Widow's Endorphins: The Pickles and I Scream Whisperer

Widow's Endorphins: The Pickles and I Scream Whisperer: Do you get a craving for deli food, when you look at this?  I'm craving a Montreal smoked meat sandwich, with a crispy pickle on t...

The Pickles and I Scream Whisperer

Do you get a craving for deli food, when you look at this?  I'm craving a Montreal smoked meat sandwich, with a crispy pickle on the side!  This is Dill Weed, and while it has an other worldly appearance in these images, it's a down to earth herb found in many comfort foods.

Dillweed has two primary parts, both of which are used in culinary dishes around the world.  There's the flowerhead, with its starbursts of tiny flowers.  They look like mini fireworks!  The seeds are harvested from this part of the plant.  Below the flowerhead, are the delicate, feathery leaves which are used fresh, or dried.  Dill has a lemony flavour, although it is often described as tasting similar to fennel.  Dill weed is part of the same plant family as fennel, caraway, cumin and parsley.

Native to Eastern Europe, Scandanavia, and the Mediterranean, it's found in a wide variety of foods.  If you've been to a Swedish smorgasbord, you may have enjoyed gravlax with fresh dill, lemon and thin slices of dark rye bread (and gone back for more).  A little fresh dill in cream cheese is wonderful with lox and bagels.  Dill adds a tangy note to balance the sweetness of the beets and carrots in Russian borscht soup.  Greeks make delicious savoury pinwheel fillo pastries, stuffed with a mixture of spinach, feta, onion, garlic, and...dill.

Which brings me to dill pickles.  Those bouquets of dill, stuffed into pickle jars of plump pickled cuccumbers are not just for looks - although they do make a jar of pickles look really pretty.  The fresh dill gives dill pickles their unique flavour.

At this time of year, home canners are making small batches of crisp dill pickles to add some zip to Winter meals, and to give as gifts over the holidays.  I love it, when my family and friends post photos of their day's worth of canning, lined up in sparkling jars on their kitchen counters!

If you've never done any canning, or if, like me, you've had a few disappointments, you may be thinking, "pickles and I scream"!  There's nothing to scream about.  The recipe is simple, and if you follow a few helpful hints, your pickles will be tasty and crispy.                                   

Dill Pickles

Makes two 1 litre (quart) jars, or four 500ml (pint) jars of pickles:

10 small, firm, fresh picked cuccumbers

500ml (2 Cups) white vinegar

500ml (2 Cups) water

25ml (2 Tbsp) pickling salt

4 heads of fresh dill, or 20ml (4 tsp) dill seeds

4 small cloves of garlic

Pre-sterilize the jars, lids and rings.

Clean the cuccumbers and the fresh dill.  Slice the ends off of the cuccumbers (I'll explain later).

Place pre-sterilized pickle jars in the sink, and pour boiling hot water into the jars.  The jars need to be hot, when you fill them with the cuccumbers and the "pickle juice", or brine as it is called.  So, this is a way to keep them hot, until it's time to fill them with the cukes.

Fill a large canner (sometimes called a canning kettle) with water, and bring to a boil.  If you don't have a canner, use the biggest stock pot, or soup pot that you have, making sure that it is deep enough, that your jars will be submerged in water during the processing time.  Since glass jars can break if they come into contact with direct heat, canning kettles come with wire racks to raise the jars from the bottom of the pot.  If you don't have a rack, use extra lid rings, and rest the jars on those.    

While the water in the canning kettle is coming to a boil, prepare the brine, by bringing the vinegar, water and salt to a boil.  We interrupt this process, to bring you an educational moment:  Pickling salt has finer granules, and dissolves more quickly than kosher, or seasalt.  Most importantly, pickling salt doesn't have any anti-caking agents to turn the brine cloudy;  or, iodine to turn the pickles dark.  And now, back to pickling...

Using tongs, empty the jars, and remove them from the sink.  Stuff the jars with cuccumbers, garlic and fresh dill.  Pour the boiling pickle juice over the cuccumbers, leaving about 1cm (1/2 inch) of headroom at the top of the jar.  Put the lids on the jars, and seal with the rings.

When the water in the canning kettle reaches a rolling boil, place the jars inside the kettle.  Start timing.  If you are canning the four smaller jars, boil them for only ten minutes.  If you are canning the larger quart jars, boil them for fifteen minutes.  Do not boil longer than the times given.  You don't want limp, mushy pickles!

Remove the jars from the canning kettle, and let cool.  You'll hear a cool popping sound, as the lids seal, and the lids will have a slight dip to them.  Store in a cool, dry place.  Once open, keep refrigerated, for up to a year.
  

