Simply Wine and Cheese, Please

My last post about tea reminded me so much of living in England that I thought I should explain how I got there. At the end of my third year of college, I was offered a 10-month internship overseas. Of course I said yes.

Having already volunteered two summers in Scotland, and decidedly blasé about postponing my college graduation for a year, I picked a flatmate and before I knew it, I found myself bashing around London as they say. 

I hardly knew how to cook, and the internship stipend proved meager at best. Luckily, the office where I worked had a cheap canteen and enough staff who recognized a foreigner living on pennies, that I got invited out often enough.

Young, impressionable, and thirsty, I spent a good portion of my time overseas in British pubs with my new friends. (I also lived in a house with no heat, so over the winter and when friends were too busy to accompany me, I bundled up and trudged the few meters up the road to my local establishment and spent hours writing in my journals, on my own, while nursing a soda. True story.)

When we weren't at the pub, often we gathered at someone's home for a wine and cheese evening.

It was the thing to do for any sort of event: house-warming party, a leaving-do or anniversary. Sometimes people hosted them for no reason at all except to hang out with friends. People came and went as they pleased, and in between we all drank wine and ate cheese. 

Simple as that. 

 
This week, a local friend had a birthday and I volunteered to host a wine and cheese gathering on her behalf. It's been a while since I've done a soirée of sorts (last December actually) but I was confident I could pull it off quickly and easily. Besides, I've moved into an apartment with a kitchen that is made for entertaining.   

I gathered the necessary nibbles and drink, and then the night before proceeded to Google 'wine and cheese party'. You know, in case I missed something.   

Clearly I had, because that day, when I mentioned that I was hosting a party, the wine clerk said he'd be terrified. He wouldn't even know where to start -- he had a hard enough time picking out cheese, let alone trying to pair them with the wine. 

Driving home, I started to panic. What was all of this pairing nonsense? I said I would host a wine and cheese -- is a wine and cheese in America different to all of the ones I've been to in the UK?! In all of those years, had I never been to a PROPER wine and cheese party? 

I didn't actually know everyone on the guest list. More panic. Maybe they're really posh... what if they think I'm a total wine and cheese dunce?

Google affirmed my fears. Every site I pulled up listed ways to pair the wine with the cheese and how to arrange the cheese on a board. I saw list upon list of which wines went with which kind of cheese and I got a little dizzy. Then they all said 'make sure to label' each cheese. And above all, only have 3-5 cheeses.

Forget that, I thought. 

The day of the party, I set up a lovely spread -- it was my friend's birthday after all, so I made the same coconut cake* that I made this past Mother's Day. I used the thrifted vintage snack sets (they were a huge hit) and I decided to do things the way I learned in England years ago.

I opened a few bottles of red and white, put some non-alcoholic beverages next to them, and unwrapped more than the recommended quantity of cheese and crackers. Of course I arranged everything nicely, but I didn't worry about which cheese was at 12 o'clock and which one was next to it. 

I certainly didn't worry about which wine went with which cheese.

Admittedly, at one point, I had both printer labels and toothpicks in my hands and I contemplated writing out the names of the cheese. The moment was brief. There would be no sad little white flags skewered in my cheese. 

When the time came for people to actually tuck in, I simply pointed to each cheese and said what they were. I figured that anyone coming later could ask me (I'm usually the one hovering by the food table in any case) or they could ask someone else. What better way to meet new people than to strike up a conversation with the person standing over the cheese?

I added a few chopped veggies, hummous, grapes, olives, nuts and dried fruit to the table spread. Chocolate also made an appearance, as did some summer sausage. But the cheese was still central -- so was the wine. 
  

And the only word I heard all night over the din of party chatter was 'delicious'.  

 

So, there really was no need to panic. My wine and cheese was a success. 

Now that it's over, I'll share my secret rules with you: 

1. Eat cheese

2. Drink wine

3. Be merry

Seriously. It's not that complicated. Don't be scared off by what Google says you should or shouldn't do. You can have an elegant wine and cheese, casual wine and cheese, or anything in between. Generally, no matter what you do, unless you're serving wine aficionados who misread the invitation to read: 'wine tasting', you'll be fine. 

