Tall Tales from Kansas

Soothe your inner chimp with one of these

I am not a neat and tidy person.  I am especially not a neat and tidy cook.  My Dad always said we should "clean as we go", but it didn't take in me. 

 

It has not affected the quality of my baking.  Reach right down and grab one of these if you don't believe me.  Yes, one of these White Chocolate Caramel Cashew Oatmeal bars.  You can try two if one isn't enough to convince you.  I made plenty.

 

They are sweet, salty, buttery, crunchy, and chewy all at the same time.  And they have oatmeal so they are 100% good for you.  These are a Paula Dean recipe and I just improved on it slightly.  Sorry Paula, but it's true.

White Chocolate Caramel Cashew Oatmeal Bars
1 package caramels - between 11 and 14 oz no need to be exact 
½ cup milk
2 cups quaker oats 
2 cups flour
1 cup firmly packed brown sugar
¼ tsp. baking soda
1 ½ cups butter, softened
1 ½ white chocolate morsels
1 cup chopped salted cashews

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line 13 X 9 pan with foil and grease. Combine milk and caramels in bowl and microwave until melted, takes a few minutes, stir well.  Combine oats, flour, brown sugar, and soda. Cut in butter until mixture is crumbly. Press half of oat mixture into the pan and bake for 20 minutes. Allow to cool for 5 minutes. Sprinkle white chocolate morsels and cashews evenly over crust, drizzle with caramel, and then add 1/4 tsp salt to remaining crust mixture, stir and sprinkle over top. Bake 20 more minutes. Allow to cool completely and cut into squares.

 

When you get the urge to shake the bars and rattle the cage because my sisters' class hasn't started yet http://dispatchfromla.typepad.com/ you can eat a few of these to soothe your inner chimp.  

The Bird Cage martini

Just in time for memorial day, and because I know you want to know what to do with the rest of that big bottle of Gray Goose L'Orange you bought to make the perfect cosmo, I introduce you to "The Bird Cage" martini.  I have no idea why it's called this.  I decided to keep the name they gave it at the bar where I first tasted it.  I mean what if it already knows it's name and I change it and it creates some kind of identity crisis problem?  I can't have that on my conscious. 

 

So here's the recipe:
1 - 1/2 oz Orange Vodka (Gray Goose L'Orange is perfect)
3/4 oz Chambord
3/4 oz Peach Schnapps
1/2 oz Frozen lemonade concentrate
1 - 1/2 oz water
Pour over ice and shake well in martini shaker.  Strain into martini glass.  Serve outside in sunshine with popcorn on the side.

Meanwhile 2 someone's I know are not at all amused by my attempts to photograph them while they waste this perfectly good day away sleeping.

 

The "2 pleasant experiences" antidote

I don't like to sit and wait.  I especially don't like to sit and wait in any kind of a gown. 

 

But sometimes you just can't get out of it.  That does not mean however, that you shouldn't do 2 fun things as soon as possible afterwards.  This will push what you would rather forget right out of your cerebral cortex before it has time to be processed by the hippocampus and get transferred into long term memory.  I came up with this theory on my own while I was sitting ... and waiting.  I am not sure if I have just the precise brain parts listed but it's pretty close.  I think. 

 

Anyway, as soon as the band was clipped from the wrist, I hopped in the car and headed to Loose Park.   The smattering of rain drops on the windshield did not deter me.  Armed with rain jacket, umbrella, and camera I entered the park.   Sure roses are beautiful under blue skies on a cloudless day.  But I discovered today that they SMELL better when the air is heavy.   I walked slowly along the path, stopping to close my eyes and inhale deeply.   Such fragrances I have not experienced on a sunny day.  

 

Next stop - Julilan's for lunch.   Celery soup and smoked salmon on carraway pain perdue topped with creme fraiche and pickled onion.   Perfection, and just the right portions to allow room for....

 

Cocoa bread pudding with vanilla creme anglaise.  We liked it just a little bit. 

 

This "2 pleasant experiences" antidote for waiting can be applied generally to many circumstances that require forgetting.  

