The Strawberry Cake Story

I always hesitate to tell this story, it just sounds too strange and unbelievable, but a few folks asked me to. My birthday's over,  and I'm just now making THE strawberry cake. Our Friday night dinner group consists of 11 people, out of those, 3 have birthdays in late May. So tonight we're going out for dinner at Devito's Restaurant and Trout Farm and since I didn't make myself my favorite strawberry cake on my birthday, this will be the cake we 3 who have birthdays this week and last, will share.

The actual and real, I swear, story of this cake, follows here. Believe it, because it's true, but if you don't choose to believe, that's ok, I understand. It all started my first year in the Air Force, 1967. I'd been away at college for 2 years, the Army and the Vietnam war were breathing down my neck. I chose the Medical Corps in the Air Force and that May was my first birthday away from home. Before, even while in college, I always returned home for my birthday, where my mother made my favorite of all cakes - strawberry. I'm guessing the recipe had come from one of the women's magazines my mother read, because it is wholly a 50's style cake. There is nothing healthy or wholesome in it.

Knowing I was not getting to come home for my birthday, I planned ahead, asking my mother to write mail the recipe to me. I attended church off-base, in town each Sunday. There was a group of college students and Airmen who met for study in the Church annex and someone always brought food to go with coffee. I thought sharing my favorite cake would be a great way to celebrate.

I had a desk in my barracks room which I shared with a roommate. I stored my mother's strawberry cake recipe in my one drawer. I had asked Connie, one of the girls in our Sunday group if I could come to her house to make the cake on Saturday and we could store it in the annex's refrigerator until Sunday. She agreed and I bought the necessary ingredients on Friday.

Saturday morning I was excited to get the cake project underway. I had the ingredients already in my vehicle, but when I opened the desk drawer, the cake recipe was nowhere to be found. I looked and looked, turning everything upside down, asked my roommate, looked in the groceries, in my pockets, all to no avail. The recipe was lost. Food for me, is always a connection to emotion, to nostalgia, to good memories, and I was miserable. I wanted that cake.

It was pouring down rain as I drove to Connie's house, very sad. I really wanted to taste that cake badly, and I really wanted to share it with my friends. I didn't start crying like a baby, but I darned well felt like it. I parked near Connie's house, thinking I would just take the ingredients inside and leave them for her family as I couldn't do anything with frozen strawberries, eggs, oil, etc.

When I stepped out of my truck, the wind was blowing the rain so hard it immediately soaked my shirt and the paper grocery bags. I walked toward the house with my head down to avoid as much of the blowing rain as I could. Looking down to avoid stepping in puddles on the sidewalk, I saw a small piece of soggy paper. I nearly didn't stop, but I bent down and picked it up out of curiosity. It couldn't be. How was this possible? It was A strawberry cake recipe! Not the one my mother had typed out for me, this one was in a handwriting I didn't recognized. I stood there, dumbfounded. I tried to figure out how this strange coincidence could be. The water running down my back, through my underwear and jeans and down my legs, brought me back to reality. I ran on to Connie's house, losing the box of frozen strawberries out of the now disintegrated grocery bag.

Indoors, Connie handed me a towel and helped me retrieve the groceries. As we spread everything out on the kitchen counter, I told her my story of the disappearing recipe and the incredible appearance of the new one I held in my hand. She nodded and smiled, but obviously didn't believe me. I couldn't blame her, had I not witnessed it myself, I wouldn't have believed it, either.

We made the cake. The ingredients were similar to my mom's recipe, but slightly different. Egg whites instead of whole eggs, for instance. Sliced fresh strawberries instead of frozen. But the cake was baked and appeared all right. We let it cool, iced it, then drove to the church and put it in the refrigerator for morning. But wait, this isn't the end of the story!

