visual.word.chef

Terra Cello Farm

2011-02-01T22:23:00.000-05:00

Terra Cello Farm: Heaven on Earth in Norfolk
By Barbara Perkins

Most of us who call Norfolk home will agree that our town is charming and beautiful, perhaps even a little slice of heaven, that is if you ignore the rapidly multiplying Everest sized snow piles and arctic temperatures. Viktoria Sleeper has taken that belief one step further. All the way up 272 North, almost to the Mass. line is her plot of paradise which she named Terra Cello Farm.
When asked where the name came from Sleeper shares that it was the name of the farm her grandparents used to have and literally means heaven on earth.

While Terra Cello Farm is home to Sleeper’s horses, pony, goats, sheep and chickens, it is also a full service boarding, training and lesson facility specializing in dressage. According to Sleeper, her barn is the only one in the area to give lessons to children under three years of age, believing that starting children young helps them is so many ways. “First, they haven’t learned fear of the animals so it is easier to build a partnership with the horses. And second, it is a way to teach responsibility. This is not a princess barn. There is work to be done and everyone does their part, to the level that they are able.” Students at Terra Cello ride throughout the year and those who choose to, compete during show season which runs from April to October. Not that it’s all about competition but Sleeper points out that her riders or consistently in the top 4 at shows. Which is quite an accomplishment considering these are not top dollar horses of famed pedigree. “It just goes to show what hard work pays off.”

With a soft spot for animals Viktoria originally pursued a career as Certified Veterinary Technician, specializing in emergency and critical care. After a while she found herself spending much of her time mitigating the carelessness and neglect of others. When the barn in Cheshire where she had been keeping her own horses closed, she decided to build her own, taking in boarders simply to help defray costs. Motivated to the highest level of care by the horrors she had seen, Terra Cello is home to several animals who would have died or been destroyed had it not been for her big heart and able hands.

For more information on Terra Cello Farm please call Viktoria Sleeper at (860) 542-1115.

Article first appeared in Norfolk Now - February 2011

Pond Town

2010-10-23T13:07:00.001-05:00

A Norfolk Settlement in the Great Greenwoods
Pond Town was a farming and industrial community
By Barbara Perkins

Before Alfredo Taylor was commissioned to design the boat and club houses, before two now well-known bodies of water were dubbed Doolittle and Benedict, even before the first of the magnificent Battells, moved to town, Captain Isaac Holt, one of Norfolk’s earliest settlers, chose land that, according to its deed, “extended eastward from the Highway as far as the Great Pond.” Holt’s selection, followed by those made by the families Benedict, Nettleton, Parritt and many others, marked the beginning of what would become the thriving community of Pond Town.

The settlement area is generally identified as lands in the northern portion of town surrounding Great Pond (Doolittle Lake) and Little Pond (Benedict Pond). And, if dates inscribed on headstones at the Pond Town Cemetery are any indication, the community enjoyed nearly 100 years of relative prosperity. Though most of the buildings are no longer standing, thanks to the copious record keeping of early town fathers, much is known about this industrious area.

By way of census records and agricultural inventories, it is known that the area was divided into three different school districts and supported as many schools. By 1800, David Doolittle was operating a grist mill on the outlet of the Great Pond. It is probable that area residents referred to the waters as “Doolittle’s pond” and over time the name stuck. A similar story is attached to the naming of Little Pond. While Doolittle was grinding grain from the neighboring farms, Francis Benedict had a saw mill and cheese box shop on the stream that flowed out of Little Pond.

Pond Town also had its own blacksmith, joiner, tanner and shoemaker. Throughout the first half of the 19th century, lands were still being cleared, more houses were being built and farms were in operation. It wasn’t until the middle of the century that many of the local farmers sold their lands and went west with the prospect of better and larger lots.

Coinciding with the sale of the small farms was a rise in wealth from manufacturing. Also on the rise was the desire to escape the crowded, dirty city to hunt and fish and experience life in the wilderness. Tracts of land were purchased and the area surrounding Doolittle was eventually owned by a handful of families. This consolidation and desire to preserve land for hunting and fishing led to the creation of the syndicate that would become the Doolittle Lake Company.

If you are interested in learning more about Pond Town and its environs, be sure to join Richard Byrne for a guided walk to the Benedict Saw Mill on Saturday September 4. Contact the Norfolk Historical Society for details.

This article originally appeared in Norfolk Now - October 2010

A Course With Distinction

2010-06-01T07:49:00.001-05:00

As evidenced by the Alfredo Taylor buildings, the Stanford White fountain on the Village Green and the Tiffany windows at the library, Congregational Church and the Manor House, Norfolk is home to numerous works by world renowned architects, artisans and craftsmen. And in true Norfolk fashion, all of these works, though stunning in their own right, are unpretentious and unobtrusive in their bearing and location.

We can now add one more gem to the list. As of this spring, the golf course at the
Norfolk Country Club has been officially recognized as the design of legendary golf
course architect, A. W. Tillinghast.

For those not familiar with the world of golf course design, it is widely believed that Tillinghast, along with Donald Ross (Pinehurst No. 2, Oak Hill) and Alister MacKenzie (Augusta National, Old Course at Lahinch, Ireland) were the three greatest golf course designers of all time.

While you may never have heard of Tilly, as he’s referred to in the golf world, you no doubt have heard of at least one of his 265 (now 266) courses. The most famous of his designs are Winged Foot, Baltusrol, Newport and Bethpage Black, the site of the 2009 U.S. Open.

According to Joe Passov, the Architecture/Course Ranking Editor at GOLF Magazine, “Donald Ross may have been more prolific and Alister MacKenzie better traveled, but for sheer consistency in design excellence among the Golden Age greats, A.W. Tillinghast takes a back seat to no one.”

While the discovery itself is remarkable, the story behind the discovery is extraordinary. Long has the question been tossed about regarding the origins of the Norfolk course. Spurred on by personal curiosity and a deep passion for golf history, local resident and Norfolk Country Club member Michael Kelly took it upon himself to uncover the answer.

After sorting through a long neglected assemblage of club papers, including minutes and ledgers housed at the Norfolk Historical Society, he came across a series of references to the course. Kelly found an invoice for services rendered and a passage from the minutes of a board meeting which read, "Mr. Smith sketched the new 9-hole course, which has been reconstructed by Mr. Tillinghast and stated in his opinion and in the opinion of the committee appointed to supervise construction that it was going to be one of the best short courses anywhere in the country.”

Armed with this information, Kelly contacted the Tillinghast Association and began the authentication process. While the Tillinghast archives didn’t mention the Norfolk course, the documentation Kelly presented was eventually enough for them to award the course with the Original Design distinction.

When asked about the project, Kelly expressed his elation at the discovery, but was quick to share that though one question had been answered, it only raised more, including “How did Tilly come to Norfolk?” Next stop for Kelly are the library archives to see what else he can dig up. Whether or not he finds any more answers, the fact remains, Norfolk has one more long hidden gem to add to her storied crown.

Out & About - Mexican

2010-03-01T08:20:00.000-05:00

The number of dining options in town may be on the decline but several surrounding towns have recently added to their number. Over the last eight months, three new Mexican restaurants have popped up, upping the ethnic options available in the Northwest corner. Thanks to very different menu offerings and atmospheres there should be very little competition between the establishments.

The first one to debut was Tequila's Mexican Cantina. Early last summer, the family run mini-chain opened its Torrington location in the 26 East Main Street space formerly occupied by Dick’s Restaurant. Having two other locations further down Route 8 (Oakville and Waterbury) and “we have lots of customers from Torrington, Thomaston and Harwinton” so owner Marco Martel felt Torrington made sense. Sticking to the formula that garnered the chain several Waterbury Observer “Best of” awards, Tequila's offers an ample menu of standards including nachos, salads, burritos, and fajitas, etc. But, what Tequila's will inevitably become known for is its extensive drinks menu. With 24 different margaritas and nearly as many tequilas available for tasting, it’s no surprise.

Next to appear was Padre’s Mexican Cuisine. Located in the long vacant storefront adjacent to the Gilson Café Cinema, veteran restaurateur Alan Nero is looking to occupy a specific niche in the Winsted dining landscape. Namely the void left when Café de Olla closed several years ago. Padre’s has short and uncomplicated menu including tacos, burritos and quesadillas and with only 2 tables and a few spots at the bar the emphasis is definitely on take out which will also address the lack of take-out offerings (other than pizza).

The third and most recent player in the game is Monte Alban which opened in Great Barrington on January 6th of this year. Taking over the space vacated by Helsinki, owner Pascual Francisco is another of the areas veteran restaurateurs. First opening Azteca Tequeria, a burrito shop located in the Barrington House Atrium pass-through, in 2006, Francisco had been keen to open another eatery to showcase the cuisine of his native Oaxaca, a state in southern Mexico. When the spot literally “across the hall" opened he jumped at the chance. After $100,000 in renovations, patrons of the former establishment will hardly recognize the space. Monte Alban’s menu is diverse and interesting and though it features some of the same dishes available at the other restaurant they have been revisited in a truly Oaxacan manor.

