Jar of Goodness 10.30.22: Gans Creek

. . . The weekly virtual “gratitude jar.”

This week, I’m expressing thanks for Gans Creek Wild Area.

I’ll never get tired of this view.

Gans Creek is part of Rock Bridge Memorial State Park. I’ve been going there for hikes since the place opened in about 1981. It’s always been a favorite hiking place of mine. Lots and lots of my early journal entries begin “At Gans, at my outlook.”

I had to call it “my outlook” and “my precipice” because that was before anyone declared that it should be named “Shooting Star Bluff.”

Indeed—this was so long ago, there was a sea of perennial wildflowers, yes, called shooting stars, that quite literally carpeted the triangle of ground between the main trail and the V of trail leading to and from the outlook. It was a magical scene each April, with them and bird’s-foot violets all over that outlook.

The shooting stars, violets, and all their topsoil are a memory now at that spot; it’s been trampled to death.

I don’t go to Gans nearly as often as I used to. The old field at the beginning of the trail has turned into second-growth woodland characterized by cedars and autumn olive.

But the older forested areas along the bluffs still feel like a home to me, and it was good to visit the place last Thursday.

Public School Lunches, Columbia, Missouri, 1974

I recently found some local newspaper archives online from when I was about nine years old. Wow! Did I look at the news headlines? Did I look at the sports section? Did I look at the ads for local businesses? No!

I went straight to the weekly lists of Columbia Public School lunches. —Yay!

Each week, Mom and Dad would clip out the school lunch menus and pin them on a bulletin board in the kitchen. That way, we could review the next day’s offerings and determine if we wanted to pack a lunch or buy the one provided by the school.

It’s a blast from the past. Here are some weekly menus. These are all from the Columbia Missourian. I’m only providing the sections from the Columbia elementary schools. The secondary schools, University Elementary, New Haven R-II, Hallsville R-IV, and Ashland/Southern Boone County R-I had separate menus, which I’m not copying out.

Looking at these, I feel kind of nostalgic, and maybe even a little hungry!

School Menus

January 26, 1974

MONDAY—Country fried steak with gravy, buttered sliced potatoes, tossed green salad, hot roll with butter, cookie.
TUESDAY—Chili with crackers, peanut butter sandwich, carrots and celery sticks, sliced peaches.
WEDNESDAY—Hot dog with bun, pork and beans, cole slaw, cup cake with icing, ice cream.
THURSDAY—Turkey with gravy, whipped potatoes, green beans, cranberry sauce, hot roll with butter.
FRIDAY—Hamburger on bun, french fries, applesauce, peanut butter cookie.

February 2, 1974

MONDAY—Pizza, buttered peas, orange juice, no bake cookie.
TUESDAY—Taco and cheese, buttered corn, tossed salad, cinnamon twist.
WEDNESDAY—Fried chicken, whipped potatoes and gravy, buttered carrots, hot roll and butter, fruit punch.
THURSDAY—Macaroni and cheese, green beans, cole slaw, hot roll and butter, surprise dessert.
FRIDAY—Fish sandwich and T.S. [tartar sauce], tater tots, buttered corn, strawberry Jello cubes.

February 9, 1974

MONDAY—Pig-in-blanket, escalloped potatoes, green beans, chocolate pudding–whipped topping.
TUESDAY—Homemade noodle and chicken casserole, lettuce salad, cranberry sauce, hot roll–butter.
WEDNESDAY—Chili–crackers, peanut butter sandwich, carrot and celery sticks, purple plums.
THURSDAY—Italian spaghetti, tossed salad, hot French bread, orange juice.
FRIDAY—Hamburger–bun, French fries, cole slaw, brownie.

February 17, 1974

MONDAY—[Washington’s Birthday, so no school.]
TUESDAY—Country fried steak and gravy, buttered sliced potatoes, tossed salad, hot roll and butter, no bake cookie.
WEDNESDAY—Beanie weenies, cole slaw, hot roll and butter, applesauce.
THURSDAY—Turkey and gravy, whipped potatoes, tossed salad, hot roll and butter, cranberry sauce.
FRIDAY—Fish and tartar sauce, tater tots, Jello cubes, hot roll and butter, fruit punch.

March 24, 1974

MONDAY—Macaroni and cheese, green beans, sunset salad, hot roll and butter, cake.
TUESDAY—Cowboy meat loaf with catsup, escalloped potatoes, cole slaw, home-on-the-range biscuit, sweet-tart punch.
WEDNESDAY—Chicken noodle soup with crackers, peanut butter sandwich, carrot coins, chilled fruit.
THURSDAY—Pizza, tossed salad, buttered corn, white cake with chocolate sauce.
FRIDAY—Star-Trek burger, Scooby Doo sticks, Flintstone Swingers, Mulligan’s favorite fruit, Josie’s cookies.

Jar of Goodness 9.4.22: Shakespeare’s Pizza South

. . . The weekly virtual “gratitude jar.”

This week, I’m expressing thanks for Shakespeare’s Pizza South.

First, because it’s Shakespeare’s Pizza, and that’s my hometown, college-town pizza.

Second, because Shakespeare’s Pizza South is on our way home, and (coming into town) it’s on our way to my parents’ house, so it’s mighty, mighty convenient for us.

