Canning Show 2013

     I do go on a bit about the Perth Royal Show (state fair equivalent here in Western Australia) but there is much to be said about the county fairs like the Canning Show. To be fair, I was never really big on county fairs back home. They seemed to be poor distant relations to the state fair rather than the local celebration that they actually are. My tune has changed a bit.  I still like huge playground atmosphere of the Big Show but my tolerance for crowds, noise and extraneous nonsense has lowered significantly.  A local show offers a manageable experience for those with very small children, crowd or mobility issues.
     The Canning Show, like other regional shows or county fairs, has a little bit of everything: rides for kids, buskers and entertainment, a  few animals, bakery and art competitions, cotton candy and worthless treasures to buy, hawkers selling wares and someone in a back room counting money.  Almost hiding is the hobbyist exhibition hall.  Various societies are happy to show off their lace-making, embroidery, model trains, little airplanes, taxidermy skills  and model police car collections.  They also dearly wish to boost their membership numbers from within the viewing public...if the public can make it up the hill to the hall.
     Of course my appearance at the Canning Show is, well, mostly about my canning efforts. Yes, I do go on a bit about that also.  This year, out of nine entries (including two photographic entries I was utterly mad to enter) I received two (2) First Place winners and two (2) Third Place winners in the Preservation division.

Judge didn't save much for me.

    The winners were Strawberry Jam which the judge used for a scone demo later (also known as "staff breakfast") I had just enough left in the jar to spread on one piece of toast when I got it back and  Red Cabbage ( I reworked a loser at the Royal Show into a big winner at Canning.)    Third place holders were the Apple Butter and Fig Jam.  The figs were raining from a neighbor's tree, so I caught a few and put them through their paces.  My first effort with that fruit and the PRS judges liked it also. 

    My cookie entries went nowhere. They tasted the gingerbread star but ignored the apricot  swirl and the fruited oatmeal.  Less far than those went were the brandied marmalade and OPAL-orange, pineapple, apricot and lemon marmalade.  Again, the judges at Canning didn't always agree with the PRS judges but that's OK.  I'm good with four winners.

    A big surprise for me  was when one of the executive committee (who helped empty  my strawberry Jam jar in the demo) asked if I would help teach a jam making class in January.  Gee whiz!  At first I thought, "There are MANY people who are much better than I am" and after more thought realized that my jam journey is more contemporary to the newbies who will be in the class than folks who have been around for a hundred years.  Presentation plans are forming in my head.

    As are plans for 2014's entries.  Mango jam is already first in the queue.

 

 

The Twelve Days of Christmas...Day 18

     O.K. the Epiphany (twelfth day of Christmas) was last week but the nativity scene was still up at my church this morning.  I don't mind, it's friendly and its creativity is mesmerizing. The young Spaniard priest in our parish was responsible for its design and a new element was unexpected. Circling about the bottom of the display are tubed lights: one green and one blue.  You've seen this tubing containing relay lights in shop displays  or around the car chassis or license plates of certain young men who like to announce their arrival on the road.  Rather question-raising these racing lights when first seen  but after awhile they seem to add a vital dynamic element to a motionless vignette.
    While we are talking about twelve days, I was completely surprised to learn that there is a real story speculated behind the song, The Twelve Days of Christmas.  For me it was always a bit of an endurance exercise because of its length and the stretching required of one's memory.  What nationality are those hens? How many geese? Where are those pipers piping (hopefully not near me)?  Why are the lords leaping anyway?  The only interesting part of it was to see each year how much it would cost to assemble this gift list. Some group or other always made the calculations (they rented ballet dancers instead of getting real lords of the realm, the cheaters) and announced it to the press.  Like anyone was planning it for me. Yeah. 
     This seemingly endless ditty was a "catechetical tool for teaching children the basics of the faith" during the sixteenth-century English Reformation when tenants of the Catholic faith could not be openly taught. It must have been very comical to see my jaw drop when I read that:  a partridge in a pear tree symbolizes Christ on the cross.  Two turtle doves refers to the Old and New Testaments. Three French hens has duo-explanations in the three gifts of the Spirit, "Faith, Hope and Love" or, because French hens were so valuable, represent the gifts of the three wise men. Four calling birds recall the four major prophets of Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel and Daniel   and/or the Gospel writers of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. Those five gold rings represent the first five books of the bible and the six geese laid six days of creation. The seven swimming swans refer to the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit (1Cor 12:9-10) and those eight milk maids represent the same number of beatitudes on the Sermon on the Mount. Nine ladies dancing were the nine fruits of the Spirit (Gal 5:22-23) and those ten leaping ballet lords count the Commandments.  We have left eleven pipers representing the eleven faithful apostles and finally, twelve drummers counting the twelve points of belief expressed in the Apostles' Creed.
    Really?  I must have missed a lesson somewhere because the TDofC usually told me I'd have to wait an agonizing five and a half minutes before the next song. I don't think the nativity will see Day 19 ( I forget the reason why it is still here now) but I rather appreciate the challenge its design and the song provided this season. 

