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A NEW BREAKFAST HABIT – FRESH COFFEE

Wednesday, October 20th, 2010

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We have started a new tradition, thanks to a guest, from Oxford in England, who makes Espresso for himself every morning with a popcorn popper and good, green espresso coffee beans.

It was a fascinating conversation to realize something which I had dismissed as complicated, time-consuming, etc. is being done on a regular, daily basis by a young bed & breakfast guest who has lots of other things to do – a busy life, research, moving his career forward, etc. We tried to get him to write for Bettina’s Blog, but in spite of much begging and pleading, he resisted. Maybe in the future he will relent and write a blog about his morning coffee ritual.

We will have to report this third hand. As you try it, please give us feed back to help us and you refine the process.

The guest referred us to a web site – www.sweetmarias.com. We went all over the site and learned much, which we are trying to put into practice.

First, we had to find the right popcorn popper – mainly because the coffee roasters we found are way up in the hundreds of dollars and only last, according to what we’ve read, about two years. So the popcorn popper is our beginning. Who would have thought you could have really fresh coffee made with beans roasted in a popcorn popper. But who knows, if we become really good at this we can spin off a Bettina coffee roasting company. You can have your coffee beans shipped overnight mail so you can have really fresh coffee in the morning – Bettina style. I suspect some Bettina host families might put up a fuss if we started to require all homes have fresh coffee in the mornings, but stranger things have happened.

I learned, right before the guest left, that the popcorn popper we had would not work. His advice was to get one with holes in the sides of the well where one would normally put the un-popped corn. The hot-air popcorn popper we have has a screen over the hole in the bottom of the well, but no holes in the sides of the well. The holes in the side are needed to keep the coffee beans rotating. They won’t roast and pop out of the popper the way corn does – they will crack and the outer shells coming off the beans as they crack, will fly out of the popcorn popper the way the corn does. For lack of a more professional word – I call that flying stuff ‘shaft’.

We found the right kind at a second hand store for about $3.50. So off we went with our green coffee beans. We had no idea about quality in coffee beans, but since this was a trial, it didn’t matter.

The beans went into the hot air popcorn popper, plugged it in, put a glass bowl where one normally puts one to catch the popped corn which comes out of the popper and out came ‘shaft’ – after the first crack.

Oh, I forgot the cracks! One must wait, while the beans roast, with an incredible smell filling the house until you hear the beans ‘crack’. After this first ‘crack’ the ‘shaft’ – or what I think is the outside covering of the coffee bean – will come out of the popper since it is light and the hot air just blows it into the glass bowl. The directions from our guest says wait until almost the second crack and your beans are done. I had no idea when the second crack would come to be able to anticipate and take the beans out of the popper at that point so I waited a minute or two after the first crack and took out the beans.

The next direction was to make sure you cool the beans by using two pans and pouring the beans from one to the other until the beans cool down or they will continue to roast as long as there is heat and you have lost control of the roasting process.

I stood in the kitchen, pouring the beans from one sifter to the other thinking I had really lost it in my search for perfect breakfast foods and had I gone too far this time? There are perfectly good organic coffees – ground and whole beans, which I could grind – on the market. What was I doing messing up the kitchen and destroying this popcorn popper trying to do what? I didn’t even know if I had good beans or not.

After cooling, I continued to follow the guests directions and let the coffee beans sit overnight. I’m not sure why, but I follow directions pretty good. I don’t deviate until I have tried the prescribed directions and they don’t work and then – all bets are off.

This morning, I am sitting in my office having the best cup of coffee I have ever had in life. Its like the difference in quality between buying a bag of popcorn which was popped probably a month ago, packaged and stored in a too hot warehouse and popping the corn in your kitchen in a kettle popper, eating it fresh and hot out of the popper.

The coffee is incredible. Remarkable!

Now – I am going to try again. This time after reading a bit about coffee beans, learning something about differences in quality of the beans and refining my roasting and grinding technique. I might even buy a coffee grinder, instead of using the grinder we use for nuts to grind the coffee beans.

Growing up, my great-grandmother made her coffee from green beans every morning. She had a wood burning stove in the kitchen and once that stove was fired up, she roasted coffee beans and had a coffee grinder screwed to the wall – a glass jar contraption – and into that grinder she put her coffee beans and had really fresh coffee daily. It was normal! That was just a part of her morning ritual!!! No one considered that strange or special or anything, that was just how you made coffee.

How far we have come from such basics. – Today we have ‘decaf’ coffee which, if you spill on the flame it lets out an incredible stench and the smell of burning ‘decaf’ coffee grounds is a horrible, horrible odor. It always amazes me when guests ask for ‘decaf’. I wonder if they know the process and if they have ever spilled any of their ‘decaf’ coffee grounds on the stove in the flame or electric element.

All the ways we have coffee. Is it because we’ve lost touch with simply roasting your beans, grinding them and making your coffee in a small french press? That is an exquisite way to start your day.

This is going to be quite special, discovering different coffee beans, filling the house with the smell of freshly roasting coffee beans. The one consistency, which ties back to everything else – ALL THE BEANS WE EXPLORE WILL HAVE TO BE ORGANICALLY GROWN! I’m sure you’ve guessed that.

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Posted in Bettina's Cookbook, Food Shopping, Kitchen Equipment Review, Making Connections, Preserving Family History and Stories, Shopping | No Comments »

In Memory of Jaki Leverson

Wednesday, June 9th, 2010

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May 28, 2010, Jaki Leverson died.

There is much joy in bed and breakfast, much happiness, laughter, sharing, but there is also grief and pain.

Jaki Leverson was a guest in our homes from 1990 until she could no longer travel from London to the United States in 2008. We kept in touch via e-mail and messages from friends of Jaki’s who travelled to Boston and stayed with us at her recommendation. Even though we realized she was quite ill, we put aside the possibility of not seeing her again and kept her in our prayers.

