Veranda

My sincere hope was that I would not have to write this post. But, alas, here we are, seven months and counting and the big C-19 is still with us. It has changed our lives in unimaginable ways and continues to shape shift as all monsters do. The list of heroes continues to grow and at risk of offending any group who is toiling away in situations that require them to serve others in capacities that are uncomfortable to their own well-being, I simply say, "Thank You!". You know who you are and I am forever grateful to you for your unselfishness and courage. 

We have also added nuanced meanings to our vocabulary choices. Masks are no longer just related to Halloween or convenience store robberies. They are actually fashion statements and the stuff of daily commercials. Quarantine immediately implies 14-days, self-imposed or otherwise. Pandemic is not just a word from our history books. It is painfully real. Shortages are also painful and words like toilet paper and meat still make me wince a bit. Hoarding is no longer just a creepy, voyeuristic show on television. It is a choice we all grapple with. Bottles of hand sanitizers are chained down at many retail centers, encouraging customers to use before shopping but, please, keep the bottle out of your purse. On-line grocery shopping has been with us for many years but has exploded in the past few months to a level few would predict in such a short time. My grocery store has an entire parking lot wing dedicated to the pick-up of on-line orders as compared to a few parking slots just a few months ago. I have not taken advantage of the service as I am using my old tried-and-true method of arriving at stores when they first open. I usually have the grocery store to myself so social distancing is not a problem. And I am horrible at navigating the one-way aisle situation so I only have to apologize to the on-line shoppers. 

The term that I could have never predicted but has become a very real part of my life is "window visits". My ninety-two-year-old mother is being carefully protected in an assisted living home. It is no secret that she belongs to the most dangerous demographic and their group living status makes it even more precarious. Wisely, the residents are not allowed to have outside visitors which has, of course, changed how we take care of our loved ones. Gone is my ability to join mom in weekly church services and other facility activities. I can no longer drop by for a cup of tea and a cookie. I am unable to tidy up her piles of "I-might-need-that-someday" stuff. (Tidying is another way of saying "dump-when-she is-not-looking. Don't judge.) And a slice from a rhubarb pie I just made is not so easily shared with her. But, we do have our window visits now. Because my mom's room faces an interior courtyard she is required to meet me at a window that faces the facility's veranda. At first we found it awkward and uncomfortable. My choice of masks in the beginning confused her, especially if it was my Minnesota Twins mask. She thought I was teasing her with some kind of crazy writing on my mask (her eyes are not the sharpest). Now I only wear the standard blue disposable mask. We deal with weather's capriciousness by selecting days and times that are the most comfortable. The roof on the veranda provides shade and there is often a breeze that cools my sweating mask face. She enjoys the wafting of warm air on her arthritic knees and I enjoy the occasional blast of conditioning that reaches me. My mother's dementia helps her forget that we visited any other way. And I am grateful for a way to connect beyond the telephone. 

There is one term I will never adopt and that is "new normal." Folks, our current situation is NOT normal. I agree that we are making different decisions at this time, rightly so, but the configuration of relationships as they stand now should not be viewed as normal. My crystal ball has never functioned well so I have no prediction as to when we will be able to revert back to sanity but I know that we have to soldier on and take care of others in ways that make sense to us for now. And my heartfelt prayer is that we will have the patience and discernment to persevere. 

Carry on, dear friends. 

   

Repertoire

Most of us who cook have a rotation of meals we prepare on a fairly regular basis. Our choices can be based on time constraints, ease of preparation, number of folks around the table or simply what is on sale at the local grocery store. Seasonal availability often drives our choices as well. My garden is currently bursting forth so every meal includes a vegetable or two or three. I am not complaining. There is nothing better than a bowl of freshly picked green beans with a little (or a lot) of butter and a sprinkling of salt. Perfection. 

