Trivial pursuits. April 17, 2009
Posted by ourfriendben in Ben Franklin, chickens, critters, gardening, homesteading, recipes, wit and wisdom.Tags: blog humor, garden quiz, garden trivia
7 comments
Yesterday, Nancy Bond of Soliloquy (http://nancybond.wordpress.com/) posted a trivia quiz, “Trivia from the Garden.” Of course, like everybody, our friend Ben finds trivia quizzes irresistible—at least if I know anything about the topic. (I’m one of those people who can’t resist those free online IQ tests, either.) I was so inspired by Nancy’s quiz that I thought we should have one here at Poor Richard’s Almanac, too. The question was, on what? Our friend Ben called an emergency session of our blogging consortium—myself, Silence Dogood, and Richard Saunders—to try to come up with a good topic.
After a few false starts (Silence: “Here’s a good one—Why our friend Ben is delusional: a. He keeps having conversations with Ben Franklin; b. He thinks he’s going to win a MacArthur fellowship; c. All of the above”) , our friend Ben managed to restore order (“Look, Silence, isn’t that a stinkbug on the wall right next to your head?” “AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!”) and the meeting got down to the business at hand. Here’s how it went:
Silence: How about trivia related to lawn and garden chores, like how many calories do you burn if you rake leaves for an hour or what’s the most widespread weed in the U.S.?
Richard, OFB: Uh…
Silence: Okay, forget I said anything. Shut up, Ben!
Richard: We could do a trivia quiz on gardening during the time of the Founding Fathers, especially since George Washington and Thomas Jefferson were such passionate gardeners.
Silence, OFB: That’s not a bad idea!
Silence: Or how about an herb quiz? There are so many fascinating things about herbs, and it would be fun to do a quiz about herb lore and uses and see if anybody remembered all the old-time wisdom and modern uses, not to mention some pretty bizarre beliefs about herbs. There’s some pretty scandalous stuff about some of those old herbalists, too.
Richard, OFB: Yes, that could be fun!
OFB: Kate over at The Manic Gardener (www.themanicgardener.com) is having a contest about compost. Maybe we could do a compost-themed quiz!
Silence: Uh, Ben, Kate is actually offering prizes for her contest winners. I don’t think we should go there.
OFB: So, what’s your point? People want prizes? How about this: Everyone who gets all our trivia questions right can win a no-expenses-paid trip to Hawk’s Haven, where they can have a fabulous, glamorous time turning the compost in our bins, shoveling out the chicken yard, pruning all our rosebushes…
Silence, Richard: BEN…
OFB: Uh, guess not. What about a trivia quiz on garden seed companies and plant entrepreneurs in America? From Bartram’s Garden and M’Mahon to today’s seed pioneers, like the Seed Saver’s Exchange and Jere Gettle of Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds, there’s a lot of fascinating stuff we could talk about. What was Luther Burbank’s biggest mistake? What was W. Atlee Burpee’s real name? Who was Johnny Appleseed?
Richard, Silence: Hmmm, that sounds good, too.
Richard: Or what about a backyard wildlife quiz? There are so many little-known facts about who’s really holing up in your backyard and what they’re doing there.
Silence: Like bears in suburban developments. Or raccoons on city balconies.
OFB: Or stinkbugs in rural cottages.
Silence: AAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!
Richard, hastily interrupting: How about a hot pepper trivia quiz? Between Scoville units and the hottest pepper and what’s the difference in flavor and where peppers are grown and what are some of the least-expected uses for hot peppers, I’ll bet we could put together a pretty good quiz.
Silence, OFB: Hmmm. That’s pretty one-dimensional.
Richard: But people are obsessed with hot peppers!
Silence: Some people.
Richard: Uh…
Silence: That gives me an idea, though: What about the weirdest recipes based on common vegetables?
OFB: Where does the “quiz” part come in?
Silence: I’d make up some, and people would have to guess which ones were real.
OFB: What do you all think of a chicken trivia quiz?
Richard: (coughs)
Silence: “Who was the real Colonel Sanders?” “What cult guitarist performs with a KFC bucket on his head?”
OFB: Come on, guys! Chickens are interesting!
Silence (rolls eyes, slaps forehead, sighs dramatically): We think chickens are interesting, Ben. I’m not sure you’d get an overwhelming response to that one, though.
Richard: Uh, she has a point.
OFB: So what’s it going to be?
Silence: Why don’t we just ask?
OFB, Richard: Say what?
