Mega Fun at the Mega Tasting

Years and years ago, a friend of mine was talking about liking scotch and I told her I didn't like scotch. She looked at me as if in shock for a second, then leaned in and said in all seriousness, "You're not drinking the right scotch."

She was so right. I had only ever had a blended scotch, which often is over 70% grain whisky (corn, rye) as opposed to single malts, which are made only from barley. That's not to say there aren't some good blends. Johnny Walker Blue Label, Famous Grouse, Dewers all perfectly good blends, but it's the force of the single malts that drew me over to the scotch side.

I've often talked about our favorite pub The Dundee Dell in Omaha, NE. For scotch lovers like ourselves, it's a mecca with over 700 single malts offered. As far as we know, that's the largest collection the USA that is also open to the public. There are larger personal collections, but you can't buy a dram of their whisky. Luckily, this mecca is only 20 minutes from our house!

There's a great group of people who get together once a month, at least, to drink and talk about single malts. Yes, talk about them. The complexity of single malts is vast, with different regions of Scotland contributing a different flavor. A whisky from the island Islay will more likely smell and taste of the peat used to dry the barley and the brine of the sea air that swirls around the barrels as they mature. A whisky from the Lowlands will more likely be light and floral, with hints of heather. And we haven't even begun to talk about the difference the wood of the barrel makes on the taste. A whisky that spent all of its life in a bourbon barrel is going to taste completely different from one that spent its life in a sherry cask. Here's a map from Scotchwhisky.net that shows the regions.




Really, I could bore you for hours talking about whisky--it's a little embarrassing, but hey, I could just as easily talk about knitting.

On the first Sunday in August (then again on the first Thursday), The Dundee Dell hosts its annual Mega Tasting. People fly in from all over the country for this event. For $100, you get 10 tastings of some of the oldest, rarest scotches they have. $100 is a bargain when you realize none of those samples come from a bottle costing less than $150, and several are in the "priceless" range because you just can't find them any more.

Since we missed last year's tasting, we were very excited to participate in this years. We were not disappointed. Wanna know what we drank? Well, I'll tell you.

We started out in the Lowlands, with a nice heathery, floral Rosebank 25 (25 year old). It's pretty rare to see a Lowland that old. Since they are so light in taste, there's just not as much flavor when they get that old. This Rosebank is the exception, proving that I really shouldn't assume anything with my limited knowledge. This whisky is cask strength, meaning it came right out of the barrel and wasn't watered down to the normal 40% ABV (alcohol by volume). This Rosebank is 61% ABV. That means it was hot hot hot. I added a few drops of water to it (as did everyone else) to drink it.

Oh, a little note about water here--please don't add ice to your single malt. Not only is it cold and will cover up the taste of the whisky, but it will melt quickly and add more water, which will also cover up the flavor. That said, I don't have a problem adding a few drops of water to open up the nose and palette, but I want to control the amount of water I put in. If a whisky is so high in alcohol that it burns my taste buds, it's not enjoyable and adding water takes care of that. Think of it like taking the seeds out of a jalapeno pepper to control the heat in a salsa.

And one more quick note about age. The age on the bottle represents the youngest whisky in that bottle. Different whiskies from different barrels at the distillery are blended to keep a consistent taste profile. This way a Glenfiddich 15 always tastes like a Glenfiddich 15. That also means that a Glenfiddich 15 could have some older whiskies like a 25 year old in there, but the youngest whisky is 15.

OK, let's speed this up a bit or we'll be here all day.

Glenlossie 27 is a Gordon & MacPhail bottling, meaning it wasn't bottled by Glenlossie but by the independent bottler, Gordon & MacPhail. Sometimes a distillery has a barrel or cask that doesn't quite fit in their usual taste profile and they will sell it to an independent bottler to sell. It opens a whole new world of single malts. Glenlossie is a Speyside, a large region in the northern center of the Scotland. This whisky smells and tastes of honey and green apple. To me it did, anyway. You may smell and taste something completely different.




Balvenie Rose is ultra special because you can't get it over here and it's a limited release. The general manager of the Dell bought it on her last trip to Scotland and opened it especially for this tasting. But this lovely 16 year old spent it's last 3 years in a port barrel, giving it a light pink tinge and a sweet, floral flavor with a hint of the oak it spent most of it's years. Several people thought it too light, being fans of the 12 year old Doublewood, but I thought it was a light and lovely change of pace.



