Peteresburg and Peeps

We went to Battersea Plantation almost two weeks ago for a reenactment. It's not a large event, but the site treats us well (and feeds us on Saturday night), it's fairly close, it's kid friendly and it's one of our favorite events. Saturday started off okay, and I even made an apple raisin pie. In the afternoon, it rained. A lot.

The rain stopped, so we ran up to the house and grabbed some dinner, and then went back to to camp, and it rained some more.

Then, we got a rainbow! (Sorry, it wasn't a double, and nobody cried.) It was a full arc, and probably the brightest one I've ever seen. Sweet Daughter learned all about leprechauns in school for St. Patrick's Day, and warned us about how they'd trick us if we saw one.

This photo doesn't even begin to do it justice.

Once the rain stopped, a fire was built and it was time for the annual First Roasting of the Peeps. As you can see, we've been collecting them for a few months.

And the supporting cast was brought out as well. In addition to the bacon, we brought S'Mores supplies. Yes, those are Goldfish crackers.

Years of research have resulted in the best method: Wrap thin-sliced, pre-cooked bacon around a Peep, secure with toothpicks, then roast over an open fire.

Add graham crackers, chocolate, and prepare for your eyes to roll back in your head. It was enough for me to forget my wet shoes.

Catching up

Yes, we (Shorter Half, Michael W. and I) drove 2+ hours (in the rain, uphill, against the wind) just to get to the DC Blogmeet last Friday. And then did it all again to get home. But it was well worth it. Besides being able to present my blogfather, JayG, with a small token of appreciation , I got to meet Alan Gura. I did my best not to squee in his presence, but I'm not sure I was successful.  I got to meet lots of other bloggers, too, including my "co-start" T-Bolt, from B&B Guns last year.




For some reason, JayG looked a little nervous when he was handed this.


Thanks to Newbius for putting it together!

Guess who I got to meet today?

Michael W. is visiting for the week, so he and I went to The Range and met up with CTone from Legions Fate this afternoon. CTone’s a heck of a pistol shot, especially considering he prefers rifles, and was very encouraging to this n00b. He generously let me shoot both his Walther PPK and his 1911.

Michael W. has been doing law enforcement firearms training for around 25 years and it’s always great having him stand behind me and give me advice. Michael let me shoot his Mark VI Webley .45 ACP and his Chief .38 special. I shot ALL four of them better than my own gun today.

I really liked the Walther. Hmmm … I do need a smaller carry piece.

Lexington and Concord

The Second British Civil War, a.k.a. The American War for Independence began in April 19, 1775.

The NRA offers this print to certain Charter Class of Heritage Society Ambassadors.

"The Fight at Concord Bridge” by Harry Jaecks

There were three models used for this -- photographed several times in different poses. One was in drag. That would have been me. You can tell which ones I am by the leg length. And if you can't tell that way, I'm the guy that's broader in the beam than the rest.

And on slightly more relevant note, let me offer a replay from last year.

Gunnie Prom

JayG talks about what Breda coined as the Gunnie Prom at Pittsburgh in two weeks.

I acquired new shoes for the event. It all started when I paid to have Larry Corriea redshirt me in Monster Hunter Alpha and I get killed by a werewolf. So when I saw these shoes, I wanted an excuse to get them. A gunnie get-together seemed like just the thing. That, and to perpetuate the rumor that I'm 7' tall.

(And Breda said I could. So there.)

QOTD

"Shooting is zen with noise and smoke."

From Michael W.

Daughter Blogging

Sweet Daughter asked if she could do a guest post.

Fluffy Snuggles is the best cat in the whole wide world because she is never bad. She is always the best kitty at school. (She goes to cat school.) The fluffy tail of hers … she likes it when I pull it for some reason. When she wags it she is always happy, when she doesn’t she is mad. It’s always backwards for being a kitty, because kitties wag their tails when they’re mad. And it is Sweet Daughter’s cat. (Yes, SD refers to herself in the third person when "cat talk" is involved.)

(“What year did I get this?”

“You got Fluffy Snuggles in your Christmas stocking last year, so it was 2009. “)

I got this kitty in 2009.

And without further ado, let me present Fluffy Snuggles and friends.

Here is photograph of Fluffy Snuggles, Pumpkin Tumpkin Socks, and Diesel (named after the dog at her old daycare.)

 
And here is SD’s picture of the same, done last December.

