Rave! Snowy goodness.

Rave!
It's snowing today in my hometown. And it's been a fairly benign weather winter in the land of could-be-so-intense-and-snowy-and-icey-that-people-die-shoveling-sometimes so I really can't complain.

I was thinking about that this morning, complaining that is, and prepared my soul for the savagery of the Facebook posts, radio announcers and other complainy social stimuli that I'd hear once I left my home base. But then I remembered that I'm an aunt of a niece who loves snow falls. And since I take being an aunt more seriously than being anything else, my niece's love of snow trumps'em all. All those complainers, all those commenters, all those drivers-making-poor-decisions, and my eventual sore back from shoveling.

Because when you're an aunt, and you have a niece who loves snowfalls, the thought of her smile and sense of wonder makes everything else melt away.

Rave! Chastity Brown is an amazing talent.

I'm so not good at remembering to cross-post posts, but I did this time! Following is a review I wrote for the Twin Cities Daily Planet, an online source of news for the Twin Cities, MN. If you're interested in seeing more of my art reviews, click on my name (hyperlinked in the article) and you'll be taken to my page online with them. From there, click on the content tab and 'voila'! words ala Betsy. Enjoy. And as an aunt, if you happen to be Chastity Brown's aunt ... she's a gem of a person and performer! What a thrill to know that a long life of art is ahead for her. 

rauntandrave reviews Chastity Brown, Cedar Cultural Center, Mpls., MN, April 2013

Really? Still? Ack!

Occasionally I get the feeling that the American population thinks we don't need to pay too much attention to how much discrimination and stereo-typing still exists. We don't have to work as hard as say, our mothers and fathers did back in the '60's or 70's on getting us *some* civil or women's rights. But then I see the ads, hear the ads, and see the magazines that remind me of just how much work there still is to do! For instance, in a 'deal' coupon/letter I received I saw these services represented by these figures:

• Boudoir Photography: woman's torso in bra
• Spider Veins: woman in mini skirt (no head)
• Tool Shop: man (with a head) with, well, a tool
• Slimming 'treatment' (whatever the H that is): woman in bikini bottom (no head)
• Comics: man with head
• Eyelash extensions: woman's face
• Juice Cleanse (whatever the H that is): super skinny woman torso

This leads me to believe that as a woman, I DON'T read comics or buy tools but I DO pose half naked for strangers, want to strip my legs of a natural occurring phenomenon, starve myself by only drinking juice, 'slim' myself by standing around in a white bikini and well, I don't know, stand around? and then extend a part of body that is already, typically, quite elegant and lovely.

These ads tell me women are still getting treated as not-so-bright, need-to-fix-yourself-to-be-perfect, and starve-yourself-to-be-considered-valued human beings. This makes me so, so sad.

I am SURE there are men out there who want to pose, strip, cleanse, extend, and slim just as there are women who want to laugh and use power tools. Right?

If you are a person who uses any of the above products, please only support businesses who pay attention to their marketing and advertising efforts and have, for instance, equal bikini bottom "coverage". I know, I know ... that means more Speedos for all. But hey, a little coverage is better than no coverage at all. PAY ATTENTION AND SPEAK WITH YOUR WALLET!

Rave: A family who 'krauts together stays together.

Got sauerkraut? Do you even know what it is? In my family, it's more than a food, it's an adventure. Kraut is an experience that brings my people together (to make it), splits people up (you have stinky-breath ... get out!), and separates us into 'those who like' and 'those who don't like' it. There's always one 'kraut-quitter in the batch.

Sauerkraut has made a big impact on my family. Once when I was little, my big sister MT ate it raw. Not a big deal, usually, but it is when you have a gallstone passing. Poor MT. She screamed bloody murder (I can still hear it) with pain. I ran down 2 flights of stairs (I was playing in the attic, she was in the kitchen), saw her doubled over, and quickly called my dad. He got her to the hospital. She had her gallbladder removed. (I'm telling you, don't be messin' with 'kraut!) That was in the old days when they ripped you open from belly button to 'heart' level to take it out. She still has a scar. She still eats sauerkraut.

My old roommate told me she wanted to learn how to make sauerkraut, so would I please ask my cousin over sometime to help us make it. Ohhhh, yeah, she had a crush on my cousin, too. Perfect, crush cabbage while crushin' on my cuz. Niiiiice. (It worked. They're celebrating 15 years of wedded bliss-or something like that-this month.)

In my Joy of Cooking cook book that I inherited from my mom, there's dried 'kraut. Yup, right by the braised pork hock recipe. I'd clean it up, but I dunno, there's something about that stain there that adds the "this is a good recipe" seal of approval.

One of my dad's besties was named Mr. Kraut. Short for Mr. Krautkramer. I loved him. His pockets jingled. He brought stinky cheese and Ritz crackers and pickled herring. Sometimes he'd bring us 'kraut. But our 'kraut was better. We didn't tell him that though. He played cribbage and drank whiskey with my dad. He taught me cribbage rhymes: Cut'em slim you're bound to win. Cut'em think you think you're slick. Cut'em in the middle you'll play'em like a fiddle. Mr. Kraut was an icon.

