Wednesday, April 22, 2020

The Album Thing: Chuck Mangione, Feels So Good

So I’m participating in this Facebook fad. On Facebook, I was nominated by a dear friend to post something like ten album covers of favorite albums over the years, or something. There were a bunch of rules, but I’m gonna ignore them and just post photos of several of my favorite (or maybe I should say formational) albums over the years. Because that’s the point.

Everyone used to say my trumpet sound was so beautiful. I think it was because I tried to emulate Chuck’s sound on the flugelhorn. I didn’t even know such a thing existed. I was like twelve. I just heard it on the radio and thought it was a trumpet. It was much later when I finally saw the instrument he was playing. No wonder I developed a round, dark sound.

Tuesday, April 21, 2020

The Album Thing: Carpenters, Carpenters

Okay, I’m participating in a Facebook fad. I was nominated by a dear friend to post something like ten album covers of favorite albums over the years, or something like that. There were a bunch of rules, but I’m gonna ignore them and just post photos of a bunch of my favorite albums over the years. Because that’s the point. So, we begin with something that should not be a surprise to anyone who’s known me for very long.

You know, I could fulfill this whole “favorite album thing” and with all Carpenters albums. That would be pretty funny, huh. Again, if you know me well, you’d know that wouldn’t be a stretch.

Superstar” was one of the huge hits from this album. It’s a great example of the synthesis of the best of Richard Carpenter’s arranging and Karen Carpenter’s vocal magic. The story goes, he had to press her to sing it because she hated it at first.

Rainy Days and Mondays” was another big hit from the album. And it was one of several Carpenters songs that was an exquisite study in depression. And no, no, in these days, there was no autotune in sight—this is all her (and their) real voices, painstakingly overdubbed.

Their famous Carpenters Bacharach-David medley is on this album—it was not a big radio hit, but as an arrangement it was a tour-de-force, featuring more amazing vocals. Here, I’m sharing a live version of it, in case anyone might think this virtuosity was all just “magic in the studio.” Actually in this live version, they use faster tempos than on the album. This kind of perfectionism might be one reason they ended up so burned out.

I would like to add that the last few years, I’ve read some really interesting stuff about Karen Carpenter. First, as a baseline, the Ron Coleman biography of the duo, which is the one Richard and the family approved of, so it tippy-toes around certain topics. Second, the book Little Girl Blue, by Randy Schmidt, is an unauthorized but respectful biography of Karen; it is the fuller, and focused treatment that she as an individual totally deserved.

But finally, I’d like to recommend a slim volume called Why Karen Carpenter Matters, by Karen Tongson, which really helped me understand that my young obsession with Karen Carpenter wasn’t ridiculous or sad and in fact was mirrored by many other people like me who stand outside the mainstream: “In Why Karen Carpenter Matters, Karen Tongson (whose Filipino musician parents named her after the pop icon) interweaves the story of the singer’s rise to fame with her own trans-Pacific journey between the Philippines—where imitations of American pop styles flourished—and Karen Carpenter’s home ground of Southern California. Tongson reveals why the Carpenters’ chart-topping, seemingly whitewashed musical fantasies of “normal love” can now have profound significance for her—as well as for other people of color, LGBT+ communities, and anyone outside the mainstream culture usually associated with Karen Carpenter’s legacy. This hybrid of memoir and biography excavates the destructive perfectionism at the root of the Carpenters’ sound, while finding the beauty in the singer’s all too brief life.” I highly recommend it.

Monday, March 16, 2020

We Begin Lockdown

The novel Coronavirus isn’t really in Missouri yet, but it seems like we oughta stop going out and fritzing around. You don’t know who might have it. Let’s stay inside and do things around the house, huh?

Exhibit A: Painting Under the Kitchen Sink.

It hadn’t been painted since about 1963, by my estimates. I recently saw a can of mismixed paint on sale at Lowe’s and got it. I thought it was rather pretty. Kind of lavender, just my style.

Part of the fun of repainting under the kitchen sink is throwing away all the old crap that had accumulated there, and arranging what’s left in a logical and useful order.

