Liile Shop of Florals
Happy New Year to you all! I can’t tell you how excited I am for today and the months to come. You might have noticed but this ultra saturated photo that our Airstream, named Henrietta, is done being restored and will have her maiden voyage this spring! This is actually a super old photo of her, back when she had duct-taped windows and a rotten floor. But I don’t care, I love her anyway! In fact, I’m really looking forward to the issue when I feature photos of her and our story of restoration. I chose this photo in particular because I have been dreaming daily of camping and taking trips with her. You know, all of the kitchy things like putting out my astroturf and flamingoes when we go to Yellowstone, or my neon 1960’s aluminum patio set next to the fishing stream. Why the hell not, I say! I’m dedicating this year to the things I love. That means hot pink lipstick, HUGE hair, glamour, fishing, soul music, time with family, and making plans instead of excuses. So far Tony and I have signed up for cooking classes, become regulars at Trivia Night, planned a few quick getaways and personally I have purchased a bunch of new neon lipsticks for the occasion. I’ve decided to wear my good perfume every day and put my precious vintage dinnerware into the regular use for meals. I’ve also started something that has had a profound impact on my happiness, and that is to tidy up the house at least 20 minutes a day. It’s truly amazing to me what peace of mind a clean house gives me. Truthfully, the first day it took me about 8 solid hours of cleaning to get to a place where 20 minutes makes a difference, but that’s another story! I can’t wait for you to read this issue. I have tried some really fun new things with people’s ads and page layout and I think you are going to love it. It is such an honor to me to create ads for people. I will literally spend days working up the right concept for someone before I even think whether or not I have the skills to make it. And I’m so grateful for my advertisers for letting me have fun with their brands and concepts. I love that everyone is positive and so wonderful to work with and be a part of this magazine! As you know, I meditate daily and I practice the art of gratitude. I cannot tell you how often I think of my readers, my advertisers, my writers, and I cry. I love that the ladies at the post office tell me that people mail the magazine out across the country to family. I love all of the sweet notes you send me and all of the visits at the flower shop. I feel that my life is vibrant and full of love and our communities reflect the generosity and kindness that we all wish to see in the world. Everywhere I go someone is always holding a door for someone, saying please or thank you, or doing a random act of kindness. That’s what life is all about. That’s why I am so grateful to live on the Palouse. Gayle Anderson’s article says it best, but I’ll let you read that for yourself! In the meantime, pull up a chair, a hot chocolate, and enjoy this issue. It’s a labor of love and it means the world to me. It’s all because YOU support it. Thank you! Love,
Heather Niccoli Editor-In-Chief Home&Harvest Magazine
contents history of the telephone in latah county highway repair gluten free creampuffs butterflies and brats the fly that captured the world the proudest any mama would be i love winter
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26 38 40 44 48
62
Just in Time for February
by
Tony Niccoli
No two relationships will have the same definition for romance and this can lead to an unnecessary feeling of uncertainty or anxiety when you are faced with an occasion that calls for romance. To be clear, I’m not just talking about Valentine’s Day or your anniversary. What about the random Tuesday romance, or a celebration for a big decision together, or your partner’s new success in their career, or even at a time that you know they may be more prone to sadness? What can you do on the days where a 6 foot tall teddy bear just won’t work? When you can’t grab a last-minute card on your way home from the office and call it done? How can you be romantic when you are the one who needs to create romance without relying on the calendar? How can you apply that to be a bit more original than the same old heart shaped box of chocolates you bought the night before your anniversary the last two years? It starts with thought. And preparation. More than anything, modern romance is showing that you haven’t forgotten or neglected your partner in a world of ever increasing phone alerts and self-imposed priorities. It’s showing that they were on your mind, and remained there. That you remained present, undistracted, and gave your most valuable commodity to a quest for their comfort and self-esteem. That commodity is time. And for many partners, just showing that you thought of them before the anniversary, or thought of them enough to create a spontaneous date night is the very definition of romance. But it won’t be enough to simply go through the normal motions and then brag about how you set this up last week or last month. First you will need to listen and explore to find out how your partner expresses love and how they like to have love expressed. And pay attention to both what they say, and their body language if you discuss it directly – because for many people, it’s most comfortable to receive and show love in completely different ways. They might just want to hear something special from you, or spend quality time, but then want to show how they feel with gift, or a loving embrace. For my wife, acts of service is one of the best ways that she likes to receive love. Saying that I’m just going to read or work in the garage while she is at band practice but then doing some of her most-hated household chores instead, or making something special for her with my time is something that I’ve found to be simple and sure to please. When she gets home I make sure to be on the couch reading or out in the garage tinkering on some project to keep the surprise. But later I know that she’llHome&Harvest
Jan/Feb 2019 11
-notice on her own that all the laundry is done, the sink
that had been full of dishes is empty, and the bathroom is spotless. I don’t really need to say anything or present it – just do it randomly and let her discover it on her own time so she realizes that I wasn’t really sitting there reading all night. I was using my time to give to her. If you want to learn about this directly you can do so at any time. Just ask, and you’ll be amazed at how happy your partner is to discuss what they find romantic, and how they best like to show and receive love. You’ll commonly hear this called “love language” and more than likely they already know the ones they prefer. You’ll also show that you are being romantic and thoughtful just by asking. But maybe asking just isn’t for you. So try an experiment. Start with some positive words of affirmation and see how they react. Keep a mental note. Tomorrow maybe physical touch, or some quality time together. You’ll quickly see what has the greatest impact and be richly rewarded just for the experiment. All without any conversation about love, feelings, and romance that you weren’t ready for. And if that’s where you’re at today its okay – better to have an honest appraisal and then try to find ways to show caring than to just avoid it entirely and go on insisting that its “just not me.” Also remember that for your partner, showing their love might come in a different form than they prefer for receiving your love. Don’t be surprised if you get a little gift, or some giving act of their time after you successfully find their love language. And don’t feel that it is a disappointment or slight if you receive something totally different than you gave. Maybe you gave her a necklace and she organized a hunting trip for the two of you the next week. To her, giving the quality time might mean more than anything you could buy and so in her mind she went even farther to show love. Or it could be the reverse, she may respond best to words, but then surprise you with a new grilling tool that you had been wanting. Everyone is different – the key is just taking the time to notice. By paying attention to their clues, or by being bold enough to just ask you can learn to read their code. She may say “I really don’t want anything” and actually mean it. She doesn’t want you to buy anything. So cook an amazing dinner, have some candles on the table, and take her to a movie she loves, or bowling, or her favorite activity after. You didn’t get her anything but you showed how much you thought ahead. And maybe when she says that – she just means that she really wants something special but is afraid to buy something for you in case you forget. No one wants a card purchased at the very last minute that doesn’t really specifically apply to them when they are handing you a gift that took weeks or months to plan and purchase. At that point it’s much easier to just say “I really don’t want anything,” or “it’s just a date on the calendar.” It’s your job to decipher this code.
Maybe you have been the absolute most romantic partner imaginable for years. Or maybe this is the moment you decide to start. Either one is fine. We aren’t our past – but what we chose to be today. You can become the most loving and caring partner starting today and that alone is a special gift. And you can certainly keep it quiet if you just aren’t the sappy sort of fella. A love letter that only she reads will mean more than 200 plastic hearts strewn about the lawn anyway. You don’t need streamers and a megaphone, and you won’t need to have your buddies pick out a cupid costume for you. And most importantly, once you understand what your partner really wants, you won’t need to feel awkward or shy about providing it. You are that sort of fella. And you can learn to speak her language. So let’s start with a practice day. Valentine’s. Some people think of that as the biggie but it’s not. They put too much stress on the wrong things, ignore their partners real desires, and then get anxious about some big public display of mushy hearts and they end up with a last-minute gift bought on the way home from work. When it’s the only day of the year you show up 30 minutes later than normal, she know you stood in line with the other dopes and didn’t prepare. But this year you can change that. And it’s a perfect practice day because she is either already expecting you to do something (and that’s a positive because you may have been late but you showed up with something every year) or she isn’t expecting you to do something because you haven’t in the past. Because you believed that it was “just an excuse to sell greeting cards.” Either way, you have a date targeted, so you don’t need to be skilled enough to set up an amazing romantic surprise on a random night on your first try. You just need to remember. Actually, Valentine’s isn’t a day to sell sappy cards and cheap chocolates. Its origins are from a Roman holiday called Lupercalia. It was more about drinking and fertility and feasting and purification and strips of goat hide and naked parades and all the single women’s names in a large bowl, and then assorted other things that aren’t fit to print in a community magazine – but I suppose that description works for about 42% of all the Roman holidays. It came to us in modern form thanks to the Catholic Church wanting to put a feast on the same day to give pagans and early converts something else to occupy their time and distract them from the original tradition on the ides of February. So on the day before, February 14th, Pope Gelasius created the feast of St. Valentine. There were actually several martyrs named Valentine, so we aren’t sure today who he was celebrating, but the best two guesses both have romantic themes. One was a priest that was performing secret marriages when they had been outlawed by the emperor. Cladius had felt that unmarried young men made the best soldiers, and those with wives and children would be more cautious in battle; to keep his army ready for battle against the Goths he simply outlawed marriage for anyone in the classes that may be called to the legion.