FRUITCAKE...Magnificent and Maligned

    Yesterday that most Christmas of confections arrived in my mailbox. A fruitcake.  Hold it a minute, you say, Christmas was two weeks ago. Well, yeah, and this fruitcake was mailed four weeks before that but it went from Texas to France first before being redirected to Perth, Australia. But that's another story.  Can we get on? This slice is winking at me.
     Now if you,  gentle reader, are in North America the very word "fruitcake" tends to elicit a derisive snort. Oh, what a shocking reputation it has as a Z-grade foodstuff. The universal holiday whipping boy. Everybody has a family story or joke of how the same indestructible-in-a-nuclear-blast blob of dubious origin is now used as a doorstop or has been passed from relative to relative for the past six years. Few confess in public to actually eating it. And I have to admit there are some very scarey versions being sold to an unwary public. I've tasted some of them. Ewwwww.

©Collin Street Bakery

      Contrary to this reaction is the one fruitcake receives in the hands of the British (or any of their colonies.) It's sold year round and happily served with tea. Family recipes are guarded jealously and the competition at bake-offs and shows is fierce. Such is a measure of its esteem that it is the traditional wedding cake in the British realm. Even I'm chuckling at that one.
      The well-traveled fruitcake that was sent to me came from my eldest brother's favorite bakery in Texas. He swears by the Collin Street Bakery and is happy to spread the good news. And it is tasty even if the the company is confused between Paris and Perth. It makes the journey intact. (O.K., no mean-spirited jokes here, thank you.)

©Gethsemani Farms

      I don't remember how I came upon my favorite but its charms are apparent as soon as one opens the lid.  This fruitcake is made by monks at the Abbey of Gethsemani  in Trappist, Kentucky and  have been around since 1848.  (No mean-spirited jokes here either, thank you.) The secret to their success (besides prayer)?  Each cake is soaked in Kentucky bourbon.  Jim Beam to be exact. To answer that question now in your mind: the inventory of bourbon is very carefully monitored.  In keeping with tradition (I married an Australian)  I ordered this for my wedding as a secondary or 'groom's cake'.
      It's a funny and absolutely true story-- if a bit colorful-- about this order.  It hadn't arrived early, so Kev was dispatched to pick it up at the post office before he drove up for the wedding.  His far-from-refined Aussie accent was unfamiliar to the postal worker and I'm afraid there was a bit of a communication gap.
       Kev:  "Oiym heer to pik up a coiyk."
       Postal lady:  "Excuse me, sir?"
       Kev: "Oiym heer to pik up a coiyk.  Should be whyting for myee."
       Postal lady: "Sir, we do not use that kind of language around here!"
       Kev: "Oi?"
     It was a few moments before  each understood that Kev was there to pick up a fruitcake, not a female of a certain religious faith.  He started to speak a bit more clearly after that.