Above all, make sure you have enough for leftovers, because the only thing as nice as a wine and cheese party, is an encore with a few friends a day or two later. 


(* I altered the recipe for the coconut cake by using sweetened coconut instead of unsweetened and then halving the sugar.)

Tea Time

Several weeks ago, I mentioned that I had been playing along with #7vignettes on Instagram and I promised to show you the photos. I had so much fun styling photos for the online 'event'. The theme for the first day: coffee/tea. 

Having caffeine running through my veins daily, of course I went with the coffee theme. 

Here's what I posted:

 And here's the story behind it: 

Coffee symbolizes some of my favorite things -- not only the drink itself! My thrifted vintge whole bean grinder, my Italian stovetop espresso pot (wedding present from a dear friend) and gifted Transcarpathian cups and saucers to remind to return to Ukraine someday. (All but one has survived several Transatlantic moves.)

Soon after I posted the photo, I started to realize how much tea I'd been drinking as well. 

Maybe I've been missing the British Isles lately, or maybe it's because I sipped so much tea while I was under the weather a while back. 

Or perhaps it's simply that I have so many cute tea cups and despite having a larger kitchen now, I'm still sticking to my small kitchen rules: everything must be fully functional.

Or maybe it's because I promised myself over New Year's, that I was going to have a Chilled-Out 2013, and this has turned into one of the craziest years of my life. Tea seems to have a calming effect on me when I need to chill out. 

Whatever the reason, I'm definitely having more tea these days. 

I still drink coffee like it's going out of style -- we'll always be friends. We were together long before tea introduced itself to me and if you told me I could only have one or the other for the rest of my life, coffee would win hands down.

 
But since I don't have to choose, there's room for both in my life (although the mug cabinet is definitely getting crowded.) Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'll go and boil the kettle.

Which would you choose? 

Talking Squash

I know it's still summer, but let's talk squash for a minute. Before you know it, fall will produce a bounty of butternut squash and if you're anything like me, you'll be swimming in soup and stuffing rather than in the pool. 

Here's a treat that can be enjoyed anytime of the year: knitted squash. I recently whipped up a pair of gourds to turn into Veggie Tales characters for a friend's daughter. She apparently is enthralled with brothers Jimmy and Jerry Gourd from the TV series. 

While there is no shortage of vegetable patterns available on Ravelry, there aren't many specifically for Veggie Tales. Instead, I found this free pattern for butternut squash online. 

I made the Jerry doll using the pattern and a small amount of leftover yarn from my stash. I added crocheted eyes with a french knot in the middle, a crocheted nose, and then I embroidered a little smirk. I also gave them both some eyebrows.

Since Jimmy is slightly plumper, I simply increased a few extra rounds at the bottom, and then made him shorter than his brother.

There's no chance these guys will get turned into soup, but I'm going to bet they'll be squashed and cherished in a toddler's hands for quite a while.

Fig Frenzy

I think I have fig fatigue -- brought on of course by this weekend's fig frenzy. 

In my entire life, I've eaten fresh figs only a handful of times. They are intrigueing little bundles of goodness though, so naturally I jumped at the chance to go fig picking with a friend. Within 30 minutes, I had a bounty of figs (and mosquito bites!)

Motivated by the fact that figs go bad very quickly, I set off to make the most of my fruity finds as quickly as possible. 

I tried my hand at canning years ago when I lived in England. My raspberry jam was a gooey mess that needed to be consumed within a week. Looking back, I'm sure I didn't use pectin, or even proper canning jars. I don't remember ever sealing anything. I've never bothered to can jam since. Besides, I usually receive a stash of yummy homemade jam over the holidays from other friends and since the Sailor and I don't eat it everyday, I don't really feel the need to make my own batch. 

Chutney, however, is in high demand in our household. It really is such a versatile condiment, in my book. You can serve it with meat, use it on a sandwich, or simply eat it with a nice cheese.

I made peach chutney the other week, and this weekend, I tried my hand at fig chutney. I found this recipe from David Lebovitz and it turned out fig-fantastic. 

