Saturday, June 20, 2015

Life Lessons from my Dad

      


       This will be the first fatherless Father’s Day for me and my siblings.  Dad lived a long, productive life and we were very lucky to have him in our lives for so long, but it’s a painful loss just the same.  My daughter, Mavia, once remarked that she could not imagine a world without Grandpa, but we now must do just that.  Three weeks after his death I still find it difficult to type this without crying all over my computer.  
        Happily, Dad left us with many good memories and also with a lot of knowledge about how to live a good life.  He gave us advice occasionally, but mostly he taught through example.  Here are some of the lessons I remember.  If I can learn even half of them I will consider my life to be a success.

Tell the truth-  I remember visiting a tourist attraction with my family when I was a teenager.  Children under a certain age, perhaps 6, could get in free, but three dollars was charged for older children.  My youngest brother, Neil, has a July birthday and had just turned six, so I asked Dad if he would tell the ticket agent how old Neil was.  Dad asked me if I thought he would lie for $3.00.  Even at fourteen I could recognize a rhetorical question.  

Be interested in people and learn their names- Many of us constantly use the excuse, “I remember faces but I’m just so bad with names!”  Dad never had to say this.  After he died we heard from numerous people about what a great guy he was.  No one said, “He was so smart and successful.”  Instead, they remembered that he always knew their names and could talk to them about what was important in their lives.  

Work hard and do your best-  Upon returning from work in the evening Dad would change his clothes, have a martini, eat dinner, and then go into his home office to work for a few more hours before he went to bed.  On Saturdays he did yard work or whatever home repair was needed.  We were expected to help in the yard of course, and I remember one day when I was raking leaves in a rather lazy fashion.  Dad commented about my lack of commitment to the job at hand, so I got the idea and made more of an effort after that.  Sundays were the only non-work days.  We went to church in the morning, and in the afternoon Dad put his feet up and read the New York Times.     

Remember the importance of family-  When a man has a very busy and successful career his family life may suffer, but that was definitely not the case for the MacAvoys.  As a young man Dad was devoted to his wife and children, and never put his career before his family.  He once risked an important promotion at work because he refused to  uproot us from our home in Corning.  He got the promotion anyway, but traveled to Raleigh, NC frequently while he held that job.  When he wasn’t working he spent time with the family: skiing, swimming, sailing, singing.  After dinner he would read to us children; Treasure Island and Heidi were favorites.  In later years he doted on his ten grandchildren, and they adored him.  Dad had a way of making each one of them feel special.  

Don’t be arrogant-  There was a show on NPR recently about the personality changes that can take place in people as they become more prosperous.  According to the guest, a person who is financially successful is likely to acquire an attitude of superiority and entitlement.  He will begin to look down on those who are less well off, perhaps assuming that those unfortunate beings are undeserving.  “I worked hard for what I have,” he may say to himself, “so why should I help those lazy people?”  As I listened to the guest it occurred to me that my father wasn’t like that at all.  Dad was truly a great man, but he never thought he was better or more important than anyone else.  He felt that it was his responsibility to help others. 

Be generous-  My daughter, Melissa, once proposed this toast, “To Grandpa- the sponsor of my life!”  Dad always gave generously to his family, his church and his community, and there were never any strings attached.  Just because he was helping didn’t mean he needed to be in control; the only thing he wanted in return was a Thank-you.

Don’t complain about the food-  I can’t remember Dad complaining about the food, either at home or anywhere else.  I do remember one Saturday morning when I was about 10 years old.  For breakfast Mom was making waffles, and I asked her why we couldn’t have French toast instead.  For some reason Mom didn’t like that (go figure) and she went to tell Dad, who was working in the yard.  I won’t go into detail about the consequences; suffice it to say that I would deeply regret my complaint about the waffles.  Dad may have overreacted a little, but he was absolutely right.  It's bad manners to complain about the food being served, and I never did it again! 

Do it now- When something broke or needed attending to, Dad got to it right away.  And I never remember him saying to Mom, if she had asked him to do something around the house, “not now” or “I’ll do it later.”      

Put things away- Dad hung up his coat when he came home, filed his paperwork, and put away his tools after completing a task.  At the end of the day he would walk around the living room, tidying up and checking for anything that was out of place.  Maintaining order with four kids in the house was difficult, but Dad was up to the challenge.  If one of us left a pair of shoes in the living room we might have to fish them out of the garbage the next day!

Guard your reputation & do the right thing-  This is something I remember Dad talking about and although it was in the context of a company’s reputation I understood that it also applied to people.  He said that companies often fail to understand the value of a good reputation, which must be protected by always doing the right thing despite the short term cost.  Luckily, he worked for a company where that wisdom was appreciated.  

