The Pilver

Five years ago:

I lived in a very urban apartment above shops and restaurants.  I was about to enter The Max into Kindergarten.  I was beginning college.  There were always two computers on and running and in use on my desk, yes two.  I was a server in a sassy and successful mom and pop restaurant downtown.  I blogged nearly every day.

Today:

I don’t live off the grid, but I see see the edge from here.  I work more hours cooking, baking, cleaning, child rearing, gardening, canning etc than I ever did while working a full time job outside of the home AND all those previously mentioned tasks combined.  I don’t work because I was “let go” (I’m still bitter about that) and I have not been able to find a job where I don’t have to use daycare. The Max is entering his final year of grade school this year, I’ve had college on hold for the past three years, and I have a sassy eight month old baby who claps on demand.  (It’s her newest trick).  I rarely blog.

I’m okay with all the changes to my life.  I chose them, except the last one. I hate not having time to blog, it truly bothers me.  I don’t even care if no one reads my dribble.

While I am not going to state that I promise to blog every day/week/what have you in the next year to make up for my lack of posts this past year, (though I love saying that even though I know it’s a lie from the get go) I will say I want to write more, badly.  And I really truly love you who read this and comment and email.  That always makes my day.

Whoo-hoo!  Five years!  My blog would be entering Kindergarten this fall…crazy.

Over the past few days we went on a backpacking trip, high in the Cascade Mountains.  We hiked, fished, and got really really dirty.  We did not have cell service.  As we were driving down the mountain to head home my phone dinged repeatedly letting me know I had come into service, and I began to read the messages.  “Is your house OK?”  “Should I be worried?”  “Is that fire right by you”  These were from friends and family members.  Not to make light of wildfires, but when one is mentioned near our town, and there are plenty of them, we get messages from people we know, checking to see how near to us they are.  I was reading down the list of messages and I noticed one was from my neighbor who was also out of town.  Crap.  If they were concerned, it must be close.

A web search of the fire proved it was on our road.  Our road is roughly eight miles long, so there’s no way to tell how close it was from that information alone.  We stopped by Frank’s house and he had it on his DVR from the news the previous night.  The footage confirmed our fears.  It seemed as close as it could be without actually being on our property.

As we drove home, we could see clouds of smoke.  Driving nearer we saw the helicopters flying water from the nearby river and dropping it over the mountain tops.  And as we drove onto our driveway, we saw the fire, across the road.

So, we spent last night not at the fireworks show in town but sitting on our lawn and observing the fire show in front of us.  This morning it appears that things are under control, though not fully out. Here are some photos from last night.

Me and Lucy looking at the smoke coming over the hill.

Helicopter carrying water to the flames.

As the sun went down, the firefighters made some sort of “line of fire” to contain the flames in effort to keep them from burning further down the coulee.

Four of the firefighters on the top of the hill.  I can only imagine their job is tough, but this hill they were on is crazy steep and watching them move up and down with shovels and torches was exhausting just to watch.

The fire grew larger as it became dark.

This was about the worst of what I saw.  This morning I can no longer see flames.  The bulk of the fire is behind this hill.  Last I heard the fire is 600 acres and 75% contained.  Outside it smells like perma-campfire and the smoke is thick.  But I think we’re safe and our house will remain standing.  Though Mr. Pilver says things can change quickly if an ember goes flying across the road or the wind picks up.  I’m not too worried, seems like the biggest threat is over.

On my recent post called, ‘Franks House’ someone asked if there was anything else I had to share about the fabulous place of vintage.  The answer is yes, Big Time. Frank had umpteen cook books and Frank does not really cook.  So I received most of the recipes.  Some were cut out of newspapers in 1971 and some, particularily what we are talking about today, are 24 volumes of cooking greatness called, “The Encyclopedia of Cooking”  These were printed in 1954, the era of the modern housewife.  The time when entertaining became an art of who could create the most bizairre, space age dish for their guests.  Take a look at 500 Delicious Salad Recipes:

If the cover photo doesn’t tempt you thoroughly, take a look at the spread they show on the center page:

That beauty in the bottom left corner, that’s a Tomato Gelatin Ring with Lima Bean Salad in the middle.  Hungry yet?  Listen to the ingredients of this Black Cherry Salad:

2 c. cherry juice

1 package cherry gelatin

2 c. drained black cherries

1 c. chpped blanched almonds

8 stuffed olives, chopped?!?!?!

