Category Archives: Slow Food

Wilbert’s Fantasy and World Class ‘Q’

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Posted by on in Community, Historical, Inspiration, Personal Values, Slow Food, Social, Spiritual, Travel

July 15-16, 2019, Kansas City (MO) (and Olathe, KS )-

In 1959, Wilbert Harrison, a rhythm and blues singer from Charlotte, delivered the signature rendition of the whimsical tune, “Kansas City”- imagining a visit there would bring him romance, which would change his life.

Of course, it was pure fancy and the real Mr. Harrison probably spent no more time in KC than anyone else who didn’t live there.  He did have a good idea, though.  Kansas City has long been a place through which I have driven, en route to somewhere else.  I visited the Truman Presidential Library, in nearby Independence, in 2011, but the big city eluded me-until today.

KCMO, simply put, has the most welcoming hostel in which I’ve yet stayed.  Considering that I have had great experiences in all but one of the hostels I’ve visited in the past four years, that’s saying a volume.  Honeycomb, and its owner/host, Elsa, make every guest feel like family.  This is a woman who has lived a full life, most recently having made an interesting attempt to climb Mt. Everest, which she says will NOT be her last attempt.  Then, there is Max, the house dog, who has his own skateboard, on which he can barely fit.

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Max does his skateboard trick, for a piece of cheddar cheese.

There is much to see and do in Kansas City, so this will not be my last time stopping here.  There were two immediate goals for this trip, though:  Finding signature barbecue and getting a handle on downtown.

The first goal was achieved when,courtesy of Elsa, I headed towards Q 39, a medium-sized barbecue palace, in mid-town, and in a strip mall,yet.  There are more stately-sounding barbecue restaurants, recommended by Lonely Planet and Fodor’s, but I’d come back here again, in a flash.  Burnt tips have become this steak lover’s favourite, and no one does them better than Q 39’s kitchen staff.

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Upon my return, the conversation with Elsa and three other guests, young men who are here for an extended work-visit, left me thinking that a need to slow the cross-country engine down, and actually spend 2-3 days, or more, in a place like KC, as I do in Massachusetts and Carson City-Reno.  Family is as much in the mind and heart, as it is on a tree of ancestry.  No, I’m not implying following Wilbert’s whimsical example; most women I encounter on the road are perfectly content with the men who are already in their lives.  I am seeing the wisdom in matching my intensive mode of exploration with an actual time frame that fits.

Tuesday morning I left Honeycomb around 11 a.m. and headed to Union Station, far more than a place to catch a train.

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As the skeleton implies, here is a top-notch Science City, which is offering a Stonehenge exhibit.  Having been in Carnac and to Cahokia Mounds, I passed this one up, but for the small children going in with their parents, it had to have been a blast.

The interior lobby, though, gives Grand Central a run for its money.

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The lobby has a couple of nice little food nooks, so I got a sandwich from Harvey’s, following up with a fine latte and fresh scone from Parisi.  That set me back on the road, for a forty-five minute auto tour of downtown.   Following this excursion, KC’s nice system of boulevards and parkways made wrestling with the construction zones at I-70’s on ramps completely unnecessary.  I was past Kansas City, KS within a half-hour.

Continuing notes to self:  Kansas is making a concerted effort at increasing its foliage.  I make it a point to record all such scenes as I encounter.

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NEXT:  Solemnity and Noise in Eastern Colorado

 

A Temple and Its Concentric Circles

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Posted by on in Community, Historical, Matters of Faith, Slow Food, Social, Spiritual, Travel

July 13-14, 2019, Wilmette-

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I have made it a practice, when going back and forth across North America, to stop at least once at the Baha’i House of Worship, in this leafy North Shore suburb of Chicago.  Often, it is only for two or three hours, before I’m off again, to whatever awaits.  This time, though, I took an Airbnb room, near Wilmette’s Village Center, the better to meet with a trusted friend at her convenience.

The House of Worship is, rightfully, a point of pride for Wilmette’s residents, regardless of their faith, or lack thereof.  The town has a full complement of Christian denominations and an active Jewish temple, as well as several Muslims.  My host, an Iranian-American, who is not a Baha’i, spoke well of our Faith and of the Temple.

