Category Archives: Uncategorized

Guadalajara: Love at First Bite

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Guadalajara, and the area within a couple of hours of the city in its state of Jalisco, is a winter vacationer’s paradise. Warm, balmy days in the mid-70s to low 80s, slightly cooler nights good for a stroll, and plenty of attractions.

I meant to start writing about our wonderful visit there much earlier, but soon after our return, I got felled by some sort of flu. (NOT the dreaded corona virus, I promise – there are still plenty of nasty old garden variety flus out there to content with.)

Now, I am looking over the photos and remembering the great time we had, and especially all the delicious meals. Instead of a lot of writing about the food, here is a photo gallery and commentary about some of our many tasty experiences.

  • Most of these food adventures were led by our friend Gaby and her dad and sometimes her mom. They never steered us wrong! Second day (I was too tired to document the first though wish I had), breakfast on the road to Lake Chapala. The cafe had a French name but the food was all local!
  • My birthday dinner – seafood on the shores of Lake Chapala, Mexico’s largest lake.
  • No, the shrimp are not from the lake…but they were very fresh. The coast is only a few hours away and seafood is very popular even inland.
  • Another lakeside resaturant (different lake, same feel) and more shrimp!
  • Tasty stand on a side street of Tonales.
  • Typical condiments at small stands which feature tacos, quesadillas and other snacks and lunch items
  • Along with your tastes of tequila on a factory tour (in Tequila of course), you get to taste roasted agave. Sort of like a very sweet and stringy pineapple.
  • Meat in its juices is a popular dish.
  • Tortillas (always corn) and condiments (limes, salsas of various heat) along with MEAT!
  • We took a cooking class; here our instructor Naomi had all the ingredients laid out in a colorful array awaiting our lesson.
  • Fish tacos, and so much more. We certainly left full to the brim.
  • Another mostly meat meal at a delicious authentic cantina (singers offering off-key serenades and all) in Zapopan. This one includes four kinds of meat, melted cheese, guacamole and salsas. I lost count of the number of tortillas I wrapped it in and gobbled down!
  • Many flavors of agua fresca to choose from in Zapopan.
  • And, last but not least, one must try the “drunken sandwich” – more meat, this time on bread.
  • And dunked in a liberal amount of hot sauce. It’s a thing that they say you have to try in all the guide books, but the locals like our friend Gaby and her parents discourage it.

OK, so for some mysterious reasons the captions (though I can see them in post editing mode) are not showing up on this post. So, here they are until I figure this problem out:

  1. Most of these food adventures were led by our friend Gaby and her dad and sometimes her mom. They never steered us wrong! Second day (I was too tired to document the first though wish I had), breakfast on the road to Lake Chapala. The cafe had a French name but the food was all local!
  2. My birthday dinner – seafood on the shores of Lake Chapala, Mexico’s largest lake.
  3. No, the shrimp are not from the lake… but they were very fresh. The coast is only a few hours away and seafood is very popular even inland.
  4. Next day, another lakeside restaurant (different lake, same feel) and more shrimp!
  5. Tasty lunch stand on a side street of Tonales, where we visited many crafts shops for souvenirs.
  6. Typical condiments at small stands which feature tacos, quesadillas and other snacks and lunch items.
  7. Along with your tastes of tequila on a factory tour (in Tequila of course), you get to taste roasted agave. Sort of like a very sweet and stringy pineapple.
  8. Meat “in its juices” is a popular dish and it is delish!
  9. Tortillas (always corn) and condiments (limes, salsas of various heat) along with MEAT!
  10. We took a cooking class; here our instructor Naomi had all the ingredients laid out in a colorful array awaiting our lesson.
  11. Fish tacos, shredded pork roast cooked in banana leaves, chorizo and potatoes… oh my, we were so full by the end of the class!
  12. Another mostly meat meal at a delicious authentic cantina (singers offering off-key serenades and all) in Zapopan. This one includes four kinds of meat, melted cheese, guacamole and salsas. I lost count of the number of tortillas I wrapped it in and gobbled down!
  13. Many flavors of agua fresca (a refreshing fruit drink) in Zapopan.
  14. And, last but not least, one must try the “drunken sandwich” – more meat, this time on bread.
  15. And dunked in a liberal amount of hot sauce. It’s a thing that they say you have to try in all the guide books, but the locals like our friend Gaby and her parents discourage it.

