to squeeze the rest of the sauce into the pan.

Rinse the blender with about a cup of water, and pour that through the strainer as well, squeezing out the liquid. At this point, set the strainer and the leftover pulp aside.

Raise the heat until the sauce comes to a boil, then lower the heat and let the sauce simmer for about 15 minutes. Stir it occasionally and do not let it stick, as it will thicken at this time.

If you did not cut up the meat earlier, do so now. Cut it into pieces no larger than ¾ inch, and trim off any fat, tendons, or gristle. (You may also choose to use ground meat, which works fine as well.)

Pour a couple of tablespoons of cooking oil into a frying pan, and cook the meat at medium to high heat until it is brown on each side. Cooking the meat in an open pan helps get rid of some of the gamey flavor. You may choose to season the meat with salt, pepper, and garlic at this time, or you may choose to let the chile sauce do all the flavoring.

When the meat is cooked and the chile sauce is ready, combine the two and cook them together. If the meat is very tough, such as shank or some parts of the shoulder meat, you may want to cook the mixture in a slow cooker or Crock-Pot for a couple of hours. If the meat is not so tough, you may cook the mixture in the skillet you used for the meat; cook it at simmering heat for 20 to 30 minutes.

As observed earlier, this chile colorado sauce has a variety of applications. It is especially good for venison because it penetrates the meat and helps tenderize it. When the meat is cooked, you may roll it into burritos, mix it with beans, or serve it on a plate—however you like it best. And, of course, a cold bottle of Dos Equis or Negra Modelo goes well with this dish for some people. Buen provecho.

Amy Baker’s Chicken ’n Dumplings, contributed by Julie and T. Lindsay Baker

From the founding of the town in 1867 and continuing through the 1930s, it was common practice for residents of Cleburne, Texas, and all other communities in the American South to have henhouses and keep chicken runs in their backyards. This availability of fresh fowl allowed them the luxury of preparing a special Sunday lunch of chicken ’n dumplings. This recipe by Amy Baker was recorded by her grandson, T. Lindsay Baker, before her death in 1971.

Amy Baker was part of the generation that “discovered” pressure cookers, and she preferred to cook her stewing chickens using that specialized pan. If you follow her practice, place the prepared chicken and the desired internal organs into a pressure cooker with 2 or 3 cups of water, the amount depending on the size of the bird. Cook until the bird is done, about 10 to 12 minutes at the cooking pressure designated for your cooker, and slightly longer if your bird is old and tough. You want the bird to cook until it is tender.

Even though it takes longer, you can easily stew the chicken in a pot on top of the stove. Cut the chicken in half, add the desired internal organs, nearly cover it with water, bring the water to a boil, and then simmer the bird 20 to 30 minutes per pound, until it is tender. Add water as needed. Remember that if you are cooking an old bird, it will be tough and will require more cooking time, up to 3 or 4 hours. A tender, young bird will require only about 1½ hours.

After cooking the chicken, add 1 teaspoon of the salt, and slosh the bird around in the remaining broth to distribute the salt to all parts of the bird. Remove the body of the bird from the broth, saving the broth and internal organs and keeping them warm for use later in the preparation. Once the bird is cooked, cut it into pieces similar to those in a fried chicken—drumsticks, thighs, wings, breast, and back. Set aside but do not chill.

While the bird is cooking, begin preparing the dumplings. Amy Baker’s dumplings retained substantial body, were made similarly to piecrust, and were not fluffy. Prepare the dough by cutting the shortening into the flour in a mixing bowl. Add a slight amount of salt, perhaps ¼ teaspoon, or to taste.

Cut the shortening into the flour the same way you would in making piecrust, making small “balls” of shortening about the size of green peas. Add the egg. Then gradually add small amounts of ice-cold water and mix it into a stiff dough about the same consistency as raw piecrust. Use your hands to shape the dough into a ball and place it onto a floured surface. Using a rolling pin, flatten the dough to about ⅜ inch thick. Then use a knife to cut the dough into strips about 1½ inches wide by about 6 to 8 inches long. Put the dough aside while you finish preparing the broth.

Having kept the chicken broth hot (with the pan on low), add the milk, butter, and black pepper. Bring the liquid to a gentle bubbling (not rolling) boil over medium heat.

Drop the strips of dumpling dough into the boiling broth, one after the other. Push them into the liquid if they “try” to float, keeping them from sticking together. Keep adding dumplings until all of them are immersed in the hot broth. Allow the dumplings to cook about 3 to 5 minutes. Do not stir the dumplings around too much. Just poke them down into the liquid and let them cook, or they will tear up as they soften.

