The Crab Chronicles

In Praise of Broccoli

I was always a broccoli hater, all my life. The smell of it cooking would cause me to shriek and yowl and turn into a teetotal beeyotch, from the beginning of my life. For many years, my mother wouldn't make it, actually. She would eat it at other people's houses, or make a broccoli salad, which required no cooking. 

I used to say, how can anyone eat those TINY LITTLE TREES?!? ACK!

In the dictionary next to PICKY EATER there was a photo of me.

I was famous for hating vegetables.

I grew up and realized,eventually, that if I were going to not be hugely fat I would have to make peace with vegetables. 

It has been a long journey, though.

I once went to the home of an attorney I worked for and witnessed her taking steamed broccoli florets, covering them with butter (out of the squeeze container), and handing them to her small children, who happily munched the broccoli as they went tottering around the house.

My mother would never have handed my vegetables like that. We ate at the table, napkins in laps, elbows OFF THE TABLE (as my dad used to holler), glass of milk in front of each child. We didn't run around holding broccoli in our grubby little fists, chomping down on butter-covered trees. 

However, I must confess something: I now admire that attorney for making the eating of broccoli fun. 

My mother was raised by a Home Economics major who was diligent about making her children adopt what she considered healthful eating habits. My grandparents were very cognizant of eating properly and they imparted that to their three children. Fruits and vegetables were on the table at every meal.

However, I was grown when Mom told me that during World War II, when the family lived on a farm in South Carolina, Papaw would go home for lunch every day and often pick a head of broccoli right out of the ground and hand it to Mamaw to fix while he washed up. She would pop it into the pressure cooker and cook it until it was MUSH. Mom and her brothers loved broccoli mush. 

Mom never made us mush like that. 

Of course, Mom hated pressure cookers. She got one when I was small and tried to use it, and there was an explosion. Mom and Dad spent a good deal of time cleaning green beans off the ceiling. No more pressure cooking..

And I would complain loudly if she boiled broccoli on the stove. [I cut my nose off to spite my face, y'all..]

I now have an Instant Pot. It has made the cooking of broccoli easier and more fun. I pop in the broccoli, pour some water in the pot and hit ON and in 4 minutes I have wonderful, tender broccoli. I douse it with butter, salt, and pepper, and happily eat it. 

Not drenched with cheese. Not disguised with a lot of other stuff. I used to try it covered in cheese and get annoyed by finding green stuff in the cheese.. LOL

Cook the broccoli until tender. Add REAL butter, salt, pepper, maybe some garlic. 

YUM. 

If you don't like broccoli, try it like that. It will change your life.

Post Surgery Report

Not a fun day yesterday, but the surgery went well and Michael is on the road to recovery. 

I wanted to have the surgery done in the Tucker office but they could get it done quicker if we agreed to drive to Dunwoody, which is not far away. We got to the Dunwoody office of the oral surgeon after a harrowing 10 minutes on I-285 -- I used to drive it every day but nowadays I rarely get on 285 and so I was unaccustomed to it. I crept along in the right lane like an old lady but hey, we arrived ALIVE. [For those not from Atlanta, 285 encircles the city and has about 8-10 lanes, and is known locally as the perimeter, or as I think of it, the Indy 500...]

Before the surgery, Michael urged me to take video of him afterwards, when he was still acting loopy. I did, but it's not all that funny. He kept asking for his teeth -- "I want to see my teeth!" he said, but he had so much gauze in his mouth it was very garbled. 

When we got in the car I finally got him to explain. He wanted to be given the teeth they had pulled out of his mouth. I explained that the teeth had probably been thrown out. He was ticked off, at one point threatening to jump out of the car. Thanks God we got home in 13 minutes..

I didn't adopt Michael until he was 10, and by then he had lost all his baby teeth. So he will never have the weird experience I had years ago, as a college student home on break. I opened my mother's jewelry box and found a tiny box containing all my baby teeth. Really weird, seeing those teeth in the box. Some might have been Bruce's teeth. Not sure. Anyway, I persuaded Mom to throw them out..

I digressed.

I was amazed that I only had to sit in the waiting room about an hour, and in that time they extracted 4 impacted teeth. I read two People Magazines and played about 20 Words with Friends games on my phone while waiting..

Michael slept most of the day yesterday, and this morning had quite a lot to say, complaining about how much it hurt to eat. I got him to drink a glass of milk and then he returned to bed.

I did something I rarely do, bought tons of ice cream and pudding and Stouffer's Fettucine Alfredo, so he can slurp up soft non-chewy foods..

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Y'all, please buy a Comfort Farms tee shirt or just contribute (any amount) towards funding the documentary I am making about Comfort Farms. We need your support. FUNDING PAGE 

Pulling Teeth

Well, life can take mysterious turns sometimes. I thought things were  moving pretty well in my life, and then got hit with the news that my son Michael, who is 21, has to have 4 impacted wisdom teeth removed. 

It started about a week ago. He complained of pain when he drank something cold. His teeth have always been temp sensitive so I didn't give it much thought. By Friday, the pain had increased dramatically, though, to the point where I called the dentist, frantic to get him seen. They saw him Monday morning. When we saw the oral surgeon yesterday, we had to get prescription pain medication. He is still miserable. Can barely open his mouth to eat, and can't really chew. 