Most fresh vegetables need little intervention to be tasty but a variety of preparations can help avoid vegetable fatigue. Some vegetables lend themselves well to cooking or baking such as the ubiquitous zucchini. If you raise summer squashes you know that it doesn't take long before you are asking the neighbors if they like squash. Sharing is caring. I have several recipes I use to help manage the abundance of  squash. If I want a full meal with them, I make a zucchini dish with ground meat, fresh herbs and Parmesan cheese stuffed into little squash boats. I also like squash sliced thinly pole to pole, brushed with a little olive oil and grilled. Quick and easy. If my squash gets a little larger than I prefer, I slice them into coins, dip them into a beaten egg, roll them in Panko crumbs and saute in oil until golden and tender. Top with Parmesan cheese and they are better than french fries. Almost. I must confess that my all time favorite way to eat summer squash is straight up boiled until very tender, excess water drained off and a generous amount of butter added. Finish with salt and plenty of black pepper. My mother often prepared squash this way and I never tire of it.

Cucumbers are best just as they are, crisp and cooling but a few adjustments can be made for a little variety.  I often make a quick dressing of a little mayo, salt and a pinch of sugar. Great with any meal. Recently, I tried a recipe for smashed cucumbers with an Asian style dressing. It was an interesting change of pace but I am not sure it will be added to my regular repertoire. If you are facing down more cukes than you can eat and your neighbors are starting to avoid you, they can also be made into delicious refrigerator pickles (the cucumbers, not the neighbors). No canning necessary and pickles last a long time in the fridge. 

And then there is the tomato. A sublime gift from God, for sure. The first bite of a vine-ripened, freshly picked tomato wipes away the memory of all the sad, tasteless tomatoes eaten throughout the majority of the year in the upper plains. A plate of sliced tomatoes is good enough for any meal but the addition of bacon, lettuce and toasted bread doesn't hurt either. Chopped tomatoes, onions, fresh garden peppers, lime juice and cilantro make an unbeatable salsa. And tacos have an elevated level of taste when the tomatoes are fresh and juicy. 

I hope your meal repertoire includes plenty of garden fresh vegetables this summer. 'Tis the season. 

Worth It

"I'm going to put a $100 bill on the table if it means more of these," said my husband. I looked over at him to determine the source of such exuberance coming from a guy who is usually rather soft-spoken. We were just finishing our dinner meal and the mound of pits on his plate explained it all. Cherries, and not just any cherries. I had served Rainier cherries. They are golden yellow with a rosy blush and even sweeter than Bing cherries. And for someone like my husband who has a sweet tooth, they are certainly one of his favorite fruits. The only thing not to love about these cherries is the cost. They are often double or more the price of Bing cherries and are not always as readily available. 

My husband does not do the grocery shopping so he is at the mercy of my purchases. When Rainiers start appearing in the store I usually stall out when I see the price. Knowing how much he loves them, I eventually break down and purchase a few, hoping he will not push the issue. That never happens. He always asks for more and I always reply, "They are so expensive. They will just have to be an occasional treat." This dialogue has been going on for years until this year when he decided to remove all barriers and throw in the cash. No cash actually changed hands but I have been a little more generous in my cherry purchasing decisions. 

We are certainly enjoying the cherries but more than that, we are in the feast season of fruits. Apples and oranges will have to wait until the clutches of winter grab us again. Now is the time for the berries, melons, plums and other juicy goodies. 

Fruit also keeps us humble. We may think we know how to pick out the perfect watermelon as we thump them and listen for a hollow sound, check for a creamy yellow spot on the underside and feel the heft of the melon, only to cut into it and discover a pale flesh with lackluster taste. Cantaloupe can be even more deceiving. The sniff test is recommended as well as applying gentle pressure to the stem end, checking for a slight give. Sometimes this works but just as often the melon is either crunchy or so ripe it is ready for fermentation. 

Bright red strawberries can also lure us into a purchase with their ruby color and promise of juicy sweetness. Sometimes they are very good and other times, there are fuzzy babies hidden in the center of the container ready to contaminate the rest of their container mates. And some strawberries are just plain crunchy and will never be close to juicy. Raspberries are even riskier. It seems that I have a twelve hour window from their purchase time to eating time or I have a moldy mess on my hands. 

