a simple yarn

So what d’ya do when you have to be at an all-day conference in Dublin?

Yep, you knit another manly Christmas scarf…

A readjusted pattern, compliments of This Is Knit, to the mistake in the Last Minute Knitted Gifts book.

I only had US 10 needles, so I cast on 32 stitches to get 7-inch-wide scarf with Debbie Bliss Cashmerino Chunky yarn in a scrumptious chocolate brown colour. Adjusted to a K2, P1, K last 2 sts on Row 1 and Knit all stitches on Row 2, repeat.

Indeed, time well spent.

A very good equation to remember: weaving = warp + weft

Remember this warp, doing a fairly passable imitation of a cheap-bargain-basement-heavily-discounted-terry-cloth-bath-towel?

Add a little weft and…

…a fairly passable imitation of bouclé houndstooth, ’60s style.

Funny the things that trigger childhood memories…

I’ve been dreaming about doughnuts, after encountering the luscious gems at Krispy Kreme in Birmingham. Brought to mind our family holidays to the beach in North Carolina. Getting up before the dawn…deposited in the car still clad in our pyjamas….pillows in hand for the eight-hour car ride…sleeping as long as we can to make time go by faster.

During the holiday was the obligatory purchase of Krispy Kreme Doughnuts. Magically, our dad would appear with the glorious green and white box filled with the ultimate glazed fried-dough indulgence. Of course they’re made en masse but you’d think they were homemade…

I think the appeal of fresh, homemade doughnuts stems from early childhood reading, like this excerpt from ‘Farmer Boy’ by Laura Ingalls Wilder:

Mother was rolling out the golden dough, slashing it into long strips, rolling and doubling and twisting the strips. Her fingers flew; you could hardly see them. The strips seemed to twist themselves under her hands, and to leap into the big copper kettle of swirling hot fat. Plump! they went to the bottom, sending up bubbles. Then quickly they came popping up, to float and slowly swell, till they rolled themselves over, their pale golden backs going into the fat and their plump brown bellies rising out of it.

They rolled over, Mother said, because they were twisted. Some women made a new-fangled shape, round with a hole in the middle. But round doughnuts wouldn’t turn themselves over. Mother didn’t have time to waste turning doughnuts; it was quicker to twist them.

What a picture of harmonious familial bliss…

I’d like some of that…

Right, Sunday afternoon in our home. Dough is prepared. Heat the more modern organic rapeseed oil, as opposed to other old-fashioned fat. Plump, in they go! They swell and cook. But wait… They’re not transforming into the pale golden colour as ‘Mother’ experienced. Rather more like a dark-oak-nigh-unto-walnut-woodlike-substance. Oil too hot. Doughnuts are cooking faster than I can control.

Oops, ‘Mother’ is right, these new-fangled-round-shape-with-the-hole-in-the-middle don’t turn over and so it’s hard to keep up with the cooking-at-the-speed-of-light-doughnuts. Turn down heat. Now the doughnuts don’t cook nearly quick enough. I can imagine the copious amounts of oil that are being absorbed into the doughnuts as they slow-fry.

Well, I wouldn’t call it a glowing success…with certain rejection by the Krispy Kreme Doughnut police. So, the reality of making fresh, homemade doughnuts didn’t quite match the pre-conceived-Little-House-imagining of it. But after a good powdering of icing sugar…which covers a multitude of sins…the kids enthusiastically declared them better than Tim Horton’s, doughnut magnate of North America.

I wonder what, if anything, will trigger in my kids the childhood memory of fresh, homemade doughnuts on a Sunday afternoon. In the meantime, though, perhaps investing in a cooking thermometer is in order.

Please Note: The following is without photos because Blogger is….well, Blogger. Photo upload disabled. Therefore, just imagine a picture of a Dublin city bus. If you’ve never been to Dublin, try Google images, it’ll be much faster…

Later that same day:  Couldn’t leave it photo-less….argh….