Glen Keith 39 (Gordon & MacPhail bottling), a Speyside whisky, is known for being the first to use gas-fired stills and the first to bring in computers to run the distilling process. Spicy and sweet, with a hint of citrus for me. Others got baking spices like cinnamon and cloves.



North Port 23 (Rare Malts bottling) as a single malt is really rare because the majority of the whisky produced went into blends. A Highland whisky, the distillery, alas, is no more. There's a Safeway in its place now. But, thanks to Rare Malts independent bottler, we can enjoy a wee dram, even though I wasn't really impressed. Everyone else around me was, but I just didn't think it was exceptional. I got mostly baking spices, and the hubby smelled butterscotch.


Glenfarclas 40 (Scott's Selection bottling) is a rare thing. You hardly ever see Glenfarclas in an independent bottling because being a family-owned distillery, they are very careful about what is released. Glenfarclas is my of our favorites, not just for the lovely whisky, but also I love that they are still family owned after all these years. Therefore, it was sad to taste a Glenfarclas I was disappointed in. It was Glenfarclas-lite--it still had some spice, some sherry, maybe some anise, but it wasn't the full body experience I've come to expect of Glenfarclass. It wasn't bad, it just wasn't the normal great.


Bruichladdich 35 125th Anniversary is a special bottling that the general manager bought during our last trip to Scotland in 2007. With this whisky, we venture over to Islay. Ah, Islay. A small island that is the home to 9 distilleries (counting Port Charlotte); 9 tasty, lovely distilleries. Bruichladdich was one of our best tours in 2007 because of the passion of master distiller Jim McEwan. It's a kind of boutique distillery, with some pretty wild expressions. This particular whisky comes from a 1970 vintage which is legendary for being one their best, then it was finished in the barrels of a well loved Pinot Grigio. The original barrels give an oakiness while the wine barrel supplies fruits like banana and apricot. I also get some honey and vanilla. No heavy peating here, as with so many of the Islay whiskies.


Coleburn 21 (Rare Malts bottling) is the rarest whisky we tried, and you can't even get it at the Dell any more because we finished the bottle. Our taste was very little, but even in that wee drop of whisky the character and complexity were evident. Light and floral with a little peat on the nose, a sweetness like toffee in the taste, and a long, warm, peppery finish made this a lovely sample. Oh, and at 59.4% ABV, I added a drop of water.





Brora 25 is from a Highland distillery that has been mothballed since the 1980s. It used to be called Clynelish, but a new Clynelish was built across the street. Being aged in bourbon barrels, the nose and taste is earthy, with vanilla and oak. There's a little puff of smoke, not really typical of a Highland but the history of Brora is linked with Islay, helping out by producing peated whisky for blends. The finish is long and warm with that hint of smoke making this a really lovely whisky. If you hadn't guessed, this was one of my favorites.





Laphroaig Cairdeas was our last taste and as we usually do, we finished with a bang--a complex, warm, peaty bang. I'm not sure which year this bottling was, if it was for the 2008 or the 2009 Islay Festival. I don't even have notes because I knew what to expect and that this would be my favorite of the evening. The best thing about drinking an Isaly whisky is that I can close my eyes and as I nose the whisky, I'm back there. I smell the brine of the sea air, the smoke of peat drying the barley, the wood of the barrels, and the all over earthiness. The taste adds a little sweetness to the party and the long finish fades out on a light puff of smoke. Yummy.

All in all, a very successful tasting. As you might have noticed, I like back story about the distilleries and the whisky as much as I like the tasting. My tasting notes aren't very descriptive because I'm still trying to put words to what I'm tasting, but that will come. With more practice!

Oh, and for the grammar geeks, I apologize for tense being all over the place. I couldn't figure out which one to use. The event was in the past, but describing the scotch felt more natural with present tense because they are still present. Maybe someone can let me know how to handle it.

And because I like to end my posts with a picture of Cosette, the greatest dog in the world:

Twitter

I never seem to be inspired to post any more. Just too lazy, I guess. But I can find a few seconds to Twitter! I have a hard time keeping it to 140 characters, though. I'm constantly editing.

So, come see me on Twitter.

Happy Days and Happy Pics

I had a new adventure! Today (Saturday) I went to the Great Nebraska Mushroom Festival and hunted for morel mushrooms. It was rainy, freezing cold, muddy, early on a Saturday morning and much fun.

In case you're not familiar with morels, you can go here and get more information than you ever wanted.