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And when he found that Valentine was performing pre-deployment nuptials he quickly had him killed. So maybe we are celebrating the death of someone committed to die for love. The other most likely St. Valentine was jailed for trying to help early Christians flee Rome to escape torture. While in prison he was often visited by his jailor’s daughter, and before his death he wrote her a loving note signed “from your Valentine” – so maybe we are celebrating the first Valentine’s love letter on the 14th. Either way, the holiday didn’t get much attention for the first few hundred years. It was just another feast day (at a time when the church had more feast days than there were weekends in a year). And this wasn’t even considered a major feast, not even in the top few for February. So there weren’t any specialty traditions or expectations of displays of romantic love. It wasn’t until the 1400’s that people really started to commemorate Valentine’s Day with love letters and to associate the holiday with romantic love. By the 1600’s it was very popular around Europe and the tradition of exchanging Valentine’s Day cards – even with someone you weren’t romantically involved with had-begun to emerge. But for most of us, the first experience was making little decorated paper bags at school and exchanging cards with classmates. Maybe your school required students to make one for everyone, or maybe when you grew up there were commonly people left out. With that as our early exposure to Valentine’s Day, compounded by years of watching others get more elaborate displays of affection, or years when we were single and feeling like the entire rest of the world was in love, it’s easy to see why so many people today can call it just another sappy excuse to sell greeting cards. It’s a defense mechanism bread in the anxiety of not wanting to make excuses if we feel slighted or ignored. So while a partner may tell you that it just doesn’t matter to them – be clear to understand that they aren’t saying that romance doesn’t matter. Everyone wants to be remembered and everyone wants to feel special. So now you have a well-defined target to work on: sharing more romance with your partner. Valentine’s Day! And don’t let that sordid history distract you. We are celebrating the very modern version so you have an excellent opportunity to show thoughtfulness and love – the perfect expression of romance. On February 14th it will be expected. But that makes it a little easier if this is your first real attempt and learning what really makes your partner feel desired, cherished, and spoiled. Do something special to them this year, and show that you had a little thought and effort in whatever you choose. Then pick a random day in March for a little follow up. Sometimes unexpected romance is the best.
.............................. M L
We live in an area rich with history, one filled with laughter, memories, good times and lots of change. We want to hear your stories! What do remember best about your childhood? Do you have a funny story, once owned a business in town or remember hanging out with friends at a local hot spot?
Please email your stories and photos to: memorylane@homeandharvestmagazine.com and we might just publish it! all photos courtesy of the Latah County Historical Society
the telephone comes to latah county by
Zachary Wnek
In the news today you hear about new smartphones hitting the market nearly every season with the latest and greatest technology. I wanted to take a few moments to bring everyone back about 100 years and consider early telephone service in Latah County communities. The Latah County Historical Society holds company records for many small telephone companies across Latah County. Telephone companies in Latah County began to form in the early 1900s, with the Potlatch Telephone Company tracing its origin to 1904. Telephone companies were born out of a community’s desire to communicate. Some folks wanted to talk with their neighbors, while others were excited about the opportunity to expand their business. Telephones were helpful in myriad of ways including emergencies and during times when the weather (or distance) made going outside and walking (or riding) a mile (or two) to call upon your neighbor (near or far) an unpleasant journey. Northeast of Kendrick the citizens living in Taney and Big Bear Ridge needed a way to communicate that did not involve traveling down the grade to Kendrick or up to Deary. The solution to their problem was the telephone. On July 9, 1906, the Taney & Big Bear Ridge telephone company was realized when the By-Laws and Company constitution were approved and adopted. The initial cost of membership was $5.00, and a pole line began to be constructed.
For those of you who may have never used a ‘wall phone’ let me clue you into some technology. Telephones used to be mounted on a wall and were connected by wires. These wires were either connected to the other subscribing households or to a switchboard. In the case of early telephoning in Latah County, everyone was connected to one another. This configuration was commonly referred to as a ‘party line,’ and anyone could pick up the receiver and listen in on everyone’s conversations. These wires were hung via telephone poles to connect the houses. Thus early telephone poles were quite an essential part of the system. In October of 1906, the Taney & Big Bear Ridge Telephone company agreed to pay five cents apiece for poles cut and piled beside the road to be collected and used by the telephone company. In March of 1907, it was time to connect the Taney and Big Bear Ridge areas to Kendrick. There were two switchboards to whom they could connect. One was operated by Mr. Porter and the other by Mr. Crandall. Misters Porter & Crandall attended the Taney & Big Bear Ridge Telephone Company meeting on March 9 to advocate for their switchboard. After their speeches, the company voted on which switchboard to choose. In a nail-biting vote Mr. Crandall was selected by a favor of 20 to 19. In June of the same 1906, the company agreed to extend the line to Deary. Although, like many great ideas the idea was sound, however, the execution was not. By November the company still hadn’t extended the line to Deary. In support of making the connection to Deary, the board agreed that members who did not donate at least a day’s labor to the effort owed the company $2.00 for their absence. With the line extended North and South through the Big Bear Ridge and Taney communities, they were connected to the region via connections at Kendrick and Deary by 1908. The Moscow Mountain Telephone Company was formed on January 18, 1911. Membership to the Moscow Mountain Telephone Company cost a familiar $5. This membership fee included poles and a connection to each member’s home. Although the members enjoyed talking with one another the need to have a connection to Moscow was clear. Later in January of 1911, it was proposed and carried that each member was responsible for furnishing three poles each for the establishment of a connection at the Moscow switchboard. These poles could be prepared by the members of the company themselves or purchased from any number of woodsmen in the area. By February the line to Moscow was incomplete, and the leadership of the Telephone Company was getting a bit impatient. At a meeting on February 14, 1911, it was proposed and carried that each member furnishes six poles and a day’s labor for two men to complete the line to Moscow and repair any portions of the line in need. With the poles and labor in place, the telephone line into Moscow was completed.
With the line complete, the company had time to finalize their company planning. The by-laws were approved on March 16, 1911, and punishments were set for disturbances on the line. Now that people could use the telephone to communicate, they came up with some interesting uses for the phone. A list of telephone priority use from the Woodland & Rural Telephone Company that were printed in The Daily Idahonian' shows us some of the inventive ways people were using the home telephone, including some rules. 1. Sickness 2. Business 3. Visiting 4. When you want to call, take down the receiver, if the line is quiet say “waiting,” if no answer, ring. 5. Limit conversations to five minutes. No rubbernecking, keep quiet. 6. Phonographs and all other musical instruments are strictly prohibited on this line.
7. Central has the privilege to ring in on any conversation. 8. General alarm four long rings. 9. The switching fee must be paid in advance to the secretary of the company. Otherwise the fee becomes delinquent. 10. Please follow these rules. The Little Potlatch Telephone Company was established on March 8, 1924, when the Bylaws and Articles of Incorporation were approved. Their purpose was “to own and operate farmers’ cooperative telephone lines for the convenience, use, and benefit of farmers who are members of said corporation.” In Article II, Section 5 it states “Under no circumstance shall this corporation engage in business for profit;” The company also set a limit as to their existence stating in Article IV “The term for which this corporation shall exist is fifty years from and after the date of incorporation (December 27, 1923).” Similar to today when people pre-order phones and services members began paying their membership fee as early as 1922 (two full years before service was established). This level of community support showed the importance of the telephone to Latah County communities. This is only a small snippet of the overall history of the telephone (even as it pertains to Latah County). However, it is worth remembering that the telephone was a disruptive force that changed the way that people did business and communicated. I invite you to take a moment today when you check your smartphone for the 30th time today and reflect on the excitement that came from a home phone line only 100 years ago.
