Fran Ginn

This weekly column, “Adventures in Good Eating,” by Back Door Café chef/owner Fran Ginn appears each Thursday in the Marion County Informer.

……I relish the opportunity of finding something new and different to eat wherever I go. I love to explore why people eat what they do and how food has shaped their lives. Adventures in Good Eating is my way of sharing the pleasure of culinary discovery and also the anticipation of tables and tastes yet to be found.

Do you have a moment in your life which is preserved in your memory like an insect in amber?  Can you remember everything about that moment…..what you were feeling, what the surroundings looked like, even what you were wearing?  Does it still seem fresh, more like yesterday that forty years ago?

I can recall in detail where I was and the taste of the most delicious peach I ever ate. I was thirteen years old, on a “Chevy Chase Family Vacation”-type trip with my family.  The date was June 10, 1967, the last day of the Arab-Israeli Six Day War.  We were in Johnson City, TX, on a  road leading to the LBJ Ranch.  There was a make-shift wooden fruit stand on the side of the road.  The fruit stand had an old cigar box (Roi-tan, I think) which served as a cash box.  There was a sign which gave the price of the peaches  ( .50 per basket) and instructed buyers to pay on the honor system. We passed by the fruit stand, but  my mother, who loved peaches, was insistent that we turn around and go back to the stand.  My daddy, whose temper was beginning to fray after 10 days on the road, reluctantly turned the car around in the middle of the road and drove back.  Mama and I got out.  My daddy and brothers were less than not interested in peaches.  The day was hot, with a light breeze,  the fields behind the fruit stand were full of wildflowers and the air was heavy with the scent of fresh peaches.  The sign offered one peach per customer as a free sample.  Mama carefully evaluated at least a dozen individual peaches before choosing one.  The peaches were small, not much larger than a plum.  The exterior was a deep pinky orange color, shading to almost burgundy toward the bottom of the fruit.  She rubbed off the velvet fuzz from the peach and took a bite.  My mother’s eyes flew open wide.  She had an expression of absolute bliss on her face.   When she handed the peach to me to taste, I understood.  The flesh of the peach had a consistency more reminiscent of a firm custard than a fruit.  The juice was wonderfully sweet and tasted of flowers.  Mama looked at me as she wiped the juice from her face and said, “This is what the peaches in heaven will taste like”.   We got my daddy’s pocket knife and cut open another peach.  The flesh was ivory,  shading to a deep magenta at the seed.  Neither Mama or I had ever seen a white peach before.  We were amazed by this new fruit – tiny, delectable and so sweet.  We bought 3 baskets.  To the end of her life, Mama always talked about those LBJ peaches.  We never found another peach quite so delicious.  Click to continue »

Chloe Oliver

Chloe Oliver of Foxworth writes a community column for the Marion County Informer.

By Chloe Oliver

Those who have known me for only a few years find it difficult to believe that I was once shy. However, if you have known me since my youth, you would know that I  was what people refer to as painfully shy. When I overcame this handicap, I seemed to do it with gusto. I now find myself at the opposite end of the spectrum. In fact, my daughter frequently tells me that I have no filter. Maybe in another twenty years I can obtain a happy medium.

As a child in school, I had two teachers that made life miserable. While some teachers deplore rowdy behavior, these two seemed to abhor shy students. They called attention to my shyness at every opportunity.  “What’s the matter with you, cat got your tongue?” was a typical question often directed toward me in front of my classmates. Of course, this is what every shy person yearns for-someone to call attention to them on a daily basis.

It  also became obvious that these two teachers had labeled me as dumb because of my shyness. Even though  I will probably never work for NASA, neither am I a candidate for a “Rain Man” movie. What if I did have a learning problem?  Would the behavior of these two teachers  have been professional or helpful if I had a learning disability?  Fortunately, I had supportive parents and a couple of good teachers to counteract these two.

Too often, children are labeled by educators as dumb, worthless, not able to amount to much, or not college material because of learning disabilities, shyness, or behavior problems. What happens if these children don’t encounter good teachers or have supportive parents?

I think of flowers as beautiful blossoms. Some weeds have blossoms. Originally, all flowers were wildflowers or weeds. Garden flowers are simply cultivated wildflowers. There are still thousands of uncultivated flowering plants growing in the wild. Since they are not yet cultivated, some would consider them weeds. Yet, with proper cultivation and environment, you might someday purchase these “weeds” from a plant nursery. Each species grows best in a particular type of environment such as sun, shade, wet, dry, cool or warm. A flowering cactus won’t thrive in a water bog and the Artic Poppy would not adapt to the Florida heat.

Many children are labeled as weeds. However, like the flowers, they only need the right environment and proper cultivation for some to realize that they too are flowers. For example, a child with dyslexia is not dumb. He merely learns differently than others. He is just an Artic Poppy in the Southern heat.

I know that there are many capable teachers and parents. I also know that there are those parents and teachers who destroy instead of build. As the school year begins, I hope that parents and teachers will think before they label a child as dumb or tell a student that he is not college material.You see, the only difference between a weed and a flower, is a judgment.

Chloe Oliver

Chloe Oliver of Foxworth writes a weekly community column for the Marion County Informer.

