I’m not sure I trust anyone who doesn’t like cake. Sorry, that is just how it is. So, when I was thinking about a new blog topic, I thought of occasions past, captured in photos, and my mind went immediately to cake. (Especially since I had already written about noodles.)
Do all families have a “signature cake”? I suspect many do. Ours, going into its third generation, is a sour cream coffee cake with nuts, which is equally good for breakfast, a mid-morning or afternoon snack, or for dessert. It’s buttery, cinnamony, and just totally delicious. It is known by the name “Jewish Nut Ring” in our family, although we are not Jewish, and I think that my mother got the recipe from a women’s magazine, probably sometime in the 1950s. Our recipe is very much like this one but we would never, NEVER add raisins or chocolate chips as suggested here, and ours includes walnuts, not pecans, and involves pouring melted butter on top before baking. My mom had a special round pan for this (now my sister has it), but I found a suitable one years ago at a yard sale for just this purpose.
Do all families also have signature birthday cakes? I know many who do. My sister’s was a white cake, baked in a rectangular baking dish, split in half and spread with apricot jam, reassembled and coated generously with whipped cream. I think it fell out of favor some time ago. Mine is a keeper – the Chocolate Pinwheel Cake, very much like this one, which has been tracked down to a 1954 recipe “courtesy of Baker’s Chocolate and Carnation Evaporated Milk,” two of the main ingredients. So, though I never asked her about it, is likely to stem from my mom browsing through those women’s mags again.
Our version, passed down through a series of hand-written recipe cards and pieces of dog-eared note paper, has an important difference from the above recipe, in that the filling has a healthy (or unhealthy) dose of instant coffee instead of more chocolate. And, really, more chocolate is not what is needed in this cake. Swirling an unadulterated, and almost obscene, amount of pure melted semi-sweet chocolate into the batter to make the “pinwheel” design is the key methodology. When it cools, it forms an intense, crunchy chocolate orgy, which is offset somewhat by the fluffy, not too sweet mocha filling.
Various other cakes have come and gone, witnessed by this little parade of photos, but these are the two with the most memories and staying power. It’s no wonder, as they are delicious, but also evoke special times in the kitchen and at the table, sharing sweet moments bite by bite. I’d love to hear about other cake memories!
The classic nut ring. My mother, sister and I have made hundreds of these over the years, and my daughter is the third generation baker in possession of the recipe. One of the many Chocolate Pinwheel Cakes, and since this is not my cake plate (or my countertop), I think this one was made at my sister’s house. The cake assembly is tricky, as it involves cutting the two rounds in half each, to make four layers, with scrumptious filling in between each and around the edges. You have to pick the prettiest “swirl” for the exposed top layer.My sister doesn’t bother with standard women’s magazines, she subscribes to Bon Apetite and Gourmet…and often finds complicated recipes that we need to execute during the holidays. The inside of this cake, made by my daughter M.E. (who is a really good baker) was even more complex than the Pinwheel cake, with a layer of cake filled and rolled into a big round. That’s why she’s looking so satisfied with herself for pulling it off!Maybe baking complicated cakes rubbed off on her at a young age, after being impressed by her mother’s (somewhat amateurish) rendition of Mickey for her second birthday? Doubt if I will try this one again, but I was inspired when I read a book that had the recipe included. You, too, can read the book and recreate Burnt Sugar Cake with Maple Frosting at this link! Or just bake the cake if you don’t have time to read the book. (It was an okay book, though, but the cake was better than the book, in my opinion.)
This late winter and early spring, a recurring theme in my scattered photo topics has been the varied world of plants: alive, extracted, in bloom or semi-dormant. Flowers, definitely, but beyond their showy riot, some strange and wondrous plant-adjacent places and things to ponder.
The best way to share this kaleidoscope of colors, mixtures, and marvels is through photos with captions. And so, enjoy, and think about the plants in your sphere, some of which you might be overlooking or taking for granted in your daily life or far-flung adventures.