When the dumplings are done, pour the dumplings and broth over the cut-up pieces of cooked chicken in a large serving bowl. Serve chicken ’n dumplings hot, and you will have re-created the Sunday dinner that graced the tables of Cleburne homes for decades.

One of the problems people have with grilled chicken is how to cook it so it doesn’t look like a charcoal briquette coated with burned ketchup. Grilling chicken requires attention and time, but it’s not that hard. And a good deal of waiting can be passed by beer drinking, if it’s done right. I mostly cook chicken thighs, as dark meat is juicy and flavorful. But for dinner guests, I use split breasts to satisfy their illusion that they’re eating healthy.

You’ll notice that no barbeque sauce is used. If you want the flavor of barbeque sauce, then heat it on the stove and brush it on the chicken when it’s done. I use a marinade and use a variety depending on what I’m in the mood for. When I’m feeling lazy, I just use apple cider, orange juice, Italian salad dressing, or some wine. I’ve also used beer, Dr. Pepper, or Coca-Cola. Virtually any marinade that has an acid content will do.

Place the chicken in a glass container and pour in enough marinade to completely cover the chicken. Usually, it’s best to do this for several hours, even overnight.

Melt the butter and put it into a bowl. Add the remaining rub ingredients and stir until all the granular ingredients have dissolved.

Preheat the grill. Charcoal works best with this recipe. The coals should be cool enough to place your hand over the grill for a long count of three.

Place the chicken pieces on the grill, unadorned except for a spritz of olive oil and a light dusting of salt and pepper. Leave it on the grill for 10 minutes. Turn the pieces, then lightly brush on the prepared rub. If it drips onto the fire below, it’ll flame up and burn your meat. Leave for 10 minutes and drink a beer.

Turn and brush the pieces again. Repeat this every 10 minutes for 1 hour. That’s 6 full turns.

Remove the chicken from the grill. Allow it to rest for 10 minutes under a loose covering of foil. Serve.

I first moved to Texas in the winter of 1973. At that time, my dad—in Wyoming—enjoyed canned tamales once in a while, but they were too spicy for me. Within a few years in Texas, however, I was eating and cooking Mexican food! It remains my favorite cuisine today.

Preheat the oven to 350ºF.

Sauté the green chiles. (Hatch chiles in season are excellent! A 4-ounce can of green chiles can be substituted.) Combine the sour cream and chiles in a bowl and add salt to taste.

Place the rice in a buttered 1½-quart casserole dish. Top with the sour cream and chile mixture and then the Monterey Jack cheese.

Bake for 25 minutes. Remove the casserole from the oven and sprinkle it with the Parmesan cheese. Return it to the oven and bake for 5 minutes, or until the cheese is melted.

For over twenty years, I was a weekend cowpoke, often involved in cattle gatherings in south Texas. Hundreds of angry two-year-old cows and steers kicking and pushing in narrow cattle chutes, and dusty cowpokes—not the ones on the beautiful horses and fancy saddles that gathered the cattle as a privilege, not the ones with the pressed denim shirts, not the ones with the thousand-dollar boots and fifty-thousand-dollar dually pickups—nope I was a cowpoke, stick or electric prod in hand, working the gates, shoving the cows, punching when I had to. My reward afterward was often an outstanding meal of smoked beef tenderloin cooked over an expansive mesquite fire, fire-baked potatoes, steamed green beans, and Dutch-oven fruit cobbler, perhaps served with homemade ice cream made with Fredericksburg peaches. Those were the days . . . !

If the tenderloin is not peeled (white skin removed), do so with a sharp knife. Coat the meat with the Worcestershire sauce, salt, and pepper. Marinate the meat for 2 hours at room temperature.

Prepare an outdoor smoker or grill. Establish a medium heat, but plan to cook slowly, off to the side.

Place the meat in the smoker or grill and cook until the internal temperature is 160ºF, or medium-rare. Put the tenderloin aside for 20 minutes to allow the meat to rest and the juices to relax. It will continue cooking. Slice and serve.

I learned to cook overseas—out of necessity—but cooking with joy came from a guy who cooked in Dutch ovens over an enormous, 15-foot-wide mesquite fire for roundup cowboys. I did it twice a year, at gatherings, and it was fun and good. I try to be fun and good, myself!