Yes, fruit can be risky business and expensive, too. But, for those of us in the upper plains, it is time to eat away. Soon enough we will be back to apples and oranges and of course, none of us wants a bad case of scurvy. 

Nine

Nine years ago this month I released my very first blog post. I think I gasped a little as I quickly looked for the "undo" option. If I had been smart enough to figure out how to unpublish posts at the time, I probably would have done so. I certainly didn't believe this blog would be much more than a flash in a pan moment. But here we are, two hundred and seventy-seven posts later, and my fingers keep tapping away on my keyboard. No predictions for the future and I am always just one post away from the final one. 

The teacher in me continues to look for lessons learned along the way and here are a few of mine. 

1) Just do it.--I am not a risk taker as is evident by the name of this blog. But, there are times when one feels the urge to jump into the pool despite an ill-fitting bathing suit, icy cold water and questionable swimming skills. Dog paddle your way to the other side and pat yourself on the back for at least trying something new. 

2) Don't take yourself too seriously.--My aspirations for blogging do not include reaching for the stars. I never saw blogging as an income generator so there is no pressure to be perfect or, heaven forbid, glitzy. Beige will always be good enough for me and the minutia of every day life will most likely continue to fascinate me.  

3) Be realistic.--If it becomes evident that a new skill is becoming more of a noose than a gift, give yourself permission to cut the cord. Most adventures have a shelf life, be it a few moments or many years. Give yourself a break if necessary and move on to something else when your still small voice begins shouting in your ear. 

4) Sometimes it is easy. Sometimes it is not.--There are times when my fingers can barely move fast enough to keep up with the flow of ideas clamoring to become words on a page. And then there are times when I stare at a blinking cursor taunting me to put a single word on the page as my mind feels uninspired to produce coherent thoughts. By setting deadlines for myself I am learning to push through the curse of the blinking cursor.  I also hearken back to lesson #2 and remind myself not to get bound up in doing things just right. Gratefully, I have a very forgiving audience.

5) Be aware.--I recently finished a book that included a chapter on Jack London's time in the madness of the Canadian Yukon gold rush. He never found gold in nuggets but he found gold in observations. It was a pivotal moment in his career as he went on to claim success as a writer and thankfully, he recovered from a bad case of scurvy. Most of us will never experience adventures to the level of Jack London, but that matters to no one else. Keep your eyes open and you will see things that will make you smile, laugh, cry and ponder. 

So, whether you are contemplating a recipe for making the perfect chocolate cake or you are considering learning how to play the accordion, go for it. Just keep me posted. I love cake and I am a sucker for a good polka. 

 

Cool Thoughts

As the heat and humidity of summer bear down with crushing decisiveness, many of us are looking for ways to stay cool. I am blessed with the option of spending most of my time in air-conditioned environments. I am also old enough to know that air conditioning is truly a blessed invention. My younger days on the farm often utilized "natural air-conditioning" to keep cool. Windows were opened at night in hopes of circulating cooler air throughout the house. Early in the morning, the windows were snapped shut in an attempt to hold the cooler air inside as the mercury in the outdoor thermometer soared. In theory, this was a good way to make the best of summer days. In actuality, there were many days of hot, sticky air that simply recycled itself around and around. We had large box fans strategically located throughout our house which gave some relief but hot air is hot air. 

My siblings and I came up with other ways to beat the heat. We didn't have easy access to a clear blue swimming pool but our farm was located a few miles from the Missouri River. Clear blue it was not but it was wet and it could potentially cool you off. When I was old enough to drive, it became possible for us to spend an afternoon at the "beach." We probably spent more time planning and preparing for our afternoon at the river than we actually spent on the beach but it was a good distraction and it kept us out of our mom's hair. We saw it as an opportunity to escape potential chore assignments and add a little adventure to our lives. 

