Sweet Daughter (ahem) cooks

At MTA Sweet Daughter watched our cook prepare this amazing salmagundi.

I know, I know. Navel oranges hadn't been developed yet.

Later that day, she decided to make her own "salad". She took the redware pan we'd make the venison pasty in (with bit of crust still attached) and asked for contributions. There was a heel of cabbage, and a leftover carrot and parsnip. I pulled some onion slices out of the fire (a.k.a. trash pit) and the cook donated the top of a leek. There are a few red potato slices as well.

For the finishing touch, she added grapes. She then wanted it placed over the fire. Our cook graciously indulged her, and added water.

Chock full o' vitamins!

After a while, it was taken from the fire and allowed to cool. I was then asked to sample it. Uh ... I thought this was all "pretend", hence the vegetables salvaged from the fire pit.

"Try it, Mama!"

I tried to distract and redirect, to deflect, to otherwise figure out a way I could weasel out with my honor intact. It was impossible to even try. What self-respecting mom could say "no" to this?? Not I. So knowing the history of the grapes (washed before being added to the melange), I chose to impale myself on that particular sword, figuring that the whole thing had been heated pretty thoroughly, and I wasn't likely to die from a few grapes. Well, I'm typing this so I can affirm that I did not die, or even get ill, but those were some interesting grapes. They were still hot and completely infused with the flavor of onion. With a hint of venison.

For the event at Petersburg next month, I'm planning ahead. There will be kid-friendly food to prepare and if I have anything to do with it, grapes and onions never the twain shall meet.

Patching a shirt

So, our cook had an unfortunate incident at MTA last year. As he was bending over the cook fire, the fire went all Rice Crispies on him with a snap, crackle and pop. Fire do that all the time, right?

Well, “… man is born to trouble as surely as sparks fly upward.” As he was bending down, some sparks went up, which, from the cooks perspective was down his shirt. But he didn’t know it at the time. He stood up and felt something warm. He looked down and saw nothing. Then he felt hot. And saw his waistcoat smolder. From the inside out. He yelped for help, and I grabbed the hem of my gown and shoved it down inside his shirt between him and the ember and patted it out.

We now keep a linen rag in the buckets of water we keep by the fire.

Anyhow, the shirt needed help. In the 18^th century one didn’t sew a square of fabric over the hole and call it a day. Precious little remains of original utilitarian garments. They were used, repaired, repurposed and then sold to the rag man. Near as we can tell, holes were patched from the back in fabric that matched as closely as possible to the original, and done in a neat and workmanlike manner.

Sewing a rolled hem. Ugh - I should have worn my glasses - this is horribly uneven.

 

Since I made the shirt to begin with, I kept the remnants of the lovely cambric linen, so I was good there. I matched the damaged front edge to the undamaged edge to see how much had been burned away. I took a scrap of cambric and made a new hand-rolled edge and positioned it in the gap and stitched it in place.

Completed rolled edge.

Patch pinned in place.

Then I pinned the edges of the shirt on top of the remnant. I trimmed off the singed edges, turned the raw edges under and carefully stitched them to the patch. Then I turned the shirt over and trimmed the excess patch away, leaving no more than a quarter inch. Then I turned the edge of the patch under, and stitched to the shirt.

Partially sewn - from the front.

Done. And now that I look at it closely, I'm not that impressed. So much for "neat and workmanlike". Next time, less of a rush and I'll wear my reading glasses. *sigh* Note the slight difference in color? The linen will continue to bleach as it's washed and exposed to sunlight.

Brief update

Wool gown sewn for MTA?

Check.

Weather forecast for 80 degrees?

Check.

Resulting in frantic sewing on dimity gown?

Gown bodice from the back.

Check.

Dump the responsibility for the cooking competition to include documentation on our cook?

Check.

Mend the hole in the cook's shirt from where a stray spark took up residence between said shirt and skin?

Check.

Tie for first place in the cooking contest?

One of our entries in the cooking competition - Salmagundi. There are greens, chicken, ham, anchovies, egg whites, egg yolks, anchovies, orange slices, fried chicken skin, rose petals, and butter in the shape of a pine cone.

Check. (Previous best has been third place. Twice.)

Frantic sewing this week for a coworker who “Fights With Foam”? to include a both linen and woolen fighting tunics.

Underarm gusset

The sleeves were lined with a linen blend and hemmed with this nifty stitch that keeps the wool from fraying but doesn't add bulk.

Triangular gore added to the center front and back. Quality materials make this so much easier.

Check.

Need to start a gown for Sweet Daughter’s best friend (birthday party next Saturday).

Check.

Oh, and at some point, after spending a morning in the wind selling Girl Scout cookies in February, I decided our table needed to be upholstered. Sweet Daughter picked the font for the lettering. I am so not like other moms.

More when I come up for air.

I'm not dead, I'm just sewing.

