I met Michael Landon in the winter of 1973. He was a huge TV star. I was a little kid from the San Fernando Valley. I had no idea who he was. All I knew was that my family was making an awfully big deal out of the fact that I was going to meet him.
When the moment came that I first walked into the casting office and saw him, I knew why everyone had made such a big deal about him. He was magnetic, warm, charming, and super funny. The moment I looked into his eyes, I felt safe. He was one of those people whose smile lights up their whole self. Not just their mouth. His smile went all the way to the top of his head. He also didn’t talk to me like I was just a kid. He talked to me like I was his peer. He made me feel like he respected my ability as a professional, and that made me want to do even better, go even further in our scenes.
I didn’t know it at the time, but that first moment with Mike would be one of the defining moments of my life. We struck up an instant friendship. I would even go so far as to call it a kinship. Whenever I was with him, I believed completely that I was his Half-Pint and he was my Pa.
Everything I know and honor about being a professional in my industry, I learned from him. Mike was an extraordinary filmmaker. He had this amazing ability to envision a story that would move millions of people, and then put his pen to paper, write it, and mold it into grade-A entertainment—all the while infusing his work with messages about family, community, faith, and love.
Mike was a perfectionist. He did not suffer fools easily. He would give everyone a chance to learn, to step up and deliver. He nurtured everyone around him, but if they didn’t deliver or fooled around too much or didn’t know their lines or treated someone on his crew disrespectfully, they were gone. Those of us who worked within the parameters he set up for us as professionals found ourselves in the glow of his generous and loving praise. He really made us want to do well for him.
I also learned lessons from him about life, family, and love.
He worked crazy hours all the time, but I’d sometimes spend the night at his house because his kids were my closest friends—especially Leslie. He was very hands-on with us kids—watching scary movies with us, popping popcorn, and giving us crazy amounts of candy. His favorite—and mine—were jelly beans, especially the black ones. We’d save them up and share them with each other.
Mike had the greatest laugh you’d ever want to hear. It was infectious. When he laughed, I could see the boy that he once was. He was so full of mischief, and yet, when it was time to buckle down and do the work, he did it. And he did it brilliantly.
There really hasn’t been another person like him in our business. Nor has there been another person like him in my life. I loved him. I loved him as a mentor, as a friend, and as my Pa. I always, always will.
For a long time, my kids didn’t like anything that wasn’t brown or white. I tried everything to get them to eat their veggies. Then I made this soup and they couldn’t get enough. Maybe it’s because I put a handful of tiny cubes of Muenster cheese in the bottom of their bowls and poured the soup over it. As the kids mixed it up, the melted cheese magically appeared. They got so excited! And I got some serious veggies into their bodies.
2 tablespoons olive oil or unsalted butter
1 large yellow onion, coarsely chopped
1 cup (150 g) coarsely chopped baking potato
1 cup (130 g) coarsely chopped carrots
1 cup (90 g) coarsely chopped broccoli
1 cup (240 ml) vegetable broth
1 (15-ounce/425-g) can corn, drained
1 (16-ounce/455-g) package frozen green beans, thawed and drained
1 (15-ounce/425-g) can kidney beans, rinsed and drained
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
• In a large saucepan over medium heat, warm the oil or melt the butter. Add the onion and sauté until it begins to soften, 3 to 5 minutes.
• Add the potato, carrots, broccoli, broth, oregano, thyme, and bay leaf and bring them to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer until the vegetables are tender, 15 to 20 minutes.
• Add the corn, green beans, and kidney beans and bring the soup back to a simmer; cook for 10 minutes. Discard the bay leaf, season to taste with salt and pepper, and serve hot.
There’s really only one thing I can say about this smooth, flavorful, and nourishing soup: It’s comfort in a bowl. Try it with the Too-Good-to-Be-True Multigrain Bread (this page).
2 pounds (910 g) butternut squash, peeled, seeded, and cut into large chunks
½ cup (1 stick/115 g) unsalted butter
½ cup (60 g) diced yellow onion
½ cup (75 g) diced yellow bell pepper
1 teaspoon minced fresh tarragon leaves
1 quart (960 ml) chicken broth
¼ cup (30 g) all-purpose flour
• Put the squash in a large pot, cover with 1 quart (960 ml) water, and add the salt; bring the water to a boil, then simmer on low until soft, about 40 minutes. Drain the squash, reserving 2 cups (480 ml) of the cooking liquid. Puree the squash with 1 cup (240 ml) of the reserved liquid and set aside.
• Melt half of the butter in a soup pot, add the wine, and sauté the celery, onion, and bell pepper for 5 minutes. Add the tarragon, cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves. Add the broth and the remaining 1 cup (240 ml) reserved squash-cooking liquid. Bring to a boil.