Back in February, my friend Lise and I visited the eclectic Museum on O Street. I was enchanted by the garden at the front of the museum, depicting Alice in Wonderland (sporting a red rose for Valentine’s Day) and the early hellebores at the far right, the earliest of blooms in our area. The museum in general is worth a visit if you have several hours and don’t mind spending $30 to explore countless rooms full of secret passages and strange juxtapositions. Locals, you’ve got til the end of April to catch the as-usual-great orchid exhibition in the Kogod Courtyard between the Museum of American Art and the Portrait Gallery! My former intern and long time colleague Katy sent me peonies for a retirement present. They were in various stages of bloom, so became “the gift that keeps on giving.” The peonies in my garden, this reminded me, are the legacy of my great aunt’s garden in Blairstown, NJ. I dug up a bunch of rhizomes many years ago and they still flourish though my aunt has been gone for years. Friends and family old and new, flowers binding us all.You probably need to zoom in to read the ingredients of this alarming antique tonic which was displayed on the window ledge of Beans in the Belfy, an old church turned cafe in the river town of Brunswick, Maryland (visited by my friend Debi and I for our almost annual afternoon tea treat, falling somewhere around or between or birthdays). If you get beyond the alcohol and – gasp – CHLOROFORM – there are a list of botanicals including wild cherry. Speaking of cherry… you can’t get away without a shot of the iconic blooming cherry trees around the Tidal Basin. They made their appearance early this year, peaking even before the Cherry Blossom Festival started, and as usual coinciding with spring breaks so that the crowds were enormous. Many locals skip a visit for just that reason, which is a shame. They never get old.Another thing that never gets old is a good sunrise on the beach. Got this snap through the beach grass while visiting my sister in Hilton Head Island, SC. The sunrise is more dramatic with a foil such as some handy plant life!In the category of “who knew?!” our visiting friend Rita and I ducked into this urban farm called Area 2 Farms off of Four Mile Run. The unassuming door to an old paper warehouse opens to a thriving business, providing greens and veggies of various sorts to subscribers. The hydraulic set up with lights, watering systems, and other stuff I didn’t really understand was fascinating and maximizes what can be grown in this indoor space. Finally, my favorite photo of me at the retirement party I shared with long time buddy and colleague Diana. (Who sent me the photo. Thanks for photo bombing, Erin, though I could have “removed you” thanks to Google Photos, but didn’t even try!) It’s been a whirlwind of flowers and plants and other wonders for the past few months!
Noodles. Such a silly-sounding word for something so delicious and endlessly variable, eaten by most cultures around the world, and beloved in our family.
Apparently the English “noodle” comes from the German “nudel” in case you’re interested. The word “noodles” conjures up comfort in my mind. Generously buttered and salted egg noodles were always the go-to food in our family when tummies were upset, or one was just feeling down. My sister and I still like to eat any kind of leftover buttered noodles for breakfast, even when we are happy. (Despite the possible guilt brought on by the calories, and sodium and cholesterol bomb.)
I recall one of my first encounters with a noodle that was not buttered or smothered in a vaguely Italian tomato-based sauce. (I’m looking at you, Chef Boyardee…and also remembering my mother’s signature canned tomato-soup, bacon and bell pepper spaghetti sauce recipe.) I was maybe about six or seven, and our family was having a rare meal out, at a Chinese restaurant in Patterson, New Jersey. I demanded spaghetti.
No amount of the grown-ups trying to explain that “Chinese people did not eat spaghetti” would console me. I had to have spaghetti; nothing else would do. And so, the waiter, who knew perfectly well that “Chinese people” might not call it spaghetti but certainly did eat noodles, brought something that was, well, not spaghetti but was definitely in the noodle family. Lo mein maybe? Wish I could say it was a big hit with me, but I think someone else had to eat it.
Fast forward to international cuisine opening to me like the beautiful flower it is. My personal awakening involving various noodle dishes thankfully got better as I got older. I recall the first time the amazing world of Vietnamese pho was revealed to me, back around 1990 when visiting my colleague Lynn in Hawaii. (Then the state folk arts coordinator of Hawaii, but later to become my friend and confidant when she moved to the same position in New Hampshire, and we conspired in the co-curation of the 1999 New Hampshire program… but that is another story entirely.)
I almost cried out to my huge bowl of noodles, swimming together in fragrant broth with its compatriots of lean beef, Thai basil, and bean sprouts – “Where have you been all my life?” Well, maybe I’m being dramatic, but still. It was truly life-changing. Move over, buttered noodles, there’s another crave-worthy comfort food in town.
Today, as for many years, the homemade noodles and dumplings at Chinatown Express in what is left of downtown DC’s Chinatown is the go-to for cheap and authentic eats. Many an intern has been introduced to this modest, no-frills establishment on 6th Street, and it is a de rigueur outing for my daughter and I whenever she visits DC. I even convinced our office to order a boatload of dumplings and noodles from there for our holiday party this past year. I should be getting a commission?!
Our new family favorite at the Vietnamese complex, The Eden Center (usually where we go for pho because you can just throw a lime wedge in any direction and hit a place serving pho there) is actually a tiny Thai Street Food joint, Kao Sarn. Their noodle soups will bring back the memory of eating at any small partially outdoor stall in Bangkok or Chiang Mai by anyone who has visited Thailand and experienced “real street food. ” (Well, except for the price, but then you don’t have to fly half way across the globe to eat here if you’re a local, so there’s that.)
In short, there’s a whole world of noodles out there to conquer, and while nowadays I am partial to Asian noodle dishes, despite my childhood encounter with “Chinese spaghetti,” I have absolutely nothing against attacking noodles and noodle-adjacent dishes of all shapes, sizes, sauces, and cultural origins with gusto. Pierogies, halushki, ravioli, wagon wheels, seashells, carbonara, momos, spaetzle, ramen, udon, soba… the list is inexhaustible.
Hungry yet? If not, these photos of various noodle experiences will surely put you over the edge. Go forth, eat noodles, and be comforted.