Next day when we arrived early to make coffee, Connie went to get the cake. She came back and said the cake wasn't there. I looked in the refrigerator, too. We looked in the church's big walk-in refrigerator, asked the associate pastor. Nothing. As the coffee perked Connie excused herself and went to the lady's bathroom. She came back carrying a wastebasket. In it, was my cake, still intact except for one missing piece.

We had about 30 people in our group and as they arrived I told them about the cake and how disappointed I was in not getting to share it with them. (And how I really wanted to have some myself). It took weeks for the mystery to be unraveled, but in the end, a girl I had dated one time (and not again because she was absolutely crackers) was jealous that I'd gone to Connie's to make the cake. She discovered the cake in the church refrigerator, ate a piece, cried, and dumped the rest in the trashcan, as revenge! But wait, this also isn't the end of the story!

Every year when I get ready to make mom's strawberry cake, the recipe is no where to be found. I keep it in a notebook of recipes, I even check during the winter, but when my birthday rolls around, it's nowhere to be seen. I have a special pocket for it in my file, I always put the recipe there when I find it again, but when I make the cake, I wind up using the recipe I found on the sidewalk. So one of my reasons for waiting a week to make the cake, was to see if the right recipe would stay where I put it last year. It was where it was supposed to be.  I used Mom's recipe this year. In the photo you can see both hers and the one I found on the sidewalk in the rain in 1967.

Because several people asked, here's Mom's recipe. It may not sound like it, but is so incredibly good that I would probably eat the whole thing, which is why I'm sharing it with our dinner group tonight, to save me from myself. As I warned earlier, it's a typical 1950s recipe, there is absolutely nothing healthy in this except for the strawberries.

Strawberry Cake

1 box white cake mix
1 small box strawberry Jell-O (dry)
Scant cup cooking oil
4 egg whites
1/2 cup water

Mix thoroughly with electric mixer or by hand. Then add 1 box (about a cup) of thawed, frozen strawberries, mixing by hand to combine. Pour into oiled, floured 9 x 13 baking pan and bake at 325 degrees F. until a knife inserted into center comes out clean.

Icing
1/2 cup (1 stick) softened butter, combined with 1/2 cup formerly frozen strawberries and 2 cups powdered sugar, mixing well. Spread on cooled cake. (I use half cream cheese, half butter instead of all butter).

Josh picked another 3 gallons, bringing the total up to a little over 6 gallons of cherries off of the one, dwarf Montmorency cherry tree. He bought a new cherry pitter, and it works like a charm. It's not electric or anything automatic, but it does make this job a whole lot easier. He's freezing the cherries in pie-sized batches (4 cups). I made a pie a couple of days ago out of the first picking. It's great to have a winter's supply of good pie cherries.

I'm really glad my birthday comes during strawberry (and cherry) season. Happy Gardening!

Bees Arrive at Long Creek Herb Farm

It's not that I don't have enough stories and photos to post more often, it's that I can't find enough waking hours in the day to do so. Therefore you have to endure these long posts I have. But it's spring, life is moving along at a rapid pace. My birthday is tomorrow (I'll be 39....ok, 49, I'm lieing, of course). The last week's garage sale, that got rained on, continued one more day this week. Whew, glad we got that over with. Furniture, oriental carpets, collectibles, 4 camera tripods, dishes, all went. It's what I asked for, for my birthday. Now...to shop for furniture.

Barbara is enjoying her Earth Boxes. People kept asking me if I had an opinion about Earth Boxes and I had to admit each time, I had no idea what an EB was. I ordered 2 for my mother-in-law, Barbara, for Mother's Day and now I am learning about Earth Boxes from her project. Before these 2 were even filled with soil, Barbara was planning her list of seed she wanted to try and I barely had the soil in the boxes before she had everything planted. I was tickled that she was excited! Parked on the deck on deck benches, they are the perfect height to tend, and her plants are growing rapidly. There will be more news as the summer goes along of Barbara's project, for now, she has basil and a few ripening strawberries, green beans and tomatoes are coming along, some chives, too.