It's a big deal here. There's a short window when you can pick morels and that window opened this weekend. Even though the ground wasn't over 50 degrees yet and it wasn't warm and rainy long enough and some flower hadn't bloomed yet (all part of the myth of when to find morels), we went hunting and were successful. Well, my friends were very successful with two big bags full. I did find about a dozen or so and was ecstatic that I didn't come home empty handed. Actually, my hands were overflowing as one of my friends gave me all of his mushrooms. I was excited because I had big plans!

I wish I had more photos for you, but I forgot my camera and my phone was dead. So, I took a couple of pictures when I got home.



I didn't collect the mushrooms in a plastic bag--heavens no! One must use a mesh bag because that way the spores can shake back onto the ground to ensure more mushrooms next year. But I didn't want spores all over my kitchen floor that I had just swept and mopped the morning before, so I put them is this trash bag to bring them into the house.

It's important to wash morels because, after all, you did just pull them out of the dirt a little while ago. People have definite ideas about how to clean these mushrooms, but I decided to follow the advice I got from the experts I met today. I split them in half lengthwise then soaked them in salty cool water and left them that way for over an hour. Yes, I said I soaked mushrooms in water, don't freak out. Have you seen these things? See all the those wrinkly crevices? Dirt and bugs hide in there, and the salt water kills the bugs. Al may have eaten bugs during his survival training, but he doesn't have to eat them at home. So here's the last picture of these little delicacies that I have, the mushrooms soaking:



It's important to slice them in half because the rule with morels is "if it ain't hollow, don't swallow." If it isn't hollow, it's poisonous so just throw it away.

So, what does one do with morels, you might ask. Well, I'll tell you what I did. Basically, anything you can do with mushrooms, you can do with morels, you just get a richer, meatier flavor. They're like little portabello mushrooms. I dipped some of them in egg then in Panko bread crumbs and fried them in an iron skillet full of butter to keep us happy while I made the entree. For that entree, I sliced up the 'shrooms, sauteed some finely diced onions and garlic in olive oil then added the 'shrooms and a splash of white wine. After some of the liquid had cooked down, I poured in a half-pint of whipping cream (oh yes I did), grated in some nutmeg, sprinkled in some salt and pepper and let that come back to a boil, turning the heat back down after I got big clear bubbles. I threw in a little fresh parsley, then poured it over some bowtie pasta. Even Al, who isn't really wild about mushrooms, loved them. He was most impressed and I was most pleased. And most tired. Good Lord was I tired. I've had a rough week with my MS, so trapsing around in the cold and rain might not have been the best idea, but it was totally worth it.

This is the best thing about being in military--you learn something new everywhere you move to. I'm already looking forward to the next Great Mushroom Festival.

So, I promised some happy pics. Of course, they're all about Cosette because pictures of the cutest dog in the world makes me happy.

First pictures at the dog park. Cosette loves to go, so we introduced my friend and her dog Topsy to it. Topsy is usually a little nervous around other dogs, but not here. They had a great time. Topsy is a cockapoo--cocker spaniel and poodle--obviously more poodle in the legs.



What a good girl coming when I call.



With spring comes mowed lawns and with mowed lawns comes green noses.




Cosette loves her new bed. Only $20 at Costco!

A Contented Sigh

Right before winter, we had a deck built onto the back of the house. It’s lovely.



The deck is made with the compressed wood stuff and the pergola is cedar. It’s exactly what I wanted, and I spent most of the winter looking longingly out my window at the snow-covered deck, impatient for spring so I could enjoy it.



Well, spring is finally here. OK, so it’s not as warm as many of us would like, but it’s not freezing. Personally, I like highs in the 60s and lows in the 40s. It just fits my “middlen” personality. Al won’t be happy until it’s near 80. It’s amazing we have lived together this long, what with him complaining about being cold and me complaining about being hot.

But it is spring, so it was time to buy patio furniture for our new deck. I had in mind what I wanted—a comfy, rattan love seat with 2 single chairs and a fire pit in the middle. And that’s what I got! Well, I didn’t get the fire pit (I lost that battle to Al), but we got a coffee table instead, plus an ottoman. It’s as lovely as the deck and looks wonderful.





When I first saw them, I told Al they were too “Floridian.” Then he flipped the cushions over to reveal a beautiful pistachio green and I was sold. Cosette loved them at first sight and quickly initiated them into the household like she did every other piece of furniture in the house.