My day started, in Wrigleyville, with my helping the most vibrant of the group of hostelers, whom I mentioned yesterday, to charge her phone.  The Hostel’s breakfast master whipped up some incredible pancakes and waffles. Then came the navigation from the parking garage I used, to curbside near the hostel.  A distance of two blocks required me to go around Cape Horn, figuratively speaking.  At one point, I stopped, twice, at the same STOP sign, then inched forward, only to be chastised by a traffic control officer for not stopping a THIRD time.  No ticket ensued, after his partner rolled her eyes at him and signaled me to turn.  That’s Chicago traffic, though, and never anything personal.  A police officer at another spot let me turn onto Sheffield, and I found the perfect spot for loading my car back up.

No freeway was necessary, going to Wilmette.  U.S. 41 North gives one a  nice slice of Chicago’s northwest side, at a leisurely pace, without a humongous amount of traffic, of a Saturday morning.  A fine lunch at Potbelly Sandwich Shop, amongst an eclectic crowd, set a fine mood for the rest of the drive to my evening’s abode.  The ambiance is as important to me as the food itself.  Listening to Ella Fitzgerald’s rendition of “Sunshine of Your Love” was a bonus.

Above a Persian carpet shop sits a modest apartment.  There, I took the spare room, and headed up to the House of Worship.  My focus, after prayers and meditation, is always on the gardens, which surround the Temple, on each of its nine sides.  I have shown these, in detail, in earlier posts.  Here, though, is a small sample.

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This is the North Shore Channel, which empties into Wilmette Harbor, between the House of Worship and Gillson Park, which has the village’s lovely beach.

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I availed myself of two restaurants here in Wilmette: Ridgeview Grill, which I visited last summer, gave the same excellent fare and service on Saturday night; Walker Brothers Pancake House offered the finest of Sunday breakfasts. (Yes, San Diegans, your very own Richard Walker is a member of this family, and his superb Pancake House is a West Coast extension of the Wilmette establishment, which also has six other branches around Chicagoland’s North Shore.).Suffice it to say, I am getting spoiled by two days in a row of great pancakes.

With breakfast done, and 10 a.m. rolling around, I bid farewell to my host, J., and headed over  to the House of Worship, to meet my friend. On the way, I encountered a crew fixing a broken water main, so prayers were offered for that situation as well.  The Baha’i House of Worship in Wilmette (1953) was the second such Temple ever built, the first being in Ashgabat, Turkmenistan (1908). (It was confiscated by the Soviets, in the 1920’s, then was destroyed by an earthquake.  The property remains vacant, under Turkmenistan government control.)  There are now seven other Baha’i Houses of Worship – one for each continuously-inhabited continent, plus one in Samoa and one in Panama.  National and Regional Baha’i Temples are being built, in several places around the globe.  Each House of Worship is open to all, regardless of Faith.

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Wilmette, this time, felt a lot more like home.  The ripples of love and acceptance are radiating outward from this truly divine edifice.

 

Duke City Redux

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Posted by on in Community, impediments, Inspiration, Personal Values, Slow Food, Social, Travel

June 17, 2019, Albuquerque-

This morning saw the last vestige of abdominal upset leave me.  Today would be a day for treading lightly and eating slowly.  It did not take long for the Elantra and me to get to Mother Road Hostel, though, and I was pleased to be able to get settled earlier than is the case in most hostels.  An early nap took care of what was left to be cured.

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I had hoped to get in a return visit to Blackbird Coffee House, in Old Town, but the parking situation is such that exact change is required for a space, and I’m still not one to offer $10, for a $5 fare.  I did get laundry done, across from Mother Road, ignoring a “plea” from a street person who said he needed coins to do his laundry, yet there was no sign of said laundry, as he stood in front of The Wash Tub.

