The Anti-Art of Blogging

I have night owl tendencies, even though my middle aged body is fighting against this well-worn habit. So several times a week I will watch late night television: the house is quiet, I am relaxed and in need of a good laugh, and I have sole rights to the clicker. [If I could turn this whole routine on its head, wake up in the morning at dawn, meditate for an hour, then get on the treadmill while doing the laundry--followed by a nice hot breakfast on the table at 7:30-- I would, but that would be like going against gravity. Besides, my husband would think I'd been replaced by a mutant from another planet.]

Sometimes if there is a boring guest or lull on Letterman, I will turn to Charlie Rose on PBS. The other night I happened to catch Nora Ephron talking about blogging. It sums up what my editor, Patty Poore, at OLD-HOUSE INTERIORS was trying to convey to me a few weeks ago, when I was rewriting her merging of three of my blog entries from "In the Pantry". She thought I'd edited out all of the immediacy of my blogging and she was right. [The "Musings" essay, "The Empty House", will appear on the back page of the upcoming fall/winter issue of EARLY HOMES, a newsstand publication by OHI.]

Because of the wonders of TEVO, I was able to rewind and pause until I jotted down this transcription:

CHARLIE ROSE:

Is there a secret to that (blogging)?

NORA EPHRON:

Blogs are different. Blogs are almost like a soap bubble. They're what you think at the very moment you're writing it.

CR:

So the thing to do is sit down and write and whatever comes to your head, do it.

NE:

Sit down and write and write it fast and if you've been working on it for more than an hour and a half, it's not a blog. It's something else.

CR:

It's an essay!

NE:

Well, I don't know what it is, but you've taken too long on it, because it should really feel as if its true at that moment, and then not much longer than that.

[I'm also with her on the turtleneck concept of hiding the middle-aged neck!]

Harvest Home

Thanksgiving has easily become my favorite holiday. There isn't the tussle and bussle and odd let down of the Christmas season, which seems to conjure up so much in its advent and wake. As another school parent I spoke with the other day said, "Thanksgiving is the last holiday that 'they' haven't commercialized." [If only Christmas were the same.]


THE BOYS LOVE TO HELP DECORATE and
PUT ON THEIR BEST CLOTHES (really!)


THE TABLE IS SET WITH CHAIRS FROM
ALL OVER THE HOUSE and OUR FAVORITE DISHES

Temple and I have had twelve Thanksgivings together, all but two in this house. They have each been different with a variety of friends and family, our children as they have arrived, and sometimes our parents, but always something resonates: food, fun, fellowship and celebration. I like to mix a formal, decorative table with campy decor (Beistle's turkey place cards are the best!) and seasonal treasures the children have made. The kids enjoy setting up the Indian and Pilgrim village each year with some original Indian toys made in northern Michigan that I got in the 1960s, as well as contributions they have made.


EACH CHILD CONTRIBUTES TO THE MANTEL ~
A MIX OF CRAFTS, SEASONAL & VINTAGE ITEMS



We did most of the table setting and much preparation in the two days before. However, the night before, at about 4:45pm, Temple shouted up the stairs, "we have ten minutes to get the pies that you ordered!"

"I didn't order any pies!"

"Yes you did, from Tenney Farms!"

And then I remembered on the way: I had a visual of checking off a number of varieties on a white sheet on a clipboard at the farmstand several weeks before. But in checking it off there, I had forgotten about it here. I rarely have time for making desserts--fortunately everyone brought one--and homemade pies sold at Tenney Farm are an excellent alternative (besides, it was the last day of the season and we wanted to throw a few in the freezer).

After the turkey went in the oven at around 8:30am (a 28 pounder), for which I came down to prepare the stuffing at 7:15, we had the entire morning to finish decorating, to organize serving dishes, the table, and everything. The entire family pitches in--especially my husband--and it makes it almost effortless but worth every bit of preparation.