Silence: Ask our readers, dimwits! Ask them if they’d like to take a trivia quiz on lawn and garden chores, Colonial gardening, herbs, compost, seed companies and entrepreneurs, backyard wildlife, hot peppers, weird vegetables, or chickens?
OFB, Richard: Oh.
Silence: You mean, D’oh.
OFB: Grrrrrrrrr.
So, okay, all, if you want us to post a trivia quiz here at Poor Richard’s Almanac, it’s time to vote for the one you’d most enjoy. Votes will be tallied, and we promise to listen to what you all have to say! [Silence: I know they're going to go for the herbs or weird recipes. Richard: Hot peppers or Colonial gardening! OFB: Chickens!!!] No, really we will. So let us hear from you! We’re standing by awaiting your call.
A very special visitor. April 16, 2009
Posted by ourfriendben in critters, homesteading, wit and wisdom.Tags: Eastern towhee, rufous-sided towhee, towhee
11 comments
There are birds that everybody loves: cardinals, bluebirds, goldfinches, hummingbirds. There are birds that some of us love, some of us revere, and others fear: eagles, hawks, owls, falcons. There are birds that people either love or hate: the wild geese, vultures, pigeons, grackles. And then there are the birds that most people don’t pay much attention to, but that somehow work their way into your particular heart and stay there. For our friend and fellow blog contributor Richard Saunders, it’s the junco. For our friend Ben, it’s the towhee.
Our friend Ben’s love affair with towhees began back in my Nashville childhood. Eastern towhees (formerly the rufous-sided towhee, a far more descriptive name) would arrive in our yard about the same time as the robins. And you might initially mistake one for a robin, because what you see at first is a dark-backed bird with a red breast. But a closer look shows you the difference: Where the robin is simply brown and red, a male towhee is a dapper fellow, with a black back, red sides, and a white belly. (Females have brown backs, red sides, and white bellies.) The towhee’s tail also sports white racing stripes down each side underneath, an identifying mark when in flight.
The natty towhee is also smaller than a robin, at 7 1/2 inches to the robin’s 10 inches. But what it lacks in stature in makes up for in nomenclature: The towhee’s genus name is Pipilo, while the poor robin’s is Turdus. (Our friend Ben thinks the robins should bring a class action against ornithological taxonomists.)
But it’s not just the towhees’ handsome appearance that endeared them to our friend Ben. They also have the most distinctive and humorous feeding behavior. Towhees search for food in leaf litter, sort of an issue when you don’t have hands or garden forks to turn the litter for you so you can see what’s hiding in there. To compensate, the towhees use their feet as mini-garden forks: Keeping both feet together, they do a funny little backwards hop while pulling a layer of litter back with their claws. As they feed, they repeat this little dance over and over. It’s a lot of fun to watch.
When we moved to Pennsylvania, our friend Ben was devastated to discover that there were no towhees among the many avian visitors to Hawk’s Haven, the rural cottage home Silence Dogood and I share. Apparently there had been towhees in the area at one time, but Northeastern populations had declined by a dreadful 90% before our arrival in the area. And so year followed towhee-less year.
Until today. Our friend Ben was looking into the backyard, idly scanning the daffodils through the fog, when I saw a smallish robin in front of our firepit. We’ve had lots of robins for about a month now, so it took me a moment to actually register what I was seeing. This robin was not only small, but it was dark. Its back was black, not brown. And—yes!!!—there was its white belly under the red sides. Then, as if to prove its identity beyond doubt, it began to hop backwards.
Our friend Ben hopes that it brought a mate along, and that they’re setting up house here at Hawk’s Haven. I hope I get to see towhees all season, and every season hereafter. But whether I do or not, today was a banner day. The towhees are back!!!
Oops, almost forgot. For those who might be wondering what Silence’s favorite bird is, I confess, I’ve never asked her. But I suspect it’s the stinkbug. (Just kidding, Silence! Ow! Owwww!!!!)
The cure for Post-Easter Stress Disorder. April 15, 2009
Posted by ourfriendben in recipes, wit and wisdom.Tags: hardboiled eggs, pickled eggs, recipes for hardboiled eggs, red beet eggs, scalloped eggs
6 comments
Silence Dogood here. Aunt Debbi of Aunt Debbi’s Garden fame (http://auntdebbisgarden.blogspot.com/) has a problem, and maybe you can relate. She and the kids dyed hard-boiled eggs for Easter. Lots of hard-boiled eggs. And now they need to eat them. But there are only so many hard-boiled eggs a body, and especially a young body, can eat. What to make? Yikes!
