Saturday, March 12, 2016

More hats; More limburger; Cast Iron; Jane Vollmer; Road construction in our backyard; Shamrock once rare





From the SRN illus. Moleskin notebook,
here, more legible:

"We come by our respect for owls rightly.
Once, when walking through northern WI woods at
dusk we heard the quiet beating of wings behind us.

Instantly, our coonskin hat was
lifted from our head by a hungry Great
Owl, near-sighted apparently. The owl
dropped his quarry in front of us
on the trail, as if to say
NEVER MIND!"

[Unforgettable things
befell us in those lonely woods]

^,^


At 80 yrs, limburger



Son David Jr. presented us with a fruit basket from Brennan's and under the cellophane wrap
right at the top prominently was a brick of limburger.  "Happy birthday Dad!"

We made this sandwich, our latest in a long chain, one day this week.

^,^

 from the net:


Many know limburger cheese for its characteristic pungent smell. While its aroma may turn off some, the spicy, slightly sweet taste of this soft cheese is nectar to others. Although terrific by itself, the sharp flavor of limburger is complemented by other robust-flavored foods such as anchovies, sausage, raw onions or rye bread.


Limburger cheese is made by fermenting bacteria named Brevibacterium linens, the same bacteria that live under the human skin and causes foot odor. Making your own limburger cheese involves a six-week fermentation process that results in a "stinky" cheese all your own.
---------
Cheese Rinds: To Eat or Not to Eat? Perhaps one of the most-asked questions posed by cheese eaters everywhere is: "Do I eat the rind?" The answer to this question, like all good questions, is, "It depends." Whether or not you choose to eat the rind on a cheese varies on the type of cheese, the type of rind, and the type of taste buds you possess. No two people, no two cheese types, and quite often, no two rinds, are the same. For example, my husband eats every rind of every cheese, every time it is offered. Keep in mind this is also the man who eats lemon and lime wedges like they were candy, rind and all. Personally, I'm a bit pickier about which rinds I eat. Rinds, simply put, are the outside layer that form on a cheese during the cheesemaking and aging process. Most rinds (except for wax, cloth or bark - which I have seen people actually eat, by the way) are naturally edible and will enhance a cheese's overall flavor. Some varieties, such as Brick and Colby, are ripened in plastic film or other protective coating to prevent rind formation. Colby and Cheddar may have a bandage or wax coating which needs to be removed prior to eating. Other cheese, such as Feta, are rindless because they are not allowed to ripen. Most other types of cheeses will feature a rind. Depending on the type - whether it be bloomy, washed, or natural - I always recommend at least trying a small portion to see what flavor, if any, the rind adds. If the rind subtracts from the overall enjoyment of the cheese, stop immediately and just eat the paste. But if the rind changes the flavor, or improves the experience, go for it. Just remember, the cheese, not the rind, should take the spotlight. Here are a few types of cheese rinds: Bloomy Rinds are white and soft, sometimes even fuzzy - think Camembert or Brie. Cheesemakers spray a solution containing edible mold spores (Penicillium candidum, camemberti or glaucum) on the cheese. Humidity in the room where the cheese is ripened encourages this mold to grow, or bloom, and form a rind. The only reason you might not want to eat a bloomy rind is if the rind has separated from the cheese somewhat, has a gritty texture, has bloomed dark-colored mold, or sports an ammoniated flavor. Washed Rinds are among the most unique and flavorful of artisan cheeses. The product of exacting science, skilled cheesemaking and labor-intensive affinage, these cheeses are bathed regularly during aging with a bacterial solution to promote ripening and flavor development. Big and bold, the category comprises Old World classics such as Gruyere, Limburger and Fontina, as well as Wisconsin originals like Brick, Pleasant Ridge Reserve, Benedictine and Canaria - cheeses that marry European techniques and American ingenuity. These are some of the most interesting rinds to try, and if you're my husband, you'll eat them all, every time. Natural Rinds form with the least amount of intervention. In the temperature and humidity controlled rooms where cheeses are aged, air naturally dries out the outside of cheese. Over time, this forms a crust on the outside of the cheese which becomes its rind. Cheesemakers monitor this process and sometimes rub the rind with oil or other natural ingredients as it forms. The natural rinds of hard cheeses, especially Parmesan, are wonderful for flavoring soups and stocks, but are often too hard to just eat out of hand. Freeze your leftover rinds in resealable bags so you always have one handy. Perhaps the best advice I've ever received about tasting cheese and eating rinds came from Daphne Zepos, who led a tasting seminar at the 2010 American Cheese Society conference. Daphne says no matter what type of cheese you're tasting, always "dig into the heel" - the portion between the rind and paste, which is any cheese's "most vulnerable spot." That one bite will lead you to discover the true taste of a cheese, and is like "going into the church through the trap door." Happy cheese (and rind) eating!