The cherries are ready to be picked and that's the project for this evening. Adam and Josh put a net over the tree which only slows the birds and squirrels a tiny bit. Like it or not, we'll share with the wildlife, but hopefully pick enough for a pie or two and lots for the freezer.

The big event of the day was the arrival of Matthew with bees. Josh and I have kicked around the idea of bees for years but it takes some commitment to do bees justice. Already having goats, chickens, a few guineas, a business, a garden that produces more than we can eat, taking on bees always got put aside. Matthew, whose family owns the Amish Country Store in Branson, (they sell my books and Nail Fungus Soak) farms out his bee hives in various areas, then collects and sells the honey. Because we are mostly organic and have plenty for bees to graze on, he brought bees to live here for the season. Molly, our Jack Russell, immediately sensed the boxes had something mysterious in them and not knowing better, got a couple of stings and fled the area, leaving the project to Matthew. Pollination of everything should be outstanding this year. We have lots of wild bees as well as bumble bees, but having some docile Italian bees on the property will benefit the garden greatly and be fun to see how Matthew handles them.

Adam and I have been working on getting the garden up and going all month. With 5 inches of rain last week (much of it on garage sale weekend) and another inch or moisture this week, it's been a challenge to get things planted, mulched and happily growing. This is a view from the deck, of a little corner of the garden. And here's an interesting new dianthus I'm enjoying this year. I forget the name, but it is a constant inspiration for little bouquets for the breakfast table.

And has the flavor and fragrance to make some really good sorbets for summer evenings! Happy gardening.

Ketchup and Catch-Up

I wanted to start today's posting with the photo I took in the National Mustard Museum, which I wrote about 3 weeks ago, of a sign which read, "Eating Ketchup is believed to cause childhood stupidity (be safe, eat more mustard)" But I evidently sent it to the trash. So just imagine it here. Today's posting is catch-up (or ketchup, if you want), several things I would have posted this week had we not been getting ready for the MEGA GARAGE Sale. We filled one 14 ft. U-Haul truck, plus 3 stuffed full pick-ups and drove it via caravan, to our friends, Neil  and Sarah's house in Forsyth, MO. They have good traffic past their house, while we have maybe 2 cars a day. The sale went well and the living room and storage building are basically empty. (What I wanted for my birthday, coming up next weekend, was a garage sale, or you can read it another way, I wanted some new furniture and the garage sale was the means to get it). So, on to the catching-up.

I met Brian Paffin at the Carmel-Indianapolis "Dilly of a Day" herb day and was immediately impressed by his candles he had for sale. Candles are candles, right? Not exactly. His are made of soy oil, so no smoke, but the better aspect, is the fragrances he uses. You can read more about his tantalizing candles on his website, Herbal Art website. I bought a candle with the scent of Dirt (really - it smells like fresh plowed garden), and 2 Peach Sangria candles. They're so good I wonder if people try to eat them. His products include soaps, body products, wedding gifts, fund raising products and a lot more. You'll be pleasantly surprised at his very creative, unusual, high quality products.

We had a wonderful visitor in the garden guesthouse last week. Pat Crocker, of Riversong Herbals in Ontario, who's best known for her books, The Juicing Bible and the The Smoothies Bible, stopped by for a visit. She was on her way back home in Canada from having been the keynote speaker at the Ozark Folk Center's annual Spring Herb Extravaganza. We know Pat through the International Herb Association and Garden Writers of America and always look forward to getting to spend time with her. Her book, The Juicing Bible won 'Best in the World' in the nutrition category in Perigueux, France, in 2000! We talked about the International Herb Assoc.'s annual conference in Collinsville, IL, in July, where she and I will be 2 of the 4 hosts for what's called, "hosted dinners." It's a great way for conference attendees to get to visit over dinner about a specific  subject, sort of like a mini-workshop, with food, in small groups. 

