Escaping Troubled Waters

 

Maybe I'm easily amused.

Or maybe I'm in desperate need of being amused. Especially given the train wreck that is our current political climate. A wreck we cannot look away from despite the calming lull of apathy, for fear that apathy could kill any hope of survival. So it isn't too tall a leap to think I just might like something bright and shiny (and nontoxic) to divert my thoughts.

An escape, so to speak. From troubled waters.

One that came, the other day, in the form of planes, trains, and automobiles. Oh, and a row boat added in for good measure.

It started with a social media post, made on a Boston based page that had somehow made it into my newsfeed. And the post showed up right when I was trying to decide whether to shut off the news, or throw the remote through the screen. Serendipity.

You all know I'm originally from Boston, so I'm very familiar with Boston University, the Charles River, Cambridge, and the BU bridge. So I was intrigued that the first of the facts listed was that the BU bridge is the only place in the world where you could fly in a plane, over cars, over a train, over a row boat. That'll capture your attention.

 

That and maybe the irony of the momentary diversion from a train wreck involving an actual train.

But is it true? Or have you got a bridge you'd like to sell me?

Yeah, it's the bridge for sale thing. Sort of.

Turns out (thanks again, google) that the BU bridge is actually one of three where you can row under planes, trains, and automobiles, if you're inclined to do that sort of thing. For me, I think it's probably safer to exercising my imagination in the kitchen below a ceiling rather than exercising my arm muscles below tons and tons of steel.  

Caramel Apple Gingerbread

Oh, in case you're wondering, the other two bridges are in Oregon and Portugal. Most likely not for sale though, if anyone offers.

 

Now yes, I know that fascinating facts . . . well, even if they don't turn out to be wholly true . . . don't do anything to change our political climate. But it can be a fun escape. 

Handcuffs and police plane optional.

Caramel Apple Gingerbread         

                                                                                      ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:
1 apple

1 cup apple juice

1 stick butter, softened

1/3 cup sugar

1/3 cup brown sugar

2/3 cup molasses

1/4 cup caramel syrup

2 eggs

2 3/4 cups flour

1 1/2 tsp cinnamon

1 1/4 tsp ginger

1 1/2 tsp baking soda

1/2 tsp ground cloves

1/2 tsp salt

1/ cup caramel baking bits

OPT: sprinkle with powdered sugar and/or top with whipped cream and/or caramel syrup for serving

Directions:
*Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Grease and flour an 8 X 11 baking dish.

*Core, peel, and chop the apple into small pieces.

*In the microwave, heat the apple juice until hot, about 1 1/2 minutes.

*Beat the butter, sugar, brown sugar, molasses, and caramel syrup. Beat in the eggs.

*Add the flour, cinnamon, ginger, baking soda, cloves, and salt, and mix well. 

Next, mix in the hot juice, and keep mixing until completely incorporated then the chopped apple and caramel baking bits.

*Spread evenly into the baking dish and bake for 30 - 35 minutes, until the center springs back to the touch.

*Allow to cool before topping and/or slicing.

Flood: Monthly Poetry Group

 

 

 

 

Last Friday of the month is for

Monthly Poetry Group to rhyme.

Diane, Mimi, and I take turns,

"Syrup" is the theme this time.

 

As usual, today I'll try,

a poem to write . . . or fudge.

Whether I'm successful or not,

you get to be the judge.  

 

 

Flood

I'm from (close to) Boston,

perhaps you know that's true,

It's a story about my city,

that today I'm telling you.

Now the story's about molasses,

but syrup's our theme today.

In the end it'll come together

(and that's all I'm going to say).

Way back in 1919, 

January 15th was the day, 

the North End of Boston became famous,

in an unfortunate way.

Over 2 million gallons of molasses

burst from a storage tank,

13 thousand tons spewed forth,

now that had to smell rank.

It traveled through the streets,

that sticky, gooey mess.

At a rate of 35 miles per hour,

not something I would guess.