THE EASIEST CENTERPIECE EVER ~ YOU DON'T NEED A FLORIST

I have never been able to arrange flowers very well and usually loathe the idea of buying a floral arrangement for a table. I've always managed to do different decorations at Thanksgiving, especially, when there are so many easy alternatives to flowers: cornucopias filled with Indian corn, a pile of squash, a Beistle turkey. This year, I had a cornhusk wreath from a while ago, plopped the pumpkin inside of it, and tossed around some gourds (painted with shellac) from our local farmstand, Tenny Farms. Oh, and I threw in some of those chestnut crabapples, too. In less than three minutes I had a centerpiece.

On our first Thanksgiving together, one of our older more traditional friends (who also liked to get a rise out of me) couldn't believe I had not ordered a table arrangement. The following year my father, perhaps trying to avoid another embarrassing moment (which I laughed off as it wasn't an issue for me at all), had an arrangement sent. It was lovely and it graced our table, but I far prefer grabbing my favorite pumpkins, gourds or corn.




THE GROUP AT TABLE ~ WITH APOLOGIES TO AUNT CYNTHIA WHOSE FACE IS NOT IN THE PHOTO

As I've found with many of our large get-togethers, 13 is a lucky number (our youngest Eli and his dad sat together at the far end of the table, which was stretched to full capacity). For the second year in a row we had a buffet for both the main meal and the dessert. With the "groaning board" of so many dishes, and a tight dining room (even the table was put at a diagonal to accommodate for all of the leaves), it works the best. It allowed for a cozy informality that I prefer, but paired with an elegant table to sit at, contributed the best of both.



Food is always a mix of traditional items and special contributions from our friends. Here is our 2006 menu:

~ Fresh turkey & gravy w/sausage, apple & cranberry dressing (I also added chestnuts this year)
~ Mashed potatoes (my husband peeled & prepared a great vat)
~ Butternut Squash (ditto)
~ Little Peas (ok, Petit Pois)
~ Creamed Onions (from Judy ~ freshly cooked onions, not frozen!)
~ Succotash (Rosemary ~ truly the most divine ever, and no lima beans!)
~ Cranberry Relish (made by Henry & Eli)
~ Cranberry Jalapeno Relish (from the Bills ~ sublime)
~ Canberry (the canned stuff)
~ Heirloom Applesauce (Henry, Eli, Addie et al)
~ Chestnut Crabapple Jam (ditto)
~ Parkerhouse Rolls (thank you, bread machine)

~ Pumpkin Bread (Mrs. Hrones' recipe, an older friend of the family that I knew as a child)
~ Apple Pie (from Henry, who made it at school ~ we ate Eli's for my birthday)
~ Cranberry Tart (Judy)
~ Upsidedown Cranberry Cake (Rosemary)
~ Pumpkin Pie w/Bourbon (Rosemary)
~ Pumpkin Cheesecake (also with a bourbon infusion! The Bills)

and the absolute "living end": Le Fromage du Turquie, a turkey cheeseball conceived and crafted by Rosemary!



Rosemary, one of the best cooks I've ever met (come to think of it, most of my good friends can cook), always has a great presentation in everything she does (and her kitchen will be in the March 2007 issue of OLD-HOUSE INTERIORS, and her pantries in THE PANTRY book). Her concept of a turkey-shaped cheese log was the perfect addition to the meal: homemade and shaped by hand, she even made the little white thingies on the ends of its legs.


JUDY CARVED THE TURKEY FOR THE SECOND YEAR IN A ROW WITH ARTFUL FINESSE, WITH HELP FROM HENRY



My husband, who hates to carve the turkey, looked around in a near panic for a volunteer. We had forgotten that Judy had done such an expert job of it last year--not only cutting up the bird in a surgical way (observed Dr. Bill Siroty, one of our guests), but layering the meat on a platter between layers of skin and fresh sage. The skin not only keeps the turkey meat warm but infuses it with a delicious flavor. [And she looks cute in that Amish-made apron.]



Meanwhile, Dr. Bill stirred the gravy and it was the first I'd made without lumps in a long time (either it was shaking the flour in water in a jar first, or his excellent stirring). His kitchen presence brought back memories of working at Barrett House many years ago in the early 1990s when they first moved here from New York. His partner, also Bill (Stelling), was the tour guide at Barrett and helped in the tea room on Sunday afternoons. Meanwhile, Dr. Bill could frequently be found in the kitchen washing dishes, as well as my husband-to-be, Temple.


