Question: Why was Terri hanging over a window well at 12:40 in the morning in her scrubs and socks in 39-degree weather hitting her son’s bedroom window with a rolled-up newspaper?
I pulled into the garage at 12:30 A.M. from work. My patients had been relatively easy (wahoo!) so I had made good time in getting out of the hospital at around midnight. I was looking forward to finally getting to taste some of the casserole that I had made before I had left for work in the mid afternoon. It was a remake of a favorite casserole from my childhood and I had been thinking for several weeks of ways to update it a bit. Okay, a lot.
Five Ten minutes past the time I ought to have left for work I finished assembling the casserole and put it in the oven, set the delay baking feature so that everything would be done when John got home from work, and blitzed out the door. I only had a vague idea of how the casserole would taste and it seemed like it was going to be great.
Just to satisfy my enormous curiosity I called John in the evening and asked how everything tasted. He gave me a resounding two thumbs up. Wahoo, again! I asked him to please save some for me and explained that I needed a sample to 1) taste it for myself so that I could write about it, and 2) photograph it so that I could also post an amazingly tantalizing picture of it here. He assured me that there would be plenty left over for me.
When I got home, the sign on the door from the garage to the house said:
Insert teeth gritting here.
I came in the house, locked the door behind me, put my stuff down, took off my coat, looked at the empty casserole dish on the counter, picked up my camera, went back out of the door– which had failed to close completely– to the garage, closed the door behind me, and took the above picture. Did you catch the part where I said I locked the door and it had not closed completely and then I went back out of the door and closed it–completely? Yeah. It was locked. And all of my stuff was in the house on the other side of the door. My phone, my keys, my shoes, my coat. Yep. All safely inside the house behind the locked door.
I think I might have cussed. Just one word, but I may have said it a few times.
John was upstairs asleep with the white noise of a fan to cancel any household noises that might wake him up. Door bell ringing and loud knocking would have been a moot point. I momentarily considered sleeping in the van in the garage. I called myself an idiot and started working on another plan.
Matt! Matt’s bedroom is in the basement and he does not have a fan. “I’ll just whack on his bedroom window with something and wake him up and he’ll let me in the house. He probably won’t even be asleep yet!” I grabbed the newspaper that was still laying outside in the driveway and headed around the outside of the house to Matt’s bedroom window. Dang it was cold outside!
In a sort of squat-lean-reach position over the window well I started whacking Matt’s bedroom window with the newspaper. No response. I hit the window harder. Still no response. I hit the window some more and called Matt’s name. No response. Another cuss word came out of my mouth, but I didn’t say it very loud. If you only think or whisper a swear word does it register as big on the repent-o-meter as if you say it out loud?
Anyway, I finally got Matt to wake up. He was really ticked. BUT if you eat all of your mom’s casserole and she doesn’t get any of it after slaving away for 8 hours taking care of sick people who are not even family members and keeps a smile on her face the whole time and never complains to anybody except to God because he understands everything, then you can certainly wake up and let your mom in the house at ANY hour of the night!
Matt unlocked the door, grumbled something, and went back downstairs. I walked into the kitchen and stared at the casserole dish full of murky water (soaking) and three stray peas floating around in it. I shook my head slowly and came upstairs to write this post, mostly for me.
Out of all of the things that I could say at this point, the bottom line is this–I am home and warm and safe.
When I was young, my mom used to make Penny Casserole. It was a concoction of sliced hot dogs, cubed potatoes, chopped onion, peas, cream of mushroom soup, and a little bit of mustard. Plus salt and pepper, of course. It was called penny casserole for two reasons:
- It was made of inexpensive ingredients which only cost ‘pennies’ to make.
- The hot dogs were sliced into “pennies”.
This casserole was a family favorite. We kids could never seem to get enough of it.
I mentioned that it was an inexpensive casserole. Well, I realize that that was back in the day when hot dogs were cheap; like maybe .50 for a pound of them. You could feed a family of 6 this casserole for almost nothing. These days I get sticker shock looking at the price of hot dogs. I mean really, over $4.00 a pound for a parts-is-parts pork/beef/poultry product? So sad, so sad. We won’t even go into the cost of Campbell’s ‘cream of…’ soups.
Oh, by the way, if you want to get a good feel for the general prices of a grocery store, take a look at the price of their Campbell’s cream of whatever soups. The greater the price of the soups, the greater the overall prices in the grocery store in general. Try it, prove me wrong. I’ve been using the soup pricing as a general rule of thumb for years and it has never failed me.
Just for fun I Googled “penny casserole”. It’s out there in its original 1960’s format! So surprising…I have never met anyone else who makes this casserole. I don’t feel so alone anymore.
While I genuinely enjoy this simple casserole, one day I started thinking about a way to ‘update’ it. Evidently the results were stellar–ask John and Matt.
I am giving you recipes for both versions.
Note: Despite the simplicity of the original casserole…I really like it.
All photos and written commentary Copyright 2010.