Sugar Shack in the Hills

Last Sunday, I went with my yoga buddy, Jeff, and his wife (my sushi buddy), Lori, up to Ashfield, Massachusetts to go swimming in maple syrup. I am only slightly exaggerating. South Face Farm has been a farm for about 150 years, and the maple sugaring has been going on since 1952. Jeff and Lori come up here frequently from Northampton, with only a 25 mile drive through the hills. I was really excited to be asked along on this trip, as I had been wanting to go to a sugarhouse since moving to Massachusetts. I had grown up in a part of New England that is closer to New York City, without such attractions nearby. The main objective on this visit was to eat a meal dripping with maple syrup. Jeff had refrained from eating anything that morning, except for a yogurt, in order to have enough room for the maple sugar-covered brunch he was envisioning.

The maple sugaring season has started early this year, as have other natural processes related to springtime. Usually the sugaring happens when it's still really cold, but the days have grown longer and the longer hours of sunshine provoke the sugar maple sap to start running. The photos below show the typical wintry look of maple sugar season from previous years.

Sap drips into these pails, to be boiled down later.

Inside is maple syrup mecca. (http://www.southfacefarm.com)

While I am not the greatest connoisseur of maple syrup, I did appreciate being able to pour it on everything without guilt or paying extra. To have this privilege so close to the source of the syrup made it very special and perhaps made each of us even more gluttonous.

We were so busy with eating and pouring maple syrup that I neglected to take pictures. (I would have ended up with a sticky phone, if I had tried.) But here is a quick rundown of how we tried hard to replace our red blood cells with maple syrup:

• Three coffees with maple syrup (at least two tablespoons per cup)
• One waffle with maple syrup ice cream and blueberries
• Short stack of French Toast made with cinnamon bread, covered with blueberries and maple syrup (at least one cup)
• One combo plate with 1 pancake, 1 French Toast, 1 corn fritter, covered with two cups of syrup
• One plate of corn fritters (four), each to be covered with maple syrup (1/4-1/2 cup) on individual plates
• Small plate of pickles

Okay, so the pickles weren't dipped in syrup. They were meant to give us a palate cleanser, of sorts. And a disagreement arose around the waffle with ice cream, but I supported the notion that the ice cream would have had enough syrup, offsetting the need to pour additional syrup on top. I will admit it would have looked pretty, but would have caused the ice cream to start melting even faster than it already was trying to do. You can check out the menu yourself, and if you're coming to next year's maple syrup season, let me know! Many thanks to Jeff and Lori for showing me the way to maple syrup nirvana!

The Interfaith Emergency Cot Shelter and Brisket

Last night's excursion would not normally be considered a destination for most visitors, but the Interfaith Emergency Homeless Shelter (often referred to as the Cot Shelter) on 43 Center Street in downtown Northampton is one of a number of emergency shelters available to those in need. My visit last night was my second one where I helped provide the evening meal to the night's residents.

It's not a glamorous place, located in the basement of an office building next to the police station. Last night we had twenty diners for our meal of corned beef brisket, macaroni and cheese, fruit, cheese and crackers, salad, bread, dessert, accompanied by milk, water, or apple cider. The dinner can be a bit potluck because different individuals bring the different parts of the meal. To make things even more random for the diners, each night's meal is the responsibility of a different group's members. Last night I was working as part of the League of Women Voters-Northampton Area, responsible for one night out of the month. We'd be unable to add any more days because there are no more open nights for us to give a meal. The first time I looked at the sign-in cards, back in January, I was amazed to see how many people in the area are eager to help out.

This shelter takes in the overflow of clients who are seeking shelter and services at another local shelter, the Grove Street Inn. Those who cannot be accommodated at the Grove Street Inn, and then the Cot Shelter, are asked to stay at a  shelter in Easthampton, the next town over. With only twenty spaces available at the Cot Shelter, it is not unusual to have people asked to check another shelter nearby. The Cot Shelter is available from November to April, the colder months when most people will be seeking shelter and hot meals. The night's diners are also resident for the night. 

For me, it was a chance to play restaurant again, as I once did on occasion back in the past. To be able to feed people is a great pleasure, and I will readily admit that when some of the diners came back for seconds, saying the meal was delicious, I was more than happy to help serve more to them. Not having to deal with the exchange of cash really helped, too, though replacing the choice attached to the financial power of paying is the lack of real choice in the meal.

Baked Corned Beef Brisket Ala Kevin the BBQguru
(http://www.food.com/recipe/baked-corned-beef-brisket-ala-kevin-the-bbqguru-361142)

The lack of choice in the meal did not stop some diners from making requests. Some didn't want salad; some didn't want brisket; some wanted bread without butter; some only wanted one piece of brisket. One man who approached the server was unsure about brisket, claiming that because he had been raised in the South, his mother always told him that white meat was better than red meat. To me the requests were generally run-of-the-mill, not signifying finicky behavior but rather the assertion of individuality that was threatened with annihilation in their current circumstances. 


For another member of our team last night, however, this was not the same view. We cook the meals at home, serve the meals, and then clean up in the kitchen. As we bused the trays, many of which were heartily cleaned off by hungry diners, one tray came back nearly uneaten. The team member in question criticized the unknown diner, talking about him/her as if he/she had been a naughty child refusing to eat what he/she had requested, in this case, in a somewhat more generous portion. Two of us stopped to let her know that we cannot know if someone didn't feel well, or if the meal didn't agree with him/her for whatever reason. "Everyone has a different preference," I asserted, to this team member's silence. She was unwilling to let go of her motherly bias, that this person was asking for a lot and then wasting it. But she was also unwilling to acknowledge that we're dealing with grown adults who may have had corned beef a number of times in the last week, because we had just celebrated Saint Patrick's Day. In fact, today at the Stop and Shop Supermarket, I saw an abundance of these corned beef briskets for sale, and was terribly tempted. But I know that I don't want to eat it all the time, either.