• Meanwhile, melt the remaining butter in a small skillet, then sprinkle in the flour and cook, stirring constantly, until the roux is smooth and light brown.
• Thicken the soup by whisking in the roux. Add the pureed squash. Cook, stirring often, on low heat for 5 minutes. Add the maple syrup and sherry and mix well to combine and heat everything through. Serve hot.
This soup, which is great for really cold winter days, would have been a very easy one to prepare out on the prairie. In the winter, I will make a big pot of this soup in the late morning and just leave it on the stove until late afternoon. That way, anyone can grab a mugful at any time.
2 bunches (about 10) spring onions, trimmed
¼ cup (60 ml) sunflower or vegetable oil
1 yellow onion, coarsely chopped
3 russet potatoes (about 1½ pounds/680 g), peeled and quartered
1 quart (960 ml) chicken broth
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
• Cut the spring onions in half crosswise, dividing the white and green parts. Coarsely chop the white parts and set aside. Finely chop the green parts and set them aside separately.
• Heat the oil in a medium pot over medium heat. Add the yellow onion and chopped white parts of the spring onions and cook, stirring often with a wooden spoon, until soft, 8 to 10 minutes. Add the potatoes and broth and season to taste with salt and pepper. Increase the heat to medium-high and bring just to a boil. Reduce the heat to medium-low and simmer, stirring occasionally, until the potatoes are soft, 30 to 35 minutes.
• Allow the soup to cool slightly. Working in batches, puree the soup in a blender or a food processor until very smooth. Return the pureed soup to the pot and cook over medium heat until hot. Adjust the seasonings to taste. Garnish individual servings with the reserved spring onion greens.
When I make this soup, I can picture Ma standing over her big black iron pot, wooden spoon in hand, welcoming Pa home from a long day working in the fields. This soup is hearty, restorative, and very, very prairie.
½ ounce (15 g) dried porcini mushrooms (not so prairie, but so worth it)
1 yellow onion, finely chopped
1 celery stalk, finely chopped
8 ounces (225 g) fresh button mushrooms, thinly sliced
6 cups (1.4 L) beef or chicken broth
2 cups (400 g) pearl barley, rinsed under cold running water
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
¼ cup (7 g) finely chopped fresh parsley, for serving
• Put the porcini mushrooms in a small bowl and add warm water to cover. Soak until softened, about 30 minutes.
• Line a strainer with a double layer of cheesecloth and set it inside a bowl. Pour the porcini and liquid into the strainer, reserving the liquid. Finely chop the porcini and set aside.
• In a large pot over medium heat, warm the oil and butter. Add the onion, celery, and carrot and sauté until the onion is translucent, 2 to 3 minutes. Add the button mushrooms, raise the heat to high, and sauté until the mushrooms begin to soften, 2 to 3 minutes more.
• Add the broth, barley, bay leaf, porcini, and reserved soaking liquid and bring them to a boil. Reduce the heat to low, cover partially, and simmer gently, stirring occasionally, until the barley is tender and the soup is thick, 50 to 60 minutes.
• Discard the bay leaf. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Garnish individual servings with the parsley.
I really love being able to make a big pot of hearty soup for dinner. It’s a time-saver and the cleanup is always easier. This corn chowder is one of my family’s favorites. The East and West Coasts have their seafood chowders, but we prairie folk raise a lot of corn. No prairie cookbook would be complete without a corn chowder recipe.
¼ cup (½ stick/55 g) unsalted butter
4 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 yellow onion, finely chopped
1 tablespoon finely chopped fresh thyme
3 new potatoes (about 1½ pounds/680 g), peeled and cut into ½-inch (12-mm) cubes
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
¼ cup (7 g) thinly sliced fresh basil or 4 sprigs thyme, for serving
• Working over a large shallow bowl, slice the corn kernels off the cobs, scraping the cobs with the knife to extract the flavorful juices. Halve 5 of the bare corncobs crosswise, discarding the rest. Set the corn and cobs aside.
• Cook the bacon in a large pot over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until crisp, about 12 minutes. Reserve 3 tablespoons of the bacon for garnish, leaving the remaining bacon in the pot. Add the butter, garlic, celery, onion, thyme, and bay leaf. Cover the pot and cook, stirring occasionally, until the onion softens, about 6 minutes. Add the reserved corn kernels and cobs, the milk, and potatoes. Cover, bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to low and simmer, stirring occasionally, until the potatoes are tender, about 25 minutes.
• Skim any foam from the surface of the soup. Discard the cobs and bay leaf. Transfer 1½ cups (360 ml) of the soup to a blender and puree. Stir the puree back into the chowder to thicken it. Season with salt and pepper and serve garnished with the basil or thyme and the reserved bacon.
