A story told by my husband Stuart, warehouse worker and shop tinkerer.
I was in 5th grade. My teacher was Mrs. Bowman—a great teacher, just ask my brothers. She had the typical pencil sharpener of the early 60s in her room.
I was always delighted for an excuse to leave my desk, walk to the pencil sharpener, slowly make a dandy point, and ease on back to my seat. We had to ask permission.
Then the pencil sharpener stopped working and after repeated tries to figure out what was wrong, Mrs. Bowman decided to order a new one. When the new one came, she was just going to trash the old pencil sharpener.
I asked if I could have the old one. Mrs. Bowman said sure. I was thrilled. We didn’t have much at home. We made our own entertainment.
I carefully carried it home, took it apart, cleaned it out good, tinkered with it a little, and without too much trouble got it working again.
When my wife and I moved to our first home I built a rolling tool stand in the basement and fastened my sharpener to the top. Our daughters would go to the basement to sharpen their pencils to do their homework. I now have that tool cart in my garage where I still pause and carefully sharpen my pencils. There is something very satisfying about a nicely sharpened pencil. The vintage Boston sharpener has a wooden sleeve on the handle rather than plastic.
When Mrs. Bowman gave me that pencil sharpener, I felt like a million dollars.
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What’s a memory of a favorite teacher?
What excuses did you use to get up out of your seat in a classroom?
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Did a cast off item ever become your treasure?
Were you, or your spouse, good at fixing things no one else could fix, or wanted to?
I’d love to hear your tales!
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For more stories, visit my Another Way Newspaper Column’s home base on Third Way website.
How do our children find role models?
I was rummaging through some old files at work when I ran across some writings and mementos from my daughters.
… A clip art Valentine depicting me at the office
… A “While you were away” homemade note pad, complete with a “refill now” note at the end(!). Remember those? For receptionists to write out messages for workers who missed a phone call or visitors? Yes, people were paid to write out messages for others. I’m guessing this “note pad” was Michelle’s handiwork (with two spelling errors she’d never miss today).
I was smitten, of course, with these things I’d saved …
Even notes they typed playing office at home when they were older, likely on a snow day …
Now that my daughters are all happily situated in jobs related to their college majors, it amuses me that they are all office workers just like me—even though in different fields and specialties. I never like to reveal identifying specifics here but one is an advertising account manager at a large city newspaper, one an artistic administrator for a medium sized city symphony, and the third works as a certification coordinator for a national environmental organization.
From my youngest. Always a great note to find on a Monday.
If I had become a nurse or doctor or teacher or store manager would we maybe have ended up with one of them in education or medicine or retail? Much more likely. I always encouraged them to go into the medical field because I don’t see it being phased out anytime soon. But I am very happy with where they are!
“Braces” by Tanya, the only one who never wore braces.
My dear husband would be quick to tell you he always told them (when they needed egging on with their homework or brought home a lower grade): “You can mess around in school like I did and end up in factory or warehouse where there’s no air conditioning in the summer and no heat in the winter like me, or study and do well in school and end up working in a nice office like Mom. Take your choice.”
Of course there were a lot more choices than that but that was The Dad Sermon. And apparently effective—they didn’t really bring home low grades very often. (There were also cash incentives.)
But they did like to play office and library and bank. They also played the “poor” game when they dressed up like ragamuffins and scrounged nuts and bean pods off the “cigar tree” (Catalpa) for their pretend food. Not sure where that came from but their marvelous and active imaginations, and perhaps their experiences in our church and helping with the church Clothes Closet.
The other discovery I loved in this file were early drawings that I had actually dated (yay Mom).
“Please be QUIET” by Tanya, 8/87
“Don’t comb my hair” by Tanya, 8?87
… which are interesting now that my grandsons are getting a little older. The older of the two, Sam, now 21 months, has begun scribbling and for Father’s Day added a “drawing” and “name” to the card for Grandpa (below).
Not only that, look at how his mother labeled his drawing—just like I had labeled hers years ago. She hasn’t seen her drawings for many years. So where does that come from?