By Chloe Oliver

With few exceptions, I think that our actions are reflective of our beliefs. For example, the simple act of voting for a political candidate is a reflection of a belief. Those with liberal beliefs will vote for a liberal candidate and conservative thinkers usually vote for a conservative politician. The act of praying is a reflection of a belief.  Likewise, a belief in the sanctity of all living creations will lead to the action of being kind to animals.

One of my favorite scriptures is found in Matthew: “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these, my brethren, ye have done it unto me.” Whether our actions are good or bad, I believe in the validity of that scripture. If we refer to ourselves as Christians and believe that we are each His children, then we should also realize that each person has value. That belief should change attitudes and actions.

Often, we hear folks say  “it’s just business” or ” anything goes in politics.” These people plot, connive, betray their fellow man, and destroy lives, livelihoods, and reputations over petty personal biases, lust for power, personal monetary gain, promotion, or to get a friend or family member hired or promoted. 

Sadly, some of the worst offenders participate weekly at their respective churches. They speak of brotherly love and carry baskets of goodies to the homeless or local nursing homes. Meanwhile, their dishonest and unwarranted, unfair business or political dealings have a direct cause on someone’s children being without food and shelter. Ironically, they hide under the skirt of religion and pretend to alleviate human misery,but they are a wellspring of human suffering. How do they reconcile their supposed beliefs with their actions?  I can only assume they think that if they hold their heads high enough, no one will question their integrity. 

The dictionary defines integrity as an “uncompromising adherence to a moral code.”  Uncompromising. That means no compromise at  work or in politics. It is not just a Sunday behavior or action. “No man… can wear one face to himself, and another  to the multitude, without finally getting bewildered as to which may be true,” wrote Nathaniel Hawthorne. Vacillating belief equals vacillating integrity and conduct. Yet, there is no shortage of people filled with all sorts of excuses for their actions. They act, as Shakespeare said, “as though they are villains of necessity, fools by heavenly compulsion.” They may delude themselves-they may even delude the public-but they will not delude their creator.

Some  just lay the groundwork for another’s downfall. They wrongly think that if they are not the one to actually “swing the axe,” then they are not responsible. These people moderately distort the truth or spread half-truths and then silently wait for the consequences. In reality, a half-truth is a whole lie. Beware of half-truths, you may get hold of the wrong half. As for silence, it often speaks. If truth is not defended, then silence gives consent. The cruelest lies are often told in silence. Who among us would silently watch someone load a gun in preparation to kill another and give no voice of warning or defense?

When plotted against, there is always the temptation to “get even.” My parents never allowed such behavior, stating, ” regardless of what others do, you do what is right.” My mother always said to let God mete out the punishment because this would be far worse than anything I could inflict. She was right. Through the years, I have seen it happen, even though waiting for that equalizing takes patience. I confess that it is often hard to follow my parent’s counsel, especially when my child or grandchildren are wronged. I suspect that our Father is not too happy when His children are wronged. Nevertheless, my parent’s counsel is correct and should also be a circumstance of uncompromising standard. 

Honest behavior toward our fellow man comes from repeated practice and remaining true to our principles, beliefs, and convictions under all circumstances and at all times. Honest hearts produce honest actions. Yes, Virginia, I do believe that there is a God who will one day hold each of us accountable for inhumanities toward His children.

Fran Ginn

This weekly column, “Adventures in Good Eating,” by Back Door Café chef/owner Fran Ginn appears each Thursday in the Marion County Informer.

……I relish the opportunity of finding something new and different to eat wherever I go. I love to explore why people eat what they do and how food has shaped their lives. Adventures in Good Eating is my way of sharing the pleasure of culinary discovery and also the anticipation of tables and tastes yet to be found.

Last Friday I was shopping in my favorite store for finding things I had no idea I needed (Dirt Cheap).  On an aisle of books marked “2 for $ 1 – my favorite kind of books -  I spotted a paperback book entitled Death Dines at 8:30.  The blurb on the cover promised “Sixteen stories of crime and cuisine – with recipes included.”  How perfect, a mystery with a recipe…..what a way to spend a rainy afternoon and become re-acquainted with some of my favorite authors.  The editors of this anthology, culinary mystery writers themselves, Claudia Bishop and Nick DiChario, asked a group of their peers to vary from their usual book length writing and submit a short story based around the common theme of a murder committed at the dinner hour of 8:30.  The results are delicious. Click to continue »

Chloe Oliver

Chloe Oliver of Foxworth writes a weekly community column for the Marion County Informer.

By Chloe Oliver

I used to read stories by Edgar Allen Poe. His tales were often filled with terror and suspense. As a child, I remember that Vincent Price was the star of many horror films, many of which were Poe classics. The video shelves are now replete with movies that strive to elicit  fear, horror, panic, dread and alarm. These movies invoke our hidden or worst fears. Many people enjoy watching this film genre that often involves the macabre.

I enjoyed watching “Misery.” In the film, James Caan’s character, a writer, was held captive and tortured by one of his fans. When I first saw the film, it was just entertainment. No more. I think that I may be living my own horror film. I too, am a captive of sorts.

