Scottish Haut Cuisine

Ye Pow’rs, wha mak mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill o fare,
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware
That jaups in luggies:
But, if ye wish her gratefu prayer,
Gie her a Haggis

Address to a Haggis – Robert Burns

My grandfather’s father came from Scotland to the mountain west just over a hundred years ago. My grandfather never stopped being a Scotsman. He was active in the local Highland Games. At my cousin’s wedding, there was a picture of all four of my father & uncles wearing clan kilts. And in his 80s, after decades of never traveling by plane, he decided to go back to the old sod and spent a month or so wandering around Scotland reintroducing himself to various long-severed branches of the family and being welcomed in with open arms.

As with so many cultures, cuisine plays a critical role in the transmission of this culture. Instead of curries or empanadas or stir fries, we had corned beef hash.

My mother is a midwestern girl, raised in California. But it was another century, so when she married my father she took over responsibility for making the corned beef hash. I think fondly on her tendency to forget the garlic salt, which only my grandmother could spot in omission. Often when we got together as a family, dinner would be corned beef hash (with accouterments) and a pie or two from my mother’s hands.

I HATED corned beef hash. It looked disgusting. It tasted disgusting. No sane person would eat it. But it was served to me over and over again in an era where there were no alternative food options and as a person under ten you ate the dinner that was served or you did not eat dinner. And so despite my dislike, I ate the stuff. By the time I was ready to head off to college and leave the familial fold, I liked it quite a lot. It was tasty (if you closed your eyes). And it tasted like family times and traditions.

Sometime in this century, I made friends with a man of Hungarian descent who (logically) hosts a Burns Night. It’s one of my favorite things – poetry, song, deep meaning and good company. And to accompany the beverages available, I often bring a batch of corned beef hash to share.

I was making the meal yesterday (it actually is better on the second day, so I make it on Saturday and freeze it on the porch. Then I carry it frozen to the celebration and heat it up there. I’ve been doing a lot of Blue Apron and Hello Fresh lately, which produces these lovely, colorful meals that are in many ways designed for Instagram. The contrast with Corned Beef hash was… stark. I also realized that 100% of the ingredients fall into two categories: preserved meats & roots.

So with no further ado, here is how to make your very own, highly Instagrammable Corned Beef Hash.

I recommend dusty cans – they taste better

Scottish Corned Beef Hash
From the kitchen of Carolyn Johnstone – long may her memory endure!
Serves ~12 hearty rustics
Prep time: 30 minutes – Cook time: 1 hr minimum (3 is better)

1) Boil 5 lbs russett potatoes, whole, with skins on
2) Chop 1/2 lb bacon (or a whole pound if you’re getting into the spirit)
3) Chop 2 large yellow onions
4) In a large dutch oven on the stove, cook together bacon and onions
5) Open and cube 2 cans of “corned beef”. Make sure not to break the key or your life will be full of pain.
6) Once bacon is rendered and onions are soft, add corned beef.
7) Add 1 teaspoon garlic salt (optional if you’re my mom)
8) Once potatoes are cooked through, drain and let sit for a few minutes. Then by hand peel off the skins and cube the potatoes into the dutch oven.
9) Start by adding two cups of water (see note before)

The best way to cook this is to leave it simmering on your stove over the course of several hours. If you do this, you’ll need to add more water in as it gets thick, since this often leads to the dish getting burned. If you do burn it, just stir above the burned line and you’ll be fine.

Serve with:
Large curd cottage cheese
White Italian bread slices

What am I, chopped meat?
Potato skin residue
At the beginning of simmer

The home I was trying to build

Another piece of the puzzle of our home has fallen into place. I have underinvested in my health and fitness. Since my day job involves understanding just how badly Type 2 Diabetes messes with the body (and how the best way to deal with it in early stages are those two curse words: diet & exercise), I have been trying to figure out how to exercise more and eat better. During the summer, I’m actually not bad about running. I do 3.5 miles once or twice a week. It’s hardly training for a marathon, but it’s way better than nothing.

