Zuppa e Fagioli/Patate

"Too Salty, just didn't like it. I even washed it with water first." That was yesterday at work, complaining about a Air Dried Salt Cured Country Ham I bought on the Internet from a famous Restaurant in Georgia.

What could I do with it besides throw it out? My friend Scott Goeringer, an executive chef, gave me a great suggestion. Beans and potatoes would soak up the salt and leave that smoky flavor. He also suggested leeks. 

Today is my day off and I am inspired to run with Scott's suggestion. I didn't have leeks in my refrigerator, but I did have an onion. Maybe it was the can of Cannelini Beans in my cupboard, but Italy memories started swarming through my mind. On one of my Italy trips, I saw a cook, throw a good jigger of red wine into her soup. Checking my liquor cabinet, right there in front was a great bottle of Porto wine. Port is a little sweet with still the robust flavor of red wine. Going with an Italian theme, garlic, tomato, basil leaves and a tiny bit of dried rosemary floated through my mind. 

Since I don't measure anything, I'm guessing these measurements are about right. 

Note: Don't add the wine, basil and rosemary until you are just about to serve the soup. You soup will stay fresh and the flavors won't be lost. 

Keep that spoon handy and taste often! Enjoy, I sure did. Thanks, Scott.

Zuppa e fagioli/patate

Inspired by Scott Goeringer

1/2 medium Onion diced

1/2 Red Pepper diced

1 cove of Garlic, peeled and sliced thin

1 tablespoon Olive Oil

A couple of pieces of Smoky Ham or Bacon

Saute until onion is translucent

 Add:

1 Red Potato, peeled and diced

1 Tomato skinned and diced

1 can drained Cannellini Beans

1/2 teaspoon of "Better Than Bouillon Chicken Base"

Water to cover ingredients.

When potatoes are cooked, remove ham or bacon and throw away.

Add:

1 oz Porto Wine

Chiffonade a about a dozen Basil leaves

tiny bit of dried Rosemary

The beginning of the dream.....

I was three year old when I first talked about having horses. It was my first obsession. Mother would tell me how she would buy all these beautiful dolls, but I wouldn't play with them. Instead I'd sit in a corner with her wooden clothes pins and imagine they were my horses. In Southern California in the mid-50s, as soon as you got your drivers license, you'd be driving to the beach. Not me. As soon as I got my license, I started my secret life. There was a Buffalo Ranch in the area where Irvine, CA has grown up now. Back then they had stables, gave riding lessons, and also did trail rides. I worked odd jobs, one at a jewelry store, and of course babysitting, saved my money and took riding lessons. I'd hang around and help clean stalls, feed, and just take in the smells of the hay, the grain, the horse. Listening to their munching, their nickering, the swishing sound their hooves made in the straw or looking deep into their liquid eyes, watching them twitch their tails at a fly or shake their beautiful necks or paw at the ground was better than the Symphonic Orchestra playing great composers. It was music to me and I could be part of it. Just to touch that soft, warm muzzle and hug their neck, snuggling my nose into their scent was the most intoxicating part of my teen years. 

After college, I worked at a Dude Ranch. Heaven! I was with horses every single day for hours on end. I really believed I married because he promised me a ranch with cows and horses. It never happened with him, and even after two children, I never gave up on my dream. Probably I married money the second time and I did buy my first horse, then later my Arabians. Guess I shouldn't be surprised that marriage didn't make it either. But my dream of having a horse ranch never died. At age 38, I did buy my horse ranch.

The first horse born on our ranch, was Darq Sirroco, a black colt out of my Palomino Half Arab/Saddlebred, Penny. The kids and I were so excited about the upcoming birth, we strewed straw around in the large stall, put up a 8x8 tent in the stall next door, put in cots, a battery operated light — we didn't want to miss the big event.

