Hiking along the Minong Ridge.
At Todd Harbor. One of my favorite parts of the island.
Happy to be in the woods!
One of many beautiful places to stop for a break.
Isle Royale has 535 moose on the Island. At times, the numbers have soared up to 2,000. Isle Royale might be most famous for the wolf/moose study.
This is a shot from the Noquemanon trail. This trail system has 60K of trails, and this was somewhere around the 20K mark (I think) and also on the advanced loop, accessible at the Forestville Road trailhead. Lake Superior is in the background, but I don't think you can see it in the photo.
This is a shot from Alan's birthday ski. We were bushwacking through the forest looking for "The Top of the World" near Harlow Lake. We didn't find it, but had fun anyway.
Did you know that most Americans ideas about Irish soda bread are completely inaccurate. American-Irish soda bread is sweet, scone-like, and typically includes raisons or currents. Real Irish soda bread is dark brown, dense, and an important staple to many meals. I am including Neil's (the farmer I stayed with) recipe for Irish soda bread.
Neil's "REAL" Irish soda bread.
3 cup extra coarse whole meal flour
1 cup rolled oats
1.5 tsp bread soda (sieved into dry mix)
1tsp salt
1 tsp sugar
Mix all of the above together thoroughly.
1 pt butter milk.
Stir in the milk with the dry mix until is wet.
Lightly oil a 2lb loaf tin
Sprinkle rolled oats into bottom of tin
pour mixture into tin and cut a cross in mixture to the bottom of tin and from each end
place in centre of pre heated oven (gas mark 4.5)
bake for 1 hour
remove from tin immediately
Enjoy with loads of salted butter and my favourite STRAWBERRY JAM
This weekend Alan returned to northern Wisconsin to visit family, and I fended for myself it Marquette. I was hoping the alone time would allow for some much needed creativity and even more needed productivity. Although I cannot not deduce if I was as creative or productive as I needed to be, (I may have been—I don't know) I did pick up a new pick book. Elizabeth a fellow TA in the English department (and one of the five people who reads this blog) encouraged me to stop by Snowbound Books on Friday while she was working.
I didn't expect to find a book, but among the new arrivals was Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant. The front cover is purple and has a photo of an eggplant, my power vegetable. I was instantly drawn to it. The book is a collection of essay about cooking and eating alone. I have read about half of the essays so far, and most of them are either insightful or funny. "The Legend of Salsa Rosa" by Ben Karlin, a UW Madison alum, told the story of a young Ben learning to cook in Italy during a semester abroad. His hit dish, Salsa Rosa, which he made to impress all of his friends and family when he returned from Italy, ends up not being Italian at all. Another local interest essay was "Asparagus Superhero" by Phoebe Nobles. Her essay explores all things asparagus in Michigan, including asparagus pee. (Don't be ashamed—we've all had it.) Overall, this collection of essays was the perfect fit for my weekend. It had good insights on not only eating alone, but being alone as well.
So, the big question is: what did I eat this weekend? Friday's dinner was baked Superior trout, roasted brussel sprouts, and a roasted beet with goat cheese salad. (I am including a picture, but I took it with my phone so it isn't the best quality). Saturday night I cooked up a graham masala with veggies from the farmers market. In the midst of the fall harvest, I am alone, but with much more than just an eggplant, and Alan is returning soon too.
The following is an excerpt from a piece I wrote about my Irish experience this summer. Although I have a lot of work let to do on the essay, I thought I would share a bit anyway. The included photos are all taken on Cape Clear Island.
I couldn't think of any better way to investigate the trend in local food production and consumption than by asking a farmer. In fact, as a low budget traveler, it worked out best to stay with a farmer. Alan and I joined WWOOF (World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms), which is a community of national organizations that connect organic farmers, gardeners, and landholders with volunteers who exchange labor for food and accommodations. The Republic of Ireland had 172 host farms for us to choose from. My preference was to farm by the sea, and Alan, as an employee of a natural food cooperative in Michigan, preferred to work on a farm that supplied a restaurant or store with local products. After a thorough search, we decided on Neil's Place located on Cape Clear Island (population 130) in County Cork. Neil not only owned a 15 acre farm, but also his own grocery store and restaurant.
Alan and I envisioned working 15 acres of vegetables, but our idea of farming changed when we arrived at Cape Clear, a three mile long by one and one half mile wide island with a topography similar to the foothills of Appalachia. This was grazing land, and we were going be working with livestock. Although the island was small, the steep and winding roads made it seem larger. It took a long afternoon to walk around the entire island. Most houses on the island had small gardens for potatoes, tomatoes, and a few other select vegetables, and several families earned their livings by tending livestock.
