Christmas Dinner

Menu

Standing Rib Roast

Tatties & Neaps (potatoes & turnips)

Yorkshire Pudding

English Trifle

Christmas Dinner Kit

I decided to splurge and spent $35 for a beautiful choice two-bone standing rib roast. I wanted to remember my holidays spent in England by cooking a proper dinner, and here's the "kit" I started with. The roast was perfect, crusted with rosemary and garlic, medium on the outside and medium rare in the middle. The vegetabes were roasted in a separate pan; the Yorkshire puds rose up just right, flavored by roast drippings in the muffin tin bottoms. The trifle was simple, made with lady fingers, instant pudding, frozen strawberries, and aerosol whipped cream. Made the day ahead, the flavors all blended beautifully. A meal to remember! We were too hungry to take pictures.

When I was shopping at Sam's I spotted beef tongue marked down to $2.03 a pound. I got permission to fix one later in the week, only if Maureen would never have to actually see it. Did it up in the pressure cooker, made a sandwich for lunch on homemade bread with homemade mayonnaise -- it was better than the prime rib!

Hitchiker

Leadbelly Fatcat waiting to catch a ride on the 4-wheeler.

Christmas Letter 2007

Dear Friends and Family,

Things have settled into a less exciting but more comfortable lifestyle at Maguire House. Our experiment, not charging fees, worked out rather well. We still had weddings (Maureen’s assistant and a soldier posted to Iraq in lieu of a honeymoon) and family get-togethers at Labor Day and Oktoberfest, a Welsh farmer, and Blues, Bikes, and BBQ motorcyclists. We asked for contributions to the Elkins Library and the library, we, and the guests benefited. We had more time to enjoy what we are doing here.

We had bumper crops of tomatoes, cucumbers, and dahlias this year, and lots of eggs until the rooster got picked off and the hens went on strike. We also captured more skunks, ‘coons, and ‘possums than we knew what to do with.

Besides all the usual childhood activities, all three grandchildren were involved in organized sports. With the two parents we got to play chauffeur and monitor their practices more often. You should see the pink uniforms and helmets on the girls!

No trip to Europe this year, but we did manage a spring week at Niagara Falls and Southern Canada. Things were much calmer and prettier on this side of the border. We really enjoyed the biannual sailing trip to the BVI with our sailing friends over Thanksgiving on a 44' catamaran.

Maureen is working harder this year and was rewarded with a nice raise and bonus. She is on a four day week, which gives her more time at home, but she's now in charge of Friday suppers.

We are making slow progress on our projects: greenhouse, sailboat, house repairs, landscaping. Next year we are looking forward to a ten-year anniversary trip to Europe, a U-2 reunion in California, and, mostly, more of the same, especially visits with family and friends.

Merry Christmas,
Mike & Maureen

The Religion of Peace?

Thousands of irate Muslims in Sudan are calling for the execution of Gillian Gibbons, who allowed her first-grade students to name their Teddy Bear mascot "Mohammed." Followers of Islam say their religion has been disrespected. Just how much respect does such a hate-mongering religion deserve? In honor of the occasion I am naming my aquarium's scum-sucking scavenger fish "Mohammed."

Striped Skunk

When the Highway Department striping machine gets going it doesn't stop for anything!

Immigration

Calling an illegal alien an "undocumented immigrant" is like calling a drug dealer an "unlicensed pharmacist." Imagine sneaking into Russia, then demanding a drivers license, free education and health services, welfare, and citizenship status for your children. Then imagine trying to escape from the Siberian gulag.

Catch of the Day

If I weren't releasing these guys at the Chalet, I'd swear I was catching the same one over and over. Siblings?

Mushroom Trio

Last year at this time it was so dry the grass was dead. This year the ground is so moist the yard is full of mushrooms.

Putting Food By

“You are what you eat.” Whether or not you agree with this statement, you should realize that we know less and less about the food we are putting into our bodies. This morning’s news carries several stories about recalls and contamination warnings. We can now get vegetables and fruits from all over the world year round. This is a great convenience, but the goods come from varieties that are bred for appearance and shipping qualities, not nutrition.