Flour the venison cubes and brown them in the butter. Add the boiling water and simmer for 30 minutes.

Meanwhile, boil the chile peppers in a separate pot until tender, about 25 minutes, and drain them.

Add the peppers and pineapple to the browned meat. Add the Sweet & Sour Sauce and some salt, to taste, and simmer for 10 minutes.

Serve over rice, chow mein noodles, or pasta.

I have been making this skillet meal for years, as it cuts down on pots and pans and leaves more time for writing. Cleanup couldn’t be easier. You can adapt this easy recipe to your own style of cooking. A little red pepper will make it hotter, for instance. Some people, mostly city folks, prefer to sauté the veggies in white wine. It works, but I prefer to keep it simple. PS: Don’t tell anyone, but I use Italian sausage, and it works pretty darn good.

Heat the oil in a skillet over medium heat and add the sausages. Cover and cook for 5 minutes, turning a few times until brown. Remove and slice sausages into bite-size chunks.

Slice the two bell peppers lengthwise into ½-inch strips. Do the same with the yellow onion, but first cut it in half crosswise before cutting it into ½-inch strips. Chop up the green onions and celery into ½-inch lengths.

Melt the butter in the skillet and toss in the peppers, yellow onion, celery, garlic, sage, basil, and black pepper. Cover this and cook for 10 minutes, turning occasionally. Once they are tender, add the sausage and chopped green onions, and turn down the heat to simmer for another 8 to 10 minutes.

Toast up some garlic bread for a great feast!

I came across the basic recipe for this dish about thirty years ago. I was digging through the cupboards trying to find something that would be fast, cheap, and would feed some unexpected guests who had stopped by. Since then I have tinkered with the ingredients a little, and what you see here is my favorite mix. The addition of the sauce or just the ketchup on the side can add even more flavor. Serve it with mashed potatoes and garlic bread, and the cowhands will think you are a real mountain chef.

Combine the diced bell pepper and jalapeños with the Rice-A-Roni rice-vermicelli mix (but not the Special Seasonings), ground beef, and egg. Shape this mixture into 6 tennis-ball-size meatballs. In a large skillet, heat the oil over medium-high heat and add the meatballs, carefully turning them to brown on all sides.

Slowly pour the stewed tomatoes over the meatballs. Add the water, mixed with the Special Seasonings from the Rice-A-Roni package. Bring this to a boil. Cover, reduce the heat to low, and simmer for 20 to 30 minutes, or until the meatballs are cooked. Uncover for the final 5 minutes of cooking time to allow most of the liquid to escape.

Make up a side dish with the ketchup and Heinz 57 Sauce for those who would like to add a tangy flavor.

This is a recipe that my mother developed during the time we lived in New Mexico, during the 1950s.

Preheat the oven to 325ºF.

Remove the seeds and flatten half of the chiles on the bottom of a 9 x 13-inch casserole pan.

Cover the chiles with a layer of the cheddar cheese. Put the rest of the chiles on top of the cheese.

Add a layer of the Monterey Jack cheese.

Separate the egg whites and yolks into separate bowls. Beat the egg whites and set aside.

Beat the yolks and then add the milk and flour, plus the salt and pepper. Fold in the beaten egg whites and pour this mixture on top of the cheese layer.

Cover the pan loosely and bake for 1 hour. Then pour the tomato sauce over the top and bake an additional 30 minutes, uncovered. Add hot sauce if you wish this dish to be hotter. Tastes great!

I came up with this recipe years ago, when my husband and I lived in Montana near the Canadian border. He had harvested a moose that year, and I had to come up with all kinds of inventive recipes to use up all of that delicious meat!

Brown the meat and onion in a pan. Drain off the fat and add the rest of the ingredients, except for the cheese and crushed tortilla chips. Cover the pan and simmer, stirring occasionally, for 20 minutes.

Before serving, top Montana Moose Skillet with the cheese and chips.

A few years ago, we of Team Gritty (aka award-winning photographer and videographer Jennifer Smith-Mayo and Spur Award–winning author Matthew P. Mayo) sold our home in Maine and took to the road, running Gritty Press (www.GrittyPress.com) and traveling all over the US map in search of hot coffee, tasty whiskey, and high adventure. Not surprisingly, we spend most of our time roving the West, writing and researching books, hiking, photographing, and, our favorite activity—enjoying campfires. The Dutch oven has long been a favorite mode of cooking for us, and Jennifer’s recipe for Team Gritty Dutch Oven Chicken remains a staple, no matter where we go! Serve it with a side of Dutch oven biscuits . . . and enjoy!