So, this is my new favorite thing to do. I sit outside on my love seat and read or knit and enjoy a glass of wine. Just today, I sat out there and started a new cabled scarf with the most wonderfully luscious Rowan Felted Tweed yarn.



Right now, I’m typing this post as I sit out here. It’s tricky having the computer outside—the light has to be just right or you can’t see anything on your screen. The sun is just starting to go down. It’s not quite dusk yet, but it’s not daytime either. The wind is blowing, of course, making things just on the chilly side, but I don’t mind it. It calms down in spells, and I can feel the sun on my left cheek and neck, promising it’ll be warmer soon. I look up at one of the trees and see a red cardinal then notice there’s a fly teetering on the edge of my now-empty wine glass. I can hear the kids a couple of houses down playing basketball, and a woman behind us is vacuuming out her car. More signs of the season changing. There’s even a faint smell of someone grilling out. Now if that’s not a sign of spring, I don’t know what is.

I feel sleepy and content, and I don’t think it’s the wine making me feel this way. But with the smell of someone's dinner grilling, I’m also hungry, so I think I’ll wake myself up and reluctantly head inside. Oh well. There’s always tomorrow.

List-o-rama

You will achieve a grand dream, a day at a time, so set goals for each day / not long and difficult projects, but chores that will take you, step by step, toward your rainbow.
--Og Mandino

I'm an organizer freak, I admit it. I love organizing tips and tools, and The Container Store is my mecca. One of the best gifts Al ever gave me was a label maker. But what I found at the bookstore has got to be the best thing ever!

So, let me set this up for you. I am a list maker. Not just "a list" maker, but many lists, with sublists and subcategories. I've even made a list of things I need to make a list for. And I write them down on whatever I have handy, so I find them in pockets or in my purse or in a basket of yarn. The problem is that since I'm an "all planning and no follow through" kind of person, all these lists are doing is cluttering my house.

Enter the most amazing book ever! A book of lists!




Organize Now! A week-by-week guide to simplify our space and your life. Here, in 234 pages, is every list I've ever made and some I haven't but should have. Instead of me writing all these lists on slips of paper and being frustrated because my lists need to be better organized, here they are in a spiral-bound book, which is designed to look like a day planner (which is what attracted me to the book in the first place).

Jennifer Ford Berry takes weekly installments to get you organized. With checklists, tips, ways to stay organized for the whole year, and places for notes, she outlines everything to organize your papers, your things, each room in the house, storage areas, and special events like vacations and holidays.





It's a beautiful thing. And here's the really amazing part--I'm using it! I can't seem to keep it to a week because everything takes longer than I think it will, but my goal is that by the 2009 holidays, we will be living in a house where there's a place for everything and everything is in its place. Since Al is seriously thinking of putting in his retirement papers next year, it would be one less stressful thing if we had all the house stuff in order so that he could focus on adjusting to a civilian life.

The only hard part so far was the suggestion that I write down my top 10 priorities and schedule time in my planner to contribute to my priorities--it can be something as simple as calling Mom. The problem is that I couldn't come up with 10. I'm not sure what that says about me. Am I ignoring some priorities? Am I not being honest with myself? Is my life really that dull that I can't come up with more than 5 priorities. I think it's like my kitchen in San Antonio. It was the largest kitchen I had had, and I excitedly called my mom to tell her that I actually had empty spaces in my cabinets. "Not for long, I bet," she said. And she was right. By the time we moved again, my house-hunting parameters included a big-enough kitchen for all my stuff. So, although there's an opening right now on that list, I'm sure I will fill it up.

I've got lots to do, huh? I've found that if I will leave the tv off, it's amazing how much I get done. I've replaced the tv with podcasts. However, I'll waste hours looking up podcasts on iTunes. I've traded one procrastination tool for another. Oh well.

So the theme for the rest of 2009 will be "Organize This!"

And because I can't have a post without pictures of the cutest dog in the whole wide world, here's one of Cosette doing her latest trick and one of her in her favorite place on the couch.

Play Time Comfort

Play time is very important, and as we grow older, it becomes even more important and precious. We plan to play; it has to be scheduled in between work, the laundry, cleaning the house, and buying the groceries. And every now and then, even those times that seem like play, come out of some kind of responsibility. But play is play, and it should be enjoyed no matter the circumstances.