Finding patterns, and loving it! Of course the patterns can be negative, as well. But we won’t talk about those here. And while our daughters have not followed their dad into a factory warehouse, I love that somehow he managed to raise all of them so they are handy around tools, don’t mind outside or dirty work, and are more concerned about their work ethic than wearing huge amounts of make up or designer labels.
Two years ago, when two of them were expecting.
Best of all, they love their new roles of mommy, and auntie. Maybe seeing patterns there, too!
Homemade computer card from our first computer & dot matrix printer.
Did you end up in a job like your mom, or dad? Have your children followed their parents into similar fields? I’d love to hear your stories!
What other patterns do you see through the generations?
Quick(er) Amish Dinner or Sweet Rolls – A two-fer
Amish cook Lovina Eicher, whose syndicated newspaper column Lovina’s Amish Kitchen we distribute from MennoMedia, had a recipe that tipped me off to a bagged “raised donut mix.” It is available in many bulk food stores, very handy to have around, and keeps well in the refrigerator.
She used the baking mix “straight” for what she called Rise and Roll Bars, which you can find here. I made those with excitement wondering if I had found a shortcut to the famous “Amish Crack” Rise N Roll Doughnuts I wrote about here, but the texture of the buns was more like a tray of prepared, purchased rolls out of a grocery’s prepackaged section. They were okay and very sweet and tasty, but for me, not to die for.
Since then, I have adapted the roll mix to make both plain dinner rolls and also cinnamon rolls. Typically I make little sweet rolls almost every Sunday morning using canned biscuit dough, recipe here. You can see I’m not adverse to shortcuts in the kitchen.
But there’s something special and delicious about real bread dough rolled into cinnamon/brown sugar/butter-slathered goodness that beats my biscuit-made sweet rolls. I also added a portion of whole wheat flour for a little more fiber and nutrition. Now these, I’m excited about! This is pretty much my own concocted recipe. If you try them, let me know if they turn out or whether the recipe needs tweaking. These are small quantity recipes.
Dinner rolls
2 cups “raised donut mix” (check your favorite bulk foods store)
1 package fast rising yeast
1/3 cup whole wheat flour
1/3 cup white flour (and up to 1/3 cup extra flour for kneading and rolling out)
1 egg
½ cup warm water
Mix yeast in ½ cup warm water. Let sit for 5 minutes until the yeast action begins. Put flours and raised donut mix into large bowl. Add slightly beaten egg. Add water and yeast mixture. Stir together well. (I don’t use a mixer for this quick dough). The dough should form into a soft clump of dough, almost sticky. Add up to an additional ¼ to 1/3 cup flour to keep dough from sticking. Knead slightly on flour covered board or counter.
Place dough in greased bowl for rising. Cover with clean cloth and set in warm place to rise until double in bulk, about 45 minutes – 1 hour. Punch down and form dough into round shapes, about the size of an egg. Place close together in greased baking pan, so sides of rolls will touch after rising. (This makes rolls with softer sides.)
Let rise again, for about 30 minutes or until double in bulk. Bake at 350 degrees for 15 minutes or less. Watch that they don’t get too brown.
Makes about 16 dinner rolls.
Sweet rolls (mixing the dough part is exactly the same as the above recipe.)
2 cups “raised donut mix” (check your favorite bulk foods store)
1 package yeast
1/3 cup whole wheat flour
1/3 cup white flour
1 egg
½ cup hot water
Mix yeast in ½ cup warm water. Let sit for 5 minutes until the yeast action begins. Put flours and raised donut mix into large bowl. Add slightly beaten egg. Add water and yeast mixture. Stir together well. (I don’t use a mixer for this quick dough). The dough should form into a soft clump of dough, almost sticky. Add up to an additional ¼ to 1/3 cup flour to keep dough from sticking. Knead slightly on flour covered board or counter.
Place dough in greased bowl for rising. Cover with clean cloth and set in warm place to rise until double in bulk, about 45 minutes – 1 hour. Punch down and roll out with flour covered rolling pin to make oblong piece of dough about ½ inch thick. (Can also be spread out just using hands/fingers.)
Topping for dough
¼ cup melted butter
¾ cup brown sugar
1 teaspoon cinnamon
Melt butter. Spread over dough. Sprinkle dough with brown sugar. Sprinkle brown sugar and butter topping with cinnamon. On long side of oblong dough, begin rolling up dough. When it is formed into a long tube, pinch dough together. Slice off rolled up dough into 1 inch slices. Place each roll on its side (so you see the spiral of brown sugar/cinnamon) in greased pie pan or baking dish.
