There's Nothing Like a Cup of Tea

There's Nothing Like a Cup of Tea...

Perfectly-Steeped

Charlotte’s Tea is a fund-raising event held at 1810 Carter House, Kingston, NB every August.  The tea is named in honour of a lady who was keen on history, loved desserts, and made a fine cup of tea! Charlotte Amelia Henderson Miller Fullerton was born on August 16, 1916, in Holderville.  She lived most of her life on the Kingston Peninsula and contributed generously to the local historical society.

Charlotte Amelia Henderson

Charlotte’s Tea features an array of delectable desserts lovingly prepared and served by local women. An extensive selection of specialty teas complements the wide assortment of sweets. Patrons are encouraged to come back for seconds… and thirds!

Extensive Array of Sweets

Charlotte’s Tea is brought to you by her peeps---daughters, daughter-in-law, granddaughters, nieces, grand-nieces, grand-grand nieces, son-in-law, neighbours, friends. That’s the crew behind the selling of tickets, the picking of berries, the baking of desserts, the sweeping of floors, the setting of tables, the steeping of tea, the washing of dishes, the laundering of tablecloths, the singing of songs, the laughing on the back deck. The list goes on.

Some of the Crew:

(Joan, Barb, Beth, Gail, Treva, Kathy)

Those of us fortunate enough to have known Charlotte, may recall some of her memorable sayings which reflect her character, values and wisdom. Every quote has a story, of course.


“Is that child hungry?” (Whenever she heard a child crying.)

Charlotte and Emily

 "There’s good in everybody."

Goodness

“Your tongue will hang you.” (Directed to some of her daughters...not mentioning any names...)

Daughters: Gail, Barb, Janet, Kathy

 “I don’t know what I would have done without my sisters.” (During a time of personal crisis.)

Charlotte and her Sisters

(Betty, Mary, Jean, Gladys, Charlotte, Margaret)

“Would you mind bringing in an armload or two of wood?” 

Filling the Woodbox

“If you can’t say anything nice about that person, don’t say anything at all.” 

Aesop and Charlotte

“You know where the molasses cookies are.”

Famous Cookies

“Let’s remember, we’re all immigrants.” (Commenting on controversy over refugees.)

Remember?

 “I’ll give you a quarter if you can find the…” (flashlight, flyswatter, telephone book, etc.) 

Lost and Found Reward: $.25

 “While you’re on your feet, would you mind…” (As her mobility deteriorated.)

Barb and Charlotte

“Things will be better in the morning.”

Bagheera and Charlotte

“The spirit’s willing, but the flesh is weak.” (As she aged.)

Matthew and Charlotte

  “Now, let’s all sit down and have a cup of tea.”

There's Nothing Like a Cup of Tea...

There’s Nothing Like a Cup of Tea

In our busy working day
Time just seems to slip away
Man, he works from sun to sun
But women’s work is never done.

Cleaning, sewing, making bread
Keeping our dear family fed
Toiling in the kitchen there
Full of worry, full of care—

How we long to stop a bit
Rest our bones and simply sit—

Chorus:
Oh, there’s nothing like a cup of tea
To bring us back to sanity
It’s a sign of such civility
To simply sip a cup of tea.

How bracing to sit in the afternoon
In a clean and polished and shining room
We lose our troubles as you can see
By brewing ourselves a cup of tea.

Words and Music by Carolyn Murray, 1984

Plan to join us next August at 1810 Carter House for Charlotte's Tea. 

...Until Next Time...

Cooking with Julia (my) Child

Cooking with Julia (my) Child:
A Pecorino Pecadillo

On a recent trip to Toronto to visit my daughter Julia, she suggested that we share the cooking for the week. She proposed that we treat each other to our favourite supper specialties thereby broadening each of our cooking repertoires. Great idea!

Julia, My Child

She had supper prepared the day I arrived—lightly-breaded cod, baked squash and bruised greens. Delicious. Cooked to perfection and served with a smile!

Lightly-Breaded Cod, Baked Squash,
Bruised Greens

That evening, before tucking into bed, Julia reminded me that it would be my turn to make supper the next day. She informed me that she had fallen heir to a large chunk of pecorino cheese which had been mistakenly delivered to her workplace. “Maybe you can make something with that, Mom.”

Free Pecorino

As Aficionado of the Rotten Food Rack, First Lady of the Food Bargain and Renovator of any Recipe, my heart swelled with pride. My little Julia had taken advantage of a food freebie. Not only that, but she had adopted my meal-planning practice which is driven by what’s on sale as opposed to what you want to eat. It seemed she had inherited some of my frugality, after all.  

Swelling with Pride

I had never made anything with pecorino but having a three-pound chunk of free cheese at my fingertips was downright inspiring. I found a recipe online, tagliatelle pasta at a local shop, and "close-enough" substitutions for all the other ingredients on the Rotten Food Rack.  

