Spring break begins

Unlike T. S. Eliot, March is the cruelest month for me, not April. March is a grading frenzy building to a crescendo in the week before spring break with 66 exams and the second part of 42 lab papers. (Because we have started observing Martin Luther King Day, Monday’s lab is a week behind; I will have those papers coming in as soon as we resume classes.) I finished the second batch of lab papers Friday morning. By Saturday, I was willing to consider the possibility that everyone in my life was not solely motivated by a desire to piss me off. I suspect I’ve been a bit cranky.

It’s been a dreary few days here. The rain and fog in combination with warmer temperatures have turned the grass green. It is a welcome sight.

Green grass 

Hilda found a surprise in the Little Red Hen Barn Saturday morning. One of the silver crested hens laid a tiny egg! So who was right? They weren’t laying because of the bullying. There was another full-sized egg this morning.

A tiny white egg in the Little Red Hen Retirement Home on Saturday morning

I waited too long to make Grand Plans for spring break. By the time the semester was in full spring, I could think only of surviving. Consequently, the only plans I had for spring break a week ago was taking Terry for a colonoscopy and having my mammogram. Some fun now!

I have been finding some things to do now that the pressure is off. It rained off and on all day Saturday. I took the day to relax, even going so far as having a nap in the afternoon. I remembered why I don’t nap when I woke up listless and headachy. I rallied, however, and Terry and I went to Art and Alma’s Century Inn in Burlington to celebrate Terry’s birthday (which was last Monday). 

Art and Alma's Century Inn in Burlington

It was our first time. Kate’s boyfriend, Pat, manages the restaurant for his father. They don’t take reservations on the weekend, so we got there early, just before 5:00. We were just in the nick of time, as it turned out. I thought maybe since it was so wet and gloomy, everyone would stay home. On the contrary, everyone came early to beat the rush. We were seated immediately at a wobbly table for two. By the time I had my coat off, the line was to the door.

The vibe of Art and Alma’s was very Wisconsin Supper Clubby. The first part of the building opened as a tavern in 1908. The wooden bar extends almost from one end to the other. A wall separates the bar area from a narrow dining area. Two more small dining rooms extend toward the back. The walls wer decorated with dead animals and photos of historic Burlington.

We ordered glasses of wine, and the server brought some freshly baked soft bread with melted butter brushed liberally on the top. All the entrees included a trip to the salad bar. The table was set with ice-cold plates. We had to wait behind four extremely poky people to get to said salad bar, but it was worth it. There was the traditional iceberg lettuce, of course, and a bowl of baby spinach along with the usual salad toppings—chopped hard-boiled egg, bacon bits (real), grated cheese, radishes, cherry tomatoes, grated carrots, onions, and probably some other stuff I’m forgetting. And then there were pickled beets, pasta salad, pea salad, three bean salad, cottage cheese, etc. The only thing that Wisconsin would have had that wasn’t there was pickled herring. No loss as far as I am concerned. They also had cheese spread, which I ate with cellophane-wrapped breadsticks. I love cellophane-wrapped breadsticks. They remind me of when we went out the Fancy Restaurants when I was a child. In the 60’s, nothing said fine dining like a basket full of cellophane-wrapped breadsticks and crackers. Living large, baby.

There was some kind of cream soup, too, but we had steaks and potatoes coming. When I said hello to Pat, he offered us a complementary appetizer, which I declined on the same principle.

While we waited for our entrees, I watched the couple at the next table desperately try to engage their teenaged son in conversation. He slumped in his chair and answered tersely as if he were being interrogated. Which I guess he was.