Neil had several projects for me and Alan. Some were small: mowing his mom's lawn, digging thistles out of the cow pasture, and pruning hedges. The largest task we completed during our stay with Neil was building an electric fence on his mom's pasture land. Growing up in Wisconsin, I equated cow pastures with flat to gently sloping land. Neil's land was anything but flat, and I was surprised the cows would even be willing to graze the steep, tussock-lined ridges that skirted the Atlantic. The land halted with a 200 meter drop into the sea. The plunge had already taken the lives of several of the island's livestock.
In the evenings, Alan and I explored the island. We had the opportunity to visit some of the other farms that accept WWOOFers. The island's most interesting farm, Cleire Goats, was the first farm on Cape Clear to take volunteers. Ed Harper runs the 27 acre goat farm, and his WWOOFers milk goats and make handmade goat ice cream (strawberry, chocolate, and vanilla) for farm door sales. When the bucks get to size, they are ferried over to the mainland for slaughter and then processed into some of the only goat hams in the world. Ed is also blind, and although he can manage the hilly acreage and goats on his own, he is always looking for volunteers to lend a hand. By the way, Ed's volunteers get all the goat ice cream they can dream of.
As Neil's WWOOFers, we took our meals at his restaurant, An Siopa Beag, (Gaelic for Little Shop) which serves traditional home cooked food. My usual breakfast was eggs and toast (the Irish love toast) and breakfast meat if I wanted it. Some locals who ate at An Siopa Beag ordered the traditional Irish breakfast of eggs, sausage, bacon, beans, and black and white pudding, but the Irish breakfast roll—meat on a bun—was by far the most popular morning item. At dinner we ate chicken, turkey, beef, or pork with potatoes and other vegetables. One thing remained consistent at every meal: the large portions. "The Irish like to make sure their guests are full after a meal," Patrick, an American who had been living on Cape Clear for the last year, said when I asked about the belly-stuffing size of each meal. It was unclear whether this was a residual effect of years of famine in past centuries or just a love of food. Everyone I asked had a different opinion.
Neil was interested in the idea of serving local food, but his restaurant's transition was slow in the making. Besides a few vegetables and scallops caught by a local fisherman, a shellfish Alan and I gained firsthand experience cleaning, most of the food served at An Siopa Beag was imported. "Someday I would like to serve my own grass fed beef here," Neil said, after cooking us our dinner of corned beef, which was not from the island. "The beans I serve are from Africa, the canned fruit from California, the cereal and bread from who knows where," Neil shook his head as he showed us the products in his little grocery store. "I would like to sell more local products. It's just difficult figuring out a system."
As some of you may remember, September is for short stories and swimming in Superior. I am disappointed to say, my daily dip in Superior has not been happening daily. The school weeks have been busy and it rained for a large portion of last weekend.
Happily, I have been sticking with my short story a night theme. Last week I finished Yiyun Li's collection of short stories, A Thousand Years of Good Prayers. (Click here to be taken to Yiyun Li's homepage.) Her collection of stories was fantastic. Many of her themes revolved around family, and her essays were an interesting glance into Chinese culture. I ordered Li's book on a whim several months ago after reading Granta's list of top young American writers of 2007. Click here for the article. I recommend this collection for anyone interested in Chinese culture and looking to read a few terrific stories.
This past weekend I had a wonderful lesson in Iranian history. I have never given much thought to Iran, and always assumed it is similar to other countries in the Middle East: desert like, oil rich, oppressive, crowded with veiled women, and a possible country to go to war with for our current administration. This weekend I learned that A) I don't know much about the different cultures of Middle Eastern countries and B) I know next to nothing about the history of the countries of the Middle East.
A few months ago, I heard about the movie Persepolis and how it was a controversial, animated movie written in French about an Iranian women. Recently, I decided to rent the movie from the Marquette Public Library. The movie was checked out and I had to place a hold. Accidentally, I also placed a hold on the graphic novel, Persepolis, that the movie was based on.
My partner Alan and I spent Saturday devouring the graphic memoir written by Marjane Satrapi. Satrapi's story is amazing and unlike anything I have ever read. Persepolis is the story of Satrapi's childhood during the Islamic Revolution. Born to liberal parents, the young Satrapi is witty, intelligent, and growing up during a war. Her perception of war and life in Iran is unique and insightful, and her story is both heartbreaking and uplifting.
Persepolis the novel was published in 2003 and in 2007 the film adaptation came out. I had the fortunate experience of watching the film this evening. It was an accurate representation of the book and just as moving. The film, which premiered in France where Satrapi lives, was banned in Iran and several other countries.
I highly recommend both the novel and film for anyone interested in learning more about Iranian culture or history. Marjane Satrapi is a brave and honest writer, and I fell thankful to know her story.
Click here to view the trailer for Persepolis on youtube.
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