Cape Cod, October 2010 presented without comment
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Monday, November 22, 2010
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Recipes from Ollie J -- Corny Cookies
One of the weirder things that ended up back at my house courtesy of the folks not moving all their food storage was a very vintage 5 lb. bag of Washington Stone Ground White Self-Rising Corn Meal that had to have been in the freezer for over 20 years. Even stranger? The fact that I already had a half-used 24 oz. bag of medium grind corn meal in my own pantry.
Guess which relative we both have in common who had a recipe in her box which could use up corn meal AND the odd bit of cream of tartar that we all have but never use? God bless my Southern granny who many many years ago, clipped a recipe, taped it to an index card, and then probably never made these.
Corny Cookies
1/2 cup shortening (used butter-flavored Crisco stick)
3/4 cup packed brown sugar
1 large egg
2 cups Cattail Plain Corn Meal* (used Bob's Red Mill Organic medium grind)
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon creme (cream) of tartar
1/2 teaspoon soda (baking)
1/2 teaspoon salt
I spiked this with extra cinnamon, a dash of cloves and a dash or two of nutmeg.)
pecan halves (if desired) (these were actually No. Carolina pecans from The Farm)
Mix together thoroughtly the shortening and brown sugar. Add egg and beat well. Sift dry ingredients together anad add to sugar mixture and sitr well. Mixture will be stiff. Cover and chill dough 30 minutes or longer. Drop by teaspoon onto ungreased cookie sheet two inches apart. Top with a pecan half if desired. Bake 10 minutes at 350 degrees. Remove from baking sheet to cool.
This recipe made almost 2.5 dozen cookies. These could be considered "savory" biscuits, rather than the sweet cookies that Americans are used to. Since I used a medium grind corn meal, it's probably grittier than one would prefer. The extra flavoring in the shortening and the extra spices probably helped -- it's nutty (probably from the nutmeg and cloves). Edible, yes -- but I really don't know how these are going to go over to anyone but the most adventureseome foodies in the office. We'll see. Maybe next time I'll use corn flour or the Washington Corn Meal instead.
LATER: I didn't actually end up taking these into the office. I can report that many a pigeon, sparrow, and starling enjoyed squabbling over these on the Attic's windowsill.
While there is a flour made out of cattails (yes, like these from the New York Botanical Gardens), this refers to a defunct No. Carolinian/Southern brand of flour. Thanks to this author for doing the legwork.
Guess which relative we both have in common who had a recipe in her box which could use up corn meal AND the odd bit of cream of tartar that we all have but never use? God bless my Southern granny who many many years ago, clipped a recipe, taped it to an index card, and then probably never made these.
Corny Cookies
1/2 cup shortening (used butter-flavored Crisco stick)
3/4 cup packed brown sugar
1 large egg
2 cups Cattail Plain Corn Meal* (used Bob's Red Mill Organic medium grind)
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon creme (cream) of tartar
1/2 teaspoon soda (baking)
1/2 teaspoon salt
I spiked this with extra cinnamon, a dash of cloves and a dash or two of nutmeg.)
pecan halves (if desired) (these were actually No. Carolina pecans from The Farm)
Mix together thoroughtly the shortening and brown sugar. Add egg and beat well. Sift dry ingredients together anad add to sugar mixture and sitr well. Mixture will be stiff. Cover and chill dough 30 minutes or longer. Drop by teaspoon onto ungreased cookie sheet two inches apart. Top with a pecan half if desired. Bake 10 minutes at 350 degrees. Remove from baking sheet to cool.
This recipe made almost 2.5 dozen cookies. These could be considered "savory" biscuits, rather than the sweet cookies that Americans are used to. Since I used a medium grind corn meal, it's probably grittier than one would prefer. The extra flavoring in the shortening and the extra spices probably helped -- it's nutty (probably from the nutmeg and cloves). Edible, yes -- but I really don't know how these are going to go over to anyone but the most adventureseome foodies in the office. We'll see. Maybe next time I'll use corn flour or the Washington Corn Meal instead.
