Sheet Pan Eggs

 Often my husband and I don't have time to make breakfast, but we want a good, filling, high protein meal without all the additives that come with prepackaged food. For instance, we usually start Tuesdays with a swim. The public pool opens at 6 am, and it takes 45 minutes to drive there. We don't eat before we leave, and when we return home, we are famished and want food immediately. 

That's when meals like Sheet Pan Eggs come in very handy. I make up a batch the night before and store it in the refrigerator. When I want to eat, a short wait as it microwaves is all it takes to have a hot, healthy meal.

Sheet Pan Eggs are great to make if you're serving brunch for a crowd, or it's a good way to stock up your freezer with healthy breakfasts. Plus, the recipe is adaptable so you'll be able to vary it to your own tastes, provide variety to your meals, or use up leftovers. 

Sheet Pan Eggs

Preheat oven to 350° Grease a large rimmed baking sheet.

The Winding Road to Wallace and other Clean Romance ARCs Available

 

The Art of Cookery: Not so Plain and Easy

This Christmas, one of my sons gave me a new, very old cookbook.

It was a very welcome gift for several reasons. First, I love books! They are the best gift I could hope to receive because they are entertaining and enlightening, giving me many pleasurable hours while teaching me things I don't know. (and learning new things brings me huge joy.)

Second, I love anything that puts history and the past into focus. I can often use tidbits I read in books such as these in my own books, making my writing more true to the spirit of the age.

The Art of Cookery was a landmark book. Published in 1747, it 

contained 972 recipes, covering everything from Yorkshire puddings and pies to cheesecakes and jellies, and was the first cookbook ever to give a recipe for mashed potatoes. It was one of the first designed for normal people, for servants, and middle-class cooks, and its easy-to-read conversational style made it a bestseller in both Britain and America for over a hundred years.

In addition to traditional dishes, The Art of Cookery introduced new ones like curry and piccalilli, making it a key text for understanding the changing tastes of the 18th-century as Great Britain became a world power and colonialized distant lands. 
 

 Despite its origins in England, the cookbook remained popular in America. A New York memoir from the 1840s declared that "We had emancipated ourselves from the sceptre of King George, but that of Hannah Glasse was extended without challenge over our fire-sides and dinner-tables, with a sway far more imperative and absolute". The first American edition of The Art of Cookery, published in 1805, included two recipes for "Indian pudding" as well as "Several New Receipts adapted to the American Mode of Cooking", such as "Pumpkin Pie", "Cranberry Tarts" and "Maple Sugar". George Washington and Thomas Jefferson owned copies, and while he was in France between 1776 and 1785, Benjamin Franklin, hungry for good English/American cooking, translated some of the recipes into French.

The first edition of the book was published by Glasse herself, funded by subscription, and sold, to non-subscribers, at Mrs. Ashburn's China Shop. At least 40 editions followed. Despite its popularity, no one was sure who authored this book for quite a while. The book did not reveal its authorship, except with the signature ‘By a Lady’. Even that attribution was questioned. Many people, including Samuel Johnson, could not believe that a woman could write a book, even a cookbook.

Even to those who accepted that the author could be a female, Hannah Glasse was an unlikely candidate. Born on March 28, 1708, in St Andrews, Holborn, London, she was the illegitimate of a landed, though not noble man named Isaac Allgood. She grew up in Allgood’s home at Simonburn near the Northumbrian town of Hexham. Despite of being an unwelcome presence in her father’s home, she witnessed good living and gained a taste for good food. When she was 16, her father and his wife died, leaving her alone and without support. She married a soldier of fortune named John Glasse, with whom she had 10 children. She wrote The Art of Cookery to help raise money to feed her family.

The subtitle of The Art of Cookery is Made Plain and Easy. Glasse explains in her note "To the Reader" that she has written simply, "for my Intention is to instruct the lower Sort." Either even the lower sort was more literate than I am, or cooking and its vocabulary have changed much in 300 years, for I found myself confounded as I read through this book's pages. Consider her directions for making a trifle, and English dessert that remains popular today: 

COVER the bottom of your dish or bowl with Naples biscuits broke in pieces, mackeroons broke in halves, and ratafia cakes. Just wet them all through with sack, then make a good boiled custard not too thick, and when cold pour it over it, then put a syllabub over that. You may garnish it with ratafia cakes, currant jelly, and flowers.