Our supplies usually consisted of three items, towels, snacks and a jug of water. We had no cell phones. Sunscreen was not a thing. Bottled water was unheard of and a beach umbrella was for ocean people. Occasionally, we took a transistor radio (if you are young, you might have to Google it). We often spent more time trying to get a station on the radio than it was worth but we always hoped for the sweet spot on the persnickety dial. 

I don't remember my mom giving us very many warnings as we took off on the gravel covered, winding road to the river, but she did remind us to be watchful for snakes. The poisonous prairie rattlesnake liked to spend time in shady places along the river and one could potentially experience a nasty interaction with the reptile. My vivid imagination was sure that I was hearing the rattling of an angry snake with every step I took in the grassy areas. Our beach area was undeveloped so we had no walkways or "designated areas." 

Occasionally we shared the shoreline with a few cows, flicking their tails at the biting flies while they cooled themselves in the shallow water. The cows always reminded us that it was best to keep our mouths closed when spending time in the water. No chlorine or filters here.

We stayed at the beach until our interest and snacks waned. We packed up our soggy towels and empty water jug so we could wind our way back through the river hills and head home. We may not have sufficiently cooled ourselves but we always felt refreshed from an afternoon along the river. Cows and kids sometimes need the same thing on a hot summer's day. 

Missouri River Hills

 

A Date

(Warning: The following post contains more than my usual two photographs. If poor photography frightens you, avert your eyes after reading.)

A couple of months ago a friend texted me with an intriguing way of capturing wild yeast for bread baking. I was curious for many reasons. First, it was not the traditional sourdough method that everybody and their kitty cat is posting on social media. Secondly, it seemed less labor intensive than the sourdough method. And, best of all, it wouldn't demand a lifetime of sourdough starter guilt and babysitting.

That being said, there was certainly a learning curve for me as I explored the process with two steps forward and one step backwards, on a good day. The basics are relatively simple: water, a little sugar, a little salt and dried dates. Mix, shake and place in a warm place to let the magic happen. If all goes well, the wild yeast on the dried fruit will be activated and the yeast babies start munching away on the sugar in the water, thus creating fizzy bubbles (a.k.a. carbon dioxide) as a byproduct and voila, a leavening agent is born.

The development of the yeast water should have taken about ten days. Unfortunately, it took about a month for me as I killed the first round of yeast and had to start over again. In defense of myself, the directions for developing yeast water are difficult to pin down on the internet and I found myself mashing together information from multiple sites. The bulk of my information came from a leader in baking products, King Arthur Flour. The instruction that killed the yeast was "use tap water." As I faithfully waited for bubbles to form in my bottle of date water, it became clear that all I had created was a bottle of murky water with chunks of dates floating in it. Not a pretty sight or very effective. 

In my second attempt I substituted bottled water for tap water and bingo, wild yeast action was born. I am assuming my tap water brought a dose of yeast killing chlorine to the party. Sorry, yeast babies. Ten days with my new mixture produced the coveted yeast water and the bread baking process could begin. If I thought making yeast water came with sketchy instructions, making the bread was like spelunking in a cave passage with a sketchy map and a finicky flashlight. King Arthur suggested using a sourdough recipe, substituting yeast water for the usual sourdough starter. After three rounds of that process, it was clear that I needed a lot  more practice and perhaps a little bit of hand holding for any hope of complete success. It wasn't a complete crash and burn, however. The resulting bread was usually tasty with just a hint of fruitiness. My struggle was in the correct ratio of flour to yeast water and most of all, shaping a round loaf. Sourdough recipes involve linen towels, fancy baskets, parchment paper, pizza stones and bread slashing tools. My bread baking has always involved one tool, a loaf pan.

I will spare you the gory details but suffice it to say, towels were ruined, embedded parchment paper had to be dug out of dough blobs and a piece of my favorite stoneware needed to be scrubbed for an unspeakable length of time. Call me crazy but I am too stubborn to pour my precious yeast water down the drain. And thus, I persevere.