Believe in God-  One summer evening my son, George and my father were sitting out on the porch talking.  George asked his Grandpa how he knew that God existed.  By way of answer, Dad pointed to the sun setting beyond the hills on the west side of Keuka Lake.  



Thursday, August 14, 2014

Keeping Up With My Sister

        

        
        At about this time last year I started writing a blog.  It was fun, and I was doing pretty well with it until the last few months.  Then my life suddenly became very, very busy (more on that in a minute), and my blog was temporarily abandoned.  Now my sister, Ellen, has started her own blog.  Every time I read one of her installments I can’t help thinking that I should be posting as well.  This takes some of the fun out of reading her blog, but what are sisters for if not to provide a little friendly competition?  OK, it worked;  I’m finally getting back to writing “Moira’s Home”.          As I mentioned earlier, my excuse for taking the last few months off from blogging is extreme busy-ness.  Anyone with any experience with real life knows that things tend to happen all at once.  Both the phone and the doorbell can be silent all day, and suddenly at seventeen minutes after two in the afternoon they both ring, while you are washing the dog.  I don’t understand why this is, but the “everything happens at once” phenomenon pretty much describes my spring/summer 2014.  
        The fun started last fall when my daughter, Melissa, announced that she was pregnant.  Her baby was due on May 26th, 2014.  Needless to say I was thrilled with the good news and looked forward to becoming a grandma.  A few months later my son, George, announced that he was engaged to be married to Angela Coletti, a wonderful woman whom the family had all gotten to know and love.  This was also very good news, but there was just one problem.  The only date available in 2014 for the wedding at their church, Old St. Pat’s in Chicago, was June 7th.  
        Obviously my life was going to be more than a little complicated in the spring of 2014.  My daughter would be having a baby in Denver; less than two weeks later my son would be getting married in Chicago; and I lived with my husband at his house in Pittsburgh.  To complicate things further, his house was for sale because we were planning to move to Charlottesville, VA.  Ideally, he could sell his house in Pittsburgh within a couple of months.  We could then buy a house in Charlottesville and get settled in our new home before I flew out to Denver to help my daughter.  The birth would be right on time (like this ever happens) and I could fly to Chicago for the wedding before returning to Charlottesville.  It didn’t turn out that way. 
        The real estate market in Pittsburgh was rather slow, and by early spring of 2014 his house still had not sold.  OK, slight change of plans- I would be traveling to Denver and Chicago from Pittsburgh.  That could work just as well.  Then in late April while we were visiting my parents in Charlottesville we saw a house we really liked, so we made an offer on it, which was accepted.  The sellers insisted on a closing date of June 9th, two days after the wedding in Chicago.  We would have to rush to get all the paperwork done, but if we got everything in order and signed in advance the closing could take place without our being there.  After the new baby was born and the wedding was over, we planned to spend the summer moving things to our new house in Charlottesville at a leisurely pace.  With any luck the house in Pittsburgh would sell during the summer season, and we would ask for sixty, or even ninety days before closing.
        Of course there was still the problem of timing with the birth and the wedding.  My son assumed that a due date of May 26th would give me plenty of time.  I could be in Denver for the birth, and then help his sister get settled in her home with the new baby before flying to Chicago for the rehearsal dinner on June 6th.  I have considerably more experience with these matters than George does, so I suspected it would not be that simple.  The women in our family tend to have first babies about 12 to 14 days late; this meant the baby could easily be born on the day of the wedding.  I booked my flights on Southwest and hoped for the best.  My schedule was: May 20th- fly from PIT to DEN, June 6th- DEN to MDW, June 8th- MDW to DEN, June 17th- DEN back to PIT.   With any (more) luck, the baby would be born before I had to leave Denver for the wedding in Chicago.  I told my son that if I was in the labor room with his sister on Friday June 6th and the birth was imminent, I was absolutely not going to walk out of the room just as the head was crowning.   He didn’t think that scenario was very likely; I knew it was a real possibility.  
        On May 20th I flew from Pittsburgh to Denver as planned.  My daughter was doing fine, and it was fun to be with her and her husband, Mitch, as they got ready for the big event.  The due date came and went; we waited patiently.  As the days passed it became apparent that I might not be able to attend the birth as I had hoped, but as long as mother and baby were both fine all would be well.  Then on June 4th there were signs of labor, and early in the morning of Thursday, June 5th Melissa checked into the birthing center of Lutheran Medical.  My flight was not until late morning on Friday, so it seemed that everything was going to work out after all.  Melissa’s friend, Lisa, had volunteered to drive me to the airport, picking me up at the hospital if necessary.   
        This was a first baby; the baby was large; and the labor was long.  By 6:30 AM on Friday morning dilation was almost complete and Melissa was looking forward to the pushing phase at last.  After 24+ exhausting hours of hard work the mood in the labor/delivery room was now relaxed and happy as everyone prepared for the impending birth.  I turned to the mid-wife and said, “I know this sounds ridiculous, but I have to catch a plane to Chicago this morning.”  She did indeed think that sounded pretty ridiculous, and asked me why I earth I would be leaving for Chicago at such a time.  I explained that my son was getting married there the next day, and I was hosting the rehearsal dinner that evening.  
“So you live in Chicago?” 
“No, I live in Pittsburgh.”  
“You can’t make this stuff up”, she remarked as she probably thought to herself, “Some families really don’t know how to plan.”    

