CROCK POT CLAM CHOWDER – LOW CARB, GLUTEN FREE
INGREDIENTS
1/4 cup chicken stock
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 shallot, thinly sliced
1 small leek, cleaned, trimmed, and sliced
2 ribs celery, diced
1 medium onion, chopped
2 tbsp butter
2 tsp sea salt
1 tsp black pepper
3 - 10 oz cans of fancy whole baby clams, drained
2 cups clam juice
1 lb thick cut bacon, cooked crisp, and crumbled
8 oz cream cheese, softened
1 1/2 cups heavy cream
1 tsp garlic powder
1 tsp dried thyme
DIRECTIONS
Heat slow cooker on low setting.
To slow cooker, add chicken stock, garlic, shallot, leek, celery, onions, butter, and salt and pepper. Cover, and cook vegetables on low for 1 hour.
To the slow cooker, add clams, clam juice and bacon.
Add cream cheese, heavy cream, garlic powder and thyme. Continue mixing until there are no visible clumps of cream cheese and all ingredients are well incorporated.
Cover and cook for 6-8 hours
From Dreaming of You and Me
“But I’m supposed to make you clam
chowder,” Nora said.
“And I want to go out with the
heart-stopping handsome principal.” Darby elbowed Nora. “Come on, it’ll be
fun.”
Nora glanced around the cottage
the school supplied. She had a few of her things in it, but since it came
furnished, she’d used most of her furniture in her classroom. The result was
that her classroom was darling and her cottage was…not.
“Maybe the principal…my brother…could join us.”
Darby squealed and clapped her
hands. “That would be so great.”
“It seems like the least I could
do,” Nora said, “after all of his help.”
Darby whipped her phone out of
her pocket. “Okay, I’ll call Cole.”
“You have his number?” Nora
asked, feeling dazed by everything.
“Don’t you?” Darby asked.
When he’d offered her the job,
they’d corresponded by email and he had called her Miss Tomas, and she’d called
him Mr. Rowling. Of course, his relationship with Darby would be much more
casual. Darby didn’t work for him…but Darby wasn’t his sister, either. Nora
sighed and dropped onto the saggy sofa across from the large picture window
that overlooked wooded hills. The tiny house had a giant view. She told herself
that she would be happy here, but she wasn’t sure she knew how to be happy
anymore.
But she didn’t want to feel sorry
for herself, either. Been there and done that for much too long. She bounced
back up and strode into the kitchen.
She tried to explain her feelings
to Darby as she made the clam chowder. Because Canterbury was six miles from
the closest grocery store, they had gone shopping before they’d arrived. Now,
while Nora chopped celery and potatoes and browned bacon, Darby went to work
stocking Nora’s kitchen.
“It’s like everyone I ever loved
has lied to me,” Nora said, whacking the celery.
“And now it’s your turn to lie?” Darby
said as she opened cupboards. “Wow, Cole was right. You really do have
everything you need.”
Nora peeked in the cupboard at
the plastic plates, bowls, and cups. “I should have brought my own things.”
“Why? You said you were only
going to stay here for the school year.”
“I know, but…I don’t want to feel
like I’m camping.”
“Girl, this is not camping.”
Nora glanced out the window at
the sun sinking into the dark hills. Her cottage was the last on the road,
definitely the best location with probably the nicest view. She wondered if
Cole had intentionally arranged this for her, or if she’d just gotten lucky.
“It is great, isn’t it?”
“What are you going to do after
your year here?” Darby asked.
“Publish another book.”
Darby squealed and clapped her
hands. “Oh, I can’t wait!”
“But you can’t tell my dad! He
practically died of embarrassment after the last one. I’m going to use a pen
name.”
“Oh, he’s such a prude!” Darby
waved her hand dismissing him. “Besides, once he finds out where you are, and
with whom, he’s going to—for once—shut his jaw.”
“Maybe.” She wasn’t ready to
think about her parents. Yet. Eventually she would have to, but not now. Nora
lifted the bacon out of the pan strip by strip and placed it on a bed of paper
towels to drain while she stirred together cream and butter.
Darby watched and groaned. “How
is it that you have such a bird body? No one who eats that much butter deserves
to be thin!”
“I love clam chowder,” Nora said.
“It reminds me of my Grandma Eleonore’s house up in Port Townsend.”
“Did you stop to consider that if
you aren’t your mother’s daughter, then even your grandmother lied to you?”
“She wouldn’t do that,” Nora said
as she slid her chopped potatoes off the cutting board and into a pot of
boiling water.
“But if Crystal was telling the
truth that had to mean that your Grammy Eleonore lied.”
Nora scowled as poked at the
potatoes trying to float to the surface of the boiling water.
“Wow, it smells amazing in here.”
Cole stuck his head in the door.
“When will the soup be on?” Darby
asked.
“Not for a while,” Nora returned.
“The potatoes need to soften up, and then everything needs to simmer. Also, I
need to make the bread and then it needs to rise.” She grimaced. “We’ve at
least an hour.”
“Can we skip the bread?” Cole
asked.
“No,” Nora and Darby answered at
the same time.
Cole laughed at their intensity.
“You have to have the bread,”
Nora told him.
“It’s that good,” Darby assured
him.
“Huh, it sounds like I should
have hired you to teach home ec,” Cole said.
“Do they even have that at
schools anymore?” Nora asked.
“We don’t,” Cole said, “although
I’m not sure why.”
“Since we have some time, why don’t
we go for a walk,” Darby suggested. “I’d love to see the campus.”
Nora knew what Darby was doing
and it bothered her, although she couldn’t pinpoint why. Darby wanted to stake
Cole as her own. The girlfriend agreement—a pact they’d forged in junior high—clearly
stated that once a boy, or man in this case—showed any physical sign of
attraction, this included handholding, hugging, or kissing, then that boy
officially ‘belonged’ to the first recipient and anyone else pursuing him would
be in violation of the girlfriend code.
Nora, knowing her jealousy was
ridiculous, said, “Good idea! But this bread will take me a while. You two
should go ahead.”
After Cole and Darby had been
gone about an hour, Nora punched down the bread, pulled it from its mixing bowl
and kneaded the life out of it.
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