Best in Show: Not Your Typical Dog Show

I know it's been a while, but winter doldrums can mean the lack of snow to brighten the day, and a routine that becomes really routine. What this meant for Florentina is the uncertainty of what would spice up the not-so-sunny days out there. Well, Florentina and Joey found it today. Little Joey was not so sure, but he was a brave little man/cockapoo for a few minutes, as you will see.

Joey: Yikes! 

Well, today was the seventh annual Not Your Typical Dog Show at Northampton High School, Joey's Dad's alma mater. It is a benefit for the Volunteers In Northampton Schools, a non-profit organization providing volunteers for all the Northampton public schools. We decided to have a look without expectation of participating in any events, since it's not clear that Joey is capable of demonstrating ability, tailwagging, fetching, singing, agility, tricks, or conventional obedience in a school gym filled with dozens of dogs and approximately one hundred people. Never mind competing in the smooching category -- Joey is wary of PDA in front of other dogs and people as well as showing off his natural talents.

Joey can jump this high,

but only in private when

he's really excited.

Luckily, Joey has gotten a lot braver about meeting other dogs and people thanks to our daily walks. We ran into his trainer, Shannon, at Leading the Way in Florence, and met lots of people with their dogs. I wanted to stick around to see some of the events, which seemed to be about agility with the hurdles and cones set up in formation. It seemed like a lot for me and Joey to take in. He hasn't been training for the Doggie Olympics in the last few months, unfortunately.

Weaving in and out of cones

as a test of obedience?

Without expectations of competing in events, Joey and I were able to see who was getting ready to compete. Dogs and their humans were lined around the ring, ready to strut their stuff. The pressure was off and it was a good thing because Joey had it after about twenty minutes.  And it meant that I didn't have to try to trick him into staying any longer to show him in the ring, etc. I dodged the dog show bullet that Eugene Levy caught in his two left feet in Best in Show (2000). Below he plays the hapless husband to his wife, Candie, who was supposed to show Winky the Norwich Terrier at the Westminster Dog Show. (N.B.: the screen may tell you to watch it directly on YouTube and should let you click on the link that leads you there.)

 

Happy Birthday to Charles Dickens

** The New York Times has an article to be published this Sunday, February 12, 2012 in the Magazine on a reporter's visit to Dickens World. Don't miss it! It has great photos. **


Today Charles Dickens would be 200 years old, if he had cut out the raw eggs in champagne and gotten lots more sleep, not to mention the various injections that now keep women looking taut and uncomfortable. While most serious news outlets and bloggers are probably going on and on about this great Victorian writer, I say let's let it go for now, right here, because I am big on reminding people that there were 50,000 novels published in the Victorian period, and to elevate Dickens to his pedestal might be a bit excessive and exclusionary. Moreover, I would also like to remind people out there not to take him too seriously because in many instances, he didn't take himself too seriously sometimes, either. We can see the humor in the texts, as well as how he dashed off the novels in serial form (most notably in his earlier works, but less so for his later, greater novels).

One way that he showed his seriously not-so-serious side was by his live performances where he dramatized readings from his novels. I would say that this is a way for an author to connect with an audience at a very different level than the analytical, literary one that the physical novel often presents. To this end, it seems that we have some folks out there who have taken up this slightly ridiculous side and created Dickens World. That's right -- an amusement park dedicated to Charles Dickens! Believe me, if I could make the last eleven words quiver and blink with flashing lights, I would.


Since it opened a few years ago, I will admit that I have been dying to go to Kent, England to visit this place. I have no true love of amusement parks, but this one just screams out to be seen just for a few minutes. Sure, it looks like a funny stage or TV set, but it promises to be kitschy cute. I wonder if it also features appropriate smells, like the kind provided by the thoughtful people at the Jorvik Viking Centre at York, England. The Dickens World people have taken care to inform potential visitors that their restrooms are at least modern-day sanitary, not Victorian-style sanitary, so the smells are sure to be few if any. Don't forget: Dickens started Bleak House with a picture of London streets filled with mud and mire, while Our Mutual Friend has the dustheaps centrally located as the source of mystery, wealth, and salvation. Mud, mire, dust -- these all scream "smells!"

TripAdvisor.com offers useful information and photos for those who are adventurous and willing to report back to me. Some of these photos are interesting but I wonder how small everything is in reality. I know that folks have not been terribly enthusiastic about the place in their TripAdvisor reviews, and it is hard to dismiss the good work of TripAdvisors online, but that makes Dickens World even more interesting, like a slow motion train wreck.

Happy birthday, Chuckie! Be sure to hoist a pint for me at the Porters Restaurant in your amusement park! I know you'd be chatting up the barmaid if you could, you sly one.

The queue for the haunted house.
(Tripadvisor.com)

Oliver Twist gets chased through a place like this.
(Tripadvisor.com)

Yoga Sanctuary at Mid-Winter

We're supposed to be in the depths of winter, though we are lucky enough not to have the piles of snow that we had last year. The days aren't always sunny, and the warm air has yet to really settle down with us again. These are the days that create Vitamin D deficiencies in New Englanders. Luckily Florentina has a safe haven that has a kind of sunniness that warms up everything for the rest of the day. For the last six months or so, Yoga Sanctuary on the top floor of Thorne's Marketplace on Main Street, Northampton, has been this place for Florentina. 

Before moving to Florence, Florentina's yoga practice had fallen off. That's about five years of no yoga, after a number of years where yoga and long-distance biking had been really central to what made the world work. Now we're getting back to where mind and body are working together again in a great space with great teachers (such as Anna and Brandt) and classmates. This is where Florentina met her yoga buddy, Jeff, and through him, her sushi buddy, Lori.

Thorne's Marketplace.
First hour of parking is free.

A class in the big studio, painted with the colors of a mango.
(from Yoga Sanctuary's Facebook Page)

There is no photo available to show you how the individuals doing downward dog in the photo above would be facing a gigantic window looking across the street to old brick buildings and blue sky. In fact, this window is sometimes too bright during practice, threatening to blind Florentina while doing tree pose. 

