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The holly and the ivy. December 13, 2009

Posted by ourfriendben in gardening, homesteading, wit and wisdom.
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“The holly and the ivy, when they are both full grown,

Of all the trees that are in the wood, the holly bears the crown.”

So begins the beloved English carol, commemorating the plants that have decorated churches there at Christmastide since the Fifteenth Century. But there is an older version, “The Contest of the Ivy and the Holly,” which contains the line ”Ivy hath berries black as any sloe.”

Ivy hath berries?! This was news to our friend Ben, at least, until yesterday. The previous owners of Hawk’s Haven, the cottage home our friend Ben and Silence Dogood share in the precise middle of nowhere, Pennsylvania, were enthusiastic but undiscriminating gardeners. If it was cheap or free, it would spread enthusiastically, and it required little to no maintenance, they planted it. As a result, we have a luxurious stand of English ivy covering many of our trees and the ground beneath.

Given the aggressive spread of the ivy and our ongoing attempts to keep it off the walls of the house (it even appears to be winning the battle with that other invasive groundcover, pachysandra, another legacy of the previous owners, and is making strong inroads on yet another of their favorites, vinca, aka periwinkle), it never occurred to our friend Ben that berries were necessary to its survival. It seemed to be doing just fine on its own.

Then, yesterday, our friend Ben was heading out to get the mail when I saw that a lot of pieces of ivy had fallen onto the lawn. Whether this was due to the strong winds we’d been having or to the actions of squirrels or birds, I can’t say, but my eye was drawn to one piece of blown-down ivy because, at its tip, were numerous clusters of berries.

Berries? Ivy berries?!! Grabbing the branch, I brought it back indoors with the day’s mail so I could examine it in the comparative warmth of the house. There were seven clusters of berries, each containing 13 to 15 berries. They were small—ranging from the size of a peppercorn to roughly twice that size—and green. Over the top of each berry was a brown, five-pointed disk (or cap, if you can’t reconcile the concepts of “five-pointed” and “disk”) with a central prickle.

These berries certainly weren’t “black as any sloe,” but that’s probably because they had been knocked down before they’d had a chance to ripen. I wanted to find out more about them, and especially about how old an ivy plant had to be before it bloomed and set fruit, so I wandered over to my good friend Google and asked for help.

If you do the same, searching for “English ivy berries,” one site that will come up is the King County, Washington, Noxious Weeds site. That’s because English ivy (Hedera helix) has become an invasive weed throughout the Pacific Northwest, displacing native plants and taking over woodlands. Given how bold it is in our yard, we’re hardly surprised. I quote: “Mature form of growth has shiny, unlobed leaves that grow in dense, whorl-like clusters and produce umbrella-like groups of small yellow-green flowers in the fall, followed by dark purple-black berries in the late winter or early spring.” (I guess that’s why ours are still green.) The site also provides photos of the plant, flowers, and mature fruit.

I suppose you could call the ivy foliage on my branch unlobed—it resembles large, dark-green aspen or birch leaves—but it was definitely not in “dense, whorl-like clusters;” rather, it was still spaced evenly along the branch. Just FYI.

But our friend Ben still wanted to know how old an ivy vine had to be to produce berries. This proved a bit more challenging, but I finally found a site that said that a plant had to be at least ten years old to flower and produce berries. In which case, ours should have been flowering and producing berries for a decade at least. Amazing that I never saw them before!

Anyway, the takeaway is this: English ivy makes a great container plant, but don’t plant it in the ground where it can spread and take over the world. And if you happen to be considering bringing holly and ivy indoors as part of your Christmas decor, please remember that both holly and ivy berries (and foliage, for that matter) are toxic. Best to use them in a wreath that will hang on an outdoor wall or door rather than risk poisoning kids or pets. They’ll stay fresh longer outdoors, too.

Patriotic popcorn. December 12, 2009

Posted by ourfriendben in homesteading, wit and wisdom.
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Our friend Ben asks everyone to forgive the lateness of today’s post. Silence Dogood and I have been scrambling around since practically daybreak trying to get all the shopping done before our weekend dinner events.

Not to point a finger at anyone, but our friend Ben thinks Silence got a little, teensy, appallingly horrible bit carried away promising to make about 10,000 extremely elaborate dishes for these events, requiring a packhorse (aka yours truly) to carry all the various supplies to and from the car. And then, sure enough, came the traditional Yuletide panic: “Ben, what if we don’t see [fill-in-the-blank] again before Christmas? We’d better get their presents together now. And wrap them. And…”

Gasp. But there was one highlight. This year, everyone on our local list will be receiving a really fun stocking stuffer, courtesy of a shop called Adam’s Pantry at our local Kutztown, PA farmers’ market. Adam had the bright idea of combining red, blue, and white popcorn kernels in bags and naming it Patriotic Popcorn. The bags were so colorful and cheerful, Silence and I couldn’t resist them. (And the price was certainly right: just under or just over a dollar a bag.)