Pizza night!

We go there a lot, and it makes us all smile.

Yes, this is a “Panda’s Pepper” pizza, “Brought to you by the letter ‘P.’ This is one that a whole bunch of Shake’s emps like, but we don’t know why. Must have been the Eighties. Pepper Cheese, Pepperoni, Green Peppers, Jalapenos, and Banana Peppers.”

It’s become a recent favorite of ours. Try it sometime!

Jar of Goodness 5.1.22: Clovers Natural Market

. . . The weekly virtual “gratitude jar.”

This week, I’m expressing thanks for Clovers Natural Market in Columbia.

Today, Clovers celebrated 16 years of having their store at 2012 E. Broadway! They had a beautiful, sunshiny day for vendors indoors and inside to offer samples of their goodies and other products. Annie’s Breads, River Hills Harvest, Logboat Brewing Company, Raw Roots Turmeric, and more. We sampled candy-like turmeric and beet gummy supplements, chatted with the rep from Logboat while he poured us generous samples of their locally made beer, and made new friends with Ranjana Hans, of Raw Roots Turmeric, who sells her fresh Ayurvedic herbs and products at the Columbia Farmer’s Market as well as at Clovers.

Oldtimers (like me) will remember Clovers when it was at 802 Business Loop 70 East. The original business, called Columbia Specialty Foods, was run by Richard Catlett and had opened in 1965. I remember the elderly Mr. Catlett as an owl-like presence in his store and in the community, an unwavering liberal, an outspoken pacifist, and like Thoreau, a war-tax resister who was sent to jail for refusing to give his money to a government that was waging war. He was a Quaker, and he lived according to his principles. I honestly didn’t know the half of who he was; but knowing his legacy now, I think Columbia should have a monument to him. Or at least a big mural.

In college in the eighties, I used to stop by Columbia Specialty Foods often. Since I was on the run so much, balancing classes on campus and my job at Parkade Plaza (on the Business Loop), plus hiking a lot and visiting friends, I loved their grab-and-go sandwiches. I could always count on picking up a tasty, righteous, tofu-eggless-salad-and-sprouts pita sandwich, an organic yellow apple, and a Hansen’s sody to carry me through the afternoon. (The recipe for that vintage tofu salad sandwich is here.)

Often, I’d throw my lunch in my daypack and carry it out to that overlook at Gans Creek, and eat it there. You know the place—it’s what they now call Shooting Star Bluff. (This is back when shooting stars used to cover that gladelike area, which is now just trampled mud. But I remember when it was bird’s-foot violets and shooting stars there, all April. But I digress.)

In 1991 (after I’d moved out of state), the current owners, Patty Clover and Scott Nirmaier, purchased the store and renamed it “Clover’s.” Before buying it, Clover and Nirmaier had been employees at Columbia Specialty Foods.

Clover’s opened their fancy new second location on Chapel Plaza Court (at Forum and Chapel Hill) in 1999. That allowed them to reach a lot of people whose lives are centered in that section of town. I’d say the two stores have different characters; the one on Broadway is a former laundromat nearer the center of town and has a more soulful feeling. A little more crowded and worn, a little more loved.

A lot of the transition happened during times when I didn’t live in Missouri, but I visited Clover’s often when back for the holidays, and after we returned in the late 1990s we visited the Chapel Hill store a lot, since we lived in that part of town. Both stores have a unique vibe; they’re still at heart mom-and-pop stores; stepping in the door, you can tell you’re not at a chain. You’re in a place where someone cares.

Now that we live in Jeff City, our visits to Columbia for groceries are fewer, but I’m making a point of shopping more often at Clovers Natural Market.

Jar of Goodness 1.23.22: KOPN

. . . The weekly virtual “gratitude jar.”

This week, I’m thankful for Columbia’s own KOPN radio, which saved my life and continues to make our community interesting, intelligent, and artful.

KOPN is a community-supported, owned, and operated nonprofit radio station based in Columbia, Missouri. It offers a wide variety of news, talk, and music, including syndicated and locally produced material. The best stuff is the product of local volunteer DJs (board shifters), who have a passion about whatever their program is about. I’ve talked about KOPN before. (Several times.)

The programs are incredibly eclectic.

I’ve been a devoted listener of KOPN since about 1981, when I went to festival called Spring Fling. KOPN used to host the festival for several years, centered on Broadway and Ninth streets, closing streets in the heart of downtown Columbia. There were different stages at the festival, with rock, bluegrass, and so on. There were vendors with booths lining the streets: The international MU students group, the Ba’hai people, the local health food co-op and Catalpa Tree Cafe, the anti-death-penalty group, the anti-nukes group, artists, handmade jewelry and tie-dyed clothes, and so much more. Spring Fling provided a one-day festival that displayed the overall culture of KOPN. I felt like I’d found my people. (Indeed, I had.) I went home, turned the dial of my bedroom clock radio to 89.5, and listened to women’s music for the first time: “The Moon of Artemis” was on.

Times have changed. The radio—and radio’s place in our lives—has changed. My tastes in music have changed.

These days, I especially love to listen to KOPN while I’m driving to and from Columbia. Their weekday afternoon drive-time programs are great. The miles go right by.

