Smells Like Home

Recently we remodeled the guest bathroom. It started out as quick fix to a leaking faucet, but as so often happens, the project expanded a bit in scope. Mission creep that ended up with new tile, vanity and bathroom fixtures. But I digress.

The new bathroom design took a decided turn towards modern farmhouse, but it did allow us to feature a couple of letterpress prints we had purchased years before on a vacation out west. Dutch Door printers had created an American states series, “Birds and Blooms of the 50 States”. Each print featured that state’s bird surrounded by the state flower. We purchased both a print of Virginia and of Nevada (my home state) but hadn’t displayed them before. The completed guest bath was perfect: lots of black, grey and white were the perfect backdrop for Virginia’s state bird—the cardinal, and dogwood blossoms.

Nevada was a bit harder to incorporate in our decor. How to feature the mountain bluebird and artemisia, known commonly as sagebrush? But when my niece sent me a cutting of sagebrush from Reno, we had everything we needed. When I opened the box, the aroma of desert sage was incredible.

There are other smells, scents that immediately remind me of home. The sharp aroma of pine trees or wood smoke draws me back to summer evenings and fire crackling in the wood stove in our cabin at Lake Tahoe. A newly mown lawn invariably reminds me of fields of alfalfa; my cousins and I are riding on a flatbed trailer wrestling with bales of hay. 

With all of their bittersweet memories, I suppose there is nothing to compare with the smell of morning coffee and the heavy presence of bacon frying, filling the house with the promise of fried eggs, toast and coffee for breakfast. My Dad always rose early, always made the coffee first, and loved his San Francisco sourdough bread. 

I suppose one could make an argument for fresh-from-the-oven apple pie, or even the sweet scent of chocolate chip cookies baking. The aromas of baking are captivating and stay with us for a lifetime. But for me they hardly compare with some of the pungent flavors of the desert. Even after years of living in another state, stepping off a plane after we had landed in Reno and walking across the tarmac to the main terminal (long before the modern passenger boarding bridge), the hot, dry wind always carried with it the smell of sagebrush. Home again. 

Summer Projects

As any parent knows, the summer vacation time between the end of school and the Labor Day weekend can be a challenge. For students who are experiencing a breath of freedom (no more teachers, no more books!) the summer weeks stretch out ahead in full, unscheduled promise. For parents however, each day brings the challenge of organizing activities, educational or entertaining, and making the most of each opportunity. But this year, summer camps and weekend outings, trips to the zoo or King’s Dominion, have all been changed. 

As grandparents of a tween (twelve going on twenty) this summer has brought even greater challenges than usual. Our vacation plans for Florida were canceled early in the aftermath of Covid-19 shutdowns. Still, we have been blessed with great weather and outdoor venues are beginning to return to a degree of normalcy, even if that means 50% occupancy and social distancing. 

Yet each day stands before us demanding answers, hours to be filled, adventures to be planned whether large or small.

And that is what brought us to painting rocks for the neighborhood. The past several weeks we have spotted painted rocks hidden among the tree trunks and leaves along our walking path. Well, we have smooth river rocks in the garden; a wide assortment of acrylic paints in my studio; plenty of time to add our own creations to the neighborhood collection. Let’s do this.

The best outcome of all? The project took a couple of days to complete. We had to first paint our rocks with white, then a background color. Then decide on patterns and designs. Our project culminated in a walk thru the woods to distribute our creations. It’s a small act of charity, the opportunity to serve others in a creative way; I’m hoping that these little seeds will slowly take root and flourish. 

Our summer vacation plans may have been changed in unexpected ways. But the endless possibilities still remain.

16 Weeks Later

On Ash Wednesday, February 26, I went in to INOVA Loudoun for knee replacement surgery. It was nearly 25 years after I had had the same knee operated on for a torn meniscus. At that time I was as told that, because of the presence of arthritis, I would eventually need surgery. The “wait and see” period lasted far longer than I had expected, but eventually it caught up with me.