        
I am happy to report that Keeva Grace Rumsey was born at 7:50 AM on June 6th.  Weighing in at 8 lb.14 oz. she was the picture of good health.  The new parents were overjoyed, and I was thrilled to be there.  Throughout the labor and delivery my job was to take pictures with my iPhone and keep in constant contact via text messages with: Mitch’s mom (a pediatric nurse in Idaho Falls), my husband (who would  be flying from Pittsburgh and meeting me at Chicago Midway), my daughter, Mavia (who would be flying to Chicago from Portland, OR and co-hosting the rehearsal dinner with me), my son, George (who would have been in big trouble if I had missed the birth of my granddaughter), and of course my sister, Ellen.  Twenty minutes after the birth Lisa arrived at the hospital to drive me to the airport.  My son was right- he knew I would have plenty of time!
        When I arrived at Midway my husband met me in the terminal and we found a place to eat lunch.  As soon as we sat down I thought I heard him say, “I sold my house.”  I’d had almost no sleep in the past 48 hours so it took a minute to process this information.  But there was more.  “We have to be out by July 2nd.”  This meant we would have two weeks from the time I returned from Denver until we had to move.  (Good grief!)  “No problem- we can do that”, I told my husband, as I thought, “How can we possibly do that?”
        
The rehearsal dinner was a lot of fun, with a particularly entertaining speech by my daughter, Mavia.  And the wedding at Old St. Pat’s was absolutely beautiful.  On Sunday I returned to Denver as planned, and then flew home to Pittsburgh nine days later to get started packing for the move to Charlottesville.  After the movers left on July 2nd we drove to Virginia, both cars loaded with breakables, valuables, personal items, and the dogs.  We have spent the last few weeks unpacking boxes and setting up our new home in Virginia.  
       Now I am at Keuka Lake and the weather is a little cool for wind surfing and water skiing, not that I ever do those things.  When Mavia was here last week we did a little paddle boarding (That’s Mavia demonstrating “Warrior II”), but since she has gone home my main lake activity is skipping stones.  That doesn’t take much time, so I have used this opportunity to resume working on my blog with the goal of keeping up with my sister.  Do check out her blog "Sixty for Sixty" when you have a chance, but remember- it was my idea. 


Saturday, April 5, 2014

Sewing Sea Urchins



Warning-  If you have an interest in marine biology you may be disappointed with this blog post.  It isn’t about sea urchins; it’s about making things.

        Have you ever wanted to make a set of fabric sea urchins?  I hadn’t either.  But then one day at my local quilt shop I saw a twelve pointed, three dimensional stuffed object with a pattern that said, “Make, not catch, your own urchin.”  I immediately bought the pattern, in spite of the bad grammar.  The only materials required were fabric & stuffing, and it was made with a sewing machine, needle & thread- no fabric glue.  Hooray!  I hate glue.
        It was impossible to tell how these urchins were put together, but I assumed I would be able to figure it out.  I was born with the DIY gene.  My sister, Ellen, is also afflicted and we grew up together making doll clothes, paper mache, origami, creepy crawlers, yarn pom poms, and tons of other stuff.  As the years went by sewing became my favorite hobby.  In the last 50+ years I have sewn prom dresses, winter coats, maternity & children’s clothes, tote bags, stuffed animals, lined curtains, ruffled pillow shams and fancy quilts.  
        Naturally I was thrilled to find something new to make with my sewing machine, but I tossed the new patten into my box of future projects that may or may not ever come to fruition.  Then I had an inspiration.  My niece, Marissa, would be turning sixteen in March; wouldn’t she love a set of hand-made fabric sea urchins?  She could use them as pin cushions or simply simply display them as “objets d’art.”  Perhaps she would rather have a shiny new car for her birthday; unfortunately that was out of my budget.  So I purchased some snappy modern fabric and got to work on the sea urchins. 
        Three sizes were given, and I had decided to make one of each size, starting with the medium.  The first step was to cut twelve circles out of fabric.  Fold each circle in half, machine sew down the center, and invert one half over the other to form twelve double-layer fabric cones.  Then use upholstery thread and a needle to gather the edges of each cone; stuff it firmly and stitch it closed.  So far so good.  
        Next came the assembly phase, which was a bit more challenging.  This step was like the proverbial “nailing jello to the wall” if you first had to form the jello into the shape of a salamander and spray paint it.  In other words it was easier said than done.  I would have seriously considered giving up except that I had seen one made up by Mary Beth of the aforementioned LQS and, damn it, if another woman can do it then I can too.  I did have to enlist my husband’s assistance to hold the “tentacles” together as I tied surgeon’s knots.  Success!  The set was completed and shipped off to California in time.  Then I decided to make two more for myself.   