One of those responsibilities where I get to play while on duty is helping out with crafts at the Teen Center at our church. Once or twice a month, a couple of us crafty-type people think up something for the kids to do. Making cards, decoupaging clay pots with pictures from magazines, decorating cookies, painting picture frames, we’re always trying to come up with an easy but not too “childish” project for these teens. It’s a bit of a struggle for me because I make everything a struggle for myself. I can’t just relax and enjoy doing some crafts, I have to worry about if it’s too difficult or if it’s too easy or if the kids will like it. But come to find out, these kids love to do any kind of craft. I could have them trace their hands and make a turkey out of it and they would enjoy it.

I tend to tell people that I’m only crafty if I have directions on how to do it in front of me. I said that to the Teen Center director, but she’s so desperate for volunteers that she didn’t listen and just sent me emails saying when she had scheduled craft day. Luckily, there’s another lady who helps out, but she, too, describes herself as direction-driven. But for women who say they aren’t really crafty, we sure come up with some good stuff. So, this little responsibility has been very good for me in an unexpected way—it’s let me embrace my crafty self.

So, it’s play time! We’ve decided to let the kids make scarves out of fleece and embellish them to their hearts’ content. Fleece is the perfect material for this because you don’t need to hem it, just cut and go. Even the fringe is easy. This serves double duty, by the way: they get to do a craft and they get something they to keep them warm this winter. I decided that part of my stress comes from not being prepared. I have ideas and pictures in my head of what they could do, but I never actually play around with it and come up with a sample for them. I haven’t worked with fleece, so I decided I should try it out before I let the kids loose on it.

I gave myself permission to play first and work out what I wanted. I even sketched out what I was thinking first. Then I tried out different supplies and different techniques. I wanted to show them how they could appliqué a shape on with an easy buttonhole or blanket stitch, in addition to just gluing stuff on or painting on it. I had a great time, just look:





Trying out different things on a scrap piece.


I ended up doing hearts instead of flowers.


Close up of the hearts


I’ve realized that there needs to be some time between idea and finished project for some experimentation and play. I always tried to skip that middle part and would end up frustrated that I wasn’t getting what I wanted immediately. I just needed more play time!


And to brighten your day (and mine), a few pictures of Cosette

Needing Good Thoughts

We need your prayers and good thoughts for our friend Steve who is in the hospital. He's very sick, and it doesn't look good.

Steve is Al's motorcycle riding buddy. Despite his illness, he would meet Al and they'd ride all over this side of Nebraska and Iowa. Several times they would stop by our house and we'd spend hours sitting around the kitchen table talking and laughing. He shared Al's love of motorcycles and my love of cooking, dogs, and having a creative outlet. He also had a sympathetic understanding of dealing with a chronic disease, and we bonded over tests, medications, and the frustration/necessity of taking things one day at a time.

We knew he was pretty sick, but his strength and attitude made it easy for us not to think about it. But he called tonight, wanting to let us know what was going on and to tell Al that even if they get tests back and can do something, his riding days are over.

So, please keep good thoughts for Steve and we'll do the same.

Thank you.

Good News All Around

Sorry I haven't been around. It was just so exciting seeing our new president being sworn in and seeing so many people filled with the audacity of hope.

Plus, there's more good news. You might not have known that it's been a little stressful around here as we waited to see what the military was going to do with Al--move him or keep him here. Well, I'm happy to say we are staying here. They've extended him for another year and by the time they could give him another assignment, he'll be well within the window to put in his papers to retire, if that's what he wants to do. That decision changes daily; luckily, he doesn't have to decide right now.

But, we don't have to sell the house this spring! We don't have to rush to get the last of the updates done. We'll be here for the next Scotland trip with our friends from the Dell. We can go down to Kansas City for the Highland Games and maybe stay a few extra days. We can take some small trips. I can find a part-time job. I get to stay with my doctor. Cosette gets to stay with her vet. Al gets to stay with his motorcycle buddies. I can sign up for some classes I've been wanting to take. I can make plans for . . . hell, I can just make plans.

So, 2009 has started out pretty well. I feel like the gods are trying to tell me to keep up the energy that's already been started here. I better get busy!

In Stitches

Properly practiced, knitting soothes the troubled spirit, and it doesn't hurt the untroubled spirit, either. ~Elizabeth Zimmerman

Years ago, Al was diagnosed and successfully treated for testicular cancer. He has been cancer-free for almost 12 years, but I remember every minute of sitting in those cold waiting rooms while he went through more scans and while doctors reviewed the results before talking to us. “The Price Is Right” was showing in every room, and to this day I can’t listen to the theme music for that show.