Getting the Hang of It

Central Pennsylvania, McConnellsburg, The Pulpit, travel, Uncategorized, , ,

“Let’s go jump off a mountain!” No thanks. Standing cautiously on the very top a ramp that ends in nothingness makes me queasy. I take in the view, but step back to safety seconds later.

  • One wonders what happened to this gentleman.
  • Behold the giant thumb!

Visiting The Pulpit, a hang gliders dream launch spot near our vacation cabin above McConnellsburg, PA is a must to take in the splendors of south central Pennsylvania. The rocky promontory, located a little ways beyond the iconic biker beer joint The Mountain House, apparently got its name from a visiting preacher who expounded from the stony perch.

Up a small rock strewn slope, there are two wooden (and, to me, sort of creaky looking) ramps, one smaller than the other. If you go at sunrise, which I never do because I prefer my warm bed at that hour, you can face east and get a glorious view over the ridges. At sunset (the better option in my opinion), you get the view over the town, the farmland and to the western mountains.

One of the many interns who lived with us temporarily over the years, Anneke from Germany, came to the cabin with us one wintry weekend about ten years ago. We walked to the Pulpit and she met some intrepid hang gliders from the club that frequents the site. She fell instantly in love with the idea of learning to hang glide, or, she later decided, to paraglide.

If you think hang gliding sounds risky, paragliding is even more crazy. Instead of jumping off a ramp into nothingness strapped to some substantial wings, you jump into nothingness tethered to a wide parachute held precariously by a bunch of thin ropes. She successfully mastered this bizarre hobby, and last time I checked she was still alive and well.

The view is thrilling enough for me. Leave flying to the birds.

Pawpaws to the People!

tourism, travel, Uncategorized

It’s pawpaw season, and festivals celebrating this regional native fruit are popping up all over. Visiting one of these seemed like the folkloric thing to do, and in fact I couldn’t believe that I had somehow reached my advanced age and had not done so already.

The Pawpaw Festival in Albany, Ohio (near Athens, and also near the United Plant Savers sanctuary which my adventurous colleague and partner in crime, Arlene, and I were visiting this week) is, I would dare say, one of the biggest in the country. We spent a couple of hours there experiencing All Things Pawpaw.

First, the taste. Upon arrival, we sought out the free sample tent where we could set the mood. Volunteers sliced us a big hunk and explained that you just squeeze the soft, yellowish pulp out of the rind, and swirl the big dark pits around in your mouth to get all the good stuff off them. (Then throw them out because they are poisonous if chewed and consumed, apparently.)

Next we found the craft beer tent, where for a few bucks you could try a variety of pawpaw brews (and take the glass home to boot). We listened to a band that defied genre classification, and then made our way to the food court. We sampled an Indonesian satay with pawpaw peanut sauce, and later tried Thai mango sticky rice with pawpaw mousse.

There were also vendors selling pawpaw bread, official paw paw festival t-shirts with designs dating several years back, and pawpaw plants. (As well as a lot of non-paw paw-related stuff.) We were saddened to have missed the pawpaw cook-off.

A full harvest moon rose over the festival grounds, as we finally admitted paw paw overload. Still, I insisted on stopping by the free sample tent one more time to leave with the sweet custardy taste still lingering on my taste buds.

  • Kombucha in various pawpaw flavors (still tastes I assume like vinegar)
  • Pawpaw peanut sauce is a winner in my mind.
  • This is what a pawpaw tree looks like.
  • There were no pawpaws in the coffee thank goodness.

Tasteful Ginseng Adventures

#ginseng, summer, Uncategorized, ,

My latest excuse for not posting for awhile is having been off in “undisclosable locations” within several Appalachian states learning more about the ever fascinating American ginseng. My trusty colleague Arlene has been my companion on these trips. We were sworn by our hosts to secrecy…we dutifully un-geo-located our photos. I will not speak of those adventures here.

