Manners for men. June 18, 2009
Posted by ourfriendben in wit and wisdom.Tags: keys to a great relationship, men and women, relationships
7 comments
Silence Dogood here. I’d just like to say that our friend Ben’s and my relationship has endured in (usually) good standing for as long as it has because, very early on, I taught OFB a critical phrase.
Now, I know that the Sweet Potato Queens claim that the “Four Magic Words” that any man can use to enslave women everywhere are “Let me do that.” And, God knows, I wholeheartedly approve. But I don’t think that’s really enough to keep a relationship healthy.
The simple, three-word phrase I taught our friend Ben was: “I’m so sorry.” It’s been my experience that guys just don’t have the first clue how to deal with women’s problems. Their response to anguished comments like “AAAAHHHH!!! A stinkbug just flew onto my arm!” “Oh, no, I burned our dinner!” “OWWW!!! I just hit my foot on that stupid dry sink!” and “@#!&%***, I can’t believe I dropped that and it broke!!!” tends to be inane and insensitive, to say the least. “Oh, never mind.” “Say, did you know the Pirates won again?” “It could have been worse.” “Uh, did you say something?” “Here’s what you should do.” GRRRRRRR.
To short-circuit the inevitable destruction, either of the actual guy or of the relationship, that can result from this sort of response, my three-word response is an all-purpose panacea. It’s so short, even guys can remember it. It applies to pretty much every situation. Naturally, it needs to be said with apparent sincerity, so guys, you might want to practice a few times before it (inevitably) comes up: “I’m so sorry.” Think what a world of trouble this will save you!
Of course, if you want to follow it up with “Let me do that,” you’ll become an instant hero. But, despite rumors to the contrary, women don’t actually expect men to be heroic all the time. We do, however, expect you to be sympathetic at all times. That’s why “I’m so sorry” is worth more than gold, since it can quickly become automatic, and it’s all that’s really required.
Please don’t succumb to temptation and elaborate with the usual “but it could have been worse,” “but here’s what you should do,” “but I don’t see why it’s such a big deal,” “but you look all right to me.” No buts. Just “I’m so sorry,” and you’re off the hook. No candy, flowers or (shudder) cards required. No jewelry, no dinner out (though that is always appreciated). Just ”I’m so sorry,” delivered with feeling and (please) without sarcasm.
Yes, you may have to say it five or six times a day. Women’s lives are filled with probably incomprehensible crises. (“Oh no, there’s a spot on this blouse!” “I’m so sorry.” “%*&$#@!!!, I tore another nail!” “I’m so sorry.” “I spent five hours writing this stupid overview, and then the power went off and I lost the whole thing!” “I’m so sorry.” “I don’t know how I’m ever going to get all this done before tomorrow afternoon!” “I’m so sorry.”) See? It’s so easy, and so effective. Try it, you’ll like it (and what it does for your relationship).
Life presents enough challenges for any couple, without having to snarl up and hurt feelings over stuff that clearly means a lot to one partner and is incomprehensible to the other. Ladies, let’s just say that it can’t hurt for you to practice and use this useful phrase as well. “*&^%$#@!!!, the Pirates lost!!!” “I’m so sorry.” “Just look at this poison ivy on my leg!” “I’m so sorry.” ”I can’t find my glasses!” “I’m so sorry.” For once, what’s sauce for the gander is definitely sauce for the goose as well.
‘Til next time,
Silence
Gearing up. June 18, 2009
Posted by ourfriendben in Ben Franklin, gardening, homesteading, pets, recipes, wit and wisdom.Tags: blog humor, blog milestone, Poor Richard's Almanac
3 comments
Yesterday, our friend and fellow blog contributor Richard Saunders dropped by to brainstorm with our friend Ben and Silence Dogood about a topic dear to all of our hearts: How to celebrate when our blog, Poor Richard’s Almanac, reaches 100,000 views, which we think will happen about three weeks from now. Naturally, we want to include all of you in the celebration, since you’re the ones who’ve made it happen!
We decided a giveaway was in order. Since our friend Ben and Silence are writers and editors and Richard is a professor, we of course started off thinking of books as prizes. Perhaps an autographed copy one of Silence’s recent books like Kick the Clutter could be first prize. Second prize would be two of Silence’s books. (Just kidding, Silence! Ow! Ow!!!!!) Richard’s thinking of donating packets of his own homemade Poor Richard’s Emergency Room Special Crushed Hot Pepper Blend for those brave souls who are willing to try it.
Faithful readers may recall that our friend Ben is a marble collector, and that, thanks to a once-in-a-lifetime trip to the JABO marble company outside Reno, Ohio, I was able to participate in what’s called a “marble run,” when a particular batch of marbles is made at the plant. JABO’s special runs go on for just a couple of days, so the incredible marbles they produce in each run aren’t just spectacular, they’re rare. Our friend Ben proposes to send a group of these Tribute to Friendship marbles to a lucky winner.
So now our friend Ben has some questions for you. Doubtless I, Silence, and Richard (and possibly Shiloh and our irrepressible cat Linus, already immortalized in the book Pets’ Letters to God 2) will contribute our own special touches to the celebratory post when we actually hit that magic 100,000 milestone. But we’ve never hosted a giveaway before. How should we go about it?
This is what we’re thinking: Everyone who responds to our celebratory post will be eligible for a prize. Everyone who comments should note in their comment which prize(s) they’d like to receive. (We’ll repeat all this in the actual 100,000-view post so you don’t have to try to remember it now!) We’ll have our friend Rob pull the winners’ names out of a hat (well, his Penn State cap). So please select a “consolation prize” as a backup in addition to your first choice!