COUNTRY FARE DEMITASSE CUPS by ZANESVILLE POTTERY ARE PERFECT FOR MULLED CIDER


THE KITCHEN ISLAND IS ALWAYS A GREAT PLACE FOR A BUFFET


ELI ENJOYED ARRANGING THE TURKEYS ON THE KITCHEN TABLE AFTER DINNER


LOVELY PARTING GIFT BASKETS

This year we had a silent prayer at the table. Temple and I later remembered our fathers who were no longer with us, and other family members, too. We were a group with diverse interests and much to laugh and talk about (and we all toasted the recent elections). We were so honored that some of our friends could gather here with us this year. I'm bound to forget a future pie order, but I will remember this always.

Beta Blogging in a Google World

Ok, I signed on tonight to wax poetic about Thanksgiving and discover that I had to join the Google network which has somehow consumed blogger.com. I don't keep up with these things and I still don't even know what "beta" means (on computers, videos or anything) but I will assume that this is a good change. I do use Google on a daily basis for a variety of queries, even to research available research. But I ask, is Google taking over the world? Maybe we should do everything in the future with Google mergers: grocery shopping, college applications, carpooling. I'm all for that! But there is something unnerving about being somehow consumed by an unseen entity, a limitless void of Google. Does this mean I've been Googled?

Before the Feast

ADDIE & ELI MAKE APPLESAUCE

November is a busy time for us--sometimes we like to can fruits and make applesauce. I like to get the kitchen ready for lots of holiday cooking and activities with the kids. The counters, which have been piled for months with "stuff" get cleared off and polished.



We have a tried and true method for APPLESAUCE: cut and quarter a mixture of different varieties of apples, put in a large kettle, add about an inch of water and cook on LOW until mushy (stir occasionally). When cooked, pour mixture into Foley food mill and press out all of the mush. You don't need to peel or core the apples because the seeds and skin do not get pressed out. Retaining the skins on the apples will render a lovely blush color to your applesauce. Add sugar or cinnamon to taste (we never use sugar in it). It's the only kind of applesauce my kids will eat and it helps when they make it, too. [This easy method was the one my mother taught me, but hers, somehow, is always sweeter.] Freeze or can (in sterlized jars in a hot water bath for 20 minutes) and enjoy! This year, my husband Temple gathered a mixture of heirloom varieties from Gould Hill so the blend is truly its own and likely could not be replicated twice.


A SMALL LE CREUSET POT IS JUST RIGHT FOR MAKING A BATCH OF CRABAPPLE JAM

I also tried something new this year: CHESTNUT CRABAPPLE JAM. I was able to Google up (you see, I'm a regular) several crabapple jam recipes, as I didn't want to fuss with jelly as I only had a few hours to make it. I found several and used the most basic: 9 1/4 cups cut up crabapples, made into sauce (using the above method) and 8 cups of sugar added to that mixture, boiled for 20 minutes and then canned in jars. I decided to add about 6 cinnamon sticks to the mixture, too, while cooking it and that gave it just enough spice.


SOME FRUITS OF OUR LABOR

The amazing thing about chestnut crabs is that they are small apples, not the cherry-sized variety of crabapples (which truly make divine jelly). And, after tasting the jam, there is a subtle nutty taste with the sweetness--perhaps where it gets its name? They are also great for decorations and would be good in Christmas Della Robbia wreaths or table arrangements (I believe they are also called Lady Apples, but I could be wrong about that.)


HENRY & FRIENDS ENJOYED OUR NOVEMBER WOODPILE AT HIS BIRTHDAY PARTY

Henry had his 9th birthday in the middle of the month, the kids had their Thanksgiving pageant, and we got in several cords of wood onto the porch. Between putting food by for the winter, stocking the freezers and pantries, and getting supplemental fireplace wood, it always feels like a cozy time of year.