Pasta with Pecorino and Pepper

In my online recipe search, I learned that pecorino is made with ewe’s milk. I shared that fact with Julia the next day as we were digging into our Pasta with Pecorino and Pepper. She stopped her fork in midair, a look of disgust on her face. Her expression took me back a few years. 

Julia: Expressing her Opinion

“Used milk!! Mom!! Gross! I’m not eating used milk.”

I was taken aback. Julia had grown into an adventuresome eater over the years.

“What do you have against ewe’s milk, Julia? Have you even tried it before?”

“Look, Mom, I know you love bargains and the RFR, but used milk is just too much. I’m NOT eating it. You’ve crossed the line this time.” She rested her fork on the edge of her plate and folded her arms across her chest.

“Julia, you eat feta, you eat goat cheese. What’s the difference? What do you have against an ewe?”

“An ewe?” She raised her eyebrows. Pause. “Oh, ewe’s milk. I thought you were saying used milk. Now I understand. Sorry, Mom.” She picked up her fork and dug in thus resolving our pecorino peccadillo.

An Ewe

...Until Next Time...

RhuBarb, the Musical

RhuBarb, the Musical

Rhubarb, the Musical

This is my eighth year in the rhubarb business. I spent 30 years as a teacher and I want to match that number as a rhubarb mogul, or mongrel as my intern calls it.  I’ll only be 84 when I hit Rhubarb Retirement Age (RRA). My Uncle Sam worked the rhubarb scene well into his 80s; he is my inspiration.

Uncle Sam

Tom, my faithful intern, has been by my side for these 8 years, but I can’t say he’s been totally content in his role. In fact, he was grumbling last Sunday when we headed out to the patch. He felt his breakfast of half an English muffin, a solid ounce of Irish cheddar and two extra strength Tylenol was a bit scant. I reminded him that when we were finished in 3 hours, he would be rewarded with the other half of the English muffin, an entire can of Brunswick sardines in mustard and two more extra strength Tylenol.

Breakfast

Although I’ve never explored this with a professional, there may be a nasty edge to my rhubarb enthusiasm when it comes to my intern. I take some pleasure in reporting that he still works for the same wage after 8 years of residency. Zero dollars per hour. 

Intern Wages

On the other hand, I do consider job satisfaction beyond monetary compensation. For example, in the rhubarb patch last weekend when Tom started singing Paul McCartney’s “Get Back”, I was relieved that he had at least stopped complaining. It took me a few minutes to realize he was singing Get Back, Get Back, Get Back to the Rhubarb Patch. When he eagerly proposed Rhubarb, the Musical, what else could I do but humour him. The idea was distracting him from the bending, twisting, lugging…putting a little spring in his step!  Job satisfaction was on the upswing. 

Contented Intern

By the time we had filled our 170-pound order, Rhubarb, the Musical was more than a distant dream of a lowly intern. Tom had decided that the musical should be performed on site in the fashion of Shakespeare in the Park. He had made an extensive (mental) list of costumes and props, and had selected the following hits:

·        If I Were a Rhubarber and You Were a Lackey

·        Take me to the Rhubarb, Don’t Forget the Water

·        Hello Rhubarb, my Old Friend

·        In the Early Morning Patch, With a B’nana Box in my Hand

·        The Hills Are Alive with the Sound of Rhubarb

·        Rhubarb Control to Intern Tom

·        I Never Picked Rhubarb

·        Rhubarb Barb, Rhubarb’ra Ann

·        Just Pick It, Just Pick It

·        You Can’t Talk to a Woman with a Rhubarb Knife in her Hand

·        Get Back, Get Back, Get Back to the Rhubarb Patch

·        Rhubarby Fields Forever

·        

Although there are still some minor details to work out, you can buy your tickets in advance…

...Until Next Time...

Ulterior Motives and Conspiracy Cake

Ulterior Motives and Conspiracy Cake

I confess. When I travelled to Denver recently to visit my Hair Stylist daughter and her husband, I had one ulterior motive. Because I was arriving only two days after Mother’s Day, I was pretty confident that Emma would offer to trim my wayward locks. Unfortunately, the plan backfired.

One Ulterior Motive

She noticed my messy coiffure immediately.
“Are you growing your hair out, Mom?”
“Yes, I am.” Pause ... Pause ... “But it does need a trim.” Eyebrows raised to question mark level.
“I KNEW you would come out here wanting me to cut your hair! I don’t do that cut anymore!” Voice raised to annoyed level.
“Oh, never mind, Emma. I’ll get it cut when I get home. No problem.” I know when to back off. Sometimes.

Bad Hair Day

Emma was the perfect hostess as the week went on, generous with her time and attentive to our every need and desire. Jazz Festival, Knitting Club, Dining Adventures, Museum of Art, Mother-Daughter Facial and Pedicure, Swimming, Dog-Walking, Craft Breweries, Ice Cream Tasting Party, Bad Movies… The list is endless.

Ice Cream Flight: The Creamery

As we prepared for our Sunday trip to Ikea, Emma mentioned that her friend was coming with us.

