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The quinoa question. April 7, 2011

Posted by ourfriendben in recipes, wit and wisdom.
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Silence Dogood here. Suddenly, I seem surrounded by quinoa. Just the other day, my friend Amy gifted me with samples of red, white and black quinoa (“KEEN-wah”), the tiny, ancient, high-protein grain of South America. Then our local paper featured an article in which James Beard Award-winning chef and cookbook author Michelle Bernstein referred to quinoa as “wonder food.” (Barbecue guru Steven Raichlen lists quinoa in his top healthy food recommendations in the same article.)

Quinoa (Chenopodium quinoa), called the “mother of all grains” in its native Andes, is related to a well-known weed, lamb’s-quarters (Chenopodium album), which makes its home here at Hawk’s Haven and is renowned in herbalist circles for its nutritious leaves. (We pull ours and feed them to the chickens, who seem to relish them.) Lamb’s-quarters also produces abundant seedheads; I wonder if its seeds could be used as a quinoa substitute?

Wikipedia gives an emphatic yes. The leaves can be cooked like spinach but are also used in a variety of Indian dishes, including curries and breads, it notes, and the seeds are used to make gruel. In Africa, lamb’s-quarters are used in traditional medicine, and the seeds have been found at Iron Age sites and in the stomachs of Danish “bog people,” whose bodies have been preserved rather like leather in the acidic bog environment; humans have apparently been eating Chenopodium seeds and leaves for at least 4,000 years. The article even notes that lamb’s-quarters are used as chicken feed!

Another quinoa relative, Good King Henry (Chenopodium bonus-henricus), native to central and southern Europe, was once a popular cottage-garden plant known as the poor man’s asparagus. As the common name implies, the stalks of this perennial species were harvested each spring and cooked like asparagus, and the leaves were later prepared and eaten like spinach.

Chenopodium berlandieri, another quinoa relative, was cultivated throughout the prehistoric Americas and still is in Mexico for its broccoli-like stalks, seeds, and spinach-like leaves. One cultivated variety is known in Mexico as ‘Chia’ (not to be confused with Chia Pets, which use an entirely different plant, Salvia hispanica, also the source of chia seeds, another current health-food craze). A bit of trivia: The Mexican state of Chiapas is named for chia (S. hispanica), indicating its importance as a food crop. 

But I digress. What of quinoa, and why haven’t I tried it before? Well, three things: The tiny seeds look more like birdseed than food. They’re protected by a bitter saponin coating, so the seeds have to be washed (and washed and washed) to remove it and render the seed edible, which, as one package noted, depletes flavor and nutrients. Not to mention it’s a huge pain when dealing with seeds the size of pinheads, roughly the size of couscous, seeds that make millet look big. The third drawback is best described by Amy (who actually loves quinoa) herself: “Let me just warn you that quinoa looks, well, a little unusual when it’s cooked. The cooked seeds have these little tails that come out.” All I could think of were developing tadpole eggs. Now, I myself am very fond of frogs and toads, but that doesn’t mean I want to eat their eggs. Gack!

On the plus side, quinoa is highly nutritious, so much so than none other than the great plantsman Luther Burbank introduced it to the U.S. as a food crop. It’s high in fiber and has the best amino acid profile of any grain, making it comparatively high in protein, as well as having decent amounts of vitamins B1, B2, B6 , and folate, and the minerals magnesium, iron, phosphorus, and zinc. It’s also gluten-free, good news for folks like Amy who are gluten-intolerant. And the package claims that it’s as versatile as rice.

But how do you cook it? The package of white quinoa seed, from Eden Organic (which also says it rubs off the saponin layer so you don’t have to go through the ordeal, which we’ll read more about in a minute), suggests that you rinse 1 cup of the seeds in cold water, add them to 1 1/4 cups of boiling water, then cover, reduce heat, and simmer for 12 minutes. Finally, let stand for 5 minutes, fluff, and serve. 

Well, that sounds easy enough. But I had a hunch that you could make quinoa in your rice cooker, too, so I pulled down The Ultimate Rice Cooker Cookbook (Beth Hensperger and Julie Kaufmann, The Harvard Common Press, 2002), and sure enough, there it was, along with a description of the taste and texture that I found a bit, well, disquieting. Amy had described the flavor as nutty and the texture as crunchy, a descriptor that brings to mind undercooked rice. Ow!

Here’s what Ms. Hensperger and Ms. Kaufmann have to say: “The seed is a round, flat disc with a very mild flavor that has a gentle tangy aftertaste. Quinoa turns translucent and fluffy when cooked. A hoop-like bran layer surrounds each grain, and it looks like a half-moon-shaped crescent or curly tail in the pot with the grain after cooking (a sure sign it is cooked enough). Quinoa is very light and extremely digestible, with a surprising crunch despite its tiny size.” Ack, there’s that crunch part again, reminding me of the descriptions of edible insects featured in yesterday’s post, “Stinkbugs: The final solution.” But again, I digress.

