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By Nashville Indiana Title Company
Rainy Day Cooking When You Live in the Hills Rain sounds different when you're surrounded by Brown County's forests. It hits the canopy first, then filt...
Rain sounds different when you're surrounded by Brown County's forests. It hits the canopy first, then filters down through layers of oak and maple, creating that gentle drumming that makes you want to stay inside with something warm on the stove.
These are the recipes that feel right when the hills disappear into mist and your cabin windows fog up from whatever's simmering. Nothing fancy—just the kind of cooking that makes a rainy afternoon feel like exactly where you're supposed to be.
You can't live in Brown County without developing strong feelings about apple butter. This bake takes a jar of the local stuff and turns it into something that fills your kitchen with the smell of cinnamon while rain patters against the glass.
Tear a loaf of good bread into chunks—sourdough or brioche both work beautifully—and scatter them in a buttered baking dish. Whisk together eggs, milk, a splash of vanilla, and about half a jar of apple butter until everything's blended. Pour this over the bread, pressing down so the pieces soak up the custard. Let it sit on your counter for thirty minutes while you make coffee and watch the rain.
Bake at 350 degrees until the top turns golden and the center sets. The apple butter caramelizes along the edges, creating little pockets of concentrated sweetness. Drizzle maple syrup over the top if you're feeling indulgent—Brown County Sugar Shack's maple products make this extra special.
There's a particular satisfaction in starting something that won't be ready for hours. This stew rewards patience, developing depth while you read, nap, or simply watch the weather roll through the valley.
Cut beef chuck into generous cubes and brown them properly in a heavy pot—this step matters more than anything else in the recipe. Don't crowd the pan. Work in batches. Let each piece develop a real crust before moving on.
Add onions, carrots, and celery to the same pot. Toss in garlic, a bay leaf, and whatever fresh herbs you have—thyme and rosemary are traditional. Pour in beef broth and a splash of red wine if you have an open bottle. The vegetables soften and the liquid slowly reduces, concentrating all those flavors you built at the beginning.
Add quartered potatoes during the last hour. The stew's done when the beef falls apart at a gentle nudge and the broth has thickened into something that coats a spoon. Serve in deep bowls with crusty bread for soaking up every last bit.
Cast iron and cornbread belong together, especially when you're cooking in a Brown County kitchen where cast iron skillets seem to multiply on their own.
Preheat your skillet in the oven while you mix the batter—this creates that signature crispy bottom edge. Combine cornmeal with just enough flour to give it structure, buttermilk for tang, eggs for richness, and a bit of honey for sweetness. Some people add corn kernels; others consider this controversial.
Pour the batter into the smoking-hot skillet (careful—the sizzle is loud and startling the first time) and bake until the top cracks and turns golden. The edges will pull away from the pan slightly when it's ready.
Flip the whole thing onto a cutting board while it's still warm. Drizzle with more honey and serve alongside your stew, or eat warm slices spread with soft butter while standing at the counter. Both approaches are valid.
Mushrooms and Brown County go way back. Morel hunting is practically a local religion, but this soup works beautifully with whatever mushrooms you can find—cremini, shiitake, a mixed bag from the store.
Sauté sliced mushrooms in butter until they release their liquid and turn golden. This takes longer than you'd expect; mushrooms hold a surprising amount of water. Add minced shallots and cook until soft, then stir in garlic and a splash of dry sherry.
Pour in chicken or vegetable broth and let everything simmer until the mushrooms are completely tender. Blend half the soup until smooth, then stir it back into the pot with the chunky half. This gives you creaminess without losing texture.
Finish with a splash of heavy cream and fresh thyme. A rainy afternoon calls for a thick slice of bread toasted with cheese and floated on top of each bowl.
The powdered stuff has its place, but when you're watching rain stream down your windows and you've got nowhere to be, make hot chocolate the slow way.
Warm whole milk over medium heat—don't let it boil. Whisk in good cocoa powder and sugar until smooth, then add chopped dark chocolate and stir until it melts completely into the milk. A tiny pinch of salt and a splash of vanilla extract round everything out.
Pour into your biggest mug. Top with whipped cream or marshmallows. Wrap your hands around it and feel the warmth seep through the ceramic.
This is what rainy days in Brown County are for—filling your home with good smells, cooking without rushing, and feeling genuinely grateful that the weather gave you an excuse to slow down. The sunshine will return, the tourists will fill the downtown sidewalks again, and you'll be glad you spent this quiet afternoon exactly the way you did.