H R
ighway epair
by
Keith Crossler
H
ere in Latah County, we recently heard that the final construction on the Highway 95 project, south of town, should be moving forward for completion. As one of the first responders that service that remaining stretch of road, I was happy to hear the news. It has been quite controversial, but as someone who has seen the tragedies time and time again, I personally can’t wait until the construction is complete. I wouldn’t be able to tell you how many calls for help I’ve responded to over the years. I’ve seen car fires, fender benders, crashes with minor injuries, to the crashes that ultimately took someone’s life. While the route may not be what some wanted, it just really needed to be fixed. A new, safer road is what all of us need. It was a few years ago that we had a call in the early morning hours for a one vehicle roll over on Highway 95 South. A typical dispatch of a car that slid off the road at the bottom of Reisenauer Hill. The type of call we hear quite often. The current road tilts the wrong direction and it’s easy for a driver to lose control on slick roads, then end up in the ditch. Unfortunately, right at the bottom of the hill, there is a large open area that cars will tumble into and continue to roll down the embankment. This was one of those calls. We had one person trapped in the car. I got up and quickly got dressed, calling into the station closest to my house. Another member also called in so we had a crew for the rural fire response. Into our gear and we were out the door and headed to the scene. There were also a couple of members who called into the rural station, so we ended up with two pumpers rolling on the call. Extra hands is always nice to have when you have a crash off the roadway. Getting a patient up an embankment to the ambulance can be challenging, so more hands are welcomed. With the confirmed entrapment, the rescue company had been activated and the crews were also forming for their response. Winter calls can really be challenging. Obviously if the roads are bad enough that there is a car crash, we have to be careful to make it to the crash on those same roads. I remember it was very icy that morning. Upon our arrival, our on-duty Captain gave us the assignment to run up to the top of the hill and lay out some flares. This was to hopefully give attention that there was an incident going on and other drivers would approach with caution. We then came down to the crash and parked our engine off the road and out of the way the best that we could. Our ambulance folks were out with vehicles, doing their best to keep the patient warm and keep her calm as we waited for the rescue truck to arrive. We had generated a plan for the extrication so once they arrived, we could quickly grab the tools and get to work. Once they parked, I quickly gave them the rundown on the plan and we were off. We all filled our hands with all the equipment we would need. First out was the stabilizing struts. Stabilizing the car is absolutely necessary on any extrication. We have to ensure that the car won’t move for two major reasons. First, for the patient as we don’t want he/she to be injured any more due to the car moving. Second, for the workers. If the car were to move or roll more, it could crush someone before they even realized it was happening.
IDAHO GROWN. IDAHO PROUD. (family included.)
Since 1939.
As that was being worked on, the rest of us packed down the Jaws of Life™, the large cutters, a hydraulic ram (in case we needed to push the dash up), and the power unit. This is another situation when the extra hands are nice. Those tools aren’t light, especially when you are on uneven and snowy terrain. Just as the crew was finishing up with the stabilizers, we were ready to go and had everything laid out with the tools. First was to remove the driver’s door. This would give us access to the patient and allow us to see if there would be anything else that was needed in order for her to be removed from the car. Extrication is really an art when it comes to finding access points and where/how to gain the necessary areas to begin the removal. In this case, there weren’t any natural open options after the crash occurred. The Jaws were used to try and “pinch” the front fender to make the gap needed to get into the door. After a couple of unsuccessful attempts, I grabbed onto the fender and realized it was loose. I pulled on it and to my surprise, I ripped the whole thing off of the car. This never happens. The fender appeared to be fiberglass and must have been a replacement that was used from a previous repair. Well this now gave the perfect access point to start working on getting the driver’s door off. With little work, the Jaws easily popped the door off its hinges. With a quick cut of the electrical connection, the door was free and moved away from the crash. There weren’t any other obvious reasons that the patient would be trapped, so the EMT’s rushed back in and began the process to remove her from the car. Since they had already made contact and worked on the patient, the removal went fairly quick. Once she was out and ready, we all worked together to get her up the embankment and to the waiting (and warm) ambulance. Another successful extrication and the patient was on the way to the hospital to be checked out. The rest of us worked together to clean up all the tools and put everything back on the truck. I remember as we had been working, hearing the sounds of traffic on the highway. Some cars would slowly drive by while others would skid and slide as they came around the blind corner and see all the flashing lights. Just after my engine had left, our Captain come across the radio and reported something that you would never want to hear. The second engine had just been hit by another car. Like the others that were going too fast, this one locked up his brakes and slide into the driver’s side of the engine. We turned around and went back. We had to make sure everyone was okay! Fortunately, everyone was uninjured and the damage to the engine was very minor. The driver of our engine had just closed the door and released the brakes to leave when he saw the pickup sliding at them. Absolutely scary to think about if it would have been a split second sooner. The outcome could have been very different for sure. Another great example of why the new construction is much needed. That stretch of highway is considered one of the most deadly in the State. Even if you don’t agree with how or why the new route was chosen, I think it’s safe to say that we just need that new, and safer, highway in place sooner rather than later.
Dark Temptation Cupcakes
a valentine’s treat
½ cup unsweetened cocoa powder ½ cup light brown sugar 1 teaspoon instant coffee 1 cup hot water ½ teaspoons salt ½ teaspoon baking powder ½ teaspoon baking soda 1 stick softened butter ¾ cup sugar 1½ cups flour 2 teaspoons vanilla extract For the frosting: 2 eggs 4 ounces cream cheese 4 ounces dark chocolate melted ½ cup butter ½ cup unsweetened dark cocoa powder 1½ cups powdered sugar 1 teaspoons vanilla extract ¼ teaspoon salt Black gel food coloring Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Mix together the cocoa powder, instant coffee, brown sugar, and hot water. Set aside. In a separate bowl, mix the flour, salt, baking powder, and baking soda together and set aside. Cream the butter and sugar together, beating well until fluffy. Add the vanilla. Add eggs, one at a time with a cup of the flour mixture alternating the eggs. Mix in the flour mixture followed by half the cocoa mixture followed by the cocoa mixture (alternating until fully combined). Place in a lined or greased muffin tin and bake for about 20-25 minutes, or until a cake tester comes out clean. Cool completely before frosting. In a large bowl, beat the melted chocolate with the softened butter and cream cheese. Add the cocoa, vanilla extract, salt and ½ cup of the powdered sugar, adding another ½ cup of the sugar until smooth and desired consistency. Add the black food coloring a little at a time (mixing in between) until the color deepens. Serve to your sweetie and enjoy!
Home&Harvest
Kitchen: Dee Summerlin
Jan/Feb 2019 31
Kitchen: Emory Ann Kurysh Makes 2 loaves Ingredients: 2 cups warm water 1/2 cup white sugar 1 ½ tbsp active dry yeast 1 ½ tsp salt ¼ cup canola oil 6 cups all purpose flour
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-----------------------------Traditional Amish Bread Steps: Mix the warm water and sugar in a large bowl until sugar is dissolved. Next, stir in the yeast and set aside for at least 10 minutes, or until mixture becomes quite foamy. Then add salt, oil, and flour one cup at a time until the dough forms a nice consistency. Remove from bowl and knead on a floured surface. Once smooth, place in a large, oiled bowl, coating the dough once over. Cover with a tea towel and let rise for approximately one hour. Punch the dough down, then remove from bowl. Cut in half. Form into two smooth loaves, and place each one in a well-oiled loaf pan. Cover, and let rise for an additional 30 minutes. Place both in oven and bake at 350°F for around 40 minutes. Do not refrigerate.
