Tall Tales from Kansas

a whole mess of peonies plus one teeny little green inchworm

The cinnamon rolls were going like hot cakes this morning at the farmers market.  The money was flying left and right.  

Dianne was unfazed by it all.    She dished them out without missing a beat...

... and called for the next pan when it was time.   She is the head cinnamon roll disher-upper at the United Methodist booth.   Her reputation is known far and wide.  

Little Miss Green Boots with her flower-power dress on thought Dianne had the best job at the market.  She kept telling her Dad to "huwwy up" so they could go and get one. 

I did not have one myself this morning on account of the coconut cream pie I had yesterday.  I did however get some spinach, a few jars of blueberry jam for the pantry, and a whole mess of peonies plus one teeny little green inchworm.  

And before I forget... if you know what to do with kohlrabi, please enlighten the rest of us.  I would love to try some.   Such an interesting looking vegetable, surely there is something delicious I could make with it. 

 

small town USA at it's finest

Because 150 years ago today the Kansas-Nebraska Act was signed, and because we had the day off and we were itching for an adventure, Chris and I headed west today.  To see what we could see. 

What we discovered was North Topeka.  It's across the river from Topeka, used to be called Eugene until it was annexed by Topeka in 1867, and was flooded in 1903.  That's the important stuff. 

It has some cool old buildings, lots of antique stores, a grain elevator, and the railroad runs right by it. 

We were drawn to the area by the promise of lunch at Bradley's Corner Cafe.   It did not disappoint.  Salmon patty's were the special of the day served with creamed peas, potatoes, salad and a dinner roll.   The cast of characters inside the place defies description.   Small town USA at it's finest, right here. 

Did I mention Bradley's is known for their pie?  I was way too full to be eating pie but when I overheard that coconut cream was on the menu I knew you would want me to sample it.   Sweet and creamy with chewy coconut bits, a flaky well browned crust, and a light meringue topping means that together Chris and I polished it off with no trouble and grinned like a couple of kids with each bite. 

We got home just in time for me to take a two hour nap before it was time to get up and officially start the weekend.    It is important to rest after an adventure.  So you can be ready for the next one. 

each success as completely miraculous and each failure as an expected consequence

Siberian iris, weigelia, clematis, hollyhocks, and the Johnson's Blue geraniums are all starting to bloom.  I just stare in amazement at the wonder of these plants doing that thing they do again and again, year after year.

When I was a younger gardener I got frustrated when things died.  The lilacs that got too wet the year we moved in, the first Japanese maple that got zapped by a late freeze, the forsythia that tried it's best to thrive in several spots before it finally fizzled out, and on and on and on.  I have learned with time and some schooling from my gardening mentors that some things only just last so long and have to be replaced.  

Carol's philosophy of zen gardening is in seeing each success as completely miraculous and each failure as an expected consequence.   Pretty deep, I know. 

a lemon throwdown

I bought a whole bunch of lemons last weekend so I could make the Lemony Lemonies I saw on Bakerella.  My mouth got all puckered up just looking at the shiny glaze with bits of lemon zest all nestled among the sweetness.  What finally sold me was the description of them as a "lemon brownie".   Tell me one thing that is not to like about that. 

Mine turned out a bit more yellow looking than Bakerella's.  I chalk that up to the farm fresh eggs with those orange yolks I get from my office-mate, the chicken farmer.  It is important for you to know that these are not cake-like brownies.   They are dense and chewy and ... hold on a minute I need to go and get another one right now.    You can't imagine the delicious feeling of your teeth sinking into the texture of these.  I am powerless to refuse anything lemon.

Speaking of... I can't wait to see what lemony treat Joyce is going to whip up for us in Summerland.  I might have to make her a lemon drop martini.  Maybe we can have a lemon throwdown.  

when the last iris blooms it is their signal to pick up the reigns

The husker red penstemon is blooming right now.  They are a sturdy lot.  No staking required.  Drought tolerant.  Very low maintenance. 

I moved one of these plants from my old house when we built our new home.  Over the last 7 or 8 years the birds and the bees and the wind have caused them to spread in a most pleasing fashion.  The dark foliage is a nice contast to all the greens.  

When the last iris blooms it is their signal to pick up the reigns and take over as the flower of prominence in the garden.  If they get out of control they are not difficult to pull up.