A public transport knitting question…

So, when you’re on the bus, knitting to pass the time and making great headway because the traffic certainly isn’t moving, do you:

a) put your knitting away to disembark at the originally intended bus stop
b) get off at a later bus stop so that you can do a few more rounds
c) ask the bus driver to wait while you finish the last few stitches you’re working on

My answer, b). I’m at the middle addiction level. Was going to get off at O’Connell Street cuz traffic was slow and I could have walked faster to my final destination. Was making great progress in my knitting, though, so I decided, contrary to general public transport wisdom, to stay on the bus and exit a few stops later near Trinity College. Was able to do a few more rounds on the current work in progress.

So, what would you do?

From 1976 to 1982, Leonard Nimoy hosted a television show called ‘In Search Of…™ exploring various mysteries. And so the show started with this disclaimer, ‘This series presents information based in part on theory and conjecture. The producer’s purpose is to suggest some possible explanations, but not necessarily the only ones to the mysteries we will examine.’  And so, with similar disclaimer, I search for ‘the thing’.

I truly envy those people who have found their ‘thing.’ A friend, after taking a course in life coaching, made the declaration that she had finally found her thing. All of the tumblers in life’s lock lined up with this particular ‘key’ and it clicked with her. Likewise, when Fibre-Friend-Holly took up spinning she, too, found her ‘thing’, although I think she’s got a lot of ‘things,’ many areas where she excels.

So, the natural question I ask myself is: what is my thing?

With the amount of time I have needles and yarn in my hands, my children might say that knitting is my thing.

My husband would like to think (after all that trouble to deliver the loom) that weaving is my thing.

After the chuckle about the eBay wheel purchase, my knitting friends may now believe that spinning is my thing.

Keeping in contact via the internet, my family in the US might say that blogging is my thing.

After going on and on about it, Arthur-The-Cappuccino-Barista-Guy, might think that coffee is my thing.

Watching the organic veg van deliver our produce, our neighbours might be convinced that eco-living is my thing.

But, no. As much as I enjoy every one of these activities, I cannot say that any one of them is ‘my thing’….that endeavor which centres me, providing ultimate satisfaction that cannot be found in other activities.

So am I to go through life ‘thing-less’, Jack-Of-All-Trades-Master-Of-None, destined to be a dabbler?

Well, yes.

And is that bad?

Well, no.

I like the challenge of learning new things, previous ignorance being replaced by new understanding, even if the understanding is limited.

And so I reconcile myself to never being a master knitter, weaver, spinner, dyer or coffee barista. I will never have a small holdings where our family lives entirely off-the-grid. I doubt that I will ever earn an advanced degree in any field of study. But ya know, I will enjoy unlocking the mysteries of life as I come upon them. And such a renaissance view to being ‘thingless’ may indeed be ‘my thing.’

Much like the Saturday Tidy, the following post is a ’rounding up’ up of loose ends. And…….it’s Saturday. Creative, eh?

This Is Knit
Caught the train this morning down to This Is Knit. Hadn’t been there since they moved into their more permanent digs. Great place! Went in to say hi and have a chat with Lisa and Jacqui. Walked out with a pair of Addi circular needles and 4 balls of yarn. Eeek! Must…stay…away…until…stash…is…worked…down…to…reasonable…size…

Fetching
I confess I’ve never had an aching desire to knit fingerless gloves or handwarmers. But after seeing Mary with a Noro pair at our Thursday evening Costa Coffee knit group, I knew I needed some! You see, I have fairly poor circulation. Lose the feelings in my hands and feet in coldish, dampish weather. As I live in a coldish, dampish climate, I am sans circulation for quite of bit of the autumn and winter (and yes, sometimes spring) months!

Began them on our trip to Birmingham. Still need to get past my feeling of ‘yes-I’m-a-poor-waif-who’s-escaped-from-a-Dickens-novel’ while having them on. I will rarely wear them with short-sleeves (as the photo would imply), but wanted to show the never-done-it-before-cabling.