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$10
BROKE date
bougie dinner
This love story takes place in a bachelor pad, a married couple’s card table, a best friend’s kitchen, or a lovely night of you and your cat. The judgy holiday: Do I even need to name this Hallmark occasion? Your budget: What you can make out of the free hot sauce packets from Taco Bell. Your desire: To make a special, tasty meal that is going to brighten the mouths and hearts of the ones who eat it. See the thing is, you don’t need to spend a lot of money to make a great meal! I’ve compiled a list of ingredients with the cheapest local prices I could find, including a few options to upgrade your dinner. Even with all of the upgrades, you can create a wonderful meal for under $20. $1.39 | 1 pound spaghetti $3.50 | 1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil $1.48 | 1/2 cup bread crumbs (You can make this if you don’t want to buy it! Let the heels of your bread dry out and crumble it if you wish, just scrape the mold off first… kidding!) $.50 | 2 to 3 cloves of garlic minced (If you plan on kissing your date, just make sure you both eat the spaghetti or someone is going to pay the bad breath price.) $2.59 | 1/2 teaspoon dried red pepper flakes (If you’re a bachelor and you DON’T have this seasoning, I am at a loss. I never knew a dude who didn’t put this on his pizza, including my dad, who puts so much on he begins to sweat like a wild monkey and seems oblivious to his wife and daughters starting at him in gross fascination.) Heat a large pot of water to boil. If you don’t know how to boil water, YouTube this EXACT video (type carefully and it's case sensitive) and think about your life:
youtu.be/Uj1ykZWtPYI
When it reaches a rolling boil, salt the water and add the spaghetti, giving a few stirs to keep the pasta from clumping together. If you are on a date, be thoughtful and break the spaghetti into thirds before dropping it in the water. It will be easier to eat. No Lady and the Tramp moments, though, so you chase your dreams as you wish. Meanwhile, in a medium skillet, heat the olive oil and breadcrumbs over medium heat and toast the crumbs in the oil, stirring occasionally, until browned, about 3 minutes. Add the minced garlic and continue cooking until garlic is just fragrant and lightly colored… about 1 minute. Add the red pepper and cook until fragrant, about 30 seconds. You’ll know when your pasta is ready if it’s firm to the bite, so remove from heat and then drain it. Personally I used to always throw a piece against the wall to see if it stuck but the last time I did I couldn’t get it to come off the wall and so now there’s a permanent piece of noodle there. Toss the spaghetti with the oil, garlic, and breadcrumbs until evenly coated. Trust me, you don’t have to spend a lot to make a great impression to create a delicious, thoughtful dinner. Here are a few ideas if you have a little more than $10 in your pocket. My last tip? Parsley. If you buy it fresh, it’s only about $.35. Chop it up and sprinkle it on everything. Upgrade 1: Shrimp $7 Upgrade 2: Chicken $6 Caesar Salad Kit: $2 Barefoot Cabernet: $5
Home&Harvest
by Heather Niccoli
Jan/Feb 2019 35
Em ory
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Gluten free
cream puffs with dairy free coconut custard and carob cocoa Icing
Kitchen: Brooke Lounsbury 1 cup water 1/2 cup butter 1 cup gluten free flour mix(see below) 1/2 tsp xantham gum 4 eggs Preheat oven to 400 degrees Thoroughly mix flour blend and xantham gum together. Set aside. Place water and butter in a saucepan and heat until rolling boil. Remove from heat. Add flour mix all at once, stirring vigorously. Place in mixing bowl. Add eggs, one at a time, using hand held or stand mixer to incorporate eggs into the flour mixture. Once thoroughly mixed let stand for 10 minutes while you prepare a cookie sheet lined with parchment paper. Using a large tablespoon or ice cream scoop drop batter onto parchment paper. Bake for 20 minutes. Check puffs. Continue baking until slightly golden brown. Remove from oven and cool on rack. Gluten free flour blend: 24 ounces white rice flour 7.5 ounces brown rice flour 7 ounces potato starch 3 ounces tapioca starch Mix ingredients thoroughly together. Store in airtight container. Note- it is important to weigh ingredients to get a consistent flour texture. Filling: 15.5 oz can full fat coconut milk 5 egg yolks 1/2 granulated sugar 1/4 cup tapioca flour 1 tbsp vanilla extract. Heat coconut milk until just simmering. Mix egg yolks, sugar and tapioca together. Add 1/2 cup coconut milk. Mix until smooth. Use a whisk. Pour the egg mixture into the coconut milk while briskly whisking. Cook over medium heat until mixture thickens and is bubbly. Remove from heat. Pour into bowl. Let cool slightly then place plastic wrap over top of custard to prevent thick film forming. Refrigerate at least 2 hours. Carob cocoa icing 1/4 cup carob 1/4 cup cocoa 2- 4 tbsp maple syrup to taste Mix all together, slowly add water to desired consistency To assemble puff: Cut puff horizontally in half. Scoop out extra cooked dough to make room for custard. Place 2 tablespoons custard in puff, put top on. Drizzle icing on top. Refrigerate for 30 minutes. Enjoy!
Home&Harvest
Jan/Feb 2019 38
butterflies brats
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by
to ny ni cc ol i Home&Harvest
Welcome to 2019! Happy New Year and thanks for reading my little column. If you have been with me for the last few years, then you know we have covered both recipes and techniques. I try to make this article something that can benefit experienced grillers and new first timers as well. But this year I want to string all 6 issues together to allow for more progression. So for 2019 our goal together is simple. We will use each issue to build just a little in complexity and grilling technique and go from mastering the most basic cooks to inventing our own recipes and feeling comfortable branching out to use new meats and veggies. And to start, we are going to pay a visit the wonderful world of grilling sausage. There are several wonderful ways to properly grill a sausage – and just as many wrong turns that can leave you disappointed. The two most common mistakes are extremes in heat. First, you worry about serving under-cooked pork, so you throw that gas grill on high, or build a colossal pile of charcoal in your kettle, and you start grilling directly over the heat while it is at its peak temperature to insure a good cook. You already know the results from this one. The outside will be burned to a blackened crisp and the inside will be raw. They will also most likely burst open, so all the liquefied fats will run out taking the flavor with them. That will cause an even bigger flair up on the grill when the combustible fat hits the flame, and you’ll naively say something like “ya, these babys are really cooking now – that smells great”. But in the end, you’ll cut them open to find the insides still pink so they will stay on the flame until hard, overcooked, devoid of flavor, and you’ll be forced to pretend that you enjoy soot as a seasoning. Never again my friends. Never again.
Jan/Feb 2019 41
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The second wrong turn is going too far in the opposite direction. You decide to cook over low heat, and do it way too slowly. You cook, and cook, and cook, and in the end they look perfect – plump and juicy with just a little bit of color starting on the outside. Maybe at this point you even decide to blast them over high heat to speed up that caramelization and get some pretty grill lines. But as soon as they come off the heat, they shrivel like an old balloon. All the moisture that had been expanding and plumping the inside cools and the skin contracts into a wrinkled, chewy protective armor. They boiled fats don’t return to the meat, instead they cool against the casing and create a greasy mess that surrounds grey, dry, and flavorless meat. Never again. Today we start the journey to being better on the grill with a few simple techniques for amazing sausages. Let’s start with the most basic – just throwing them directly on the grill. You can do this with any type of hotdog or sausage, and whether you are just warming a precooked brat, or fully cooking a fresh sausage, this will produce a finished product you’re happy to serve. Start with medium-low heat. Somewhere around 325-350, and create an indirect zone. You can put the sausages directly over this lower heat, and move off the flame area if you have any flare-ups or if you want to keep them warm before serving. Don’t puncture them – it won’t do anything to speed up the cook, or make sure the middle is finished. The puncture or cut just allows the fat and juices to escape and leave a dry and bland result. With the medium heat you should be just starting to get a good caramelization, browning the outside as you are getting to 145 degrees in the middle. You want the finished sausage to get to 160 in the center, but past that you start to very quickly lose both flavor and moisture. I ususally pull mine just after 145 and allow a 3 minute rest for the carry-over cooking to do its magic. Even though I have them off the grill, the internal temperature will still slowly rise and finish them off for me without going over. These are so easy to make, anyone can be confident that they are juicy and completely cooked. Another option that gives you more room to try a split or less worry about undercooking, is using a parboil technique. To do this, just put your sausages in a pot of cold water, and slowly bring them to heat on the stove. By the time the water is simmering, but not fully boiling, they will be cooked on the inside. The skin will be tightening a little, and the interior fat will be just starting to fully liquefy. Now you can put them on the grill with a shorter cook time, and a guarantee that you won’t have a raw center. You can use a little higher heat to get a quick browning and crisping of the exterior, and even butterfly them if you like the caramelized texture on both sides. I do this with fresh Italian sausages when I’m going to make sandwiches with peppers and onions so I have a better texture to compliment all the other soft ingredients. Just cut them down the center the long way, about 75% of the way through to the other side and leave a little still attached. Then you can flatten them and start your cook with the casing side down.
