Finding Treasures

So one day when it was still warm and sunny, Biscuit and I made a quick trip to the farmers market stand. She won’t be there much longer and her vegetable supply was shrinking. There were still some pumpkins and squash, potatoes, onions and zucchini on the tables. I bought a bit and since I was parked right in from of an antique/flea market store, I had to check out what was new.

I needed nothing and wanted nothing, but in the first few booths I saw pretty seasonal things. Then I hit a booth with goodies all over it. I picked up a small vintage Christmas tablecloth that was in excellent shape. I have a love of those old tablecloths which is really silly. They are cotton and not stain proof…they need ironing too.

Then I saw one Willow plate but it was brown! It was marked Red Willow but it was brown. I have seen Red Willow and it is almost pinkish. This was a lovely, autumnal brown. I put it with my stash right before I saw the nice Blue Willow custard bowls!

I had never seen this shape of bowl anywhere before, and these were marked JAPAN which usually means my favorite shades of old blue. The price was super reasonable and not a chip anywhere. So I took my armload of things to the counter where the store owner smiled. She is a very nice person and appreciates a regular customer. 

I told her I could not possibly afford to look any further in the store that day, as I had only been treating myself to a few loose minutes of LOOKING!

Somehow that plan backfired...in a nice way!

A Win!

Anyone who knows me realizes I love buffalos. Even as a grade school student, I understood how important a buffalo was to the Native Americans and their lifestyle. I thought, and still think, they are a majestic animal, one who is self-sufficient and can dig for food under snow to stay alive in harsh winters.

Then when I was about twelve my maternal grandfather bought a young buffalo. Gramps was a unique individual but that is another story! He bought the buffalo to run with a few calves on his very small acreage. He had to come near our town to pick up Bill. (Yes, he was named Buffalo Bill!) My dad went with him and they brought the animal by the house loaded in a horse trailer. I can still hear the horrible thrashing done to that horse trailer.

I have written about Buffalo Bill many times, but nothing was ever accepted. So I wrote a piece of fiction based on the real life tale and entered it in the semi flash fiction contest sponsored by Missouri Writers Guild. I really never thought about winning much, but I did want to participate, to support the group.

A few days ago, I got an email that said my story about Buffalo Bill won first place! Yea!

I have been published in many places over the past years, and I am always happy to see a byline or to win any contest. However, I have to say I really appreciate the writers of Missouri as they have recognized me several times. While I have either never met or barely met many of the editors, judges, publishers, and other writers, I’ve come to recognize their names when I see their own work. I am proud to be a part of them if only from a distance.

Thanks, Missouri Writers Guild.

Bischochitos, A New Comfort Food

The last week has been full of the unusual, the trying. Biscuit sprung her tail, but a few anti-inflammatory meds and it wags and waves high again. More daily life occurred during the week with some lovely weather to make small things bearable. Then the horrible scenes from Paris began to flash on the screen. I am not sure how much more hatred the world can hold without the planet earth exploding. I’m still processing the horror.

After not sleeping on Friday night thinking of many things, I bounded out of bed early and turned the oven on. I have wanted to make bischochitos for some time, and I declared yesterday the day. I was either going to conquer them or have a colossal failure on my hands, but either way, I was going to do it.

Bischochitos are the state cookie of New Mexico and have been since 1989. It is the only state I know of that has a state cookie. (Missouri has a state food-ice cream cones.) These cookies are served for special occasions, but are out in force for Christmas holidays. Everyone has their favorite recipe, and the basic recipe was from Spain. It is a combination of shortbread and sugar cookie.

The newest issue of the New Mexico magazine has an old family recipe in the cooking section this month. The family name is Padilla and they have lived in New Mexico since the early 1700s. I figured if this recipe had been around this long, I’d better try it. The first thing that was unusual was the use of a pound (yes, a whole pound!) of lard. I have never cooked with lard but I gave it a try. Anise seeds and a dash of rum were the other two differences from a traditional sugar cookie.