Cell Phones R Us

For two years, I had a Verizon family plan. It did not serve to unite us but drove a wedge of miscommunication and frustration smack dab into the middle of our family. We had two basic no-frills phones, a basic plan, way too many minutes, and a teenage daughter who, whenever in crisis large or small, failed to call us or to turn the darned thing on. [And, who also got into a car accident while using one.]

In 1997, five months pregnant with our first son and allergy ridden from a house in renovation, our then 8 year old daughter and I spent a week in Ohio with my father. He drove us to all of my favorite childhood haunts and to neighborhoods we had never seen. In a Bob Evans restaurant I saw my first PDC (public display of cell phone). This guy strutted in and paced about in the line of people waiting to be seated and started commentating on the scene before us. Then he spoke about his day in great detail. I wanted to say, "Look turkey butt, we see you have a cell and a nice set of tail feathers...now park them right on the bench and let the rest of us enjoy the wait in peace."

Two years later on a solo research trip to Ohio, now pregnant with our second son, I noticed a plethora of suburban women driving big Suburbans with cell phones firmly attached to their ears. What could they possibly be talking about? The sale at J.C. Penney's? A run on sauerkraut balls at the markett? Skipper's soccer game last night? A secret lover? Clearly they had a lot to say and I noticed they weren't very focused on the many lights of the metro region (as I warned my husband: yellow in Ohio means slow down, not drive faster as the lights turn very quickly--then again, we average about one stoplight per ten square miles where we live in New England).

I didn't think the cell phone would permeate into our rural pocket but I was wrong. Cell phone towers now dot our landscape but because of the hilly topography, few cell phones have consistent service. But that isn't why we stopped. I hate the phone and rarely use one in the house. Perhaps it is because I used to talk to my father back in Ohio for hours each week on the phone. It was our thing, our pipe line. After he died four years ago, I kept thinking of things I wanted to say to him and I'd go to the phone and remember that he wouldn't be there to answer.

Perhaps it is the amount of political surveys we seem to be bombarded with on an all too regular basis or the recorded calls that you can't shut off. I consider myself a well-mannered person so I tend to handle these calls with a polite but firm tone: "No thank you, I'm making dinner." CLICK. "No, I never give money over the phone even if you sound like a nice college kid from my alma mater." CLICK. "No, I really have nothing of substance to say--drop me an e-mail or let's have lunch." CLICK!

A phone is an intrusion into our home but I concede its necessity. I just ignore it behind the mask of a remote answering service (thank you, Verizon) or a husband or children who are more eager to answer it. Sure, it has been helpful to have a cell phone on long trips. If I traveled more, I'd probably get one again. But our daughter is going to have to buy her own plan next time. I won't be on it.

I'm convinced having watched this cell phone experiment--a husband who won't use it or doesn't know how, a daughter who doesn't use one for the reasons we got it for her--that a cell phone is not something we have to have in our society. Ok, maybe the president. But even they have an assistant or two that would have a cell phone on their behalf.

A cell phone has also become an anti-tracking device for our kids. If your teenager calls and says, "Yeah, I'm at Cindy's and we're watching a movie. I'll be home by midnight" they could really be three hours in another direction doing something else that you probably didn't give your permission for them to be doing. They must work just as effectively for adults who want to misbehave, too.

The woman at Verizon was a bit shocked when I came in to cancel our service. "Was there a problem with the reception?" she asked, while attending to two other people who were updating to some gadgety things and adding minutes.

"No, that was the least of our problems!"

I left the phone store--lined with shelves of Palm Pilots and Blackberrys and headsets and picture phones and who knows what else--and I'd never felt more free.

If only we could revive the time when our parents had our friends' phone numbers, when our parents spoke to other parents about their children and who they were with, on land lines to actual places, fixed and static in time. When I attempt to describe the thrill and joy of the fax and answering machine of twenty years ago to my daughter--I am met with a blank stare and suddenly feel middle aged. Yes, back when we didn't seem to be propelling so fast and far into the future, back when we couldn't always get someone or communicate something instantaneously. Back when we weren't so out of touch.