18th century pro-tip …

Don’t put your 18th century clothes in the dryer. If you’re not comfortable spreading them in the grass to dry (which is great for whiter whites, BTW), hang them on the clothesline, or let them drip dry on hangers. Fluffy, softened linen is just one of those anachronisms that’s easy to avoid. And dryers eat inexpensive linen. If you can tear your $6 a yard linen, there’s a good chance it’s not going to stand up to even moderate use, even if you wash it on “gentle” and hang it to dry. Ask me how I know. If you’re going to spend all that time hand sewing, or even hand-finishing a linen garment, spend a little extra money and buy from a reputable merchant.
And for the love of all that is good and holy, don’t wash your 18th century clothes with scented detergent or use fabric softener. If I can smell your “Blackberry and Hydrangea” self from 15 feet away, you’d better be bringing me fruit and flowers.

Linking for thinking ...

Posts from two other bloggers have been stuck in my head for days. The Neaderpundit, Og, has a series of posts going regarding faith, belief, truth, trust and more. I find them good reading, especially for attempting to get my thoughts somewhat in order for Lent.

Phlegm Fatale has a post up regarding the following song. I've been playing it pretty much non-stop since I read her post, so I thought I'd share. As she says, "music expresses what's best in us."

MTA results

We tied for 3rd place out of 14 units, I believe it was, in the cooking contest. This was for all of the pre-Civil War groups. I have to seriously rethink our game plan for next year, but there is only so much you can do and present when you’re limited to 15 minutes with the judges. No, I don't have any pictures. I wasn't about to pull out the camera and lose points for authenticity. It's bad enough we got dinged because the woman around the campfire wasn't very friendly. (Gee, I wonder who that was?)

We also witnessed a freak accident where someone was leaning over the fire and a spark went down the front of his shirt inside his waistcoat. As a result, it wasn’t readily apparent what was happening at first – the guy just knew that something was burning, but he couldn’t figure out where it was coming from at first. There wasn’t any polyester involved so the shirt did not stick and shrink-wrap itself to the skin, but a not-insignificant part of the shirt will have to be repaired. Other than a little singed chest hair and a couple of red spots there wasn’t much damage to the guy. Yes, we had fire buckets handy (and a fire extinguisher, and a wool blanket) but we couldn’t really tell what the problem was at first. It’s not often something catches fire from the inside out. I ended up grabbing the skirts of my gown, reaching inside the guy’s shirt with them and smothering the smoldering shirt between his waistcoat and my skirts.

Lesson learned? We will now keep a dish towel-sized piece of linen in one of the fire buckets for this type of situation. And I get to remind him, quite dramatically, that I saved his life for at least the rest of the season.

          

All the cool kids are doing it

In order to pay the linky-love forward, I'm linking to blog-brother, Borepatch, who's linking to Tin Can Assassin, who linked to Blog-father JayG.

It is April 1st ...

Remeber this guy?

Remember my friend, The Loyal Lurker, and her brother?

Today's snark consisted of the following.

I hear they are planning for another “Day Of Rage” somewhere in the middle east.

Isn’t that like the rest of us “announcing” a “Day of Breathing”?

How about a “Day of Not Having Our Heads Up Our Asses”?

or a “Day of Not Cutting Off Our Noses To Spite Our Faces”?

or a “Day of Acting Like Adults Instead of Irate Spoiled Toddlers”?

Why Colonial Williamsburg doesn't have Monsters

Sweet Daughter and I were driving through Williamsburg (where the hotel was – yes. We hotel it in March. Sue me.) to Jamestown on Saturday morning when I saw a lovely 18^th century house with a very simple sign out front. The artwork consisted of a pineapple and three letters.  “AHA!” I said. I need to get a picture of that. So on Sunday morning, I managed to stick my camera out the window and grab a picture. “THAT’s getting sent to New York Times best-selling author Larry Correia!” I told Sweet Daughter.  She ignored me and continued eating her Froot Loops.

Funny - I would have expected something more lethal than a pineapple.

Living History – Blue Angels and Bearcats

“It’s kind of like having two piranhas chewing at the side of your airplane”

H/T to Neptunus Lex via the ususal suspects.

