White Bread on the World Stage

I'm part of a dining group that has potlucks around a theme. I've written about some of those dinners in this blog. The next dinner's theme is German. I have in my head a notion about German food, so I was delighted when the host wanted to sample German culinary culture around the world - including Pennsylvania and East Texas.

My own family has German roots. My Stepmom's father was born in Germany. Until I started thinking about this meal theme, I didn't think that German had too much to do with the way I ate as a child and growing up. I'm changing my mind. My grandfather was a farmer in and Colorado. He always had a large garden and a root cellar. My grandmother raised chickens. I'm pretty sure they raised some pigs, too. Grandpa liked his sauerkraut. Grandma sometimes made him spaetzle, but more often chicken soup with biscuit dumplings.

I think underneath the food I grew up with was this Germanic theme that emphasized meat, root vegetables, and garden vegetables. We often baked our own bread and desserts. We rarely purchased prepared foods or ate out very much. The food was hearty and perhaps heavy, and often overdone.

So along comes this German-themed dinner. I decided to pick a place that was not Germany, but German-influenced. I also wanted to prepare a homey dish. I settled on a dish from the Alto-Adige region in Italy, Speck Knödel. It's a bread dumpling (as opposed to a biscuit dough or noodle dumpling) that uses Speck, a cured and smoked bacon imported from Alto-Adige.

Speck is hard to find in the greater Washington, DC area. I finally procured a (large) quantity from Antico Mercante in Atlanta, Georgia. It's a slab of bacon, and it has a subtle, smoked taste to it. I've been eating too much of it. It makes the Speck Knödel into a wonderful dish.

Of course, I get to experiment on Ron. I made this dish this weekend, and it tasted really good. I've had bread dumplings before, and they are often heavy. These were not. My Mother made a bread dressing and stuffing when I was growing up, and these dumplings taste a lot like that dressing. I think it's interesting how the form of food changes as it moves from place to place. Do noodles become spaetzle, then bread dumplings, and finally dressing? Maybe not, except that there remains a commonality of taste and ingredients. It's been a lot of fun exploring some (perhaps stretched) cultural culinary connections.

Dinner and All That (Explained to the Uninitiated)

Ron pointed out to me that I tend to gloss over details in my blog entries. So I thought I'd try to explain better what I mean in my annotated version of yesterday's entry.

Sometimes, dinner is just what dinner is. You can't explain it. It just happens. Well, actually you can explain it, but I put in those two sentences for dramatic affect. And dinner doesn't "just" happen, it takes a fair amount of work, if not planning. The less planning the more chopping, paring, and drinking spirited beverages. I know this from personal experience.I like the word melange*. I'm not quite sure what it means (I really do know what it means, because I looked it up before I published this blog post), but I think it explains tonight's dinner perfectly (It didn't, but that's the subject of another blog post).

Ron had prepared a list of dining possibilities inside our kitchen. I kid you not! He withdrew a list from his shirt pocket. I was totally amazed! They included green salad; warmed over veggie stew (more about that later*); watermelon, beet, and tomato salad; potatoes; roasted cauliflower; corn on the cob; and beet greens. He said we didn't need to fix all of it(!), but these were the options. He was going to pass on the veggie stew, but everything else was in play, if I wanted it.

Okay, here's the lowdown on those asterisks and the veggie stew. I'm not sure that I literally "like" the word "melange," but it fits in well with my narrative style, at least I think so, and I'm writing this blog. If you can come up with a better word, please comment on this post. Oh, and about the veggie stew, it was another chili debacle. I accidentally put too much heat in it, like two ancho chilies and a fair amount of chipotle chili powder, plus some significant amount of cayenne pepper, and many grinds of black pepper. Honestly, it did not taste too hot for me, but when Ron started sweating profusely, I kind of figured maybe I could have used a lighter touch. Bless his heart, he did not complain until after eating at least three spoonfuls, and then he ate the rest of the bowl with a manly determination. You have to love this guy!

Ron's keen on corn, almost like he was born in Kansas Do Tel Aviv natives eat corn on the cob? or something. I really wanted some fried potatoes (it's a well-known fact that fried potatoes contain significant amounts of essential vitamins and minerals, especially if they are Idaho potatoes). The veggie stew had so much chili in it, that I figured the fried potatoes would cut a little of the heat, and my heartburn wouldn't kill me when I went to bed. I did have heartburn, and it did affect me when I went to bed, but I consider that as a minor penance for subjecting Ron to the veggie stew earlier. Besides, it really tasted wonderful, smoky and hot. I was a go on the beet and watermelon salad, and the beet greens. Operation Melange Dinner* was about to get underway.