It is very difficult to say good-bye to someone you’ve known for many years. It is saying goodbye to a very good friend. Twice a year, for two weeks, from 1990 through 2007, we spent many memorable breakfasts with Jaki and sometimes dinner. Some of you who read the blog to keep up with what’s happening in the Bettina Network may remember Jaki. She crossed paths with many guests while she was here and several of you have asked about her over the past couple years.

Jaki shared many stories with us around the breakfast table. One that stands out was the story of her trip to Spain. She was travelling with a group in Youth Hostels. At one hostel, the people weren’t giving them any “respect”. They couldn’t get any information, couldn’t get clean sheets, soap, some parts of the hostel needed a good scrubbing and Jaki tried to get attention to these things for her group, without success. Our breakfast table conversation had been about Germans who take no nonsense and insist on everything being just so – the mythological perfection of the German traveller. Jaki had not been enamored when meeting Germans in her travel who were insistent on perfection, they seemed such a nuisance. But during this trip to Spain, after her many failed attempts, into the hostel came a very matronly, Germanic woman with her group and she took over. Jaki said she was never so glad to see anyone as she was to see this woman from Germany, who in short order had clean sheets on the beds, soap in proper dispensers, workers at the hostel scrubbing everything and order reigning.

Jaki’s big concern, when in Cambridge, was for her mother, whom she worried and talked about. Her experiences from childhood and her current times with her mother were joyful. She expected to take care of her mother through the end of her mother’s life, but fate had it otherwise. She is now survived by her mother. For as long as her mother lives, we are sure Jaki’s spirit will always be close to her. Jaki’s regular routine, almost daily, was the telephone call from her mother – which generally came about breakfast time. The love and concern they had for each other stands out for us as a bond that endures.

Jaki was the long-time Resident Director of the Tufts-in-London and Tufts-in-Oxford programs. She was a scholar in International Politics and History, with a BSc from University College of Wales, Aberystwyth and an M.Litt at Linacre College, University of Oxford. She taught at Oxford, Cambridge and the American Institute for Foreign Study prior to her appointment at Tufts University. She also worked in Israel, Italy and Japan at various points in her career. She was truly a citizen of the world and it showed in her life – her interests, her wisdom, her experience and the way she was able to interact with everyone.

We will miss you Jaki Leverson. May God’s love permeate your new life. You will be remembered at Bettina’s for years to come and I am sure you know there will be Jaki stories told around the breakfast table.

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Tags: Bed and Breakfast in Harvard Square
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A Memorial to "Brother Blue"

Sunday, May 9th, 2010

We spent Saturday at a memorial service to Brother Blue – Dr. Hugh Morgan Hill. I say “we spent Saturday” because it started about noon and went on until about 4pm. At no time during those four hours did you want to leave. There were several hundred people present, coming from far and near – Maryland, Pennsylvania, North Carolina, Virginia, Arkansas, Canada, California – to name a few places of which we were aware.

Ruth Hill, Brother Blue’s wife, organized a remembrance of her husband which will last in memory as long as Hugh lasts in memory.

Some of you, who frequented Harvard Square, may remember Brother Blue. He was the “Character” dressed in blue, preaching, praising, storytelling, making you feel special as one of God’s chosen. When he raised his hand to welcome you showing you his palm, on which a beautiful butterfly had been painted, letting God’s blessings fly out to greet you – it was his version of the open, giving hand.

The service started with a procession into St. Paul’s Episcopal Cathedral in Boston which set the tone and called Brother Blue back for this performance in his honor. Tejo Ologboni, drummer, led the procession. He is amazing performing by himself, but leading this procession it was as though the roof lifted off the Cathedral, light shone in and the colorful Butterfly Puppets appeared following Ologboni. Their wings moved as butterfly wings move, their faces were bright and lit up with smiles that woke those in the congregation who Tejo Ologboni hadn’t yet touched – if such existed.

Memorial services tend to be beautiful, sad, very tearful with much longing and regret from missed opportunities hanging in the air, during and after. This one started with incredible light, color, shouts of joy, drums and more.

It was the first time I saw Brother Blue in the context of his community and it was glorious to see! We mostly saw him with Ruth, his wife, by his side telling stories, exorting, praising and calling those who passed by to be their best selves. In the context of his community you understood, finally, who Blue was and what his life had been about. “…I see through a mirror dimly, but then face to face…” could characterize this event.

A very long succession of people brought their talents and their being to pay tribute to Brother Blue.
Warren Senders – composer/musician from New England Conservatory composed, sang and got the audience caught up, with great gusto, in the chorus to his song which went:

“My brother Blue, My Brother Blue,
he was the kindest man I ever knew
he took your light and shined it back on you!”

The politicians were there and they normally dampen down any event they attend. These politicians must have been carefully chosen because they added to the remembrance and took it to a higher plane – Charles Yancey from the Boston City Council – who made us remember that Blue was the Official Storyteller of Boston, Alice Wolf from the MA. House of Representatives reminded us that he was also the Official Storyteller of Cambridge and had received many other honors as well; Kenneth Reeves from the Cambridge City Council; Byron Rushing also from the MA. House of Representatives who reminded us that we are in Blue’s story because he put us there and then he insisted on our being in everyone else’s story. Steven Tolman from the MA Senate said what Blue meant to him and the affect he had on Tolmans running for the Senate.

Blue was a storyteller, preacher, prophesied, danced, entertained. He had several mantras – one “The greatest thing you will ever learn is to love and to be loved in return.” And he clearly spoke that from a marriage which was an example of love and love returned.