The authors note that “You can add tamari soy sauce, minced fresh herbs, garam masala, or cumin to the water to vary the flavor.” (Or, perhaps, simply to add flavor.) Then they tell you how to get that saponin layer, designed to protect the seed from insects, who apparently can’t stand the taste either, off: “Place the quinoa in a deep bowl, fill with cold water, and rub between your fingers. Drain in a fine strainer. Rinse two or three times, until the foam disappears.” Sound like fun? I didn’t think so.

Once you’ve washed off the saponin, to cook quinoa in a rice cooker, the authors recommend using 1 1/2 cups quinoa to 2 cups water or chicken stock (I, of course, would use veggie stock) and 1/4 teaspoon salt. When the machine switches to the Keep Warm cycle, let it sit for 10 minutes, then fluff with the rice paddle before serving. You can hold it on the Keep Warm cycle for up to an hour, according to the authors, before serving hot or cooling and refrigerating for future salads.

They also point out that quinoa makes a great dessert cooked in fruit juice (they use orange or passion fruit-orange juice, add brown sugar, butter, salt, and toasted chopped nuts, then serve with heavy cream). Hmmm. This sounds good in principle, except for that crunch thing. I wonder if brown rice wouldn’t be better.

But their most interesting recipe was for a quinoa tabbouleh that substitutes cooked, cooled quinoa for the usual bulgur wheat. They combine the quinoa with diced tomato, cucumber, red onion, and minced parsley, then drizzle it with a dressing of lemon juice, olive oil, Tabasco sauce, and black pepper, stirring to combine. Amy also prefers her quinoa in a chilled salad. She mixes in crumbled feta cheese, cucumbers, chopped artichokes, tomatoes, and diced scallions (green onions). I’d add sliced kalamata olives to the mix and a little extra-virgin olive oil, salt or Trocomare, black or lemon pepper, and fresh-squeezed lemon juice.

The Eden package offers a hot variation on this theme: Minted Quinoa. Once you’ve cooked the quinoa, you add ume plum vinegar, extra-virgin olive oil, toasted pine nuts, chopped scallions, chopped fresh mint, blanched cauliflower florets, and blanched diced carrots, stir, and serve. (Lots-o-crunch in here! I wonder if sauteeing the blanched cauliflower and carrots in the oil, then adding the cooked quinoa to the saute, and finishing with the other ingredients wouldn’t make a richer, more flavorful dish. Not to mention subbing that veggie stock for the quinoa cooking water.)

Hmmm. Who else is cooking quinoa, and how are they cooking it? Mollie Katzen has a couple of quinoa recipes in her Vegetable Heaven (Hyperion, 1997). One is a simple mix of cooked quinoa and millet (page 88) combined with processed-to-meal, dry-roasted cashews and sunflower seeds. (She suggests topping it with citrus wedges, cherry tomatoes, minced parley, or grated carrots to add some color; I’d bet that adding some plain yogurt and powdered cumin or curry powder would kick it up a bit, too.) 

But Mollie also has a recipe for Couscous-Quinoa Tabbouli (page 6), and it looks like a winner. As noted, quinoa and couscous are about the same size and seem like a natural combination. Jazzed up with cumin, coriander, parsley, mint, scallions, red onion, cucumber, garlic, cinnamon, salt, black pepper, lemon juice, and extra-virgin olive oil, and topped with (optional) cherry tomatoes and/or toasted walnuts, served with warm pita, this sounds like a flavor fiesta that’s only waiting for herbed crumbled feta and plain yogurt, hummus, and/or baba ghannouj on the side to take it from good to great.

Needless to say, I’d only begun to look for quinoa recipes in my extensive cookbook collection. I just knew that the innovative vegan chef Bryant Terry would have done great things with quinoa, so I pulled his Vegan Soul Kitchen (DeCapo/Long Life, 2009) and Grub, the book he coauthored with Anna Lappe (Jeremy P. Tarcher/Penguin, 2006). Though the title Grub brings those edible insects unfortunately and forcibly back to mind, Chef Terry didn’t disappoint. On page 195, He suggests cooking 1 cup quinoa in 1 cup coconut milk with 1 cup water and 1/2 teaspoon salt. (Bring the liquids and salt to a boil before adding the quinoa with 2 tablespoons dried unsweetened coconut, return to a boil, reduce heat, cover, simmer for 20 minutes, remove from the heat, allow to sit, covered, for 5 more minutes, then fluff and serve.) He also gives a luscious-sounding, uncomplicated recipe for Quinoa-Stuffed Cabbage Packages (see pages 214-215 of Grub), which he swears will bring prosperity in the new year. 