Total knee replacement surgery has become quite common here in the States. According to the Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality, https://www.ahrq.gov more than 600,000 knee replacements are performed each year in the United States. Several of my friends have had their’s done as have a number of my extended family members. One Aunt had both knees replaced and two hip surgeries! So it wasn’t something that I had any anxiety about. Still, I had some concerns regarding length of recuperation and, to be honest, whether or not I would actually be better off afterwards.

This past New Year’s Eve, a group of us went out together for dinner and dancing. This was the fifth year we had all celebrated together and it’s been a lot of fun. Since taking ballroom dance lessons as a group, we have all looked forward to getting together and ushering in the New Year, putting into practice the lessons learned in fox trot, swing, and waltz. But it was with difficulty I struggled through a couple of dances and I ended up sitting out most of the evening. My hope was that, with surgery and rehabilitation, I would at least be able to get back to an activity I enjoyed.

Surgery took longer than expected; years of compensating for my deteriorating condition had caused secondary issues with muscles and bone displacement. Thankfully my surgeon was able to correct my stance and now my legs are straighter than they’ve been in years (a decided plus for the fox trot!). 

But recovery was long, slow, and challenging. Shortly after I began physical therapy, the country went into quarantine as a result of Covid-19. Many businesses were closed, entire sectors of the economy shut down, schools closed, millions of people lost their jobs, tens of thousands have died from the effects of a virus we had not seen before.

And then we came face-to-face with the results of generations of unjust treatment when coast to coast demonstrations and protests exploded across America. Through all of this, we have just begun to recover and “get back to normal”. Yet, even as I know my newly refurbished knee won’t be the same as before, we recognize as a country we won’t be “returning to normal.” The challenge ahead of us lies in creating something stronger, better than before we were broken. Healing is never guaranteed but we can’t miss the opportunity to set things right, not restore but make better.

Twice a week for physical therapy, a Starbucks marker for each visit.

Meet the Royals

It’s been said that if you search long enough through your family tree, eventually we all end up being related to royalty.

Joshua Taylor, president of the New York Genealogical & Biographical Society, writes that “In the US, millions can trace their ancestry back to European royalty through ‘gateway ancestors’ — early colonial Americans with documented lineage to royal lines.” Today, “these ancestors often have millions of living descendants who can claim royal descent. The odds are increased the longer a family has been in a country or region.”

And we’ll never be royals, it don’t run in our blood. That kind of lux just ain’t for us, we crave a different kind of buzz.

Lorde, 2013
Phillip 2, Duke of Savoy
(1438 -1497)

Last week I wrote about my Great Grandfather and some of his life as a pioneer in Colorado, US. And the family album has entries for ancestors stretching back to the settling of Connecticut in 1658.

There is very little written about my Father’s family (my Great Grandfather came over from Germany in the late 1880s). However, on my Mother’s side of the family there is a wealth of information to be gone through. Her ancestors were among the founding fathers of our nations, tracing lineage back to Thomas Ranney of Connecticut in 1658. All that has been documented in our family book, “The Ranney-Willis Family 1658-1967.” But it is the Ranney side of the family that seems to gone on forever into the distant past.

What if I looked on FamilySearch and, using their family tree software, scrolled back through ancestors who might lie outside of the materials available to our family’s researcher back in 1967? I wondered if I might indeed find some royal connection or titled ancestor, a coat of arms or a family crest waiting to be framed and hung on our walls.

Phillip II, Duke of Savoy was the first name to pop up in my search. Aha! Royalty indeed! Phillip was born February 5, 1438 and died November 7, 1497. Philip II apparently had 6 wives and possibly 34 children, though there seems to be considerable overlap in the dates and perhaps some were counted more than once.


Louis, Duke of Savoy (1413-1465)

Louis Duke of Savoy, was born February 24, 1413 . He died January 29, 1465 (reigned 1440-1465). What I found of particular interest was that, in 1452 he received the Shroud of Turin from Margaret de Charny, who had inherited it from her father, Geoffrey II de Charny.