The insides are already cooked and firmed up from then parboil, so they won’t just spill out losing all the flavor. This will make them a little dryer than a traditional cook, but for some uses that can be a great thing. You only need a few minutes on each side, and you get a firm, almost crispy texture that makes a perfect complement to a softer bun and some cooked peppers that still have just a little crunch. If you don’t want to have the extra texture and caramelization, you can just grill the full sausage without any split or puncture until you have the desired color with no worry about being undercooked. And our final technique is the both the easiest, the most delicious, and something that will have your family and friends raving about the results. This will take you from grill novice to looking like you have years of experience in one quick and easy to arrange pan. We start with a parboil like the last recipe, but then move to a disposable aluminum pan, and add some seasoning and liquid based on the type of sausage that we are cooking. For Italian, just go ahead and add your favorite sweet peppers and onions to the grill first. Once you have them charred just a little, move them to the pan and then add the sausages on top. The peppers will continue to add moisture and the sausage won’t dry out. For a German variety, start your pan with one beer, a ¼ cup of a grainy spicy or mustard, and a pound of sauerkraut (along with all of its liquid). Add plenty of salt so that the brats keep flavor while simmering. Once you finish your parboil the sausages go in and you finish the cook on the grill. You want to set up dual zone heat, with one side cold and the other at medium-high heat and have your pan directly over the hot side. Let it all cook down, and turn the sausages occasionally, watching to see that it simmers, but never cooks up to a boil. If it starts to get too hot, just move the pan off of the heat for a minute. You can even do this instead of the parboil if you feel confident, just be sure to cook until all the sausages show at least 145 internal temperature, so you know you will hit 160 before serving. To finish them, slide the pan to the cool side of the grill and put the sausages directly over the hot side to brown the skin. Once you get the level of caramelization and grill marks you want, just move them back to the pan until you are ready to serve. You can keep them here for a while to time dinner, and any late guests can just have one re-warmed before it is served. The peppers or sauerkraut are the perfect complement and will be ready to serve along with the sausage so everything is timed perfectly. You just pulled off dinner for a large group, with multiple items from the grill, all hot and ready at the same time! And it was even something you could set up a little early, and then hold until your family or guests are ready to eat. That’s a total success for any griller, and you are well on your way to building the confidence you need to make 2019 the year of the grill!
That Captured Words + Photos Christopher Bancroft
For years, I have been haphazardly spinning deer hair and chicken feathers around blank hooks with the intention of creating a fly that somewhat resembles an insect, in an attempt to fool a trout. I spent hours hunched over, eyes strained, fumbling with hooks that poked my fingers more than they did the inside of a fish’s mouth. Through the help of a few mentors and habitual piercings, I gradually became more capable behind the hook. The hairs and feathers eventually settled on the correct position and I began mass producing flies for myself and family. All of these flies were produced for one reason: to catch fish. They weren’t particularly attractive to the human eye, but fish seemed to find beauty in them. It wasn’t until I moved to the northwest that I was introduced to the art form of salmon flies. Flies that are meant to impress the angler just as much as they impress the fish and in some cases, they are spared from ever touching the water, for some of these flies have found their final resting place framed on a wall. The salmon fly is just what it sounds like, a fly used to catch salmon. Being an anadromous fish, they swim up into rivers from the ocean. During this period of spawning, the fish have one thing on their mind, and it is not eating. This presents a challenge to the angler because conventional tactics of using imitations of food sources do not suffice. Fortunately for the angler, it seems that the frustration salmon feel about fighting the current for hundreds of miles cause the fish to be easily irritable, presenting an opportunity. When a brightly colored, obnoxious, pulsating fly bumps the hook-jawed fish in the nose, it has no choice but to react with an aggressive bite.
the World
Flies as we know them have been documented being castoff by the English since the 13th century, but the birth of extravagant salmon flies can be traced back to the British Isles during the early 19th century. With the expansion of the British empire came the inevitable spoils. The English fleet crossed oceans, carrying imports that the British lusted for, including sugar, tobacco and rum, but beneath the cases of liquor were feathers from exotic birds captured on far off expeditions. These feathers would start a revolution in the fly tying community of Britain, Scotland and Ireland, which has had a lasting impact even today. The fact that the sun never set on the British empire gave fly tiers access to brightly colored birds that had never flown the dreary hills of England. A single fly could have up to 30 different feathers and furs, encompassing species from several continents. It is a sad fact that when something becomes beautiful in the eyes of the beholder, it often dies from that very adoration. Birds that were once commonplace for traditional tying include; toucan, birds of paradise, and indian crow. Many of the feathers traditionally used for creating a historically accurate salmon fly are nearly impossible to get these days. Their beauty brought too much attention to humans and in response, governments have largely shut down the hunting of these birds, with good reason. This is not to say that these feathers are impossible to find, feathers from birds considered endangered are no longer harvested at the source, instead plucked from taxidermy birds and Victorian style hats from the 19th and 20th century. A limited supply means a higher price tag, and one fly can end up costing well over one hundred dollars. While I actively seek out hard-to-find feathers, many of my flies are made with materials that are easier to come by and in some cases, locally sourced. Chukar, quail, and turkey are all commonly used to create salmon flies and the materials that cannot be bought or shot locally can be found online through private sellers and taxidermy shops. The journey to create the spectacular flies used by our ancestral anglers is a never ending pursuit and perfection is nearly impossible to achieve. The time and effort that is poured into sourcing materials and tying them onto a hook in a visually satisfying manner becomes a job in itself. The reward comes when your final wraps of thread cover the last feather on the hook and a complete fly is staring back at you. As the weather begins to go south with the birds, my time spent tying flies increases. I will spend an entire day creating one extravagant fly that will find its final home inside a shadowbox frame, never to see the water. The end result will be one fly, carrying the story of all the animals incorporated on the hook with hundreds of years of history behind it. Feathers and hooks still embed themselves into my carpet, the same as when I began, but my creations have altered. The hunt to create new flies with unique feathers is long from over.
the proudest
any mama
would be
DAWN EVANs by
During every fall in my childhood, our house was filled a familiar theme. Hunting season. In the corners stood rifles ready for their jobs to fill tags and freezers. Various paraphernalia sat on the table awaiting to be packed up in the pack frame. My mama would get a hearty lunch packed and help organize the gear. Then morning came so early and she would willingly get up before dad and make coffee and breakfast and see him off on the day’s journey. What I don’t think they realized, was I always knew when he got up. I sat in my bed listening to their conversations. Wondering where he was going. What his plan was. Wondering why I wasn’t going. Wishing so bad I could be part of these adventures. Hearing the door close and Jeep head out up the road, I knew this too was in my blood. One day I will go, I thought. When the rest of my family got up, I asked mama, “Mama, why can’t I go with dad?” She gently replied, “Dawn, the guys go out, you’re too young. You have to stay here.” Heartbroken I was a girl, I always waited to hear the Jeep return and see what dad had harvested. Sometimes nothing, and sometimes we all got to hang in the shop around the creature while dad relived the day's adventure that I was so jealous to not be able to be a part of. But I would stay out there in the shop until I couldn’t feel my fingers for I would not allow myself to miss out on anymore of these hunting opportunities. As I got older, my father realized how much I wanted to be with him out there, so he invited me to go. I remember being up before anyone because I couldn’t sleep the night before. This was better than Christmas! When I hunted with him, I tried so hard to never complain about anything. Even if I couldn’t feel my hands or feet. Or if I was starving. But he always seemed to know what I needed and when. Just when I was sure I was going to die of starvation, out came the potato chips. Or that beautiful World's Finest Chocolate bar, the one with the nuts. One time, my feet were so frozen, he took my boots off and started a fire to warm my toes. I fell asleep on long sits, only to awaken to my dad’s sudden movement as he raised his rifle to shoot a deer. But he made me work! Gutting, skinning, packing and dragging. God, I loved it all. I was finally part of the coolest thing in the world.