[The sea urchin pattern is by La Todera.]  

    

Monday, March 17, 2014

Happy St. Patrick's Day from the Toledo Blade


        One of my most cherished St. Patrick’s Day traditions is complaining about all the four leaf “shamrocks” one sees at this time of year.  I may have a very liberal attitude about Irish soda bread but not about the shamrock, which has three leaves, not four.  My kids (now grown ups) participate in the St. Patrick’s Day celebration by pointing out the most egregious misuses of Ireland’s symbol.  T-shirts emblazoned with “lucky four-leaf clovers” accompanied by proclamations of the Irish-ness of the wearers are particularly offensive on St. Patrick’s Day. 
        This year my son, George, has outdone himself by calling to my attention a recent article in the Toledo Blade called “Shamrocks for St. Patrick’s Day.”  This article is  fraught with blatant misinformation, utter nonsense and bad grammar.  My first thought was that it must be from The Onion until I realized that Onion writers have much better grammar.  So I called George to congratulate him on having found the absolute worst example of Shamrock heresy.

        The second paragraph should have been fair warning, as the author asks, “And who can pass up those adorable shamrocks?” and continues, “I just feel better having a small pot of luck on my desk to get me through the day with a smile.”  After that it just gets worse. Here are some highlights-
“St. Patrick gets the credit for making the shamrock popular.  Back in 432 A.D. he used the symbol of the shamrock as a symbol for the church.  One leaf of the shamrock is for faith, hope, love and the last one is for luck.  Some Irish traditions believe the three leaf clover represents the Holy Trinity for the Father, Son and Holy Spirit and the special fourth leaf symbolizes God’s grace.”  Good grief.  
        As a child I attended St. Patrick’s School in Corning, N.Y., where the girls’ uniform included a dark green jumper with a gold shamrock below the left shoulder.  On the three leaves of the shamrock were the letters S.P.S. for St. Patrick’s School.  Our teachers, the sisters of St. Joseph, talked to us every day about God’s grace, but never in the context of a “special fourth leaf.”  We learned that the shamrock, which has three leaves, was employed by St. Patrick to explain the concept of the Holy Trinity- the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost.  There isn’t anyone else.  
        Perhaps the most ridiculous part of the Blade article is this paragraph-
“He died over 1,500 years ago on March 17th, and that day still holds his memory with that three or four leaf luck charm.  It has been a tradition in Ireland since 1903, first at the Church.  Then in the 1960’s the celebration spilled over into the local pubs.”  It’s difficult even to think of anything to say about such malarky.  If the author didn’t have the time or inclination to consult any actual sources, she might have at the very least glanced through Wikipedia.  
          



Thursday, March 13, 2014

"Irish Soda Bread" (fighting words!)


