Meanderer

And if the museum isn't a big enough thrill, Roslyn also happens to be the boyhood home of Myron Floren, for you accordion fans. The Vinegar Museum is fairly interesting and you get to do a tasting at the end.

I'd imagine that the reason writers do not escape discussion of food, is that if one has 'realism' as a goal or benchmark- as literature has for a good portion of its existence- then food is necessarily a large part of that reality. I do wonder whether the discussion of food has waxed and waned along with focus on eating. Similarly I wonder if you see cultural differences in literature that mimic the emphasis on eating or forms of eating. Science fiction, traditionally as 'genre fiction', is possessed by an idea (or so critics argue) which may explain the lack of culinary references to the extent that food does make up part of the idea which drives the narrative. ← A striving for realism may be a part of the reason food passages often appear in literature but I think there are many other reasons as well. Every character in a novel must eat, yet it is the rare book that realistically describes the daily eating habits of its characters. Instead, it seems many authors go out of their way to create food scenes or to enlarge upon them, perhaps because describing food or the act of eating can be colorful, sensual, silly, evocative, or, perhaps, simply because doing so can be an enjoyable exercise even if it does not tend to develop a theme, advance a plot, or develop a character. Speaking of silly, I just read the pages from Smollett's "The Adventures of Peregrine Pickle" in which he describes an absurd feast supervised by one of the characters which featured, among other things, a soup made from parsley, pennyroyal, cheese, pinetops, honey, vinegar, brine, eggs, cucumbers, onions and hen livers. Another character tastes a different soup from the same feast and "his throat swelled as if an egg had stuck in his gullet, his eyes rolled, and his mouth underwent a series of involuntary contractions and dilations." After "this precious composition diffused itself upon" the palate of another diner, "he semed to be deprived of all sense and motion, and sat like the leaden statue of some river god, with the liquor flowing out at both sides of his mouth." Smollett certainly wasn't aiming for realism here. He was just having good fun.

Also, the most recent issue of The Art of Eating had a nice article on Da Maria in Fano in northeast Marche.

Yep, Maryland, it was. The bones, organ meats(except for the liver), and scraps were added to water-filled kettles when the fires were lit first thing in the morning and they cooked for several hours. The liver was added much later. The meat and bones were removed with a large strainer that was the size and shape a medium, long-handled sauce pan with quarter-inch holes in its bottom and sides. No fat skimming appeared to be necessary. I was one of the folks straining the meat from the kettles and I didn't notice significant quantities of fat floating on top. I suppose they started with pretty lean scraps for their scrapple. The meat was barely in the pans before the pickers started working on it. They must be tough people in Maryland. I imagine it cooled pretty rapidly because the temperature was in the 50s, I think. By the way, I'm eating some as I type this. Perfect texture, excellent meat flavor. It needs a little pepper, however.