I honestly don’t recall what noodle dish this is, but I would eat it again in a heartbeat. One of the many trips to Chinatown Express, I think with friend and colleague Lora. I usually default to the chicken noodle soup, though all the flavors I’ve tried have been equally yummy. As well as the dumplings. And the scallion oil accompaniment is a revelation too. Whenwe visited Hanoi, Steve discovered he could order pho for breakfast. Not only that, but after he polished off one bowl, he could ask for another. The tiny hotel we were staying in did not have its own kitchen, they just stepped outside into the alley and flagged down a street vendor.Our friend Ang, who was our cultural guide during a trip to Thailand, demonstrates how to eat “real Thai street food” in Chiang Mai. M.E. slurps up some Boat Noodle Soup at the Eden Center. Just before Christmas last year, we visited Philadelphia. Their Chinatown has some amazing noodle establishments as well, including this one. Honestly, I do not recall taking this photo but it came up when I searched my photos for “noodles.” I think I would skip “sauerkraut balls” (sorry to say) but cabbage and noodles, called by the Slovaks “halushki,” is always OK by me.A big old bowl of Japanese noodles with a side of California roll, in New York City. Excuse me while I start dinner…
For us Washington, DC types, New York City can seem pretty daunting. But, with the right guidance and a spirit of adventure, it is also energizing and endlessly interesting. My guide for a short visit last week to “The City” as my mother used to call it (because she grew up in and around it) was one of my favorite people, Hanna, who I met way back in grad school in the 1980s.
Hanna met me at what is now called Moynihan Train Hall, aka Penn Station. The layout of the hall is confusing, and it took at least a half hour to figure out where to meet one another. (How did we ever find each other before cell phones?) I might have eventually found myself to her apartment in the Upper West Side (with an amazing view of the George Washington Bridge), but maybe not, so I really appreciated her city sherpa-like skills and willingness to fetch me.
During my first full day, Hanna and I had a morning nature walk along the Hudson River on the Fort Washington Park trail. She introduced me to the Little Red Lighthouse which is a testimony to the power of literature. The decommissioned lighthouse was in peril of being auctioned off in 1948m but was saved by lovers of a beloved children’s book by Hildegarde Swift and Lynd Ward. We also had a surprising encounter along the trail – see pictures below to find out what it was!
In the afternoon, Hanna walked me to the Cloisters, which is officially part of the Metropolitan Museum, located on the edge of Fort Tryon Park on a bluff above the Hudson. My curiosity to visit this relocated Medieval melange of buildings and artworks was piqued by recently reading the murder mystery, The Cloisters, by Katy Hays. (Encore, the power of literature?) Experiencing the atmosphere of somber gray stone and viewing masterpieces of religious art, tapestries, sculptures, stained glass, illuminated manuscripts and strangely shaped reliquaries made a couple of hours fly by. The gardens were not at their best in the winter, of course, but it’s a good reason to come back in the late spring/summer/fall sometime in the future.
Next day, I started off by visiting another museum I had never been to in NYC, the New York Historical Society, on the edge of Central Park. Hanna had business around 91st Street, so I walked from there to the museum’s 77th and Central Park West location, an adventure in and of itself. As my mother always explained, the numbered blocks in NYC are “short blocks” but by the time I reached the museum, they did not feel so short. The three floors of great exhibitions was worth the effort, though. I especially enjoyed the Tiffany Lamps, and learned that (of course) a woman, Clara Driscoll, designed most of them.
After Hanna caught up with me, we made our way to a Georgian restaurant, Chama Mama in Chelsea, and ordered that hot cheesy wonder, the khachapuri. Onward, fortified, to view the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire Memorial near (or even on) the NYU campus. Continuing on the power of literature theme, years ago I read the engrossing if quirky novel of historic New York, Dreamland, by Kevin Baker and never forgot the wrenching part about the fire and the (mostly young women) who perished in it.
The final exhibition visit was at the City Lore gallery, to view an exhibition on African American doll and puppet makers curated by another of my favorite people, Camila Bryce LaPorte, and friends/colleagues Diana N’Diaye and Phyllis May-Machunda. (The exhibition is only up for another couple of weeks, so visit fast if you’re in NYC or traveling there.)
After a jolly Japanese dinner with several NY area based folklore women, Hanna and I made our way back to her apartment (I definitely would have gotten lost on my own, as we transferred twice on this subway trip). Next day, after breakfast, she guided me back to Penn Station and I got on the train back to DC armed with “a bagel and a schmear” for the road.
A perfect post-retirement treat of a trip, all around, and largely thanks to Hanna. Here are some photos of the experience!