In case you’re wondering, the little shelf thingie was already there when we bought the house. It had been in the back, against the wall, but I moved it to be in front of the drain pipe. I choose to look past the fact that it’s actually just split, not sawed, on that one edge. You should look past it, too. It’s not your house, and it’s under the sink, for God’s sake. So let it be. Make do with what ya got.

Anyway, I gave it a nice coat of paint to make it feel better about itself.

So what are you going to do, now that you shouldn’t be going out in public so much?

Sunday, March 1, 2020

Spring Peepers, Coats Lane

Yesterday we went on a little excursion, just to get out of the house. We drove around at Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area, south of Columbia, just to see what we could see. Since it was kind of late in the day, we didn’t see much. What we did see, we didn’t see very well. Like this bald eagle’s nest. You can see it, can’t you?

Still, it was good to drive around and look out the windows.

We didn’t go straight home. Our meanderings, starting in McBaine, led from South Coats Lane north to Gillespie Bridge and then to I-70, which we then took to get around Columbia and back on our way to Jefferson City.

Below, I share a magical few moments of spring peepers chorusing from a farm lane off of Coats. The music exhilarated me and filled me with hope. You can’t yet tell by looking at the world, but the sound of these peepers is the jubilant sound of spring.

Sunday, January 12, 2020

Aunt Lyd’s Goulash

Time for a retro recipe!

Great Aunt Lydia Meyer provided this recipe about 1984, though I’ll bet she’d been making it for years. Aunt Lyd, Grandma Renner’s younger sister, who lived off of West McCarty, on Hamlin Street, in one of those nifty 1920s/1930s homes with the tall, steep gable soaring over the front door.

Her husband, Adolf, was a letter carrier for the post office—a physical job, for sure—and they had two robust, busy sons, so with all that activity and appetite surrounding her, she knew how to make satisfying meals in a hurry. And inexpensively.

Since there were lots and lots of women in the same situation, the following dish is hardly unique. Most of us who grew up in the middle twentieth century have memories of eating some kind of gloppy hamburger-based stew called “goulash.” It didn’t help that it sounded a bit like “galoshes,” which puts one in mind of mud, slush, and other sloppy things that collect on the ground. But honestly, we loved it.

The concept of “goulash,” although somehow loosely connected to an ancestral idea in the Old World (e.g., Hungary), constitutes a central branch of a wide variety of midcentury American tomatoey, ground-hamburger-and vegetable, one-dish meals called “goulash.” In Sue’s family, when her mom produced a goulash dish, Mr. Ferber would chuckle and call it (affectionately, but no doubt to Mrs. Ferber’s chagrin) “slumgullion.”

If we’re critical, and we’re being honest, this is not food to savor, except occasionally as a retro recipe—a way for us midcentury babies to plumb childhood memories of suppertime and potlucks. Mostly, it’s valuable as a quick, tasty way to feed a bunch of hungry people using things you have on hand.

Which means: “mom food,” or “church lady food.” (With the recent cold, snowy weather, I made this recipe as a meal for my parents and brother.)

Also, since we’re being critical, we owe a salute to our moms for improvising such tasty meals, on a shoestring, using what was in the freezer and cupboard. Boxed Hamburger Helper would soon come along and tell them, “you don’t need to mess with all that stuff; just brown some hamburger, add water, and stir in our box of sodium and dried-up things.” And compared to that, goulash seems like a meal made with actual love and care and creativity.

As a hot stew, it’s also perfect for wintertime eating.

I’m sure you can find lots of similar recipes, maybe even better ones, online, but here’s Aunt Lydie’s version. My suggestions follow the recipe.

Aunt Lyd’s Goulash

Brown ½ pound of hamburger; add ¼ cup chopped onion, and ½ cup chopped celery. Cook until tender. Then add 1 package of frozen succotash, 1 can tomato soup, 1 tsp. sugar, and pepper and salt to taste, and a little chili powder, and a little green pepper.

Simmer for 45 minutes.

Makes 4 servings.


Suggestions and notes:

  • “Package of frozen succotash”: in the past, frozen vegetables only came in ca. 10 oz. boxes. Maybe you can still find 10 oz. boxes of frozen succotash, but to replicate this dish, you may have to buy frozen lima beans and corn and measure out about 5 oz. of each. You could also use canned instead of frozen.
  • “1 can tomato soup”: this would have been a can of condensed Campbell’s tomato soup, used in the condensed form.
  • Obviously, the variations are endless.
  • Finally, if you add a little Italian herbal seasoning, or oregano, it would probably be even more tasty. Just sayin’.