Daughter-Kate is eyeing them. Wants to knit a pair. As good a knitter as she is, for being nine-years-old and all, I don’t think she’ll be able to get the hang of it. Right, have to add that to the ever-growing list of projects for Christmas! Blimey, there’s even a kid-sized pattern in the Debbie Bliss Junior Knits book! Won’t have to alter the pattern I have. No excuse not to do ‘em now. And hence the purchase at This Is Knit…

Will have to make a few more. Started another pair at the Stitch n Bitch Kick-Off Party at Barnie’s today. Which leads me to…

Stitch n Bitch IE
Had a lovely time at our first gathering at the-new-meeting-place-Barnie’s. The place wasn’t quite as deserted as the manager led me to believe. But still, it lent itself to a busy-hip-and-with-it atmosphere! Finally met Knitting Neels (hiya!) and some newbies to the group. Had such a good time chatting that I completely botched the knitting I was doing, a new pair of handwarmers. So….riiiiiipppp…

Getting My Teeth into Houndstooth
Began the bouclé version. Not sure I like it at this point. Looks a bit like a cheap terrycloth bath towel. But I think when I get the weft going, it’ll look cool. At least I hope so!

Didn’t realise my little study in houndstooth was on the cutting edge of fashion design….saw this spread in today’s Irish Independent. ‘Houndstooth is back on the fashion menu this season in a variety of guises.’ Well, what d’ya know?

The days are grayer….and shorter. The leaves are browner….and falling.

Generally, I love autumn. Crisp, clear days. Bright, blue skies. Fresh, clean winds.

But with it also come cloudy, gray days. Hidden, muted sky light. It is not exciting…and less inspiring. Likewise, my current weaving is grayish and brownish to match the weather and the mood. Don’t get me wrong, I like the brown and taupe houndstooth combo, but I long for inspiration.

Hark! I see a new project dawning. I have settled in my mind to expand my Christmas pressies weaving into a ‘mini-exhibition’ for the weaving guild stand at the Knitting and Stitching Show in Dublin this November. I believe I shall aim to do a study in houndstooth, one of my favourite patterns. How timeless! How classic! And it being hip, with-it, and in-style for this autumn, it may capture the fancy of others as well. I have finished the black and gray wool. Currently doing the brown and taupe cotton. What next?

To dispel the autumnal doldrums….tri-colour black, white and cerise pink boucle! Yep, a new day is dawning…

So, what do you do when you return from a trip, look in the frig, and the ever-increasing pile of vegetables-which-are-not-a-regular-part-of-our-diet is still there, staring you in the face? Yep, you experiment… And not expecting it to succeed, I took no pictures, so ‘Warning: The Following Post is Text-Heavy and Photo-Light’. But, if you hang in there, there’s a brand-new-never-been-published-recipe at the end.

I’m a believer. After a few weeks of I-don’t-have-to-hunt-for-organic-cuz-it’s-delivered-to-my-door, I’ve made the commitment to be a regular customer of Absolutely Organic. Love the quality!

Admittedly, the last couple of deliveries have included vegetables that I wouldn’t include as part of our normal eating routine. Didn’t have time to search out recipes before the Birmingham trip. But now that I’m back, I need to use them or lose them. ‘Them’ being a swede, cabbage, and fresh fennel. Right, off to do a recipe search…

Epicurious.com has never heard of a swede. Not a good sign. Give Google a try. Well, it’s no wonder…what I’m looking at is a rutabaga. THAT I’ve heard of! Never cooked with, mind you, but at least I’ve heard of it! I can forgive Epicurious for not knowing, but I have to thank the senior citizens in Canada who could explain it…

RUTABAGA [pronounced ROO-tuh-bay-guh] This cabbage-family root vegetable resembles a large (3 to 5 inches in diameter) turnip and, in fact, is thought to be a cross between cabbage and turnip. The name comes from the Swedish rotabagge, which is why this vegetable is also called a Swede or Swedish turnip. Rutabagas have a thin, pale yellow skin and a slightly sweet, firm flesh of the same color.

As much as I’d like to put all three into one dish, I have to admit that I’d like the family to actually eat it, so I reluctantly put the fennel back into the frig for another recipe. I’m left with a swede/rutabaga and cabbage. The easiest thing to put with it is the common-but-tasty potato. Hey, wait! Potatoes…cabbage. I’m looking at the basic ingredients for colcannon, what every Irish person remembers eating at Halloween.

But my kids don’t eat colcannon.