Who’d think that fresh spinach might contain a fatal dose of salmonella, to say nothing of the pathogens in meat and fresh eggs.

Increasingly nutritionists, dieticians, and food safety experts are urging consumers to eat fresh, eat locally, and eat seasonally. This means knowing your source, whether you grow it yourself, get it from a neighbor, farmers’ market or natural food store.

The problem with fresh is that there is an overabundance of produce in the growing season, and very little in the winter. One solution is to put food by. Our ancestors had to do this to survive Today we have lots of alternatives.

Drying works particularly well with apples, tomatoes, and herbs. No chemicals are used; very little equipment is required for processing or storage. Herbs keep their color and shape when dried in a microwave.

Freezing is a wonderful way to store food. Whenever I make soup, tomato sauce, stew, chicken broth, etc., I make a big batch, put the leftovers in wide-mouth mason jars that will accommodate the expansion without breaking, and stack in the freezer. One thing I’ve learned is to label each jar with contents and date. I use the oldest jars first, and sometimes it is hard to tell what’s in the jar through the frost. I’ve had a few surprises.

Canning food, once an almost lost art, is making a comeback. We probably remember our grandmothers and mothers spending weekends in the kitchen, working in sweatshop conditions, washing, peeling, dicing, sterilizing jars, kettles of boiling tomatoes and peaches and okra adding smells and heat. They didn’t have any choice. Now that’s too much work when you can buy a bag of frozen peas at Wal*Mart.

The answer is to can when this method makes a difference. Corn, beans, fruit, etc. are better frozen. Tomatoes and pickles, though, are ruined by freezing, but can be stored long term by canning.

Canning is a misnomer, as you actually use mason jars. After being filled and sealed, the jars are immersed in water and boiled. This kills the dangerous organisms and drives out the air, leaving a sterile, germ free vacuum.

Why not can everything? Well, it can be a lot of work. I can the things that give me a creative outlet and that I can’t do any other way. My best example is making mixed pickles.

Cut up a variety of vegetables into bite-sized pieces. I like cucumbers, cauliflower, carrots, celery, onions, and red peppers for contrast. Make a brine of water and salt in an 8 to 1 ratio, pour over four quarts of vegetables and leave overnight. In a big saucepan mix 2 cups sugar, ¼ cup mustard seed, 2 tablespoons celery seed, 1 hot red pepper, and 6 cups vinegar. Heat to a boil and add the vegetables until heated through. Pack into quart jars, leaving ¼ inch space at the top. Process in a hot water bath for 15 minutes, that is, put the jars into a kettle and cover with water over the lids, and bring to a boil.

That’s it. Simple, tasty, and fun to do. I can make a batch of dill pickles in the time it takes to slice the spears, heat the brine, and boil the water bath. The food tastes great and it is satisfying to do. The bonuses are that you know what went into your jars and that it is something you did for yourself. The final reward is looking at the rows of beautiful canned vegetables on the pantry shelf and knowing that you’ll still be eating well when the garden is bare.

The Great Escape

After eighteen years in the bottle, Phil O'Dendron decided to go for it!

To the Rescue...

I saved this moth from the kittens, who were having great fun with it.

God's Eye View

July 2006

Soul Food

Moon Over Maguire House

“Man does not live by bread alone. . .” In addition to physical nutrition we need to feed our souls. When I bake a loaf of bread or roll out pasta or make cheese it nourishes my spirit as well as my body. The more I try to connect with the natural world the more satisfying my life becomes, and the more my spiritual needs are met.

The hens provide me with wonderful eggs. I am more entertained by watching them chase grasshoppers than by most TV shows. The flock rooster points out dried seed heads, screams a warning when a hawk flies over, and helps the new mother keep her chicks rounded up. It is a touching moment for me to check the nest and find that one of my lawn ornaments has given from herself a perfect, beautiful egg.

