Rye Bread with Cardamon and Golden Raisins


Every year for so many years I fail to recall, I have made this bread during the holiday season.  Why then, I have no idea because the bread is not just for winter or anything in particular.  It makes three loaves and a good present; maybe that was the original reason.  It also takes more time than ordinary bread; I usually have time off during this season.

2 packages yeast

1/2 cup warm water

1 1/2 cups light cream or evaporated milk

2 cups unsifted, unbleached flour

3 eggs

2/3 cup sugar

1 cup butter, melted and cooled

2 tsp. fresh ground cardamon

1 cup golden raisins

1 cup milk

2 cups rye flour

1 cup whole wheat flour

3 – 3 1/2 cups unbleached flour

In a large bowl dissolve yeast in water. Stir in the cream or evaporated milk.  Add the 2 cups flour; beat until smooth.  Cover and let rise in a warm place until doubled.  Stir in the eggs, sugar, butter, golden raisins, and cardamon.  Beat until smooth.  Add the milk and rye flour and stir until combined.  At this point using a dough hook makes it easier.  Add the whole wheat flour and enough of the unbleached flour to make a stiff dough.  Sprinkle remaining flour onto a board or granite counter top.  Knead until smooth.  Oil a large bowl, place dough in bowl and turn to grease both sides.  Let rise until doubled.  Punch down and work into a smooth ball.  Divide into three equal portions.  Place in three pans of your choosing (I use one regular loaf pan and two cake pans).  After dough has risen to double in size, bake in a 350 degree oven.  While loaves are still hot, brush with butter.  Allow loaves to cool before removing from the pans.

This bread is especially good with Swiss cheese or other similar cheeses and makes a tasty left over turkey sandwich.

 

 

Who Is the Best Writer: A Matter of Taste and Viewpoint


Until I was asked to be a judge for a memoir competition, I did not spend a lot of time thinking about this topic.  For years my general awareness about writing preferences included the knowledge that the writers I prefer and usually read rarely hit the best seller list and generally are not white, main stream USA.  What do I read:  Native American (American Indian), Indian as in the country of India, and Latin American writers, and writers from the Middle East, especially Iran.  My favorite writer is Leslie Marmon Silko.  My favorite book of hers is Storyteller.  My favorite story, “Yellow Woman”, is in that book as well as numerous literary anthologies. I estimate I have read that story at least fifty times, maybe more.  Why?  In spite of asking myself that question, I remain somewhat clueless.  Because of my current teaching assignment which includes British literature from Beowulf to now, I try my best to read a bunch of British literature.  For instance, I just read I, Claudius by Robert Graves.  Of course, it has nothing to do with Britain; perhaps it does not count.   Next on my list is The Inheritance of Loss by Kiran Desai.  This book won the Man Booker Prize in 2006.  Although she writes in English, she obviously is not British unless you consider being in a former British colony counts as British.

Back to my contest assignment:  Two of the books I was assigned to read nearly put me to sleep.  One did not; in fact I liked it a lot–enough to mark pages with passages I plan to use when I need writing inspiration/ideas later.  When I read a bunch of reviews recently, it came as quite a shock to find one of those put-me-to-sleep books favorably reviewed.  Could I really have been that far off base?  I consider the possibility that even though I have read some excellent memoirs, I find many of them impossible to read.  Why?  From my viewpoint, many memoirs whine, lament, and carry on about the past in a way I find highly objectionable.  Who wants to read hundreds of pages about how someone overcame addiction or some hideous disease or a divorce? Apparently, a lot of people.  Even though I consider The Glass Castle an excellent book, I even had a difficult time plugging through the last 50 pages of that one.  Some of Storyteller is a memoir–a combination of poetry, vignettes, photos, but it also includes several enlightening short stories.  While writing now and reflecting, I can only think of one other memoir type book, I actually recommend to people, Jimmy Santiago Baca’s A Place to Stand.  While stopping by the library this morning, I did pick up Willie Nelson’s latest, Roll Me Up and Smoke Me When I Die.  It even has a foreword by Kinky Friedman, who in my opinion would make a much better governor than any one we have experienced in Texas lately or will have for the foreseeable future.  With a title like that, about Willie, and Kinky thrown in, surely it won’t be too boring.