Will all these options, if you get a craving for food from south of the border all you have to do is pick a direction and you’ll find yourself a great option.

For more information and hours: Tequila's Mexican Cantina, (860) 489-7917, Padre’s Mexican Cuisine, (860) 738-3061 Monte Alban, (413) 528-8566

Local Spirit

2009-11-01T08:58:00.000-05:00

Just the up the road in Sheffield, MA, nestled in the shadow of East Mountain, is Soda Spring Farm. While not a working farm in the traditional sense, much activity takes place here. More specifically, in the big, old white barn which is home to Christopher Weld’s spirited undertaking, Berkshire Mountain Distillers.

After living on the west coast for 15 years with only summer pilgrimages back east, Weld and his wife could no longer ignore the pull of New England. The couple found their way to the little run down orchard in the Berkshires. While taking stock of their new home, an idea began to take develop. "I grew up on a small orchard and pressed apple cider. I studied bio-chemistry and just really wanted to give (distilling) a try,." Weld said.

The springs for which the property is named, and from which Weld takes its waters, have a long history. Dating back into the 1800’s, the 73-acre location was the home of Henry Peck’s Berkshire Soda Springs Hotel, a luxury spa retreat for well-heeled Victorians. A 1899 travel book notes that the location had “facilities for hot and cold bathing” and “diseases of the blood and skin and especially rheumatic disorders (were) said to be benefited” by a dip in the springs.

A kin to the micro-brewery boom of the last decade or so, a growing number of craft distillers have been bubbling up nationwide and Berkshire Mountain is the first legal distillery in Western Mass. since prohibition.

Because distilling is not an overnight proposition, Weld introduced his products to the market one by one, starting with Ragged Mountain Rum, whose moniker is a nod to a nearby peak. Now one might think the molasses-based spirit is anis unlikely candidate to introduce the brand with, but in fact, prior to the temperance movement, Massachusetts was the nation’s leading exporter of rum. Weld explained “we currently uses bourbon barrels from a major producer in Kentucky but after the corn whiskey currently being aged is bottled, we’ll use those barrels for the next batch.”

Following the rum to market was Greylock Gin. Working with master distillers, Weld developed a proprietary blend of seven botanicals, which give the London- dry style gin its own signature flavor profile.

The Ice Glen Vodka came next, and then another gin with 14 botanicals dubbed Ethereal. This gin is part of a limited edition series Weld is creating. Each run will have a slightly different flavor and be bottled with a different color label to identify the batch.

When asked about current creations, Chris ticked off a few products that he hopes to have on the shelf later this fall. Stating, “The corn whiskey is close to the bottling stage and soon we’ll start picking apples to make eau de vie and brandy. At this point, we’re happy with the formulas and proud to be sourcing ingredients locally. We are fine-tuning the process and focusing on building awareness for our brand.”

While you are no longer allowed to list the “medicinal” properties on the back of a liquor bottle, there is definitely something in the water that makes these spirits special.

Berkshire Mountain Distillers’ products are served at restaurants and sold at liquor stores all over Connecticut, Massachusetts and New York. The closest place to sample them is at Infinity Hall or, for purchase, at Ledgebrook Spirit Shop in Winsted and Stateline Wine & Spirit in Canaan. For more information, go to berkshiremountaindistillers.com.

Coming Soon - Infinity Bistro

2009-04-01T09:04:00.001-05:00

Infinity Bistro will be open for business May 1. As with other phases of the Infinity Hall project, this too is being rolled out in acts. For its first week of operation, the Bistro will only be serving its dinner menu. Then, on Mother’s Day (May 10), it will debut its brunch menu and finally will unveil its lunch menu on the following Tuesday (May 12).

After May 12, the Bistro will be open for lunch and dinner Monday through Wednesday, 11:30 a.m. to 10 p.m., Thursday and Friday from 11:30 a.m. to 11 p.m., Saturday 11 a.m. to 11 p.m. and Sunday from 11 a.m. to10 p.m., with brunch available both weekend days.

During a walk through of the dining space, only the recently delivered bar and freshly painted ceiling hints at what is to come. Undaunted by the short time line and long “to do” list, owner Dan Hincks enthusiastically paints the picture of a dining environment that is both comfortable and tasteful.

Seating capacity inside will be 120, with another 30 occupying a handful of tables on the porch overlooking Town Meadow. There will be a mix of table shapes and configurations to accommodate all party sizes and the bar, which dominates, but doesn’t overpower a large portion of the northern internal wall, is destined to become a favorite in its own right.

Knowing that a fair number of dinner patrons will also be attending a concert, Infinity Bistro has partnered with Open Table, the highly popular website for making restaurant reservations online, which will allow people to book a table when they buy a ticket to a show.

While the details and specifics of the menu and restaurant are still being worked out, Hincks heaped praise on two of the newest additions to the Bistro lineup, Chef Dan Fortin and restaurant manager Sally Juliano who are up to their elbows in recipes, suppliers and scheduling.

According to Fortin, whose background has taken him through several kitchens in the state, a French Indian restaurant in Boston and even a stint in the islands, the Bistro will offer a well rounded menu at a comfortable price. With eight to ten entrees, a healthy selection of salads and sizable helping of starters, the food will be at once familiar, yet transformed under his skillful hand. Fortin noted that he has made nods to the clock in his planning, knowing many patrons will be moving on to a show after their dining experience.

In keeping with the new mantra of local and sustainable, both Juliano and Fortin are looking to source locally whenever possible. Knowing they are somewhat limited by a shorter growing season and product availability, they are leaving no stone unturned when it comes to identifying potential partners. “We want people to know what they are getting and where it’s coming from,” Fortin said.

Hincks said, “I feel very good about the competency of my team, their dynamics, their talent and the level of commitment. It’s going to be great!”
Reservations can be made by calling 860-542-5531.

2008-05-16T10:13:00.001-05:00

In My Back Yard

I just returned from 3.5 months in Europe. I was fortunate to spend several weeks traveling on my own from Ljubljana Slovenia to London, then to Prague, Bratislava (Slovakia), Budapest and Venice. All in all an amazing trip but it left my travel budget quite thin. Add to it the price of gas and I find myself looking for alternate themes for travel. Enter “In My Back Yard”.

We all know there are places, around the corner, down the street or in the next town that we keep meaning to visit and only do so when we have out of town guests. So, if there are places we know, there must be a few we don’t, that are worth seeing.

Now, this type of plan has some constraints. Depending on where you live there can be an abundance or dearth of sites. I’m based in a town of 1600 people, exactly zero actual stoplights (but one blinking light), one town historic museum, one public library, one pub, one pizza place and a whole lot of trees. So the idea of picking the best of the best of really doesn’t work here. We do have great history, architecture and once and former residents though.

Looking around through one eye of a resident and one of a tourist, in order to discover a hidden gem or two. A bit of history, art, food and culture, all in my backyard.

Consolidation???

2008-05-13T11:59:00.002-05:00

So after days, weeks, months and now years of having a scattered internet presence I am gathering everything here. For a while it was necessary to keep food writing in one place, travel in another and musings in yet another but as of today all will be collected here. I have endeavored to maintain the date/time of the original post at its original location more as a housekeeping and organization step than anything else.

So if you haven't checked the archives now would be a great time to do so. You never know what you might find.

Home Again

2008-05-11T11:23:00.001-05:00

Spring has officially sprung here in Norfolk and I am making my way through about 5000 digital images to put together more a narrative than a separate slide show and text. Please forgive the continued dearth of writing as I am up to my eyeballs is the aforementioned pictures which by the way did a disappearing act when I transfered them from laptop to desktop and then had to spend about 60 hours with undelete and file finder programs to find them all again. Then there are the gardens but we'll get to that later.
In the meantime I have been pondering several sets of questions. Of course there is the age old pair... why we travel and what happens when we come home... And then slightly less broad brush is why do I tend to take pictures of small details, signage, a piece of a building or monument, etc and neglect the broader view and then how does that color my memories of place and time.
What about you. Are your pictures panoramic and present the macro perspective or detail oriented and specific.

Winding Down

2008-04-15T10:27:00.000-05:00

So much to tell and limited internet access. Suffice it to say I am on my 3rd and last day in Venice. My cousin Alyssa joined me for the last leg of my trip and today is her (unnumbered) birthday so we are celebrating by eating only chocolate, gelato, pastry and espresso. Yes I to am partaking in the the aromatic blackness while here in Italy. (how could i miss the opportunity to stand at a counter at a cafe in an out of the way section (yes they exist) elbow to elbow with workmen and students for a morning jolt.

