Crepe Factor (30 page)

⅓ cup cream cheese, softened

¼ cup crabmeat, drained, flaked, cartilage removed

½ tsp. sugar

2 Tbsp. scallions, finely chopped

1 (1.9-oz.) pkg. frozen miniature phyllo tart shells

⅓ cup whole-berry cranberry sauce

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. In a small bowl, combine cream cheese, crab, sugar, and scallions until thoroughly blended. Place tart shells on an ungreased baking sheet. Fill each shell with 1 Tbsp. crab mixture. Top each crab mound with 1 tsp. cranberry sauce. Bake for 12 to 14 minutes or until heated through. Makes 15 mini crab cakes.

2 lb. boneless pork loin roast

1 Tbsp. cooking oil

3 Tbsp. paprika

½ tsp. cayenne powder

2 tsp. oregano

2 tsp. salt

½ tsp. ground white pepper

¼ tsp. nutmeg

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Rub pork loin with oil. Combine all seasonings in a small bowl and then rub onto meat. Place roast in shallow pan. Roast for approximately 1 hour, then let rest for 5 to 10 minutes before slicing. Serves 4.

4 chicken breasts, boned and skinned

¼ cup lemon juice

¼ cup brown sugar

¼ tsp. oregano

¼ tsp. paprika

1 (6-oz.) can mushrooms

Place chicken in Crock-Pot. Sprinkle with lemon juice, brown sugar, and seasonings. Then add mushrooms without draining them. Cook on high for approximately 2 hours. Serves 4.

1 lb. pecan halves

4 Tbsp. butter, melted

1 tsp. chili powder

1 tsp. salt

1 tsp. dried oregano

1 tsp. dried thyme

½ tsp. onion powder

¼ tsp. cayenne pepper

Combine all ingredients in your Crock-Pot and mix well. Cover and cook on high for 15 minutes. Remove cover, stir, and turn Crock-Pot to low setting. Cook for another 2 hours. Transfer pecans to a baking sheet and allow them to cool.

2 cups brown sugar

1 cup granulated sugar

⅔ cup corn syrup

1 cup butter, melted

1 tsp. cream of tartar

2 to 3 gallons popped popcorn

In saucepan, bring first 5 ingredients to a boil, stirring constantly. Place popcorn in a large bowl and carefully pour caramel mixture over it. Stir immediately to evenly coat popcorn. Enjoy!

2½ cups whole wheat flour

½ cup nonfat dry milk powder

1 egg

½ cup vegetable oil

1 beef bouillon cube dissolved in ½ cup hot water

1 Tbsp. brown sugar

Preheat oven to 300 degrees. Combine all ingredients in large mixing bowl. Stir until blended, then turn out onto a floured surface and knead gently for about 2 minutes. Using a floured rolling pin, roll dough out to about ¼-inch thickness. Use round cutter or bone-shaped cutter to cut out dog cookies. Place on ungreased baking sheet and bake for 30 minutes. Remove from pan and cool on wire rack. Makes about 40 cookies.

5 lbs. pork ribs or spare ribs

1 (16-oz.) can apricots, drained

¼ cup brown sugar, packed

1 tsp. chili powder

½ cup ketchup

½ cup white vinegar

2 tsp. Worcestershire sauce

Place ribs in a large pot and cover with water. Bring to a rapid boil, then cover, reduce heat, and simmer for 30 minutes. Drain
ribs and arrange in a large, shallow baking dish. Combine apricots, brown sugar, chili powder, ketchup, white vinegar, and Worcestershire sauce. Blend until nice and smooth. Pour sauce over ribs, turning to coat. Cover and marinate in refrigerator 4 to 8 hours, turning occasionally. Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Remove ribs from marinade and place on a lightly greased rack in broiler pan, reserving marinade for basting. Bake for 40 minutes, basting twice. (Hint: these ribs can also be cooked on an outdoor grill.) Serves 4 to 6.

1 cup cranberries, fresh or frozen

½ cup sugar

2 cups flour

4 tsp. baking powder

¾ tsp. salt

1 egg

1 cup milk

4 Tbsp. melted butter

Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Chop cranberries and sprinkle with half the sugar. Sift flour, baking powder, salt, and remaining sugar together. Beat egg slightly, combine with milk and melted butter, and then add to dry ingredients. Stir only until blended. Fold in cranberries. Pour batter into a buttered muffin pan and bake for approximately 25 minutes. Yields 12 medium-sized muffins.

