Do You Know What it Means to Miss New Orleans?

“Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans”, I asked David as he listened to a video performance by Louis Armstrong and Billie Holiday. He answered in the affirmative and I responded with “I don’t miss it at all”.

I don’t miss the heat, the crime, big city life, or Mardi Gras. I’m perfectly content with living in the west. But the question is not whether or not I miss New Orleans but do I know what it means. The truth is, yes. Having been born and raised in a city rich in culture, defined by its fabulous food and its soulful music, how could I not?


Remembering the 5th anniversary of Hurricane Katrina this past weekend brought back a lot of fond memories of  "The City That Care Forgot". Watching the videos and sharing memories made me a little sad but at the same time reminded me that I’m one of the lucky ones. And I know what it means to miss New Orleans.





While we're talking about fabulous food, check out yesterday's blog post Marlene's Easy Creole Red Beans and Rice.

If you would like to know more about how we left New Orleans and came to live in western Montana, read:

• Crossing Texas
• Worst Case Scenario
• Reckless Abandon

Follow your dreams,




P.S. to Mrs. Slug.  One of my granddaughters loves slugs too and lets them crawl all over her arms.

Marlene's Easy Creole Red Beans and Rice

You can ask my family, if it's Monday, more than likely, it's red beans and rice for dinner. I may have moved thousands of miles away from my New Orleans roots, but my cooking habits haven't changed much.  Buffalo has been added to my menu but I still cook like a New Orleanian. It's a tradition to make a slow simmering pot of red beans on Mondays and here's a little background to tell you why. 

The Louisiana tradition of cooking red beans and rice on Mondays began many years ago in the early 1900’s. As you can imagine, chores took a lot longer back then and Monday was considered “wash day”. The woman of the house would put on a pot of beans to slow cook all day while she did the laundry. Left over Sunday ham was used as seasoning to flavor the beans, which made the meal not only delicious but also economical. After a full day of washing clothes, a tasty and nutritious meal of red beans and rice was served to the family.

Mondays are busy for me too.  After a weekend of  outdoor recreation or lounging around the house, there's lots of stuff to catch up on.  If I start the beans in the morning, I can get back into the weekday routine and have a hearty meal ready at dinnertime without all of the fuss.

Here’s my recipe for easy red beans and rice with andouille sausage.

Rinse and sort 1 lb red beans. Put beans in a dutch oven and cover the beans with approximately 8 cups of water.

I prefer Camillia Brand red beans, but the groceries around here don't sell them.  Use your favorite brand of red beans.

 

  Chop 1 lb andouille sausage and add to pot. I also use 2 medium sized ham hocks for extra flavor.

 

It doesn't have to be andouille.  You can use any smoked sausage of your choice.

Chop 1 onion, 2 stalks of celery and 2 cloves garlic. Add vegetables to pot. Add 1 bay leaf. Stir.

All good Creole cooking starts with onion, celery, and garlic.

Bring to a boil, reduce heat, and simmer slowly all day until dinnertime. When ready, beans should be soft and the mixture should be thick and creamy.

Season to taste with salt and pepper or cajun seasoning. Serve over fluffy long grain rice. Uncle Ben’s Converted Rice is my favorite. You're going to pay extra for it but the results are worth it.  Each grain cooks up nice and dry with no clumping or stickiness.  

Garnish with green onion.  Like it extra spicy? Add a drop or two of Tabasco.

Add a piece of garlic bread for a simple and satisfying New Orleans style meal you can serve any busy day of the week.

Tip: Freeze any leftovers for the next Monday's meal.


You may also like:

• Cajun Cooking

Bon Appetit!

Wisdom, Montana - A Cold Place and the Battle of Big Hole

Not only is Wisdom, Montana one of the coldest places in the country, it is also the place of one of the most tragic battles this country has ever seen, the Battle of Big Hole.


Each day, my husband David checks the weather forecast around the country. He checks the temperatures in Anchorage, Boise, New Orleans, Kansas City, and Little Rock. With family spread all over the country and these cities being nearest them, we get a general idea of what the day will be like in their neck of the woods. He then proceeds to tell me the country’s extreme highs and lows. “Wisdom has got it again,” he often says. He relishes the fact that Wisdom, which is only about 295 miles south of us as the crow flies, has the nippiest overnight temperatures. “It's 24 degrees,” he adds with glee, "and it's the middle of summer." You have to understand that we come from a hot and hellish climate in the south to fully appreciate his delight. And now for the rest of the story.