I found that ginseng can be found closer to home, however, though the roots may have traveled a bit to get here. In Northern Virginia you can buy fresh ginseng in the local Korean grocery store, HMart. This is not be the same sort of ginseng which grows wild (or “wild simulated”) in the mountainous woods, but its pale, fat, cultivated cousin. Hmart’s ginseng is of unknown provenance, but it is probably from Wisconsin, Ontario, or… who knows, maybe it came all the way from Korea where they also cultivate ginseng. Then it would be Asian ginseng, another related species. But that is a whole other story.

I invited my summer interns over to dinner, and procured some of this $39.99/pound version. (This may sound expensive but the same weight in wild ginseng would cost several hundred dollars.) I threw a liberal amount of slices into a pot with some chicken breasts along with some onions, ginger, dried hot peppers, and salt. This concoction simmered for about an hour, and viola – my own version of a Korean staple, ginseng chicken soup.

We used slices of the chicken as the protein in some Vietnamese-inspired summer rolls. But not before I made the interns all slurp up some of the ginseng chicken broth and give their opinions on the taste. After all, they had just spent the better part of the summer researching and writing about ginseng, but they had not tasted any except in candies.

“Not bad,” was the verdict on the broth, and the chicken had a nice, slightly bitter, slightly sweet flavor that complemented the crunchy veggies and soft noodles in the rolls. (Not to take anything away from the ginseng experience, but the spicy peanut dipping sauce was the real star of the show.)

Everyone left that evening a little wiser, a little healthier, and having completed their ginseng education for the summer. As for Arlene and me, our ginseng adventures will continue. Stay tuned.

Tomato Time

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The 100+ heat index last week was good for at least one thing: hastening the ripening of the tomatoes in our “suburban vegetable farm.” The moment the backyard gardener waits all year for, that first juicy flavorful bite that banishes all memory of the sad waxy things passing for tomatoes the rest of the year.

Unfortunately, that first bite is sometimes taken by some other creature than yourself. Grab onto a big delicious looking specimen, and you may encounter a messy, gooey, open wound. Chipmunk, squirrel, bird, or something else that comes by night and chews…no matter, damage done and hopefully something left to salvage.

Most of our tomatoes were grown from seed. This year, I got several varieties from the Gurney seed company because they had a sweet introductory discount. I was intrigued by a variety called Mortgage Lifter, explained (at a farm museum I toured last spring) as being so prolific that it raised Depression era farmers out of debt. Makes a good story, and, if I have figured correctly, a good tomato too.

“Figuring correctly” is what one must do in our garden, since the varieties of tomatoes somehow always get mixed up between the seedlings and the planting, no matter how I try to keep them labeled. So you just have to wait for them to mature to find out what sort of tomato they will produce. Even then, I am not sure sometimes, especially since I purchased a “rainbow” package of heirloom seeds with a number of varieties mixed in. Is it a Cherokee Purple or a Black Krim? Is this one going to stay yellow or has it just not started turning red yet?

  • I call this “BT toast.”

Who cares, really. They are all yummy. If you don’t have your own, go find a farm stand or a farmer’s market and pay whatever it cost for a few pounds. It’s the essence of summer, and it’s gone all too soon.

Ramping it Up in West Virginia

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When we told the uninitiated that we were going to attend a “ramp dinner” in West Virginia a few weeks ago, they looked at us funny. “How can you make a dinner out of a ramp?” my husband asked, thinking of those slanty metal things that you use as an alternative to stairs.

Ramps, for those of you who also don’t know, are a type of wild leek found in the hills of Appalachia, in some of the same places you find ginseng. They are not worth as much money, but they are tasty and becoming a delicacy that fetch fancy prices in gourmet circles. But for most West Virginia’s, they are just an edible sign of spring and a way for some local organizations to stage a fundraiser.

My intrepid fellow traveler, Arlene, and I set off on a rainy Sunday morning from my house in Arlington, VA, speeding toward Bomont, West Virginia to make it to the ramp dinner at the H.E. White Elementary School before all the food ran out. When we pulled up in our rented VW bug convertible (it was the only compact car the rental agency had left), there were hardly any parking spaces left in and around the school. We knew we were in the right place, because: 1. Bomont is a very small, 2. There was a very large “Ramp Dinner” sign attached to the chain link fence of the school’s playground.