If this grows in your area, and you currently don't have any, I highly recommend you add a plant to your garden. 

french knot needlework is a very inexact science

I am still having great fun making french knots.  Especially on a Monday, with my feet up, drinking coffee, and looking at the peonies. 

I am delighted to see evidence that others have joined in on the fun.   Please leave a comment with a link to your site if you are doing one too.    I want to see if you are employing techniques I need to incorporate into mine.  

I started out by doing some outlining and then filling in with french knots.

Then I made straight lines of french knots.

Then I thought about the need for some negative spaces.

When I started on this pomegranate complete madness took over and I started cramming as many knots as possible into the space.  Then I decided shading was a good idea. 

I do not know how long this project will go.  Either when I get tired of making knots, I stick myself with the needle one too many times, or I run out of embroidery floss.   Until that time I am not planning ahead about what I will do next.  I just pick a color and start on an area.  The less thinking the better.  By it's nature, french knot needlework is a very inexact science. 

to be able to wander through a lovely garden and snip my own bouquet

It was a rainy day at the Farmers market on Saturday.  Lots of umbrellas and rain boots. 

Arthur didn't let that dampen his enthusiasm.  Not one little bit. 

He carefully evaluated all the plants for sale, stopping to sit down if he needed to.  Pants can always be changed if they get wet.  

I was terribly disappointed that my favorite flower lady was not there again this week.  I am going to have to undertake an investigation to find out her name and what has happened to her.    Dottie had just suggested we consider going on a peony raid when I ran across my friend Pam who invited me to come over to her house and get some.

I of course was NOT going to do this but Dottie was with me.  Dottie always encourages me to do things that are against my nature.   When I saw those peonies just asking to be taken to an appreciative home I could not resist. 

What a treat to be able to wander through a lovely garden and snip my own bouquet.  Thanks Pam!

unexpected on a spring morning

I am here to report that the Steen's Cane syrup cake was a SUCCESS.

Moist without tasting undercooked, dense but not heavy, the perfect balance of ginger and cloves, and cinammon. 

We all liked that it was not overly sweet.  A mild gingerbread taste.  Unexpected on a spring morning with strawberries, grapes, a bit of yogurt, a walnut or two and some coffee. 

We took the time to look up Abbeville Louisianna on the map as we sat at the table and reviewed the bottle carefully.  It's about 3 1/2 hours south of Provencal, where my Dad grew up. 

My Dad and all his family (including Aunt Bea above) used Steen's Cane syrup on their bisquits.  But if this syrup cake is any indication of the sort of thing I can create with it, you can bet I will be sending in my $5.50 for the Steen's Family Recipes.  

Link to recipe included in yesterday's post. 

 

we are baking a memory

Scenes from a Friday night in Lawrence Kansas.  Strolling downtown on Massachusetts after dinner.  Temps in the upper 70's.  Nice little breeze.  A good way to start the weekend.

Dottie's in town.  I am making her a Steen Syrup cake for breakfast in the morning.   This is something that has to be made and eaten with another Moss.   I have no idea how it's going to be.  We are baking a memory.  In our minds it's going to taste good.  

sparkling magnifying glasses on the leaves

The dense fog one morning earlier this week transformed all the plants with this dewy residue.  Little sparkling magnifying glasses on the leaves.  It was lovely.     

 

now get out there and make some glorious mistakes

I finally got jiggy with this sweater vest business.  The front was joined to the back, sides were seamed up, neck and armhole bands were added and finally... it was soaked, smoothed, and laid to rest. 

It's now folded and waiting to emerge when the colors on the leaves start to change.  Maybe by that time I will have found the portal back to 1970; when sweater vests were the "in" thing among the coffeehouse poetry reading crowd.   

There is just one minor mistake I will need to attend to first.  You may notice in photo #2 that I followed the pattern and did the increases called for on each side of the sweater near the bottom, directly above the band.  The band fits perfectly.  Then it sort of has this lump/sag thing right at the most unflattering part of the human body.  Not to worry though.  I am sure that when I take it to knitting class when we resume after a 2 week hiatus, Mary, Pat, Deneice, Dianne, Cindy, Jan, Pat, Ann, Pam, and Ann will be happy to tell me what I should do to fix it.  I am hoping that will not mean taking it all apart.  Surely there is a way to remove those increases by employing a modified steeking technique. 

