Bumby Beets Salad

On a daily basis we're harvesting beets, roasting them and eating them pickled.  We even tried eating them raw.  We plant a variety called Bull's Blood, because of their red leaves.

They are nice-sized - they feel about the size of a baseball in the palm of your hand.

Growing up, on Sundays after church, we would go to my maternal grandmother's house for lunch.  We called her Bumby.  We'd gather in the formal dining room with the entire family there, say a blessing over the meal and then we'd feast.  One of the things we'd have is something that we call "Bumby Beet Salad.  Here is the recipe below:

Tricia has already prepared the beets according to instruction in the photo and now she's shredding the lettuce.  All the ingredients like red onion and tomatoes (other than the mayo and seasonings) are there with the bowl.

The beets and other ingredients are added and now the salad is tossed to mix it all up.

The final thing is to add the mayo.  I'm usually not a big mayo fan, but it is necessary in this recipe.  Once it's all mixed up, it makes a mighty fine salad.

Bumby Beet Salad.  With a bombastic bumper crop of beets, we'll be eating this a lot in the upcoming weeks.  You ought to give it a try!

Bumby's Beet Salad

We had a bumper crop of beets from the fall garden this past year.  The variety we plant is called "Bull's Blood" because even the leaves of the plant have dark red leaves, similar to the color of bull's blood, I suppose. This past week we harvested our last one.  We have been slicing them and roasting them in the oven on most nights.  So good!  We love beets, and they are supposed to be really good for you.

We have also pickled the beets, made beet kvaas, and borscht, but we were looking for other recipes to use up our bumper crop of beets. Tricia was talking to my Mom on the phone and got a recipe for a beet salad.  This beet salad brought back a lot of memories for us and we thought we'd share.  My maternal grandmother (we affectionately called her Bumby) always made this salad.  She was big on different types of salads: cucumber salad, plates with olives, pickled okra, pickled beets, peppers, etc. Her beet salad was one of my favorites.

We will call them "Bumby Beet Salad".

Peel, cut up, and boil beets with salt and pepper.  Drain them.  Then cover beets with white vinegar and boil again - add more pepper, if needed. 

Then set aside to cool.  This essentially pickles the beets quickly.  Tear up some lettuce in a bowl.

Add thinly sliced red or white onion and add cut up slices or chunks of beets.

Put it all in a bowl.

Mix with 1 or 2 Tablespoons of mayonnaise (blechhh! - I don't like mayo at all, but this salad is still good - I just don't think about the fact that I know it's in there!).

Stir it up and add additional seasoning, if needed.

The tangy pickled beets stand in contrast with the crunchy flavorful onions and crisp lettuce and provide a really nice side salad for any meal.  We have made several of these and have really enjoyed them.  Reminds me of Sunday meals after church at Bumby's house and puts a nostalgic smile on my face!

The Old Fruit Bowl

Oftentimes, Tricia watches the Chip and Joanna Gaines "Fixer Upper" show where the couple work together to renovate an older home into something that is more modern and decorated nicely.  They talk to the buyers and find out what they like and will often incorporate something old and meaningful into the home.  Do you have things like that in your home that you've reclaimed?

I like things like that.  For instance, in the house I grew up in, my mom and dad incorporated old bricks from some landmarks from their childhood into the fireplace.  Things like that have a nostalgia factor.  It creates a great conversation piece and helps personalize your home and bring back memories.  It doesn't have to be part of the construction.  It can be a piece of furniture or a decoration or an old keepsake.

This evening I was looking at something in our home that brings back memories.  It's an old fruit bowl.  Not that it necessarily only contained fruit.  This bowl was my grandmother's.  We called her Bumby.  This bowl was in her kitchen on a countertop right next to an old International Deep Freeze.

Bumby normally had a few bananas in this bowl that were on the brown side.  Shortly before they turned completely brown, she transformed them into banana bread or banana pudding.  Let's see, what else was in this bowl?  Well, if I close my eyes and try to remember, there was also a pack of Juicy Fruit Gum in the bowl, a Baby Ruth Candy bar, a Snicker bar, various nuts, Bumby's car keys, the day's mail, the bulletin from Sunday Church Service, some butterscotch candies and a cinnamon disk candy or two.