My travels have taken me from Ljubljana to London and then on to Prague, Bratislava, Budapest and now Venice. I will head back to london tomorrow to fly home on the 17th.

I have had quite a few interesting experiences that I cant wait to share. Other than being stiffed by the author for my final contract payment, nearly missing my connection out of slovenia to london, being yelled at by a Czech cashier for how wrinkled my czech crown bill was, not having enough euros (but plenty of £'s, $'s, czech and slavic crowns and Hungarian Forints) to pay for the onboard train ticket so subsequently and inadvertantly bribing the conductor and finally having to rebuff a full court press for hand holding and kisses from the hotel manager in venice I have had a great time.

stay tuned for the play by play debrief....

I'm not dead yet...but the author may be shortly

2008-03-03T21:28:00.000-05:00

I am however working 18 hours a day and hardly have a chance to breathe...4 more days...

Stand up for what you believe in.

2008-02-26T11:41:00.000-05:00

Last night we went to Ribnica. Benka had a Literature Evening at an event center there. Basically, it was a moderated interview and reading. First off, the space was beautiful. From the outside, it looked like a traditional old barn. Nothing special. The only hint that things weren’t, as they seemed was the huge plate glass sliding doors where the old fashion barn doors should have been. Once inside…wow. It was beautiful. The walls and suspended loft 2nd floor were unstained but finished. Detailed with glass and brushed nickel. Perfect gallery space or listening room. Perfect for a evening of Selected Shorts. Apparently, the place is part of a museum compound and the place won the European Museum of the Year award in 2004.
Anyway… the place was packed. 65 seats on the ground floor plus another 30 upstairs and then every available centimeter of standing room. From the second she was introduced, it was off to the races. Listening to her talk in her native tongue is sort of like listening to an old fashion auction caller. Musical and 3x the rate of normal speech.
About 20 minutes into the evening, some guy spoke up from the audience and interrupted the night. – For those of you who don’t know the book is called Pocestnica which translates as streetwalker or working girl. The masculine version of the word pocestnik translates as vagabond, traveler, or hobo. The book is a tongue in cheek play one the split meaning – as I was saying this guy interrupted the evening and asked
“But do you know what Pocestnica really means?”
Without missing a beat Benka turned to him, smiled a sweet but totally patronizing smile and while waving around the room said,
"ahh, yes, I think we all do!” And she was off again.
I wont bore you with more of the details because firstly the entire night was in Slovene and I caught every 30th word or so and secondly because what came next was entirely more exciting.
After the evening was over the organizers of the evening invited us to join them for another drink at their favorite little pub in town. Great little place, operative word being little, populated but everyone from local boys and their dates to our little parade of well heeled patrons of the arts. Half the group ordered hot tea and the bartender didn’t even blink. Drink ok. Alcohol? Fine. No. That’s good too.
So there we are occupying one alcove of this establishment, drawing attention of the rest of the patrons. Palona (one of the organizers) points out a girl standing at the bar. She tells Benka this is the daughter of the woman who sent back the calendars.
(background-Benka sent her calendars to every one of the elementary schools in the country as part of a humanitarian fund raising effort. A woman from the school in Ribnica sent them all back saying the February picture was pornographic and disturbing and she would not have them in her school).
Benka went over to the girl and introduced herself (of course the girl knew exactly who she was and had been staring at us for a good 10 minutes). Proceeds to tell her that if her mother was ever in Ljubljana to please let Benka know because she’d like for them to meet and then excuses herself.
10 minutes later the girl shows up with her mother and presents her to Benka. Over the next few minutes Benka proceeds to ask the woman why send the calendars back. (Let me add that all the people we were sitting with were ranking members of the political party to which this woman is involved with and trying to impress). The woman makes a weak attempt to defend herself and then blame the “other teachers and administrators” for the problem. Curiosity piqued the folks sitting at the table (who has just been at the reading) asked to see a calendar. Procuring one from the car and presenting it Benka flipped to the offending February picture and tossed it on the table. In the blink of an eye everyone at the table wanted to buy one (so did a few others in the bar) and the prudish woman seemed to loose her air of righteous indignation and swallow the rest of her argument. And as quickly as it began, it was over. Not only did the school get the calendars, they agreed to donate to another of Benka’s humanitarian efforts that provides funding for schooling Tibetan children in exile.
I mention this incident not as a means to further humiliate the woman. I simply use it as an illustration of how in her own way Benka is changing the world. The acts of an anonymous coward can’t hold up the light of her day. Benka was not rude or disrespectful she just didn’t let the woman get away with small thinking.
If we all take a page out of that playbook and stand up for what we believe in simply by saying something, how many things could we change? Instead of being so concerned about hurting feelings or not making people feel bad, be respectful, truthful and speak out.

Ok off my soap box now…sorry…
Watching Benka do her thing is amazing and I'm doing what I can to keep up.
Oh, by the way...the picture included was the one in question.Stand up for what you believe in.

And Scene

2008-02-13T11:29:00.000-05:00

So as of 23 minutes ago all the translation and interpretation in done. It was a little hairy there for a while but no blood was spilled and only one broken bone (which came from Benka stubbing her toe). All in all, i'm glad that part is done so i can quit being a glorified transcriptionist and get into the meat of it. Tomorrow I am going to breeze the 321 pages to make sure there are no areas that i have questions with and then i am sequestering myself at a different flat on the edge of the old city and have at it.

For those of you who had trouble logging on over the last day or so...sorry, the people at yahoo web hosting are not very smart.They don't seem to understand that when i typed "I cant call your US tech support number because i am in Slovenia", it meant, i couldn't call them. And 3 emails from them saying "just call our handy, convenient, toll free (if you are in the US) tech support number between 8-5 pacific time. All thats to say, since you are reading this, you know its up and running again.
since its now almost 11:30 I'm going to go to bed - early - for a change.

Aan now a word to our sponsors...

2008-02-10T18:31:00.000-05:00

First: Happy Birthday Jonas.
Second: Thank you Mommy, Lala and Checha. You guys have great ears!
Third: Dad-you go with your webcam, skpye using self.
Thank you very much, that is all.

Just say whay you dont mean...

2008-02-10T07:30:00.000-05:00

Standardized use of the negative as a positive. This one cracks me up. During the first week or so of trans-pretation (yes I just made that word up because I am sick of typing the whole thing out over and over, it’s called wordchefing), Benka kept translating sentences as negative action (didn’t do something) when I knew for a fact she actually did. I was continually clarifying to make sure I wasn’t missing something or completely misunderstanding the story because of a mispronunciation. Don’t get me started on that: the 'i' in fill is pronounced as a long 'e'. For those of you too removed from grammar days that’s ‘e’ as in feel or feet. And when someone says take out the ‘fill’ words and you take out all the ‘feel’ word it makes a huge difference.
But I digress. When translating, the sentence would come out “we all waited at the table until she didn’t come back from the loo”. At first I would wait for the rest of the story. Such as “and we waited so long, we finally sent someone to get her” but it never came. So I switched it around to read “she didn’t come back from the loo, but we waited anyway. Nope. So then I started negating the sentence to read: “we all waited at the table but she didn’t come back from the loo”, thinking it was the conjunction issue. No it wasn’t the conjunction. The sentence is textbook perfect Slovene. It means “we waited for her to come back from the loo”. Yup. She actually did return.
Every blessed sentence in Slovene, showing a two part action is written this way. After a week of the “who’s on first” routine Benka finally realized it wasn’t me not understanding her, it was a function of the source language and implied versus written meaning.
And just think, this is just one the simple factors I am juggling.
Put it this way, Slovene doesn’t have articles (a, an, the) and nouns and verbs can tell gender and number. Oh yes they have 3 cases. Singular (I), plural (we, they) and a dual case. That’s the case denoting a pair or dual. But it doesn’t have to be people. The concept of dual so influences the language, they have different words for certain pairs of things. For example. It is shoulder but not shoulders. Since there are 2 shoulders there is a different word for it.
And then there is the direct and indirect object thing and on and on.
Oh to have my Warriner’s English Grammar and Composition with me. What was I thinking leaving it at home…My brain is tired. Its midnight. Good night.