 

Christmas Reflections


IMG_1347 Two years ago I expected to spend Christmas alone–too much snow.  Friends and family came anyway.  We ate, sang, laughed.  They did not tell me for two weeks how it took them two hours to negotiate my long drive to the main road.  No snow this year, not here–prediction remains 60 degrees F.  Now these friends are far away:  Europe, Mexico.  My daughter and grandson will be here; we will miss my son.

Beauty lies outside the windows

and in my heart.

Food fills the refrigerator.

Homemade bread lays on the counter, ready.

Music rings from CDs.

Christianity is not required to celebrate:

Joy

Kindness

Giving

Receiving

Empathy

Acceptance

Friends

Family

Love

Joy!

The Thinks You Can Think: Creators of Love & Life & Realities for Everyone to Share


I want to promote this blog. Oscar Hokeah’s posts are well worth taking the time to read. He is a Native American writer who currently lives in New Mexico and is originally from Oklahoma. One of his recent activities is raising money to get his new novel published. He has won numerous awards. His posts range from very serious subjects, e.g. prejudice and discrimination to the less serious, e.g. his love for coffee. Take a look for yourself.

My Mom’s Pumpkin Bread


A couple of days ago, after writing what I think will be my next to last Ethiopian Adventure blog post, I decided to get in the holiday spirit and bake.  For years, each year about this time, I make the pumpkin bread recipe written in my mom’s (Barbara Lewis Duke Lightle) hand writing, a recipe she gave me decades ago.  The recipe card looks a bit worn, but the results are as yummy as ever. Sift together 3 cups flour, 1 tsp. cinnamon, 1 tsp. nutmeg, 1 tsp. baking powder, 1/2 tsp. cloves, and 1/2 tsp allspice.  In  a large electric mixer bowl combine 1 cup cooking oil, 3 cups sugar (this is the original she used; however, I only use 2 1/3 cups sugar), and 3 eggs.  Beat well.  Add one small can pumpkin, 1 tsp. baking soda,  and 1 tsp. vanilla.  Mix well.  Finally, slowly add the flour mixture.  Pour into three well greased and floured coffee cans–each 1/2 full.  Bake at 350 degrees for 45 min. to one hour.  Her original recipe calls for adding 2/3 cup walnuts or pecans.  I want to have three kinds of bread so I pour 1/3 into the first can with nothing added, then I add nuts to the rest and pour 1/2 of that into the second can.  Finally, I add 1/2 cup golden raisins and pour the remainder into the last can.  Cool thoroughly before removing from the cans.  It helps to loosen the sides with a knife. Enjoy, share.

My Ethiopian Adventure: The Great Rift Valley and Awash National Park


My friend’s parents live in Nazret or Adama, depending on which Ethiopian language you speak.  Nazret is the Amharic name and Adama is Oromo.  After relaxing a couple of days there, we headed toward Awash National Park for a day trip.  What a contrast to the previous part of our journey.  Intense green and cold totally gone.  What we saw here probably fits more with what most Americans picture when they hear the word Ethiopia.

On the way out of town into the country, we passed fields of various crops including this sugar cane field.

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We also saw fields cultivated for sowing teff.  Since I had seen teff fields previously in the green, high mountain country, I came to the conclusion that teff successfully grows in a wide variety of climates and altitudes.

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This is volcano country.  Although most are extinct and have not erupted in hundreds to thousands of years, at least one in sight of the highway has erupted within recent history.

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Throughout the trip we saw small villages of traditional round houses with thatched roofs, most with rock walls around them.  These walls provide protection from predators such as hyenas.  And then suddenly we were there, a place I so wanted to see, the Great Rift Valley, the place where the oldest totally intact hominid skeleton was found, Lucy.

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The Great Rift Valley goes for thousands of miles from farther south in Kenya up through the Red Sea and the Gulf of Aden.  I was very surprised to discover they grow grapes here in Ethiopia and produce wine.  We decided to try it; the merlot was good.  A series of unique lakes lay in the valley.  I would like to go back and visit all of them.  Some are filled with so many chemicals, you cannot drink the water and no fish live there. An example is Metehara Lake.  The fish are delicious, but the water cannot be safely drunk.  The most amazing thing about this lake is that it grows approximately four inches annually.  In the last few years, the road had to be relocated because of it.