A powerful performance was by Wendy Jehlen, dancer/Choreographer, Director Anikai Dance. The music to which she danced was a recording of Brother Blue’s breath. It was very moving and magnificent. Once you die, the one physical thing you no longer have is your breath – one thing you can no longer do is breathe. Your body begins to deteriorate because the breath which circulates the oxygen to keep you moving and living is gone. For a few very exquisite moments, Ms. Jehlen brought back Brother Blue’s breath and breathing.

Those gathered to remember Blue in the Cambridge/Boston area were the most truly diverse group I have ever seen in that area. When you die, your funeral and your memorial service say much about how you lived. As I looked around the Cathedral and saw the great diversity of people there to remember Brother Blue, it was a testament to his life. White, Black, Asian, Indian (both East and American), very prominent citizens, those who were clearly living on the edge, in various kinds of dress and comfortable in their clothes. And it was a group of people who lingered and talked in groups at the end of the remembrance and went from group to group even talking to those they did not know in a joyful, light-infused, animated conversation. A rare occurrence in this world.

Byron Rushing reminded us that one form of Brother Blues dialogue was “Praise Poetry” which came from Africa and was meant to authenticate who you are – not who the speaker is! Many spoke on the effect Blue had on them when they were in his audience. Rushing spoke on the effect it had on you when Blue was in your audience. It was a profound testament to the man we were remembering.

With Guy Davis‘ presentation – storyteller, actor, blues musician – there was dancing in the aisle and he was beautiful and extremely talented. Elizabeth Morse‘s harp music was a beautiful meditation which brought us back to the sacred. Ms. Morse is someone Blue asked to accompany him over the years.

Eliot Fisk, classical guitarist, was the final person giving a testament to Blue and it was a musical gem.

I saw, for the first time, the power of the Story. We heard about Dr. Hill’s end time in a rehab facility, which will never be the same again, and it was beautiful because you knew through the story that he didn’t ever lose his humanity or identity or interest in others, nor did he stop blessing others. The story about the “Star Child” – one born prematurely and on the life support systems in which we put some of our children – being told stories by his father with his head pressed against the plexiglass and we heard the father’s promise to continue to tell to bring his child in, the way an air traffic controller brings in an airplane.

It was the remembrance of and homage to a man who made his vulnerabilities into a tower of strength and shared his light and blessings with others. It all ended with a video of Hugh Hill over the years. His voice narrated the message which is one he preached over and over again during his life. It was all done with the background music being different renditions of America the Beautiful.

You left knowing your life had been touched by a truly great human being, who walked this earth in his bare feet and brought goodness, kindness and love to many as you heard story after story of how he so positively affected the lives of literally thousands of people.

Our “Praise Poetry” to Dr. Hugh Morgan Hill comes from his obituary: “Most often known as “Brother Blue” Dr. Hill has degrees from Harvard, Yale and the Union Graduate School…. He wanted his stories to be ‘bread for the mind, the imagination, the heart, the soul. He said, ‘I SOUL my stories out, to speak from the middle of the middle of me to the middle of the middle of you…..’ He presented workshops in prisons, schools, colleges and universities, libraries, and conferences and told stories before countless audiences via radio and television, and in person in streets, parks, and festivals in the U. S. Canada, Europe, South Africa and the Bahamas. Among them were First Night Boston, the World’s Fair in New Orleans, Lincoln Center, Spoleto Festival, United Nations Habitat Forum, yukon Storytelling Festival, the National Storytelling Festival and Sharing the Fire in New England. He received many awards and was storyteller-in-residence for the Harvard Law School’s Saturday School and much more.”

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Ginger Pralines

Sunday, January 24th, 2010

Pralines generate memories that takes me back to a really great childhood. I shall always be grateful to those who sacrificed so much for me.

A neighbor and I (Troy Lynn), used to get in my grandmother’s kitchen and experiment with pralines. Troy Lynn took her pralines home and ate them. I sold mine. My entrepreneurial spirit started early. I ran that enterprise the way some corporations are run today – which is probably why I understand those corporations.

My grandmother supplied the ingredients for the pralines, which was great, but I stuck my mouth out when she suggested I pay for the sugar out of my earnings. I was crushed. “Why do you want me to pay for sugar. You have lots of it in the cupboard.” She tried to tell me about making sure you were making a profit. You also had to count your time in the equation so you would know if it was profitable or not. I was truly appalled at that point. If I did all of that I wouldn’t make a profit and it wouldn’t be worth making the pralines. “That’s the point of doing the math,” my grandmother said. My mouth continued to be stuck out and when she insisted, it started to quiver and she knew tears were next so she just gave up and I had a very successful business.

Thinking of those years and my grandmother and having been on the telephone with Troy Lynn talking about this venture, I decided to make pralines, just to connect to those times and those feelings and my grandmother.

She would have been amazed at the results of my efforts. I am in awe at what I have created. The pralines were sensational. I feel a little sick because I’ve eaten so many and goodness knows what the sugar is going to do to my aging body.

Those pralines brought so many memories rushing back I was crying by the time I finished making them. But, they were not a pure New Orleans creation. They connected Old New Orleans to the East. With these pralines I have managed to make cultural connections with New Orleans, Asia and India.

Ginger tea has become a staple in our kitchen. We always have a glass jar filled with Ginger Tea that we make, at least once a week. (ed.note – see Bettina’s Blog for the recipe). We use it either as ‘sweet tea’ or regular tea – and it has a very strong kick.

This time, by Providence, the tea jar was empty and in the bottom were the slices of ginger root which we let steep to keep the ginger tea strong. That was the genesis of these fantastic pralines.

I used the ginger root slices in the pralines the way one would use pecans. I also used a little freshly ground nutmeg in some and cumin in others with the ginger root. The pralines were vaguely reminiscent of New Orleans pralines, but with a newness that made them a sensation. Pralines, for some, are the very essence of Creole New Orleans. The only food with a stronger connection to Creole New Orleans would be hot callas, but then that’s another blog.