It seems I’m usually in Columbia on Thursdays, kind of. And I’ve really been enjoying the program “Hepcat’s Holiday,” hosted by Carol Goodnick. It’s a program that was first on the air in 1986. It features jazz, jive, swing, and blues from the 1920s, ’30s, and ’40s. Goodnick is an enthusiastic, informative, upbeat DJ.

Recently she did a show that was railroad themed. It was great! A few of the songs she featured were Judy Garland, “On the Atchison, Topeka, and the Santa Fe”; Leadbelly, “Midnight Special” and “Rock Island Line”; Sister Rosetta Tharpe “This Train”; Duke Ellington, “Choo Choo”; Cliff “Ukulele Ike” Edwards, “California, Here I Come”; and the Andrews Sisters, “When the Midnight Choo Choo Leaves for Alabam.”

This is seriously good stuff, vintage music, jazz history, well-curated. “Hepcat’s Holiday” is broadcast live each Thursday from 3 to 5 p.m. Central Time. So if you’re in Central Missouri, just tune your dial to 89.5 and catch the program on your radio.

But no matter where you live, if you go to KOPN’s website, you can not only listen live, but also, in most cases, listen to recent shows, for at least up to two weeks. This means that neither geography nor time zones or scheduling conflicts can interfere with your hearing a particular radio program.

KOPN, by the way, is entering an exciting new period in its fifty-year history. Since it first went on the air in 1973, its studios have been at 915 East Broadway, in the heart of downtown Columbia, although visitors must ascend an imposing flight of stairs from street level. Well, in 2022 KOPN will be moving to a new studio space—one that’s handicapped accessible. In a building that KOPN owns. Though the thought of saying goodbye to what I considered hallowed, historic space is rather sad, this is great news for the station, the organization, the community, the institution.

I encourage you to check out KOPN’s programming. I’m sure you’ll find something you find interesting and enjoyable. Maybe you’ll be inspired to send them a few dollars, like I have, over the years.

Anyway, this is my gratitude jar for the day.

Remembering King’s Food Host, Columbia, Missouri

My purpose in this post is not to give the official history of this chain of family diners that operated in at least 17 states and in Canada in the 1950s, ’60s, and early ’70s. Let’s get the background info over with quickly. Indeed, if you want to learn more than I’ve already just said, I recommend the following:

—Randy Hoffman, “What Ever Happened to King’s Food Host?” at bismarckcafe.com, Dec. 14, 2009.

—Jan Whitaker, “Frenchies, Oui, Oui,” at Restaurant-ing through History, May 4, 2011.

There’s also a commemorative Facebook page, with loads of photos of King’s restaurants and King’s-belia: Kings Food Host—Home of the Cheese Frenchee.



From those websites, I gather that King’s focused on putting franchises in college towns (so our King’s in Columbia, Missouri, fit that pattern . . . though its location on Business Loop 70 made it a little far from campus, in the days when few students owned cars or lived off-campus).

I also read that cigarette machines (so ubiquitous in those days) were not allowed in King’s restaurants, because the owner didn’t want them there. Apparently he wanted to have a less smoky atmosphere in his family restaurant. (He was truly ahead of his time!)

Perhaps, with the college-town focus, he was thinking not so much of college students, but of smart young faculty members, like my father, juggling teaching, grading, research, and working toward tenure, and their families, who liked to go out to dinner occasionally, and who all would have preferred a nonsmoking restaurant.

Dining out was much less common then.

I was born in 1965, so nationwide, King’s was pretty much gone by the time I was ten. I vaguely remember when they closed in Columbia, driving past with my parents, staring out the window at the empty building, wondering what would become of it. Later, I saw it converted into a variety of other businesses. (Businesses I’ve never stepped foot in.)

The one in Columbia was ultimately torn down, but the concrete foundation is still there. A local bus/shuttle service has taken over the land and they park their big tour buses on the concrete pad where the restaurant once stood.



The metal roof for the drive-in portion remains. The shuttle company parks its vans and minibuses under it.



Anyway . . . see these links for photos of King’s restaurants during their heyday: one in Manhattan, Kansas, the other from Ames, Iowa. They’re both pretty close to what our Columbia King’s looked like—the textured horizontal roof treatment, the big yellow crown-shaped sign, the huge wall of windows across the front end of the building.

Personal Memories

My personal memories of King’s are rather fuzzy, but in many ways, they are especially nostalgic.

There was apparently a telephone at each booth for placing orders, which I don’t remember because my parents wouldn’t have let me do the ordering, and annoy a busy food-service worker with my soft, uncertain, hesitating delivery.

There was a similar ordering system in the drive-in parking behind the restaurant. The drive-in was a long, metal-roofed structure extending straight back from the restaurant, with parking spaces on either side. (Gosh! Remember how cars in the ’50s and ’60s had circular depressions on the inner surface of the glove compartment door, which always opened flat into a miniature table surface? The circles were designed as a place to set your Pepsi or milkshake while you ate in your car at the drive-in!)

We went to the King’s drive-in occasionally—I recall going there for lunch with Paul and my Mom.

But we went to King’s more often, I think, as the whole family, in the evenings, and we sat in the dining area. Interestingly, when I asked my parents recently about what they recalled of King’s on the Business Loop, they both drew a blank. I guess it made a far bigger impression on me!

