You painted my childhood, those fickle springs, the mud days when many roads weren't paved so the school bus couldn’t get to the children. Recess used to mean building tiny landscapes of rivers and ponds and dams. Later came marbles, at which I was a dud. Last came softball, and we won’t talk about softball at all, unless inadequacy is the subject.
We only made syrup once. When my mother saw her starched organdy curtains hanging in gray rags, that was the end. There was a sugaring off building, but she'd put her chickens in it.
There was a lot of value in a Maine childhood, people cared about our education a great deal, and we were given so much opportunity that I was shocked when I went away to college to find everybody hadn’t been taught mythology and math games, and that most kids hadn’t had years of National Geographic at hand.
Enjoy your spring. Anyone who made it through those winters has earned it.
After this year's Oxford Symp (I've just retired as Chair but think I should at least shake a leg), nothing in the diary. My half-French nephew is in Aix or thereabouts, and am sort of thiinking I might head down there. Strikes n gillets jaunes permitting (I do love the French - when they hit the streets, they do it properly).
great post, Nancy! Quite apart from maple-talk (wonder if there are sugar-maples in London parks, and if so, would I get arrested if I sneaked in a few buckets? Answer: yes, but might be fun to try). So had a lovely time imagining myself in residence to finish a book in Kate Hill's gorgeous place in Gascogny. Early autumn, I think, in time for the berries and fungi.
From Maine to Gascony with ricotta blueberry pancakes, this was a rich post. Thanks for all here. (I drool over Faccia & Faccia Instagram posts; it's good to know they are not just pretty pictures, but I'm sorry about the volume.)
I was astonished at how quickly it cooked, John. I think it would go equally well with a boneless loin, especially if you brine it first. This was cut and tied by the butcher at French & Brawn in Camden. He said it's basically shoulder. And yes, ir sliced easily and relatively cleanly.
No wonder it has been so quiet over there for the last week! What a power packed entry, Nancy J! I learned volumes in minute ls about so many things. This is another keeper, for sure. But I have to run...I am off to find my fennel pollen for the pork roast! xo
How timely for a little Maple syrup instruction and the pancake recipe. I did score a package of dried wild blueberries - myrtilles, here at the price of gold, so it’s on Sunday’s breakfast menu. And many thanks for the shout out for the Relais de Camont creative residencies. You were the first!
You painted my childhood, those fickle springs, the mud days when many roads weren't paved so the school bus couldn’t get to the children. Recess used to mean building tiny landscapes of rivers and ponds and dams. Later came marbles, at which I was a dud. Last came softball, and we won’t talk about softball at all, unless inadequacy is the subject.
We only made syrup once. When my mother saw her starched organdy curtains hanging in gray rags, that was the end. There was a sugaring off building, but she'd put her chickens in it.
There was a lot of value in a Maine childhood, people cared about our education a great deal, and we were given so much opportunity that I was shocked when I went away to college to find everybody hadn’t been taught mythology and math games, and that most kids hadn’t had years of National Geographic at hand.
Enjoy your spring. Anyone who made it through those winters has earned it.
Due to the nefarious effects of global warming, upper Maine might be our last hope for maple syrup in the US.
After this year's Oxford Symp (I've just retired as Chair but think I should at least shake a leg), nothing in the diary. My half-French nephew is in Aix or thereabouts, and am sort of thiinking I might head down there. Strikes n gillets jaunes permitting (I do love the French - when they hit the streets, they do it properly).
Be fun, tho, wouldn't it!
great post, Nancy! Quite apart from maple-talk (wonder if there are sugar-maples in London parks, and if so, would I get arrested if I sneaked in a few buckets? Answer: yes, but might be fun to try). So had a lovely time imagining myself in residence to finish a book in Kate Hill's gorgeous place in Gascogny. Early autumn, I think, in time for the berries and fungi.
From Maine to Gascony with ricotta blueberry pancakes, this was a rich post. Thanks for all here. (I drool over Faccia & Faccia Instagram posts; it's good to know they are not just pretty pictures, but I'm sorry about the volume.)
I’m confused about the cut of pork. Blade or butt I thought is best braised but apparently not. That it cuts smooth and fast like a loin cut?
I was astonished at how quickly it cooked, John. I think it would go equally well with a boneless loin, especially if you brine it first. This was cut and tied by the butcher at French & Brawn in Camden. He said it's basically shoulder. And yes, ir sliced easily and relatively cleanly.
Bought a roast pork yesterday...maple mustard glazed and roasted on Sunday, thank you! And for the noise comment. There should be a natiuonal outcry.
No wonder it has been so quiet over there for the last week! What a power packed entry, Nancy J! I learned volumes in minute ls about so many things. This is another keeper, for sure. But I have to run...I am off to find my fennel pollen for the pork roast! xo
How timely for a little Maple syrup instruction and the pancake recipe. I did score a package of dried wild blueberries - myrtilles, here at the price of gold, so it’s on Sunday’s breakfast menu. And many thanks for the shout out for the Relais de Camont creative residencies. You were the first!
I asked because your use of it was the only time I've heard it, outside of my own family.
I wonder if "poor man's fertilizer" is an expression native to New England. My Connecticut grandfather used it...