What is the secret to crispy pickles?  Start with crispy cuccumbers.  They should be small, and firm.  Fresh cuccumbers, picked right out of the garden are best.  You need to prepare them as soon as possible after they've been picked, or leave them soaking in ice water if you can't get to them right away.  The longer cuccumbers sit in the grocery store, or on the counter, the softer they get.

You may have heard about putting washed grape leaves, or oak leaves, or cherry leaves, or a half teaspoon of loose black tea leaves into pickle jars.  This is because the those leaves have tannins, which keep pickles crispy.

I promised to explain why we cut the ends off of cuccumbers before pickling them.  There are enzymes in the blossom ends of the cuccumbers, which contribute to the softening process.  That little step at the beginning, makes a big difference!

Now, who'd get in a pickle over what is basically a three step process:  stuff jars with cuccumbers, dill and garlic;  pour brine over everything;  boil for a short time.  That's it!  The hardest part is giving them a few weeks to marinate.  It's worth the wait!

Widow's Endorphins: Gratitude

Widow's Endorphins: Gratitude: My husband died nearly three years ago.  It was Canadian Thanksgiving weekend.  In the midst of my profound grief, I was aware of an ov...

Gratitude

My husband died nearly three years ago.  It was Canadian Thanksgiving weekend.  In the midst of my profound grief, I was aware of an overwelming sense of gratitude.  Thankfulness.  Thankful for having shared our lives together.  Thankful for the more than twenty-six years we had.  That sense of gratitude was so strong, that it lifted me through some of the darkest days of grief.

One of the women in an on-line group of widows, I am forever grateful for having joined, is Kristin Meekhof, Co-author of A Widow's Guide to Healing: Gentle Support and Advice for the First Five Years.  She knows a thing or two about gratitude.  It was during the months that she and her best friend emailed gratitude lists back and forth to one another, that love blossomed, and they married within a year.

Sadly, four years later, Kristin's husband Roy, had Stage IV Adrenal Cancer.  Even as he was dying, her husband continued creating lists of all that he was grateful for in his life. Kristin was only 33 years old, and as she says, "despite having a degree in Social Work, nothing prepared me for this event."  The daily lists brought some light into their lives.  Roy's lists expressed his gratitude for family and friends, who in only eight short weeks would lose him to the disease.  

Gratitude is a feeling or expression of thankfulness.  It begins with an awareness of something or someone you are thankful for.  This is followed by acknowledging to yourself that you are grateful. Many people have gratitude journals, and each night before bed, write down three or five things for which they are grateful.

Gratitude blossoms when you express it.  Kristin says that since her late husband's death, "I make it a point to give handwritten thankyou cards to my dear friends because their kindness matters to me.  It is important to put these things in writing and thankyou cards are a beautiful gesture of kindness."

It's an exciting day for Kristin, as she launches a new project with Deepak Chopra.  They are collaborating with JIYO Internet of Wellbeing, to create the world's biggest on-line gratitude journal! Today they're launching 31 Days of Gratitude. Here is the link:  https://jiyo.com/#campaign/31_day_gratitude/

I am grateful to be alive!  My husband did everything he could to survive, and when he was told there was nothing more that could be done, he willed himself to live longer.  Survivors of wars, terror attacks, and disasters, often say they owe it to those who've died, to live life to the fullest.  The logo for the Invictus Games, founded by Prince Harry, for physically and mentally wounded warriors and vetrans, is I AM.

I am grateful for my existence.  I am grateful that I was born to nurturing parents who gave me a strong foundation, and unconditional love.  I am grateful for the love of family, and the deep bonds and memories we share.

I am grateful for friends, both those I see each day, and those who exist in a virtual reality known as Facebook.  I have deep and meaningful relationships with people I have never met.  I look forward to the daily posts of family and old friends that I haven't seen in years, yet through social media, I have been able to watch them grow older along with me.  Friends keep me laughing, at myself and the world.  Friends keep me interested in the world around me, and I learn so many new things.

I am grateful to be living in this day and age.  Our ancestors, and all the kings of old, would never have imagined that a commoner would live such an amazing life!  Think about it:  I'm living in an air conditioned home, sipping a cup of imported coffee, while typing this photo-blog on my computer, which will be instantly read by people with iphones, on other continents.  My microwave would blow our ancestors minds!  Last week, I met up with a friend who flew in from Scotland for a week.  No perilous sea voyage.  Our world is far from perfect, however, it is so much better than it was for millions living in the Dark Ages.   