One pound of figs makes about two cups worth, so you can easily just keep it in the fridge and consume it right after making it. I kept a little bit out to eat that night, and then canned several small jars worth to save for later. I have a feeling they're not going to last very long though. 

Apparently I wasn't alone in my preserving party -- this past weekend was National Can-It-Foward Day. Even if you missed it, there's still plenty of time to can all kinds of good stuff. Ball has a great PDF on the basics of canning here.

{I see you eyeballing my Pyrex bowls at the top. The small Gooseberry pink cinderella bowl cost me a whole $1 recently, as did the Town and Country mixing bowl at a local thrift store. I already have the same small Gooseberry bowl in my collection, so I'm thinking that perhaps another giveaway is in the blog's future? What do you think? In the meantime, you can see more Gooseberry goodness here.}

Keeping it Fresh

Every few weeks, I try to add a few extras to my blog, besides simply new posts. A few months back, I sorted out my virtual chaos and joined Bloglovin'. Then I added an Instagram tab where you could follow me through photos I take using only my iPhone. 

Today, I added the LinkWithin widget to the bottom of my posts. I've seen it on multiple other blogs that I've stumbled across, and I liked it since it was easy to see related posts, rather than scrolling through the archives. I hope it's helpful here, too! 

I also (insert drumroll) finally entered this decade and joined Twitter today. I figured it was finally time to see what the fuss is about. The jury is still out on whether I'll use it as much as I do Instagram, but if Twitter's more your thing, you can find me there: typingsunflower. (Apparently Twitter doesn't want me to be a bouquet -- they limit their user name to only 15 characters, so I'll be a solo sunflower there. I'm a little late to the party, but I'm sure I'll catch up soon.)

In addition to all of that excitement, I decided it was high time to give you a little more information about The Sailor. I've added a tab above, to give you a whiff of salty sea air.

And, lest you think I've forgotten all about that gorgeous green yarn that I mentioned last week, I haven't. I found myself busier than usual these past few days with non-crafty projects and I haven't had the chance to cast on for my new knitwear yet. In the meantime, I did at least find a new container to keep it all organized. You can see my latest post on the Pyrex Collective III, along with more pics of that fun summery 1961 Bride's Promo here. 

Finally, I've had a few people ask me how they can follow my blog, without signing up for Bloglovin'. If you'd like to get email updates each time I post to Typing Sunflowers, you can sign up in the box on the right where it says: 'follow the story by email'. Once you enter your email address, hit submit, and then you'll receive a message from Typing Sunflowers. You'll need to open that email and click on the link to verify that you would like to receive updates! (The email may end up in your junk mail folder if your privacy settings are high, so be sure to check there if you don't get an email within 24 hours. That last step ensures that you actually signed up to receive updates in the first place -- otherwise anyone could enter any email address willy nilly.) The emails usually go out early the next morning, after I've posted a new entry.  

Have a great weekend, wherever you are! 

Vintage Snack Sets

Despite my love of dishware, I don't actually have a full set of dinner plates. The Sailor hinted at throwing a housewarming party at some point now that we're settled in, but I certainly don't have enough of any one style plate to serve more than two people at a time.

I'm still searching for a few more of the turquoise plates (oh plates, why do you elude me?!) But since they seem to be scarce, I figured I'd better have Plan B ready because I well and truly despise plastic plates and cups. (They have their place at a picnic, but for most occasions, nothing says 'you're not worth the risk of breaking my dish or my extra time for clean-up' to your guests than getting served on a throwaway plate.)
 
Never mind the plate problem: while my current kitchen could easily swallow my old one, I only have a four-person table. Seating is still a challenge. Obviously, one can mix and mingle at a party without formally sitting down at a table, but frankly, most guests also like to eat -- and drink. And there's no getting around how awkward it is to hold both your beverage and your plate while trying to eat with your hands. 

Then I discovered these vintage snack sets. I've noticed them before in my travels, but I've always passed them up. Apparently, though, they are quite popular in the South. Perhaps I'm simply noticing them more since there's not as much Pyrex to look at here, but they are EVERYWHERE! And fairly cheap, too. 

What better way to throw a party, where guests can mix and mingle? I certainly could have used them for last year's holiday party.