And next on my list of catch-up, is this wonderful book from Jennifer Vasich, The Lavender Gourmet, from Moose Run Publications. I didn't count the recipes, but there are 325 pages of them. Here are some examples of the taste-tempting recipes Jennifer has: Lavender Mint Brownies,  Vanilla Lavender Hot Chocolate, Raspberry Lavender Sorbet, Lavender Chicken with Lemon Butter Sauce, Southwest Chicken Lavender Enchiladas, Basil & Lavender  Pesto, Hibiscus Lavender Lemonade. I could go on, but the best compliment I can give this book, is, I wish I had written it. Jennifer created a book that will likely change the way you think about lavender.

My lavender isn't blooming yet, but the garden looks better every day. Even with nearly 5 inches of rain this week (including during the garage sale), the garden is coming alive. Adam, who I've written about several times, is here for another couple of weeks, and has done wonders in the garden. Nearly all the beds are fully planted, most are mulched and now we're working on expanding the garden to the south to make room for a row of grapes. Yes, I know, the garden is already more than we can take care of without help, but, it's grapes and I found some 3 year old plants in 5 gallon buckets, blooming and ready to give us grapes. 

Our irises have been beaten hard by the pounding rains, but still manage to bloom vigorously. This one is 'Betty Wold,' simply because the late Betty Wold is the one who gave it to me 20 years ago. Many of the plants in my non-edible garden are named for who they came from, rather than a distant Latin name. So when the Betty Wolds are in bloom, I stop and smell them every day, trying to memorize the fragrance for later. Much like the way different colored tulips have different smells, so do iris. These deep purple Betty Wolds are the most fragrant of all, so delicious you want to spread some on buttered bread (IF they were edible). Or stuff a pillow with the flowers and take a nap. Thank you, Betty, I think of our friendship every spring.

And because it's Sunday and the rhubarb is ready, I made a strawberry-rhubarb pie. I think it turned out pretty well, although the taste will be the real test. This is a recipe a friend gave me many years ago, simple, quick, and my favorite. It's 4 cups of cut up rhubarb (or 3 cups rhubarb, 1 cup sliced strawberries), 1 1/3 cups of sugar (I used part non-sugar sweetener), 6 tablespoons flour and a few dots of butter. Mixed together, poured into a pie shell and topped with another pie crust, it's baked at 400 degrees F. for 10 minutes, then baked for another 40-45 minutes at 375 degrees F. It will be the top-off to one of our favorite Sunday dinners tonight: meatloaf, baked beans, spring salad, and....rhubarb pie. It is the best reason for growing rhubarb!


Happy gardening.

Really, a French castle in the Ozarks!

The French seemingly have come back to renig on the deal they made with Thomas Jefferson in 1803. Well, not really, the Louisiana Purchase transferred ownership of a good portion of Central and South-Eastern United States from France to the U.S. and this new enterprise isn't meant as a return to the days of old, not that way, at least. But it is significant that a trio of French people are erecting a 1300s vintage French castle right here in the Ozarks, on land that was once part of the French colonies.

The first question that comes to mind would be, "Why?" and the answer to that is as complicated as the enterprise itself. (I think the short answer is, "because we can.") I've been waiting to tell this story for nearly 9 months, ever since I first had a tour of the site late last summer. Back then, the groundwork was just beginning, the land had been cleared and the developers didn't want any information released until the project was well underway. So on April 30th, there was a big unveiling of the project. Miss Arkansas came in 4 inch high heels (one wonders...didn't she know it was a construction site??) and sang the national anthem. There were lots of media from far and wide (read the U.S.A. Today story). The Arkansas Director of Tourism came, letters were read from governors, lots of tourism development types came, bus tour companies, etc. It was a big, impressive event.