We wish we could invite each and every one of you here to Hawk’s Haven for a real party, but even if by some miracle all of you could come, our pitiful ancient plumbing could never survive it. We’ll get composting toilets, solar panels, and a wind-pumped well the second we win the lottery, we promise. Meanwhile, a virtual celebration will have to do. Does this sound sufficiently celebratory? Please let us know!
———————————————————–
Silence had just dashed out the door to get some ricotta and mozzarella for tonight’s veggie lasagna, and our friend Ben was just putting the finishing touches on this post, when a by now all-too-familiar sharp rapping sounded on the front door, accompanied by a bellowed “God’s teeth, young Ben! Haven’t you noticed it’s raining out here? Make haste, dear boy, before I catch my death of cold!”
Rushing to the door with an enthusiastic Shiloh hot on my heels, I threw it open to reveal none other than the dripping form of our blog mentor and hero, Benjamin Franklin, steaming (in more ways than one) on our doorstep.
Our friend Ben: Er, Dr. Franklin, please come in!
Dr. F.: Thank’ee, young man! I was beginning to despair of ever attracting your attention. [catching sight of Shiloh] What’s this?! Don’t tell me you’ve taking to housing wolves! Call off the beast!!!
Shiloh [having apparently decided that old Ben's fur cap, an affectation from his days at the French court, must be some kind of cat]: AROOOOOO!!!!!
Dr. F. [threatening Shiloh with his cane]: Back! Back, I say!!!
OFB: Shiloh, leave it! Off! Get down! I said LEAVE it! OFFFFFFF!!!!!
[OFB hastily seizes Doctor Franklin's dripping cloak, the offending hat, and cane, and stows them in the mudroom out of Shiloh's sight.]
OFB: Er, Shiloh’s not a wolf, Dr. F.! She’s a German shepherd!
Dr. F. [staring at Shiloh]: What’s that you say, young Ben? A German shepherd?! To think, I always thought those Grimm brothers must have had a few pints too many, the way they carried on about wolves and enchantments. But clearly this unfortunate shepherd has been the victim of a witch’s curse and has been transformed into a wolf! Dear, dear, perhaps my father’s good friend Cotton Mather was right after all…
OFB [recalling that the German shepherd breed didn't come into existence until the 1890s]: Er, no, no, Dr. F.! Shiloh’s not actually a German shepherd. She’s a German shepherd dog. A dog, Dr. F.!
Dr. F. [still looking at Shiloh suspiciously]: A dog, you say? Hmmm. Still looks like a wolf to me…
OFB [attempting a distraction]: Er, to what do I owe this pleasure, Doctor Franklin?
Dr. F. [shuddering dramatically]: You know, young Ben, that rain has chilled me through. I don’t suppose you have anything, ah, warming at hand?
OFB [suppressing groan]: I have port, bourbon, porter, rum…
Dr. F.: Good lad! A noggin of hot buttered rum and a few comestibles would certainly hit the spot!
OFB: How does a big slice of apple pie and a wedge of Cheddar cheese sound?
Dr. F.: Ahhhh, perfect, dear boy! I’ll just settle my old bones in this rocker—you do recall that I invented the rocking chair, I’m sure—and await your arrival with the viands. [Stares again at Shiloh, now settled on the rug at his feet] You’re, ah, sure this isn’t a wolf? It certainly has a very glossy pelt. Perfect for a new fur hat and muff…
OFB [clanking around kitchen]: No, no, Dr. F.!!! A dog! Shiloh’s a dog!!!
Dr. F. [sighs]: Pity. [Brightens at sight of steaming mug and platter.] Ah, thanks, dear boy!
OFB: Uh, you were saying…
Dr. F.: Mmpf?!
OFB: About how you happened to be visiting…
Dr. F. [swigging down a large draught of rum]: Ah, of course, young Ben! I heard that Poor Richard’s Almanac is gearing up to celebrate its 100,000th view! Congratulations!
OFB: Why thank you, Doctor Franklin! I was just wondering how to celebrate when you arrived.
Dr. F.: Well, haven’t you forgotten something?
OFB: Urk?! What would that be?
Dr. F.: Why, me, of course! Don’t you all claim me as your inspiration and blog mentor?
OFB: Yes, of course we do…
Dr. F.: Then surely the grand prize in your celebratory competition should be this biography of me by Walter Isaacs! [Rummages in coat and extracts a battered copy.] Perhaps I’ll even autograph it for the winner and include, ah, what do they say now—oh, yes—”personalization”!
OFB [staring dubiously at the battered paperback]: Uh…
Dr. F.: And what do you mean by asking your friend Rob to draw the winners?! Surely I should be the one who selects them from the hat!
OFB: Uh…
Dr. F. [drains mug, looks regretfully at empty plate]: Dear me, I really must be off. So much to do, so little time! And speaking of time, did you know that General Washington has asked me to design a sundial for Mount Vernon? I’m thinking of using a variant on my dollar design for the Continental coinage. What do you think?
OFB: Uh…
Dr. F.: Never mind, poor lad. I can see you’re distracted. But never fear, I’ll be back for the drawing! Oh, and here, you can keep the book until then. [Seizes cloak, hat, and stick and beats a hasty retreat, eyeing Shiloh watchfully all the while.]
Shiloh: AROOOOOOO!!!!!!!!
OFB [collapsing, head in hands]: AROOOOOO!!!!!
Silence [coming in door with grocery bag]: Good God, Ben! What’s come over you?! And what’s that book you’re holding?
OFB: It’s Isaacson’s bio of Ben Franklin.