Over the weekend, I found a mix of 16 Federal Glass and Anchor Hocking trays and cups at both thrift stores and antique stores, for about $25 total. I'm sure you can get them even cheaper, but I thought less than $1.50 per set was a bargain. In some cases, single plates were even cheaper at antique stores than the thrifts! You can't even get plates at a department store that cheap. (Besides, if you did, would they be this cool?)

While some of the glasses aren't the original ones that matched the trays, they still look wonderful together -- if you are a purist and want to start collecting them yourself, there is certainly no shortage of them on eBay in their matching set boxes. It's fairly easy to figure out which cups match which sets.  

These snack sets would be grand for any party -- I've never been to an event where I've seen them in action, but I hear that people still use them for baby and bridal showers and meet and greet gatherings. I plan on using mine for sure! 

What about you? Have you seen these lovelies in action in the past or present?

{Total side note: This tray befuddled me at first since it has two indentations. I couldn't figure out why anyone would carry two glasses, but then someone pointed out to me that one is an ashtray! There's even a lip on the side for a cigarette. I don't smoke, but I could imagine a gaggle of gals in a different era, playing a game of Bridge under a cloud. Non-smokers -- that extra indentation would be perfect for dip, sauces, or anything you want to keep separate from other food!} 

Green Goodness

I have been off the grid for most of the week with a bad cold. Thankfully, the Sailor was still around to bring me chicken soup and hot tea. I feel a little spoiled sometimes because I get to have him around for two months at a time. (Nevertheless, summertime sickness stinks!)

I didn't even have the energy to knit anything (!) this week. I'm feeling much better though, so I'm eyeballing this delicious green cotton yarn and planning on sitting on the porch and starting a cardigan over the weekend. 

 What are your weekend plans?

Global Love

Awhile back, a friend asked: 'If you could get a free round-the-world ticket, what five cities would you stop in?' 

I love games like that. 

The past few days, I've been staring at maps and all manner of travel paraphernalia, not only because I'm missing my friends in Scotland. On Instagram, I've been participating in #7vignettes. (In a nutshell, Instagrammers the world over create stunning vignettes according to themes over a week-long period.) Of course, no matter what the theme, most of my photos have some sort of nod to travel in them. I'll be sharing the photos a little later on the blog.

I have always loved to travel -- even the idea of it makes me giddy. Long before I ever took my first international flight, my father traveled internationally for work. He brought home in-fight magazines in German and Italian... and I tried to decipher them word for word with his European phrasebooks. I never made sense of any of them, but I hoped that someday I'd get to travel too.

It took me 19 years to go on my first transatlantic flight, and while it was also to an English speaking country, I had my share of miscommunication along the way. A year later, I made my way to foreign countries where the languages sounded like Klingon to my ears. Despite my lack of understanding, I became hooked on travel. I've never stopped for very long since.  

Bearing in mind that I could get off the plane at these cities and travel further, my five cities were Buenos Aires, Mumbai, Vladivostok, Lisbon, and Reykjavik. (This list is by no means exhaustive...)

So, if you could get a free round-the-world ticket, which five cities would you stop in? Go on, I dare you to play the game! And if you're on Instagram, be sure to check out #7vignettes.

PS: Can we just talk a little bit about that splendid globe pincushion in the photos?! It is one of the ONLY vintage items I've ever purchased on eBay. I actually saw one for sale on Instagram, and when I found one for MUCH less on eBay, I nabbed it.

Books and Burgers

One of the first things I try to do whenever I move somewhere new, is get a local library card. Libraries are a wealth of knowledge -- for FREE! I credit my insatiable book appetite (as well as my obsession with the Titanic at the age of 9...) with my mother's willingness to haul me to school library sessions over long stretches of the summer. 

Understandably, I have a new library card already and I was excited to see this library stocked full of crafting books I'd never read or even heard of before. I grabbed this one off the shelf and promptly made the crocheted amigurumi cheeseburger from leftover yarn from these sheep as soon as I got home. I added the pickles myself, because really, what's a cheeseburger without pickles? 

Back to school sales are upon us here, but I do believe there are quite a few grilling weekends left in the summer season. And if the weather isn't cooperating, whip up a batch of these crocheted burgers and order a pizza, instead. If you're in need of grilling tips, check out the Sailor's Braai Rules, here. Better yet, head to a library and check out a barbeque cookbook.