In Vegan Soul Kitchen, Chef Terry presents his Power Porridge (pages 132-133), using those Inca and Aztec power seeds, quinoa and amaranth, to kick start your morning with protein, calcium, fiber, and minerals. But as a cornbread fanatic, what caught my attention was his recipe for Quinoa-Quinoa Cornbread (page 159, so called beacuse he adds both whole quinoa and quinoa flour to his cornmeal, unbleached flour, and other ingredients to make a super-nutritious cornbread with, in his words, “a rich, nutty flavor and some crunch.” He also recommends cubing leftover pieces with garlic and olive oil and baking them for croutons.

Continuing the search, I saw that Donna Klein had included a yummy-sounding Curried Quinoa Salad with Mango on page 71 of her book, The Tropical Vegan Kitchen (Home/Penguin, 2009). Basically, you cook the quinoa, then add canola oil, cider vinegar, mango chutney, mild curry powder, salt, dry mustard, freshly ground black pepper, chopped fresh mango, chopped seedless cucumber, and sliced scallions. (I’ll bet the fresh mango salsa now available from groceries’ produce sections would make a fine substitute for the mango and veggies.) Sounds like a must-try!

Finally, I looked in How to Cook Everything Vegetarian by Mark Bittman (John Wiley & Sons, Inc., 2007). Mind you, I’m not normally a big fan of these huge, all-inclusive tomes; I don’t trust them, and they bore me. But I had to admire Bittman for tackling vegetarianism, so I’d broken down and bought it. So okay, I had to admit it: Mark Bittman takes the prize for largest number of quinoa recipes in any Silence Dogood-owned cookbook.

In addition to discussing quinoa, quinoa flour, and quinoa pasta, Mark presents recipes for quinoa with silky cabbage, cottage cheese pancakes with quinoa, white bean and sage tart crust with quinoa, baked quinoa with goat cheese, caramelized quinoa with leeks, caramelized quinoa with onions, roasted quinoa with potatoes and cheese, red peppers stuffed with goat cheese and quinoa, quinoa-ricotta dumplings, spicy quinoa and carrot rosti, quinoa and parsnip rosti, quinoa salad with lemon, spinach, and poppy seeds, quinoa salad with tempeh, and finally, Southwestern quinoa and sweet potato salad. Hmmm, looks like this will keep me busy for some time. Thanks, Mark!

I’ll keep you all posted about my quinoa-cooking progress, and, of course, how our friend Ben and I like the various quinoa-centric dishes. Meanwhile, please, if you have experience cooking and enjoying quinoa, share your tips and recipes here!

                  ‘Til next time,

                           Silence

Stinkbugs: The final solution. April 6, 2011

Posted by ourfriendben in critters, wit and wisdom.
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Silence Dogood here. As longtime readers know, I hate stinkbugs the way vegetarians hate the current crop of offal-loving chefs, and vice-versa. So far this year, I’ve already had to throw three stinkbugs out the door and toss three more deceased stinkbugs into the trash. And the season’s just beginning. If, like me, you’re not the spray ‘em/stomp on ‘em type, you need something to help you banish the evil beasties.

Fortunately, help is at hand, in the form of a growing trend, edible insects. Now, in many countries, insects are considered a delicacy. Take the witchetty grub of Australia or the mopane worm of Botswana. Chocolate-covered crickets, grasshoppers, and ants have been marketed here in the U.S. But most of us have yet to warm up to the idea of feeding canned or dehydrated mealworms, fly larvae, and ants to our outdoor birds, much less snack on them ourselves.

Years ago, our local paper featured an article about edible insects, including a full-color photo of a pizza with, not pepperoni and sausage, but tarantulas and cockroaches. I decided on the spot that this was the ultimate diet tool, especially for pizza-lovers like myself: Just clip the photo, put it on your fridge door, and you’d never, ever, want to eat again.

These days, the trend seems to be eating the most bizarre foods on earth (example: Tony Bourdain consuming the still-beating heart of a cobra on his TV show). U.S. food celebrities travel around the world to eat dogs, sheep eyeballs, and the like. This trend coupled with the growing recognition of how much it really costs the planet to produce beef, pork, and other sources of meat has resulted in a marriage as unnatural as that of the Sting/Jennifer Beales union in “The Bride” [of Frankenstein]: Locavores have concluded that eating insects is the best way to reduce our outsized planetary consumption and carbon footprint.

Now, it seems to me that it might occur to some of these self-righteous idiots that adopting a vegetarian diet would accomplish this goal without forcing people to eat bugs. But noooo. Must have, must eat meat, even if it’s in the form of maggots or roaches, or, say, tarantulas.