Terry had the 16-ounce “Darn Good Ribeye” (the other two sizes were 24 and 32 ounces) with crispy potato pancakes. His steak filled the whole plate. It would be enough for dinner and two lunches. I had an 8-ounce “stuffed premium filet, choose any three”, of which I chose bleu cheese, sautéed mushrooms and sautéed onions. I had the Special House Potato, which Kate described as a cheesy potato casserole. My filet had been cut crosswise to make two pieces about 1.5” thick. The bleu cheese had been liberally applied to the bottom piece and the mushrooms and onions strewn on top. I assumed the top had been artfully arranged at an angle to the bottom until the waitress apologized for it having tipped off. In any case, it was delicious, even though I could not even eat half. Really, we’d had enough to eat when we were done with the salad. We did not have dessert.

Jane and I took Mom and Dad shopping on Sunday. Of the four of us, only Jane had been to the new Duluth Trading Post store in Hoffman Estates. We picked Sunday because the Culver’s just down from Duluth Trading Post had Hershey Almond Fudge (my personal favorite) as its flavor of the day. We had lunch first, then shopped. When we were done at Duluth, we went down the road a bit to L. L. Bean and Sur le Table. And then we went home. It pretty much took the whole day.

Hilda invited Terry and me upstairs for shrimp burgers Sunday night. I suggested we have champagne to celebrate the beginning of spring break. We had a nice time, but I ate too much again. I sense a theme here, and it must stop soon.

Today was pretty normal. I worked on cleaning out the store room. I finally threw out my massive slide collection. It is a technology of another era. It’s hard to part with something that took so long to assemble, so many miles of travel, so much money for film and processing, so many hours cataloging and putting together by lecture topic. Sigh. I have been moving that paper box (as in box for a 10-ream case of paper) around for more than 20 years. I will never, ever need them again. Say goodbye.

Corned Beef

The corned beef was a huge success. Here’s what it looked like at the end of brining.

At the end of brining

Hilda wanted to cook it ahead on Wednesday so it could be chilled for slicing and reheated. Before I went to work, I drained off the brine and took the brisket upstairs. What to cook it in? It was huge. We finally settled on my big crock pot. It came up the sides, but shrank as it cooked.  Once refrigerated, it sliced perfectly.

Sliced for dinner--we warmed it up in the microwave with a ladelful of braising liquid

Hilda saved the cooking liquid for boiling cabbage, onions, carrots, and potatoes. The potatoes were particularly delicious, having absorbed the salt and spices from the braising liquid. This is the platter on the table.

The dinner platter

The taste was so much better than over-salted store-bought corned beef. The flavors of the beef and spices were much more pronounced since they were not overwhelmed by salt.

Last night, I made Reubens with the corned beef and our homemade sauerkraut. This too was excellent. We are planning to do this again for next St. Patrick’s Day. In fact, we might do it more than once a year. 

Reuben with homemade corned beef and sauerkraut

Big wind

Hilda and I have been inspired by America’s Test Kitchen to corn our own beef for St. Patrick’s Day. Last Wednesday, we mixed up a brine and poured it over a huge piece of brisket. The only thing we could find that was big enough for the job was one of our pink gardening trays. I flipped it yesterday and will flip it two more times before it gets cooked.

Brisket in brine, weighted down with a plate and bowl. The white things are garlic cloves

Did you ever wonder where the corn in corned beef was? In Britain, “corn” is a generic term meaning “grain.” What we call corn, they call maize. Hence the King James Biblical references to “corn” in the Middle East before Christ even though corn as we know it originated in North America and had just barely made it to Europe when that version of the Bible was written. King James’ corn was likely wheat or barley. But I digress. Corned beef was traditionally made by rubbing corns (grains) of salt on the beef to preserve it. Get it? I give this lecture to my students every semester to illustrate the utility of scientific names. Say “corn” to a European, and he or she may ask you which one. Zea mays avoids all confusion.

My we had some big winds early in the week. Terry fretted and fretted about the plastic on the polyhouse. Alas, the roof blew off Wednesday. “I should have replaced it last summer,” he said.

“You know what I always say,” I replied.

“Yeah. The should-haves don’t count.”