        When I was growing up I thought of Irish soda bread as a dense, round loaf with raisins and caraway seeds.  My mother, Peggy (Walsh) MacAvoy made this bread from a recipe that had been given to her by her mother-in-law, Edna (McCarthy) MacAvoy.  I always liked it, so when my kids were growing up I continued the tradition.  At the time I assumed that all Irish soda breads were pretty much the same; there was no need to obtain my grandmother’s recipe.  Instead I turned to one of my favorite baking resources- the Sunset Cook Book of Breads.   My soda bread was delicious and reminded me of Grandma MacAvoy’s.  Meanwhile I acquired a collection of Irish cookbooks, all of which had soda bread recipes.  But I already had a recipe I liked so I stuck with it.  
        Years passed, the kids grew up and my Sunset bread book fell apart.  No, that was not intended to be a metaphor, but I did in fact divorce my husband.  When I moved out of the house I brought my favorite cookbooks with me, including: From Celtic Hearths, The Best of Irish Breads & Baking and Irish Country Cooking.  Eventually I got my life back together, remarried and moved into a new home. (though without the Sunset bread book)  Now when I wanted to bake Irish soda bread I would have to rely on my remaining cookbooks, plus the internet of course.  
        Only then did I begin to realize how contentious the topic is.  Many recipes for Irish Soda Bread (like that in my Sunset book) include sugar, eggs, butter and either currants or raisins.  These recipes, I read, are not authentic and should not be called Irish Soda Bread.  In From Celtic Hearths the author laments, “One of the saddest and most telling discoveries one can make, when tracing recipes from points of origin in the British Isles across the Atlantic to American cookbooks, is that Yankee versions of old country dishes tend to have added to them immense amounts of butter, eggs and sugar.”  She goes on to suggest that these fancy ingredients were used in order to show off new prosperity.  Needless to say the Irish soda bread recipes in her book include only flour, grains, baking soda, salt and buttermilk.  
        In his book, Irish Country Cooking, Malachi McCormick goes a step farther when he poses the question, “What is the authentic (Irish) soda bread and how is it made?”.  He goes on, “I will answer the question by saying what it is not.  It is not made with buttermilk.”  According to him real Irish soda bread must be made with sour milk because this is what would have been available in “even the poorest households.”  These poor households would not have possessed a butter churn, so there would be no butter and no buttermilk.  His recipe calls for just flour, baking soda, salt and sour milk, which can be made by letting milk stand at room temperature for a few days.  
        If you really want to read a diatribe against modern American soda bread, you will love "The Society for the Preservation of Irish Soda Bread." (now on FaceBook)  On their website this group provides a compelling argument for a soda bread that is free of raisins, eggs, baking powder or shortening.  My Grandma MacAvoy’s soda bread  recipe contains both raisins and baking powder. (She actually called it Raisin Bread.)  The Society handles this situation as follows:

There are two kinds of traditions:  1) The cultural one that can be traced back through an ethnic group's history and 2) family traditions that can be traced back to an individual family member.
Irish Soda Bread is an example of the first.  Grandma (insert name here)'s Irish bread is the other.  The cultural one came first and was adapted and modified by the second into a family tradition.  Both traditions are sacred.”   That’s reasonable.

        In my younger days I probably would have joined this society and railed against non-authentic Irish soda breads to anyone who would listen.  Now I find the subject moderately interesting but not terribly serious.  I make all varieties of Irish soda breads, and that’s what I call them no matter what “fancy ingredients” I have added.  My sister, Ellen, admits to having put chocolate chips and dried cherries in her soda bread.  I have never gone quite that far, but I commend her creativity.  
        Our ancestors emigrated from various parts of Ireland and settled in various parts of Brooklyn in the late 1800’s.  They made the decision to become Americans, so that is what we are.  If I ever feel a need to re-create the poverty of my ancestors, perhaps I will leave a carton of milk out until is sours and then combine it with flour, soda and salt for an authentic Irish soda bread.  Until then I will continue to use store-bought buttermilk, plus whatever additions I’m in the mood for.  Obviously if I’m making it to go with beef stew I don’t use sugar or raisins. (or chocolate chips)  
        Georgina Campbell brings together all the warring soda bread factions in her wonderful book, “The Best of Irish Breads & Baking.”  There are recipes in her Soda Breads chapter both with and without forbidden ingredients, and there are many examples of what in Ireland I’ve heard referred to as “brown breads.”   These are soda-leavened breads enhanced with whole wheat flour, seeds, oats and other grains.  The author also introduces a concept not found in my other Irish cookbooks- that of the Tea Bread.  Here is where you will find the recipe for Fruit bread, which is what most Americans grew up with; it contains sugar, butter, currants, egg and buttermilk.  Ms. Campbell observes that this “bread” is made all over Ireland and is sometimes called “Spotted Dog”, “Curnie” or “Railway Cake” depending upon where you are.  In America we call it “Irish Soda Bread.”    

5 Irish Soda Bread Recipes

1. Irish Soda Bread -      from Irish Country Cooking by Malachi McCormick

(Only the most authentic ingredients are used here.  I have never made this.)