Not the most fun I've had this week

Sweet Daughter came home last week with a flyer advertising the “planetarium” that was going to be at school tonight. I told her that I was REALLY BUSY this week, and didn’t know if we’d be able to go. She came home from school today telling me I had to read the flyer in her book bag about the presentation in the school cafeteria tonight. Shorter Half had a meeting from 6:00 until 8:00 tonight, so even though I have reports due at work tomorrow, and a HUGE weekend to pack for, and food and clothing to document, I agreed to take her. She SO wanted to go.

We got to the school at the appointed hour and walked in to the cafeteria to find what looked like a giant silver mushroom cap inflated in the middle of the floor and chairs set up in rows behind it. I naively hoped that the presentation would be projected onto the outside of this thing. No such luck. Have I mentioned that I’m a bit claustrophobic? And that it seems to be getting worse as I get older? So when I found out that they expected us to crawl through this tunnel thing like it was some kind of space-age igloo, I asked the parent of one of SD’s friends if he’d mind keeping an eye on her, and told him he was free to rip off her arm and beat her with the wet end if she misbehaved. I went to go sit and wait things out when the Guy In Charge lifted up the side of the giant mushroom for those of us that were old, infirm, halt and/or lame to enter. I thought that I’d try that way – after all, there was plenty of room inside, right?

The good news: I ended up sitting by the fan that was blowing fresh air into the giant Hefty bag. The bad news was that the fan was so loud I couldn’t hear the presentation. We were packed in there like sardines. We had to sit on the floor, and being closer to 50 than I am to 45 these days, that wasn’t terribly comfortable. It was stuffy in there. And when he started spinning the stars across Kinderdome, I thought I was going to hurl. Did I mention that there was no way out that didn’t involve a bladed instrument?

So I sat with my head down next to another claustrophobic mom and waited it out. Then the sick bastard giving the presentation told us those of us ducking under the side had to wait until everyone else had gone through the tunnel before the rest of us could exit. I thought I’d done pretty well until I got home and found that my stomach was still in knots an hour after leaving. And to top it all off? I found out the kids had already sat through the same, if not more extensive presentation, earlier that day.

Preparations - Asparagus forced in French rolls

Asparagus forced in French rolls.

TAKE three French rolls, take out all the crumb, by first cutting a piece of the top-crust off; but be careful that the crust fits again the same place. Fry the rolls brown in fresh butter; then take a pint of cream, the yolks of six eggs beat fine, a little salt and nutmeg, stir them well together over a slow fire till it begins to be thick. Have ready a hundred of small grass* boiled, then save tops enough to stick the rolls with, the rest cut small and put into the cream, fill the loaves with them. Before you fry the rolls, make holes thick in the topcrust, and stick the grass in ; then lay on the piece of crust, and stick the grass in, that it may look as if it were growing. It makes a pretty side-dish at a second course.

Okay. So these probably aren't French Rolls, at least by 18th century standards. The county I live in has two grocery stores, and they're both the same chain, and the selection isn't exactly ... ample. These worked fine for the test run.

Hannah Glasse, p. 195

* Asparagus = "Sparrow Grass"

Preparations - Curree of Chickens

Curree of Chickens.*

CUT two chickens as for fricassee, wash them in two or three waters, put them into a stew-pan with as much water as will cover them ; sprinkle over them a large spoonful of salt, let them boil till tenderish, covered close, scum them well when they first begin to boil; take up the chickens, put the liquor into a bason ; put half a pound of butter into a pan, brown it a little, put to it two cloves of garlic, a large onion sliced, let these fry till brown, shaking the pan ; put in the chickens, strew over them two large spoonfuls of curree-powder ; cover the pan close, let the chickens do till brown, often shaking the pan ; put in the liquor the chickens were boiled in, let all stew till they are tender: if acid is agreeable, when the chickens are taken off the fire, squeeze in the juice of an orange, or a lemon. Put half a pound of rice picked, and washed in salt and water, into two quarts of boiling water; boil it briskly for twenty minutes, strain it through a cullender, shake it into a plate, but do not touch it with the hands, nor a spoons serve it, with the curree in a separate dish.


18th century Chicken Curry

Rinse cut up a chicken, cover with water, add salt and boil until done, removing scum as it forms.

Remove the chicken, save the liquor, and melt butter in a frying pan. Brown the butter a little, add one minced clove of garlic, and a sliced onion. Fry until brown, stirring things around so they don't burn. Add the chicken pieces and two spoonfuls of curry powder. Brown the chicken (add more butter if necessary), shaking the pan often.

