Smile! Janets Cooking: The doctor knew best

On the west side of Aurora, just off Deerpath Road, and up a winding path called Shagbark Lane, lived John G. Goodfellow, M.D., and his lovely wife Dorthea.

And if you were born in Copley Hospital in Aurora between the late '30s and mid '70s, he likely helped you get here.

Dr. Goodfellow puffed tobacco from his large and fancy pipe collection and drank his martinis dry. And Dr. Goodfellow was known to bellow.

Dorthea fed the horses in the pasture of their country home and cooked food in a big pot on the stove for their calamity of cats and dogs.

Tina scaled and held court atop the grandfather clock. Tina was the monkey.

And when their freckled daughter Susan (she had her father's mind) left home to study nursing at the University of Iowa, Dr. Goodfellow beamed.

But when she married, and then her son, Jerry, was born two years later, he bellowed: “Susan! Now you have the best career!â€

Susan listened to her father, left school behind, and poured all her freckled energy into her family. I married her son 45 years ago.

The first time Jerry took me home to eat at his mother's table, I had no idea how wonderful food could taste! Jerry's grandparents were there.

Dorthea scurried about arranging flowers in a vase from Susan's garden for the table. Jerry's dad brought the chicken in from the grill. Dr. Goodfellow may have bellowed.

And Susan served us perfectly barbecued chicken, elegant green beans and the most glorious spinach salad this (or that) side of the Mississippi.

I now know she seasons cut up pieces of chicken with salt and pepper and pre-cooks them in the oven in a lidded roasting pan with two inches of water at 350 degrees for one hour.

That way, when the chicken hits the grill, it is already done clear to the bone and needs only be nicely seared on both sides and basted.

Her elegant green beans? Easy. Susan slowly melts butter in a sauté pan and lets it simmer to a nice caramel color (oh, the fragrance).

Then she folds into the browned butter boiled until tender fresh green beans. She finishes them off with flakes of kosher salt.

But it's her salads she dresses just before we take our seats (lest they have the slightest chance to wilt) that we love the most.

And since she warms our dinner plates (yes, you read that right) and would never allow a salad to sit on the same plate as hot meat, anyway, she small plates one for each of us.

Susan is the most exquisite cook I know. She follows her instincts as much as she does recipes and, without her, I wouldn't know my butt from a cake in the oven.

And I certainly wouldn't be allowed to write cooking stories for the Kane County Chronicle.

Dr. Goodfellow and Dorthea passed away long ago. Jerry kept his black medical bag and Susan some of his medical books and she refers to them. She is our first line of defense when we are sick.

I was at her house once when a hummingbird hit the window; I was certain it was dead. And sure I was sad. Susan ran out and gathered the tiny thing up.

And placed it in a shoebox lined with a soft dish towel and set it beneath the warmth of a desk lamp, syringing droplets of sugar water into its mouth.

Yes, it began to stir. So she carried the box outside, lifted the dish towel, it got its tiny bearings, and off it went.

“I had a feeling it was just in shock,†she said.

“Oh, wow,†I said. “Do you ever wish you had worked in the medical field?â€

Susan smiled and said with her signature wink, “No, my father was right.â€

I would love to ask the late Norman Rockwell to paint a portrait of Susan standing next to a side table of plated spinach salads in her dining room.

And I would ask him to please add a vase of flowers and the 1929 issue of The Saturday Evening Post with his iconic painting of a country doctor.

Susan's Spinach Salad

With fresh spinach (she stems) Susan tosses any combination of well-chilled apples, strawberries, mandarin oranges, thinly sliced red onion, crispy bacon, toasted almonds.

For the dressing, she whirls in a blender or food processor:

¼ cup white vinegar

1/3 cup sugar

1 tsp. salt

1 tsp. dry mustard

1 tsp. celery seed

Then, she slowly drizzles in 1 cup of vegetable oil and continues whirling until nice and thick. She makes it in the morning, so it has all day to chill in the fridge.

Just before serving, she uses just enough dressing to moisten the spinach combination and saves the rest (if any) in a jar in the fridge.

• Do you have a special recipe with a story to tell? I would love to write about it. Email me at Janetlagerloef@gmail.com.