Well, alrighty then. If morons who insist that animal-based protein is the sole source of life, and who want to consume locally-produced foods, choose to eat insects, so be it. Chow down, guys! Check out today’s article, “Bugs. It’s what’s for dinner?” online at Yahoo.com, about enthusiastic insectavores attempting to spread the gospel of bug-eating as a way to get that all-important animal-based protein in your diet without paying for beef, chicken, pork, and etc. There’s just one problem: Your “popcorn” katydids, grasshoppers, crickets, and etc. can go for more than $90 per pound, and they’re all imported from abroad.

Gee. Somehow, this seems like the antithesis of buying locally-grown, reasonably priced produce that requires no expensive shipping and is organic and wholesome. Instead, let’s go for the exotic imported bugs to make a point! By eating them, we’re so much more moral than you. 

I guess there’s no point in showing that a vegetarian diet can support our planet, our health, and our local producers. Hey, it’s not trendy like eating bugs or offal! But maybe there’s an upside here after all. Maybe these trendy bug-eaters could add stinkbugs to their diets! Oh, please, won’t you people come down and visit us here at Hawk’s Haven? I’m sure we’ll have plenty of stinkbugs for your next TV competition…

         ‘Til next time,

                        Silence

Finally, flickers. April 5, 2011

Posted by ourfriendben in critters, homesteading, Uncategorized.
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Or at least, one flicker. As winter finally transitions into spring—something Silence Dogood and I had begun to think would never happen—our friend Ben is seeing the birds of winter that fill our landscape here at Hawk’s Haven, the cottage home Silence and I share in the precise middle of nowhere, PA, start to give way to the birds of spring.

Amazingly, there are still juncos here, the first time I can remember them being here this late. I blame the ongoing frigid temperatures, which are supposed to dip into the teens again tonight, for keeping the juncos from their northward path. Just yesterday, I saw snow geese still passing over, again to my astonishment. Global warming, where art thou?!

Nonetheless, the birds of summer have begun their annual arrival. I saw our first robin of spring this past weekend, and there was a goldfinch—not yet in bright yellow breeding plumage but still recognizable—on one of our tube feeders just yesterday.

But happiest of all our returning visitors was the Northern flicker we saw flying through the backyard en route to our suet feeder. When Silence and I first bought Hawk’s Haven, flickers were a constant sight. The big, colorful woodpecker relatives cheered us up no end with their entertaining antics.

Not that you’d necessarily recognize the handsome birds as woodpeckers, since they look and act more like big songbirds, sweeping over the lawn rather than hanging out on trees and hammering away. And unlike most woodpeckers, rather than sporting mostly black-and-white plumage, often with red on the head and sometimes with a crest (as in the case of pileated woodpeckers), flickers for the most part are a soft mourning-dove brown, with discreet yellow and red markings. The easiest way to recognize a flicker is to see its white rump-patch flashing as it flies by.

For the first few years, Silence and I delighted in our flickers. Then, about three years later, they disappeared. And not just from our backyard, but from all the yards, parks, and other landscapes in our part of PA. What had happened? Where had they gone?!

One of my favorite backyard birding references, Birds at Your Feeder (Erica H. Dunn and Diana L. Tessaglia-Hymes, Norton, 1999), which summarizes data from the Cornell Lab of Ornithology’s Project FeederWatch, suggests the answer: Flickers are ant-eaters. That’s why they tend to hang out on lawns, searching out ant colonies in the ground and in fallen branches that have decayed and invited ants to make their homes. This of course makes them allies in our war against pests. But unfortunately, it also makes them susceptible to our shortsightedness.

Our ever-increasing use of chemical pesticides on lawns has wiped out the flickers’ food source. And in the South, where flickers feed on fire ants while overwintering, the battle against the nightmarish fire ants has made the flickers an inadvertent casualty of war. According to Birds at Your Feeder, their numbers have declined steadily for thirty years.

So how did it happen that Silence and I saw one in our yard this weekend? Well, maybe the organic lawn-care movement is helping the birds recover. We’re not sure what else to think. But Birds at Your Feeder offers a few tips if you’d like to encourage these delightful birds to visit your own yard: Setting out suet, especially in suet logs (logs with round holes drilled into them that are filled with suet) rather than suet cakes, is the best way to attract them. A large, open yard with a few trees and lots of fruiting shrubs provides their favored habitat. Flickers may eat mixed seed, millet, sunflower seed, corn, peanuts, niger, peanut butter mixes, baked goods, oats, dried fruit, and, of course, water, but are more likely to eat them when spread on the ground than to take them from a feeder.

When Birds at Your Feeder was published, the latest trend in birdfeeding—setting out live, freeze-dried, roasted, and canned mealworms, fly larvae, waxworm larvae, mealworm-suet pellets, mealworm-infused suet cakes, and the like had not caught on. (For a representative sample, check out the selection at Duncraft, http://www.duncraft.com/.) But our friend Ben is willing to bet that the ant-loving flickers would enjoy this fatty, protein-rich fare as well.

