WANT SOMETHING DIFFERENT?

Elise Did Want Something Different; She Wanted A Piece Of Cake
2008 | acrylic on wood | 8.75 in. x 8.75 in.
Contact David Lusk Gallery

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As it turns out, I came home from Baltimore with quite a lot of thrifted loot in my suitcase--more than I thought, actually. And, while I haven't really offered up an inventory of all of my new treasures, it looks as though I'm starting to do that by writing about these new paintings. First the vintage pancake recipe, then the embroidery floss, and now a 1931 cookbooklet of Jell-O recipes. This little gem of a book was impossible to resist not only for its incredible cover, but for the charming illustrations and recipes inside. With things like "Sea Dream Salad," "Daffodil Sponge," and--my favorite--"Nippy Tongue Combination Plate," dare I say, I'm inspired to stock up on some J-e-l-l-O.

Part of the reason my friend Katie and I ventured into an antique mall in Baltimore was that I was looking for some new inspiration for paintings. My husband would be quick to argue--and has already--that there's no possible way I've painted every single tchotchke in the house and why, pray tell, do I think I need more. But, even though I have more than my fair share of personal clutter, a gal can always use an extra little jolt of inspiration, wouldn't you agree?

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SEA DREAM SALAD

1 package Lime Jell-O
1 cup boiling water
1 cup cucumber, grated
1 tablespoon vinegar
1 teaspoon onion juice
Dash of Cayenne
1/2 teaspoon salt

Dissolve Jell-O in boiling water. Add cucumber, vinegar, onion juice, Cayenne, and salt. Force through sieve. Turn into mold. Chill until firm. Cut in squares and serve on crisp lettuce. Garnish with Hellmann's Mayonaise. Serves 6.

MA VIE EN ROSE

Katie's soon-to-be four-year-old daughter, Isadora, drew this picture of me during my visit to Baltimore last weekend. I think it's a pretty good likeness. 

Thanks, Isadora! I sure wish I could climb a tree with you today!

A TALE OF THREE APARTMENTS

Before Katie and I hit the bricks in Hampden, we wandered the alleys of our old neighborhood, Bolton Hill.

1. 1508 Mt. Royal Ave.: Our class (the graduating class of 1993) was the last class to be assigned a block of brownstones as freshman student housing. We all really felt like we were truly on our own, living in awesome apartments, and surrounded by friends. I shared the third floor of this joint with a couple of women I haven't managed to keep up with (one, quite honestly, I was glad to see transfer after only a year at MICA). Katie was living large at the end of the block in an apartment all to herself. I ended up over there a lot to eat spaghetti, gossip, and listen to Everything But the Girl.

2. 1403 Park Ave.: As soon as our freshman year was over, Katie and I conspired to rent a place together. We enlisted our friend Gene to share the lease with us. It was a cover up for his parents back in Miami; Gene was really shacking up with his boyfriend a few blocks away. The ruse definitely worked in Gene's favor but ours too: Katie and I enjoyed a huge apartment on the third floor for just the two of us and cheap rent. That summer we got another roommate: our dog June. Katie and I lived here for two years and in those two years we hosted many visitors and a ton of friends. Lots of memories were made on Park Ave.

3. 1519 Bolton St.: After two years on Park Ave., Katie and her sister, Heather, moved in together, and I had a chance to take over a friend's apartment on Bolton Street. I needed someone to share the rent, so I roped my dear friend Brian into leaving his efficiency apartment on Mt. Royal to share digs with me for our senior year. I think he made the right decision. Brian, got any pics of the voodoo corner?

The moral of this story is that Baltimore walk-ups are perfect digs for the art school crowd, but this thirty-something sometime painter likes to hang her hat in a little house on a handful of acres in rural Mississippi. It sure took a while to get here, but I'm damn glad I did. Still, I wouldn't trade those Charm City memories for anything.

A PRESCRIPTION FOR PANCAKES

After a week of collecting wine oral histories in Virginia and before the Cornbread Nation dinner in DC, I spent some time with my college roommate, Katie, and her family in Baltimore. And I have to say here that her husband, Dan, made some killer pancakes on Saturday morning that went completely undocumented, and I feel bad about that. But sometimes you want to just participate and not document, if you know what I mean. Such was my state of mind on Saturday morning in their kitchen, playing with their kids, and watching pancakes rise on the griddle. So, sorry, Dan. Your pancakes were definitely blog worthy.

Little did I know, though, that there would be more pancakes later on that afternoon. After lunch at the super awesome thrift-decorated Golden West Cafe in Baltimore's Hampden neighborhood, Katie and I did a little thrifting of our own. We browsed the isles of an antique mall just down the block, and I walked out with a handful of treasures. An inventory of those treasures will come later. For now, know that my thrifted bounty included a couple of pages cut from vintage cookbooks: one of cake recipes, one of pancakes (pictured above). I gravitated to them for the wonderful illustrations. When I unpacked them and spent some time admiring their simple beauty and my awesome find, I decided to try one of the recipes.