Bumby passed away years ago, but seeing her old fruit bowl on the island in our kitchen reminds me of her and brings back good memories of spending time with her. 

The (House) Coat of Many Colors Quilt

Beginning in Genesis 37 and proceeding through the end of the book, there is a wonderful story about overcoming adversity.  It is a story about having great faith and persevering even when things look bleak.  It is a story about patience and blessing and restoration.  It is also a story about a father's great love for his son.  Jacob made his son, Joseph, a "coat of many colors" and presented it to him.  It was probably an ill-advised move, as it showed favoritism and his other brothers began to hate him.  If you ever feel that you have a dysfunctional family, you need to read this story!  It will make you feel better.  The coat of many colors started a daisy chain of events that causes Joseph's life to go from bad to worse, but the story finally culminates with a happy family reunion, great blessing and shows that God has a plan even when things seem bleak.

I was thinking about the story of Joseph today and thought, "I have a coat of many colors" too!  My maternal grandmother, whom we called "Bumby" always wore what she called "housecoats."  To me they were like a gown or a robe.  Bumby also called the couch or sofa a "davenport."  Bumby was quite a lady and I have many fond memories of her.  Bumby passed away almost 12 years ago, but I always like to keep memories of loved ones alive, and so it was with great pleasure that my Mom & Dad presented me with Bumby's "Housecoat of many colors" quilt.

Mom gathered a bunch of Bumby's housecoats, cut the fabric and had a quilt made out of them.  I think it was a fantastic idea.  You can see it below:

We keep it on our bed during the cold months and as I look at the quilt, I can recall Bumby wearing the housecoats represented by each square of fabric as she made us cinnamon toast and served us Rice Krispies with sugar sprinkled on top as we'd eat breakfast in her den on TV trays.  I remember her laughter and funny faces she'd make.  I remember how she'd make us pimento cheese sandwiches and prepare games for us to play in the car to keep us occupied on family vacations.

I'm grateful that I have the House Coat of Many Colors Quilt to help keep Bumby's memory alive.  The quilt keeps us warm and provides us with warm memories, too.

Making Pickled Beets

Many people - especially kids - make faces and turn up their noses when you talk about beets. Beets just aren't their favorite thing. I can understand that.  There are certain things that I'm not crazy about eating.  Turnips, for instance.  I happen to really like beets.  I like them cooked in broth.  I really like them roasted in the oven with olive oil.  But I'll show you tonight a way to prepare them that most everyone can enjoy.  Pickled beets.  My grandmother we called "Bumby" always served pickled beets as an appetizer at Sunday dinner and on special occasions.  I liked them as a kid and I still prepare and eat them pickled today.

First, you gotta pick 'em.  I grow two types of beets.  This is a bull's blood beets. The leaves look the color of bull's blood, I suppose.

Bull's Blood Beets

This is a Chioggia Beet.  It originates from Italy, and I'll show you something neat about this variety in a minute.

Chioggia Beets

I picked 10 pounds of fresh beets in a produce bucket since that's what the recipe calls for.

I brought them in and washed them to get all the dirt off of them.

Then I sliced the bottoms and tops off of them.  Chioggia on the left and Bull's Blood on the right.

Then I cut the beets all up - in chunks and slices.  Here's the neat thing I want to show you about Chioggia beets.  When you slice them, they look like a peppermint! You know, just like a starlight mint.  The others behind the "eye-catchers" you see below are the Bull's Blood beets.

If you cut the Chioggias 'long-ways' the red & white designs really stand out!

But enough about what they look like.  Let's make pickled beets, so we can talk about what they taste like.  Obviously, you'll need 10 pounds of beets.  You'll also need a couple of cups of sugar.  I used some pure cane sugar that is grown an hour south and east of here.  The recipe also calls for 1 Tablespoon of kosher salt, a quart of white vinegar and 1/4 cup of whole cloves.