Crochet Bobble Bag

There's a reason I claim to be a 'luggage lover'. I've always had a thing for bags -- ever since I can remember. Luggage of course, is essential for frequent travelers. I think my love of luggage runs deeper though. For years, I didn't own any furniture. I lived in places where of course I used furniture, but it wasn't mine. The only thing I owned were my suitcases, bags, purses, and the contents therein. 

I shopped for luggage and handbags as fervently as an interior designer does for furniture and decor. Like a turtle, I carried my 'home' with me, inside that luggage. Certain trips, countries and events gave me excuses to use different styles of bags.  

While the Sailor and I have accumulated our own furniture over the years, it's no surprise that I still have a soft spot for luggage and handbags. My own mother used to joke that I should someday open a bag shop. One day, I may still surprise her. 

If I did have a bag shop, this crocheted one would definitely make it to the window display for the summer. I gave you a glimpse in the last post; the mailman finally delivered the hardware needed to finish the project.

It's not too late to make yourself one for the rest of the summer! You can find the pattern for sale here, on Mon Petit Violon's blog. (Even if you don't crochet, check out the site -- her blog is beautiful!) 

Since I made my bag so late into the summer, I decided on yellow since I think it'll transition nicely into fall. I used Berroco Weekend worsted weight in Squash. The pattern called for linen or at least cotton yarn. Berroco Weekend is only 25% cotton, but while my Local Yarn Store had some beautiful linen and cotton yarn -- they didn't have a color I favored for a bag, so I purchased the Berroco instead.

I had a fabric remnant of giraffe print that proved to be a perfect fit for the bag, especially when I remembered I had a little gem of a keychain to go with it. 

I found the giraffe key-chain years ago at an airport in South Africa. I'm pretty sure it was after the Sailor and I went on a safari, and I wanted something to remind me of the giraffes. I have a leopard too, but he'll have to wait for his own bag. Both the bag handles and rings are from this Etsy shop.

I'm already dreaming up places for this bag and I to travel to! In the meantime, the crochet bobble bag is reminding me of past South African safaris and being wowed by the giraffes at sunrise. 

Crocheted Bobbles

I know I said that knitting and crochet are generally equal in my book in this recent post. When it comes to bobbles however, in my world, crocheting them wins hands down. I knit the sheep bobbles, but they seemed to take forever to me, compared to crocheting them. Maybe they're easier to knit for some people.

Here's a sneak peak of the crochet bobbles I've been working on lately:

I'm anxiously awaiting a package in the mail so that I can finish the last little bit. I will share the pattern source and the finished project with you in a forthcoming post, but in the meantime, here's another pic to keep you guessing: 

 Any guesses as to what I'm making?

 

 

Peach Chutney

I had never tasted chutney until my 20s, when I ordered curry at an Indian restaurant in the UK. I always associated chutney with Indian food from then on. I had no idea what else you could do with it.

Then I married the Sailor and he introduced me to a whole new world of chutney-related items. Earlier this month, I mentioned that my go-to roast these days included a bottle of Mrs Balls Chutney. I still haven't found Mrs Balls Chutney locally. 

What I did find was my mother-in-law's recipe book. Years ago, in a bid to learn more Afrikaans, and to help the Sailor's mother, I typed out her recipes and bound them together in a book. There are numerous typos (really, I didn't know any Afrikaans when I set out to do this project... and most of the recipes were scraps of paper written out by hand). I still need the Sailor's help to translate a number of the recipes, but the book is a wonderful reference. 


It's peach season where we are and it reminded me of South Africa. My father-in-law cultivates amazing peach trees -- you can read more about those peaches here and see another photo here from our last trip to the Southern Hemisphere. The Sailor reminded me this week that there is a peach chutney recipe in that book.

I've been wanting to try my hand at preserving food for a long time now, plus, I needed an excuse to use the giant stainless steel pot I recently scored at a thrift store.

 

I started off with a very small manageable batch -- only six jars worth. 