This morning, I made pancakes. How could I resist, right? The Sour Milk Griddle Cakes seemed like the perfect way to start my day. So I got out a bowl, sifted some flour, added some salt and baking soda, and then I opened the refrigerator for an egg. After a week away, wouldn't you know it, there wasn't an egg in sight. Oddly, however, we did have some shortening and buttermilk in stock, which I had laid eyes on earlier and which inspired confidence in my task in the beginning. But you can't make pancakes without an egg, so my hopes were quickly dashed. I was about to resign myself to a breakfast of plain yogurt when I decided to tromp down the driveway to my neighbor's house and borrow an egg. I was going to have Sour Milk Griddle Cakes, dammit.
As I made my way down the driveway, I noticed that our blackberry bushes we not only full with fruit, they were full with ripe fruit. Blackberry Sour Milk Griddle Cakes! I picked up my pace to reach my neighbor's house. Melanie was home and more than happy to let me have an egg. After I got the egg safely to my kitchen, I grabbed a bowl and headed back out to the driveway for a blackberry harvest.
Soon, there were Blackberry Sour Milk Griddle Cakes on a plate and drenched with syrup. Dare I even say, these were the fluffiest, tastiest, most satisfying pancakes I think I have ever had. I don't know if it was the scavenger hunt that it took to put them together, the simple addition of the fresh berries, the classic recipe or, I admit, my appetite, but I do know that at approximately 10:30 a.m. this morning I was in heaven--Blackberry Sour Milk Griddle Cake Heaven.

Unfortunately, though, there's no butter in heaven. Someone needs to go to the grocery store.

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UPDATE: Miss Lara requested the recipe, so here it is in an easy-to-read format.

SOUR MILK GRIDDLE CAKES
Via a random page torn from a vintage cookbook, verbatim

2 cups sifted flour
1 teaspoon Arm & Hammer or Cow Brand Baking Soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon sugar
2 1/2 cups sour milk or buttermilk
1 egg, well beaten
1 tablespoon shortening, melted

Sift flour once, measure, add baking soda, salt and sugar and sift again. Combine milk, egg and shortening. Add to flour mixture. Stir only until smooth. Bake on hot, greased griddle. Makes 2 dozen cakes.


NOTES:
--I halved the recipe (everything but the egg, of course), and they came out beautifully. But FYI, half of the recipe only made five pancakes about five inches in diameter, not a dozen.
--I only sifted all of the dry ingredients once.
--I never grease my griddle.
--Definitely add fresh berries!
--Cow Brand Baking Soda was, evidently, the very first brand on the market. In 1896 the brand was absorbed by Arm & Hammer. History here. Great image here.

NOW THAT'S A GARDEN

I spent the afternoon at Monticello, where I interviewed the man responsible for tending to the vineyard at Thomas Jefferson's home and, on occasion, making some wine. The last time I visited Monticello, I was on an eighth grade field trip. Somehow, wine was never brought up. But there are two acres of grapes on the hillside just to the left of the garden pictured above. It was great to visit the vineyard, but the vegetable garden really took my breath away. And, of course, the view.

I'M RUINED

I spent the day at Barboursville Vineyards and its ruins, pictured here. I was instantly reminded of Mississippi's Windsor Ruins, as well as Sally Mann's photographs of the South. I visited Windsor Ruins in the spring of 2001 on my personal trek through the South, in search of a new life and a graduate program. If memory serves, I was listening to Johnny Cash and Gillian Welch as I approached the ruins, which are off in the woods outside of Port Gibson, Mississippi. I also peed there. Yep, in the back near the kitchen. I left my mark, shall we say. I did not leave my mark at Barboursville, however; I only drank their wine. Which is to say that their wine as definitely worth drinking. Cheers!

LOLLYGAGGING ON ROW 35

Today, I had my second of five interviews. I spent the entire day at a winery deep in Fauquier County, Virginia, ambling down rows of Chardonnay vines, listening to stories and, yes, tasting wines. For those of you who think spending a weekend in Napa Valley is your ultimate vacation, think again. 

FATHER'S DAY IN CHARM CITY

I arrived in the Mid-Atlantic on Sunday and spent some time with my friend Fletcher, before heading to Virginia wine country. Fletcher and I met in 1989, just before I left Houston to attend art school in Baltimore. The last time we saw each other was just before I left Houston for Mississippi, which was in 2001. Now I'm in Mississippi, and he's in Baltimore--a crazy circle that has brought us back together again.

Fletcher teaches at my alma mater, the Maryland Institute College of Art, so we met at one of the buildings on campus, the Station Building. It was surreal to have two worlds--Houston friends and college days--collide in that parking lot. Somehow, though, it all made sense.