Whatever the case, welcome back, flickers! We’re so happy to see you.

A great way to curb impulse grocery shopping. April 4, 2011

Posted by ourfriendben in homesteading, wit and wisdom.
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Silence Dogood here. If, like me, you love food and love grocery shopping, you probably have a hard time keeping pricey items from somehow slipping into your basket or cart. Here’s how it goes:

You need crumbled Gorgonzola, but while you’re looking for the best deal on it, your eye is caught by that hunk of Jarlsberg or slab of Brie. Maybe you could indulge just this once. Heading towards the potatoes, you pass the olive bar… hmmm… those kalamata olives look wonderful, and look! They have the olive-feta mix our friend Ben loves on his salads, not to mention artichoke hearts. Yum! You’re out of button mushrooms, but once you reach the mushroom display, that package of gourmet mushrooms doesn’t really seem that pricey.

Stopping for mixed greens, you can’t resist a bag of your favorite, arugula, not to mention packages of sprouts and watercress, since they’re both supposed to be so good for you, and a couple of bunches of fresh cilantro. And just look at that beautiful container of crudites! You’re always trying to get OFB to eat more veggies, so you grab it and a carton of yogurt dip. Wow, green, white, and purple asparagus! We love asparagus, let’s get one of each. And look, a great deal on blood oranges and lemons! Bags of both go into the cart.

Before you’ve even left the produce section, your cart or basket is bulging with things you hadn’t intended to buy. And once you reach the checkout line, your eyes are standing out of your head from sticker shock. Bazillion dollars just for groceries, and not that many groceries either, come to that? How did that happen?! But no worries—you have your debit card. (Or worse, your credit card.) You slide the card, load up the car, and return home, trying to banish those feelings of guilt as you’ve overspent again. Your budget’s already blown, and you forgot the dog food and toilet paper!

If your eyes are always bigger than your budget, willpower, or imagination, like mine, you need intervention. But fortunately, it’s not hard to find. Just one simple technique—plus one small gadget you almost certainly already have on hand—will do the trick.

I signed up years ago to receive e-mails from RealAge, the website set up by the renowned Dr. Mehmet Oz and his partner, Dr. Michael Roizen, to provide information on nutritional breakthroughs and other low-tech ways real people could enhance their health through diet, exercise, and the like. I recommend the site to you, since signing up is free and the information is helpful and easy to implement. So I was thrilled to see a feature in today’s e-mail that recommended the same solution to overspending at the grocery that I’d adopted long ago, in a feature called “Eating Healthy on a Budget.”

The article points out what ought to be obvious, but in today’s pay-with-plastic world really isn’t: “Turns out you make more unhealthy impulse buys… at the supermarket when you pay with plastic than with real money. Pay with cash and your shopping cart will contain just as much good-for-you stuff but about 30% fewer unhealthy foods… In fact, researchers suspect there’s a parallel between Americans paying for at least 40% of their purchases with plastic and 34% of Americans being extremely overweight.”

Yikes. RealAge suggests that you curb this tendency by calculating how much you can afford to spend, budgeting accordingly, and paying with cash. They suggest that, if you have trouble adding up the items going into your basket or cart as you shop, you carry a pocket calculator or use the calculator function on your cell phone to add things up.

I can tell you that paying with cash works wonders on curbing impulse buying, even when you’re not about to buy unhealthy junk. You have $40 to spend, and you know $20 will have to go to that bag of dog food. In addition, you need crumbled Gorgonzola, potatoes, salad greens, mushrooms, and toilet paper?

Goodbye Jarlsberg, Brie, olives, fancy mushrooms, fruit, crudites, dip, asparagus, arugula, and other pricey items. You can see right away that it will take pretty much all of the remaining $20 just to buy the stuff on your list.

If you’re really good at mental calculation or use that pocket calculator or cell-phone function, you just might discover that your budget would stretch to a bunch of green asparagus. Hooray! You can enjoy one of spring’s most delicious veggies and still not go over your limit.

Try it. You may not like it, but you’ll definitely like not running over your grocery budget every month.

                ‘Til next time,

                             Silence

On jewelry, marbles, antiques… and George. April 3, 2011

Posted by ourfriendben in Ben Franklin, wit and wisdom.
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Silence Dogood here. Yesterday, I left our friend Ben furiously writing his latest opus and snuck off to the Allentown (PA) Fairgrounds to go to a big antiques show they’re holding this weekend and to the Allentown Farmers’ Market. It had probably been a year since I’d last been to Allentown, but frankly, I needed a break from the ongoing winter doldrums, I love antiques, and there were a couple of things I actually needed from that particular market.

Of course, given our ongoing financial restrictions, I had to dodge OFB’s objections before heading out the door. “It costs $7 to even attend the antiques show—and that’s with the coupon from the paper?! Silence, that’s too much! And you know that once you’re in there you’ll just spend more money! And what about that farmers’ market? It’s too big, too tempting. Have you ever gotten out of there without spending at least $60? Do you really, really have to go?!”