*I started using nomenclature like this after Operation Iraqi Freedom. I figured if Dick Cheney could co-opt a perfectly useful word and turn it into a militaristic slogan of American Imperialism, I could do the same when referring to certain culinary operations in my own kitchen. Besides, I'm quite sure that Dick and Lynne must love chili because they are from Wyoming, and Wyoming is famous for buffalo chili. The Cheney's would probably think that my vegetable chili was a little effete, and if the shoe fits, wear it.

I figured Ron could eat the corn, and I would eat the veggie stew. I peeled the potatoes; he finished prepping the watermelon, beet, and tomato salad*, husked the corn on the cob, and washed the beet greens. *Did you do a double take when you read watermelon, beets, and tomatoes? I did, too. But I have learned that Ron's recipes, while exotic, are more than worth the experiment. The salad was very good, with watermelon sweetness and crunch, and the subtle flavor of the beets, plus their texture. This dish deserves a repeat on the dinner table. I got the potatoes frying about the time the beet greens were cleaned. Then all we had to do was to wait on the potatoes, warm up the veggie stew, and zap the corn on the cob.

And we did all that, got it on the table, and had an absolutely wonderful meal. He loved his corn, and the potatoes did cut the chili burn on the veggies. We had this colorful, delightful, and fresh meal that was tasty, and didn't have any cholesterol, corn syrup, BHA, or BHT. Nothing came from a box. Most of it came from the CSA farm in Pennsylvania. The food was good, and the company unsurpassed. I enjoy these cooking adventures with Ron, and appreciate his skill, talents, and inquisitiveness in the kitchen. I'm happy he cooks for me! Real food for real homosexuals.

Dinner and All That

Sometimes, dinner is just what dinner is. You can't explain it. It just happens. I like the word melange. I'm not quite sure what it means, but I think it explains tonight's dinner perfectly.

Ron had prepared a list of dining possibilities inside our kitchen. They included green salad; warmed over veggie stew (more about that later); watermelon, beet, and tomato salad; potatoes; roasted cauliflower; corn on the cob; and beet greens. He said we didn't need to fix all of it(!), but these were the options. He was going to pass on the veggie stew, but everything else was in play, if I wanted it.

Ron's keen on corn, almost like he was born in Kansas or something. I really wanted some fried potatoes. The veggie stew had so much chili in it, that I figured the fried potatoes would cut a little of the heat, and my heartburn wouldn't kill me when I went to bed. I was a go on the beet and watermelon salad, and the beet greens. Operation Melange Dinner was about to get underway.

I figured Ron could eat the corn, and I would eat the veggie stew. I peeled the potatoes; he finished prepping the watermelon, beet, and tomato salad, husked the corn on the cob, and washed the beet greens. I got the potatoes frying about the time the beet greens were cleaned. Then all we had to do was to wait on the potatoes, warm up the veggie stew, and zap the corn on the cob.

And we did all that, got it on the table, and had an absolutely wonderful meal. He loved his corn, and the potatoes did cut the chili burn on the veggies. We had this colorful, delightful, and fresh meal that was tasty, and didn't have any cholesterol, corn syrup, BHA, or BHT. Nothing came from a box. Most of it came from the CSA farm in Pennsylvania. Real food for real homosexuals.

Why Would I Want to Buy a Car When I Can Rent a Seat on a Tour Bus?

We had more adventures today, and we've even prepaid on an adventure tomorrow. That's about as much forward thinking as I've done for this trip. Really!

For maybe the second time in my life, I slept through the alarm this morning. That really is alarming. Grace told me that the alarm was really loud, too. I guess a 37-hour day will do that for a fella. Grace and I are learning the art of travel. Last night, I washed out our shirts mainly because we´d been in them for 30+ hours and you could tell that at a distance. I hung them in the shower, and by lunchtime today, they were dry and ready to go. Grace brought along (what I thought was a dubious product) a bottle of stuff that you spray on wrinkled clothes, and when it dries, the clothes are wrinkle free. It really works! Wow, do I love new technology. Who needs a travel iron?

