Bread Dough, Friends, Graves, Poems, Rain, Thai Food (listed in alphabetical order)
Today, we hosted our first visitors who actually came over for a meal. We only have four chairs and while our 3 foot square table has a leaf on top that flips over, there's nothing to support it when it's open. So we had a couple over for brunch.
I found another bread recipe online - this time whole wheat - and checked to see what would happen if I put the dough in the refrigerator overnight. In Anchorage, I would use the bread maker and it would be all done in the morning on its own. The several sites I found said, leaving the bread in the fridge overnight works. And I learned two new words - proof (meaning rise) and oven spring (meaning how much the bread actually rises while it is baking in the oven.) The sites said bread left in the fridge overnight had better flavor and much more oven spring.
It worked. It didn't rise much in the fridge overnight, but I got up early and took it out to warm up and went back to bed. I got up two hours later and kneaded and flattened it (it said this would get it all warm faster) and rolled it back up into a lump and put it into the slightly warmed oven to rise. Then an hour later kneaded it again and put it into that always recommended well oiled pan. I also put in some chopped ginger, currents, and walnuts, and then on the once more flattened dough put a layer of guava jelly and rolled it up and stuck it in to rise again. It didn't rise as much as I would have liked in 40 minutes, but it was getting late. Fortunately, the oven spring thing worked and it really did 'spring up' in the oven.
Our guests had asked what they could bring and we'd said, "A Poem." And they did, several. They read Antonio Machado's "Last Night"; Sharon Olds' "The Race" and "The Space Heater." (wonderful chain of words at the end) Another was called "The Dress." It seemed to me to be a sly observation about the communication minefields couples face, but also how other things get us safely through them. But I'm not sure. I'd like to read it again. And there was one more that painted a picture of love and hate necessarily merging. Wonderful gifts to the brain and heart all.
We then walked up Basin Road toward Perseverance Trail. It was raining and blustery and the trail got muddier and we had places to go so we weren't gone long. (Or maybe it seemed short because we were having such good conversation.) And then a quick change into drier pants and off to tea and three berry pie with other friends a short walk away.
And here are three more pictures that probably won't fit anywhere else. As I ran through the Evergreen Cemetery Saturday afternoon, I remembered that I'd read somewhere that Joe Juneau was buried there. And as I came upon the next grave, there it was. Richard Harris was buried to the left of the path in an identical grave. Wikipedia tells us:
Would you rather live to 60 and have the state capital named after you? Or live to 74 and just have a street named after you? Personally, I glad Juneau became the name of the town, because there's already another state capital Harrisburg.
We got picked up by another friend Saturday night and driven out to Chan's Thai Kitchen. We had a good meal and good conversation. This is, I'm told, the only Thai restaurant in town and it's way out by the university. [HarpboyAK corrects me in the comments, noting Suwanna Cafe in the Jordan Creek Mall.] And the portions are pretty big. But last Saturday night's Thai dinner was much more sublime. But it was at someone's home.
It worked. It didn't rise much in the fridge overnight, but I got up early and took it out to warm up and went back to bed. I got up two hours later and kneaded and flattened it (it said this would get it all warm faster) and rolled it back up into a lump and put it into the slightly warmed oven to rise. Then an hour later kneaded it again and put it into that always recommended well oiled pan. I also put in some chopped ginger, currents, and walnuts, and then on the once more flattened dough put a layer of guava jelly and rolled it up and stuck it in to rise again. It didn't rise as much as I would have liked in 40 minutes, but it was getting late. Fortunately, the oven spring thing worked and it really did 'spring up' in the oven.
Our guests had asked what they could bring and we'd said, "A Poem." And they did, several. They read Antonio Machado's "Last Night"; Sharon Olds' "The Race" and "The Space Heater." (wonderful chain of words at the end) Another was called "The Dress." It seemed to me to be a sly observation about the communication minefields couples face, but also how other things get us safely through them. But I'm not sure. I'd like to read it again. And there was one more that painted a picture of love and hate necessarily merging. Wonderful gifts to the brain and heart all.
We then walked up Basin Road toward Perseverance Trail. It was raining and blustery and the trail got muddier and we had places to go so we weren't gone long. (Or maybe it seemed short because we were having such good conversation.) And then a quick change into drier pants and off to tea and three berry pie with other friends a short walk away.
It is interesting to note that the town did not take up its current name right away; originally it was known as Harrisburg, Pilzburg, and Rockwell. Apparently, Joseph Juneau was able to bribe (buy votes from) enough of his fellow miners for it to be changed. Even though the city doesn't carry Harris' name anymore, Harris Street remains in Juneau. Richard lived the rest of his life in Juneau, his children and descendants stayed in Juneau for many years. Both Richard Harris and Joseph Juneau are buried in the city's Evergreen Cemetery.
We got picked up by another friend Saturday night and driven out to Chan's Thai Kitchen. We had a good meal and good conversation. This is, I'm told, the only Thai restaurant in town and it's way out by the university. [HarpboyAK corrects me in the comments, noting Suwanna Cafe in the Jordan Creek Mall.] And the portions are pretty big. But last Saturday night's Thai dinner was much more sublime. But it was at someone's home.