This is my mother’s chicken soup recipe. I’m pretty sure it’s been passed down from generation to generation to generation. Whenever I was sick as a kid, I got this soup. When I was sad . . . soup. When I was cranky, crampy, moody, heartbroken . . . soup. This soup really is a cure-all. If you like, you can substitute a 16-ounce (455-g) bag of egg noodles for the matzo balls, cooking them and adding them to the soup before serving.
1 (4- to 5-pound/1.8- to 2.3-kg) whole chicken
¼ cup (7 g) chopped fresh dill, plus extra for garnish
6 tablespoons (90 ml) vegetable oil
• Place the chicken in a large pot with the breast-side down. Add the carrots, celery, parsnip, onion, and dill. Fill the pot with enough cold water to cover the chicken and reach about 3 inches (7.5 cm) from the top of the pot. Bring it to a simmer over medium heat and cook, partially covered, for 2 hours. Do not let the soup boil.
• Skim any fat from the top of the soup and add the garlic. Partially cover and simmer for another 2 hours. Remove the chicken to let it cool a bit.
• In a medium bowl, mix together the matzo meal, eggs, oil, salt, and ¼ cup (60 ml) of the broth from the chicken soup. Refrigerate the mixture for about 20 minutes.
• Bring a separate pot of water to a rolling boil. Roll the matzo mixture into about 16 balls. Wet your hands to keep the dough from sticking to them. Drop the balls into boiling water, cover, and cook for about 35 minutes.
• While the matzo balls are cooking, strain the broth from the chicken soup; discard the vegetables. Return the broth to the pot over low heat. Remove the bones and skin from the chicken and cut the meat into bite-size pieces; return it to the broth. Remove the matzo balls from the water, drain them briefly on paper towels, and serve them in the hot chicken soup. Garnish with fresh dill.
This hearty recipe is a guaranteed hit. Everyone, I mean everyone, I have made this for has absolutely loved it. Serve it with some great crusty French bread and oven-roasted potatoes. And after your friends and family have eaten this and loved it, you can tell them proudly that you just served them an authentic French boeuf bourguignon.
3 pounds (1.4 kg) beef chuck, cut into large pieces
1 large yellow onion, finely chopped
1 (750-ml) bottle red wine, such as Pinot Noir
6 ounces (170 g) lean salt pork, cut into small pieces
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
⅓ cup (40 g) all-purpose flour
1 pound (455 g) small button mushrooms, trimmed
• Put the beef, onion, carrots, garlic, and bouquet garni in a large bowl. Add the wine. Using your hands, mix all the ingredients together, then cover the bowl with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 24 hours.
• Remove the beef from the marinade, reserving the liquid, and dry the meat well on paper towels. Fry the salt pork in a large pot over medium heat until crisp, about 7 minutes. Season the beef with salt and pepper. Add it to the pot and brown it on all sides, about 7 minutes. Sprinkle with the flour and cook, stirring constantly, for 3 minutes. Add the reserved marinade and 2 cups (480 ml) water and bring them to a boil over high heat, scraping up any brown bits. Reduce the heat to low, cover, and cook until the meat is tender, about 3 hours.
• Add the mushrooms and cook for 30 minutes longer, until the mushrooms are tender. Remove the bouquet garni before serving.
This small flavoring bouquet consists of 1 sprig fresh thyme; 1 bay leaf; 4 sprigs fresh parsley; perhaps a sprig of fresh tarragon or celery leaves; and 4 or 5 peppercorns. Wrap it all up in a bundle of cheesecloth tied closed with kitchen string. Leave the string rather long, and you can tie it to the handle of the pot so it’s easy to remove before serving.
When I was on location filming the Little House pilot, we went to a restaurant and my mother ordered me split pea soup with ham. It sounded so yummy, and then the bowl came and I was so upset because it looked like blended boogers. I even said so. She talked me into just tasting it, and I discovered that it was the yummiest thing I’d ever eaten.
1 pound (455 g) dried green split peas (2 cups ml)
2 cups (450 g) cubed cooked ham
2 cups (260 g) chopped carrots
1 cup (120 g) chopped yellow onion
1 cup (150 g) diced peeled potatoes (I prefer russet)
½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
¼ cup (7 g) minced fresh parsley
• Bring the oil, peas, and 7 cups (1.7 L) water to a boil in a large soup pot. Reduce the heat; cover and simmer for 2 hours, stirring occasionally.
• Add the ham, carrots, celery, onion, potato, salt (if using), garlic powder, and pepper; cover and simmer for 30 minutes, or until the vegetables are tender. Stir in the parsley and serve hot.