I am being haunted by a demonic,psychotic and possessed, monster. My days are filled with fright and dread. I am even stalked in my dreams as I have visions of my demise. After all, this demon has already tried to cripple me by injuring my back and knees. It won’t take much more to finish me. At the very least,I may be left a gnarled creature. Maybe I should try to feign death.

Fear has left me nearly homebound. If I leave, the monster will surely overtake me. I can’t shop at the store or go away overnight because of fear and wonder of what this monster is doing. 

Now, he has an accomplice. I doubt that I can win between the both of them. Who knows if others will join in the crusade against me? I tried to pawn them off on the neighbors and friends-all to no avail. It is me they are after. It is me that they want. They will not be happy until I am completely consumed or destroyed. Why?

Some say that it is my own fault and that I brought it all upon myself. Maybe it is true. I did once love the monster and his friend. I tried to attend to their every need with tenderness. To think that I once adored them. Hah! Now they disgust me. I am filled with revulsion. How could I have been so foolish? I suppose you should never dance with the devil. Now, I battle day after day as I try to keep them at bay.

I am sure that the reader will wonder why I do not contact law enforcement. Like some supernatural character in a horror movie, the monster and his friend are beyond the reach of law officers. It’s as though they respond to some hidden or unknown power.

Rain fuels the monsters’ desire. In sunshine and shadow they grow in strength. Now, the only thing that slows them is the deplorable heat. Like a vampire’s Achilles’ heel is the cross,so cold and frost is to the monsters. If I can make it till the first frost, I will get a reprieve. Until then, I am still vulnerable for attack.

As a last resort, I tried to counsel with family and friends.They don’t care or understand. In fact, I believe they think that I am paranoid, melodramatic, delusional, or neurotic. I think they want me to see a psychiatrist. Images of “The Little Red Hen” now flood my thoughts as the monsters’ tendrils continue to envelope me.

I will try to hold on until the monsters are gone. At that time maybe I can write a book about the experience. These are the titles I am considering: Devil’s Dirt, Green Beasts, My Garden’s Misdeeds, The Self – Punished Gardener, The Far Side of Horticulture, The Tiller and the Old Woman, Fool’s Feast, or Attack the Monster Tomato Plants and Killer Squash: How My Garden Got the Best of Me. Now, if I can just figure out what to write on my tombstone.

Fran Ginn

This weekly column, “Adventures in Good Eating,” by Back Door Café chef/owner Fran Ginn appears each Thursday in the Marion County Informer.

……I relish the opportunity of finding something new and different to eat wherever I go. I love to explore why people eat what they do and how food has shaped their lives. Adventures in Good Eating is my way of sharing the pleasure of culinary discovery and also the anticipation of tables and tastes yet to be found.

Garrison Keillor’s tales of Lake Woebegon have long been a favorite of mine.  The stories of the stalwart Scandinavian Lutherans of Minnesota always make me smile.  I noticed that Garrison often mentions “hotdish”.  He uses it in several contexts, including jokes, such as:  “you must be Lutheran if……..you think anyone who says “casserole” instead of “hotdish” is trying to be uppity (or maybe even Episcopalian!)” 

 and ……….you think “hotdish” is one of the major food groups.”

I went right to the source, the Prairie Home Companion web-site.  There was an explanation of “hotdish” from Garrison himself.  These are his words:

 “ It’s a meal in one dish, vegetables and grain and perhaps meat, and its good peasant cooking and it exists in every culture. Surely you ate it growing up. It might have rice or noodles and it needs some sauce and then you add what ingredients you are moved to add. Be inventive. If you want to start with a classic, do the tuna noodle hotdish, which employs a can of cream of mushroom soup (don’t add water), a can of tuna, a bag of egg noodles, and perhaps a package of frozen peas. Cook the noodles, glop in the soup, add the tuna and peas, and if you want to be fancy, crush some potato chips for a topping.” Click to continue »

Chloe Oliver

Chloe Oliver of Foxworth writes a weekly community column for the Marion County Informer.

By Chloe Oliver

According to the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, scientists are going to study why Ozzy Osbourne is still alive. The rocker who is legendary for his substance abuse, eerie screams, and biting the heads off of doves and bats will have DNA extracted from his blood. The blood will be sent to researchers in Missouri who will sequence his genome. The drug abuse generation is now graying. It seems that scientists want to discover why this  king of consumption has been able to tolerate his diet of drugs and alcohol  for so long. If something unique is discovered in Osbourne, I wonder if Ozzy clones  might ensue because of the study? Frightening.

There is a virtual roster of stars who could qualify for such a study. What about Keith Richards and Courtney Love? Tutankhamen’s  corpse looks better than these two.

Surely, the cost of this study on Osbourne will be expensive. A closer examination might save the time and expense.

Of course, the scientific study is based on the assumption that Osbourne is alive. Think about the clues: He has an odd gait, preference for night, pale skin,and eats the heads off of doves and bats. He  grunts, mumbles and groans  as a substitute for  coherent speech. In my opinion, he might be a vampire or a zombie. He might be kept erect and moving by means of cattle prods and electric shock, metal rods, or formaldehyde. Osbourne may be a better candidate for the “Amazing Creatures” program. Recollections of the movie, “Weekend at Bernie’s” also come to mind.