Naples biscuits? Ratafia cakes? Sack? And making a good boiled custard? All this is beyond me.

Luckily, we have Jon Townsend, a living historian, YouTuber, and the manager of Jas. Townsend & Son Inc., a company founded in 1973 by his father, James. The company sells 18th- and 19th-century clothing, tools, and, most notably, food items for reenactors, and Jon hosts a popular YouTube channel named Townsends Journal. It features historical cooking, recipes, and insights into 18th-century daily life and has frequently discussed Glasse's recipes. 

The Art of Cookery made Glasse a very wealthy woman. Her success, alas, was not to last. She declared bankrupt and was sent to debtors’ prison. Before she was incarcerated, she sold the copyright of The Art of Cooking. After she was released, Glasse published two more books: The Servants’ Directory and The Compleat Confectioner. Neither attained the popularity of her first book. Hannah Glasse died in 1770 at the age of 62, but her book keeps her memory alive.

Cover Reveal for The Winding Road to Wallace

 Here it is! 

The cover for The Winding Road to Wallace, 

my Old Western Romance set in New Mexico Territory!

Prudence Baker is chasing the man who disappeared after cheating her father out of his money and leaving him to die. Then her mule collapses, leaving her and her six-year-old brother stranded on the edge of a mountain precipice in New Mexico Territory, Prudence pleads for divine intervention. Surely the disheveled and dirty man who arrives singing a bar-room drinking song is not the angel of mercy she'd begged God for!

On the run from the Silver Lakes gang, Thomas Johnson is riding hard to reach the protection of his family at the Flying J Ranch. He can’t afford to spend time rescuing a damsel in distress. But the cowboy code of honor demands he set aside his own safety to help the woman stranded along the winding road, especially when he learns what she intends to do in the violent new railroad town of Wallace.

The Winding Road to Wallace is a thrilling and heartfelt historical romance that blends classic Western adventure with a compelling love story. It draws readers into the rugged New Mexico Territory, where danger, honor, and unexpected romance collide, offering an immersive experience of grit, courage, and heart.

Advanced Reader Copies (which do not have this cover) are available in ebook and in a limited paperback edition. If you would like the ebook, apply here. If you would like a paperback, email me at jennifer.bohnhoff@gmail.com.

This book will be published on May 1, 2026. You can preorder the ebook here at the special introductory price of $1.99, a savings of $3 over the publication price. It will automatically show up on your device on May 1. 

Or preorder a paperback direct from the author here, and get a signed copy and a bookmark, plus an additional western book by another author, free! Preorder Special BOGO free! Go to the Winding Road to Wallace Page on this website, choose a title from another western writer, and write that title into your order form in the box for dedications. Quantities are limited, and books are offered first come, first served. I will ship out your order as soon as possible, maybe even before May 1!

Ghost towns of New Mexico: Madera

Back in 2000, I was hiking with a group of friends along the ridgeline of the Sandia Mountains when we encountered another group of women hikers. They told us that they were the East Mountain Hiking and Gardening Society, and I responded that I was glad there was such a group, because I'd always wanted to live in the mountains, and if I got a chance to do so, I'd happily join their group.

One of the women smiled at me. "If you're serious, I've got the lot for you to build on," she said, and handed me her card. 

That evening, I told my husband that I'd found the lot for our retirement home. "Where is it?" he asked. "I don't know," I replied. "How big is it?" he asked. Again, I responded with "I don't know." The questions kept coming. Was it in the tall pines, or down in the scrub lands? Did it have water? What was the view like? How much did it cost? My answer remained the same. I didn't know anything about the lot except that a nice lady at the top of the mountain said I should see it.

