White Lasagna with Sausage, Spinach and Portabello Mushrooms

Look at me! Baking and blogging up a storm these past few weeks. Am I just overly ambitious? Hmm... I wish!  I am BORED!  I have been iced or snowed in my house for 3 days in the past week with more days off probably tomorrow and possibly Friday! I don't sit still well.(It is how I was raised.) I can not watch any more Netflix or worse than that, daytime TV.  Dr. Oz and Steve Hardy make me want to jump off the bridge downtown.... if only I could get there!

So, instead of causing bodily harm, I have been spending my time reading blogs and recipes and pulling out a lot of the cookbooks that I have stashed away and making things that are on my wish list. That list is actually so long that I could probably have a whole year of snow days and still not complete everything on it!

This has been my new South Carolina "snow life!" Waking up, showering, putting on fresh Pjs, scouring books and webpages and then getting busy in the kitchen. Usually, at some point in this process, some wine or craft beer might come into the mix. My biggest fear is if this weather doesn't clear up and I continue to churn out these rich, comfort food recipes, the only clothes I will be able to wear is Pjs or elastic pants. Ugh.... Praying for no more snow!!!

Venison Portobello Shepherd's Pie

In rural, western Pennsylvania, I grew up eating venison. It is what most families in our "neck of the woods" waited all year for.  Most of the men were hunters or sportsmen and waited for deer season to arrive. My father was no different. He could not wait for the fall (and not just cause he was a freckled, redhead who hates the sun.) The changing colors of leaves, the crisp fall air and being able to see your breathe when you went outside, meant deer season was right around the corner. My Dad was always an avid archer; which takes a lot of skill and practice. And over the years, he has brought many deer home using this method.

When my Dad had one of his hunting days, us girls would go shopping or do other girl-centric activities but we were always home when Dad got home. We would wait at home to see if he had struck big that day and brought us a deer. It was always an exciting time for him when he brought a deer home. It was exciting for us all. And when I say all, I mean the whole neighborhood. It seemed back in those days, everyone was looking out their windows for the hunters to come home. If there seemed to be an unusual amount of activity as the trucks pulled in, the whole neighborhood would convene in that persons driveway. It became our little neighborhood tradition.

Some might say that this is an unusual or cruel event but it is the gathering of food. Food brought home to feed a family. Food that we had a pretty good idea of where it was raised and how it was killed and we were thankful that our area was so abundant in this food source. As my Dad always told us, when he killed a deer it was exciting and an accomplishment. It was the culmination of a lot of practice, anticipation and time, but he quickly felt thankful and appreciative of what the animal would give us. And there was also a slight sadness and desire to give the animal back to life. This shows great reverence! He taught us all that this thought process is what makes a great hunter!

Because of what he taught us about respect, when my Dad brought a deer home his girls were proud of him. We still are! Even though I live far, far away I still get a phone call when Dad brings a deer home. It takes me back to being a kid in that little town in rural Pennsylvania.