A quick side-note about cloves.  I love the way they smell.  If I inhale deeply in the container of cloves, it reminds me of my childhood.  When I was a boy, my grandmother, Bumby, showed me how to make a craft with cloves.  It is a simple craft project that involves an orange and a bunch of cloves.  She had me press the pointed end of the cloves into the orange until it was pressed all the way in.  We repeated that with a bunch of cloves all over the orange until you couldn't even see the orange anymore.  It was solid cloves.  It was a sachet, I think you call it, to be placed in a closet or drawer to make everything smell nice.  Over time the orange got smaller and smaller, but it smelled GREAT!

Sorry for the diversion.  Back to making pickled beets.  Here are the ingredients ready to go.

Put the 10 pounds of cut up beets in a pot of water and bring to a boil, cooking for about 15 minutes or until they are tender.  I tested the tenderness with a fork.  When I could press the fork in easily, they are done.  Pull out 2 cups of the "beet water" to save for later.

Sterilize your jars, lids, and rings in boiling water.  In a separate pot (I made a big mess in the kitchen), add the sugar, vinegar, beet water, and salt and bring it to a boil.  While you are waiting for this to boil, fill your jars with beets.  Then pour the hot brine over the beets in the jar using a canning funnel.

Before putting the lids on, sprinkle the cloves and then seal up the jars.

Put a rack in the bottom of a stockpot so that the jars aren't touching the bottom and bring the water to a boil.  Put your jars of beets in the boiling water, making sure that the tops of the jars are covered.  When the water returns to a boil set your timer for 10 minutes as that is how long you will process them.

Pull them out and let them cool.  My pickled beets don't look traditional as the Chioggias are white and aren't the traditional deep red color, but that's okay with me.  They still taste great!

We'll snack on these before meal time and on special occasions.  Tasty pickled beets.  Nothing goes to waste.  The beet tops and peels get fed to the milk cows. They love the sweetness just like we do, I assume.  I even found an interesting use for the boiling water that I'll show you the next time I post.

Always Go to the Funeral

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I grew up in a small town and funerals were a major social event.  I don't mean to be disrespectful or belittle funerals by saying that - quite the contrary.  People rallied around the grieving family, filling their homes and funeral home kitchens with more 1 pound bags of black coffee and more doughnuts and more sandwiches cut diagonally with the crusts cut off and more fried chicken than you could shake a stick at.

I'll confess to you that I didn't like to go to funerals.  I still don't.  Funerals make me sad.  I don't like the finality and to see the tear-stained faces of people I care about. I don't like thinking about the fact that, until we reach the other shore, we won't see the person in the casket again.  To be perfectly honest, I'd rather not go.  Funerals, because of their oft unexpected nature, conflict with plans and schedules and are often inconvenient.

I can distinctly remember my grandmother, who we called Bumby, making darn sure that I attended every funeral.  She would make me stop what I was doing and would usher me (sometimes by the ears) to her waiting Chevrolet Caprice (or was it an Impala?) and she would drive me across town. She had "pin stripes" on the side of this car from getting too close to the sides of her carport and she drove that car like Bill Elliott might have driven if he was in a rush.  She'd get airborne going over the railroad tracks and by the time we got to the funeral home, I thought they might have to open the second chapel for the both of us.  But it was vitally important to be there to pay our respects.

Honestly, I was (and probably still am) too immature and selfish to understand why it is so important. Recently I read a great article from Art of Manliness called Doing Good versus Doing Nothing.  You ought to click on that link and give it a read.  I read it to the family around the supper table the other night.  The Art of Manliness is a very well-written and insightful blog that I am subscribed to and read every single post that the McKays make.

The author of the article, James “Uncle Buzz” Surwilo, said, "we should make the effort to extend ourselves, or put ourselves in uncomfortable situations for the benefit of others. Such moments, such opportunities for a kind act, may never happen again, and a seemingly slight gesture, or offering of mere presence, may be awkward, may be bothersome, but can have a lasting impact. It’s always better to do something than to take the easier way out."