The next weekend, armed with a set of driving directions and nothing else, we traveled a winding road we'd never known existed, let alone been on, and in 45 minutes, came to our lot. We fell instantly in love. Yes, it was in the tall ponderosas. Better yet, the back lot line abutted the national forest. Yes, it had a well, and a stream ran close by. Yes, the view was spectacular. We could see all the way to Santa Fe, nearly 50 miles away. And the cost was far less than we'd imagined. Being miles out on a dirt road can do that to land prices. 

And so, we bought it. For fifteen years, we had nothing on the lot except a picnic table, six chairs, and a charcoal grill. We'd come out on Sunday afternoons and hike around before we grilled some hamburgers or steaks, then head home. When there was a meteor shower, I'd drag my sons up and we'd spend the night on a quilt. The sky up here is phenomenal.

We hadn't owned the land long when I ran across a dilapidated old adobe building about a mile down the road from my property. Its roof was partially caved in, its windows and doors open to the elements, but it may have looked very much like this old stop, located closer to Santa Fe. I mentioned it to a neighbor, who replied I'd found the old building that used to be a stagecoach stop, general store, and dancehall for the town of La Madera. I was intrigued. I'd never heard of La Madera and couldn't find it on any maps. Fortunately for me, I found snippets of Madera’s history in Timelines of the East Mountains, a massive tome published by the East Mountain Historical Society.

 

La Madera seems to have been settled around 1849 by families who were part of the San Pedro Land Grant. The census of 1850, records fifteen dwellings in the town and lists the names of the male head of household for each. A decade later, the town had grown to 35 dwellings, occupied by 25 families. All the names on these censuses were Hispanic. But with the annexation of New Mexico following the Mexican American War, those demographics were bound to change. 

Madera means wood or lumber in Spanish, and timber was cut in La Madera Canyon, just south of the village, for many years. I've been told, although I haven't found documentation, that many of the vigas, or ceiling beams in the old adobe houses in Albuquerque's Old Town come from La Madera. A man who lived in nearby Sand Antonito and went by the name of Leonard Skinner ran a sawmill near the top of La Madera Canyon in the late 1800s. There are many old roads through the wilderness in my area. Most of them are so overgrown that they are hard to spot, and most seem to wander into an area, then disappear. I am sure they were roads cut to stands of trees which were harvested and have since grown back.

Another source of revenue for the community was lime, extracted from the area's limestone. By 1866, a lime kiln was located just north of the village. Although lime was rarely used in adobe construction, the increased use of bricks for building after New Mexico became a U.S. territory made it a sought-after commodity. 

In 1875 a man named Henry Caldwell bought land just south of La Madera, which he used for farming and livestock. I believe those fields, cleared from the forest, are still visible, although I've been told that those  fields belonged to the village. Caldwell sold some of his land to the Sandia Mining & Smelting Company, and for a short while a small community called Sandia City was established. I am not sure if the lime kiln north of town was related to this company or a separate venture. There are several places in Madera Canyon where mining is evident, and many of the old roads lead to them. 

Big and fateful changes came to the village of La Madera in 1880, when the San Pedro & Canyon del Agua Water Company built a dam in Madera Canyon that was 80 feet tall, 300 feet wide, and 20 feet thick. The 1880 census listed 54 non-New Mexican men, all under the age of 40, living in tents near the construction site. The company filed a "Notice of Possession" that stated it was taking the water in La Madera Canyon for their exclusive use. It intended to pipe water to the mines at San Pedro. A newspaper article in September 1880 noted that a reservoir south of town was dried up, as was an acequia that should have fed a fenced in field. Both the reservoir and the acequia may have become dry because of the upstream dam. 

Interestingly, the San Pedro & Canyon del Agua Water Company tried to enlist Ulysses S. Grant to be their president. The former general and U.S. president toured the site, but declined to join the company. It is interesting to me that Grant walked through my neighborhood!

Early in 1881, the water project was finally completed, but soon after water was let into the cast iron, lap-welded pipes, several sections burst, and the scheme was given up. No water from Madera Canyon ever made it to the San Pedro mines, but the dam still deprived the village of the water they needed for crops and other purposes. 

Madera saw a boom during the last decade of the nineteenth century, when many mine claims were filed at a place "commonly known as Sierra de los Escobas," or Escobar, which translates into "place of diggings." This site was about 1/2 mile from the town of La Madera. It may of been this influx of miners that led to the first public school being established in La Madera in 1894. 

