Tuesday, May 19, 2015

I Make Brown Bread

I suppose to many people this post will be completely boring, but it’s about something I found incredibly interesting: I made brown bread for the first time, as in “Steamed Boston Brown Bread.”

I think it fascinated me because it seems no one makes it anymore. No one eats it, no one serves it. (At least not around here. I’ll bet it’s still proudly served in households throughout New England.) Yet I’m pretty sure it used to be fairly common throughout America. And that would make it a “retro recipe,” or a “mom” or “grandma recipe.” And that means: Let’s not forget it. Let’s check it out. Let’s have it sometimes, because it inspires nostalgia and reverence.



When I was a kid, we used to have brown bread pretty often. I think Mom used to buy it at the grocery store, canned. She’s told me that her mom used to make it. And like a lot of moms and grandmas, grandma used to make it in a largish tin can.

It would seem to be very healthy and full of nutrients: My recipe calls for equal parts of whole wheat flour, rye flour, and corn meal—plus molasses (I used Brer Rabbit full flavor). The leavening is buttermilk (or sour milk, but you can’t really buy that) plus baking soda and salt. Pretty simple, actually.

Raisins are commonly added—I intended to put them in, but forgot at the last moment. Yes, I really was that excited!

For those of you who don’t know anything about brown bread, here’s its most remarkable trait: It is not baked; it is steamed.

In my brain, that seems silly: Wouldn’t steaming make bread soggy? Well, not if you wrap up the batter/dough so that no extra moisture can get in.

And so, if you want to make brown bread, you need some kind of steamer. I used a big enamel-ware canning pot that Sue’s mom gave us. The recipe I used said to use a 2-quart pudding mold (filled 2/3’s full), and I didn’t have one of those. Well, I do, but I wanted something fairly loaf-shaped. (All our tin cans had gone out in the recycling, so I didn’t have any around!)

Digging around in our bakeware cupboard under the counter, I found some disposable aluminum-foil-type loaf tins that each hold 1 quart, and I found they would fit in the pot nicely side-by-side. I wrapped each tightly with heavy-duty aluminum foil, so no steam would get into the bread.

The instructions said to steam it for 3 1/2 hours, but they didn’t need to go that long (two 1-quart loaf tins would cook faster than one big mass in a single 2-quart mold). Even at 3 hours, it still seemed like a hell of a long time to cook anything on the stovetop (not counting the braising of sauerbraten, which is always worth doing). But at least it didn’t need much watching. The canning pot didn’t let out much water vapor at all, so the water never got close to needing replenishing.

The recipe is from my beloved copy of The Good Housekeeping Cook Book, ed. Dorothy B. Marsh (New York: Rinehart, 1949), pp. 446-47.





There was something magical about fishing those foil-wrapped tins out of the steamer, opening them, and finding nice little loaves of moist, spongy bread where before there had been a blob of quick-bread batter glop.



To celebrate, we followed the rest of the instructions in my 1940s cookbook, which suggested to serve the brown bread hot “with baked beans, codfish cakes, frankfurters, etc.” I didn’t have any codfish cakes lying about, but I did go to the store and found some actual frankfurters (as opposed to hot dogs)—plump, pudgy, flavorful franks with skins that kind of “snapped” when we bit into them. And yes, baked beans, too.

The next day, we made little sandwiches with the bread, now chilled, filled with cream cheese, and had them with red-grape-laced chicken salad (a delicious combo that my Aunt Ann served us for lunch a few years ago; she’d spiked the chicken salad with a hint of microplane-grated orange peel, too, and that was especially good).

My apologies: There are no pictures of our plates, because we consumed these meals before I even thought of taking any photos for the blog. (I do wonder about bloggers who seem to take pictures of every morsel they put into their mouths . . . !)

So although this wasn’t the most “colorful” of posts, I hope you’ll appreciate this humble culinary exploration of mine. Maybe it will inspire you to try making brown bread, too!

Wednesday, May 13, 2015

Rainbow Scarab

I learned about another new insect today! I saw this in our backyard. At first I thought it was one of those doggoned Japanese beetles (invasive pests), but it looked stockier and somehow didn't fit my "search image" for that species. And I was right!