Boxing Day in OZ

    It's absurdly early in the morning yet the shopping mall parking lot is jam packed.  Automobiles are illegally parked on sidewalks and under shade trees with so many more hovering and circling to find a spot of their own.  Frantic shoppers dodge the vehicles as they trot for the mall entrance.  Inside, even earlier arriving shoppers are already standing outside the entrance to the major department store. The line extends the entire length of the glass front and stands eight people deep at any point along the line. Necks crane, eyes strain and mouths gape. A faint buzzer sounds.  The doors open.  The masses stampede into the interior. Shoe sale at Nordstrom's?  The Day After Thanksgiving--also known as Black Friday?
     Nope.  It's Boxing Day, the day after Christmas.  It's a legal holiday here in OZ so most businesses are closed.  And what to do on a day off?  Go shopping.  There is no "official" start of the holiday shopping season here as Black Friday indicates to American consumers. But Boxing Day is extremely well-defined and well-fixed in the Australian mind as THE day to catch big bargains.  Didn't get what you want yesterday? It's on discount today. Hurry! White goods, clothing, perfumes, bedding, fry pans and Christmassy stuff for next year are all marked to move. The socks and underwear section seems rather empty (you didn't get enough "jox & sox" under the tree?) but the buying frenzy is on.  It's madness, I tell you, and not for the faint of heart. Thought you were safe shopping online from home? Nope. One of the major department stores websites crashed because of the heavy traffic on it.  Seems kind of backwards to go so ga-ga after the fact but this feverish exercise in post-holiday commerce could be an Olympic sport in this country.
    Speaking of sport, you have Boxing Day options in this category although both are spectator events for most slugs citizens.  The Sydney to Hobart Race starts on December 26 and will finish a few days later for the super yachts but a week later for sailors in much more humble dinghys.  The aerial shots of the beginning of the race are spectacular and TV coverage does stay live for awhile to show the big guns in action. There are many different classes being competed in so the little guys aren't completely out of contention for a prize. Not much for  water sports? How about Boxing Day cricket.  Cricket is on morning, noon and night--the long and short versions of this baseball-y game--for those who can't get enough of this sport. Watching it on TV where one is close to a fan and the fridge is far more comfortable than buying a ticket to see it in person.  But there are always the tragics who prefer to sit in the hot sun for seven hours for this slow-as-a-glacier action.  In fact, it's tradition for many folks to do just that.
    Now, the question still rolling through your mind:  how did Boxing Day get its name and what does it mean?  You'll get a lot of hemming and hawing when you start asking this question because most people just don't know.  It's British origins have gotten awfully muddled over time.  The explanation that seems to sit well with most people is that the day after Christmas was spent putting money into various poor boxes as a gesture of good will to the less fortunate and gratitude for your own financial blessings. Other translations are less magnanimous.
    So how much of the above did I do?  Not much.  I did drop into the grocery store which was near empty of staff, shoppers and food (last minute locusts cleared off the shelves two days earlier) and picked up the real bargain of the day.  Fresh turkeys were being sold at an 80% discount.  Roasted in in the cool of the evening and popped the meat into the freezer.  Our meal planning is set until 2014!

Open Letter to Dishonest Postal Worker

Dear Dishonest Postal Worker,

    I received a letter yesterday that bore evidence of your petty handiwork.  The paper envelope had been well-thumbed in the center with a slit in the bottom corner.  You felt something through the paper, assessed the potential value of the free floating contents and decided to help yourself.  
    It must have been fairly easy to make that slit in the corner--with your fingernail, perhaps?--slide the object into your hand and then into your pocket. It's busy, no one noticed you tampering with the mail.  Perhaps your colleagues are too busy stealing from other envelopes or maybe doing their jobs properly and with respect.  Quickly you send the letter on its way. What's the harm, you think? Certainly none to you as there is no proof of your duplicity. Paper envelopes can tear easily. Who knows exactly where the contents dropped out?
    You are far from being the only creepy postal worker, pal.  I've traveled a bit and I've  talked to others who have traveled even more.  There is no shortage of postal workers who abuse their positions of trust with the paid correspondence of others and who just plain don't care about the rules they are supposed to work under.  They come from countries one would think have evolved  passed petty larceny (yours!) to Third World countries where we are all too quick to add  dishonesty and  lack of pride  to their blighted face of humanity.  Some people may not even be cognizant of the effect of their actions.  Travel through the back roads of some South American countries and pop into their post offices.  Look on the wall, pretty picture postcards of faraway places decorate the dreary space. Why deliver those cards when they look so nice in our office?  We can enjoy them, also.    Others know exactly what they are doing and take the opportunity to let the recipient know that they can get away with fleecing the postal customer.  Companies doing business in places like Nepal do not send important things through the mail but use private courier service.  How many aid workers and expats have  relatives who send care packages only to find  that  a postal "inspector" has redirected the goodies into their own satchels but decide to put the empty wrapper back into your box. Why the mean tease? Because they can get away with it. No one will find me. Besides, those foreigners don't need or deserve these goodies as much as I and mine do.   Yeah, Creep, you are part of a dubious brotherhood.
    So what did you get from my envelope?   A USB.  Filled with corporate secrets  you can sell to the highest bidder?  Maybe some interesting pornography? Actually,  a friend was sending me a copy of an old holiday TV show that I grew up watching every December but does not exist in Australia, "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer."  The stop-action technology is absolutely ancient but its lessons are still salient.  And it gives me joy to watch it as an adult just as it did as a child.  I hope you enjoy the show.  And maybe you will learn a lesson.