1 whole chicken (with backbone and organs removed), cut into pieces (Our 10-inch oven fits a small chicken cut into 6–8 pieces: 2 breasts, 2 thigh/drumstick combos, 2 wings.)

12–15 fingerling or small red potatoes, washed, and, if large, cut into chunks

Rinse the chicken pieces and pat them dry with paper towels.

Pour the stock in the bottom of a Dutch oven (it should be about ¼ inch deep). Arrange the chicken pieces along the bottom. Layer the potatoes on top of the chicken. Next, layer the carrots, onions, and garlic cloves. Lay the fresh herbs over the carrots.

Grind the black pepper over the pot and add a pinch of sea salt. Splash about ½ cup of vermouth or white wine over everything. Cover the Dutch oven with its lid.

To cook the chicken outdoors with charcoal:

Prepare about 24 to 30 charcoal briquettes with a charcoal starter (the number of briquettes used depends on the size of your oven). When the briquettes are glowing whitish-gray and are good and hot, lay about 12 to 14 of them to make a rough, filled-in circle on the bottom of your fire pit, then place your Dutch oven over the briquettes. (Our 10-inch Dutch oven doesn’t have feet so we place a collapsible stand down first, lay the briquettes in and around the stand, then set our oven on top of the stand.) Then place 14 to 16 briquettes on the top of the lid.

Cook for 30 to 45 minutes, possibly longer depending on the size of your chicken pieces. Check every 15 to 20 minutes to make sure everything looks good (careful, it’ll be steaming when you open the lid) and the briquettes are still in good shape. If you’re cooking outdoors in winter, as we frequently do, midway through you’ll probably need to refresh the briquettes with another batch of hot ones. The chicken is cooked through when you poke it in the thickest part with a knife or fork and the juices run clear; potatoes and carrots are done when easily pierced with a fork.

To bake the chicken in the kitchen oven:

Preheat the oven to 375ºF. Place the covered Dutch oven in the oven and bake for 30 to 45 minutes. Check at 25 to 30 minutes. Same as above, the chicken is cooked through when you poke it in the thickest part with a knife or fork and the juices run clear; potatoes and carrots are done when easily pierced with a fork.

Write standing up! It keeps you on your toes. And take frequent perambulations—good for your body, good for your book, and good for your brain.

This is a recipe my daughter Melissa Elsmo created for the Western Writers of America cookbook. She’s a professional chef, writer, photographer, and food editor for the Chicago Tribune. I asked her to do something “Western” for us. She starts with a Navajo fry bread . . . and finishes with wow. This may not have been daily fare in your average hogan, but it is sure to treat the taste buds of any Western foodie. It’s a long list, but stick with it!

To prepare the pork:

Heat the canola oil in a large Dutch oven over high heat until it is hot, but not smoking. Season the pork liberally with salt and pepper, and sear it on all sides until it is a deep golden brown (about 6 minutes per side). Transfer the browned meat to a sheet tray.

Add the onions to the pot and reduce the heat to medium. Season the onions with salt and pepper, and allow them to cook, stirring frequently until they are soft and golden brown (about 10 minutes). Add the garlic, jalapeño, cumin, and turmeric, and cook until they are just fragrant (about 45 seconds).

Add the apple juice, cider vinegar, and chicken broth to the pot. Stir it well and return the pork to the mixture (the liquid should come halfway up the sides of the meat). Bring this to a boil, reduce the heat, and cover the pot tightly.

Place the pot into a 300ºF oven for 3 hours, or until the meat shreds easily with a fork. Keep it warm until the stacks are ready to be assembled.

To prepare the bean compote:

Place the corn in a pot of cold water and add the sugar, if desired. Bring this to a boil, cover the pot, and remove it from the heat. Allow the corn to stand in the water for 15 minutes before removing it and allowing it to cool.

Using a sharp knife, cut the kernels away from the cob and scoop them into a mixing bowl. Add the beans, tomatoes, pepper, cilantro, scallions, and jalapeño to the corn, and mix everything well.

Whisk the lime juice and olive oil together and season with salt and pepper. Toss the dressing with the bean mixture and set this aside until the stacks are ready to be assembled.

To prepare the fry bread:

Combine the dry ingredients in a large mixing bowl. Gradually add the water and mix gently until a soft dough forms. Do not overwork the dough. Allow the dough to rest in a covered bowl for 30 minutes.

