A Big Scoop

A lot of visitors to the beach this week, new year and all. Certainly a few have been attracted by the spurt of unseasonably warm weather and are here to bask in the 70° temperatures. A few even splash briefly in the ocean, but quickly discover the water is uncomfortably cold and a world apart from the sun washed beach. Along with warmer temperatures has come a lessening of the hard-blowing north wind, and the invitation to shed jackets and sweaters. Walking in jeans and T-shirt is just about right under these year end conditions.

The past two days have offered a sky of perfect cerulean blue made even more exhilarating by the clarity of light and air. Apart from the unfortunate catfish that still battle cold water and end up as bird food, the sand too has a fresh, clean look. The birds are back in large numbers and fortunately for them food in excess lies waiting. Still, there is less animal, shell and plant life about now, and for long stretches of walking the runnels, drifts and pockets of sand offer up little variety.

But there has been an infrequent avian visitor to this sweep of beach in the past two days, though if we are to judge by today’s roll call, it was just a brief stopover or rest stop. I was brought to a sudden halt yesterday by the sight of an altogether unfamiliar bird hobnobbing with the gulls. Very shy, they quickly move away at the approach of people, uncomfortable even with a stationary figure hovering inside of twenty feet. The bird has a striking appearance, and looks like a prince beside the less colorful gulls. By the time my path turned for home I was curious about what the bird book would say about this new member of the local community.

With markings so pronounced, finding a picture was easy, and I learned it is a tern called a black skimmer. This name explains the bird’s unusual beak, describing how it feeds by skimming fish from the surface of the water. Sounds almost impossible, but the black skimmer skims the water’s surface with its mouth open and the lower half of its bill beneath the water level. When it makes contact with a fish the bill snaps shut and the bird takes off. The catch is consumed either in flight or once it has landed.

In appearance the tern has a large but narrow body and a long red bill with a black tip. The lower bill is longer, with a scoop-like shape. The top of the head and wings are black, with a white collar in winter; face and underparts are white. Legs and feet are red. The black skimmer is the only bird species in America that has a bill larger on the bottom than the top. At the time of hatching the upper and lower halves are equal in length, but at four weeks the bottom is nearly a centimeter longer than the top mandible.

The bird breeds along Atlantic and Gulf coasts from Massachusetts to Florida and Texas, and spends winters in a range from southern California to Virginia, and also central and South America. Despite photos and descriptions of the black skimmer in Florida, yesterday was my first sighting of the bird on the central east coast of Florida, along which I walk each and every day. Odd, since this is not a bird one is likely to overlook. Interesting note about number: A group of skimmers is not a flock, but is instead referred to as either a ‘conspiracy’ or an ‘embezzlement’ of birds.

As Wednesday was my first sighting of this splendid looking tern, it prompts me to think the fifteen or twenty I spotted were resting, but on their way to parts farther afield.

Shank of Lamb

Sometime back I was given a couple of lamb shanks which went straight into the freezer. Three months later and the lamb shanks continued to pass frozen days nestled between the ice cubes and turkey noodle soup. Earlier today a visitor looked in the freezer and pulled the shanks out. “I’ll tell you how to cook these and you can have them for dinner tonight.”

Not a whole lot of resistance from me, if only because trying new things in the kitchen always turns out to be a useful process, especially for one who enjoys cooking on most occasions. The first step this time was determining what ingredients were not already in my kitchen stocks, and making a shopping list. Seasonings were no problems, but the sour cream and Lipton Onion Soup stocks were on the shy side.

Here’s what you will need to braise two lamb shanks:

2 lamb shanks weighing about 1¾ pounds

1 package of Lipton Onion Soup mix

1 small container sour cream (8 ounces)

2-3 tablespoons olive oil

1 clove fresh garlic minced

½ teaspoon thyme

1 bay leaf

a pinch of celery seed

a sprinkle of cayenne

a healthy sprinkle of Zatarain’s Cajun Seasoning

salt & pepper as desired

1-2 tablespoons chopped fresh chives

7-8 fresh mint leaves for garnish

water

And here’s how to put it together…

Choose a cooking pot or a skillet that has a lid. Heat the olive oil until hot then add the lamb shanks along with the seasoning. Hold off on the chopped chives; they will come later. Turn the lamb shanks, browning them on each side. Once they reach a nice even brown all over, add a cup or more of water along with the package of Lipton’s Onion Soup. Lower the heat to a point just under medium, put the lid on the pot and allow the lamb to cook for about an hour and twenty minutes. Check occasionally to see that the liquid does not boil away. Add more water when necessary. After the meat has cooked for an hour, test the shanks for tenderness. At best it should be tender but not falling off the bone. When you are satisfied that the meat is done, add most of the 8 ounce container of sour cream, along with the chives and stir it until mixed well with the liquid in the pot. Put the lid on again and lower the heat—you do not want the liquid to boil at this point. Allow it to heat for another five minutes or so. Serve the lamb shanks with rice and your favorite vegetable, maybe a green salad. A cabernet sauvignon goes well.