So, necessity being the mother of invention, simple colcannon is now transformed into Colcannon-Americana, a hybrid-recipe taking basic ingredients for colcannon and a separate root vegetable dish, blending them altogether into the ever-popular-American-casserole-format-with-cheese. I don’t have any aspirations that this new recipe will ever make it into Gourmet magazine, but ya know, everyone in my family (including the kids) took second helpings. So, I think it was a family success, and I’m chuffed about that! Sorry, it’s not vegetarian…

Colcannon-Americana
1 pound bacon (that’s streaky bacon in Ireland)
6-8 potatoes, washed and cut into cubes (no need to peel)
1 swede (which we now also know as a rutabaga), peeled and cut into cubes
1/2 head of cabbage, washed and thinly sliced
1 medium onion, chopped
cheddar cheese, shredded
butter
milk
salt and pepper

In a large pot, place the cut potatoes and swede into water. Cook until vegetables are soft.

In the meantime, in a frying pan, cook the bacon until it is crispy. Take out of pan and set aside. Sauté the onions and cabbage in bacon grease. You may need to add a little oil or butter so that it doesn’t burn. Sauté until onions and cabbage are cooked soft, but not brown.

When the potatoes/swede are cooked soft, drain in colander. Mash together well, adding butter, milk, a little salt and pepper to taste. You may want to add a little more milk than you normally would for mashed potatoes, so they don’t dry out. Go easy on the salt, remember you’ve got bacon in the recipe.

In a lightly greased baking dish, layer on the bottom the cooked cabbage/onion mixture. Next, spread the mashed potato/swede mixture carefully over the cabbage. Top with shredded cheddar and crisped bacon. Bake in a 180-190 degrees Celsius (that’s 350 in Farenheit) preheated oven for about 20-25 minutes.

Last year, about this time, Husband-Will asked me what I wanted for my birthday. ‘A trip,’ I said, ‘…to London…to check out the yarn shops.’  So Holly and I were off to London. And now that the precedent is set…

Having just returned from a weekend fibre field trip with ‘the Five’, I’m not sure how to categorise us…knitting travelers or traveling knitters? Whatever the emphasis, it was easy to spot that we were all knitting bloggers! (Or is that blogging knitters?)

Day One
We unanimously elected Isobel as our officier commandant, affectionately known as ‘The General.’ Guess she was voted in as she’s a native Brit and can speak the language. After a typically harrowing taxi ride to the hotel, we, in deference to the Ryder Cup golf championship (played in Ireland this year), were billeted with Europeans in one room, Americans in the other. I’m thinking that for this round, the Americans won as our room didn’t have an ambient temperature of a convection oven, nor did our corridor smell of a herd of young, hormonal teenage boys.

Favourite Part of the Day:  Dinner at the Japanese restaurant. I should say, dinner and a show. Dinner…for me, vegetables tempura and chicken teriyaki. Yum!

See the cool, artsy, highly stylized food pictures? Well, I have found, eating with four other bloggers, that as we waited for our dinners to arrive, we used our time wisely by taking interesting pictures of typically uninteresting things. Not sure what the Japanese restaurant staff thought of this. Surely they, more than most cultures, would be sympathetic toward the desire of tourists taking pictures. What they couldn’t understand was that we didn’t want pictures of ourselves, but rather of the food or chopsticks or some other inanimate object.

And the show?

Well, it wasn’t sumo wrestling, but rather the small-Japanese-chef-who-more-probably-was-Korean-and-who-repeatedly-banged-metal-utensils-on-the-metal-work-surface-sending-the-metal-fillings-in-my-teeth-into-sympathetic-vibrations. Couldn’t get a picture of ‘Beni Hana’ as it resulted in a blur. I guess you’ve gotta be quick when you’re brandishing knives at the speed of light.

Day Two
It’s what we came for…fibre. Took an overly crowded British railway train to the exhibition centre, in which the entire state of Rhode Island could have easily fit. A full day of roaming, obtaining, looking, buying, touching, purchasing, admiring, acquiring, chatting, procuring. You get the idea.

My very reasonable amount of purchases including irridescent brown rayon (translation=’slippery’) for a yet to be attempted weaving project
After a full day of hunting and gathering, we dined at Pizza Express. Yes, there was pizza and no, it was not express. But, we cared not, as we had stories to tell and laughs to share.

