May 12, 2008

BACK TO THE COMMUNE

SHHHHH !!!! It's a SURPRISE!

My Mom is an amazing woman. She is 88 years young, healthy, active, and loves adventure.

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I get my wonderlust from her. If you say "Go" she will be packed and waiting at her front door without bothering to ask "Where?"

This year, my slightly delayed Mother's Day gift to her is a trip down Memory Lane. In a few weeks, I'm taking her back to the place we lived from the time I was three until I was 14.

When I was a kid (1953 - 1964), my dad was a teacher at College of the Ozarks.

Back then, it was called School of the Ozarks and was a four year boarding high school and junior college, founded in 1906 by the Presbyterian Church to give an education beyond 8th grade to kids from the Ozark backwoods.

S of O, as we insiders called it, was the closest thing you could get to a commune and still be mainstream protestant.

Teachers all lived in free houses on campus. Each teacher's spouse (if he/she wasn't also a teacher) held a support job on campus. In the 1950's there weren't any Barbara-Billingsley-stay-at-home-moms at S of O. My mom was in charge of the Student Union, Student Bank, & Commissary.

Faculty kids called all their friends mothers "Mama". My next door neighbor was Mama Good. My best friend's mother was Mama Clark. The fathers, however, were still all called "Mr." or "Dr."

Staff families were encouraged to eat three meals a day in the campus dining room if they wanted to. Mom always fixed a hot breakfast at home but we often had dinner with the students.

Speaking of students, they weren't allowed to pay to go to school at S of O. Instead they worked for their education, their room and board, and even their spending money.

The campus was totally self-sustaining. Students made their own furniture. Produced their own electricity. Raised all their own produce and livestock. They had a fire department, telephone company, printing plant, post office (Point Lookout, MO 65726), hospital, canning factory, dairy, flour mill, bakery, and weaving studio. They didn't have any police, however, not even the Barney Fife kind.

When we needed eggs, my mom sent me to the poultry farm with an empty egg carton. I signed a 'chit' and came back with a dozen fresh warm and still unwashed eggs that were laid that morning.

When we needed milk, she sent me with our wire basket full of empty glass bottles to the dairy. I signed another chit and came home with replacement bottles full of milk pasturized that morning.

Students held jobs in areas of campus life that gave them experiences toward their future career goals. Our family had a houskeeper who planned to be a high school home-economics teacher and a gardener who was studying horticulture. When my mom wanted to repaint a room one of the students who was studying construction sciences was assigned the task.

When school was out for the summer, we went barefoot six days a week and spent every one of those days in the schools olympic size swimming pool where students watched over us - kind of. If we were able to climb the ladder to the high-dive, no one cared how young we were.

Sometimes we climbed the bluff behind our house down to the river to fish for blue gill. Or because there weren't any horses, we would go out to the fields with rope, and coax the cows over to the fence so we could climb up on them for a 'ride'. On rainy days we played inside the Museum (which was unlocked 24 hours a day). There was a full sized log cabin inside the museum that we used as our own personal playhouse.

My favorite holiday was Halloween. The "Campus Brats" as faculty kids were called, went trick-or-treating to the dorms --- with bushel baskets.

That life seemed so normal to me. It wasn't until I was an adult that I realized how truly charmed it really was.

Now it is time to take Mom back to see how much has changed, and how much has stayed the same, and let her know how thankful I am for her part in giving me that childhood.

May 10, 2008

Rose Liqueur & Others

While I was waiting for my cookie dough to chill, I decided to bottle my rose liqueur and get a batch of kiwi started. The jars in the background are (left to right)
Kiwi: made with crystalized kiwi slices and just started today. I've never tried to make kiwi before, so I don't know yet how long to soak or if it will be worth drinking or not.
Toyko Rose: About my 4th or 5th batch. I use crystalized ginger, then a tiny dash of rose syrup added before bottling to give it that pale pinkish pickled ginger color.
Pistachio: These nuts were really dark green and the infusion is much darker than any of my other batches. It's been soaking for about 7 days and when I open the lid the pistachio smell is heavenly. I'll probably filter and bottle it soon. Which also means I'll get to make some pistachio bark with the left over nuts. I dry them in the oven and put them between a layer of butterscotch and semisweet chocolate that has been spiced up with a bit of cayenne.

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I had just a shot glass full of rose left over and didn't want it to go to waste, so I stuck in in the freezer.

After the cookies had cooled, I decided to try one with the liqueur.

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Yummy. I know some people don't like florals for their liqueurs, but I love them. The combination of roses and lemons made me feel like I was sitting in some exotic little cafe in a country like Greece, or India, or Turkey.

Help With SSB Project This Week

Our grandsons are spending the weekend with us. Their parents will be here tomorrow for Mother's Day BBQ. So, I needed to do my Sunday Slow Baking project today.

My oldest grandson, Sage, has always loved to help in the kitchen, and cookies are the perfect project for him to help with.

This week, Jerry picked Biscotti di Limone e Semolino - page 50 in Gina's Dolce Italiano.

Assembling all of the ingredients:

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I like to measure all the ingredients in advance.

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He waited and waited and waited - then after mixing, and chilling, It was finally time for Sage to help. We cut the chilled dough into even squares to make it easier for him.

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It didn't take long for him to get the hang of gently rolling the dough into small balls and then rolling the balls in the sugar.

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Setting the timer was fun, but waiting for the cookies to bake was a little bit boring.

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My oven is much slower than most, so we actually baked the cookies for about 20 minutes in order to get them to brown. The final product was beautiful.

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Sage had to wait until I took some final pictures of the plate. It was torture. But he finally got to taste the fruit of his labor.

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May 9, 2008

Cabo Vilan & The Serpent

After we left Mike Tyson at the cafe, we decided to drive over to Cabo Vilan to the lighthouse.

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After braving the strong winds to climb up to the base of the light we got back in the car and followed the coast road to Praia de Traba before turning back south toward Ponte do Porto before heading home for dinner.

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This entire drive was completely deserted. We didn't see a single car. What we did see was some beautiful coast line.

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This beach is called La Playa de los Ingleses. It takes its name from the 1980 wreck of the Serpent during a violent storm. A wreck in which 172 English sailors were drowned. There were only three survivors. They managed to find their way to Camarinas to tell the villagers what happened.

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The villagers went to the beach, recovered the bodies and buried them on the beach, creating what is now know as The English Cemetary.

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It is a windy and lonely place. Dan and I commented that if there was any place that would be haunted, it would be here.

May 6, 2008

Mike Tyson

In Camarinas we found a nice little patio cafe.

The only other occupants of the outdoor tables were a friendly lady, her elderly Gallecian father and Panamanian mother -- plus an adorable, lovable, and quite obviously misnamed dog.

Look at him. Does he look like he would want to throw a knockout punch? Even if he could?

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The woman lives and works in Madrid. But every year for holiday, she flies her Dad and Mom home from Panama for a month so that her Dad can reconnect with his hometown of Noia. It seems he left Noia as a young sailor in the early 1950s, traveled to Panama, met and fell in love with her mother, and never came back.

About Me

Adventure addict. Animal lover. Book reader and bookseller. Untrained cook. Bootlegger. SlowTraveller. Wife. Mother. Grandmother. Poor speller.

May 2008

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