We payed our $10 and got in line for our ramp feast: ramps sauteed in bacon fat, ramps in fried potatoes, and a host of accompaniments, washed down with sweet or unsweet sassafras tea. We chatted up some locals, and soon our friend and colleague, Emily, who lives and works in Charleston, joined us. (Read more about her in my entry on Helvetia.)

We were in ramp heaven! Since we were going to be traveling around WV for the next few days, we were not tempted to bid on the leftover raw ramps which got auctioned off toward the end of the dinner. But, later in the trip, near Elkins, we did come across a large sign along the highway, outside an outdoor store: “Ramps Now Available.” Arlene doubted that they meant the edible kind, but we turned around to investigate anyhow. There, in the glass-fronted refrigerator in the corner, were plastic garbage bags full of the kind of ramps we still craved and wanted to try cooking ourselves.

In downtown Elkins, we noticed more ramp evidence on several t-shirts on display or offered for sale at some of the shops, one stating that “ramps don’t smell, people do.” As we had found out from eating big helpings in Bomont, ramps do cause you to – how do I say this delicately? – emit smelly fumes after their consumption.

Regardless, we highly recommend them. I sauteed mine in butter, not being a really big bacon fat fan, and scrambled some of them with eggs. Yum. Also, thanks to Marion Harless the “herbarist” we visited and interviewed before returning home, I learned the rudiments of planting the bulbs, which are now safely nestled under shrubs in my backyard. Tune in a couple of years from now to see if the ramp saga continues on home turf.

Property Management: Bibles, Banana Pudding and a Bottle of Scotch

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My small but devoted blog followers may wonder where I’ve been lately? Well, one place has been at thrift stores, discount stores and a couple of highly specialized shops, all in the name of rounding up props for the upcoming production of The Savannah Disputation at Alexandria’s Little Theater. My dear friend Susan got me into this, describing it as if it would be a giant, fun scavenger hunt.

Little did we know that we would be spending hours hunting down rosaries and grotesquely carved tourist candles, as well as devising relatively unmessy but convincingly food-like “remains of Sunday dinner.” We did some of this together, but we also forayed out on our own, consulting one another as necessary via text and shared photos.

Here is a typical text exchange, which seems to be in some sort of weird code, or perhaps the dialogue from a very obscure play:

Me: (at the Botanica Boracua on Columbia Pike) [photo of row of colorful religious candles] How many and what colors?

Susan: I like the gold Mary in 2nd row, 1st picture, how much?

Me: It’s actually St. Anthony.

Susan: That’s fine. $6.99?

Me: There’s also the holy trinity [another photo, close up showing candle with Holy Trinity]

Susan: I think I like the other one more gold on the label, although. blue would contrast and we do have a pale blue Mary. So whichever you like better!

I left with a rosary and two candles that we finally mutually agreed to after an additional phone call. And so it has gone, through photos and text of pudding cups, crosses, and candles.

Our next job (which we were sort of unclear that we had signed on for) is to organize all the props, scene by scene, and to write a detailed list of when they are used and where to find them when needed. In short, a lot more work than anticipated all around. But, it has been a fun learning experience, and I know sympathize even more with the Supply Staff of our annual Smithsonian Folklife Festival.

Here is a gallery of some of our texted photos. If you go see the play, keep an eye out for the ways they are used!

Florida, Part I: Pie Tales

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I was introduced to the concept of winter vacation in kindergarten. Not first hand, but by a classmate who was mysteriously absent for a week and returned with salt water taffy to share, from a place called Florida. I imagine my young self biting into that sweet and salty treat and thinking it must be the essence of that mythical land.

Florida captured my imagination then, and trips there since then have done nothing to dampen its mystique. My husband and I recently spent a week escaping winter with a trip that zig-zagged us across the state several times, emphasizing its length and causing us to believe that you can’t get through the mid to lower portion of the state without going through – and getting stuck in traffic in – Orlando.

Despite that, we did enjoy the warm breezes, the blue skies and turquoise waters, the historic sites and the culinary delights. I will report on other Florida adventures in future blogs as the spirit moves. First, a tale of two pies.