4 cups unbleached white flour
1 tsp. baking soda
1 pinch salt
1 1/2 cup sour milk

Preheat oven to 400.  
Combine dry ingredients.  Make a well in the center and stir in sour milk with a wooden spoon.  Mix thoroughly, then turn out onto a floured board and shape into an 8 inch round loaf.
Warm an 8 inch cast iron pot in the oven for 3 minutes.  Then grease the pot and place your loaf in it.  Cut a cross on top of bread.  Cover the pot and bake about 40 minutes.  Remove bread from pot and wrap in a clean dish towel to cool. 

2. Grandma MacAvoy’s Raisin Bread - pictured above

(Grandma was ahead of her time with this low cholesterol, no added sugar recipe.  Mr. McCormick wouldn’t have approved of the baking powder.  Grandma MacAvoy wouldn’t have cared)

2 1/4 cups flour
1 1/4 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. baking soda
1/2 cup raisins
1 Tbs. caraway seeds
1 cup buttermilk or sour milk (or more if necessary)

Combine dry ingredients and sprinkle the mixture over raisins and seeds.  Stir in milk; knead and form into a smooth round.  Cut a cross on the top.  
Bake on un-greased pan at 350 for about 45 minutes

3. Ballymaloe Bread -      From Celtic Hearths by Deborah Krasner

“Ballymaloe is the name of a wonderful country-house hotel owned by Myrtle Allen and her family in Shanagarry in County Cork.”  This is good with Beef Guinness.  

4 cups whole wheat flour
1 cup unbleached white flour
1/2 cup rolled oats
1 1/2 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. salt
2 - 3 cups buttermilk or plain yogurt

Heat oven to 450.  Lightly grease a baking sheet.
Combine flours, oats, soda and salt in a large bowl.
With a wooden spoon beat in 2 cups buttermilk or yogurt.  Adding more if necessary to make a soft dough.  Turn out onto floured board and knead lightly.
Divide dough into thirds and shape each into a 4 inch round.  Cut a cross on the top of each loaf and place them on the prepared sheet.
Bake 15 minutes.  Reduce heat to 400 and bake another 15 - 20 minutes or until they are nicely browned and sound hollow when tapped.

4. Fruit Soda Bread - (adapted) from Irish Breads & Baking by Georgina Campbell

(This is most like the bread I used to make when my kids were growing up. It's absolutely delicious!)

4 cups unbleached white flour
1 tsp. salt
1 1/4 tsp. baking soda
2 Tbs. sugar
1/4 cup (1/2 stick) cold unsalted butter
1 cup currants or raisins (I use 2 cups)
1 egg, beaten
1 - 2 cups buttermilk 

Preheat oven to 425.  Cover a baking sheet with parchment paper.
Combine flour, soda, salt and sugar in large bowl.  Cut and rub in butter.  Stir in currants.  Combine egg with one cup buttermilk and mix in.  Add up to one more cup buttermilk to make a soft dough.  Turn onto floured board and knead lightly.  Shape and roll into a large round, about 10 inches in diameter.  Cut a deep cross in the middle to make 4 “farls”.    
Place divided loaf on baking sheet and bake about 45 minute until risen and nicely browned.  Cool on wire rack.  

5. Mitchell’s Brown Soda Bread with Seeds - (from the same book as above)

“Jerry and Margaret Mitchell’s restaurant is in a lovely old cut-stone building high in the Wicklow Hills at Laragh, near Glendalough..... (This bread is) quite a curiosity because the soda reacts with the sunflower seeds, turning them bright green, like seaweed.” (I have never seen this happen.)

2 cups whole wheat flour
2 cups self-raising flour *
1 tsp. baking soda
pinch of salt (not really necessary if using self-raising flour)
1 cup bran
1 cup wheat germ.
1/2 cup each- rolled oats, pinhead oatmeal, sunflower seeds, any other seeds 
1 egg
2 1/2 cups buttermilk
1 cup water (approx.)

Pre-heat oven to 375.  Grease and flour 3 small loaf pans.**
Put all ingredients in food processor and mix until thoroughly blended.  
Or- combine dry ingredients in large bowl.  Mix together egg, milk and water.  Stir this into the dry ingredients to make a soft dough.  Mix well with wooden spoon.
Divide dough among three prepared pans.
Bake about 45 minutes until crisp and hollow sounding when tapped.
Cool on wire racks.

* You can easily make your own self-raising flour by combining 2 cups unbleached white flour with 3 tsp. baking powder and one tsp. salt.  Mix thoroughly before using it in a recipe.

** If you don’t have 3 bread pans you can improvise with round loaves in 8 inch cake pans, or just shape round loaves and bake them on a cookie sheet.  