Remember the crown logo and the gold, brown, and orange diamond motif? I recall the seats being orange—but that might be a false memory (specifically, mental pollution from listening to the snarky 1987 Uncle Bonsai song “Family Restaurant,” which recalls “rolling hills of orange Naugahyde”).

I remember walking in the door, which was on the east side of the building. The restaurant was fairly brightly lit with florescent ceiling fixtures. To me as a little kid, the place seemed huge, and kind of magical.

Yes: that big, open dining area, with large plate-glass windows facing Business Loop 70. At that time, the Business Loop was full of family-friendly food places, such as Columbia’s Zesto, a Dog ’n’ Suds, and the city’s first McDonald’s. . . . Was all the seating at King’s at booths? I think it must have been, since the telephone was key for ordering. But maybe they had a row of stools along a counter, however.

Here’s a picture of the inside of a King’s in Lincoln, Nebraska.

I remember it being a fairly quiet restaurant, though since I was a child that memory could also be skewed. Let’s put it this way: I’m sure it was a great place for parents to bring young kids who were still learning to behave like little ladies and gentlemen when dining in public.

I’m sure I must have requested other foods at times—chili dogs, for example, and little chocolate sundaes, and, when I was really little, I must have had the “Kiddie Platter”—but what sticks in my mind, as my very favorite, is the “Cheeseburger Platter.”

I still can’t say “Cheeseburger Platter” without feeling a huge, silly grin blooming inside me. On the King’s memorial Facebook page, someone posted a menu revealing that the Cheeseburger Platter came “with cole slaw, golden French fries, and onion rings.” . . . Yep, yep! That’s what I remember. That menu, from who knows when (the early ’70s, I’ll bet), gives the cost of the Cheeseburger Platter as $1.10. Oh, and I remember having an orange drink with it. (Ha! An “orange drink”! Remember that stuff? And those gigantic clear, cubical drink dispensers every restaurant used to have, with the lemonade or “orange drink” sloshing around inside? So tempting! And hey, I was, like, seven.)

I also recall the food being served on actual cafeteria-style china dishware.

The button I photographed at the top of this post was undoubtedly given to me (and Paul must’ve gotten one, too) by a server, to reward me for “cleaning my plate,” which was something all kids were strongly encouraged to do back then. (As with about every other paragraph in this post, please join me in a resounding: “Boy, times have sure changed!”)

Regarding the Famous “Cheese Frenchee” Sandwich

Many people fondly remember King’s “Cheese Frenchee” sandwiches, but I don’t recall them. Because I was pretty young, I suspect my parents, thinking of my health, had guided me away from them. The Cheese Frenchee, a King’s signature dish, was a midcentury, midwestern, family-restaurant version of the famous French croque-monsieur. There are lots of recipes approximating this popular King’s menu item; here are some:

—At Studio1430.com, there is a cheese frenchee recipe purportedly from a former employee at King’s.

—Pam Patterson, “Recipe: Cheese Frenchees,” at latimes.com.

—R_Mess, “Cheese Frenchee” at food.com.

Interestingly, there are still some King’s restaurants that remain as restaurants, operating under different names, but in many ways similar, including, with some, the tableside telephones for ordering; one is The Wood House Restaurant, in Bismarck, North Dakota; another is the Pantry Family Restaurant, in Boise, Idaho.

. . . Hmm. Suddenly, I’m thinkin’: ROAD TRIP!

Columbia . . . Mizz-urr-ee . . .

Hi, kids! Long time, no see! And sure, it's all my fault. Do you want to hear the excuses? How I've been busy, workin', playin' my trumpet again (hallujah!), and travelin'?

No--you don't want to hear about that. But I haven't forgotten you. Plus, you can rejoice with me! Since I've been actually doing things, I have a huge backlog of stuff to tell you about. Yet it almost feels like--constipation. So many things on my Op Op "do list," it's starting to feel like a "doo list."

Goodness.

But I can't pass this up--this is a quickie post--mercifully--so that's why I'm posting it.

It came up in my Facebook feed, shared by that Facebook page called "You Know You're From Columbia MO When. . ." And I wanted to share it with all the poor, sad people who haven't "liked" that page yet--perhaps because they aren't actually from Columbia, Mo.

It's a little, nostalgic song about Columbia, with an emphasis on Hickman High School. (Yay! Class of '84!) Pretty sweet, I think. I hope you'll enjoy it, too. Chances are, no matter where you're from, some part of it will resonate with you . . .



(Psst! Anyone else notice that this singer, despite his rural accent, is saying "Missouree" instead of "Missourah"? Typical Columbian! A blend of the down-home and the citified!)

Ascent from Deep River: Paintings and Drawings by the Late Tim Williams

I’m sharing this with my Op Op friends because I’m pretty sure we like the same kinds of things: Home; art; nature; heritage; creativity; things that make you think. Finding the glory in imperfect things. Glorying in things that are well done. Doing things with heart and with love. Treasures of people and places.

You would have liked Tim Williams, and you will love his art.

A native Columbian, Tim Williams painted in Central Missouri for decades, but he always seems to have shied away from putting his work in shows and galleries. He was a creator, pure and simple. As a result, though he was prolific, not many people have seen his works.