Even if Osbourne is still alive and not a zombie, he appears to be brain dead. If they try to study his brain, scientists probably won’t find more than a piece or two of cerebral  cortex. Studying his brain would be as fruitless as drilling for oil in a grain silo.

His longevity might be attributed to the fact that he has not had to toil at a regular job like most of us. He gets a lot more time to recuperate from his indulgences.

He  might really be the prince of darkness.

Behind that flat affect, he could be the Energizer Bunny.

On an episode of the television show, “The Simpsons,” Mr. Burns learns that the only reason that he is still alive is because all the diseases in his body are so busy fighting each other that they haven’t gotten around to killing him yet. Could this be the answer to Osbourne’s survival?

Freidrich Neitzsche has an even simpler explanation: “What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger.”

Studying his children may yield more scientific evidence. Why has it taken his children a shorter space of time to reach the same state that it has taken Osbourne some 61 years to attain?

At odds with  what most parents believe, psychologists at Glascow Caledonian University in Scotland assert that listening to loud rock music may actually boost brain power. This also could be studied instead of Osbourne’s blood. Just look at what loud music has done for Ozzy.

I wonder if the bat and dove populations are holding nightly prayer services  in  anticipation that a diet of bat and dove heads has not contributed to Osbourne’s well-being? They should keep their talons and webbed fingers crossed.

Instead of scientists, the question of  Ozzy Osbourne’s long survival will probably be better answered by comedians,theologians, late-night talk show hosts, and philosphers.

In the meantime, those scientists should be careful with that extracted blood from Osbourne. I would think that  a few drops would be enough to keep a large herd of rhinos, a pack of wolves, and small school of dolphins stoned for weeks.

Fran Ginn

This weekly column, “Adventures in Good Eating,” by Back Door Café chef/owner Fran Ginn appears each Thursday in the Marion County Informer.

……I relish the opportunity of finding something new and different to eat wherever I go. I love to explore why people eat what they do and how food has shaped their lives. Adventures in Good Eating is my way of sharing the pleasure of culinary discovery and also the anticipation of tables and tastes yet to be found.

A couple of months ago, driving home from Jackson, I felt the siren song of a flea market calling me.  This particular market is large, very neat, and always has an article with my name on it.  On this day the article(s) wanting to go home with me were a stack of cookbooks.  There are millions of cookbooks out in the universe and I seem to have a sixth sense about those which are supposed to live in my library.  Don’t ask me what it is……there is absolutely no rhyme or reason.  Somehow, I just know.  In this stack of cookbooks were a book on Gasparilla cuisine from Florida – yes, a 1966 date book with recipes by Samuel Champlain – yes, a community cookbook from Virginia – no, a 1940’s book on cakes – no, and a book titled Pearl’s Kitchen, An Extraordinary Cookbook by Pearl Bailey – yes.  Pearl Bailey, an amazing jazz singer from the years of my growing up, had written a  cookbook.  I picked it up, remembering how much I had enjoyed hearing her sing on a number of television shows, really not expecting much cooking, just a good read about a celebrity I admired.  I was so wrong. Click to continue »

Chloe Oliver

Chloe Oliver of Foxworth writes a community column for the Marion County Informer. Her column appears every Wednesday.

By Chloe Oliver

On Sunday, July 4, I gravitated toward patriotic thoughts and feelings of thankfulness for the country in which we live. My thoughts turned toward the many great leaders of the past to whom we owe a debt of gratitude.

Such a list would certainly include the names of George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Thomas Jefferson, Franklin D. Roosevelt, Douglas McArthur and George Patton. Some textbooks now seek to cast aspersions on the character of these men and belittle their and other past leader’s accomplishments. The fact remains that without such leaders, we might have enjoyed fish and chips and kidney pie this past Sunday. We each might have started some  other sort of holiday with sauerkraut and bratwurst and concluded the day with a Nazi salute.

When I speak of leaders, I am not merely referring to one who is elected. There is more to leadership and service to country than being elected to office. Today, many elected to office want no more than prestige and power. They place more value in power groups’ opinions, re-election, and personal preferences than in honor and duty to country and citizens. By contrast, consider the words of George Washington when urging his countrymen to be anxiously engaged in the cause of the Revolution: “It is a duty we owe our country; a claim which posterity has upon us.” Also remember, that before Washington was a great leader, hero, and president, he was, from the British point of view, a notorious rebel and insurrectionist. If Washington and his fellow Patriots had failed instead of succeeded, he and they would have been hanged from the nearest tree. His name would be remembered in the annals of British history as a traitor.

Neither should political prowess be confused with valor or true understanding of the economic distress that has descended upon many Americans. Reflect upon the leadership of one such as FDR. Although raised with the advantages of wealth, he was keenly aware of the plight of the average citizen. He seemed to believe that wealth came with responsibility toward those less fortunate. He knew that the war abroad could not be won without first conquering the problems at home. He instituted visionary programs and policies for relief and victory. He led-and he led with a disability. The simple act of standing up with his heavy leg braces was an ordeal. Ponder also, what would have happened to this country if he had not been successful.

As I cast my eyes to the current political arena, I see a pool of political pygmies. Most seem phlegmatic instead of visionary. I yearn for noble and great leaders. Just because true leadership is not often witnessed today, it does not mean that it cannot robustly exist again. Hopefully, those in politics will not only honor those who have led the way, but learn from them as well.