Yes, I really, really did. And of course I had my arguments lined up. “Ben, I’m just going to get two things at the Farmers’ Market—delicious Middle Eastern food from that specialty stand, which we can have for supper and enjoy in salads and as appetizers for the rest of the week, and empty cigar boxes from the cigar stand for our marble collection, which, might I point out, are free. The Middle Eastern food at that stand is as good as that in any restaurant, and you can get a lot more—for a lot less—than it would cost you at a restaurant. As for the show, you know how much I love antiques. And appalling as it is, a $7 entrance fee is cheaper than most movie tickets these days. The way I see it, I’m just going to see a museum exhibit, to enjoy immersing myself in the past. Think of it as a matinee-priced antiques movie.”

Our friend Ben still looked worried, with good reason. Neither of us is especially good at self-control, and both of us have very wide-ranging tastes and interests, a very bad combination when you’re about to be confronted with hundreds of delicious edibles and thousands of appealing collectibles. Still, a slim wallet and a passion for staying out of debt can put a pretty good check on even the most enthusiastic. I was determined to exert fiscal control while enjoying myself visually to the max.

In my opinion, I didn’t do too badly. Some might say that I went a little overboard at the Middle Eastern stand, buying baba ghannouj, herbed feta, a feta-olive salad, a Mediterranean bean salad, six falafel patties, and their luscious cucumber-onion-spiced yogurt. And I did go over the rails in the gift department, buying a bottle of hot sauce for our heat-loving friend and fellow blog contributor Richard Saunders that was made with the Bhut Jalokia pepper, the world’s hottest, and a packet of file gumbo (or is that gumbo file?) for my friend Delilah, who I know has been looking for this special New Orleans spice. But otherwise, I stayed on course, avoided the wonderful cheese, wine, produce, pickle, bread, Italian, Mexican, dried fruit, and etc.etc. stands that usually tempt me, and stashed my treasures in the car before heading over to the antiques show.

Let me explain my passion for antiques. Unlike OFB, who was brought up in a Colonial home filled with authentic period furniture, basically a child in a living museum, I grew up in a home with a hodgepodge of history. We had some stuff from my great-great-grandparents, more from my great-grandparents, and hand-me-downs from my grandparents, as well as my parents’ acquisitions based on need or taste.

This jumble of stuff brought domestic history alive for me in a way no book, movie, or museum could ever do. Here was my great-great-Grandma’s butter mold. Here was my Grandma’s wartime copy of the Joy of Cooking. Here was my other Grandma’s prized Victorian sofa and her button collection. Here was my Mama’s percolator, my Grandaddy’s gold coin, my great-great-Grandma’s sidesaddle and Great-Grandma’s tinted photograph and her prized brooch.

To this day, going to an antiques mall or antiques shop or antiques show, or even a flea market, brings history alive for me in a visceral, present way nothing else can. These artifacts of everyday life show how everyday people actually lived. And the diversity, the care and time taken to make each object, the love and appreciation that has preserved it to this day, is so humbling in our day of plastic, mass-produced, made-to-break junk. However humble, the objects made in the past were made carefully, and made to last. And they were so diverse and individual in their inception!

This is always most evident to me in the jewelry, and as I took in the offerings at this show, I kept that at the front of my mind, while at the back was a secret desire to find an antique cherry amber ring. No luck with that, but I did see and enjoy a pair of very tempting Ben Franklin earrings, an exquisite turquoise-inlaid Mexican silver cross pendant ca. 1924, some glistening calcite beads, amazing enamelled beetle brooches, Southwest silver squash blossom-and-turquoise earrings, and a heavy handmade looped silver necklace encrusted with religious pendants of all types and stripes.

Other notable finds were a British “Livingstone in Africa” board game, a beautiful woven coverlet, an intricately carved bone-and-fruitwood 18th-century chess piece, and some heavy silver “pieces of eight.” There were, need I say, plenty of other delights to ponder, including a small collection of George Washington memorabilia from the centenary and bicentenary of his birth in 1732.

There was an elaborate print of Washington on his white horse, a charming little amateur watercolor of Washington, also mounted, and a blue-and-white plate featuring Martha Washington, all from 1832, as well as a medal and bookends from the 1932 bicentennial. (This was also the inaugural date for the Washington quarter, in case you’re wondering.) As an admirer of Washington, and having just read Marvin Kittman’s The Making of the Prefident 1789, I was actually on the lookout for Washingtoniana, and this little grouping didn’t disappoint. Our friend Ben is actually related to Martha Washington, so the plate and the little watercolor were especially appealing. But I resisted.    