But Tim was a friend of mine (“is”—? Well, I have never stopped liking and loving him, so how does someone word such a thing, anyway?)—and because of this, I’ve been lucky for the past fifteen years or so to get to see his art; sometimes as it was in progress, but mostly as samples of it hanging in his and Jane’s home, and in Jane’s office, which was a revolving mini-gallery of his work. (You see, Jane was my managing editor, and Tim’s colorful and evocative paintings in her office provided a surefire mind-thrill during every Monday morning staff meeting. I sipped coffee those mornings, but with his art on her walls, I didn’t need to!)

I could try to describe Tim’s beautiful, brilliant personality, and his intriguing, beguiling art, but it wouldn’t work. It would come out wrong; as Laurie Anderson said, “Writing about music is like dancing about architecture.” Instead, I recommend you go see his art, which is currently on exhibit (free!) at Orr Street Studios in downtown Columbia (106 Orr St., north of Walnut, east of 10th St.).

For a taste treat, check out his enduring Web presence at his Flickr photostream and his StumbleUpon page. The Flickr photostream is a trove of his art, with each work often paired with a poem, each pairing guaranteed to make you feel more human and alive. There are landscapes, portraits, self-portraits, paintings on Zen subjects, architectural paintings, and more. (The Flickr site is where I have copied the images in this post from. See below for a statement on my copying of his art.) The StumbleUpon site shows the breadth and depth of his curiosity and the wide range of things that tickled him.

Tim’s Web presence gained him a large and loving international online following, and their appreciation was based only on digitized art glowing on a computer screen. Now you get to see the works up close, in real life. This is a huge opportunity!

------------------------------------

Orr Street Studios (106 Orr St., downtown Columbia, Mo.):
Ascent from Deep River: A Collection of Work by the Late Tim Williams, Boonville, Mo.
Exhibition runs through February 10.
Gallery hours 12–3, Thursday–Sunday (or by chance).
Reception is Friday, Jan. 18, 6–9 pm.
“Remembering Tim” discussion is Tuesday, Feb. 5, 6–8 pm.

Here is what Orr Street Studios is saying about Tim and his work:

In 1990, Tim married longtime friend Jane Lago. As a practicing Buddhist, Tim annually went to Japan to meditate with other Buddhists. One day a Zen master asked him to illustrate a book of poems he had written. Tim’s response was, “but I’m not an Artist!” and the Master said, “oh but you are!”

So in the early 90’s Tim decided to go back to school to pursue an art degree, which he completed in 1996 from MU. His mentor, as he was for so many others, was Frank Stack [professor of art at MU]. Tim would travel to surrounding river towns with Frank, and sometimes with other plein air painters—Jane Mudd, Byron Smith, and Chris Teeter—to name a few.

He communed with fellow artists and nature, and he quickly gained an understanding of painting from life. He had a natural, raw talent that amazed and inspired all who knew him. Tim was also influenced by MU professors Jennifer Wiggs and Jo Stealey.

He was passionate about art history and collected many art books. He and Jane eventually decided to buy a house in Boonville with a majestic river view.

In recent years, Tim’s desire for making art intensified. He investigated form and idea with an even greater urgency, setting a goal to do a portrait a day. Tim was a tireless seeker, a fearless innovator and an extremely sensitive artist. He died suddenly Dec. 19, 2011, at 58 years old.

This collection is only a part of a vast body of work by Tim’s in his last 20 years. In addition to attending the Jan. 18th opening reception, please join the discussion “Remembering Tim” at the Feb. 5th “Seeing Visions” Orr Street Studio event, 6 to 8 p.m.

A note on the images in this post: They are all under copyright, and I've admittedly copied-wrong by pinching them from Tim's Shitao Flickr photostream. My intentions are purely to help promote the exhibition at Orr Street, and to encourage you to look at Tim's work online, too. The pictures I've selected may not be in the exhibit. Finally, depending on Jane's wishes, I may be taking them off this post when the exhibition's done (or sooner). But the links to Tim's online collections will remain.

Good Eggs!

One sign of spring is farm-fresh eggs! I don’t think that many Americans realize that eggs are a seasonal item. Their appearance in spring is one reason why we think about eggs at Easter.

If you stop to think about it, most birds don’t lay eggs in wintertime, and so neither do chickens—according to nature, anyway. The reason we have hens’ eggs in our grocery stores year-round is because big commercial egg farmers manipulate the photoperiod using artificial light to trick the chickens into not having any idea what day, month, or season it is! There are no calendars in commercial chicken houses.




Before farmers figured out how to fool the chickens with electric lights, and before refrigeration was available, it was a real game for people to figure out how to preserve eggs during the months when hens weren’t laying. To give you an idea of this chore, here’s a quote from The Hearthstone; or, Life at Home: A Household Manual, written by Laura C. Holloway, published in 1883:

To keep Eggs Fresh.—One of the best means of preserving eggs is the following: Select good fresh eggs and pack endwise in a mixture of equal parts of fine dry charcoal and salt (cold). Keep in a cool, dry place until required for use. A thin coating of gum or a trace of oil will prevent loss of moisture through the shell. The best time for preserving eggs is from July to September.

So anyway, there are still some chickens in this land, our land, that do natural things, like scratch in the dirt, flap their stubby wings and go clumsily airborne (as chickens do), peck at corn, strut around and cluck, nibble on grasses, capture beetles, and listen to robins singing on these fine spring mornings. And they do know what season it is: It’s the season to lay eggs!