The iris parade

The iris parade started at my house on April 20th. 

 

It started to really get cranking on May 10th with these bearded numbers.  

 

By May 15th they rounded the corner to the front of the house.

 

And yesterday they came just about full circle with this final entry - also in the front of the house.

 

I do not know the technical name for each of these.  Two of them originally came from Mom's garden about 10 years ago and I transplanted some to the new house when we moved.  Here is what I do know.  Short purple (photo 1) and bearded (photo 2) multiply like rabbits in the right conditions.  I need to divide them but I can only divide one species per year and 2011 was the year of the great hosta divide.  Light purple (photo 3) and tall skinny purple with yellow center (photo 4) are not as prolific.  It could be because they are in areas that are less sunny.  Since I don't want them to take over the whole front garden this is perfect. 

I have unintentionally killed many plants in my day because I watered them too much or too little, had them in the wrong soil, put them in sun when they needed shade, and vice versa.  I have yet to kill an Iris.  Now why did I just go and say that?  Salt over the shoulder - STAT!

As soon as I read the last word I wanted to start it all over again

"When they write my obituary.  Tomorrow.  Or the next day.  It will say, LEO GURSKY IS SURVIVED BY AN APARTMENT FULL OF SHIT."  

And so it was with this opening line from The History of Love, by Nicole Krauss that I was hooked.  How many opening lines of books make you laugh out loud like that?  Well ... okay.  I have been disappointed by several books that started out on a very promising note.  But when a good first line is followed later on by something so true as this...

"...there are two types of people in the world:  those who prefer to be sad among others, and those who prefer to be sad alone." 

...well, that is a book.  I have given or recommended The History of Love to many people since I first read it.    It seems that this is a book you either love or a book you can't get through.  It requires some fortitude to keep it all straight but ah... the rewards of doing so. 

 

When Great House came out this past year my sister's friend Susan sent it to me to read because she remembered how much I liked The History of Love.  The reviews of Great House have been mixed.  But not from me.   As soon as I read the last word I wanted to start it all over again from the beginning.  What is it that makes us respond to a book as though it were being told to us alone?   As though we somehow are a part of the story. 

The next time you find yourself at a bookstore, amble over and pull these 2 books down from the shelf.  If it is a place where you can get a coffee - all the better.   Plop yourself down and start reading.  If they are right for you, you will know it.   That's all I'm gonna say about it. 

Stuff that happened to me: Book as journal

I can be completely intimidated by the blank page.  To get over this hurdle, I have been known to buy second hand books with sturdy covers and strong binding to use as a journal.   Inside the book I fold, tape, cut, rip, staple, color, paint, write, stencil, doodle, punch holes, apply beads, glue, draw, and .... you get the idea.  All done over what is already on the pages.

 

I'm going to show you some hightlights of the pages I had the most fun with, or just  liked how they turned out.   This particular book was about a sculptor.  I liked working around the photographs of his work and incorporating them into the page.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Go figure!  After playing around with several journals like this I am craving the blank page.  The creamy feel of white cold press paper under my palms just waiting for a brush or some chalk or an oil pastel to be applied. 

Meet the Quails

A long, long, time ago, in a city far away (Nashville, TN), myself and 5 of my friends ran into a fella named Walt.  Walt was a big, burly, bald-headed man who approached us one night after dinner and declared "you all look just like a covey of quails".  Unsure of the exact meaning of this analogy,  and not wanting to get into a rumble in a strange city, we chose to accept this as a compliment. 

 

Seven years and many dinners later we remain The Quails.  Somehow the name just stuck.  It's so much easier than saying "honey I am going out tonight with Mary Joan, Jamie, Nancy, Barb and Megan".  Instead we all just say "the Quails have a business meeting tonight".   We all take our positions within the organization seriously.  I record all motions, decisions, and minutes in addition to photographing  the important events for posterity.  This of course includes food and wine choices.