But right now the roads are sheets of ice, and yesterday the temperature was 3 degrees…. before wind chill. There are definitely times you can’t go for a run, unless you have a death wish. Even when the temperatures and traction aren’t prohibitive, the sun sets at 4:30 in December. There’s a good half of the year where it’s too dark to safely run after work.

Checking out the new fitness equipment

So after rejiggering our basement laundry room, we got a treadmill. Adam (the hero!) spent the better part of two days after work installing it. Tonight after dinner, I went for a run. It was great – it’s been a while since I ran. And it’s nice and cool down there!

My view right now

Then after the run, I went up to the study to do some yoga. The study is fast becoming everyone’s favorite room in the house. It’s just extremely hang-outable and comfortable. We’re still working on the zones and heating in this house, and this room that used to be the coldest in the house is now very cozy.

Finally, having worked up a great sweat I went up to my beautiful attic bathroom and took a shower (with steam boost!). And I just… really enjoyed the results of all the expense and time that we’ve spent on renovations. It just feels great to be in my home. And that’s exactly what I was hoping for.

So lovely

Frozen Echo

This Martin Luther King Jr. weekend, my family and I are holed up in a very scenic mountain lodge for a few days. I really like getting away on this weekend. The weeks after the beginning of the new year can be very dreary, with dark gray skies, the coldest weather of the year, and little to look forward to. Some years I have arranged it so poorly that I didn’t have a day off between Christmas and Memorial Day. But with a long, fun weekend in the snow planned mid January, it helps.

Last year, Adam took the boys skiing and snow-boarding. But we had this run where both kids ended up in the ER in a couple week period from snow sports. Thane broke his wrist, which really bummed out the rest of the winter and halted his nascent basketball career. This year, we planned to arrive right before a major winter storm broke (and leave after it does). So while we toyed with snow sports, we didn’t actually buy any lift tickets.

Yesterday, we lounged around the hotel, swam in the heated outdoor pool, and played lots of role-playing games. We took a midday trip on still clear roads to North Conway, where Adam and I enjoyed some time in some art galleries looking for pieces for our attic, while Grey enjoyed the practical joke section of the Five and Dime store there. He fell in love with a coffee shop that specialized in coffee, art, sarcastic sayings and jazz.

Scenic gaming location

Today, after the epic brunch the hotel is famous for, the boys played their role playing game for several hours. They’re deep into an adventure. With all this unexpected time on my hands, I started live-tweeting my reading of Steven’s “A History of Stoneham, Mass” from a beautiful copy given to me by a friend. I also – and this is epic – finished my draft of the book I’ve been working on for over three years. That’s the good news. The bad news is that the finished draft is about 44k words. Apparently that’s not really novel length. So either I’ve written a novelette (no market) a teen novel (not really) or I need to find more story to tell. Or it’s just unpublishable, which is the most likely outcome, but one likes to pretend there’s hope.

The shores of Echo Lake

In the bright light of afternoon, with 17 degree weather, we all put on our warmest layers and buckled on our snowshoes (thanks mom!) for a walking adventure. Although I’ve seen Echo Lake many times and know exactly where it is and it’s very near this resort I’ve stayed in often… I’ve never been. There’s a trail down from the resort, and we broke new snow. It felt like a foot of new powder, although it had switched over to ice pellets by that time. The lake itself was frozen hard – hard enough even for the most cautious of parents to be unafraid of their beloved children walking on it. And from the lake, perhaps no surprise, there is a remarkable echo.

If I didn’t know this was a lake, it would be hard to tell

Snow shoeing is quite a tiring activity. Right now Adam’s asleep, Thane is bopping around and Grey is working on a school project (theoretically). The snow continues to fall outside, and we have nowhere we need to be and nothing we need to do. Bliss indeed!

White Horse Ledge

Awaiting the storm

This morning the skies were blue and the mountains clear. Over morning coffee, the horizons were bounded only by mountains with snowy feet and bare crowns.

By noon, the clouds had covered the sun.

Here at the twilight of the day, the nearest mountains are nearly only memories, or abstract reminders as slightly darker parts of the undifferentiated horizon.