Silence: But we already have a copy!
OFB: No, this one’s a prize for our 100,000th view celebration.
Silence [taking it from OFB's hand]: Eeeewww, you can’t mean that, Ben! The cover’s creased. And there’s this label inside that says “To Ed from the Millers”!
OFB: Uh, but Doctor Franklin said…
Silence: What?! Not this again. And is that rum I smell?! Really, Ben, what’s come over you?!!
OFB: Uh…
[crashing noise from kitchen] OFB, Silence: SHILOOOHHHHHHH!!!
Silence [from kitchen]: Oh, Ben, our apple pie! And that nice wedge of Cheddar! What were they doing just sitting on the counter like that?!!
OFB: Ow!!! Owwwwww!!!!!
[curtain]
Tell me why: extra-virgin olive oil. June 17, 2009
Posted by ourfriendben in wit and wisdom.Tags: how olive oil is made, olive oil, virgin vs. extra-virgin olive oil
6 comments
It’s me, Richard Saunders of Poor Richard’s Almanac fame, here today to ask how olive oil can be extra-virgin. Maybe the Virgin Mary could be described as “extra-virgin,” but surely everything else is either a virgin or it isn’t. And why would olive oil be described as “virgin” in the first place? Is there such a thing as virgin olive oil as well as extra-virgin?
These questions came up when I dropped by Hawk’s Haven, the rural Pennsylvania cottage where our friend Ben and Silence Dogood live with numerous cats, birds, chickens, fish, and their puppy Shiloh, yesterday. I was lucky enough to arrive just as Silence was setting out a repast for OFB and their friend Sarah, and it included fabulous bread and a dipping sauce made with extra-virgin olive oil. (See Silence’s post “Silence makes pesto” for more on that.)
When I got home, I consulted with my good friend Google to find some answers, and it led me to www.chefdepot.net. Here’s what they had to say:
To make olive oil, the olives are picked by hand (!!!), crushed, pits and all, under giant millstones, then spread on mats which are stacked in a press and subjected to hundreds of pounds of pressure. Oil and water are pressed out of the olives, collected in vats, and then the water is separated from the oil, which is called “cold-pressed” because no heat was used to extract it. It is also considered “virgin” olive oil because, as the website explains, “it is pure, unrefined and unprocessed.”
Okay, fine. So what is extra-virgin olive oil? According to Chef Depot, “‘Extra’ is the highest grade for olive oil—the best you can buy. The virgin oil… may be called ‘extra’ if it has less than 1% free oleic acid, and if it exhibits superior taste, color and aroma. Thus, the ‘extra’ in extra virgin olive oil means ‘premium’, or simply, ‘the best’.”
So, there you have it. No wonder Silence’s dipping sauce tasted so good!
Silence makes pesto. June 17, 2009
Posted by ourfriendben in gardening, homesteading, pets, wit and wisdom.Tags: basil, dipping sauce for bread, homemade pesto, pesto, pesto pasta sauce
3 comments
Silence Dogood here. Maybe this seems ludicrous for someone who loves to cook as much as I do, and who loves and grows as many kinds of basil as I do, but before this past Sunday, I’d never made pesto. In fact, until maybe six months ago, I wasn’t even sure I liked pesto. How could that be?
Simple: Often, when I was served pesto, it was bitter. Really, hatefully bitter. And it was often served on undercooked, bitter, floury whole-wheat pasta. Ugh!!!
I don’t know about you, but from my perspective, bitter is bad. Floury, undercooked pasta is bad. And every kind of whole-wheat pasta I’ve ever tried is bad.
It’s not like I have something against whole wheat. I love a dense loaf of whole-wheat bread. Yum!!! But the thing about pasta is this: It should be springy. And the only pasta I’ve ever found that had the same springy quality as “regular” pasta was Jerusalem artichoke pasta, which tastes just like regular pasta, has the same texture as regular pasta, but adds protein. All right!
Anyway, at some point, our local supermarket started carrying their own-made pesto. At this point, I can’t even remember what made me decide to try it. But I found that it made a quick, luscious pasta sauce for those nights when you can’t face cooking something elaborate but still want something hot. Just cook your pasta, drain, return to the pot, stir in the pesto and shredded white Cheddar cheese, and serve it the second the Cheddar melts with a green salad and a side of cooked broccoli with butter and lemon juice. (Or snow peas or sugar snap peas or mixed green and yellow wax beans.)
Hmmm. This pesto wasn’t bitter at all. It was delicious. Why was that? After looking at the ingredients, I concluded that it was because, being a store brand, they’d left out the expensive pine nuts that are often included in pesto, so there was no resinous afterbite of pine tar. (Some people like to use walnuts instead, but walnuts are also bitter and oily.)
However. One busy night, I made pesto pasta for our Friday Night Supper Club. Our friend Carolyn grabbed the carton of pesto and read the ingredients list, then exclaimed with undisguised horror, “This uses canola oil as well as olive oil!” Well, gads. Somehow she managed to choke it down anyway, but obviously she wasn’t happy.
As faithful readers know, the past few weekends our friend Ben and I have been taking our puppy Shiloh to the Emmaus Farmers’ Market in nearby Emmaus, PA. Our own basil is just beginning to get big, but several stands at the farmers’ market had marvelous bunches and bags of homegrown organic basil. I simply couldn’t resist.
Gulp. Now here I was at home with tons of fresh basil, which as you all know doesn’t keep at all well once cut from the plant. What to do?!!
Normally, I love to use fresh basil leaves in salads, stir-fries, pasta sauces, curries, and layered with fresh tomato slices and fresh mozzarella in caprese salads. But with this much basil, I had to do something more. I determined to make my own pesto.