I did succumb to one thing, though: a bag of antique marbles. OFB and I love marbles, and I knew he’d forgive me for spending $10 on a bag that included handmade onionskin “mist” and “agate” shooters, along with many early machine-made gems. I know we’ll spend many hours admiring the marbles, checking to see which ones fluoresce under blacklight (think Vaseline Glass), trying to price those superb shooters. Hours of entertainment, and permanent additions to our collection, for just $10.

I freely admit that, if I had disposable income, I’d have bought those Ben Franklin earrings, the Washington memorabilia, the pieces of eight, the amazing assortment of religious memorabilia. Not to mention the Livingstone game and the chess piece. But at least I got to see them on my tour of history, real history, the way it was lived, the things that were valued, back in the day, however near or distant that day happened to be. It was fun. Our friend Ben loved the marbles and, later, our Middle Eastern buffet. And I had an opportunity to time-travel for just $7. Who could ask for more?

               ‘Til next time,

                             Silence

The Devil wears polyester. April 2, 2011

Posted by ourfriendben in wit and wisdom.
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Forget Prada. The Devil has a much cheaper material to work with, in the hate-filled person of the so-called “Reverend” Terry Jones. You may recall Rev. Jones, pastor of the ironically named Dove World Outreach Center in Gainesville, Florida, from last September, when he threatened to burn a copy of the Qu’ran, the Muslim Holy Book, on September 11 to retaliate for the atrocities committed by al-Qaeda. (Our friend Ben commemorated this event with the post “Burn a Qu’ran for Satan;” you can reach it via our search bar at upper right.)

By God’s grace, enough pressure was brought to bear on Rev. Jones back in September to make him back down from his hate-filled piece of performance art and settle for the publicity blitz he received from it instead. Our country’s top military and political leaders all pointed out that his pathetic stunt would endanger the lives of Americans—and all Christians—in countries like Afghanistan and Iraq. Hatred begets hatred, and Muslims were unlikely to take kindly to the public burning of their most holy book during one of their holiest holidays.

After all the brouhaha, things seemed to settle down. The Rev. Jones disappeared from the news. But the Devil has learned a lot about patience during those long, hot years in Hell. He’d started a little fire under the good reverend, an ego-stoking fire, and now that fire was in danger of burning out. So the Devil blew and blew on the coals—just enough to keep them alive. “Terry, my man,” he whispered. “You’re yesterday’s news. Nobody’s listening anymore. You’re in danger of becoming just another pastor at just another church. And we don’t want that, now do we? So what are we going to do about it?”

Flickers of hatred, fanned by the winds of ego and greed, rose up from the embers. Soon the fire became an inferno. And on March 20, the Reverend Jones held a “trial” in which the Qu’ran was accused of “inciting murder, rape, and terrorist activities.” It was convicted, and a copy was soaked in kerosene and burned.

Our friend Ben, an avid reader and writer, is not about to deny the power of the written word to incite just about anything, from heroism to horror. But in this case, it was the words and actions of the Rev. Jones, rather than the Qu’ran, that incited “murder… and terrorist activities.” As word of the desecration of the Qu’ran reached the Islamic world, outrage erupted. Pakistan has asked Interpol to investigate. But in Afghanistan, the citizens of the previously tranquil city of Mazar-i-Sharif took a more direct approach, marching on the U.N. compound there and killing, depending on your source, between five and ten people (the U.N. itself reports seven deaths).

These were, need our friend Ben point out, not the deaths of the Rev. Terry Jones and members of his congregation. They were deaths of innocent U.N. workers, none of whom were even American and several of whom were certainly not Christian. They were simply the closest available targets for the outrage felt by the Muslim community, and one has to fear that they’ll be the first rather than the last. 

So what did Terry Jones say when he learned of the price his action had exacted on innocents unknown to him, a price everyone had warned him would occur last September? Prompted by the Devil, he enthusiastically passed the buck. “We must hold these countries accountable  for what they have done as well as for any excuses they may use to promote their terrorist activities,” he wrote on the Dove World Outreach Center’s website. “The time has come to hold Islam accountable.”

Perhaps the time has come for the world to hold him accountable for using ego-driven hatred to promote terrorism. Can Interpol, the U.N., NATO, or the Pentagon do that? Sadly, our friend Ben doubts it. But that doesn’t mean we should let the Devil claim an outright victory through his pathetic tool.

Where our friend Ben and Silence Dogood live, in the heart of Pennsylvania Dutch country, the Amish have a way of bringing straying members of their congregations back in line. It’s called shunning, a sort of opposite to the endless publicity Jones craves. The shunned person is distanced from the people and society he loves until he is persuaded to see the error of his ways, and then he is wholeheartedly welcomed back into the fold.