Let rise again, for about 30 minutes or until double in bulk.
Bake at 350 degrees for 15 minutes or less. Watch that they don’t get too brown. Remove from oven. Can put on serving dish or frost (see below) right in the pan. Makes about 16 sweet rolls.
Frosting
1 1/4 c. powdered sugar
2 tsp. milk or half & half
¼ cup melted butter
Stir powdered sugar, milk, butter together. Should be slightly runny. Add more powdered sugar or milk til you get a consistency you like. Drizzle over warm sweet rolls.
Approx. total time from beginning to serving for either recipe: two hours.
Maybe these are some ideas for a special treat this Father’s Day weekend!
What’s your favorite Sunday morning breakfast or brunch? Recipes? Or is Saturday morning when you take time for treats and a more leisurely breakfast? Who cooks?
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More lovely bread recipes can be found in my book, Whatever Happened to Dinner?
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Like my coffee set? This Vietnamese-made pattern came as a gift from Artisan’s Hope, a fair trade store in Harrisonburg.
Earlier in May, I enjoyed sharing photos and highlights of a few days we were able to spend at the ocean romping in the surf, playing in the sand.
But as I look through my photos and sift through my memories, I realize some of the best moments were not on the beach. They were spent around tables when we were eating and chatting and playing games. On vacation, it is not so much the sights we see, but the relationships we build.
My nephew took his two children out of school for a week in order to join part of the family on vacation with Grandma and Great-grandma. When I quizzed him about getting them out of school he shrugged and said, “They both got great grades this year so …”
I got the picture. As a single dad, he knew that rewarding them for their good work all year was valuable too; time spent in nature, as a threesome and with an extended family of caring relatives was perhaps more important than additional hours (at the end of the school year) spent in the classroom. Of course they had homework to complete.
Family time is the icing on the cake of summer vacations and travel. That said, I’ve been through enough moments when the traffic is backed up for miles and everyone has to suddenly go to the bathroom, and times when sisters are yelling at each other about who has to sleep on the motel room floor or miserable roll-away tonight, or “But I’m tired of McDonald’s! Can’t we go to Burger King?” … “No, so-and-so doesn’t like Burger King French fries” arguments that I know family time is not all is it sometimes cracked up to be.
One of the highlights of this family vacation for me was getting to know my nephew Scott and his two kids again, and observe how thoughtful and kind and helpful they were. How had he and his ex managed to raise such wonderful kids in spite of their own ups and downs?
Scott’s son happily cleared the table and set it up for nightly games of “Greedy” in the beach cabin dining area. I enjoyed watching the interplay of Scott and his daughter, who carefully eyed her father’s reaction to each play she made—because whatever her call and move with the dice, would affect his next move and opportunity with the dice.
They both seemed to be game for whatever activity was suggested next: it was the adults who had trouble agreeing on timetables and plans.
They pitched in to help wheel Grandma onto the beach in her special buggy, made their own sandwiches for lunch, played with their toddler cousins and generally watched out for their safety. The kids seemed to truly enjoy talking with their great Grandma and observing her reactions to all we saw and did.
Don’t overlook or miss out on these family times no matter where your summer takes you: to a local campground or lake, a longer jaunt out west, or even just your own backyard. These years pass too soon.
Mercy, peace and love be yours in abundance. Jude 1:2
Some photos courtesy of Nancy Ketcham and Scott Kemp.
More Sunset Beach NC stories and photos here and here.
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What do you like best about vacations? What games do you play?
Favorite stories from a family getaway?
Chicken at Brubaker homestead.
I’m a writer, not a photographer. But like any “Jill Writer” these days with a somewhat decent digital camera or a smart phone, I’m doing the best I can to use the visual dimensions offered by online blogs and social media to enhance my writing.
Moreover, the board at Media for Living which employs me as editor approximately 1/5 time (most of it worked at home in the wee hours of the morning) had begun asking for more local stories and covers with local people. You could say we’ve become locavores, if I can borrow that word from that food movement. Media for Living publishes Valley Living and a website, but informally we just call the magazine Living.