The Nez Perce, a peaceful tribe of the Pacific Northwest had befriended explorers Meriwether Lewis and William Clark. Later, they were friendly with white settlers who began to move into their territory around the Snake River which in present day terms is near the borders of Oregon, Washington, and Idaho. When hordes of settlers came, most of them cooperated with the United States government when asked to move to a reservation. But, about a quarter of them refused. This caused a conflict between the Nez Perce and the U.S. government which led to the outbreak of the Nez Perce War of 1877. A small band of 145 warriors along with approximately 500 others of which were women, children and other non-combatants, fought the United States in four major battles. The Battle of Big Hole near the Big Hole River in Montana was the third such battle. The Nez Perce were fleeing eastward hoping to make their way to Canada when they were attacked while they slept. On August 9, 1877 at 3:30 a.m., Colonel John Gibson and 183 soldiers rampaged the Nez Perce camp in the Big Hole Basin near Wisdom. Casualties were serious on both sides with the Nez Perce losing mostly women and children. The warriors counter-attacked, but withdrew four days later. The Nez Perce that were able to escape continued to head to Canada. Two months later, in October, another battle took place that devastated the Nez Perce. It was in the Bear Paw Mountains of Montana less than 40 miles south of Canada. The Nez Perce gave up and agreed to go to the reservation. The last battle of the Nez Perce is remembered in popular history by the eloquent and sad words attributed to Chief Joseph at the formal surrender.

"Tell General Howard I know his heart. What he told me before, I have it in my heart. I am tired of fighting. Our chiefs are killed; Looking Glass is dead, Too-hul-hul-sote is dead. The old men are all dead. It is the young men who say yes or no. He who led on the young men is dead. It is cold, and we have no blankets; the little children are freezing to death. My people, some of them, have run away to the hills, and have no blankets, no food. No one knows where they are—perhaps freezing to death. I want to have time to look for my children, and see how many of them I can find. Maybe I shall find them among the dead. Hear me, my chiefs! I am tired; my heart is sick and sad. From where the sun now stands, I will fight no more forever."

"War? What is it good for? Absolutely nothing." ~  taken from the 1969 anti-war song by Edwin Starr.

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Are you a history buff and want to learn more about Chief Joseph or the Battle of Big Hole?  Check out these titles from Amazon.

You may also enjoy reading my This and That article titled "A Story Teller" about the inspirational Professor Stephen Ambrose.

Till next time,

This Year at the NW Montana Fair

The fairgrounds are quiet and the Northwest Montana Fair is over signaling the end of summer. Folks from miles around came to traipse around animal barns that smelled of poop and urine.

White mules shine brightly in the sunshine.

Youngsters paid to wrestle with pigs in sloppy wet mud.  The teams competed for prizes.

As soon as the sun went down, the pigs knew it was time to sleep.

Crowds of rodeo fans whooped and hollered at bull riding cowboys, then laughed and cheered for little kids mutton’ bustin. Kids of all ages spun themselves silly on carnival rides, just for the fun of it. The smell of food wafted in the air tempting fair goers with corn dogs, cotton candy and funnel cakes.

I'm dizzy!

As always, we visited every exhibit. We walked around the Dahlia Barn, dubbed as “the best part of the fair”, by my husband (wink, wink), surveyed the homemade canned goods, critiqued the photographs, and looked at all of the 4-H entries. We also stopped in at the woodworking shop where craftsmen demonstrated their skills. This year we were in for a special surprise.

I know...some people consider flowers boring.  I think they are pretty.

We watched as the lathe operator turned down a piece of wood. It began to take shape and when it was finished, the operator handed a beautifully handcrafted honey dipper to Mallory. I was very pleased. We had just made homemade fireweed honey the day before and I had always wanted a honey dipper. It’s just one of those nifty kitchen gadgets I had never gotten around to buying.

Look at the craftsmanship.  Isn't it well done?

A great time was had by all!  What did you do at the fair this year?

And if you've always wanted a honey dipper but never got around to buying one, they are inexpensive and here's one on Amazon that looks similar to mine. Wooden Honey Dipper - 6 1/2 inch Hardwood

You may also like:

• The Big Fair!