Anusara yoga is the style practiced and promoted at Yoga Sanctuary. Its continual interest in alignment comes out in many ways. During the poses, physical alignment of body parts, muscles, and other anatomical details, receives detailed descriptions such that it's often incredible how much the teachers know about the body and its ability to make small adjustments with ease. There is also a kind of emotional alignment that happens, too, as practice causes the body work with the heart, and whatever is going on inside, so that those things can start to get sorted out. Bad habits of physical and emotional posture are involved every time.

The winter will be made shorter now that we are in possession of the Shri Card from Yoga Sanctuary. It's a swipe card that allows Florentina unlimited yoga for $99 per month. This could pay off; this summer it was possible to hit eight classes in a month's time, and that wasn't even a serious effort. 

The Snowy Path Less Taken

The covered bridge where all bicyclists
must dismount and Yaktrax are attached to boots.  

It's a moody day today, after a small snowfall last night.We have had two small snowfalls in the past week, and the inches of white stuff are adding up slowly, with an icy crust between some of them. (Think of Morbier cheese, with that layer of grapeleaf ash between the morning milk and the evening milk.) Today it was not only snowy but actually warm enough to take a long walk with the dog. Joey's dad and I took Joey out to Look Park where it appeared that few dogwalkers had made their appearance this morning. This is a popular spot for dogwalking and dogwatching, where you can make lots of new friends very quickly if you're a dog. Because I didn't quite trust the paved surfaces this morning, I tried to walk exclusively on the snowy sections. This proved quite easy, as I just followed Joey and his dad in the snow. Along the way I could see where the squirrels and rabbits had already tracked through the snow earlier in the morning.

The field was a huge sheet of untouched snow.

This photo is not upside down.

I was bundled up quite well, and even well padded because of my new red parka from Land's End. After many years of living in Wisconsin, I still love walking in the snow. But after slipping once, it was declared imperative to put on my Yaktrax. At the covered bridge we found a dry space where Joey's dad helped me pull them onto my winter boots, which already had very deep treads. But ice is nobody's friend, so it's always better to get some traction whenever possible, especially when the temperature is just warm enough to create a little melting of snow and ice. While this temperature is great if you want to get some ice skating practice, it's not so wonderful if you're just out for a walk. Here is a photo of my boots post-Yaktrax. 

Aaah...

Florentina, Flu Fighter and Knitter

Hi everyone, happy new year! Sorry I've been away, but there's a good reason. I hope you all were at least conscious for the holidays, as I was barely aware of them passing by. The flu had me in its grip, and just when it seemed to be loosening its hold, a ferocious sinus infection came along, happy to take advantage of an extra-lowered immune system. A round of antibiotics and some cough syrup laced with codeine help in these cases. Even with their help I'm only just coming back to the world. There are a number of things that I honestly don't remember from the last month because I was so ill and out of it. Even the fact it is a new year seems weird to me, as I didn't go through the normal passage of time, it seems. If we can count the passage of time in terms of boxes of Kleenex, then I might be better suited to recognize it's the new year.

A big part of bringing me back to the world has been my old hobby, knitting. I have been knitting since I was a little girl, and I don't even remember when I first learned it. All I know is that I practiced the two stitches for a long time, and put it away for years. In 2005, I came back to it again as a stress relief, and learned how to put a sweater together. Now I try to produce a sweater, a scarf, or a hat from time to time, so if you're in the market for a knitted item, let me know. I always wish I could be knitting for someone else, as I can't envision making all those knitted things for myself and filling a closet full of them --it seems a bit selfish. During my illness, I've been working on a couple of hats, and it's kept my brain functioning at some vaguely decent level.

Don't be fooled. It's a yarn paradise inside.

Northampton is a knitter's mecca in the Northeast because of Webs, America's Yarn Store. It's located in an unassuming place near the highway, and doesn't look like much from the outside, as seen on the left.

But when a knitter walks in the door, the yarn craziness descends. It's an explosion of color, which is especially welcome in the New England winter, and the salespeople are really very friendly. Unfortunately the lovely photo below doesn't show any of the salespeople who are always available to talk about yarn and knitting, as well as other related fiber crafts (weaving, spinning, crocheting, for example). I was greeted so nicely when I walked through the door yesterday, on my first day of decent health in about three weeks.

View from seating area (for non-yarn folks and dogs).

The yarn craziness usually pulls me into the warehouse in the back where bargains abound. Luckily I usually go into Webs with a specific project or need in hand, so I'm buying only enough to do that work. Otherwise I would be in really huge trouble in the warehouse (photo below), where some of the nicest yarns are sometimes discounted. Savvy shoppers keep their eyes on their twitter feed or their blog for more specials.

Hard core yarnage here. I have been known to lose it here.

A number of years ago, Florentina took her mom to a yarn store in Connecticut. This part of Connecticut where Florentina's mom still lives is rather wealthy, and the yarn store had her fuming. If you added up the cost of those fancy yarns, and the emotional cost of having to sit there with leisured women who don't have to work and stress out about their leisure time, a sweater would cost well over $200.00. Webs presents the sane alternative for a hobby that was originally meant to help cut costs, at least in my family. These days it also provides some comfort, as I can go in there with places where I'm stuck with my knitting, or just need to talk to someone about our love of knitting. I'm scheduled to take a class in sock knitting in April, and I can't wait!

Florentina's Christmas Shopping in New York City

**A quick adjustment below for accuracy!**
You've all seen those movies and television shows where you see New York City all decked out in Christmas gear from Thanksgiving to New Year's. This year I cut it a bit close in terms of time, and have just returned from visiting Joey's Dad in Brooklyn, so that shopping might get done in a big way in Manhattan. But things don't always turn out as hoped.