So now that I had a daughter of my own, from a pretty young age I would make her hunt with me. What a little trooper, I tell you. All day long she would follow me around as I showed her things I knew in the woods. When the time came to pull out food, I knew exactly what she was thinking as I unpacked the chips. When she got older we had some pretty heartfelt conversations out there waiting for animals. Alas the time came that she was able to carry her own rifle and try to harvest her own. I bought her a single shot .223. The first deer she shot with that, we had a devil of a time trying to find him. Thinking we lost her first deer, we both cried at the potential loss of not only the animal, but that we possibly had only wounded it, unable to retrieve it. Knowing that she’s a damn good shot, I kept going back and looking. I’ll never forget the tears in her eyes when she said to me “Mama I missed it. It’s not here” and I’ll be dammed if I didn’t find that guy just fifty yards the one way we didn’t happen to look. One shot. Dead. And the look on her face when she walked up to that little buck. Held its long ago life. And cried. Thankful for him. Jeez, I’m tearing up writing this. Since then, she’s harvested quite a few more! Proving what an excellent shot she is and what a trooper she is to adventure all day. She even insisted she drag it out herself. I'm so happy she loves this like I do. But the time came for her to graduate and move away. One day I got a phone call from her asking me if she could come home and hunt this last season. My heart soared! Most college students are partying and worried about their social life while mine wanted to return home to fill her own freezer and adventure once again. I informed her, this year will be very different for we will be hunting with John and learning more than we ever had. She was so excited! She flew home, and we drove to my camp. Spent just one night up there hunting for elk with just no luck. I had been there for a week before with just no luck myself so we went with John the next day from another angle and we lucked out into a small herd and chased the spike right to John's .300 he named the Reaper. God I love this man! Hayla helped pack and skin and was ready to go out that afternoon for her deer. Truth be told we were both discouraged that we couldn’t get a shot on an elk, but sometimes you’re just not at the right place at the right time. A great life lesson. John drove us to a real special spot that is near a farmer's field that the deer like to come and go. I had lovingly informed him that she wanted to do most of this herself so he had us stand by a tree in an open clearing, while he went over the hill to another area to glass. Now Hayla and I were literally standing in the open. I told her we needed to not move at all for any passing deer would most certainly see us. She nodded in silence. Not long after we arrived, a nice three point stared right at us from the tree line over a hundred yards away. She looked at him through her scope and said, “Mama that’s too far for me to shoot.” I admired her ability to see a nice creature and make the ethical call to let him go based on her own personal abilities. About a half hour after that, a forkhorn buck trotted unknowingly by us at fifty yards. Slowly raising her new .06 who doesn’t have a name quite yet, she said to me, “I’d like to wait and see if I can find a bigger one.” Ha! I laughed a little. I said to her, “Never have we been this blessed to pass up a buck to maybe be able to get a bigger one!” She agreed that we were blessed to be able to hunt this great place with lots of good deer.
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Dusk was upon us with just under a half hour of legal shooting light remaining. Getting fidgety from standing that long, we both knew to hold tight for this is the witching hour. When the big guys come out to play. Lo and behold, a nice buck came from our left. She slowly raised her rifle to see.
I whispered “ Looks like a four point, are you gonna take him?” And she responded with a simple, “Yes”. I covered my ears as I was standing right next to her and didn’t want my ear drums blown out, and waited for the crack of the rifle. What honestly seemed like an eternity which was probably only ten seconds, the immense boom came, and the buck was down. I’m yelling, “You got him! You got him!” while she jacked another round and took off towards him. John comes out of nowhere and sees that the buck is down and insisted that no follow up shot was needed. I wasn’t so sure but didn’t want to waste any meat. And I’ll be dammed if that buck didn’t get up and take off! John yelled, “DAWN! KILL HIM!” Seriously about shit my pants for this shot is hard at a hundred yards, running away, but I clicked off the safety, said a prayer and spined the deer. Down he went. I can’t believe I hit him. Hayla yelled, “You saved my deer!” And she made sure that deer didn’t go any farther. As we got to admire her buck, he was a nice 5X5! Hayla was shaking and exclaimed over and over what a beautiful creature this was. Upon examination, her first shot was fatal, but we didn’t want to track into the underbrush and as all you hunters know, sometimes they can and will run far on a fatal shot. Hayla gutted him and I helped drag it out on the game cart John so nicely retrieved for us. When we got home, she skinned and cleaned the animal with John as he taught her all he knew while I made dinner, happy to have someone else teach her even more about this amazing sport. Hayla butchered that whole deer herself over the next few days, while John and I continued to hunt. As I saw her off to fly back home, I just though to myself how much hunting has not only taught me about life, successes, failures, exhaustion, exhilaration, triumph and shame, but how I have helped teach her the same things to help her through her own life. Not to mention the feeling of accomplishment to fill your own freezer. Yes, even being a girl. Especially being a girl! So a big special thanks to the men who taught us that girls can do it too. To say I’m proud of my daughter is putting it mildly. She’s one tough lady. Home&Harvest
Jan/Feb 2019 51
By
Joe Evans
Long range rifle shooting is indeed a fascinating, fun, and all too often frustrating endeavor. In the years around 1900 with the advent of smokeless powder in the United States, the military did much to advance long range shooting. Our military rifles of this era were 30 caliber and included the 30-40 Krag 30-03 and 30-06 Springfield. All used .308 diameter bullets. The 6mm Lee Navy was not seriously considered. For quite some time the 0-06 ruled the roost until 1935 when the Wimbledon Cup was won by a civilian marksman using the 300 H&H magnum. Life changed! Various 30 magnums ruled the roost in 1000 yard work and the 7.62 AKA 308 Winchester dominated 300 to 600 yard matches. With all this development, much of what was military around the 30 caliber, there was not much incentive to look at other bore diameters. Remember, the military was in love with the 30 caliber. Overseas, things were different. The Nordic countries were using the 6.5x55 Swedish Mauser as a military cartridge, and .264 was the bullet diameter. Recoil of this number was considerable less than a 30 and the 6.5x55 enjoyed much success overseas, both on the target range and hunting fields. Once again, things changed in the US. Long range tactical style shooting has recently become very popular. This sport usually requires much shooting at ranges not usually exceeding 1000 yards, multiple targets, time limits, changing courses of fire, and often times are shot on impromptu scabland or desert ranges with, let us say, changing environmental conditions. 7MM, 30, and 33 caliber cartridges were the early on favorites. They do well, but recoil of these usually magnum cartridges can be a little grim. Long strings with these rounds can make the drool drip off your chin, and snot run out of your nose. I know, I shoot a 10 pound 300 Winchester Sporter as well as a 12.6 pound 340 Weatherby. However, when I shoot the 340 you can oftentimes add to the drool and snot, blood dribbling into the eye caused by scope rapidly meeting eyebrow. Enter the 6.5! The 6.5x55 Swede has long enjoyed match quality, wind bucking bullets comparing very well with the larger diameter bullets. As well, the recoil is much less. Shooter fatigue and injury is greatly reduced. But wait, the only problem is a standard length action must be used. Since about 1950, the king of US accuracy actions is the short Remington 722 or short 700 type of action. Hornady to the rescue! A few years ago they designed the 6.5 Creedmoor. Fits the short actions and duplicates the ballistics of the good ol’ 6.5x55. Problem solved and the 6.5 Creedmoor is the current king of this sport, loaded with high ballistic coefficient Hornady ELD or Berger match bullets, it is virtually unbeatable at this sport. It also makes an extremely good medium game cartridge. Its ballistic twin 6.5x55 has also been popular overseas for game as large as moose.
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As well, I do know a retired military sniper in Sandpoint who has done some extraordinary shooting with the Creedmoor up to around 2000 yards. All things to all people. Well, not quite in my opinion. It is absolutely ideal for the long range shooting games and medium game hunting and should have much military appeal. However, consider how and where much military sniping occurs, long range, yes, extreme range, barricades and body armor at range. Also, it is also used against what can only be described as barbarians. If I need to stop a barbarian I would feel far better with a 284, 308, or 338 bore diameter. Bigger is better! 416 to 50 caliber would be better yet! Back to target shooting. This is a short, low body taper case with a sharp shoulder that operates at high pressures. The low body taper reduces case-head thrust against the bolt, which really isn’t much of a problem with modern gun steels. The sharp shoulder and ample case neck reduces potential for increased barrel throat erosion--longer barrel life. The sharp shoulder will also reduce the need for case trimming, a real bonus to handloaders. By the way, this round does come from the factory with match grade components as well as reloading data so you can duplicate the excellent factory load. On the downside, this type of almost rectangular case design can cause cartridge feeding problems so make sure your weapon functions flawlessly. As far as the short action is concerned, this permits the use of an inch or so more barrel to give you a few more feet per second velocity. As far as the short action is concerned with accuracy, I am a little skeptical if this is a real advantage. Remember, the 700 style action gained fame on the 100 yard line with the 222 cartridge. How large were these groups? Let’s say the short action will buy you on average .050 inch at 100 yards. At 1000 yards this translates into .5 inch. Big deal, even if the short action bought you this much. Good cartridge, this 6.5 Creedmoor and definitely here to stay. But, I think I would prefer the 6.5 – 06 Ackley improved. I used to trapshoot at Culdesac and a friend there had one built up. Don’t know all the details of his gun but I do know it was built on a post-64 M70 action and ad a Pac-Nor barrel built on a full length 30-06 case and requires a long action. The 6.5-06 Ackley is hot on the heels of the 264 Winchester and would definitely be a force to be reckoned with. Another popular 6.5 is the 6.5x284. A powerful short action cartridge it is, and currently enjoys much popularity. My always cloudy crystal ball states that the 6.5x284 will wane in popularity. Although the short action low recoil cartridges are the current king, there exists a demand for more horsepower. Ruger recently introduced a very shoot-able chassis rifle in both 300 Winchester and 338 Lapua which, I am told is a pleasure to shoot. Custom rifle builders will put together most anything you want. Next time around I’ll talk a little about some of these cannons as well as cast bullets in the 300 Winchester. Yep, cast bullets in a long-range cannon!