I have never ever had success with cutting out cookies, but again, I was going to try. I was pleasantly surprised to see how wonderful the dough was to work with thanks to the aerated lard. It rolled out so nicely to the 3/8 inch requirement and the cut outs lifted easily. Of course, I used just a simple biscuit cutter than DH had made for me years ago. 

I can attest to the cookie’s goodness warm, cold, with tea, without anything. The lard made the cookie flaky like a good pie crust. (I can’t make a decent pie crust either!) I put a large bowl of them in the freezer or they would be gone already. I want to see how they do frozen, but I bet they will do fine for Christmas if they stay frozen that long.

I have heard the glories of the bischochitos for a long while, and now I know they are truly good. They are simple with a long history behind them; they are comfort food.  I think they will be a new favorite at this house. Yesterday seemed a perfect day to reach for comfort food.

Do you have a favorite comfort food or a regional favorite?

Forks and Spoons

I suppose I am a little OCDC, and maybe I got it from my dad. He hated eating outside and never would drink from plastic or the abhorred aluminum glasses that were popular when I was a kid. For me, food MUST be salted before peppered in that order, and I can’t dress or bathe until the night’s bed is made first.

When we were first married, hubby and I used a gift of tableware received at the wedding. The utensils were sturdy beyond belief, but they were of such plain design they could have been steel rods with tines. My grandmother had given me a box of tableware before the wedding that was rather pretty, but it was much lighter weight. I put it back fearing it would never stand up to DH’s daily use. (In the beginning, he used spoons like shovels digging into cartons of hard ice cream bending spoons into yoga poses!)

Somewhere along the line I wanted a pretty set of silver for special occasions. I bought a moderately priced set of heavy and ornate food tools. The pieces are beautiful and do set a nice table, but of course, I never put them in the dishwasher so they only come out for the special meals they were intended for in the beginning. I also bought another set of table service after I grew so tired of our daily pieces. The new set was sturdy too but with a bit of a fan design on the handles.

Over the years, I trained DH to use an ice cream scoop, that forks shouldn’t be left on end tables after a snack, and knives were not to be hauled outside for any reason. The kids learned the same. A couple of years ago, I realized I still had the unused table service my grandmother gave me. It was not fancy; she had saved Betty Crocker coupons for years and filled a box with an eight place setting of silver plated service for me. The years had passed and I decided I’d better use it.

I love this service and I put it in the kitchen drawer with the other daily pieces. Now I had a drawer full of silverware and never ran short of a fork or a knife. However, I liked it so well I always wanted to use it over the other pieces on a simple meal or even a bowl of cereal for one. DH laughs at my peculiarity, the OC had reared its head again! If the wrong fork or spoon sits at my place, I have to change it out. I always want the pieces my grandmother gave me. I long for not only the look, but the feel of the fork in my hand, the right length, the right weight.

DH usually doesn’t care what fork he uses, but he too has met forks he didn’t like. His sisters gave his mother a set of pewter-like table service one year for Christmas. It was a colonial pattern and the forks had only three prongs which were longer than most. DH hated those prongs saying they stuck him in the throat with each bite, an over exaggeration I’m sure. He asked me to find an older fork somewhere if I set the table there.

Brush the teeth before the bath, drinking vessels on the table for meals always must be glass, bone china for tea if possible, always make sure the closet doors are completely closed and never ajar, put the left shoe on first, and a few other minor rituals make up the day. How about you?

Any OCDC behaviors in your life? 

Writing Woes and Winter Dread

November pushes on with some lovely days. People appear extra friendly in the stores and doctors’ offices, everyone appreciating what are probably our last nice days. Rain is forecast for tomorrow and then next week some freezes at night. I have closed down half of the deck, and today I emptied the fountain and turned over bird baths. I still have a few gently fading mums and loads of brilliant orange pumpkins and yellow squash sitting about. It is such sad work as it reminds me of winter coming despite the lovely sunshine and rainbow of leaves everywhere.