The Serafina…goat’s cheese, chicken, spinach and mozzarellaDay Three

Exterior view of Selfridges & Co.
Favourite Spot:  Selfridges & Co. Multi-storied, multi-department, uber-cool store. Lovely food hall on the lower floor. Lovely to look at, but more difficult to purchase…um, food. Doors open at 10.30am. Computers turn on at 11am. Which means that if you want to purchase food, you must do so after 11. You could eat it before 11, I suppose, but you couldn’t take it away as they couldn’t take your money and they would frown upon giving it away. Also, you cannot ‘take away’ food at the area designated ‘eat-in’, nor are you allowed to sit there and eat anything that you bought as a ‘take-away.’ Moreso, food you purchase in one area, must be eaten in that area rather than being allowed to infiltrate another eating area.So, in our futile attempt to have breakfast together, Isobel and I ended up having pastries and tea on one area, Sharon and Sara had a bacon sandwich in another area, and Holly had to take her food outside the shop doors. I’d say that’s British bureaucracy at its finest, fairly reminiscent of BBC’s ‘Yes, Minister.’

Back to the Knitting & Stitching Show for the afternoon. Much less hectic pace. Made last-minute-we-can’t-get-this-in-Ireland purchases. Sat and knit until time to go to the airport.

Least Favourite Activity:  standing in never-ending queues amongst the other people in the cattle drive. Surely, the entire population of Rhode Island is in the queue with us with the recurring convection oven theme, except there’s no movement of air. One small carry-on bag they said. No liquids or gels they said (after we had checked our baggage). Worried looks. How small can balls of wool smush up? Three of us made it through. Two of our party were detained. Lip gloss equals contraband now. And ‘one small carry-on’ is a relative term. After shifting, sorting, maneuvering, re-arranging, we all finally made it through, minus one bottle of hand sanitizer and one tube of lip gloss. And as I got into my own handbag for a final purchase of bottled water, I saw in the bottom my otherwise overlooked plethora of liquid hand lotion, hand sanitizer and lip gloss. It’s just lunacy.

Wrap Up
Observant readers will realize that I’ve said little about fibre per se. My knitting goal for this weekend was to attempt many things I had never done before. So, while I was surrounded by so great a cloud of knitters, I decided to finally a) figure out the ‘magic loop’ method of circular knitting with b) a new fingerless gloves pattern which c) incorporates never-attempted-before-cabling along with d) cable cast on and e) I cord bind off. A bit ambitious perhaps, and experienced many fits and starts. But my project is now well under way.

Two Favourite New Comers:  Flying Saucers and Sublime. New sweets for the Kiddies and a new yarn by Sirdar for me. Yummy for both! Yarn is cashmere (5%) extra-fine merino (75%) silk (20%) dk.

And so our time together was truly about fibre (the buying of) and friendship (the making of). So, where will we go next year?

I wonder if Husband-Will realises just what he’s started?

So, what do I do when I’m inundated with the autumn schedule which has lowered the boom on me and I’m feeling a overwhelmed with all the things I need to accomplish in just a few short months before (gasp!) Christmas?

PTA meetings
Autumn Fair fundraiser at the kids’ school
Weaving commitments
Exhibition for the Dublin Knitting and Stitching Show
Knitting meetings and classes
Christmas knitting
November conference in France
Guests coming
Kate’s birthday
Alex’s birthday
MY birthday!

Eek! Well, the only reasonable thing is to jump on a plane tomorrow with the rest of We Five and go to Birmingham (UK) to the Knitting and Stitching Show for the weekend. Yep, it’s the only reasonable thing to do…

How many times have I read the following…’Please take time to check your gauge’…?

I’m in the midst of Christmas knitting…manly scarves…manly, but of the softest cashmere and merino blend. Yum! Still have a few lingering doubts about the shade of gray I’m working with. Not sure who, of the men in my family, will wear this. I keep knitting.

How long should it be? Knit the entire 3 balls? Check the book. Right, 50 inches. Have a ways to go. While I’m at it, check the width. Should be 7 inches. I measure. What, only 5-1/2? I thought it looked a little slim! Hmmm. Well, who’s gonna know?