May I introduce you to: a rainbow scarab!



Phanaeus vindex is apparently pretty common in the eastern United States, though I'd never seen one before.

It's a type of dung beetle--one of those scarabs that takes advantage of organic materials that aren't completely digested by mammals. Unlike other dung beetles, which are generally dull black (shiny black if they're exceptionally spiffy), this one is bright shiny green and copper!



Like other dung beetles, this species sniffs out piles of poop using its elaborate antennae (orange, here--with platelike segments that can be fanned out or pressed together at will). Once it catches a whiff, the beetle, buzzing heavily like a bumblebee, flies upwind to the source of the stench (you know, to dung beetles, poop must smell like a steak on a grill, or a bunch of pretty flowers, or a cherry pie in the oven).

Finding the poop, the beetle burrows under the pile, rolls some of the dung into a ball, then buries the ball in a hole beneath the pile, laying eggs on it. After hatching, the larval beetles (C-shaped grubs) eat the dung as they develop. (Like other beetles, the larvae then pupate, much like a butterfly, and emerge as a winged adult.)

Most dung beetles (quite famously) roll their little dung balls away from the pile of poop. If you haven't seen Zefrank's video "True Facts About the Dung Beetle," you must see it. I insist. But the rainbow scarab doesn't do that "rolling" bit.

It's ironic that this species, which is so beautiful, apparently spends more time completely under the dung than the dull black types, which roll the poop along like a circus act for all to see.

Another thing: this one I saw is a male. See the horn on the top of its head? Females don't have that. Apparently the horn plays a role in male-male competition.



Sometimes the horn on males is breathtakingly large. Look at Bugguide's Phanaeus vindex page for examples.

As I type this, Mr. Rainbow Scarab is probably forming himself a nice little poo-ball and looking to hook up with a girlfriend. I leave you with this closeup on his face. I can't help but see an "expression" in it, like "Aren't you about done taking pictures? Can I just leave now, please? I have things to do."



So, after harassing this beetle and taking a bunch of pictures of it, what did I do with him? I found a pile of cat poo in the backyard and set him down beside it. He immediately began digging into the soil next to it. Fascinating!

But I didn't stick around to watch--I was curious, but flies were buzzing around, and it didn't exactly smell like a bunch of flowers, either.

Monday, May 4, 2015

The Yellow Breeze

I used to rank springtime right up there with fall, as the very best time to be in Missouri, and possibly the best time to be alive, but I’m finally admitting it: Springtime has slipped to third place . . . behind winter.

Hang it all: I’m tired of fighting with the pollen. Until I was in graduate school, springtime never bothered me. Then, somehow (my mind still runs in circles, trying to figure out how it could have happened, as if there’s some kind of reason for it), I developed allergies to tree and grass pollen.



The first time it hit, I thought I had the world’s worst (and weirdest) head cold. In my effort to stop the nose running and the itching, I took so much Benadryl I became polka-dotted. I developed a rash. (I read the part in the instructions about “take every 4 to 6 hours,” but I neglected to pay attention to the part that says “don’t take more than X tablets in a 24-hour period.”) Fortunately, a doc with ASU student health center set me up with some Hismanal, and it was like clicking a switch: All better now.



And so each year my secret wish is that someday this might all “go away” just as mysteriously it came on. And if that wish doesn’t come true, then my second wish is that whatever allergy drug I took the previous year will still work this year. (And yeah . . . unfortunately, this year, Claritin’s nearing the end of its run. Geez, I’ve taken all the other ones. What’s next?)



I used to love to throw open the windows in spring, let the fresh cool air into the house. Taking down the storm windows and putting in the screens. Smelling the lilac blossoms from beneath the window. Awakening to birds singing in the backyard, because the windows are open. Or falling asleep to the sound of a gentle spring rain.

But no. This year, I entered allergy season on the heels of a head cold, and my throat, lungs, and sinuses are just . . . tired. So this year, when it started to get so bad that even Sue was suffering, we’ve decided to keep the windows closed, to keep the pollen out. It helps.

