Eagle Mills flour is a nice compromise (for me) between standard flour and one like King Arthur, which is really nice, but really pricey. Unbleached is the important factor, and Eagle Mills offers that.

Well, I’m the Crawlin’ King Snake / And I rule my den / I’m the Crawlin’ King Snake / And I rule my den…

I was humming it to myself Sunday night while baked my first-ever homemade King Cake. I knew Mardi Gras wasn’t until Tuesday, but I’m far more likely to bake on a weekend than a work night. Here’s my experience:

The project started with a trip to the grocery store to buy ingredients. There’s nothing fancy in the King Cake recipe I used, but I didn’t have everything I needed, like flour. (I used up the last of my flour in my attempts to get a decent loaf of Salt-Rising Bread. Success has remained elusive!)

I combined butter, sour cream, sugar, and salt and stirred over medium heat until butter melted, then set it aside (in the top rack of my dishwasher, which acts as an auxilliary countertop at times) to cool sightly.

Rich ingredients, worthy of a King Cake!

Yeast was next: very warm water + yeast + sugar makes the yeast get bubbly, like these pictures:

This is what happy yeast looks like!

Oops! This yeast got a little too happy!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then I combined happy yeast, eggs, and butter mixture in large bowl (I used my stand mixer) and continued following directions* until dough was smooth and elastic. I put it in a warm oven and allowed it to rise until doubled.

My dough runneth over!

More apologies–in all the dough-rising excitement, I forgot to take pictures of the rolling-into-a-rectangle-and-brushing-with-butter-and-cinnamon-and-sugar stage of the process.  After rolling & brushing, you coil the dough up from the long side (like a jelly roll) and shape it into a circle. It rises again, you bake it, and then drench it with a confectioner sugar icing.

Buttered, brushed, and tucked into itself

King Cake, fresh-baked…

Last, but not least, I was inspired by Short Street Cakes to decorate my King Cake with Mardi Gras beads (purple, green, and gold) rather than the usual colored icing/colored sugar, which is not that attractive (to me) and causes one to develop a dark and sinister “candy-tongue” if you eat much of it (purple, green, and gold = muckledun).

Iced & beaded!

Ready for a close-up…

 And then I took it to work…

And we laissez les bon temps rouler!

All over but the shoutin' and a tangle of sugar-coated beads...

*Special thanks to Southern Living  and allrecipes.com for sharing this easy and delicious King Cake recipe!

“With the prophesied arrival of three children on Devil’s Mountain a gentle elderly woman, whom the villagers call a witch, unravels the old mystery of a local mine disaster.”

How could anyone resist such a jacket-blurb? And the totally cool illustrations that captured the stories-within-a-story world that author Mary Jo Stephens created–wow!

I think my oldest sister clued me in to the utter wonder of this book, and I used to check it out of our public library (the West Asheville branch on Haywood Road) several times a year. In fact, I got so worried that some other (careless/insensitive) child would check it out and lose it that I finally talked my mother into letting me keep it. (Yes, such was my mania for this book that I compelled my mother to fib to the library for me!)

We said it was lost, paid the library for it, and it’s had a place of honor on my bookshelf ever since.* I occasionally loan it to those who I think will sincerely enjoy it, but I watch the lender like a hawk until the book is safely home again with me.

I don’t know much about the author, and she apparently wrote only one other book (Zoe’s Zodiac), which I never read, for some reason. Hmm…maybe that’s an idea for my reading list?

*I still feel some major guilt about the library lie we told, but it was impossible to get books way back when, with no Amazon.com at your fingertips or Barnes & Noble on every corner. If a book got away from you in those days, you might never see it again…and I just wouldn’t risk it!

We never owned a sweet, traditional copy of Mother Goose Nursery Rhymes; we had the version illustrated by Charles Addams. Far more sinister, and a whole lot more interesting!

‘Solomon Grundy’ takes on a whole different perspective when glimpsed through Mr. Addams’ macabre vision:

Along with the weather, another of Mr. Addams’ Mother Goose illustrations inspired my July 2008 blog post:

I could go on and on–and I’d like to–but what I really want to say is this: Happy Birthday, Mr. Addams! May your work continue to send shivers up our spines for the next hundred years!*

*For more information on Charles Addams, visit the Charles & Tee Addams Foundation.