And yet, those lingering doubts begin to manifest themselves into conscious thoughts of ‘No guy is going to wear marginally-slate-gray-that-looks-more-like-deep-cornflower-blue’ and ‘He’ll certainly not wear a petite-sized-scarf-around-his-neck’ and ‘I’ll have done all this knitting for it to be tossed in the bottom of a closet somewhere’. No thank you.

So, the bad news…the past few days’ knitting will not go into the pile of completed Christmas gifts. Back to square one.

The good news…that lovely, soft scarf will certainly feel good on me this winter!

Note: The following post is extended in length, but diverse in culture…

Once upon a time, Husband-Will’s self-development group decided to have a party. ‘Why not make it international?’ they decided. ‘I’ll bring Russian food,’ volunteered Husband-Will. ‘Why not American cuisine?’ queried Wife-And-Chief-Chef-Cheryl-Thinking-Of-All-The-Tried-And-True-Recipes-To-Choose-From. But alas, North America was already covered by Friend-Michael, who was bringing a Canadian dish, and thus the Chef was faced with whipping up an edible Russian meal.

Right, something Russian shouldn’t be that daunting of a prospect for me. In fact, Russia has a special place in our family’s collective heart. More literally, our children’s hearts…and the rest of their bodies…are Russian by birth. Husband-Will and I spent some wonderfully memorable time in that amazingly enigmatic country. I have spent countless hours studying the Russian language, hoping a) to be able to converse with my then-toddler children, and b) to achieve some level of proficiency should the need arise. Doesn’t everyone need a bit of Russian language in an emergency?

What has resulted is fairly passable conversation, as long as we stay on a toddler level! I’m a pro at saying, ‘Don’t touch that!’

Warning: Linguistic Diversion Ahead:
There is an embarrassing drawback in wanting to learn a language with as ‘native’ an accent as possible. Admittedly I can do a reasonably native Russian accent; it’s nothing learned, just have an ear for it. That’s not to say I’m a good mimic. I’m downright worthless at other accents. Fakeroony! But, I’m chuffed when a Russian compliments me, after our initial greeting, saying that my accent is spot-on. BUT (and here’s the life lesson)….having a good accent is no substitute for knowing vocabulary! And so the conversation goes something like this (translated into English of course)…

‘Hello,’ I say, putting on my best ‘native Russian’ accent.
‘Hello,’ replies the actual native Russian.
‘My name is Cheryl, nice to meet you.’
‘Nice to meet you as well. Your Russian is very good.’
‘Thank you. I don’t know many words and don’t understand it very well, but I can speak a little.’
‘Oh no, your Russian is very good! Where did you learn it? In university? Do you have family that is Russian? Were you ever in Russia? For holiday? For business? What parts of Russia did you visit? What, you’re American? I have friends who went to America once. They enjoyed themselves immensely and…..’

From the second sentence, I am lost. I have absolutely no idea what this person is saying. The bright glint of initial interest in my eye has turned into a glazed stare as I try to decipher one or two words which will help me understand what in the world this person is communicating! I have to repeat my ‘no-this-is-not-just-self-deprecation-I-really-don’t-understand-much’ disclaimer. And so, the native Russian politely turns away with a confused look on his face, unable to comprehend the total dolt with the good accent.

But back to the original topic…

I decided to experiment with borscht, a lovely vegetable soup with beets-giving-it-a-superbly-dark-reddish-hue, with a dash of dill and a spot of sour cream. Yum! Traditionally eaten with black bread or pirogi, little meat turnovers. So, after cheating by using store-bought puff pastry, I made a batch of pirogi as well…

Warning: Second Linguistic Diversion:
Please note that the pronunciation of pirogi is peer-ah-GEE, not puh-RO-gee. Sorry, just a quirk of mine…accents, you know.

And since we had so much quantity, the kids and I would have a Russian meal as well. Won’t hurt ‘em. They need to be in touch with their Russian heritage. What a great opportunity….! Their response?

Alexei-aka-Alex: ‘Yuck, I don’t like the soup. I like the meat things, dipped in ketchup, of course.’

Ekaterina-aka-Kate-and-ever-the-diplomat: ‘Well, the soup’s okay, but I have to say that I’m more American or Irish in my food tastes.’

Guess we’ll have to touch their Russian heritage in other ways (or dip everything in ketchup)!