The author referenced an essay called "Always Go to the Funeral" that made the profound point:

“I believe in always going to the funeral. My father taught me that…‘Always go to the funeral’ means that I have to do the right thing when I really, really don’t feel like it. I have to remind myself of it when I could make some small gesture, but I don’t really have to and I definitely don’t want to. I’m talking about those things that represent only inconvenience to me, but the world to the other guy. You know, the painfully under-attended birthday party. The hospital visit during happy hour. The shiva call for one of my ex’s uncles. In my humdrum life, the daily battle hasn’t been good versus evil. It’s hardly so epic. Most days, my real battle is doing good versus doing nothing.”

What a simple, yet weighty thought.  The daily battle isn't good versus evil.  It is doing good versus doing nothing.  I find that to be, indeed, a daily struggle.  Going to the funeral, even when you don't want to confront the sadness or loss or to see the pain in the reddened, tear-filled eyes of family, friends, and neighbors, is the right thing to do. Just being there is important even when you can't find the words to say and everything that comes out of your mouth is cliche.  It means something special to the other person.  And as Bumby always told me, "One day you are going to be where they are and it will be important to you that people came and were simply there, gave you a hug, and expressed their condolences."  Always Go to the Funeral. Bumby, you were so right!

Employees. Our Greatest Asset - Really

This morning I had an opportunity to meet with a former co-worker who lives way up in Maine.  He was traveling through the area and called me and we met and had a cup of good coffee and about 45 minutes of good conversation.  He invited us up to Maine to visit he and his wife.  I've never been to Maine and think it would be a fun trip.  I'd like to try a lobster roll.  He said it is something similar to a "northern po boy!"

I was telling him that back before we began making our own toothpaste, - Read how by clicking here - our brand was Tom's of Maine.  I still use their deodorant.  I like their products.

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But another thing I like about Tom's of Maine is the way they treat their employees. Now, let me preface what I'm about to say by stating that I believe in capitalism. Although imperfect, it is the best economic philosophy that I know of and has lifted many out of poverty and given people better lives. With that being said, sometimes corporations are not good to their employees.  I fully understand that the President and CEO and Board of Directors have a fiduciary responsibility to maximize shareholder value.  What happens too often is that this maximization of profits sometimes takes place on the backs of the workers and this is unfortunate.  Jobs are moved overseas to take advantage of cheaper wages, people are laid off, benefits are cut, etc., putting peoples' livelihoods and families in peril.

Many companies may say "Our employees are our greatest asset," but CLICK HERE to see how Tom's of Maine puts their money where their mouth is (pardon the play on words).  Here's a brief summary of a few of the perks of working for Tom's:

• They have a work out facility for employees with personal trainers,
• They are encouraged to use 5% of their paid work time to volunteer in the community,
• They offer mothers or fathers 4 weeks of additional time off beyond short-term disability following the birth or adoption of a baby,
• Because Maine summers are short, from Memorial Day to Labor Day, employees' have special summer hours, giving them longer weekends,
• Employees are given a $4,000 benefit to purchase a new hybrid vehicle,
• Free coffee, fruit, tea, and spring water,

That's pretty cool!

As I was thinking about that, I was reminded that in our small town of Kinder, I'd like to think that my maternal grandparents, whom we lovingly called Bumby and Poppy, pioneered employee appreciation and community service initiatives similar to Tom's of Maine.  Poppy opened the Kinder Supermarket in 1947 and hired many people - not just people, but friends.  Many of those former employees have gone on to be doctors, teachers, engineers, and successful businessmen and women and fondly remember bagging groceries or ringing up canned goods at the Kinder Supermarket.

Bumby and Poppy were very active in the community and their church, volunteering, sponsoring ball teams, dance recitals, having benefits for those sick in the community.  Around Christmastime, I can remember my grandfather loading up his Ford Bronco with goodies and delivering bags of free groceries to needy folks around our town.  He and Bumby loved their employees and loved the community they served.