I always had a book with me, but I couldn’t concentrate long enough to read even a page. I tried crossword puzzles, but same problem. So, I mostly just sat there, tapping my foot. Near the end of his treatment, he had to have a long surgery to remove the scar tissue, and I knew that I would have to find something to do with my hands. I could hand-stitch quilt pieces together, but that would take a lot of prep work to cut out the pieces first. I decided to fall back on cross-stitch, an old favorite. During his over-6-hour surgery, I finished an old project and gave it to a friend for Christmas. Cross-stitch was the perfect thing for me at that time because it kept my hands busy and following a simple pattern was about all the concentration I could handle. Besides, the repetition of making those Xs was comforting some how. I haven’t done much cross-stitch since.

Flash forward some 6 years or so. After trying quilting again, honing my cooking/baking skills (gaining 40 pounds in the process), playing with paper and stamps making scrapbooks, and writing bits and pieces of a novel that wasn’t going any where, I took a good friend’s advice and tried knitting. My mother had tried to teach me when I was a teenager, but I didn’t like it, probably because I wasn’t good at it immediately and my pattern was to quit and move on to something else. I believe it was cross-stitch, actually. Anyway, I got the book Stitch and Bitch, some needles, and yarn and got started. Something my mother taught me must have been hiding in my subconscious because it came very easy to me. Not only that, I liked it! I felt I had found the craft for me, the one I could concentrate on and get really good at while still loving what I was doing.

As a bonus, learning to knit came at a time when I really needed something to keep me from cracking up. Yes, I say that flippantly, but for a couple of years there, I don’t know how I kept it all together. Actually I do know how, I knitted. I obsessively focused on learning how to knit, playing with yarn and learning how to follow a pattern. I won’t go so far as to say knitting saved my life, but it came damn close.

When I thought things were getting ready to turn around for me, I had an MRI done, expecting a migraine but finding lesions, the first step in diagnosing MS. Thus, I started spending a lot of time in waiting rooms again. The diagnosis process is a long one for MS, mostly because it is difficult to diagnose. One of these days, I’ll write more about why that is, but the point is that I now had something to do in the waiting rooms and at home while I waited for test results. As long as I followed simple patterns, I could easily sit and knit for as long as it took. Unfortunately, I couldn’t knit while in the MRI machine nor while getting a lumbar puncture.

It’s a testament to how much I love knitting that I haven’t turned away from it after my diagnosis and after things started to turn around for me. Whereas I can’t watch “The Price is Right” nor do I have any desire to cross-stitch, I happily continue to knit. I haven’t ignored the fact that I have a disease that could affect my dexterity, but luckily, my case is pretty mild and it hasn’t interfered too much. Actually, knitting is a pretty good gauge of how I’m doing. Sometimes, even on a bad day I can knit as long as it is a simple pattern not requiring a lot of concentration or the need to follow a chart. Then there are those days when I knit even a simple row over and over again and can’t get it right. We all have bad days, but I know that when I can’t complete a simple knit 2 purl 2 rib, something else might be going on and I should pay attention. But even on a bad day, I can listen to a knitting podcast (yes, there is such a thing) or look at a magazine to plan my next project. Sometimes, it’s just a bad day.

And now, knitting will help Join the Movement by raising money for MS research. At both of The Knitting Guild of America’s (TKGA) 2009 Knit & Crochet Shows in Portland, OR and Buffalo, NY, a silent auction will be held, featuring socks by various designers. Socks are a favorite project and an obsession with many knitters, so this is a wonderful idea. Proceeds will go to The National MS Society (NMSS). In their statement, the NMSS said, “The mission of the National Multiple Sclerosis Society is to end the devastating effects of MS. Support from organizations like CGOA (Crochet Guild of America), TKGA and the Knit & Crochet Shows helps us to pursue new treatments so that no one will have to forgo the pleasure of being able to participate in activities that are so rewarding.”

Maybe knitting really is a life saver.

Another little life saver who wants to take a nap with Al.



My latest project--a market bag

Yes, You Can Make Bread

Love artisan breads, but in this economy, don’t want to spend the money? Want to make your own bread but are afraid of the yeast? Want to eat hot, fresh loaves of bread but don’t want to put in the effort? Come over to the yeasty side, my friends.

Al and I have discovered No Kneading Bread. It’s been around for awhile, but we were reminded of it in an article in Mother Earth News and decided to give it a try.