 
 

Mary Joan is the groups' champion arm wrestler and a master gardener.  Don't let anyone tell you that gardening doesn't build muscles.  Jamie is the resident wine expert.  She is also a math wiz and can divide any bill by six including a tip in 10 seconds without the aid of a calculator.  Nancy is proficient in all things Kansas City.  Best coffee, best bread, best place for lunch?  See Nancy - she is available for phone/text consults.  Need help making a decision and don't know what to do?  Call Quail Barbara.  With the most common sense of anyone I know, she can talk you through whatever is causing you to fret.  Completely unflappable.  That is Barb.   Megan, the queen of books, has moved to Wichita.  Luckily she continues to tend to our literary needs long distance.   She also happens to make the worlds best Margarita.   (I better share that recipe with you soon).

 

Who knows where Walt is these days.  But we thank him nonetheless for providing the name that helps define us.  

The B-52

If you find yourself in Istanbul, strolling the streets of the city around 11pm after a day of exploring, and come upon a lovely little bar with outdoor seating you should stop.   Have a seat.  Ask for a menu.  If you see the B-52 order it.  You will not be sorry.  It is the perfect after-dinner nightcap to be slowly savored while you review the events of the day and imprint them forever into your memory.   In Istanbul my B-52 was served layered and lit on fire.  I grinned from ear to ear with sheer delight when it was brought to our table.  At home, when I make a B-52 I don't light them anymore.  Don't ask.

 

If you are not going to light it, I believe it is better to blend the ingredients together rather than layer them.  I also add a touch of half and half for extra creaminess.  I serve mine in a cute little glass that only holds about 2 - 3 ounces.  Such a teeny drink.  Hardly a drink at all.  More of a tonic really.  

1/2 oz Kahlua
1/2 oz Baileys Irish Cream
1/2 oz Cointreau (or other orange liqueur such as Gran Marnier or Triple Sec)
1/2 oz half and half

Shake all ingredients together with ice and strain into  the glass.  It's the perfect size for a nightcap.  It is also suitable for sipping while composing a blog post.

    

I come only to explore. Not to conquer.

 
This past Thursday, in between rain showers, I decided to go on an expedition.   It was time to find this stone archway in Roanoke Park.  I had never heard of the park before I saw  the photo while  flipping through the paper several months ago.   All the better reason to try and find it right?  An undiscovered treasure waiting just for me.

 

Maps were consulted.  Plans were made.  I set out after work with an hour to squander.  Journeys with a definite objective are made to be accomplished on a deadline.  Which of course did not prevent me from pulling over the second I spotted these beauties.  Big, fat, juicy, still dripping from the rain poppies!

 

And right next door?  A freshly painted blue house with white trim.  I did NOT climb up the hill and look in the windows.  A quick side trip is ok, but while on a mission it is best not to completely lose sight of the goal.  

  

 Back in the car.  One right turn.  One left turn.  There may have been a stray turn around in there somewhere ... but at last I came to Park Court.  It's a fairy street.  Only 3 houses on each side and it dead ends into this.

 

An unexpected little treasure in the middle of an ordinary neighborhood.  Just beyond the archway is a staircase.  I wanted to explore just a bit, but as I started down I swear I spied troll feet sticking out from under the canopy of trees at the bottom.  Change of plans.  I will come back here on a sunny day, after I have brushed up on troll customs.  I want to be sure and have a suitable gift to indicate my intentions are honorable.  I come only to explore.  Not to conquer.  Besides, I think I know someone who won't want to miss this adventure. 

Creating mystery

You know that period of about 3 minutes at the end of the day?  Right when the sun is about to disappear.  When it gets really bright just before the day is finally done.  When shadows suddenly emerge, creating mystery in places that for the other 23 hours and 57 minutes of the day are so ordinary.

  
I love that. 

I direct your attention to exhibit A

Last year I somehow neglected to plant zinnias.  Yes, zinnias the mainstay of the cutting garden.  I direct your attention to exhibit A below.  The 2009 bouquet on the left with zinnias, the 2010 bouquet on the right without zinnias. 