Trying to deal with the glut of hard-boiled eggs before they go bad results in the dreaded Post-Easter Stress Disorder (PESD). Aunt Debbi came up with some ingenious solutions in her post “Eggs, They Are Everywhere.” Then she opened the floor for additional ideas. I got right on it.
Egg salad and deviled eggs are of course two things that leap to mind. You’ll find my own recipe for “Silence’s Bedeviled Eggs” and my friend Delilah’s great, easy egg salad recipe by searching for my earlier post “Some eggcellent picnic fare.” Our part of Pennsylvania is regionally famous for that Pennsylvania Dutch classic, Red Beet Eggs. But I knew there had to be more. So of course I turned to my massive cookbook collection for help. I couldn’t believe what I turned up!
The first two recipes are from Marion Cunningham’s The Breakfast Book (Knopf, 1987). Marion swears they’re both good. I can see the Scalloped Eggs, but oh my, those Goldenrod Eggs sound like a lot of work for a very weird result. But I’ll let you judge for yourselves:
Scalloped Eggs
8 tablespoons (1 stick) butter
3 cups bread crumbs
8 hard-boiled eggs, sliced
Salt and pepper to taste
1/2 teaspoon freshly grated (or ground) nutmeg
1 1/2 cups milk
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. Butter a round, shallow baking dish; a 9- or 10-inch round glass pie plate would be ideal. Melt the butter in a large skillet or saute pan. Add the crumbs and cook over low heat, stirring often until the crumbs are golden and have absorbed the butter. Spread half of the crumbs evenly over the bottom of the baking dish. Arrange the egg slices over the crumbs. Sprinkle with salt, pepper, and half the nutmeg. Pour the milk evenly over the egg slices and distribute the remaining crumbs evenly over the top. Lightly salt and pepper the top and dust with the rest of the nutmeg. Bake for about 25 minutes. Serve hot. Serves four. Marion suggests serving Scalloped Eggs with crisp bacon and baked apples.
Goldenrod Eggs
4 hard-boiled eggs, shelled
2 tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons flour
1 1/4 cups milk
Salt and pepper
1 raw egg yolk
2 tablespoons lemon juice
2 slices buttered toast
Separate the whites and the yolks of the hard-boiled eggs. Dice the whites and set aside. Reserve the yolks. Put the butter in a small saucepan and melt over medium-low heat. Stir in the flour and cook, stirring constantly, until the butter and flour are well blended; then cook over low heat, stirring, at least 2 minutes more. Slowly add the milk and cook, stirring constantly, until the sauce has thickened, about 5 minutes. Add salt and pepper to taste. In a small bowl, combine the raw yolk and lemon juice. Stir several tablespoons of the hot sauce into the yolk mixture, then add the yolk mixture to the sauce. Cook another minute or two, until smooth and hot. Add the diced egg whites to the sauce. Assemble by spooning the sauce over the toast. Using the fine-grating side of a grater or sieve, rub a yolk or two over each portion. Serve immediately. Serves two. Marion says that the yolks sieved over the whites are supposed to look like goldenrod.
One of the notable structures in this area is the Palm Schwenkfelder Church, and I was lucky enough to find a copy of The Palm Schwenkfelder Church Cookbook in an antiques store. It contains the following recipe for Creole Eggs Casserole (and no, I’m not trying this one myself, either). Thank heavens Marion Cunningham provided detailed directions for making a white sauce in her Goldenrod Eggs recipe above!
Creole Eggs Casserole
2 tablespoons flour
2 tablespoons butter
1 cup milk
salt and pepper to taste
2 tablespoons chopped onion
2 tablespoons chopped green pepper
2 teaspoons oil
1 1/4 cup tomatoes, whole, drained, cut into pieces
1 clove garlic, minced
1/4 teaspoon chili powder
4 hard cooked eggs, sliced
1/4 cup cracker crumbs, buttered
1/2 cup grated American cheese
Make a white sauce with the flour, butter, and milk. Season with salt and pepper. Cook onion and green pepper in the oil until soft but not brown. Add tomatoes, garlic, and chili powder, cook until thick. Add to white sauce. Place alternate layers of sauce and eggs in greased casserole. Top with crumbs and cheese. Bake at 350 degrees F. for 15 to 20 minutes. Serves two.