I am grateful for a healthy body and brain.  I am independent, and make my own decisions.  I am grateful for my wit, strong will, and gentle spirit. I am grateful to be living in a country with free medical care.  I am grateful to be living in a city with a reputation for advancements in medical research, and hosptials with renowned doctors.  I am grateful that we are nearing breakthroughs on many medical fronts.

I am grateful for my eyesight.  When we first moved to Toronto, I was unhappy.  My husband suggested that I take my camera with me, while walking the dog.  When you look for beauty, you are sure to find it.  It is a pleasure and honour to share the beauty of my part of the world with each of you, through the miracle of digital photography.   

Photographs Copyright of:  Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Incorporated.

Widow's Endorphins: International Day of Peace 2017

Widow's Endorphins: International Day of Peace 2017: A Peace Rose for the United Nations' International Day of Peace.  Every September 21st, since 1981, the UN has observed and cel...

International Day of Peace 2017

A Peace Rose for the United Nations' International Day of Peace.  Every September 21st, since 1981, the UN has observed and celebrated peace day.  This year's theme, Together for Peace:  Respect, Safety and Dignity for All, is "about bringing people together and reminding them of their common humanity".  

These two very different blossoms growing from a Chicago Peace rose on my balcony, illustrate the beauty of diversity, and oneness. As it unfurls, the bud of the Chicago Peace rose is a vibrant coral pink.  As it fully opens, the colours soften from peach to apricot, and then the palest of pink and champagne.  One plant, many faces. 

At noon today, wherever you are in the world, people will observe a minute of silence.  The ripple effect of a minute of silence being observed around the globe, in each time zone, is called the Peace Wave - a quiet sound wave enveloping the earth.

As for the other 1,439 minutes in a day, you can bet they'll be filled with voices shouting and singing. There'll be soccer games and concerts all over the world. 

Today is also a day of prayer and meditation.  In the midst of what may be a stressful day, find a moment to gaze into these roses, and breathe deeply, and slowly.  You may find the great calm, known as peace.

Photographs Copyright of:  Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Incorporated.

Widow's Endorphins: Twenty Thousand Bouquets of Gratitude!

Widow's Endorphins: Twenty Thousand Bouquets of Gratitude!: Back when I was a kid (decades before the internet), my best friend and I would sometimes get so bored. We'd joke tha...

Twenty Thousand Bouquets of Gratitude!

Back when I was a kid (decades before the internet), my best friend and I would sometimes get bored. We'd joke that for excitement, we could go to the grocery store deli, and watch the chicken turn on the rotisserie.  Yes, we were that bored. Although, come to think of it, it might have been a novel pasttime.  Our mothers always had homecooked meals on the table, and neither one of us had ever had BBQ chicken from a rotisserie.  We also joked about going down the hill, to the corner gas station, to watch the numbers rolling up on the gas pumps.

I've been watching numbers climbing this week...19,500 then 19,850...19,975...19,999...then, minutes ago it happened. This little blog, Widow's Endorphins reached 20-thousand views!  Now, that's exciting!  Way more exciting than watching chickens spinning on a rotisserie - live, or on Youtube!

Twenty thousand views from all over the world.  I still get a kick out of seeing where you are all from.  Even if you're the only person in your country reading, and looking at the photographs, your country is briefly highlighted on my map.

Widow's Endorphins has had blog readers from A-Z:  Australia, Belgium, Canada, Denmark, England, France, Germany...all the way to (New) Zealand.  Canada, America, and Russia have had the largest numbers of readers, however, readers in Switzerland, Portugal, Ireland, Italy, India, Ukraine, Argentina and Brazil are regular visitors to the site.  Whether you're from the United States, the United Kingdom, or the United Arab Emirates, we are all united in our love for flowers and photography!

Thank you, for making it happen!  Widow's Endorphins has come a long way, since it's early days as a wee blog.  WE couldn't have done it without you.  I am truly grateful to each of you, for sharing the blog with others, and helping to make it more popular than I ever dreamed it would be.

Sending these virtual bouquets of roses to each one of you, with my deepest gratitude!
 

The 20-thousandth view occured at 3:40pm Eastern Daylight Time.

Photographs Copyright of:  Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Incorporated.

Widow's Endorphins: Sizzling Last Days of Summer

Widow's Endorphins: Sizzling Last Days of Summer: What do you mean, Summer is almost over?  It's only just beginning in Toronto!  August turned to September, and the hot and humid we...

Sizzling Last Days of Summer

What do you mean, Summer is almost over?  It's only just beginning in Toronto!  August turned to September, and the hot and humid weather has kept Toronto sizzling for nearly three weeks.  Finally, what we longed for through the frozen months of December, January and February arrived with a Tropical blast of heat.  I feel like a wet kleenex, but the balcony flowers are thriving in the sunshine!

