Rookie Cookery

Food and Fun at the Scottish Games 2008 in Woodland, CA

Being of Scottish ancestry, I have always longed to attend a Scottish Games event where I could celebrate and learn more about my heritage. This past weekend I finally got my chance, at the 132nd Annual Scottish Games sponsored by the Caledonian Club of Sacramento, held at the Yolo County Fairgounds.

This is a food blog, so let me cut to the chase and tell you what we ate:

Being a traditionalist, I chose a meat pie meal with peas and gravy.

This was as good as one might expect for food found at a fair.  The pastry was a bit chewy, the ground meat rather bland, covered with a potato topping and gravy.  In short, it was rather uninspired. But it would be unfair to judge Scottish food by this fast food variety. The peas were better than I expected, however.  I washed it down with an imported Scottish soda called Irn-Bru (pronounced "iron brew"), which was flavorful and tasted like a mild orange soda.   As it turns out, I am very glad I chose the Irn-Bru, and I'll tell you why in a few paragraphs.

Of course there was a place selling fish and chips, as well as bangers (sausages) and various meat and pastry combinations.

My husband Jim ate a chicken pasty which he said had large pieces of chicken in it:

Our son Ethan had some kind of meat filled dumpling:

As we ate our lunch, we watched the opening parade that featured bag pipes,  representatives from many clans and District Scots, persons in period dress, drums and pipes and drum majors.

Most of the afternoon we watched bag pipe band and drum major competitions, featuring competitors all the way from Scotland, Ireland and England as well as prize winners and competitors from the United States. I think the youngest we saw was a very talented young man of age six (pictured in the first photo above during opening parade).  It was thrilling to hear the music and watch the precise movements of the drum majors, especially the teen and older men who tossed and flourished the mace (a long staff) with incredible dexterity.

We saw a man demonstrate his team of majestic clydesdale horses, each weighing about 2,000 pounds,  that could walk sideways and turn on a dime in an old traditional carriage set-up.

When the sun got a bit much, we retreated into a building and lisitened to a fascinating leture on tartan and the clan family system taught by a Professor MacRae (I hope I am recalling that name correctly!) who was a geneology expert, having taught at University of Edinburgh.

It was from this man that I learned that my great-great Grandparents, the MacPartlands, from Loch Lomand, were from a family name that is a variant of the MacFarlane clan name.  (It comes from a word which means "parson" or vicar). While I do not have proof that my family actually belonged to the clan, (a certified process), I like to imagine that I might be part of the MacFarlane Clan lineage. Maybe some day I will be able to apply what I learned from the speaker that day, and find out if I have living relatives in Scotland. 

During his fascinating lecture, our speaker mentioned that one day while traveling in his native land of Scotland, he happened to stop at a little wayside store in order to buy something to drink-- his favorite Scottish soda called Irn-Bru, which "tastes like a rusty nail"  because it has  iron in it.   As it turns out, Herself,  (the Queen of England) happened to be in the store that very day also! The guard at the door allowed him to enter and shop for his soda while Herself was there, with a little basket over her arm. He told the story as an illustration that the Scottish people are not class snobs even though persons may have noble titles.

The kicker to the story is, when he mentioned Irn-Bru I was able to lift my half-empty bottle and say "like this?" and he was very delighted to see that vendors  were selling the import  at the games. He read the label aloud and sure enough a type of iron was on the list of ingredients. Irn-Bru is known as "the other Scottish national drink" (other than whiskey) and has successfully competed with major brands of soft drink that are sold here in the states. (Note to self: Consider attending the Scottish whiskey tastings next year....)

Of course we watched the Scottish Games themselves: competitions in traditional and very old Scottish sports such as the caber toss, (both men and a woman's division),

as well as heavy weight toss over the bar,  and demonstrations of border collies, highland dance, piping, drumming, etc. 

Ethan looked longingly at the claymore (long swords) being sold, but refrained from a purchase. Maybe next year.  I however, reasoned that since it was the week of my birthday and my first Scottish games, it was time I finally purchased a tartan.  After long deliberation, and with the new information from the lecturer, I selected a beautiful MacFarlane tartan sash, in honor of my MacPartland forebears, even though I do not have official proof of their clan membership.

There were vendors selling kilts of course,  and it was wonderful to see so many people wearing the tartan and/or kilts, from the extremely traditional to the new and very modern stylings.

My dream is to go to Scotland some day, but until then I hope to make it an annual event to attend the Scottish Games. Am I ready to join the local Caledonian club? That could be fun!

