October Playlist

 How about 31 songs to get you in a Halloween mood? Admittedly, some of these are a stretch, but I figured I could come up with something besides Monster Mash and Flying Purple People Eater. Those are good songs, but they've been played to death. Also, yearly reminder that Zombie isn't a Halloween song.

Feel free to leave your suggestions in the comments.

1. Santana-Black Magic Woman

2. Cliff Richard-Devil Woman 

3. Screaming Jay Hawkins-I Put a Spell on You

4. Blue Oyster Cult-Don' Fear the Reaper

5. Stevie Wonder-Superstition  

6. Donovan-Season of the Witch

7. Ozzy-Mr. Crowley

8. Fairport Convention-Tam Lin 

9. Cream-Strange Brew

10. Jimi Hendrix-Voodoo Child (Slight Return) 

11. ELO-Evil Woman

12. Alice Cooper-Welcome to My Nightmare 

13. Jethro Tull-The Witch's Promise

14. The Clovers-Love Potion #9 

15. Oingo Boingo-Dead Man's Party

16. Siouxsie and the Banshees-Spellbound 

17. Xmal Deutschland-Incubus Succubus 

18. Amanda Lear-Follow Me

19.Steve Miller Band-Abracadabra

20 Dio-The Last in Line

21. Redbone-Witch Queen of New Orleans 

22. Sun Ra-Dance of the Cosmic Aliens

23 Iron Maiden-Fear of the Dark

24. Ramones-Pet Semetary

25. Misfits-Dig Up Her Bones  

26. AC/DC-Highway to Hell

27. Motorhead-Hellraiser

28. Cannibal Corpse-Skull Full of Maggots 

29. The Cramps-Zombie Dance

30. Edgar Winter Group-Frankenstein 

31. Dead Kennedys-Halloween

The Wurst Is Over

 Following a deadly listeria outbreak traced to one of their factories, Boar's Head deli meats has announced the discontinuation of their Liverwurst. It has been slowly falling out of popularity in the US, but you'd never know that if you lived in the Midwest. The liverwurst wasn't the cause of the listeria-conditions in the factory were, but given the financial hit they're taking, discontinuing the least popular product made sense. 

Liverwurst, or Liver Sausage is made from calf or pork liver and can be soft and spreadable like potted meat, or firmer and sliced. It can be fresh, or smoked, and if you were my parents, served on a slice of rye bread with pickled onions. When my mother wasn't around to say no, it was slapped between a couple slices of (cheap) squidgy, white bread with mayonnaise (not the real stuff, it was Miracle Whip) and Brick cheese. Shhh, don't tell mother. I've been a vegetarian since 1983, but it wasn't my beloved Usingers Fresh Liver Sausage that drove me into the arms of tofu. Anyway, if you live in the US and are desperate for liverwurst, you won't be disappointed with Usingers-and they ship refrigerated! 

Liver, generally is a less popular food than it was when I was young. My husband will politely have a bit of pate on a cracker, but eating something like liver and fried onions is asking too much. Dan enjoyed it the one time I prepared it, but I never bothered making it again. I want to prepare food my family will enjoy, and liver isn't it. My current bout of severe anemia unfortunately can't be resolved with a serving of liver so no fear of being tempted by Usinger's offerings.  

When people moan about having been forced to eat liver as children, it does make me wonder how it was being prepared. If overcooked, you can be looking at a chewy, paste-like texture with tough tissue thrown in as a bonus. The recipes that suggest broiling it as a healthier option? Unless you are skilled enough to remove it from the burner at the precise optimal moment, it is the easiest way to ruin liver. Pan frying really is the easiest way to go, and you can do the onions in the same pan.

I'm not sorry a filthy facility was shut down, but I am interested to see how much consumer tastes have changed in a generation. I guess if someone figures out a way to make liverwurst instagramable there might be a revival, but for the moment, it does appear the wurst is behind us.

Pickled Cabbage For Amy (and everyone else)

 

It wasn't until Amy asked in the comments, that I saw somehow the recipe for red pickled cabbage, aka Christmas Cabbage never made it onto the blog. That's wild, considering I almost always have a jar in the fridge. For years, I'd just make it at Christmas, but in the early days of the pandemic, one of the few vegetables reliably available was red cabbage, it ended up in regular menu rotation. 