I was leery. I’ve made bread and enjoyed it, but it’s an all day event and a lot of work, which is why I don’t do it often. This article made it sound practically, well, easy. How could it be good and easy? That’s why we buy frozen rolls at Thanksgiving—because they are good and easy, easier than praying that the rolls rise. It’s why we make quick breads—no yeast equals quick and easy. So, I was skeptical.

Al, however, was gung ho. He went to Breadtopia and watched the videos and got the recipe. The only thing you really should have that everyone might not have is a cast iron Dutch oven or a terra cotta baker with a domed lid (called a la croche). Otherwise, it’s easy peasy. And yes, it tasted good, really good. It was crusty on the outside, with a soft, holey crumb on the inside.

I can hear you saying, “Get on with it! Just tell me how to do it!” OK, OK, jeez. I’ll tell ya, but you might want to go to Breadtopia to see the instructional video.

The ingredients are

3 cups bread flour
¼ teaspoon instant yeast (We didn’t get instant, so we bloomed it with a ¼ cup of lukewarm water)
1 ½ teaspoon salt
1 ½ cups water (actually, the recipe called for purified or spring water, but pffffft. Our tap water is pretty darn good)

So, here’s what you do:

1. If you didn’t get instant yeast, mix the yeast in about a ¼ cup lukewarm water, just to give it a head start.
2. Mix the dry ingredients together (if using instant yeast, that’s included in this step).
3. Mix in the water until it is incorporated. The dough will be wet and sticky.
4. Cover with plastic and let it sit at room temperature for 18 hours.

Here's what it looks like in the bowl after 18 hours:



5. Scrape that yeasty goodness onto a well floured surface. Flour your hands and the top of the dough, then press it into a rectangle.
6. From the short side, fold a third of the dough onto itself, then fold the other third of the dough on top of that first fold, so you’ll have a rectangle. Then fold it in half to form a square.



7. Cover loosely with plastic wrap and let sit for 15 minutes.
8. Dust a kitchen towel with flour and transfer the dough to the towel or into a proofing basket (which is basically a basket with a towel), cover with another towel and let rise for 1 ½ hour.
9. With the Dutch oven in it, preheat the oven to 500 degrees.
10. Flour your hands and form the risen dough into a ball.



Put the dough into Dutch oven and bake for 30 minutes.
11. Remove the lid, reduce heat to 450 degrees, and bake for an additional 15 minutes.



12. Let cool completely, for at least 45 minutes, on a rack.



13. Reward yourself for waiting by eating a thick, warm slice with butter and honey.



We were so excited about this lovely little loaf we had created that we wanted to try all of our favorite things on it. While Al went to the store for a bottle of wine and tomatoes, I cut up a platter of leftover prime rib, ham, cheddar cheese, mozzarella cheese, and summer sausage.



I also poured a small bowl of olive oil and balsamic vinegar and got out the butter, jam, peanut butter, and honey. When Al got home, we just ate ourselves into oblivion. I have to say, that my favorite was the peanut butter and honey. It reminded me of the 15th anniversary Al and I celebrated at this lovely bed and breakfast outside of Ohio called The Murphin Ridge Inn. It was in the middle of an Amish settlement, so they used bread and other things made by the Amish. The Inn owners offered a box lunch of thick slices of Amish white bread, slathered with peanut butter and honey. I’m salivating just thinking about that sandwich.

Since this first trial, we’ve made 2 more loaves—one with dried cranberries and walnuts (my favorite so far) and one with Asiago cheese. And the house smells amazing.





So, give it a try. There aren’t many more things as comforting as warm bread with butter and jam and a cup of coffee, unless, of course, it’s bread with peanut butter and honey.

And for your amusement, here's a picture of Cosette enjoying her Christmas present from Uncle Jay and Grandma.

And Another Big Thank You

Thank you to The Background Fairy. While I was at over at The Knitting Contessa and admiring her site, I discovered that I, too, could have a pretty background on my blog just by going over to The Background Fairy's site. She has samples with the instructions and code that you just copy and paste into the html of your Blogger blog.

The button for the her site didn't come through, but I'm working on that. Until then, you can use the link in the post to check her out.

Big Thank You

Thank you Jay for the awesome header!

"Do they still play games on Christmas?"