We enjoyed an incredible Thai lunch downtown (oh, my, how Baltimore has changed), and then went gallery hopping. At one opening, in another strange and serendipitous encounter, we ran into Rebecca, who was at MICA with me and founded a wonderful community arts organization in Baltimore, Kids on the Hill, in 1997. Then we wandered the galleries--and the gift shop--of the American Visionary Art Museum (!), hit the bricks in Fells Point, and toured the MICA campus. It was the perfect prelude to a week of work on the road.

Thanks, Fletcher, for a fabulous afternoon. Now, get your butt to Mississippi!

ON THE ROAD AGAIN

Wines, originally uploaded by niznoz

I'm hitting the road tomorrow, this time for Virginia. I'm embarking on a project to document Southern wine, which should be both fun and, ahem, intoxicating. I'm looking forward to being a little closer to the Mason-Dixon line for a change, as well as enjoying a little break from all things barbecue.

I'm also looking forward to seeing a few friends. I end my travels in Washington DC, where I get to hang with my college roommate, the one and only Katie Morris, whom I haven't seen in more than a decade. That us in the photo above, goofing off in front of the Main Building at the Maryland Institute College of Art in Baltimore after the year's first snowfall, circa 1989. And yep, that's me wearing red glasses AND red ropers. You can take the girl out of Texas....

I'm also sneaking in a visit with an old friend from Houston, Fletcher Mackey, who, as luck or fate would have it, is now teaching at my alma mater. Fletcher is a friend and mentor. We've worked together, taken road trips together, and he was one of the key people who supported my crazy idea to go back to school...in Mississippi.

And then, to cap off the week, I get to see friend, Amy Art collector, and super talented chef, Ann Cashion, at one of her DC restaurants for a celebration dinner in support of the release of the SFA's recently published collection of food writing (and Amy Photographs) Cornbread Nation 4. And I'll let you in on a little secret: there's gonna be red velvet cake!

I plan to post from the road, so check in for updates on wine, friends and, of course, cake.

MMM, FRIED PIE

Also at the festival was Mrs. Armstrong of Centerville, Tennessee, and her fried pies. Mrs. Armstrong brought 600 of these beauties with her, and she sold the lot of them. I sampled (and shared) a coconut and a chocolate fried pie. I have to say, while I am a complete chocoholic, the coconut had me on my knees. That's coconut custard in there! Pure heaven. And lucky me, Mrs. Armstrong sells her pies on her website, Sweet Nothings Fried Pies.

A SPICY WEEKEND

Behold an example of some of the shenanigans I got into while attending the Franklin Food & Spirits Festival. This photo was taken by my friend Jeff Moore (thanks, Jeff!), who happened to step up to the window for an order of hot chicken, while I was in the truck taking photographs as part of the oral history interview I did with Bolton's Spicy Chicken & Fish of Nashville. Below is a photo of their spicy chicken-on-a-stick. Yep, it's pretty darned hot. Almost as hot as it was at the festival. 

DANGER: DO NOT SIT ON THIS STOOL

Taken at Edna's Restaurant in Chicago, IL

Just a simple photo today. On my way to Tennessee for this.

A good weekend to all.

LISTEN TO ME TALK ABOUT CAKE. LITERALLY.

Cakes at Edna's Restaurant in Chicago, IL

Just this morning I was interviewed by Bill Radke, one of the hosts of NPR'S Weekend America. We dished up conversation on my recent oral history jaunt to Chicago--everything from hot dogs to hoecakes. We talked about Edna Stewart feeding Chicago's Civil Rights Movement. I waxed poetic about Rose DeShazer White's caramel cake. It was a good time. Hopefully, it'll be a good listen. It airs this Saturday, May 24, so check it out on your local station or download the podcast. 

The actual oral history interviews will appear on the SFA's website soon. The break from the blog was also a break from work, and I am now woefully behind. All I need is a little patience (thanks, Axl Rose).

HOW 'BOUT A HOECAKE?

My colleague, John T. Edge, has just written a little ditty about hoecakes for Gourmet magazine's blog. If you like--or are curious about--hoecakes, then you'll enjoy his piece. Check it out right here.

The real news, though, for you Amy Art fans out there is that one of my photographs introduces the story (above). It was taken at Papa KayJoe's Bar-B-Que in Centerville, TN. I've included another photo from that visit here for your viewing pleasure. The beauty of Papa KayJoe's is that they serve their barbecue sandwiches on hoecakes, not buns.

Hoecakes can be hard to find, but I'll have you know that there are hoecakes--very good hoecakes--at Edna's Restaurant in Chicago, of all places. I enjoyed a couple--and some fried chicken and coconut cake--when I was there in back in March. 

Kind of makes you want to belly up to the griddle, doesn't it?

