She Puts On a Good Show

Montana, Montana, 

Glory of the West

Honoring a Grammy's Request...

for more baseball pictures!

This team is HOT.
Not in their batting, catching, big plays, scoring, or anything like that.
They're pantingly warm in their little dark blue TB Rays tee shirts, playing ball in 90 degrees, with no shade whatsoever.  One little guy just laid down at third base, with one foot on it just in case the ball should roll his way and he could lounge someone out.  The coaches, bless their hearts, were telling the kids, "Hustle in, hustle out!!" when it was time for them to change from offense to defense and vice-versa, but a slow ooze was about all they got out of 'em.

Here's our man, #6, up to bat:

He's ready. Eyes on the ball. All business, here.

All he needs is a little beard and he'd look like Dustin Pedroia. 

And contact is made!

Tosses the bat like an old pro....

And safe at first.

Watch this run from second to third...

Nothing but air, here.

Trying to decide what to do if he gets there and that US Bank kid won't give him room...

and basically, it's the behind the back sneak approach.

Made it!

Intently watching the batter, now. 

Headed for home....

YES! The man cub scored a point!

Here he is in the outfield.

I'm not sure who's going for the ball, here.

 Little men and big men, baseball players and pals.

This is thirsty work!

After three longish, very hot innings, everyone was happy to call it a game and load up for Dairy Queen!

Bird Watchers

Hot baby barn swallows in our parking shed.  I know I should revile and despise them, but seriously... 

...look at this precious, out-of-sorts little bird and try to think mean thoughts about it! 

I can't.

The next day, they were flying.
Sort of.
I think they basically half fell to the top of our car where panic ensued when we had to back it out to go to Miles City.  They all managed to flap off of it and back into the shed, but I suspect one or two were lost to the Kitty Brigade who patrol our grounds diligently.

Yesterday, we discovered that we had 5 smart baby swallows and one who may have fallen on his head while learning to fly.  They fly up into the rafters when startled, he flies down to the ground where he says all sorts of panicky things in bird-ese.  While we're out pulling weeds in the yard, I can hear them hollering for their mama, but she hasn't been seen for awhile...it's tough love, and they are NOT impressed with her parenting philosophy.

We also have two sets of house martins who built nests up in the blue spruce trees, but it's a tough neighborhood.  They spend most of their time chasing each other away from their own nest's airspace and swooping at Tessie who thinks they're her pets.

And about two weeks ago, we had goldfinches!
I get all excited when we see birds with bright plumage, because 98% of our birds are little and brown.  Goldfinches look very exotic to us, then, and I felt like a member of the avian paparazzi, sneaking around to try to get pictures before they moved on.

The daddy was a show-off, and why wouldn't he be?!

He has such a neat little cap and nifty tail feathers!

The mama was more cautious and didn't eat as much; she seemed to spend most of her time on guard, looking for cats and other predators.

She was very sweet, though, and I wish I'd gotten a better picture of her.

VetGun

See this?
It's like a paintball gun that can be used to apply insecticide to livestock.
Looks like fun, doesn't it?

IT IS!!!!!

The Farmer picked one up in Miles last night so we could dose the bulls without having to gather them and bring them into the corral, since the flies are so bad this year and it looks as though we'll be dosing more frequently. I've been campaigning for a VetGun for quite a while now, mostly so I can shoot the bulls I hate and not get in trouble for doing it.

This afternoon, we went out and I "dosed" five bulls.
It was indescribably satisfying to point the gun at their big old sides, pull the trigger (WHUMP), and see the SPLAT.  They jumped a little, but then turned and looked at us with very hurt feelings..."Why would you SHOOT me?!" If bulls could pout, they'd be sticking out their bottom lips, acting all abused and betrayed.

I tried to talk the Farmer into doing two doses per bull, since they're so much bigger than cows and obviously need more insecticide to be effective, but he limited me to one each.
I guess....if it turns out they need more, I'll just have to go back and shoot them again...

People talk about "the good old days", but I'm quite certain my grandfathers would have loved this little invention.

Escoffier

Auguste Escoffier.

His name means absolutely nothing to most people I know, it's a complete conversation killer in most social settings. I have no idea what reaction it might provoke in Europe or New York, but here in the Big Sky country it's completely unknown. Ironically, the way I came to find out about one of the most influential French chefs in history was through a book written by a young man living in Miles City at the time of press, another unfairly under-read piece of writing called "The Scavenger's Guide to Haute Cuisine".  