Hanna poses with her morning coffee near the Little Lighthouse. Note skyline in distance.Apparently, displaced deer are not so unusual in this area, but this little girl calmly strolling in the shadow of the GW Bridge was a surprise to us!There are no bad views of the interior of the Cloisters, it seems. Okay, so Tunisia is still on my mind so I had to take a snap of this fanciful camel. It seems camels came to medieval Spain as a curiosity with “The Moors.” There are several iconic gardens. Not much blooming outside but a few helibores and perrenial herbs this time of year, but you can see the potential and the setting is still gorgeous. Edgar Allan Poe really got around during his relatively short life. I should write a blog sometime about my encounters with his memory in Baltimore, Charlottesville, Richmond, Providence, and now NYC. But I might need to visit the Raven statues first, which I did not this time around.Also seen on my walk between the 90s and the 70s, a masterful knit bomb by artist Carmen Paulino, AKA Carmen Community Artist. I especially like the 3-D rat.A view of the many variations of the Tiffany Lamps at the Historical Society Museum. There was a fun interactive in the upstairs portion where you could change the colors of the glass on a lampshade. Khachapuri, a great reward for all that walking and art and history viewing. A salad on the side just because.Triangle Fire memorial. It took us a minute to figure out you could see the names of all the victims reflected in the polished (glass? marble?)etched with quotes. A great deal of information is packed into a small space in “The Calling: The Transformative Power of African American Doll and Puppet Making” exhibition at the City Lore gallery. Definitely worth a visit!
Pumpkins have a bad rap. The (much ridiculed) “pumpkin spice” everything starts emerging around August now, and persists until the holidays. Halloween jack-o-lanterns sag and mold on porches until carted to the curb.
Apparently, though, the pumpkins that were just intended as fall decorations on people’s porches had a perfect preservation storm this fall. The weather was cool but not freezing, and the squirrels who usually munch on these easy targets had enough acorns and other tempting goodies to keep them happy. Thus, spurring my one-woman quest to Save the Pumpkins!
To make a rather long story shorter… I noticed a lot of pumpkins just hanging out on porches, even as holiday wreaths started appearing on doors. One neighbor even repurposed a couple of pumpkins into holiday decor by spray painting them gold, so Martha Stewart!
I sent a plea on our neighborhood listserve for any pumpkins still intact, saying I would use them for cooking. Within a couple of days I had eight rather large specimens in hand, or rather actually on our own front and back porch awaiting processing. Can you eat big pumpkins, people ask? This summary from the University of Nebraska Extension Service tells all. Yes, is the short answer.
One of these large orange orbs, I found, can yield up to fourteen cups of pumpkin pulp. But, as my research revealed, pumpkin is really the all purpose fruit/vegetable. You can sneak pumpkin pulp into just about everything. It can be the star of the dish (think pumpkin curry for instance) or it can just enhance the texture and add nutritional nuances. It can be incorporated into an almost infinite variety of sweet baked goods or savory treats.
I’m down to three pumpkins to process, and still thinking of ways to use it. I’ve done pumpkin biscuits, cookies, butter, soup, bars, hummus (this is particularly good), and I am excited to try next a pumpkin gnocchi with sage butter. I just did an online search to find recipes for most of these inspirations, though my friend Sallie sent me her secret pumpkin butter recipe. (Sorry, not sharing that!)
Despite all my pumpkin cooking efforts with fresh pulp and chunks, our freezer is also full of containers of processed pumpkin. So it is really the gift that keeps on giving. In summary, I feel my campaign to Save the Pumpkins has been a big success. Here are some photos of the adventures. Happy New Year to you all, and may your year be as fruitful as my pumpkin escapades!
Our own jack-o-lanterns back on Halloween. I must confess, I also rescued the undisturbed backs of these even before gathering intact pumpkins from neighbors. Neighborhood pumpkin plea results, awaiting processing. There were more on the front porch as well as these on the back porch. First stage in the processing is to split open and scoop out the insides. Roasted pumpkin seeds are a by-product, but even though I always try to get them all, I am sure the compost pile will be yielding our own pumpkin patch next year.Big batch of pumpkin butter. I gave a lot of it away to friends and also delivered a container to each of the neighbors who donated to the cause.Pumpkin butter was one of the components of our holiday cheese and charcuterie board, at center here.Pumpkin snickerdoodle bars is the latest of the creations…to be brought to a party this very afternoon and hopefully a big hit!
After an amazing trip full of colors, tastes, new sights, new friends, it’s hard to sort out all the impressions into coherent explanations. I can’t blame it on jet lag anymore, as it has been a week and half since we returned. It’s just so…unbelievable that we were actually there? Hard to summarize?
Ten days in Tunisia, about a thousands miles covered, eleven “cultural tourism experiences,” countless mosaics, tiles, and carved vaulted ceilings, and food… so much delicious food.
In days to come, I promise to put my thoughts and experiences into categories that will make sense and attempt to capture our rich and varied experiences. Right now, bear with me and enjoy the photos I sort of randomly grouped together into an album. I had my reasons. There are (from myself and my three fellow travelers) more than 1500 photos in our collective album, so I just grabbed a few and threw them together here.
So, more to come. Meanwhile, enjoy this kaleidoscope of photos to just get a glimpse of all the things we saw and did. I promise curated topics will be forthcoming!
In my last entry, I scratched the surface of the history and culture we encountered during our recent Alaska adventure. And teased that this second installment would do the same for the plants, animals – and glaciers.