Geoffrey had inherited it from his father, Geoffrey I de Charny of Lirey, France, who had received it as a dowry from his wife, Jeanne de Vergy of Besancon, France. The history of the shroud from the 15th century is well recorded. In 1578 the shroud was transferred to Turin and held by the House of Savoy until 1946, at the end of the Kingdom of Italy and bequeathed to the Holy See in 1983.

The Shroud of Turin, from Wikipedia.

The ancients seem to have been a prolific lot with many wives and children being recorded. Humbert II had 17 children. Thomas I had 16 children. Philip II apparently had 6 wives and possibly 34 children, though there seems to be considerable overlap in the dates and perhaps some were counted more than once. But with progeny running all over the castle, it’s easy to see how, generations later, it wouldn’t be hard to find a royal ancestor.

My search along the genealogy trail grows cold with Count Humbert I of Savoy, 980-1042. But really, who needs to go back over a thousand years tracing their ancestry if they aren’t, well, Royals?

Digging in the Past

Recently I came across an old, xeroxed copy of the genealogy on my Mother’s side of the family. It had been researched and written back in the early 1970s and detailed a family tree stretching back over 350 years, to an ancestor in Middleton, CT in 1658. The lives of the Willis and Ranney families seem to have been well-documented. I never met my mother’s father, Orlo Willis, he passed away in 1944 and there appears to be little to know about him. But of his relatives, there is a great deal to be known, much of which was put down in the family history.

I’ve been very taken with a written account my great grandfather (on my mother’s side) left to his son Sidney. Sidney was my grandfather’s younger brother and was living in Shanghai, China with his aunt and uncle at the time this letter was written in 1925.

The account of life in turn-of-the-century Colorado is what I find so fascinating in this collection of family memories. My great great grandfather, Willet Ranney Willis Jr. , after a business failure in his hometown of Brownsville, New York, packed up his wife and five children and took a train out to Colorado to join his brother. Below is a selection from a letter written by his son, Frank. Frank would have been 58 years old at the time.

From a letter written by Frank Grimes Willis to his son Sidney on April 12, 1925

  “When we left New York in November 1872, there were five of us little tots from six years down to six weeks. On the way out west we all came down with the whooping cough and we had a real time on that train. Each one had a bag of camphor around the neck and we took proper turns in coughing. 

While crossing the plains we saw herds of Buffalo and of Antelope and one of the herds of Buffalo I can see now in my mind as it stretched like a long dark winding string across the prairie, then when the train came close they started to run and some of the men shot some of them and the train was stopped to take them on. From Pueblo (Colorado) we made the trip in covered wagons to what was then known as Spanish Peaks, the name given to the Post Office in the Cucharas Valley at the foot of those grand peaks and about twelve miles from them. 

Father went into the sheep business and so we moved into the mountains in Summer where there was plenty of pasture and then in Winter moved back to the valleys where the snow fall was less and the weather milder.

The country was wild. Deer passed by very often and grouse were seen whenever we left the main trails, and often while following these trails. Bear were often seen and sometimes quite bold. The fear that these animals would catch the little boys out after the cows, usually on foot and through the dense timber, caused Mother many uneasy hours. 

The ranch when we moved onto it consisted of possibly twenty acres of plowed land, five acres of meadow part of which was so rough it had to be cut with a scythe, and the remainder of brush and hill sides. We first fenced the tillable land, when not busy with crops, and then cleared a lot of the brush land and plowed it, gradually coming to the building of barn, sheds and corrals.

I recall that Father bought two young colts and they grew to be good-sized horses and made a fine team, but as soon as they were well broken he sold them, feeling that he could not afford to lose them, and in those wild days horse stealing was as common as automobile stealing now. If caught the thief was much less leniently dealt with but with many miles of wild country and slow means of travel, and no telegraph or telephone, they were not often apprehended.”