Local people on covers means photo shoots. My little Panasonic Lumix DMC-Z56 is not quite up to the quality required for newsprint reproduction in a blown up fashion, so we’ve worked with several local photographers in the year we’ve switched to local people on the cover.
Eric, Lydia, Norah and Peggy Brubaker enjoy some downtime.
This is both a fascinating experience which I enjoy, and a time suck, but whatever. I love having the chance to meet wonderful, interesting people (sometimes semi-famous) doing fascinating things, so why not love this? I especially enjoy the fact that for Living, it is not a news magazine nor do we engage in investigative journalism, muckraking, or hard news. Therefore the people we interview get to read the stories we’ve written before publication (which does NOT happen in the daily newspaper). This means our stories are not only more accurate, we hopefully don’t end up making the persons interviewed, mad.
Living recently got to do a photo shoot with one member of The Steel Wheels, an up and coming “roots” and “Americana” band which has turned professional, in terms of its members not having other jobs. That’s a big leap, to go from part time gigs to full time touring, which can crunch into family life. So that is the crux of the article and dilemma as ably covered by our writer Lauree Purcell.
The Brubakers offered to let us do the shoot at their home, with allowed the least disruption to their home and family time together. Eric worked in construction in his previous life and built their home several years ago. I wrote a little about the issue of photographing children in the current editorial, and I got some of my own shots for Facebook a
nd to share here. But Amelia from Pinwheel Collective, did the cover honors and the photos featured in the magazine. (See the actual cover here. Read the story here. Then if not tired yet, read the editorial about the cover shoot and the trials of photographing families, here!)
Eric’s wife, Peggy had done a great job of helping their daughters chose outfits that would look summery in an outside shoot on a cool, early spring day, due to the lead time required in the set up, design and printing of a quarterly magazine. The shoot came on a day between rains, so I was a little worried for their darling leggings and sandals—that they wouldn’t get muddy.
Norah at seven is the older of the two and she is taking actual Suzuki violin lessons as Eric did when he was just five, and Lydia, five, is becoming familiar with her own pint-sized fiddle as well. But the girls were just as interested in making sure we saw their chickens in one of those cute little chicken houses, and Norah proudly displayed the eggs she quickly gathered.
Last fall I got to visit former NFL player Sonny Randle in his home near Staunton for a photo shoot. My family is pretty nuts over football so it was fascinating for me to enjoy the memorabilia in the Randle home, meet Sonny’s awesome dog, and hear Sonny’s outstanding memories from his career both as player, coach and radio commentator.
And the year before, I was so touched to sit down with Debbie and Wes Songer as they re-opened their still-breaking hearts after their son, Ben, was murdered. They shared the pain in order to help others in similar situations and to change a law, which is often the case in this kind of tragedy.
Tomorrow I’m off to Sentara RMH local hospital to meet and photograph a man who says volunteering at Sentara “gave him his life back” after his beloved wife of many years passed away, for an upcoming issue of Valley Living. He probably won’t be on the cover of the magazine, but I can’t wait to see the mural he painted for the nurses’ lounge there and learn out more about his story. (To keep up with this forthcoming story in Valley Living and much more, I invite you to like the Valley Living FB page!)
Everyone has a story. Everyone. Even those never covered by any kind of media. Some of the best stories can never be told in print, on air, or online. It’s true. For reasons of confidentiality, decency or protecting a beloved family member, or indeed the lives of colleagues (as in one hostage situation in the Middle East a few years ago)—you probably know or have heard various stories perhaps you alone are privy to: precious life journeys that will never be public. I’ve finally learned to be ok with that, and to treasure the stories entrusted to me that I can never share. Those memories are valued and dear, and private. Those are the stories you hold on to, or pass on only orally, or in private journals and keepsakes.
But I’m also grateful for the parts of lives I’ve been privileged to listen in on and learn from, glimpsing someone else’s triumph and all too frequently, grief. In the telling of these stories, we create a history. It’s an honor.
And I love being able to share photos to go along with my stories. Can you tell?
All photos used on my blog are mine unless otherwise indicated.