The last 48 hours have been a writing nightmare for me. You write, submit, get rejections and then do it all over again. It is the expected. Editors used to send out form rejection letters, but now so many just ignore you. One would think that with the effortlessness of email, editors could hit send on a rejection letter with ease. A form letter was cold and heartless leaving the writer wondering if editors even read their work. However, a form rejection was something in the hand saying “go forward somewhere else”

Now when a writer casts her work out in the world it is like tossing it down a black hole. Sometimes you never ever hear back. Then again some editors do still send form letters or form emails. Some are even kind enough to make personal comments on those quickie emails. But those editors who leave writers waiting at the other end for six months to a year sure make it hard to place work very fast.

This summer I worked hard with a very personable editor. He said my work was wonderful…but…. So I altered and resubmitted. Much better he told me….but…. Again I worked some lines over. Yep, the third edition got glorious praise for my work…but…  So I reworked another time, but I felt this alteration made the work less effective. I told him so but resubmitted it anyway for his opinion. Emails that had been flying suddenly stopped. No response…for weeks, months.

I submitted the work to a contest and heard nothing for while. Then a few days ago the first editor wrote out of the blue and said he changed his mind and planned to use the work. Then the contest announced I had a winning entry and would be printed. Oh mercy, my worst nightmare arrived as reality. What had I done? Would I go to jail for entering the contest falsely (not true, but it felt that way)? Would some editor think I had lied to them about the availability of my work? Would I lose out entirely and get two more rejections in the end?

Long story short, this all worked out today, but only after I had a minor meltdown. I am a Libra, born under the sign of scales, remember? Libras believe in balance, in fairness, and can see both sides of situations. It is a lovely way to be, but can drive you nuts too. I always try to do the right thing and treat everyone fairly. Again, the situation leveled out and with lots of kind words from the editors involved. I felt relief.

So I can begin to enjoy the feeling of pleasure and satisfaction about being accepted! Now, if I could just find a way to avoid winter! 

November Again

Last week was an exercise in chaos. Heating and Air men all over the place, dog frantic due to comings and goings, relatives from Montana, illness, and then someone shot a BB into our living room window on Thursday night. We were not the only one on the block to get a hit. Irritating to say the least.

Then the rain set in and the chilly, damp air made it feel like winter. GRRRRRR. I am not ready for being penned inside. On Saturday we all, including the dog, seemed to crash. We hunkered in our chairs, ate leftovers, kept the tea pot hot, and in general felt sorry for ourselves that winter was coming. None of us like it. Biscuit would not go out into the wet. Looked back at me at the door as if saying, “Do we have to go through this again?”

However, today has been a lovely reprieve! The sun shined like a bald man’s dome; the sky was the perfect blue of brand new stone-washed denim and not a cloud of any kind in the sky. I baked a month’s worth of fiber muffins and the kitchen smelled healthy and as comforting as a log cabin in the Smokies. The tea pot was warm again too.

Mid-morning Miss Biscuit and I took a walk, no jacket. It was perfect weather. We moseyed! Then when we got home it was time for tea and a book on the deck. DH joined in which meant a little more disturbance to the quiet! After lunch, a few chores and gathering the trash. But nothing  feel like work  when the sun shines and lights up the oranges and yellows of autumn. 

A new week, a new month ahead…I am ready for November!

 

Chilly Ending to October

I know Halloween is not over yet, but already I feel Thanksgiving. It has been chilly and wet, a constant drizzle reminiscent of forming snowflakes hit and glide down the glass. After the air conditioner quit the week we went to Santa Fe, the furnace quit this week as temps dipped at night in to high 30’s and low 40’s. It all is too much like winter for this one! But I am holding out that sometime in November, which starts on Sunday, an Indian Summer will show one more time before this autumn ends.

Men are under the house banging on replacing the furnace as I write.  DH has been sick a bit, and he gave into letting Lennox install new units. That is enough for Thanksgiving right there. We have always done everything ourselves, but it feels good this morning hearing voices under the house and knowing none are calling for me to be “go for” or my needing to respond to a banging on the pipes to bring something under the house!

Meanwhile table is set for company and a family meal. Birthday gifts from friends helped decorate for autumn this year. I already have a dash of turkeys out and about. I love the new white pilgrims, something different.