The recipe began as the cabbage slaw in Julia Child and More Company. Over the years, I've found easier ways of doing things, and adjusted the recipe to my family's taste. Obviously, you aren't likely to have cherry vinegar and beet kvass sitting around like I do, so I'm including the more straightforward options of beet juice (from tinned beets or purchased as a drink) and red or white vinegar. I also double the amount of brine Child calls for because more often than not, I need it. If I end up with extra, it makes a great brine for pickling everything from onions to grapes. 

NOTE! This is not an appropriate recipe for canning, so fridge storage only. It should keep several weeks, but if you notice any off colours or odours, pitch it.

You Will Need:

Red cabbage-about 1 1/2 lbs (675g) Finely sliced

Large red onion, finely sliced

Large red bell pepper finely sliced

2-3 garlic cloves (I omit this as my spouse dislikes garlic) sliced

4 bay leaves

1 tsp. mustard seeds (yellow or black, doesn't matter)

1 tsp juniper berries

1cup beet juice

2 cups red wine vinegar

4 cups water

2 tbsp not a typo but you can reduce it a bit) coarse salt

1 tbsp sugar

Sterilise jars for pickled cabbage. I used 3 quart jars and that is about right for a 1 1/2 lb. cabbage. 

You want to cut/shred the cabbage as finely as possible. I use a small, thin, knife but do what works for you. A grater is not a good choice-you really want thin slices. The same goes for the onion and pepper. 

Get out your largest bowl and combine cabbage, onion, pepper, garlic, bay leaves, mustard seeds, juniper berries, and beet juice. 

In a saucepan, heat the vinegar, water, salt, and sugar to a simmer, whisking to dissolve the sugar.You don't want it boiling or you will wilt the cabbage. Gentle simmer, OK?

Pour brine over cabbage etc. in large bowl and mix to combine.

Pack cabbage into jars and top up with enough brine to completely cover the cabbage. Give it a few turns upside down to distribute everything and top up with more brine if needed. Seal, and keep in the fridge. 

It will be ready to eat the day you make it, but it also gets better the longer it sits. If you wish, chopped apple can be added when you serve-don't add the apple to the jar as it will ferment. 

Hope you like it.

Stuck in a Thumb and Pulled Out a Plum

 

Our weather has been stubbornly summer-like, but that hasn't stopped the Italian Prune Plums (or Damson depending where you live) from arriving in our markets. Luckily, we got a bit of a break from the heat, and I was able to get started canning/preserving them for later in the year. The season is so short, and the local demand so great, that I (along with the Czech and Polish grannies) had to stake out the produce department, pestering the grocer daily as to the expected date of arrival. I don't make plum dumplings (no one likes them except me) but I do make pie filling so that when the holidays roll around, I have a time-saving shortcut. 

The pie photo is old but the filling photo below is new.
 

It cooks quickly, and makes the kitchen smell so lovely. If I don't make a pie, the filling is wonderful with yoghurt or ice cream.

I made a no-sugar added plum chutney with apples and raisins. It didn't need any additional sugar, so I didn't add it. I wouldn't go as far as calling it
"Diabetic Friendly" as it is still fruit, but a tiny bit of chutney shouldn't be a problem. It isn't something consumed in quantity.

Finally, two batches of plum sauce with ginger, anise, hot pepper. I made three pint jars for Dan, because he has Chinese food regularly, and the rest are going to be holiday hostess gifts, etc. Sometimes you need to bring something, and who doesn't love plum sauce? 

Not shown, I also made a no-sugar-added plum butter/paste. That's for baking. I don't bake as much these days, but when I do it is nice to have ingredients I made myself and have some control over the contents of. 

I am, by the way completely exhausted now, but it was worth doing. 

This was an attempt at a nice dinner with what I had already. There's a spicy tofu, faux rice made from lentils, pickled cabbage (there's always pickled cabbage, that's my best recipe) peas shoots and basil from the garden, and an egg on top. There were some carrots, ginger, and scallions too. It turned out nice, and I didn't need to go to the grocer to buy anything. 

