Thursday, March 29, 2018

Places to visit or maybe move

I have been watching the last season of Fixer Upper and grieving.  Reruns will do for a while but....The Gaines are just too darn busy for TV  I was mentally counting up.  Besides Magnolia Farm and the design and construction company. They revamped the Silos and opened a architectural salvage store.  They purchased a B&B and revamped a housekeepers house next to it for the managers. Jo has a huge truck garden at the farm.  They have all sorts of animals that eat their heads off.  I think Chip may donate one or two for charity rather than butcher them, especially the ones with names and they all have names.  They revamped the flower shop next to the Silo and turned it into a bakery.  And this week Chip talked Jo into a restaurant.  They took the old Elite that is the oldest place in Waco and spiffed it up into a breakfast joint.  It is a beautiful job and if I ever get to Waco, Texas, I will certainly see them all and especially have some biscuits and gravy. 

I have also been watching "Home Town".  The young couple live and work in Laurel, Mississippi and rebuild older homes for folks.  It is absolutely beautiful.  They do a tremendous job and the styles of house run from Southern Italianate to Farmhouse Victorian wrap around porches and swings, quite lovely.  I got curious and decided to Google the town and I was curious about the population.  I have only seen one black person filmed and I figured there had to be some black people there.  It took forever but the official site finally yielded up some statistics.  Of the population of 18,000 or so fifty percent  is white and 25 five percent is black and so on.  I did notice that there were 8 congregations of Baptist churches, Black. It would be interesting to see if the White Baptists sing as good as the Black Baptists. I would love to visit just for the front porch swings, sweet tea and fireflies.  Makes me all homesick and I ain't even from there y'all.

Saturday, March 24, 2018

Dream

Last night I dreamt that I was writing a song, it was a New Orleans type blues song, very old style and to my mind it was a song that had been around for decades I was simply updating the lyrics.

Some handsome man (PLEASE let it be Harry Connick, Jr!) advised me that I could not rewrite that old classic.  Huh. I have never had a composing dream before. Wish I could remember the tune.  Maybe it was wonderful.

And sadly to dream that you are a composer signifies that you are creating or directing new found energies to some aspect of your life.  Well, I can only modestly blush and admit somewhat ruefully that my powers of sarcasm have been blooming lately. 

Sunday, March 18, 2018

Rugby/Football versus March Madness

I spent part of the day AVOIDING March Madness.  There are three sports channels covering various games, CBS is all cluttered up with basketball jones and I stumbled across Rugby.  Here is what I observed.  France was dressed in Blue and Wales was dressed in Orange maybe?  It looked like there were a dozen or more beefy looking men scampering about in a HUGE field.  The Rugby ball is a very large melon shaped ball that gets tossed underhand quite a lot.  Or the ball bounces to a stop the players carefully avoid touching it until it bounces to a stop.  Every once in a while the official dressed in black and white summons both teams to a certain spot on the field.  France over there, Wales over there.  Line up, get in position. On my signal.....and SHOVE!!! Then there is a pile of men who are playing reverse tug of war and the idea is to shove so far in one or the other direction until somebody gets tired? from what I can tell all of these men are at least 200 lbs and beefy.  I did notice that if they were to all line up and salute the flag by putting the backs of open hands resting on eyebrows.  The big beefy hands cover up the hairline very well.  Not a lot of forehead left showing if any at all.  Now as for scoring points.  I noticed one play where someone tossed the ball, it rolled free, a player pounced on it and a point was made.  Huzzah!! I think.  I think France lost as the commentators were saying that they only needed a bit more of an aggressive game and a good solid eight men and their game would be much improved.  Huh, eight men. Well whatinhell are the other seven guys out there doing?  I should probable Google the Rules for Rugby. Is March Madness over yet?

Wednesday, March 14, 2018

State of Being, etc.