^,^









Cast Iron cooking

by Linda Cicero
TNS
If I could only have one tool from my kitchen, I’d choose my 16-inch cast-iron skillet, handed down from my grandfather to my mother to me, and no doubt at least 100 years old.
It has survived floods and fire and even my husband, who can’t get it through his head not to douse it in dish soap when it needs to be cleaned. I use it most days, even though it weighs a ton, because it is just so versatile — and I swear it cooks more evenly and produces a better crisp than even the costliest of modern cookware.
I didn’t think I could learn anything new about my skillet until I got a copy of “Cook It in Cast Iron,” just published by America’s Test Kitchen (Boston Common Press, $27).
The cookbook is full of great tips, explains the science to why cast iron naturally is nonstick when seasoned properly, and why it makes a better sear on steak or a crisper cornbread. The straightforward explanations take a lot of the scariness out of using cast iron for novices, and the recipes are both easy to follow and attuned to the skillet’s attributes. And I truly enjoyed cast iron hacks like these: Make a panini press: Set a large, seasoned, oiled cast-iron skillet over medium-high heat; place your assembled sandwiches in the middle, and top with a smaller skillet that will act as a press. Cook until the bottom of the sandwich is golden brown, then flip and repeat the process on the other side.
Use it as a flame tamer: Keep sauces and the like over gentle heat for a long time without scorching. Simply place the skillet over a low flame, then place your pot or saucepan right in the skillet. The skillet will moderate the heat.
Give pie crusts a better chance: A seasoned cast-iron skillet can be the perfect cooking vessel for just about any pie. Just make sure your skillet is 9 or 10 inches in diameter to keep the recipe volume and baking times consistent.
The recipes tell you why cast iron is the best choice. For the recipe here for pizza dip, cast iron is best for baking because it gives a crisp golden bottom to the pull-apart rolls. Serving it in the skillet, with its natural heat retention, ensures that the cheese doesn’t separate or become congealed but stays warm and gooey until the last bite.
Reader question Q: My grandmother made a chocolate cake for every birthday that started out with her mixing the ingredients in a saucepan on the stove. I’ve searched for this recipe for years but have never found one that calls for cooking the ingredients like that before you baked. My daughter who goes to Florida International University told me to ask you, so here goes.
A: I think I’ve got the recipe, which came from a reader long ago when I was looking, like you, for a chocolate cake that haunted my memories. My aunt Lucy made it at her farm in Iowa with leftover oatmeal, right in the pot she’d used to make our breakfast. I happily got a cooked oatmeal chocolate cake recipe, and lots of others in the process.
I adore this cake for its simple goodness. It goes together in no time and to my mind needs no adornment. If you like, go decadent with a dark chocolate ganache but my favorite way to serve it is with a dollop of soft whipped cream while the cake is still warm.
Baked pepperoni pizza garlic rolls and dip
3 ounces thinly sliced pepperoni, quartered 1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil 3 garlic cloves, minced 1 pound pizza dough 8 ounces cream cheese, cut into 8 pieces and softened 1/2 cup pizza sauce 4 ounces mozzarella cheese, shredded (1 cup) 2 tablespoons chopped fresh basil Adjust oven rack to middle position and heat oven to 400 degrees. Cook pepperoni in 10-inch cast-iron skillet over medium heat until crisp, 5 to 7 minutes. Using slotted spoon, transfer pepperoni to paper towellined plate; set aside. Off heat, add oil and garlic to fat left in skillet and let sit until fragrant, about 1 minute; transfer to medium bowl.
Place dough on lightly floured counter, pat into rough 8-inch square, and cut into 32 pieces (1/2 ounce each). Working with 1 piece of dough at a time, roll into tight ball, then coat with garlic oil. Evenly space 18 balls around edge of skillet, keeping center of skillet clear. Place remaining 14 balls on top, staggering them between seams of balls underneath. Cover loosely with greased plastic wrap and let sit until slightly puffed, about 20 minutes.
Remove plastic. Transfer skillet to oven and bake until balls are just beginning to brown, about 20 minutes, rotating skillet halfway through baking. Meanwhile, whisk cream cheese and pizza sauce together in large bowl until thoroughly combined and smooth. Stir in mozzarella and three-quarters of crisped pepperoni.
Spoon cheese mixture into center of skillet, return to oven, and bake until dip is heated through and rolls are golden brown, about 10 minutes. Sprinkle with basil and remaining crisped pepperoni. Serve.
Yield: 10 servings
Saucepan chocolate cake
2 cups sugar 4 ounces unsweetened chocolate, broken into pieces 1/2 cup (1 stick) butter 1 cup water 2 cups all-purpose flour 2 teaspoons baking soda 1 teaspoon baking powder } teaspoon salt 1 cup milk 1 teaspoon vinegar 2 eggs 2 teaspoons vanilla extract Generously grease and flour two 9-inch cake pans or one 9-inch tube pan. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Measure the sugar, chocolate, butter and 1 cup of water into a heavy saucepan. Stir over medium heat until all ingredients are melted. Set aside to cool to room temperature. In a mixing bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, baking powder and salt. Combine the milk and vinegar in a glass and set aside. When chocolate mixture is cool, beat in the eggs and milk. Stir in the dry ingredient mixture. Finally, stir in the vanilla extract.
Spoon into prepared pans and bake on the middle rack until a tester inserted into the center comes out clean, about 25 minutes for layer pans, 30 to 35 minutes for tube pan. Cool on wire rack for 10 minutes then invert to cool completely. Frost as desired, or simply sprinkle with powdered sugar. Yield: 12 servings