Last weekend, I had a chance to join Eat Write Retreat in their first EWR: Destination Learning series, which incorporated “skill-building and networking into a fascinating exploration of a unique, food-focused community.” The destination just happened to be Asheville, and the company for which I work just happened to be one of the event sponsors, so I got to hang out with some very interesting folks who make a living through writing and blogging about food.

Fantastic foodies Robyn Webb and Casey Benedict developed the program “as a way to strengthen connections in the food blogging community through a shared exploration of cooking, writing and photography. Robyn and Casey have worked tirelessly to create an intensive, hands-on learning weekend, full of opportunity, friendship and fun at a great value.” (That’s how the EWR website describes it, and I’d definitely agree!)

As as overview, we accomplished the following in our short Asheville weekend:

1. Friday: wine tasting and dinner at Biltmore.
2. Saturday: breakfast at Early Girl Eatery; tour of Hickory Nut Gap Farm (and their very cool farmhouse, with its long history!); a beer-tasting lunch at The Market Place Restaurant with special guest Oscar Wong of Highland Brewing Company; a chocolate-tasting and lesson in cacao production from French Broad Chocolates; a wine and local cheese tasting with Sante Wine Bar; and last–but far from least–dinner at Carmel’s with wines by Shelton Vineyards and desserts courtesy of True Confections.
3. Sunday: a light breakfast at True Confections; a tour of Blue Ridge Food Ventures (including a meeting with a filmmaker who’s working with local farms); and finally, a tapas lunch at Cúrate.

I believe a truly good time was had by all, even if we were dragging a bit by the end of the weekend. Though some menus were small/tasting-style, it was a LOT of food (and drink!) to consume in less than 48 hours.

Next time, I’ll dig deeper–with my fork–into the specifics of each element of the retreat. Be sure to read when you’re hungry!

This free-range, organic turkey feather, caught in the grass at Hickory Nut Gap Farm, caused images of Forrest Gump and Thanksgiving to dance through my head.

So feathery and insubstantial, and yet so perfectly designed for its purpose that neither concrete nor steel could render it any more effective.

Kinda gives me quills…er, chills, that is, up my spine.

1.  Vampires, ghouls, werewolves, witches, demented serial killers, most zombies–and even creepy aliens and Killer Klowns–tend to work a night shift from 5:00 p.m. – 5:00 a.m. If you can’t complete your investigation and subsequent disposal (vampire-staking, incendiary device detonation, etc.) by 5:00 p.m., give it up until the following day. In a horror move, overtime = certain death.

2. Keep your clothes on! Changing into filmy nightgowns or pajamas or stripping down to lingerie generally = death. Think about it: if you have a job to do–like counteracting a mummy’s curse or outrunning a chainsaw killer–you’ll be better equipped to perform your duties if you’re wearing jeans, sweatshirt, and running shoes rather than trying to bring your A-game in nothing but panties, your (doomed) boyfriend’s flannel shirt, and bare feet.

3. Stick together. The killer can’t arrange a grisly decapitation of the entire group at the same time–he’d be lucky to merely scalp somebody and odds are in your favor that it won’t be you. The Buddy System doesn’t work if you don’t watch out for your buddy!

4.   If the house/cave/carnival looks deserted and scary, don’t go in. There’s nothing in there that can’t wait until daylight (see Survival Tip #1), and you’re trespassing, so stay out. If your semi-naked girlfriend/boyfriend went in to look around, they’re already doomed, so let it go. Somebody else will undoubtedly ignore Survival Tip #2 and take their clothes off before long, so you won’t miss much.

5.  As soon as the first member of your party ignores Survival Tip #4 (and you know they will), get a flashlight and a cell phone before you follow them. Why not be prepared to see where you’re going, see the masked madman before he swings the axe at you, and be able to call for help? It makes your odds of survival so much higher!

6.  When you first notice something weird in the new old house you and your family just moved into, don’t pretend you didn’t see it–turn the lights on and investigate that boarded-up well in the basement. Did the sellers or the realtor disclose the possibility of demonic possession? Did they leave the name and number of a local exorcist on the refrigerator? Take your family to a hotel and call the Better Busines Bureau in the morning–you may be able to get your money back as well as surviving the night!

7.  Zombies have gotten completely out of hand–but they’re still pretty slow. If you encounter a traditional voodoo zombie, salt is your weapon of choice. For the new flesh-eating-goo-oozing type zombies that seem to result from meteors passing close to the earth or outbreaks of a mysterious zombie-virus, your best bet is to run for it, preferably having not neglected Survival Tip #2.

