Dinah’s Humdinger Spinach Casserole Sidedish

Instructions

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   salt and fresh ground pepper to taste Mix egg, milk, onion, half the Parmesan, yogurt, salt and pepper. Stir in cheese, spinach and spaghetti. Spoon into small ovenproof casserole dish or four individual ramekins. Sprinkle with remaining Parmesan. Bake at 350F for 30 minutes. See also: Blue Cheese Cassserole Pasta and Feta Casserole

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   The Wrong Arm of the Law Early this morning, Jeff Bob Burnet, the town sheriff, dropped by to return our post-hole digger. We sat for a spell in rocking chairs on the porch. There are strings that run from the garden to the carved wood “gingerbread” trim that runs under the eaves where morning glories and string beans grow up. It makes a cool dappled shade on the porch on a late August morning as the day begins to get too hot. We had fresh blueberries at the Inn so we tucked into some blueberry oatmeal squares. Despite being careful not to have the luscious purple fruit stain our fingers, we left unmistakable incriminating fingerprints on our napkins. As we enjoyed our morning cup of coffee, we shared some local gossip and I was reminded of the story about how Jeff Bob got to be sheriff. Jeff Bob’s always been something of a loose cannon as a sheriff but you would have a hard time replacing him now. His notoriety and popularity came as a result of his unbridled and perhaps unwise enthusiasm in running for the job of sheriff. County elections are usually low key and uninteresting events around here, and in most other places for that matter. There’s the usual flutter of hand-made support signs that litter lawns and shop windows for several weeks. The local newspaper carries each nominee’s election ad, which is usually not much more than conservative resumes and raison de vote. The strength of most nominees’ credentials seem to lie on their stable home life (wife, 3 kids, dog Spot), and number of years in the community. Knowledge of law is never much of a factor. Not much remarkable happens and then the keys to the two cell jail building change hands quietly. And life goes on. Until the year Jeff Bob decided to run. Which is tough to do when you have your foot in your mouth. Jeff Bob was decidedly at a disadvantage since he’s a forty-plus bachelor and only moved here five years previously after being laid off from a steelworker’s job. He came, temporarily, to help his brother-in-law and ended up staying. It often happens that way. But Jeff Bob brought some dark clouds with him. It seems there was a great deal of rancor and hard feelings at the steel plant between the management and the

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   workers. He was one of the many caught in a political and financial crossfire, and he deeply resented the predictable outcome, “out you go”. I guess he was still stinging from the surprise and earnestly felt it was such an important issue, and, since he had no sterling family and background to tout, that he unwisely assured the townsfolk in his brief campaign ad that if elected he would always maintain an “open door policy” with regards to his job as sheriff. He meant there would be no surprises. It was a deadly phrase. The small ad never did explain his intention behind the expression. Brevity led to levity. What sort of town has an “open door” jail? The morning the newspaper hit the sidewalk there was mixed hilarity and consternation around town. He meant, of course, open door to the community, not to offenders but that’s not how it sounded and the local wags razzed him mercilessly for weeks before the election. It as hard to tell if the red face JB stomped around town in was from embarrassment, or anger. The surprise came on election day and none was more surprised than Jeff Bob when he won. Perhaps the wags felt they owed him their vote, to give him back his face. Perhaps there were enough people around town, like myself, who think you just gotta vote for a guy with either the silliness or the earnestness to profess an open door policy for a jail. So now it’s passed into being a gentle joke. Even Jeff Bob wears it lightly. Although we’re still a town divided. There are those who want to put up a sign proclaiming our status as a town with an open door policy jail, and those who are definitely not amused at all. Jeff Bob’s Open Door Butter Tarts