^,^

Wall eyes from the Menominee River


This is Jane Vollmer

She used to fry and fry and fry the wall eye fish husband Bill caught
in the river across from their retirement cottage
on Twin Island Road north of Marinette WI.

She used an old cast iron fry pan that never got washed, 
 so much was it used.  It was properly seasoned instead.

Jane and Bill had 12 children.
We are still in touch with their youngest, Alan of Peshtigo.

Bill the father was a rough and tumble steel handler
at a Milw. factory, AO Smith.  They had a 40 and would escape
Milw. to head up there as often as they could.

Dee and I honeymooned at their cabin on that site
with the deer mice who had claim to the cabin
when it was usually unoccupied.

A memory with many including the owl and hat herein
was the big-eared mice who climbed the blanket
to peer at us as we reposed.

They seemed to be tapping their toes
anxious for us to leave.

We'd become fast friends with the Vollmer when we sold
their small house on Hawley Rd near Vliet, MIlw.
The house in which they raised their tribe
had been on the market twice ahead of me
with no sale.

They expected us to push for a sale reduction.
Instead we suggested a price increase,
and the house sold in 11 days.

Thereafter we were lifelong friends.
Lots has been written in the Raccoon
about the Vollmers.

Then friends for life.  (FFL)

plus much more.
Search SRN under 'Vollmer' if interested.


Bill with editor standing on the foundation of the burned down cabin, Marinette Co, WI





Jane's fried wall eye were the greatest!

Later we took up going to Port Washington WI
for well eye done on a wood plank at Smith Bros, but
they after years closed shop.

Their fare was very good
but not Jame Vollmer's
done in her old cast iron pan.

We think the fish took on something extra
in her seasoned heavy old skillet.

