So we are apparently NOT all pied out here in the Muddy household. Amid the preparations for last weekend’s Boston Pie Experiment, 6 year old Mudslinger was feeling a bit left out. I promised that I would allow her to make up her own pie recipe after the competition was over. She wasn’t about to let me forget it.
This was also the perfect opportunity to put some of my new ceramic wares to the test. I recently made what I hoped would be the perfect size dishes to make half a pie. I often want to bake but don’t want lots of leftovers hanging around to tempt me. Having a set of smaller dishes would also be perfect for testing and developing recipes in that I could make several small pies at once with slight alterations.
We consulted the Joy of Cookingpurely for the sake of proportions of fruit, sugar and flour. Otherwise, Mudslinger’s creative juices were allowed to flow freely.
This past week was February school vacation for Massachusetts. This means that its obli-cation time for the Mudpie family. A blizzard kept us from making our annual holiday sojourn to the South this year. We were delighted to have a cozy holiday at home, but our parents missed their grandchildren and vice-versa. So, this past week, we loaded the car and set off on our 750 mile trip (one way) to the Virginia mountains.
750 miles in a car with 2 kids translates to, best case scenario, 12 hours of road time. Enter 50 mph wind gusts and and overturned semi closing down the interstate, it’s more like 14 hours. Needless to say, Mudhoney and myself really could have used a little something to unwind from the road.
But alas, my parents’ house is a dry one. A rule that we respect because of their religious preferences. In contrast, my father-in-law, once a driver for NASCAR, learned to drive a race car outrunning the cops through the windy mountain roads to deliver moonshine. We would have to wait 3 days until we got to Mudhoney’s folks to imbibe in the open.
On the way to my in-laws, we stopped off at a local wine shop. We got a late start that day, so there was no time for perusing. I promised my husband who was waiting in the car with the kids that I would grab something quickly and be right back. I went straight to the California section. I was unwilling to risk an unfamiliar bottle so I settled on the Cline Cashmere. I remembered enjoying this wine the last time I had it and at under $20, the price was right. I began to look forward to later that evening when I could relax and enjoy my well deserved beverage.
I completely took for granted that my in-laws would have a corkscrew, but come to think of it, I have never seen either of them with a glass of wine. After our searches of the kitchen drawers yielded nothing, I remembered this video:
I thought about trying it, but, A) I didn’t want to risk breaking the bottle, and, B) I was afraid that I may cause concern for my drinking habits. As I was quietly contemplating how to get into my bottle of wine without anyone being concerned about my fitness as a parent, my mother-in-law remembered that she had a bottle of Prosecco that she had been given for Christmas. She assured me that she would never drink it and I was welcome to it. It’s not the same as a cozy glass of red wine but you don’t need a cork screw to get into it.
After my last experience without a corkscrew, which incidentally involved skinnydipping and getting stranded because of a broken car key, I vowed never to be without one again. I apparently didn’t learn my lesson all those years ago. I plan on keeping an extra corkscrew on hand for the future, but this link has some helpful ideas if you ever find yourself without one:
Yes, you just got gratuitously f-bombed by WAF. Sorry about that folks. I’m just feeling a bit sassy and satisfied after a productive afternoon in the studio. Also, after Drunk Mama’s recent readings of this essay at Thanksgiving (yes, the kids were in bed) and at Cellar Mouse’s birthday gathering, we just can’t help ourselves but appropriate from it whenever we get the chance. It seems like there is always an appropriate (or inappropriate) occasion.
Freshly thrown champagne cups
Speaking of appropriate occasions, Decorative Gourd Season is officially over. I know, it’s hard to see them go, but it’s time to pack those freaky vegetables away in their Rubbermaid bins and for them to take their place in the attic beside the other boxes of seasonal and holiday decor. Its time for something even more festive. Bubbles! Its Champagne Season Mother*%&$rs! (Sorry again, I really just can’t help myself.)