Once the wisdom teeth come out, I think we will have to head back to the dentist to get an older cavity replaced, which has some infection beneath it. 

Fun.  

We will head to the grocery store later today to stock up on soft foods.

However, it could always be worse. I spoke last night to a good friend whose dad passed away last weekend. He was 94, and it wasn't a surprise, but she was very close to her parents and she is understandably upset. I never knew until I saw the obituary that he went to Richmond Academy about the same time as my uncle, and he was a highly decorated World War II veteran who fought in Patton's Third Army. I should have introduced him to my dad years ago -- my dad loved all military history but especially World War II. We are losing more of the "greatest generation" every day. 

Spring is busting out all over, as they say, and my old apple tree in the back yard is heavy with blooms. My fig trees have buds on them. The azaleas are blooming. The high today is only going to be 50, so we are still in for some chilly weather. I hope all the blooms don't die.

took this a few days ago -- lots more blooms on there now!

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My fundraiser to make the documentary film about Comfort Farms is still going. PLEASE take a look and like the page, and share it with as many people as possible, in an email, or a Facebook post. We are only 12% funded. Thanks! 

Spotlight on Comfort Farms

It's been a while since I posted on here, but I was waiting so I could share some exciting news. Lots going on in my world, most of it good!

As I wrote about back in January, I am passionately involved in helping my friends over at Comfort Farm to get the word out about the wonderful work they do with veterans and the wonderful organic produce and heritage meats they grow. 

A wonderful online magazine, The Cook's Cook, just posted my article Veterans Find Strength and Healing at Comfort Farms. Of all the articles I have ever written, for online or print publications, I am most proud of this one, for several reasons. One, I wholeheartedly believe in Jon Jackson and the incredible work he does at Comfort Farms. Two, I spent a lot of time trying to craft a really impactful article, and discuss not just the veteran aspect but the aspects of organic, sustainable produce, community involvement with the farm, and the importance of knowing where your meat comes from and how it is raised. Three, the editor told me the article needed no editing. (Perhaps only another writer would understand how rare that is!)

I was also delighted to see that my neighbor and friend Carlisle Kellam wrote a terrific piece about visiting Comfort Farms and taking the wonderful photos for the article. Check out Making a Connection at Comfort Farms. Carlisle has many talents, including being a terrific writer, as well as photographer and filmmaker.

Carlisle and I often see each other out walking around in the neighborhood -- him walking his little boys and me walking my dog Lola -- and when I got involved with Comfort Farms I wanted to get him involved, too. We spitballed the idea of making a documentary about Jon's journey to start and grow Comfort Farms itself, which is a remarkable story of faith and perseverance.

After discussing it a bit we decided to go for it. Carlisle has experience making documentaries, and that's critical. I have experience writing films (from years ago, although I was never great at it) but more importantly I could contribute by producing the film. My role is in the background, raising money and finding place to show the film. 

So here's the exciting part. YOU can be a part of the documentary! Click on THIS PAGE and read about the documentary and you can buy a cool tee shirt or sweatshirt or mug with the Comfort Farms logo, or you can simply contribute towards helping us pay for the documentary. 

Carlisle is donating his time, and so am I, but to do it right he will need to hire and pay a crew, and then there are fees to enter it into film festivals all over the country. 

The aim of making it, of course, is to bring attention to Comfort Farms and hopefully encourage folks to donate, plus encourage them to buy foods from Comfort Farms. Jon has a lot of great plans for Comfort Farms. 

If money is tight but you still want to be a part of things, check out the Comfort Farms Documentary Facebook page, or the Comfort Farm community page.

I hope to be able to post soon that we raised all the money for the film and are shooting footage!

Finally, I wanted to let everyone know that Comfort Farms is hosting a very cool event in a few weeks, a Boucherie. Here's more about it, from Jon:

On April the 14th and 15th we are holding our First annual Le Pied Du Mont Boucherie Festival. It's a an educational Fundraiser to bring the community together to see the talent of our Veterans, Farmers, Butchers and Chefs work together to educate the public on the importance of supporting local. The $150 ticket covers two people and will give you a share in all of the livestock, farm produce, wine and craft beer tasting along with the low Country boil and Boucherie. It works out to approximately $35 a day for each person to attend. If you ever wanted to experience the ins and out of farm life and the see first hand the hard work of what our veterans, chefs, farmers and butchers do everyday... This is the event for you. From making sausage, porchetta, fresh crackling and roasted lamb over an open fire pit paired with seasonal veggies from the Dirt Farmers and wine from our region... You will be immersed in to an atmosphere of education that taps into all of your senses. Primitive camping is allowed. This is a zero waste event designed to utilize everything the event has to offer to include using biodegradable plates and sporks that can be turned into work food. Purchase your tickets today and we look forward to seeing you at our 2018 Le Pied Du Mont Boucherie Festival!