I feel compelled to admit that I am not a great fan of lamb, and more often than not my choice would be otherwise. But with encouragement from another, and trusted advice on the preparation my reservations fell away and I jumped into the cooking. It may not be so with others, but the onion soup and sour cream in this recipe had a nice ring and sounded like a recipe I might like despite any ambivalence toward lamb. I wasn’t disappointed.

Sock Glue

Some time in the late 1990s socks became an important part of the ‘look’ for Japanese high school girls. Since the start of that fashion fad socks and their size, color and manner of collapsing around the shins and ankles has been critical, determining the acceptable degree of cool, or in Japanese jargon, kawaii. The young girls achieve just the right sock look with meticulous adjustment and shaping, holding the socks in place with dabs of the indispensable sock glue.

This fashion is so widespread today it is practically second nature to the average person and most give it little if any thought—about as rare as the sight of a teenager anywhere listening to an iPod. During the time I lived in Japan it was my usual habit when riding trains to people watch. Ask any New Yorker and they’ll likely tell you it’s sometimes better than reading or napping. Careful not to be rude with open stares, I managed to learn quite a bit about the Japanese people through observation on the trains. The loose, baggy socks always intrigued me for a couple of reasons. First off, impressive as a great look that works well for the girls. Can’t say that about many school girl notions of fashion, but the drooping sock look is definitely a cool style that enhances the figure. Whoever first came up with the idea of oversized baggy white socks has a sharp sense of fashion.

Continuing to observe this style over a couple of years, it finally occurred to me that the fall of the socks around shins and ankles was anything but accidental, and was instead something not far from sculptured cotton. But how did they do it? Then one afternoon the answer was acted out in front of me. Waiting for a train a group of high school girls stood nearby laughing and enjoying the release from school. One shortened her uniform skirt by folding over the waistband a couple of turns; another applied a faint blush of color to her cheeks and another was bent over repairing the hang of her large white socks. I noticed she used something in a tube, applying it to her shins, then pressing the sock against it. Viola! The secret revealed. It was some kind of sticky substance that held the socks in just the right places.

Mmm…That could solve a now and then problem in my life too, I remember thinking. On the next visit to a drugstore I asked about this sticky stuff the school girls use on their socks, and without a blink the clerk pointed out a rack of colorful tubes, all of it the school girl requisite, SOCK GLUE. I bought the first of many tubes that day, a mild water based roll-on glue, and from that day forward never had trouble with badly made socks slipping down to the ankles. Hearing about my new and very practical discovery, a few friends laughed and swore they would never use such a thing. But the laughter didn’t stop me, and I only wish I could find some of the same stuff here to put the hold on troublesome socks.

Tax Crones

Each year as the days wind down toward the last of December, the awful spectre of dollar bills flapping goodbye and winging their way south begins to play across the mind. Nothing to do with the familiar and customary expenses of Christmas and the buying of gifts to give to close hearts, but related instead to one of the two things often described as inescapable—taxes. Year end for these past eleven years has been the season for paying property taxes. Surely some, maybe many hold off payment until the end of March, but the lower rate for a December payment seems less shocking to the bank account. Living twenty-five yards off the beach in Florida is not conducive to low property taxes, and each year the handover of big bills comes with the violence of a hand grenade detonated in the next room.

Forget computers and techno-assisted accountants in fluorescent-lit cubicles tallying up tax numbers on multi-gigabyte adding machines. My imagination paints a more sinister picture, of sharp nosed, thin lipped crones dressed in black, and with ink smudged fingers working their numbers into an instrument of financial destruction aimed at my bank and belly. And when their calculations reach a horrid but satisfying degree of property owner punishment, cruel chortles shake the narrow space of their dark counting house and an ominous fume fills the air.

No, really, there’s a friendly smile on the face of the young woman who takes my check at the county financial office downtown. She’s fast, efficient and perfectly agreeable, making the large tax bill a tiny bit easier to swallow. How painless can it be when the spelled out dollar amount is too large to fit comfortably on the second line of your check?