While the chutney simmered, the Sailor breathed in deeply and said it smelled like his family's house. It certainly did. When we left  South Africa earlier this year, my mother-in-law tried desperately to send us home with jars full of chutney. Baggage handlers and breakables don't usually go well together, so we declined the offer, but our taste buds regretted it the moment we got back to America. 

I'm beginning to realize how significant it is to carry on cooking traditions from both sides of my family. In January, I wrote a post on Family Kitchen Mergers -- you can read that here, in case you missed it. When I sent my mother-in-law a photo of the chutney cooking, her response implied she was over the moon. I think most families love to see a little of their history getting passed along.

We may have turned down importing my mother-in-law's stash of chutney, but I think she's just as pleased that we learned to make it ourselves. As per her instructions, we need to wait at least a week to sample the goods. Rest assured, I'll let you know the canning results.

Spring Blossom Score

We've been here over a month now, and every time I open the cabinet and see my vintage Pyrex I smile. (See more here.) Our last location barely had space for normal plates, let alone vintage pretties. 

Within a week of moving here, I began scouring the local thrift stores to see what was on offer. (You didn't actually think I was done collecting, did you?!) 

The first store yielded nothing (and was in fact quite a dump in general....) I began to wonder if I'd find any Pyrex, or if I left it all at my old thrifting haunts.

At the second store though, I saw this Spring Blossom Cinderella bowl (the pattern is often mislabeled as Craisy Daisy) -- lonely and on its own for only $3.

WHEW. 

There IS Pyrex here. 

You can read more of the story here at the Pyrex Collective III site, where I'm one of many bloggers. We buy Pyrex, we use it, we rearrange our displays, and in general, we swoon over vintage glassware. 

Knitting versus Crochet?

One of the best things about moving somewhere new is trying out the local flavor of everything. I was pretty stoked to discover a Local Yarn Shop (LYS) within a few miles of my new home. 

Previously, my LYS was about a 30 minute drive away. Admittedly, I usually purchased yarn at Michaels, Hobby Lobby, and Joanne's, which were all within a three-mile radius of my old home. I also ordered yarn online, on occasion. Every now and again though, I'd drive all the way to the LYS. The last time I was in there, I brought a friend. She wanted me to make a gift for someone else and we needed time to think about the yarn. (Read: we needed to browse -- without distraction.)

The owner would have none of it. She hemmed and hawed and hovered -- flat out telling me I was in the wrong section of yarn for what I planned to make (despite my pleas that I was simply BROWSING...) She carried on with telling me that no pattern would have me make anything out of two different weights of yarn (Oh really? Tell that to the sheep.) 

At this point, I had about $50 worth of yarn in my hand. It wasn't even for the project I  planned to make -- it was for myself! We still planned to buy the yarn for my friend's project. But the LYS was so bent on telling us what we couldn't make, that in the end, I got so annoyed with the woman, I pulled my friend aside, threw the yarn back on the shelf, and told her we were leaving.  

To this day, I've never been back there. (Note to LYS owners: please let customers browse.)

Thankfully, my new LYS is a little friendlier and they appear to be less bossy. I've been in the store several times already, and my wallet knows it. This week, I went in looking for yarn to crochet a bag. The older lady was super helpful -- offering me a range of yarns, and sensing my hesitation over the price, actually convinced me to purchase a cheaper range -- and then she let me continue to browse the rest of the shop. 

As I continued browsing, however, she and her young colleague embroiled themselves in a discussion over the merits of knitting versus crochet. I can't be sure, but I think what set them off was a knitting magazine that published a crochet pattern. 

Heaven forbid. 

Knitting versus crochet is a long-standing debate. They both serve their place in my crafting world. I'm always thankful that I know how to do both. (If you could see the ladies at my previous knitting club... some of whom had knit for YEARS, struggling to crochet, you'd understand.) 

But the young thing casting on what appeared to be a lace shawl, vehemently slagged off crochet, right as I stood behind her eyeballing the yarn for my bag. (Did I mention I was CROCHETING a bag?!) She made accusations that crochet garments are ugly (occasionally true... if you're looking at a 1970s magazine, but nowadays often false), you can't do cables with crochet (false), and that crochet takes up twice as much yarn (false - it takes up slightly more yarn than knitting, but twice as much is a gross exaggeration). 