Mother Road is a thoroughly relaxing place, convenient to both downtown and Old Town, though it was rather toasty today.  By evening, though, with laundry clean and put away, I ventured to the west side of Downtown, and enjoyed a lovely dinner of Minestrone Soup, Vortellini and sauteed vegetables, at Villa di Capo.  Being the days of the Senior Olympics, I was joined by many people my age and older.  This competition augurs well for those seeking a higher quality of life, as people age.  I personally did not take part in the events, but the examples of my contemporaries spurred me to plan a hike tomorrow, at Palo Duro Canyon, south of Amarillo.

Declining spumoni or tiramisu, I bid my gracious hosts farewell, and took a stroll around the Raynolds neighbourhood, taking in both architecture (lots of Art Deco, in downtown Albuquerque) and street murals.SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURES

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There is a pizzeria, two blocks west of Villa di Capo, which invites patrons with this sidewalk piece.

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Java Joe’s, closed for the evening, looks inviting, nonetheless.

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Raynolds’ residents seem to be quite active, in addressing the needs of their surrounding area.

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These three poles adorn a middle school playground.

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Finally, the full range of the neighbourhood’s vibe is shown here.

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Albuquerque was restorative to my health, and a confirmation that hostel life is most suitable to my mode of exploration.

NEXT:  A Spot of “Fun Zone” and A Lighthouse in the Desert

 

 

 

Some Spinach Meal Ideas

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Posted by on in animal and plant life, Slow Food

December 19, 2018, Prescott-

I get tired of the arrogance of the high and mighty.

This makes me look to simple and joyful things,

as a diversion.

Spinach has always been one of my favourite foods.

I will not offer recipes and cooking instructions,

but spinach goes well with:

Feta cheese, especially when baked for 20 minutes,

in a steel or aluminum dish;

Peppers and onions, in a skillet;

Filleted fish, wrapped inside the greenery;

Ground beef, lamb, bison or elk, green onions, sweet peppers,

in a soup, prepared in a crock pot;

As a layer, in a five layer lasagna;

Diced and combined with ricotta,

as a manicotti stuffing.

In summer, spinach is a fine staple,

in any hot weather salad.

Spinach:  Not just for Popeye, anymore!

 

 

Throwback Thursday and Desert Shrimp

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Posted by on in animal and plant life, collaborating, Family, Personal Values, Slow Food, Spiritual, Striving

December 6, 2018, Prescott-

Thirty-eight years ago, today, I met the woman who would change my life, immeasurably, for the better.  Penny and I met in a crowded and very simple house, in Zuni, NM, on the night of a house blessing (known as Shalako). We shared a chair, taking turns sitting down and nodding off, during the all-night ceremony.

We ended up sharing everything else, for close to thirty years, all but one of those years as husband and wife.  As I’ve said before, she’s still looking out for me, in ways large and small, since her passing in March, 2011.

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Above, we are flanked by my parents, on our wedding day, June 6, 1982.

We shared many of the same tastes in food, among other things.  We both appreciated healthy and unadulterated ingredients. So, I think she would have liked Desert Sweet Shrimp. https://arizonashrimp.com/

I purchased a pound of these gems, over a month ago, and made two great meals out of them.  The first order of business, when preparing shrimp for a fine repast, is to shell the Caridea (the correct name of the creatures which are bred in this series of well-derived ponds, in Gila Bend, AZ).  Shelling can be done in a variety of ways- the easiest of which is to soak the shrimp in beer, for 8-10 hours. This leads to the shell falling off, almost automatically. I chose to shell each one individually, sans bier, so as to get a feel for the relationship between the shell and the flesh.  Deveining follows, no matter what method one uses for removing the shell.  Deveining means removing the receptacle holding the shrimp’s fecal matter, so it’s a VERY important step.  The Caridea are then rinsed, at least twice, before being added to a recipe.  It took me an hour to properly prepare the shrimp for cooking. Below is an image (Courtesy of Arizona Shrimp Company-all rights reserved) of the actual shrimp that I purchased.

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I prepared most of the shrimp in sopa de camarones (“shrimp soup”), using green onions, chili powder, turmeric and sea salt.   It’s been a favourite of mine, since I first ate it in Puerto Penasco, Sonora, nearly forty years ago.  I used the rest in a small scampi dish, using a recipe posted on In Diane’s Kitchen, https://wordpress.com/read/blogs/114793426/posts/27651 , on September 13.