Finally, what about those famous Red Beet Eggs? I found a recipe for them in Esther H. Shank’s Mennonite Country-Style Recipes & Kitchen Secrets (Herald Press, 1987), and it was actually easier than I’d expected. Amazingly, Esther also has a recipe for Goldenrod Eggs!
Pickled (Red Beet) Eggs
6 or 8 hard-cooked eggs, peeled
1 pint pickled beets
Place eggs while still slightly warm in the bottom of a widemouthed quart jar. Pour beet pickle juice over eggs and then add beets on top to hold eggs down in juice. Place lid on jar and refrigerate 24 hours before using, until deep red color. Eggs will keep for a week. If you do not have pickled beets, you may use 1 pint plain canned beets and pickle them as follows: combine in saucepan the juice from beets and enough water to make 1 cup, 1/2 cup vinegar, 1/2 cup sugar, 1/8 teaspoon each ground cinnamon, cloves, and allspice. Bring to boil, then add beets and heat to boiling again. Cool slightly. Pour warm beet mixture over eggs in jar. Refrigerate as above. (Beet pickle juice may be used for two batches of eggs by bringing it to a boil again after using the first time. Cool until lukewarm and pour over second batch of eggs.)
Well, there you have it. It took me years after I moved here to work up the nerve to try Red Beet Eggs, but they’re actually good. And of course we love deviled eggs, sliced hardboiled eggs on a tossed salad, and egg salad sandwiches with warm bread and crunchy Romaine lettuce. Maybe I’ll even try those Scalloped Eggs. Post-Easter Stress Disorder? Maybe it’s not so bad after all!
‘Til next time,
Silence
Today’s pterodactyl. April 14, 2009
Posted by ourfriendben in critters, gardening, homesteading, wit and wisdom.Tags: great blue heron, koi, pterodactyls, water gardening, water gardens
7 comments
Our friend Ben was being tortured—I mean, getting my teeth cleaned—yesterday. Between jabs with sharp metal implements, I asked my dental hygienist what was new in her family water garden. That’s when the topic of dinosaurs came up.
No, she hadn’t discovered a backyard-sized version of the Loch Ness Monster in her water garden. That idiot who’s trying to create living dinosaurs from chickens hadn’t made an unexpected appearance at her home. And alas, she wasn’t trying to tell our friend Ben that the world had finally been made safe for children now that she’d found Barney facedown at the bottom of her pond. Instead, she was referring to her husband’s arch-nemesis, the great blue heron.
Our friend Ben loves herons. I’m always thrilled to see a little green heron at a pond or to watch a great blue mincing around my neighbor’s water garden (our own container water gardens are too small to attract their notice) or flying overhead. But serious water gardeners don’t share my enthusiasm. That’s because herons come to their water gardens for one reason, and one reason only: to eat fish (and frogs, if they can find them). And some of those fish are very expensive.
My hygienist’s husband keeps koi, the royalty of water-garden fish. Koi are to goldfish as perfect deep-sea pearls are to freshwater pearls: Both are beautiful, but one will cost you a lot more than the other. Undisturbed, koi can live for a century, slowly getting bigger and more majestic. For the enthusiast, they’re a good investment. For the heron, they’re lunch. Worse, her husband is fond of his koi, giving them names and knowing every single one. So when he found one half-eaten on the ground beside the water garden and another floating, critically injured, on the water’s surface, it was war.
Fortunately, there’s an easy solution to this problem and my hygienist’s husband took it: He put netting over the surface of the water. Boom! No more heron. Our friend Ben isn’t sure if it’s too hard for the herons to fish through the netting, or if they’re concerned about becoming entangled, but whatever the case, it’s an effective deterrent.
So where does the dinosaur come in? Our friend Ben’s hygienist said that she hadn’t been home during any of the heron’s visits, so she hadn’t seen it herself, but her husband saw it taking off one day and “he said it looked just like a pterodactyl.”
Ha!!! Our friend Ben loves this description. Herons are amazing-looking birds, and great blues are huge amazing-looking birds. They can be almost 5 feet in size—that’s almost as tall as Silence Dogood. (Ouch!!! Ouch!!! Sorry, Silence! I really wasn’t trying to draw a comparison. Ouch!!!) And their wingspan is over 6 feet. With their long beaks, long necks, head crests, long, dangling legs, and abbreviated tails, not to mention those enormously long wings, there really is something pterodactyl-like, or at least strikingly primitive, about them.
If you’ve never seen a live great blue posing, statue-like, at a pond, or flying overhead with its legs trailing streamerlike behind, you’re missing a real treat. Unless, of course, you keep koi.
