The Trouble Tree

We all need a tree.

I once hired a plumber to help me restore an old farmhouse. After he had just finished a rough first day on the job, a flat tire made him lose an hour of work, his electric drill quit and his ancient one ton truck refused to start. While I drove him home, he sat in stony silence. Upon arriving, he invited me in to meet his family. As we walked toward the front door, he paused briefly at a small tree, touching the tips of the branches with both hands.

When opening the door he underwent an amazing transformation.. His face was wreathed in smiles as he hugged his two small children and gave his wife a kiss.

Afterwards he walked me to the car. We passed the tree and my curiosity got the better of me. I asked him about what I had seen him do earlier.

"Oh, that's my trouble tree," he replied "I know I can't help having troubles on the job, but one thing's for sure, those troubles don't belong in the house with my wife and the children.. So I just hang them up on the tree every night when I come home and ask God to take care of them. Then in the morning I pick them up again."

"Funny thing is," he smiled," when I come out in the morning to pick 'em up, there aren't nearly as many as I remember hanging up the night before."

I don't know who wrote this, so I can't really give the credit to anyone. I got this lovely little story in my e-mail one morning and I wanted to share it with all of you. Your home is a haven, or should be at any rate. It should be the one place where all the troubles of the world are left at the door and not given entry.

I have learned in life, not to sweat the small stuff…and the big stuff usually takes care of itself . . .“This too shall pass” has been my motto for a very long time now. That’s not to say I am perfect….far from it! I do try, however, not to riddle my life with worries about things I have no control of, and petty things that are not worth worrying about to begin with. It’s called living life abundantly. To coin a phrase from my beloved Martha Stewart . . .”It’s a good thing.”

I made this delicious sandwich for Todd on Saturday at lunch time. He really enjoyed it. I had a small taste and it really was good, if I don’t say so myself, and well . . . OOPS! I just did!

*Le Croque Monsieur*

Serves 4 to 8

Printable Recipe

These tasty little sandwiches might seem like a lot of faff, but let me tell you they are worth every second of time spend in preparation. Pop a few under the grill, put on your sunglasses and a bit of soft accordion music…then pretend you are in France…ahhh bliss….

2 TBS butter

3 TBS plain flour

2 cups hot milk

1 tsp salt

½ tsp freshly ground black pepper

Pinch freshly ground nutmeg (I always grind my own nutmeg…pre-ground nutmeg always loses it’s flavour so quickly)

12 ounces Gruyere Cheese, grated

½ cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese

15 square slices white sandwich bread, crusts removed

Dijon mustard

8 slices ham

Pre-heat the oven to 200*C/400*F. Get out a large flat baking tray and lightly grease it. Set it aside.

Melt the butter in a saucepan over low heat and stir in the flour all at once. Stir and cook with a wooden spoon for at least 2 minutes, then slowly pour in the milk, cooking and whisking with a whisk the whole time, until it is thickened. Remove from the heat and stir in the salt, pepper, nutmeg and ½ cup of the grated Gruyere Cheese. Stir in the Parmesan until melted and set aside.

Toast the bread lightly on both sides and then brush half of the toasted slices with some of the Dijon mustard to cover. Place these on the baking sheet. Top each with a slice of ham and sprinkle with half of the remaining gruyere cheese. Place the remaining slices of toasted bread on top. Slather the cheese sauce over top of each generously. Sprinkle on the remaining Gruyere and bake for 5 minutes. Turn on the grill and grill for another 3 to 5 minutes until the tops are bubbly and lightly browned. Serve hot!

For an added twist, top with a fried egg before serving. Your Croque Monsieur now becomes a Croque Madame! Sinfully good . . .