The Eric Hoffer Awards for 2017 were announced yesterday. This is an award designed to recognize exceptional writing from small, academic, or independent publishers that don’t usually get the attention that the big publishing houses get. While Midwest Maize didn’t get the top prize, I was awarded an Honorable Mention, which, given the hundreds of books submitted, is still gratifying.
Monthly Archives: May 2017
It’s always fun to run across a reminder of things from our past. A friend and fellow food historian blogged this today — three-layer cornbread. There are two firm layers, top and bottom, and the middle layer is custard. It has been forever since I had it, but I remember it’s being yummy. Time to dig out the stone-ground cornmeal and try this again.
Not so Wicked Wayback….
Talking about 17th century cornbreads, some one recalled a 3 layer cornbread that her mother used to make….and I recalled this one from Tassajara Bread Book
Three Layer Corn Bread
Easy, glorious and amazing!
1 cup cornmeal (fresh stone ground from your favorite local mill is best – natch!)
½ c. whole wheat flour
½ cup white flour
¼ cup wheat germ (not in the 1970 version)
2 t. baking powder
1 t salt
¼ – ½ honey or molasses
¼ c oil or melted butter
3 cup milk or buttermilk (my fave)
- Combine dry ingredients
- Combine wet ingredients
- Mix together. Mixture will be quite liquidy.
- Pour into greased 9×9 pan
- Bake at 350° for 50 minutes or until top is springy when gently touched.
- As a variation, add a cup of grated cheese – Jack, provolone or parmesan.
Tassajara Bread Book 25th
View original post 13 more words
The day after my presentation in New Haven (at the wonderfully restored Old School), I was on my way, this time heading an hour west, to St. Louis—and another speaking engagement. Even when I only have a short amount of time in a place, I always try to see something local that is of interest, and on this trip, it was the Missouri History Museum. The front of the museum, as one approaches, is imposing and classical, but as one circles the building in search of parking, the new addition behind this older part of the building comes into view.
The Museum is in Forest Park, which was the location of the 1904 World’s Fair, so it is fitting that one wing in the old building had an exhibit of that fair. The fair celebrated the 100-year anniversary of the Louisiana Purchase. One is reminded by photographs and informational posts of what an astonishing feat it was to create the fairground: a river had to be rerouted, an extensive sewer system had to be build, and what was essentially an entire city had to be built. It took 10,000 laborers to construct it all.
A placard informed me that the fair featured “the most extensive representation of goods from the Eastern Hemisphere ever found at an international exposition.” There were more nations represented than at any previous World’s Fair. Everyone wanted to show the world what they had to offer, as the economy was becoming global. The largest exhibit was of the Philippines, covering 47 acres and with a thousand Filipinos on hand. Remarkable.
It was not a huge exhibit, but it was packed with information. I continued on, past Thomas Jefferson and into the main hall, where the Spirit of St. Louis hung overhead. Into a fascinating, temporary exhibit on Route 66, which was “main street through Missouri.” St. Louis was the largest city on Route 66 between Chicago and Los Angeles.
Then upstairs to the Anheuser-Busch Gallery, which highlights the remarkable and difficult early history of St. Louis. There were fires, cholera epidemics, floods, earthquakes (New Madrid Fault)—all of it even harder for the city’s pre-Civil War slave population. But there were also energy and success, and the city grew. Again, a remarkable amount of information packed quite attractively into the available space. It was a good reminder that everywhere has a rich past, and there is more to know than we will ever be able to take in.
Then across to the McDonnell Douglas Gallery, which covers St. Louis from 1904 to 2000, though with a concentration on the ‘50s and ‘60s.
Then, feeling wonderfully exhilarated by all I’d learned, but also weary from a busy day, I headed to my hotel, to put my feet up for a while before my presentation that evening. But a good day.
If the last few posts have made you think that this might be a region you’d like to add to your list of vacation escapes, you might be wondering where to stay. There are lots of options, including nice hotels and resorts. However, if you’d like something a little out of the way, I can recommend Aunt May’s Guesthouse. Charming, quiet, well equipped (from kitchen gadgets to outdoor BBQ to WiFi), and well located for touring the wine region. Non-smoking facility. http://www.auntmays.com/ It’s owned by my friends at Pinckney Bend Distillery, on a farm that has been in the family for a few generations.
Here are a couple of photos from my stay: living room and view out the front door. There are more images on the website.
As noted in the post on the Washington Historical Society, a lot of Germans settled in this region. Actually, a lot of Germans settled all across the Midwest. But in Hermann, it was more than just a large number of Germans happening upon the area; it was planned as a German town by the German Settlement Society of Philadelphia. In 1836, land was bought and the town, which is sometimes called “Little Germany,” was founded. The town developed an important wine and grape culture, and before Prohibition, it was home to one of the largest wineries in the U.S.
I was on my own for the day, but Ralph had suggested that I might enjoy Hermann and had given me directions on how to get here, as well as a couple of recommendations for lunch. So that’s where I headed. It was too early in the spring for the tourist-oriented activities, such as costumed interpreters at the Hermann Farm. But it didn’t matter. It was a lovely and clearly German old town, with delightful shops, wonderful architecture, and a lot of history. The hilly countryside and nearby river added to the location’s charm, as did the myriad flowering trees. I drove around for a while, as Hermann sprawls a bit, but I eventually just parked the car and walked up and down the streets, enjoying the very European feel of the place.
I did eventually take Ralph’s advice about lunch, heading for the Wurst House, a store and restaurant whose owner is an award-winning sausage maker. The interior suggested that the Wurst House handles large crowds during the summer season, but I was one of only two dining there today. I ordered what was listed as the “German special,” which allowed me select two different brats from four on offer (I chose a mushroom with Swiss and a caramelized pear with gorgonzola), which were served on a bed of sauerkraut. I got to pick two sides, as well, and went with the broccoli and cauliflower salad and red cabbage. All was very good. The brats all have natural casings, so the texture was good, as well as the flavor. Before leaving, I found that they offered free samples at the back, and if I ever return, I’d probably go with the “Best of Show,” which was even better than the two brats I’d already had.
Then I headed across town to the historic Stone Hill Winery. Established in 1847, this is among the oldest wineries in the country and is the oldest in Missouri. The winery sits atop North America’s largest series of arched, underground cellars, which makes it noteworthy, but its wines get a lot of attention, too—and awards. Of particular interest is the Norton grape, a historic grape that, in the 1800s, produced internationally acclaimed red wines. The Norton, once feared to be extinct, is the state grape of Missouri—and the fact that a state has an official grape tells you something about their attitude toward wine. The small patch of Norton grapes discovered at Stone Hill were planted around the time of the Civil War. There are not enough Norton vines to make wine every year, I was told, but they had one available for sampling. So happily, I got to sample this historic wine—and it was very good. Big red, incredibly smooth. And in case you think this sounds like a good story and should be in a book, it is: The Wild Vine: A Forgotten Grape and the Untold Story of American Wine by Todd Kliman (2011).
Then it was time to head back to where I was staying, as I was giving a presentation that evening on the history of corn. Very attentive audience, which I guess is not surprising in a region where farming, food, and history are so appreciated.