 

Granted these photos were taken in different light conditions, but still.  The knock out roses beg to be accompanied by their cousins zinnia and basil.  Yesterday I planted zinnias, rosemary, basil,  lavendar,  and eucalyptus.  I learn from my mistakes and tend not to repeat them  (if I can help it).

A key component to optimal thinking is the right environment

I wish I had more time to think.  You know, just sit and think.  Reflect on the events of the day.  Examine the details of my latest great idea and figure out how to make it work.  Contemplate what I would be doing right now if I had married Ricky Mergner after we kissed during a "spin the bottle game" in Panama in 1972.  Ponder the pros and cons of accepting the offer to be on the next season of the amazing race.  You get the idea.  Sitting.  Thinking.  A key component to optimal thinking is the right environment.

 

I have conducted some experimental thinking sessions at the Roasterie Cafe in Brookside.  I am currently having a 73.6% success rate at achieving what I meditate on while I am there.  I can therefore recommend it as a good place to sit and think.  The capuccino and frosted cookie with sprinkles on top have nothing to do with this endorsement.    

Don't judge me

When it's 45 degrees outside on the second weekend of May, when it's supposed to be sunny and balmy outside, drastic action is called for.  This past weekend I engaged in the following tactical maneuvers aimed at battling the cold.

 

 

On Saturday I made cream of wheat (with milk NOT water), sliced up strawberries, threw on the pecans, a dollop of greek yogurt, and a sprinkling of brown sugar.  After a few warmth inducing spoonfuls thoughts of the clouds and the cold began to melt away.  "Tomorrow is another day".  "Tomorrow it will feel like summer again".  After a few more bites I began to believe.

 

  

No!  I didn't eat both cream of wheat and pancakes on Saturday.  But listen, Sunday was cold too.  Don't judge me as you view these photos.  We have to do what we have to do when the weather is cold.  Out here on the plains of Kansas we are a hardy stock, but sometimes strong medicine is called for.  Cream of wheat and pancakes are powerful antidotes to cold and clouds.  You heard it here first.     

France 2005

 

In February 2005 I went to France with my sister.  I made this little (5x7) travel journal to take along for the ride.  

 

 
 

 

 


 

 

I realize that it's not for everyone, and it helps to go on vacation with someone who likes to record the trip too, but if you haven't kept a journal while traveling before - try it.  The writing brings back memories not captured in pictures.   Everytime I open this I smile thinking about the adventures we had.  Negotiating the metro with our luggage to find the train station, trying to decipher the french road signs, the boat trip on the Seine at night in our clown outfits, doing jumping jacks to stay warm while waiting for the bus in Paris, wandering the streets of the city savoring each and every sight, sound, smell, and taste. 

For those times when you just want a reliable standard

 

Every good bartender and hostess should have a recipe for a Cosmo.   There are many variations of this drink.  Sure you can fancy it up, but sometimes you just want  a simple, unadorned,  reliable drink that is suitable for every occasion.

 

Occasions like surfing the web after you have just made your first Spanish Omelet and flipped it out of, and back into, a skillet without breaking any dishes or exchanging cross words with someone who was in the kitchen giving unsolicited advice.

The Cosmo
1 oz Grey Goose L'Orange
3/4 oz triple sec
2 oz cranberry juice
Pour into a shaker with lots of ice and strain into a martini glass. 
Simple is sometimes best.  

Peach pie with chocolate ice cream... really?

Are you sick and tired of old family photos yet?   Since it's our other sisters' birthday on Saturday, May 14th there has to be just one more set.   Happy Birthday Dottie!   

 

I hope you get your favorite birthday dessert.  For those who might not have experienced it yet, don't turn your nose up until you try it.  Yes, peach pie and chocolate ice cream.  It's a classic.

This I know

Someone can make it for you.  Someone can make it with you.  You can make it yourself.

 

How you obtain it matters not.  As long as you never go "cake-less" on any birthday.   Life is just too short to deprive yourself of the simple happiness of a slice of tender lemon cake with a butter and cream cheese frosting.  This I know. 

No one ever called them shrinking violets by mistake

Remember this?

 

That turned into this?

 

And then this?