Both were exquisite meals, which gave me sustenance for over a week.    I hope to visit the actual facility, during a few days in the West Valley and Gila Bend, right after New Year’s.  I also hope the company will continue a presence at Prescott Farmers’ Market, next spring and summer.

This is the first of a series of posts honouring the festive, and deeper, aspects of the great December holidays.    NEXT:  Prescott’s Acker Night.

 

 

But For Now

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Posted by on in Community, Matters of Faith, Poetry, Slow Food, Spiritual, Striving

October 23, 2017, Prescott-

Tomorrow, I will write at length about two parts of New Mexico,

but for now, I am content to set my boundaries here, in this room.

Some day, I will likely balance my time between a beautiful little family

and my larger worldwide family,

but for now, I will tend to the needs  of my students and team mates.

Some day, I will be comfortable in the large group of people,

who have recognized the Presence of Baha’u’llah,

but for now, I am patient with my friends who are a bit skittish

about the beliefs I am sharing.

Some day, I will see the world, from a mountain redoubt,

but for now, I am happy to have that world close at hand.

No Black Thursday

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Posted by on in Community, Historical, Slow Food, Striving

November 24, 2016, Julian, CA-  This little town, northeast of San Diego, has been our Thanksgiving hub, for three of the last four years.  Only in 2014 were we diverted to Aram’s ship, for what was an estimable meal, in its own right.  Otherwise, Julian Cafe has been an irresistible venue- for one of the best traditional Thanksgiving meals this side of the Appalachians.

Julian appeals to Aram, because it reminds him of Prescott and Flagstaff.  The oak forests that surround the town, and the Laguna Mountains, to its southeast, are of immense comfort to one who was born , and spent his first years, in a forested landscape.

It appeals to me, as all mountain towns do, because Saugus ( my home town), and so many towns in New England, are similarly entwined with rugged landscapes and a wealth of historical nuggets.  Julian’s history is inextricably linked to the California Gold Rush.  Southern California had several spots which, while not as noteworthy as the foothills of the Sierra Nevada, nontheless contributed to Gold Fever.

What appeals to neither of us is Black Thursday, as some have taken to calling the afternoon and evening of Thanksgiving Day.  There may be some LIMITED need for some people to pick up groceries, in the morning, as I did on behalf of Aram and his housemates, around 8:30 this morning, at the local Ralph’s store.  I can’t see either of us shopping for deals on Thanksgiving, ever.  I understand some want that to be their Thanksgiving tradition, but I stay with family remaining focused on non-commercial pursuits.

We had another awesome meal, with his two housemates along.  This will be the last time, though, for at least three years, as he heads across the Pacific, in a few months’ time.  That made it an especially treasured repast.

 

Thoughts on Thanksgivings Past

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Posted by on in Family, Personal Values, Slow Food, Striving

November 23, 2016, El Centro-  Upon stopping in this slowly revitalizing “capital” of the Colorado Desert, in southeast California, I made it my priority to enjoy breakfast for dinner, and have at a combo, of sausage links, scrambled eggs, hash browns and Chocolate Peppermint pancakes, at the local IHOP.

A flood of Thanksgiving memories ensued, which I now share.  My first memories are of Grandmother Kusch saying that it was a fine thing I enjoyed Roast Turkey with stuffing, as it would be my birthday meal, on many a year.  This was when I was about six, or so.  Most of the school time memories of Thanksgiving time were of the maudlin:  Paper Pilgrim hats, or, as I preferred, Wampanoag headdresses.  I later learned that the Native Peoples of the Northeast were not so given to such attire, though the deerskin clothing that accompanied them, was genuine.

Sis and I liked to mix the various kinds of soda, which we called tonic, in Bostonese.  Root beer mixed with orange Nehi was one of my favourites.  I imagined the crispy bottom of the stuffing was “buffalo meat”, for some strange reason.  Whatever, the whole meal was always marvelous, and I have been able to eat turkey, in various guises, for days on end, throughout my life.