A BIG "Welcome" to our new followers!

Homemade Fireweed Honey

I made some Fireweed Honey today, just like the Alaskan homesteaders used to do.

As the story goes, living on the frontier and away from civilization was tough.  It was difficult to get foodstuffs normally found in stores.  Necessity is the mother of invention, and the homesteaders got creative.  They used what was readily available.  By collecting fireweed and cooking it down with sugar, they made a delicious honey.  As honey was frequently in short supply in early Alaskan history, fireweed and clover honey became a common sweet treat for early homesteaders.

First you pick some fireweed. We don't have enough that grows in our yard, so we pick it on Big Mountain.

The fireweed is purple.  The red flowers are Indian Paintbrush.

Then you pick some clover.

E picks pink clover. 

 Before you make the honey, wash the clover and the fireweed.

Wash the clover.

Be sure to wash all of the critters out.

Can you believe this guy was still alive after being locked up in a Ziploc bag in the fridge for 4 days?

We added to Mr. Beetle's torment.  We gave him to Wes.  Wes has been desperate to go outside this week, but we can't let him because our neighbor shot him with a B-B gun.  We thought this would make him feel better by giving him a taste of the outdoors. 

Wes scarfed him up right after this photo.

The liquid boiled over, it caught fire and I had a heck of a time cleaning the stove this morning.

Canning can be quite messy.

It may be a mess, but the results are quite satisfying.

A homestead treat that can't be beat!

Fireweed and Clover Honey recipe:

50 pink clover blooms

10 white clover blooms

18-25 fireweed blooms

3/4 tsp. alum

5 lb. bag white sugar
3 cups boiling water

• Wash blooms in cold water to remove insects.
• Put all ingredients except water in pan, then pour boiling water on.
• Let sit for 10 minutes.
• Bring to boil and boil for 10 minutes.
• Strain through cheesecloth.
• Put in canning jars and water bath process for 10 min. before sealing lids.

Enjoy!

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Buffy had a close encounter with marmots.  Here is what she had to say.

 Reminds me of the time in the Sierras called Silver City. We camped amongst Marmots. They ate people's rubber hoses under the hoods of their car. Everybody kept their hoods up and chased them away. They loved antifreeze hoses especially.

Those marmots will eat ANYTHING! 

Till next time,

Attack of the Marmots?

This may sound strange but I was actually looking forward to being attacked by marmots at Piegan Pass. Fending off these furry little critters can be kind of scary, though. They are just so darn fearless. And their teeth are huge. I’m never quite sure if they are going to come up and steal my lunch or bite my leg and give me rabies.

"See these teeth?"  "Give me a piece of your shoe or else."

As we approached the pass I could hear them whistling. I prepared myself to do battle if necessary.

The whistling was from the marmots, not these cowboys that had come up the trail from Many Glacier.

We sat down on a rocky slope, removed our packs, and took out our lunch. I scanned the mountain for marmots, waiting for at least two or three to spot us. I figured I’d shove my foot in their face or wrestle them with my hiking pole if I had to defend my lunch of tuna and cheese.

Lunch on a rocky hillside at Piegan Pass.

And if they wanted to chew on some leather, no way was I about to let them gnaw on my new Lowa hiking boots. They’d have to pick on somebody else’s foot for that.

I've sprained each ankle.  My new Lowa's are nice and high and give excellent ankle support.

To my disappointment the only wrestling we did was with the wind. It was brutal and really ripping through the pass. The marmots ignored us as we ate but we did watch a few scurry around on a nearby slope. Before we left, we took some pictures and watched a group of marmots digging in the ground for food. They are herbivores and have powerful claws for digging. A couple of them got competitive and started growling at each other. I was kind of hoping they would get really vicious and I could see a marmot fight. Ground squirrels nibbled the grass alongside the marmots.

Yum, yum..tasty grass

The squirrels are smaller rodents than the marmots and with their heads all together foraging for food like that, could have been mistaken as baby marmots. I was surprised the marmots didn’t run the squirrels off. I have since learned that they are relatives to the ground squirrel. I suppose that answers their passive behavior.

Heading back down the trail from Piegan Pass...we did about 10 miles round trip.

And if you ever get up to Piegan Pass, don’t worry about the marmots. I’ve never heard of them giving anybody rabies and they are really no worse than big menacing geese that run and honk after your bread.