Penny started circling around and around and finally went down late in the afternoon. Just then, our neighbors from North Plains came down to the barn. They were old time farmers, and I was relieved that they were there. We whispered back and forth — me asking what I should do next; he with a grin answering to just let the mare do her thing!  It wasn't much after that conversation the two hooves came out covered inside the bag and very fast, bloop, out slipped the baby. Nosing and thrashing, out of the bag a shinny wet thing gasped its first air. Nudging me to rub down the baby with the towel I had in my hands, and telling me to bond right away. Gingerly, I approached the little one, down on my knees, rubbing it dry and talking low and soft to both the baby and the mare. It was a colt, a boy! Wobbling up, sideways, down again. One leg up, three legs down, now back legs up, front legs down. So funny and amazing at the same time. With knickers of encouragement from the mare, finally up on all fours and looking for the milk. Well after a suck or two on the mare's front legs, he finely got around to the right section. Don't know how he could miss it, with milk streaming down. With a huge sigh of relief from me and the mare, she (the mare not me) starts to nibble at the hay while her baby nurses.

Photo above: Champions in the making, Jeremy at age 10 or 11, Darq Sirroco age  2 weeks.

We named him, Darq Sirroco. His name, Sirooco, a wild desert wind. He grew up to be a Region II, IV, V Champion. Winning Futurities at 1, 2 and 3. He won in almost every show he entered. Eventually he won a Reserve National Championship!

My horse ranch became more of a reality than I ever dreamed it to be. And a great source of memories now!

Zapped by an Electric Fence

Once upon a time and long ago, my children, Diane age 13 and Jeremy age 10 and I bought acreage with a small house and a couple of barns. It was the beginning of our horse farm. The five plus acres had already been fenced with barbless wire, but with babies on the way (horses not me) I felt I needed more protection for them than just wire. Ribbon wire was the in thing back in the 70s and 80s and it was easy to install, if the foals did break through, it was safe and would not tangle around their legs like wire might. Oregon dirt is easy to dig in and not a hard job for me to put up fencing.

Back in Oregon, one sunny day, kids in school, it was perfect for putting in an electric fence paddock outside the large birthing stall. Gathering all my tools in a box and "ho ho, ho ho and off to work I go." As the day progressed, it was getting hotter and hotter, that is if Oregon hot means the same as Arizona hot. Nothing could  deter me. Onward in my mission to complete the job. I am rather one track when it comes to staying on task. Whew, finally I finished, looked out with pride at the electric corral I had completed, flipped the switch and checked it with my little plastic fence checker. Yep, it was working. 

Picking up the tools scattered about and putting them back into the tool box, I bent over to pick up the hammer and backed right into the "hot" electric fence. The bolt got me good. I jumped about a yard or two then quickly looked around to see if anyone saw me do such a stupid thing. Now I'm telling you my nearest neighbor couldn't have seen me even with binoculars. "What are you looking at?" I hurl words at my dog, panting, tongue lagging out. I swear she was laughing at me!

Photo above: Half Arab/Saddlebred, Penny and Wind Dancer her little filly.

Wind Dancer prancing away. From the day she was born, this little filly just flat out ran, pranced, jumped and raced with the wind. She absolutely loved life! Isn't she a beauty?


Photo right: Wind Dancer just a few weeks old.

Illionois Small Town Childhood Memories

Hi cousin Alan, 

I only remember Illinois as a ten year old child and maybe for three weeks with Grandma Roberts (your Aunt Mae). If it was hot, I didn't notice it. Too much fun collecting lightning bugs in a jar; riding your horse bareback down a dirt road; slipping and sliding in the back of a wagon full of oats, bugs and grasshoppers, as your Dad brought it in from the fields; watching out for the "mean" goose in your barnyard; climbing Grandma's cherry tree; and endlessly cranking the ice cream churn. Yeah, it could have been hot, but I sure didn't notice. 

My Dad came to visit us at Grandma's. He took us to a movie on the main street of Roberts. That's before they moved the water tower. Back then they hung a huge screen on it and showed a black and white movie with Bob Crosby. (Who knows why this stuck in my head!) The three of us sat on a blanket in the middle of the street to watch. Just before we settled down, Dad took us into the corner soda fountain to get a malt or a shake.