New Orleans today has a very large influx of Asians that call it home. These Ginger Pralines are a cultural amalgam which reflects today’s reality of the city New Orleans has become.

We had just one guest in the house while I was making these pralines. She came into the kitchen while the pralines were cooling on the marble slab and between us we ate all except two of the pralines. Two seemed to be a decent amount to keep to see how they would taste when they were thoroughly cooled. She went to bed and after a respectable time, Robert and I split the last two pralines. They were even better cooled so I made more for tomorrow. They are now downstairs cooling. Maybe they will make it into tomorrow and maybe they won’t. I haven’t been up this late for months – my 7pm bedtime has been shot – my children would be proud!

Pralines aux Ginger – a very recherche dessert
(to be served on heavily gold encrusted dessert plates and eaten with your fingers)

Organic Turbinado Sugar how much you use depends upon how many pralines you want to produce.
for a first timer – two cups should suffice so if you ruin the pralines you can try again without knashing your teeth over your loss of ingredients.
for the experienced candy maker who wants a good number of pralines – one pound

Sliced Organic Ginger Root which has been boiled in a large pot of water for several hours to make tea. The Ginger Root you use for these pralines are what’s left over after the ginger tea is gone.

Water – freshly ground Nutmeg – Cumin

1. Put the sugar in a PORCELAIN POT.

2. Add water to moisten and cover the sugar. Don’t mix the two together. Pour the water over the sugar being careful not to let it splash, etc.

3. Bring the water and sugar to a boil to make a, sort of, simple syrup, but not that liquid.

4. When this mixture reaches about 200 degrees, add the ginger root and let it boil until the mixture begins to bubble and has almost, but not quite, turned to sugar. Stir constantly without stopping.

5. Quickly add any spices you want to incorporate into these pralines – ground nutmeg, cumin, whatever. Given the fact that you are using Ginger Root – even Root that has been previously boiled for several hours, I would not add anything with heat. These will have plenty heat on their own.

6. Take the pot off the fire and drop by the spoonfuls onto a buttered marble slab so you form what looks like small pancakes. Spread these with the spoon and round them with a fork until they form neat, round cakes – the size and thickness depends upon you. I like them about 1/4 inch thick and about 4-5″ in diameter.

Let them dry. Pick them up with a knife or spatula, very gently. You will have the memory of a New Orleans Creole Praline changed into an East meets West confection. Someone have a name for this?

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A Tribute to Mary Daly

Friday, January 8th, 2010

by: Marceline Donaldson

A friend of mine died on Sunday. The world is changing much too fast. Old friends are leaving, quietly. You hear nothing for a couple years and then the news comes that they have died. Keep your friends and family close. Before you know it, they will be gone.

Mary Daly died on Sunday. I first met Mary when I was at Harvard Business School. On a Sunday, I went to Memorial Church. No particular reason, that was what I did on Sundays. The preacher was Mary Daly. She preached a sermon I will never forget and at the end of it led a walk out to protest the patriarchy. – Almost everybody in Harvard Memorial Church that Sunday, walked out with her – me included. It was kind of like being in a shocked, unreal, dreamlike place. It was 1971 and the world was just waking up to what feminism and the women’s movement was all about.

I saw the picture of Mary Daly that the Boston Globe used over her obituary. It was probably the worst picture of her they could find. Choosing that picture said more about the Boston Globe than it did about Mary Daly. When I met Mary that Sunday, so many years ago, she was a young, very beautiful woman. I read Mary’s obituary in the Boston Globe. It said nothing about the Memorial Church walkout. It read as though what she did in life was to refuse to admit men to her classes at Boston College.

I spent the 1970’s protesting, reading Mary’s books, along with many more and waking up from my southern, feminine, shy self. I turned the ‘ne at the end of feminine into ‘st and have been doing my little bit to change a patriarchy that sometimes seems intransigent. Those who fought as hard as Mary Daly did, suffer the slings and arrows; the harsh judgments of their peers; the jealousy of those fighting alongside them; the rage of the patriarchy and more, but they have the freedom, the total internal freedom that comes with knowing who you are, of defining yourself; of not allowing this world and its institutional structures to dictate your sense of self-worth. That freedom is worth all the pain and agony which goes along with claiming it.

To Mary Daly – my deepest thanks for the incredible way you gave of yourself to bring about change from a baser way of living in this world to one in which me, my children and grandchildren can begin to heal from the burdens and abuses of the patriarchal system into which we were born.

Out of the depths of my despair, my frustration, my confusion, my feelings of being an alien where I live every day, breaks forth my realization of the incredible joy of being me – of understanding who that is – of not compromising my equality for anything or anyone – of becoming fierce and strong and proud of my femaleness. Stereotypes fall away, they lose their grip and I see through all the games being played against me. Games to diminish me; to bind me; to keep me from being all that i was born to be, all that my talents push me to be – how glorious is that freedom. May it keep its hold on me forever.

Amazingly, many of the things Mary Daly talked about I heard from my grandmother. She didn’t phrase them the same way and my grandmother would be appalled if anyone called her a feminist, but there she was. She talked about sin – if you are going to sin, sin boldly, she said. Always make your own living. You are a free, whole person – always remember that. There is nothing you can’t do. If one door closes, another door opens – only you have to be able to see the opening door and if you are crying over the door that closed in your face, you will surely miss the better one opening just a few feet away – and it isn’t going to sit there open for long, waiting until you arise from your self-pity, missy.

The world will miss a beautiful soul. God bless you Mary Daly. May your soul and the souls of the departed do glorious things together and be joyous in your new life in ways that were not possible on earth.
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Tags: bed & breakfast, Boston College, Feminist Philosopher, feminist philosophy, Harvard Memorial Church, Making Connections, Mary Daly, Memorial
Posted in An editorial just because, Growing Old, Historical Support, Making Connections, Memorials, Preserving Family History and Stories | No Comments »

Our Holiday Greeting to Everyone

Tuesday, December 22nd, 2009

This is the time of year when you realize you know your friends, but you don’t know which holiday they celebrate. So our best wishes to everyone, everyplace, whatever you call your end of the year celebration.