Divide the dough into 6 to 8 balls. Dust a rolling pin and cutting board with flour, and roll each dough ball into an oval ¼ inch thick.

Heat the oil until it is hot, but not smoking, and fry the bread in batches until it is golden brown and crispy on both sides (about 2 to 3 minutes per side). Drain the bread on paper towels.

To assemble the dish:

Place a piece of fry bread on each plate. Top it with a portion of the pork and a generous helping of the bean compote. Garnish this as desired, and serve it at once.

My mom, Jean Novak, and I created this recipe. The traditional version is old-style Italian Brooklyn all the way. The alternate version is more Western. The combination of beef and lamb evokes the idea of cattlemen and dang sheepherders. Meatballs, regardless of the recipe, can stand as a meal on their own. You are not an Italian from New York City if you have never been met at the door by your mother holding a meatball on a fork for you. Meatballs are great as leftovers, so don’t be afraid to make a gang of them. They are especially good as leftovers on a couple pieces of toast, with sauce and grated cheese, eaten with a knife and fork.

Grate or crumble 5 slices of bread (remove the top brown crust first) in a large bowl.

Add the meat, and shake in a little salt and pepper. Add the sugar, grated cheese, and eggs (without the shells). Mix it all by hand.

Shape the meatballs a little bigger than a golf ball (this is where the Titleist comes in for sizing).

Coat a frying pan with a little oil and fry the meatballs on medium heat, turning them over once or twice so they brown evenly.

This recipe should yield about 30 (yes, 30) meatballs. Serve them plain or in your favorite sauce (gravy in Italian households), as an appetizer or as a side dish. They can be served in the classic way with macaroni (pasta in yuppie households) and sauce. Bada-bing! Mangia!

Parmesan cheese (The fake kind in the round plastic containers is OK. If anyone asks, just shrug your shoulders dismissively and say, “Ay, I don’t know from nothin’!”)

Put the meat and bread crumbs in a large bowl. Shake in a little Parmesan cheese, the pepper, and the sugar. Add a dash of Worcestershire sauce and the Marsala wine and mix it all by hand. At this point you have to decide whether to bake the meatballs in the oven or grill them.

If you decide to bake: Place the meatballs on a baking sheet or glass pan that is either sprayed with oil or lined with foil, and bake at 350ºF. Monitor and turn the meatballs from time to time until they are done enough to your liking.

If you decide to grill: Make sure you’ve made the meatballs big enough so they don’t fall through the grill. Fire up the grill. Grill the meatballs as you would hamburgers, turning frequently.

The recipe should yield about 9 meatballs. Serve them as suggested above, in the traditional recipe.

I like this recipe because I invented it myself. It doesn’t take long to prepare, and it is very tasty using simple ingredients. And, you get to throw out the tinfoil vessel, so that is one less thing you have to wash. You can vary ingredients without changing the recipe too much. For example, you can use this over some other type of pasta or over white rice. If you want to make the recipe more Western, wear a cowboy hat while cooking. Enjoy!

Take a nip of Jameson’s, munch it thoughtfully, and follow up with a sip of Guinness. Ahh! You are now ready to begin.

Fire up the grill.

Take a piece of heavy-duty tinfoil, maybe 9 x 12 inches or so, and turn up the sides so it resembles a sort of boat. Make sure you don’t puncture the foil, and crimp the edges so it doesn’t leak. Keep the bottom flat. Do this on a fairly large plate so it is easier to carry.

Peel, clean, and devein the shrimp. Clean the scallops and cut them into halves or quarters.

Place the shrimp and scallops in the tinfoil vessel. Pour some of the chunky salsa or picante sauce over the shrimp and scallops. Judge for yourself as to how much.

Put in a couple of spoonfuls of butter. Once again, how much is up to you. Add some chopped garlic to the mix. (Let’s be honest. Why knock yourself out chopping garlic when one of those little squat jars with chopped garlic floating in olive oil is perfectly good? You don’t have to tell anyone.)

Squeeze 2 or 3 lemons over the top. It’s OK to leave some of the lemon pulp in, but make sure you get all the seeds out. (Hey, if you didn’t want to chop the garlic, you probably don’t want to squeeze lemons. If you use one of those little plastic fake lemons with lemon juice in it, your secret is safe with me.)

When the grill is ready, place the tinfoil vessel on the grill, being especially careful not to puncture it. While the seafood is cooking, set a pot of water with a little olive oil in it to boil. Check in with Mr. Jameson and Mr. Guinness to make sure everything is going OK.