Steven Rinella grew up in Michigan, but ended up living in Miles City because his brother lived there, working for the State Fish and Game. Along the course of his life, a friend gave him a copy of Le Guide Culinaire, Auguste Escoffier's definitive (and massive) guide to French cooking. As he read through it, he developed a plan to make a three day feast of Escoffier recipes made as entirely as he could from ingredients he procured by hunting, fishing, and gathering.  Things like eels. And baby pigeons (which he managed to capture from nests behind the 600 Cafe).  I highly recommend "The Scavenger's Guide..." to anyone interested in travel, wildlife, cooking, hunting, fishing, culture, and Montana. 

As Rinella wrote through the process of his feast, he also wrote about Auguste Escoffier who was fascinating to me.  His name alone was magnificent to say, pronounced "Ah-GOOST Es-KOFE-ee-AY"....go ahead, try it out!....but his artistry with food was stunning.  I learned that he prepared dishes for royalty, one of which really and truly was "four and twenty blackbirds, baked in a pie; when the pie was opened, the birds began to sing".  I've always thought that the birds beginning to sing was a figurative way to say the pie was sublime in taste, but it turns out he really DID have live birds in there.  Escoffier baked a blackbird pie (and yes, in those days they used songbirds as meat, though I can't begin to think how many it would take to get a decent pot pie together), then baked a separate faux crust which he used to entrap the four and twenty REAL blackbirds.  Imagine, then, when the faux crust was cut and the birds were released! I assume the real pie had been covered with layers of cloth so that it would not be contaminated, but the idea of that sort of dish...what flair and ingenuity! 

You can see why I was entranced.

About a month ago, I was browsing the books at our Miles City thrift store St. Vincent de Paul, when I came across a most unusual title (for our area of the world): Auguste Escoffier, Memories of My Life.  I almost squealed out loud!  His autobiography!  In hard cover! It turns out his great grand-daughter-in-law had inherited Escoffier's notes, letters, menus, and an autobiography he'd written but that had never been taken note of or considered for publication.  By the time he'd died (in 1935), no one was interested in old turn of the century French chefs; the world was recovering from the first World War, on the precipice of the second, and there were other worries and ideas that took precedence.  Laurence Escoffier, however, had the good sense to translate his writings, go through the photographs and menus, and publish the best and most interesting in this book.

It was richness, to read in Escoffier's own words, from his own viewpoint, about how he'd developed as a chef.  He started out watching his grandmothers in the kitchen, and the very first thing he ever made was coffee, which at that time was rare and precious, a treat saved for special occasions.  It turned out brilliantly, and he was scolded as well as praised. 

The book contained photographs of his family, the places that were significant in his life, descriptions of people he rubbed shoulders with through his career (a who's-who of world leaders and artists), but most wonderfully....the menus and some recipes.  

Escoffier was famous not only for the brilliance of his dishes and the ingredients he put together, but for the way he was able to build menus that suited the occasion, guests, season, and period.  In his autobiography, he explains some of the menus and how he decided what should be served.  As someone who loves to cook for people (and eat), I took careful note of his thought process and consideration of what was in season.  The menus themselves were literal works of art, and along with being fun to read and imagine, they were gorgeous to look at.  

In his autobiography, Escoffier includes the recipes for Poularde Edouard VII and five other dishes on this menu which was for a fete to celebrate the coronation of England's Prince Edward VII.  The recipes assume the cook is as experienced as he, so while they're very specific about ingredients ("Choose perfectly ripe white peaches."), the processes are not explained in detail ("Place the peaches in a timbale containing a layer of vanilla ice cream covered with a strawberry puree'."). 

Last week, in the same thrift store, I found ANOTHER book about Escoffier, which I'm assuming was donated by the same person who'd left the autobiography.  This book, The World of Escoffier, is more about the culture and people of the time period and less about Escoffier himself.  No matter, it's beautifully done and adds to the picture I have in my head of his lifestyle. 

I'm hoping, hoping, hoping that same donor will casually drop off a copy of Le Guide Culinaire (pronounced "Lay GHEED Coo-linn-AIR").  I'd have to bring it home, place it next to Les Miserable, train a spotlight on it, and show everyone who comes in the door. 

Now you know a tiny bit about Auguste Escoffier...in the unlikely event his name comes up at a cocktail party or book club, you will not be completely ignorant of the man! And if you're in the least bit interested in French culture and cuisine, specifically at the turn of the century (1900s) in Europe, you'll enjoy his autobiography.