Regardless of the political party or politician in power, we should still concur that our privileges outweigh our privations. We are blessed. I give thanks to God for the country in which we live and the great leaders on whose coattails we exist. We should not take our privileges and comforts for granted or become complacent.

“These are the times that try men’s souls,” wrote Thomas Paine as he marched in the winter snow with George Washington. The following words read by Washington to his troops ring as relevant and true now as then: “The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in crisis, shrink from the service of their country;but he that stands now, deserves the thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap,we esteem too lightly; it is the dearness only that gives everything its value. Heaven knows how to put a proper price upon its goods; and it would be strange indeed if so celestial an article as freedom should not be highly rated.” (Thomas Paine)

Fran Ginn

This weekly column, “Adventures in Good Eating,” by Back Door Café chef/owner Fran Ginn appears each Thursday in the Marion County Informer.

……I relish the opportunity of finding something new and different to eat wherever I go. I love to explore why people eat what they do and how food has shaped their lives. Adventures in Good Eating is my way of sharing the pleasure of culinary discovery and also the anticipation of tables and tastes yet to be found.

The only thing better than a homegrown tomato is two home-grown tomatoes.  This time of the year we have the blessing of  an abundance of  juicy, drippy, sweet orbs of crimson delight.  The long winter of pale, hard, tasteless cardboard things called tomatoes is just a distant memory.  For these warm months, I can’t get enough tomatoes.

Culinary historians tell us that the tomato is a native of South America.  The early Mesoamerican people named the fruit “tomatl” or swelling fruit.  It is believed that the first tomatoes were yellow, not red, and were small….perhaps the size of modern cherry tomatoes.  The explorer, Cortes, is often credited with bringing the tomato to Spain.  Others have credited Christopher Columbus.  Regardless, the rapid spread of the tomato through Europe, the Caribbean and Asia came from the Spanish settling of these areas.  The English were not exposed to the tomato until the 16^th century.  Since the tomato is a member of the nightshade family (the stem and leaves are poisonous), the English originally believed that the tomato itself was poisonous as well.  It was not until the 18^th century that tomatoes were widely consumed in England.  Click to continue »

Chloe Oliver

Chloe Oliver of Foxworth writes a community column for the Marion County Informer. Her column appears every Wednesday.

 He was beautiful in every way. Although I have loved many like him, he had but one equal, Sambo, who lived a long life, but passed away four months after Hurricane Katrina.
   He was literally dropped in my lap by my daughter’s friend.She hurried in my kitchen and just as hurriedly made her exodus saying “if you don’t want him, give him to somebody else.”
   I might as well have had a neon sign around my head flashing the words: “I am a sucker.” Of course, he stayed.
   It was decided that his name would be Domino. He had long black and white hair and a little curled-up tail from which the hair hung quite majestically.
   One ear stood up and the other down. He most closely resembled a breed of dog called Papillon.
   Every step I made, he followed. When I was gone, he followed my husband.
   He slept in bed with us and would growl at or bite anyone who dared to disturb our nocturnal bliss. A most perfect combination of velvet and steel. Click to continue »

Fran Ginn

This weekly column, “Adventures in Good Eating,” by Back Door Café chef/owner Fran Ginn usually appears each Thursday in the Marion County Informer.

……I relish the opportunity of finding something new and different to eat wherever I go. I love to explore why people eat what they do and how food has shaped their lives. Adventures in Good Eating is my way of sharing the pleasure of culinary discovery and also the anticipation of tables and tastes yet to be found.

How often lately have you heard the expression “in the day”.  Recently I was reminded of “the day” when I found a box of yearbooks from the Pleiades Club at a garage sale.  Going through that dusty box of long forgetton booklets was a trip back in time.  I read names which I hadn’t heard in decades.  When I got to the book noting the 50^th anniversary of the club, I saw in the front of the booklet, “dedicated to our charter members. My grandmothers, Marie Barnes and Ruby Watts, were charter members of that club. These ladies were so special, each in their own way.  However, they failed to see eye to eye on most things.  The two things they did agree on were the superior quality of their mutual grandchildren and that The Pleiades Club was the best club.  Suddenly, holding that shoebox of old booklets, I found myself missing each of them so much.

Finding these booklets, along with two club generated cookbooks I already had – a Pleiades cookbook and an “As You Like It Club” cookbook, set me on the path of learning more about the Southern version of “ladies who lunch”.  Unlike the stereotypical New York version, which I envision as lots of martinis and gossip by ladies who fritter their privileged lives away,  the Deep South version, at least in Columbia, involved gallons of mint tea and deep desire to make the place they lived better.  Many of these ladies didn’t have the opportunity to attend college, so they had a longing to know more, to educate themselves.  Their programs were often challenging, provoking deep thought and social conscience.  Attendance at club meetings was a solemn responsibility, not taken at all lightly.  The world stopped, at least for two hours, once a month for “the club”.  Click to continue »

Chloe Oliver

Chloe Oliver of Foxworth writes a community column for the Marion County Informer. Her column appears every Wednesday.