I shaved today, amid decals and signs in the bathroom decrying Madrid's water shortage. The signs worked. It sparked some efforts on my part to conserve water. I'm wearing my new travel shirt today, and it is very comfortable. It's designed with a yoke across the back that is a vent so that heat is supposed to escape blah, blah, blah. It also has some kind of fiber that wicks moisture away so that you don't get pitted out too much. It seems to work. Best of all, it's wash and wear, and cleans nicely in the sink.

We finally got down to breakfast. High carb, with augmented pork protein, con queso! How did the hotel staff know that this was part of the John Burlison diet? I did eat somewhat sparingly, but certainly had enough to fuel me most of the day. Lots of little old ladies and their gentlemen friends (or husbands) are staying in the hotel, acting a lot like tourists, except they speak Spanish. None of them had hair that had known natural color since the death of Franco. Most were a little stout, but carried it in a commanding and convincing way, accenting their curves with exotic leopard prints and loud/hot colors worn defiantly across heaving bosoms. Give these women fabric, and expect a fashion statement! The men were no match. Also in the dining room were some college age kids in at least two configurations, Russian and American. They had stayed up very late the night before, beneath our room on their balconies, drunkenly singing old American pop tunes. I guess I'm getting used to it. Madrid is a very noisy city all the time, and these kids were no match for my earplugs. They all had healthy appetites.

After breakfast, we headed out for a bus tour of Old Madrid via Madid Vision. These are double-decker buses that travel two different routes through the city. One of the routes is "Modern Madrid," the other is "Historical Madrid." Really, there isn't much difference between the two. We took the Modern Madrid tour first. We got lost (twice) trying to find the boarding stop. We noticed some other tourists having the same problem. This is a big city. Finding those bus stops can be onerous. The tour was along a couple of avenues that Brian, Ron, and I had walked extensively two years ago, so it was exciting to see those neighbhorhoods again, and to hear some of the history of those neighborhoods. The tour lasted about 70 minutes. We got off the bus near the hotel, returned to the room to freshen up, then headed to Starbucks, because I was incredibly undercaffeinated.

We split a sandwich at Starbucks, then sat and talked and drank our iced coffee and mocha lite. We dished all of you, chuckling all the while. We concluded that we have a wonderful family, but it sure is nice to get away from you once in a while. We are truly enjoying this time together, and it's fun and curiously satisfying to sit and sip and talk. We finished our lunch and headed off to a vast city park, El Parque del Retiro. We walked through the park for a couple of hours. It's full of paths, grand statuary, fountains, and palaces. At the Velazquez Palacio, a young couple were in wedding atire, having an extensive photo shoot with their photographer. I have a couple of pictures of them and the photographer. They were enjoying themselves. After the park, we jumped back on the tour bus for the Historical Madrid tour. It took us over near the Royal Palace and in to some neighborhoods that I hadn´t been to. I slept through some of this narrative, because I just couldn't keep my eyes open. I've since recovered. Don't worry, I have pictures of the tours, including the Ham Museum. I hope that I get to eat there.

After getting off the bus, we went to a neighborhood bakery for a snack and some coffee. Grace is now in the hotel room collecting her thoughts. When I get back from writing this, we'll go to dinner, then maybe a walk afterwards. We've purchased our tickets for our tour tomorrow.We're going to Segovia and Avila. It lasts most of the day. I'll let you know how that turns out. Love you all.

Busy, Busy

I'm not equating busyness with productivity, but I felt a little like the Energizer Bunny^®. I got up, made myself some breakfast, read the paper, then got a wild idea to mop the kitchen floor. At this point, I started my laundry. I mean, if you're going to mop the floor, you might as well run a couple of loads of laundry. After that it was off to the gym. When I got home I wrote my brother a birthday card, then Ron and I walked to the Post Office, after which we walked to Safeway and did a little food shopping. About this time, I really needed a drink (I'm so grateful for cocktail shakers!), then I steamed some broccoli for a salad. I answered some emails, purchased an airline ticket, reserved a rental car, and made a hotel reservation for trip to Idaho in November. I finished making the rest of the salad - chopping celery, slicing tomatoes, sauteing garlic, grating carrots, the usual, (I made another cocktail) then I cooked the ravioli, warmed up the pasta sauce, and set the table for dinner. After dinner, I watered all the pachysandra, which meant repeatedly filling a bucket full of water, and traipsing down the path to the thirsty little plants. (I just about killed them, but I think I'm nursing most of them back from the brink.) Now, I'm writing in here, then I'll read the Economist before going to bed. This is what I mean about retirement - I have a lot to do, but not an awful lot to show for it.