“Kaytee's coming over a little early so I can trim her hair.”
“WHAT!!??” I responded, outraged, eyes drilling into Emma. “Trim her hair!!!???”
“I owe her, Mom. She kept our dog when we went to Florida last month.”
“You owe me LIFE, Emma!” I retorted, recalling 14 hours of labour and 10 months of Hair School.
“It’s just a little trim, Mom. Won’t take long.”
I let it go. Sort of.

Hair School

Over an Ikea lunch of poached salmon and Conspiracy Cake, Emma discussed the patio furniture she was considering buying for her back yard.
“I really like it, but I don’t know if I should spend all that money right now. We’re going to that wedding next month, and we were away last month…”
Without thought or consultation with Tom, I blurted out, “We could buy that for you. You’ve entertained us all week. It can be our hostess gift.”
Tom, Mr. Generous, looked at me, Mrs. Tightwad, with his mouth open. Speechless, he nodded his head in agreement.

Tom

Barb

Emma responded to my offer without hesitation, “Oh, that would be nice, Mom. Thanks.” Emma and Kaytee looked at each other. (Conspiratorially??)
“Wait a minute,” I started. “Did you two have this planned?”
Kaytee shook her newly trimmed blond tresses as she popped another forkful of Conspiracy Cake in her mouth.
Emma smiled slyly. “No, Mom, not at all. And I’ll cut your hair when we get home.”
Later that afternoon, Tom assembled the patio furniture as Emma cut my hair.

Denver Haircut --- Pricey

Time with Emma --- Priceless

What's in a Conspiracy Cake? 

...Until Next Time...

Literary Trail

Canada's Literary Trail 

We have many trails in Canada--- The Fundy Trail, the Confederation Trail, the Castor River Trail, Le P’tit Train du Nord, the Bruce Trail, to name a few. There are trails for hiking, biking, snowmobiling, ATVing, canoeing, skiing, dogsledding, horseback riding, motoring and more. 

The Fundy Trail, New Brunswick

But did you know that Project Bookmark Canada is creating a literary trail from coast to coast to coast in Canada?

The Literary Trail

The idea of this project is “to place fiction and poetry in the exact Canadian locations where literary scenes are set.” When you visit a Bookmark, you will find an excerpt from a story or poem on a large plaque that you can read "while standing in the characters’ footsteps.” You will also find information on the author. 

Bookmark for Alistair MacLeod's No Great Mischief 

 Port Hastings, Nova Scotia

What is the value of a Literary Trail? It will bring attention to our literature in which we will recognize ourselves and gain new perspectives of each other. In addition to supporting literacy, Project Bookmark fosters literary tourism by encouraging international readers to explore Canada through our fiction and poetry. 

Bookmarks

This project was launched in April 2009 and currently has 23 bookmarks in place across Canada, 17 of which are in Ontario. At this point, there is no Bookmark in our province! Come on, New Brunswick! We should have no problem in coming up with 23 New Brunswick Bookmarks from our rich literary landscape! 

New Brunswick's Literary Landscape

I envision a Bookmark in Nackawic, featuring the writing of humour writer, Colleen Landry.

Bookmark for Nackawic

I see a Bookmark at Walton’s Lake, celebrating the fiction of Susan White, author of seven books!

Bookmark for Walton's Lake

I picture a Bookmark in Oromocto, highlighting the mystery series of Mary Sawyer.

Bookmark for Oromocto

 I foresee a Bookmark at the Beaverbrook Art Gallery in Fredericton showcasing the writing of children’s author, Wendy MacLeod MacKnight.

Bookmark for Fredericton

And let's not forget these New Brunswick nuggets:
Tantramar Revisited by Sir Charles G.D. Roberts

The Ships of Saint John by Bliss Carman
In the Hainesville Cemetery by Alden Nowlan
Low Tide at St. Andrews by E. Pauline Johnson

Low Tide at St. Andrews

Because the winter was long, April was hard, and tomorrow is May, let’s conclude this trail talk with the evocative and hopeful images in Sir Charles G. D. Roberts’ poem,

To Fredericton in May-Time

Charles G.D. Roberts

This morning, full of breezes and perfume,
  Brimful of promise of midsummer weather,
  When bees and birds and I are glad together,
Breathes of the full-leaved season, when soft gloom
Chequers thy streets, and thy close elms assume
  Round roof and spire the semblance of green billows;
  Yet now thy glory is the yellow willows,
The yellow willows, full of bees and bloom.

Under their dusty blossoms blackbirds meet,
  And robins pipe amid the cedars nigher.
Thro' the still elms I hear the ferry's beat.
  The swallows chirp about the towering spire;
The whole air pulses with its weight of sweet,
  Yet not quite satisfied is my desire!

Fredericton in May-Time
Odell Park

You can help build Canada’s Literary Trail! Go to this site and make a suggestion. (https://www.projectbookmarkcanada.ca/suggest-a-bookmark-form)

...Until Next Time...