I was hungry until the olives.  Mix all that together and top with mayonnaise.  For real.

I did not have the ingredients to make Black Chery Salad, but I did have what it takes to create Chicken Olive Loaf.

Chicken, chicken broth mixed with unflavored gelatin, sliced stuffed olives, celery, and sunflower seeds because I did not want to waste expensive almonds.  Mix together, pour into a loaf pan, and wait for the fun.

I took a bite.  I regretted taking a bite.  Chicken Jell-O is not okay.  But would my son eat it? Because I am a mean, mean mom I behaved as though this was dinner.  I set up my iPhone to take video of The Max eating the loaf.

Sorry Max, I sacrificed your taste buds for my blog.  Can they call CPS on me for that?

I cannot see a need for twitter, but I keep using it.  Shame on me.

There’s this guy I know, I was going to aim for polite and refer to him by another name, but you would have known I was lying from the first picture I want to show you:

This is Frank’s name tag from none other than the best morning game show of all time, The Price Is Right.  Only knowing that he has been to the show, you already know he’s a swell guy.  One of my favorite things about visiting Frank is knowing that the most recent episode of the game show will have been saved on DVR and we will watch it.  He also records Jeopardy, pausing the show after each question so we all can discuss what the correct response is before resuming the game to see that most of us were usually wrong.

I visit Frank enough that I have begun to feel comfortable rummaging through his cupboards while whipping up something to eat.  Frank’s pantry is a treasure of fantastic old stuff.  Sure, there’s edible fresh food as well, but that would make for a terrible blog post.  Let me show you some of the items that should have been tossed years ago, but which now will never be.  I won’t allow it.

Let’s start in the garage.  On Frank’s work bench there’s plenty of coffee cans with odds and ends stored.  Some cans are newer, some are Yuban cans appearing to be from the 1960’s.  How is this not rusted over?

This isn’t food stuff, but I wanted to show them anyhow.  I’m guessing these sandals would have fit a one or two year old boy in 1981.  They’re still sitting in the entryway of the basement entrance of the house.  I might end up stealing them for Lucy.

Now we’re getting to the good stuff.  Metal Band-Aid containers.   They haven’t made them in years.  Are there still band-aids in here?  You bet your paper cut finger there are.

Next to the back up cans of vegetables and coffee in the pantry is a vintage Scooby-Doo cup from the late 1970’s.

On the top shelf are aging cans and bottles, tons of them.  I’m only showing a small sample here. Mash beer?  A pop top can of Shasta Creme Soda.  And BEER Beer. I used to work at a grocery store that sold this stuff, and while I never had the privileged, I was always so curious to know what generic beer tasted like.

Speaking of beer, you don’t remember this one.  Oly Gold was the first Miller 64 plus six calories.  Both are terrible, only one is still made.  A review from beeradvocate.com, ” Sour, bitter, funky flavor that is dominated by corn and a**. I won’t even boil my brats in this swill.”  So this unopened can ought to stay unopened.

YAY!   Billy Beer! Brought to you by Jimmy Carter’s younger drunk brother.  Years ago (and it boggles my mind that it has in fact been years) Billy of Veggiemacabre.TV sent me a Billy Beer t-shirt with the instructions that I was to wear it while drinking beer and take a picture.  Somehow I never remembered to do that, until today.  Cheers!

There ya go, five years late.

Alright, one more thing to show.  Spices, from Safeway sitting next to the items Frank bought just this week like nothing is weird at all.  Clearly those labels and prices are ancient, but how old are they?

They expired over thirty years ago.  Who knows when they were actually made.  After pointing out the dated wares to Frank, I also requested he never throw them out.  Wood paneled tin cans, in reality, should be in every cupboard.

After snapping photos, I told Frank I was going to write up a blog about the old stuff.  He asked if I made it to the medicine cabinet, as there is some treasures in there as well.  Darnit!  I always thought those were off limits.  Maybe next time 😉

No posts in over a month and a half! By far a new record for The Pilver.  Mr Pilver continually asks when I will make a new post, meaning that at least one person is checking this dusty old site.