For those unfamiliar with scrapple, I thought I would describe my recent experience with the delicacy. My wife and I had the good fortune over the weekend to have been invited by a friend out to western Maryland to join his extended family and various friends in their annual scrapple and puddin making. Although I have long enjoyed eating both, the mysteries of their creation was never revealed to me until Saturday. No written family recipe exists for making these products but several of the seasoned veterans knew, in general, what to do without any discussion. When any questions arose, the family patriarch and host was consulted and his word was gospel. The only key point of dispute that arose was how much pepper to add. Some like a peppery version and others like a more mild version. Complicating the matter on Saturday was a batch of pepper that seemed unusually tasteless and heatless. This scrapple and puddin was made this year, as in all others, largely with pork, including two heads, livers, hearts, tongues and the leftover bones and scrap from the butchering. Neither the tongue nor most of the heart made it into the final product because they were fished out and used as snacks during the cooking. Because some lamb and venison happened to be on the premises, they were added to the kettles. I was told that in past years a little poultry might end up in the mix. Once the broth was ready, all of the scraps and bones were removed to a table where the edible parts were separated from the bones and fat. The meat which emerged was taken inside for grinding and while it was being ground, separate slurries of corn meal and flour were mixed and then added to the broth. At that point, the mixture had to be stirred constantly for about an hour and 45 minutes until it thickened. During this process the ground, seasoned meat was cooked in lard in another kettle and, when it was done, a portion was added to the large kettle and the remainder, the puddin, was put in loaf pans to be cooled. Tastes of the insipient scrapple were taken from time to time and the seasoning(salt and pepper only)was adjusted after spirited debate. As soon as the patriarch determined that the mix was thick enough, the scrapple was dipped from the kettle--approximately 250 lbs. in all--into more loaf pans and set in the basement to cool overnight. Meanwhile, the kettles, meat pans, dippers, stirrer, spoons and whisk were promptly cleaned. The following morning, the scrapple was removed from the loaf pans and wrapped. The process had begun around 8 a.m. and was completed, except for the wrapping, around 4 p.m. The old-timers told me that, years ago, the process began at about 4 a.m. and went until dark because they first had to butcher the hogs and render the lard. Now, the hogs are butchered for them and they use purchased lard. Scrapple making is a very labor intensive activity and I ended the day tired(and all I did was stirring, straining, and a little cleaning up)and reeking of wood smoke and pig broth. I can imagine that, with uncongenial company, it could seem like real work and perhaps not worth all the bother. That was not the case for me or, seemingly, for the group that gathered on Saturday. My ribs still hurt from all of the laughing and the friend who invited us down even had one of those beer through the nose experiences, something you don't often see from people in their fifties. In addition to the good humor, their was plenty of beer, whiskey, and homemade wine, great food coming down from the kitchen, superb weather, and a remarkable view down the valley through the mountains. One potential bad omen--the youngest person actually involved in the scrapple-making was about half a century old. I hope, for the family's sake(and for mine if I can wangle another invitation), that the next generations continue to carry on with this tradition when the older generations are no longer able to do so.

Actually, I was thinking about the one that began in mid-December of '08. If I had anything more than rudimentary computer skills, I would provide the link. ← But we haven't even gotten to mid-December '08! Maybe you were dreaming? ← ...or ahead of my time. Fortunately, somebody on the proper time/space continuum came to the rescue.

Actually, I was thinking about the one that began in mid-December of '08. If I had anything more than rudimentary computer skills, I would provide the link.

You don't say what you are looking for in terms of cuisine or price, but I recall a short thread on the subject of Hershey area restaurants within the last year that might be helpful. I dont think anything has changed since then so you might want to locate that. Assuming you have a car, consider hopping over to Lebanon. Trattoria Fratelli has always been excellent and Nick's has gotten some very positive reviews, although I can't personally vouch for it. The What If, by the way, is located at a motel but is independently owned and operated. I can recommend the sister restaurant of the same name in Harrisburg but I haven't tried the one in Hershey.

We consumed 22 pounds of our tomatoes and a variety of other produce from the garden by having a brunch for friends featuring tomatoes in everything, including a tomato sorbet as a palate cleanser and dessert of tomato cake and tomato ice cream. The tomato ice cream was not favored by our human invitees but our foundling kittten loved the stuff.

Sorbet. Not innovative, but good.

I see from the website that Legend's has an apostrophe in its name. One of my cardinal rules for choosing restaurants is to never eat at one that has an apostrophe that doesn't make sense(i.e., Shenanigan's, Rumor's, Mustard's). I just assume that any restaurant owner whose judgment is poor enough to give a restaurant this type of name will use similarly errant judgment in selecting menu items, staff and wine. This rule is somewhat arbitrary and certainly not foolproof, but I have my standards and I'm sticking to them.

Um, isn't the Summerhouse Grill in Montrose rather than Milford?

I'm currently drinking a Yuengling Lager. Now, before you start rolling your eyes at this, let me say that it is humid here and approaching 90 and I just finished shoveling two loads of topsoil. At this moment, nothing could possibly taste better. I think I'll have another.

Rte 11 is certainly scenic--at least the Va. to Pa. portion with which I am familiar. Unfortunately, I-81 and U.S. 11 closely parallel each other throughout that stretch and the chain restaurants at the interstate exits appear to have sapped much of the life out of the old Mom and Pops along the old route.