Farmer Happy

Spindly, but full of potential

One hundred forty-four pachysandra plants later, I have four rows of spindly plants firmly heeled in along the fence. I've already started talking to them, but I haven't named any of them yet. Some of the plants were robust and hearty, others much less so. I'm just hoping that they don't all die on me. As chronicled in other blog entries. I've been waging war on Virginia creeper and poison ivy. Roundup, mulch, and pachysandra have been my weapons of choice. Around the patio, and in one of the side beds, pachysandra has begun to crowd out creeper and English ivy, which is exactly the desired effect. I wouldn't mind crowding out some of the violets, either. These are man-eating violets, not the little sissy things that you find in other people's gardens, rather monster violets that are all plant, no flower, and that march relentlessly down the garden path.

This weekend has been fabulous gardening weather, very cool mornings and warm afternoons. I haven't done this much garden stuff for about a decade, and I know why. My green thumb is pretty black, as in if I plant it, it will die. But I'm ever hopeful of the baleful experiments that I perform in the side yard. I was moved to do all of the stuff because I discovered poison ivy in the yard last fall, then this spring, the Virginia creeper just exploded, and was preparing to take over the earth. Mindful of my duties as a World Citizen, I was determined to prevent that from happening. Also, it's been a hoot to be outside on very pleasant days, and just enjoy the experience of it all.

Don't expect me to become a gardener, though. Just expect me to take on some daft projects, push through to the end, and then pray for divine intervention that something will actually grow. Gardening is a religious act for me, because I'm such an inept horticulturalist that any resulting good from my acts must be attributed to some higher force much greater than I. Or maybe some malevolent spirit out there doesn't particularly like Virginia creeper, either.

Today, It's All about Mulch

I've had a pile of mulch sitting out in front of my house for three or four days. Today, I borrowed a wheelbarrow from Perry, and I spread the mulch on the side "yard." It isn't exactly a yard, because it's been taken over by Virginia Creeper, poison ivy, and violets. I sprayed the creeper a couple of times to knock it down, then spread mulch this afternoon.

I enjoy moving the mulch pile. I filled the wheelbarrow about twenty times, each time dragging the barrow over the curb, down some steps to the yard. It's fenced on two sides, and deeply shaded. One of the reasons for mulching is that it slows down rainwater on the way to our neighbors' basements. I figure that mulching is a neighborly act.

Hello Roundup, Goodbye Poison Ivy

Poison Ivy after Roundup®

Last fall, I found an unwelcome plant esconced in the side yard. It had three bright shiny leaves, and looked beautiful. Poison ivy is like some of my former boyfriends, beautiful to look at, but you wouldn't want it in your beds. As you can see, the PI also began growing up the maple tree.

Earlier this spring, I bought some Roundup®, but it's only been in the last few days that the weather has been good for spraying. From the results, it looks like the PI is on the way out. Roundup prevents plants from photosynthesizing their nutrients. Essentially, a sprayed plant starves to death. Roundup also claims to kill the roots, and that's a bigger concern of mine in regards to poison ivy.

I walked around the neighborhood, and the house immediately behind us has a lot along its borders and in the shady areas. The house is vacant and up for sale. I hope prospective homebuyers know what they are looking at. It's a nuisance weed, and will probably be back in our yard as long as it's growing next door.

Of course, disposing of the poison ivy is difficult, too. The active ingredient, urushiol, bonds well to human skin, lasts in the environment for several years, and vaporizes when burned. I'm not sure what to do with the plant residue. I think I'll probably dispose of it with the regular garbage, because I don't want someone getting a urushiol reaction if the garden waste got composted and put in somebody else's yard.

In the meantime, I've called American Landscaping, and they will be delivering a couple of yards of mulch so that I can spread it along the paths, and around areas where I'm trying to remove some English Ivy (Roundup® works on other plants, too!). I'll say this about Maryland's climate, lots of stuff grows here, and grows fast. I've never lived in a place that was so green.