The good news is that I stumbled on a video about yeast water that was posted fairly recently (Mary's Nest). The perky little homemaker in the video has a personality that is part kindergarten teacher and part cheerleader, goading us all onward to a more "traditional kitchen". She provides step-by-step instructions for creating yeast water and most importantly, making bread from said water in a far more streamlined manner. The bad news is that the ratios didn't work out for me and I am back to the drawing board.

Thankfully, I have been able to salvage some of the bread along the way. We eat a little bit of it fresh and the rest goes in the freezer. The sturdy bread makes crispy, crunchy toast for breakfast and delicious french toast for any time. My yeast water lives on and lessons continue to be learned.

Cast of characters

Repurposed plastic vinegar bottle. Misshapen due to a nitwit move on my part.

Brownish colored yeast water with date floaties.

Miracle moment when yeast water and flour produces a bubbly leavening after 16 hours.

I loved this towel. Past tense. 

This beauty had the heft of a door stop and the texture to match.  

     

Pockets of raw flour after parchment incident. Good grief.

   

Lots of bubble action from the yeast babies. 

Beluga whale or a case of over proofing? Answer in next picture. 

     

A small child could get lost in this air pocket.

   

Tasty. 

Bottle It

Those of us living in the upper Plains are accustomed to the vagaries of weather. One moment we are bundled up in sweaters to combat a chill in the air. Later in the day, we are digging in our closets for a T-shirt as the weather turns warm and balmy. The next day we are checking the rain gauge as precipitation accumulates. The winds can be ferocious or gentle. We are prepared for wild swings between below freezing weather and toasty warmth. And, once in a while, we are treated with a Goldilocks Day, a day that is just right.

As I write this post, it is just such a day. My windows are wide open in an attempt to capture the goodness. The humidity is low so the breeze is not bringing wilting air into the house. The temperature is in a comfortably cool range so the air conditioner does not have to run and the furnace is not needed. The sun is shining which gives an energizing boost to plants and people alike. We've had a few spring rains so our trees are now in full foliage and the lawns are plush, no sprinklers required.

Open windows give access to full sound. The birds are oh so active in the spring, flirting with each other and singing their intricate songs. The black-capped chickadees call and respond with their distinctive fee-bee, fee-bee vocalization. Their repertoire also includes the chickadee-dee-dee sound that lets me know they are munching at one of my bird feeders. The ping, ping sound on my pan feeder signals the arrival of a larger bird with a sturdy beak pecking away, such as a blackbird or cowbird. The delicate chip-chip of the little chipping sparrow always makes me smile as they bounce along on my deck, pecking at stray seeds. The scritchy scratchy sounds on the bark of my front yard tree usually means a couple of squirrels are playing tag up and down and all around. The most entertaining song of all is that of the handsome cardinal. Scientists believe cardinals have about sixteen different calls but the most recognizable is their robust birdie-birdie-birdie song. They can also belt loose with beautiful warbles that would be difficult to put down as notes on a piece of sheet music. They are a choir director's dream with their strong projection and perfect pitch.

Open windows also mean full fragrance. The blossoming trees and bushes release their perfume in ways that can be pleasant or pungent. Lilac blooms have a sickly sweet smell to me, albeit their colors are stunning. Flowering crab trees display their pink flowers with a more delicate fragrance. Freshly cut grass lends a herbaceous note to the mix. And as the day wanes, the smoky smell of the neighbor's fire pit signals the start of an evening worthy of sitting outdoors (for my neighbors, not me. I'm more indoorsy). The relative absence of pesky bugs makes it a perfect night.

I wish I could say the upcoming forecast is just as glamorous as this day but it looks like we are in for some summer heat, not my cup of tea. This is also the time of year for turbulent weather patterns which can result in violent storms, also not my cup of tea. It would be nice to bottle up the good days and release their contents as needed. Lacking that option, it is best to drink deeply when you can and savor the moment.