Soup Is Not A Finger Food

Hide and Seek

LAST WEEKEND, I dragged took my neighbor Stephanie up to my old stompin' grounds. My aunt and uncle built a sweet cabin on the ridge above what used to be my grandmother's (her mother's) farm, and they kindly allowed us to invade for a girls' weekend. Steph's sister Dory and Dory's friend Diane met us there. Our mission: A whole bunch of geocaching, a ride on the Millersburg Ferry and a visit to the Ned Smith Nature and Art festival.

I provided nonstop running commentary and shared interesting facts spouted minutiae about my hometown. I pointed out where my relatives live. (Which was, like, every third house.) I told stories from back in the day.  I wouldn't shut up was probably pretty unbearable, but I was their chauffer, so they were my captive audience.

For the uninitiated, geocaching is a worldwide game of hide and seek. You can find lists of "caches" on the website, enter the coordinates into your handheld GPS, then use that to guide you to the exact location of the cache. Along the way you can get sunburned hike, learn local history, and you get to see things that are miles from all civilization off the beaten path. My companions are all quite experienced geocachers, but they were patient and willing to train their chauffer.

But enough of my prattling on and on and on. I'll let the photos do (most of) the talking.

Dory fishes a microcache out of its hiding place while Steph logs our find.

One of the caches we found was hidden in state gamelands, high above the Susquehanna River... 

 
...and Routes 11/15. This was just north of Liverpool, PA. 
 
We found caches at two covered bridges - 
 
 
...the Aline Bridge, just up Route 104 on the way to Middleburg, and...

 
...Red Bridge, outside of Liverpool. Please don't tell anyone that I grew up maybe 4 miles from this bridge but never knew it was there.  Adjacent to this site were an old outhouse--

 
---and a long-abandoned house:

 

There were also cemeteries (which, I just learned, is from the Greek word that means "sleeping place"). There was the one out by Barners Church -

 
...where there are, in fact, many tombstones bearing the name "Barner."

 
(...even though this photo features a "Meiser" grave marker. You'll have to take my word for it.) 

Then there was the cemetery at the site of the former St. Michael's Evangelical Lutheran Church in Pfoutz Valley. It's an equally peaceful "sleeping place":

 

 This cemetery used to be adjacent to a church, which has long since been razed:

 
St. Michael's is next to the farm that was my aunt & uncle's, and the next farm after that one was was my grandmother's - where my dad grew up. So you see, I can't even count how many times I've driven by this place. And yet, I can remember only stopping and visiting it a few times. It's so peaceful and quiet there, and as I surveyed the plot's location amid corn and soybean fields, I got to thinking how this would be such a nice place to spend my eternal rest, because the chances are next to zero that they would pave over this particular slice of paradise... but then I remembered the other cemetery we visited earlier in the day -

 
The cache was nestled next to Sarah Catharine Shuman's grave. She died when she was only ten. And that was next to these --

 
--which were sequestered way up on top of a slab of earth that was flanked by a highway on-ramp and an off-ramp - the Millerstown exit of Routes 22/322. The highway was built in the '60s, and my cousin Julie tells me that her dad protested the original plan to relocate those graves. The highway was redesigned to leave this small family plot intact. And I am sure that when Catharine's grieving parents buried their precious daughter there, they couldn't have imagined that her resting place would end up overgrown and inaccessible to all but the hardiest, most adventurous hikers. I mean, you really have to wanna get up there.

Now, this cache -

 
...was called Nekoda. The cache was hidden in an overgrown area across the road from an old structure that once housed a general store and a post office. Until recently, it still showed up on maps of Pennsylvania, even though the post office has been defunct for decades. The building sat abandoned for many years. I could see it from my bedroom window. I spent 16 years looking across the corn fields at it, wondering if it really was haunted, as was the rumor.  A family has since bought it and fixed it up and I'd love to see what it looks like inside - I bet it's great fun to ramble around in there. We, however, were focused on navigating 'round needle-sharp bramble bushes to locate the cache that was tucked into the overgrowth near an old stone wall that may have once been the foundation for a barn or other outbuilding.

 
My fellow seekers - Steph, Dory and Diane. And yes, that's a Busch Pounder in Dory's hand. This was our 15th and final cache of the day, and we decided to linger 'neath the evergreens and enjoy a refreshing cold beverage to celebrate our finds. What a fun day - I enjoyed showing my friends around my hometown and surrounding area, and really liked learning some new things, too.

I have more to share, including the Millersburg Ferry photos - but those will have to wait for another day. Until next time -

Weekend in PA

THANKSGIVING WEEKEND for us was a mix of longstanding traditions and new experiences.  We began our favorite weekend of the year with our traditional Thursday morning drive north, complete with all 18 minutes of Arlo Guthrie's Alice's Restaurant. Thanksgiving wouldn't be Thanksgiving unless my kids suffer through this tradition!