Two Soups in One Pot

The first time I saw a divided slow-cooker crock, I thought it was silly.  What a ridiculous waste of space! Fast forward to my current family food preferences, wherein I regularly cook for both a vegan and variously styled carnivores.  When I saw this crock on sale at the local thrift shop for a mere seven dollars, I jumped on it!

This is the large size crock pot by the "mother of all crock pot companies",  Rival.  I bought this model (with one UNdivided crock) for my now-vegan son Evan when he went away to college and shared a home and cooking duties with five house mates.

I regularly use my much smaller crock pot to make my standard and delicious chicken soup.   (recipe forthcoming).  But even though my vegan son Evan is happy to cook for himself, I wanted a way to use the crock pot for meals he would enjoy also. One day I experimented with cooking rice and lentils in the crock pot, and it was a success!  But I was still left with the dilemma of "whom to cook for" when filling the crock pot.

This clever divided crock solves the problem nicely. I was astounded to discover it holds twice the amount of my smaller crock!  My cupboards are just as filled to over flowing with utensils as anyone else's, but this device is likely to earn its shelf space tonight when we all sit down to supper.

Next post: The soup recipes!

Tea Time with the Indonique (rhymes with unique) Tea Company

I am a coffee drinker. Two cups, every morning, is my cherished ritual.

It wasn't always so; my first beverage of choice was black tea which I drank every day after school, while watching the desperately gothic and deeply earnest supernatural soap opera known as Dark Shadows.  God I loved that show, and its creepy manor house crawling with vampires, ghosts, witches, tormented souls, weekly cliff hangers and the surprisingly frequent technical gaffes and acting blunders (stage hands caught on film, boom mike shadows across actor's faces, etc.) that were caught on film for posterity. Consequently I cannot think of tea without a very fond association with American-British kitsch. I make no apologies-- it is what it is.

I don't know when I switched from tea to coffee, (college days, perhaps?) but I still enjoy the occasional hot cup of tea.  My favorites back in the day were Darjeeling and Earl Grey.  But somewhere along the line I stopped seeking out really good tea, and so it is no wonder I stopped drinking it. 

Not so long ago, I was invited to taste a selection of teas from the Indonique Tea Company (full disclosure: the tea was complimentary) and set about brewing a proper cup of tea.

I say proper, because there is a right and a wrong way to make tea.  I immediately proved this to myself by trying their green tea first, because frankly I had never been much of a fan of green tea until I drank the one sent by Indonique.  So that's what green tea is supposed to taste like! I exulted.  When  steeped for the recommended three or four minutes,  (not one second more), the bitterness that had repelled me from green teas in the past was simply gone, leaving behind a bracing and clean tasting tea which I found very relaxing and refreshing at the same time. It made me even more excited to try their black teas. They did not disappoint.

You who read my blog regularly know that I love a bit of ritual and tradition.  That tea pot you see in the picture above belonged to my Grandmother, and it has a campy surprise (not unlike the Dark Shadows music box theme for "Josette") hidden within. You see, there is a small music box hidden in the base of the tea pot, with an on/off switch that is released when the pot is lifted off the table to serve tea.

So every time I lift the tea pot to pour tea, (preferably while asking "Shall I be Mother?" which, if memory serves correctly, is a quote from  Cary Grant's eccentric aunt in Arsenic and Old Lace--) the tea pot starts to play this little tune:

Now I ask you, who can resist a spot of tea (for two!) under such conditions?

Here's something else I like about Indonique tea: 

In their packages of tea, they secret away a little postcard image of the Taj Mahal, so that I can day dream that I am receiving a note from a far off and romantic land while I sip the tea. 

To get your own taste of really excellent tea, and hopefully a post card from the Taj, look no further than indonique.com , and while you are there be sure to visit the page where they share some entertaining  "East Meets West" Punjab-Hip Hop-Rap style music videos.  It's quite something and will make you sit up and want to listen to new music while you try their chai tea blends. (Their chai was an especially big hit with the men in my family).

Indonique used to have a store front in New Orleans, until hurricane Katrine blew into town and forced them to reconsider their business model. Their solution has been to create an online business, with ten percent of their wholesale profits going to charity. I like that. 

Don't Feed The (Wild) Animals

Pictured above: My husband Jim setting an ingenious trap for the pea hen in the back yard (which you can see in the upper right quadrant of the picture).