The town is gone now. We who live in its shadow have to drive 6 miles, to Sandia Park, to pick up our mail. The old church survives and remains in excellent condition because it's been converted into a private home. Across the street, the old store, saloon, stage stop and dance hall is mouldering away. On a hill a mile or so east is the old cemetery on a road appropriately called Boot Hill. There are some old gravestones there, plus newer ones which stand testament to the families who have lived here for generations. 

I am a newcomer to the neighborhood, but I still treasure the timbered canyon and the pristine skies, which I have found inspiring.  I've written two books that use La Madera Village and Canyon as its setting. 

The first, Raven Quest, is a fantasy for middle grade readers. The story is very loosely based on the history of the area, and its theme is the struggle for control of water, something which is very important here in the arid south west.  The fenced in field mentioned as being south of town in the September 1880 newspaper article becomes in my story the pasture where the main character takes his sheep, and the dam that deprived the village of its water is the scene of the story's climactic battle.

The second book, The Winding Road to Wallace, is a Western Romance, which takes place in a cabin in that same field, in the town of La Madera, and in the railroad boom town (now ghost town) of Wallace. It is scheduled to be released May 1, 2026 and will soon be available for preorder. If you'd like to read an advanced reader copy, apply here. 

The village of La Madera may be gone, but its legacy and the beauty of the surrounding area continue to inspire me and, I hope, others. 

Ellis Conway, Justice of the Peace and Runaway Felon

 In his small book The Wallace (New Mexico) Story, Francis Stanley Louis Crocchiola, who went by the pen name of  F. Stanley, marveled that so many of the Wild West's scoundrels and lawless characters did not achieve more infamy. He writes: 

It always amazes me why writers stick to the old standbys like Billy the Kid, the Daltons, Courtight, Allison and others when men like Conway offer far more fascinating reading. Perhaps it takes research and detective work to track such men down and many writers have neither the time nor stomach for real work, especially when the public enjoys a re-hash of the old stuff over and over again.

The Conway that Stanley is referring to is Ellis Conway, and his story certainly is an interesting one, even if he is not as legendary as Billy the Kid or Clay Allison. 

Ellis Conway, also known as J.H. Conway, showed up in the railroad boomtown of Wallace, New Mexico and was later elected the town's third Justice of the Peace. From the very beginning of his tenure there, he was engaged in activities unbecoming a judge. The November 21, 1882 edition of the LAS VEGAS OPTIC reported that a new bunko gang was conducting a swindle at Wallace's Kentucky Saloon, bilking unsuspecting travelers of their money. The newspaper related that two men from Las Vegas, New Mexico had managed to pull out their pistols and were able to get their money back and escape with their lives. Others were not so fortunate, and had pistols drawn on them. Stanley suggests that Conway was at the center of this bunko ring. Even if he wasn't, the fact that it thrived while he was justice of the peace implies that he was in on it. 

Conway's lucrative little gambling ring did not last long. The February 4, 1883 edition of the SANTA
FE NEW MEXICAN reported that Conway was arrested in Silver City, where he and the men in his bunko group had fled. It turned out that Conway's real name was O. L. Hale, and he was wanted in Lucas County, Iowa, where he had been found guilty of an extensive forgery in 1876 and had been placed in jail. Hale had managed to escape and make his way to Wallace, where he assumed the alias of Ellis Conway. Sheriff Joe Landes of Lucas County had hired a detective who, using a photograph, managed to hunt Hale down and identify him. Landes then came to New Mexico and procured a requisition for the arrest and removal of Hale/Conway from the governor of the territory, Governor Sheldon (who Stanley misidentifies as Selden), so that he could be extradited back to Iowa. 

But things didn't go easily for Landes. When the train stopped at Trinidad, Colorado, Bob Masterson, the sheriff there, boarded the train and demanded that Conway be handed over to him. Apparently, he had committed a murder in 1878 in Salida, Colorado when he got into an argument with a man named Walter Church and killed him. Masterson had a reputation of being the kind of sheriff who "shoots and smiles," but it seems he'd met his match in Landis, because when the train pulled out, Conway was still on it. 