We’re approaching the fifth anniversary of this blog.  Behind raising The Max this is the longest I’ve stuck with anything.  I haven’t been around because Lucy Baby is moving around…fast.  Currently she is posed on her tummy in the middle of the living room floor.  She just spit up her mid-morning snack and has decided to enthusiastically smack her open palm on the pile of white goo.  Hopefully that will occupy her for a few minutes.

Springs are busy at The Pilver house.  In the past week I have bottled a batch of home brew, planted tomatoes, melons, and pumpkins, (most everything else was already in the ground), bought meat chicks and turkeys, butchered eight or so birds, and journeyed on a two night camping trip with some friends for the holiday weekend. And, we aquired our pig!

Lucy meeting Bacon.  Our rule is if we name the livestock, we must keep their titles realistic.

Today, my only goal beyond cleaning up the leftovers from last night’s dinner and beer bottling session is to begin my first sourdough starter.  I’ve been aspiring to prepare one for awhile, lord knows I go through yeast enough to warrant the activity.  So, come along with me and I mash together some flour, water and yeast.  This will surely be the highlight of your day.

I spent a small amount of time reading up on the subject of sourdough.  Just enough to realize I will probably do this wrong a few times before I get it right.  The recipe seems simple enough, however.

Two cups of flour + two cups of warm water + one packet (or 2 1/4 tsp.) active dry yeast and a pinch of sugar.  I did sanitize all the equipment with iodine prior to using.  Nothing I read stated this as a necessity, but much of the problems can begin with bacteria and I’m hoping to eliminate that possibility.

Stir, cover, and keep in a warm-ish spot for 4-8 days.

I chose my oven, with the light on.

Each day add 1/3 cup flour + 1/3 cup warm water.  Seems like it will amount to a huge pile of goo by the end.  After the 4-8 days, it can be stored in the refrigerator for up to two weeks. If stored longer it needs to be revived in a warm spot by ‘feeding’ the start with 1/3 cup flour + 1/3 cup water until it becomes sour again.

As I said, it sounds easy.  But reading through enough forums online it seems that many folks run into plenty of troubles and eventually resort to buying a starter from an online source. Others have great success and keep their starter going for dozens of years, even passing them down through generations.  Someday, maybe my children’s  children will still be baking in their space age ovens with Great-Grandma Pilver’s sourdough starter from the olden days of 2012.

I’ll post an update as soon as I figure out if I did this correctly 🙂

Oh, we’ve been busy in the Pilver house.  I haven’t been working out of the house, so I am doing my best to save money around the house.  This, of course, begins with gardening.  It’s the time of year to plant seeds and till the field.  I know the work does not end when the plants are in the ground, but I feel as though I am trying to get the kids to bed and I can breathe a sigh of relief when they are safe in the dirt.  Would you like to meet my new babies?

Here’s what we’ve got:  rosemary, peppers, tomatoes, straw flowers, leeks, daisies, broccoli, petunias, cabbage, and an avocado tree that is taking it’s sweet time sprouting.

There’s plenty more seeds that need sowing, this weekend is the beginning of putting things in the ground, beginning with potatoes and onions.  I’m really happy about the amount of food we are going to be able to get out of our back yard as opposed to the grocery store.  I’m beginning to enjoy this whole aspect of not living in a city and not even driving to town every day.  It did take a full two years to embrace it, but HOT DOG for the boonies!

One other thing that has been done to save moolah:  Washing clothes by hand.  This is not fully by choice, my washing machine is broke and so am I.  I did this before, when I lived in an apartment without a laundry room.  It’s really not hard, it just takes time.  However, I can see the benefit of having a washing board.  I’ve been looking for one, but it’s tough to find one that is not being sold as an antique but for actual use.

Finally, the kids, they’re still there and cute.  Lucy’s almost five months old and suffering from immobility frustration, she wants to crawl, walk, etc. but cannot figure out how to move where she wants to go.  Usually she ends up under the coffee table, bonking her head each time she tries to elevate her body into the crawl pose.

And then there’s Max, who is far too cool to pose for pictures any longer and then complains that I take too many photos of Lucy and not him.  Then, when no one is looking he steals the camera and takes pictures of his eye.

Happy Spring!   Happy April!  Happy Gardening Time!