We also went and bought one of those true-HEPA air purifiers, and put it in the bedroom, so I can finally get some sleep.



It makes me sad to think that this time of year, when the weather is finally warm enough to let fresh air into the house, that a different reason has us shutting the windows. But then, ya gotta breathe, huh?

*Sigh.*




Thursday, April 30, 2015

A New Little Friend!

When I was young, Mrs. Crawford across the street used to beckon me over, saying, "Come here! I've found another one of your little friends!" She'd be digging around in her roses, usually, and there would be a snake, or a spider, or some other fascinating life-form indigenous to planet Earth.

Well, today, as I was at my computer, grinding away at my freelance stuff, Sue climbed the stairs to my little garret office and said, "You should see this interesting bug on the window downstairs!"

And there I was again, hustling across the street to see what Mrs. Crawford had dug up . . .

At first glance, I thought, Oh, honey, it's just a lacewing . . . But a little closer inspection, and I realized: No! This is one of those really, really cool insects I've been wanting to see in, like, forever!

It's a mantisfly!



See how its forelegs are modified into little "raptorial" clawed arms? Much like a praying mantis. The head is triangular, too, and with big eyes. Note how those forelegs are attached way forward on the body, well away from where the other four legs attach. And look how long the prothorax is (the thing that looks like a neck). (It kind of reminds me of a snakefly I found on the curtains of a motel room in Tehachapi, California, one time . . .)

If I am lucky in my simplistic identification attempt, this nifty creature is a green mantisfly, Zeugomantispa minuta. See here in BugGuide, a website I couldn't live without. (Well, okay, I could live without BugGuide, but it really does beat most printed insect field guides, if you are starting out with a little basic knowledge about arthropods. Like, if you know what an "arthropod" is, you'll be able to use it. But I digress. As usual.)

It was only about 1/2 inch long, including the wings, which it kept folded down its back, and it really did look a lot like a green lacewing. But you know? It didn't move like one. It walked on its four hind legs, like a miniature mantis.

Here it is, grooming one of its antennae. One of the forelegs is extended, so you can see the little claw it uses to grab little insects with.



This, my friends, is one of those nifty insects you see when you flip through your field guide, and you go, "Whoa! What a wild-looking creature! I wonder where you go to see those crazy things!? Those are in North America? Geez . . . !"

Yes, this is one of those insects that inspire movie monsters. That make you think, "There's no end to the diversity of life on Earth." That make you grateful you have eyes, that you're here, that you got to see it.

It was quite a delicate creature. Apparently they only ever reach about 3/4 inch long. And get this! The larvae eat spider eggs! That probably explains why this one was on our sunporch: Spiders like to build webs in the window sills. (We try to keep up with it, but you know . . .)

It's really fascinating: This is one of those insects whose first instar (life stage, molt) is quite active, which has agency. As soon as it hatches from amid its egg cluster, the larva moves off in search of a spider egg sac. When it finds one, it bores inside and eats the eggs. (In some species, the hatchling mantisflies look around for adult spiders, climb aboard like a hitchhiker, then transfer to the egg sac once it's spun.) Once the egg sac is entered, the larval stages are actually less "developed" than that first one, that had to seek the egg sac/spider. This particular variation of the insect life cycle is called hypermetamorphosis.

What a fascinating find!

Wednesday, March 4, 2015

Opossum Playing Opossum

How exciting! My friend Jenice over in Moniteau County sent me this picture of a possum playing possum!

It happened on Monday—she told me the little marsupial had been snuffling up the uneaten seeds under her birdfeeder, when a friend had arrived with her dachshund, and the dog had, well, accosted poor little Tuffy under the birdfeeder.

With the following result.



Aww! It sure looks dead, doesn’t it. Think of it: A wee little wiener dog freaked out this scruffy wild animal! I suppose it is especially rude to be interrupted while dining, however . . .

You know, apparently when opossums “play dead,” they actually do kind of faint; it’s almost like a coma—they get so emotionally worked up, they lose consciousness. It’s not voluntary; they don’t control it. It’s one of their many defense mechanisms.