Silence, ever sensible when it comes to cooking, asked Adam, “Will all these kernels really pop at the same time, even though they’re different kinds?” He assured us they would; after all, they were all the same size. (And, ahem, our friend Ben can now attest to the truth of this.)  

No Patriotic Popcorn near you? No worries, you can make your own. Since Adam didn’t have as many bags as we needed, that’s what we did, too. Fortunately, he had plenty of individual bags of red, white, blue, and yellow popcorn on hand. (Well, fortunately for our gift-giving plans, but let me tell you, it’s amazing how much two huge double-bagged loads of unpopped popcorn can weigh… )

When we got home, Silence handed our friend Ben a huge mixing bowl, a huge spoon, and the bags. Even I proved equal to this task, and soon we had mass quantities of beautifully blended bags of multicolored popcorn. (True, it’s not quite patriotic, but Silence thinks a mix of red, blue, and yellow popcorn is even prettier than the red, white, and blue.)

Patriotic Popcorn: Great idea! But if you decide to make your own stocking stuffers, remember to warn your recipients, as Adam said, “Whatever color it starts out, it all pops white.” That’s fine with us. I don’t know about you, but we’d prefer not to eat blue and red popcorn, thanks all the same. We enjoy looking at the beautiful unpopped kernels, though!

Oops, Silence asks me to remind you all that unpopped kernels keep a really long time, but that as they get older, fewer of them pop. That’s because what causes the popping is the moisture in the hulls of the kernels, and as they get older, they lose moisture. But fortunately, there’s an easy remedy for this. Just as you can keep brown sugar from hardening by soaking a ceramic disk in water and putting it in a sealed container of brown sugar, you can add a half-teaspoon or so of water to a jar of popcorn and shake well, and it will rehydrate the kernels so they’ll pop well again. But please, don’t drown your popcorn or it will mold instead of rehydrating. (Silence is screaming “EEEEWWWW!!!” in the background; better cover your ears.)

Our friend Ben has an easier solution: Just eat the popcorn while it’s fresh, with plenty of butter and salt, not to mention cheese, either shredded on the popcorn or cut in chunks and eaten with it, preferably with a crisp sliced apple, since as we all know an apple will cancel out any calories and cholesterol from the popcorn, butter, and cheese…

RIP Grizz. December 11, 2009

Posted by ourfriendben in chickens, homesteading, wit and wisdom.
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Our friend Ben and Silence Dogood were very sorry to get an e-mail from our friends Delilah and Chaz letting us know that their beloved Barred Rock hen, Grizz, died this morning. If you’ve never raised chickens, or you raise them, then butcher them every year or two, you won’t be following this. So let me fill in the gaps.

First off, Grizz was ten years old. (Chickens can live to be twelve, and, if you don’t kill them off, will keep on laying eggs the whole time.) She’d had a real luxury lifestyle compared to most chickens, including ours: Delilah vacuumed her coop and chicken yard daily. Grizz had a heated coop and heated water dish. Like our own flock, she was given an extraordinary array of nutritious kitchen scraps every day in addition to her conventional scratch grains and egglayer pellets. She was one spoiled chicken.

Chickens are flock animals, preferring the company of others, and sure enough, Grizz was never lonely. Whether she was palling around with other chickens or mothering a clutch of baby ducks, she had plenty of company. She had a great life.

Like Delilah, we consider our chickens partners for life. True, they supposedly lay fewer eggs as they get older, but we’ve never actually experienced this. After their first year, our chickens wise up and stop laying when the days grow short in the winter, conserving their strength to keep themselves warm, then starting up again when the days start lengthening in spring. (Chicken farmers get around this by heating and lighting their coops over the winter, but we’re happy to give our hens a well-deserved break.) Yes, we do have to break down and buy eggs (from a local farmer who free-ranges his flock) until our hens start laying again, but it’s a deal we’re happy to make to prolong their lives and keep them happy. They give us so much—incredibly rich, delicious, organic eggs, companionship (chickens are very personable and affectionate), and fantastic high-nitrogen fertilizer from their droppings, not to mention feathers for fly-tying and crafts—surely we can give them a winter vacation in return.

We love our chickens. They give us so much and ask so little in return. Twelve years of phenomenal eggs for every chick seems like a great return on investment to us! We try to keep six hens at a time, which provide all the eggs we can use and plenty to give to our friends. We’d like to see people raising chickens in every backyard.

But yes, they do, eventually, die. And after so many years, you do indeed feel like you’re losing a good friend. RIP Grizz. Your family and friends will miss you!