I'm really stuck between seasons fashion wise/ I'm wearing interesting accessories instead.

Almost utilitarian skirt and blouse, but they will have to do.

Still growing my hair out, here I've pulled it up in combs

The dress isn't vintage. Made of some sort of stretch material, it is launderable but maddeningly still needs pressing.

 

 I do love green.

I really liked the look of this dress, and for a mere .98 cents, how could I say no? Looking it over, I was surprised to see it was a LuLaRoe item. If you aren't familiar with LuLaRoe, click the article for a wild read about pyramid schemes, mid level marketing, and warehouses full of terrible leggings. Maybe the dress was from before the business started falling apart, but I rather like it, and it feels like it was constructed reasonably well. I do feel terrible for all the people that were taken advantage of and lost money though. 

This is a red dress. That's about it. 

Because we have such a large part of the Midwestern population with German heritage, Oktoberfest is a big party here. It is the one time of year it feels completely appropriate to wear pretzel earrings.

I would love a pretzel (and a beer for that matter) but I know better. If asked, I will polka. I taught Dan how as a child, but I'm sure he's forgotten. At one point, he wanted to buy an accordion. I'm glad I said no to that (we already had a piano).

I love this dress so much, that when I saw it in another colourway (green and black) I bought it. 

Dress over a skirt. I will wear a mini with tights, but not in summer. My legs are mottled and full of dark bulging veins. No one needs to see that. 

So, without getting too deeply into politics, it appears someone took another attempt at the former president. The fact that someone got close enough hiding in a shrub, and poking the muzzle of a gun through the fence is wild enough.  The fact that this happened immediately following a post on his social media network that declared, "I HATE TAYLOR SWIFT!!!" makes me think two things. One, that's the sort of post you would expect from an eight year old, not a grown man. And Two, The Swifties were behind it😆. Seriously though, good job by the secret service agent that spotted it. I know that's what they're trained to do but on a wide-open golf course? That had to be hard. I'm no fan of the former president but someone getting within 300feet of him, especially after the first attempt is pretty terrible. The last thing we need as a country is more political violence. Gun violence is so ordinary that unless it is a political leader or celebrity we just don't notice anymore. I routinely hear gunfire in my neighbourhood (typically followed by racing engines and squealing wheels), it is the background noise of the city.

 

Look at these, candy cigarettes rebranded as, "Candy Sticks." Packaged just for the children, and in time for Halloween. I wouldn't give these out for Halloween-I could see parents getting really angry. Also, they taste like chalk. Not chalky in a pleasant Necco Wafers way, but literally like chalk. I'll bet you could write on a slate with them. Might be a useful replacement from actual chalk if someone suffered from Pica, but otherwise it is really hard to fathom why these still exist. 

 

Do I look tough like Marlon Brando or what?

Alright friends, I'll leave it here. Have a good week.

September 11,2001

 The anniversary of the 9/11 terror attacks will always be tied to the anniversary of my moving to Nebraska. I'd only arrived a few days earlier, the bulk of my belongings still en-route from Boston. As the movers closed up the gate of the semi, the man in charge, a native of South Dakota cheerily shouted, "See you in America." It was a few years before I really understood that it was less a joke, and more an ideology that doesn't view the Northeast as part of the United States. 

Everything would have seemed strange bordering on unreality, terrorist attack or not. I was unprepared to hear hunters in those first early mornings until someone explained Dove season opens on September 1st. We lived on a farm adjacent to a wildlife management area that permitted hunting. I got familiar with the various dates for deer, turkey, ducks by waking to the echo of shots that always sounded oddly metallic, as though a stray shell had hit the quonset hut. 

To experience an event like 9/11, something new and terrible in a place that was so very old, ( if not exactly tethered in another time, had bits of life symbolically time-capsuled) was for lack of a better word, peculiar. Would it have felt the same in Boston, or Chicago? I can't imagine how it possibly could have. I must have seemed as a newborn, unceremoniously ripped from the dark, warm, and familiar into the sharp cool terrifying clinical brightness of a delivery room, or a Menards hardware store in Fremont, Nebraska. I was buying a bookcase to assemble as I awaited delivery of my things. 