My friend Rhoda lives in Columbia and has chickens, and now that her hens are producing again, she let it be known (Facebook to the rescue!) that she was ready for buyers again. (Note: if you are reading this and are wanting to contact her, let me know, and I’ll put you in touch. Realize—she’s not a commercial chicken farmer, so she doesn’t have a bazillion to sell.)

For my Central Missouri friends who are wondering, hers is not one of the backyard-chicken-coops that have recently become lawful in the city of Columbia (last year the city council passed an ordinance permitting it—cool, huh?)—she’s actually zoned “Agricultural.”

Anyway—what a great thing! Happy chickens, awesome eggs.

I love it that they’re all different colors, shapes, and patterns. Sometimes you want a smaller egg; sometimes you want a great big one. And the variety reminds me of the fact that each of her chickens are individuals—I don’t know if she has names for them, but they are certainly far from being anonymous, confused birds in little boxes.

Having awesome eggs makes me want to do something special with them.

Stay tuned!

Friday, February Twenty-Fifth

Doggone it, I’ve never had a computer virus before, but there’s a first time for everything, huh? I guess I should consider myself lucky that I’ve surfed this long, the last few years virtually unprotected, and not “contracted” anything, but there you go: My preferred computer for working on the Op Op is in the shop.

Fortunately, I have two computers; unfortunately, it was my laptop that got sick; fortunately, my desktop is fine; unfortunately, the desktop is upstairs, and with my foot in a cast, getting up there isn’t very convenient. (Hell, with one foot out of commission, nothing can be convenient.) But fortunately, I’ve decided to crutch up and down the steps, anyway.

Unfortunately, I had a number of posts in the works—ready to put online, in fact!—that existed only on the laptop. I have high hopes that they’ll still be there when I get my laptop back. (Knock on wood; touch metal; toss salt over my shoulder.) Meanwhile, you are treated to the lameness of this-here post.

*Sigh.*

More than ever, I have to admit, getting out of the house is becoming extraordinarily exciting. (Yes, I could drive, but I know I had better not—cops and insurance companies wouldn’t think it was very funny.)

Yesterday, for instance, I rode with Sue to Columbia and got my hair cut! Wow! Such excitement! And I spent the morning on campus at the Museum of Art and Archaeology! They’ve got a really good show going on right now, of a summer art colony that existed in Ste. Genevieve during the thirties.

The ride to Columbia, the art museum, the haircut—that was some doin’s, I tell ya, and I would have done more, if the weather hadn’t gotten all crappy on me. (N.b.: Crutching in snow, sleet, and slush is only better than crutching on smooth wet tiles or on ice.)

Saturday was another big outing—Sue got us tickets to see the final performance of a stage adaptation of Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility at the Stephens Playhouse, and we met my folks there.

Each time I go to a Stephens performance, I’m impressed and greatly entertained. They do things so well there! And every time, I come away thinking, “We need to go to more of these. This is art; this is real; this is the kind of thing that makes me proud to be human. We should do this more often!”

Okay, let’s make this perfectly clear: I’m not saying that it’s a good thing to be gimped up. But I have to admit that it sure makes you appreciate simple things a whole lot more.

Golden Treasures in Columbia

Pay attention, folks: You have until September 26 to see an exhibition of exquisitely crafted golden treasures currently on display at the University of Missouri Museum of Art and Archaeology. Yes, this exhibition’s been there since early June, but if you’re just now getting back to town, or if you’re simply looking for neat things to do here in Central Missouri, may I humbly suggest this exhibition: The Voyage of a Contemporary Italian Goldsmith in the Classical World: Golden Treasures by Akelo.




Don’t get me wrong—I’m not a “jewelry gal.” But that’s my point: I’m genuinely impressed by this show, and by the artist-goldsmith who has created the works. The artistry and craftsmanship make this exhibition transcend, by far, any routine look in a jewelry store’s windows.




The goldsmith’s name is Andrea Cagnetti, whose “artistic name” (like a nom de plume) is Akelo. He’s Italian and grew up constantly exposed to Greek, Roman, and Etruscan classic artworks. From an early age, he admired the gold jewelry of the ancient Etruscans.

However, the goldsmithing techniques of the Etruscans had been lost to time. But Akelo’s dogged studies of science and art led him to research metallurgy, and he delved into the ancient texts of alchemy to look for hints for how his ancient forebears did what they did. In those medieval books, recipes for gold were combined with recipes for the purification of the soul, and Akelo’s life was, in a strange, anachronistic fashion, transformed into that of a medieval monk.




I guarantee that you will be impressed by his delicate application of filagree, his selection of precious and semiprecious stones, and the powerful symbolism of his designs and ornaments. But perhaps the most remarkable thing you’ll see in the exhibit is a technique called granulation.

I’d never heard of granulation before—basically, it’s a way of creating a texture on the surface of a gold object by affixing a layer of tiny gold balls (granules) to it. These balls can be as large as a millimeter and as small as .07 mm. (That’s seven hundredths of the width of a dime!)


The goldsmith has to create these spheres and weld them (somehow) onto the surface, usually in some sort of pattern.