Yesterday I went to my quarterly appointment with my nice Internal Medicine lady doctor.  I managed to NOT gain any weight but I was wearing my skimpiest pants and shirt and was FREEZING.  My 18 hour daily fast seems to be maintaining, I am disappointed I was wishing to melt a bit off, but as an Uncle of mine once commented upon greeting me, "Looks like you wintered up pretty good". Thanks Uncle Tater. 

Lab results are good.  She has had me take two tiny pink pills daily instead of three (yay!!) and gave me a Tdap booster shot, so now I am safe from Tetanus, Diphtheria and Pertussis (Whooping Cough) and should not need another one.   Also I should ask about the newer spendier Shingles vaccination next time I visit the pharmacy...maybe.  She also did a quick looky loo and listen and said YOU HAVE WAX IN BOTH EARS!!!.  So I administered stool softener and cotton balls to both ears earlier this morning.  This apparently helps balance as well as hearing.  

We compared TV viewing habits, both admit to watching Korean drama.  Woot!  See me back in three months.  Wheeee!!


Saturday, March 3, 2018

WHITE HOUSE COOKBOOK

Grandma LaVann had books in her living room.  Some of venerable publication to be sure.  I spotted one entitled The White House cookbook.  It was printed in the 1920's and was probably a wedding gift when she and Hagemann were married. 

I browsed through it absolutely fascinated by turn of the century food preparation.  I remember seeing tips for cleaning a feather boa.  um good to know.  

About that time Uncle Tony gifted me with half a dozen duck eggs.  I had NO idea what to do with them and they were like super sized chicken eggs.  I looked through the cook book and found an actual recipe for custard that called for HALF A DOZEN DUCK EGGS!!!!! Well, I can read a sign from above and hastily scribbled down the pertinent information.  I ignored the instruction on using the wood stove.

The recipe was fairly simple, whipped eggs, a cup or so of milk, some nutmeg, a cup or so of sugar, whip, whip, whip, put in cups, bake in a water bath until slight jiggle in the custard, turn off oven, allow heat to finish the bake.  Well, it turned out very nice.  The eggs were as smooth as silk and I had not even strained the liquid.  It was a perfect bake.  Fortunately Charlie was young enough to be really enthusiastic regarding pudding. 

Years later I was in Seattle visiting Carla and we went to a book shop and I spied a White House Cook Book.  I snatched it up immediately.  Mine is a couple decades older, it was published in 1907.  There is no recipe in it for duck egg custard but there are several pointers for preserving eggs that will last from Winter to Spring.  Most methods involve blocking oxygen from the shell either with layers of lard, salt, sawdust etc.  No rating on which method worked best.  

There are other sections on how to equip a modern kitchen and advice on managing such.  Oh, bother.

Wednesday, February 21, 2018

THE GREAT AND GLORIOUS GRANDMA LAVANN

It is high time that I set down all that I knew or ever learned from having met my first husband's grandmother Margaret Fashauer, Hagemann, Lavann. Quite a lady. I can safely claim that I had never met anyone as strong minded as she. She put the Boss in Bossy. In a group setting, such as with family, she reigned supreme. She told everyone how it was going to go and God Help you if it went different because you were surely going to do what ever it was over until it was right. In one on one situations she was a sweet as pie.

I met my first husband at my first job working at Fairchild Semiconductor. I was working on an assembly line putting together electronic components and he was a general fix it guy. His mother worked in another department. He started there because he had just returned from serving in Viet Nam and needed employment. His mother suggested he apply at her place of work and there you have it.

Eventually we drove to Grandma Lavann's ranch for a visit. Her ranch is located in Northern California one valley north of Ukiah. She owned about 500 acres of mostly timberland that had formerly been small Italian vineyards prior to prohibition. Anyway I learned bits and pieces of her history over the years and here is most of what I learned.

Margaret Fashauer was born about 1900 in St. Louis, Missouri. Her father was a postmaster. She was the youngest of five children, she had all older brothers; Louie, Joseph, Anthony, Frances. Her father decided that St. Louis was not far west enough. They moved to Los Angeles.