The best Christmas music. December 10, 2009

Posted by ourfriendben in wit and wisdom.
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Our friend Ben is a sentimentalist at heart, and I love playing Christmas carols pretty much nonstop throughout December. (Luckily, Silence Dogood shares this taste, and none of our animals know how to object, so we assume they enjoy our Christmas CDs, too.) But it’s one thing to enjoy carols and hymns, and quite another to want to be subjected to Alvin and the Chipmunks, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, or the dog-barking Christmas carols. Spare us, please.

Our friend Ben wrote a post last December listing our all-time favorite Christmas CDs, “Ben Picks Ten: Christmas Music,” and I have little reason to change my choices this year, so by all means search for this post on our search bar and stock up on any CDs that sound appealing.

We were, however, able to acquire one coveted CD after I wrote that post, and of course have been loving it. We’ve been fans of the Crash Test Dummies since “MmmmMmmmMmmmMmmm” and “The Superman Song,” and their Christmas CD, “Jingle All the Way…,” was high on our must-get list. Unfortunately, its price was something over $200, a rare collectible. Damn.

Then, suddenly, Amazon was offering an imported version for a few bucks. We snapped it up. And did it ever live up to its reviews! Our friend Ben says: Check it out! (But mind you, we are talking about the Crash Test Dummies here. Interspersed with beautiful renditions of traditional carols are Brad Roberts’ warped but highly entertaining takes on “White Christmas ” and “Jingle Bells.” So don’t expect 100% sweetness and light!)

And don’t forget the other CDs I’ve recommended. Make the season bright! And by all means, let me know if I’ve left one of your faves off the list. We’re always on the lookout for great Christmas music!

What is love? December 9, 2009

Posted by ourfriendben in wit and wisdom.
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Sheesh. Our friend Ben can’t turn on the computer or pick up a paper these days without being subjected to the ongoing saga of Tiger Woods and his feet of clay. This is clearly less entertaining for Tiger’s family than it apparently is for the press. For shame!!!

The nonstop coverage has had one good effect, though: It brought our friend Ben a marvelous quote from Thomas a Kempis on the nature of love. At this holiday season, it seems fitting to share it with all of you.

Unquestionably, the most famous definition of love is from St. Paul in 1st Corinthians. But Thomas a Kempis, mediaeval monk, priest, and mystic, and author of the famous devotional book Imitation of Christ, has taken St. Paul’s famous observation to its logical conclusion, and it’s this that the Tigers of the world and, indeed, all of us, need to take to heart. The press in its endless and heartless sensation-seeking might do well to consider this, too. 

Here’s what Thomas a Kempis has to say about love:

“Love is swift, sincere, pious, joyful, generous, strong, patient, faithful, prudent, long-suffering, courageous, and never seeking her own; for wheresoever we seek our own, there we fall from love.” [Emphasis mine.] 

There we fall from love. We humans are born to love; it’s as natural to us as breathing. (As, I think, it is to all creatures. Just try to keep your pet from loving you.) Let’s try, this Christmas season, to bear Thomas a Kempis’s words in mind, and not succumb to self-love to the exclusion of true love.

Frugal living tip #48. December 8, 2009

Posted by ourfriendben in Ben Franklin, homesteading, wit and wisdom.
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Silence Dogood here. This week’s Frugal Living Tip is especially for all you folks who buy boxed cereal. Once again, it comes to us courtesy of Spencer Soper’s “On the Cheap” column in our local paper, the Allentown, PA Morning Call.

Our friend Ben and I aren’t big cereal eaters, though in cold weather, we enjoy a hot bowl of oatmeal with maple syrup and milk or (if we’re feeling decadent) browned butter and brown sugar, OFB’s father’s preferred topping. And in warm weather we’ll occasionally eat a bowl of bite-sized Shredded Wheat’n'Bran. (OFB and our black German shepherd puppy Shiloh are both fond of snacking on the little squares dry. Eeeewww.) But we buy our oatmeal in bulk, and are unikely to buy more than a couple of boxes of Shredded Wheat a year. So when I first read one of Spencer’s columns about ingenious uses for the waxed paper inserts inside cereal boxes, I was impressed, but not to the point of passing the tip along.

However, this past Sunday, Spencer’s “On the Cheap” column featured a slew of ingenious uses for the cereal cartons themselves. Okay, I thought, this really is too good not to pass along, and I can combine it with the earlier column so those of you who go through one or more boxes of cereal a week will have some great frugal options for reusing the empty packaging.

