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3331. Ms. No - 11/1/2005 6:11:09 PM Finished and Lit....very, very lit as a matter of fact.
 3332. Ms. No - 11/1/2005 6:13:04 PM Yeah, we had a pumkin carving ringer among us. Later we bound him to a stick and roasted him over the fire, but it's worth a close-up anyway. (The blond guy in the first pic is the carver)
 3333. PelleNilsson - 11/1/2005 7:24:31 PM I rather like the soft autumn light we are having these days. This picture was taken at 2 pm.
 3334. Macnas - 11/3/2005 12:41:22 PM Would you like to hear the story of Jack O'lantern??
Once apon a time, in the wild bogs of the midlands, there lived a man called Jack. Now, he wasn't a very evil man, but then neither was he good. And his greatest weakness was for drink, as hard as he could get it.
This led him straight and sure down the wrong path, and one evening, fighting drunk, he was thrown out of a shebeen where he had been drinking all the morning before. In a fit of spite he stole a horse that was tethered nearby, and rode off to the west.
Not long after, the horse threw a shoe, and was starting to lame something fierce. Jack was starting to sober up at this stage and realised that he should get the horse to a smith as soon as possible before he got any worse. Just as this thought went through his head, what did he see up ahead but the warm glow of a smith's fire, and what did he hear but the din and peal of a smith's hammer on the forge.
Drawing nearer, he could see the smith at work. A huge man, with massive arms all covered in thick coarse hair, a frightful countenance and a mouth full of bright white teeth that shone in the blaze of the forge. He wore a leather apron that covered him from chest to shins, and a leather cap pulled back from his broad forehead to stop the sparks from singeing his hair. His face was the colour of bog oak, and Jack thought for a minute that his very fingernails were burning black and could see the smoke drifting from them.
The smith looked up at him and smiled. "A fine horse you have there Jack, I know one just like it, not very far from here"
Jack swallowed and space "Indeed smithy, 'tis the same horse you see and no mistake, and I after buying it from the man that owned it!"
The smith smiled wider still, and Jack could see the teeth were sharp as well as white, "Did you know? Well that’s all well and fine, but he needs a shoe, and it's a shoe I'll give him, if you want"
Jack trembled as he replied, "It is a shoe that’s needed smithy, but I have no money in my purse or clout to give you for to do the work"
The smith put down the massive cross pien he had been wielding, and folded his huge arms across his broad chest. "Well now Jack" says he, "I'll make you a wager then, ask me any feat within the bounds of my forge, and if I cannot do it, then I'll shoe that horse for you with a happy heart" Jack was by now shaking as he stood beside the horse, because he knew now for sure that it was nobody but the Devil himself standing at the forge. Under the hem of the long leather apron he could see two cloven hooves.
"And if I fail to find a task to best you, what then smithy, for I'll still have no money for you??"
The smith laughed with the sound of a hundred horseshoes being drenched in cold water "Why then jack, you'll put on these shackles I've been making, and come with me to hell!"
He lifted the heavy shackles in one hand, roughly hammered iron still glowing and crude link between them.
Now Jack, 'though he was a wicked man who had drank and fought and stole and wasted every gift that was given him, could not be said to be a stupid man. He could think fast on his feet when he had the need, and he knew no other time when he had greater need than this. He spied an iron in the fire and made his plan there and then.
"I'd say smithy, that there's not a bar you couldn’t bend, or an anvil you couldn’t toss, but I'm thinking that you couldn’t climb that tree that stands along side your forge there"
The devil frowned, and said "Sure and I could, and if that's the wager, then it's a poor one, and you'll be coming with me sooner than I had thought!" With that, he sprang up the trunk of the tree as nimble as a weasel climbing the ivy on the wall of a hen house.
As quick as he could, Jack took the iron from the forge, and with it burning into his hand, he scorched the sign of the cross on the bark of the tree trunk. Up in the tree, the devil realised he had been bested, for he could not get down again. He roared his displeasure of being cheated of Jacks soul, and then set to laughing his horrible hissing laugh. "You got the better of me Jack, 'tisn't many do, but I'll see you again soon I think!"
Jack left the stolen horse and ran as fast as he could away from the devils forge.
Not long after, Jack died while sleeping out on a cold moor, insensible with poitin spirit. He made his way to the gates of heaven, but found his way barred due to his wicked life before. He was not wicked enough for hell without being tricked into it, as the devil had tried before, so his soul wandered. The devil, recalling Jacks cleverness, took some pity on him, or as much pity as was in him to feel, and to help Jack find his way in the gloom that was his in the world of wandering souls, gave him a glowing ember from the fire of hell, that would never go out.
Jack hollowed out a turnip and put the ember inside, and the devil carved a likeness of his own face in it, to remind Jack of who had helped him and to taunt him for the rest of time.