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Make plans to attend The Steel Wheels local music fest, Red Wings Roots Festival here in the Shenandoah Valley at Natural Chimneys Regional Park July 11-13, 2015, featuring The Steel Wheels of course but also numerous other bands. If not this year, put it on your calendar for next–a great vacation destination. Ask for tickets for a birthday treat or for Father’s Day, Mother’s Day, or any old day.
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What are you tips for getting good natural looking photos of families? Do you favor posed and organized shots, or more informal?
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What do you think about your untold stories? While I can’t/wouldn’t ask you to share them here (!), I would love to hear your thoughts on the untold, unsharable stories and how to honor them.
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Or perhaps another question is, are there stories you hope your children never tell when you are dead and gone? Why or why not?
I had not baked quiche in years. Our food/fellowship committee at church asked if I could make one for a luncheon and I was happy to oblige.
Quiche recipes, of course, abound all over online. I found one that had you baking the pie crust first, then adding the filling, and baking some more. That didn’t sound right to me, too much chance of overbaking your crust, I thought. (Anyone else think so too?)
I wanted a good basic recipe so I went to my faithful Betty Crocker Cookbook. And then of course adapted from there.
I made sure to use up the pastry remains in a small tart so I could test the quiche before sharing it. It was everything I wanted: light and fluffy, punctuated with pleasant (but not loaded or overpowering) flavors of bacon, spinach and onion. Perfect, in my book. Still, the heavy cream bothered my calorie-counting tendencies. Next time I’ll try just half and half. I doubt there’s much difference in outcome.
If pie crusts are easy for you, then this recipe is a no-brainer and only a little more time consuming than making scrambled eggs and bacon for breakfast. If you’d rather have a mammogram than make pie crust from scratch, then pick up a pie crust (boxed dough or shell) in the grocery.
The Lorraine part of the name is for a region of France and usually refers to a quiche with bacon.
Quiche Lorraine
Pastry for 9-inch one-crust pie*
6 slices bacon crisply fried (in my case baked) and crumbled
8-10 thin slices smoked deli turkey
1 cup chopped spinach, lightly sautéed
1 cup shredded Swiss cheese (or similar)
½ cup minced onion (I did not sauté)
4 eggs
2 cups heavy whipping cream or lighter cream
¾ teaspoon salt
¼ teaspoon sugar
5 drops Hot Pete sauce or ⅛ teaspoon cayenne red pepper
To bake bacon, just use parchment paper and 385 degree or so oven. So easy! No need to turn.
Heat oven to 425 degrees. Prepare pastry. Sprinkle fried bacon, shredded cheese and chopped onion evenly in pastry-lined pie pan. Beat eggs slightly; beat in remaining ingredients. Pour cream mixture into pie pan. Bake 15 minutes.
Reduce oven temperature to 300 degrees and bake 30 minutes longer or until knife inserted 1 inch from edge comes out clean. Let stand 10 minutes before cutting. Serve in wedges. Makes 6-8 wedges.
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*I also decided to use Betty Crocker’s basic pie crust recipe. My daughter and I recently discovered the recipe I’d be using and sharing for many years, was quite off in certain quantities that I had always compensated for by adding more water or flour until my consistency was right. The recipe below, straight out of Betty without fudging, was perfect: flaky, rich without being over rich, easy to roll out.
Standard Pastry – 8- or 9-inch one-crust pie
1 cup all purpose flour
½ teaspoon salt
1/3 cup plus 1 tablespoon shortening, OR 1/3 cup lard
2-3 tablespoons cold water
Measure flour and salt into bowl. Cut in shortening with pastry blender thoroughly. Sprinkle in water, 1 tablespoon at a time, mixing until all flour is moistened and dough almost cleans side of bowl.
Gather dough into ball; shape into flattened round. Lightly flour the round and place on lightly floured board or counter. Lightly flour rolling pin, and roll dough into round 2 inches larger than your pie pan, adding small amounts of flour if needed to keep dough from sticking. Turn over 2 or 3 times as you roll out to keep from sticking to surface.
Place rolled out dough in ungreased pie pan. Cut off extra edges of dough. Form top edge of pie crust by your favorite method, pinching or twisting dough.
