Many thanks to a very hard working man, our friend Supernerd…
The link below will bring you to a series of daily meditations by the great Doctor of the Church, St. Alphonsus Liguori. They are meticulously arranged to coincide with Lent. Avail yourself. His wisdom is timeless and salutary.
https://www.religiousbookshelf.com/
You know Lent is almost here when Harvey busts out the sourdough.
OK, You actually know Lent is almost here when Harvey calls his sister and asks her how to make sourdough again.
Recall:
To wit, yours truly, recognizing the hour is upon us, made that call this afternoon. It went something like this:
“How do I make sourdough again? It wasn’t that hard, right?”
Then followed thirty minutes of hilarity.
You see, it turns out I still had the magic starter from last year tucked in my fridge in a mason jar. It further turns out that this stuff is good as gold as long as it’s been refrigerated. Imagine my joy at finding out I was halfway there as I was just getting started!
“So I should be able to just feed this and start making bread, right?”
And then she told me all about the joys of “discard recipes” as she was cross stitching Washington Crossing the Delaware. “It’s for the semiquincentennial,” she said and I asked no further questions. You did read the linked post from last year, right?
Back to that lovely word discard. It means something to be thrown away, rubbish, trash.
The astute reader and all trad wives and even some trad dads who just find the science behind all of this really, really cool will take note that in keeping a sourdough starter “alive”, one must discard some of it each day and “feed” the remaining starter with more flour and water. Typically, the discarded starter would go exactly where one would expect something that is discarded to go, that is, into the trash. She had long ago (last year) informed me that I should never pour starter down the drain because it would clog the pipes.
I guess now she feels I’ve graduated to a higher level of bread-making gnosis.
It turns out that the discarded starter can itself be used to make “easy recipes”.
Easy? We’ll see about that.
She continued instructing me over our FaceTime call while patching the crack in the original Liberty Bell. Not sure how she got them to loan it to her. Or how she fit a whole foundry in her dining room for that matter.
I learned all about confectioners sugar and how, with a tablespoon of water – “15 cc’s,” she said forgetting that she’s the RN, not me – I could create a glaze. I even used the Kitchenaid mixer for the first time!
Why, with just a few eggs, more flour, a hint of vanilla extract, and flour, I was well on my way to making this:
Not bad for something that was basically trash. Right?
It’s a cinnamon bread loaf and it’s very tasty.
I called her back to show her. She was meticulously painting 51 white stars on the ceiling of her entry hall. “Greenland,” she said. “It’s going to happen.”
And that, friends, is the story of how trash became treasure and also the portrait of a true trad wife and her little brother making bread across the miles.
In case you can’t tell, my springtime tulips are getting ready to bloom. Just in time for Ash Wednesday, a sign from God has sprung forth pointing to His love for sinful man.
I’m talking about my mom. LOL. I got to spend time with her this past week. When we were growing up, my Dad always traveled on Valentine’s Day or thereabouts. It was, in fact, the only time of year he traveled. He was, as I’ve mentioned a few times, an actuary. In fact, he was one of the best around. Mid-February always saw the yearly convention of the Society of Actuaries or the Enrolled Actuaries or one of the groups to which he belonged. It always took place in the nation’s capital so Dad would just drive down for it. He’d spend the requisite 2-3 days there and get home as fast as he could. When my next older sister went off to college and my youngest sister and I were the only two left at home, Dad decided that year to take Mom and the two of us with him. That was my first trip to DC. I was a homeschooled 9th grader. Lots of fun on that trip. But; all the years before and most of the after that one year were different for us. St. Valentine’s Day became a day where Mom and us youngest kids would go to Mass and then go out for the day. We’d have lunch at the diner, go shopping at the mall, and end up at our favorite Italian restaurant for dinner before going home to watch a movie. I am just realizing how Jersey that last sentence is. No worry, she made this day into a fun and memorable tradition for us. It was never a focus on romantic love but a a day in which we celebrated our family bond; and my wife and I have more or less done the same with our kids.
So when I saw Mom a few days ago, I presented her with a heart shaped box of chocolates just like when I was a kid. She got a kick out that. To honor her, here’s one of her favorite songs from when she was a younger lady. Enjoy!
“Grant , we beseech Thee, O Almighty God, that we who keep the birthday of blessed Valentine, Thy Martyr, may, by his intercession, be delivered from all the ills that threaten us. Per Dóminum Nostrum…”
That’s what it’s all about.
I laughed out loud reading this one.
Harvey Millican's Blog: Musings of a Trad Dad 