Archive for November, 2009

New work

Sunday, November 29th, 2009

berries in a crystal dish

Berries in a Dish, 9″ x 12″, pastel on board

This will be a series of (at least) three small panels. I started out with the motive that I would study the more complicated passages in some of my new set-ups (blackberries are not to be approached for the first time without a dry run) but the drawings took on a life of their own. The largest size panel I work on is 18″ x 24″, which is plenty large for my studio space. If I went any bigger no one would be able to get into the bathroom. Still, 9″ x 12″ feels tiny and has required a change of technique – a broadening of my marks. Odd that such a small space must be filled with ever larger areas.

Next up, apricots on a green plate.

Plum Duff

Friday, November 27th, 2009
plum duff

Normally I wouldn’t start a post off with a picture, but “Plum Duff” isn’t really going to tell you much all by itself. And the Wikipedia article will re-direct to “Spotted Dick” and then you’re REALLY going to need a picture. It’s a dessert, people. A lovely, delicious, traditional dessert created by people for whom the term “Spotted Dick” was a fond endearment.

For this recipe you’ll need a few specialty items. I always hate running across that in a recipe I perhaps haven’t read closely before starting out; “You’ll need a flugelhorn!”,  announces the author, brightly. “These days you can find one easily on Amazon!”.  So, advance warning, for this recipe you will need a pudding mold or basin with a lid or cover, a metal trivet to rest the mold on the bottom of a pot, either tall enough to enclose it, or close enough that a collar of aluminum foil will do the trick.

My Great Aunt Margaret’s Plum Duff

  • 2 large eggs
  • 1/2 cup melted vegetable shortening
  • 1 cup firmly packed brown sugar
  • 2 cups cooked prunes
  • 1 cup all-purpose flour
  • 1 teaspoon baking soda
  • 2 tablespoons cold milk plum duff 1
  • Beat eggs well.
  • Dissolve brown sugar in hot, melted shortening and whisk in the eggs slowly, so they don’t cook.
  • Add cooked prunes that have been drained and mashed with fork*.
  • Sift flour and add. Dissolve soda in milk and add last.
  • Fill greased pudding mold 2/3 full, cover lightly and steam one hour over rack in large cooking pot.
  • * This used to be a very messy process – cutting the prunes with a sharp pair of sewing scissors, cooking and then mashing the results. Now we can throw the cooked, drained fruit in the cuisinart and have done with it.

    Now mix in the prunes, add the flour. . .

    plum duff 2

    And spoon the whole mess into the greased pudding mold. Now would be a good time to mention that the pudding is going to be a solid mass in the bottom of this mold after you’ve cooked it and allowed it to cool. It will look like it is solidly glued in there, but no – set the pan in very hot water for a few minutes and then invert over a plate. It should fall right out – if not feel free to repeat the process. It’s not like this stuff is fragile.

    plum duff 4To the left in this photo is my aluminum trivet, useful for keeping the mold off the bottom of the pot. It is stamped “1820 Cincinnati” on the bottom, so hey – an antique! I expect modern trivets would work just as well. Also, please ignore the Goya Black Bean Soup can. I’m not making anything from this product placement – the can was there for our supper of huevos rancheros later on that night.

    I didn’t think I had a photo of the pot with its aluminum collar, but here it is. Evidently I’d thought I’d blog my recipe for huevos rancheros, because there’s all the fixin’s, but thought the better of it. Everybody already has a favorite recipe for those.  But waaayyy in the back there you can see how to make your stew pot a steamer for your pudding mold.

    plum duff 5Steam the pudding at a low to moderate temperature for about an hour. You shouldn’t be able to hear it boiling madly, and check about half way through to see that the water level still comes close to 3/4 of the way up the mold.Add more hot (from the tap) water if you’re getting low. The temperature may drop below simmer for a minute but it’s not going to bother your Duff.

    Cool the pudding in the mold overnight in a cool place, then unmold it and decorate for the season. I used horehound, lavender and geranium because this is Thanksgiving and you can never tell when someone is going to eat the garnish – better to make it all edible.

    Now go check out all the interesting steamed dishes out there, like The Bitten Word’s Persimmon Cake (which they did w/o a pudding mold).