While the conversation annoyed me, I can kind of understand. I made up my mind to relearn crochet before I ever wanted to knit. Frankly, knitting scared the pants off of me -- all of that talk about dropping stitches... and wielding two or even FOUR sticks? No thank you... I was going to crochet ONLY.  

My anti-knitting campaign was short-lived. I found a set of knitting needles at a thrift store only a few months later, and somehow I was so mesmerized by the thought of knitting that I decided to buy them on a whim. 

Knitting versus crochet? I couldn't tell you which I prefer. It depends on the season, the item I'm making, and even the yarn. Right now I'm knitting a shawl and crocheting a bag. Both give me pleasure (although the shawl less so at the moment simply because I messed up on it and it's taking me forever to figure out where the mistake happened.) 

But back to the LYS. The girl was actually so rude that I thought she must just be a visitor sitting there knitting with the employee, so I excused her behavior. However, she rang out my purchase! 

I almost said something to her. I almost said she should watch what she says... she could lose some valuable crochet customers. I've heard of LYS stores who are quite rude to crocheters -- and I don't understand why. Why would you alienate a craft that could easily spend more money than your average knitter on yarn? (You've already substantiated the claim that crocheting takes more yarn than knitting... so clearly we crocheters may end up plonking down more cash!) 

But I bit my tongue, made my purchase and smiled as she told me she liked the color I ended up choosing. I thought the next time she's working, I hope she'll notice my cool crocheted bag. Maybe I can teach her to crochet cables in the future.

Wellington Wishes

Ever since my 19th birthday, I have spent nearly every summer abroad. I was fortunate to attend a college that offered overseas programs -- I've never looked back since. Those programs opened the doors to summers in Scotland, Ukraine and England. After college, various other European outposts opened up, until I eventually ended up in Africa.

No matter where I found myself for the majority of the summer though, I usually made it to Scotland either before or after my travels. There, on the shores of Loch Lomond, friends and I converged for several weeks at a summer camp for teenagers. We worked hard. We laughed a lot. We ate pie. We drank. We sang. And more often than not, I cried when I had to say goodbye. 

Campers and staff alike refer to the place as magical. I don't believe in magic, but one night during my first summer there, several of us sat around a campfire, chatting. At some point, someone ran down the hill, and breathlessly asked us to help herd a few of the sheep back into their fenced-off area. 

We proved a sight. Arms flailing, a half dozen of us ran around a sheep field in the dark, trying to round up a few of the dumbest animals on the planet.

Later, my sophisticated and well-traveled older dorm-mate sat near me by the fire and said something poignant -- I don't remember exactly what -- but in that moment I do remember thinking, 'It's true... this place is magical.'

Year after year I returned to that sheep field. Rain, mud and midgie bites couldn't keep me away. I skipped a summer now and again when I was on board a ship, and I remember missing part of a summer because a boy I liked happened to be traveling through London in the middle of camp. 

But for the most part, I continued to spend at least a few weeks in Scotland, every summer.  

The wellies always changed, but the view never did. 

In 2009, the Sailor and I arrived from Cape Town to America to visit with my family during his study break. He returned to South Africa alone; I spent the next six weeks keeping a close eye on my mother, who had a few health issues at the time.

I had already made up my mind that I wouldn't be able to go to Scotland that summer; I figured I'd be spending the remainder of the summer with the Sailor in a wintry Southern Hemisphere. Instead, I spent the next six weeks hovering over my mother, driving her slightly crazy.  

She couldn't understand why I was so batty myself. She thought I just missed the Sailor, but in truth, we spend half of our life apart. I always miss him, but this time, I was also missing Scotland. I felt displaced.

On the night that my friends arrived in the sheep field, I toasted them from far away with a double shot of single malt, and I found myself feeling a little homesick for Scotland -- or indeed anywhere in Europe for that matter. 

It turns out it was the first summer since 1994 that I spent in America. Even when I missed camp in previous years, I was at least in Europe for the summer.