P.S.  I think now would be the time to remind everyone "if you aren't making mistakes you aren't taking enough risks."  I didn't make that up.  Debbie Millman said it. 

P.P.S.  Now get out there ... and make some glorious mistakes. 

 

Pattern:  Sonny vest by Sarah Hatton
Yarn:  Colourscape by Kaffe Fassett 
Colorway:  Camouflage 437

flaky, lattice-top crust and juicy tart filling

Last week my friend Mary Joan gave me a very special birthday gift.   My very own strawberry rhubarb pie made with the skill and deftness posessed by a native of North Dakota who learned to bake this pie in her grandmothers kitchen.  

This is what I meant by advanced baking skills.  Flaky, lattice-top crust and juicy tart filling - at the same time.  In one pie. 

I hope that each and every one of you, at some point in your life, have a friend who will make you a special pie for your birthday.  I consider myself very blessed.  Don't think I don't. 

I am pretty sure she gave it to me on a Friday so I could eat it for breakfast on Saturday or and Sunday. 

The weekend paper goes really, really good with rhubarb pie.   Ever since Joyce mentioned that her grandmother told her that rhubarb "thins the blood for summer" I have been extra mindful to be sure that I get in my quota in preparation for the months ahead.   You all might want to do the same.  

 

the lady at the fabric store will have encountered this scenario with novice quilters before

This past weekend I decided to get my strips off the ledge at the top of the staircase.  

It was high time I got them put together so I can move on to the quilting phase of this summer quilt.

I ironed, and I pinned, and I sewed while listening to my Gordon Lightfoot station on iTunes Radio. 

One and one half bobbins later, it was pieced.  I am very excited to have this much done.  Laying on the bed it looks just as I had envisioned.  With some of my projects that does not always happen.   

Next step is getting the batting and the fabric for the back.  Sometime between now and when I get to the fabric store I am going to set up a formula to figure out the exact yardage I need for a quilt that is going to be 90 inches long and 116 inches wide.   If not, I feel quite certain the lady at the fabric store will have encountered this scenario with novice quilters before.

a powerhouse when it comes to fragrance

Saturday I was absolutely certain I was going to hit the peony jackpot at the farmers market.   I almost cried when my favorite flower booth was not there.  Instead, I pulled it together, carefully scrutinized each vendor, and weighed my options. 

I found one lady who was selling mixed bouquets that included peonies and asked if I could get a bunch of peonies.   She said she would be happy to sell me a bouquet without the Iris and with an extra peony.  I told her that would work. 

While she was putting it together her husband said that the cool weather and rain we had last week was responsible for the late blooming.  He is hoping to have more next weekend.

In the meantime I am making do.   Quite nicely I might add.  Thanks to this one white peony that is a powerhouse when it comes to fragrance. 

I am also pretty sure it was ok for me to reach across the table

Friday, for 2 hours, I got to be an honorary Huff girl.   I was granted temporary membership into this very exclusive club.   Here is their very nice, harmless appearing, board of directors.

We met for an interview over lunch.  They needed to observe me out in public where I don't get to hide behind the camera and my computer screen.   Where I have to keep up my part of the conversation and don't get to edit what everyone says like I do on the blog.   I may or may not get to join them again.  It all hinges on whether or not I chose the correct item for dessert at Andre's. 

I am fairly confident the right thing was to get something they didn't choose so they could have a bite of mine if they wanted.  I am also pretty sure it was ok for me to reach across the table and grab a bite of theirs before they tasted it to be sure it wasn't poisoned. 

That's what you would have done, right?

 

I remember the days when I thought only old ladies liked things with rhubarb

One of the things I love best about going to the farmers market is discovering new things.  Flowers, foods, music, crafts, you name it - if it's relatively unfamiliar, I want to try it.  So I was really excited to see the first of the rhubarb last weekend. 

I had some most excellent rhubarb pie last year at one of my favorite food joints in KC and thought about whipping up a pie with my rhubarb.  Then I saw smitten kitchen's rhubarb strawberry bars and decided to take a baby step into rhubarb baking before I moved to the more advanced challenges.  Bars are just so "do-able". 