Frugal living tip #15. April 13, 2009
Posted by ourfriendben in homesteading, wit and wisdom.Tags: frugal living tips, frugal tips, tax tips
3 comments
Silence Dogood here. It’s Monday, and that means it’s time for another frugal living tip here at Poor Richard’s Almanac. It seems appropriate to devote this week’s post to taxes, since it’s (shudder) that time again. And no, I’m not going to tell you what to write off! I’m no accountant. But here are a few tips that might help you keep at least a few of your hard-earned dollars for yourself:
* Do it yourself. If your taxes are really straightforward, there’s no reason not to do them yourself. Use your copy of last year’s (filed) tax form as a template to fill in this year’s form (using, obviously, this year’s numbers). There are also lots of computer programs that assist you in filing, but you have to pay a (admittedly usually minimal, like $49) preparer’s fee to use them. However, Uncle Sam offers a free program at the IRS website, www.IRS.gov. If you want to file electronically, check it out!
* Try to avoid penalties and additional fees. If you file late without filing for an extension, you could be hit with a fee. (And remember, an extension of time to file your tax return does not mean an extension of time to pay! Your check is still due in the mail on April 15. Seems to me that if you have to figure out what you owe by April 15th anyway, you might as well send in the form then, too. You’ll have already done all the work.) Ditto if you underwitheld or paid too little in estimated taxes. (Our friend Ben had this happen to him the first year he went freelance. Based on his previous year’s taxes, he thought he was sending in plenty of estimated tax, only to realize at filing time that he owed a big self-employment tax on top of it. Not only did he have to pay a penalty fee, he had to scramble to come up with the money for the tax itself. Ouch!) Make sure you’re either sending in enough yourself or are having your employer withold enough from your paycheck.
* But don’t overpay. If you pay too much in estimated taxes or have your employer withold too much, you’re giving free money to Uncle Sam, since that money’s collecting interest in his account rather than yours. Try to gauge what you’ll owe as accurately as you can. And I guess it goes without saying that if it turns out that Uncle Sam owes you money, file your return as soon as you can and get that refund back in your pocket (or bank account) where it belongs.
* Get the right forms. Nothing’s as panic-inducing as waiting ’til the last minute to do your taxes, only to discover that Uncle Sam hasn’t sent you the right forms, or hasn’t sent you some of the forms you need. Thank heavens you have at least three options: You can head to the IRS website and download or print out the forms. Or you can head to the post office or your local library and pick up the forms you need. We like to use the library’s forms, because not only do they have racks of the most common state and federal forms, they also have huge notebooks with every conceivable form, so if you need an obscure form you can Xerox it.
* Keep copies. Make sure you make copies of the fronts and backs of every form you send in, as well as your W-2s, checks (if you owe taxes), and everything else you’re sending off to Uncle. Not only do you have a record in case—heaven forbid!—anything gets lost, but you’ll also have a template for next year. You can always send your forms through certified or registered mail for extra insurance. If you file electronically, print out copies for your records.
* Watch out for scams. You could lose a lot more than your taxes if you respond to a phone call or e-mail, supposedly from the IRS, asking for your personal data. A lot of phishing occurs around tax time. The IRS website (again, www.IRS.gov) has a section devoted to phishing where you can read up on the most frequent scams and even see examples of phishing e-mails and bogus websites. Even if the e-mail looks like it has an official IRS logo, if it’s asking for personal information, don’t respond! The IRS site notes that the IRS never initiates contact via an e-mail.
* Make sure you can pay. Uncle Sam’s already taking a huge chunk of your money through taxes and interest earned on your witholding or estimated tax money. But that’s not the worst thing compared to having to take out a loan to pay your taxes. If you’re self-employed or think you’ll owe more than was witheld, try to put enough money in your savings account each week to cover the taxes, even if it means scrimping on other things. It’s bad enough paying taxes once, much less over and over again through loan interest!
That’s it for this week. Do you have some tax tips to share? We could all use them!
‘Til next time,
Silence
Recipes for roasted vampires. April 12, 2009
Posted by ourfriendben in homesteading, recipes, wit and wisdom.Tags: easy roasted vegetables, recipes with roasted vegetables, roasted vegetables
3 comments
Silence Dogood here. Yowie zowie! As a from-scratch, intuitive cook, I usually think I’m up for almost any challenge (Iron Chef, are you reading this?!), but even I was rather disturbed to see this search phrase appear on our blog, Poor Richard’s Almanac, this afternoon. I was on the verge of contacting Hannibal Lecter for advice when my vision cleared and I saw that someone was actually looking for recipes for roasted vegetables. Whew!
