Thursday, October 30, 2014

Peanut Butter Cookies

 Last evening I was scrounging around for something sweet. Nope, the oatmeal cookies I bought were gone. The ginger snaps I bought were also gone. What to do?

 I decided what I needed most was a batch of peanut butter cookies. So this afternoon I made some. I used the same recipe as our Pinehaven Dark Chocolate Peanut Butter cookies but I substituted plain peanut butter. Sometimes less frill is just what's needed.

 The recipe is here.


 Much of the appeal of peanut butter cookies is the delicious scent when they're baking.


 Here's the unbaked dough, crisscrossed with a fork and ready to put in the oven. I made just half a recipe. I managed to get 34 cookies this time.


 So, this evening I'm all set. A cup of black coffee and a plateful of cookies and I'll be able to get my bedtime sweet fix.




Monday, October 27, 2014

Findlay Market

 It was a beautiful, sunny day in Cincinnati, totally out of character for so late in the year. It was nearly 70° when Tom parked his Prius and we walked a short distance towards Cincinnati's Findlay Market. People were eating outside, shopping as they'd do on a pleasant summer's day, and without the extreme heat and humidity of a month or two earlier.

 Findlay Market is called "Ohio's oldest continuously operated public market". Check out their web page by clicking here.


The Market is centered between I-75 to the west and I-71 to the east. It's bounded by Race Street (east), Findlay Street (north), Elm Street (west) and Liberty Street (south). It's actually sandwiched by Elder Street but perhaps more easily imagined by being within blocks of Cincinnati's famous "Over-the-Rhine" neighborhood.


 Just inside the south door, I was astounded by the crowds of people on this early Sunday afternoon. Getting from one end to the other, you're jostled by a continuous stream of humanity, moving molasses-like, taking in the sights and aromas (food is the main reason for going), keeping an eye peeled on each glass case. No one wants to miss a thing.

 J.E. Gibbs Cheese

 What lovely cheeses they have in these cases. I'd love to try each one. Next time.


 And the homemade breads in this case took my breath away. I didn't see prices so I backed away. "If you have to ask the price," said Tom, "you can't afford it." I believe he is right. But some day I will splurge and buy one of those crusty loaves and just sit in a corner at Pinehaven and nibble on a chunk torn from some wholesome loaf. I may even add that cheese I'm promising myself.


 This merchant was making waffles right on the spot. The delicious, sweet smell drifted into the aisle and caught me by the nose, made me turn around and smile.

Frank's Fish & Seafood Market 2

Being vegetarian, I didn't spend much time looking at the many cases filled with meats but I could certainly appreciate the wonderful displays and merchandising. My father, a life-long butcher by trade (before, he too, became a vegetarian), would have stopped and talked with these folks, comparing secrets.


 I stood and drooled at this glass cake for a minute. What is Kataifi? It looked to me like some sort of exquisite variety of shredded wheat and I find that this is a Levantine cheese pastry soaked in a sweet, sugary syrup. It's from the Ottoman Empire and it is wrapped in shredded wheat. I'd love to taste it; someday I will.


 As we arrived at the opposite end of Findlay Market, we found some space to stand without being jostled about. The architecture of the ceiling is quite unusual.


 Outside, at the Open Market, vegetable vendors had tables lining the street, I bought a box of ripe, red tomatoes from this guy: $3 for the lot. They seem to be "Better Boys", the cluster-type tomato we grow in our own garden. Of course our crop is finished for the year and we miss it already. These tomatoes, it turns out, were not grown locally but in Mexico.


 Under an awning, another vegetable vendor has his wares set on tabletops supported with sawhorses. I suppose these businesses come and go with the weather and are seasonal in nature.


 Aren't these bunches of asparagus perfect? And with purple rubber bands to compliment the lavender shade that the tops of asparagus usually exhibit.


 On Elder Street, people mill about. There is plenty of room here for many more businesses.I suppose in the late spring and early summer, this area is much busier as the various crops begin to come in. We were at the very end of the season.


 Here's an area just outside of the Findlay Market building where diners can enjoy an alcoholic refreshment outdoors.


  I love the architecture of the buildings in this area of Cincinnati, especially the colors. Most were in decent shape; a few were being renovated.


 This young man was playing a mean red fiddle. People tossed coins and money into the violin case at his feet. Nearly, another boy, played a keyboard.


 The total of my purchases while at Findlay Market were the tomatoes and two candles made of beeswax molded into the shape of pine cones. I gave them to Mom. This is the booth where a lady sold bee-related products: honey, t-shirts, beeswax. One t-shirt said: Give Bees a Chance. Another said: God Save the Queen.