Disappearing mountains

At any moment now, the first of the flakes will begin to fall. Well over a foot will fall before these falling clouds rise again, having dropped the burdens of their great snow-hordes. The vaults of heaven will open and grant us a full share of winter.

We are safe at the footsteps of a mighty cliff, overlooking the Greek-inspired Diana’s Bath and Echo Lake. We have nowhere we need to go in the time before the clouds lift – although if we’re feeling adventurous the best of snow will be available on Attitash & Wildcat. The snow shoes are in the car. The outdoor pool is steaming in the chill. We are fully stocked with books and snacks, and the lodge has a full restaurant (and bar). The role-playing games are in full swing.

Let the snow fall.

Baby’s first tattoo

Steven

I was at work the other day when I got the near-traditional 2:30 pm text or call. Someone wants to go home early, or wants to know what’s for dinner or… who knows. But many afternoons I hear from my kids.

The text:

Ma
Ma
Maaaa
https://inkbox.com/products/0-5-ounce-freehand-shading-ink
Buy this for me please
I mean with my money
Like
I’m spending 13 on it

I clicked through the link, my brain still 98% occupied with the work I was then being paid to do.

.5 oz freehand shading ink

WHAT THE HECK?

Suddenly 100% of my brain is locked on “13 year old asking for tattoo ink”.

When I pressed for details, his schema emerged more sound than I’d feared. The ink could be used – like henna – to create non-permanent drawn on tattoos. He has a friend who’s really an excellent artist who would be doing the work. He’d put it on his calf. Yes, I could see a picture of it first. Yes, he remembers that his principal does not understand geek culture references and it was going to be something that could not be misinterpreted. No, he promised no skin would be pierced during this process.

So Saturday I dropped him and his (gulp) tattoo ink off at his friends house and picked him up a few hours later. “It takes 24 to 48 hours to show”.

The end result isn’t so bad, for a first time tattoo artist and recipient. I think the design is pretty decent. Perhaps some different shading choices could be made. But I’ve seen worse – and some of those permanent.

For a first tattoo, it’s not so bad. May they all be so easily outlived if no longer wanted!


If you’d gotten a real tattoo at 13, what would currently be forever marked on your body? Would you be glad you got it, or are you glad you waited/didn’t make that decision at 13? Steven Universe is a great show, but it’s unclear whether it will last the test of time!

Sequential puzzles

I was probably four years old – we were living with my grandparents – and it was Christmas. My parents constructed this cardboard fireplace and mantle for Santa’s sake. And there in my stocking was this little puzzle. It had nine slots for eight sliding blocks in order to make a picture. (I have a vague memory of it being an elephant? Perhaps?) I eagerly scrambled the picture. But for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out how to unscramble it. I probably asked my dad to fix it for me 20 times that Christmas. I was amazed at his ability to see this magical solution completely opaque to me. Grownups are so magical.

To this day I have never successfully completed one of those puzzles, although in fairness to me I probably haven’t tried in (cough) thirty years. In the deep depths of my mind I suspect my belief that I’m not particularly good at spatial reasoning puzzles goes back to that sliding, scrambled elephant.

But lately, I’ve felt like I’m in a mega version of that puzzle. We all remember the triumph of the attic renovation. It was the great effort of the past year. But as our new space was finally finished and ordered, it set in motion of a series of cascading effects that are still eating up my weekends.

The laundry room was the biggest one of these. While the attic was the bulk of our project, we also got this idea to convert a second floor linen closet into a laundry room. We carefully measured width & of depth we had plenty. It was certainly tall enough, although not excessively so. We tiled it, plumbed it and put in a gas fixture so we could stack our existing washer and dryer into the space. We hired movers to move it and a plumber to connect the gas. They got the washer in, but couldn’t stack the dryer.