Okay, roasted vegetables. That’s so easy. Here are some foolproof tricks for creating great roasted vegetables, as a warming side dish or a main dish with a big, hearty salad and maybe some hot-from-the-oven bread or cornbread. Let’s take it from the top:
Start with a big ovenproof rectangular Pyrex or other lasagna-sized glass baking dish. Oil it well, preferably with olive oil. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Getting back to the dish, add:
* Sliced or diced potatoes. We like any combination of ‘Yukon Gold’, redskinned potatoes, sweet potatoes, and baking potatoes for color and flavor. No, you don’t have to peel them, just scrub them really well.
* Carrots. Sliced carrots—orange, red, purple, yellow—add sweetness and depth to a dish of roasted veggies.
* Sweet onions. Sliced or diced sweet onions—’Vidalia’, ‘WallaWalla’, or ‘Candy’ types—add richness and depth to a dish of roasted veggies.
* Garlic cloves. Gotta address that vampire thing, right? Roasted garlic cloves turn sweet, so they make a great addition to a medley of roasted veggies, or take them out, mash them and serve them on that bread you’re making as a side.
* Fennel, asparagus, artichokes. We love chopped fennel root, with its anise flavor, in a roasted veggie medley. Inch-long cuts of green or blanched white asparagus are simply delicious roasted, too. As are artichoke hearts or bottoms. Yum, so rich and fabulous!
* Beets and Brussels sprouts. Here’s where the “Eeeew, I HATE [fill in the veggie]” comes in. You can add cabbage, turnips, rutabagas, parsnips, or anything else here. We absolutely love quartered red and golden beets pretty much any way, but especially when they’re roasted. And believe it or not, even if you think of Brussels sprouts as being miserable, bitter vegetables, halved roasted Brussels sprouts are sweet and succulent. You wouldn’t believe how many “Brussels sprouts-hating” friends and family have greedily gobbled them down in our roasted veggie medleys and been none the wiser. ”More, please!”
* Extras. Corn kernels, panko (or croutons), wax or green beans, ramen noodles, diced red bell peppers, sliced or small whole mushrooms, shredded cheese. Anything you like goes when it comes to roasted veggies. Be brave, it’s going to be so good!
* Herbs and spicing. Here’s where you can really go to town. Roasted veggies can really hold their own when it comes to herbs and spices; it’s almost impossible to add too much. So go on, dump ‘em on! Fresh rosemary is a special favorite. Ditto tons of shredded fresh basil leaves. If you have them, fresh thyme, chives, sage, chopped scallions, oregano, and just a touch of marjoram. Or a dried mix of any or all of the above applied with a liberal hand. Feel free to experiment, too: These veggies tend to be able to stand up to assertive spices. Try curry powder, minced ginger root, and garam masala. But whatever you add, we suggest adding salt—Real Salt is our favorite, or Kosher salt, sea salt, or a salt/herb mix like Herbamare or Trocamare.
*Final touches. Once you’ve added your herbs and spices, it’s time to coat the whole dish with a thin layer of olive oil and butter. Then cover it with aluminum foil, bake for an hour at 350 degrees F., and uncover for the last few minutes of cooking until it’s tender and caramelized. Oops, too many folks dropping by for dinner? Quick, make a pot of pasta or rice and serve the roasted veggies over the top with a big salad and/or side veggie like green beans, snow peas, snap peas, spinach, or broccoli. Yum!
Good?! Oh, yeah. Next time a vampire visits you, offer them this roasted veggie dish and watch them lose interest in sucking your blood. What, no vampires in your area?! Gee, guess you’ll just have to enjoy this delicious roasted vegetable medley all by yourselves. Awwww.
‘Til next time,
Silence
Easter Peeps. April 12, 2009
Posted by ourfriendben in wit and wisdom.Tags: Easter traditions, humor, Peeps, Peeps contest
6 comments
Silence Dogood here. When our friend Ben and I first moved to Pennsylvania from Nashville, we had never heard of peeps. Or Peeps. “Peeps” is apparently the local term for chicks. Peeps, on the other hand, are garishly colored marshmallow renditions of same produced by nearbly Bethlehem, PA’s Just Born Co. In this area, the chrome-yellow, pink, blue, green, and purple marshmallow creations, and an assortment of marshmallow bunnies in the same color palette, are an essential part of Easter.