    2 large eggs
    1/2 cup melted vegetable shortening
    1 cup firmly packed brown sugar
    2 cups cooked prunes
    1 cup all-purpose flour
    1 teaspoon baking soda
    2 tablespoons cold milk
    1. Beat eggs well.
    2. Dissolve brown sugar in hot, melted shortening and add to eggs.
    3. Add cooked prunes that have been drained and mashed with fork.
    4. Sift flour and add. Dissolve soda in milk and add last.
    5. Fill greased pudding molds 2/3 full, cover lightly and steam one hour over rack in large cooking pot.
    6. Serve hot with Rum Sauce or whipped crea

    2 large eggs

    1/2 cup melted vegetable shortening

    1 cup firmly packed brown sugar

    2 cups cooked prunes

    1 cup all-purpose flour

    1 teaspoon baking soda

    2 tablespoons cold milk

    1. Beat eggs well.

    2. Dissolve brown sugar in hot, melted shortening and add to eggs.

    3. Add cooked prunes that have been drained and mashed with fork.

    4. Sift flour and add. Dissolve soda in milk and add last.

    5. Fill greased pudding molds 2/3 full, cover lightly and steam one hour over rack in large cooking pot.

    6. Serve hot with Rum Sauce or whipped cream.

    1. m.

    Social Capital – the business model

    Monday, November 23rd, 2009

    I was down in the village last Saturday, doing errands and enjoying the relative peace and quiet now that most of the folks from away are well, away. It occurred to me that two of my favorite businesses in town are right next to each other, on a cul-de-sac off Cottage Street.

    Cadillac Avenue is a short, narrow, heavily rutted dead end that opens up into a dirt lot facing the backs of other buildings on three sides.  Not a promising piece of real estate, but very expensive nonetheless, just by being located in down town Bar Harbor. To one side of the dirt lot sits The Bagel Factory, where Agnes S. makes bagels. Agnes makes the best bagels in the world, but she does not tolerate stupidity, arrogance, sloth or bad manners. You may be able to get a bagel – or a salmon and mozzarella pizza, or a tempeh and goat cheese sandwich with ripe pears – or you may get kicked to the curb. Agnes is one of the finest human beings you will ever have a chance to meet – don’t screw up.

    bagel factory

    Just to the left of The Bagel Factory is Ahlblad’s Picture Framing or, as the sign says, “hlblad’s”. Nobody cares about the sign. All of Raymond Strout’s customers find their way by word of mouth and are willing to wait unspecified amounts of time for a frame and treatment of Raymond’s choosing. Martha Stewart deals with Raymond when she’s in town and so do countless collectors of old maps, antique prints and fragile photographs. His skill with molding is matched by his taste, and his memory for every piece of visual art and every customer that has ever passed through his door is perfect – an infinitely accommodating human database of art. Which must help him find what he needs amid the epic clutter of his shop.

    hlblads

    But no one finds Raymond or Agnes through their web presence – they don’t have any. These stores barely have phone numbers, only appear on Google maps if you already know how to spell “(A)hlblad”, and are only open on the kind of schedule that needs to be memorized after long familiarity. You have to know someone who knows someone – someone on a budget who used to live in Paris and has a thing for reading Antonin Artaud over a bagel and a cup of hot cider, and therefore knows Agnes. Even then, you might arrive and find that the bagels are sold out and Raymond isn’t answering the bell. If you know a place like this, you’ll just shake your head and vow to come earlier next time.

    Buttoning up

    Saturday, November 21st, 2009

    We’ve had an extraordinary November here in the northeast US. While nighttime lows have been fairly normal, around 28 degrees F., daytime temperatures have hit record highs all month. By noon today it was overcast and 57. I have put off getting out to the bee yard to set things right for winter because the bees have been out and active, but one of these days winter will set in with a vengeance – that’s just the way it is.

    I decided to take my smoker and wear my suit, and I’m glad I did. It was quite warm and still and the bees were active, poking their heads up over the comb as soon as I opened the inner cover. This is a very social, calm hive but I think the suit and smoker allow me to relax around them and avoid passing on my anxiety. They can tell if I’m nervous.

    hive wrap in progressI put newspaper directly over the frames, leaving a small gap to accommodate the upper entrance, then replaced the shim and inner cover and piled more newsprint over that. You can see that I’m using The Islander and Barrons. Tony J. is partial to the WSJ. The first layer of hive-wrap is on, too.