"Let's be independent together!"
© Classic Media

   What have we learned here? Well, small packets are safer than letters for very small items to be sent. But if a paper envelope is the go then it is prudent to tape the small item (ring, key, coin, USB, etc.) to a piece of cardboard. That would make it more difficult for the item to be squirreled out of a tear in the envelope by a postal thief. I suppose a small prayer to the mail gods wouldn't hurt. 
     Merry Christmas, Grinch.

2013 Perth Royal Show

     It's that time of year.  The Perth Royal Show is on (or, the state of Western Australia's State Fair) and in full swing. A city slicker from birth, I really like attending these agricultural shows. I'm not much on the rides, games or carny hokum but I don't begrudge those who enjoy these aspects along with the endless retail opportunities.  I like the animals, the artsy craftsy stuff,  the educational displays, free food samples, free entertainment and cookery competitions.

     The Show has promised one million dollars worth of entertainment this year. Probably didn't spend it all on the police bagpipe band although I did enjoy their performance. A new entertainer this year is the Ozrocketman.  Tired of just viewing that jet pack James Bond wore in Thunderball, our guy built his own (said to be the only jet pack in Australia and at a cost of $1000 per flight) and zooms around over the audience and showgrounds on a regular schedule.  Not quite a concert but it sure does fuel fantasy in the beholders. Being introduced to Australians here at the Show is Krispy Kreme doughnuts.  I have to admit to getting excited about the familiar, even if I don't actually like the product.  And Krispy Kreme doughnuts are not my favorite, but I think to myself "why not, home has come to you!"  The huge line at the K2 trailer waiting for deep friend delights and collectable trinkets went a long way to reminding me that I really don't have to eat hip-expanding doughnuts just because they are here.

     My fans ( hi, Mom ) are doubtless wondering how I did in the cookery competitions.  I had three entries: a brandied marmalade [using citrus "liberated" from the trees outside the Supreme Court building] that my tasting board said was a sure fire winner, and two Pantry Shelf -six sample items constituting a single entry- collections of which one represented an afternoon tea (Jam, Marmalade, Fruit Spread, Orange Butter, Apple Butter and Brandied Prunes)  the other represented a light supper (Pickled Onions,  Red German Cabbage, Pickled Beets, Root Vegetable shapes, Colored Sweet Peppers [these last two mildly vinegared] and Anchovy Paste).    It was the afternoon tea Pantry Shelf that won the ribbon.  I hadn't given it much hope. Too much of the contents are simply foreign to Australian taste buds. The fruit spread I called OPAL --a very Aussie gem used in acronym for orange/pineapple/apricot/lemon, not all of which is ripe at the same time so some allowances had to be made. No one has heard of apple butter and orange butter was sure to be confused with the translucent smooth yellow spread everyone eats called lemon butter.  This is why I called my orange butter (made with OJ , rind, honey and real butter)  Beurre L'Orange.  The French judge caught on right away.  