 

And finally morphed into these?

 

What a dramatic bunch they are.  No one ever called them shrinking violets by mistake.  In my next life I want to come back as an allium. 

No introvert should leave home without them

Picture the following scenarios if you will.

#1 - You are in a meeting at work.  The last 90 minutes have crept by at an excruciatingly slow pace.  The person leading the latest productivity improvement initiative has droned on endlessly for the last 30 minutes without stopping to take a breath.  You think a self-inflicted ice pick to the eye is the only way out.

 

#2 - You are out to dinner with a group of people you don't know very well.  You tried but could not get out of it.  The polite small talk begins.  You scramble about wildly trying to think of things to say.  You smile, nod, agree, smile some more.  Your lips begin to stick to your teeth from all the smiling.  The conversation is unceasing. 

 

#3 - You enter the grocery store only to be stopped by "checkpoint charlie" - the designated greeter.  He asks about your day.  He tells you about his.  He introduces you to the greeter-in- training he has with him.  He tells you a joke the lady who just came in told him.  If he doesn't leave you alone someone will be calling 9-1-1. 

 

What to do in these situations?  Fear NOT.  I have the answer. 

 

 

  

I received them as a gift exactly one year ago today.  They come 25 to a pack.  This is my last one.  I share it with you in the event you may need to order (or make) your own.  Simply walk up to the offending agent, hand them one, and walk away. 

 

 

 

They may also be slid face down across a table so that the intended target is the only one who can read it.  They are 99% effective and no introvert should leave home without them.  They may be used at home as well.

 

 

They are semi-effective with husbands.  Totally useless with cats.

The perfect planner

I have had a lot of planners over the years as illustrated below.

 

Having been through a few, I consider myself an unofficial expert in the essential elements of a good planner.  Why hasn't someone come up with one that meets all my needs, fits easily into my purse, AND is just plain fun to look at?  Is that so much to ask?  Apparently so as I have yet to find one.  But out here in Kansas we are not afraid to take the bull by the horns.  So one December when I had nothing else to do, I got my mind right, took everything my sister the book-maker has tried to teach me, poured it into my art processor of a brain, and here is what I came up with.

 

 

 The best part about making your own planner is you choose the amount of space you have to write in, you create room for photos, vital information sections are personalized, and there are pockets for business/membership cards.

 

 

 

 
 

Did I mention the inclusion of a small future planning calendar,  just the tabs you want, all your favorite colors, and last but not least ... when you take it out at a meeting someone will inevitably say "Hey! where did you get that?"  To this last question you of course smile and say... "oh it's just a little something I whipped up in my spare time."  

I will re-make, taste, adjust, re-drink as many times as called for

 
I made this drink yesterday and sat out on the back patio under the shade of the umbrella and gazed upon the succulents in my rock wall and sipped away.   About 30 minutes later I had to go inside and take a little bit of a lay down before supper.  Suffice it to say this drink knocked me on my keister.  It could certainly have been the heat.  It got all the way up to 90 degrees here yesterday.   Still, it needed re-tooling.  Today armed with a new idea, I remade the drink and am much happier with the outcome.  This version is flawless, AND I am still on my feet one hour after drinking it, AND I was out in the heat gardening after I drank it.

 

Here is the corrected version.  I take my responsibility of providing drink recipes seriously.  I will re-make, taste, adjust, re-drink as many times as called for.  This is the Sweet Tea Martini.  It is refined, it is respectable, it is smooth, it is just the right drink to have in the summer if you feel a swoon coming on.  Here is how to make it.  Brew yourself up some regular tea. Make it on the strong side.  Sweeten it to your liking.  I used 2 tsp of sugar in a cup of tea.  Let it cool.
2 oz sweet tea you just made
1 oz sweet tea vodka
1 oz Limoncello
2 teaspoons frozen lemonade concentrate
Shake all ingredients in a shaker with plenty of ice.  Strain into a martini glass and garnish with lemon slices.  Go sit on the porch and see if you can't find someone to fan you while you cool off.

What do you do with your mail art?