Autumn officially arrives in the Northern Hemisphere on September 23rd.  The Fall foliage will just have to find room alongside the sweet Summer blossoms!

Photographs Copyright of:  Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Incorporated.

Widow's Endorphins: Angelic Hydrangeas

Widow's Endorphins: Angelic Hydrangeas: Perhaps it's their billowing, feathery layers of petals, soaring towards the heavens.  Or, perhaps it's the sense of peace tha...

Angelic Hydrangeas

Perhaps it's their billowing, feathery layers of petals, soaring towards the heavens.  Or, perhaps it's the sense of peace that comes over me whenever I am around them.  There's a grove of Paniculata Hydrangeas in the park next door, that always remind me of angels.  Boughs of white flowers wrap around the back of an old park bench, like angel wings.  It's a peaceful, meditative place.

The idea of angels watching over us, is not confined to Christianity or Judaism.  Buddhists believe that angelic beings listen to our prayers, and watch over us.  According to both Islam and Sikhism, we each have two guardian angels for life, who record everything we do, both good and bad. 

Those who've lost a loved one, are often comforted with the words that they now have a guardian angel watching over them.  It is said that guardian angels communicate in whispers and coincidences, so, listen to your intuition, and observe coincidences.

It is also said that there are signs when a loved one in angel form is nearby.  You'll see butterflies, or vibrant red Cardinals, or find a fallen feather...   

Photographs Copyright of:  Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Incorporated.

Widow's Endorphins: A is for @

Widow's Endorphins: A is for @: Flowers for teachers, who'll be teaching everything from computer cursors to cursive writing...maybe. Children are growing up ...

A is for @

Flowers for teachers, who'll be teaching everything from computer cursors to cursive writing...maybe. Children are growing up in that transitional time between handwriting and texting.  Many school boards have removed cursive writing from the curriculum.  There's much debate over what needs to be learned, and therefore what needs to be taught.

I was shocked to read recently, that many Canadian teens do not know how to sign their own name. They've never been taught handwriting.  After all, there's a font for that!  Hundreds to choose from. Until they have to sign their own name for a driver's license, or a passport, many teens have hand printed or texted their way through life.

My contemporaries joke that cursive writing will be our own secret code!

My and my late husband's family trees are deeply rooted in Quebec, where the Catholic church kept detailed birth, marriage and death records of everyone in the parish.  My heart leaps whenever I discover a document containing the signature, or signatures of our ancestors.  It represents education, literacy, and great opportunities.

Priests were educated.  They not only had to be able to read the Latin bible, they had to read and write in French, in order to document the lives of parishioners.  Often the names of the bride, groom, and witnesses are written in the priest's handwriting.  It is rare when the bride signs her own name.  I have one document of the burial of a family patriarch, inwhich all of his children have signed their names to the church record.  

For illiterate parishioners, the priest would sign for them, and the groom, or bride, or parents of a newborn child, would mark an "X" to indicate that they were present.  Sometimes their X is so close to the ending of their name, it looks like part of the name.  This is often the explanation given for names ending with the letter X.  It is also how one tiny branch of my family went from Devereau to Devereaux to Devericks (I have a theory, that the Irish who settled in Quebec and Ontario, thought the "X" was pronounced "icks").

Each person's handwriting is uniquely theirs.  A hand addressed envelope in the mail, announces the sender, even before you've opened it.  There's an energy in a person's handwriting that crosses the barriers of time, even death.  Reading old letters, or stained recipe cards handwritten by a loved one, brings back memories as powerful as a photograph.

What young romantic didn't write her name in her best script, over and over on the inside cover of a notebook?  Mrs. Paul McCartney, Mrs. Paul McCartney.  Handwriting made it look possible.

While I love handwriting, I spend hours a day on the computer, or, should I say @ the computer!  As modern as the symbol @ is, it is really ancient!

The Smithsonian's researchers trace the first documented use of the symbol back to 1536, when a merchant in Florence, Italy - Francesco Lapi - used the symbol to list units of wine, shipped in large clay jars, called amphorae.  (Amphorae is from the Greek, amphi-phoreus, meaning carried on both sides.  Each amphora -with a handle on either side - carried 20 to 25 litres of wine, or 20 to 25 of our modern bottles.  The larger amphorae held 36 litres of wine...I digress).

After Francesco Lapi (a name with so many flourishes, it would be a joy to write by hand), other merchants began using the symbol.  We even use it today to mean, "at the rate of", as in, three dozen eggs @ $4.69 per dozen (and they're not even the organic ones!).