• We've been terrorized by marmots before!  Check out Marmot Mountain Fun and Terror, an adventure for all to enjoy!
• For more pictures of the trail check out my Flickr Photostream!
• And if you're in the market for some good hiking boots, these are the one's I wear:  Lowa Women's Albula Gtx WS Hiking Boot,Dark Blue,6.5 M US

Happy Trails,

The Tent People

by Mallory

The campground bathroom is a gathering place for the tent people. From pop up campers with comfy cots to tiny one person tents, there is a certain sense of community among the users of the campground bathroom. When my parents got married, Mom insisted that if she were to go camping, there must be a toilet. I know why.

Last weekend we stayed overnight at the Fish Creek Campground in Glacier National Park. The toilet nearest to our campsite was closed for construction so everyone in our loop was forced to share a bathroom.

Before leaving for the ranger talk, I mentioned the incident to Mom, who said that she would bring it up to the ranger so that someone would clean up the mess. My sister and I sat in the back corner of the amphitheater, trying to keep a low profile. Instead our seclusion only made us more noticeable.

After the talk, I went to see what they had done to the bathroom. The toilet seat still had spatters of blood, but in the other stall there were no bloody footprints. Making sure that no one was around to see me, I took a photo of the toilet.

Blood had filled this toilet and bloody footprints were in another stall

After spending the evening relaxing by the lake and roasting marshmallows, it was once again time to make a trip to the bathroom. Eileen slipped on Dad’s headlamp and we giggled loudly all the way to the bathroom. Blinding people with headlamps is great fun, by the way. In the restroom was a woman and her daughter brushing their teeth. I proceeded to brush my hair and teeth when the woman’s elderly mom emerged from a stall. A weird buzzing noise broke the silence. I whirled around, looking for a swarm of angry flies.

The old lady said, “Yep, it’s my brains rattling. Yes, they’re there. Deeply buried but they’re there,” as she used a battery operated toothbrush to clean her teeth. I laughed, and turned away from the small woman. She commented on Eileen’s headlamp saying how she loved to read with hers. Last night she’d been reading and the battery ran out.

After telling the other users of the bathroom goodnight, we retired to our tents and eventually fell asleep. My slumber was only disturbed by the sound of our next door neighbor puking.

I crawled out of my tent in the morning looking horrible and trooped supplies in tow to the bathroom to get pretty for my day. Eileen joined me but not for long because she saw a bunch of moths all over the mirror. I was surprised to see a woman straightening her hair. Her flat iron was plugged into an outlet in the wall. Next time I go camping I’ll bring mine…if I’m allowed by then. (I have damaged hair from straightening it every day and have been forbidden to use my iron for the past two months.) Eileen shouted from outside to capture each moth and get rid of it. I refused and tried to convince her to overcome her fear and come get ready. The woman straightening her hair chuckled.

I was just finishing getting beautified when I heard a sharp rapping at the door. A woman in a stall yelled, “Okay, just a sec!”

I thought maybe it was my sister banging on the door and opened it. I looked in her direction and said, “Was that you banging on the door?”

From behind I heard a man’s voice saying, “No. It’s us.” I whirled around to see the cleaning men carrying supplies and looking rather agitated.

“Oh,” I said.

“We’re trying to get people out so we can get in.”

I ran back into the bathroom to put on some lip-gloss. The woman from the stall walked up and said, “Was it like cleaning people or something?”

“Yeah,” I responded, surprised that she had knowingly yelled at cleaning people like that. The woman had obviously slept in her blue eye shadow as it was smeared all over her face. She began to wash her hands.

I snatched my cosmetics bag and ran out of the bathroom. The cleaning men thanked me gruffly as I headed back to our campsite.

So you see, campground bathrooms are more than just a place to relieve yourself. They have the spirit of tent camping; a spirit of adventure. We tent people really live life.


Visit Mallory's blog at Blue Pencil Diaries

You may also like:

• Girls - Early on I learned that camping requires bathrooms.

Marlene's Marlboro County

I always wanted to see Marlboro Country.  You know the kind of place...where bow-legged cowboys herd cattle with horses...where roping steers is a highly regarded skill...where ranchers shoot off their porches and fix venison for dinner.  A place where the deer and the antelope play and seldom is heard a discouraging word and the skies are not cloudy all day.  A place where the spirit of the American West comes alive. A place where a man can live his life full measure... but not too fast...a place where independence and freedom is treasured. Okay, you get the picture.