In 2001 there were no smart phones. I don't think I even had a mobile yet. En-route to Menards I saw a State Trooper make a u-turn, and go racing who knows where. Maybe an accident? A medical emergency? A child fell down a well? Who would have, possibly could have, imagined a terror attack on that scale? I arrived at the hardware store completely unaware that the beautiful September morning with the brightest blue skies I'd ever seen (we'd later learn there was a high pressure system over the country that resulted in most of the US having the same visual memory of the day) would be taking a terrible turn. 

Someone set a small television set up near the front of the store and a few men stood wordless, expressionless, watching the far away images that seemed nearly impossible to translate into any familiar words. We describe people as being struck dumb, gobsmacked, wordless, but there's really no term that can quite capture the limitations of spoken language, and the wide understanding of situational silence. New York was alien, it might as well have been an island in Micronesia. 

I saw black smoke first. The familiar voice of newscaster Peter Jennings talking about the Pentagon being hit. The Pentagon. It made no sense. The Pentagon, built to be impenetrable was alight. Hit with what? It made no sense. The live cameras cut back and forth, New York, then the first tower, Jennings announced, was, "Gone." Gone? Gone? How can a building be, gone? There was film. The images of that terrible cascade, floor by floor, gone. 

I bought the bookcase. The cashier, in some state perhaps not shock but still very much a state of something, spoke in a tone better suited to whispering in church, 
"There's another plane down now in Pennsylvania." 

I bought the bookcase, the credit card processed as though Wall Street wasn't presently burning-that's capitalism, baby! An ordinary, the most ordinary thing. A purchase, information is wired somewhere, the Pentagon has been hit, the first tower is gone, there's a plane down in rural Pennsylvania, and I bought a bookcase at Menards in Fremont, Nebraska. 

Listening to NPR (National Public Radio) on the long drive back to the farm it was starting to fall into a narrative that at least followed, even if still incomprehensible. At home I hooked up the small black and white portable television I'd thought to pack in the car, not the moving van. Peter Jennings was still there, fielding live telephone calls from frantic people seeking word about their loved ones. "She worked on the 25th floor", "He was at a breakfast meeting at Windows on the World." Within days the Missing leaflets would go up across Manhattan, but on September 11th, 2001 it was just people dialing in to ABC News and Peter Jennings, completely unprepared for that sort of live television trying to help. I watched, ate some powdered sugar doughnuts I'd bought at a gas station earlier that morning, something I've not eaten since, and put together the bookcase. 

I've written before, how a plane flew low over the farm accompanied by fighter jets. Standing on the front lawn, looking up I didn't know it was Air Force One on the way to bring President Bush to a secure location at STRATCOM. I knew it was something, though in hindsight it was a terrible idea to run outside for a look. I knew they weren't crop dusters. 

Unprompted, people went to donate blood.  That was probably the last time I can remember the country acting together, as Americans. Short lived as it was, it did demonstrate we know how to be decent when the occasion calls.  It didn't take long for conspiracy theories to start, but on September 11th 2001, people in the US, still slightly disoriented by the day's events, went to give blood. 

I've lived in Nebraska 23 years this week. Social media and smart phones have obliterated any sense of ever being alone, far away, in a place where nothing happens, good or bad.  My grocery store carries several varieties of Korean chili paste now, the world is much closer than it was on 9/11. I no longer feel the uneasy newness I did in 2001. I fit in, giving the "one finger wave" to passing cars, complaining about weather,  the cost of fuel, and saying, "Ope, gonna just scooch by 'ya" in the aisles of Target.  9/11 and the wars that followed for two decades seem almost ordinary. A memorial, flags at half-staff, an ordinary day for those of us that didn't lose someone. Nothing to see here, move along now. 