Tuesday, March 11, 2014

Irish Country Cooking - Fish Soup



        If you like to make Irish food for St. Patrick’s Day and you are tired of corned beef & cabbage (which is actually American), I recommend this recipe for Fish Soup.  It’s also great for Fridays in Lent, or any time you want a delicious, easy meal with plenty of protein and root vegetables.   
        

My soup recipe comes from Irish Country Cooking by Malachi McCormick, which I bought several years ago at a used book store in Charlottesville.  (I believe it is  available through Amazon.)  In this delightful book the author has made truly authentic Irish recipes available to American cooks.  Amounts are given in cups and teaspoons, not grams, and most of the ingredients can be found at your local grocery store.  These dishes are simple, country fare, often with very few ingredients and very simple instructions.  Fried Brown Trout, for example, requires only a medium sized trout, butter and a little lemon juice.  After melting the butter in a pan, the recipe calls for frying the fish for 3 minutes over high heat or 7 minutes over a low flame.  Add lemon juice.  That’s it.  
        Of course not all the recipes are quite this simple; otherwise no one would buy the book.  Lots of Irish classics are included: Colcannon, Barm Brack, Boxty, Pratie Oaten and of course Irish Stew.  There are numerous stories, discussions and explanations, so recipes like Bookmaker’s Sandwich and Dublin Lawyer will make more sense.  I particularly like the two page essay on The Decent Cup of Tea, which advises the reader to, “Bring your water to the boil, a singing, rolling, no-two-ways-about-it-boil, and use it freshly boiled.”
        Irish Country Cooking has some excellent, useful recipes, and also some that are not so tempting unless you like Crubeens (hind feet of pigs.)  The Gingerbread is very good, as are the Porter Cake and many of the Savory Pies.  The chapter on Soups is one of the best.  Here you will find recipes for Pea & Hambone Soup, Clam Chowder and Brotchan Foltchep.  This last one sounds rather ghastly but was supposedly a favorite of St. Columcille in the sixth century.  Not being a saint I prefer the Fish Soup recipe below.  
        The list of ingredients is copied almost exactly from the book, but I have adjusted the directions for the sake of ease and clarity.  Mr. McCormick recommends using whole fish rather than fillets to obtain better flavor.  Unless your lifestyle includes calling at the local fish monger and you enjoy de-boning fish, this may be impractical.  I always buy fillets of wild caught cod, and they work just fine.  
        To achieve the wonderful flavor of this fish soup, you need plenty of root vegetables, especially parsnips.  I love parsnips, so I always look for either a very large parsnip or a one pound bag of the smaller ones.  If your grocery store does not stock parsnips, you should complain.  And don’t be satisfied with those trendy daikon radishes or, even worse, white carrots.  In an emergency I suppose you could improvise with rutabagas or even turnips, but they are nowhere near as delicious as parsnips.    

Fish Soup Recipe

Ingredients-

1 medium onion
1 large leek, thoroughly washed (both white and green parts)
3 stalks celery
1 large parsnip
2 medium potatoes
2 Tbs. fresh parsley
2 1/2 -  3 pounds white fish ( e.g., cod, whiting, flounder etc.)
3 cups water
1/2 tsp. salt
1 cup white wine
2 Tbs. unsalted butter
2 Tbs. white flour
3 cups milk
1/2 cup heavy cream
1/4 tsp. cayenne pepper    
   
Directions-

Course-chop the vegetables and put them in a large pot.  Place the fish on top.  Add water and salt.  (Don't be tempted to add much more water if it doesn't cover the fish yet. More liquid will be added later.)
Bring to a boil slowly.
Add the wine and one Tbs. butter.
Turn down the heat and simmer, covered, for 30 minutes.


        
Now you must remove the everything from the pot, separating the liquid from the fish and vegetables.  Here is how I accomplish this.
I place the largest size Pyrex Cinderella bowl in my vegetable sink, and position a strainer over the bowl.  Then I carefully pour the contents of the pot into the strainer.  After the broth has drained into the bowl I move the stainer onto the pot, remove the bowl from the sink, then put the strainer back over the sink.  
Set the bowl of fish/veg broth aside.

In the same (now empty) pot over low heat, melt the remaining tablespoon of butter.  Whisk in the flour.  Then slowly stir in the reserved broth.  Bring to a boil, stirring constantly, until broth thickens slightly.  Add the vegetables and fish.

Keeping the heat on low, stir in the milk, heavy cream and cayenne pepper.  Heat and stir until the soup is piping hot.  (Do not boil after the milk has been added.)

Ideally the soup should now be allowed to sit for a couple of hours and then re-heated before serving, but this is not absolutely necessary.