The bees give me much more than honey. I know that every bee I see in the garden is one of my girls, my pet just as surely as the dog and kittens are. They work themselves to death pollinating my orchard and vegetables and turning nectar into honey. They are incredible creatures, making joint decisions about swarming, picking a new queen, which blossoms to visit and how much pollen to store, all without a dissenting vote. We humans should govern so well!

The potted herbs lining the kitchen window sill help me cook more naturally. They also ground me by bringing the outside world in. Basil, tarragon, thyme, chives, and mint don’t come any fresher than plucked when the pasta is already boiling. I learned after paying three dollars at Wal*Mart for six wilted basil leaves that I’ll never let the plants die out again.

The house is full of live plants. People who say you can’t tell the difference between silk blossoms and the real thing are missing the point. There’s no spirit in a dead flower arrangement, no matter how pretty it is. I grow about a dozen orchids of an astounding variety. They are all special and surprisingly easy to care for. Expensive? Not really. I go to Lowes to pick a new variety. Then I check out the bloomed out table where the same plant is about one-third price. The orchid is not really yours until it blooms for you, anyway.

I know that the beer I’m brewing now will be served at our Oktoberfest this fall, helping us celebrate our German heritage. Is there any better way to recognize family traditions than getting back to natural foods made by our own hands?

It is not necessary to be a back-to-the-land homesteader, making everything from scratch, to enjoy a more natural life. A houseplant here, a new rosebush there, a trip to the farmers’ market to enjoy the ambiance and learn about your food’s origins. Instead of thawing a TV dinner and plopping down in front of the tube, make a simple picnic meal, walk ten feet out the back door, and relish the company and conversation of family and friends.

Learning to slow down and get back in touch with the natural world around us is simple and unbelievable rewarding. It feeds the soul.

Whimsy 7

Montreal

Watch Out!

Killer attack

Jungle cat

Refreshing

Fresh squeezed

Orange Delight

Fathers Day Card

I could not have designed a more fitting card.

I, Rooster

Hi. I’m Diablo Junior, known as DJ, flock rooster at Maguire House. My father, Diablo, was the biggest, meanest, blackest rooster in Washington County. He would lie in ambush for our owner, Maureen, as she came home from work, rushing her legs as she ran from her car to the house. Our other owner, Mike, once ran over Diablo with the lawn mower, and he came out the back and attacked the mower with his spur. All the animals around the house lived in fear of him, and he terrorized the grandchildren.

So, I try to be a nicer, more gentle bird while still doing my duties. I have ten hens in my harem. I watch out for predators and give the alarm call when I spot any danger. It is funny to see my girls hunker down in the tall grass when I yell “hawk.” What a bunch of clucks! I also point out the juiciest bugs and ripest seeds and occasionally catch a big grasshopper for them.

I am responsible for keeping the hens happy and the eggs fertilized. Sometimes that’s the same thing. Alas, I don’t have many children because these modern mothers just don’t have time for things like sitting on nests. They scatter their eggs everywhere, and it’s up to our owners to have an Easter egg hunt every day to track them down.

The only way to get a hen to sit a clutch of eggs is to lock her up with the nest until she gets the idea. This happened for me. Mike and Maureen went on vacation and locked us up in the coop. Mom sat on the collective nest until my siblings and I hatched. She is a beautiful black and white Wyondotte and Dad was an Austraulorpe, so I’m a striking combination, quite handsome if I say so myself. I have the most magnificent rooster feathers at the top of my tail, and when they wave about in the breeze my girls just go crazy.

Mike usually lets us out of our fenced coop yard in the afternoons so we can get our fill of insects and have a little adventure. The girls love to sneak into the garden for tomatoes and strawberries. I try to keep them out, ‘cause Mike hollers, “pot pie” and “dumplings”, throws rocks, and has even been known to shoot pop bottle rockets to keep us away. If we get into the flower garden his water pistol sends us scurrying.