Former San Diego Charger O. William Faison as a tradtional zombie in "Kolchak: The Night Stalker"

8.  When attacked by mutant spiders or an atomic nutria, try to stay calm and keep moving. You can mow down a lot of wildlife with a good-sized SUV–provided, of course, that you’re a responsible vehicle owner who keeps enough air in your tires and gas in your tank to outrun a devil dog or giant alligator. Once again, planning is key: don’t defer vehicle maintenance, just in case you have to take Mothra right in the windshield!

9.  Pale, ghostly hitchhiker by the side of the road? Pass them by–they’re nothing but trouble. They’ll either sink their fangs in your neck from the backseat and make you drive off the road into a swamp (and the suggested vehicle readiness in Survival Tip #8 won’t help), or they’ll make you drive them to a creepy old house, then vanish, making you very vulnerable to ignoring Survival Tip #4 and #5. Just say NO to hitchhikers!

10.  Last–but certainly not least–exercise a little bit of common sense in each situation. Think about your options–nobody is going to care if you skip the funhouse or the fortune-teller; go ride the Tilt-A-Whirl instead. Stay where the lights and the people are, even if your uber-hot date is urging you to fling off your clothes and follow him or her into the mist. Remember: if they really loved you, they wouldn’t want you to have your heart ripped out of your chest and offered as an initiation sacrifice.

Good luck out there, and stay safe…if you dare!

All aboard!

Hoist the colors, me hearties; there be pumpkins here!

Davey Jones & crew of the Flying Dutchman

Arrrrr! Why is the rum always gone?

We sometimes hold an inter-office pumpkin decorating contest, and my entry took 1st place last time–arrrrr!

On one of the hottest afternoons of summer earlier this year–the kind of day when even the air conditioning starts to feel tired and discouraged–I stopped at a red light to wait my turn to go left across a crowded intersection. The straight-through lanes were still zipping along, so I knew I’d be there a while. Glancing around, I saw what looked like–just for a moment–some type of hulking, kudzu-covered thing ready to wrap its gnarled, leafy arms around me and…

The hideous, verdant shape lifted its leafy arms toward me, and then--

Quick-as-the-proverbial-flash (which I didn’t need, as it was still strong daylight), I whipped out my trusty Blackberry and snapped a pic of this virulent, violent vegetation as it advanced on me, trapped in the turn lane. It stopped in its muffled, root-bound tracks and looked a bit surprised, as if it wasn’t used to having its picture taken in mid-snarl.

Just then, the light turned green and the long line of cars in which I was stuck started moving through the intersection. I glanced back in the rearview mirror and I’m not sure, but I think the kudzu shape was waving at me, just a little.

Or maybe it was just a hint of a breeze, rustling through the secret spaces between those overly-lush tangles of leaves. Maybe…

P.S. Thank you, Karl Edward Wagner, for rendering kudzu even more creepy with the visceral thrills of your short story Where The Summer Ends.

As I stood on the sidewalk, admiring this mannequin in motion, a lot of things went through my mind in a short span of time, including:

1) The classic children’s rhyme: I see your hiney / bright and shiney / it makes me giggle / to see it wiggle!

2) Billy Idol’s Dancing With Myself

3) The Greek myth about Laocoön and his sons.* (Honestly, if you haven’t already figured out that I’m a word-nerd, a wordsmith, a trivialist, AND geeky about Greek mythology, among the many other things I’m geeky about, well…this would be time to let it sink in!)

I felt a little sorry for this mannequin in motion–it had so much life, somehow, to be a headless, handless, plastic shape standing knee-deep in junk and trashbags–but it was still a bit cheeky (pun intended!) as it stood there, mooning the deserted street.

Rock on, mannequin, to the music only you can hear!

*The mannequin was Laocoön-like because the bands of shadow across it looked like snakes, as in this version that lives in the Vatican:

Roman author Pliny the Elder attributed statue to three sculptors from Rhodes: Agesander, Athenodoros and Polydorus. (Portrays Trojan priest Laocoön and his sons Antiphantes and Thymbraeus being strangled by sea serpents.)

And then, of course, there’s the music–it’s a jazz town, but these are the two songs I associate with KC:

1) Wilbert Harrison’s Going To Kansas City

and

2)  Everything’s Up To Date In Kansas City (from the musical Oklahoma!)

More on this topic when I return from KC…