Landes still almost lost his man. In Dodge City, Conway managed to get away from the sheriff, who had to sprint after him. The sheriff wanted to take no more risks, so he then put Conway/Hale in chains and sent a telegram to the editor of the paper in Iowa that said. "Have Hale in chains. No band; no fanfare. Please." The telegram didn't work, and three hundred curious people met the train at the station.

Stanley says that it wasn't easy to trick a man like Sheriff Landes, and Conway or Hale must have been quite a boy. He then goes on to say that it is possible that Conway returned to Wallace, since a bunko gang was again in full operation by 1885.

Wallace and Other New Mexican Ghost Towns

 New Mexico is dotted with ghost towns. 

Some were mining towns that died when the mines either closed or ran out of ore. Dawson, was a coal mining town until the mines shut down in the 1950s. Now all that is left is a haunting cemetery that remembers the 383 men who lost their lives in mine explosions in 1913 and 1923. Lake Valley was a silver mining boomtown and White Oaks was a hub for those who sought to make their fortune in gold. Ancho was a center of brick production, providing most of the bricks San Francisco needed to rebuild after its disastrous 1906 earthquake. 

Others, like Glenrio and Budville, catered to the traffic on old Route 66 and died when I-40 came through. 

Steins, New Mexico

And before the highways came through, there were  railroad towns that blossomed as the rails were being laid, only to whither when the work was done. Steins, Montoya, and Wallace are such towns. 

Wallace was a town on Indian land, along the Galisteo river three miles east of Santo Domingo Pueblo. It was created to be a distributing center for merchandise in the San Pedro mining district, serving Cerillos, Golden, Madrid, Hagan, and many other little sites that are now forgotten.   The first house was built in January 1880. By the end of 1882 there were 600 inhabitants, and the town boasted a Fred Harvey dining room, a post office, hotel, and a school that was in use seven days a week because it served as the dance hall on Saturdays and the church on Sundays. Two years later, the population was over 1,000. In its heyday, the town boasted several general stores, carpenters and blacksmiths, two chinese laundries, a pool hall, and numerous saloons. 

Even from its outset, Wallace was a wide open town known for its drinking, gambling, murder, wild gunfights, and lynchings. One of its most infamous residents was J.H. Conway, also known as Ellis Conway, O.L. Hale. Although he was a wanted man, for murder, forgery, and jail escape, he managed to get himself elected as Wallace's Justice of the Peace. While serving as a judge, he also ran a gambling ring that was known to resort to robbery when they did not win through cards. 

But all good and not so good things must come to an end. Wallace's boom turned to bust soon after the new millenium began. One reason is that Santo Domingo Pueblo was not happy having such a rowdy town occupying its land. The railroad removed its shops and roundhouse, leading to the demise of the boarding house. Many railroad families moved away. By 1906, the town's name was changed to Thornton, perhaps in an attempt to distance itself from its infamous past. In 1932, a new highway was cut between Santa Fe and Albuquerque, bypassing the town, now known as Domingo, by four miles.

We would know almost nothing at all about Wallace if it were not for Father Stanley, a priest who wrote small histories of New Mexico's towns. His book The Wallace (New Mexico) Story was published in October of 1962. By then, the town had become little more than a trading post used by the local Indians and visited by tourists wishing to see an old-time trading post. Stanley hoped that Fred Thompson, the owner of the post, would reconstruct part of the old town and make it into a tourist attraction, but that did not happen.

Today, Wallace is, I believe, completely gone. The site remains on pueblo land and is difficult to get to since Santo Domingo blocked off the old road between Madera and Algodones during the COVID pandemic. Looking at online satellite land maps, the land looks barren. 

Gone, but not completely forgotten. When a copy of Father Stanley's book came into my possession, his story about Judge Conway fired my imagination, and The Winding Road to Wallace, my Western Romance, was born. Although my main characters are purely my invention, Conway is in my book, as are some of the merchants and lawmen that Stanley mentions. A little bit of this ghost town has risen from oblivion to ride again.