It would actually be funny,

if only this wasn't true.

Everything in its path destroyed,

streets, houses, the subway too.

Sticky doesn't really describe it,

but everything felt that way,

and there are some who live there, say

they can smell it . . . to this day.

 

Blueberry Maple Syrup

with my Key Lime Pancakes

Why tell you this story 

about a molasses flood so great?

Because anyone who's been parents, 

of little ones can relate.

Our toddlers' breakfast syrup  

splashed all over the kitchen floor, 

can look distressingly similar to,

those Boston streets of yore.

 

Before you go, stop by these blogs for more poetry:

 

On the Border

Messymimi's Meanderings

 

Blueberry Maple Syrup

                                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:
1 cup fresh blueberries

1 cup maple syrup

1 TBSP orange juice

1/3 cup blueberry preserves

Directions:

*Cut the blueberries in half and mix with the maple syrup in a pot. Set aside off of the stove for 30 minutes, stirring now and then.

*After 1/2 hour, add the orange juice, and place the pot on the stove over medium heat. Bring just to the boiling point, reduce the heat and simmer for 10 minutes.

*Press through a sieve, discard the skins, and whisk the preserves into the syrup. Return to the pot and, over medium low heat, stirring now and then, heat for 5 minutes.

*Cool to serve either warm or cold. Cover and refrigerate any leftovers.

 

Long Lonesome Detour: Use Your Words

 

Today’s post is a monthly writing challenge. If you’re new here, this is how it works: participating bloggers picked 4 – 6 words or short phrases for someone else to craft into a post. All words must be used at least once. All of the posts will be unique as each writer has received their own set of words. That’s the challenge, here’s a fun twist; no one who’s  participating knows who got their words and in what direction the recipient will take them. Until now. 

At the end of this post you’ll find links to the other blogs featuring this challenge. Check them all out, see what words they got and how they used them.

I'm using:  lost ~ highway ~ dark ~ metallic ~ rosy ~ laughter
They were submitted by Jenniy of Climaxed.

 

 

                          
"On a long lonesome highway, east of Omaha." 

Wait. Lost, not long? 

OK. Lost on a long lonesome highway, east of Omaha.

Bob Seger "Turn the Page" earworm aside, I gotta tell you, if you're looking for a long lonesome highway, west of Omaha is the way to go.

East of Omaha, well, way, way east, is "Boston you're my home."

For those of you not in the know, that's a quote from one of Boston's iconic songs.

There are a few songs well known as being associated with Boston. Not exactly complimentary, but . . . One of them is Dirty Water," sung by the Standells. It's about the not so clean Charles River: 

"Down by the river,

down by the banks of the river Charles."
"That's where you'll find me,

along with lovers, muggers and thieves."
"Well, I love that dirty water,

Oh, oh, Boston you're my home."

Yeah, we're super proud of that one.

And then there's "Charlie on the M.T.A." (the Metropolitan Transit Authority, Boston's subway system) sung by The Kingston Trio. It's actually a really fun, funny, and political song about a man who got onto the M.T.A. and due to price increases could not get off:

"Charlie handed in his dime at the Kendall Square station,

and he changed for Jamaica Plain,

when he got there the conductor told him "one more nickel," 

Charlie couldn't get off of that train."

"Did he ever return?

No, he never returned, and is fate is still unlearned, poor old Charlie.

He may ride forever 'neath the streets of Boston,

he's the man who never returned."

Boston may be a place of beloved dirty water and never ending M.T.A. rides, but it is decidedly not a place where you'd find long lonesome highways. Unless it's first thing in the morning on New Year's day. Which is where I found myself many years ago.

I don't remember the exact year, certainly long before cell phones, which would have impacted my situation greatly. I think that I was home from college for winter break, and staying at my dad's house. He and his wife were going on vacation, they were leaving at dark o'clock in the morning of New Year's day, and guess who was elected to drive them to the airport.