LATER: I didn't actually end up taking these into the office. I can report that many a pigeon, sparrow, and starling enjoyed squabbling over these on the Attic's windowsill.
While there is a flour made out of cattails (yes, like these from the New York Botanical Gardens), this refers to a defunct No. Carolinian/Southern brand of flour. Thanks to this author for doing the legwork.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
No Place Like Home - Part 2 of many
Note: Today's blog post was actually first written in July, but I wasn't allowed to post it until earlier this month. Then I delayed posting it this month for one reason or another. In fact, I seriously rethought posting it at all. After much thought, I decided I needed to put it out there into the Blogophere. If this is a loose record of my life, then I need to stop censoring myself or caring about possible feedback. This is a certain way I was feeling back in July 2010 after some news was broken to me. By now I'm at a different place emotionally, but more on that later.
When does your childhood really end?
For some people it is over when they leave the nest, go to college, or get their own place. For others, it may end when they marry and become parents themselves.
For all that we become grownups, moving out, starting lives and/or families of our own, I believe that there’s still a part of you that hangs on to your childhood, maintaining a connection to the past beyond family relations – a link to a place, just as much as people. A place to go for comfort and security, a refuge to go in case of emergencies, where you go for the holidays -- that place called your childhood home.
But what happens when you can’t go “home” again? If one day, sometimes without warning, the bond has to be broken.
Your connection to the building you grew up in evolves, just like you. The color of the walls may change. The landscaping may change. Furniture and décor may be replaced or modernized. Remodeling may take place, but the essence -- the hominess is still there.
You may leave for college, and your childhood bedroom may be changed into a guest room or an office. However, you could still come home for vacations or holidays and have a place to stay. You may move to another apartment, and need to store your stuff in the family basement or garage. The neighborhood could change for good or bad, the town could seem more or less urbane/rural than you remembered, but you could still come “home” and feel a connection, in your familiar, safe haven.
Until…
Until it’s stripped of the essence of you and your family, boxes packed, painting neutralized, the rooms left bare, or worse, the house sold to another family. Then it’s not YOUR home any more. Doesn’t that mean that last link to your childhood is completely irrevocably broken?
It’s like losing an anchor. It leaves you adrift. Unmoored.
If “Home is where the heart is,” where is your heart when your anchor is uprooted?
What then?
When does your childhood really end?
For some people it is over when they leave the nest, go to college, or get their own place. For others, it may end when they marry and become parents themselves.
For all that we become grownups, moving out, starting lives and/or families of our own, I believe that there’s still a part of you that hangs on to your childhood, maintaining a connection to the past beyond family relations – a link to a place, just as much as people. A place to go for comfort and security, a refuge to go in case of emergencies, where you go for the holidays -- that place called your childhood home.
But what happens when you can’t go “home” again? If one day, sometimes without warning, the bond has to be broken.
Your connection to the building you grew up in evolves, just like you. The color of the walls may change. The landscaping may change. Furniture and décor may be replaced or modernized. Remodeling may take place, but the essence -- the hominess is still there.
You may leave for college, and your childhood bedroom may be changed into a guest room or an office. However, you could still come home for vacations or holidays and have a place to stay. You may move to another apartment, and need to store your stuff in the family basement or garage. The neighborhood could change for good or bad, the town could seem more or less urbane/rural than you remembered, but you could still come “home” and feel a connection, in your familiar, safe haven.
Until…
Until it’s stripped of the essence of you and your family, boxes packed, painting neutralized, the rooms left bare, or worse, the house sold to another family. Then it’s not YOUR home any more. Doesn’t that mean that last link to your childhood is completely irrevocably broken?
It’s like losing an anchor. It leaves you adrift. Unmoored.
If “Home is where the heart is,” where is your heart when your anchor is uprooted?
What then?
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Bach from the Dead - Action Figure Fascination
Hey there, The Shushing Librarian here.