It could not be done. See, there was room for the washer and dryer. But there was no room for a human being to connect said washer and dryer plumbing-wise, and emerge again. The stack couldn’t be pushed back intact because it has a floor drain. You can’t crawl over it, regardless of size. We contemplated opening walls, using flexible hoses, creating ladders to climb out – but finally realized that based on the location of the drain and connections an adult would still be unable to connect everything. We thought of sending Thane in, but the sobering realization the plumbing inspector would need to be able to see the gas line connection to sign off on it was the death knell. There was, alas, no way that we could move our existing stack in. I researched new washers and dryers to see what might possibly fit. There were none. Trust me, we thought through every possible angle.

It seems like it should be possible to stack. It isn’t. This is my all-in-one.

Well, ok. There was one. If we went with a European-style ventless washer-and-dryer all in one combo, it might work. That meant that the venting, the gas line, the high powered electric line (yes, we put in both) were absolutely useless. Plus, it was expensive. We were terribly afraid that it wouldn’t actually dry. The first one we ordered the installers told us that it was impossible to remove the washer without terrible damage. But it didn’t matter anyway since the washer/dryer on the truck was badly damaged. We got a second one, and I made a call to the installation HQ begging them to send me the *good* team. They did (the team not only had no problem with the installation or move, they were incredibly fast – I tipped them well). And wonder of wonders, it works amazingly. It’s hell on the electric bill (between that and the electric car and heated floors in the attic we went from “more efficient than your neighbors” to “holy handgrenades, what are you doing in there?”). But now it’s SO MUCH EASIER to drop in a load of laundry on my way to work and by the time I get home it’s dry. I’ve even started making the kids do their own laundry.

But see, we had plans for the old laundry room. We were going to put a treadmill down there so we had a good exercise option for the winters – and a thing to tell the kids to go do when they needed some exercise in bad weather. We got the tv installed. After careful consideration, we figured if we moved the freezer next to the washer and dryer and got rid of the horrific particle-board cabinet, we would have plenty of space for the treadmill (if it’s not too tall – finger’s crossed).

Linen closet

But to get rid of the cabinet, we needed to move the linens from the downstairs shelves to their eventual destination in our new linen closet. And that required the building of the linen closet. During the holidays, Adam and I dragged the kids to a hardware store and bought gigantic sheets of plywood that we desperately tied to the top of the car in bitter cold. (OK, ADAM tied. I stayed in the car.) Over the next weekend or two, they were carefully measured, cut, and placed into the closet – all by my handy husband. Once the paint had dried, the remaining work fell to me. I cleaned out the closet in what had been our bedroom (now the study) and the basement linens – so we could proceed with the basement.

After several hours of labor

But that brings me to the study. It needed old furniture removed (and I wanted to get it to someone who would use it, not just trash it). Lots of junk needed to be cleaned out. And new furniture (a new standing desk, new chair and new couch) acquired and assembled. I posted free stuff on Facebook and dealt with no-shows. I carefully disassembled old Ikea furniture with Thane’s most excellent help and carried it to the porch.

He’s amazing

Finally, yesterday, I finished completing all the dependencies for the study. The old stuff was cleared out. The new ordered and assembled. I’m thoroughly enjoying writing from the new sleeper sofa.

Our study

You’d think we’re almost done. All we have to do is get the treadmill in the basement and we’re done, right? WRONG! Next up is a hardwood floor in the second and first floors. Once that’s done, we’ll need to repaint the hallway, and then build built in bookcases to replace the particle-board ones we inherited when we were first married and then….

Right. If only I could get my dad to finish this puzzle for me, I swear I’d stop rescrambling it! And if you believe that….

Fighting Entropy

There are a few things we can all agree on – religious and secular alike. One of them is that the universe will someday end. My Christian background says it will end in judgement, and suddenly. (Actually, Christianity is rather silent whether it’s the UNIVERSE or the WORLD that will end – the distinction was not a meaningful one at the times the books were written.) A science perspective says that unless we have a “big contraction” the likely end to the universe is the longest, slowest death imaginable. The heat death of the universe will take place when the entire cosmos is at exactly the same temperature. There is no longer enough difference in temperature to fling particles, inspire winds or burn in flames.