2008-02-06T17:53:00.000-05:00

A Carnival parade, a private chef’s tasting meal, standardized usage of double negatives, grammar rules, commas and quotes, black oil and only 2 more days of translation interpretation (then I get down to the real work of reworking and editing the text so it makes sense in English and still reads with the same quirky humor the original possesses without sounding corny, clichéd or worse). That’s what I’ve been up to. Each of the items listed above deserves its own post but who knows when I’ll find the time.
The most important part is that with the breakneck pace and marathon hours we are down to less than 60 pages of trans/interp still to do. It would be nice to blow through and have it all done by now but we can only do it when Benka isn’t on the phone, running off to a meeting or distracted in ANY way. And, since her life makes tornado alley look like a quiet day in an empty bomb shelter, I take what ever time I get. On the days she isn’t available I use that time to work on the stories we’ve already covered. Which presents its own set of issues.
Right now I am working a bit on the Asia section and not feeling overly inspired I was flipping though my ipod for some non-distracting much that didn’t put me to sleep. And in a fit of desperate inspiration I clicked on the recording I have of Kayhan Kalhor’s Silent City recorded while I was at Tanglewood with Yo-Yo Ma and the Silk Road Project in the fall of ’06. (Some may remember this as the piece of music I run through my mind when playing golf and was pivotal in keeping me focused while competing in the club golf championship.) It’s a composition that has its roots deep in Persian traditional music and has totally set the mood for this part of the book. After listening it a couple of times (its 20 minutes long) my ipod started to play through New Impossibilities, the recent Silk Road Ensemble album. Talk about perfect. The music, the stories being shared (and access to the thousands of pictures she took during the trip) are a hell of an inspiration…
Back to work for me and in the meantime check out the photos I uploaded. The ones featuring big shaggy monster looking things – called Kurenti (the plural of Kurent) – were from the Kurentovanj parade I participated in on Sunday. Kurentovanj is the annual festival that happens in Ptuj (the oldest city in Slovenia). This is the regional equivalent to Carnival in South America or Mardi Gras in The Big Easy. It’s a celebration of the rites of spring and the Kurenti are supposed scare off the evil spirits and the winter. What an experience. In the parade there were several thousand people and hundreds and hundreds dressed as Kurenti. The only other way to be in that honored section of the parade (and walk with Benka) was to dress as a devil. So I did (even though I HATE dressing up in costume). I cant really describe the feeling.
As time allows I will tell you about my newest culinary addiction. Black oil. Its pumpkin seed oil that is still made by hand in a small region of Slovenia and southern Austria.
OOOOOOOOOHHHHH MMMYYYYYYyyyyyyYY WWWOOOOOOOORrrrrrrrRRDDD
On a plate it looks black and very viscous (like motor oil), as it thins out it has the most vivid almost iridescent green color. If poured into a glass and looked at like wine it has the color of rich burgundy. Its smell is somewhere between peanut and sesame (neither of which I am all that fond of) and its taste is warm and nutty and not sharp like some fresh olive oils. I could wax poetic about it for hours but alas Asia and Benka’s personal silk road is calling...

On your knees people...

2008-01-29T23:37:00.000-05:00

So we just got some very disturbing news. We have to deliver the final, final, final, proofed, perfected, layout checked file to the printer on march 17. What this means is I have lost an entire month of editing time. Basically I have to turn in my text on feb 17 for preview and last minute tinkering but all the major surgery should be done. C&@P, $# ! T, Oh my G-d…
We have only interpreted 125 pages and have just under 200 to go.80 of those 125 have been smoothed out but still are done….

Pray for me, send good vibes, light a candle, sacrifice a chicken, wish on star, whatever. I don’t care what you do just do something!!!!

Exaggeration

2008-01-28T20:58:00.000-05:00

Not something I have spent a lot of time thinking about with regard to language. Americans use it as a tool to make a point. It can be verbal, written, gestured, both over and under. We know what we mean and by using it, we make the assumption that the person or persons with whom we are communicating either knows us or the situation enough to tell the difference. Most of the time, in general conversation, there is even an element of humor inherent in its application, rarely malice, and almost never truth for its own sake. And everything floats along fine if we all are in on the meaning of the measure.
What happens if I am using inches and you are using centimeters. Not much. We will figure it out, laugh and keep going. If it reaches more epic proportions then you have an episode of I Love Lucy or Three’s Company. But still everyone is laughing.
Now think about it - one is being funny and the other is just trying to understand the words. Chaos, frustration and even anger.
Along the same lines as the adage “there is a little truth in every sarcasm”, we have gone back and forth about why we do it, what it really means and is it true.
When I say “everyone does that” or “nobody will understand this”, we know it isn’t necessarily true. There will “always” be someone, somewhere that does or doesn’t do what ever it is. But why do we “insist” on continuing to use such words. Even insist has the connotation of exaggeration. Because am I actually insisting, is it a habit or am I just being lazy.
Benka regularly asks why don’t you (the proverbial that is) just say what you mean? And for the most part, individually I think I do, but is my version of informal speech which many of my friend would contend is anything but relaxed still too peppered with inconsistencies?
Ok and with that question simmering away, here is the next. Who is responsible if there is a misunderstanding? Especially if we both have declared the yard/meter stick by which we measure. If you know I tend to exaggerate is it your responsibility to filter what you hear or is it mine to be more specific. And them I just being lazy by not being specific or are you being lazy for not trying to understand?

The Davos Question

2008-01-27T21:49:00.000-05:00

I feel very insulated here. Benka doesn’t have a television or radio and I don’t have time to listen to the BBC or other broadcasts and podcasts I usually absorb while driving this, that or the other place. While I feel a bit like inadvertent junkie without a fix, intellectually I don’t miss it. In the states, we are inundated with information. News, advertising, marketing, politics; its everywhere. So much so that we don’t even realize it. And as many messages as there are, there are voices decrying the harm so I am not going to add mine to that fray.
With all this quiet, I have extra mental space to a) do what I am here for without interruption and b) explore the differences and similarities between that which defines me and that which defines my friend.
While the unique and challenging task of trying to interpret a life story is hard enough, it takes on more dimension and depth when one takes into account the politicization of difference we both grew up with.
I lovingly refer to Benka as my little communist. She grew up here in Slovenia which was part of the former Yugoslavia (yes she did at one time drive a Yugo). Thinking back, I had no idea who Tito was or what Non-Aligned meant. In fact I don’t remember ever hearing those words in school, EVER. To my childhood self all communists were the same. All I knew “commie” was an insult and because of those commies, we would have to get under our desks for nuclear bomb drills at Botelle School. So here I sit with my little communist talking about childhood and we see so little difference. Intellectually it is easy to generalize about the such things but practically being able to consider and examine them is such a gift.
Anyway, back to the original reason for my post… The Davos Question. While looking something up on YouTube. I noticed a whole channel dedicated to answering this question. Yo-Yo Ma, Bono, Shimon Peres, Hamid Karzai, Michael Chertoff and countless other world leaders and average citizens from around the globe all weigh in. Keeping in mind all of the cultural, political and societal difference between us. I posed to the question to Benka as a way to show how similar we actually are.

The Question: What one thing do you think that countries, companies, or individuals must do to make the world a better place in 2008?

Her answer: Just be honest. It starts with being honest with oneself, and moves out from there. Being honest doesn’t mean being rude though. Be respectful. Assessing the actions of another doesn’t mean you are criticize the person, you are simply noting an action. If you truly believe something then stand behind your actions. Don’t hide in anonymity or cave to peer pressure.

If we all start with honesty which in and of itself costs NOTHING think how different situations would be - War zones, workplaces, politics and personal relationships.

What’s your answer?

Music

2008-01-25T11:42:00.000-05:00

Currently listening to Thea Gilmore and Two Loons for Tea. I put 'em on the ol' Ipod a while ago and breezed through on a playlist here and there. I liked them... but never had time to absorb them. Suffice it to say they fit well here in this little flat in Ljubljana Slovenia.
I should also mention that I have a rotation of friends Trina Hamlin, Edie Carey, Amy Speace, Sam Shaber, AK Healey and Nini Camps (among others) that just makes me smile. A real big all the way around my head smile... so if you are in the market for music check em all out.

go get your coffee 'cuz this one is long.

2008-01-25T09:44:00.000-05:00

Plugging away here. I know I still haven’t returned to finish up my description of my first weekend here but I’ll get back there I promise.

Time here is a weird thing. We get up early (6 or 7) and go to bed late (after midnight). I went outside for the first time in days on Wednesday to get my blood moving. I’m going to load a few picture from my walk t give you an idea. A few of the Julian Alps and a few of the gardens that seem to occupy much of the vacant spaces (a throw back to communism/socialism…you want a garden – find a plot and have one). It looks all quaint to see little old people tending their beets, cabbage and brussle sprouts. But the problem now is with land prices through the roof the owners want to reclaim their land and build housing. The “old guard” is not exactly in favor of this new capitalist movement and there is much friction. Slovenia has been independent for years and joined the EU a couple years back but the population is still split into 2 ideologies. ….OK enough political theory and discussion…

I started by wanting to explain why my posts are sporadic at best right now so let me get back to that.