Fauna first. Alaska is home to scads of land and aquatic animals, and of course hordes of birds, that is not exactly new news. We expected to see a fair amount of them, and we did. But it was usually from a distance, and the only binoculars we had were the ones the Viking folks kindly provided. Serviceable but not very good. So, lesson one: bring your own high powered binoculars if you go on an Alaska cruise, no matter how much space they take in your luggage!
I am particularly enamored of sea otters. (Who isn’t?) I’ve seen them “up close and personal” in Northern California and was somehow expecting to see them everywhere on our cruise. They were out there, just a bit too far away to appreciate. My pictures all show specs outlining their telltale head and flipper/feet profile. I began referring to them as “ESO” as in “elusive sea otter.”
There were bald eagles, orcas, other type of whales, seals, sea lions. A bear or two, salmon, mountain goats: all more or less from a distance. Instead of being disappointed, I started being philosophical about it. I knew they were out there, we were sharing space and I was experiencing and enjoying their landscape. But, really, why should I be impinging on their habitat and their peaceful day?
Flora second. The forests and foliage of Alaska are very cool. The best and closest chance we got to learn about the rainforest environment was a shore excursion to Glacier Gardens, a private and rather quirky swath of rainforest created by a man named Steve Bowhay and his wife beginning in the mid-1980s, and lovingly maintained and interpreted in detail by a cadre of seasonal devotee employees. First, you admire the “upside down trees” (uprooted in a storm, and “planted” roots up, with small gardens at the top, see photo) and other semi-maincured gardens at the base of the garden. Then, you ascend 600 feet up a corduroy (buried log) road in a sort of tram thing to a spectacular vista, learning about the rainforest as you go from the driver/guide. A bit terrifying, but very edifying and impressive.
And third, the glaciers. According to the U.S. Geological Survey web site, “A glacier is a large, perennial accumulation of crystalline ice, snow, rock, sediment, and often liquid water that originates on land and moves down slope under the influence of its own weight and gravity.” So, basically, a very, very slow-moving wall of ice that accumulates stuff as it goes. Too many glaciers to list, or even remember, were pointed out to us, some high in the mountain crevises. But the two most memorable ones to me were those that had reached the sea. They frequently shed big hunks (called “calving”) which I kept watching for but never really saw in action. But, no matter.
My two favorite glaciers that we saw on the trip were the Johns Hopkins Glacier which we sailed up as close as a hulking, 900-passenger cruise ship can get, and the Aialik Glacier which we saw even closer on a smaller boat during our tour of the Kenai Fjord National Park. Here is a very informative story map about glaciers at Kenai Fjords, if you are curious to know more about them. My impressive was a general disbelief that I was actually there, seeing them in person. And being really glad that, although I would have gotten a much closer look at both wildlife and glaciers, I was safe and relatively warm on my boat and not one of the people out there kayaking right up to the glacier. I like a good paddle, but I prefer the water and air temperature to be somewhat more temperate than even summer in Alaska, no matter how many layers of clothing I might have on and no matter what a good sweat I might work up.
It was sad when we had to disembark from the cruise ship in Seward and relegate ourselves to dry land. But the whole experience was enriching, awe-inspiring, and at times even breath-taking. (Literally, when a stiff wind and temperatures in the 40s hit you simultaneously.)
Here are some snaps, which don’t do justice really, but give some idea. And prove that despite my feeling of surreal disbelief, we were there. A highly recommended journey!
See the tiny black dot at center bottom? You guessed it, the ESO in its vast surroundings as seen from our statehouse balcony.This is how extremely cute the ESO is up close, as seen in our ship’s naturalist’s photos. (I’m told up close and personal they are also not anywhere as cuddly as they appear and they smell very fishy.)Most eagles we saw were hanging out, like this one, amid “civilization.” They have adapted quite well to living side by side with humans and their stuff it seems.Where there are glaciers there are icebergs. And often, harbor seals hanging out on them, which you can (maybe) see on the far right and as tiny specks in the farther away bergs. Most orcas are roughly the size of a school bus. But when seen in the context of the sweeping sea and landscapes of Alaska, and with only the aid of a phone camera, that just doesn’t register.I loved the way that public art (even on a dumpster!) depicted the local wildlife. Native art of course also reflects the natural world, as I reported in the last blog entry. Here, a walrus made of found materials including hub caps, at the State Museum in Juneau.It helps to know your bears, and to heed the advice not to approach them. Though here in Valdez I didn’t see any real bears, as they were not hanging around the salmon run that day. Just as well?Several times we learned how to remember the various types of salmon by the fingers on our hand: thumb/chum, pointer finger/sockeye (as the finger you would use to poke someone in the eye!), king/middle and longest finger, silver/ring, pinky/pin. But referring to this chart is handy too!An interpretive native garden in downtown Skagway. We learned that the profusion of light (and of course ample rain) in the summer months makes things grow faster and bigger, so the shorter growing season is somewhat compensated. And, your rhubarb grows to be enormous.“Upside down trees” at Glacier Gardens. Clever and a great for marketing the experience.The road you ascend in Glacier Gardens, 600 feet up, with running commentary by the driver/guide.View from the top of the hill.The plant in the foreground is Devil’s Club, also known as Alaskan Ginseng (though it is not in the same family as American Ginseng). But you know it got my attention when I heard that knickname!Like ginseng, Devil’s Club is proported to cure a variety of ills. The gift shop at Glacier Gardens carried products made from the plant, which apparently gets its name from its sharp and to-be-avoided spines!On our trip over White’s Pass in Skagway, our guide showed us where the wild blueberries were at one of our scenic stops. Picked a few to try, a yummy taste of the wild!Me, looking cold and not terribly happy, with Johns Hopkins Glacier in the background.The glacier is a lot more attractive without me in the photo.See the little black speck in the lower right hand portion of the photo? That is the kayakers at the base of Aialik Glacier. Call me unadventurous, but I preferred letting them lend scale to the photo than being them.