Last Friday I took the train out of Brooklyn to Midtown. The problem was that, unbeknownst to me, I was really under the weather and shouldn't have been traveling at all, not even on the subway. (The MTA does warn you of this, as they ask people not to get on the subway cars if there's a chance of feeling ill.) I discovered this was true of me because I kept getting on the wrong train and getting off at the wrong stops. Luckily I was never in danger of ending up somewhere really far off from where I needed to go, but I found myself going uptown when I wanted to go downtown, or headed to the West Side when I needed to be on the East Side. Some of you will notice this is a real change from the last time I had a subway marathon, when it was Florentina's NY Nosh Week.

Even so, Florentina did her best to do NYC at Christmas. Here's the list of places and things Christmasy that I encountered.

• The excited crowd waiting to get into Radio City Music Hall for the Christmas Spectacular.
• Walked past Rockefeller Center very quickly.
• Mario Badescu salon on E. 52nd Street to buy gifts.
• A sushi Bar to recruit strength (three Japanese places on E. 52nd Street!).
• Bloomingdales on 59th Street: here I was ambushed by the Clarins cosmetics woman, and later spent a few meditative moments with the Hermes perfume guy, talking about the androgynous scents offered. Pretty windows.
• The Container Store. Bought a few little gifts here.
• Williams-Sonoma.

In reality this turned out to be a bust of a shopping day and I gave up at the end when I realized I couldn't find the last address I wanted to hit. That said to me it was time to go home to Brooklyn and Joey's Dad.

We made up for it the next day with Florentina's Spa Day. Admittedly it was a low-key spa day, but it was still a spa day because of:

• European Facial at O Spa.
• Haircut at Charles Elias Salon.

My face actually looked different when I walked out of the facial. I had no idea such a thing could be possible! Together with the new haircut made up for the previous blah day of shopping.

While Manhattan lights were not happening for Florentina, Brooklyn had plenty of them in store. Here is what greeted us on the way to Grand Szechuan House:

The day was topped by a visit to Grand Szechuan House near 86th Street. For the record, this is a terrific place for Chinese food, and we've had some terrific meals here. Some of us (whose name begins with an "F") need to be better aware of our tolerance for ma-la Szechuan peppercorns. Florentina's no wimp when it comes to food and being adventurous, but let it be known that the Chengdu Spicy and Aromatic Fish in Hot Wok nearly did her in. Sorry, El Señor, that's a first in Chinese food for Florentina. I passed by Hinsch's Confectionery and wished I could have had a burger instead, because I was in pain. I know I'll have better luck next time in NYC!

Pottery Shards on the Mill River

A few days ago we went for a walk along the Mill River in Leeds, just under two miles from where I live in Florence. There is a converted trolley track going through the woods with a beautiful view of the river below. At various points in the walk we were able to go down to the water. Joey was especially excited, as we could tell when we got down to the little beach. He raced around excitedly as if to say, "Hey, it's a beach! It's just great here! Awesome!" Because it was such a cold day, none of us encouraged him to try wading into the water. But as we stood there on the little beach, I noticed the pebbles were a little unusual. Joey's dad pointed out that they weren't ordinary pebbles at all but shattered pieces of pottery and porcelain from the days when factories lined the Mill River. Factories made textiles as well as pottery, buttons, and bricks.

Pieces of pottery and porcelain found on the beach. Center is a
piece of brick worn away by the water. Two of the pieces are also below.

Top:you can still see the petal pattern from a plate.
Bottom: milky glass. 

In May 1874, the Hampshire Reservoir north of Leeds collapsed, rapidly flooding Williamsburg and Leeds. Before this disaster hit, Leeds had been a thriving little village. A number of the buildings still show where the businesses used to be, and a Catholic church still stands, though no longer holding services. It is possible to see some of the photographs taken of the flood's devastation, housed at the University of Massachusetts-Amherst. When you drop a mug or a dinner plate on the floor, think of all the pieces that come out of that mess. Multiply that by a couple hundred, and that's what we have along the Mill River, where it is still possible to pick up a brick lying in the water after all these years.

Leeds has never quite been the same since the big flood, which is described by Jim Parsons for the Leeds Civic Association in more detail, including the way it was once divided up into different sections according to ethnicity or named for a natural landmark, such as "Crow Hill." Because this village and its residents were primarily working-class people, the notion of memorializing this history came a bit later to Leeds, but you can find it today if you look. Historian Elizabeth M. Sharpe has written about this event and its context In the Shadow of the Dam: The Aftermath of the Mill River Flood of 1874 (2007), and you can also see a monument dedicated to the 51 Leeds residents who were caught in the floodwaters.

A bonus factoid dug up by Jim Parsons in his mini-history says that the first man to play Charlie Chan in the movies, Werner Oland, lived across the street from what is now the ChartPak factory in Leeds. However, Wikipedia does not mention Leeds, naming Southborough, MA as his primary residence at his time of death. The Charlie Chan Family Home website shows this tombstone, and gives fleeting hints about Leeds. If anyone can show me proof of his residence, I'll be very willing to post it on this blog in the future. Let me know!

Pine-Scented Turkey

Aaah, 'tis the season for the turkey. I am not always called upon to cook the turkey, though I have done so in the past. Most notably, I made Thanksgiving dinner with a big turkey when living in England one year. I had to lug the frozen turkey in my backpack home from the supermarket. I can't remember anything about cranberry sauce or stuffing, but it met the Thanksgiving needs of the three Americans at the table, and satisfied the Thanksgiving curiosity of the three British women at the table.

I went to visit my parents in Connecticut for Thanksgiving. Little Joey the dog came along. It's hard to know what he thinks of the holidays and the dinners since he may not have had the most stable home life before coming to live with me, but he was rewarded with a juicy piece of turkey on Thanksgiving night. We all, that is, Joey's Dad and the extended family give thanks that Joey has come to live with us and become a part of our lives!

The Christmas tree part of the store.
 Notice the blow-up Santa in front. 