The fortress is the brainchild of our friends Jean-Marc and Solange Mirat who made a visit back to Guédelon, France in 2008. Quite by accident they met Michel Guyot who was in the process of building a similar castle from the ground up in Burgundy. His castle is scheduled to be completed in 2022. The Mirats made a deal to partner with Guyot to build a castle on the couple’s Arkansas property, near Lead Hill, Arkansas.

This is an interactive project and visitors are encouraged to see and try out weaving, carving and other techniques that were used in the 1300s. The fortress-castle is being built using stone and wood from the property, using techniques authentic to the time period. Stone masons cut and fit the stones, then mix mortar from slaked lime, sand and water and cement the stones in place. (The project has 2 architects and 2 engineers whose jobs it is to ensure authenticity and stability of the structures).

The castle project will take an anticipated 20 years to complete and it's not the completion that's the goal, it is the teaching of the process, the step by step progress, that is the focus. In essence, once it's built, the project is over (they even threatened, whimsically, of tearing it down and starting over again). The attraction is the methods and construction, not the finished product that will bring groups of all ages to tour the progressive construction project. (There is also an authentic, wooden, 1000 a.d. vintage fortress erected on the site, as well, showing the techniques and materials used in the centuries before the 1300s fortress project).

There's a garden, which is my main interest, made of wattle beds, a project that will grow as the main construction grows. There are stone cutters, a squirrel-cage lever system where a worker 'walks" inside the cage, which pulls a rope and raises stones to be set as the 4 ft wide walls go up, along with woodworkers, weavers, spinners, timber cutters and more. I was impressed on the Media Day how well versed the workers were in interpreting their own parts in the project.

Adam, our WWOOFer of 2 seasons ago (more about him here), arrived last week to help get the garden here underway. He's been in the Pacific Northwest working on a production organic farm. With his great help, we have turned the garden from empty beds into fluffed-up, mulched and planted garden. His enthusiasm and interest is always an inspiration. He'll be heading off on another adventure in a few weeks.

We got tickets to see Michael Feldman's Whad'Ya Know? show on Saturday in Springfield. We're long time fans of the show and even though this is Feldman's 4th visit to Springfield, this was the first broadcast we had attended. My editor, Fred Pfister, from The Ozarks Mountaineer magazine was the guest interviewee and Feldman gave lots of good publicity for The Mountaineer. (I've been writing my Ozarks Herbalist column for The Mountaineer since 1992 when I ceased publication of my Ozarks Herbalist newsletter). 

And, the way things sometimes go in circles, 2 of the guests on the show were from the French castle. Billy Williams, one of the stone masons, had Feldman try out his stone cutting skills. Accompanying Williams was Julie Sonveau, the PR director for the castle, explaining the project. Check the castle's website for more information about visiting. I think Feldman and his What'dya Know? staff were touring the castle after the nationally-broadcast radio show was finished.

Now, back to work in the garden, where our castle may be smaller but just as fulfilling.

Back from Madison & Indy

What a great trip this was! The folks in Carmel-Indianapolis, Indiana, were so charming and welcoming. An herbal potluck dinner with the herb society's Board, at President, Ann Hathaway's house the night before the "Dilly of a Day" event was fun, with time to get to know people. Then on to the Four Winds School, which I've written about already, over to the National Mustard Museum, then landing in Madison, Wisconsin for the Indianapolis Herb Society's event at Olbrich Botanic Gardens.

Two things made this trip special - the people I met along the way, and the food. (You may recall, I categorize my trips as either, "bad food" or "good food" trips). I've not had a Good Food trip in some time, but this one will be one to remember. Even truck stop food was really good!

I'm considering starting a new blog and it's probably going to be titled, "I love my job," because I keep meeting people in unusual places who tell me they just love their job. Like Jateen Patel, owner of the Comfort Inn, in Hebron, IN. I'd had a bad day, needed a motel with a laundry and reliable internet access. Checked in, only to discover that not only did the laundry not work (soccer team had broken it the night before) but the Wii-Fi also didn't. Both Jateen and Michele, the desk clerk, went beyond their duties to fix things. A brand new hotel, me tired, things not working, could have created an unhappy stay. They fixed everything, quickly. And while visiting with Michele, I heard her say, "I just love my job." When I apologized the next day for being a bit grumpy, she said, "I always say, count the blessings, not the days." Jennifer, the day desk clerk, went out of her way to fax my business papers home. And unfortunately, I've lost their photos!