BABY DONKEY SAVES THE DAY

There's a very good reason for the long silence here at Made in Mississippi. All I'm going to say about that, though, is that it took a picture of a baby donkey to inspire a new post after my two weeks away.  

My friend Katherine emailed this precious photograph to me a few weeks ago, not long after my trip to Portland. I happened to visit Katherine--and her donkeys and sheep and chickens and goat--while I was in Oregon and, as you might imagine, we had a lovely visit. It did rain and the barn was muddy, but there was also laughter and pie. In fact, Katherine has told the whole story on her blog. I was going to do the same, but she beat me to the punch. I'll let her telling of my visit suffice. The only thing I'll add is that I am even more obsessed with the idea of having a donkey--okay, a couple of donkeys--of my own after spending an afternoon on her farm with Pino, Paco and sweet, sweet Lucia.

This little guy here was born, as I said, just after my visit, to Katherine's donkey-raising friend down the road. I wish they could pack him up and send him on down to Mississippi. There's really nothing cuter than a baby donkey.

Thanks, little fella, for bringing me back.

ROAD TRIP REWIND: A PRINTMAKER'S HEAVEN

On our walk through the Pearl District on our way to lunch, we stumbled upon the most wonderful little store. Oblation is equal parts print shop, ephemera wonderland, party of paper and place of learning. If you don't already know, I was a printmaker in a former life--I have a degree in printmaking, actually--so this place made me feel right at home. It also made me miss my days spent behind a press, mixing inks, and smelling solvents.

















And it made me want to scoop up every little thing in the store and bring it back to Mississippi: the tags, the cards, the tools, the books, the gadgets, the toys and, oh, the paper. Such beautiful paper! If I lived in Portland, I would be done for. My studio would be filled with stuff collected on regular trips to this place and my bank account empty from my lack of restraint. I'd also be signing up for many a workshop, you can be sure.


Can't you just smell the inks? I wish this photograph were scratch and sniff.

ROAD TRIP REWIND: THE SILK ROAD

If you visit this blog often, you're well aware that I have an obsession with not only pie, but Vietnamese and Thai food, too. So Portland, which was home to the second largest Asian community at the turn of the nineteenth century and is home to a considerably large one still, is now officially my personal Heaven on Earth--as far as my belly is concerned, anyway.

On our first full day in the city, after our tour of the Chinese Gardens, we hoofed it on over to the Pearl District. We'd heard tell that there was a great Vietnamese restaurant in this part of town, so I set my spring roll radar to high, and we soon found our destination.

Silk is a pretty swanky joint, far from the hole-in-the-wall, family-owned little places that I usually frequent. Even so, they definitely know how to make a spring roll and a great bowl of Phở .

Portland is a funky, interesting, livable city. I tell you, though, there's a Vietnamese, Thai, or sushi restaurant on every block, reason alone for me to consider calling Stumptown home.

No worries. I'm not hitting the silk road to Portland any time soon. I'm content to stay rooted in my little dirt road here in Mississippi. Phở can be found just an hour away in Memphis--far enough to keep my cravings strong but close enough that I don't suffer withdrawal. Thank goodness.

ROAD TRIP REWIND: THE TAO OF TEA

Mom and I left our hotel early Friday morning to begin discovering Portland on foot. The first thing that we discovered was that, being such eager beavers, we were out and about before anything was open. So we made our way to Chinatown, thinking we could at least start doing some lunch scouting. We eventually stumbled upon Portland's Classical Chinese Garden. And it was open.

Touring the garden was a fabulous introduction to the city. The place takes up an entire square block, and once you're through the gate, you feel like you've stepped into another world. The morning was quiet and the sky heavy with rain clouds, so the peaceful beauty of this place was made all the more magical.
After meandering down each and every path, we made our way to the tea house (the two-story building in the photograph above), which is also known as the Tower of Cosmic Reflections. Inside, it was dark and cozy, and musicians were playing traditional music. We settled in and ordered some tea. Mom got rose petal, and I ordered a tea flight: a selection of three white teas delivered with every tea accessory you could imagine.

And, of course, we had a little something sweet: a taro root mooncake.

INTERLUDE: PORTLAND'S CHINATOWN & CLASSICAL CHINESE GARDEN

ROAD TRIP REWIND: FROM THE BEGINNING

Please know that this photo in no way represents the time I spent with my mom in Portland. It just happens that this is the very first photo I took. It's going to take me a while to sift through the 200+ images from our trip, so I thought I'd start off simple--from the beginning.

I saw this sign on our walk from the hotel to the Chinese Classical Garden early Friday morning. I took the photo for my friend Mary, creative gal and mother of one. She got a kick out of it, as you might imagine.

By the way, the Chinese Classical Garden was incredible. And yes, there are plenty of pictures. Stay tuned for tomorrow's installment: The Tao of Tea.