    The next step is to add the second tier of hive-wrap and tuck it under the telescoping cover. I punch a small hole in the top to correspond to the upper entrance. The bees neaten it up with a later of propolis after a while. Et voila! Ready for winter.

    hive wrap complete

    I also put away the hive that swarmed early and didn’t make it. I’ve allowed the remaining hive to rob the honey so all that’s left is drawn comb and cells of bright orange pollen around the edges. Beautiful! There are also a few supercedure cells on the vertical frames, if you look closely. I moved these boxes into the hoop house for the winter. This spring the new colony, arriving through the USPS, will have some drawn comb to make them feel at home.

    comb with pollen

    The Tri-County Beekeepers Annual Meeting and Pot Luck

    Thursday, November 19th, 2009

    After work I drove out through Bucksport, over the Verona Island bridge and out Rt. 174 to Prospect. It was dark all the way from Ellsworth, with the sun down at 4 pm and no moon. Floodlights made the long embankments around Fort Knox as clear as day though,  and the amber lamps all over the Bucksport Mill lit the cloud of steam over it like a theater backdrop.

    prospect me

    The crossroads at Rt. 174 and 1A  came up faster than I expected. The road went sharply up hill, leveled out at a rail crossing and suddenly widened out into a plateau at the intersection. After four miles alone on the dark road it was startling -  brilliantly lit with street lights and crowded with tractor trailers rumbling up to Bangor and back. And there, surrounded by old Volvos, older Saabs and pickup trucks of all ages, sits the Prospect Community Center.

    The good citizens of Prospect built the Community Center almost two centuries ago. It is now way too close to the highway, a matter of six feet or so from the front door. The entrance has been enclosed several times, so that it is now more of a tunnel leading up sets of steps through doors and more doors. The ceilings are low, retrofitted with fluorescent lights and fans. The floor is uneven and the fixtures mismatched through 50 years of hardware store specials, but it’s still standing.

    Potluck dinner first, then the meeting. The gentleman standing behind me in line said he judged pot lucks by how many moose dishes were represented. There were three moose entrees: moose balls, moose chili and moose stew, so this promised to be a fine pot luck. I will be adopting this as  my personal gauge going forward.

    pot luck 1

    Tony Jadczak is  the Maine State apiarist. He gave a terrific talk and slide show (real slides and a pull down screen!) about the various aspects of “wintering over”. None of us can afford to put 1,000 hives in an airtight, temperature controlled building with ventilation systems for the winter, but we LOVE hearing about this stuff.  There were also bee shaped cookies. Awwww.

    bee cookies

    After Tony’s talk we all shook hands, packed up our stuff and headed out into the cold and dark. I can’t wait to wrap the hives this weekend. Oh, and I won the door prize!

    door prize

    Winter’s green – Parsley Butter

    Sunday, November 15th, 2009

    If pesto is August – Genovese basil ground with green olive oil and pine nuts – then November is parsley butter. We have had an unusually warm fall here in the Northeast as tropical storms in the Gulf of Mexico push warm air and tepid ocean water up the coast, changing our Maine November to a balmy May – complete with heavy fog and mosquitoes. It won’t last. When the 20 degree nights return, the Gigante d’Italia Parsley will still be growing  glossy and dark green in the raised bed near the front door.

    parsley butter 1I don’t really have a recipe for parsley butter – it’s more of a kitchen staple. Try this on a bowl of hot pasta, in an omelet, or as we did yesterday, on tea sandwiches.

    Put a cup (2 sticks) of salted butter, cut into 1″ slices,  in your food processor. One stick will work too, but it isn’t enough mass for a regular (8 cup?) bowl and you’ll spend  a lot of time stopping the machine and using a spatula to force the lump of butter back into circulation. Trust me, I know.

    Add a huge amount of parsley. (See, I told you this wasn’t really a recipe.) A close gripped handful of leaves or about a cup chopped loosely, should do it. Use the small leaves close to the center of the plant for this, if you have a plant. I have been known to use two cups on occasion – like right before the final freeze in January, when I know it will be July before I do this again.