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Please let me know your go-to favorite basic cookbook, or a link for a great quiche recipe you like. Here’s one of my favorite blogger’s take, by Jennifer Murch & Simply in Season.
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This link has good info too, and I liked what they had to say about ratio of eggs to milk/cream, and why: http://www.thekitchn.com/how-to-make-a-fool-proof-quiche-168459
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I’ve changed up my normal photo style/mode here. Do you like it? Or do you like my standard straight down the middle posting mode? Or no preference or opinion?
Do you ever stop at a roadside or sidewalk stand with children selling something—just because you want to help them out? Did you ever buy something you didn’t really need because, well, the kids were just so cute?
I was coming home from town when I spied three girls from an Old Order home standing near the road with one of them holding up a large “Lettuce for sale” sign.
Now I have gobs of lettuce in my own garden but it was nearly 2 p.m. and the children looked warm, tired and maybe a little desperate for a sale. I pulled into their driveway and walked from their lane to the front of their house where they’d set up, almost within earshot of their mother working in the garden. Their bountiful garden was always out early and just bursting with the biggest and hardiest bushes of peas, beans, corn, onions—so much so that I frequently wallowed in garden-envy as I drove past.
When I got close to the girls my first thought was, this is so “Little House on the Prairie” and this is Laura and that is Mary. All three girls had on longish gingham or flowered print dresses (fabric designs apparently allowed among this group of Old Order Mennonites, as they’re known in the Shenandoah Valley), bare feet, pigtails, and maybe a bonnet or two among them in the blazing Saturday sun. I asked how much for the lettuce.
The oldest girl, who I’ll call “Mary” held open a bag of slightly wilted head lettuce with three “heads” in it. “Four dollas” she announced proudly, but the twang was a deeper Virginia little-girl twang than even my Virginia-born husband uses.
“Oh,” I said, a little surprised; I had plenty of lettuce in my own garden and I had just bought some fresh spinach at the Farmer’s Market in town. I didn’t really want to spend $4. “How much if I just want one of them?” I bargained.
This set the older girl back a bit, her face screwed up while pondering; I didn’t know if she was calculating or thought I was being cheap.
The one I was calling “Laura” in my head, her face all fuschia-smudged with what looked like the remains of a pop-sickle, said “Two dollas,” just like that. I thought, now she knows how to bargain and make a little more money on it too.
I started to say that would be fine but the older girl wasn’t ready to let it go so easily. “Um, how much would one head all by itsef be?” she countered.
Now they were testing my “in the head” math skills. “Well, I guess that would be about $1.33. But that’s ok, I’ll give you two dollars.”
“No it ain’t raight,” she held firm, first glancing to her younger sister, and also over to her mother at the edge of the garden. Their youngest sister, also pop-sickle smeared, was playing in the background. I loved hearing the girls talk, it was like they had an accent of their own, one I’d heard before among other Old Order folks in Virginia. Later I speculated to my husband that maybe their accent came from being so tight in their own community and not having that much interaction with outsiders, especially as children. Since they were out by the road and another house across the road is also owned or rented by Old Orders, I asked the girls if they lived here or over there. I wanted to hear them talk some more.
“No we liev over here, but our friends liev over there,” Mary said and I nodded, having watched the other family move in not long before.
“I’ll give you $2, that’s fine. That’s extra, but I don’t mind,” I assured her, figuring I had gotten at least 67 cents worth of enjoyment out of the conversation on this fine May Saturday. Laura smiled. Mary did too. Did I detect little triumphant eyes dancing on the side from Laura?
“Thank you, have fun,” I called as I walked back to my car. I could remember the surge of happiness when my sisters and I would sell lemonade, cookies, or perhaps cucumbers or tomatoes out by the road, and some stranger left us with extra change.
My lettuce salad a few days later, after crisping up the lettuce in the fridge and rinsing with water, was perfect. Yum. Crunch.
Did you sell stuff by the road or sidewalk as a child? Is it still safe to do so today? Does this bring any stories or memories of your own?
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More information on different groups of Amish, Old Orders, and Mennonites is available at the website I work with, Third Way.
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For a great, comprehensive cookbook with Mennonite recipes from a Shenandoah Valley cook, check out Mennonite Country-Style Recipes available here.