– We rejoice in being in a business which allows us to share a small part of so many people’s lives and to be immersed in such a wonderfully diverse community. You have allowed us into your world in ways we never could have dreamed of before we became a part of this Bettina Network. We hope it continues into the next year and into the next generation!

Thank you for having given us so much. Money tips are not allowed in the Bettina Network – from anyone – because our “tips” come from so many greater gifts from our guests as we share their lives no matter how briefly.

We have a favorite poem we pull out at this time of year, written by The Rev. Dr. Howard Thurman who was the Dean of Boston University’s Marsh Chapel from 1953-1962. He was an exceptional person and his writings are what some of us turn to when we feel as though we are straying from the path we are called to walk. It is said that Martin Luther King, Jr. kept two books next to his bedside wherever he travelled – one was the Bible, the other was Howard Thurman’s book “Jesus and the Disinherited.”

It makes quite a statement about Boston University to know that in the 1950’s, when it wasn’t popular, the Dean of Marsh Chapel was an African-American. That was a time when, if Howard Thurman went to conferences, or travelled about the country on Boston University’s business, he would not be able to stay in the hotel in which the conference was held because hotels, in that fairly recent time frame, refused to accept African-American guests. Howard Thurman would have to enter the hotel through the back door or staff entrance to attend the conference because African-Americans were not allowed to enter hotels through their front doors. When he travelled on other business he stayed with friends, Boston University Alumnus or bed & breakfasts. In spite of these deterrents, Boston University selected Howard Thurman for what was one of its most prestigious appointments.

Our holiday gift to you is this poem by Howard Thurman. Many of us had to memorize this poem in grammar school and it has stayed in our hearts. We hope you will pass it along to your children!!

“When the song of the angels is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and the princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flock,
Then the work of Christmas begins.

   To find the lost,
   To heal the broken,
   To feed the hungry,
   To release the prisoner,
   To rebuild the nations,
   To bring peace among brothers (and sisters),
   To make music in the heart.”

MAY THE JOY, PEACE AND PROMISE OF THIS SEASON PERVADE YOUR LIFE AS LONG AS IT LASTS AND AT THE END, TAKE YOU INTO THAT PROMISED LAND GLORIOUSLY!!!!!

From all of us at the Bettina Network!

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The Bettina Network, Inc’s Expanding

Thursday, June 11th, 2009

We are expanding our business to include Estate Sales and Liquidations. It is a business which helps us move one step further into vertical integration.

Several people involved with the Bettina Network have had much experience with antiques, estate sales and related matters, some for over 40 years, so this should be a great time for all.

The sales will be held all over the country depending upon who contacts us and whose estates we agree to liquidate. To find out what is happening in this regard Bettina’s Sales will be listed on the website under an “Estate Sale” category.

Much of what we sell will be via silent auction. There are some items – antique and otherwise – where you really don’t have a fair retail value so we will let the market decide.

You can shop either at the home where the sale is being held or you can shop via the internet. If you have the winning bid and are not in the same city we will mail your purchases to you.

Unlike many antique auctions, which take place at a definite time and place, the silent auction allows you time to look over the items being sold; to think about whether this is something you would really like to own; it gives you time to do a little research as to the items history and value; and then it gives you time to put in a bid. You can even reconsider and come back with a higher bid if your best friend slipped in a bid behind your back.

You will be able to register on the Bettina Network’s web site to receive notice of new sales as they open and you will be able to register to bid.

The items in each sale are unique to that sale. In other words, the Bettina Sales will not be a travelling antique shop. For each item you purchase you will receive as much information as we have about the item – its provenance, in other words – even if it is a shop tool from Home Depot. (Who knows what they will be worth to the next generation).

There will be a permanent ongoing sale as a part of the Bettina Network Sales web site which is for items we have been asked to sell outside of any particular estate or house sale. There are people who have only a few very lovely items they want to sell, we will be open to selling those items in a special place, not as a part of any person’s estate sale.

There are three categories of sales:

1. “A Scattering Sale” – A sale which offers the contents of the home of someone who has died and whose family wants their things “scattered” to those who will help bring closure to that person’s life and to those who may find some use for those “things” left behind. It is always interesting to see and sell the “things” with which we surround ourselves to make life more interesting and comfortable. A “Scattering Sale” is also a treasure trove of ideas on how to live with and use “things” and very unique decorating ideas. Come for the sale or come to look around for ideas. Where a person has left favorite recipes, sayings to live by, etc. we will share those with you.

A “Scattering Sale” generally includes those things purchased to use, rather than collected for investment purposes. It can also include items inherited from family over the years and gifts from friends. They almost always include wardrobes from many decades and books by the gross. It could include automobiles, houses, etc., the entire estate.

The other two categories go upscale with the third being rare and beautiful antiques, art, and very unusual items. Needless to say, the prices accelerate with the level of sale.

So many truly beautiful things happen at these sales we thought we would include a story or two from the sales on the Bettina’s Blog for you. If they get to be too many we will probably break this off and create a separate blog for the sale stories.

Payment at the sales is by cash, check or credit card and we accept MasterCard, Visa, American Express and Discover Card.

Hope to see you at one of the sales. If you want to come and help to be a part of the action, let us know and we will include you in a particular sales staff. We need sales people, display people, artists, photographers, clean-up crew and more.

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Want to join us? Have a home that you want to open to become one of Bettina Network’s Hedge Schools? Call us and lets talk – or email us.