So you know how much I love things that are salty and sweet right?  You throw a little tart into that and it takes it right over the moon.  Tart, salty, sweet, will change your world forever.  You gotta try this.   I prefer my bar with a small scoop of vanilla ice cream and with a cup of hot tea on the side, but both are optional. 

Oh I rememer the days when I thought only old ladies liked things with rhubarb.  I am either getting smarter as I get older, OR I am just getting older and have officially reached the age where my palate appreciates rhubarb.  Either way, I am a winner. 

 

Related articles

lumber barons and rhubarb

 

armed at last with an accurate description

Yesterday, on the Writers Almanac, there was a poem that describes to a T what happens to me at meetings.  Armed at last with an accurate description, I will continue to look for a cure (though I believe in my heart the only remedy is to skip them).   In the meantime I post it here in case you missed it.

At the Very Lengthy Meeting

 

by Kevin McCaffrey

 

At the very lengthy meeting
I actually felt my soul leave my body
and rush toward the ceiling—
and fly around the walls and flare
toward daylight, toward the windows—
to throw silently its impetuous emptiness
against the glass in vain.
It could not go anywhere, the clear moth.

Then it lay on the rug, not exhausted
but bored and so inert that it almost—
though nothing—
took on a hue, stained with all the breaths
and words and thoughts that filled the room:
the yellow-green color of old teeth.

 

P.S.  the photo above has nothing to do with the poem, it's of one of the old stone walls on N1700 road in Douglas county.  Sometimes in a meeting I pretend I am walking on that road rebuilding the walls.  I do that so things won't come out of my mouth that I am likely to regret later. 

 

 

just like we did in the old days

Happy Birthday Dottie. 

I hope you are putting on a special dress along with your socks and patent leather shoes with ankle straps and going out to celebrate.  When you get home make sure you have some birthday cake with ice cream and when you are almost done mix the last of your frosting with the last of your ice cream and make a wish as you eat it.  Just like we did in the old days. 

 

average for an alium is still stunning in my book

The opening of the alium in 9 pictures over the course of 10 days with 3 different cameras. 

I am rating 2014 as an "average" alium year.  The Japanese maple in front has really grown in the last few years which impacts the amount of sun they get.  I guess I should move them to a location where they might do better.

But I like them where I can see them when I am sitting on the porch.  Where I can easily inspect them 15 times a day.   And since "average" for an alium is still stunning in my book they are almost 100% guaranteed to remain right where they are for the 2015 blooming season. 

sublime, no matter the color

I got these purple asparagus at the farmers market on Saturday.  I have never eaten purple asparagus before, but I heard a lady (who had an air of asparagus authority about her) tell another lady they were very good, so I figured I better try them.

I made some of Anne Burrell's asparagus, red onion, and pecorino romano salad with part of them.  Back in July of 2011 I told you about this salad for the first time.  That was a long time ago.  The summer is just getting underway.  You are going to want to make this and take it to a picnic or a potluck or just to your own table sometime before the summer is up.  

Then I blanched a few and ate them with the walnut-chili dip I bought from the very nice man and his very nice son, also at the farmers market.  Killer combination with another of my IPA's. 

In retrospect I really did not even need to blanch them.  When asparagus are this fresh, raw is delicious.  As for the purple color?  It blanched out of them.  I could not really tell any difference between these and the regular asparagus I get from the farmers market.  Freshly picked asparagus are the food of the Gods.  Sublime, no matter the color. 

feliz día de las madres

When we were kids mom frequently would say to us "ok kids, for the next hour we are only going to speak in spanish".  This was her attempt to improve our conversational skills in her first language.   We would roll our eyes and play along for the first 5 minutes.   Dottie is the only one who has become fluent.  The rest of us can scrape by if need be.  But since it is mothers day, in honor of Angie, sometime today, in your best spanish accent, please tell your mom feliz día de las madres! 

P.S.  Hey mom, Chris and I are going to speak nothing but spanish tonight from midnight to 1am.  Also,  I am taking good care of your vase and the Iris from your house in Arkansas are having a really good year. 

 

Photo of Angie and I courtesy of Dottie Moss. 

influenced as much by the seller as I am by the product

The "shopping for Mother's Day" crowd was at the farmers market in Lawrence today.  Dads and kids picking out something mom might like.