I’ve actually never seen this behavior in person. You know, even though I’ve claimed the “Opulent Opossum” as the name of my blog, I don’t have a long history of handling them, or even thinking they’re special . . . although as I wrote in one of my first posts, they really are nifty creatures, and worth naming a blog after.



And guess what! This is also my annual “Happy Birthday” post for my blog! I started the Op Op on March 3, 2009, so I’m embarking on my seventh year of this! (Boy, how time flies!)

Special thanks, and a big ol’ “Op, Op, Hurray!” to Jenice Taggart for sharing her photo with me! One of my favorite things about having this blog is that it’s connected me to so many great people, and she’s one of the best!

Tuesday, February 17, 2015

Arizona Dreamin'

I'm still thinking about the weather. It's grim out there tonight. Sharon Ray (my Sharon Ray!) is predicting wind chills near -1 by 2:00 a.m., and -5 to -10 tomorrow morning. Winds gusting to 25 mph. And then there will probably be a fresh round of "wintry mix" right before the weekend. Brrr!!!

So I will take this opportunity to show you a picture of what Sue and I saw only last week. On Saturday, February 7, we were in Tucson, Arizona, where it was in the low 80s, sunny, and pretty near perfect. Blue skies. Things were blooming. Springtime in the desert!

It was that kind of dry warmth that makes the Sonoran desert so perfect in February. You can wear long sleeves or short, or slacks or shorts, and still be comfortable. You'll want a little jacket at night, just because it cools down so nicely after dark.

So, here's a picture of Saguaro National Monument. Just to let you know: If we ever pull up stakes and disappear without warning, this is probably where we'll be.



(Yes, Sue took the picture. Thanks, Sue, for sharing it! Y'all, you can see it bigger, and see more detail, if you click on it.)

Sunday, February 1, 2015

We Can Always Talk About the Weather

We really haven't had much precipitation this winter. Hardly any snow to speak of. I guess today Columbia, half an hour's drive north of us, has had some accumulation, but so far in Jeff City, all we've had is freezing rain.

Which I hate.

But at least I don't have to go anywhere, and we have plenty to eat here at home. And as long as I have Internet, I can communicate with you! Whoever you are.

Here are some pictures I took out of our top windows only about a half hour ago.

First, a view out of our top dormer looking north along Broadway toward the 50/63 Expressway and the capitol. (Well, we call it "north" here in Jeff City, because the river is "north." But let's not get into all that.) In the distance, the big building on the left, with the horizontal pattern to the windows, is the Truman State Office Building. The next building to the right of it, is the Broadway State Office Building. The next one to the right (red brick; in front of the capitol) is the Missouri State Supreme Court building:



Next, a view "west" along West Elm. Apart from our dear neighbor's house (happy birthday, Kay!), there's not a lot you might recognize here. The large rectangular building in the background is the newly former St. Mary's Hospital. The bright "light" almost in the center of the picture is the Dulle mansion:



Looking out our front dormer window, we see Broadway heading south. The former salon is in the foreground. The Schaeffer House (gift shop) is about halfway down the block, on the opposite side of the street. The green light is the traffic light at the intersection with Dunklin.

And no, that's not snow along the edges of the sidewalks, and that's not rain making the sidewalks shiny--it's ice:



Finally, here's the view along West Elm, to the east. That big tree two houses away from us is a real, genuine American elm tree, which somehow survived the dreaded Dutch elm disease. Also, you can't see it very well in this picture, but the one landmark a Jefferson Citian might know is the Coca-Cola Building. The "Coke Room" community room is at the end of the block. The famous Coke signboard is a bright spot with a small pointy projection at the top, roughly between the elm's trunk and the bright orange streetlight in the center. It's shaped like a candle because we're seeing it at an angle. (There's a picture of it on this post.)



Plus, a bonus picture: My car, with ice falling on it! I'm so glad I don't have to go out anywhere tonight or tomorrow!



Wherever you are, be careful driving (and walking!) in whatever foul weather you might be having. Take care!