As I said, we work really long days. And since many of you wanted to know how I was going to “translate” a book in a language I don’t speak, here’s the run down. I am in fact interpreting the book. We sit here side by side at the work table and she reads the words off the page of the Slovene version and translates them. But because of sentence structure differences, use of tense, relationship of time, conjugations (think Latin, Spanish, French etc), declensions and the like the sentences are rough and usually extraordinarily unclear. Add to that the differences in the way words are understood…you see where I am going…

Anyway - she does the word to word translation and while she is speaking, I start to juggle them around so they make sense in English. About 75% of each English sentence ends up containing different words than the corresponding Slovene one. In fact, it would be impossible to do an interlinear version because I’ve had to monkey with words, sentences, and even paragraphs. Cutting here, adding there etc. SO on and on we go like this and then when she other obligations such as speaking engagements, lectures, presentations, interviews and the like I sit here alone and edit. Reading through and juggling more. It’s also the first round of proofing. Punctuation, spelling (never trust spell check…her is spelled correctly but if I meant “here” then its not…) and grammar, again never trust Microsoft’s grammar check.

If I were to gauge my knowledge of grammar and composition, I think I learned a different one from the one MS Word uses. And I know reading this blog post isn’t going to be the best representation of my skills but I spend so much time remembering those lessons culled from my WEG&C (that’s Warner’s English Grammar and Composition for those of you unfamiliar) and John Crocker my 6th and 8th grade English teacher that when I don’t have to worry about run-on sentences, capitalization etc I’m going to give my brain a break.

If you saw the picture of the case of red bull, you will get an idea of the pace. And when you add to it someone like Benka who is driven and stubborn and determined to have the best possible end product it’s sort of like a marathon sprint. I explained it to my mom last night like this.. “its like having an old school drill screaming in your ear while simultaneously trying to listen to tumblers in the lock you are trying to pick in order to defuse the bomb tied around your wrists.” Sounds like an exaggeration but its not. -remind me to tell you about American as their use of exaggeration…

Award winning editor...

2008-01-20T18:46:00.000-05:00

So the author just came waltzing in to the kitchen with a copy of the certificate her website won last year. The competition was broken into two categories, commercial and small biz/personal and since I can't really ready it, she told me www.benkapulko.com won for 'Best Small Site'. I sort of remember her telling me that she'd won but didn't think much of it. Well that is until she put the certificate on the table and my name was on it too. Yep! Apparently my writing and editing the English language version of the site qualified me for the award too...woo hoo!!

Catch up part one

2008-01-15T22:47:00.001-05:00

Catch up Part 1 01/15/2008
1 Comments

So where to even begin…. I’ve been here for almost a week now and I can’t even believe it. I must get caught up recording the goings on or I’ll be too far behind and start forgetting details myself. Right now I am sitting at the authors kitchen table having just finished dinner (its 11:00 pm). I spent the day sorting out computer glitches and some remaining US details and the evening editing a number of press releases for the author's website. It’s a good/easy way to get back in the mindset of translation editing. Short, simple and yet 3 little ½ pagers still took 2 hours. Not to mention her phone is still ringing and sounds of urgent emails and texts arriving seem to be the accepted “white noise”.

So for my own sanity let me back up. I arrived late Thursday afternoon to a city completely enveloped in fog. The closer we go to the city center the shorter the visibility. After what seemed like 50 turns and shortcuts through alleys and parking lots I would have sworn we should have been in the same place we started. But no, in fact we pulled down a sidewalk/service way and there we were in front of her building. We unloaded my stuff and took it up to the flat which is on the first floor (but actually on the 2nd, yep I’m in Europe). There I met "the guy" who is also an old friend of the author's. Originally from Missouri, he was here on holiday from the UN in Liberia for a week. Oh the interesting people. (He was the 3rd musketeer for our “nationwide tour of Slovenia” but I’ll get to that in a minute.) After much giggling, and catching up (even though I’d talk to the author at least 2x a month I haven’t seen her in over 2 years) we headed out to dinner. Crossing the river, we made our way though an older part of town. Tucked between the bricks and cobblestones was an Italian restaurant that was decidedly larger than it appeared from the street and because we were there on the early side they fit us in. Slovene Champagne and tuna carpaccio to die for started us off and then a local red was paired with our main meal. (I let the author order as I could only make out a few things on the menu.) ***vegetarians and others with weak stomachs skip to the next paragraph*** the author's friend encouraged me to try his steak which was still amazing even after I learned it was horse meat. It was lean like buffalo and not at all gamy. I can’t believe I am saying this…Americans are missing out. Apparently there is a burger joint in town that only serves horse burgers and its one of the busiest lunch stands in town.

Friday had us up early as the author had a presentation at an elementary school in the southwestern part of the state. It was funny to see all these kids stare at her and whisper amongst themselves. In my limited Slovene I could make out them saying things along the lines of “is that really her” and “you talk to her, go ask her…”. The funnier part was how awed they were that there was and American with her. None of them would speak to me directly but many of the boys could be heard trying out their curse words and similar comments. After the show the kids crowded around trying to get an autograph. After everything was packed up we were asked to join them for lunch. Into the cafeteria we went, trays, lunch ladies boxed milk and all. I haven’t been in a caf like that since I was in elementary school. Not expecting much from the mystery meat, potatoes and salad I dutifully took my serving said hvala (thank you) and went to the teachers lounge to eat. Oh my word…the potatoes were real and the salad (which was just lettuce and corn) was amazing. No dressing or anything. Just plain good. After many hvalas all around and several of the teachers trying there English we got back on the road to Ljubljana. The rest of the day for me was a bust as jet lag hit and I was asleep at 3:30 in the afternoon. I woke up briefly for dinner and then was back down for the count. Tomorrow I will pick up with our “nationwide tour” from Ljubljana to Bled to Krumovic Croatia and back with 3 days at a “sauna world” spa in between.

Road signs

2008-01-14T00:12:00.001-05:00

Thanks for all the emails. I have just returned from a mini tour of the country ending up with 2.5 days at a thermal spa/sauna resort in the eastern part of the country. Even buzzed into Croatia.
Ready for sleep now as it's 12:12 am. As for the technical issues and questions I will address them in the morning and individually let folks know what to do....
In the mean time...how 'bout the road signs?!?

2008-01-11T11:52:00.000-05:00

So I had a 5.5 hour layover at Charles De Gaulle Airport in Paris before I flew out to Ljubljana so what does one do when you’ve already passed through security and a few hours to kill. Why, head into the city on the RER train and have a croissant on the banks of the Seine, then head over to Notre Dame. (I would have been pressing my luck to head to the Louvre or The Eiffel Tower so don’t ask.) Anyway after a 40 min train ride that cost 8,20 Euro I was on the Rue Saint Michelle strolling and eating and snapping photos. I must say I don’t think I have seen as much graffiti since NYC in the early 80’s.

3-2-1 contact

2008-01-09T16:56:00.000-05:00

I am sitting here at the airport with another 2 hours to kill. In an effort to allow ample time to get to the airport in Newark I’ve ended up with a whole lot of extra time on my hands. Josephine graciously agreed to drive me to the airport (thanks Jo) so I wouldn’t have to revisit yesterday stairway adventure. And, wonder of wonders, door to departure gate took no more than 1 hour and 30 minutes.
The drive alone included traversing Far Rockaway, crossing the Verrazano Bridge, Staten Island, the Goethals Bridge and even hitting the NJ Turnpike for a spell. When you add that to the potential lines at airline check-in and security I think I passed through some sort of time warp because if I tried to replicate the timing it would never happen. Not even if I went in the middle of the night. Then to top of the precision timing, the check-in and gate agents were pleasant and helpful and the guys at the TSA security check were actually smiling and joking around. Boy oh boy, I hope this is a harbinger of the good things to come.

Rant/Help

2008-01-08T23:57:00.000-05:00

I am sitting here in Far Rockaway watching the NH Primary results having a flashback to my last overseas foray. In 2004 I was sitting in this same room watching the Presidential election results. I won’t go into the specifics of my politics but at least this time I won’t be getting off the airplane asking for political asylum or invoking the Irish half of my dual citizenship.

But I digress.

As I said, I am here in Far Rockaway (which, for those of you not familiar with NYC geography, is out past JFK airport on the ocean. In order to get here I took a train to Grand Central Terminal (****trivia alert*** commuter trains come into the terminal as it’s the end of the line for them, subways stop at Grand Central Station as they pass through and continue on to the next stop) and then the A train out to Far Rock. Today’s adventure included negotiating at least a dozen sets of stairs and in all of my literal ups and downs I was offered help a grand total of 3 times. Now, before you start picturing some Barneys clad handsome professional of Nordic decent, stop right there. Each time the offer came from an extraordinarily petite woman, most likely on her way to or from one of her jobs who probably weighed about the same as my suitcases. Funny that.

With all the transplanted “southern gentlemen” and “etiquettely educated” ivy leaguers, not one looked up from a crackberry or WSJ to offer a hand. When I relayed this story to my sister she had a similar one. When she was pregnant and ready to burst the same demographic offered up countless subway seats while the aforementioned “gentlemen” never budged. So intent on keeping the seat they felt entitled to, these possessors of the XY pair would nearly stick their heads up their proverbial arses to prevent eye contact. It wasn’t that bad for me be but that may just be because my carry on was external???