Not ours, though. Even our friend Ben, who has something of a sweet tooth, can’t bring himself to try one. In fact, we didn’t even know they came in flavors until reading a recent article in our local paper, the Allentown, PA Morning Call, which said that Just Born was releasing special chocolate mousse-flavored Peeps for 2009. The article went on to say that local candymakers were predicting a big year for candy sales, and that the Neilsen Co. had proclaimed candy to be “recession-proof.” Yow, that’s quite a comment on our societal priorities!
However, what really made us sit up and take notice of Peeps this year (besides the appearance of a “Peepmobile,” with gigantic replicas of the marshmallow creations displayed on top, cruising around the area) was a contest the Morning Call held. It invited readers to send in photos of Peeps they had dressed in costume, selected finalists from the entries received, and then asked readers to vote for their favorite. Over 34,000 readers sent in their votes.
The thought of people—160 people submitted entries—spending hours creating costumes and whole tableaux for 2-inch-tall marshmallow candies is mind-boggling, but like watching a train wreck, our friend Ben and I couldn’t look away from subsequent newspaper updates. Our hands-down favorite of the ten finalists was “Disco Peep, Circa 1979,” which sported sequins, Go-Go boots, a gold chain, and very big hair. (Admittedly, until we saw the title, we thought it was Elvis.) Other entries included “Yellow Brick Road,” with Peeps as all the characters, ”Peeps Knitting Circle,” ”Japanese Tea Ceremony,” with Geisha Peeps and a bonsai, and “College Peeps Hanging Out in Cancun for Spring Break.” The Geisha Peeps, which looked to our possibly jaundiced eyes more like Jabba the Huts with really bad toupees, were priceless.
Unfortunately, our usual fate befell us, which probably explains why poor OFB has still not received a MacArthur Fellowship and neither of us has yet emerged as the author of the next Harry Potter series. A paltry 4% of voters loved Disco Elvis as we did, and the same sorry number went for the Geisha/Jabbas. Instead, a whopping 59% of the vote—more than 20,000 readers—selected “Peeps Playing Poker” as their favorite.
“Peeps Playing Poker” was patterned after a painting our friend Ben and I loathe and have been subjected to far, far too many times, “Dogs Playing Poker,” actually a whole series of paintings made by C.M. Coolidge in the early 1900s. While we doubt that C.M. Coolidge was actually “Silent Cal” Coolidge, we wish the painter had followed our president’s example and remained silent as far as his artistic genius was concerned. If we never, ever saw or heard of this painting again, we would be ecstatic. But here it was again, transformed into marshmallow candies.
Our friend Ben and I have been forced to recognize over the years that humor is the most individual of all human traits, and being subjected to everything from “A Fish Called Wanda” to “The Blues Brothers” has convinced us that most people’s sense of humor is not ours. We generally like slapstick, but not if it’s cruel: Marx Brothers yes, Three Stooges no. Good-humored, not whiny: Pink Panther yes (but the originals, not the sorry remake), Seinfeld no. Chevy Chase, Dan Ackroyd, Dana Carvey yes; Bill Murray, Steve Martin, Mike Myers no. Wryness a la Dilbert, yes; foulmouthed bitterness and anger masquerading as humor, no. Jim Belushi yes, John Belushi no.
Humor comes in many forms and serves many purposes. Some humor is designed to teach us a lesson, to show us our weaknesses and get us to take ourselves less seriously: This is the purpose of the Hopi mudheads, as it was the purpose of the kings’ fools and jesters, and was the original purpose of clowns (which, like Alice Cooper, I find scary, not funny)*. In fact, I find all humor like this scary, not funny: To me, it’s mockery, humiliation, public ridicule dressed up as comedy. A holdover from a time when the purpose of humor was to strip away our dignity and show us the worms we really were, to display to all that the emperor had no clothes. I agree that nobody should take himself or herself too seriously. But in a crowded world, where there are so many of us that most of us feel more like Dilbert than, say, Charlemagne or Ghengis Khan, I think we need fewer reminders of how cosmically small and unimportant we are. We really, really get that already.