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Bread Sticks Dessert for Breakfast

Wednesday, June 3rd, 2009

These breakfast bread sticks are a really terrific after breakfast dessert which can be ‘knoshed’ on all day.

We discovered the recipe while having afternoon tea at Young Quinlan & Co., an elegant store in Minneapolis which, unfortunately, has been closed for a few decades. It was a great place to shop when my children were small because bribing them with tea at Young Quinlan kept them behaving like little angels.

(If you have a picture of the store, please send it and we will put it at the top of this blog. It deserves recognition and its place in our history. It is so sad that those kind of stores are moving fast into oblivion. I remember Keller Zander, Godchaux’ and many more from my childhood. They belong to my mind’s special “good” memory section because they all had something which allowed you to shop with your children and they would behave beautifully waiting for the store’s treat. My grandmother took me all over town and I was glad to go to some boring places because of the treat waiting at the end. I learned manners in the process because that special treat place always required good manners before and during whatever they offered, but it was always worth the effort. And the treat was not a chance to pick one thing out of a bowl full of over-sugared lollipops or their equivalent.

My daughters would go with me to Minneapolis Symphony concerts because after the concert there was a treat with a symphony name waiting for them at the restaurant they saw featured on the Mary Tyler Moore Show – the one in back of the elevator on which she threw up her hat. They could sit overlooking the elevator, eating perfectly wicked food and feel really special.)

For the dessert breadsticks you will need:

A loaf of sliced organic bread – or your own home-baked bread sliced. Your own home-baked bread is preferable, because it increases the great taste of these bread sticks and you can decide how thin or thick you want the bread sticks, which is great control for you to exercise.

lots of organic butter

organic sugar and cinnamon mixed together. More of one or the other depending upon your taste buds. Yes, our recipes require you to make choices instead of blindly following what other people tell you to do. Close your eyes and taste and see where that leads you. Probably into all kind of new things, new ideas, new life.

Start this recipe by melting a stick of butter (you will probably need more butter as you go along, but your inner health mechanism, activated by all the misleading marketing and public relations efforts against real butter, will go into high gear and you won’t enjoy the bread sticks as much if you start by melting a pound of butter all at once.)

next – you have an option – either cut off the crust of the bread for daintier breadsticks, or leave it on and cut each slice of bread into three long pieces. For this dish, I personally prefer the bread cut into a rectangle with the crust removed because then I can look forward to letting the crust of the bread go stale to be used for “Pauli Murray’s Bread Pudding” found on this blog.

Dip each one of these “sticks” into the butter and coat it thoroughly. Then drag it through the mixture of organic sugar and cinnamon.

Put the coated bread sticks on a steel or glass baking sheet, which has been buttered, so they don’t stick to the bottom (yes, yes, just get over your butter problem – anything organic from a cow which has been fed with organic feed and let roam in the sun in a pasture with good organically grown grass – is good for you. All those experiments have been done with meat and milk from cows that have been shot full of antibiotics, pesticides and goodness knows what else – so is the health problem all the “extras” or the meat and milk from the cow? WOW! Oprah – look at me, now that’s how to win over the cow people and the cow lobbyists. All of you cow jocks, to thank me, just send the check to the Bettina Network Foundation, Inc. and we will put it to good use.)

Bake for a long time at 225 degrees – a very low oven. We bake for about 40 minutes. You can bake longer or shorter times as your taste buds demand harder or softer breadsticks. These are not good soft, they must be fairly stiff to really enjoy the combination of the butter and the cinnamon/sugar coating.

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Want to join us? Have a home that you want to open to become one of Bettina Network’s Hedge Schools? Call us and lets talk – or email us.

Send your event information to be included in Bettina Network’s Menu of Events to: bettina-network@comcast.net

This is a curated blog so you cannot write your responses at the end of each entry. TO RESPOND TO THIS BLOG email bettina-network@comcast.net or info@bettina-network.com

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Tags: Oprah Winfrey
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A New Orleans Review Post Katrina

Sunday, February 22nd, 2009

We receive many notes, cards, telephone calls asking us what is happening in New Orleans and asking me to please write something. Probably because some of you know New Orleans is home and am I your only real live contact with what is happening there? Ready or not, this is a response to your requests.

I’ve resisted going home and responding to the questions because it is very painful to know that many of my memories about growing up in New Orleans are now memories detached from actual geographical places and to know that some of my more painful memories about growing up in New Orleans now have a verifiable history which cannot be denied. Looking closely at what happened via Katrina has caused a lot of introspection, retrospection and just plain grieving.

Finally, I went back and it was as bad as I’d heard. Friends, family and guests who talked about what they saw and experienced didn’t go far enough to prepare me for what I experienced this past week.

Going back for the funeral of a relative whose end-of-life time was very negatively influenced by what happened to her via the ‘unintended consequences’ after Katrina made it all that much worse. Added to that are the many people I knew and grew up with who experienced an early, difficult and needlessly painful death without the support of friends or relatives.

Those who have said the ‘Big Easy’ only got what it deserved – God wrecked God’s anger on New Orleans for its transgressions, etc. really haven’t either been to New Orleans or don’t know its history. They put their uninformed and uneducated spin on this horrendous event. An event which I hope will remain in our collective consciousnesses for generations.

What I saw in New Orleans was Christ crucified all over again and many times over as the victims, those transgressed against, bore the brunt of and paid the price for the sins of the transgressors, and the transgressions have been many and have been very aggregious.

One part of this human tragedy which connected my teen years to today was the experience I had in the 1950’s working as a receptionist after school at a subdivision being newly built called Pontchartrain Park Homes. Out in the sticks – so to speak – with nothing around it, just wild land. The entire area has since been intensely developed and is an area around which upwardly mobile minorities now live. All are suffering, in some way, from the devastation of the flood.