I spent the day before my "duties" (WORT public radio interview, T.V.-13 interview) in Madison looking around State Street. It's the street that stretches between the Wisconsin State Capitol building (largest in the U.S. except for Washington, DC) over to the University. It's where the famous farmer's market is held each Saturday, and where lots of fun eating places and pubs exist. Walking around, just being a quiet tourist, well past lunch time, I spotted a sign in Wanda's Bar that said, "Voted Best Fish-Fry in Madison." So I went in and took a seat at the bar.

The bartender came over and asked what I'd like. I said I'd like to a plate of fish and some iced tea. He looked a bit quizzical, my assumption being, the iced tea order. I was wrong because he replied, "We don't serve fish on Thursdays." I inquired why, thinking there must be some strange law about fish on Thursdays or something, or that he hadn't understood what I'd asked for.

"Don't know," he said. "Maybe it's to make sure the fish are fresh. It's tradition in Wisconsin to have fish fries on Fridays." I ordered some onion rings to go with my iced tea and about then my friend, Olee, from Spring Fever Greenhouses called me. "Whatcha doin'?" he asked. Sitting in a bar, hoping to find some fish but they only serve it on Fridays, I said. "Well you tell those folks that down here in the Ozarks, we can eat fish 7 days a week!" The bar was quiet and evidently Adam, the bartender overheard our conversation. While I ate the onion rings and drank my iced tea, he was busy at the other end of the bar. Shortly he appeared with a big smile and placed a plate of fish in front of me. "Don't want you to go away from Madison disappointed," he said, "it's on the house." What a kind gesture. I just wanted to call up his mother and tell her what a sweet, thoughtful son she raised.

A very kind fellow, Tom Goodwyn, of the Madison Herb Society, had made my reservation in the Hotel Ruby Marie, with a view of Lake Mendota, just across the street. My room the first night (because I came a day early) was a substitute for the room I had the rest of the time. No complaints, though, it was a suite, with hot tub, living room, fireplace and little bar. Very cool! (And my regular room, next door which ready the following day, was very nice, as well). The Hotel Ruby Marie is an older, renovated, classy hotel with lots of restaurants nearby. So the next person on my list of outstanding people is Joshua, the smiling face of the Hotel Ruby Marie. He was helpful in finding me a room that first night, and saved me considerable embarrassment the following evening. How you may wonder?

I had Thursday night free and asked for a recommendation of an experimental theater that might be fun. He recommended Mercury Rising, downtown, and suggested a the Old Fashioned tavern & restaurant just around the corner from the theater, for dinner. He also told me his favorite thing to order was the pulled pork sandwich. So downtown I went. Streets aren't always marked well, my Garmin navigator led me in circles, but I found the theater and the Old Fashioned restaurant, and more important, parking. I had just enough time to eat and get to the theater for a showing of 8 contest-winning 15 minute comedies. Once inside the Old Fashioned (named for the drink - they offer many variations on the classic drink) rather than wait for a table, I sat at the bar. The place was packed, mostly with college students. The bar was somewhat dark and loud. I suddenly realized I didn't have my glasses when a menu was placed in front of me, and to my embarrassment, I discovered I could not read one single word on the menu. It might as well been in Chinese, even squinting, no recognizable words would appear. What to do? Ask the very busy bartender (there were 6, all in fast motion) to READ the menu to the oldest guy in the place? How embarrassing would THAT be! But just then I remembered what Joshua at the Ruby had said. "Do you have pulled pork tonight?" I asked, just like I was a regular. And that's what I had, and thanks again, Joshua, it was a very good choice and I didn't have to ask the bartender to read to me.