Then there’s bitterness disguised as humor, most often in the form of sarcasm. My mother told me that sarcasm was a weak man’s refuge and never to descend to it, and I’ve tried to live by that. Irony, understatement, on the other hand, I can’t help but appreciate. I’ve always hated watching performances where you can see an actor heroically struggling to create a role rather than simply becoming the role. I find it so distracting I can’t relax into the film or play. I remember hearing about an American actor who was frantically method-acting, trying to research his part so he could be authentic to the last detail. A British actor cast in the same performance watched the American struggling and struggling, and finally said something to the effect of, “Have you ever considered acting?” Ha!!!
But boy, have I strayed far from our topic of Peeps. Sorry about that! Yikes!!! Self-editing, where art thou?!! Anyway: If you’d enjoy seeing these Peeps-in-costume, go to www.mcall.com and search for “Peeps.” You’ll find the whole story. Let me know which of the finalists you liked best! And if Peeps play a part in your Easter celebrations.
‘Til next time,
Silence
*Oops, I should clarify that what I meant was that I agree with Alice Cooper’s deathless song, “Can’t Sleep, the Clowns Will Eat Me,” not that I find Alice himself scary.
Peanut butter 1, groundhog 0 April 11, 2009
Posted by ourfriendben in critters, wit and wisdom.Tags: critters, groundhogs, humor, woodchucks
2 comments
Our friend Ben couldn’t resist sharing this story with you. Our local paper, the Allentown PA Morning Call, published a report by Don Fisher yesterday that began as follows: “A hungry groundhog couldn’t see its shadow—or much of anything else—after it got its head stuck in a peanut butter jar in Allentown on Thursday afternoon.”
The story goes on to reveal a happy ending, when a volunteer wearing protective gloves moved the groundhog to a nearby garden, freed it from the peanut butter jar, and watched, with cheering bystanders, as it scampered to safety. Our friend Ben of course wonders if the garden’s owner was equally thrilled by the denouement.
Whatever the case, the photos are priceless. Being a Luddite, our friend Ben has no clue how to link to them from here, much less import them. But if you Google www.mcall.com, then, once the site comes up, search for “hungry groundhog,” you’ll get them. (It appears to be a jar of Skippy, in case you’re wondering what brand groundhogs, aka woodchucks, prefer.) A good reason for cleaning your jars before recycling them!
And of course, our friend Ben loves the final sentence of the article: “No one, or the animal, was hurt.” But I’ll bet it was really thirsty.
Spring garden blues. April 11, 2009
Posted by ourfriendben in gardening, homesteading, wit and wisdom.Tags: little bulbs, Siberian squill, spring bulbs
6 comments
And yellows and whites and purples. Spring has sprung here at Hawk’s Haven, the cottage home our friend Ben and Silence Dogood share in the precise middle of nowhere, Pennsylvania. We have an acre here that we tend and water by hand, so let’s call our general gardening style “informal at best.” Our gardens will never, ever look like “real” gardens—like those of, say, Frances at Faire Garden or Nan at Hayefield.
But in spring, they come close. The beds are carpeted with color, and if you saw them now, you’d be hard-pressed not to gasp with delight. (At least, we do every time we see them.) The blues of Siberian squill and crested iris and Virginia bluebells (Mertensia virginica) and vinca and grape hyacinths. The yellows of daffodils and ranunculus (buttercups) and crocuses. The purples of Grecian windflowers (Anemone blanda) and glory-of-the-snow (chionodoxa) and crocuses and hellebores. The white of bloodroot and Dutchman’s-breeches and daffodils and crocuses and hellebores and Siberian squill and snowdrops and Grecian windflowers. The breathtaking, awesome, oh-my-God glory of it all. (And mind you, this is before the tulips and columbines and bleeding hearts take off.)
We love each and every bulb, every flower, every new bud or shoot showing signs of life. But at this time of year, we love Siberian squill (Scilla sibirica) best. This tiny true-blue-flowered bulb seems to have escaped the taxonomic abuse bestowed on so many of its kind; our friend Ben can’t find any change of name from Scilla sibirica, though cousins have been banished from Scilla to Hyacinthoides and worse.
But what’s in a name? Every year, the little bulbs spread their bounty throughout our beds. And this year, they’re even blooming in the lawn, adding continuity to our garden scheme. A few bloom pure white to remind us that they have a mind of their own, but most are the most gorgeous clear gentian-blue. They press against the pavers of our front path as though some gardening genius planted them. And yes, clearly He did.
“Glory be to God for dappled things,” the poet and priest Gerard Manley Hopkins exulted. And glory be to God for small things, our friend Ben would like to add. For Siberian squill and all the little, bright, effortless bulbs. Glory hallelujah!