    Add some oregano (2 tsp dry, 1/4 C fresh), 1 tsp garlic powder, 1/2 tsp sea salt. Pulse until the mixture is bright green and looks like you could spread it without chunks of plant material getting in the way.

    Now dry some cucumber slices in a clean dish towel, get out your Pepperidge Farm thin white slices, and make some tea sandwiches. It’s a good thing.

    parsley butter 007

    Our Hardy Ancestors, cont.

    Friday, November 13th, 2009

    fishing group coloradoFour generations go fishing. It sounds like the product of a random sentence generator.

    Why do I have a dozen pictures of us fishing? We probably went all of twice – to a beautiful resevoir where Frank and Wat often fished under the bright Colorado sky. We baited hooks  with orange roe that glowed like jewelry and got my fingers all sticky. After a long day we took  home a damp canvas bag of small brown trout.

    If you actually catch a fish you will need to read  pages 56 through 58 of the Institute Cookbook, where an extremely thorough description of cleaning, drawing, scaling and disemboweling your fish may be had, so there is no need of us repeating that here. Seriously, this is the only cookbook in my collection that uses the word “putrification” four times in one paragraph. And I had to look up “ptomaines” at Wikipedia. Now we will ignore your gutted fish, resting on it’s plank of ice in the cellar (to avoid tainting the butter in the icebox), and have a nice recipe for deviled crab that requires “cracker dust” instead.  Remember, as you read this, that the crabs being fried for 10 minutes at the end of this recipe have been boiled for half an hour at the beginning and then cooked “over a hot fire” for a little while longer.

    6 crabs, 1 hard-boiled egg, 4 Tbs butter, ground nutmeg, 1/2 C heavy cream, salt and cayenne, 1/4 tsp sweet marjoram, cracker dust

    Put the crabs into hot water, add salt and boil for thirty minutes. Cut the meat into small pieces, add the hard-boiled egg, cream, butter and seasoning and cook for a few minutes over a hot fire, thickening the mixture with cracker dust. Fill the shells, dip them in the raw egg, beaten, then in cracker dust; place in a hot oven or drop into boiling fat and fry until deep brown.

    Don’t try this at home.

    Irrevocable

    Wednesday, November 11th, 2009

    Etymology: From the Latin revocare (present 1st-person singular revoco), meaning “to call back”.  Adjective 1. Unable to be retracted or reversed. Final.

    Irrevocable is not generally a word for the garden, especially in a temperate zone. Silver Queen sweet corn grows to 8′ over the course of the summer, and then subsides to stubble in the field. Perrenials are planted, grown, divided and moved, and the mint and chives go everywhere. Yesterday Rat came by and cut down a dozen 40′ spruce and pine at the front of the yard and yes, actually, it makes a tremendous difference in the local landscape and no, they don’t grow back.

    This is “before”, looking west toward the road.

    bar island before pic garden 003

    And this is “after”. There’s a lot more light in the garden now, and possibly a need for curtains up at the house. . .

    aftermath

    One of many that got away.

    Sunday, November 8th, 2009

    bad painting

    I produce about 24 drawings a year. They don’t all turn out well, which is neither surprising nor heartbreaking. This piece is a dud. The composition was dramatic with beautiful color and familiar material – I’ve drawn a lot of nasturtiums over the years – but the final product failed the “can this leave the house?” test, so it went to the Strawberry Hill Transfer Station rather than the gallery.

    In order to pass the test, the painting must be entirely “meant”. van Gogh’s “Sunflowers” passes the test – every passage is approached with the same degree of confidence and finish. The viewer doesn’t doubt the wall behind or the surface (a table?) beneath the vase and flowers. The painter didn’t piddle off in the corner, where he wasn’t sure how to indicate a further room. A great painting might be drawn badly (Velasquez drives me nuts) but the passage is carried through like a knife though water – we are unfazed by any discrepancy.

    Tonight I have a small crystal bowl full of huge purple blackberries to start on; we’ll see where it ends up.

    New work

    Thursday, November 5th, 2009

    blackware with portfolio

    Blackware with Portfolio, pastel on board, 18 x 24 inches