Mind you, normal people whip up pesto in their food processors as easily as they toss scraps in their garbage disposals, frozen entrees in their microwaves, or dirty dishes in the dishwasher. Being a Luddite, I don’t have a garbage disposal (we compost our scraps or feed them to the chickens), microwave, or dishwasher, and I wouldn’t know how to use a food processor if you cracked me in the head with it. So I reached for my trusty blender.
Not that I’d recommend this, having done it. If you know how to use and have a food processor, use that. If you don’t, perhaps shredding the basil with a sharp knife before tossing it into the blender would help. I did neither, and ended up with fantastic pesto, but it took longer than I’d have expected and made quite a racket while it was doing it. Shriek.
Anyway, for all brave souls who are willing to follow in my footsteps, this is what I did: I first poured a half-cup of extra-virgin olive oil into the bottom of the blender, then filled it to the top with washed basil leaves, pounding them down with a wooden spoon. Then I turned the blender on “chop.” It made a hellish racket but didn’t do a hell of a lot. I alternated turning it off and mashing the basil leaves further towards the bottom with running it on “chop,” or, for variety, “pulverize.”
Eventually, it occurred to me that maybe I should add more olive oil, so I dumped in another half-cup. This somehow galvanized the process, and the basil finally mashed itself into puree. More olive oil and another blender full of basil leaves, on top of the original puree, resulted in a good cup or so of premium pesto. But I wasn’t quite done.
To finish the pesto, I minced four large garlic cloves and tossed them in the blender with the pesto, then sprinkled in a generous teaspoon of Trocamare (a spicy herb-hot pepper-salt blend) and a quarter-cup of grated Parmesan. One last minute of pureeing, and the pesto was ready to go. And it wasn’t bitter at all!
Yum, this homemade pesto was perfect in my easy pesto pasta sauce. (As noted, all you do is cook up spaghetti, fettucini, or shells, drain them, and while hot, stir in the pesto and sharp white shredded Cheddar and serve.) Our friend Ben is especially fond of spreading a thin layer of pesto over a lightly-oiled pizza crust before adding the tomato sauce, cheese, and toppings. The pesto adds rich flavor and complexity to the pizza.
It also makes a luscious dipping sauce for bread, as we discovered when our friend Sarah came to visit the next day. I added two tablespoons of the pesto to a bowl with a liberal amount of olive oil, then mixed in hot sauce, dried herbs (basil, thyme, oregano, rosemary, sage, and winter savory), a mix of dried red and black pepper, and salt (we like Real Salt), stirred, and let it sit while I made the salad, cut the breads, and set out the cheeses. One last stir, and I placed the pesto-oil mix out as a dipping sauce for the bread.
Talk about a hit! Not only did Sarah, OFB and I enjoy it, but even our friend and fellow blog contributor Richard Saunders, who had dropped by just in time for the treat and who, as you’ll recall, only likes highly flavored foods, thought it was terrific. The bread and dipping sauce vanished so fast, you’d have thought they were dollar bills dumped on the sidewalk.
Tonight I’m making veggie lasagna for our famous Supper Club, and I am oh-so-tempted to layer some pesto in with the other ingredients. I know it would make the lasagna even better! But then again, I wouldn’t have any pesto left for later… hmmmm… decisions, decisions…
Anyway, if you’re getting a bumper crop of basil right now, I suggest that you make a batch of this pesto for your family. (But, ahem, I’d also suggest that, unlike me, you shred the basil before adding it to the blender or use a food processor.) I have a feeling it would freeze or can beautifully if you want to save it for later. But once you try it stirred into hot drained pasta with shredded cheese, or spread it on homemade pizza, or make it into dipping sauce, you may find that there’s really not enough basil in the world for fresh use now!
‘Til next time,
Silence
Good lord. June 16, 2009
Posted by ourfriendben in wit and wisdom.Tags: capitalism, irony in marketing, marketing, marketing scams, recession
3 comments
Silence Dogood here (again). Sometimes I think Our Lord’s words, “They know not what they do,” have a highly ironic application to today’s circumstances. Finally, it’s pretty widely accepted that America is experiencing an economic slump, a recession (God forbid that anyone should say “depression”), with massive job layoffs and financial uncertainty. All of which is an ornate way of saying we’re in trouble, and where is our money going to come from, especially if we’ve been laid off or downsized or whatever and there’s no paycheck in sight?
Since our whole economy is based on buying and selling, even though we can no longer afford to buy, everyone’s still desperately trying to sell, be it travel deals or alternatives to Botox or free burgers when you buy a soft drink. And what’s on offer is still, more often than not, entirely frivolous.
This was borne in on me just moments ago when I went to my Yahoo! mail to try to deal with the morning’s e-mails. At the top of the screen was an appeal for donations, with the headline “A child dies every three seconds,” and of course a photo of an adorable child. And alongside was an ad: “She’s 58 but looks 38!” showing a heavily made-up, plastic-looking woman and offering customers the opportunity to pay up for the privilege of looking like the ad’s model.
The contrast between the dying children (if one dies every 3 seconds, that’s 20 every minute, and maybe more by the time you finish reading this post) and our unending and seemingly unstoppable determination to do and spend whatever it takes to look like we’re 18 until we’re dead is, let’s say, telling. And the unintended irony on Yahoo!’s part of running both ads on the same screen is telling as well. Truly, we know not what we do.