I was hired to work at Pontchartrain Park Homes by two white men who were the developers of what is now called by some ‘the village’. My job was to greet people as they arrived to look at the model homes and make sure they had a salesperson who would follow their interest.

It was great fun for me! My picture was taken many times. It was put on the marketing materials for the subdivision; it was put on billboards advertising Pontchartrain Park Homes. This was a new day for African Americans – because it was a subdivision for blacks. The model homes were a dream come true for many ‘colored folk’. – That was the terminology in those days. African American was not a term in use and black was considered an insult. It was almost as bad as being called the “N” word today.

It is bitter-sweet to remember my pictures being used, with me in one of my favorite dresses of the time. Bitter-sweet because I did look cute, but I didn’t get paid a penny for my second part-time job which made me the face of Pontchartrain Park Homes. What I also didn’t realize was that my picture being all over the place on their literature really put my family’s stamp of approval on the entire project.

Sad to tell, I didn’t expect payment. In my world at the time, why would anyone pay money to use my picture – money that would have gone far to help pay my college tuition and help my struggling grandmother, who still somehow found the money to send me to New York University.

Money is one of the valuers of what our work is worth and clearly, while my work was worth much to the developers and they saw the benefit of using my picture in some of their marketing and advertising, the habit of taking from minorities and giving nothing in return was the operative factor at that time and in that place.

I heard a lot, being on the front line – sitting by the front door. Basically, I heard questions being asked constantly about the wisdom of building homes in a flood plain on a concrete slab in a ranch style in a city prone to hurricanes and possible flooding. I heard the jokes of the developers talking to friends who raised issues about the ‘safety’ of the project, commenting on their whereabouts when this project was finished. They wouldn’t be around in one of those houses.

I heard arguments among families I knew, where one was going to buy a home because it was going to be a really ‘class’ community and such a great place to raise children. Some in their family didn’t see moving from one flood plain to another flood plain as a move ‘up’. The argument about a better ‘class’ of people, a safer neighborhood, etc. etc. didn’t hold water with one part of a family, while it meant everything to the other.

I saw piles being driven into the ground all over the place and didn’t see any reason for alarm. In my ignorance and naivete, it just seemed to be how new communities were built. That same ignorance and naivete kept me from understanding a lot of what I was hearing, but my heart kept the conversations.

I didn’t understand why it was desperate and tragic for African Americans and their future generations when the zoning changed and you were able to build such homes in New Orleans. My grandmother’s house was a couple feet off the ground on strong foundations with nothing between the ground and the raised first floor. I didn’t understand the gasps when neighbors built an apartment on the first floor of their two family houses where before it was illegal to do so. The driveway, the carport, the patio were what happened on the first floor – all open. Today, older and wiser, we know – open, so in case of a flood the water could rush through without damaging the rest of the house.

The people who built the homes, elevated and open on the bottom, were growing old and dying. The young people were moving out and up and experiencing other cities with ranch-style houses built on the ground; or with homes which used every inch of vertical space for interior living. Those pushing to change the zoning were once again the people taking advantage of the ignorance, naivete and ego of the young people who were replacing their parents – young people who were not listening to the lessons their parents tried to put in front of them so they could learn from their elders experience and wisdom and so their young people could be saved. That younger generation cast aside their elders as ‘too old’ and ‘too out of touch’. That younger generation, had no idea there was another agenda behind all of this change. None of us knew and all of us are today engaging in denial.

There was and is geographical racism in New Orleans. In its early days, pre-1850-60-70, New Orleans was as open a city as one could find in these United States. Open – racially. That doesn’t deny that racism existed or that slavery happened in New Orleans, but so did integrated neighborhoods and racially mixed marriages – out in the open. After Plessy v. Ferguson things changed; after Woodrow Wilson segregated Washington, D. C.; after the Federal Government demanded the trains have separate coaches for whites and blacks; after New Orleans began to make sure ‘white’ neighborhoods were the ones on high ground and its ‘colored’ and minority population was in the swamp and the flood plains; after this, the fix was in for the Katrina disaster to begin.

Anytime now Mr. DeMille, I am ready for my close-up.

to paraphrase Hannah Arendt: ‘The banality of evil’…..is such that ‘there is an abyss between the actuality of what they did and the’………..intended or unthought through carnagd consequences of those actions. Or to paraphrase Elie Wiesel, Is ‘it possible to defile life and creation and feel no remorse. To tend one’s garden and water one’s flowers, but two steps away’…..from your neighbors sufferings, now and for several generations into the future, from the unintended or unthought through carnaged consequences, not of a flood, but of the pre-flood neglect, irresponsibility, racism and sexism of massive proportions, brought home by Katrina, for which we all are partially responsible?

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This is a curated blog so you cannot write your responses at the end of each entry. TO RESPOND TO THIS BLOG email bettina-network@comcast.net or info@bettina-network.com

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Reusing Those Important "Things"

Saturday, December 6th, 2008

An anonymous guest

A bed and breakfast guest added an instantly spectacular idea from a friend of hers. Her friend made a christening gown for her grandchild out of the train of her wedding dress.

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Bread Pudding in honor of Pauli Murray*

Friday, December 28th, 2007

3 eggs

1/2 teaspoon baking powder

1/4 teaspoon salt

1 cup sugar (or to taste)

1 can crushed pinneapple

1 cup heavy cream

2 cups shredded coconut (or to taste)

1/2 stick butter (or 4 ounces)

assorted stale breads – rolls, brioche, french, etc.

All ingredients should be organic, especially the eggs and cream.

Cut or tear the bread into squares – all kind of bread, as long as it is made of organic ingredients. Cut enough bread to fill the GLASS dish in which you will bake and serve this dish. If you have an oven-proof glass dish which fits into a silver holder, that is a very attractive way to bring this dish to the table.

Add baking power and salt to the bread and mix thoroughly.