^,^

The Five Points out our windows
is torn up at the moment


It started innocently enough like this.

You can't (tear up a road and install new sewer lines)
without breaking (splintering some pesky trees.)

(an omelet; some eggs)







Workers labor day and night to get the job done on time - or ahead.






Our immediate terrain so shaken by the monster machines
that this was our drinking water last evening.
Running it overnight cleared it, at least visually.




^,^



'Oxalis' plant 





Dee picked up this plant for $4 at Pick n Save.
Sure, it's got three leaves but keep lookin'.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lJiznhUEc8g

^,^



http://www.jacquielawson.com/viewcard.asp?code=6084199069318&source=jl999&utm_medium=internal_email&utm_source=pickup&utm_campaign=receivercontent






Saturday, March 5, 2016

Four score; Hats; Tunes; Sewer Raccoons get new home; Asterisked items



Davidad with great-grandson Wyatt, 2-28-16



If you're happy and you know it...
(blow your horn)



'Davidad' Zep Dix plays gourd horn, a recognizable rendition of
HAPPY Birthday. 
(Volume stuns crowd)


Woo -Hoo!

Last Sunday we had a little family gathering here at the Odd Fellows hall
to give local area members a chance to gather for an unsought by me but welcome celebration
of our having crossed the 80 year marker.  Dee arranged the soiree.

The indicated people were here (arrows)
and in spirit my daughter Laurie and son in law Phil (* of the Moose bone) from Wasilla Alaska were here too.
Also their two girls, Grace and Ruth.
Additionally, ** Grace's new husband Alex Lindgren.

Out of range but arrowed in the picture
was my brother Steve,
and wife Dee, often covered elsewhere in the SRN.







[This still pic is from a video Lee took and sent from NYC.  He traveled the farthest to be here
for the birthday.]
Unfortunately, the best picture - labeled here -  was sightly out of focus, but we're going with it anyway.

 We must have moved the camera slightly as we hung over the balcony.

This just in:  pic showing brother Steve (and Dee) from Sue




This is the hat we chose for the birthday occasion.
It is a cotton Nepalese number in our collection
for many years dating back this old ode entitled

HATS:

A hat for every purpose
a hat for every day
some hats for high impressions
some for modes of play

A hat to keep a head warm
or to shade it from the sun
a head to shed sou-westers
or bullets from a gun

A hat for graduation and
there's one that's out of sight:
the net while in pajamas
to keep your part just right

You may have a hat with horns
on top but be sure to have a reason
People will laugh; and  stay out of the woods
during white-tail hunting season

And the hat with the propellor yes
a decent collection needs one
Th day may call for a French beret
or a skull-cap for stadium yellin'

There is no doubt hats are here to stay
put a box in your various closets
Your hat investments will grow and grow
when you're lacking hair deposits.

[DZD circa 2000]

^,^







(Wm's card is right on)


^,^

Erin's composite  CD gift




Includes

Never goin back again, Fleetwood Mac


Here comes the sun, Beatles


Twist and shout, Ray Charles


North to Alaska, Johnny Horton


+ many etcs...

^,^

Sewer raccoons get new home
right outside our windows, Main St. Waukesha



^,^

* Moose bone from son-in-law Phil, AK:



** Grace and Alex wedding 2015
Hatcher Pass, 2015




^,^

Ref:  Vocal from last Saturday's Singing Fairies poem.  Borrowed from an old round we sang in grade school.

(full disclosure)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JE5QrWks1e8






Saturday, February 27, 2016

Five Points 24/7 cafe; Where there is love; Historic odes

Five Points 


Above all

the mourning doves know
their seed will be served
as always;
the now begun next phase
of downtown infrasructure
and then beautifying

has started on our stretch
of the downtown
with the thawing
of roadway frost
and the decorative planters
below us removed for safe-keeping

The doves and we are above it all,
yet very much a part of it.




^,^

Where there is love
by Playing for Change










https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cABVKIPk_u0

^,^


A favorite, Joel McNally




http://shepherdexpress.com/article-27297-political-anger-at-its-lightest-and-darkest.html

We've been reading and admiring the writing of Joel McNally since the 1970's when he then wrote for the Milwaukee aternative paper, THE KALEIDOSCOPE.  We then lived on the Milw. east side.

