My Heritage

I often wonder how I can have so few "traditions" that have been passed down from my family.  My daughter is sure that we make them up and revise our holidays to fit our immediate situation.  Very true!  There's never been a Christmas that I can honestly say has been carried over from year to year--not since marriage!  Before that, we both have Christmas' that are memorable because they were always the same.
But that's for the Christmas blog.
One thing I do from my past, which was a very "any" day event, is make "fadge". Not holiday related, this is a working man's bread in the Northern Irish tradition. My grandmother would make it as a treat for me, but usually because we were out of fresh bread.  (I never remember her baking bread. "Wonder Bread" was stocked weekly from the A and P.)  
Here's a little background of my grandmother's life in the 1950's:
She was a farmer's wife, lived rather isolated due to never driving, arrived in Buffalo as a teenager by way of a boat from Ireland with her mother, and married a man who had immigrated to the States a few years before her (at the turn of the 20th century or about 100 years ago). After many false starts at providing for his family, they eventually settled into farming in Western New York where her life revolved around feeding hungry men.
Enter me as an only grandchild, with a working mother, and my grandmother became my main caregiver. The best example of Irish heritage that I carry on today (see my daughter rolling her eyes...) is announcing, "Today I'm making "fadge"."
The word "fadge" must be a very local name for "Potato Farl" or potato bread, since I have never seen it in print, nor heard anyone else mention it.  I was, however, delighted to find it on my trip to Ireland a few years ago. I felt indicated and relieved that I hadn't made it all up in my childhood head.  It was served with every breakfast on that trip and found packaged ready-made in the grocery stores!  There was certainly an element of pride which I pointed out daily to my daughter. :-)
And here's the recipe:
Boiled potatoes, flour, and salt. Mix and fry.
And here's the process:

Boil potatoes. Do NOT use "Slap Ya Mama" (somehow, snuck into the picture... my grandmother is flapping her angel wings in disgust!)
Order from a catalog or pull out a ricer which gets used twice a year only for this event.

Press the boiled potatoes through the ricer.  Do NOT confuse this with "mashing" potatoes. (I apologize, but this is a rather "white" process which doesn't photograph well.)

The ingredients: Riced potatoes, salt, and flour. Notice: No measuring!

 Mix the three ingredients until they hold together as a dough.

This is half the dough, not really doughy, but it holds together enough to roll out and cut into pieces.  (Store bought are in neat squares, but I (per my grandma) make them in all sorts of shapes.)
I love this recipe-- no measuring, all free form, and I always tell everyone that it's perfect!)

Fry in hot butter and/or bacon grease, on a skillet or in a pan, until golden.

Turn, and since there isn't as much "grease" the other side will be drier and darker brown (even black, if you are knitting at the same time).

Some of them never make it to a plate... best enjoyed immediately.
The traditional plating would be with eggs and bacon, or as a side dish.  If you make lots, they can be frozen and popped in the toaster on demand.
Find someone with an Irish grandmother and share!
If anyone has a suggestion for a substitute "ricer", I'd like to hear about it. It seems to be the biggest deterrent to the process.  Pushing it through a sieve is real work!  Good luck!

Viking Breakfast!

Here's a breakfast fit for Norwegians!

I'm kidding:  This is a great midnight snack... Rugbrød and Limoncello.  The bread has a funny name in English but means Rye Bread.  (I  Norwegian breads.)
And then bake them up fresh in the morning, like this (with pumpkin seed topping):

Bergen Yarn and Patterns

I've restrained myself from visiting too many yarn shops in Norway.  I went 10 days without stepping into a yarn shop, and then... just downstairs, just another entrance to this building, just inside the door, there was a display for yarn, some new brand (QuilteHuset) with luscious "Angel lace", "Angel Light", and "Angel sock".  I might go back this week, but... I came away with "angel lace", 100 grams/1200 meters.  Yum!!

I am trying to make myself believe there is a problem with carrying yarn from Norway to Spain to Maine to NM.  I'll know by Friday if I need to send a box...

