Fruitcake, Jam, and Rummage

It is the season that historical societies and churches in our area have their holiday fairs.   These fairs have charming names like Yuletide Festival, Sleigh Bell Fair, and Cranberry Fete.  A peek at the Friday newspaper and there are 10 - 20 of these events on any given November Saturday.  Yes, sirree.  Sign me up.  Plan the route.

Stone House Yuletide Festival

In recent years, there has been the propensity for these events to offer prettily prepared theme baskets that have been donated by patrons and on which one is to bid.  Baskets such as the tea basket, the lottery ticket basket, and the bird feeder basket.  How nice but I'm not really interested.  I go specifically for base items - edibles and rummage. 

For edibles we are talking jams, pickles, Indian pudding, fruitcake, rum balls, and exotic cookies that I do not make myself -  luscious and all expertly homemade mostly by the female contingent of  the organization.  Like a squirrel, I stock up - particularly on the fruitcake and jam.

Fruitcake seems to have a negative reputation but I'll take it any old time.  I will walk an extra mile each morning in order to enjoy a slab at my desk while at work in the afternoon.  There have been unsolicited comments from non-fruitcake fans so I've learned to be discreet.  Fruitcake at work seems to have the same bad rap akin to the company policy that is nebulously worded  to ban "untoward substances."

Yes, Yes, Yes!

Jam.  What can I say?  I was raised on jam.  When young, every summer we practically lived at the Greenbriar Jam Kitchen and bought from Briar Lane as well.

"For Mrs. Weston" is written on every jar.

The rummage sections, particularly at the churches, are similar.  Ladies with holiday pins on their sweaters or festive aprons stand behind tables where the oddest assortment of items is attractively arranged.  This arrangement defies reason - books amongst blenders mixed in with vases, some one's extra yarn, a trivet, and a pocket sized kit of screw drivers.  Then always,  on a small table is the old jewelry section.  This section usually has the old circle pins, clip on earrings and such arranged in the little cardboard boxes with the cotton.

It seems that the men are relegated to move the big rummage items off in another section.  They patrol this area often with Santa hats sitting jauntily atop their heads.  They can be flirty as they try to convince you that you really want the old dehumidifier that was once in the church cellar.

Yet, there are incredible treasures to be found.  Some examples:  a vintage navy pea coat for my niece for .50 cents (Why is there not a cents sign on my computer? - troubling), another gurgling fish pitcher, and a Brownie camera.

Gurgling fish pitcher

Jam, fruitcake, and rummage - As that sage, Rick James, once eloquently and aptly stated "Give It to Me."

Beaujolais Nouveau!



A few years ago by happy happenstance we found ourselves in Lyon, France on the third Thursday of November.  By tradition this is the day that the Beaujolais Nouveau wine  - from the recent summer grapes - is celebrated.  Parties were held all over town but more on that later.

Lyon, is also know as gastronomic capital of France and that it is.  We were there for a day and decided that we needed some additional help in terms of making the best choices.  Thus we signed up for a food and wine tour of the city and surrounding area.  What a wonderful tour this was.  How is it that one can eat eclairs, croque monsieur, more pork dishes than one normally consumes in a year, meals smothered in delectable sauces, tons of bread with BUTTER, cheese, cheese, and more cheese while in France and actually loose weight?   Yet it seems to always be so.  (What is that book 'French Women Don't Get Fat?")

In the hotel lobby we met our fellow tourists.  We were a small group since not a lot of people travel in November.  Amongst, the group were an elderly gentleman, Mr. Cunningham, and his wife.  As we chatted, his wife confided to us and our guide that her husband had landed on Normandy in 1944 and that this was the first time he had been back to France since then.

The first stop on the tour was a visit to a Beaujolais winery just outside of town.  How beautiful it was with the rows of grapes and the roses at the end of each row that were planted specifically to monitor the health of the grapes.  We were met by an exquisitely dressed and erudite gentleman who was the owner of the winery.  He was elegance and graciousness personified and made us feel most welcome.  First, he took us out to the vineyard and let us eat to our hearts content the grapes that were still left.  I had been missing Puppy Weston (OK, I only called overseas to where she was boarded twice.) and he let me play with his dog.  How can anyone be nicer?

We were amongst the barrels in the cellar listening to a very interesting talk about the new wine as well as other wines produced, when the door opened and a tiny, elderly woman entered.  She was perfectly coiffured and grand looking.  Our elegant host stopped and respectfully introduced his mother.  She surveyed us and conversed with her son and our guide. 

Immediately she went over to Mr. Cunningham and took both his hands in hers and said something in her native French.  Our guide translated, "Thank you. For without you, I would be speaking German today."

Oh my goodness.  My description does not do justice to the moment.  Suffice to say that there were lumps in throats, weepy eyes and silence all around.

When everyone recovered,  our elegant host and his mother escorted us in to lunch where there was much sauce, pork, lots of cheese, and most happily wine and toasting - first, of course, to Mr. Cunningham.

For dinner that night we ventured into Lyon's old town with its traboules and  ancient architecture. 

It was the night of the Beaujolais Nouveau release.  What a party.  Every restaurant had a table set up outside with the new wine. 

Each glass, and each glass was a towering full glass, was only 1 euro.  We tasted the wines from many, many wineries.   We sipped and strolled from event to event.  There were magicians, bands for dancing, puppets - everything.  Most notably, despite there being hundreds of joyous people and wine served on the street, everyone was wondrously behaved.  Mr. Weston and I discussed how such impromptu events, hosted typically in May by some college students in our area, contrast.

Anyway, today is Beaujolais Nouveau day.  I am going out to buy a bottle to celebrate wine, Mr. Cunningham, and the goodness of  life.

Veteran's Day and Verdun

A couple of Novembers ago we spent several weeks in France.  We were in Paris on November 11 and witnessed the solemn observances of Armistice Day, our Veteran's Day, in this historically war torn country.  This was similar to what we have at home.  Displays of patriotism, formalities, and ancient veterans being honored. 

A few days later, we traveled east to Verdun where the famous battle of 1916 was fought during World War I.   As we approached the Douaumont Ossuary we saw  the very sad acres of cemeteries filled to the brim with bleached white headstones.  It is so terrible to say, but violence and death in the form of images communicated daily via today's media does quite a bit to desensitize one.  I remember idly thinking upon approach, not that every headstone represented some young man, but about the white, geometric pattern the rows made against the grass.

We parked and walked over to the ossuary and looked into the windows of the huge lower level.  Truly, I was unprepared for the magnitude of what I saw.  Millions of skeletal remains.   It was staggering, horrible, and so overpowering that one was  rendered numb.  Even almost 100 years later, one felt ill over the loss young life.  Moments later, we discovered that these remains were those of over 130,000 French and German soldiers who had perished in the battle and who had never been identified.

So sad to think that World War I was supposed to be the war to end all wars and that the ossuary was built in the 1920s as a form of remembrance - and yet we still have wars and thus veterans to honor.