If Jones can’t be arrested for his crimes against God and humanity, I think he should be shunned. He should receive no publicity of any kind, ever. No decent person should speak to him or tolerate his presence. He should be isolated and abhorred as the pestilential hate-monger he is, until such time as he has a change of heart and returns to the love and peace of God that seeks unity rather than division and love rather than hate.

Our friend Ben believes that ultimately, the Holy Spirit can prevail over the Devil, even in the case of such a black-hearted monster as Terry Jones. For, though the Devil knows our weaknesses, God knows our strengths.

Christmas in April? April 1, 2011

Posted by ourfriendben in gardening.
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Silence Dogood here, and no, this is not an April Fool’s joke. (Though Mother Nature is certainly playing one on us; it’s snowing here this morning at Hawk’s Haven, the cottage home our friend Ben and I share in the precise middle of nowhere, PA. Hurry, spring!) Instead, it’s about our Christmas cacti—or at least the two on our kitchen table—which are coming into bloom, or more accurately, covered with buds, as I write.

It’s almost Easter. You must mean Easter cacti, you’re just mixing up your holidays, you may be thinking. But no. Though we also have, and love, Easter cacti (and Thanksgiving cacti, for that matter), these are definitely Christmas cacti. How can we tell? By the “leaves” (actually flattened, modified stems) and the shape of the blooms.

Thanksgiving cacti (Schlumbergera truncata) can best be distinguished from their cousins the Christmas cacti (S. x buckleyi, sometimes called S. bridgesii) by the shape of their “leaves.” Thanksgiving cacti have sharp, pointed “teeth” along the sides and/or at the end of each “leaf” segment, while Christmas cacti have what I’d call crimped or ruffled edges. As noted by their names, Thanksgiving cacti bloom earlier than Christmas cacti, though it’s been our experience that once they’ve spent a year in our home, the Thanksgiving cacti tend to bloom around Christmas and the Christmas cacti in early spring. Daylength is the trigger for bloom in both cases, and in the case of Easter cacti.

Easter cacti (Rhipsalidopsis gaertneri) are easier to distinguish from Thanksgiving and Christmas cacti. All three are epiphytes from the Brazilian forests, living in the crotches of tree branches where humus tends to accumulate to support their roots. But while Thanksgiving and Christmas cacti are rainforest species, Easter cacti live in what are called “true forests” such as the ones we have here in the U.S., which lack the tropical conditions and daily downpours that characterize rainforests. Their “leaves” (also flattened stems) are smaller and smoother, with hairy bristles at the ends, and the flowers open like stars, not tubes-within-tubes like the Thanksgiving and Christmas cactus blooms. And yes, their blooms are also triggered by daylength, and tend to occur later here with us than their name suggests.

We love all these cacti for their cheerful, colorful, long-lasting blooms, interesting “foliage,” and easy care. But our long experience with them does provide a few care and selection tips you might want to consider:

* Don’t buy white. The white blooms on these cacti are so beautiful it’s hard to resist them. But again, these plants hold their blooms for quite a while. While other colors remain true, we’ve found that white blooms quickly turn a sickly boiled-shrimp-pink, then brown, spoiling the effect. (Yellow blooms on these plants also pinken in our experence, but at least they don’t brown.) Admire the white flowers at the greenhouse or grocery, but bring home the red, coral, or pink-flowered plants.

* Don’t make changes once you see buds. Normally, these cacti are reliable bloomers, but they’re notriously finicky if you change their light or temperature conditions once they set buds. If you’ve ever bought a Christmas, Thanksgiving, or Easter cactus loaded with buds and blooms, then watched with horror as they fell off in your house, it’s because your comparatively dry, dark, and possibly cold house shocked the plants out of bloom. But don’t worry, take care of them and they’ll bloom next year and every year thereafter. These are not, however, plants you’ll want to move around as they’re coming into bloom. That’s why we leave them where they live year-round rather than moving them to more prominent positions once they bloom, as many people do with other plants.

* Let them breathe. In our experience, the flat “leaves” of these cacti are dust magnets. To keep them healthy, they need to breathe. In warm weather, we’ll set them out when it’s raining to wash them off. When it’s cold outside, we’ll give them a lukewarm “shower” in the sink (making sure we hold the plants sideways and keep their potting soil out of the water). I’ve also resorted to a light rag-dusting on occasion, but that’s just a temporary measure between washings. Needless to say, please don’t spray your plants with any polishing or dusting products!

* Give them basic care. We find that minimal commonsense care is best for our Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter cacti. Water them when the soil in their pots is dry to the touch, but don’t let them stand in water. Add liquid seaweed (kelp) and a balanced organic fertilizer when the plants are actively growing; otherwise, just give them plain water. Pot them up when, and only when, they’re bursting from their pots, in a mix of organic potting soil and compost. That’s really all they need. They’ll reward you with a long life and reliable bloom display every year.

Christmas in April? We say, bring it on!!!

            ‘Til next time,

                         Silence

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