Frank Grimes Willis, my mother’s grandfather, author of the letter to his son, Sidney.

It’s hard to even think of a time when buffalo roamed the country in great herds across the plains, or of a time when you had to take into consideration whether or not horse thieves would run off with your animals. I grew up watching “Gunsmoke,” “Ponderosa,” “Wagon Train” and a host of other TV westerns. Coming across this family history has put me square into the early days of our country and life in “the Wild West” in a way those shows never could. No wonder I still consider myself a part of the West!

Zucchini, Really?

Like many people, the quarantine, stay-at-home, shelter in doors orders we have been living under for these past many weeks have caused disruptions we had never expected. Our work schedules have been disrupted, whether you have been furloughed or have adjusted to working online. Our recreation, family time, or even shopping for necessities have changed dramatically. In our own lives, one of the things that has changed, hopefully for the better, has been our meals.

While I have always enjoyed cooking and trying new recipes, I’ve never been much of a meal planner. We’ve always had ready access to a local grocery and farmers markets. I would shop every two or three days and plan meals based on what looked good, what was on sale, or even what I had seen browsing a magazine while sitting in my dentist’s waiting room. But plan and shop for a week or two in advance? Never happen.

So the first time my wife came back from our local Giant grocery and reported what she had found—empty shelves, bread aisles picked clean, meat coolers cleaned out— well I was shocked. And worried. What if this lasted for more than two or three days? Like many of us, I found that it was too late to stock up the pantry and freezer. If you hadn’t already been putting away that extra pound of hamburger or loaf of bread, well good luck friend. But we lived thru snowmageddon and blizzards before, power outages and hurricanes. Surely after a week, all would return to normal. We are still waiting for that to happen.

Which brings me to zucchini. Last week I stopped at our local international foods grocery, Lotte. One of the things I love about shopping there is the amazing selection of fruits and vegetables. So wandering the aisles, trying to keep my face mask on and pick up veggies using a plastic bag so as not to touch anything else, I filled my cart. Like a man liberated from a low calorie diet, I just grabbed stuff. When I got home, I had baby bok choy, plantains, Thai eggplant, scallions, garlic. And zucchini. 

But no plan how to use any of these foods. No menus, no recipes, just plastic bags full of my winnings. 

The bok choy and scallions ended up in a Korean meal with bulgogi (thank you Suki). Plantains became Puerto Rican pastelon. And the eggplant ended up in a casserole. But a week later the zucchini still lay in the bottom of my crisper. So two of them went into zucchini bread. That was easy. But the rest? What to do, what to do.

When I can, I reach back to my Dad’s cooking for inspiration. Nothing fancy, meat and potatoes kind of cooking, but he always had zucchini in the garden. And he always prepared it the same way, fried up with onion and green peppers. Which I had. So that’s what we had, though I’ve added seasonings that my Dad had never seen (and truthfully would never have used). And I like garlic more than he did. And I don’t think he ever bought olive oil. But still the same, here’s Dad’s fried zucchini with onions and peppers. Dressed up with pimientos and seasoned with Sazon.

Bueno provecho! Thanks Dad.



More Coffee, Please

I’m not really sure when I first starting drinking coffee as a beverage choice and not milk, or soda, or even water. “I’ll have coffee, please, cream and sugar if you have it.”  It probably coincided with late night trips to Denny’s or some other local stop that served breakfast at all hours, after a night of partying with the boys. It could have been when I would pour a cup from Dad’s percolator after it had just finished, before it had a chance to turn dark and bitter from sitting on the counter on a Saturday morning. 

I do know I was an avid coffee drinker in high school and would sit up evenings with my sister-in-law’s Mom and friends, talking about life and what it was like to work in Reno’s casinos before Reno became—bigger. There were small cafe’s and coffee shops in town back then but this was long before Starbucks invented four dollar lattes and drizzled caramel on everything. Coffee came in a cup—one size only, though occasionally you could get it in a mug. 