I often thing of that ultimate defeat of being on weekends like this. See, on rare occasions I spend my weekends fighting entropy. At heart, most of what we humans do is to expend the energy given to us by our sun to create order from disorder. Case in point: my breakfast of Cheerios this morning was (mostly) converted by me into energy. That energy went into turning my house from a pit of chaos and disorder into a pit of slightly less chaos and disorder. Meanwhile, as I unwound the dissolution of my homestead, my steady washer and drying (well, both of them actually) separated dirt from clothes, and then water from clothes, in order to create the state of “clean clothes”. Remarkable. Even though I know that my great enemy entropy, will ensure those self-same clothes will require this to happen not just once again, but over and over until the warp and the weft of that long-ago cotton bush push apart, lose their vibrant dyes and become thinned through friction and even that self-same washing.

Ah, entropy.

So what did I do this weekend to take the store of strength given to me and convert it to order?

Completed installation

Yesterday was Ikea day. For Christmas, Thane really wanted this huge glass display case with serious Nuka Cola overtones. I told him in October, as we were shopping for massive amounts of furniture for our attic, that maybe he could get that stuff for Christmas. I should’ve remember to whom I spoke. That child does not forget. So when his grandmother asked what he wanted for Christmas, the answer was money for Ikea furniture. The money came (coincidentally *just* enough for his longed for display cabinet). Then we had to actually go to Ikea. Originally I thought I’d buy a sleeper sofa from Ikea on the trip, but upon review of the offerings I was underwhelmed. I ended up buying a sofa from Wayfair online. We’ll see how it works. Anyway, without that massive piece of furniture I figured I could do the trip without the “taller than me” contingent, and Thane and I went alone.

We bought many things. There was a standing desk for the office, and a chair. There was his beloved display (intended to preserve his Legos from depredations). His brother had also gotten a rather nice treat earlier, so I got him an inexpensive desk and desk chair (for the building of the Legos to be preserved). I got a sitting/standing desk for our study. There were two chairs that needed acquiring. Plus the many jars of pickled herring my friends need for an upcoming party.

I came home a conquering hero. Assembling Ikea furniture is Thane’s great delight (seriously, if any of you local folks ever want to hire him, he’s excellent). So he put together his cabinet and I my standing desk while Adam made dinner. Then we had some quality family time fighting virtual entropy by farming the wilds of Stardew Valley together.

As the rain and night fell together, I ended up reading late in my beautiful bathtub, candlelight flickering at my feet. (“A href=”https://www.amazon.com/Educated-Memoir-Tara-Westover/dp/0399590501”>Educated” by Tara Westover, which I thought might be familiar given my red neck upbringing, but instead showed just how cushy and civilized my young life was. I may have gone to a two room schoolhouse, but I went to school!)

Fighting imaginary entropy as a family

Today was a litany of small things. I updated my to do list. There was the partial planning of the summer vacation. (We have three possible itineraries: Greece, France or Norway. I was trying to flesh them out for decisioning.) I did dishes. I did laundry. (I haven’t told you all of the saga of the laundry room. Enough time might soon have passed for it to go from painful to funny.) I took the boys to get their hairs cut. I put paper in the new linen closet and filled it with linens and in the process created a ginormous pile of linens which are no longer needed. Thane I and spent hours in his room going through his clothes so he has enough room to put away the laundry he’s supposed to be doing himself, and cleaning out his closet. I made meals.

And here I am writing blog posts that will endure to the far reaches of time. Or, ya know, for a few years.

There’s no great accomplishment in all of this. Nothing I’ll remember in a few weeks, never mind a few years. Time with my sons, time in my home. A time with good, healthy food and bills that are paid. A time when my body was healthy, and strong enough to do whatever I want to do. A time when my friends live at a quick glance out my window, and I can always find company when I’m lonely. A time when my parents are doing interesting fun things, when my siblings are thriving. A time when one the soundtrack of Louis Armstrong (Grey) and Sarah McLachlan (Thane) wafts through the house, following the siren call of “OK Google”.

You know. The best times in the whole world. Take that, heat death of the universe. It’s not the end of the universe that counts. It’s the middle.