Stamp of the Day: Julbak

Swedish Christmas traditions includes a big baking day - the 'Julbak', where the most common thing to make is 'pepparkakor' (gingerbread cookies).  Here on this Swedish stamp Pippi Longstocking ('Långstrump') is baking on her kitchen floor with the help of her monkey Herr Nilsson. Pippi is my favorite character in Astrid Lindgren's children's books.  We haven't made any cookies at all this year, but plan to make hazelnut bread, a family tradition from my grandmother, and maybe the kids will make some cookies too.  In Sweden ginger bread cookies are called "Pepper cookies", but they have no pepper in them at all.  I wonder how that name came about. 

Capital scenes (Washington DC)

In May this year I had to travel to Washington DC for a conference and took a few hours to see the sights:


The Washington Monument.  Impressive. 


The White House.  I wonder how many spy cameras that are in the flower beds. 


I wonder if the President ever sends out Secret Service to get him a Polish dog?  This cart was right next to the White House.


This anti-war tent vigil has been going on for three decades, every day, every hour, every minute.  It is right in front of the White House, and is more of a statement than a disturbance.  I wish we lived in a world with more peace.


Outside the US Department of Agriculture they had planted parsley in the flower beds, and it was flowering nicely and greenly. So appropriate and unusual.

Inside the USDA was a small museum about food history, which included this great quote:

 "...the most valuable of all arts will be the art of deriving a comfortable subsistence from the smallest area of soil." Abraham Lincoln

They also had a lot of old posters from World War I and II.


Don't waste Food.  We need these posters for today's consumers.


Lick the Platter Clean - I remember us kids saying we could lick our plates because our grandpa did it too.


There was also a little tiny exhibit about the old ice trains that transported blocks of ice for refrigeration around the country.  I am glad there are electric refrigerators nowadays, I wouldn't want to get back to a time when you had to handle 50 lbs (25 kg) ice blocks. 

Stamp of the Day: Waffle Day in Sweden

 Today is Vårfrudagen ("Vår Fru" means our lady, and also Spring Lady, so this is an old Catholic remnant), in Sweden, and this has been changed int he public's eye and ear into Waffle Day (Våffeldagen, sounds similar). Swedes love waffles!  So, we had almond waffles for breakfast.  Homemade, served with yoghurt, locally boiled maple syrup, fresh strawberries from California, blackberries from Chile (I think), and homemade rhubarb and strawberry jam.  Very good, and thank you spring lady!

This day celebrates the day when archangel Gabriel told Maria that she was pregnant with Jesus so it happens every year 9 months before Christmas Day, = March 25, each year. In English this seems to be called "The Annunciation to the Blessed Virgin Mary".

Stamp from Sweden showing a piece of a waffle served with cloudberries ('hjortron', Rubus chamaemorus).

Book review: Wildwood Wisdom by Ellsworth Jaeger

This is a most wonderful book.

I have read this book nearly from the first page to the last, and looked at the over 400 handdrawn wonderful illustrations, and contemplated the ways and means that people in the past survived and thrived in the wilderness.  This book has been my late-night companion before my eyes close for sleep for maybe a month or more, and it has been a great read.

Wildwood Wisdom by Ellsworth Jaeger was published in 1945, and has recently been reprinted by First Shelter Publishing, a company that specializes in 'keeping worthy old books in print'.  Jaeger also provide all the amazing and lovely illustrations.

So, what is the book about?  It is about how to survive in the North American wilderness pre-1950s, before nylon, Goretex, GPS, cell phones, and all the fancy equipment we have today.  It builds a lot on Native American tools and techniques, as well as the European trappers and explorers of the 1700s and 1800s.

It is a how-to-book for anything you might need to know while living outdoors.  How to start a fire?  Jaeger presents a dozen ways.  How to skin a skunk? No problem, just be careful and cut off the skunky glands by the tail.  How to make snowshoes?  It is here too.  Food, shelter, bathroom issues, edible and toxic plants, making buckskin and pelts, stalking animals, building shelves out of tree fungi, and how to cook over open fire - just open and read.  And admire the illustrations...

Everything is practial and with exact enough detail that you can copy the methods and sew your own buckskin coat, make a pancake on a hot rock, or built a tepee (see image to the right).  I learned so much from this book; things I might never need to know, but that I love to know.  Today someone at work said - "you are like a sponge soaking up knowledge, and that is so wonderful", and I feel just like that.  THere is so much interesting things out there, from the past, from today, from the future, and real things, hands-on things that exist.  I am not sure things on the internet really exist, but an ax or a pancake, they do really exist.