Next on the list - it's long and should be 2 posts, but... was Tom Goodwyn, who picked me up at the hotel, gave me a great tour of Madison, then drove me to my 8 a.m. radio interview on public radio WORT. To both of our surprises, I knew his former partner in Minneapolis, many years ago. We found we had several acquaintances in common. And even more, the Volunteer Outreach Coordinator at Radio WORT, Glenn Mithroff, also knew people I know from years ago. What a small world! Tom was a delightful host, showing me the botanic garden, Lazy Jane's Bakery for breakfast and Tom will be a long time friend, I'm certain.

Then there's Marge Synder, president of the Madison Herb Society. What a sweetheart! She took me to lunch at her favorite Thai restaurant and we visited about her world travels and mine. She's a very talented chef and author of several outstanding cookbooks. She hosted the Board of the herb society for a dinner in my honor at her home and it was great fun. She's prepared pizza crusts in advance and when we arrived, served us rosemary cosmopolitans to sip while we prepared the pizzas. She divided the 10 of us into little groups, gave us recipes and a pizza crust and said, "get to work." I always think that working on a project in the kitchen is one of the very best ways to get to know people and this proved it.

The pizzas were Marge's own concoctions and I wish I'd kept the recipes she handed us when we went to work. She teaches cooking classes, so following her instructions were easy. One of my favorite pizzas had shrimp, mozzarella, chopped cilantro and mint, green onions. Another was sausage, mushrooms and I think, walnuts. Another was caramelized onions and goat cheese. They were all fantastic and we had a delightful evening.

And since herb groups always eat well, the Madison H.S. had a brunch for about 60 people on the day of my program. Herb people go all out for food, and the offerings from the members were incredible. I tried really hard but could not find one single dish I didn't like! The Shiitake-Ramp quiche (ramps are wild leeks) was outstanding, so were the egg salad sandwiches, the salads and desserts, all herb based and all waaay too delicious.

My program, Eat Your Landscape, was well attended and held in Olbrich Botanic Garden's educational rooms. Olbrich is a city park, but what a delightful place, well designed, very popular place to visit by locals and beyond. It will stand proudly beside any botanic garden anywhere.

More to come.....

Meteorites Miss Mustard Museum

Meteorite hunting has gripped southern Wisconsin and northern Iowa. It seems the meteor that zipped across the sky lighting up people's hopes for UFO sightings on April 14, broke apart over the 2 counties bordering the Iowa-Wisconsin line. School children have been out hunting them, one girl having sold her fist-sized meteorite for $1,000 and Discovery Channel folks filming documentaries on local farms. I grew up just a few miles away from a meteor crater, known as the Weaubleau-Osceola Meteor, but missed it's falling to earth by about 300 millions years or so. That one, whose crater is about 11 miles wide can be seen with Google Earth, and from outer space, (look in West-Central Missouri near the Osage River) still holds fascination for rock people. But the meteorites, which are pieces of meteors, fell in Wisconsin and have more people out hunting for them than you'd find looking for morel mushrooms (which aren't up yet, according to locals).

Before leaving Chicago, I made a stop at Ikea. I have great fun in Ikea and go there when Josh isn't traveling with me. He calls Ikea a "Danish Wal-Mart" and says their offerings are cheap and poorly made. I agree, especially in the electronics area. We've had several lamps from there that either didn't work, had parts missing, or replacements could only be had from Denmark. But I like the stylishness of their hardware and kitchen items and don't miss an opportunity to spend a few hours looking and shopping (and yes, I bought another lamp - I buy lottery tickets, too). It takes hours of walking to see an entire store.