First, though, let me just say that on the rare occasions when OFB and I have a cereal box, we use the cardboard portion, as we do all cardboard packaging, for kindling, mixing it with some of the endlessly falling twigs and branches on our very shaded property. (“Pick Up Sticks” is one of our most constant chores.) If I have a bunch of smaller twigs, I’ll stuff them right into the empty box and add it to our firepit under a couple of logs. Works like a charm! Otherwise, we’ll flatten the box and add it to our bag of other flattened boxes (as in Kleenex), cardboard toilet and paper-towel rolls, envelopes, and the like, then use it the next time we build a fire.

But getting back to Spencer and his ingenious crew of contributors. In Sunday’s column, “An out-of-the-box solution for gift-giving” (ouch, Spencer!), he tells how reader Ellen Fried cuts out pieces of cereal boxes and reconfigures them into small gift boxes, which she fills with candy and money for Hallowe’en and jewelry and money for Christmas. Access the article online (http://www.mcall.com/onthecheap) and you’ll find a video in which Ellen demonstrates how to make the little boxes. The photo of them in the paper looked just adorable, and though I’d never go to that much work, it must be easier than it sounds, since she’s taught all her friends to make them and started a mini-craze.

This did give me an idea, however. If you make toffee nut or caramel nut popcorn and give it at Christmas, or make your own Christmas cookies, cheese straws, cheese biscuits, or crackers (yes, Virginia, people really do make crackers from scratch, but it’s not exactly easy), or the like, rather than buying yet another set of tins to put them in, why not put them in the cereal boxes, wrap them, and hand them out? The waxed-paper insert would keep the contents fresh, and if your lucky recipients decided to transfer your homemade treats to previous years’ tins, it would be up to them. Mind you, you should attach a little card or something to reassure the recipients that they’re not getting boxes of cereal for Christmas!

It also occurred to me that you could (after removing the waxed-paper insert) use an empty cereal box to package a scarf, gloves, hat, book, and/or many another gift, especially if you’ve been prudent enough to save tissue paper from previous years’ gifts to yourself to use as padding. (If not, dollar stores to the rescue!) Gift-wrap the box and you’re done. And you don’t have to turn the box into origami and piece it back together.

Apparently I missed an earlier column in which one of Spencer’s fans wrote in suggesting using cereal boxes to make magazine holders and desktop organizers. At a guess, you’d cut off the top of the box and maybe two-thirds of one side, use wrapping paper and glue to dress it up, add your magazines, printouts, or whatever, and voila!

But let’s get back to that first column, the one about reusing the waxed-paper inserts in the cereal boxes. This column, called “Cereal killers can help save on plastic bags” (okay, I actually loved this headline, I guess I’m a sucker for a really good pun), shared reader tips about reusing the waxed inserts from the cereal boxes to wrap bacon and other meats. One reader, Mary Collins, wraps ground meat in the cereal bags, then stashes them in freezer bags and freezes them. Since the meat never touches the freezer bags, she can reuse them indefinitely. But there’s more: “If I’m making meatloaf or meatballs, I put the bread crumbs and the eggs in the bag and just mix it up in there and knead it and I don’t have to touch the meat,” says Mary. “It’s nice because you can mix everything up in there and you don’t dirty a bowl. If I’m making hamburgers, I can shape the patties right in the paper.” You can read the article and watch a video of Mary at work while you’re checking out Ellen’s boxmaking technique.

But wait. That wasn’t the cereal box waxed-paper tip I remembered. A little more investigation revealed yet another column, this one called “Cereal box yields a hidden prize,” from way back in September 2008. (And yes, even back in the Stone Age, Spencer added a video you can enjoy.)

Here’s the tip I remembered, from reader Gayle Getz: “It’s about the inserts in the cereal boxes. I very seldom have to buy wax paper because I always use those inserts for baggies or I flatten them out and I use them for wax paper. I use them for wrapping bacon. I use it for little garbage bags. I use it for any kind of wax paper needs and also for little baggies. So it really saves on buying wax paper and little baggies.”

So there you have it. Doubtless there are plenty more uses for cereal boxes and cereal-box inserts than we’ve seen so far. Please feel free to send us yours! And Spencer, as always, thanks for keeping frugal tips in the public eye.

         ‘Til next time,

                  Silence

No-cook lasagna noodles. December 7, 2009

Posted by ourfriendben in homesteading, recipes, wit and wisdom.
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Silence Dogood here. I love lasagna, but until last year, I’d never tried to make it. All of you who know me as an enthusiastic from-scratch cook who loves not only creating homemade dishes—in many of which pasta features prominently—but is fearless about improvising may be shocked by this. But there was something about lasagna that intimidated me.

Then a friend told me about no-cook lasagna noodles. These aren’t, obviously, really “no-cook.” Instead, they save the extra step of cooking the pasta before assembling the lasagna and putting it in the oven to bake, hopefully to greatness. Okay, I thought, I can do this.