 

Fort Buffington

I had never heard of Fort Buffington until late 2016 when I encountered a local man named Larry Vogt, who although not a native Georgian has made it his mission to locate the remains of the fort, which is not far from his home north of Atlanta. The fort was used to detain Cherokee who didn't want to leave their homes and move to Oklahoma in 1838-39. It was the start of the Trail of Tears. 

The Spring issue of Georgia Backroads magazine has an article I wrote about Larry's quest, which is fascinating and heartbreaking. Unfortunately, you can't find the magazine online. It's only in paper copies, and in stores in Georgia, I believe. Georgians can usually find it at Kroger, CVS, and Barnes & Noble. Possibly Books A Million. 

If you want to see a list of the stories in that issue, and order a copy instead of hunting in the store, look here. 

Larry has had some help in his quest by being interviewed by his local online news publication. He has also written a book about Fort Buffington. As he reports on his blog, he has been working with the Department of Transportation to locate the remains of the fort before a new highway project possibly obscures it.

We have had some lively and fascinating conversations about the fact that my ancestors, the McConnells, were some of the militia that detained the Cherokee. Another branch of my family, the Hasty branch, includes at least two women we are pretty sure were part Cherokee. So ironically, I have genes from both the oppressors and the oppressed. [Larry posted a photo of one of the homes of my ancestors on this blog in 2015. Fascinating to see it, but also sad, because it was torn down. See it below.]

I would hope one day that if Fort Buffington could be located, the actual site -- and Larry thinks he may have located it -- that perhaps some sort of museum could be built to honor the Cherokee who suffered so much at that place. 

below, the McConnell house that is now no more

The Shy Neighbors

I am very blessed to live in a nice, quiet, middle class suburban area of Atlanta, just ITP [inside the perimeter]. I have lived here since 2005, when Mom sold her house in Augusta and I moved out of my condo in Tucker, and we set up housekeeping together. I wasn't sure how it would be, living with mama once again, after 20+ years on my own, but it has been a terrific arrangement for us all, including my kids.

I love my neighborhood and we are blessed to have wonderful neighbors. I know everyone on my cul de sac by face and name. 

However, there is one neighbor I rarely ever see or speak with, although we have never had a cross word. Now, I am in a quandary because I was rude to said neighbor without realizing it. 

This neighbor is someone I have had a personal conversation with exactly twice since 2005. She never ventures outside, not to the front yard anyway. 

I walk Lola every day, usually twice a day or more. I notice things. Whose daffodils are coming up early. Whose cat likes to tease Lola. Whose mailbox flops open all the time, looking like a woman with her top down. I don't check my phone or listen to music while I walk. I try to just enjoy the beauty of the neighborhood, and be alert for other dogs because when Lola sees another dog she goes nutso and it takes all my strength to hold her.

This shy neighbor has a repair that needs to be made on the front of her house. I noticed the issue and thought, I bet they won't know this because they always go in the back door. They rarely go in the front yard. I need to call them and just make sure they know there's an issue. 

A while back, I compiled a list of all the immediate neighbors, cell numbers and emails. So I whipped out my handy dandy list and called the cell number of Mrs. Shy Neighbor. She didn't answer her phone. Her voicemail was full. I struck out there. 

I next tried her husband, Mr. Shy Neighbor -- a man so shy that I once saw him in Publix, threw up my hand and hollered HEY NEIGHBOR! He was in the produce department. He looked at me in absolute horror, like I was with the KGB and was going to arrest him for illegal broccoli smuggling or something.

So when I got Mr. Shy Neighbor on the phone yesterday he sounded surprised to hear from me. I told him about the repair that needed to be made to the front of his house and he said "We had noticed it but we didn't know what to do about it." He explained they are still getting estimates on the repair.

I gave him the name and phone number of the handyman I use, who also lives in the neighborhood. 

So that was that, or so I thought. 

Every night after dinner I sit and relax and watch TV and play Words With Friends on my phone, and sometimes do little painting projects. I was just finishing my dinner last night when I got a call. I looked at the screen and thought, it's one of those horrible calls from idiots trying to sell me something. They always call from a local number. Unlike many people, I like to answer my phone but I HATE those calls! So I decided to be clever about answering it. 

I answered the phone and said Yes?! Who is this? in Russian. There was a pause. 

A woman's voice barked I GOT A CALL FROM THIS NUMBER WHO IS THIS?!

I thought Wow, way to sound rude. My Russian is very limited. So I just I answered, "I didn't try to call you lady!" and hung up. I didn't want to get into an argument with a rude, deranged person. 

Then I thought about it, and realized it might have been Mrs. Shy Neighbor. 

Oh CRAP.

So do I call her back and acknowledge it was me and apologize, or not? What if I am wrong and it wasn't her?

I talked to Mom and told her the situation. She said just let it go. 

I have let it go. I think. 

Remind me never to speak Russian around Mrs. Shy Neighbor. She might think I am a spy, looking to do some broccoli smuggling...

ADDENDUM

My "shy neighbor" came to see me this afternoon and we had a nice chat. She had seen this blog but she was incredibly gracious about it. She said she did NOT call me -- I was relieved to hear that. She has always been polite and kind and I was so startled when I thought it might have been her. I am so glad to be mistaken. I am still left with the mystery of who it was that called me, though. Interesting...