It's rare for me to visit my parents without paying a visit to the "World's Largest Dairy Store." (Excuse me, while I scoff. But I can't scoff too long, since Ripley's Believe It or Not gave them this designation a long time ago -- it's on their neon sign.) I grew up near this place when it was still a small barn and the little farm out front still looked more like a hobby farm. As kids, we used to lug their colorful plastic bags for schoolbags, since no one ever bought a backpack back then. I was really shocked recently to learn that my cousin from California had put down a visit to Stew Leonard's on his "must-do" list of tourist sites. Excess and kitschy farm imagery help bring people into the store, though we have always liked the freshness of many items offered. It's the Disneyland of Milk, and they have the same animatronic animal figures to prove it. The milk is definitely a big draw, though they have stopped processing the milk at this facility. Nowadays the display of milk cartons going around the conveyor belt is just for show, and you can tell when you look closely at it.

At different times of the year the Stew Leonard's complex features a garden store, or a holiday store. On the day after Thanksgiving, Florentina's approach to the store was greeted with the huge smell of pine trees. Christmas is on its way.

Bison in the China Shop

I know it doesn't look like much in these photos, but this is the Long Hollow Bison Farm of Hadley, Massachusetts. Joey's Dad and I took these photos from the parking lot of Lowe's home superstore on Route 9. I have passed this location a number of times when I've traveled to the superstore shopping centers near the Amherst town border.

Bison, View 1. There is a fence between us.

Bison, View 2. There is also a ditch that
separates us, in addition to the fence.

They have a gift shop where you can buy bison meat and steaks to bring home. If you like hamburgers, bison meat makes great burgers.

Today we were on a mission to check out china place settings at Bed Bath and Beyond. We had seen a specific pattern that looked interesting, and wanted to see it in person without having to drive to a mall or wait to visit Macy's at Herald Square. 

We were thwarted in this attempt, as the store didn't have a separate section with all the fancy stuff, which some stores have started to feature. In fact, we started to ask ourselves where people buy their nice china these days, and if they are still doing so. (Does anyone know what's done these days, and where people go?)

Joey's Dad and I are in the middle of such ruminations because of a very special day in July 2012. One that often sends people to register for china and silverware, and to obsess over food for more people than normally attend the average dinner party.

Noodle Wonderland

 This afternoon Joey's dad suggested that I needed to get out of the house. I needed to get more rice noodles for future pad thais, but I felt as though I couldn't get going. But he persisted, adding that Joey needed to practice having me come and go from the house as a means to shake his separation anxiety. Besides, if I needed rice noodles, they had to be bought from the right place. Where else would I go but to Tran's World Food Market in Hadley, Massachusetts? It's right across the river from Northampton on Route 9 (or 50 Russell Road, if you want the local address). Tran's is a real treasure and I'll never forget the first time I visited a few months after moving to Florence. They stock a gazillion items in what seems to be a really small space, and everything is super neat.

Aaah, the aisle of noodles.

This market bridges two different versions of Asian markets that I have grown accustomed to in my lifetime. Not to sound dramatic and all, but here in East Coast towns away from the bigger cities (Washington DC, NYC, Boston) it was rare to find adequate Asian markets. It still is where my parents live, and my mom thinks it's because they live so close to Westchester County and New York City. Frequently even the old markets in NYC Chinatown will still remind me of the older style with its many dried items, canned goods, and preserved meats, such as Chinese sausages on the strings that have to be cut down.

But nowadays we have some really great, shiny Asian supermarkets springing up in places where the population has become larger. When I say shiny, I mean really bright and well-stocked with items I never dreamed of. Many of these newer supermarkets are stacked high with items from various countries, including those from East Asia, Southeast Asia, South Asia, the Caribbean, and Latin American countries as well. To call them Asian markets may be inaccurate nowadays, which is why Tran's is very accurate in describing themselves as a "world market." I saw French lentils on the shelf today, not far from the Cafe du Monde coffee with chicory.

The array of treasures that came home today.
The seaweed rice crackers were prescribed by Joey's dad.

One of numerous fridges/freezers. In the bottom
of this one, note the whole durian fruit available, next
to the more benign mangosteen.

After my shopping was done, I came home to find out that I'm invited to Local Burger in downtown Northampton tomorrow night for a fundraising dinner. So much for making pad thai tomorrow! At least I've gotten started on the seaweed rice crackers.

Heat and Light, Wet and Dry

This past week has been one where lots of people have been eager to get back to routine, the most humdrum of routines if possible, especially if it includes heat and electricity. I am not terribly proud to admit that I couldn't handle the lack of heat and electricity for more than a day and a half before I escaped to Connecticut to my parents' house for those highly coveted items. I'm not quite sure what my dog Joey thought, but I get the sense he was awfully happy to visit a warm house, too.

Downed tree limbs still needing to be cleared from our local park.
(Florentina's been too freaked out by crushed cars
and downed live wires to get those more exciting photos.)

N.B.: Connecticut was actually the hardest hit state with its power outages and still has many residents waiting for the resumption of their services. But my parents were lucky, never having lost power at any time in the aftermath of our freak Halloween snowstorm.

I will admit that I kept thinking of two travelers, if not three, in the past week as the post-snowstorm drama unfolded across the region. Isabella Bird and Mildred Cable kept popping up at alternating moments this week, depending on the conditions around me. I've been looking at Isabella Bird's narrative, Six Months in the Sandwich Islands (1875) for the conference presentation made in Houston, and on my trip to Houston my airplane reading was The Gobi Desert by Mildred Cable with Francesca French (1942). The radical difference in these two environments and the objectives probably caused me to keep thinking about them together, as a way to work out what they might have in common as women travelers coming out of late Victorian backgrounds. I'm going to talk more about Mildred Cable because her narrative describes the extreme conditions here in Florence that made me a little bonkers.

Worth the trip. You'll wish you
could have been with them. 