Heading to the grocery, I found Barilla no-cook lasagna noodles and bought a box. (Technically “Barilla Lasagne No Boiling.”)* Returning home with the pasta, ricotta, and mozzarella, I made a batch of my yummy homemade spaghetti sauce and got down to business. But I was in for a shock. The “pasta” in the box looked more like paste: flat, white rectangles of pasty cardboard, bearing no resemblance to lasagna noodles. Yikes! Still, I soldiered on. Surely these people knew what they were doing, and somehow the end result would really be lasagna.

Fat chance. All that time, money and effort resulted in a “lasagna” that bore about as much resemblance to real lasagna as those refrigerator tubes of “crescent rolls” bear to fresh-from-scratch croissants. How terribly disappointing.

Fine, so much for that. Not one to be beaten by a mere disaster, the next time I found myself craving lasagna, I marched into the store, bought traditional must-cook lasagna noodles, boiled them, and put together my lasagna. Yum!!! It was a pain, but the results were perfect. So good! Okay, I thought, too bad, but at least now I can make a great lasagna.

So this past Saturday, I was at the grocery, knowing that I had a big vat of wonderful homemade spaghetti sauce, a container of ricotta cheese, and two packs of shredded mozzarella at home in the fridge. All I needed were the lasagna noodles, and our friend Ben and I could look forward to a yummy hot lasagna, a huge winter-themed tossed salad, and even broccoli rabe sauteed with sweet onion and mushrooms. (I’d decided to go all out.)

As I reached for a box of lasagna noodles, a woman came up and asked me if I knew where the “instant” lasagna noodles were and if I’d tried them. No, I didn’t know where they were. Yes, I’d tried them and thought they were awful. “Oh, no, I love them!!!” Well, we can’t all have any sense of taste. “What kind did you try?” she continued. “I once bought some that were flat and pasty and were just awful.” Oh, wait a minute. “Then I found these and they’re just great!” Grabbing a few boxes, she moved off.

Hmmm. She’d picked up boxes of San Giorgio no-cook lasagna, billed as “Oven Ready Lasagna.” I could see through the cello window that this pasta was the golden color of real pasta and was rippled like actual lasagna noodles. It bore no resemblance to the flat, pallid “pasta” I’d tried before. Seduced yet again, I put the boil-first lasagna noodles back on the shelf and picked up a couple of boxes of the new, improved no-cook kind. Maybe this one would do the trick!

Nope. To me, what makes a great lasagna is the combination of a richly flavored tomato sauce, plenty of ricotta and mozzarella, and the chewy contrast of the pasta itself. (This is why I tend to avoid “vegetarian” lasagna, since they make it with a white sauce and pretty much with no cheese of any kind. What the hell’s that?!! That’s not lasagna!) So you can imagine my disappointment when I sliced into my serving and couldn’t detect any pasta at all. Yes, of course it was in there, I’d layered it myself. But no, it disappeared in terms of adding textural contrast, its sole purpose in the dish as far as I’m concerned. I might as well have been eating a bowl of spaghetti sauce with ricotta and mozzarella cheese on top.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. From now on, I’ll go the extra mile and cook the damned pasta before I compose the lasagna and put it in the oven. Then I’ll be assured of a wonderful meal for my effort. But I’ll say one good thing about the no-cook pasta: It gave me the courage to try to make lasagna on my own.

If your experience with no-cook lasagna noodles has been different from mine, please, please let me know. I’d still like to skip that extra step. But not at the cost of the dish itself!

          ‘Til next time,

                     Silence

* Oh. In case you’re wondering what the deal is with “lasagne” versus “lasagna,” let me share what little I remember from my Italian classes. That “e” ending is plural for the feminine “a” ending. Thus, one lasagna noodle, but a box of lasagne noodles. The dish, however, is a single entity and should still be called lasagna, whatever you choose to call the pasta pieces.—Silence

Ultimate cranberry sauce. December 6, 2009

Posted by ourfriendben in homesteading, recipes, wit and wisdom.
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Silence Dogood here. For Thanksgiving week, I posted a recipe from Parade magazine created by Dorie Greenspan (see “Thanksgiving: Cranberry sauce and beyond” for the original recipe). Our friend Ben and I aren’t fans of traditional cranberry sauce because it tends to be bitter, but this recipe looked like it would be sweet and flavorful. I was up for it.

So, for Thanksgiving this year, I made Dorie’s cranberry sauce. It was in fact yummy and not bitter at all. Everyone loved it. But I thought it was a bit too sweet and a bit too bland, and I felt in my bones that I could do better. And yes, indeed I did. The cranberry sauce I evolved from Dorie’s original is spicy and orangey without being at all bitter, and it brings out the wonderful flavor and glossy, jewel-like brilliance of the cranberries without obliterating the supplementary flavors.