Add some of the broth/liquor and simmer the chicken pieces until tender, adding more broth as necessary. Squeeze in the juice of an orange, or a lemon. (Since 18th century oranges were bitter, I used orange and lemon juice.)

Make rice: Put quarter of a pound of rice* into a quart or so of boiling water; boil it briskly for twenty minutes, strain it through a colander, shake it into a plate, but do not touch it with hands or a spoon. (Sorry, I had to use a spoon. Sue me.) Put curry in a separate dish.

*The lady's assistant for regulating and supplying her table: being a complete system of cookery, containing one hundred and fifty select bills of fare, properly disposed for family dinners; Page 254


**This is 18th century rice. It is amazing – incredibly aromatic. If you ever see any in the store, it’s worth trying.

Preparations - A fricasey of kidney-beans

A fricasey of kidney-beans*

TAKE a quart of the seed, when dry, soak them all night in river water** then boil them on a slow fire till quite tender; take a quarter of a peck of onions, slice them thin, fry them in butter till brown; then take them out of the butter, and put them in a quart of strong draw'd gravy. Boil them till you may mash them fine, then put in your beans, and give them a boil or two. Season with pepper, salt and nutmeg.

Instead of using 4 cups of kidney beans and 8 cups onions for my test run, I used 1 cup of dry beans and 2 cups of sliced onion. I soaked the beans in water with soda over night, drained them, added fresh water and then boiled them for about an hour until soft. I fried the onions in butter and then added a cup of gravy and boiled it all together until I could mash up the onions. I added the beans and added salt, pepper and nutmeg. It ended up looking like something a cat horked up, but dang – it was tasty! It’s definitely geared for 18th century tastebuds, but I’d serve it to company in a heartbeat.

* Hannah Glasse, page 109
** River water would likely be soft water.

Preparations - 18th century gravy

So, I’ve been trying to get ready for this event next weekend, and I’ve been failing miserably. The riding habit? Not even cut out. I think I’ve lost about 15 pounds since my fitting, and I’m not putting that much time, effort and money into something that’s not going to fit. The cooking competition? I couldn't get my head wrapped around the amount of research I needed to do, and that's usually my favorite part.

Albemarle Soundings managed to get my food planning kick started, thank heavens, and I’m testing recipes (or “receipts” as they were called) this weekend.

Last weekend, I made gravy. Lot's of "made" dishes require gravy which isn't the thickened stuff we're used to today. Samuel Johnson defined it as "The serous juice that runs from flesh not much dried by the fire." This receipt is neither, but more like a broth.

Gravy for turkey or fowl or ragoo.*

TAKE a pound of lean beef, cut and hack it well, then flour it well, put a piece of butter as big as a hen's egg in a stewpan; when it is melted, put in your beef, fry it on all sides a little brown, then pour in three pints of boiling water, and a bundle of sweet-herbs**, two or three blades of mace, three or four cloves, twelve whole pepper corns, a little bit of carrot, a little piece of crust of bread toasted brown; cover it close, and let it boil till there is about a pint or less ; then season it with salt, and strain it off.

The description of the beef sounded a lot like cube steak to me, and being pressed for time, that's what I used.

Here it's been floured well, and is browning in butter.

Here are the herbs and spices I used - rosemary, sage, oregano, pepper, cloves and blades of mace.

Here's the pot before the water got added, including the toasted English Muffin I used.

Here's the pot after everything's been stewed to rags.

I covered the pot for a while, and then took the lid off so the liquid could reduce. It doesn't look very appetizing, but we'll see how it works out.


* Hannah Glasse, the Art of Cookery made Plain and Easy, 1774, page 121

** Sweet Herbs: parsley, sage, rosemary, thyme. I didn't have parsely, and my thyme was dead so I threw in a little oregano that I found peeking out of the ground. I'd use the parsely and thyme if it was an option.

Front Sight

So THAT's what happens when you focus on the front sight. It seems so counter-intuitive to me.

Look! I'm not wandering to the right. That's 15 rounds of .177 wadcutters @ 30 feet. A slighty different technique than what I use with a .75 caliber smooth bore with no sights.

Here are the next 15 rounds.

These were all done seated, resting my elbows on my knees.

Now I just might have to adjust my sight picture a little more, and I may be good to go. I think what worked for me was breaking the process down so I was dealing with fewer variables at a time. I hope the skills will transfer to something with a little more oomph.