When things got really cold, sitting around with candles lit and waiting to go to bed with four blankets and thermal underwear under flannel pajamas, my sense of guilt would arise when remembering Mildred Cable's twelve years in the Gobi Desert. That's right. Mildred Cable spent twelve years making circuits in the Gobi Desert with Francesca French and her sister, Eva French. These single women were missionaries for the China Inland Mission and are known to be the first Western women to have crossed the Gobi. Because of the number of times they crisscrossed the desert from 1923 to 1936, the narrative created is non-linear in chronological terms (a typical feature of many travel narratives). Instead the narrative is built around salient aspects of their travel route -- the people, their cultures, the religious landmarks, the local rulers who would be taken over by the Communist Chinese toward the end of the fifteen year period.

This would have been their entourage
during the warmer months. Imagine traveling
with this uncovered wagon during the cold desert winter.

The conditions endured by these three women, their animals, and their porters seem unimaginable when at their worst, and barely tolerable by softy industrialized North American standards even at some of the better oases. But reading this lovely narrative taught me the beauty of pure, clean water and a warm place to sleep. How much these two qualities were valued, as well as the hospitality of their various hosts who grew accustomed to seeing them over the years, teaches the essentials of travel. No complaints about cold noses, lack of fashionable clothes for really cold interiors, or grumblings about when the internet would come back on again.

The narrative describes an unnamed place of danger north of what was known as the Valley of Demons: "From the crest of those hills the blizzard crashes with a violence unknown elsewhere. Here many travellers have met death when the dreaded fan-shaped blizzard cloud spread from behind the summit, and the sudden violence of the wind robs man and beast of any sense of direction, while the perishing cold grips its victims in a deadly embrace" (97). Not many of us can actually be in a place empty enough to see the shape of a storm about to descend upon us, and to be able to do so in such a detached manner suggests a fortitude in meeting the hardships presented in the desert. Cable and French go on to talk about the difficulty in moving forward in these desert weather conditions. Think of that picture of a sandstorm, and add it to the worst snowstorm you've had yet. "All this drought, sterility, climatic hardship, blizzard and hurricane, combine to produce extreme difficulties in the matter of communications. No river is navigable, no railway system is available, and motor traffic, which would be the only remaining solution of rapid land transit, can only be sustained on certain defined routes, and that by dint of very effective organisation" (97). In other words, they had to rely upon their mules, and in certain storms, even they couldn't pull the wagons forward.

The China Inland Mission was famous (or infamous) for allowing women the power to become missionaries on their own, without the tie of marriage to grant them permission to work. Cable and the Frenches show that the CIM were right in recognizing women's abilities to do hard work and endure conditions unimaginable to their sisters living comfortably in Europe, and to me, running away to Connecticut in a warm car with my dog.

Limning Linguistic Lines of Travel

Looks like it should crunch when you step on it, but it doesn't.
Feel free to copy for your computer's desktop.

Today we woke up to a frost coating the world. For days now we have needed extra time to put on layers before going out for daily walks. At our park this morning we could see the frost at work. This is a moment when I thought the word "limn" makes the most sense -- just enough frost to emphasize the edges of the leaves, dead or alive, and remind us of nature's beauty in everyday things. WRONG. The word "limn" refers firstly to drawing and illustration, with the idea of highlighting coming from the third, or tertiary definition and even that refers to an obsolete medieval usage derived from the word "illuminate."

Here you are witnessing one of Florentina's moments of linguistic obsession, where the definition of individual words can take a thinker from one place (in this case, real and rather cold) to another (I would need a time machine to revisit the Middle Ages and those monasteries, as well as a good drag disguise.). We are able to travel through closer examination of language and in this case, one's mistaken usage of language to see how we are able to access what otherwise would be ancient and dusty. Each of us has the ability to take such a trip by looking at a good dictionary that gives information on the derivations of words.

For Florentina, this obsession has often taken place in two languages, if not more. I would often ask my parents about where certain words come from, in our dialect of Chinese spoken at home. An example: the phrase used at my parents' house for what Americans call "Swiss chard" always provokes a plea for something a little more dignified than "hog weed" or something like that. Every summer, this phrase provokes my usual questions: Where the heck did they get that? Can't we call it something nicer? Why, my mother claimed her sister in California told her that was what it was called. In fact, the vegetable gardening book I bought for my dad last year clearly indicates a more dignified name for what we call Swiss chard. It is so dignified that I can't remember how it translates.

Swiss chard, as sold at the Crescent City Farmer's Market,
New Orleans, LA (GoNOLA.com)

What this shows is how we can influence language usage through individual means, sometimes for the better and for the more amusing. You can see that I'll always remember "pig weed" in this Chinese dialect, but not that more dignified name you might be able to use at a Chinese-speaking garden store to impress someone. It is also important to recognize that language usage outside of the country of origin is also "legitimate" and productive. While I might look like  fool asking for "pig weed" in a moment of weakness in California, after we've had a good laugh about it, the other party will recognize that at least the language of one's origins is still living, though it has taken on a rather different turn. Think of language in its second generation as being similar to children of immigrants, and you'll think twice about how language is learned, used, and retained in this transient world where everyone privileges authenticity, but has no real definition for it.

So, if the grasses and leaves aren't limned, what is it? Turns out that it's hoar frost. This kind of frost occurs when heat from living grasses, etc. meets with colder surrounding air, in a changing season. The frost crystals are rather soft, as Joey found out when he stepped on them. And today we are scheduled to get the year's first snowfall. Wish us luck for tomorrow's walk.

Ghosts and Machines

On Saturday, Joey and I took a little road trip to Becket, Massachusetts. We were going to meet two of Florentina's college classmates, who were eager to meet Joey. Becket is just outside of the Pioneer Valley, putting it in the Berkshires, that hilly section of western Massachusetts that lures people to Tanglewood, Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health, Canyon Ranch health spa, Jacob's Pillow Dance Festival, and quaint bed-and-breakfast inns.