You can  find Joel now in THE SHEPHERD EXPRESS, available for free at the Steaming Cup and Pick N Save etc.  A great alternative to the Freeman and the Milw. Journal Sentinel!


^,^



A few historic odes


Selected Shorts Subject

The cold season in Wisconsin sets in once more,
and still I wear my tattered gray short pants
around

the house and surround where my home office is,
though I know sartorially no great credit to me these bare threads
redound.

The hems dangle down. You say time has made my abbreviated trousers
 unpresentable; yes, by some standards I am poorly
gowned.

Just this very day a squad car passed while I in my shorts
raked leaves into a mound.  The cops spied my special drawers and
frowned.

But I don't seem to give a darn or a big rat's ass anymore,
if ever I did, how my own unpublicized posterior is clad. Perhaps I  shed or add
a pound

now and then, but my shredded fading sheath is a forgiving shroud;
the  waist is elastic, a yet strongly expanding and contracting heart.  So
hound

me if you will, washing after ragging washing, I just cling to
these pants the more, and they to me; I know how couthless that may
sound.

There may be a Lack of Fashion Statement in such die-hard loin clothing
but I don't intend to make it:

 I too am fraying, but my pants and I, together, will hold our dear
ground.


[David Dix]

^,^

To Max the Cat
1988 – 1999

In an age of many things blackened
Your missing blackness no more cattening
Our rooms and halls, our souls are slackened
Max, we loved you, we gently lay you down.

I live some miles from where you rest
But you are here right now
On my mourning mind
As I feel your lumpen weight on my reclining chest,
And if pall bearers there would have been,
I would have been one for you,
My feline, too.

You were not just a good cat (pass me that wine!)
You were a great cat
A cavernous black hole you’ve left in my heart
And in the hearts of our friends, mine and yours
On the Helt farm,
An address to which your beloved bones
We forever consign, and as at Arlington
Guard and mind in perpetuity
Or till we too have moved on

We know where that dark well is,
where your shell is,
and when I visit that little grave- site
I am going to lay myself down on it,
Out of
Out of Africa
Might I?

You never asked me when the table was turned
But I could have shooed you away
And now I’m glad I never did.
I’ll be wet- eyed as now I am
And sigh:  Max, Max, Max, why do we die?
You want ed to no more than I

Or Buddy, or Maggie, your surviving cats
In the house gone dry,
Save for tears of unsuccessful searching
Now that you are no longer in it

Who upon our chests will lie
And make such a weighty thing of it?
Why?
We thought you were good for fifteen years
you got eleven;
Much is wrong with our world
Though you are in your heaven

And, I don’t want to “recover” from your loss
It’s made me frankly cross, and blue
You showed your trust, no part of you did you withhold
You brought us gamey socks
And tolerated moods of many hues

You did your darndest to talk to us
Now we withhold nothing in ever remembering you;
Your gamboling gamble of a life may be over
You may have been but “an animal”
Yes, but never to us

Dear Max, we send you our best
We loved you, we gently lay you down.

[David Dix 2006]


^,^

You Call That a Glass a Wine?
A hell of a way to run a railroad

While the Episcopalians swill real communion wine
From a common metal cup, the rim of which is
Merely swiped lightly with a cloth between hearty gulps
Of the blood of Christ,

A block away at the Congregational Church
They’ve gone from glass to plastic thimbles that are disposable
After each hummingbird half-filling of Juicy Juice; and why?
Because one can never be sure;

Were they washed well enough between once-a-month
Eucharists? Germs, oh nastiful nasties, fie upon them;
Although a good Christian willfully eats his allotted bucket of dirt
A year, and breathes noxious fumes all ‘round,

At the Congregational Church
He can control at least something, and it’s
The type of mini-vessel
From which he tiddles his teensy taste,

His weensy taste of sugary “blood”;
But I’ll tell you one thing;
Those plastic vials will never clink
The way real glass did in the communion racks!