2 large, ripe avocados, diced

juice of 1 lime

4 oz. (½ pkg.) cream cheese

2 Tbsp. sun-dried tomatoes in oil, drained and chopped

¼ cup onion, minced

2 Tbsp. cilantro, chopped (optional)

pinch of red pepper flakes

salt and pepper to taste

9 egg roll wrappers

vegetable oil

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Place diced avocados in medium bowl and stir in lime juice. Stir in cream cheese, sun-dried tomatoes, onion, cilantro, red pepper flakes, and salt and pepper. Mix well. Lay out egg roll wrappers. Place 2 to 3 Tbsp. of avocado mixture down the middle of each wrapper. Fold one point of wrapper down over mixture, then fold in the two sides. Using a bit of water on remaining wrapper tip, fold that in and seal. Brush egg rolls lightly with vegetable oil. Place on lightly greased baking sheet and bake for 10 minutes. Turn rolls over and bake for another 10 minutes. Serve with your favorite dipping sauce.

Keep reading for an excerpt of Laura Childs's next Cackleberry Club Mystery . . .

Egg Drop Dead

Coming December 2016 in hardcover from Berkley Prime
Crime!

I
T
was an autumn of particular intensity. Of riotous colors and delft blue skies, cool nights with smoke curling out of chimneys. Halloween was barely a week away and Suzanne Dietz was feeling mighty pleased with herself as she glanced at the puddle of black silk lying on the car seat next to her. She'd just picked up the wicked witch costume that her neighbor Laurel Kennedy had sewn for her. The woman was a creative genius when it came to three yards of fabric, six yards of black scalloped lace, and a Singer sewing machine. Suzanne, on the other hand, managed to impale her finger every time she picked up a needle to sew on a button or whipstitch a hem. Which is why she was congratulating herself for outsourcing such an odious task and looking forward to her role as a well-stitched witch at the Cackleberry Club's upcoming Halloween celebration.

Changing lanes, Suzanne caught her own reflection in the rearview mirror and thought,
Correction, make that a modern-day witch.

Just a hair past forty, Suzanne was lean, square-shouldered, and still golden brown from puttering around her herb garden in the summer sun. Her hair was a shoulder-length silvered blond, her eyes a deep cornflower blue. Today she wore a white blouse, nipped tightly at her waist by a silver concho belt, and a pair of slim-fitting jeans. She had on her favorite cowboy boots, the well-worn brown ones with turquoise leather steer heads inset at the ankles.

Suzanne was the self-appointed purveyor of foods and the driving force behind the Cackleberry Club, a cozy little farm-to-table café she ran with her two BFFs, Toni and Petra. She was also recently engaged to Dr. Sam Hazelet, who had to be the most handsome and skilled doctor in the small Midwestern town of Kindred.

Suzanne smiled to herself as she drove along, the noon sun lasering down upon the windshield of her Taurus. Sam was quite a catch, she mused. Four years younger than she was, great sense of humor, and, most important, in love with her. (Okay, truth be told, he might even be a little besotted with her.)

If she hadn't hit the boyfriend jackpot, she probably would have (horrors!) been forced to venture onto one of those Internet dating sites. Then her character sketch might have read something like,
Overworked café owner, dog mom, and curiosity seeker hopes to meet fun-loving guy for wine dinners, occasional trout fishing, and long-term mischief.
And after a few sketchy responses, someone like Sam would have popped up. Or not.

Suzanne drank in the scenery as the blacktopped country road dipped down and the woods closed in on either side of her. Late October meant the oaks and maples had erupted
in a riot of crimson and orange, and every time a puff of wind came along, leaves fluttered down in perfect golden swirls. It made her think of bonfires and pumpkin spice muffins, and, of course, Halloween.

Coming up out of a valley onto a slight ridge, the road suddenly hooked right and ran alongside a rustic fence of silvered, weathered wood. That fence marked the property line for Mike Mullen's dairy farm. Mike was Suzanne's go-to guy for the homemade wheels of tasty cheddar and Swiss cheese that she served and sold at the Cackleberry Club. Tapping her brakes lightly, Suzanne coasted along until she spotted Mike's familiar tilting mailbox up ahead. This behemoth of dented metal was surrounded by a tangle of bright red bittersweet and sat beside a hand-painted sign that read
Cloverdale
Farm—Farm Fresh Milk and Cheese.

Suzanne turned into the driveway and crunched her way down a narrow gravel road. A quarter of a mile later, her car rolled to a stop in Mike's farmyard. The place was picture-perfect, an old-fashioned farm built in the early 1900s by hardworking German immigrants. Off to the right was a classic
American Gothic
farmhouse complete with finials, balustrades, and a rambling old front porch. Straight ahead was a faded red hip-roofed dairy barn. Several smaller buildings that housed bales of hay and farm tools were scattered off to the left, and a large, woodsy pasture butted up close to the house and barn.