Beat the eggs in a heavy mixer like a Kitchen Aid until they are light and fluffy. This will take about 7-8 minutes.

Add the sugar and continue to beat until the sugar is incorporated into the eggs and the entire mixture becomes even lighter and fluffier.

Add the crushed pineapple and juice to the egg mixture along with the coconut. Stir until all ingredients are mixed together and pour over the bread. Mix bread and milk mixture until you like the way the dish looks. Slice the stick of butter and push the slices into the dish. Bake at 350 degrees for about 35 minutes.

You have to think when using our recipes. They assume a human is preparing them not an automated computer. Any of the ingredients can be increased or decreased according to your taste. The length of time you bake depends on how you like the final dish – dry, still a little custardy or inbetween! The amount of sugar depends on your sweet tooth or lack thereof! The amount of butter depends on whether you are from the north or south. I personally would use at least a stick of butter – organic so it would be minus growth hormones and other bad things and I could enjoy the dish without worrying about all of the medical horror stories.

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*This dish was created in 1982 when Pauli Murray came to our home on the seminary campus for lunch. She was at Episcopal Divinity School to meet and talk with students. My husband and I had several people to lunch to have some private time with Pauli. The star attraction at the luncheon turned out to be this bread pudding. This was the first recipe she’d had created in her honor and she said it was very special.

I met Pauli Murray – Attorney, Law Professor at Brandeis University, Episcopal Priest – for the first time, of which I am conscious, at a weekend conference for 100 Black Women Leaders in December, 1971 in Chicago, Ill. It was an amazing time – good learning, stressful, nurturing and meeting people I had read about or whose works I had read. On the plane home, I read Pauli’s book on her family history and couldn’t put it down until I finished, so having her to lunch on our second meeting was special.

I was astounded by how she looked! When I saw her in Chicago she looked very grandmotherly – not fat, but not thin either. She was dressed in a suit (with skirt), comfortable pumps, looking the way I was accustomed to seeing professional Black Women look. Her hair was grey and black and curly – almost, but not quite shoulder length.

When she came to Cambridge she had on a pant suit which was larger than she was and which fit her rather poorly as she had lost lots of weight. She had on flat shoes and very short, closely cropped hair. I thought it was her lifestyle change which caused her new look. During those intervening years she had gone from Attorney to Episcopal Priest and had publicly talked about her sexual orientation.

I didn’t realize until several years later that her new look was due to cancer. I remarked about how she had changed since I last saw her, – but she said nothing as to why she had adopted this new look or that she didn’t have a choice in this new look.

Before she came to EDS and joined us for lunch, I learned that my grandfather’s Church tried to hire The Rev. Pauli Murray as their new priest and that she wanted the job. It would have been a great fit, but the Episcopal Bishop of the Diocese – which included St. Luke’s – was adamant that he would not allow a woman priest in his Diocese.

In spite of the Congregations’ wishes, Pauli was not called to be the priest at St. Luke’s in New Orleans, LA. It was sad, because St. Luke’s was the loser.

What did the Bishop gain by taking such a position against The Rev. Pauli Murray? Did his ministry increase or diminish with this decision? And what were his hidden sins that he was so threatened by such a woman? Was this stance taken out of the Bishop’s professed Christianity or out of his need to feel superior to Women? Was the Bishop violating his office by committing such a sin? Did this need to maintain his and his groups’ superiority cost him eternity?

This was the same Bishop who tried to keep the two million dollars my grandfather worked hard to get to endow St. Luke’s, an African-American Church. My grandfather wanted to know that St. Luke’s was endowed before he died. This was the Church his father built under very stressful conditions. His father was an Episcopal priest, who received his Doctorate in 1906 and was ordained a priest in the Episcopal Church in 1911. The money was sent to the Diocese for St. Luke’s. The Bishop tried to keep it for other uses – none for the African-American community, but finally had to release the money to St. Luke’s after my grandfather and some of St. Luke’s parisioners worked hard to force that to happen. With it the congregation was able to move to a new location and engage a social worker to work with the young people of the Church, among other things.

All of the above is contained in this recipe for “Bread Pudding In Honor of Pauli Murray.”

The luncheon brought up all of that old history. Food is so much a part of who we are and recipe’s contain many of our memories, our culture and our history.

Everytime I make this pudding, I think of this history and usually also share the history with whoever is eating the pudding! Some people are grateful for hearing this history and enjoy the pudding, some people enjoy the pudding and are quiet, some people are just quiet.

I also always pray for The Rev. Pauli Murray as I cut up the bread and mix the ingredients. Her life took her on so many journeys. As I put those Prayers into this bread pudding what happens to them? Are they spread around the world and multiply and affect our lives? Do they affect the lives of those who eat the pudding? Or is it just bread pudding, whose origin will be lost when I die?

This recipe is the one most often requested by bed and breakfast guests.

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Want to join us? Have a home that you want to open to become one of Bettina Network’s Hedge Schools? Call us and lets talk – or email us.

Send your event information to be included in Bettina Network’s Menu of Events to: bettina-network@comcast.net

This is a curated blog so you cannot write your responses at the end of each entry. TO RESPOND TO THIS BLOG email bettina-network@comcast.net or info@bettina-network.com

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Tags: Rev. Pauli Murray
Posted in Bettina's Cookbook, Preserving Family History and Stories, Rev. Pauli Murray | No Comments »

Archive for the ‘Preserving Family History and Stories’ Category

A NEW BREAKFAST HABIT – FRESH COFFEE

In Memory of Jaki Leverson

A Memorial to "Brother Blue"

Ginger Pralines

A Tribute to Mary Daly

Our Holiday Greeting to Everyone

The Bettina Network, Inc’s Expanding

Bread Sticks Dessert for Breakfast

A New Orleans Review Post Katrina

Reusing Those Important "Things"

Bread Pudding in honor of Pauli Murray*

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