Posted tagged ‘brown bread’

“Spring is a powerful spell. The blue. The clouds high up and puffy. The air warmer than it’s been for weeks.”

June 3, 2017

I have no flowers yet. Yesterday was a bust. I didn’t even leave the house except to walk Gracie to the back gate a few times during the day and into the night. I just had no ambition. Some days I’m like that.

Today is sunny and warm, but there is a possibility of showers. It is in the mid 60’s now and may get as low as 51˚, normal spring time weather for New England. I’m happy with showers. They tend to come quickly and leave as quickly. Rain stays around.

All the rain has made for a lush, green world. My lawn has new grass in spots, Gracie squat spots. The rest of the lawn is filling in nicely, and every day new blooms open in the garden. I noticed some of the flowers have seeded themselves and are blooming in new spots. The irises have buds, large purple buds close to blooming. Every day a different delight in the garden catches my eye.

While I’ve been writing this, the sun has disappeared. Clouds have covered it, and I’m not so sure it will be back. The chance of showers is closer to a certainty.

The longer days confuse me. I’m surprised when I check the clock and find out it is still early afternoon but therein lies a problem. I’m a bit confused as to when early afternoon ends and late afternoon begins. I’m leaning toward 4 o’clock.

I’m having hot dogs for dinner tonight, but I’m skipping the beans and brown bread. I never did eat the beans, and I can’t remember when last I ate brown bread. Regardless, though, I’m still calling tonight’s supper a Saturday tradition.

“All sorrows are less with bread. ”

May 21, 2017

Today is glorious. It is sunny and squint your eyes bright. There is barely a breeze. The high today will be 65˚. I’m thinking a perfect early spring day.

I woke up at some time during the night as I was cold. When I checked the thermostat, it said 63˚. I turned the heat on and it started right away. I went back to bed and fell asleep snuggled under a second afghan and warmed by the dog next to my legs.

This morning I had English muffins. I used them to hide Gracie’s pills. She was suckered by the butter. Sometimes I am too. It melts into those nooks and crannies. Coffee was the rest of my breakfast, a blend from Uganda. I had three cups.

I love bread. When I buy a loaf, I try all differents sorts of bread. I really have no favorite though Scali bread is right up there. When I was a kid, I thought bread came only in squishy white except for Saturday night’s brown bread which really didn’t seem to me to be bread at all. I like cornbread which always comes in squares. In Ghana, the bread was sold as an uncut loaf. At stops on the road, women ran to the windows to sell fruit and those loaves of bread. They cost 20 pesewas, about 20 cents. We used to pull pieces off the loaf and eat it plain. My last bread purchase was naan. It makes a good toast and an interesting sandwich. When I’m out, the choices are limited. I usually end up with rye.

Crackers are another favorite of mine. When I was a kid, my mother always bought Saltines and Ritz crackers. I’d put saltines in soup and wait to eat them when they were mushy. They also made a great snack, a peanut butter and jelly or a peanut butter and Fluff sort of cracker sandwich. Now I buy all sorts of crackers mostly to go with cheese. I really haven’t any favorites.

My favorite pie is lemon meringue, and I always have some lemon curd around the house. I also love pineapple. When I was a kid, we only had canned pineapple, and I don’t remember eating it all that much. I don’t even remember seeing a fresh pineapple in the supermarket. We always had apples and oranges and sometimes tangerines and strawberries, always as strawberry shortcake. I first tasted a variety of fruits in Ghana. I was amazed at how good mango and pawpaw (papaya) are.

It was Africa which introduced me to different foods. It gave me a willingness to try new things, some of which I still can’t pronounce, but that doesn’t matter as long as whatever it is I’m eating tastes good.

“I make no secret of the fact that I would rather lie on a sofa than sweep beneath it.”

April 29, 2017

Today is cloudy and damp. It is supposed to be a warm day with the temperature reaching the mid 60’s, but it had better clear up quickly as it is a threatening sky. When Gracie and I went out, I waited for her and by the time I got inside I was chilly.