More to the point, is this just a characteristic of the self involved New Yorker or does it extend beyond the 5 boroughs and “across the pond”. I guess I am about to find out!

Tick Tick Tick

2008-01-07T11:58:00.000-05:00

Today was supposed to be my last non-travel day before my trip but I with the amount of time spent in my car, I think I can safely check the "auto" section off the Planes, Trains and Automobiles travel checklist. With stops at the Post Office, bank(s), pharmacy, library, car wash, grocery store(s), unnamed Mega-Mart and Home Depot too bad I don't get frequent flier miles for the distance driven. I could probably qualify for another transcontinental round trip ticket.

I know, thats a bit of an overstatement. Tomorrow actually marks the start of the trip as I take the train to NYC to stay with my sister so I have an easier time getting to Newark on Wednesday. In truth it's not so much for the travel convenience as to see my nephew before I leave. I will be missing his second birthday and I don't want to incur the wrath of my (just passed the Sargent's exam) NY PD employed sister! Who says I don't have my priorities straight!

Tonight is going to be a quiet night here in Norfolk and then it off on "Babs' Big Adventure

Brussel Sprouts..."The Do Over"

2007-11-04T19:28:00.002-05:00

Brussel sprouts. Not a foodstuff I ever considered writing about, let alone eating. Now, stop me if you’ve heard this one before…actually since this is my story indulge me. Like so many people, as far as I was concerned brussel sprouts were miniature heads of cabbage (which incedently I didn’t like either until eating it as coleslaw on pulled pork barbecue sandwiches while living in North Carolina…a topic for another post I fear).

Brussel sprouts, like cabbage and creamed onions, were loved by my mother and both grandmothers. All were cooked for holiday meals, (though I use “cooked” loosely in reference to the onions in that they were simply removed from the freezer, nuked in the microwave and served with a watery butter and cream sauce) and the results were bitter, soggy and generally “yucky” to my childhood palette. I also admit to being influenced by the prevailing sentiment of my age group. Those who categorically “hate brussel sprouts”. The idea of them had become far worse than the reality of them. Excluding my reintroduction or more aptly the “do-over” introduction of 2 weeks ago, I cannot remember the last time I actually ate a brussel sprout.

Which brings me to the “do-over”…

Two weeks ago, my mother and I made our usual Saturday morning rounds before heading out of town for the day. The dump - excuse me “transfer station” - bank and post office, and a most recent addition, the farm stand. This summer our little NW corner hamlet started sponsoring a monthly farmers market, as I’m sure you can imagine it was populated with the all the usual suspects. One of the regular marketers, Chubby Bunny Farm, from neighboring Falls Village has taking to setting up their stall on the off Saturdays (of which this was one) in our town center. Eager to get on with our appointed tasks we stopped to pick up “just a few potatoes and leeks” so mom could make some soup. Confronted with bins and bags of amazing fall produce ranging from salad greens and the aforementioned leeks to eggplant, daikon and carrots…oh the carrots…mom and I proceeded to fill several large plastic shopping bags (which we brought with us … recycle darn it!!!). When all was said and done, Dan (the owner of the farm) tallied up our take. We had a veritable root cellar in the back of the car that cost us barely 40 bucks. I couldn’t believe my ears. Convinced it should have been double, by the looks of the car, I was even more surprised when Dan informed us this was the most anyone had ever spent at one time. Happy for the business, he offered us a large spear of brussel sprouts, still on the stalk. Which, now that I think about it was the point of the post.

So the brussel sprouts. Thanks, we said, slid them in the bag and off we went. Me thinking, mom will really enjoy them and maybe I’ll give them a try. Everything else from Dan had been spectacular, but I had reservations. Having not the slightest intention of messing with them, they sat on the counter for several days, still attached to the stalk and dirty from the field. Finally nearing the end of the week I walked into the kitchen and noticed the stalk was missing from its corner. I also noticed that mom seemed very industrious as she bustled around the kitchen. “What shall we do with these brussel sprouts?” she mused mostly to herself as she flipped through several cookbooks stacked on the kitchen counter. When I returned to the kitchen a little while later, there were several pots and pans on the stove and the smell of garlic being sautéed in the olive oil. Mom set a full plate down on the table and looked at me expectantly. Not one to disobey my mother, I picked up one of the little green half domes and popped in my mouth, beer at the ready to wash it down, if necessary. I was surprised to find that mom had steamed them and then sautéed the cut side in the garlic and oil until they were crispy and golden in color. The mix of sweet and nutty, smooth and crunchy, all in one little bite was delightful. The pile on the plate disappeared in a matter of minutes and before I even knew what I was asking, I heard myself say, “Mom, may I have some more brussel sprouts please”? Who knew those little green globes that can illicit such revulsion, could be so downright delectable. Without flavor additions or modifications no less. Needless to say, the conversation for the rest of the meal revolved around recipes for our tasty little emeralds. After several tasting rounds, we decided that brussel sprouts this fresh need very little help. Moreover, credit here of course goes to Dan and Tracy at Chubby Bunny. Who consistently prove that sustainable organic agriculture produces the best stuff. If one is willing to trust the farmer and try, opportunities abound. I know I sound like I am on the “buy local” or “100 mile” band wagon but fact is, it makes sense. Given the option wouldn’t you rather know where what you are eating come from?

Mmmm pizzelles!

2006-12-23T12:25:00.000-05:00

So I recently ranted about the Waltz of the Crappy (Christmas) Cookies and I know my tone really didn’t reflect the feeling of the holiday but I’m not without seasonally appropriate good tidings. I just finished making a holiday confection that always puts a smile on my face and is nearly synonymous with Christmas at least to my palate. What I am referring to is the visually delicate yet flavorful Italian waffle cookie known as the Pizzelle. These treats have been a part of our family tradition since my Italophile aunt purchased a Pizzelle iron for my Grandmother nearly 40 years ago.
Perhaps it’s the snowflake like look of the cookie with its dusting of powdered sugar that make it the ideal holiday treat. Or perhaps it’s just another situation like “the birthday cake” where a full-blown tradition grew out of an unintentional habit. Either way a stack of these on a plate makes a statement.
I have to mention a revision to the recipe that transforms these from avoidable (in my book) to irresistible. The traditional recipe calls for anise and no offense to anise aficionados but it’s not a flavor I really like in my baking. Orange sure, Almond ok, Vanilla without a doubt, but anise, not so much. Actually, lets be honest, not at all. The index card in Nanny’s green recipe box (one of 2 boxes, one green, the other grey) that sat on the shelf in the pantry at the old house and then in the next to the harvest gold Tupperware 12 oz tumblers at the new one (new being a relative term it that she hasn’t lived in the new house in over 10 years) called for Cardamom and Nutmeg. Over the years I have seen other modifications that include orange, lemon and chocolate but never Cardamom and Nutmeg. And let me tell you its brilliant.
If you are unfamiliar with the Pizzelle let me take a moment to brief you on its finer points. These cookies are made on an iron (think waffle not clothes) that either has its own heat source (plugged in) or over a separate source like a stove burner. A tablespoon of the thick batter is placed at the center of both pattern eyes, the top half of the iron is lowered into place and after about 30 seconds the cookie is removed to receive its powdered sugar. As they come of the iron they are still a bit pliable and sampling yields an unsatisfying semi chewy experience. As they cool and dry out they inhabit a marvelous not quite brittle mid point between crunchy and crumbly . They really defy explicit definition because they are at once light and not too sweet yet satisfying and sturdy enough to stand up to tea, coffee, port or other after dinner libation.

2 sticks butter (melted and cooled)
1 cup sugar
3 eggs
1 tbsp vanilla
2 cups flour
1 tbsp baking soda
1 tsp cardamom
1 ½ tsp nutmeg

Mix eggs at medium high speed until light and lemon colored. Slowly add melted and cooled butter. Add vanilla and sugar and mix thoroughly. Sift together flour, soda, cardamom and nutmeg. Add flour mixture slowly until all is incorporated. Place tbsp of batter on heated iron, close lid count to 25 remove and dust with powdered sugar. Depending upon the calibration of the machine or stove you may need to adjust the time accordingly.

I don’t want to try your stupid cookie*.

2006-12-12T17:05:00.000-05:00

With the holidays fast approaching, it seems the topic of holiday cookies* can’t be avoided. It’s everywhere you look. Television, yep, every anchor and host is happy to share his or her family favorite. Over at the food network they will be happy to show you how to do it faster, easier or in mass production if you so desire. And the magazines, they suck you in with the perfectly styled technicolor pictures that took an expertly trained staff days to make, decorate, arrange and light. All in an attempt to look effortless and don’t say it, easy.
(*I say cookies but what I mean is any holiday related sweet or treat.)