Fun fact: I had to look up the spelling for slumgullion for this post!

Tuesday, December 24, 2019

Effing Ham at Effingham

It’s Christmas Eve, and what are we doing? We’re driving home from Ohio. Sue’s mom passed away in the early morning hours of December 20, and her funeral was yesterday. We’ve been in Ohio since December 9. It’s been a long few weeks—yet much, much too short, too. . . . We’re just tired.

Tired and dazed. It will be so good to be home again, sleep in our own bed, be reunited with our kitties, and see if the world won’t start spinning on its axis again at some point. One thing’s for sure: 2020 will be an unusual year.

Over the many years we’ve driven to Ohio to visit Sue’s people, we’ve always had to drive through Effingham, Illinois. In recent years, it’s had so much highway construction, it’s been a real pain. All those lanes of traffic, merging interstates, exit and entrance ramps, and people driving like idiots. Many of them are, as Sue calls them, Ill-annoying drivers.

Time was, Effingham was a place where we’d plan to stop, knowing there were so many options for gas and fast food. But for years, now, it’s a place, like Indianapolis, that we just want to get through. We’ll stop almost anywhere before or after it, but our goal for a long time has been to slip through this gantlet of crazy traffic as efficiently as possible. And the monstrously gigantic, tacky roadside cross is not something we particularly like to see. I’m a Christian, but really—though I’m sure it was erected with all good intentions, it makes me cringe. And as a sign of Effingham’s impending traffic, it’s rather ominous: “oh boy, here we go.”

So, Effingham. We’ve taken to calling it “effing, effing, Effingham.” As in, “seventeen miles to effing, effing, Effingham—do you wanna stop and get gas before it, or after?”

(The image above is a screen capture from Google street view.)

But tonight, we made an exception. I think we’ve set a land speed record, this trip, returning from Ohio. We simply haven’t stopped much at all. But around Terre Haute, we realized we were getting peckish, also a little slap-happy. It occurred to us we wanted comfort food, home cookin’—breakfast. And we knew there’s a Denny’s in Effingham. You can always count on Denny’s, huh?

Slap-happy plus peckish equals hilarity; from Terre Haute to central Illinois, it became our mantra: Hey, let’s get some effing ham at Effingham!

And that’s just what we did.

It totally hit the spot, and it tickled us, too. I had to post about it on Facebook.

And the coffee was completely welcome. And the people who work at places like this, on Christmas Eve, serving people like us, are doing the work of God. Our gratitude knows no bounds. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

. . . So very looking forward to getting home.

Friday, December 13, 2019

Mrs. Ferber’s Spice Cookies

It’s Advent and time for a Christmas cookie recipe! This is an all-time favorite of Sue’s family, and the recipe comes from Sue’s mom. It’s one of those cookies you can’t have Christmas without.

Mrs. F is currently in a rehab facility after recently falling in her assisted living apartment. So this year, since we’re in Ohio to be with her, I’m baking these cookies in Mrs. Ferber’s own kitchen.

At some point, after we get back to Missouri, I’ll be shipping these and other cookies to family and friends on my cookie gift list.

Note that these will be quite soft when you take them out of the oven. They will become crisp and firm when they cool. These are best when they are both crunchy and slightly chewy. If they turn out slightly too crispy, store them in a sealed tin with half an apple wrapped in some wax paper—that’ll fix the texture.

You will probably want to double this recipe, because everyone will want some.

3/4 cup shortening
1 cup brown sugar
1 egg
1/4 cup molasses (such as Brer Rabbit)
2 cups flour
2 tsp. baking soda
1/4 tsp. salt
1 tsp. cinnamon
3/4 tsp. ground cloves
3/4 tsp. dried, ground ginger

Mix dough and chill. Roll it into balls the size of walnuts. Dip in a bowl of granulated sugar and place 2 inches apart on a greased (or parchment-lined) cookie sheet. Bake at 375°F for about 8 minutes. Makes about 60 cookies.