There was lots to like.  Some for sale and some just on display.

I waited in line to buy tulips and was lucky to get the last dozen.  I think you will agree they were worth the wait. 

In addition to the beautiful greens, there were lots of radishes today.  And not just the plain old mostly round kind that are red on the the outside and white on the inside.

A fiddlin' man was there entertaining the crowd. 

Music elevates the shopping experience for me.  I think it makes me buy more. 

At least that's my excuse for the big haul I brought home today. Rhubarb, purple asparagus, spinach, tulips, walnut-chili dip, and oatmeal raisin cookies.  I did not intend to buy the cookies but while I was waiting in line for the tulips I saw the extremely cute girl who was selling her home-made goods and I couldn't help myself.  I am influenced as much by the seller as I am by the product. 

I do not intend to re-boot the power source until Monday morning

It's purple season around here.  Iris, lilacs, caradonna salvia, columbine, and more Iris. 

Purple is best enjoyed on a Friday evening, when you do not have to work the weekend, and you have a couple of interesting IPA's in the frig with your name on them.   

Tonight I am turning off the work-filled part of my brain and do not intend to re-boot the power source until Monday morning when the alarm goes off.  Until then I only want to think about things like what I am going to see at the Farmers Market in the morning, and if I want eggs or pancakes for breakfast on Sunday.  Low level thinking.  It's what weekends are made for. 

 

Related articles

the rejuvinating powers of pancakes

there is nothing I enjoy more than suspending all judgement about what is and is not possible

If you are a Stephen King fan, run out right now and get Doctor Sleep.   It's the story of what ended up happening to Danny Torrance (from The Shining) combined with the story of Oscar the cat.  Remember Oscar?   The cat who gained notoriety maybe 5 or so years ago for seeming to know when residents at the nurisng home he lived at where going to die? 

I realize that sounds like a disjointed idea for a book, but somehow Stephen King makes it all seem plausible.  I am admitting right up front (as I have in the past) that as a fan I might be biased in my recommendation.   Dolores Claiborne, The Girl who Loved Tom Gordon, Bag of Bones, and 11/22/63 are probably my favorites. This one ranks right up there. 

There is nothing I enjoy more than suspending all judgement about what is and is not possible, opening up a book, and taking a trip with Stephen King.  

potential extreme satisfaction if I am able to do it versus extreme satisfaction for not having to mess with it at all

I have a problem.  When I was taking apart the fountain this year to investigate why it ran for about 2 minutes and then shut off and did not come back on again the very top piece slipped and cracked.   But that's not the problem.  I am pretty sure I can buy a new top.

The problem is no splashing, tinkling, pleasant water sound when I am sitting on the porch.  I can't decide if I should go and buy another pump and try to figure it out myself OR if I should try and find someone to come out and just fix the darn thing.   I am at this moment weighing the potential extreme satisfaction if I am able to handle it myself versus potential extreme satisfaction for not having to mess with it at all.  Such a dilemma.   I should have known last year when I plugged it in and it ran just fine that this year I would have to suffer a little.   

I will never, ever again in my life say anything about taking a fountain by the horns and letting it know who is the boss.  Never.  Ever.  The fountain is always the boss.  

 

Related articles

it did not leak

his very favorite was my under the chin maneuver

A drive out to Henry's Plant Farm is required at least once in the spring and once in the fall every year.   Without exception.  It is important for me to check on the alpacas, peacocks, pigs, chickens, ducks, and of course get some plants. 

 

I try not to play favorites but I usually like the alpacas the best.  I just like to have staring contests with them.  This year however I was very very distracted by this.   

I pulled up my parking brake and stopped for a good 7 or 8 minutes of heavy petting with this kit-kat.   There is nothing I like better than a cat who appreciates my sophisticated petting techniques.  His very favorite was my under the chin maneuver. 

When he was done with us he passed us off to the security dog taking a momentary break on top of the potting mix bags in the shade. 

I was going to pet him too but he was clearly too far gone to be messed with.  Something about letting sleeping dogs lie. 