At Christmas play and make good cheer, for Christmas comes but once a year. --Thomas Tusser

I had been making a joke for a month or so that since you should be with your family at Christmas, we should go to the Dundee Dell, since that’s where we have good friends and spend a lot of our free time. Ha ha ha, our family is the local bar. Well, I was partially serious because we didn’t have anything to do any way, until our neighbor called and asked if we’d like to come over for dessert late Christmas afternoon. Al was disappointed that I said yes because if he has a choice between a warm pub with a wee dram and a house full of loud teenagers, guess which one he’ll choose. Come to think of it, a lot of people probably would’ve chosen the pub, too, but what could I do? It just doesn’t seem polite to turn down an invitation to spend Christmas with someone.

Besides, our neighbors are great. All five kids, plus a son-in-law and one of the girl’s boyfriend were there. The oldest is married and also brought their new dog, the next two girls are in college and home on Christmas break, their 15-year-old son is the one who mows our yard, and their youngest son is 10, I think.

When we arrived, there was a bustle of excitement while they finished getting all the dinner dishes together. The atmosphere was the definition of “jovial.” Everyone was still basking in the warmth of a Christmas dinner and family time around the dinner table. Their house looked like Christmas had exploded. Wrapping paper, tissue paper, clothes, DVDs, games were in small piles around the living room, obviously representing each person’s haul. While Christmas carols played on the stereo, the older kids cleaned up the dinner dishes while the younger ones ran down to the basement to get another game of Rock Band in before dessert, and the parents and we had a glass of wine. The dad said they went around and opened one present at a time, and with nine people, it took a couple of hours, especially once you add in the time for appropriate ooohing and ahhhing.

Then the big decision had to be made—should we eat dessert then play a game while we drank coffee or eat dessert while we played the game. Considering how good that pumpkin pie smelled, everyone was all for dessert first. When playing a game was mentioned, I glanced over at Al who had that look on his face that said, “You didn’t tell me we were gonna have to play a game.” It’s worth mentioning that I love playing board games, but Al does not, especially, the “trivial” games where you answer questions. I think it’s because he’s just so damn intelligent that he gets bored. See, ya gotta be clueless like me to enjoy the public act of humiliation of trying to answer a question your average 16 year old would know. To make matters worse, the game was “The Battle of the Sexes,” which would really irritate Al. It pits the women against the men, answering questions that supposedly the opposite sex would know.

Now, a game called “Battle of the Sexes” is inherently sexist. The premise alone lets you know that someone is going to feel insulted, and that person was me. In this game, the men ask the women questions that a man would know, and the women ask questions that a woman would know. There were the obvious cosmetics questions for the men and sports questions for the women, but here’s what really ticked me off. Of the questions we had in this one game, the questions for the men were all focused on movies and gossipy things, while the questions for the women were about history and computers. Here’s some examples so you’ll get a better idea what I’m talking about:

(Questions for the women are in red, questions for the men are in blue.)

What 2 colors combine to make pink?

What does Blog stand for?

What does PMS stand for?

Who is the architect of some PGA golf course? (can’t remember which ones mentioned)

What actress flashed her breasts at a late-night TV host?

What year marked the 50th anniversary of the proclamation of Israeli independence? (We guessed 1997, but it was 1998)

Here’s the weird thing, the women won! I’m still not sure how that happened. I think the end of the game wasn’t the objective, so pawns didn't get moved and we lost track of how many places to move the pawns. Plus, we got lucky on some wild cards. The objective was to be together, have a good time, and laugh at the bizarre answers we would come up with. I admit to getting a little frustrated when I couldn’t answer something like what blog stands for because there were so many people talking I could think, but then I had to try to step back and realize what the true objective of the game was—to have fun.

After the game, I decided Al had done his time and we should head home. He had decided that, too, and we bundled up to walk back home. After rounds of “thank you” and “so glad you could come over” and “thanks for including us,” we walked back to our house. We were greeted by a sleepy Cosette, who decided to wake up enough to play one more time with her Christmas presents.

When I was a kid, before my parents split, we had big Christmases like that, too. My dad’s extended family is pretty big and everyone lived close by, so it was usually easy for all of us to converge at my grandmother’s house or some other brave person’s home. Lots of food, lots of drink, lots of packages, lots of noise and chaos, so being at our neighbor’s house made me kind of homesick, even though I haven’t had a Christmas like that in years. I’m not sure I was homesick as much as I was lamenting how long it had been. Al was glad to return to the quiet and calm of our home, but I was missing that chaos. People say they envied my quiet, stress-free Christmases of just the two of us, yet that night I envied the lively bedlam of a large family celebrating. Um. Go figure.