Interesting mishap on the mailing of my tax bill this year. In previous years the bill always arrived in the Tokyo mailbox no later than the end of October, or earlier. It suddenly occurred to me last Friday that the tax bill had not come, and the fault very probably my own. In moving from Japan to Florida it is helpful to give a change of address to pertinent agencies—if you can remember to do it. Mentioning my forgetfulness to the county clerk, she said, “Here’s the mailing address we have for you,” showing me a form that read:

XXX S AVENUE

KU TOKYO 1680082

NSB, FLORIDA

Relieved that the fault was not all mine, I pointed out that the second line of that address is an odd and meaningless non sequitur and may have confused the post office. No harm done in the end, since the taxes got paid on time, including an address correction.

Good feeling knowing that I can forget about the cruel counting house crones for another twelve months.

Eye on Nature

This season introduced me to an unfamiliar and excellent source of notebooks, scratch pads, cards and calendars. Compared to my friend and cousin, Carolyne, I am a mere novice in this line of goods, and once again she has turned my eyes to a ‘new’ store and artist, Gwen Frostic of Presscraft Papers in Benzonia, Michigan. Until Christmas morning I had never heard of her, the company or the location. My loss, for sure.

Gwen Frostic was born in Sandusky, Michigan in 1906. Until her death in 2001 she shared through her art, books and lectures a very particular and enchanting view of the universe. So impressive were her work and ideas, that in 1978 Michigan’s Governor declared May 23 ‘Gwen Frostic Day,’ and in 1986 the artist was inducted into the Michigan Woman’s Hall of Fame.

Frostic left university at age twenty-one, continuing without a pause her work in metal and plastic arts. The war years brought on a shortage of metal, so she shifted to carving on linoleum woodblocks. She sketched flowers, birds, grasses, trees and dozens of woodland animals and insects, refined the sketches and later cut them into linoleum woodblocks. The result was woodblock prints expressing in marvelous simplicity the Frostic perspective on the beauty and serenity of nature. These prints were applied to calendars, notebooks, cards and books. Thus was Presscraft Papers born.

A poem by the artist offers some insight into her view of the natural world:

Let’s just wander here and there

like leaves floating in the autumn air

and look at common little things

stones on the beach

flowers turning into berries…

From the wind we’ll catch a bit

of that wondrous feeling that comes

not from seeing

but from being part of nature…

The artist’s home and studio, as well as press, are all situated in a wildlife sanctuary in northern Michigan and include a shop built of natural materials designed to bring the outdoors inside. One room with a large fireplace and natural fountain offers a view of the twelve Heidelberg presses printing the artist’s designs onto cards, notebooks and calendars.

A part of my Christmas blessing this year was a Gwen Frostic calendar and a notebook. Completely new to me and I sat for a long time turning the pages of each. At first I worried that the paper in the notebook might not be fountain pen friendly, but that proved a needless concern; four different pens, four different inks all turned out a beautiful match with the paper. An effort to find out anything specific about the paper used by Presscraft for their cards and notebooks came to nothing unfortunately.

Should the time come when stationery goods feel like the right gift, turn your search to that corner of Michigan where one native artist found a woodland universe to illustrate in woodblock prints.

See it all here.

First in Many

Home late from Christmas in town, car loaded with loot, belly overloaded with two days of magnificent eats, and altogether heartwarmed by the company of family. An extra special time because it was the first opportunity in many years to be with family over Christmas.

A few of the memorable tidbits…

The surprise of finding on my sister’s kitchen counter a Christmas cake specially made to duplicate the one posted here on December 23.

A beautiful midnight mass at St Alban’s Anglican Church on Christmas Eve, celebration of the high mass, including all the traditions of ceremony on the eve of Christ’s birth.

Dinner on Friday: shrimp cocktail, oyster stew, grilled scallops, jambalaya with shrimp, escargot, squid salad and platters of raw oysters.

A long wanted new dictionary and desktop swivel stand.

A bulging, near overflowing bag of take-home delicacies.

Special heartfelt thanks to Ben and Beverly for adding all the joy and jingling bells to this Christmas.

Half-Eaten Cake

A thousand Christmas trees I didn’t know I had!
Worth three cents more to give away than sell,
As may be shown by a simple calculation.
Too bad I couldn't lay one in a letter.
I can’t help wishing I could send you one,
In wishing you herewith a Merry Christmas.