If you know Boston traffic (or can even imagine it), you'll understand why, on the way back, I'd mistakenly think that my 30 minute drive would be a breeze. Everything was rosy, I had the highway to myself! No traffic congestion, no one merging at the expense of the life of others (me), no one weaving in and out of traffic. The revelers from the night before had made their way wherever, and no one in their right mind was awake yet. 

But what about someone not necessarily in their right mind?

 

 

 

I had just started out,was cruising along in dad's big metallic land boat, radio turned up high, when a car pulled up beside me. OK, there was one other person on the road. But he looked at me, then he pulled behind me. And stayed there. 

I was concerned. So concerned that I was watching him more than the road, and missed the turnoff to the other highway that would take me home. By the time I figured that out, I was, well, who knows where.

I was lost. I needed to get off that highway, but was afraid to take just any exit, I didn't want to end up on any route where I may have to stop at a light, not with this guy behind me.

 

So I needed to get off that highway, and I needed to not get off that highway.

At one point he came up beside me again and was waving at me to pull over. Nope. Maybe he was a nice guy, wanting to buy me a cup of coffee. Maybe his plans included me sleeping with the fish in the dirty water of the Charles River (insert maniacal laughter here). I wasn't about to find out, after all, I had kids to make, sweets to bake, pies in which to partake . . . 

 

 

Caramel Oreo Pie

 

 

I kept driving, he kept following, and I started singing snippets of those 3 songs still jumbling around in my head.

 

(singing): Will she ever return, no she'll never return, and her fate is still unlearned . . . 

I'm happy to report that I neither ended up taking a long nap in the Charles River, nor suffered Charlie of the MTA's fate (but it was close). 

  

 (singing): "Charlie's wife goes down to the Scolly Square station,

every day, at quarter past two,

and through the open window she hands Charlie a sandwich,

as the train comes rumbling through!"

The guy followed me for a while, tried again to get me to pull over, followed me some more. At some point he took an exit. I, of course was still lost. And nothing was open.

(singing): "And you don't feel much like ridin', you just wish the trip was though." 

 

Now I could get off . . . but where? 

My strategy turned out to be taking any route with a number I recognized, till I got to another route with a number I recognized, heading in a direction I thought I needed to go, until I eventually (miraculously) made it to my home town.

(singing): "You pretend it doesn't bother you but you just want to explode."

Although it had been a while since I'd seen the guy, I was spooked. I didn't want to go to dad's empty house, down a long lonesome driveway, (with woods on one side and backing up to the reservoir), so I went to Mom's. I parked the car in her driveway, ran into the house and locked the door. My 30 minute drive had only taken 3 hours.

Mom: Hi, I'm surprised to see you here.

Me: I'm just coming back from the airport.

Mom: Now? Their flight was hours ago.

Me: I took a little detour.

Mom: Oh, where?
Me: I kinda came home via Cape Cod.

Mom: Cape Cod???

Me: Don't ask. 

Mom: {{blink, blink}}.

Me: Got any pie?

 

 

 

 

Here are links to all the other Use Your Words posts:

 

Climaxed

The Diary of an Alzheimer’s Caregiver 

On the Border 

 

Caramel Oreo Pie         

                                                                         ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:
1 (9 inch) Oreo pie crust

3 egg yolks

1 can (14 oz) sweetened condensed milk

1/3 cup caramel sauce

1/2 tsp vanilla

6 Oreo cookies, crushed 

 

OPT: chocolate sauce, caramel sauce, and/or whipped cream for serving

Directions:

*Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

*Whisk together the egg yolks, sweetened condensed milk, vanilla, and caramel sauce.
*Mix in the crushed cookies. Pour into the crust and bake for 30 minutes. Remove from the oven carefully, the pie will be browned but the center will not have set yet.

*Allow to cool to room temperature before refrigerating. Once pie is cold, slice and serve topped with chocolate sauce, caramel sauce, and/or whipped cream for serving, if desired. Keep leftovers covered and refrigerated.