Beautiful Downtown Lewiston 2019 Calendar of Events
The Price is Right Downtown March 1
An annual The Price is Right-themed fundraiser that helps our organization fund the free community events we host throughout the year.
Wedding Walk April 13
Downtown businesses and independent exhibitors gather along Main Street to showcase their goods and services to soon-to-be brides and grooms.
Refresh the Valley
April 20
BDL partners with the Lewis Clark Valley Chamber of Commerce and Lewiston Parks & Recreation for spring cleaning and beautification projects.
Hometown Pep Rally
May 18
Lewis Clark State College fans gather to meet and cheer on the Warrior baseball team ahead of the Avista NAIA World Series.
Sound Downtown First Fridays, June-October
A summer concert series held in Brackenbury Square on the First Friday of the month that showcases the best of our local musical talent.
Downtown ArtWalk October 4 & 5
Over 30 downtown businesses open their doors to regional artists to display their work, offer wine tastings and host local musicians.
Pumpkin Palooza October 26
Free, family-friendly fall festival with games, activities, contests, farmer's market, and The Great Pumpkin Roll!
Small Business Saturday November 30
Downtown merchants invite the community to "shop small" and support their local economy by offering specials and a raffle for prizes.
Bundle Up Downtown December 7 & 14
Free, family-friendly events, performances, and activities on the first two Saturdays of December. For more information, visit www.beautifuldowntownlewiston.org
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Ode Tallulahbell photos + words ashley peel It isn’t often you ever find your dream car. It’s even more rare to actually own it. Sure, we grow to love our cars, as I did with the first 4Runner my dad gave me when I was 16 or 17. It was jade green. I didn’t love the color, at first, but by the time I totaled it—as many young drivers do—in a four-car pile-up, I had grown to love its color. But I grew to love my next 4Runner, too. A white one I tatted up with stickers of all the surf brands I loved, wanting desperately to prove my surfer chick status even though I lived 250 miles from the coast. That 4Runner would take me through the rest of my high school years and my first year in college. From practices and parties to weekends in the mountains loaded with snowboarding gear and summers at the beach toting surfboards back and forth from island to mainland. And then I got my dream car. I’m picky, that’s a fact. Luckily, my dad has a knack for finding the specific car I wanted. He had done it for my sister—a white Celica—and he would do it again for me. Tracking down a yellow 4WD Xterra with a manual transmission. He bought it used from an older woman. The mileage was low and the interior immaculate. This was 2008—she was eight years old. I named her Tallulahbell. I don’t know if anyone else has ever had such a connection with their car that I’m about to describe. She became a part of me, an extension of my personality. I was my yellow Xterra and my yellow Xterra was me. Of course, it wasn’t long before I tatted her up too: a Roxy sticker on the dash; Analog stickers on the side windows (a sunglasses brand that no longer exists), a Billabong sticker and another supporting a local surf shop, and a die-cut spelling out POSITIVE in Rasta colors. I had just moved out of the dorms at UNC Wilmington and was spending the weekend with my parents in Holden Beach about forty-five minutes south. The memory is foggy, as age blurs the lines, but I remember standing in the kitchen of our trailer-house as I watched my mum drive a yellow Xterra down the sand road and pull into our lot. I remember being mad about something unrelated. Were we running late for dinner? So when I saw the car, it didn’t register that it could be mine, I was more annoyed by my being on time and mum not being ready—or even home—to go to dinner. But then, it was mine. All mine. From that day on, I drove her a lot, over 200,000 miles kind of a lot. She went to music festivals, packed to the rim with a weekend’s worth of food and girls and the things girls think they need when they’re camping in a field drinking beer and swaying to melodies of different jam bands. At one particular festival—All Good—in the boonies of West Virginia, my friend and I unloaded and set up camp, stoked to be in the mountains and excited to see our friend’s band, Smooth Operation, perform at a festival. Having been on the road the better part of a day, and idling in line for another couple of hours, we were starving. We drank a few beers and snacked on chips and salsa. And within hours we were sick. Really sick. Not beer-bong sick, but food poisoning sick. When dawn broke, we had to make the heartbreaking call to go home. I’m pretty sure Tallulahbell drove me down the mountain that day as I struggled to get us to a hotel in between pulling over to empty our stomachs. And then there were the countless years of Merlefest, a huge bluegrass festival in the foothills of North Carolina. I had started going in high school, introducing my parents to the life of merging camping and live music and bonding over fires with strangers. One year, I left Wilmington after my last Thursday class, heading north as storm clouds formed on the horizon. As the sky darkened, the DJs warned over radio broadcasts that an intense storm was heading toward Wilmington and that anyone headed north on I-40 should turn around and wait it out. But I couldn’t turn around, Merlefest awaited.
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The rain began, fat droplets exploding on the windshield like shrapnel. Then came in sheets. At one point, I was driving 20 in a 65 and reconsidering my decision not to turn around. The thunder rumbled, shaking Tallulahbell. My palms sweated under the visegrip hold I had on the steering wheel. And in those terrifying moments when everything stops, the moments when you’re in a storm in an area where tornados aren’t uncommon, I contemplated how effective the pull-over-and-lie-in-a-ditch option was. Or should I outrun it. Tallulahbell handled the weather like she was meant for storm chasing. Never once did she seriously hydroplane or swerve too far with the wind. Maybe I should be speaking to my driving abilities, but I’d like to think we had a mutual understanding: I’ll take care of you, if you take care of me. We made it to Merlefest and on the drive home the aftermath of the tornado—yes, one did touch down—could be seen on the side of the highway. The memories weren’t all bad, though. There were weekends spent camping on Carolina Beach, when I knocked her into 4-wheel low for the first time and wasn’t really sure I was doing it right. Or when we fled a flooding music festival in Sneedville, Tennessee and she didn’t even consider getting stuck in the bogged down field we had been camped in. But it wasn’t until we set out on our biggest adventure, yet, that her personality really began to shine. After graduating college and being accepted into a graduate program, literally, across the country, I loaded Tallulahbell with everything I deemed important and set off to plant new roots in Idaho. We took two weeks, driving 10-12 hours and stopping for a day or two to explore new cities. From Broad Ripple, a funky neighborhood in Indianapolis, to the University District of Chicago and on to Minneapolis, if city driving gave her similar anxieties as it did to me, you never would have known. In Casper, Wyoming I realized a box was missing from the roof, but it wasn’t her fault, and the hookah could be replaced. In the Badlands we survived another tornado warning, exiting the loop, having not seen much before the storm clouds rolled in dark as midnight and balls of hail beat her exterior. I didn’t know at the time we were driving through such mayhem. When my sister had looked up the weather she asked, “Do you want to know what it says?” I had replied with, “Not if we’re in some kind of tornado warning.” And she had promptly closed the weather app, as if that wasn’t evidence enough. Life in Idaho these past seven years has been full of adventures. I spent the first year exploring every corner of our patch of the panhandle. Dragging new friends along, I’d start her engine first thing Saturday morning and go until the sun went down. We’d get lost on country roads, hoping my theory of lostness, that every road eventually leads somewhere, would be proven true again. I saw my first wild, black bear on one of those meandering trips. Nearly running over the little cub as its mum looked on from a ditch. My first summer, Tallulahbell and I stuck to our music-festival roots and spent a weekend at Sasquatch. The next summer I got a puppy—a wee little Maltese named Falcor—and the adventure squad of two became three. The following spring, we struck out for the Oregon coast, spending a week hopping between coastal towns and cheap motels.