Becket is really quiet, and the three of us women with a dog decided to go for a walk in the woods. Near the house where the classmates were staying is an abandoned quarry. P. is an avid photographer, and she was happily snapping photos of foliage and Joey along the way. When we got to the quarry area, we found some interesting abandoned things, such as motor vehicles from the 1920s or 1930s, and dilapidated buildings. These things are carefully labeled as part of the self-guided walk through the historic granite quarry. We weren't the only groups up there with dogs, either. Two other groups were walking around at the same time, adding to the festive atmosphere on the trail.

(www.becketlandtrust.org)
When you get closer, you can see the springs in the driver's seat.

The quarry looks like a nice cool swimming hole for the summer. Apparently some daredevils have videotaped themselves cooling off in the water, though there are easier and safer ways to get into the water.

We didn't know anything about this place.  Oddities have been reported and supported or debunked, none of which we detected by anyone in our pack, including the dog. Apparently some of the stories  include references to dogs and their reaction to weird vibes at the quarry, Something about odd voices...  A local person has weighed in on this controversy and said it's all okay -- no ghosts there!

Playing Hooky in Houston

Question: what happens when four women get together and have been all equally deprived of serious shopping opportunities with major department stores and swanky chain stores? Add to this equation the fact that these women altogether have nearly a hundred years of education with about a dozen degrees between them, as well as numerous decades of teaching?

From Houston Galleria's Facebook Page.
This fountain drove me a little nuts after a while.

Answer: OMG. The Houston Galleria is what happens. It was all the idea of one woman, G., who had lived in Houston at an earlier point in her life, and whose parents still live nearby. She was the driver, and grabbed two others who had a record of post-conference shopping. Florentina happens to be one of those lucky shoppers. My initiation was last year on Waikiki Beach in Honolulu. This year we initiated a new member of the post-conference shopping club, and we did really well.

How well? Let's see what we bought in a matter of two hours, not including lunch.

• Pandora bracelets were purchased and discussed obsessively in the backseat. G. and I had no clue, and spent quite a bit of time trying to sort out the attraction. If anyone can clarify the appeal of this jewelry line to Florentina, please leave a comment or two! (Are they like Trollbeads?)
• Chloé Perfume at Sephora.
• Estee Lauder face creams at Nordstrom. (Plus two big bonus gifts!)
• One laptop adapter at the Apple Store.
• Two nail buffing kits from a good-looking Israeli man who notices women's nails at his kiosk.

What didn't we buy?

• An unnamed handbag or two in Nordstrom.

...the print of this shoe = no sale.

• A Macintosh laptop. (It was so busy, the sherriff's office had deputies stationed in the Apple Store.)
• Gifts for our spouses/partners. Sorry, guys.

(from https://ryggradfashion.wordpress.com/)
The shape of these shoes plus...

• Christian Louboutin shoes were examined carefully and admired at Nordstrom. We had no idea how anyone affords them, but we'd like to see someone wear them in public. (On the other hand, G. had trouble with the shoes that have been seen on Lady Gaga -- resembling leopard-skin lobster claws.)

Ice skating rink in the Galleria.

 I will admit that the mall was a little intimidating at first, but it was a great trip. The ice skating rink was  really fun to watch, and one of us had been an ice skating instructor during graduate school up in Canada, so it was probably even more interesting for her to watch.

Admittedly, we were rather tame shoppers considering how deprived each of us had been in the months leading to this breakout. But at least no one came out of the Galleria emptyhanded. If that had any chance of happening, we would have marched that woman to the good-looking Israeli man with the nail buffing kits.

We were all glad to return to our hotel, though we secretly wished we had decided to stay in one of the two hotels at the Galleria. 

Florentina says Howdy, Houston

Spent a lot of time enjoying this part
of my hotel room because of my cold.

For the last four days, it's been Florentina on the road. This time, Houston was the destination. Unfortunately, upon arrival in Houston's Hobby airport, it became clear that a cold was paying a visit to Florentina's upper respiratory system at the same time she was visiting Houston. The very warm weather made things a little uncomfortable because of my cold, but overall the warmth was really welcome for my entire stay because I was otherwise indoors in air-conditioned discomfort. Luckily the hotel room was really very nice with a super comfortable bed.

UHD at night. View from Spaghetti Warehouse.

Houston was this year's location for a conference I have attended on a number of occasions and have always enjoyed because of the terrific people and great conversations. The conference organizers always pick great places, too. This year's actual conference site was at University of Houston-Downtown, which came as a surprise for a couple of reasons. One of the reasons is that I usually can't quite figure out where the actual panels will be presented from the program materials.

Dinner at the Spaghetti Warehouse

 Unfortunately, because of the cold that traveled with me, I was not as adventurous as I had hoped to be when exploring the food scene. Italian-style food seemed to win out in the choices made, partly because it meant exerting less energy that would be otherwise needed for recovery and/or doing work-related activities. Mexican food seemed to fall out of favor when laboring under a cold, unfortunately.

We ended up at the Spaghetti Warehouse, right near the UHD campus, which has a colorful history to go with its colorful, eclectic decor. It also has its very own ghost that haunts the ladies' room. I was very glad to learn about it long after I had left that space, as I might have been too freaked out to use the faciliities if I had known. Remember that ghost that shows up in the bathroom at Hogwarts?

Dogs in Space

Not Joey, but same breed.
I'm sure they both like chicken wings.

N.B.: I have had to redact information about my pet because of security and safety. There is someone who has been overeager about him. Sorry.
This morning's New York Times featured an article on how air travel now has services dedicated to transporting pets. Perhaps I would have thought this a bit odd at one time, but now that I have Joey around, I have to consider when I can take him somewhere, or if I have to leave him with a reliable caretaker. These days we are lucky to have the little man going off to a place he feels is like a really fun summer camp or Walt Disney World for him.

A French Bulldog puppy.