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First glimpse of the lake.  Then we had a flat tire which delayed the trip a few hours because not only did Dino and his dad have to change the tire, but we had to stop in the town of Metehara to buy a new spare which entailed bargaining and more bargaining.  Dino’s mom hiked down the road to get rocks to keep the vehicle from rolling.  If I had realized what she was doing, I would have done it myself.  She is in her 70s.

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A little adventure occurred here.  First, while they were working on the tire, a man came along and offered to help.  His truck (this is a major highway between Adama and Djibouti) had broken down nearby.  Then an Afar teenager came along and looked around, saying nothing.  I realized he had a dagger in the back of his clothes when he walked off.  Finally, an Afar man, maybe in his late 40s or 50s came along.  The Afar are a nomadic people who have lived in East Africa for thousands of years.  The men are noted for their ferocity.  Their lifestyle has changed little; instead of spears, they now carry assault rifles slung across a shoulder.  They herd cattle, goats, and camels.  He walked around the vehicle and came up to me.  Neither of us knowing the others’ language, the tiny conversation consisted of gestures.  Dino suddenly told me to get in the car.  At first I ignored him.  A couple of minutes passed; he loudly repeated the order.  I got in the car, wondering why.  When I asked, he told me one never knows what the Afar are going to do and pointed out just how close the man had stood.  I never noticed; I have no personal space.

Tire changed, we drove toward the town close to the lake.

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Crossing thèse lava beds would be difficult.  As we dropped lower, we drove on the new road by the lake.  You can see the old road crossing the middle of the photo below.  It is nearly covered with water.

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We missed the entrance to the park, realized we had gone too far, turned around, and headed back.  The entrance to the lodge is more like what most people think of when they think of Africa.

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This was one of my favorite places:  it was warm, almost hot.  I saw lesser kudus several times, but they seemed so ordinary to the others that no one stopped so I could take a photo. The lodge was delightful and the shiro some of the best I had.  Loved it.  I even asked for the recipe. The resident ostriches, however, looked rather pathetic.

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Here the Awash River is full of crocodiles.  Our first glimpse was through binoculars from the lodge restaurant.

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Dino’s mom posed with me while we waited for lunch.  Then we hiked down to the river and the falls where we saw even more crocodiles.

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The falls are so large that I could take a photo of only a portion of them at the top where the hike down begins.

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The green between the two sections of the falls was totally covered with water a few weeks later when Dino’s brother travelled there with his family.

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I loved walking along the river banks, careful, however, because of the crocodiles.  They may look slow, but they can really move rapidly when they choose to do so.

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Crocodiles like basking in the sun.

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Along the highway, camels graze, boys herd large flocks of goats, and a totally different species of acacia appear.

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If you look at the background of the photo below, you can see long lines of corrals–for camels to export to Yemen and other areas where camels are eaten.  If you live in Amarillo, Texas, and order in advance, you can eat camel at the Somali restaurant on Amarillo Boulevard.

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Unlike most of Ethiopia where we had previously travelled, here we saw fences especially around villages.  They bring the livestock in for protection from not only hyenas but also lions.  Yes, lions live here.  I asked if they ever see them.  I was told, “No, but you sometimes hear them roar at night.”  They also told me that the lions like to go down to the sugar cane factory, but no one knows why.

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When I want an Ethiopia “fix”, I listen a audio/video of Awash Falls.