Later, we camped on the banks of the Lochsa and the shore of Lake Pend Oreille. We drove through white-knuckled blizzards to get first chair on the mountain and drank endless mimosas on the rear bumper. Another August the three of us picked up my mum from the Portland airport and drove into the Rogue River Wilderness to spend a week “roughing” it on a homestead with friends. The three-mile dirt “road” leading us to our cabin was full of ruts and bumps but Tallulahbell let her hair down and handled the dust. And if you read my piece on Steptoe Butte, you’d know that this trip in the Rogue wouldn’t be her last non-state-maintained road adventure. Her a/c went out one summer. And it wasn’t that I didn’t wanher in tip-top shape, but living in a place where a/c is really only needed if you’re going to take a long roadtrip in the month of August, I chose not to fix it. She didn’t have air for a couple of years. It was July. I was driving a group of girlfriends back from a wine festival. Windows down, hair blowing, one girl in the back trying not to blow chunks, when something flew into my braid. I reached up, flipping my braid, a subconscious reaction, when I felt a searing pain in my ear and neck. Going 70 mph, I reared up in the seat, swatting at the pain. Without even hitting the rumble strips in my initial reaction, I managed to pull over and jump out of the car, pulling my shirt over my head and dancing in I-justgot-stung-by-a-bee mania. Turns out, the little bastard stung me four times, but I didn’t wreck. I take care of her, she takes care of me. And then I had her A/C fixed. From North Carolina to Idaho, Canada to California, in those 200,000+ miles of friendship she only ever gave me one flat tire. My AAA card has gathered dust in the depths of my wallet, never having to call for roadside assistance. Sure, she needed some check-ups and some band-aids. From the head gasket to the TPS. But we had a pact: I take care of you, if you take care of me. A few weeks ago, though, Tallulahbell got a dire diagnosis, a laundry list of issues ranging from minor repairs to major labor totaling nearly five grand. At almost 19 years old, it was time to make a decision. With plenty of life left in her, I couldn’t just pull the plug, so to speak, so I fixed a third of the issues but started looking for a new car. Remember, I’m picky. And it’s even harder to find the next car you want, when you love the car you have. I still had my criteria: yellow Xterra with 4WD and manual transmission. In today’s car-buying world, that’s like looking for a needle in a haystack (forgive the cliché). I saw a meme the other day that said, “If we all switch to cursive and stick shift vehicles, we could wipe out an entire generation.” I laughed because I toe the line of the lost generation, but know that I would be spared. No one wants a stick, the new “manuals” don’t have a clutch and I wasn’t willing to go into extreme debt to buy a brand new car with everything I wanted. Plus, they stopped making Xterras in 2015. So when I came across a 2012 Xterra with only 63,000 miles on it and a manual transmission, I had to jump. She isn’t yellow and there’s a lot of breaking in to be had, but I think we’ll get along. If I’m being honest with myself, it’s only fate that I couldn’t find another yellow Xterra, because there can only be one Tallulahbell.
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I love winter. Snowy days that make you cocoon and enjoy the quiet beauty of the earth sleeping beneath the frozen ground. It’s a much needed rest to rejuvenate both plants and people. For Winter wheat, the process is called “Vernalization” wherein it requires a period of exposure of cold temperatures in order to trigger the plant’s reproductive development in order to produce a seed head. If the winter wheat doesn’t get that cold spell, it will remain vegetative. For me this season of cold is a time to work on self-care, reflect, as well as plan and assess if I am where I need to be. Far too long I bumbled along in life without a direction or strong focus on what was important to me. A job, the kids, the farm and just plain ole living kept me so busy that the last person that I thought to take of care was me. Sometimes my outlook on life needed a bit of tough love too. It’s hard to be "the rock” to others when you are depleted from so much giving of yourself. I believe self-care is not only important but critical. I also believe that your perceptions shape how you lead your life. Not long ago I had a mild health scare. When you receive a letter from the mammography department asking that you come in again for additional testing, well it’s fair to say your mind goes to scary places. And then my mind drifted back several years ago when I had a similar letter only it actually said the cancer word. And after a breast biopsy, I-
-was given a clean bill of health. That first letter forced me to take a hard look at my life and was the catalyst for making some very significant changes, not only in relationships but goals and making sure my time was spent on the right kind of things. As I held the current letter in my hand, I have to admit I was scared. And once again I took stock of my life and this time, I was blissfully content…but had the results been bad, the only change I would have taken was to retire early to enjoy my last days in the sun and enjoy those I love. Thankfully, the follow up results were fine but in those first moments of standing alone in my kitchen and taking a quick life self-assessment, it was a good exercise in self-reflection and knowing I was right where I needed to be. After that I decided it was time to start checking off items on my bucket list and start to experience more of life. I flew back to Maryland to visit my youngest daughter over the Thanksgiving break so she, her finance’ and I could travel to New York City to take in the Macy Day parade, the Rockettes, and Central Park. It truly was everything I saw on TV, the tall buildings, wall to wall people, driver’s honking impatiently at each other, and feeling the frenzied energy from the city that never sleeps. It gave me a deep appreciation for living in the Pacific Northwest with our wide open spaces and caring people.
On the way home I thought a lot about the differences of people’s lifestyles, urban vs. rural. And how we interact with one another in different settings. I wondered if people who live in areas that are so dense with people and traffic are happier than those who have wide open spaces? I also wondered how people who live in a concrete jungle, could imagine where your food came from, other than buying it at a sidewalk stand that sold fruits and vegetables. If you never knew anything but urban living, how would you know what it feels like to live in a rural setting? Feel and smell the dirt? See vast amount of spaces such as the rolling hills that sported wheat crops. Ultimately your outlook is shaped by so many factors and the more experiences had seems that a more informed viewpoint is likely. I guess my small town simple roots are showing, but all I know it that for me, it would be harder to thrive in the city. I need the open air of our beautiful Palouse. And that brings me to talk about something that recently came up. First, being in the Ag industry, I can assure you that farmers and ranchers as a whole are very aware of perceptions of how food is grown, as we have to defend our practices every day about what goes on your dinner table. And maybe from that I’m ultra-sensitive to perceptions from individuals as well as organized groups. So recently, Heather (our amazing editor in chief of this magazine) had made the comment that someone had sent her back her magazine with its pages all marked up and pointing out errors and mistakes. We wondered what the intent was, helpful criticism? Or malicious? It was unknown since it came to her anonymously. (Lord knows I sometimes need another eye to proof my articles as my mind thinks faster than I can type. And in all truthfulness, it is hard to edit one’s own work because you know in your mind’s eye what you meant to say. ) Nonetheless, I thought about the person who sent it, and felt sorry for them if all they were looking for were the mistakes, typos and errors and not enjoying the magazine for its stories from the regular everyday people who write and share their experiences and lives in their own words. When you look for the negative in any situation, well that is what you are going to see. I find the same is true when you look for good, then that is what you will see. It’s sort of like that old movie with Steve Martin, where he and his wife discover she’s unexpectedly pregnant in their 50’s. The next scene is where they are driving down the street after the doctor’s appointment and Steve looks out of the car window not really relishing becoming a parent again… and on his side of the street he only sees naughty misbehaving children and crying babies and the wife who is excited about the new human she is creating is looking at the other side of the street and sees smiling babies and parent’s relishing parenthood. Perspective, perception or whatever you want to call it is all about how you set your filter on your life’s lens.
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And as we begin 2019, my goal is to continue celebrating life with those who are in my family and social circle. And enjoying those small little everyday miracles that bring joy in my life. My sweetheart Rod and I have begun planning summer adventures that won’t include a majority of time spent with shovels or packing rocks… more like fishing, spending time on the water and playing as being a work-a-holic is hard on the body & soul. Another goal is to extend kind energy to all I come into contact with and strive to see best in people and situations. I’ll continue to work on helping tell the Ag story about extraordinary people whose livelihood puts food on our tables. Basically, you and I have the ability to enrich our lives and our relationships to others if we choose to see the good. And yes, I realize it’s easier said than done, but still worth the effort to try and just work towards being a better version of myself. As always, if you have any questions about how your food is raised or just want to touch base about anything I write, feel free to send me an email at swheatfarmlife@gmail.com. Wishing you a great start to 2019 and hope that you relish all the beautiful moments that come your way.
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Gayle