It wasn't terrible. But it was strange. I found myself looking at my cold-weather wardrobe a little wistfully. While locals lamented the rain that pelted Pennsylvania, I found it comforting. I wanted to wear my wellies, sit by a fire and listen to someone strumming a guitar. I learned to knit and the first real project I made turned out to be a sweater that I envisioned myself wearing on the sheep field. 

I made it back to Scotland in 2010, but the sweater didn't come with me. The sleeves turned out to be a little too short, and increasingly lower baggage allowances meant I left behind anything big and bulky -- except my wellies, of course.  

In 2011, I traded camping on the shores of Loch Lomond with boat camping on Lake Pend Oreille, Idaho with college friends. They had all been to Scotland at some point with me, yet despite their company, I couldn't help but feel a little nostalgic about missing the Bonnie Banks again. 

Last year, I made elaborate plans to return to Scotland. Afterwards, my itinerary included Ukraine for a writing project. When my brother took a turn for the worse, I cancelled all travel plans and wrote my regrets to friends I wouldn't be seeing again for a long, long time. Even after my brother recovered from his infection, and once he started to improve again, I was thankful I stayed. It turns out it was the last summer I'd have with him. No regrets, but I was still a little wistful about missing out on a summer in Scotland. 

I knew early on this year that I wouldn't make it to Scotland this summer. We just relocated to a completely new city. It seemed a little crazy to pack for camp in the midst of our moving melee. I told friends that the excitement of moving to a new place has slightly taken the sting out of not being in Scotland this year. The truth is though, I'm still going to miss it. 

So to all of my friends already there in that field, and to the many who have yet to arrive: Enjoy your summer... cherish the friendships you'll make and the memories you will create. Laugh (loudly) for me. I will be toasting you from across the pond, and wishing you well, in your wellies. 

Pyrex Casualty

My vintage Pyrex collection survived a 700 mile road trip (with a few extra days crammed in a moving truck, to boot). 

Tonight, I had my first casualty. I dropped a bowl. I have two more in this pattern so it wasn't a complete disaster - but I did find myself staring at the floor in a slight state of shock for a moment. 

I never need a reason to check out a thrift store... the hunt for unexpected objects is a thrill itself. But I suppose now I can add 'find replacement bowl' to the shopping list. 

Sauerbraten Success

Late last night, the Sailor and I feasted on the marinated sauerbraten, salted boiled potatoes and red cabbage.

Here's the basic recipe, adapted from my thrifted copy of The Art of German Cooking, by Betty Wason. (More on this fascinating lady later. First the food.) 

I marinated my two-pound chunk of meat in a beer mixture for the Bavarian style of sauerbraten (apparently there are several ways to make this dish -- the main thrust is that the meat needs to marinate in a vinegar type mixture, including wine or even buttermilk). In addition to a few cups of Belgium dark beer, I added water, a bay leaf, lemon, tomato, onion, and several whole cloves and whole peppercorn and let it sit in the fridge for two days, turning the meat several times. 

After two days, I strained the marinade, dredged the beef in flour, and then browned it on the stove top in butter.

  
Next, I added one cup of the strained marinade, a sliced lemon, a little sugar and some salt and then simmered the roast for two hours, turning the meat halfway through cooking. (Next time, I'll add more of the strained marinade -- I didn't think there was enough liquid in the pot while it was cooking.) 

Of course if your roast is larger, it will probably take longer to cook. I think my own sauerbraten could have simmered even longer, even though the meat was already falling apart.

For gravy, I skimmed the juice and mixed it in with a little sour cream... just in case the rest of the sauer / sour ingredients aren't enough for you!

The recipe called for potato dumplings and red cabbage to go with the sauerbraten... and while I'm ambitious and wanted to have as authentic a German meal as possible, I simply didn't have the energy to make dumplings.

I made salted potatoes instead. 

The potatoes were nothing fancy... but the red cabbage was probably the hit of the meal. I'll post that recipe later, but here's a sneak peak: 

While the Sailor and I agreed that our usual standard roast with chutney was slightly better, the sauerbraten got accolades all around. I knew it was definitely better than average when we both reached for seconds of everything.

I suspect my high school German teacher would have been proud of the sauerbraten success. (Probably more so had I actually translated the recipe from German... Ja?)