I have also enjoyed working this past year with Lovina Eicher, an Old Order Amish woman in the Midwest who writes a weekly newspaper column, Lovina’s Amish Kitchen. We also maintain a Facebook page for her.
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Finally, a shout out to an excellent photographer and Ohio writer, Bruce Stambaugh, over at his blog, Roadkill Crossing, and Other Tales from Amish Country.
My youngest daughter first fell in love with these lemon bars and began making them frequently, often when she needed a treat for lunch potlucks when she worked for United Bank.
When our second daughter got married four years ago on June 4, we hosted a bridal tea/bachelorette party for the women in her bridal party on our front porch.
We had a grand time hauling out all the fancy tea party stuff. Doreen made these for the party while I made most of the other goodies.
Somehow the end of May has ended up being wedding and anniversary season in our family: we got married today, May 29 (see bottom photo); oldest daughter Michelle and her husband Brian celebrate on May 31, and Tanya and Jon on June 4.
Sisters Doreen, Michelle, Tanya; best buds Robin, Gina, and Edie.
My mouth puckers up just thinking of these lemon bars. Tart and sweet, all in one. Yum. These make a showy, rich addition to any celebratory party you’ve got going on: bridal, grad, anniversary or birthday.
The tricky part to this recipe (besides making sure you have on hand a bunch of eggs and lemons) is baking the bars until they are no longer runny inside, without overbaking.
Lemon Curd Bars
Preheat oven to 325 degrees.
Whisk together in bowl
1 ½ cups flour
¼ cup powdered sugar
Pinch salt
Add ¾ cups (1 ½ sticks) cold unsalted butter, cut into small pieces.
Using a pastry blender or your fingertips, cut in the butter until the mixture is the size of small peas. Press the dough into the bottom and ¾ inch up the sides of an ungreased 13 x 9 inch baking pan. Bake until golden brown, 25-30 minutes. Transfer the pan to a rack and reduce the oven temperature to a cooling rack; meanwhile reduce the oven temperature to 300 degrees.
Whisk together in a large bowl until well combined:
6 large eggs
3 cups sugar
Stir in:
Grated zest of 1 lemon
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice (from 5-6 lemons)
Sift over the top of above mixture:
½ cup all-purpose flour
Stir until well blended and smooth
Pour the lemon/egg batter over the baked crust. Bake about 35 minutes, until the topping is set. Cool in the pan on a cooling rack.
Sift or sprinkle approximately ½ cup powdered sugar over cooled lemon bars. Cut into 18 3 x 2 inch bars, or smaller.
Adapted from Joy of Cooking.
Stuart and I enjoying our own wedding reception at Trinity Presbyterian Church, May 29, 1976.
As someone over at the “I Grew Up Country” Facebook group commented, “It takes someone being off the farm for many years to remember only the romance,” (or something like that): the magic of fireflies on a late May evening, the walks through fresh smelling woods and pastures, finding refreshment and renewal from the hard hard work that is true farm life.
I shared my egg gathering “fight in the hen house” story here in the early days of my blog, a trip back to the farm during my mother’s 90th birthday days celebration last summer, and special memories here. But the actual labor, well, it is anything but romantic.
Caged chicken layer house, circa mid 1960s.
This picture takes me back there, and in ways I don’t even want to think about: our chickens in their pathetically small cages over rows of manure. Dad cleaned the crap out frequently but 10,000 chickens make a lot of you-know-what. The stench was so bad you either had to wear a dust bonnet to keep your hair from reeking, or always shower and wash your hair before going somewhere. When you gather eggs twice a day, showering after each time isn’t always possible. I think about that when I whiff “dairy farm” in the local hardware or Walmart sometimes.
Me reloading layers of eggs into cartons. Notice trendy boots.
And here are the egg gathering carts I mentioned but didn’t have a photo of when I wrote about egg gathering–the way we did in the cage layer house. Lifting cases with 30 dozen eggs in it—that’s 360 eggs—wasn’t easy. Doable, but it could get to your back after awhile.
In summer, bailing hay and straw was the hottest, heaviest, sorest-muscle inducing labor there was: no wonder most farmers use the huge round bales nowadays and move the bales by tractor.