I loved that it didn't get dark until after 9 or so at night. Meant our normal bedtime didn't mean anything in Illinois. Dark always came about 8 PM in CA. Even so, through our complaints that it was still light out, Grandma, at 9 PM would make my baby sister, Marilynn, and I up go upstairs to bed — where we could read for awhile. I'm a reader even today - although you don't like the books I read - i.e. "The Road", Ha Ha!. 

As I'd lie in bed reading in that glowing amber light of twilight, I'd also be waiting for the train whistle to announce the train was going through town along with the rhythmic click-clack of metal wheels against metal tracks. Such a comforting, haunting sound. 

Always one of the fondest memories in my life — that short three or so weeks with Grandma Roberts in Illinois and on your boyhood farm.

Love to you, cousin. So glad we reconnected.

Dawn

6/29/09  Dear Dawn,

o       They were called free movies.  The town merchants paid for them to promote Saturday night business.  That was when all the farmers came to town.  The movies were an extra incentive to be sure and come.  Nearly all the movies had a serial with them.  Tess was bound and laid on the tracks and the train was bearing down on her  -  and then the reel stopped!  You had to return next week to find what happened.  Nearly every small town had 'free movies'.  There was always a popcorn stand.  The one who ran it may have been practising his only source of income during the summer.  It was a time looked forward to by all the youngsters; more so for the commaradie than the movie.  The girls hung with the girls and the boys with the boys.  But they purposely crossed paths to tease and caterwaul each other.  Besides you didn't want to miss, you might catch sight of that pretty/handsom girl/boy that you had your eye on.  You are right, every one brought a blanket to lay down on the street.  And they were shared, you didn't necessarily sit on your own families.  Wonderful times; we'll not see them again - -

o        I have no idea why you remember Bob Crosby - - -

o        You memtion the water tower, did you know that Ralph Bradbury (a cousin of yours, about third) took a dare he could not fly his Piper Cub down main street because the tower was there.  He flew it and managed to raise the plane fast enough not to hit the tower.  You can agree to some weird things while sitting in a tavern.    

o        You are right again, it does get hot in Illinois.  Jane and I often slept on the grass as it was cool and a breeze often helped.  Then Dad built a screened in porch and we slept there.  That reduced our time of scratching mosquito bites considerably.  But I don't ever remember it being too hot to work or play.  

o        I'm glad you remember the farm.  I do too, and your reminiscence caused me to recall fond memories - Thank you, Dawn.  

o       The work you had done at the Robert's grave site is beautiful.  All of my sisters and I marveled over it.  You and Marilynn are to be complimented and praised.  Future generations will be proud to see their forefathers so well remembered.    Love, Alan       

Comments:

·      1) 6/29   Thanks for including me in the e-mail list, I enjoyed it.    Jim Sinsley

·      2) 6/29 Dawn -- you make childhood sound so appealing.  I remember lightning bugs --- something we didn't have in California.  Carolyn Lawson

      

·      3) 6/29    Dawn - What a charming and well written email - It truely is an ode to youth and fun and summer and great childhood memories! Well written too! Looking forward to seeing you on Thursday night! Lots of love – Michelle Milash

·      4) 6/29  Dawn,

o       I drove with Justin to Indiana last week. He got a job working for the Madison County surveying office. Justin's girl friend lives in Indianapolis. We drove really hard. Long distances everyday. I told him from the beginning that we were going to drive through Roberts. We drove past Dad's old house and through "downtown." I was tempted to stop at the Roberts Bar and Grill, but we were still pressed for time (at lease Justin thought we were pressed). We knew exactly where the cemetery was located. He had looked it up on Google maps. My mom gave me general directions to the Roberts grave site, but then lefts were confused with rights. The first familiar name I saw was Uncle Louie. He died in 1982 at the age of 99. Barbara and I met him the previous year when we did a cross country tour with Mom and Dad. Then Justin and I just strolled the rows until we found ROBERTS. Seeing Grandma Roberts' name, Uncle George, Aunt Elsie and Dad's head stone really got me choked up. 