After a fantastic mid-day dinner at my aunt and uncle's place in Lancaster PA, we swung by Curt's aunt and uncle's home for a visit before ending up at his parents' place, where we made ourselves right at home by making sure all of our stuff was strewn all over their house within minutes of our arrival.

Friday morning featured some shopping, but not the Black Friday kind of shopping. I avoid that at all costs. No, instead we visited a market run by some local Amish. While I was checking out, a nice young Amish man walked in with eight loaves of homemade bread still warm from their Amish oven. I added a loaf to my stack of goodies, and didn't protest much when my mother-in-law insisted she photograph me in front of the very horse and buggy responsible for the fresh bread delivery:

 

Later that day, we found ourselves at the fine establishment my father-in-law calls the "Hoot 'n' Holler."  While he schooled his son in the finer points of barroom pool, I made friends with the very patrons after whom the bar's delicious, handcrafted pumpkin ale was named.  Aaron and Patty were hosting some friends of theirs who'd traveled aaaaaall the way from Curacao, which is all

 
...to Central PA, which is not at all like this, which means they must have come to experience the Local Culture, which, to my pumpkin-ale-soaked brain, meant I was an AMBASSADOR! I needed to show these lovely people a Good Time! Besides, how many times do people from Curacao come stumblin' in to the Hoot 'n' Holler? (Answer: Not many.) So, we raised our glasses and sang happy birthday to the one who came all the way from the islands to celebrate turning 41, and I took lots of photos on my cell phone, none of which turned out.  But it was fun!

Saturday, I got to treat my mother and mother-in-law to lunch at The Kind Cafe in Selinsgrove, PA. What a cute place! If you're ever passing through the area, go there.  The coffee was good, the food tasty and the people were really, well, kind. Nice and kind.

Sunday morning, I made crepes for breakfast, then we gathered all of our stuff that was strewn about the house, stuffed all of it into our car, and departed. But there was one more tradition we needed to bookend our weekend: The annual cutting of the Christmas Tree at Pikes Peak Acres, owned by Curt's aunt and uncle.  And it was all

 

and all

 

and I would like to publicly thank Aunt Eleanor for providing Peezer with not one, not two but three candy canes so that he would stop freaking out after he dropped and broke the first two:

 

And so, we strapped the tree to the top of the Wagon Queen Family Truckster Suburban and headed south through heavier-than-normal traffic, past several auto accidents and the ensuing backups, to our Home Sweet Home.

THE END.

Hunter Safety, Sponsored by Miller Lite

WHERE I GREW UP, in Pennsylvania, game hunting was a popular activity. I come from a family of hunters. Both of my parents hunted (yes, Mom, too) - just deer, though, and mostly to retaliate against the the critters that would eat the crops we were trying to grow.

Schools were closed on the first day of Buck (hunting season - which we pronounced "hunt'n") AND the first day of Doe. This was because many students, and teachers, wanted to get out there and bag their game.  Kids would come into school wearing their hunt'n jacket, complete with the license pinned on the back.  There was at least one teacher who spent more class time than parents probably realized sharing stories of his own hunting exploits.

I remember hanging out at home on the first day of hunt'n season, waiting for the phone to start ringing. Often, my grandma would call with news from the relatives. "Johnny got a five-pointer," she'd report, or "George saw one with a huge rack, but he couldn't get a good shot." For some of my relatives, game hunting literally meant food on the dinner table.

In the weeks leading up to the start of the season, we would go "spotting" (yes, pronounced "spott'n"). We'd pile into the pickup truck, plug a super-strong spotlight into the cigarette lighter, then wait till dark and drive along the country roads, sweeping the spotlight along the fields and up towards the fence rows. I guess this was an attempt to figure out where the deer were loitering - a bit of pre-season intelligence gathering.

(Hey, don't laugh. It was the country - there wasn't much to do.)

Because hunt'n was such an integral part of the culture, our school required all students to sit through the hunter's safety curriculum, published by the state game commission. Even if you never intended to go shoot wildlife, never aspired to tramp through the woods toting a deer rifle. And look here - I just found my booklet! Guess I saved it all these years, just in case I ever needed to refer to it. Here's the cover:

 
Do you like my doodles? Some boys' notebook doodles featured sketches of the ten-point buck they hoped to shoot. But I was into drawing roses then.

Here's a glimpse of the inside (click to enlarge):

Why, it says right there that kids as young as age 12 (!) can get licensed to hunt! That's why I'm pretty sure we ran through this curriculum in 7th grade.

Look how well I did on the quiz - I correctly labeled all the parts of a rifle and a crossbow!

 
You get the idea.

All these years later, hunt'n is still very much a part of the culture in the part of the Commonwealth from whence I hail. The first day of the season is right after Thanksgiving, so as you might imagine, in the weeks just prior, hunters are busy as squirrels, cleaning their rifles and stocking up on ammo and checking their tree stands and making sure their camo and blaze orange gear still fits, and...