And, to be honest I have mixed feelings about the whole thing. I like cookies, I really do. But the fact of the matter is I am a cookie snob. There are certain cookies I really really like and there are others that even if they were the last edible crumbs on Earth I would leave them sitting on the counter. Now having cookie favorites is not such a bad thing but around the holidays when our nearest and dearest decide to have a go at that new recipe, I find myself in a pickle. I don’t want to try your stupid cookie. I want the ones I know and like. I mean there are only so many calories to go around and I am not going to waste them on your rum ball or ginger snap or really dry over mixed cardboard like sugar cookie. Give me a snickerdoodle please. Now there is something to be said for change and experience and I respect that, but…

Ok so that wasn’t the best way to start out a holiday themed post about cookies but its how I feel about the situation. Over the next few weeks as we run up on Christmas there are a few tasks that I must tackle or I won’t be allowed home for the holidays. First and foremost, there’s the toffee (not a cookie I know, but thanks to the disclaimer it falls under the “sweets” heading), then the Pizzelles, the aforementioned Snickerdoodle and finally the Forgotten Cookies. (I will get to the P’s S’s and FC’s at a later date.)

The funny thing about this toffee is that in fact it was a late addition to our family tradition. Here I just spent 375 +/- words stating how I feel about last minute cast changes to the holiday stage but truthfully this is the understudy that seriously outperformed the star. Not really the point but stay with me.

A couple of years ago I came across this recipe in an old cookbook, a cookbook filled with instructions for aspics and gelatin molds and casseroles. Pretty un-redeeming if you are looking for inspiring pictures and beautiful recipes, but priceless if what you seek is a laugh at the expense of American culinary landscape and the state of homemaking in the 40’s and 50’s. But I digress. Tucked in those disintegrating pages was a recipe weighing in at 4 ingredients that changed the face (or more aptly the waistline) of Christmas at our house. What started out as a personal challenge to overcome my fear of hot sugar is now an institution. Really simple in its content and even execution the sum here is truly greater then its parts.

When armed with a heavy bottomed vessel, preferably a 2-3 quart stainless number, a digital insta-read thermometer (I’ve tried all manner of candy specific ones and after 3 unfortunate incidents decided I’d do better with something that didn’t introduce very thin glass to molten liquid) and an uninterrupted hour success is not only possible but likely.

Butter Toffee

2 sticks salted butter

1 cup white sugar

3 tbsp water

1 tbsp corn syrup

Before I proceed I’d like to make mention of the original directions which read:
Combine over medium heat to a hard crack. Pour out into pan. Let cool.

Ok then, for those who are interested or just sugar phobic, I have included slightly more detailed instructions regarding this process. They reflect my experience and may be at odds with yours but I haven’t made a bad batch since the original test runs. And, because sugar goes from almost done to burnt in the time it takes to find a cookie sheet its best to prepare said sheet ahead and set it aside.

Line a regular sized cookie sheet or other sided pan with foil and set aside.

Melt the butter over low heat, add sugar, water and corn syrup. Raise temp to a medium and stir. The mixture will start as a loose sauce looking thing. As the general temperature raises the mix will come together and look more like foam. It is important to keep stirring, as the mixture can and will scorch. Keep stirring. The molten yet frothy mix will begin turning golden keep stirring. (Be careful as sugar burns are the worst) Keep an eye on the temp. Once it moves past 240 degrees things happen quickly. Your target here is 290-300 degrees. Feel free to pull it off direct heat for a few seconds to check the temp. Keep stirring. The color at this point will be closer to a rich amber tan. Its almost done. Keep stirring. When the temp hits 288 to 290 pull it off the stove and pour in the prepared pan. Let cool at room temp. When it has cooled break up into bite sized pieces. Feel free to leave it naked or dip in (melted) chocolate before you serve.

Fish Cozys

2006-09-04T08:36:00.000-05:00

This recipe is one of my favorites. Its the kind that suits the way I cook. Meaning its seasonal, making the most of whats in the garden or at the farmers market, and it doesnt demand precision with time or process. If I have to spend to much time fussing with the recipe or I have to have special ingredients on hand then I usually dont bother.

Flexibility or substitutions can be threatening to some because there is then more room to fail. In this case the recipe is so simple that its hard to mess up. Its sort of like improv. If you know where you are trying to go and what you have to work with the results cant be bad.

Below I have listed the base recipe I use. I love it as it appears but I also know that there are so many varietions that can be made. I have then noted places where additions, substitutions or other changes can be made. I really recomend that you look at this recipe and see it as both a complete recipe and as a base for experimentation if you are so inclined.

Fish Pockets
serves: 4
difficulty: easy
time: 15 - 20 min prep time
20 min cook time

Ingredients:

1 lb flounder (or other mild white fish)
1 medium zucchini
1 medium squash
2 medium tomatos.

I love fresh herbs! I grow them in pots in my garden and even take them home with me in the summer. This is one area where you cant scrimp! DO NOT even think of using dried herbs. If you dont grow your own, go to the farmers market or grocery store and get the fresh stuff its worth it. Below I have listed the total amount of herbs you will need and then a list of ones I use. Sometimes the basil is better than the oregano or the thyme is not growing so well so instead of exact measurements I look for a total amout of chopped herbs dont worry about the exact proportion.

1 1/2 cups fresh medium to fine chopped herbs
basil
oregano
thyme
chives
Salt and pepper
1 cup extra virgin olive oil

Preheat oven to 375

Pour oil into medium bowl and add herbs and several shakes or grinds of salt and pepper. Use whisk (or fork or spoon) and mix up. (You are infusing the oil with the flavors of the herbs so dont be gentle. If you have a food processor or blender and you dont mind a few extra dishes go ahead and throw the mix and pulse for 30-40 seconds. If not the manual method works fine.) Set aside.

Clean and slice veggies. Thin even slices are the best. Feel free to cut the squash and zucchini in half lengthwise and then slice as it will prevent runaways. Same goes for the tomatos.

You will be making 2 equal packet so remember to use only half the total ingredients per package. (I make two piles of veggies so I know what I have to work with.)
Slice off 4 pieces of aluminium foil about 12 -14 inches in length.
Using one piece at a time start with the shiny side up. Imagine a rectange that runs about 2-3 inches inside the edges of your foil. Dont go outside this line as you will need that margin to fold up the packet.
Spoon some of the oil mixture into the inside rectangle.
Layer 1/4 of the total squash and zucchini onto the foil then a thin layer of tomatos and then 1/2 of the fish.
Add some more of the oil mixture then tomatos and another 1/4 of the zucchini and squash.
Sprinkle with a little more salt and pepper.
Take another sheet of foil dull side up and lay it on top of of the veggies.
Fold 1/4 inch of the foil over once on all 4 sides. Repeat all the way around 3 more times.
Repeat all the steps for the second package.
Put the pockets in the oven for 20-25 minutes
Pull out of the oven. Watch the steam when opening the packets.

Serve.

breakfast

2005-11-12T14:50:00.000-05:00

This time last year (give or take a day) I made a very wise decision. I got up for breakfast. Doesn’t seem like a big deal right? Let me put it in perspective for you. In the 48 hours prior to said breakfast I flew from NC to NYC. Met up with my mother and sister, dropped off one set of bags, picked up another, made my way back to the airport, headed off to Belfast via London, disembarked in Belfast, packed up the rental car and drove up the Antrim coast for the first leg of our combination pilgrimage to the grand-maternal homestead and 30th birthday trip for Lala.

Needless to say we were all pretty tired and a hotel breakfast wasn’t on the top of our “to do” list. When the morning hostess at the desk called at 10:05 to see if “the American travelers” were coming down for breakfast we were all more than a little surprised if not a bit guilty. Thinking quickly (we did need to eat, dinner at the hotel the night before had been great, the meal price was included in the room charge, oh and they were holding the buffet open for us) we replied “yes of course”, apologized for being late and bustled down to the dining room. Sheepishly we picked up “tasting portions” of a few things on the table and then sat down. What happen next couldn’t have been scripted any better…

Quietly at first we nibbled and poked at the things on our plates. One bite, two, three…then a few indistinguishable sounds and then as if someone disabled the mute control… “here try this”, “did you try the ham?”, “what is this cereal”,” have you had some of this cheese”, “what is this fried potato-y bread thing” and several refrains of “could we get some more tea please”. It was unbelievable. We consider ourselves to have well developed palettes and able to appreciate a good meal when we find one but to think we almost missed this.

After we were through stuffing ourselves (and our pockets to be honest) we pulled the hostess aside to find out more specifically we had just eaten. The cereal was a muesli brand called Alpen, the cheese and eggs were local, the ham from nearby Ballymoney and the potato things we came to learn were called Potato Farls. Even thinking about it now makes my mouth water.