‘Til next time,
Silence
Fun festival alert! June 16, 2009
Posted by ourfriendben in wit and wisdom.Tags: Kutztown Folk Festival, Pennsylvania crafts, Pennsylvania Dutch folklife, Pennsylvania festivals, Pennsylvania folklife, Stahl's Pottery Festival
2 comments
Silence Dogood here. The next two weekends will bring a couple of our favorite festivals to the area, so I wanted to give all of you a heads-up in case you wanted to try to include them in your summer plans. Both are well worth a drive!
First up is the Stahl’s Pottery Festival, held Saturday, June 20, from 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. “rain or shine” (they have buildings and tents). It’s held at historic Stahl’s Pottery, the oldest redware pottery in the area, in the beautiful Powder Valley. (For a map, directions, and more about Stahl’s and the festival, check out their website, www.stahlspottery.org.) Admittance is $3 per adult, under 18 free, and free parking.
For your $3, you can get guided tours of the historic round wood-fired kiln, the pottery buildings, and the Thomas & Alice Stahl House Museum, featuring a collection of Stahl’s pottery and artifacts, as well as demonstrations of 19th-Century life. There are lectures on pottery-making and potters demonstrating the making of such pottery techniques and styles as redware, raku, traditional clay roof tiles, the pottery wheel, and slip and sgraffito plates. And, of course, there’s food (“refreshments and PA German home baked goods”).
All this would be reason enough to attend the festival if you love handmade pottery and history. But the real reason we go back year after year is the huge display and sale of handmade pottery—35 potters form all over Pennsylvania as well as New Jersey, Delaware, and Connecticut. You’ll find every imaginable style and type, from ultramodern and Japanese-influenced to redware and other Colonial-era potting styles, from adorable little pottery animals and Christmas ornaments to birdbaths, windchimes, wall art, and, of course, every type of practical dishware and cookware, from the standard bowls and mugs to salt and pepper shakers and butter churns.
Except, of course, that nothing is standard here—these are the finest potters in the Mid-Atlantic area, all gathered under one roof (er, tent). You’re bound to find pieces you love, pieces you drool over and dream about, and—gasp!—pieces you can actually afford and want to add to your own collection of dishes or give as gifts. There’s nothing like drinking your coffee from a Colonial-style redware mug, or sipping tea from an elegant raku or primitive Zen-style cup. Or seeing the delight on friends’ faces when you serve them on handmade dishes that are clearly one of a kind, or present them with same for Christmas or a special occasion.
Next up, from June 28 through July 5, is the famous Kutztown Folk Festival. (See our earlier post, “Of quilts, ox roasts and hex signs: the PA Dutch festival,” for a full account of last year’s festival.) Our friend Ben and I wouldn’t miss this celebration of Pennsylvania Dutch (actually Deitsch, dialect for German) crafts and lifeways for the world. As the festival brochure says, “Kutztown is in the heart of Pennsylvania Dutch country, midway between Allentown and Reading along Route 222.” This festival costs more than the pottery festival—tickets are $12 per adult ($11 for seniors and free for kids 12 and under), or $20 for an all-week pass, but parking is free and you can download a $2 off ticket from their website, www.kutztownfestival.com, or pick them up throughout the area (we found them at our local bank), so it’s actually $10 per adult with kids free.
We may be pinching our pennies these days, be our friend Ben and I consider that $10 well spent. The festival covers an entire fairground. There is a huge assortment of traditional arts and crafts from 200 juried craftspeople, from wooden butter molds and scherenschnitte (intricate cut-paper pictures) to wheat weavings, elaborate and exquisite wreaths, handmade soaps and herb blends, handmade brooms, blacksmithing—yow! It’s impossible to even begin to cover it all. There are also excellent modern arts and crafts, from jewelry and dichroic glass beads to garden art, photography, and one amazing booth with fabulous lampshades and hanging art made from recycled plastic!
Needless to say, there are an incredible array of traditional Penna. Dutch treats, from funnel cakes and shoo-fly pies to roasted ox and all-you-can-eat feasts; wonderful events for kids, from horse-drawn wagon rides to a delightful display of farm animals, some of which you can feed and pet (this is one of my own favorite parts of the festival); live music; lectures; and cratfs demonstrations.
But the most famous part of the festival is the quilt show, America’s largest, with over 2,000 quilts on display and for sale. The quilts run the gamut from traditional Amish to modern, and come in all sizes from wall hangings to king size. They’re certainly not cheap, but you will be buying a one-of-a-kind treasure if you decided to take one home. And if not, you’ll still enjoy strolling through the enormous “quilt barn” and looking at tier after tier of locally-made quilts.
The Kutztown Folk Festival has special significance for me and our friend Ben, not just because it’s only 10 minutes from us in scenic Kutztown, but because it has a connection with one of our favorite blogs, Weed Whackin’ Wenches (http://weedwhackinwenches.blogspot.com). One of the Wenches’ moms has a stand at the festival called Bib-a-Lot which sells handmade bibs, placemats, aprons and the like in a mind-boggling array of fabrics. Last year, OFB and I bought some chili-pepper-themed placemats from WingNut’s mom for our hot-pepper-loving friend and fellow blog contributor, Richard Saunders. I’m still threatening to buy a bib for OFB.
The Stahl’s Pottery Festival. The Kutztown Folk Festival. Folks, if you’re within reach, consider making the trip. You’ll be glad you did! And if you happen to see a tall, miserable-looking man being fitted for a bib, or a shortish woman being dragged kicking and screaming away from the pottery stands or animal exhibit by said tall man, please come on over and introduce yourselves. We’d love to meet you!