Oh, the conundrums of daily life! What is going on at our local Wal Mart? The location of items and aisles have been moved so many times that I have stopped counting. Are you as dazed and confused as I am? Lately, it would take a Philadelphia lawyer or a psychic to know where items are located and why there is so much movement of items and departments. Although it is probably already apparent to the reader, I do not hold a degree in physiography or anything akin. I can only speculate. Perhaps you have your own theories that you can contribute. My theories are as follows:
   Since several hours must now be allocated to shopping,maybe it is just a ploy to keep shoppers in the store for longer periods of time as they travel down numerous aisles searching for needed items. The longer you stay and the more aisles viewed should lead to more purchases.
   Maybe sales of pup tents,camping gear, pain pills, energy drinks and water are slow. If trying to obtain all the items on a weekly grocery list, you will now need the aforementioned items in order to complete your shopping.
   It might be an experiment on what it takes to annoy and disorient customers. Those aisles might really be like rat mazes for people and the cameras could be documenting behavior. Some scientist may view all the footage and write a paper to be published in a medical journal.
   If you aren’t already sick, you will be as you wander around trying to find this week’s location of the pharmacy. You then risk life and limb to obtain medicines since other shoppers will mow you down with their buggies. They too, have wandered so long that they are mad and dehydrated. I’m not a conspiracy theorist,but this could be a way of weeding out the frail among us.
   Maybe this is some type of new fitness program or effort to make us healthier shoppers. I know that I could benefit from the weight loss. The more aisles walked in search of mutable locations of items will certainly lead to more calories burned.In fact, I would guess that it is probably making healthier employees as they constantly move all this merchandise from place to place. Whatever they pay them is surely not enough. On second thought, it may not be making healthier employees. I would assume that the store has seen increased purchases by employees of muscle relaxants and heating rubs.
   Since Columbia has already seen the change from a Wal Mart to a Super Wal Mart, maybe it is going to change again. “Hiking trails” and “amusement park” could be added to the store’s name.
   We might be participating in a new campaign against dementia and Alzheimer’s. Leading experts suggest that whether you are just aging, or if you already have dementia, it is important to stay physically and mentally active.The constant change in the store should keep us all mentally and physically active. I confess to making mental notes while shopping. I might need to return for some unforeseen needed item before it is all moved again. Some experts suggest taking ginko biloba as a memory aid. I wanted to purchase some in an effort to help me remember aisle placement from week to week. I have been unable to find the ginko.Has anyone seen the ginko biloba?
   Whatever the reasons, I will be happy when this musical chair, hide-and-seek game is completed at Wal Mart. As I encounter other shoppers, they seem to be experiencing the same problems. The expression “looking for a needle in a haystack” comes to mind. One week, I actually found the candy that I wanted in the shoe department.
   Some may suggest asking a store employee for the location of an item. Good luck with that idea. After searching for a jar of pimento, I asked an employee for help. He walked to the end of the aisle and returned to me. Pointing toward the end of the aisle,he reported: “That is where it used to be, but it isn’t there now.” I had already ascertained this fact independently. I never located the pimento for purchase. I suppose that with the constant movement, even the employees are at a loss to know where things are to be found.
   I hope that I have not stepped on any toes while voicing my annoyance. If so, someone may try to return the favor by stepping on mine. Never fear. My toes are too numb from trudging the aisles of Wal Mart to feel anything.

Fran Ginn

This weekly column, “Adventures in Good Eating,” by Back Door Café chef/owner Fran Ginn usually appears each Thursday in the Marion County Informer.

……I relish the opportunity of finding something new and different to eat wherever I go. I love to explore why people eat what they do and how food has shaped their lives. Adventures in Good Eating is my way of sharing the pleasure of culinary discovery and also the anticipation of tables and tastes yet to be found.

If the truth be known, most foods were discovered or created by accident.  Early man – or woman – made some kind of “whoops” and something delicious was created.  Legend says that many years ago, a clumsy cheesemaker in Naples, Italy, dropped some warm cheese curds back into the whey.  (Note:  cheese curds are the coagulated mass of white which separates from the watery whey when certain agents such as citric acid and rennet are added to warm milk……remember Little Miss Muffet, sitting on a tuffet, eating her curds and whey?)  When the cheesemaker attempted to recover the curds from the whey, the milky mass stretched and  created what we know today as mozzarella.   The stretching and kneading of the curds is called “stringing of the curd” and is the process used to created mozzarella, scamorza and provolone cheeses.  The name of the cheese comes from the Italian verb mozzare,  “to cut”. Since it is stretched and kneaded by hand, the exact shape of the resulting ball can often identify a particular cheesemaker. Click to continue »

Chloe Oliver

Chloe Oliver of Foxworth writes a community column for the Marion County Informer. Her column appears every Wednesday.

Imagine that you must go to the store for needed items. As you park your car, other cars park beside and in front of you. They are so close, that you are unable to exit or move your vehicle. You must wait for them to do their shopping, exit, and move their cars. You are at their mercy. You might experience feelings of anger, frustration, or a sense of unfairness.