I admittedly know very little about champagne, or sparkling wine, as the case may be. I do know that I am always happy to partake on a festive occasion. I am trying to take a little time to educate myself before our next sparkling Battle of the Bottles. We still haven’t finalized our contestants and are always happy to have recommendations from our readers.
Alas, my new champagne cups will not be ready to use in the battle, and doubtfully for New Year’s Eve. The ceramic process takes time and patience. I do hope to have many occasions for celebration in the coming year, however. I also think they could be re-purposed for serving liquid truffles. It’s always Chocolate Season mother%*#($rs, friends!
After a recent sleepover, my Mudslinger and Drunk Mama’s Doubleshot announced their plans to paint the world pink. This endeavor began with sidewalk chalk in front of our houses, and eventually continued up the walkway and on to Drunk Mama’s front door. Much to my relief, the chalk wore down to useless nubs and the girls immersed themselves in Fairy Land.
I should have known better to think that the pink idea had dissipated. Each day, the plans became more elaborate. Imagine a 5 and 3 year old flying in a helicopter to paint the clouds so that we will have pink rain and pink snowstorms. It does paint a beautiful picture in my mind, “But why pink?” I wondered out loud. There are so many colors that are so much better. (like deep, velvety purples and sanguine reds) Nevertheless, there was no convincing them. “Because girls like pink, and when girls are happy, everyone is happy.” I swear she didn’t hear that from me. Continue reading →
It is no surprise that while we were visiting Northern California’s wine country where, according to our gracious hostess, “We talk about auras and all that,” our adventures would lead us to biodynamic wines. I admittedly knew very little about this agricultural practice, assuming it was similar to organic agriculture. It is indeed similar, but takes it to another level, viewing the farm, or vineyard as a spiritually connected, self-sustaining ecosystem. The concept is not a new one. It was introduced by Rudolph Steiner in 1924. If you delve further into his writings, be prepared to get a little, you know, out there. I myself took a little trip back to my Deadhead days.
Proponents of biodynamic practices say that it’s better for the vineyards and the planet. They also claim it increases terroir, or the taste and quality of the place where the grapes are grown. I think I understand exactly what they mean. My grandparents grew their own food on a subsistence family farm. Seeds from one year’s crops were dried and saved for planting the following Spring. Nothing was wasted. If it couldn’t be eaten or preserved, it was turned back into the soil. The soil was also fertilized by the cows that would eventually become our Sunday supper. My grandfather planted his crops by the signs, although this likely had more to do with Appalachian superstition rather than his knowledge of biodynamic agriculture. Regardless, those tomatoes grown in his soil had a unique flavor I have yet to experience elsewhere.
Perhaps it was the moments; sipping wine with good friends at the base of Sonoma Volcano at Benziger or Hardy Wallace of The Natural Process Alliance, clutching his fists and exclaiming , “I love this dirt!” in earnest while serving us wine from barrels named after the Marley family. Regardless, the wines that I tasted on this trip to California were like nothing I ever tasted before, especially those Zinfandels. I haven’t spent enough time here or with its wines to truly understand what this place tastes like. I do, however, feel now that I have a sense of it, and that sense of this place will continue to be present whenever I sip a Sonoma wine.
The co-authors will play …with her garden that is. Drunk Mama is vacationing in California and has left behind a tomato patch bursting with voluptuous, crimson tomatoes. Cellar Mouse, myself and others have been on duty to make sure the harvest does not go to waste. We are consuming tomatoes with every meal; with eggs, on sandwiches, on pizza, and Mudpuppy is climbing the fence to eat them like apples. My personal favorite is Cellar Mouse’s amazing tomato pie. Do yourself a favor and check out the link on our home page.