My granny instilled this vision into my head when I was a little girl.  We'd spend summer afternoons watching "Let's Make a Deal" and when commercials with horse-back riding cowboys would come on she would say "I'd like to go there one day".  I'm sorry to say she passed at the ripe old age of 89 but unfortunately without ever seeing Marlboro Country.  As for me, I was lucky enough to move to the west.  And Montana is my Marlboro Country.

I don't have much more to say today.  I'm really running later than I'd like, but that's nothing new.  But I feel really good about my day. 

The girls and I watched some inspirational videos, laughed out loud for one whole minute (you should try this, you will feel marvelous afterwards), wrote a long overdue letter to my grandson and had a nice chat with my son on the phone.

Enough already!  Without further adieu, here are some pictures of Marlboro Country taken on a recent visit to the Grant-Kohrs Ranch in Deer Lodge.

Cows grazing in green pastures

Longhorns

Barns and horses

Cowboy

Marlboro Country.  Don't you love it?

So, how was your day?

Yee Ha,

RV Camping at Wal-Mart

Minnesota, Michigan, Florida, Hawaii, Saskatchewan, Washington, Tennessee, British Columbia, South Dakota… just some of the RV plates I saw in Wal-Mart’s parking lot this morning (I’m still scratching my head, how do they drive from Hawaii?). No matter. Today’s post is about Wal-Mart camping.


I read an article on Levonne’s Meanderings… about a couple who left their old life behind and have made a living out of RVing. I followed the links to their website and saw a link to Un-friendly RV communities. I clicked it to find out if Montana had any unfriendly RV towns. Honestly, I did not expect to find any. Camping is a popular recreation for Montanans and even though people here get paid chicken feed, they own some pretty snazzy RV’s. But, lo and behold, according to “Gypsy Journal”, the city of Billings used to have a ban on overnight parking in Walmart’s lot as well as other business lots. Apparently, it was due to the urgings of a local campground owner. Perhaps the proprietor thought free camping in parking lots was digging into his business and convinced the city that it should be banned. After many complaints from the RV community, the ban was rescinded. RVer’s can now park and rest in parking lots for up to 10 hours. Not so in Missoula, though, overnight parking is not allowed anywhere except in established campgrounds.

As I was enlightening myself to all of this, I was picturing  the southwest corner of the Kalispell Wal-Mart parking lot. It‘s been filled with plenty of RV‘s this summer and sort of resembles a concrete campground. For years, I’ve had the impression that Walmart is RV friendly, so I finally decided to do some research into Wal-Mart camping. I’m not sure how up to date this information is but here is what I found.

• Walmart operates 1,494 discount stores, 1,386 Supercenters, and 532 Sam’s Clubs. Most allow Rver’s to stay overnight in their parking lots. Let’s say 9 out of 10.
• Staying overnight in Wal-Mart’s parking lot is absolutely free. Wal-Mart extends good will and in turn you’ll probably be a happy camper and go inside the store and buy food and supplies.
• You do not have to ask permission to stay overnight in Wal-Mart parking lots, but should be mindful of signs prohibiting it. They will be posted at various locations around the perimeter of the Wal-Mart parking lot. Some cities have ordinances that do not allow overnight stays in parking lots. You may be asked to leave, evicted in the middle of the night, or receive a citation if you are parking where prohibited.
• Long stays are not encouraged. Living and working from Wal-Mart’s parking lot is a no-no. Don’t ruin it for everyone. It is intended for the road weary traveler to get a good nights rest and then move on.

This is how the southwest corner of the parking lot looked before the store opened in June.  Overnight RVer's now park in this spot.

Ever spent the night in an RV at Wal-Mart?  I’d love to hear about it.

Now, to read Levonne's post about her interview with the editor of Gypsy Journal click here.

Other Wal-Mart articles you may enjoy:

• Wal-Mart Supercenter in Kalispell

Oh, in case you are wondering, the grand opening of the Supercenter was a big time disappointment.  No fanfare and no freebies.  They don't even stock what my local grocery does.  I am finding myself shopping less and less at Wal-Mart.

Happy Trails,