Not all of us are merchants, however, everyone in the world with an email address or twitter account, uses @ in their address, and they have done so since 1971.  We have computer scientist, Ray Tomlinson to thank for that.  While working on an early form of the internet, he was looking for a way to send messages to specific destinations.  He came up with @, because the equal sign, "wouldn't have made much sense".  Tomlinson's first email left one teletype in his room in Cambridge, Massachusetts, went through the system, and arrived at another teletype in the same room.  That's been where it's @ ever since!

The Italians call the symbol for @, "chiocciola", which means snail, because the symbol looks like a little snail in its shell. Ironically, in Francesco Lapi's homeland, even email is snail mail.

Photographs Copyright of:  Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Incorporated.

Widow's Endorphins: The Grapes of Ruth

Widow's Endorphins: The Grapes of Ruth: The Dustbowl.  The Dirty Thirties.  The Great Depression. Whatever you call it, the economic and ecological catastrophe that destroy...

The Grapes of Ruth

The Dustbowl.  The Dirty Thirties.  The Great Depression. Whatever you call it, the economic and ecological catastrophe that destroyed the livelihoods of many of our parents and grandparents over eighty years ago, haunts us to this day.  

For those who've never heard about it, the stock market crash of 1929, led to worldwide bankruptcies. Almost overnight, businesses and factories in both Canada and the US shutdown, closing their doors to workers.  Families lost their homes. Shopkeepers no longer had shoppers, and soon lost their businesses, putting more people on the street.  This was before government assistance, and those who lost their jobs, were on their own.      

At the same time, the worst man-made ecological disaster in North American history, turned the prairies, from Canada, down to the hard-hit Southern US states of Oklahoma and Texas, into a dust bowl. 

In the 1920's, combine harvesters and small gas powered tractors, made it possible for farmers to convert grassland into cropland.  It was called The Great Plough-up, and removed the deep rooted grasses which normally would have held moisture, and stabilized the soil during droughts. Then, severe drought in 1934, '36 and '39 led to blinding dust storms, which removed the topsoil from farm fields. Skies were black with dust.  Crops were lost.  Banks foreclosed on farms. Families moved - mostly westward, to British Columbia, and California.

     

Although they were not in the dust bowl, my Mum knew poverty.   Life was so hard that almost everyone in her tiny, impoverished village near Montebello, Quebec was moved to Northern Quebec, to homestead and establish a mining town. The men went first, and the women and children followed a year later.  My Mum was the eldest of a family that would eventually number ten children, and she left school at a young age, so that she could help out the family.  On her own, she learned to speak, read and write in English.  

On the Westcoast, my grandfather thought life would be better if he moved his wife and son to Ireland.  They sold everything, and moved across the country, and across the ocean to his birthplace. Things were worse.  A year later, they returned to BC, and survived the remaining years of the Depression by being as self sufficient as possible, growing their own fruits and vegetables, and raising chickens. That my Dad was one of few men of his generation to go to University, is a testament to his commitment and determination.

My parents didn't talk very much about their childhoods.  They did instill a spirit of generosity, and a pride in self that had nothing to do with material wealth.        

Sanora Babb left her Oklahoma town for the fast paced life as a big city reporter in Los Angeles. When the stock market crashed, she lost her job, and was homeless for a time.  By 1938, she was working for the US Farm Security Administration. Travelling with her boss, Tom Collins, they would let migrant workers know about programmes which would help them.  She interviewed workers from the Midwest, and began taking notes, which she hoped to use for a book.  Without her permission, Collins gave her personal notes to a San Francisco news reporter, who was writing a series of articles on the plight of the workers, The Harvest Gypsies.

The San Francisco reporter spent months living with migrant workers, even travelling with an Oklahoma family, on their journey to find work in California.  He too was writing a book.  John Steinbeck's Pulitzer Prize winning 1939 book, The Grapes of Wrath was an instant American classic, and led to a Nobel Prize for Steinbeck.  Steinbeck dedicated the book to Collins.

Babb's publishers told her there was no room for another book on the same subject.  Her book, Whose Names are Unknown, was finally published in 2004, a year before she died.   

There's a scene in The Grapes of Wrath, where food is being destroyed to keep prices high. Steinbeck writes, "...in the eyes of the hungry there is a growing wrath.  In the souls of the people the grapes of wrath are filling and growing heavy for the vintage..."

This Labour Day weekend, the start of the Fall harvest season, my thoughts are with those migrant workers in both Canada and the US, who work long, hard days to put food on our table.

My thoughts are also with the hundreds of thousands of Canadians and Americans who have been displaced by massive fires and historic floods.  Those of us with a roof over our heads, and food on our table are called upon to help in whatever way we can.


Photographs Copyright of:  Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Incorporated.