Real Cooking

ORIGINALLY WRITTEN CHERYL JOST
This week marks the Weather Channel’s 20th year of being on the air. I just thought you might be interested.

I only know this because with all of the crazy weather we’ve been experiencing, my farmer-husband has had the television tuned to only one station for the past week. And it’s the one with the talking heads spewing out information about cold fronts, embedded thunderstorms and rain that “is training through the area…and you all know what that means.”

Well, no, I don’t. I suppose I might know what “training through the area” means if I spent all day in front of the TV engaged in a one way conversation with the rotating meteorologists that keep the Weather Channel up and running. But I just don’t have the time.

And that’s where my husband and I differ in our approaches to encroaching clouds or prevailing wind. He watches the latest reports and follows the week-long weather projections like a bookie watches the odds boards in Vegas.

I look out the window.

“I think it’s going to rain,” I say gazing skyward at the gray clouds gathering in the near distance.

“I’ll check the maps on the Weather Channel,” Keith says, scurrying to the nearest TV and tunes in to…what’s this? Today’s weather forecast for The Greater Antilles. Now, that’s useful.

“Our maps will be on in a minute,” he says knowingly. He should know, he watches enough to actually be able to match the names with the faces of the meteorologists.

“Well, while you watch for ‘our maps,’ I’ll go move the car into the garage,” I say.

“I really don’t think you need to, dear,” Keith responds. “According to the latest three-day forecast, there is only a 40 percent chance of measurable precipitation for the central plains of Kansas.”

“I see lightning.”

“As soon as this ‘Weather for Travelers’ spot is over, they’ll show the maps for Kansas.”

“I see big lightning,” I say as I go to the front door to move some potted plants to a more sheltered spot on the porch.

At last the area maps come flickering across the screen and my husband studies each one in turn. The eastern seaboard, the Deep South, the Great Lakes region. Finally, the familiar boxed shapes of the Central Plains fills the picture.

“I think the showers should pass from our west to the north,” Keith turns to me and says.

“The wind is picking up,” I say.

I’m watching the big maple tree in the front yard, it’s branches starting to dance.

“Meg, Alex,” I shout. “Go out and put your bikes into the garage.”

“Well, we might catch the outside edge of this storm front,” my husband says somewhat skeptically.

“I think you’re right, dear,” I say. “It’s beginning to rain.”

While it is true that Keith and I differ on our devotion to the Weather Channel, 23 years of farm life has taught me just how much our existence revolves around hail, snow, ice, wind, scorching heat and freezing cold.

And rain. It can be such a blessing or such a curse, depending on how much and at what time it comes.

It sure decided to fall last Saturday night. We were attending Meg’s dance recital that evening and as the event let out, the heaven’s opened and rainwater flooded the streets.

Take my word for it. There is nothing more pathetic than a dancer caught in a downpour with her costume drenched, her curls drooping and her stage makeup running down her face. Thank goodness we were on our way home and not on our way to the recital.

At least she had taken her “crow” off the top of her head and had put it safely into her dance bag. Meg’s dance group had black-feathered hair ornaments that they wore for some of their dances. And every time I pinned that thing onto her head, I’d say “caw, caw.” She didn’t think it was funny. But I laughed.

I wasn’t laughing last week when I picked up the kids from school and hurried home to beat the storm that had produced tornadoes in the area. Just as we pulled into the drive, the Salina radio station that we had been listening to announced that a tornado warning had been issued for our part of Marion County.

I hustled the kids into the house, called for the dog, grabbed my visiting mother from the sunroom and marched them down the stairs to the basement. I ran upstairs and quickly grabbed the radio and a couple of flashlights and met Keith coming in the back door.

“We’re in a tornado warning- everyone is in the basement,” I called as I moved toward the stairs.

But I knew where he was headed. I heard the familiar drone of the television coming from the kitchen. A few minutes later he came down the stairs.

“They just mentioned Hillsboro, Lehigh and Durham on the Weather Channel,” he said with a satisfied smile.

“And what did the Weather Channel say?”

“That we’re in a tornado warning and we should be taking shelter.” My husband turned to go back upstairs.

“So, where are you going?”

“Outside to watch the storm. It’s training through our area…and you know what that means.”

Well, no, I don’t.

* * *

With the onset of summer just around the corner, I’m digging out my salad recipes so I’m ready to enjoy the season’s harvest. One fruit salad that we enjoy uses blended bananas as part of the dressing. I share it with you below.

Fresh Fruit Salad

1 fresh pineapple

2 kiwis

1 cantaloupe

1 papaya

Strawberries, halved

Grapes, halved

(You may use any fruit you like, really, with the exception of watermelon. And of course, you need to wash, peel and slice the fruit.)

Dressing: Combine in a blender…

2 ripe bananas

1 cup sour cream

4 Tbs. brown sugar

11/2 tsp. lemon juice

Pour over fruit and enjoy.

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