We wanted to make sure that Drunk Mama and Sober Dad are able to enjoy the fruits of their labor as well. They have been lovingly tending their vines all summer and it would be a shame for them to miss out on their harvest. So, Cellar Mouse, myself and our new best friend, Stephen Vincent Crimson, got together to make a sauce for their freezer. We also selfishly want to entice them home to New England. We are admittedly concerned that they may fall under the charms of a more temperate climate. On the other hand, we may find it hard ourselves to resist the allure of California wine country when we are reunited in 3 days. Continue reading →
Mudpie is a mess. Sometimes I embrace it, sometimes I try hard to fight it, and probably apologize too much for it. Regardless, a base level of organization would probably be beneficial to our household. I don’t hold myself to the June Cleaver standard. I like to think of myself as more of a Bohemian domestic goddess. The problem is, the Bohemian side is completely taking over. A friend of mine recently recommended the Fly Lady for assistance with my domestic chaos. Apparently, you can get organized in 15 minutes a day and it all starts with a shiny sink. Continue reading →
Yes this blog is mostly about our adventures in wine, but we do occasionally enjoy other libations. For beer, I usually prefer the big, hoppy IPAs, but this weekend I was lured into trying a brown ale: The new seasonal brew from Lagunitas, Wilco Tango Foxtrot. I will shamelessly admit, it was the label that drew me in.
“In the funky realm of things that make you go “Hmmm…” 2010 may rank way, way up there. From the curious per curiam decision of 531U.S.98 in 2000, to WTC7, to the Superdome, to the Fall of the House of Lehman, to the Nobel President’sAfghan Expedition escalation, to the oxymoronic Jobless Recovery of 2010; we have been confused. So, we done the only thing we could – we made beer – and lots of it. 6,420M cases of it to be exact. As far as we know, you drank all of it. Thank you for that, because if you had not we would have been looking for a bailout of our own, and we haven’t heard of any breweries either needing or receiving any of those Yuan-flavoredTARP dollars…although we have read that the Las Vegas adult video industry did. Nobody knows why. So, in a world that is once again the proverbial “Ball of Confusion”, craft beer alone seems tocarry its own weight It’s nice to be on the winning team and thank you for your friendship and imbibiliciousness.”
I know, I know, I was a bit of a chocolate tease leading up to Valentine’s Day. Now that my kids are no longer walking petri dishes and my domestic situation is again tranquil, I’m here to make good on all of the talk.
Leading up to Valentine’s Day, Mudslinger and I were discussing what to do for Mudhoney. I entertained the idea of ordering truffles from our fave chocolate shop, The Chocolate Fetish, in Asheville, NC. Trust me, you won’t go wrong there, but Mudslinger wanted to make something in the kitchen. Like me, she enjoys the process of creating sometimes more than the product. I couldn’t think of a nicer way to spend an afternoon with my sweet daughter than making chocolatey Valentine’s treats for her daddy, my Mudhoney.
I dug around the internet and ultimately decided on this recipe from Alton Brown. Let me preface by saying these truffles are delicious. This was my first attempt at homemade truffles and it was definitely a learning experience. I will do a few things differently next time, but more on that later. This is a good, solid recipe with room to be creative. I chose it because it had a lot of positive feedback. And well, it has booze. Enough said. Continue reading →
I couldn’t wait for this show. I had only gotten a little taste of Jackie and wanted more.
Some time ago, a friend told me to do myself a favor and check out Jackie Greene. I filed the name away somewhere in my brain and went on with my daily routine of preschooler and toddler parenting. One day while waiting in line at the public library, I decided to peruse the CD’s. There he was, so I checked out “Giving Up the Ghost”. I listened at night while doing the dishes after the kids were in bed. I kept listening and began accruing library fines. Then, in December, I caught an unsatisfyingly short, 4 song set at a benefit in Asheville, NC.
When I saw Jackie was playing the Paradise in Boston, there was no question, I was going. Cellar Mouse was more than willing to be my companion for the evening. It made me smile to see the stuffed Jerry Garcia doll on stage when we entered the club as I do have a soft spot for Jerry. If you’re not a Dead fan, don’t let that deter you. This is no hippy dippy wannabe jam band. Continue reading →