Ground Down

In many ways, we've been through the mill this year.

Beck's Mill, Salem, IN

So it seemed fitting, that in the grip of holiday spirit brought on by online deals, I ordered myself a Victorio grain  mill.

I've never ground my own grain before but whole wheat flour in the stores hereabouts is lackluster--and expensive. Emergency Essentials sent me an offer I couldn't refuse and I succumbed--a small mill for less than $50.

Then  I had to locate some wheat to grind. My go-to guy for finding things locally had a lead on soft wheat grown a few miles away but not hard wheat (he'd bought a ton--yes, 2000 pounds!--of the stuff many years ago and was still using that. Now THAT'S preparedness). Hard wheat is necessary for bread which is our main use for flour.

So I searched the net. Many places offer hard wheat but the shipping is a bit much to justify the purchase. Amazon to the rescue! Not only can you order ORGANIC wheat berries from them but it qualifies for free shipping. Wow.

50 lbs of wheat arrived a few days ago (the UPS man is beginning to dread coming here)and the mill yesterday. I tested it last night with peppercorns and it worked great. But the real test was whole wheat flour.

I poured in 1 cup of wheat and started grinding. Set at the finest setting, the flour came out silky soft. It took about 10 minutes--that's with breaks for photos--and was fairly easy to turn. I can feel it in my shoulder but then I'm in wretched shape.

The 1 cup of berries yielded almost 1 3/4 cups flour.

I wanted to test this high gluten flour on bagels but was pressed for time so I mixed up some muffins. I did add 1/4 cup white flour as the recipe calls for 2 cups.

Man oh man, do these taste good! I'm not a fussy eater and have the palate of  a toddler, but I'll go out on a limb and say the fresh flour made quite a difference. Although mostly whole wheat, these aren't heavy or dense and have a...wait a minute, I've got to "test" another one...sweet, nutty flavor.

The grinding is an effort but since there are only two of us, we don't use mounds of flour and when the grandkids come visit, this will be a great way for them to burn off some of that excess energy!

Fruits of our labors

Parents the world over are secure in the knowledge that their children are the best of a generation--smart, kind, talented beyond measure. This weekend we had confirmation of that--NOT THAT WE NEEDED IT!

We were honored to attend the premier of a Christmas play, THE FAMILY FRUITCAKE, by our daughter, Rebecca Frohling. She not only has penned a holiday classic but guided her work through the workshop process at the Albright Theatre and stuck with it during rewrites, suggestions, and long nights of rehearsals.

The result is a funny, fast-moving story that is heartwarming without being sappy. The cast, directed by Tricia Hewson and Veronica Krystal, brought the 20 (!) characters to life and made us believe in family, no matter how many nuts the family and fruitcake contains.

If you're in the Batavia, IL area, give yourself an early Christmas present and attend THE FAMILY FRUITCAKE, December 14, 15, and 16.

Now to drop my mommy-theater critic persona for a moment, fruit is in the future here also.

The fruits trees I ordered from the Arbor Day group finally arrived and we planted: 4 apples, 2 peaches, and 2 cherry trees. I have had limited success with fruit trees but have great hopes for these. After all, a garden is the embodiment of hope.

Ye Olde Repair Person



I don't think ours was labelled this clearly.

    In the 5 months since we moved to Indiana, our computer monitor died, the cd player bit the dust, the television stopped working, the jigsaw wouldn't cut, and the new saw we bought fell apart in our hands the first time we used it. Of all of these modern marvels, only the jigsaw was still under warranty (go, Black and Decker) but they didn't fix it, they sent us a new one (the new new one was exchanged at the store).

   This chain of broken has made me long for the golden days of my youth when THINGS COULD BE REPAIRED.

   You young folk may think it's a myth, but I stand as witness that, in days of yore, not only did appliances operate as advertised for several years but that when there was a problem, a repair person came to your house!

   Ah, the repairman. Thought by some to be a figment of delusional senior citizens, this creature was for real and true. In our family's case, the saint of handiness was Bernie.

   Our console television got heavy use. Jack LaLaine jumping jacks in the morning, episodes of the Mickey  Mouse Club after school, news and Bonanza at night. Expanding our world by three channels in breath-taking black and white. But sometimes that world had wavy lines and fuzzy reception.

   Then we'd call Bernie. His arrival was met with glee by us kids. Bernie came in with his tool box; one of those large metal kits with pop-up drawers full of tubes and electronic gizmos. He'd pull the set out from the wall and take off the back exposing the wires and doohickies that made the magic. And he'd fix it! He was the Albus Dumbledore of television repair and we adored him. I can only imagine the mountain of patience that man must have had to work with an audience of juvenile fans watching his every move.

   I don't remember the other fix-it guys that populated our world back then, although I'm sure there were many. My dad himself was often called out to repair juke boxes and pool tables (he owned a vending business). But I'm afraid the house-calling repair person has gone the way of the 5 cent fudgcycle and the milk door.

   When did we stop trying to fix things? When did we give up and start filling our landfills with plastic junk, our lives with black and white ideas and doomsday despair? Where are the Bernies of the world to connect a wire here, replace a tube there, and give us clear reception, at least for a time. We have to believe that what is broken can be fixed; it's not impossible. Bernie would tell us that.