I’ve had mostly fond memories of Thanksgiving, while wishing the good will would always be there.  in 1985, it was, until someone realized it was also my birthday, and she was angry with me, for various things I had not done, in the months prior, and a tongue lashing ensued.  Our subsequent Thanksgivings, and my birthdays since,  went much more smoothly.

I can only recall one Thanksgiving when I was alone.  It was 1981, and I ate at a table for one, at Swiss Village, in Payson.  The service was spotty, and I came away from the meal, vowing to not be totally alone that day, ever again.  I have since kept that promise.

Many Thanksgivings were observed, courtesy of the Robbins family, in Prescott, with two kinds of turkey:  Oven-roasted and deep-fried.  Both were exquisite.  There was also a tofurkey.  It was not exquisite.  The Robbins’ were once known as the family Rabinowitz, but homogenization took that away.  They remain one of the most noble families I’ve ever known.

For the past four years, Aram and I have gone to Julian Cafe, northeast of San Diego.  Penny worked in Julian, for a year, in 1981-82, so the place has a wealth of fond memories- and some of the most delectable apple pie, anywhere.

We will head there again, tomorrow afternoon.

 

Bean Soup

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Posted by on in Personal goals, Slow Food, Striving

January 5, 2016, Prescott-  This is one of those periods when the challenges that get thrown at me, by the Universe, however maudlin they may be next to the plight of countless refugees, come to be seen as blessings.

I have resolved the financial challenge that hit me as soon as I got back here, and the compensation will be in my hands on Thursday.  In the meantime, I am warm, dry and, when I’m not working, occupying myself at home with many of the things that get put off, in the course of a busy life.

One of those things is inventorying the types of beans I have, sitting in the cupboard, and readying a multi-bean soup.  With my crock pot poised and ready, I should have a hearty series of meals awaiting me tomorrow morning.  Beans take time, but sustain me, in the few instances of this First World existence that I find the wallet empty.

Meanwhile, as I ignore calls and e-mails asking for the money I don’t have, my preparations for a more solid future go on.  It’s been a good morning, thus far, and I aim for the afternoon to be just as fine.

Piedras Pintadas and National City’s Fillippi’s

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Posted by on in Family, Hiking and Nature, Slow Food, Social

November 28, 2015, Chula Vista- My latest day in the sun featured over 125 birthday greetings, and muchas gracias to one and all, for remembering what was, for me, a most auspicious day.

There were no intervening, pre-planned events in the apartment, as it happened.  Holiday spirit, and fatigue, intervened to postpone those gatherings.  So, it was on with a visit to Piedras Pintadas, picked from the rich list of hiking opportunities in San Diego, owing to its relative brevity, it being 1:30 PM before we learned of the day’s cancellations.

The trail is part of the San Dieguito River Trail system, and revolves around the ubiquitous glacial boulders of southwest California, and Lake Hodges.  Here are some of the scenes we found.

The first two (clockwise, left to right) show the lake, with Bernardo Mountain looming in the background.  The third shows Piedras Pintadas themselves.  In times of precipitation, there is a small waterfall, up in the high rocks.  The lower left features SoCal’s signature boulders, and son rounds out the montage.

Lake Hodges, San Dieguito
Lake Hodges, San Dieguito
Piedras Pintadas, San Dieguito
Piedras Pintadas, San Dieguito
Aram, near Lake Hodges, San Dieguito

We finished the trail in about forty-five minutes, and with other items on the agenda, headed back to Chula.  Next up was dinner, at the National City branch of Fillippi’s, one of my two favourite Little Italy eateries.  Like its parent establishment, the NC Fillippi’s was jam-packed, on this lovely Saturday evening.  We were seated, and had soup, garlic bread and beverages in front of us, in less than thirty minutes, though.  A young boy who shares my birthday was getting his due, of song and a birthday treat.  I passed on even announcing my day.  There was enough hoopla, here online.  Had we been in a larger party, perhaps, but two men?- NAH.

The meal was excellent, and we headed out the door in time to catch the 7:05 showing of “Spectre”, Daniel Craig’s purported James Bond swansong.  It lived up to the basic Bond formula, though a bit long at 3 hours.

So six-five is now in full swing, and I will be back tomorrow, with a new framework, for the second half of my seventh decade.