I had the great idea of taking the Key West Express boat from Fort Myers to Key West. A sampling of the Keys without the drive, how brilliant! One is almost obligated to eat Key Lime Pie while in the Keys, but we didn’t. Instead, we finally had some at an iconic Indian Rocks Beach establishment called Keegan’s (“as seen on the Food Network”), a very fit accompaniment to their excellent octopus appetizer and grouper sandwiches. This is over 400 miles from Key West but the pie is just as good. Maybe better I dare say. Instead of being bright green and sporting a gooey cloud of egg white meringue, this was a dull khaki green creamy confection with a modest lashing of whipped cream. Tangy and with a sinfully buttery crust.

Pie two was enjoyed with my friend and folklore colleague Eleanor who settled several years back in Sarasota. When I arrived at her house, she asked if I wanted to go to an Amish restaurant for lunch. What?! Yes. There is an Amish community in Sarasota. And they have a couple of dueling restaurants. We went to Eleanor’s favorite, Der Dutchman.

Late February is strawberry season in Florida, so despite the fact that we were already filled to the gills with salads, fried chicken, mashed potatoes and etc. we had saved just enough room to share a piece of strawberry pie. This arrived festooned with a vast snowdrift of whipped cream, unnaturally bright red binding, and big juicy fresh strawberries. Needless to say it was delicious.

Forget the salt water taffy. After this trip, Florida has revealed its mysteries in the form of pies.

Fathoming the Deep

Uncategorized, water, poetry, fathoming, ,

I’m not sure I believe in astrology, but I do love being near, on or in water, and I am an Aquarius (Aquarian?). So maybe there is something to it after all. In any case, I also like to photograph water, at sunrise, at sunset… and now thanks to a nifty feature on my Google Pixel phone camera called Night Sight, even at night.

Which brings me, in a roundabout sort of way, to the word of the day: “fathom.” This is a very useful word. As a measurement of water, the definition extends to a measure of understanding. (As in, “I can’t fathom how long this government furlough has gone on already.” Or, “I’m beginning to fathom just how expendable my job seems to be.”)

It is also a good word for literature. Shakespeare comes to mind. Another example is perhaps not exactly up to The Bard’s level but still interesting: when I did a search for “fathom poem” I came up with this poem on the Hello Poetry site by someone (?) called Third Legacy of Oliver, which I feel addresses the current state of negotiations in Congress, and also contains the word “fathom.” Give it a read and see what you think.

Circling back to the water, I offer my attempts at poetic photography, which hopefully describes in pictures the unfathomable deeps of our understanding – about life, about government, about anything you are currently trying to fathom. Enjoy.

Missing Some Holiday Pieces

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Do the winter holidays ever leave you feeling as though you’re missing a few key pieces? Maybe you didn’t have as much fun as you thought you’d have, didn’t get the gift you asked for, or missed spending time with a good friend or family member. Or, like us this year, you sent out many more cards than you received and wondered if holiday cards are “out” now and you just didn’t pick up on that trend?

Our family metaphor for “the missing pieces of the holidays” is the annual tradition of doing an elderly jigsaw puzzle that has, to date, seventeen missing pieces. This puzzle depicts The Twelve Days of Christmas, with the added twist of gaping holes. We have other holiday themed puzzles (somewhere) but somehow this is the only one that we can find when there is some quiet time in front of the fire and nothing else to do.

Daughter M.E. and visiting friend Dan work on the less than perfect puzzle.

Why don’t we just get rid of this defective time waster? Well, for one thing, the zen activity of jigsaw puzzling is made even more mysterious and wondrous by never remembering which pieces are missing. For another, it is symbolic of the way that, even if the holidays do not live up to the hype (when have they ever?), the best part of the season can be taking time away from hustle and bustle even if the end result is not one hundred per cent rewarding. Third, the hardest part (the numbers) is still enough of a challenge to keep us interested and add that sense of achievement even in the midst of regret over the fate of those seventeen missing pieces.

Like the smile of a child with missing teeth (albeit without the promise of growing new ones), the puzzle is endearing. And, even with some pieces missing, the puzzle and the holidays can be enjoyable and relaxing if we realize limitations. No one, and no holiday, is perfect. Make the most of what you have.