So, for anybody that goes camping, kayaking, or hiking, this is the book to get them for Christmas.  It works in Europe too, even if you don't have skunks, rattlesnakes, or poison ivy.

The only thing I noticed that was wrong was some of the information about edible fungi.  Some of the mushrooms that were considered edible in the 1940s have now been reevaluated to 'Don't ever think about eating these'.  Otherwise, the book is a true goldmine of great information.  Get it while you can!

Poem by Candace Black: Mr. D Shops At Fausto’s Food Palace

This poem really brings back the previous times when locavore food (locally sourced food) was the normal. Can't you just imagine the fish counter in this little store after reading this?

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American Life in Poetry: Column 356

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006

Nothing brings a poem to life more quickly than the sense of smell, and Candace Black, who lives in Minnesota, gets hold of us immediately, in this poem about change, by putting us next to a dumpster.

Mr. D Shops At Fausto’s Food Palace

For years he lived close enough to smell

chicken and bananas rotting

in the trash bins, to surprise a cashier on break

smoking something suspicious when he walked

out the back gate. Did they have an account?

He can’t remember. Probably so, for all the milk

a large family went through, the last-minute

ingredients delivered by a smirking bag boy.

He liked to go himself, the parking lot’s

radiant heat erased once he got past the sweating

glass door, to troll the icy aisles in his slippers.

This was before high-end labels took over

shelf space, before baloney changed

its name to mortadella, before water

came in flavors, before fish

got flown in from somewhere else.

American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation, publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2010 by Candace Black, from her most recent book of poetry, Casa Marina, RopeWalk Press, 2010. Reprinted by permission of Candace Black and the publisher. Introduction copyright ©2012 by The Poetry Foundation.

Reposted here with permission.

Summer in northern Sweden (from EH)

Fröå mine, a coppermine in Åre, Sweden. In the bakery they make
flatbread in a woodfired oven. 'Rallarros' (fire weed) is the flower in
the foreground.

Pizza poetry is cheesy

American Life in Poetry: Column 302  (posted here with special permission)

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006
In Iowa in the 1950’s, when we at last heard about pizza, my mother decided to make one for us. She rolled out bread dough, put catsup on it, and baked it. Voila! Pizza! And inexpensive, too. Here’s Grace Cavalieri, a poet and playwright who lives in Maryland, serving something similar and undoubtedly better.

Tomato Pies, 25 Cents

Tomato pies are what we called them, those days,
before Pizza came in,
at my Grandmother’s restaurant,
in Trenton New Jersey.
My grandfather is rolling meatballs
in the back. He studied to be a priest in Sicily but
saved his sister Maggie from marrying a bad guy
by coming to America.
Uncle Joey is rolling dough and spooning sauce.
Uncle Joey, is always scrubbed clean,
sobered up, in a white starched shirt, after
cops delivered him home just hours before.
The waitresses are helping
themselves to handfuls of cash out of the drawer,
playing the numbers with Moon Mullin
and Shad, sent in from Broad Street. 1942,
tomato pies with cheese, 25 cents.
With anchovies, large, 50 cents.
A whole dinner is 60 cents (before 6 pm).
How the soldiers, bussed in from Fort Dix,
would stand outside all the way down Warren Street,
waiting for this new taste treat,
young guys in uniform,
lined up and laughing, learning Italian,
before being shipped out to fight the last great war.

American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation, publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2010 by Grace Cavalieri from her most recent book of poetry, Sounds Like Something I Would Say, Goss 183 Casa Menendez, 2010. Reprinted by permission of Grace Cavalieri and the publisher. Introduction copyright ©2010 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction's author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.
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How often do you read a poem about pizza and Trenton? Tomato pie (photo here) is not exactly like pizza and it is a Trentonian invention (I think I read that somewhere, but who knows if it is true.  Trenton is the capital of New Jersey and only about 40 min away from where we live. Tomato pie has thicker crust and you put the cheese on first, and then pour tomato sauce over it (someone needs to correct the Wikipedia article on this).  Upside down, kind of.  Thanks all Italians for pizza, we are having some tomorrow night.  This photo from Little Italy in 1900 is amazing, click on the photo and check out the details like the kids with napkins on their heads and all the guys' mustaches.

I love funky, gorgeous, easy, silly, beautiful poetry, and you get a lot of that if you subscribe via e-mail the series American Life in Poetry.  You can sign up for free and get one poem per week sent to you. The poems are selected by Ted Kooser, one of our favorite American poets.