Even if you never get much fruit off them, they tend to be quite attractive when they bloom. At least that is what I tell myself when I reflect on the fact that the birds are going to get every last one of my sweet cherries just before they ripen.

Try onions for your chipmunk problem. For years, we had ground hogs living in and around our garden, helping themselves to the best of everything and nothing we tried kept them away. Then, last year, I read somewhere that they hated onions. Now, I save all parts of the onions we don't eat and drop them down the holes. I'm actually happy to find a sprouted or rotten onions in the bin because those guys will roll nicely into the burrows. So far this season all the holes are empty and I haven't seen a single ground hog in the garden. As chipmunks are distantly related to ground hogs, perhaps they have the same aversion to onions and will move on to a more hospitable neighborhood if you start leaving them the pungent leftovers. If not, the onions won't do the garden any harm.

I'm glad you are out there. I generally don't like to drink alone.

So, my bottle of Ricard Pastis de Marseille is nearly empty and I go down to a state store to buy a replacement. Not only is it not available at the store, it is not available at any other store and it can't be special ordered. Pernod isn't quite the same. Does nobody but me drink the stuff in Pa?

After reading the food blog of Chris Hennes from earlier this Spring, I made a mental note to eat at Herwig's the next time I was in State College and I'm glad I did. We stopped in on Saturday and enjoyed both the food and the personality. I ordered one of the specials, which was an entire roasted pork hock, skin on, which was more than moist and tasted like pork ought to taste. The kraut that came with it was unlike anything I had before. It came in a rich brown stock and was laced with huge chunks of bacon. I'm no fan of sauerkraut but I had no problem putting this stuff away. As for personality, the owner, who was stylishly dressed in black t-shirt, bermuda shorts, gray knee socks, black loafers and an apron, made three stops to the table to chat--mostly, I think, to give my wife good-natured grief about her decision to order a vegetarian dish. This was after he told me, upon walking up to the counter that I was too skinny(6' 1, 200 lbs.--skinny, I'm not). Another employee came to the table and said, first in German and then in Spanish, French, and Hungarian, "Slowly, the squirrel approaches." We gathered that the phrase was some sort of folk-saying which meant that we looked as if we were about to finish the meal. Next time I'm up that way, I'm going back.

That is a nice resource but it appears to contain only a fraction of the markets where farm products can be bought from the source. I can think of many places within 15 miles of where I am sitting that sell locally produced fruits, vegetables, meats, cheese, eggs, and flowers but are not listed. I don't know if some producers/markets chose not to participate or if PDA wasn't looking very hard.

I-81 covers a lot of ground and you don't say which part of it you will be on for your breakfast stop but, in general, you will be entering a land where quantity counts for considerably more than quality or originality. If you happen to be passing through the Carlisle area in the a.m., I would recommend either Fay's on S. Hanover or the Carlisle Downtown Cafe on N. Hanover(both conveniently located a couple of minutes off the, you guessed it, Hanover Street exit. I usually go to the latter because it is less crowded but both have better than average breakfasts. The buckwheat cakes and smoked sausage are a good combination.

Hah! Who would dare show photos after seeing the astonishing things you've done with your garden? You obviously have good taste, a good eye and a good back. To top it off, you have an incredible view of the Olympics. By the way, the unidentified greens in one of your photos looks like young broccoli rabe.

Ok, sorry for the delay but I'll give it a go again. This is the lean-to before we started: The next two are progress photos during demolition. Much of what looks like debris was used for the tables inside the present structure. The next two show the water system. The red hose links the outside barrel with the inside one, effectively doubling the amount of water available. The blue hose is to drain the extra in the right direction. The next three show the largely completed structure from various angles. There is now a fence around it(which hasn't yet been photographed)to keep the heifers from damaging anything. They can be quite destructive in their carefree youth. The rest show the interior with some of what is currently growing in there, including fennel, parsley, lettuce, spinach, onions, chives, brussel sprouts, tomatoes and eggplant. I'm sure I'm forgetting things but this year is for experimentation anyway. There you have it. I'd be happy to answer any questions or take any suggestions. It appears, however, that I will be out of commission for a while, so I may not have a chance to respond immediately.

← Yep, PA it is, though more on the eastern side.