So hey, you get the idea. Loving sauerkraut is a way of life: you either get it or you don't. When people tell me they don't like 'kraut, I just sigh and drop my head. If they'd had Uncle Leo's sauerkraut they'd like it. Uncle Leo's is crunchy, tangy, mellow. Other 'kraut is mushy, stringy, stinky. Yuck. People who've been abused by bad'kraut? I try to save those people from a 'krautless life. I invite them over and share some of Uncle Leo's with them. If they actually eat it, they reach the 'kraut mecca. If they don't, well, they don't reach the mecca, they don't learn to love 'kraut and most likely, they'll continue living a 'krautless existence. So sad.

Sauerkraut is cheap. It's cabbage, water, salt. That's it. You can, however, screw it up pretty badly if you don't know what you're doing when you let it 'rest'. If you don't get the scum off right, it'll all go bad. Skimming the scum is work. But you have to do it and mind how you do it. No spreading bad bacteria. Bad sauerkraut is one of those smells you never forget. So at least you never screw it up twice in your lifetime.

These pictures are from when I was with my cousins making sauerkraut, Uncle Leo's Sauerkraut to be exact. Uncle Leo grows his own cabbage so you know it's going to be good. Uncle Leo also has been making 'kraut for over, oh I suppose 80 years, so you know it's going to be made right. If you listen. And you want to listen to Uncle Leo. He'll tell you if you're messing up with a not-so-gentle 'hey, hey, that's not nice now'. You want the nice "Nice" from Uncle Leo.

Here's the recipe for how we make it:
Cabbage . . . Nice Cabbage
A shredder
Salt
A crock/bucket
A pounder/club
A plate
A perfect 'kraut rock or a jug of water
Water

Layer it: cabbage, 3 small hand fulls of salt, water (pound it), cabbage, 2 small handfulls of salt, water (pound it) ... etc. 'til crock is full. Press it all down and add a little more water so it's juicy. Leave room for the scum to bubble up. Place the big outside cabbage leaves on top. Press plate down on it *upside down*. Top plate with perfect rock. Let sit in cool, dry place for a while. Skim the scum. When it's ready, can it. (And if you're not sure if it's ready, it's not ready.) Eat it. It's nice!

Enjoy!

Rave! Hot Dish, Hot Dish, Rah Rah Rah

Last week, a gal pal emailed me and a few others about using the word 'hot dish' vs. 'casserole' in a piece she's writing. Her concern was about being authentic to Minnesota-speak. It set off a string of memories and emails that were hilarious. I'm sharing two here:

From me:

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Eeek .. a toughie, but to me honestly, 'casserole' = fancy (as in my parent's gourmet food club (aka martini madness night) was called The Casserole Club) and hot dish (2 words) = all things tator-totty and mock-y (as in my Great Lehrer Aunts Mock Chow Mein Hot Dish). To this day, I never, ever say I'm making a casserole. Ever. 

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From gal pal Molly (no edits to 'hotdish' vs. 'hot dish' vs. Hot Dish)

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The 1981 Bethlehem United Church of Christ Centennial Cookbook, Maple Lake MN has equal numbers of recipes for hotdish vs. casserole. No authentic distinction between cream of mushroom and cream of chicken. No cream of corn anywhere and I've never had one with it as the binder. Creamed corn was a specific dish.  Mostly they used them when there were two people with nearly identical recipes for the same thing. Violet Fiedler's recipe used cream of celery soup ( :-p) for rice casserole and Arlene Strauleu's had cream of chicken hot dish. Man did that cookbook cause fights. My grandmother was the secretary of the women's auxiliary, and the cookbook was her last public effort. I don't think she lived to see it published.  But for more than a year they all argued about who got credit which recipes. Feelings were hurt lifelong friendships went silent.

The 1950 Betty Crocker’s Picture Cook Book has neither hot dish nor casserole. Everything has more exotic names like Turkey Divan....

My mother always used a more exotic name for them. Spanish steak had tomato soup; Bridget's Best had cream of chicken and cream of mushroom soup with croutons. Whoever Bridget was, she was quite the rebel.  Evan's mom uses the term hot dish exclusively.

The 1958 Spring Garden Lutheran Church (Plymouth? MN) has more hotdish than casserole, but also has exotic sounding items that end in supreme...

[Which is funny because there is a Colombian hot dish called Imperial Rice that is much like the Rice Supreme. The binder of both is mayonnaise not soup.]

The 1964 Betty Crocker’s New Dinner for Two cookbook has nine casseroles, no hotdishes and several bakes along with several of the exotic favorites from the 1950 cookbook.  I think Betty might be pretentious.