 
Headin' to the local bar to get their drank on. Yes, this little bar, situated on a country corner near where Soup Husband Curt grew up, which is not far from where I grew up, wants to be sure that hunters come on in and have a few beers before they head out to scale their tree stands and shoot at antlered critters. Which is interesting, because it says right there on page 15 of the hunter's education program that hunters should avoid alcohol before or during shooting.  Which should be common sense.

But wait - before you conclude that deer and beer don't mix, I want to point out two things. First? They rhyme! And second? I checked Wikipedia and deer are in the family of Cervidae, for which the adjective is cervine, all from the Latin cervus, and do you see where I'm heading? I think that sounds an awful lot like cerveza, which of course is Spanish for... BEER.

I'm just sayin'.

My grandmas

You asked for more photos - I found these two, of li'l me with each of my grandmas. These ladies are the inspiration for my other blog (you knew I had another one, didn't you?), My Grandmas' Recipes. I started it with the hope of preserving the best nuggets from Grandma Sara's recipe box, but it's turning into a collection of recipes for dishes I remember from my years in Pennsylvania. 

 

Oh lookie, I'm a wee-little baby here! That's my Grandma Losch, and she's holding me in her kitchen. She had five babies and I'm the oldest of her youngest (my mom). I grew up only several miles from her home, and we visited often. There was one rule there: YOU MUST EAT. It didn't matter if you had just eaten an entire meal, or that it was 3 in the afternoon. You walked in and there would be food, and dessert too. Or sometimes just dessert, but always, always with the delicious, comforting food.

 

There I am in the red shirt, sharing Grandma Sara's lap with my little sister (and frequent commenter here) Betsy.  Betsy and I were her first two grandchildren, the daughters of her oldest son.  Her farm was less than three miles from ours, and my dad farmed in collaboration with his dad and others in the valley for many years.

We were so lucky to live close to our grandparents when we were kids. There was always a place to visit, cousins to play with (and vacation with), and good food to eat. I treasure my memories of those years and of the women who set such a fine example for me - not only in the kitchen, but in their whole lives.

Summer Salad

MY FAVORITE SUMMER SALAD consists of layers of healthy vegetables topped with layers of tasty goodness.

 

This recipe came to our family from our friends in Iowa. Deanna called it Seven Layer Salad, but my mom renamed it "Iowa Salad." The story of how we met them deserves a blog post of its own, but the short version is, we were a farm family and they were a farm family and our grandparents, also farmers, decided we should meet. So, we did, in the early 1970s, and the friendship we formed has lasted nearly 40 years.

This is a classic summer salad that proves itself over and over to be a major crowd-pleaser. There are many versions of this recipe. My version has more than seven layers. However, the top few layers must be assembled in a certain order, otherwise it just isn't right. You'll have to take my word for it.

DEANNA'S SEVEN(ISH) LAYER SALAD

Servings: enough to feed two hungry farm families, including the children and the grandparents, allowing for everyone to have seconds because you can't not have seconds of this salad.

In a 9 x 11 glass baking pan, layer the following. All quantities are approximate - use more or less to your taste:

Shredded iceberg lettuce - not quite a whole head

Shredded or chopped carrots (2-3 carrots or 1/2 - 3/4 cup shredded)

3-4 celery ribs, diced

1 large green (or red or a combination thereof) bell pepper, diced

5 or 6 hard boiled eggs, chopped

8 slices bacon, crumbled (remember the Bacon Rule: If a little is good, more must be better. Don't be shy with the bacon.)

1/2 cup chopped onion (red is nice, sweet is good, scallions add variety)

1 - 1.5 cups of frozen peas, thawed and drained (not cooked, just soak them in water than drain well - soak up excess water with a paper towel if necessary)

Now, take a spatula and gently press the salad down to compact it.

Next, take a large jar of mayonnaise (regular or light, never ever Miracle Whip). Place many dollops of mayo all over the top of the salad. Then take a spreader and gently spread the dollops around to connect and completely cover the top, as if you are icing a cake. This part is a little tricky because you want to cover the peas, not mix them into the mayo. Use more mayo than you think you should (trust me). (Don't worry, it tastes good.)

Once you have spread the mayo over the whole top of the salad, then sprinkle granulated sugar over top of the whole thing. I'm guessing 4 - 6 Tablespoons? 1/3 of a cup? Enough so you can see the sugar.

Lastly, take a bag of finely shredded, sharp cheddar cheese and cover the mayo layer with the cheese. Sprinkle the top with some red paprika and / or chopped scallion tops for a little bit of extra color (optional).

Cover with plastic wrap and - this is important - refrigerate for at least a few hours, if not overnight. Seriously, don't shortchange this part. It's important. The flavors need to blend and the sugar needs time to work its magic with the mayonnaise. Serve chilled and remember your food safety rules concerning mayonnaise and picnics.