My sister and I recently returned from our maiden Viking ocean cruise, through and around Alaska’s Inner Passage. And despite that we both got sick (we won’t elaborate on that part of the experience), it was a trippy trip through a constantly changing landscape, along the way gathering insights into the state’s culture and history. Even before we started getting feverish, the whole experience seemed somewhat surreal.
Shore excursions, lectures on board, visits to museums, and our own research via the ship’s very good wifi, filled our brains with details, most of which I will probably forget. One thing seared into our brain from repetition, though, was the fact that the U.S purchased Alaska from Russia in the 1867 for 7.2 million dollars, which was roughly two cents per acre.
While the scenery is spectacular, and the wildlife is abundant (though not always evident), in this installment I am going to focus on a brief report on the communities we visited during shore excursions. Each had its own interesting character and history that we dipped our toes into, making for a kaleidoscope of impressions and factoids.
Ketchikan: Our first stop, having begun in Vancouver and spending the first day “scenic cruising” our way north. In the morning we did the “included” tour to the Potlatch Totem Park, a private collection of totem poles, native structures, and for some strange reason, antique cars. They do have an impressive collection, and a totem pole carving workshop, and it was a good introduction to the art. But, our second excursion was more of the real deal: a visit to Saxman Village, a Tlingit community a few miles outside of Ketchikan. Here, our excellent young guide Herbert started right in on the short walk from the bus to the gathering place, telling us about the plants along the path, and continued being informative (with a touch of humor) throughout the visit. (He was also one of the dancers in a brief performance.) A highlight was their more authentic totem carving workshop, presided over by National Heritage Fellow Nathan Jackson, and younger carvers. For a folklorist, the afternoon was a real treat! They also had a nice gift shop.
Sitka: Second on the agenda was Sitka, where we learned more about Alaska’s Russian heritage and visited the site where the territory was turned over to the U.S. The visit began with a slightly weird but still fun dance interpretation of the town’s history from a group called Alaska Storytellers, and then we were free to wander the small downtown, explore St. Michael’s Russian Orthodox Cathedral, and climb Castle Hill to read more about the history. (Did I mention that Alaska was purchased for 7.2 million dollars which was 2 cents per acre?)
Skagway: Skagway was next in the line-up. Here we learned about the area’s role in the 1890s Klondike Gold Rush, during a narrated trip up the White Pass (by bus, though for an extra cost you could do it by a historic railroad) and through the great interpretation in various buildings back in town. It’s hard to fathom the thousands of (mostly men) hoping to find their fortune in this impossibly rugged terrain, on their way to the Yukon. The only people who actually got rich were those who were selling the goods needed to make the trip. Each would-be gold prospector was required to lug approximately a ton of goods (!!) over a series of steep mountain passes to the point where they would catch a steamboat to the gold fields.
Juneau: Alaska’s capital city was the next stop. Our shore excursion took us to the excellent State Museum, and then to a private rain forest garden a few miles out of town. We didn’t explore too much of the city itself, only enough to note that the state capital (across the street from the state museum) is not exactly a paragon of beauty. (More like a big concrete box.) There was a great mural by native artist Crystal Worl depicting Elizabeth Peratrovich, kick-ass Alaskan civil rights activist, my new hero.
Valdez: Last town to be explored was Valdez. After a two-day scenic sail during which we saw mostly mountains and glaciers, it was somewhat pleasant to see a peopled place. Valdez, I learned by visiting the various museums there, had been beset by a huge earthquake in the 1964. The quake and ensuing tsumani pretty much leveled the town and left a lot of traumatized residents behind. (The oral histories on video at the museum were harrowing!) And then there was the oil spill…
Since these places are all only accessible from the outside world by water or air, at this point in my life I will probably never have the opportunity to visit them again. (As the advertisements of the cruise kept telling us, this was after all a “once in a lifetime experience.”) But I’m glad I did experience each one for a day, if just to skim the surface of their layers of history and culture. Here are some photos of the experience.