‘Til next time,
Silence
Frugal living tip #24. June 15, 2009
Posted by ourfriendben in Ben Franklin, homesteading, Uncategorized, wit and wisdom.Tags: alternative uses for dryer sheets, dryer sheets, frugal living, frugality, furgal living tips, uses for dryer sheets
6 comments
Silence Dogood here. It’s time for our weekly Frugal Living Tip here at Poor Richard’s Almanac. This one is about used dryer sheets. You know, those Bounce or Downy fabric softener sheets (or other brand equivalents) that you’re supposed to toss in the dryer with your clothes to make them smell fresher, feel softer, not stick together from static cling… uh, I’m really not sure, since I’ve never seen the point in any of that. Our clothes smell fresh and feel soft without fabric softener or dryer sheets, and we don’t have static cling issues unless I’m drying a half-slip. I can live with pulling clothes apart every once in awhile rather than buying yet another product.
However. Ever since I read, years ago, that you could use used dryer sheets to remove burnt-on food from casseroles, pans, and the like, I’ll admit that I’ve found them kind of fascinating. The thought that people would take the time to find alternative uses for new, much less used, dryer sheets is amazing to me. A true testament to American ingenuity and recycling!
For those of you who use dryer sheets, here’s a laundry list (sorry, I couldn’t resist) of things to do with those used sheets instead of just tossing them:
* The burnt-on food thing. Place a sheet in the bottom of the container, fill with water, and let sit overnight. In the morning, remove the sheet and toss, then scrub out the (formerly) crusted-on gunk.
* Put a sheet in shoes between wearings to get rid of odors and keep them smelling sweet.
* Put that anti-static action to work by using them to clean your TV and computer screens.
* Put a sheet in the bottom of your trash can or wastebasket to eliminate odors.
* Use them like sachets to freshen drawers, closets, linen closets, and empty suitcases. If you store off-season clothes in those big plastic containers or in “hanging closets,” add a dryer sheet before sealing to avoid musty odors.
* Try a used dryer sheet as a polishing cloth to remove soap scum from counters, sinks, tile walls, and shower stalls.
* Use a dryer sheet as a dustcloth to polish and dust furniture.
* Remove dust and crud from lightbulbs and light fixtures with a dryer sheet.
* Use a dryer sheet to collect pet hair from any surface.
* Use them to clean baseboards and car dashboards.
* Dryer sheets supposedly repel mosquitos.
* Stuff a dryer sheet in the hole in a vacuum-cleaner bag before attaching it to the vacuum cleaner to add a fresh scent to your rooms every time you vacuum.
* Dryer sheets supposedly repel flies and yellowjackets at picnics. Place one in each trash can at the picnic site, and attach one to the top of your picnic basket.
* Use a dryer sheet to dust your mini blinds.
* A used dryer sheet makes a great windshield cleaner.
Yow! I can’t help but wonder what made people think about alternative uses for used dryer sheets in the first place. But once they got going, it seems they just couldn’t stop! I tell you, it’s enough to make me think about getting a box of Bounce, not to add the sheets to my dryer but simply for the other uses. Do you have any that aren’t included in this list?
‘Til next time,
Silence
What makes YOU happy? June 14, 2009
Posted by ourfriendben in wit and wisdom.Tags: happiness, happiness setpoint, knowing yourself, what makes you happy
6 comments
Geez. Our friend Ben was just checking my Yahoo! e-mail account and saw an ad with the headline “What makes you happy? Find it here!”
Right. As if happiness could be bought or sold or found. Our friend Ben thinks that two things combine to make us happy, or unhappy, or somewhere in between. One is what I call “the happiness setpoint.” It’s our friend Ben’s belief that people are born happy, unhappy, or neutral (neither happy nor unhappy). That they have a baseline of happiness in which they exist unless something is acting on it.
If your baseline state is happy, and you break your leg, you might be unhappy for a while. But once your leg no longer causes pain, you’ll be happy again, because happy is your resting state, the condition in which you go through your days unless something actively changes it. Ditto for unhappy. If your resting state is unhappy, you might suddenly feel happier if you won the lottery or Johnny Depp proposed to you, but once the initial euphoria wore off, your mood would return to its resting state—unhappy. Our friend Ben, whose resting state is happy, was delighted to see that science also now supports this view.
The other factor that makes us happy or unhappy is self-knowledge. Really knowing who you are and what you want, what contents you, helps you focus on getting what you want and avoiding what you don’t want. Not knowing who you are can lead to endless misery as you try to accumulate the success, wealth, and trappings that are conventionally considered to be desirable and often end up drowning in debt, under unbearable pressure, and living a hectic, sterile life that no one could actually find appealing.
Remember, this is why Socrates said “The unexamined life is not worth living.” It’s also why trying to meet external expectations (your father wants you to become a four-star general, football star, or topnotch lawyer, but you want to be a history professor or green architect or organic chef; your colleagues don’t understand why you don’t go become a bigshot in New York, but you can’t stand the commute or the fumes or the pressure and are perfectly content where you are, even if you aren’t taking home the big bucks) will inevitably make you miserable if they conflict with your own desires.
Our friend Ben and Silence Dogood coincidentally watched three movies in the last week that brought this point home. One, “Off the Map,” showed people creating lives that suited and delighted them, though all were unconventional and would hardly be considered successful or even acceptable in conventional terms. Another, “The Four Feathers,” showed what happens when a son is forced to try to meet his father’s expectations when they conflict with his own. And the third, “Life Is Beautiful,” shows how people can find happiness, even in the most dire circumstances, if they recognize and appreciate it when they see it.