 Finally, Tom and I stopped in this shop which sold wine and beer, looking for a Cincinnati microbrew I wanted to buy. We didn't find it but a wine-tasting was underway and most of the people milling about carried a small glass of wine.
 So, a nice afternoon in downtown Cincinnati, and a spot I'm sure we'll return to next summer.
 Maybe before?



Sunday, October 19, 2014

Fried Green Tomatoes

 I draw the line here. I don't like fried green tomatoes. Or, rather, I don't think I like them. I don't remember ever trying them.

 But I know I don't like the smell of an unripe tomato, something similar to the pungent smell of the tomato vine itself. No, tomatoes should be red. I don't even care for yellow tomatoes. Certainly I cannot appreciate green ones.

Mom, on the other hand, does.


 It is early morning - breakfast is just finished - when Mom gets out a skillet and begins working on the basket of green tomatoes I brought in yesterday (by the way, it did not frost as forecast so the garden could have been left alone for a while longer; but never mind). Mom breaks an egg and adds a little milk to make the egg-wash a little lighter. She dips the sliced green tomatoes in the egg and then dusts them in corn meal. That's all there is to the preparation.


 Soon they're sizzling in a frying pan. Mom turns them when one side browns. She'll have some of them for lunch and save the rest for later. Though I am sure I wouldn't like them, I do like the smell of them frying and the browned sides get my attention.


 And yet I can't help but think of these. A tomato must be succulent and a deep red, sliced thickly raw and sprinkled with no more than salt and pepper. I loved remembering how dark Dad made his sliced tomatoes with pepper. He wasn't ready to eat until the slice was nearly black. And even before this, he'd smell the cut slice. Tomatoes had to be just right for Dad. I am somewhat a snob in this regard, too.


 So, it's just 9:30 am. Breakfast dishes are barely done. But Mom has her lunch nearly prepared. She lifts each golden slice onto a white plate. She will have each all to herself.



Saturday, October 18, 2014

Processing Parsley

 It's the time of year when the garden comes out. Yesterday I removed the stakes which held the tomatoes and bell peppers and took many of the plants down and chopped them up for compost. I gathered a basket of green tomatoes (Mom will bread and fry them), a few straggler onions and two cantaloupes (will these things ever ripen?).

 Last evening I went back out and picked a nice bunch of fresh parsley. Mom wanted to dry some for winter use. I started these from seed in the spring and, being a new crop, they are still particularly fresh, pungent and green.

 What's the hurry? Sunday morning promises our first frost ... and perhaps even a general freeze. The time is now. Parsley will last beyond a freeze, of course, but I don't think its condition will ever be as good as it is today.


 Here's the basket of parsley I picked yesterday which we're processing today.


 That still in the garden is as luxurious as ever, ready to be picked for a garnish well into winter weather. All this from one packet of seed.


 This year we used the oven drying method. You cut the tenderest parsley (getting rid of the stems) and placed the leaves on parchment paper atop a baking sheet (the paper is merely a clean-up tool and not necessary). The oven needs to be set to the lowest temperature possible. Our oven will not heat at a lower number than 170° so that's what we dried the parsley at. Mom left it in for about two hours.


 When I took the hot sheet out of the oven, I sat it on the stove to cool. The parsley is dry and flaky as can be.


 Here's a close-up of the dried parsley. This is then chopped into small flakes before bottling.

 Last year we hung bunches of fresh parsley from the ceiling of our indoor porch. Though the parsley dried, it turned a sickly grey-brown and we threw all of it out. This time, with speedy drying, the beautiful green color remained.


 The end result of several hours of work are these two small spice jars. We'll enjoy the parsley flakes on potatoes and in soups this winter and think back to the days of spring when these plants first sprouted. Buying the spice is probably cheaper but not half the fun.



Thursday, October 16, 2014

Harriet's Desk

 It's an important desk. And it's nearby, in Oxford, Ohio.
 I was appraised of that fact by Jim Saylor, a fellow Miami University student, college buddy and life-long dear friend when a recent issue of The Miamian carried a story about a desk associated with Harriet Beecher Stowe.

 Tom Buhler and I toured the Miami campus on August 17 [click here] but the building that houses the Western College Alumnae Association was closed for a long weekend. I made a note to return.