First glimpse of Ketchikan, coming into the harbor. Totem carving workshop #1, Potlatch Totem Park. Totem carving workshop #2, Saxman Village. Making no comparisons between the two, just saying resident carver here is a National Heritage Fellow. The infamous Seward (the guy who facilitated buying Alaska for 7.2 million dollars, which was how much per acre, now?) gets his own “shame pole” at Saxman Village. Herbert told us the story of why: Seward just did not get the concept of “potlatch” – that is, the community gives you lots of great presents, and then you are supposed to reciprocate. He left Alaska without giving the community anything, earning him this non-complimentary depiction.(Self explanatory.)Dancers perform the history of Sitka, including this interpretation of the sailing ships that brought the first white settlers (the Russians). Maybe they looked almost this pretty and ephermal from a distance to the native inhabitants, but unfortunately their occupants stayed, and just kept coming. St. Michaels has a dramatic backdrop of mountains. It sits right at the end of a very commercial street full of cafes and souvenir shops. Our lady of Sitka, one of the icons in St. Michaels. The most famous building on Skagway’s main drag is the “AB” (Arctic Brotherhood) Buidling, covered with over 8,000 pieces of driftwood. Its now a visitor’s center and part of the historical interpretation around town.Okay, so imagine yourself one of those thousands of souls who braved the Alaskan environment to find their fortune in the late 1880s. This is the sort of terrain of the White Pass you’d have to lug your gear and supplies over. And this goldminer’s graveyard outside of town is where you’d end up if you didn’t make it.Juneau welcome sign at the cruise ship dock. Part of the great collection of the State Museum. About half the displays are devoted to native art of the region.Valdez harbor. I opted out of kayaking on this trip since I thought I might get really cold. Probably a good thing.Interior of the Maxine and Jesse Whitney Museum includes lots of impressive taxidermy. (One way to get up close and personal with Alaskan wildlife without being eaten or trampled.)Valdez also has a lot of fun public art, including carved wooden sculptures sprinkled around town. Loved this bear who got the salmon before the fisherman did.Meanwhile, at the docks, a real fisherwoman held tight to her catch, and was very proud indeed.Preview of my next planned installment…glaciers, mountains, plants and wildlife!
Taking our trip around SW Indiana somewhat out of order, I am jumping to our day in French Lick and West Baden Springs, Indiana. In case you never heard of these historically significant towns, they are an example of those places where people took trains (or perhaps drove their motorcars) from “the city” (Indianapolis, or Chicago, or other Mid-Western metropolises) to “take the waters.”
The massive resorts had their ups and downs, which I will not elaborate on here, but happily survived Jesuits, fires, the Sheraton Hotel company, and other perils to be restored to their former glory. Today, the relatively wealthy and sometimes even famous spend time in the hallowed halls and grounds, getting spa treatments, gambling at the casino, taking in a show, playing golf or just relaxing. Peggy and I, however, took it all in (as the cheap voyeurs we are) without spending a dime.
Here, I shall share our itinerary for a couple of hours of historic splendor and awe. First, we did spend a few bucks fortifying ourselves with ice cream, and wandered around downtown French Lick. Unfortunately, it was Sunday and the historical museum was closed, but we got the gist of “Pluto Water” which was a one-time bottled product of the Springs, from objects readable from the museum’s window, and from an old advertisement on the side of one of the buildings. A jaunty, muscular devil was their brand icon, and their slogan was “When nature won’t, Pluto will” (I.e., this was a natural laxative kind of beverage).
Next, we drove across the road and parked (for free) at the expansive lot in front of the French Lick Hotel. On our way into the lobby, we read historic markers including one about the invention of tomato juice, and then ascended the impressive staircase. We marveled awhile at the ornate lobby, and inquired about the historic trolley which transports people to West Baden Springs, and stopped to glance over cases of historic artifacts (including more Pluto water paraphernalia) and the famous people photos.
Next, after waiting a few minutes at the charming little depot, we boarded the (free!) trolley for the one-mile clackety clack trip through the woods to West Baden Springs. We disembarked and headed straight into the hotel and through the lobby. Once dubbed “the Eighth Wonder of the World” (how many of those are there?), one really needs to experience the hotel’s massive central atrium, which features a 200-foot dome, for oneself to get a sense of its scale and unique design.
Luckily, again for free, mere mortals can loll on a couch in the atrium and stare up at the dome and the hotel rooms arranged around it, for as long as one likes. Peggy and I did just that, zoning out and watching the lights at the top of the dome changing colors. “Are we really here?” and “Is this really real?” we had to ask ourselves.
Breaking away from the mesmerizing atrium, we walked around the atrium to view the enormous Rookwood pottery fireplace, featuring “Sprudel” – an impish figure frolicking among the landscape of the artwork. We roamed the circular hallways enjoying historic photos, and spent a few minutes learning more about the property’s history in their tiny museum.
Here we learned that a movie had been recently shot in the hotel and on the grounds, called “How Cold the River” the plot of which leans heavily on a very ominous bottle of Pluto water. (We had to watch it, of course, after we got home to Peggy’s house. Not highly recommended for anything except the great views of the hotel, and a few laughs at the rather incomprehensible plot.)