Two nights ago I drove to Mt. Horeb, Wisconsin, from the Chicago area to spend the night and be up early the next morning to visit the famous National Mustard Museum. A Google search said it was in Mt. Horeb, the motel owner where I stayed verified it was just downtown from the motel. So for the evening I went out hunting for a dinner restaurant and found the Grumpy Troll, which sounded like my kind of place. Not that I've ever been called grumpy, but I can appreciate good grumpiness when I find it. It was a good choice, having a wonderfully grumpy-descriptive menu and about a dozen kinds of beers and ales from their micro-brewery. (It made me think of the Grumpy Gardener, aka Steve Bender at Southern Living, who is truly, grumpy most of the time and his grumpiness flies well on his blog, check it out if you haven't yet; tell him I sent you, it'll make him even grumpier). I tried one made with jalapeno peppers but opted for something called, "Bob's Better Beer" or something like that.

The following morning I got up, repacked the truck to make room for possible plants at a nursery I'd passed, and headed out looking for the famous National Mustard Museum. After lots of searching and asking, I found the museum had moved. Not just down the block, but to the outskirts of Madison, in Middleton. I headed that way, inquiring as I went if anyone knew where the museum had moved. All in all, a day, a night and many hours later, I finally found the elusive National Mustard Museum. I admit I was a bit underwhelmed. It looked like just another tourist store, filled with mustard. Evidently they've not been there very long, a few months. With some snooping around I found a little arrow pointing to the basement and the museum. I brightened some, at finding there was, after all an actual museum of mustards, not just a sales area.

I found there were antique mustard containers, categorized by state and country. I found several mustards that were made in my state of Missouri, a selection from Arkansas and lots of mustards from Wisconsin, and every other state, too. There were several displays of antique mustard advertising art from the '20s and up, some of which was quite interesting.

When I returned upstairs and went back to browsing the mustards, I saw that many of the recent Napa Valley Mustard competition winners were displayed. About then, the two ladies who were running the museum offered me some tastes and help. For the next 20 minutes or so, we had a fine and amusing mustard tasting. Did you know you can get a good, full-bodied whole seed mustard with bleu cheese? It is excellent. I got one with shallots, too, and one called, "Cowboy Mustard" and another by the same company that is, "Cowboy with a Kick" and it lives up to its name.  All in all I came away from the National Mustard Museum glad I'd spent so much time trying to find it, the people were quite nice, they have thousands of kinds of mustards and there are cautions throughout the store about how eating catsup instead of mustard can lead to everything from obesity to stupidity in children.

Next door to the Museum, is the Hubbard Street Diner and having not had lunch yet at 3:00 in the afternoon, I decided to test out the food. I was very glad I did, because they offer good, old fashioned diner hamburgers, and are known for their pies. I have no idea how many kids of pie, all  homemade, they offer. I asked about the difference between their French silk pie and the Mississippi mud. What I discovered (I hope my doctor doesn't read my blog or I'll get a scolding, because I've been bad) is that Mississippi mud, in the South, would be called a baked fudge pie. Oh my, oh my. To eat this, I gave up food for the rest of the day and will live on salads for awhile. But it was worth it. Rich, almost chewy baked fudge filling with real whipped cream, not sweet (to offset the filling, which probably was nothing more than butter, sugar and cocoa). That alone was worth the day and a half it took to find the Mustard Museum. Unfortunately the Diner doesn't offer any of the great mustards from next door.

Today I'm heading out to see some of Madison and tomorrow my Herb Society hosts will show me more of what this interesting city has to offer. It's still chilly here at night, and I've been bringing my plants inside each evening. I have some bay rum and allspice I've been saving for the "Eat Your Landscape" program at the Olbrich Botanic Garden on Saturday. I'm sure the plants are tired of being moved back and forth. But, just like they were pets, I give them a few hours of sunlight each day, some water and care. Right now they're sitting on the windowsill of my room at the Ruby Marie Hotel, enjoying the view of Lake Mendota.

I am in town for work and look forward to that, but like Matthew Morrison, the actor in Glee, I want to do it all!