We’ve been behind on our garden work this year due to an early beach vacation, extremely long hours for my husband, and my own horribly hectic work and evening meeting schedules. So this past Memorial Day weekend, we buckled down and whipped the yard and garden back into shape. I was so bushed and almost staggered with fatigue. I remembered summers helping Dad on our farm in Florida, where Deep South unrelenting sun and heat—especially after nine months of being spoiled by the sheltered life of a college student—made me almost faint after getting up from the tractor seat.
I’ll take office work any day over baling hay or hefting egg cases, and find it mildly interesting that my three daughters, at this point in their lives, have also ended up being office workers in various capacities. They have good, interesting jobs, but it boils down to a computer, a desk, and a chair.
Little log cabin on the farm: top left, Pert; me, and little brother, Terry on stoop. Sister Nancy owned a camera, so she was taking the shot. No selfies back then.
But, at day’s end or week’s end, there was rest. My father built a cabin in our back pasture in Indiana and we’d retreat there for Saturday night hamburgers. Here’s one of the first picnics we ever had back there. And on Sundays, we only did the work we had to do—gathered eggs and fed animals. Everything else would wait.
Basketball “court” beside our garage; notice chimney which heated the garage with small wood stove.
Here’s another way we wound down after gathering eggs or even catching chickens, shooting hoops. Notice the brightly painted rectangle around the hoop, the better to train my hoops-star sister. Here is also where we stored our garbage and trash until it was either burned or (yikes) cans dumped in the woods. “Slop” (food leftovers) went to the hogs, of course. Not so much romance here, either.
Life on the farm? I’ll have to say I’m happy to be surrounded by green hay fields, but I’m glad I’m not farming them.
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Did you grow up on a farm? Do you remember the work or the fun times? Anything specific?
If you didn’t grow up on a farm, did you ever wish for that life? Why?
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Dinner on the farm as a family? Of course, every day, either at noon or in the evening. I’m pleased to know people still value keeping family dinner, as I wrote about in this book, available from the MennoMedia store and elsewhere on line.
I was hungry for soup on a chilly day—and today is unseasonably chilly for May. My husband sat in the living room last evening with an afghan draped over his legs (er, and a cat and dog fighting for space there, too. Can you find the sad, pathetic looking coal-black Velvet, to the right?)
But one Saturday last winter when the hub was working and I was alone for lunch, I cooked up my very own invention, Snow Pea Soup, using the same kind of base I would use for a broccoli-cheddar soup, and it was yum. Not quite as good as actual broccoli soup (one of my all time favorites) but good enough if you want something different and have snow peas to use up, like I do. Most other snow pea soup recipes I found online went in an Asian direction but that wasn’t what I had in mind. Another used creamed or blended snow peas for more of a split pea and ham type soup. See what you think!
So if you like experimenting on small quantities for just yourself, or want a simple “girls lunch” for two, check this out.
Cheesy-Snow Pea Soup
3 Tablespoons butter
3 Tablespoons flour
3/4 teaspoon salt
Pinch garlic powder
1 ½ cups milk
3/4 cup sharp cheese, grated
3/4 cup chopped and cooked snow peas
In saucepan, melt butter. Blend in flour and salt. Gradually heat, stirring in milk. Stir frequently, and keep stirring as sauce thickens and becomes smooth. Add cheese, stirring, (it can scorch easily). Add cooked snow peas. Heat through and serve. Serves one or two.
You can always add more veggies for extra nutrition and flavor: bits of chopped onion (sautéed or just added in), chopped carrots, cauliflower, chopped potatoes (all of these cooked before you add them), more cheese, different cheeses, as desired.
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What’s a favorite soup for you? Do you like soup year-round or mainly in the winter? Improvements to suggest for this? I’m all ears. Or perhaps I should say tummy!
Speaking of this online store, there are FANTASTIC DISCOUNTS going on right now, some ending May 31, some ending later, but as much as 70% off! You can get Simply in Season for $6.99 until May 24, 2015 (two more days). Inventory is coming up, so we’re cleaning shelves. (Yup, I get to help do inventory.) Of course, a beautiful photo-filled edition of Simply in Season is coming out next week, so, be warned. And THAT one is on pre-publication discount for just $18.74 until May 25.
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