Margaret remembers riding on a trolley car out into the country and the gentleman took pot shots ta rabbits off the back of the car. The family did not stay there long. Her father purchased land in Mendocino County. The roads were too rough and nearly impassable so they took a ship up the California coast and off loaded their possessions on the coast a few miles from their land. Her mother truly thought she had been dropped off in the worst wilderness. Eventually the ranch grew into a compound of houses for all of the boys. They stayed bachelors for a great deal of their lives. I have visited that ranch compound a few times. I went there once with Margaret to gather up fallen walnuts. There was a lovely grove of black walnuts growing there. Stomp on the fallen walnuts to break off the husk and wear gloves to pick them up unless you want permanently stained black fingers. Margaret grew up on the ranch doing for the boys. Her life was a bit like “Seven Brides For Seven Brothers” only there were only four brothers and her parents.

She met Charles Hagemann when he and his father came to the compound to purchase a pig. He liked what he saw and began courting Margaret and they married and moved to a small farm about 20 miles further east of the main compound. He was a Navy veteran having served as a cook on a ship in the Philippines during the Spanish American war. She still had his favorite rolling pin when I was there. I was a long slender dowel with tapered ends. I loved that thing. I have seen similarly shaped dowels used on The Cooking Channel.

They had three children; Stanley, Phillip and Helen. Helen was my mother-in-law. Very tall lady whereas Margaret could look me straight in the eye. The ranch where they lived was located in what was then known as “Little Italy”. They were surrounded by four or five small farms/vineyards all owned by Italian families. I only remember a couple names; Fratti barn and Geovanetti.

They owned property on both sides of the county road and the property north of the road had an open area used as a dance hall Margaret would sit inside a large hollowed out redwood tree stump and collect admission and sold sausages. There was also a set up for an archery range for bow and arrow for those who wished to try their hand. This concern brought in a little extra money. She told me that she had her babies in Willits at a lying in hospital. The length of stay was about ten days. One of her confinements involved her taking the stage from her home to Willits, the journey took several hours. They stopped for lunch. She was in labor at the time and did not let out a peep.

Her people were German Catholic. I have seen the book entitled, “Father Knieppe's Water Cure”. He was very famous in Europe for this book. I know for a fact that Margaret used the water cure on herself. She also used it on Helen when she contracted pneumonia as a young girl. Remember, this was before antibiotics. The Water Cure consisted of wrapping oneself in wet flannels or towels, then wrapping the whole body in a large rubber sheet and staying in that all night long to sweat out the poisons. This was quite effective for fevers.

The local farms produced a lot of red wine. During prohibition, the local Italian farmers sold them off and Charlie bought them up as well as the left over wine. At one point the 500 gallon redwood vat now used for well water was full of wine. Charlie drank most of it. He also drank himself into kidney failure. Margaret took care of him until he died.

This left Margaret a widow with three young children. One of the neighbor, Victor Geovanetti began courting her and they eventually married. He proposed but she told him she would never marry a Geovanetti. So they changed his name to LaVann and they married. They kept sheep and had a large orchard below the house. The barn was large and when I visited it there was a small tear drop shaped trailer house used for over flow guests. The house itself had two bedrooms downstairs and a full attic upstairs with a couple full sized beds. That is where everyone slept during hunting season.

Yep, I had married into a hunting family. There was a fall dear season that I usually participated in. I was mostly along for the extra deer tags, but I was given a rifle, showed which end was the pointy end and sent off uphill to a feral orchard. Sure enough, a lovely coastal buck wandered into view and I shot and he dashed off. I walked down hill to check and found blood. Dammit! Now I had to track the deer. I kept walking to the bottom of the draw and found the buck resting there and I carefully finished him off through the neck, as I had been shown. I trudged back to the ranch to tell the boys of my kill. They hiked back with me and I learned how to field dress a deer. First thing I learned was that all the ticks on the deer start fleeing as the body temperature drops and there were hundreds of the disgusting thing. So they got the deer dragged back to the ranch. Margaret gave a lesson on how to properly skin a deer after it had hung a couple days. She had a method for carefully sectioning out the scent glands and the anus and wrapping all that business in some newspaper. The carcass was butchered. The heart and liver went into the house for cooking. There really is absolutely nothing better for breakfast than fresh fried venison liver in bacon grease. Seared very quickly and not cooked until dead, dead, DEAD. Yummy. I never did come to care for venison unless it was ground up and mixed with either pork or beef for burgers but the family loved cooking the damn thing up into steaks.