Are you lucky enough to get mail art from someone?  I am.  What's better than going to the mail box and finding a far-out, super groovy, perplex the mailman, piece of mail art?  Nothing.  Thats what.  After you get it what do you do with it?   I have come up with not one, but 2 things to do with mine.

 

#1 is the Mail Art Frame.  This is a frame with a back that is constructed from old wood scavenged from a friend who was tearing down some buildings on his property.  I came up with the idea, passed the vision along to Chris (my husband, also known as the egg dying expert), and instructed him to build me one - please.  I put a few nails in it and when I get mail art I take it to work and hang it on the frame.  This brightens up an otherwise extremely institutional looking office and people who come in the office are treated to this visionary work.  Some people don't really understand it.  Some people love it.  Everyone notices it.  You might recognize the work of one of the senders. 

 

#2 is the Mail Art Bag.  This is a bag I made after taking a journal making class from Keely Barham many moons ago.  I like to stitch and after taking the class made several things with techniques I learned from her.  I tuck pieces of mail art inside and display the bag in the entry way of our house.  If I don't get any mail art for awhile I can always pull a piece out of here and it feels like new again!  I know it's delusional, but it works for me.

Angie gives the pie 2 thumbs up

Oh mighty oven that cooked the french coconut pie.  You did NOT malfunction.  And for that I am grateful.

 

So was the recipient of the pie.   What cook does not appreciate someone who likes their baking? 

I decided to make the delivery today instead of waiting until Sunday.  I mean what if it spoiled or something because of a refrigerator malfunction?   And anyway who said that all Mothers Day celebrations must be confined to one day.  I'm thinking it should get at least a whole weekend.

In the event of an oven malfunction

 

Someones mother might be getting a delicious french coconut pie on Sunday, May 9th.
Well, if it turns out she'll be getting one I mean.  In the event of an oven malfunction contingency plans are in place.

Clean out the trunk, grab those keys, and throw caution to the wind

Maybe it's an old wives tale.  Maybe it's something I read in the Farmers almanac.  Did I hear it on Farm Talk Radio?  No matter where I heard it.  What's important is that I follow this rule of the Kansas garden.  Don't plant annuals until after the risk of the last frost has passed.  You will be tempted.  Try not to give in.

 

But fear not!  Frost time has now officially passed.  It's time to take the winter survival kit out of the trunk, grab those keys, and throw caution to the wind.   

 

Today I made a scouting run to one of my garden hang outs.  It takes me awhile to figure out what I want  need.   Multiple trips are frequently required. 

 

Don't underestimate the time and concentration required to match just the right plant with just the right pot in just the right location.  Caladiums are always right on my front porch.  But which ones?  That is the question.

Then I have to figure out the whole herb situation.  There must be fragrant herbs to snip and bring indoors for flower arrangements and cooking.  

 

I haven't even gotten to the seeds yet.  Which vine do I get for the big pot on the back deck this year?  Morning glory?  Nasturtium?  Moon flowers?   Ahh if only all the decisions to be made in life were just this complicated, and such a pleasure to ponder. 

A person that goes out to lunch to discuss important business deals

Sometimes I think it's fun to pretend I am someone else.  Someone who works in an office and wears shoes with a heel.  A person that goes out to lunch to discuss important business deals.

In my latest fantasy where I was out networking here is what I selected from the menu.  The lentil burger on the right was THE flavors of India on a bun.  The sweet potato fries were tender and sweet on the inside, salty and crisp on the outside.  But the kicker was that drink in the middle.  A cucumber cooler.  Hendricks gin, cucumber soda vie, and a few slices of cucumber on the top.   Very refreshing and the perfect lunchtime beverage.   Did I mention that in this alternate universe where I also carry a briefcase and have an expense account I only work until 2pm so I can go home and take a nap?

Lemon balm + phlox + cat mint + dianthus =

a nice little May Day bouquet. 

 

I was going to tell you that we erected a maypole in the yard and skipped around it as we held on to ribbons and tried not to let the garlands fall off our heads.  But I thought that might be pushing it.