It was a comfortable Montana night with no humidity, but the cool temperature was a nice reprieve from the heavy summer that sunk over the state that year.

The smell of wildfire — think a stronger whiff of a campfire — was still hanging around, but it was breezy earlier in the day so the smoke cleared out of Mission Valley.

I walked into a small, dated building just as the sun was setting. I had my crossbody bag, reporter notebook and a stack of business cards.

People filed into the room, which had whitish walls and if I remember correctly, there were wood beams or wood paneling.

The faces were all warm, and the questions were genuine.

“Ooooh, lookie here. Who’s the new gal?”

“Do we have a new member?”

“Hey, miss. You don’t look like you’re from around here. You lost?” It was a good-natured joke.

“My name’s Ashley, but I’ll tell you a little about me in a few minutes,” I’d respond.

I was meeting the Mission Valley Back Country Horsemen in the neighboring town of Ronan (Row-NAN), introducing myself as the new county reporter.

Suddenly it was my turn to speak, right at the top of the meeting.

“Hi, uh, my name is Ashley, and I’m the new reporter at the Leader.”

As wordy as I am in print, or when I’m excited and inspired, or after a couple of glasses of my favorite banana wine, I don’t translate well in person when speaking to a crowd.

“I just moved here from Northeast Ohio,” I said, looking around the room.

That’s when I heard the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever said to me.

“Welcome home.”

It came from a man I’d guess was in his mid-60s with longer, wiry gray hair and a matching beard, and he had a cane of sorts.

I’m not exactly known for being emotional, but when I say I immediately understood the saying “choking back tears,” it was at that moment.

Those two words broke the ice, and I found my cadence talking with the nonprofit members.

“Why’d you move here from Ohio?” one person asked.

Well, what’s completely different than the life I knew growing up as an inner-city kid from Youngstown?

You guessed it: Montana.

I’ve never really felt “home” anywhere. Sure, I’m nostalgic all the time for my temporary western town and all the incredible people I met. I keep in touch with a lot of folks from my county, too.

But I was the city slicker who didn’t quite have much footing there.

When I was growing up in Youngstown, I didn’t really fit in. Moving to the ‘burbs, I didn’t jive.

I’ve adapted pretty well to just marching to my own drum, looking for where I belong along the way. If it happens, cool. If not, then why not make the most of whatever I’m doing, right? Explore. Ask questions. Meet people. I’ve embraced a nomad-type approach to life, and I love it. It suits me.

Some of my family have called me “ciganka,” Slovak for gypsy. A childhood friend recently told me I’ve always had an independent spirit about me.

A way to feel not so much “at home” as much as “comforted” is in the kitchen.

About a year ago my aunt — who makes all the incredible food I often share — threw together a beef stew. When I’m feeling like I need a place to belong, I whip some up. There’s something about it that feels like home.

Warning: there are no real measurements. This recipe is one of those “handful of this, pinch of that” kind.

Time to put on some eclectic music and make one of my favorite comfort foods to share with the newsroom, the one place I DO belong.

Alexa, play Talking Heads “This Must Be the Place.”

Beef Stew

Ingredients

Top cut steak — whatever’s on sale

64 ounces of beef broth, give or take

1 pound carrots, either the baby variety or cut to your liking

At least six potatoes, washed and cubed

About ½ stick butter

Cornstarch

Bouillon

Olive oil

Seasonings of your choice

Directions

Heat up olive oil on the stove.

Brown the steak, seasoning it how you like.

In a stock pot or boiling pot, dump in the carrots and potatoes.

Add steak, broth and a couple teaspoons of bouillon.

Bring to a boil, then lower heat.

Ladle out about a cup or two of broth and put into a separate pan.

Whisk in some cornstarch to thicken up the separated broth. Stir constantly.

Once it’s thickened to about a pudding consistency, add back into the stock pot.

Add butter.

Give everything a good stir and let it cook all day.

Share your favorite recipes and memories with Features Editor Ashley Fox at afox@tribtoday.com.