This technique—in the perfected form the Etruscans had developed—had been lost to time. Indeed, it was being lost about the time the Romans took over. Akelo, however, has figured out how to do it, and the spectacular results can be seen at this exhibition.

Akelo also has his own proprietary formula for mixing gold, so the color of his gold is different—warmer, I’d say, but also more vibrant—from what you’ve seen before.

Everything in this show is made by this one man—starting with the melting and mixing of the gold, to the shaping and decorating of the pieces, to the creation of his own thin gold wires, and even to the crafting of each tiny, identical link in every single chain. All made by him.

He must have an incredible amount of patience!




Again—I’m not a girl to go nuts over jewelry—but I am impressed by the time and care Akelo has put into his art. His designs, which feature elements such as amphoras, pinecones, acorns, dolphins, and crosses, pay homage to the classical and medieval past but also contain a contemporary flair—as a result, the pieces are timeless.

It’s no surprise that Akelo’s work has been getting lots of attention, and that major art museums have begun purchasing his works for their permanent collections.

So catch a rising star—go see the Golden Treasures by Akelo. I promise that you will be impressed.




Finally, a word about the Museum of Art and Archaeology: If you have never seen it, make sure you build in plenty of time to visit the whole museum. No, it’s not the Nelson, and no, it’s not the Saint Louis Art Museum, but for its size, its collection—of antiquities, classic works, and more contemporary pieces—is remarkable, significant, full of artistic gems.

Time spent in an art museum is never, ever wasted. It elevates you, it broadens your mind. The role of the artist is to remind you that everything around us is a miracle. —Oh, and did I mention this museum is free? Free! So you have no excuse not to go.

There’s all kinds of stuff going on there. Look at their website for more information.

Museum of Art and Archaeology
1 Pickard Hall
University of Missouri–Columbia
573-882-3591

Hours:
Tuesday through Friday, 9 a.m. to 4 p.m.
Saturday and Sunday, noon to 4 p.m.
(closed on holidays)

http://maa.missouri.edu/

Coolness Lost

This isn't a very happy post, you all. Two things have happened here that have made life less cool.

1. Goodbye to Felini

First is that Felini, one of our favorite restaurants in Columbia, has shut its doors. I wrote about this restaurant earlier; you can see that earlier post for more about it.




I found it an uncommon type of restaurant, for the Midwest. The food was creative and delicious without being "trendy." The presentations were elegant without being ostentatious.




The menu was varied enough so that there was something for everyone in the party, and there were some items you can't get anywhere else (Kosovar-Albanian specialties such as Tava Sautee, Qoftethes, and their unique style of kebobs; their Greek and Italian dishes included an unusual and addictive tuna calzone, Domate Supa, and Galaktobureko).

The ambience was pleasant, relaxing, "nice," without being hoity-toity. The service was attentive, gracious, and friendly without being in-your-face. The prices were very reasonable.




Felini opened my eyes and palate to a new cuisine, and it renewed my memories of the great dinners we would have at my Grandma Schroeder's house--first-class food made with love, the good dishes, good wine, and yet so comfortable, with plenty of room for ebullient conversation, even singing. I found Felini a tremendous inspiration for my own cooking and entertaining, and I already miss it.

(Wonder how I can get the recipe for their tuna calzone? Man, that was great!)





2. The Tour of Missouri

Well, this is just a damn shame: Governor Nixon and the Missouri Tourism Commission have nixed the funding for what would have been the fourth annual Tour of Missouri bicycle stage race (which is a lot like the Tour de France). Each summer, from 2007 to 2009, the world's top cyclists--professional athletes on a level with Lance Armstrong--have come with their international teams to compete in a progressive race that took place all across our state.




They rode in Kansas City and St. Louis; they rode in Gallatin and Taos. The races were broadcast on the Web, and cycling enthusiasts worldwide learned about Missouri, saw our beautiful landscapes, our rolling hills . . . and many came as tourists to follow their teams for the whole week.

There are a large number of stage races worldwide, but the Tour of Missouri quickly rose to become one of the most significant apart from the Tour de France. It is ranked as one of the top 5 races outside of Europe. The biggest pro teams were attending. People were really paying attention to this race.




Both public and private money sponsored the Tour of Missouri; this year, the Tour was asking for $1,000,000 from the state. The total event budget was $3.5 million, and much of the corporate and city funding has been tied to the assurance of support from the state.

The part I can't understand is how the great benefits of the Tour of Missouri can be so summarily discounted: For the state, there's an estimated average 20 to 1 Return on Investment for this event. Tax revenues are estimated at $3.8 million. Numerous world-famous Tour de France winners, Olympic medalists, and other top cyclists appeared on Tour of Missouri podiums. Our event was broadcast in 173 countries, and Versus, Fox Sports Midwest, and Fox Sports Kansas City provided daily telecasts to American viewers.






Visitors from 42 states and 15 countries came to Missouri, dined, and slept in motels here. There were 790 million circulated impressions of the event with Missouri by-lines. This was the most international sporting event Missouri has hosted since the 1904 Olympics.




At the starts and finishes, festivals provided promotional platforms for more than 20 sponsors, plus Health and Wellness Expositions; these festivals were attended by an estimated 300,000 people. Included were things like safety clinics and bike-helmet giveaways for kids, information on ways to improve your diet and get more exercise, and much more. An accompanying educational curriculum reached 250,000 students in the state.