Every now and then, stir the seafood on the grill carefully with a large silicon or plastic spoon. Place the thin spaghetti in the pot once the water is boiling. You judge how much. When done to your liking, drain the spaghetti.

Remove the tinfoil vessel from the grill after the sauce in it boils and the shrimp get to a good pink color. It doesn’t take too long. Don’t overcook it! The best way to remove it is to place the whole vessel on a dinner bowl.

Serve the seafood over the spaghetti, making sure that all served get equal amounts of the shrimp and scallops. You don’t want fights.

Sprinkle on some Parmesan cheese, but use the good stuff that you’ve grated yourself, not the kind in those plastic jars. Serve with a nice, light, spring mix salad or maybe some green peas over the spaghetti, or some sliced avocados around the edges of the plate or bowl.

Use the juice from the vessel as sauce. That is why you shouldn’t scrimp on the ingredients. You’re going to want that sauce and plenty of it.

Have a nice wine that goes with seafood. It is almost mandatory that you have something made out of chocolate after this.

This recipe was created in the kitchen yard of Julie and T. Lindsay Baker on the J. T. Baker Farm-stead, near Blum, Texas. Home-style possum ’n taters can be an old-time wintertime treat for your family. Through the combination of nineteenth-century remembrances and practical open-fire cooking trials, the Bakers have perfected the following directions for modern kitchen-yard chefs to re-create this popular and taste-tempting dish enjoyed by many of our ancestors. Its closest comparable taste in modern foods is baby back ribs. According to former Oklahoma slave Lizzie Farmer of Mount Enterprise, Texas, “When we cooked possum that was a feast. We would skin him and dress him and put him on top of the house and let him freeze for two days or nights. Then we’d boil him with red pepper, and take him out and put him in a pan and slice sweet ’taters and put round him and roast him. My, that was good eating.”

8 medium-size sweet potatoes, about 6 inches long and no more than 2 inches thick

Plan to spend 3 to 4 hours preparing this meal, as you must allow time to parboil the possum until it is tender.

Start with one adult but young possum killed in “the season” during the depth of winter in January or February. (At this season the animals are less likely to have any objectionable parasites.) Disembowel, clean, and skin the possum, removing its feet and head. Wash the possum body in fresh water. (If you would prefer to cook the meal at a later time, it is easy to put the possum in a plastic bag and freeze it at this point.)

Place the possum in a large metal pot with about 3 gallons of water, the salt, and the ground red pepper, and bring this to a boil. Continue cooking the possum at a low boil, changing the water and pouring off the fat at least 3 times. Each time refill the pot with fresh water and seasonings. (A 4-gallon cast-iron “wash pot” on an open fire in the kitchen yard works perfectly at this stage of preparation. Take care that the fire does not spread.)

Continue to parboil the possum until it is tender. This may take as long as 2 or 3 hours, depending on the possum’s age and toughness. Regularly changing the water removes the distinctive possum fat and any “game” taste.

Wash the sweet potatoes, leaving them in their skins. Set them aside for later use.

After the possum has become tender, remove it from the pot and allow it to cool slightly.

While the possum cools enough for you to handle it, peel and slice the onions. Place the onions in the Dutch oven with the butter and sauté them until they become transparent.

Cut up the cooked possum into 8 portions (4 legs and 4 quarters of its torso). Line the bottom of the Dutch oven with the sweet potatoes, still in their jackets, mixing them with the sautéed onions. Then add the possum pieces so that they are spread through the sweet potatoes in the vessel.

Place the lid on the Dutch oven, then move it to where you have spread on the ground 6 good-size coals from the fire and place the cooking vessel on top of the coals. Then with a shovel or tongs, place 6 more good-size coals from the fire on top of the lid. (Take care not to overheat the Dutch oven and thereby scorch your meal.) Allow the combined possum and taters to cook for about 45 minutes, or until the sweet potatoes have baked and the possum has browned.

Serve this dish hot to your appreciative family members.

This recipe came about because there are no Chinese restaurants in the small local town we travel to for all amusements and shopping. We end up going to the big city of Tucson for international ingredients. We make our own Chinese food (rather my wife does; she is the great cook). This recipe is a combination of traditional Southwestern-style carne asada (grilled steak served on tortillas) with a hot Southeast Asian twist. We have enjoyed it for twenty-five years.

Come an’ Get It! (Main Dishes)