In a Rut

(rut:  the ditch variety, not the elk variety)

Have you ever been in a cooking rut where you cooked the same thing over and over? 

I have.

Actually, it was more like centrifugal force than a rut. 

Twice, it got so bad that even my kids complained.  The first time was due to a seafood bonanza sale when I went into a frenzy over large scallops that were $6/lb.  I bought 15 lbs, brought them home and vacuum packed them into 1 lb bags and froze them.  While I thought it possible that the scallops would last a year in the freezer cutely secure in their vacuum package, the thought of having absolutely no room in the freezer for that long was sort of a motivator to eat them more quickly.  Afterall, we had only a kitchen freezer.  Space for ice cream, chicken broth and leftovers was now becoming scarce.  So, once a week I made something with scallops:  scallop mousse, scallop scampi, scallop kabobs, scallop chowder,  scallop bruschetta, etc. 

After the second month of scallops, Number  1 daughter inquired what was for dinner when she got home from school.  Upon being informed we were having scallop lasagne, she exclaimed, “Scallops!  Again!?  Geez!”  And she lurked off to finish her homework with a bag of Oreos and a glass of milk.  “Hey, most kids don’t even get scallops once a year.  Most kids don’t even know what they are!  There are starving children in China who would love this!  You should be grateful,” I could be heard calling down the hallway.  This sort of reminded me of the hamburger lament at my household as a child.  Scallops:  the other hamburger.

The second time was actually worse, and it was inadvertent.  Our whole family loves veal shanks.  Our kids grew up sucking the marrow out the bones and dribbling osso bucco sauce down their chins. Mr. Artifacts’ mother introduced us to these, and we have been fans ever since.  I was hankering for some osso bucco, so I visited my favorite butcher Gino (at Antipasto’s in San Jose, CA)  and inquired about the possibility of some veal shanks.  There were none today, but he could get them by the end of the week.    Great, I need four. 



The Antipasto proprietors:  the Derose family.
Gino is the cute one with the mustache. 
The rest are his brothers and his mother.
(picture from San Jose New Neighborhood
Voice, see link in text.)

 At the end of the week, I went by to retrieve my veal shanks.  I piled the counter up with some sauces and pasta and wine that Gino had at the butcher store. Some friends came in and we chatted while Gino got my shanks.  There was so much visiting and talking that I never even looked at the credit card receipt. Gino was putting the bags into my car (why were there so many?), and I was saying goodbyes to friends.  Gino opened my car door and gave me kiss on the cheek (something new).  He asked, “Dear, what are you going to do with all these veal shanks?  Are you having a party?”   “No, no,” I replied.  “We just love them, and we will probably have my mother-in-law over for dinner.”  When I got home, I realized that I had just  bought 4 whole veal legs, all nicely cut into 2 inch chops (four!  from an entire baby cow!).  No wonder there were so many bags (kiss explained also). 

I gave my mother-in- law a whole bunch of these (shanks, not kisses). The rest went the way of the scallops:  osso bucco, ragout, shanks and chard in cream sauce, with beans and tomatoes, chili veal shanks,  shanks with peppers and paprika, etc.  Then came that fateful evening when the kids complained, “not veal shanks again!”  I think the last straw was when I tried to make bbq shanks.  I did get a lot of really great veal stock out of this adventure, though.

For the record, Mr. Artifact never complained.    That said, he is getting tired of quiches. . .a story for another time.

The Shakers, Endymion, Aristotle, Mr. Artifact, and Me

No, no, this is not a Neil Young song!  Stick with me, and you will understand.  Let's begin:

Hands to Work

Hearts to God

This is the Shaker motto. 

Although renowned for their practical, utilitarian furnishings and austere dress, the Shakers did have a very creative and colorful aesthetic.  Simple furniture was artfully crafted out of quality products highlighting the natural beauty of the object. While personal dress might be demure, the Shakers got their color groove on with decorative arts, such as chair seat weaving. (Chair Seat Weaving for Antique Chairs, Marion Burr Sober, 1964.) 

This appreciation for natural, understated beauty--a combination of quality, practicality and visual appeal--is the essence of the Shaker design tradition:  Natural beauty that one wants to be around and among for the sake of beauty itself.  This sounds reminiscent of the tale of Endymion retold by Keats:

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever.

Its loveliness increases; it will never

Pass into nothingness; but still will keep

A bower quiet for us, and a sleep

Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.

Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing

A flowery band to bind us to the earth,

Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth

Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,

Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways . . .

Now, the Shakers probably would not have taken to this comparison from the 1800's Keats poem, inspired by the ancient Greek myth of a gorgeous shepherd adored by the goddess of the moon, Selene.  It is Endymion the shepherd who is so beautiful that Selene begs her father Zeus to keep Endymion in a semi-immortal state and partially asleep so that she can entreat him. (He's apparently very handsome while sleeping--sounds like an Aerosmith song I recall--but another time--I digress.) They end up having 50 children! Oy vez!  

This  natural, unadorned beauty while sleeping is actually much like the Shaker aesthetic.  This concept is also aligned with the classical Greek ideal of beauty and the Aristotelian Golden Mean.  Natural, unadorned, devoid of posturing or extremes, the Golden Mean espoused by Aristotle held beauty as pure and the signature example of perfection of the form--neither ostentatious nor primitive. 

The Greeks ascribed to beauty these three attributes:

symmetry, proportion, and harmony. 

Coincidentally, the only class in college that Mr. Artifact and I took at the same time was Ethics--and we studied this concept of the Golden Mean.  I got a B+ (my best grade that semester).  He got an A.  I actually remember this stuff, and he actually does this stuff. (Hmmm. . . well, a B+ is pretty good.  OK, well, I write about it. How's that?)  I distinctly remember our professor discoursing on this theme and entreating us to visualize the perfect chair.  Seriously!  A perfect chair is useful and beautiful.    "What would that be?" he asked.  30 years later, I can say definitely, "It's a Shaker chair."

Basically, Aristotle's Golden Mean is an articulated place between two extremes that is the perfect position.  Moderation is the key virtue in this philosophy.   If you are an engineer I suppose you would call this the "angle of repose" (note to self:  blog about Wallace Stegner).  If you are a chair officinato, you'd call this a Shaker chair.

So, from the ancient Greeks to the Shakers, I bring you Mr. Artifact's renovation of the Shaker style chair.



This chair is one of a pair previously covered with a split wood basket weave.



The bottom had fallen out long ago in this chair. Mr. Artifact refinished the wood and re-wove the seat in cotton Shaker tape with a red and natural color.  In between the top and bottom layers is a foam cushion to give the chair more heft.  For techniques and materials, check out the basket makers catalog.  They have great on-line tutorials as well as all the materials you will need.

The Golden Mean is put to purpose.

 

Great chair for a banjolele concert and it even matches the barn!



In the interest of academic integrity, I must confess that I  had relational knowledge of all these factoids from my General Education undergraduate experience, but I refreshed this understanding with a visit to Wikipedia. But, thank God for a liberal arts education!  Usefulness is one thing, but understanding is. . . priceless.

P.S.  By the way, I do want to thank my elementary school teachers for instilling in me a profound understanding of Doric, Ionic and Corinthian column design.  I love you all! 40 years later, I  am still looking up when in old buildings to see evidence of your lesson plans!