One of my life goals has always been to work as a barrista. I don’t know why: I have a terrible memory and couldn’t possibly manage more than one order at a time. So it was with a pride verging on envy that I learned one of our family friends had started a coffee shop out in the Portland, Oregon area. Deb and I had an opportunity to visit soon after they opened and it was everything I could imagine a neighborhood coffee shop might offer. Comfortable seating, warm sunlight pouring in, an eclectic mix of furnishings and really nice staff, people who talked to you with more than a “got it” when you placed your order.

Insomnia Coffee Company, July 2007

Thirteen years later and Tyler, Evan and the crew now have five shops in the Hillsboro—Beaverton area. I’ve been to all of them, I make it a point to stop by at least one when we travel to Oregon, and I couldn’t be prouder of them. I’m partial to their shop in Cannon Beach but it could just be that the view makes the coffee taste even better. The times we are in now have been hard on everyone, especially small business owners. But knowing these guys and their commitment to the community, and coffee, I think they are going to come out of this even stronger. When they do, I’m ordering a coffee, make that a latte. A large one. 

I think Tyler was surprised to see us!

If you are in the Hillsboro area, stop by and support this local business. And you can always order their coffee online. http://insomniacoffee.co

Discovering Family Recipes

Lately I’ve been on a sort-of comfort food quest. I suppose it has a lot to do with all of us being quarantined, our typical schedules disrupted and travel restricted. Usually when I’ve got an urge to try something new for dinner, we just get on Yelp and see what’s near us, what looks good and go.

These are different times and I really do prefer to try and make it at home rather than ordering curbside pick up or delivery. With that thought in mind, I’ve been in search of recipes from my wife’s Puerto Rican heritage, either foods her Mother used to make, or dishes we have enjoyed on our visits to the Island. This week I tried my hand at another family favorite, Pastelon. It’s  essentially a layered dish similar to a lasagne, though made with plantains, accompanied by red beans and rice.

I’ve acquired several cookbooks of Puerto Rican cuisine thru the years, the one I turn to most often is Puerto Rican Cookery. But like many guys with only rudimentary kitchen skills, I prefer a cookbook with more pictures, and definitely fewer steps to success. So I’ve turned to the internet, especially YouTube videos for a little help in the kitchen. From making mofongo with shrimp, to pasteles and now pastelon, these often-home-made videos are just the thing for a guy with a short attention span.

Another quality I’ve appreciated about this online cooking resource: I like recipes that feature process over precision. Too many measured ingredients, finessed or tricky processes aren’t for me. “Salt to taste” or “cook for about 45 minutes” are my strengths.

So, for your consideration, my picture-book recipe guide to pastelon. With a few brief explanations as needed. Let me know how you like it in the comments below.

For the picadillo, simmer bell peppers and onions, then add ground meat (I prefer ground pork) and plenty of Adobe, sofrito, oregano for aromatics. This dish is all about the contrast between the sweet plantains and the savory meat layers. Red beans and rice are a great accompaniment. For this size of dish (9″x 9″ baking pan) I used four ripe plantains.

Slice the plantains and fry until golden, drain on paper towels, then start your first layer. An egg wash will help bind the ingredients. Similar to a lasagne, I layered grated mozzarella cheese over the meat layer.

A layer of plantain, egg wash, a layer of meat, and then a layer of cheese. Repeat for a second layer. I topped off with mozzarella and grated cheddar cheese to provide a little color. Bake at 350 degrees for about 45 minutes.

The final dish, served with the red beans and rice, is incredibly satisfying. It was more work than I had expected, which might explain why Yolanda only prepared it on special occasions. The aroma of sweet plantains and I’m longing for another visit to Puerto Rico. Enjoy!

If you enjoy YouTube cooking videos, here is the link to the one I watched. https://youtu.be/Ri-U8-95CG0

An excellent cookbook, I highly recommend Puerto Rican Cookery, by Carmen Aboy Valldejuli