Margaret kept a small herd of sheep, about 20 or 30. She kept the hay in the barn and she had them fooled into thinking they would get a wonderful meal when she called. She would go out into the main parking area, close all the gates, open the field gate and called in a loud voice, “Come sheep! Come sheep!” and by God within 15 minutes the woolies would come trotting in to nibble on a very thin handful of the baled hay. She would count them and then when they were finished they went back out to pasture to other older barns and what not on the property.

She also sheared the sheep. She kept a very large bag of wool,the kind that farms routinely fill from a much larger herd. She hired some people to shear the sheep and got that bag full finally. Once it was full, she loaded it up into her pickup truck and took it to the sale barn in Ukiah.

She owned a Caterpillar tractor left over from her younger farming days. She had to hire a lowboy to haul it off to be serviced and tuned up. It came into use when she decided to log some timber. Now, logging in California required rather expensive environmental impact studies unless the logging operation is less than seven acres, I think. So Margaret selected seven acres worth of timber very carefully to be harvested. This helped pay the tax bill. She showed me the bill one time, it was about 50k for her 500 acre ranch. At one point she and Victor had set up a series of funds that paid interest every six months once they matured. This gave a set bit of money on the books at a time when Social Security had not even been thought of. I would see her get her notifications in the mail and she would dutifully enter it all into a lovely big accounting book.

One time we picked apples from a very large tree on one of the little Italian farms, the tree was what she called a Cooks Seedling. The apples made the most amazing apple sauce. Another fun fruit tree growing near the house was a couple fig trees. I had never tasted ripe figs. They are quite wonderful with cream on them. Also the fallen figs get ripe and fermented. Bees get drunk on ripe figs and cannot fly, just buzz drunkenly in circles on the ground.

The property had huckleberry bushes growing on it. We would go pick huckleberry's and keep an eye out for black bear who like the ripe fruit very much. A hand picked huckleberry pie is pretty darn good.

Margaret was more or less the entire Altar Society at the little Catholic Church in Philo. I attended many times with her. First thing I learned is that there is no such thing as Sunday School for kids, the kids attend the service with the adults and it got noisy. I tried to sit in the back row so I could take Charlie outside for a breather. I remember one Christmas, she cut several fir trees to decorate the altar. One time we went in and she was completely surprised to see the little church decorated for a Quincereana, uh if I got the spelling correct. It was a Mexican tradition to celebrate the 15 year old girls womanhood, the place was decorated for a wedding and the girls all wore what looked like wedding gowns It was very colorful. The priest was very busy, he had three parishes all total to cover for services.

One time, the services were being provided by a Priest who was on sabattical from seminary and he was spending the summer and living in a little cabin on the Navarro river. Father Kevin, told Margaret and I to come by, he had a small plastic wading pool that we could use for Charlie. So, we dropped by on a lovely sunny day. Called out at the house, no answer. We walked around back and spotted a couple people sitting by the river a few hundred yards away. We hollared and waved. Pretty soon Father Kevin started walking back. As we stood there watching, Margaret asked me what kind of swimming suit he was wearing. I peered and suggested that it might be a string and bag kind of thing. She suddenly gasped, grabbed my hand and hauled me back around to the front of he cabin, “He's naked! He is not wearing anything!”. We heard him call up if it was okay for him to come up as is, “No Father Kevin it is not!”, he laughed and said he would dress and be up in a minute. We managed to get the wading pool in the back of the truck and Margaret managed to drive us home laughing her head off.