There's no point to this post other than noting how the two anniversaries are intertwined.  The world that existed on September 11, 2001 will be foreign to people born after, both in technological advances, and in the national security changes that followed. There was no Homeland Security, no TSA checkpoints. I once rolled my eyes at the suggestion 9/11 was, "When everything changed." Perhaps not everything, that's a bit too sweeping. Still, of all the things that changed, the most striking is how we, as people changed. If only we might have held on to a bit of that terrible day when unable to do much else for others, people did the most human, decent thing possible, and gave blood. Fast forward to the present and we can't get people to wear a mask when they're sick. 

It only took a few hijackers and a couple decades.

 

A Post Poem (of the very worst sort of poetry)

Is it really the end of August? I might as well post these photos from much earlier in summer. Just posting photos is boring though, so humour me as I try to be less boring.

Dressed as an Edwardian at the seaside, but I haven't got a boat

But if they keep turning back our rights

I might not get to vote

 

Last year I took a chance

And planted some potted mums

They weren't expected to survive winter

But fuck it, nothing rhymes with Global Warming

You get the idea

Asters that signal disasters (see, that's better) 

They bloomed before the storm

They also shouldn't have overwintered 

But damn it

The climate is getting warm(er)

I missed osting for Canada Day

Belated wishes to our neighbours up North

It must have been 1 July

As every year that stupid CN Tower purse comes forth

I don't know why I own this bag and it really does only get used once a year for Canada Day.

Saw this in a junk shop

Among the trash and litter

Not really sure why anyone

Needs a strawberry seat for their shitter.

Someone went to Bali

And brought home some cool fabric

The dress was donated half-complete

But I just had to have it. 

I'm glad I'm not a cowgirl

I don't like riding horses

Me and gravity don't get along

when I hit the ground with forces

(Okay look, I'm not a poet and the only other good rhyme was "divorces")

I have a boring dress

Made of the dullest tan

Not much to recommend it

Except a place to stow my hands

This blouse is nothing special

I have better in the style

I don't know why I bought it

Just adding to a pile

Earrings that are roller skates

A brooch that is a pie

I'm wearing so much makeup

Why do I look about to die?!

I'm wearing too much black

I look stricken with grief

But if you look a bit closer

It is just inspired by Georgia O'Keefe

(She did wear a lot of black)

An outfit such as this

For Olympus with the gods

But I'm stuck here in Omaha

With a bunch of regressive clods (mostly)

They call this dress a peasant

The choice of the rural bred

But here in the State of Nebraska

It is a sweatshirt reading Go Big Red (football)

 

 

(For the record-I lived in rural Nebraska for 12 years on a farm and never saw anyone wearing a peasant dress, even ironically in town. Shhhh, don't tell the Trad. Wives)

 

I like a big necklace

To adorn my ageing neck

And a pair of faux amber earrings

Complete with fossil speck

This outfit worked for summer

The shoes are very nice

I bought them at the grocery store

At the same time I bought rice

(Seriously though, Aldi sells nice shoes!)

You can't tell my my sun-kissed-tan

I have poor hemoglobin

Don't know where all the blood has gone

But I feel somewhat downtrodden

(But put on some bright clothes and fake it)

Some days I dress on whim

Not knowing what I'll find

Or remembering when I purchased

A brooch of a cat's behind

I do enjoy a spotty frock

it keeps things nice and cheerful

If I truly dressed for mood

It might be grim and fearful

If you think that I will take

The bait of the obvious rhyme with ducks

You obviously don't know Midwesterners

And think we must be schmucks

(You knew I'd do that, didn't you?) 

Look at those little waterfowl

strung along as beads

I'm not sure if they're coots or mallards

I'm not expert at breeds 

Some will call these trousers

Others call them pants

No matter what you call them

They're perfect for a dance

At last we have arrived, 

At the last outfit for this post

Thanks for putting up with me

My brain is really toast

 

I will try to answer comments

As best that I may do

But please know that I read them

And appreciate all of you

 

Some days are a bit of a struggle

Some days are more or less

But I've never known a better cure

Than a good hat and a dress

 

You think I might exaggerate

That can't really be truth

But look at this pink confection

And take it as some proof

 

When there's not much else to look forward to, there's always getting dressed.

 

See you next time.