So my pal Garrett tells an amusing story about The Bushy Tail Mafia (i.e., squirrels), and the "down side" of feeding wild life.   I thought I'd add this little story about my family's  encounter with a Pea Hen (a female peacock, doncha know) in 2004 at our old house.

At that time, my father in law lived with us, and he insisted on feeding not only wild life, but neighborhoods cats etc.  despite our repeated requests that he stop.  One day a wild pea hen made her way into our neighborhood, which my father in law encouraged bribed  to stay at our home by means of bread crumbs and peanuts.

At first we all admired the bird.  So colorful, so stately! So large. Then we noticed  copious amounts of bird shit all over the property. Lovely.

We tried shooing the bird off, and ignoring it, but it decided to roost in the tree in the back yard.  It even occasionally made it's way to the roof,  and we had a two story home.

Have you ever heard the mating call of a pea hen? It sounds like this:

"Uh--HONK!  Uh-HONK!  Uh-HONK!!!!"

And it is LOUD. Very very LOUD. And it makes this sound at all hours of the day or very very early morning, as our son Ethan discovered since the bird, roosting in the tree, was located just a few feet from his bedroom window on the second story.

We had to get rid of that bird.

I called animal control, and was told several interesting facts. To wit:

1. DO NOT feed  wild animals,  as they become dependent upon it and  it will inspire the birth of more such creatures.

2....AND the food you leave out for the desired, "target" creature,  such as migrating birds,  will also attract  Undesireables, such as rats  and other vermin.   (*Note: Much better to plant trees and bushes to feed  indigenous birds).

3. AND (I found this last point most surprising) IF you feed a wild creature,  you are in fact assuming RESPONSIBILITY for the creature, including the *financial* liability if said creature travels to the neighbor's yard and eats their plants or destroys their property! 

4. Yikes.

Thus enlightened,  I was disappointed to learn from animal control that  "we don't pick up wild animals. We recommend a company that will, for a fee, come and humanely remove the creature from your property."   The nice person on the phone gave me a phone number of a local outfit which I called next. 

The animal removal company  would be happy to come remove the beast.  For over $200 dollars!  Oh, and could we please try to sequester it in the garage for them first?

I politely declined.

Another call to animal control: What happens if we catch the beast ourselves and bring it to them? Will they kill it? (We didn't want it dead, just gone. )  I was told that  No,  they would release the pea hen into the wild, and it would cost fifteen dollars  for them to receive and relocate the bird. 

Allrighty then. We had a goal, now we needed a plan.  Fortunately my husband has a bit of the MacGyver in him, and  he immediately set about constructing a large trap made of a cardboard box,  duct tape  (of course), string and a bit of wood.

It was a thing of beauty, this trap. Simple and of cayote-versus-the-roadrunner ACME company utility and effectiveness.   There was bait: A line of peanuts through the grass and straight into the box.   Prop the  flap-door open, bird walks in,  Jim pulls the string, flap shuts door,  --boom!  Done. 

"She'll never fall for it!" I thought.  "Surely it is all too obvious! Even a bird-brain can see that!"

But that is precisely what happened, dear reader.  Bold as brass, the bird slowly, carefully,  nonchalantly,  strolled into the box.  Even with Jim off to one side,  quiet and unmoving, trying to affect a bored and disinterested attitude.

Once inside, the deed done, Jim pounced on the door and duct taped it shut.  Did the bird freak out, thrash about, squawk with fear and indignation? Nope! Not a peep!

Methinks this bird had been through this before.

Anywho, from there it was easy. We gently ferried the box to the truck bed and down to the animal control office. Inside, we saw several other citizens paying their fifteen dollars for a cat or dog gone astray, perhaps getting their pet out of hock.... nothing unusual.   So it was not without a sense of misguided but sincere suburban pride when we said we were there with a pea hen to deliver. 

We said our good byes to the Not a Pet, not without a little regret.  Don't feed the wild animals, people, because you're in it for the long haul, then. Or at least fifteen dollars.

 

technical difficulties

OK so I have no idea why I can't upload my old banner to the site again.  I can't help but wonder if Typepad is experiencing a glitch...? So until I figure it out, I'll use this old red model.  At least it has a cheery color.   

Computers can be so strange sometimes.

Welcome to Rookie Cookery. My Banner is gone.

See that big blank space above? That is where my blog banner would normally appear. For some reason, that file is "no  longer found".

I guess this is more impetus to work on the site.  That, or quit altogether, because this makes me feel very very cranky.  But first I have to go to my regular job.

Did I mention how cranky I feel right now?