Auntie Nettie's on a blogging break, so I thought I'd guest post for a day or two.
I saw this as I was browsing the Web for information. I now have a huge crush on this Bach Action Figure. So talented .. but keep that guy away from me. Do you know how many kids he had? His poor poor wives. (seriously ... those poor, poor women!)
According to the cnn.com ireport page, this is a stop motion music video by Ryan Gruzen. Bach from the Dead features an original music track, hundreds of still pictures, and hours in Adobe After Effects and Photoshop, and was inspired by all kinds of films and other artists. For more information, visit here.
Stay tuned for more posts from me, The Shushing Librarian -- who is definitely NOT as talented as this Bach or Ryan person.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Stepping Away
Pardon our blog silence.I'm just stepping away for a bit.
Busy. Blog-blocked. Bamboozled with a bug.
Be back ... by and by.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Recipes from Ollie J -- Peanut Fudge Candy
On my most recent trip to Connecticut, I managed to snag Grandma's recipe box from Mom before she packed it away for relocation in her new Western domicile. I had to promise that I wouldn't keep it, but nothing was said about when exactly I had to give it back to her. In the meantime, I going to keep poking through it to find gems, like this one;
Peanut Fudge Candy
1 cup peanut butter
1 cup syrup (Karo)
1 1/4 cup dry milk
1 1/4 cup confectionery sugar (powdered)
Mix all ingredients well, then make little ball and press to 1/4 inch thickness.
The first time I perused recipes in Grandma's box (last fall), I passed right over this one. I don't know about you, but dry milk isn't something that just everyone keeps in their pantry these days. I know I didn't have any, or powdered sugar either. That is, until Mom decided that it would be smarter not to pay the freight charges to haul part of her food storage back to Utah and instead bequeath a copious assortment of dry and canned goods to me. (50 pounds of white flour anyone?!) Two of the vintage '70s Tupperware containers (in bright yellow, thank goodness, not avocado green) that ended up in my larder just so happen to be full of .... you guessed it, confectionery sugar and dry milk. Go figure. Along with 4 large jars of creamy peanut butter ... I guess I was really supposed to try and make this fudge candy.
[later that afternoon]
Well, I was GOING to make this, but when I opened the container with the dry milk in it, the whiff I got was so FOUL I couldn't stand it. A little unscientific research via a search engine backed up my initial inclination to discard that stuff and bleach the unholy heck out of the Tupperware.
I will attempt to make these later.
Dry milk smells GROSS! Sour and foul, and JUST GROSS! YELCH!
Friends don't let friends -- let their dry milk go bad!
Peanut Fudge Candy
1 cup peanut butter
1 cup syrup (Karo)
1 1/4 cup dry milk
1 1/4 cup confectionery sugar (powdered)
Mix all ingredients well, then make little ball and press to 1/4 inch thickness.
The first time I perused recipes in Grandma's box (last fall), I passed right over this one. I don't know about you, but dry milk isn't something that just everyone keeps in their pantry these days. I know I didn't have any, or powdered sugar either. That is, until Mom decided that it would be smarter not to pay the freight charges to haul part of her food storage back to Utah and instead bequeath a copious assortment of dry and canned goods to me. (50 pounds of white flour anyone?!) Two of the vintage '70s Tupperware containers (in bright yellow, thank goodness, not avocado green) that ended up in my larder just so happen to be full of .... you guessed it, confectionery sugar and dry milk. Go figure. Along with 4 large jars of creamy peanut butter ... I guess I was really supposed to try and make this fudge candy.
[later that afternoon]
Well, I was GOING to make this, but when I opened the container with the dry milk in it, the whiff I got was so FOUL I couldn't stand it. A little unscientific research via a search engine backed up my initial inclination to discard that stuff and bleach the unholy heck out of the Tupperware.
I will attempt to make these later.
Dry milk smells GROSS! Sour and foul, and JUST GROSS! YELCH!
Friends don't let friends -- let their dry milk go bad!
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