Our friend Ben and Silence both have relatives who wouldn’t acknowledge a second’s happiness if they won the lottery, the Nobel Prize, and a MacArthur Fellowship all together. These miserable, down-at-the-mouth folks would not only insist that they were still unhappy, but would target others as the cause of their misery. These are the people whose worlds are so bounded by their own pathetic selves that they can’t even look out and see beauty, pleasure, discovery, and a whole universe of other people, places, and things. Oh, no, it’s all about poor, poor, pitiful me. After all, nothing else matters, and I couldn’t possibly look outside the mirror of my own hugely important self long enough to even see, much less acknowledge, another being.
Our friend Ben and Silence think this is pitiful. Being trapped inside yourself is oh so limited. There’s a whole world out there waiting for you to find it. You’re not, in the cosmic scheme, exactly important, much less the center of the universe. Really, there’s a lot more going on. I don’t know how to reset a happiness setpoint to bring it to that happiness line. But I do know that you can think through who you are and what makes you happy, if you’re brave enough to let go of everyone else’s expectations and simply look at yourself.
What makes you happy?
The truth about tofu. June 14, 2009
Posted by ourfriendben in recipes, Uncategorized, wit and wisdom.Tags: recipes with tofu, tofu, tofu cookbooks, vegetarian cooking
4 comments
Silence Dogood here. As a vegetarian, I know I’m supposed to love tofu. I’m supposed to eat tofu the way meat-eaters eat chicken. There are just two problems: tofu’s lack of texture and its lack of flavor. Now, that’s not to say that I haven’t enjoyed amazing tofu dishes in Chinese, Vietnamese, and Thai restaurants. But in every case, the tofu was fried, giving it a crunchy exterior which perfectly offset the soft interior, and then drenched in rich, flavorful sauces. These dishes were delicious, and I wish I could eat them every day. But they’re about as healthy as fried chicken or pork barbecue, and just as calorie-laden.
So, how to have your tofu and enjoy it, too? Here are some suggestions. Let me say right off that I’m not a believer in substituting tofu for dairy in things like cheesecake, just as I’d as soon be dead as eat tofu-based pseudo-meats like “tofurkey” or “tofu pups” (pseudo-hot dogs). I can still remember the delicious flavor and texture of meat. If I’m not eating the real thing, I don’t want to eat some fake thing, and the same goes for dessert. Ugh! Instead, there are plenty of ways to enjoy tofu in its own right.
First, deal with the texture problem by buying the firmest tofu you can find. “Super-firm” works for me. I’ve finally found super-firm tofu already cubed in a pack in the supermarket (for some reason, they tend to put tofu in the produce section, so check your grocery’s produce department for this wonderful innovation). Okay, I’m not so lazy that I can’t manage to cube a block of tofu myself. But in my experience, the pre-cubed tofu seems somehow denser (uh, firmer), so it has more texture or bite than home-cut tofu from a block. See what you think, but I vote for pre-cubed.
Forget all the endless directions for enclosing a cube of less-than-firm tofu in a Ziploc bag and driving over it with your car to press out excess liquid and firm it up. (I’m exaggerating, but not by much.) These techniques may have been necessary in the days before firm tofu made it into the stores, and they’re still necessary if you make your own tofu. Otherwise, just start with extra-firm and go from there.
So much for texture. Now what about flavor? There are three ways to make sure your tofu has flavor: saucing it, marinating it, and slow-cooking it. (By slow-cooking, I don’t only mean cooking it in a Crock-Pot or other slow cooker; a long-simmering soup will serve the same purpose.)
Saucing is the simplest of these techniques. As you know if you’ve ever enjoyed Bean Curd Szechuan Style or tofu in General Tso’s sauce, sauteeing tofu, mushrooms, broccoli florets, and sweet onion in a flavorful sauce and topping it with chopped green onions (scallions) and maybe a sprinkling of chopped peanuts or sesame seeds will give you a delicious topping for rice.
Marinating is a great technique if you want to grill tofu or add it to a stir-fry or shish kebab. Here are four marinades for tofu from Susan Geiskopf-Hadler’s The Complete Book of Vegetarian Grilling (Fair Winds Press, 2005). Pre-cubed tofu’s too small to use with these if you plan to make kebabs, so instead use extra- or super-firm tofu that you cube yourself into big enough cubes (such as 1-inch cubes) to skewer, or cut into slabs to grill like meat. In all cases, pour half the marinade in a shallow baking dish and add the tofu cubes or slabs, then pour the remaining marinade on top and marinate for an hour, turning the tofu after 30 minutes.
For a spicy peanut marinade, whisk together 1/2 cup smooth peanut butter, 6 tablespoons dry sake, 1/4 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice, 2 tablespoons peanut oil, and 3 teaspoons chili flakes. For a curry marinade, whisk together 1/2 cup unsweetened coconut milk, 2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lime juice, 1 tablespoon toasted sesame oil, 2 teaspoons curry powder, and 1/4 teaspoon salt. For a garlic-soy marinade, whisk together 1/2 cup freshly squeezed orange juice, 3 tablespoons toasted sesame oil, 2 tablespoons soy sauce, 3 cloves garlic, minced, and 1 teaspoon dried basil, crushed. For honey-ginger marinade, whisk together 6 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice, 3 tablespoons dark sesame oil, 3 tablespoons soy sauce, 3 tablespoons honey, 3 teaspoons minced fresh ginger, and 3 minced garlic cloves.