     There was a bit of controversy amongst the group of hanging around the French judge who had made herself available for general questions about preserving and competition.  Many people (including the judge) seal their jams by turning the jar upside down for a few minutes after filling.  All of my books say this old practice is a big no-no.  Juices could compromise the seal and welcome mold by the upside down method so everything needs a hot water bath for a complete vacuum seal.  The judge insisted that hot jars, hot lids and hot contents would do the trick just fine. Why boil water for one more step? One lady said she had never heard of a hot water bath.  OK, I come from a different planet.
 
     But, I still have a red ribbon and more ideas for next year.
   

Spring Wildflowers in Western Australia

    There are some really interesting natural wonders to see and enjoy here in Western Australia: walking amongst the giant Tingle trees in the south, picnic under a giant sheep's testicles,  watch whales migrate,  play hide-and-go-seek amongst the Pinnacles, feed the dolphins at Monkey Mia,  camp at the magical Karijini National Park, get gritty in the natural resources of the Kimberley or buy lovely pearls in far north Broome.  Each is a day's drive from the next--an unfortunate reality in a state as huge as WA--making a 'tour of the sights' possible only for those with lots of free time.

Everlastings

     Overlooked in all of this is the most accessible and wild -- the spring wildflowers. Popping up all over starting in May way up north to November in the deep south, the state is carpeted with over 12,000 varieties of flora, 60% of which are exclusive to WA.  We're talking deep shag carpet here, folks. A small child could get eaten up  in a field of tall everlastings.  An orchid fan consumed by their search for the Queen of Sheba amongst all the Donkeys. And so many other flowers- their beauty unsung by poets- smile for those who get off the road and are willing to take a walk.   All rather miraculous

Queen of Sheba orchid

really.  Much of WA is more hard scrabble than hospitable to plant life.  Ever hear of the red dirt of a "sunburnt land"? Yep, that's us.  And yet, nature shines on despite adversity.

     We recently  took our first drive to see this annual miracle. A northern loop from Perth that went up to Geraldton, over to Mullewa , down through Perenjori and Dalwallinu, side step to Three Springs before dropping into Moora. The wildflower guidebooks promised much and I always enjoy staying at country pubs.  The lack of  steady winter rain reduced the intensity of the flora this year but I was not disappointed. I was happy to take what I could get.  Besides, we lucked out in that

Fringed Lily

two communities were holding flower shows that weekend. Cool beans!  They were different from my usual flower show.  Mullewa's show set up little agri-scapes to highlight the flora and fauna found in the area. OK, the birds were caged but each section was like its own little bushwalk. Funny, I've never thought Australian flowers to have much fragrance but there was a "distinctive smell of bush" (so described the show Steward) in the hall which I can only translate to 'Australian forest'. They had historical displays to augment the agri-scapes. Three Springs had vased samples of flora on tables but also had a community art exhibition.  Attendees got to vote on their favorite photograph, drawing or painting in various classes.  Some were even for sale.  I was lucky enough to find a pretty gum leaf watercolor painting for $45 that looks perfect in my livingroom.

Wreath Flower

     The true rock star of the tour was the wreath flower, which is having a bumper crop this year. Shaped like a wreath, this is a single flower from a single tap root that grows in the hard packed earth near roads. A less likely place to thrive I cannot imagine but the roads to everywhere seemed to have at least a few. Truly sensational.

     I have been hearing for years that picking native wildflowers is illegal in this state. Yet I was seeing plenty of picked native flowers.  So what is the deal? Some said picking on your own private property is OK, just not on public lands. Others said no!, only flowers you have cultivated are OK.  And the final word came from the Western Wildflower Farm in Coomberdale who said all of the above are wrong.  They have to have  licenses to grow, harvest, sell, package and ship native wildflowers regardless of where they are located. Oh, it sounds like a complicated business, especially when government is involved.

Donkey Orchids

      I do fancy another wildflower trip but to the south.  The soil and landscape is so different from the red desert of the north and so are the flowers. Orchid aficionados are quite happy to be hunting in these parts. Little known is that the area around Fitzgerald River National Park has been declared a Biodiversity reserve hotspot worthy of watching and protecting by UNESCO.  I wonder why Tourism WA doesn't push the spring wildflower season more in its publicity about the state.  The rocks at the Pinnacles will always be there but the annual spring flora is worth the trip in from anywhere.