One of the questions that comes from this article, "Banned by Many Airlines, These Bulldogs Fly Private," is why certain dogs have been banned, and how this need has been met, albeit with a somewhat pricey way. Christine Haughney looks at how Pet Jets and Pet Airways have sprung up to fill a need created by various major airlines who have banned the transport of brachycephalic breeds. To you and me, that's various kinds of bulldogs and those who have the snub-nose look, rather than the longer snout such as the one found on Joey above. If you have ever had to get on a flight with stuffed-up sinuses, post-nasal drip, or any kind of upper respiratory problem, imagine being a little dog loaded into an airplane in your carrier, in the cold compartment. The airlines banning these dogs have done so because a number of these poor dogs have died in transit. I always feel terrible for dogs who are getting loaded into the cargo. It's bad enough to be a passenger on a crowded flight, and to be separated from one's parent would be hard.

See Charley assume the
traditional dog pose in this automobile.

Why are pets needing to travel so much? This is an interesting question that arises from reading how these pet guardians are so intent on having such services available. One big reason lies in the role played by pets in American life today: they are family members. Therefore, you wouldn't let your grandmother sit in cargo, would you? (N.B.: I am paraphrasing a bumper sticker I saw last week that asked, "You wouldn't tie your grandma in the yard, would you?") However, though we might have airline services available to transport pets, we would do well to consider how well some pets do with reliable, trusted caretakers closer to home, especially if it grants your pet a sense of comfort or, in Joey's case, a little vacation with someone he loves.

The article does refer to those bulldog owners who have decided to take the high road -- literally. Pet owners have driven their dogs around since the start of the automobile age, and we have some rather memorable titles about this topic: John Steinbeck, anyone? Charley was a poodle who drove across America with Steinbeck in 1960. From Sag Harbor, New York to Salinas Valley, California, Steinbeck and his faithful hound, Charley, logged nearly 10,000 miles. Bill Steigerwald recently revisited this epic journey for the New York Times, and debunks some of the rugged individual-plus-dog myth of this travel narrative.

While I don't have any hesitation in supporting these folks who simply wish to get their pets transported safely, I would like to stick closer to home with Joey, and bring him into a restaurant. I'd love to see pet owners act on this possibly controversial issue in American pet culture. I would love to see a restaurant with dogs sitting under the table next to his parent's feet, just as I did in Paris. Alas, the only way we can see this happening in America is at outdoor cafes. Admittedly, I can't see dogs gaining admittance to some really fancy restaurants (Nobu in New York City, for one), but I'd be happier to see some looser attitudes in this respect. It's also good training for young chefs to cook for the dogs: I think Daniel Boulud and Jacques Pepin talk about this in their memoirs as young chefs. Please correct me if I'm wrong about this last bit!

Guilty Pleasures with a Twist: Florentina New York Nosh Week

In case you haven't figured it out, New York City is really "New Nosh City" for Florentina and her relatives. Wednesday's food tourism eventually spilled over into Thursday, moving from one guilty pleasure to another. For a few brief moments, Florentina and cousins thought about how each tasty bite might take us a step higher to the pinnacle of Mount Cholesterol, but after reminding ourselves this was a vacation for them, we gave that up. In this posting I'll be covering twists on my favorite guilty pleasures: candy, pizza, and sushi. (Sushi isn't actually a guilty pleasure, but these days it's as ubiquitous as pizza, if not more so for its lowfat content. N.B.: Florentina dislikes the American tendency to count calories and cholesterol counts, but we cousins are more adult than we used to be, and perhaps more American now, too.)

Two pounds of candies from around Asia.
Look for the pale yellow bits; they're durian flavored. 

For the candy category, we have this offering from Mott Street in Chinatown: the Aji Ichiban store near the Church of the Transfiguration. This is where Mott Street takes a sharp turn to the left. I don't quite remember what was there when I was a kid, but when this awesome store opened up a few years ago, I was more than excited. Not only can you get all sorts of sweets, but you can also get little dried fish snacks and rice crackers with seaweed. Cousin Mona was excited to try everything, and they always have samples available. In this two pound bag of candy, I picked up four durian candies; you will see them as the pale yellow candies on the right side of this picture. I have one left, after Joey's Dad had one on the street, and Florentina's mom took two of them. (Arrgh -- the whole kitchen smelled like rotten broccoli while she chewed it!) Don't be fooled by those pale yellow candies masquerading as salt water taffy, to those Americans out there looking at the picture.

From www.Kanpai Sunset.com.
If I had ordered this,
I would have made sure to have the
whole thing filled with temaki rolls.

This part goes out to my sushi buddy, Lori. For sushi, Joey's Dad and I limped back to Bay Ridge, Brooklyn after a whole day of hanging out in Manhattan. The walk through the arms and armor display in the Met may have taken it out of all of us. We had some sushi at a place around the block and discovered that they did a great job with the salmon skin temaki roll. I adore the salmon skin handroll because it combines two of my favorite things: sushi and a cone (of nori) holding it together. For this piece of awesomeness, the sushi chef has to crisp up a piece of salmon skin to complement the sushi rice.

Light Pizzas. Left: seasoned beef and egg on pita.
Right: Labne cheese, mint, tomatoes and olives on pita.
Sorry! I had originally said the green stuff was basil
in the earlier version of this post.

For pizza, my cousins went to DiFara Pizza in Brooklyn, a famous place that draws crowds. This was a good bookend to their trip to Pepe's Pizza in New Haven, CT on the previous Friday afternoon. While they all had some traditional pizza, Joey's Dad and I tried a new twist on the pizza at Man'ouChe Restaurant on Fifth Avenue (between 77th and 78th Streets) in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. These pretty pitas are called manakeesh and are surprisingly filling. The pita on the right is like a fresh salad on a pita. Definitely lacking the pale orangey grease spot on the paper underneath both of these pitas, unlike a real pizza like the kind my cousins had. But it hit the spot to get some refreshing Lebanese food after some of the heavier lifting of the previous day.

No, no diet in the near future for Florentina. (The words "diet," and "calorie"are akin to nonsense syllables in any of Florentina's languages in use.) Florentina's next major adventure involves visiting Houston at the end of next week. As it's not a known quantity, I hope to see what makes it an interesting destination.