From that moment on, the pursuit of “hot breakfast” was added to the top of our ongoing “to do list”. Definitely no more skipping breakfast for us! Its funny, that trip with all its expectations, planning, and now memories was so influenced by the question “are you coming down to breakfast?” I still start my day with a good strong “cupa” Irish Breakfast Tea. Alpen is always in my cupboard. And as far as potatoes are concerned, the ones they grow in Ireland DO NOT compare with any I have. And this statement from one whos other set of grand parental roots are firmly planted in Maine potato country!

Potato Farls:
Also known as potato cake or potato bread. We learned it is an important - indeed essential - constituent of the “hot breakfast” or Ulster Fry as it’s known. Alongside bacon, egg, and sausage, the incomparable potato farl.
The recipe calls for cooked, mashed potatoes. These should be freshly boiled, or, better still, steamed and passed through a food mill, and used warm.

2 lb/ 1 kg/ 2 cups mashed potatoes
4 oz/ 125 g/ 1 cup plain flour
2 tbsp butter
salt

Melt the butter and mix into the potatoes with the salt. Work in the flour quickly but thoroughly and knead lightly. Divide in two and roll out each half on a floured board to form a circle about the size of a large dinner plate. Cut in quarters (farls) and cook for about 3 minutes on each side in a heavy frying pan in a little bacon fat or butter.

Happy Birthday Lala

2005-11-03T23:09:00.001-05:00

I am a sucker for tradition. No, not the kind that say girls wear pink and boys wear blue or, some things are a woman's job and others a man's. What I am talking about is more personal, familial even. For instance, today is my sister’s birthday. She’s 31 to be exact. In our family, as in many I’m sure, there's a race to be the first to call the birthday girl. This is not about setting the alarm really early and ringing at an ungodly hour. It’s more about timing. Placing the call at just the right moment so as to not actually wake the person in question, just edge out other family members and sing a horribly out of tune rendition of Happy Birthday To You. Then, revel in the speed of time and how different (or not) we feel. More such traditions in our family circle around food or eating. Who sits where at the kitchen table, what’s served for a holiday meal, that only mom can make the mashed potatoes and why starting Christmas morning with a nice stream of mimosas is perfect, etc.

Another such tradition has to do with cake, more specifically Nanny’s 22 minute cake. (Though I have to give credit where it's due. The original name on the recipe is Mina - pronounced myknee - a neighbor of my grandmother’s for 40 + years.) But that’s beside the point. The very idea of this cake has reached epic proportions in my brain. This is the cake I have enjoyed at virtually every birthday. For years it was baked for me by my Grandmother and after she died I began to bake it for myself. This isn’t one of those all purpose cakes that you make for every occasion, though it's easy enough to be. As a kid I wanted my grandmother to make it all the time and now, even though I am the one that controls the recipe, I still only make it a few times a year and then only for birthdays.

It is a chocolate cake. But, I have to say it’s of a different species than most chocolate cakes. It is not in the "flourless torte" family nor is it in the "super rich, super sweet, nearly black" variety. And, I won’t even give the boxed type more mention than this sentence. It has a brownie quality to it, yet is in no way one. As moist on the 3rd or 4th day as it was on the 1st.

As best I can tell the magic of this cake comes from its base ingredients, cocoa, margarine and vegetable shortening. Forget what you have learned about butter and high quality European chocolate. This cake is cheap, easy and has stood the test of time.

One curious thing about this recipe card - there’s another recipe on the back. In itself, not a big deal. It’s a recipe for frosting. So what. The fascinating part is that in the history of this cake I don’t think that frosting has ever been made for that cake. To tell you the truth, I don’t even know what kind of frosting it is. I have looked at that card a thousand times have occasionally paused to wonder why the cake and frosting were never paired. But that’s where the wondering stopped. Never would or could I think of making this cake without its companion. I feel like I would be a traitor or guilty of treason or something. No, I stick to the frosting that at some point my grandmother decided was better (and she was right even though I have no point of comparison). A simple cream cheese frosting sweetened with some 10x sugar and a bit of vanilla. Its warm ivory color and silky smooth texture make it the perfect compliment to the rich chestnut colored wonder that is “The Birthday Cake”

THE CAKE:

2 cups flour
2 cups sugar
1 cup water
2 eggs
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 cup shortening
1 stick margarine
1/2 cup cocoa powder
1/2 cup buttermilk
1 tsp vanilla

Put into mixing bowl: flour and sugar.
In saucepan: Bring to boil water, shortening, margarine and cocoa powder. Pour into dry mixture and blend. Add eggs, buttermilk, soda and vanilla. Pour into pan and bake.
22 minutes at 400 degrees or until done. Do not over bake!

*** we have always made this cake as a single layer cake in a 9 x 11 enamel pan. 30+ years and never a problem. I have never made it any other pan so times may vary. I do however know this cake layers great! It holds up to enormous weight and very unforgiving conditions without issue!

FROSTING:
1/2 stick margarine
3 oz cream cheese
1/2 lb confectioners sugar
1/2 tbsp vanilla

Cream margarine, creamcheese and sugar. Add vanilla. Whip .
Frost cake when cooled.

rewind

2005-07-17T13:17:00.000-05:00

I know I started off a bit backwards, posting an anecdote straight away with nary a reason or explanation from me, about me, my blog or anything else for that matter. And that is not like me. I like to be informed and I like those around me to be informed. If everyone is on the same page then it seems conversations flow more smoothly and it’s easier to be included.

So let me back up and start from somewhere near the beginning. Like many active in the food blogosphere there are a few common starting points. Keeping in touch with people in far off places, a centralized place for recipes to minimize the panicked phone calls about quantity or temp, a desire to be a food/cookbook writer or perhaps editor and then there is always the inflated ego (ok so much with food bloggers but frightfully true in the greater milieu). And to some extent these are all true for me (with the exception of the ego thing), but the biggest motivation for me is format and accessibility. I know, I know, such an anticlimactic answer. The fact of the matter is I love to write but the organizational side of my brain tends to get in the way of the creative side and if the situation isn’t efficient or doesn’t make sense I end up with an enormous case of writers block. Blogging has provided a solution. Through this format I can keep track of the book ideas, share the recipes and keep in touch all in the same place. I can access notes or entries from any computer and silly little things such as the date stamp set my mind at ease. And, heck why not make it public. There is a bit of voyeur in most (all) of us and its fun and interesting to hear what other people are doing. That how this how blog thing started anyway. I have something to say and you can read it you want. That said, I am going to stop. It’s a short step from here to my soap box about prepackaged media, dumbing down to the lowest common denominator and abundance of bad news. I ask you why all that when there are people out their plugging away at a life filled with small pleasures such as the sweetest corn grown, vine ripened tomatoes picked fresh and still warm because of the sun and as I waiting to enjoy, fresh organic blueberries, as big around as a nickel and even some the size of a quarter, that really define the taste of home…

corn

2005-07-14T15:16:00.000-05:00

There is this little farm about five minutes down the road from our house. As is typical for many of the farms in this area they have a farm stand. This place is not one of those stands that has everything from baked goods to meats and gifts to go along with the produce. This is simply a converted 2 bay garage with dirt floors containing roughly constructed bins to hold the bounty and an ancient scale with one of those big dial faces that you wouldn't dare challange because even if they overcharged you for several pounds its worth it. When you can look out see where the food came from, see where the money is going and it tastes, oh it tastes... well who's going to dicker over that. Anyway, the garage is sanwiched between the road and the corn fields and the tomato hut. You know one of those things that looks like a bunch of hula hoops cut in half with cloudy plastic covering some sort of vegetable. In this case its tomates. The weather warms up quite slowly here and if you want field ripened tomatos they need a bit of a head start. But I digress.
This little stand belongs to the Ford family. Now, there is a sign out front wedged betweent the road and the skid of a driveway that has been there for as long as I can remember bearing a none to modest statement. Sort of like a tag line you could say. "The sweetest corn grown". Like the call and response at the white church on the green in the center of town, when someone mentions Ford's corn the response comes back, straight from that sign... "the sweetest corn grown.
Its quite a thought, the sweetest corn grown. I'm pretty sure no one has check this fact. I dont even know how one would go about such a task. What I do know is that no one disputes it. Perhaps it one of those characteristics of small town life. "Say what you want, no one's going to challange you. And for that matter we'll decide for ourselves. But we still wont call you on it." And really who cares. I'll tell you this. You will never be disapointed with Ford's corn. We love it so much that a tradition grew up around it many, many years back. We watch for it wait for it and when that small sign springs up hearlding "butter and sugar" all bets are off. The dinner menu, what ever it is is shifted to another night and corn becomes the dish du jor. Thats it. Just corn. No sides, no protein, no nothing. Just corn. As many ears as one can eat. Just corn.
So each time I drive by Ford's Farm on the way to Canaan I automaticly glance over where the sign will soon appear. Watching, waiting, anticipating, "the sweetest corn grown".