Suzanne slid out of her car and scuffed the toe of her boot into the gravel.

“Hey, Mike,” she called out. “It's Suzanne.” She let out a breath. “From the Cackleberry Club.”

The big sliding barn door stood wide open and she expected to see Mike's broad, grinning face appear at any moment.

When, after a minute or two, Mike didn't duck out and greet her, Suzanne decided he must be all the way back in
the barn, tending his cows. Or maybe he was in the adjacent cheese workshop, a place with a pleasant, yeasty smell and gleaming stainless steel pipes, tanks, and tables. The place where all the cheese magic happened.

“No problem,” Suzanne said, striking out for the barn. She'd talked to Mike a couple of days ago and told him she needed to replenish her larder with a few wheels of his delicious cheese. He'd told her to stop by anytime. Well, now was anytime.

Suzanne ducked inside the barn, going from dazzling sunlight to a dim interior. She blinked hard a couple of times, trying to adjust her eyes, keenly aware of the mingled sharp scents of cows and hay.

“Mike?” she called again.

This time Suzanne received an answer. But it wasn't from Mike. Instead, she was greeted by a cacophony of loud bellows.

“What?” she murmured.

A few steps down the center aisle and Suzanne was confronted by the urgent, upturned faces of four dozen cows bawling unhappily at her. Cows that clearly hadn't been milked yet.

Haven't been milked yet? But it's twenty after twelve. These poor things have been waiting all morning?

Where was Mike? Suzanne wondered as she tiptoed through the barn. On either side, cows continued to blat anxiously as they stretched their necks out to greet her. To plead for help. And the farther in she ventured, the more the cows' mooing turned to pitiful moans.

Where the stanchions ended there were two box stalls. Animals moved about restlessly in there, too. Horses that tossed their heads and banged their hooves hard against the wooden walls.

What was going on?

“Mike?” Suzanne called out, trying to keep a slight quaver out of her voice. “Are you back here?” She hesitated and peered into the dimness ahead of her where dust motes twirled lazily and worn leather halters and bridles hung on wooden pegs. Then she added, “Are you okay?”

Moving toward the wooden door that led into the cheese workshop, Suzanne felt a prickle of unease. The hairs on the back of her neck were starting to stand up straight. Really? Now, why was that? Then her heart did a little thump-bump inside her chest and her breathing became a little more rapid. Had something happened to Mike? Or was she simply overreacting to the agitation of the cows?

Suzanne tamped down her fears and rapped her knuckles sharply against the white wooden door of the cheese workshop.

“Mike? Are you in there?”

No answer.

Gathering up her nerve, Suzanne put a hand flat against the door and gave it a shove. Instead of swinging open on its hinges, the door creaked open a couple of inches and stopped. Frowning, she pushed again, this time with a little more force.

No way. Something seemed to be blocking it.

Suzanne leaned forward and touched her cheek to the door, the smooth wood feeling cool against her skin. Then she poked her nose in, trying to peer around the edge of the door.

The first thing she saw was a green rubber boot turned sideways on the damp cement floor. That boot was clearly attached to a leg.

Mike? Something's happened to Mike?

Worry exploded in Suzanne's brain. She drew a quick breath, took a step back, and then flung her full body weight against the door. The door creaked open another foot. Suzanne eased herself into the room, where Mike Mullen sprawled
awkwardly on the floor. His white hair was matted with bright red blood as if he'd sustained a dozen deep scalp lacerations, and his gnarled hands were crisscrossed with bloody defensive wounds. The blue-and-white-striped overalls he wore were completely slashed and tattered, as if he'd been existing as a castaway on some remote South Seas jungle island. The fabric was also completely saturated with blood.

Dead? Mike's dead?

Suzanne's mind spun like a runaway centrifuge.
Who? Why?
A hundred questions churned inside her head. She lunged forward, somehow thinking she'd check his pulse or hopefully clear an airway. But her foot slipped in the slick pool of blood and she fell forward. If she hadn't thrust her hands out to break her fall, she would have landed right square on top of his body. As it was, her ungainly fall put her on her hands and knees, looking directly into wide-open milky white eyes that stared sightlessly into a void.

“Mike?” Suzanne said again in a pleading, still-hopeful tone. Because she was still trying to make sense of how someone could cold-bloodedly murder this mild-mannered dairy farmer.