o       I just wanted to tell you what a great job you did with the head stone. It was perfect. I had tried to make connections with people back there the year after Dad died. It just didn't seem to work. I think you had to be there to get the job done. You did it and did a fantastic job. I wish that I would have had some of Dad's ashes to bury there. There will be another time. We cleaned up all the Roberts head stones and took off toward Indiana.20A huge lightning storm greeted us as we hit the highway. It was entertaining for two hours. 

o       I'm headed to San Diego to visit Mom in mid July. Her vision is getting really weak. It will be great to visit her at the "institute." Thanks again sis, Brother Tommy

·      5) 6/30/09  Dawn, You bring back wonderful memories, and they are expressed in a captive, comforting story.  If I had your creative flow and were to write about my childhood, I would choose to relate it exactly like you have! This is really special. Thanks, cousin Dianne Wissmiller

The Sense of Us

The Sense of Us                              in Manitowish Waters, Wisconsin

Dawn Janov with her sister, Marilynn Roberts on their sister trip                                 June 10, 2006

 

Soft as a kiss for a newborn.

Quiet as a fawn that is hiding.

Comfort in a sweater well worn.

Here is a place for the finding.

Sharp as a twig that is broken.

Beauty in all that you see.

For others a place that will open

Doors to a deep inner peace.

Listen to the lap of the lake

Partnered with the chirp of a bird.

What a great way to wake

Without ever hearing a word.

Thanks to you, John and Barbara McFarland.

It is a perfect plan.

The neat, restful, darlin’

The cabin of the "Otter Clan!"

Ukulele Memories

I was nineteen on the beach at Waikiki listening to a group playing ukuleles. Trade winds ruffling my hair, warm sand between my toes, when all of a sudden this beach boy shoved a ukulele in my hands and said, "Try playing with us."

So watching my new teacher, I learned chords and strums. When I returned home, the first thing I did was buy a Martin ukulele. Sad story, about a year later it was stolen. I went on to play a tenor and eventually a Gibson guitar, but never was it the fun or the wonderful sound of the lost ukulele.

Although I've been back to Hawaii many times with my family and for work, I've never been tempted to buy another ukulele.


Now that I'm old, I'm looking forward to my first love again, the ukulele. This time I wanted the best and a wonderful piece of history, the Kamaka Pineapple Ukulele. Thanks to Chrissie and Tekla at the Kamaka factory for helping me chose the right ukulele. It's being made right now by caring dedicated people. In a few short weeks my house will soar with music once more.


Here I am in a Colorado winter growing older, but I'll always be young in those places of my memories. I can still close my eyes and conjure up the places I saw through my eyes, the sounds and smells around me, and best of all, what I felt in that summer of 1958. My mind's eye is such a happy place to visit.

Hmm, makes me think about my resolution to only live in the now. Trying to enjoy the now is something I struggle with every day. Perhaps there is room for everything, the past experiences, the "right now", and a dream of where I want to be tomorrow. So for now, I'm spending some time in my memories. See you later. Aloha and Mahalo for reading my blog.

Happy New Year 2010!

The full Blue Moon climbs over the mountain top The fierce wind is blowing all the overcast clouds away clearing the path for the moon. The Ponderosa pines are swaying in a twisted dance to the siren song of the wind. The naked Aspens laugh at the fray.

The only one not enjoying the night is my Chihuahua, Luc. All he wanted to do is sniff the yard and choose a pot to pee, but the mischievous wind blew him a treat that scares him so bad he was jumping in 180 degree turns. He takes a look at the open door and makes a run o fast you can not see his legs.

Come on 2010. We are ready for you and the adventures you'll bring! Happy New Year's Eve.