So, what did I do? I cut out all the sugar (after all, we were already using sweet orange juice and apricot preserves), doubled the orange juice, added cinnamon sticks, used ginger paste (or crystallized ginger or fresh minced ginger) instead of powdered, and used an entire 12-ounce jar of apricot preserves instead of 8 ounces. Oh, and I added Grand Marnier. To my tastebuds, it’s the ultimate. Try it this Christmas and see what you think!

            Silence’s Ultimate Cranberry Sauce

2 12-oz. bags fresh cranberries*

1 12-oz. jar apricot preserves

16 oz. orange juice

1/2 cup diced dried apricots

1/4 cup Grand Marnier

2 cinnamon sticks

1 heaping tablespoon ginger paste, or 2 slices diced crystallized or minced fresh ginger

Rinse and drain cranberries and put them in a large, heavy pot. (I love my LeCreuset Dutch oven for this.) Pour in orange juice and Grand Marnier. Add diced apricots, apricot preserves, cinnamon sticks, and ginger. Stir well to mix, then cook over low heat until cranberries “pop” and mixture thickens. Allow to cool, then pour into the container(s) of your choice and refrigerate until ready to eat. Serves 12, at any number of meals in any configuration. (Which is to say, we poured ours into two serving dishes and served one at a meal for six, and doled out the other over three meals for two.)

Try this, and let me know what you think!

           ‘Til next time,

                        Silence

* I’ve read some pretty convincing statements that frozen cranberries are actually better in cranberry sauce than fresh berries, but have never seen frozen cranberries available in any stores around here. If you’ve used them, I’d appreciate hearing your opinion!—Silence

What kind of person would kill a cat? December 5, 2009

Posted by ourfriendben in pets, wit and wisdom.
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Silence Dogood here. Our friend Ben and I were sitting at our tiny kitchen table, reading the Saturday paper and trying to have a relaxing weekend morning. (Well, I was actually clipping coupons prior to reading the paper, and OFB was checking sports stats.) OFB was still in PJs and bathrobe, but I always dress the second I’m up, which proved to be a really good thing, because suddenly, there was our neighbor Bill knocking on the deck door.

“There’s a cat lying on the front stoop of our house,” he said. “It looks like it’s been hit by a car, and I have a feeling it’s one of yours.”

We live on a blind curve, and people and animals have frequently found themselves the victims of accidents as speeding motorists spin around it. (So far, in the case of people, it’s been one-car accidents as they lose control rounding the curve.) With sinking hearts, we followed our neighbor back to his stoop.

There, curled against the front door, was our beloved companion Simon, bleeding and crying. Simon had been born on our place when some wretch dumped off a pregnant cat there, figuring as they all do that hey, it’s the country, what a great place for an inconvenient cat! Thanks too much.

When Simon was old enough, we took him to be neutered and to get his vaccinations. But with three large cats, a huge dog, four birds, and fish (not to mention bazillion plants) in our tiny cottage, we simply couldn’t bring him in. Still, Simon was special. He lived on and under our deck, demanded attention and loads of petting whenever we came outside, enjoyed the company of our dogs Molly and Shiloh, and mentored all other strays who found themselves turning up here. He lived in glossy-coated contentment here for seven years.

I thought it was strange that Simon should be hit by a car when he was always so careful, and that his injury seemed to be confined to a single bleeding spot behind one shoulder. But that he needed help was obvious. I put a warm towel over him, stroked his head and back, and then rushed home to call the vet.

A half-hour later, I pulled into the vet’s parking lot with a restless Simon in the cat carrier. (One great drawback of country living is being so far from services.) I carried him in and the staff took him to the back right away to check out what was wrong.

A while after that, a technician asked me to come into one of the consulting rooms to speak to the vet. I thought she looked pale and subdued, not a good sign. Given that Simon had changed locations a number of times while I was setting up the appointment, at one point climbing down off the front steps of the neighbors’ house and meandering into a shrubbery across the drive, I thought it didn’t look like he’d broken anything and had an above-average chance of pulling through, though internal injuries were always a dreadful possibility. I tried to prepare myself for whatever news there would be.

But nothing could have prepared me for what the vet, also pale and very subdued, said when she appeared. “I’m sorry to tell you that Simon died while we were examining him.” Oh, no. But that had always been a possibility. It was what came next that took my breath completely away. “Did you actually see him get hit by a car?”

“Well no, the neighbor found him on his stoop and came to get us.”

“I’m afraid it wasn’t a car. Simon was shot quite deliberately through the heart.”

As my hands flew up involuntarily to cover my mouth, I felt that I’d been shot in the heart myself. Who could do such a thing to such a loving, lovable creature?!!