I knew that Sweet Daughter had outgrown her shifts for reenacting, and while shoveling out my sewing room, I somehow came across no fewer that four in various stages of completion, all of which fit in some manner. I got them all done. Score!

Horrible picture. Oh, well.

I thought SD could get one more season out of her gowns -- after all, they laced all the way shut last October, and you can leave a 2" gap if necessary. Somehow, I had a brief moment of lucidity and decided to try them on to confirm.

Apparently she's been in the midst of non-stop growth spurt since September. She couldn't even get her arms in the sleeves. I found one hand-me-down gown that fits, other than being a bit short, and being of the mindset that it's better than nothing, asked SD what she thought. She clearly had some sort of issue with it, but was sucking it up and said it was "fine". I finally got her to tell me what was wrong. She hated the shade of pink. So some red dye, and a little black dye (it looks like grape juice when I mixed it up), a crock-pot and about 45 minutes gave me the following ...

Before.

After. No more Pepto Bismal pink. It's actually a lovely shade of rose.

Since out first event of the season is in mid-March, and the weather can range from sleet to short-sleeve weather, I decided to start with a wool gown. I figured that if we prepared for the sleet, we'd get 80 degrees.

Bodice from the back. The sleeve is turned up with a remnant of a more expensive cotton print. The lining is done with another remnant. There is boning up the center edges, and eyelet holes for lacing the gown shut.

Growth tucks along the bottom. The hem is finished by binding the bottom with twill tape. This reduces bulk and is more wear-resistant than the wool, and can be replaced if worn through. As SD gets taller, I'll pull the stitching out of the pleats to lengthen the skirt.

Just two to go ... one in linen, and one in dimity.

Remember the war dead remains that went to the landfill?

Apparently, it has remains from 9/11 too!
"The practice at Dover of cremating partial remains and sending them to a landfill began shortly after Sept. 11, 2001, the report said, 'when several portions of remains from the Pentagon attack and the Shanksville, Pa., crash site could not be tested or identified.'"

The county Board of Supervisors does not, at this time, seem to be enthusiastic about erecting any sort of memorial or consecrating the site -- even through donations and at no cost to taxpayers.

The BoS may be reached here if you would like to offer an opinion.

Schimmel

I have an e-acquaintance from one of my 18th century lists who is looking for some information. Can anyone lend a hand?

Looking for help in tracking down the German word Schimmel.
I know schimmel as meaning "Grandpa's" old barn gun.
A barn gun was a very plain flintlock rifle - one which was sturdy enough to stay year in-year out in its designated place in the barn. It was NOT "a piece of junk" - it was a highly accurate and reliable vermin killer. It was not exactly a "frontier" gun because it was not kept in the house, but rather was always in the barn, handy for use on the spot.

We did find the definition below, but it does not seem to expand to cover a rifle.

Does any out there - perhaps Mohawk Valley Platts Deutsch or "Pennsylvania German -
recognize a schimmel as a "barn gun" of the era?

Schimmel : Old High German
- mold, mildew, to become moldy, a white horse, a grey horse

Thanks, all!

Honest Gun Owners Meme

My blogfather tagged me in the latest gun meme that started here.

"I will write down 5 things that indicate, to me, that a gun owner or shooter maybe is an honest one; I say 'maybe' because I have known some seemingly honest gun owners to tell some really tall tales. Then I will tag 5 other gun owners who are also bloggers and I hope each will play along, each listing, in their blogs, at least 3 things that are indicative a gun owner is an honest one, then sending the challenge of this meme on to 5 other gun owner who are also bloggers."

Here's what I've got:

You have more than one holster that fits each handgun you own as a result of well … lots of reasons. You thought IWB would work. It came with the pistol. It was too inexpensive to pass up.  It seemed like a good idea at the time. Someone told you you should buy it.

Someone asks if you’d like to shoot their gun, and you say “Sure! Can you show me how?” Okay. Maybe that one’s just for me, but I’d rather ask for instruction than beg for forgiveness. Because if there is one thing I know, it’s how much I don’t know.

You own a weapon strictly for its historical/sentimental value, even if it’s a piece of crap.

Somebody posts about something stupid they’ve done with a firearm to serve as a warning or example of what not to do, and after heaving a sigh of relief that nobody died and realizing that there but for the grace of God go I, you notice that the comments are full of respectful commentary, including at least one “Me, too.”

And the corollary to the above: You’re not a d!ck. I’ve seen some rather, um, intense discussions on topics that completely elude me. Or subjects that, to me, don’t really seem to matter in the long run. Or occasionally even about something where I know enough to actually have an opinion. But for the most part, you can passionately disagree without being rude.

So, now I have to tag 5 more, and so I'm going to pick some locals who will undoubtedly be much more insightful than I.

Old NFO
MSgt B
JB Miller
CTone
Andy