I can't find my 1997 Oakridge National Bank Cookbook from Buffalo MN. It's around. The major addition to the hot dish and casserole scene is that they included spaghetti sauce as a hot dish and casserole binder.  I've made the Pizza Hotdish from it once for a party.

Maybe these tidbits will make their way into the sequel. Because this was way too much detail for the question asked.

I think in the last decade there has been a unifying force that calls these MN classics hot dishes. Maybe it was just Andrew Zimmern or maybe it is a show of solidarity that we have relinquished the casserole vs. hotdish nomenclature battle for the greater good, pride in our regional cuisine.

PS: I wish I had a blog, I'd post this as Evolutions of Hotdish in Exile and then include my recipe that includes red and sweet peppers. Or maybe that's the title of my autobiography.

*****

Feel free to share your hot dish v. hotdish v. casserole stories below. It's all good, and we're all hot.

Raunt! Although smoking pot won't kill you, it is killing others.

Last night, I learned that a relative's relative was killed by drug traffickers in Mexico. He was about 20. I'm a believer in the "Mi Casa Es Su Casa" mentality and in this case, that saying translates to "Your Nephew Is My Nephew". Hearing about his murder set off a physical reaction in my brain that reaches all the way down into my soul. I'd like to scream: "By using illegal drugs you are contributing to drug trafficking which has created slave labor, oppression, and all-to-often the murdering of Mexican youth. You are literally smoking out a generation." But since I can't scream it loudly enough, I'm going to Blog it.

That scream is really how I feel. It's how I've felt for a long time. I think since I first read about a massacre in a parking lot somewhere near the Mexican-US border. The kids who were killed were tossed in a shallow grave and the photograph mimicked those you see of the Holocaust graves, except in this picture, you saw Levi tags and Nike logos, Hello Kitty purses and sandals. I'm tired of feeling like I can't talk about this because people will think I'm being preachy.

I am being preachy. And I mean this message like a religious zealot means "Jesus Saves". When you smoke pot/other drugs coming out of Mexico you are contributing to the killing of someone's relatives because that's how that business is. So STOP IT. I think it's just that simple.

(For those snarky, sarcastic pals with a source out of Iowa: sure, quit reading.)

There are a lot of things that tick me off this much: War, Starvation, Poverty, Human Trafficking, Child Abuse ... ya'know, stuff of oppression and horror. These things seem insurmountable to me. Putting down a joint doesn't seem insurmountable—especially since I've been told by people who use it that pot isn't addictive. It seems like a smart, socially responsible thing to do. Use your newly found time to petition for making it legal if you want. It's a free country.

Smoking pot is a choice, right? This nephew didn't have a choice about being killed. He was kidnapped in the middle of the day while working on his family's farm. He was held hostage as a slave laborer, he escaped and came home but was found and murdered by his kidnappers. This scenario is happening a lot. Enough that for the first time in my life, my relatives express fear about going to certain States in Mexico. I'm really sad that anyone's relatives are being kidnapped and murdered just because anyone else wants to smoke pot. In an overly simplistic and perhaps inanely stated scenario: if children in Portland were being kidnapped and forced to harvest grapes on the Oregon coast at gunpoint, I'd stop drinking wine. Come on, people.

My take on illegal drugs is simple: they are illegal. I'm not preaching a moral statement here, it's a fact: when a drug is illegal, the business around distributing it is nasty. When you use illegal drugs, you're breaking the law and you could go to jail and/or get fined. Sure, you might be willing to take a chance on getting fined or getting tossed in jail for a bit, but are you seriously willing to have a nephew killed just to smoke a doobie? 

This choice isn't all that different than choosing to drive drunk (illegal) which I also hope you don't do. Nor is it all that dissimilar to choosing to buy Apple products (legal) now that we know about the hellish factory conditions: you're contributing to a rise in Chinese suicides. We've cried foul before and made a difference ... like when we had knowledge of sweatshops being used by Nike and The Gap. Right now, celebrity men are holding up signs on YouTube protesting Child Prostitution. How about holding off on pot and protesting Child Execution? 

Illegal or legal, some personal actions/choices of ours contribute to horrible personal situations for others. The good thing is knowledge, which is often referred to as power. Once you know what you're contributing to, you have a choice about whether to make that choice again. This Blog's plea is to make a choice to not contribute to the killings in Mexico. I believe you will make a difference.

Raunt!

I hate toilet paper squares that tear off so easily it takes you 50,000 pats-o-da-roll to get a good size 'mitt'! Honestly. It seems to be a commercial toilet paper issue. You go into a stall where already, the tp is installed at the height for a leprechaun to reach it, and you give a little tug and one sheet pulls off. Then, you can't without "buns up," reach far enough to get more. You finally get a little corner of another sheet, and poof! off comes one more square. Ya'bun-up again, and meet with the same fate. By this time, you're basically air dry, so you say a 'whatever' and call it a day. But really, how crazy is all that. Time for the mass-toilet-paper-makers to stop being chintzy on the cheeks!