Here in rural Pennsylvania, we’re surrounded by farms and woods, and plenty of people hunt. Deer season began this past Monday, and we’ve been hearing a lot of gunshots over the week.

I’m a longtime vegetarian, but I’ve never had a problem with hunters. Or, at least, with hunters who take the time to perfect their woodcraft and marksmanship, who shoot to kill, and who eat their kills. It seems to me to be a more moral way of eating meat, taking responsibility for its death and butchering, than buying burgers or fried chicken and never having to think about what you’re doing. (I feel the same way about farmers who do their own raising and butchering.) Not to mention that supplying their freezers with meat from their hunts helps a lot of people get through the lean, cold months around here.

But there’s a difference between shooting a deer for meat and shooting a cat for meanness. I’ve only known one person in my life who deliberately killed a cat. It was in grade school, and the guy was pretty popular. One day, I heard him bragging to some pals that he’d stuck a firecracker up a cat’s anus, lit it, and watched as the cat blew up. Back then, I didn’t know that sadism to animals in childhood often led to torture and murder of humans as an adult. But I did know that I never, ever wanted to speak to, look at, or have anything else to do with this monster again as long as I lived. 

And now here was another one. Someone who could see a happy, cheerful, loving cat, a cat who loved affection and loved all people, and shoot him through the heart. Target practice. After all, it was just a damned cat.

As I drove disconsolately home, I wished that I had superpowers. Powers to find the monster who killed my cat, and hang the bloody towel that wrapped his injured body from the front of his house with “MURDERER” scrawled across it. There would be no point in shooting this pervert through the heart, since he obviously doesn’t have one. But I wish I could send him a dream every night in which he approaches a being he has every reason to love and trust, and is mortally wounded by said being for no reason at all, and left to crawl off in pain and bewilderment to die. Perhaps in time he might come to some understanding of what he did; perhaps it might keep him from killing someone else’s pet.

We’ll bury our Simon here, where he was born and lived his whole life. We’ll inter him beside his mother, Kittenous, so callously dropped off here all those years ago. She also found a good life here for many years, and however unanticipated, we honor her memory every day.

Simon’s loving, larger-than-life, sunny, laid-back personality was a mainstay in our lives. As he’d loved our Molly, we knew he’d love our Shiloh, and he didn’t disappoint. And God knows, he loved us. And we him. Simon, dear heart, you of all creatures deserved a pleasant old age sunning on the deck, purring and being petted by your many admirers. What sort of monster would have hurt you so?

What kind of person would kill a cat?

          ‘Til next time,

                   Silence

A big weekend in Pennsylvania. December 4, 2009

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If you live in, or within driving distance of, our friend Ben and Silence Dogood’s home area—basically Berks and Lehigh Counties in Pennsylvania—our friend Ben would like to alert you to the many, many fabulous and fun things going on in the area this weekend. Why it is that every single thing has to happen the exact same weekend is beyond our friend Ben, since that makes it inevitable that we’ll miss out on lots of fun stuff. But so be it: At least you can choose the activities that appeal most to you and have a wonderful time.

Our friend Ben and Silence have been to all these in previous years, so we can guarantee that they’re worth the trip. And fortunately, some of them continue throughout the month, so you can plan a future weekend or weeknight trip. Check it all out:

The Christmas Market. Presented by the Goschenhoppen Historians and located at Red Men’s Hall, Green Lane, PA, this amazing combination of folklife museum and Christmas sale is delightful. There’s a bake sale featuring Pennsylvania Dutch/Amish Christmas specialties, including the wonderful Amish lemon sponge pie (we’re not leaving without one), tons of homemade Christmas cookies, “home canned sweets and sours,” the famous molded Pennsylvania Dutch clear toy candies, which make beautiful Christmas ornaments, and even lunch and beverages. But Silence is jabbing our friend Ben in the ribs to get me to stop talking about food and get on to the actual exhibit, which has a wonderful display of themed Christmas trees and holiday arrangements, a sale of handcrafted Christmas gifts and ornaments, a sale of vintage Christmas ornaments, local books and Christmas cards, and “researched period Pennsylvania German Christmas customs and folk practices,” including the PA Dutch skinny, scary Santa, Der Belsnickel. December 5th and 6th (Saturday and Sunday). Find out more at www.goschenhoppen.org.