When any grandchild visited her they would be routinely assigned chores.  One time, Pat was tasked with taking her gigantic cat food bag full of empty cans to the particular little farm where she dumped her garbage down the well.  Pat came back and announced proudly that he had dumped the cans down the well.  "Where is my cat food bag?", "Down the well" said Pat. "Go get my bag, I did not say to throw it away".  So Pat had to go back, get down into the well, not to far down fortunately and retrieve the empty cat food bag.  Yeah that happened 

She stayed as independent as long as possible. The last time I saw her was at Charlies wedding in Sonoma. She had gotten a little stringier looking and she told me that I had gotten fatter and younger. She told it like she saw it. She remained on the ranch and eventually had live in care and lived into her 90's.
God Bless Her.

Monday, February 19, 2018

GRANDMA HORNS KITCHEN

I wanted to describe my Grandma Horn's farm kitchen.  She had all of the mod/con's that a farm wife needed to feed her family and I enjoyed the benefit of her talents.

She baked all of the bread. Whenever I was there visiting my job was to help baste the loaves of bread once they had cooled a bit.  She kept the left over bacon grease for this task   I wielded my brush proudly.

There were two cupboards under the sink. They each hda a half round metal bin attached to the door that held 100 lb bags of flour and sugar.  There was just enough room for a small kid to hide behind them when the doors were closed.  Hide and seek was very fun.  All the giggles were a dead give-a-way. 

Grandma cooked on a wood stove most of her adult life.  The last new stove they owned in Colorado was a brand new Home Comfort Range.  It came with a small recipe book and from that book we gained the family recipe for pumpkin pie.  My sister Carla has that recipe book and there are some lovely recipes for pies in there.  The peach cream one is delicious.  

Pumpkin pie
1 cup pumpkin
2 eggs
1 cup sugar
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp allspice
1 tbsp. melted butter
mix well, bake in medium oven until toothpick comes out clean.
Recipe can be tripled nicely.

Since Grandma grew a truck garden, it was many times that I got to help snap beans and shell peas.  The corn was always obtained from the end rows of the field corn. Tomatoes grew like weeks.  Grandma had a wonderful wide brimmed hat that she wore to work in the garden.  

Her pie crust was a thing of beauty.  I tried to get amounts of ingredients from her once but she said she didn't measure, she did it by feel.  Pie crust was simply flour, lard, a bit of water and the trick was to blend this together quickly, do not work it to death and you would have wonderful pie crust every time without fail.

Grandma had zig zag fingers from a high fever when she was a girl, surprisingly these finger were very helpful in skimming cream and other items. 

Her best meat dish was fried chicken.  I got to help make mashed potatoes and the gravy.....Oh god, so good. 

She did a lot of canning mostly fruit and veggies.  She had an old treadle Singer sewing machine that she let me play around on but I do not actually remember ever seeing her use the thing, probably too busy with other stuff.

The washing machine was on the porch.  It was a standard three tub wringer washer. one tub for hot soapy water, one tub with clear rinse water and one tub to hold the wrung out clothes.  This was fascinating.  I was cautioned many times to keep my fingers away from the wringer. The clothes then went onto the clothes line with wooden clothes pins. We grandkids were NOT allowed to run around under the drying clothes. 

I know she ironed because I was fascinated with the black and red checked box that the electric iron was stored in.  I did learn how to iron a shirt properly growing up, so in a pinch, yeah I can take out your shameful wrinkles.

She did some hand work by which I mean some crochet and she did quilting and had a fine hand for seams.  She did some embroidery but that was usually confined to pillow cases. 

There was not much time to grow flowers. If I remember correctly I think there were lilac bushes around the yard.  I love lilac.  She did have a few plants in the house.  She loved fuschia but every plant she ever got for a birthday promptly died of aphid infestation.  They started out pretty though.  She gave me an Angle Wing Begonia and it took me FOREVER to kill.  There were always some red gardenia type flowers that smeller very stringent, probably kept insect life down in the house. 

Oh one last thing, in the summer she would prepare the ice cream machine.  Someone got the job of stirring the thing for about 30 minutes.  I remember a particular batch of strawberry that was fabulous.