Strangely enough, I only have three books devoted to tofu cookery in my extensive cookbook collection: the first tofu cookbook published here in the U.S., Cathy Bauer and Juel Andersen’s The Tofu Cookbook (Rodale Press, 1979); Tofu Quick & Easy by Louise Hadler (The Book Publishing Company, 1986); and uber-vegetarian chef Deborah Madison’s This Can’t Be Tofu! (Broadway Books, 2000). You’ll also find excellent tofu recipes in Japanese Foods That Heal (John and Jan Belleme, Tuttle Publishing, 2007)—check out their Broiled Tofu with Miso Marinade, Tofu Marsala, and Tofu Satay especially—and in Real Vegetarian Thai by Nancie McDermott (see especially Red Curry with Red Sweet Peppers, Snow Peas, and Tofu; Satay Peanut Sauce with Grilled Vegetables, Fried Tofu, and Toast; and Tome Yum Soup with Mushrooms and Tofu.)
As for This Can’t Be Tofu!, just wait ’til you try Deborah Madison’s creative takes on tofu. You may love them all! Favorites here include Grilled, Braised, or Broiled Tofu with Tamarind Barbecue Sauce, Spinach and Tofu Paneer, Tofu Triangles in Creamy Nut Butter Sauce with Scallions, and Sauteed Mushrooms and Tofu with Tamarind Sauce.
Don’t I have a Silence Dogood original recipe for tofu? Of course! Soup needs a lot of spice to give tofu great flavor, and Silence’s Ginger Snap Soup doesn’t disappoint. I make it in my Crock-Pot, but it would taste just as good if long-simmered in a heavy pot on the stove. (I love my super-heavy LeCreuset Dutch ovens.) Either way, get ready for a warming, spicy, low-calorie thrill. Note that I’ve posted this recipe before, but I’ll give it to you again here so you don’t have to search the site for it.
Silence’s Ginger Snap Soup
1 large sweet onion (WallaWalla, Vidalia, or 1015 type), diced
1-2 leeks, halved and thinly sliced (white and light green parts only)
2 green onions (scallions), thinly sliced
1 large carton veggie stock (all brands are good)
1 carton super-firm cubed tofu
1 cup sliced mushrooms, mixed (as, button and shiitake), or more to taste
1/2 cup wild rice mix
1 tablespoon ginger paste (look for this in your store’s produce section)
1 tablespoon ginger chutney
1 tablespoon fresh ginger root, peeled and minced, or more to taste
1 tablespoon Thai curry powder
2 tablespoons red miso paste, or more to taste
hot sauce (we like Pickapeppa, but for this, you might prefer Sriracha Hot Chili Sauce) to taste
Real Salt, Trocamare, Herbamare, or salt to taste
extra-virgin olive oil for sauteeing
Saute all ingredients except green onions, rice, and veggie stock in olive oil until onions clarify and mushrooms have cooked down. (Add cubed tofu just before taking sauteed ingredients off heat and stir in.) Add saute to slow cooker or heavy soup pot with veggie stock and rice. Cook on low 6-8 hours in slow cooker, or simmer on stove for an hour or until soup is fragrant and flavorful, adding more veggie stock or water as needed. Top each bowl with sliced green onion before serving.
One last thought: Recently, our next-door-neighbor Fran begged me for some vegetarian recipes. She said her daughter and her daughter’s boyfriend were both vegetarians, and she needed some recipes to make when they came for dinner. “What have you been making for them?” I asked, after assuring her that I’d get her some recipes ASAP. “Well, I’ve been buying some of that flavored tofu, adding it to veggies in a stir-fry, and serving it up over rice. They think I’m a genius!”
I’ve never tried preflavored tofu myself, but hey, you can’t argue with success. What are your favorite tofu recipes?
‘Til next time,
Silence
Kudos to Christopher Lee! June 13, 2009
Posted by ourfriendben in wit and wisdom.Tags: Christopher Lee, Sir Christopher Lee
4 comments
Our friend Ben was thrilled to turn on the computer this morning and see that one of my all-time favorite actors, Christopher Lee, had been knighted by Queen Elizabeth II. Though he’s best known for playing Dracula and The Mummy in horror movies made by Britain’s Hammer Studios, and more recently for his roles as the wizard Saruman in the Lord of the Rings trilogy and Count Dooku in the “Star Trek” prequels, Sir Christopher’s roles have run the gamut over his long career.
Some of our friend Ben’s favorites include Sir Christopher as Lord Summerisle in “The Wicker Man;” as Lucas de Beaumanoir, the Grand Master of the Knights Templar, in “Ivanhoe;” as Francisco Scaramanga, “The Man with the Golden Gun,” in the James Bond movie of that name; as Fu Manchu in a classic series of campy films; and as Sir Henry Baskerville in the 1959 version of “The Hound of the Baskervilles,” in which Peter Cushing, another Star Wars alum, starred as Sherlock Holmes.
Our friend Ben has been watching Christopher Lee act my whole life. But I knew nothing about the man behind the mask, so I went over to Wikipedia to check him out. And there I discovered that, like his fellow horror-movie star Vincent Price, there was far more to Sir Christopher than his height (6’5″) and his acting career. Try these: He’s the son of a Contessa. In college, he won scholarships in Classics. He served in the Royal Air Force (RAF) and intelligence services during World War II. He speaks eight languages. And he can sing! For those who care about fidelity, Sir Christopher married once and has remained happily with his original wife, quite the anomaly in acting (and, sadly, in general).
The Associated Press gave their story of Sir Christopher’s knighting the headline “Queen Knights ‘Count Dracula’.” Ha, ha. But given his lifelong fidelity to his friends (from Peter Cushing to Tim Burton), his spouse, and his country, our friend Ben thinks that Christopher Lee has been a knight in the truest, Arthurian sense of that term, all along. An honor well deserved!