Yes, I know that things like "exposing people to healthy ideas" and "getting kids enthused about bicycling" are rather intangible--how can you put a dollar value on an incentive that may or may not bear immediate fruit? But people need to be reminded of health and fitness constantly, and this is one, fun way to do that. Not every kid is going to be "reached" by baseball, football, or other sports (I certainly was not)--but I can understand cycling. You don't need a team to be a cyclist, and cycling is one sport that definitely is very open to women, and to people of all ages, too.




It's also rather intangible to talk about how people all across the world saw the St. Louis Arch, or the Pony Express in St. Joe. How do you quantify the value of a picture postcard? Where is the immediate payoff? . . . As with the health and wellness benefit, it is collective. It might take the thirtieth such "postcard" to inspire someone to come visit our state and spend money here. So to my thinking, the Tour gave us a lot of bang for our buck--cycling fans tuned in every day for a week, so that's seven doses of "Missouri postcard" right there!

But set aside the intangibles: In 2009, the total economic impact by spectators during the seven-day event was $38.1 million. The previous year, that was $29.8 million in 2008, and in 2007, it was $26.2 million. This baby was growing!

Now, when you stop to think that the State was asked to provide ONE million dollars, in order to bring probably $40 million into our state, and it didn't see this as a wise way of spending our tax dollars--well, it's no wonder we're in a recession, no wonder stuff is screwed up, with this kind of thinking.

And yes, I'm a big ol' Democrat, but I'm simply pissed off at Governor Nixon about this. I can't help but think this is some kind of asinine political foolishness on his part, since Lt. Gov. Pete Kinder, who is likely to challenge him in the next gubernatorial election, has been the top politician supporting the Tour of Missouri. Indeed, this race is one of Kinder's proudest projects. And he deserves to be proud.




Governor Nixon has really missed his mark on this decision. The Tour of Missouri is too good to be a political football. In many ways, Nixon's and Kinder's stances on the Tour of Missouri seem to swap the usual positions of Democrat and Republican. Stereotypically (if I can make sweeping generalizations), Democrats are willing to spend public money on the "intangibles" concerning community spirit (including small towns) and promotion of public health and wellness; the Republicans seem most likely to refuse public dollars for, well, anything public-welfare-related. Republicans usually refuse to allow public money in any projects constructive for the common man, insisting that private sources fund it all. But here the roles seem reversed, with Kinder backing this popular, public-private cosponsored, do-good, feel-good, everyone-wins project.

It takes more than a shrewd politician to know when to support his opponent's good works--it takes someone who really cares about the state. And so I have doubts about Governor Nixon. This really smells like partisanship. I haven't ever voted for a Republican, but I have to admit: Nixon's stand on the Tour of Missouri is making me reconsider.

Will the Tour of Missouri return in 2011? If a last-minute change on the part of the Tourism Commission and Nixon doesn't save it for 2010, then probably not. So goodbye, Tour of Missouri, you were really inspiring, and you made me proud of every corner of our state, from the smallest rural towns to our largest cities.




And so Missouri has had, and lost, another really cool thing, and my friends from out of state will have another reason to say, "How can you live there? What a backwards state! That place must really suck." And yeah, sometimes it really does.

Fastnacht: “German Mardi Gras”

Actually, it’s just as correct to say that Mardi Gras is the French version of Fastnacht!

If you’re in Central Missouri and want to try something new tonight, come to the huge, annual Fastnacht celebration sponsored by the Columbia United Church of Christ!

It starts at 5:30 this evening and is held at Columbia’s Knights of Columbus hall (2525 N. Stadium Rd.—that’s the part of Stadium that’s north of I-70, okay?)—yah, yah, yah, yah: You know you want to go!




Here’s why:

1) The “Trinity” (we’ve talked about this before): brats, kraut, and potato salad (German potato salad—is there any other kind?)

2) “Fastnachts.” These are sweet little fried pastries (similar to my family’s mützen), traditionally served at Fastnacht. (Get it? They’re fried: oil, grease, “fat”—as in “Fat Tuesday”). Yum-yum!

3) Music and dancing! This year, the Loehnig Band from Hermann, which has performed for the UCC Fastnacht celebration each year for 25 years—even when the weather’s been miserable!—is finally taking a vacation for Fastnacht . . . in New Orleans! So this year, the entertainment is from Columbia’s own 6-piece German band, “Der Musicmeisters.” (Um, shouldn’t that be spelled Musikmeisters?) (Anyway . . .)

German Fastnacht has deep roots, as deep as French Mardi Gras, and if you’re of German descent, or if you’re just looking for something different to do this evening, you absolutely need to check out this scene.

Yes, it’s sponsored by a local church as an outreach activity and fund-raiser, but no, you won’t be subjected to any sermons or preachin’ tonight. Just good food, music, fun, and friendly fellowship.

Alcohol will not be served, so everyone who goes can feel comfortable. (Naturally, if you want to continue your party, you can always head downtown afterwards for more abandoned types of revelry!)

Cost for tickets at the door is $10 for adults, $5 for kids 6–12.

For more information, look at the Web site of the Columbia UCC.