You cannot slam down a plastic thimble
Nor can you cherish the feel of it in your fingers;
It just aint the same; and brother,
It’s not the way we used to do it.

It is just a good thing, probably,
The heavenly monitors, if they be,
Couldn’t care less what form
Our worship takes, as long as it’s sincere,

And resonant, if ecologically unsound.

[David Dix, 02-03-04]

^,^

Ragtime’s Testicles

We had a cat who was a male
Whose habits and wants none could assail
Except in his dotage he’d flagrantly pee
In places inside where we’d smell, and then see

The vet said of that he could be easily fixed
By neutering him that scourge would be nixed
So I took him in and had the job done
And I told the vet I had a request, only one

That he save the testes in a small glass jar
For me to take home;  would not carry’t too far
They were to be sure Ragtime’s prized possessions
And I thought that to save them might stay any questions

Thus I placed in the ice box Ragtime’s yellow-gray orbs
In a small screw-top jar midst the food of all sorts
And with time in the way of fridges everywhere galore
The little jar got forgotten;  I knew it no more

I married Dee later, and she liked to clean
She tackled my icebox, threw out many things mean
But my sauces and condiments if questioned got left
For me to not lose so I’d be not bereft

Besides, the mystery jar took so little room
And didn’t look mouldy, formelahyded safely from gloom
The contents looked like something that I might want to keep
So Dee, a good saver, said not a peep

Years later my father visited and in accord with his habit
Required a martini; he’d make it and have it
The gin and the vermouth were there in plain sight
But no garnishments, like olives, cheered  him that terrible night

He made do through searching, built a drink I’d have banned
And joined us in the living room, bare toothpicks in hand
And his brow it was furrowed as his lips he did smack
Saying, “Boy, your cocktail onions a wallop do pack!”

“They have a certain gristle I’m not used to having,
And the flavour, though pungent, I’d probably be halving;
How long have you had them?”  Though with dawning great dread
I said not “The cat that they came from is dead!”

[David Dix 4-18-2004]


^,^

Calls For The Singing Fairies


                                                         I have a secret glass
In the kitchen cabinet
 I re-found it after many years
in one of the high
Cabinets we rarely go in

  It’s been here since at least 1941
                                                       It was my grandmother’s 
when she bought this house
And I think she may have had it
Long before that

It may date back to my great grandparents
                                         Who were farmers in Sheboygan County
The Furhrmans or maybe the Froehlichs
my maternal German bloodline

I say it’s secret because it must have
A magic spell cast upon it
The glass is so paper-thin
A juice glass in size
But it has over all these never-never decades
  never ever been broken

In spite of its fragility
It has etched lilies of the valley
Cut into it’s thinness
Making the glass even thinner
In those places

I like to think this glass
Sought shelter from breakage
By getting into that upper cupboard
Somehow of supernatural volition
So as to not be broken
As one of the daily-used often chipped
 Cups and bowls are

Frequent breakage of our common
Crockery
Is not unknown in this house

When I wash this fragile glass
 after carefully using and admiring
its still-whole thinness
Coming and going through me

Onto the table, then
Into the clean soapy dishwater
Before any soiled utensils 
Or anything else is plunged

I get true but ginger hands on it
Hold it fast as I rinse it
Long and roundly under warm water
And air-dry it on an embroidered
Dishtowel

I’m afraid to own it
But I want to use it
To feel it while
Trying to protect it
Maybe for a next generation

So I have it in the lower cabinet
Where it gets daily use
And I wash it every day
 I have regular fear
Mixed with the joy of having it

When I held this glass
As a small child
- was it this very one or another
in a set, now broken?-
My grandmother would sing to me:

White coral bells
Upon a slender stalk
Lilies of the valley
Line my garden walk

Oh don’t you wish
That you could hear them ring?
That will happen only
When the fairies sing!

My fragile glass
To casual viewers
Secret as it is
Should not be looked-for
But it’s there

Waiting? 
For?
A last chance for fairies to sing?


[David Dix 11-06]


All for today; there'll be more

 ^,^