 

Gratitude


Usually, I plan my posts, write them out carefully, sometimes even proof a couple of times.  Today is Thanksgiving Day here in the United States.  Even though I know all about the historical lies to cover up the truth about the supposed original Thanksgiving, I continue to think this is a useful and fun holiday for several reasons.  Thankfulness, gratitude, remains the primary source of a happy life.  The list of things for which I am thankful seems nearly endless:

-health

-living in a place filled with natural beauty

-my daughter

-my grandson

-my son, even though we talk only occasionally and he lives far away

-teaching

-my students, one of whom posted on Facebook this morning that he is grateful that he had me as a teacher ten years ago

-the friends who took me with them to Ethiopia this past summer

-all my other friends locally and from all over the world

-the exchange students who have lived with me and from whom I receive messages regularly

-my parents for whom I owe eternal gratitude for teaching me values, independence, tolerance, a love of beauty and knowledge, and a sense of wonder

-music

-my ability to sing

-horses

-wildlife, nature–here where I am so fortunate to live

-art

-my ability to write

-all the people who love my book of poetry and tell me they do–I might also include the people, mostly men, who find it shocking

-happiness and the choice I made to be happy all those long years ago

-red wine

-plentiful food

I could go on and on.  However, it seems best to end with this fantabulous morning on my own little rim of wonder and say I am thankful for a life filled with so many astonishing events and experiences I never expected and for which I am endlessly grateful.

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Talapia with Beets, Red Peppers, Swiss Chard and Bebere


This recipe makes good sized portions for two people.

2 talapia filets

1/2 red onion, coarsely chopped

1 red bell pepper chopped into bite sized pieces

1 medium sized beet, thinly sliced

2 handfuls Swiss chard–if large pieces, take a knife and separate the middle spine from the leaf part

Chop the spines and add to the onion

Olive oil

Cover the bottom of a large skillet with olive oil.  Add the onions, chopped Swiss chard spines, and beets–I cut the beet slices in half.  Saute until the onions are somewhat caramelized and the beets almost tender.  Add the peppers and 1-2 tablespoons bebere or to taste.  When the peppers are half done, add the filets.  Sprinkle extra bebere over the filets.  When they are almost tender, add the Swiss chard and sauté until the Swiss chard wilts.  Serve over rice.

Note:  I grow my own Swiss chard in a large pot in the house.  This enables be to have my own supply.  However, the leaves are tiny compared to the large leaves in the market, making it unnecessary to cut the green leafy part away from the center spine.  Bebere is an Ethiopian spice which is slightly hot; it has a wonderful, unique flavor. You can use whatever spices you prefer.

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My Ethiopian Adventure: On the Road from Debre Markos to Addis, Crossing the Nile Gorge


Once again, we drove through rain and clouds and endless fields, some of which had been cultivated ready to plant and some all green and growing.

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I realize this is not what most people in the United States think when they hear the word Ethiopia.  I kept thinking of photos I had seen of Ireland.

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The ancient grain, teff, produces extremely tiny seeds which are ground to flour to make injera, an Ethiopia staple.  It is used much like people in India use chapatis or like people in Mexico use tortillas.  However, it looks nothing like either of these.  It is thicker and a bit spongy like crepes but huge–more than a foot in diameter.  The man in the photo below is sowing teff.

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Teff fields stretch almost as far as the eye can see.

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Villages are frequently set along side the good highways.

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Major highways are excellent.  The only really bad road we traversed was in Simien Mountains National Park where they keep the road that way on purpose. Well, that and the streets in Addis.

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As we came closer to the Nile Gorge, it became more mountainous again.

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First sight of the Nile Gorge.

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All major bridges seem to have a resident guard.  Unlike the guard at the bridge in Bahir Dar, this guy told us we could walk around and take photos.

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If there is a guard, he has to have a guard house.

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And a house.

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Even though by this time I had not only floated down the Nile but also crossed it in a boat a couple of times, I remained entranced.  We walked across the old bridge built in 1948.  Actual traffic now crosses the new bridge built by the Japanese.

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Personally, I did not see anything wrong with this old bridge and wondered why they thought they needed a new one.

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A couple of signs written in several of the languages spoken in Ethiopia commemorate the old bridge.

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As we climbed out of the gorge, we saw common baboons begging.  They are neither as pretty nor as friendly as gelada baboons.

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I could not resist taking a variety of photos looking back down into the Nile Gorge.

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Dino could not resist stopping for one long, last look at the Nile.

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When we asked the name of this waterfall, we were told that it was just an ordinary waterfall and had no name.

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The final switchback before we became immersed in the clouds.

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