   This scenario sounds implausible. However, for many handicapped citizens, it is reality. Each day, cars in Columbia are seen parked in the blue lines beside handicapped parking spaces. These lines are there in order to allow people with wheelchairs and lifts to exit and enter their cars. They are not parking spaces. When cars are in these spots, a handicapped person must now wait for you to finish your shopping before they can exit or enter their car. Frequently, no handicapped marking is seen on cars in handicapped spaces. The able-bodied can be seen sprinting from such spots.

   A recent poll asked people why they illegally parked in these spaces. The most common answer related to convenience or being in a hurry. Studies also indicate there are more violations during rainy weather. If you think that you are inconvenienced during rainy weather as you exit your car, you should really try it from the back forty of a parking lot while in a wheelchair or ambulating with a walker. Click to continue »

Fran Ginn

This weekly column, “Adventures in Good Eating,” by Back Door Café chef/owner Fran Ginn usually appears each Thursday in the Marion County Informer. It is appearing today because of technical issues that occurred last week.

……I relish the opportunity of finding something new and different to eat wherever I go. I love to explore why people eat what they do and how food has shaped their lives. Adventures in Good Eating is my way of sharing the pleasure of culinary discovery and also the anticipation of tables and tastes yet to be found.

This past Sunday Mike and I drove to New Orleans to attend the first Oyster Festival in New Orleans. There are dozens of festivals in Louisiana, several dedicated to the oyster, but not one specifically in New Orleans. Last winter I received an email from Sal Sunseri, owner with his brother and sister of P & J Oysters, the oldest oyster production facility in the country. Sal wrote with great excitement about a festival celebrating the quality and versatility of Gulf oysters, which comprise 44% of the oysters consumed in the United States. The two day event would feature oyster eating contests (56 dozen consumed in a sitting is the record – held by a woman!), oyster shucking contests and lots of restaurants selling their best oyster dishes. Talk about an oyster lovers dream come true! Imagine being about to have Galatoire’s Oyster Brochettes, Broussard’s Oyster Rockefeller Bisque, Luke’s Fried Oysters with Smoked Tomato Salsa and an Oyster Poboy from Acme Oyster House, all in one place, to be eaten in succession just as fast as you could devour them. However, all this delicious joy was over-shadowed by the looming threat of contamination of the oyster beds by the BP oil spill. The festival, which had been designed to be a celebration of historic industry felt more like a family in an ICU waiting room dreading the demise of a loved one. The talk from the stage was in turn angry, bitter, then courageous. When a speaker talked of restaurants in other parts of the country posting signs that “We DO NOT serve Gulf seafood” and of a government official who said “if this thing gets to Florida and the Atlantic we’ll have a national emergency” drew loud vocal response from the audience. The feeling of solidarity between the crowd and the oyster industry was amazing. Click to continue »

Chloe Oliver

Chloe Oliver of Foxworth writes a community column for the Marion County Informer. Her column appears each Wednesday.

By Chloe Oliver

 Recently, I was searching for a business location in Gulfport. My GPS told me to turn left. The only thing that I saw to my left was a grove of trees. I chalked it up to a glitch and turned left at the next intersection. Had I been the woman who is suing Google, I might have turned left at that instant, hit the trees, received bodily injury, then filed a lawsuit. It seems that I missed a golden opportunity.
   In order to walk from one location to another, a woman received directions from Google on her Blackberry. According to her legal complaint,(which can be viewed at: http:/www.scribd.com/doc/32136379/Rosenberg-v-Hardwood-Google) she was led to a dangerous highway and “thereby stricken by a motor vehicle causing her to suffer permanent physical, emotional, and mental injuries, including pain and suffering.”The woman is suing Google in the amount of $100,000 plus medical expenses and punitive damages. She is also suing the driver of the car that struck her.
   It seems that on her one half mile walk in pitch-black night, she walked down the center of a snow-covered four-lane highway. According to her complaint, she believes Google led her to a highway that is not safe for pedestrians because of cars traveling at high rates of speed. The lawsuit asserts that Google should have known the roadway was not designed for pedestrians.Yet,it appears that she also believes that the driver of the car that struck her was traveling too fast.
   If Google maps are viewed on the computer, it states that directions are in beta and to use caution because some routes may lack sidewalks or pedestrian paths. I guess they figure if you are smart enough to use the service, then it would be assumed you are smart enough not to walk down the middle of the highway in the dead of night. Most people already know that this is not a perfect technology. What happened to using your own common sense and instincts? I don’t understand how some routing algorithm can know this is a dangerous road  when the woman herself can’t make that judgment while standing in the middle of the highway. The device she is using is only as smart as the user. As a competent adult (as stated in her complaint) intelligence dictates that I not walk down the center of a four-lane, snow-covered, four-lane highway in pitch-black night.
   What would have happened if she had asked directions of a gas station employee or some other stranger? Would she sue them? Henceforth, when I give directions, I will issue the following: Caveat walker or driver.
   I can hardly wait until this woman travels overseas. Literally. I imagine her now in a kayak, rowboat, or swimming from Miami to Havanna. She might not view this as a foolish undertaking.
   In today’s society, I would be hesitant to wager on the success of this lawsuit. I do believe that at the very least, she deserves some sort of award or honorable mention. Here are my suggestions for recipient, Runs With Cars: Alive By the Grace of God (safety award from the department of transportation), Madoff Rich Award (given by imaginary school of business owners, DoWe, Cheatum, and Howe), Baryshnikov Award for Dancing All the Way to the Bank, Cranium Magnum Extraordinaire (from Mensa),  and Most Likely to Perish, But Now I’m So Much More Than a Hood Ornament (given by the Darwin Society.)