P.S.  All photos by Chris except for the alpaca.  As soon as I saw the cat I shoved the camera at him and he took over.   He knew I had better things to do. 

my contingency plan will call for pulling out the sparkly banana bread and marigolds

I bought some marigolds the other day to put out on the deck.   Angie always planted them.  I haven't for years.   But I will every year from here on out until I am no longer physically able.  When that time comes I will let Krissy and Katherine and Allie Grace know that it's time for them to pick up the reigns.  These simple lines of succession in the marigold monarchy are important. 

I also made banana bread on Sunday.  Mom always appreciated banana bread, even when she was in one of those phases where she thought she shouldn't eat dessert.  Banana bread after all is bread, not cake.  Plus it contains fruit. 

I "spring-ified" it by putting pastel sugar on the top instead of the usual raw sugar.  It was a good idea.   In theory.

Pastel crystals of colored sugar actually look better on cream cheese frosting.   But still,  I didn't want to throw away that pretty sugar and I was thinking it might be reaching it's expiration date soon. 

Again, Angie was on my mind when this idea hit.   Mom would approve of using up the sugar instead of throwing it away which I had considered.  She did not believe in wasting anything that had even one ounce of use left in it. 

Can you tell I am thinking about Mothers Day coming up next weekend?  I am fortifying myself now.   If things start to get shaky at any point during the day my contingency plans will call for pulling out the sparkly banana bread and marigolds. 

I see no reason to plan your projects to go with the season

Today I removed the pins from my blocked shawl/scarf and proceeded to wrap it around in every conceivable position in which it might be worn.  I have sung the praises of blocking in the past and lamented the fact that someone can not soak me in a sink, pin me down and smooth out all the rough spots.  But it bears repeating.  Blocking is the bomb. 

The aramani shawl is lightweight, easy to fashion into different configurations, able to be worn inside at work without causing you to go into meltdown mode, and can be knit in many different color combinations.  

The pattern calls for Brooklyn Tweed LOFT and there are 655 projects to look at on ravelry.  I made mine with Nature Spun fingering weight.  A thoroughly enjoyable project - completed!  Just in time for summer.    I see no reason to plan your projects to go with the season. 

my summer saturday ritual

Today, at last, I made it to the farmers market.   Oh how I have missed meandering through the "booths".    Lots of bedding plants, cute toddlers, boys climbing trees, requests for a dollar donation for the homeless shelter, overheard conversations about how he can possibly have zucchini already, and the famous morel mushrooms.  

I came home with some beautiful lettuce (that I will be adding apple, gorgonzola, and walnuts too because Betsy said it made a good salad) and a bougainvillea (that is going in a pot on the deck out back).

A perfect start to my summer Saturday ritual. 

 

none of us are ever having our lips done

I brought home a "cone of flowers" from the May Day Basket exchange.  Dang it's cute.  I didn't even think of trying to make a cone for flowers.  But I will next year.

I have this one to use as a prototype.  A prototype always helps. 

We went to Renee Kelly's Harvest for dinner.  Farm to table format housed in an old "castle" that was originally built in the late 1800's.  The food was good.  The spinach salad we started with was unbelievably delicious.  Have you ever eaten a poached egg that has a crispy coat of panko bread crumbs (I think that's what it was) on it?  The salad alone was worth the trip.  Low light = less than great pictures - oh well, you get the idea.  If anyone knows how to coat a poached egg in something crunchy (while keeping the yolk runny) do share your knowledge with us all in the comments. 

Per the usual quail routine topics of conversation included, books, desserts, electronic things that monitor your activity and sleep, and how it took Joan 90 minutes to "de-bone" her crab at the Wolfgang Puck restaurant in Las Vegas in 2004. 

We also decided none of us are ever having our lips done.  Period.  End of discussion. 

I gathered items from all my nooks and crannies

Preparations for the first official Quail May Basket Exchange/Birthday celebration begain early this morning at my house.  It's been a looooooong time since I made a May Basket.  But if I remember correctly you are supposed to use supplies you have on hand.  So I gathered items from all my nooks and crannies.  

Then I embellished (dishcloth yarn makes a good ribbon in a pinch).

I was told candy is an essential part of the basket so a few Twix bars were added.  

Finally, the most important part.  Flowers.  Candytuft + tulips + catmint + an old fashioned iris = my basket is ready. 

I sure hope it doesn't tip over in the car on the way to the party.