Glick’s Greenhouse Poinsettia Show. This may not sound too exciting, but trust me, it is. In addition to a massive display of 10,000 poinsettias—including the latest varieties—Glick’s always has a themed show with judged entries from local goups and businesses. Last year, the theme was wreaths celebrating Route 66, including one memorable wreath made from old license plates. This year, the theme is Celtic: Christmas in a Castle. Live Celtic music and dancing and free food (hot, fresh popcorn, PA Dutch hotdogs with all the trimmings, including sauerkraut and relish, cider, and beyond), and free admission make this event a must-see. Besides poinsettias, Glick’s has an extensive selection of perennials, houseplants, water-garden plants, and wreaths available for sale at great prices. Silence and I have bought our Christmas wreath at Glick’s for the past three years—the quality and price simply can’t be beat. We’re looking forward to getting this year’s wreath tomorrow. Glick’s is hosting its poinsettia show today (Friday), Saturday, and Monday. Check it out, and get hours, directions, and an entertainment schedule, at www.glicksgreenhouse.com.

Mennonite Heritage Center Pennsylvania German Folk Art Sale. Our next stop will definitely be the Mennonite Heritage Center in Harleysville, PA.  On Saturday the 6th from 9:30 am to 4 pm and on Sunday the 7th from noon to 4 pm, there will be an open house featuring the finest Pennsylvania Dutch (aka German) handcrafted folk arts for sale, as well as craft demonstrations (woodcarving, tinsmithing, and elaborate papercutting, aka scherenschnitte). You can enjoy the museum’s folk art and lifestyle exhibits and browse their unequaled selection of PA Dutch folk art, including redware, quilts, scherenschnitte, fraktur, furniture, weavings, tinwork, toleware, carved birds and animals, and much more. Our friend Ben and Silence make sure we have our Christmas gift list drawn up before we head over here! There’s also an amazing selection of books pertaining to PA Dutch lifestyles and history, the history of the region, regional cookbooks (yes!!!—Silence), children’s books on Colonial lifestyles, and local music CDs. We recommend our favorite local group, DayBreak. We love all their CDs, but their Christmas CD is an outstanding introduction. Can’t make it this weekend? Lucky you, the sale continues through December 31st. Check it all out at www.mhep.org.  

Pine Creek Pottery Fall Firing Open House. Willi Singleton learned the art of pottery in Japan, and has combined the best of both worlds at his pottery at the foot of the famous Hawk Mountain Sanctuary.  We first discovered Willi’s marvelous pottery at Hawk Mountain, and have been going back for more ever since. Over the years, we’ve bought mugs, plates, bowls, and a teapot from Willi, all made from the local Hawk Mountain clay and fired in incredible open beehive ovens. He makes an amazing range of other pottery, including massive urns, as well. Revered as a master in Japan, undeniably a master here, Willi’s art is one of a kind. The warm, homey atmosphere of his twice-yearly open houses, with food, hot beverages, and friendly chat with the potter himself, as well as an opportunity to tour the kiln barn, is in our opinion not to be missed. It’s especially great combined with a trip up the road to Hawk Mountain. The open house is Saturday and Sunday, December 5th and 6th, from noon to 6 p.m. Can’t make it this weekend? Luckily, Pine Creek Pottery is also open by appointment. Check out the website, www.willisingleton.com, for more details.

Christkindlmarkt. We adore this gathering of artisans and traditional German and Austrian craftsmen held in the old Moravian section of Bethlehem, PA, every year.  We buy “smokers,” the wooden people and Christmas scenes with hidden cavities for incense, and frankincense to burn in them. We’ve bought glass Moravian stars, beeswax candles, handcrafted jewelry and leather goods, fantastic paintings and photographs, precious stones, and locally made salsa. We make a point of buying spiced hot almonds every year, admiring the ice sculptures, and checking out the cuckoo clocks. Each week brings a new assortment of craftspeople as well as the unchanging selection of German and Austrian craftspeople.  Fortunately for us, Christkindlmarkt continues not just this weekend  but every Thursday through Sunday through December 20th. Did we mention that there’s tons of food and live music? Check it out at www.christmascity.org.

Model Train Displays. Believe it or not, there are six Christmas model train displays in our area. We’ll simply have to accompany our friend Rob, the local model train fanatic, to at least one. (Over the years, we’ve seen train displays in nearby Hamburg, Kempton, and Allentown with him.)  Check out all six at www.themorningcall.com, which features a gallery of model train layouts and a video of the Train Time display at the America on Wheels museum in Allentown, as well as the article about the exhibits, “Model trains load up their holiday magic,” by Kathy Lauer-Williams.

Our friend Ben is sure there’s a lot more going on in the Berks-Lehigh area this weekend. These are just the ones we can personally vouch for. So if you’re in the area, check them out. You may be able to do all your Christmas shopping, and get your family and friends unique, handcrafted, authentic regional crafts, as we try to do each year. And if you see a tall, blond, worried-looking man trying to restrain a short, dark-haired, supremely enthusiastic woman from buying everything in sight, come on over and introduce yourselves. Our friend Ben and Silence would be delighted to meet you!