Fran Ginn

This weekly column, “Adventures in Good Eating,” by Back Door Café chef/owner Fran Ginn usually appears each Thursday in the Marion County Informer. It is appearing today because of technical issues that occurred last week.

……I relish the opportunity of finding something new and different to eat wherever I go.  I love to explore why people eat what they do and how food has shaped their lives.  Adventures in Good Eating is my way of sharing the pleasure of culinary discovery and also the anticipation of tables and tastes yet to be found.

Several people have asked me where the ideas for this column come from.  There really isn’t any rhyme or reason for the most part.  However, this week’s subject came from a trip I took over the Memorial Day weekend.  My son and I traveled to Indiana to a family wedding.  In the interim between the wedding day brunch and the wedding, several of us went shopping.  In a small antique mall, I found a book I’d been wanting for a long time.

The book is the original Trader Vic’s cookbook,  Trader Vic’s Book of Food & Drink, published in 1946.  It was written by Victor Bergeron, aka Trader Vic himself, not a ghost writer.  Lucius Beebe, who was a culinary rock star of the 1940’s and 1950’s, wrote the preface.  The book was in great condition and still had the dust jacket – and for a price much less than any I’d found on ebay.  I have an absolute fascination reading about pioneers in our food culture, especially in their own words.  Click to continue »

Chloe Oliver

Chloe Oliver of Foxworth writes a community column for the Marion County Informer. Her column appears each Wednesday.

By Chloe Oliver

In the aging process, many people observe more and participate less. Even though I am not oblivious to all things youthful or modern, some who read this may believe that my observations and opinions place me out of touch with the times.

Although I may not be the paragon of fashion, I can keep my pants from falling to my knees. This fashion statement is one that I do not understand. I constantly see young men holding their pants in place with one hand as they run, walk, or  try to talk on the phone with the other hand.This seems a disadvantage. If it became necessary, how would they defend themselves with only one hand? If you can’t walk or run without needing one hand to hold your pants up, it might be time to buy a smaller size pant.

While young men want us to know the brand of underwear that they buy, many young women are doing just the opposite. Their jeans are often so tight that I honestly wonder how they ever got them glued to their bodies. This also must be a disadvantage. Standing statue-like has to be uncomfortable. Surely, it is difficult to bend when internal organs are so compressed. Equally boggling to the brain is how difficult it must be to  get the jeans off-especially when the weather is warm. It seems to me that for comfort’s sake, the health of internal organs, and the panorama to which the viewer is subjected, a larger size would be appropriate.

Neither do I understand why I must be subjected to hearing other folks’ phone conversations while I shop at a store or dine at a restaurant. Many of these conversationalists have the audacity to delay transactions in stores, banks, at traffic lights, etc.  They suffer from the delusion that we all must stop the world while they finish their phone discussions.

There is something equally vexing as having to listen to other’s phone conversations. I prefer to make my own music selections. Therefore, when I am in my car or yard, I’d rather not have my placid environment disturbed by unwelcome music. I use the term “music” loosely because most of this unwelcome noise just masquerades as music. It is as pleasurable as a root canal. I would not want  small children  to be subjected to such filth and flarn or the curse it, stalk it, stomp it, kick it, and kill it lyrics that accompany. It is an assault on the ears and spirit. Yet, like an unwanted disease, it envelopes me as I travel in my car or work in my yard. 

An old expression states: “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.” Perhaps I should observe less and participate more. If you see a middle-aged baby boomer with her underwear showing or someone with fat bulging over the sides of her skin-tight jeans while she talks on the cell phone and listens to extremely loud filth and flarn music-you will know it’s me. Just don’t expect me to acknowledge your presence. I’ll probably be too busy holding up my pants and phone to be able to wave at you or shake your hand. If not, I’ll be too deafened by the music and short winded from the tight jeans to speak or say hello.

Fran Ginn

This weekly column, “Adventures in Good Eating,” by Back Door Café chef/owner Fran Ginn usually appears each Thursday in the Marion County Informer. It is appearing today because of technical issues that occurred last week.

……I relish the opportunity of finding something new and different to eat wherever I go.  I love to explore why people eat what they do and how food has shaped their lives.  Adventures in Good Eating is my way of sharing the pleasure of culinary discovery and also the anticipation of tables and tastes yet to be found.

This week, May 23-29, is National Hurricane Preparedness Week.  The actual opening day of the official Atlantic hurricane season is June l.  Predictions are for a “very active” hurricane season this year.  You can read about hurricane preparedness at the web address:  www.hurricanes.gov/prepare.

Thinking about hurricanes made me think about Cuba.  This island nation has been battered both by physical storms and emotional ones generated by politics.  In 2008 Hurricane Gustav roared across the island, the worst hurricane there since 1944.  The storm lasted more than seven hours.  Watching reports of this storm devastate Cuba, I thought of the terrible things  which had happened to this beautiful island in the last 50 years and the people who were forced to flee the island, either legally or in tragically overloaded boats. Click to continue »