3335. PelleNilsson - 11/5/2005 7:40:04 PM What goes on here?
 
In the meantime, this picture is of two young relatives of ours. They are contemplating a doll which the girl, Victoria, was presented with just a few minutes earlier.
It's a sweet picture, but the doll is also interesting. My wife's maternal grandmother had eleven siblings. All but one of them emigrated to America in the early 20th century. They had to struggle to establish themselves, then to cope with the Depression and then came WWII. But after the war they could and did visit the old country and, of course, they brought presents from their new one. The doll was one of those, given to my wife towards the end of the 40s. And now it has a new keeper. Here is a better picture of it.
3336. Magoseph - 11/5/2005 8:06:23 PM What goes on here?
I'll be darned if I know--tell us.
Lovely young relatives you have, Pelle. 3337. PelleNilsson - 11/5/2005 9:34:02 PM I'll be darned if I know--tell us.
Perhaps on Monday if nobody has come up with an answer. Hint: traditional craft. 3338. PelleNilsson - 11/7/2005 8:46:34 PM Here is an extremely heavy hint as to what is going on.
And here is a photo of the two ladies at an earlier occasion.
The velvet dress, like the doll, is a present from America. 3339. robertjayb - 11/7/2005 8:52:55 PM Candle making? 3340. PelleNilsson - 11/7/2005 8:53:54 PM Of course. 3341. PelleNilsson - 11/7/2005 9:32:46 PM The end result:
 3342. wonkers2 - 11/8/2005 12:20:22 AM Elegant. 3343. PelleNilsson - 11/13/2005 8:24:27 PM Shadows on the kitchen wall.
 3344. thoughtful - 11/14/2005 4:57:58 PM Well I took a stab at it and made a recipe called "real southern corn bread". I used the self-rising white cornmeal, melted bacon fat in a cast iron pan and baked the batter in the pan.
Came out tasting very bland except it tastes like bacon grease.
It may be authentic southern, but it's unfortunately not the corny taste i'm looking for. I'll keep trying. 3345. alistairconnor - 11/14/2005 5:35:02 PM Sounds like the "self-rising white cornmeal" bit is your problem. Go find some organic stone-ground dirty looking cornmeal, and add your own baking soda...
Just a generic comment. I know nothing about corn bread, but what you bake is never better than the ingredients. 3346. Jenerator - 11/14/2005 6:21:28 PM Thoughtful,
I have some deep Southern roots, and so one of my valued posessions is a Civil War cookbook.
The recipe for campfire biscuits for infantry is almost identical to the one you posted. When they didn't have cast iron pans, they used their musket blades directly in the fire.
Because so many of the Confederate soldiers lived on cornmeal and lard (lard if they were lucky, water if they were unlucky) many of them got scurvy. 3347. robertjayb - 11/14/2005 6:21:56 PM Get some regular yellow cornmeal, Aunt Jemima's or such, and follow the recipe on the box...maybe add an extra egg. 3348. Jenerator - 11/14/2005 6:37:26 PM In a different direction, I stumbled onto a delicous Greek/Persian restaurant this weekend.
My mom and I were thinking of going to a noodle-house in little Vietnam. Two doors down from our favorite place was a new cafe called Yum Yum. We thought for sure it was another Vietnamese (or Korean) place, but I noticed that it was full of Mediterrean and Muslim looking people. We decided to try it inspite of the name.
It had the best baba ghanoush I have ever had. He grilled the egg plant and prepared it in front of us. The hummus was very smooth and midly flavored. I suspect he used chick peas and fava beans to get a softer favor and texture.(?)
I ordered the Gyro plate which was similar to a kebab plate with saffron rice and it was sooooooooo good. The meat was fresh and spiced perfectly and the tzatsiki was the perfect mix of yogurt, spices, mint and onion.
The dessert menu was limited (cheese cake or Baklava) but he gave us his hidden house specialty. I think it was called khooma (?). It was similar to Baklava but not as drippingly sweet and it was made from vermicelli rather than phylo.
My mom only ordered the house soup which was a chicken based broth with lemon, ginger, parsley, mushrooms, onions, and fresh herbs. It was fresh, like a restorative broth that you sip on a rainy ay.
Anyway, my mom and I feasted for less than $20!! I can't wait to go back.
The chef's daughter, a sixth grader, let us know that she and her family moved to Richardson from Lebanon and that her dad was a professional chef back home. 3349. thoughtful - 11/14/2005 9:31:45 PM I tried the yellow corn meal version several times in several different ways and it's still not the flavor i want. That's why i went with something different. The southern way said it has to be white corn meal. But it's not what i wanted.
3350. PelleNilsson - 11/14/2005 10:12:17 PM I'm sorry about the sorry picture that originally appeared in #3343. I must have saved the wrong version in Photoshop. You may think the new one is rotten too, but at least it's rotten in the way I intended it to be.
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