Serve with a green salad and perhaps some nice Irish bread.


Wednesday, January 8, 2014

Vocabulary Mistakes to Avoid in 2014



        At this time of year I frequently see lists of words and expressions that “should be banned.”  One popular list this year includes “double down”, “fiscal cliff” and “kick the can down the road”.  As overused as these expressions are, they don’t really bother me.  “Spoiler alert” is a rather useful warning; I hate to have a surprise ruined.  And I find myself unapologetically using the word “superfood” from time to time.  As for “boneless wings,” I don’t think I’ve ever heard of them, and I had no idea what “YOLO” meant until I googled it just now.    
        What does annoy me is hearing certain words being misused over and over again by intelligent, educated people.  I blame the media.  The 24 hour a day cable news stations are responsible for spreading some of the most egregious vocabulary misuses.  Major network news programs are also guilty of this trend as is, I’m afraid, NPR.  In almost every case the speaker is attempting to sound more erudite by replacing a perfectly serviceable but common word with a fancier but incorrect one, thereby augmenting his credibility.  Unsuspecting listeners who don’t know the difference then incorporate these errors into their own speech.    
        Eventually, with enough misuse, the definition of a word will change to reflect the new usage.  Some people are very quick to adopt these updated meanings, and consider a word to be correct when it begins to be used a new way.  I am not one of these people.  I still cling to the belief that “due to” requires an antecedent and that “however” is a post-positive, so I am hardly likely to embrace change when it comes to vocabulary.  Here are a few of my pet peeves, with definitions and usage notes from The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language- Fifth Edition.     

“Comprise” -  to contain or be composed of.  

[Usage note from A.H.D.- The traditional rule states that the whole comprises the parts and the parts compose the whole.  Even though careful writers often maintain this distinction, “comprise” is increasingly used in place of “compose, especially in the passive.  Our survey shows that opposition to this rule is abating.”]  (Good grief!  If "comprise" goes, what will be next?)

        They give as examples the more correct, “The union comprises 50 states," and the increasingly common but less correct, “The union is comprised of 50 states.”   
Unfortunately the word “comprise” is almost never used by someone who understands it, but there are delightful exceptions.  This morning I was watching The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie on TCM, and heard Miss Jean tell her class that “Franco’s army comprises all the best elements of Spain.”  Of course anything sounds good when uttered by the Dowager Countess.        

“Decimate” - to destroy or kill a large part of (a group of people or organisms)

[Usage note from A.H.D.- Decimate originally referred to the killing of every tenth person, a punishment used in the Roman army for mutinous legions.  Today this meaning is commonly extended to the killing of any large proportion of a population. (examples are given)  However (sic), the Panel is less accepting of usages that extend the meaning to include large scale destruction other than killing, as in “The supply of fresh produce was decimated by the nuclear accident at Chernobyl.”] 

        Here is a good rule for use of the word “decimate.”  If you are tempted to modify it with the adverb "totally," then you have missed the essential meaning of the word and should probably go with the verb “devastate” instead.  And even then you should totally leave out the superfluous modifier.

“Literally” - in a literal manner, i.e. conforming or limited to the strictest, non-figurative or most obvious meaning of a word or words

[Usage note from A.H.D.- For more than 100 years critics have remarked on the incoherence of using the word "literally" in a way that suggests the exact opposite of its primary sense of “in a manner that accords with the literal sense of the words.”  In 1926 for example, H.W. Fowler deplored the example, “The 300,000 unionists will literally be thrown to the wolves.”]

        The A.H.D. goes on describe how the word “literally” has been used, incorrectly, to intensify an expression or figure of speech.  When correctly used, “literally” makes it clear that an actual fact has been stated, not just a figure of speech.  For example the remark, “It’s freezing in here!” usually means, “I’m a little chilly; I think I’ll put on a sweater.”  On the other hand, if the power has been off for a week in the middle of January, pipes have burst, and there are icicles hanging from the light fixtures, one might say, “It’s literally freezing in here!”
        Misuse of the word "literally" can produce some hilarious images.  I remember watching a documentary on National Geographic about the crash of Air France 447 and the subsequent investigation.  According to a lawyer involved in the case, “many of our families were literally on tenterhooks” waiting to learn what had happened.  I made a mental note never to fly Air France. And then there was the time my Mom was driving my brother, Neil, and his friend to one of their after-school activities.  Mom was probably not that interested in the boys' conversation, but when the friend exclaimed, “I literally screwed myself!”- that got her attention.  Always a stickler for good grammar, she patiently explained to him why this was not possible.