As a small boy, I can remember the excitement Bumby had in hosting a Christmas a Christmas Party in their home and inviting everyone over.  Entertaining was Bumby's forte.  She had multitudes of silly games for everyone to play.  One I can remember is she'd separate the employees into 2 groups and give everyone a toothpick to put in their mouths.  They would line up and the first person would be given a livesaver.  They had to pass the lifesaver down the line using no hands - just transferring the livesaver from toothpick to toothpick.  (Some Tom's toothpaste might have come in handy!)  The same general idea but this time with an orange, passed from person to person - using no hands, just holding it between your chin and neck/shoulder.  She'd often read a goofy poem or a silly joke or song.  It sounds so corny, but people really had fun and it built camaraderie, friendship, loyalty and respect.  It built goodwill and trust and was just enjoyable.

Come to think of it, the world needs more 'Supermarket Parties.'  Or more "Bumby and Poppy's!"

Moxie

The definition of moxie is the ability to face difficulty with spirit and courage, aggressive energy, initiative.  To me that is a very nice compliment to have that said about you.  Do I have moxie?  Well, I don't know.  I'd certainly like to think so.

I absolutely have another kind of moxie - Moxie, the soft drink.  I guess I had never really heard of Moxie until I read about it on Herrick Kimball's The Deliberate Agrarian Blog.  You can read more about it here: Moxie from Wikipedia, but here is a little summary of this Distinctively Different soft drink:  It is the official soft drink of the State of Maine and was one of the first mass produced soft drinks in America.  It has a unique flavor that some say "takes some getting used to!"  The best way I can describe it is that it is similar to root beer except it is bitter.  We all tasted it and like it.  It is different, but we really like it.


Moxie is distinctively different!

I'll get back to why it has a bitter taste in a minute.  Moxie was first marketed as a medicine called "Moxie Nerve Food" created by Dr. Augustin Thompson back around 1876 and was supposed to be especially effective for treating "paralysis, softening of the brain, nervousness, and insomnia."  Interesting! 

The Moxie Man wants YOU to try his soft drink.

Reading about Moxie made me very curious.  Although I've never been to Maine, I do work with a gentleman who lives in Maine and often sends me beautiful photographs of his home and his scenic state.  Gotta tell you, it looks COLD up there...  So the last time he came to Louisiana around Christmas time, he brought me 3 little cans of Moxie, one of which is shown below, and I had the opportunity to taste it.  It does have a bitter taste, but it grows on you.  We rationed the 3 cans and consumed the last one tonight.

Now the reason it is bitter is that it is made with  Gentian Root Extract.  Gentian root, also known as Bitter root, comes from the Gentiana lutea, or Great Yellow Gentian plant and has many herbal, medicinal uses.  I have actually chewed on bitter root before.


Drink Moxie!

My grandmother, whom we affectionately called Bumby, would give me bitter root for allergies.  Each fall something is in the air that makes me cough and Bumby would pull what looked like a small twisted stick out of her pocket and tell me to chew on it.  I have to be honest and tell you that this was quite possibly the most awful thing that I have ever put in my mouth.  She was convinced that it would cure me of all ills.  I would often think that the "root of all evil" that the Bible speaks of was maybe referencing bitter root instead of the love of money.  We would tease each other about that all the time.

My grandfather on my Mom's side was originally from South Dakota and was of Norwegian descent.  His last name was Sneve.  During World War II my grandfather was stationed at Camp Claiborne in Louisiana and my grandmother, Bumby, met him at a USO dance.  Kind of a neat story, huh?  Anyway, they married and settled in Louisiana after the war, but they made frequent trips back to the Black Hills of South Dakota to visit family that still lives there.  I think she would reload her supply of bitter root when she would go to South Dakota, much to my dismay.

Bumby passed away on March 12, 2006 at the age of 87 and thus ended my bitter root "treatments."  Drinking an ice cold Moxie allowed me to taste bitter root again (albeit in a more enjoyable, sweetened manner), flooding me with some memories that I hadn't thought about in a while.

The last can of Moxie

Sometimes I feel like I have "softening of the brain" that gentian root is supposed to cure, so perhaps I should have chewed on more bitter root or maybe I should just drink more Moxie.