After a long day of turning bugs into eggs and posing as lawn ornaments, it’s time to turn in. We are easy to care for, because no matter how far we roam I do such a wonderful job of herding the flock into the coop as the sun goes down. We are then shut up in the evening so we are protected and get a good night’s sleep. There is a live-capture trap outside the coop to catch any marauders. And the things that show up: possums, raccoons, feral cats, skunks, even a crow and a red squirrel lately. The animals are let go in the upper pasture. I watch Mike handle the skunks very, very carefully.

My other duty is to be the alarm clock. After watching over my women all night I start hollering at the first sign of morning light. I’m not the only rooster in the neighborhood. We all take turns crowing at each other until everyone is awake and ready for another day, another wonderful day! I’ve got to admit that I’ve got it pretty good. I’ve got a wonderful place to live, all the bugs and corn I can eat, and ten girlfriends to keep me happy. I’d be strutting around all day with a smile on my face, if I only had lips!

In Memoriam

Princess

2005-2007

Her feline leukemia finally caught up with her this week.

Midlife Crisis Delayed

When faced with a midlife crisis most guys try to solve it with a sports car, trophy wife, or yacht. Since I already have all three, I had to find another solution.

I bought a greenhouse kit on Ebay. It is a Rion 8' X 28', has a plastic frame with polycarbonate panels, comes in seven boxes, and weighs 436 pounds. I have not yet inventoried the 700+ parts. Check back on this blog to monitor my progress.

Musholt Siblings

The Musholt Sibles. Fortunately for me, I am the oldest.

Whimsy 6

Milwaukee Art Museum

Mother and Dad

Still going strong after more than 60 years of marriage and six children.

Bubba

He was only a day old when he came to live with us. His new parents called him “Bubba” because they were afraid to give him a permanent name.

John and Marsha were adopting Bubba. Because they were from out of state and because they did not have the permission of both parents, they had to keep Bubba in Arkansas for thirty days before they could take him home to Kansas City. They came to our bed & breakfast with their son, two-year-old Jack, on a cold January day to set up camp and wait out the month’s probation.

They had gone through lots of trouble and expense to find a teen-aged expectant mother-to-be willing to give up her baby. John and Marsha had made all the arrangements months ahead through the lawyer in Rogers who specialized in these things, paying all the fees and hospital bills. The only trouble was that the biological father was nowhere to be found. He had disappeared when his girlfriend told him she was pregnant. The adoption could not become final until either his permission was given or thirty days had passed.

They were with the mother on birth day and brought the newborn boy to Maguire House. We all had a wonderful time with Bubba, so tiny and well-behaved, no trouble at all, especially when compared with Jack who was no longer the center of attention and feeling the competition.

Marsha’s mother even came to help with the new baby, not so much from a sense of necessity as a feeling of wanting to be involved.

The weeks passed pleasantly. We felt a part of the new family nestled in the upstairs bedroom that came down for most meals, always for breakfast, sometimes just to visit. John was away on business often, but everyone was home for the weekends, and we grew close to them all, especially baby Bubba.

Finally the magic day arrived, the thirtieth day, when the family was to pack up and drive to Kansas City after a final meeting with the lawyer. Breakfast was the scene of additional celebration, as it was Valentine’s Day.

I went out for the day, getting home in late afternoon to say final good byes. Something was terribly wrong. Everyone was crying. John, through his tears said, “The father showed up and cancelled the adoption, and we have to drop Bubba off at the lawyer’s office on the way home.” Five minutes later they were gone.

I was in shock! After bonding with Bubba for thirty days, accepting him as their own son, they had to give him up and go home like the incident had never happened, never to see Bubba again.

John said they would try to adopt again and maybe stay at Maguire House, but I’m not sure my heart would ever be able to take another tragedy like the story of Bubba.

Orbit

Terrell, Texas

In His Element

Neither snow, nor rain,
nor heat, nor gloom of night,
nor earth- nor mind-bound fog
stays this industrious courier
from the swift completion
of his appointed blog.
-- Jo Lightfoot

Resolutions

2007

• Practice Mindfulness
• Get Fit
• Care for Possessions

Wino

How do you say "wino" in German?