After a brief amble around the garden, we climbed aboard the trolley to return through the woods and over the creek to French Lick, our car, and reality. Having spent not a penny, but all the richer for our trip through time and space.
Not actually The Devil, but Pluto, god of the underworld…close enough and still as creepy.Splendor #1, the lobby of the French Lick Hotel. Thank goodness an influx of millions saved it from the renovation done by the Sheraton Hotel company, which covered the amazing tile work and other ornamentation. What were they thinking??More homage to Pluto Water. The framed postcard at the bottom dated 1937 and says “Pluto keeps the tin canner on the can.” It looks like a camper made from a Pluto truck and/or advertising the water, which somehow was spotted in Kenosha, WI. That Pluto really got around.First view of the West Baden Springs hotel, exterior. It is hard to fathom what lies inside from here, but still highly impressive from the outside.And now… the star of the show! The Atrium. Note small love seat type couches, which is where we sprawled ourselves, totally entranced by the dome lights cycling through their colors. The windows all around the atrium are hotel rooms, and the approximately $300/night might be worth the view. Though dwarfed (so to speak) by the Atrium, Sprudel’s fireplace, made up of hundreds of pieces of famous Rookwood pottery, burned 14 foot logs… so nothing to scoff at. All aboard the magical historic trolley for the all too brief ride back to the real world!
On a recent trip to Indiana, my old stomping grounds (from starting grad school in 1977 to leaving for a job at the Smithsonian in 1987), I had many adventures with my dear friend and fellow “wander Indiana” enthusiast, Peggy Sailors. I will report in a series of scenarios and photos!
Adventure #1 was a trip to Terre Haute to attend the “Art of the Adze” exhibition curated by colleague Jon Kay, the State Folklorist of Indiana. I had once held this position for a couple of years in the early 1980s, but he’s really done a much finer (and longer lasting) job of it, I must admit. He and his intrepid research assistant, Katya Chomitzky, curated this lovely exhibition on wooden bowl hewing (AKA “chopping”). They had planned a “Chop In” or “Chop-a-Thon” featuring a gaggle of wooden bowl artisans, which we could not miss.
This event took place at the otherwise tony small art museum, the Swope, in the middle of downtown Terre Haute. Just a wood chip’s toss from quiet galleries featuring works of Grant Wood, Edward Hopper, and Andy Warhol, among others, the din of the the chopping of three generations of bowl makers rang out joyfully. A museum volunteer gamely tried to contain the chips (which fell “where they may” and defied staying on the tarps that had been laid down to protect the floor) with a broom.
Present in spirit, and in memory, was the Father of All Indiana Bowl Choppers, Bill Day, from West Lebanon (may he rest in peace, though maybe he’s chopping bowls beyond the Pearly Gates and driving St. Peter to distraction?). Peggy and I had interviewed Bill and visited with him and his wife Marion while working on a state-wide crafts exhibition called “Materials at Hand.” (More about that at a later date, as it really bears a revisit.)
Bill was a short but powerful retired farmer, with a distinctive high-pitched scratchy voice and an even more distinctive laugh (something like the braying of a donkey combined with a buzz saw maybe?). He honed, so to speak, his already wide knowledge of working with wood into a second career of splitting logs for fence rails. Then, when Marion brought home an old wooden bowl from an antique store, he pondered how to make such a vessel. After perfecting the method (which requires hewing large pieces of green wood with a series of adzes) and making a noisy mess in their house, Marion shoed him out. He rented a small former utility building in “downtown” West Lebanon, dubbed Bill’s Chop Shop.
Bill’s work earns a prominent place in the exhibition, and his memory is well preserved by the older current choppers in attendance a the Chop-In. It was gratifying to hear them speak so fondly of Bill and his work, his generosity of spirit in teaching others, and his time as resident bowl chopper at the Indiana State Fair’s “Pioneer Village.” And also to see that the “art of the adze” is being passed on down the generations. (The youngest chopper in attendance at the event was a strapping 15-year old.) And to see that several women have found their way to bowl chopping, too!
Check out the exhibition and Chop-In!
Peggy (right) and me (left) pose in front of the sign that pays homage to Bill Day and even mentions us!
The sounds and sites of the Chop-In! Featuring in this grouping, the Ruble family, led by patriarch Keith, who succeeded Bill Day as chief bowl chopper at the State Fair. He taught his sons Andy and Luke and daughter in law Kasey, all seen (and heard) chopping here.
Choppers assembled to exchange info and get their photo taken in the gallery. Youngest chopper, Luke Boyll, is in right forefront with his teacher/mentor Blaine Berry.View of exhibition showing in forefront some excellent examples of Bill Days work. (These were loaned by Peggy!)Terre Haute, as it says on this historic marker, is located at the cross-roads of America, as this historic marker tells us. This spot being the crossing of US Highway 40 and 41. Which just goes to show that Indiana is at the center of all good adventures…so tune in next time for more!