The roofless polyhouse from the south side

He ordered a replacement from Gardeners’ Supply. It was supposed to come on Friday, but didn’t. Winter Storm Stella was predicted to dump up to 5” of snow on us between Sunday night and Tuesday morning. More fretting about that.

The plastic came Saturday. The day was very cold and too windy to attempt the installation. Terry kept busy taking the old plastic off and hoping for no wind if we could get out early on Sunday.

Removing the lath at the bottom of the north side to take off the old plastic

I was surprised to see so many of the hens out on such a day.

Hens brave the cold wind on Saturday

Terry contacted a local contractor that he knew to see if he and another man could come out this morning to help us drag the new plastic over the top of the frame. Terry anxiously watched the weather as soon as he got up. The forecast was for calm followed by light winds, 5 to 7 mph. Perfect.

At 8:00 on the first morning of Daylight Savings Time, I bundled up and walked down to the polyhouse. On my way, I heard car doors slamming. Scott and Randy were right on time. Terry had been out for an hour getting things ready. He had the plastic unfolded and positioned on the ground.

New plastic laid out for installation

We divided up with two persons on each end and hoisted the sheet over the ridgepole and down the other side. 

Plastic over the top

Terry then started screwing on lath that he’d pre-drilled with holes and measured intervals.

Putting lath on the east side

With the east side secured, we all went down to the west side, pulling the plastic as tight as we could get it.

Lath on the west side with the sun still low

Finally, they put a row of lath across the bottom.

Lath across the bottom of the south side

I noticed that Terry crosses his ankles while kneeling on the ground. How peculiar.

Terry with his ankles crossed next to Scott with his ankles straight like a normal person

After 50 minutes, the plastic was secured, and our two helpers went home to get on with their day. I went inside to have a second cup of tea and thaw out my fingers. Terry set to work cutting off the excess plastic. When I checked on the progress after lunch, he told me that the last step was to flip the edge of the plastic over the first lath and put on a second lath. And then he would be in to rest.

Polyhouse with the plastic trimmed

It’s going to be a long day for Terry, but at least all his stuff will be safe from Stella’s snow.

I got a picture of a killdeer on the lawn today. There were two of them, but they separated before I could get my camera. I hope they can find a place to ride out the storm in safety too.

A killdeer on the lawn

Signs of spring

The thermometer said 39° this morning, but with an overcast sky and a biting east wind, it seemed much colder. I should have worn a hat, certainly. Not having much to blog about this week, I ventured forth to see if I could find something to photograph.

I’m pleased to report that Nadia is looking pretty good! She still won’t hold still long enough for me to get a picture that is in focus, but you get the idea.

Nadia restored to her former glory

The robins are back. I saw one on my way home from work on Thursday. Terry and Hilda reported seeing one each on Friday and Saturday, respectively. This morning, they were everywhere.

Two of the many robins I saw today

I scared up a killdeer on my walk, but couldn’t get a picture. Redwing blackbirds are everywhere in abundance. I wondered if we would have so many since the burn, as they like to be up off the ground. One lucky fellow found a box elder sapling that did not burn.

Most, however, are hanging around on the ground, staking out territories just as if the grasses were high. Could they be anticipating new growth in the spring? Or are they just forced to take what’s left because of the sheer number of competitors?

Male displaying his epaulets in the burn stubble

Meanwhile, flocks of birds in the millions are everywhere to be seen. One flock I observed with binoculars seemed to be mixed starlings and grackles. Here they are on the lawn.

Mixed flock of blackbirds on the lawn

And in the treetops back by the creek.

Blackbirds in the trees

The cacophony is remarkable. This video is better listened to than watched.

The most exciting event of the week could not be photodocumented. Two sandhill cranes glided in for a landing in my restoration plot at the south end of the property. I watched them for some time with my spotting scope as they poked around in the standing water. When I was out just now, I verified that there was nothing moving in the water, so I can’t say what they were after. We would love to have a pair nest on our land, but I think the odds are long. Not enough for the adults to eat, much less to feed a chick.