Then on down the street I felt compelled to walk through the train station and visit the Dale of Norway shop... I could go back there too.  I don't know how many times in the past year I thought I needed "Lerke" for a project.  Got some ideas:  Beads.  Haven't done beads... yet.  These were beautiful, unexpected Norwegian designs. (with beads)  [Click to enlarge.]

I couldn't stop "snapping" and wishing for cold weather!

Travel continued and continued and ....

It caught up to me on Wednesday!
Out in plenty of time, taking the underground to the train station, express train to the airport, short line at check in, however, the couple checking in at the same time became (almost) kin by 24 hours later!

Upon boarding the plane I discovered the same couple (one of them) sitting in my assigned seat.  We calmly pulled out boarding passes to find that, indeed, they were identical!  I really didn't think that could happen...however, two attendants pushing the print button at the same time (?) must have done something.  After everyone was seated I was given another seat, and it wasn't in first class.  Awwww.   An hour and a half later we de-planed.  Through the next several hours, we were updated, there was a part needed, the part hadn't been located yet, no foreseeable departure time.  I purchased 60 minutes of internet to use alarming my friends that I was being informed of nothing certain.  In the end we took off 7 hours late, took a night in Newark, and purchased a few items on vouchers:
My breakfast

The Baked! Lay's was an effort to appease the vendor who insisted I more to use up my $12 voucher.

I arrived more than 15 hours late in Rochester, with yarn friend, P, waiting.
Pros:  Knitting time

Accomplished in Newark Airport (above and below)

At the point of having to use a needle (which is packed in checked luggage), I started experimenting with a swatch!  Yes, really desperate knitting time after traveling for 30+ hours.

And how does nature make straight lines? (Over WNY)

Travel: It's over-rated!!

Just kidding... I have to say that MOST of my travels (aka airline travel) are seamless.  There's the occasional delay of an hour or less, however, it all caught up with me earlier this week.
Alicante:  Spain was fantastic!  No problem with car rental return and return trip was eventful only in that I had a sliver in my finger.  It started the day before, geocaching in a terrain that wasn't very geocacher-friendly.  I drove home from the cache area with my index finger in the air, tried to operate it out with needle and tweezers with no luck.  Just made it more angry, and sitting on the runway, waiting for take-off, finger throbbing, I gave it a squeeze and it popped out!  A sorry thing to blog about but very satisfying and worth the picture (sympathy please).

On the other end of the 3-1/2 hour flight, S was waiting!  With dinner and the beautifully set table on her patio, we were able to sit, relax, and catch up while outside!  That was a special day since not every day you can sit outside.

Her chef son possibly inspired our first course, or she inspired him!

 To the good life:  (the next morning it was raining, and air travel caught up to me)

Fingers

These fingers hardly fit on this keyboard, and are absolutely useless for piano/organ.
Time to trim!

They don't look like much in this picture, but to me, they feel like one inch claws...

Doesn't bother my knitting...

And a few weeks later:

To A One-Year Old

Dear Juju,
I always try to answer, but I don't always know what you are saying.  Poor Grandma, listens to your wonderfully complex sentences, and wonders what you are thinking after one-year of breathing air.

Grandma chases you at a snail's pace, as you scoot around the floor.  She changes smelly diapers for you, not because you ask, but out of our own comfort zone.  You discover something new everyday, with or without Grandma's help.   What a joy it is to discover 2 plastic cups that fit together, and doubly fantastic that they have lids!

Do you know about the word "no"?  You look at little piles of dirt, or the plants, or the computer cords, give us big people a questioning look, and shake your head.  How cute is that?  You seem to wait for the "no" word, and then choose to go elsewhere.

Grandma has renewed her interest in Norwegian "barnesanger", teaching clapping, and hoping for a sound from you that is similar to singing or saying a word she can recognize.

Your big smile with four teeth, your fine blonde hair, your peek around objects or corners to make eye contact, your own coded language that you use everyday (sometimes we give in and join you with the babbling), and the swaying to music, make this one year a bright one for me.

Let's go for a walk... stroller or back carrier?  Beach or pavement?

Love,
Grandma