Bill Schmidt and the desk 

 To be accurate, the desk wasn't owned by Harriet Beecher Stowe. It was actually the desk of Gabriel Tichenor, a one-time Mississippi planter and slave owner who saw the sin in slavery, freed his slaves and moved to the Walnut Hills section of Cincinnati.

 The Stowe's lived in Cincinnati, too, and were friends and neighbors of the Tichenor's. Harriet Beecher Stowe is said to have written "a large portion" of Uncle Tom's Cabin at this very desk.

Another "Tom", Tom Buhler and the desk

 The desk was donated to The Western College for Women by the Tichenor family in the years following the Civil War. That followed the death of Gabriel Tichenor, an early benefactor and trustee of Western College for Women (originally called the Western Female Seminary). According to The Miamian article, "Tichenor was a good friend of the Rev. Daniel Tenney, founder of the seminary."


 The Miamian article goes on to explain how Harriet Beecher Stowe came to use the desk: "Hailing from New England, Mrs. Stowe knew little about the South, which is why, reportedly, she spent a great deal of time at the Tichenor's desk writing and editing while Mr. Tichenor critiqued her anti-slavery manuscript."

 Uncle Tom's Cabin, published in 1852, was one of the instigators of the Civil War. In fact, when President Abraham Lincoln met Stowe at the White House in 1862, he is reported to have said, "So this is the little lady who started this great war." The quote, though, is now considered apocryphal.

The Western College Alumnae Association operates in the museum-like structure. I had written in advance asking whether I might view the desk. A quick reply from Debbie Baker said Patterson Place was open Monday through Friday from 8:30 am to 5 pm and that I was welcome to come.

 And so, on a beautiful autumn day, the trees alive with color, we enjoyed seeing the desk which had such an important part in American history.



Wednesday, October 15, 2014

Cinnamon Roll/Cake ... beyond belief!

 When I see a recipe on Facebook that interests me, I either post the link on my Timeline or I print the recipe right then and there. I did both in the past two weeks for this delicious cinnamon roll/cake. And now, the recipe is gone.

 Thankfully the printout is right here.. And finally, with some time on my hands this afternoon, I began to mix it up. If a link to the recipe is found, I'll post it at the end of this blog. If not, you'll just have to admire my photographs.


 This is the finished roll ... sweet as can be, an explosion of warm cinnamon.
 If you don't like sweet things, you won't like this. There is a cup of sugar (white) in the batter, another cup (brown) in the topping and yet two more cups (powdered) in the topping. It's also heavy with butter: half a cup in the batter and a full cup in the topping. Don't even think about the calories.


 This is the roll right out of the oven. You "cut" the cinnamon topping into the raw batter with a knife, marbling the roll through and through with sticky cinnamon syrup. The roll comes out of the oven misshapen from these cuts. Pretty as can be.


 Then the glaze is added ... drizzled over the still-warm roll so that it flows down into all the valleys.


 I've removed a slice for "testing" purposes here. I have to tell you, I was a bit dizzy from the delectable taste, the fragrant cinnamon wafting up to my nose. Or maybe it was just the sugar.
 Maybe the recipe is copyrighted and was removed for that reason. Until the link is found, I'll assume that's the case and say no more.

Update: Thanks to Sherry Wead Lummis for locating the original recipe. Check out the Chef in Training website and get the recipe from the source by clicking here. They deserve full credit and visitors to their site for this wonderful roll.



Monday, October 13, 2014

The Praying Mantis

 Every autumn I'm lucky enough to come across a praying mantis. As a kid, I'd often find the foamy tan egg cases attached to the stems of weeds. I'm sure they are still plentiful but as an adult, and one with allergies, I seldom go the places where I might still find them.


 This close-up shot is quite clear. Their usual prayer-like posture is evident in this shot. I found this mantis on the wooden milk box beside the garage and picked him up and moved "him" to one of the wooden chairs on our back porch for better observation.


 A full-body view doesn't betray the sex. On the bottom, a male would have nine sections; a female would have just seven (though the female is heavier).


 The mantis stayed around for at least two days, even through a light rain. I'd check on it every time I passed this spot. Many times he had barely moved.


 Though they are ferocious-looking insects, they are not painful biters (though they will latch onto a finger if they mistake it for food). I just use a pair of gloves to move them but it is wholly unnecessary.
 I'd keep this one for a pet but for their need of living insects for food (including each other). Even so, their lifespan is short: never longer than 14 months. More trouble to house and feed than they're worth, especially with winter approaching.
 But I enjoy my usual autumn observations and would miss it if a year rolls around when I do not see this favorite.