Gracie and I had a bad night. Falling asleep was difficult so I gave up trying around 2:30 and turned on the TV. It was 4 on my last time check before I finally fell into the arms of Morpheus. Poor Gracie was restless, and it was my fault.

When I was a kid, the Saturday night menu never changed. We always had hot dogs, baked beans, and brown bread. I never ate the beans, but I did eat the brown bread and loved the hot dogs. The brown bread came in a can. I used to butter it. Sometimes my mother fried it a bit. That was my favorite way to eat brown bread. I think it tasted better warm than cold. A while back, I bought a can of brown bread. I figure I was overwhelmed with nostalgia. When I opened the can of bread, I easily remembered the indentations circling it. I always thought they were a design. I toasted the bread then buttered it. I was shocked to find I didn’t like the taste all that much. I guess my memories have been tempered by time.

My dirty clothes have been sitting in front of the cellar door for over a week. When I was working, I did my laundry every Sunday. I lived by a weekend schedule. Now that I have all the time in the world, I do it when the mood hits me or when I am out of clean underwear. It’s the same with going to the dump which was another Sunday chore. I went the other day. I could smell the bag in my trunk. It was either leave all my windows open or go on an unscheduled dump run. Gracie was thrilled with my choice and so was I. The car smelled much better in a day or two with the windows cracked open.

I figure I inherited doing weekend chores from my father. Saturday was his big day. It was get a haircut or trim day, pick-up and leave his white shirts at the Chinaman’s, as my dad called the laundry, and drop in to say hello to friends like Pullo the druggist. When my dad retired, his schedule fell all to pieces. He didn’t need to get shirts cleaned. He let his hair get just a bit longer, and he didn’t go uptown anywhere near as often. I figure retirement means throwing out any schedule.

This morning I have a couple of errands. Tonight is Darci Rose’s tenth birthday dinner. She is a Westie who thinks of me as Aunt Kat or at least I think so. I need to buy her birthday presents.

The sun is coming out. Let’s hear a halleluiah!

““I love raw cookie dough, right out of the tube. The other thing I eat is marshmallow fluff.”

February 6, 2017

Sorry for the lateness of the hour. I slept in as I was up late watching the hoopla after my Pats won the Super Bowl in spectacular fashion. They overcame the biggest scoring deficit in history and won in the very first overtime. At the start of the second half, I was despondent at the score: 21-3.

I was able to coax Gracie down the back steps by holding her as she went from step to step. As soon as she hit the bottom, she ran around the yard happy to be off the leash I’d been using to take her out into the front yard. I will take her into the back yard one step at a time from now.

When I was a kid, there was no leash law and dogs roamed freely. Duke, my boxer, was all over town. Sometimes he was with his son Sam who was my aunt’s dog. My father had given Sam to my aunt as she had given us Duke when I was 5. Sam and Duke were notorious. People complained all the time. The dogs would stand outside a house howling if there was a female in heat. Boxers look fierce so people were afraid to leave their houses. We knew how silly that was as both of those dogs were wonderful. Sam was funny, even silly at times. He even seemed to smile. When Sam got into a fight, Duke watched until Sam was pinned then he’d step in and save Sam. Duke was also super-protective of us. He’d growl to warn people not to mess with us. That’s what boxers do for their families.

I love hot dogs. We ate them every Saturday night when I was a kid, and I never tired of hot dogs and brown bread. Baked beans were also part of the meal, but I passed on those. Just about every friend I had ate that same Saturday supper. It was a New England universal.

Marshmallow Fluff is 100 this year. Between 5-7 million pounds of it are sold each year. If you know how light Fluff is, this number is mind boggling. Half the supply is bought by New Englanders and people in upstate New York.

I loved fluffernutters. On Wonder bread we’d slather one side with peanut butter and the other side with Fluff. The mixture would sometimes ooze out of the side of the bread or one or the other would tear the bread when it was spread across a slice. Eating that sandwich was seldom neat, and it was usually the Fluff which was left on my face or fingers. I still kept Fluff in the house, and I have been known to make a fluffernutter. I have also been known to lick the Fluff off my fingers.