elsa beskow

A big part of the Waldorf curriculum has to do with celebrating the rhythms of nature, including the seasons. We have a little nature table in our home which we change at the beginning of each season, then add to through the months. And since we are a family of bibliophiles, we love to read books about the seasons or which take place in specific seasons.

One of our favorite author/illustrators of seasonal tales is Elsa Beskow. Her illustrations are colorful and simple, but full of life. Always filled with magic, the main characters are often little wood sprites, fairies, or gnomes.

Elsa Beskow was born in Sweden in 1874. During her career, she wrote thirty-three picture books and illustrated eight collections of fairy tales, though she began writing for her family. Her first six books were for her children – one for each of her sons.

Here are some of our favorites:

Pelle’s New Suit This is my favorite, hands down (and sadly, one we don’t yet own). A simple tale of a boy who takes some wool and though a series of barters, get the wool made into a new suit. Lovely.

The Sun Egg Some of Beskow’s most charming illustrations and perhaps the cleverest story. An elf finds an orange in her woods and believes the Sun had laid an egg. What to do?

Woody, Hazel and Little Pip This might be Gwendolyn’s favorite -- I think she relates to the mischief these little wood sprites get into. A great Autumn book.

Ollie’s Ski Trip About a little boy who has the good luck of meeting Jack Frost and King Winter during a ski trip through the woods. We recently purchased a used copy and are excited about adding this to our Winter book collection.

Children of the Forest This story follows a family of wood sprites in their work and play through the seasons. A classic with beautiful illustrations of the natural world.

The Flowers’ Festival A Spring-time tale about the plants and flowers coming to life on Midsummer’s Eve. The book is a little long, but Gwendolyn loves it.

Look for Elsa Beskow during your next library visit!

fudge sauce

On a couple of occasions, I've gotten phone calls from members of the family who have wanted to make this quick and addictive fudge sauce, so I thought I'd put it here for easy reference, Dad.

The recipe comes from a beautiful cookbook called Maida Heatter's Book of Great Chocolate Desserts. I can recommend it heartily, though I've relied more upon fragments -- a sauce here, a mousse there -- than the full, finished recipes (although her crushed pepper brownies are really something). The rather spartan design is compensated for by the strength of the content; who needs color photography when you have recipes as perfected as these?

This fudge sauce is the ideal sort of recipe -- a simple process with a big payout. Maida suggests the use of Dutch-process cocoa, but I think that finding a really good quality cocoa powder of either kind is most important (you see my choice at the top of the post). Let me know how it comes out for you:


1/2 cup heavy cream
3 Tbsp. sweet butter, cut into small pieces
1/3 cup granulated sugar
1/3 cup dark brown sugar, firmly packed
Pinch of salt
1/2 cup strained unsweetened cocoa powder

Heat the cream and butter in a saucepan over moderate heat until the butter has melted and the cream just begins to boil. Add the sugars and stir for at least a few minutes until the sugar is completely dissolved and the liquid is smooth. At this point, reduce the heat, then add the salt and the cocoa powder and whisk until it's integrated. If any lumps of cocoa remain, press them against the side of the pan with a wooden spoon. Remove from the heat and serve.

Gwennie's chain necklace

I taught myself how to make straw paper chains one day during quiet time. It's good for necklaces, rings, and bracelets. I'd like my cousins to try this, especially Zoe.

To make a straw paper chain you have to cut a straw, and then you have to put the straw you cut onto another to make the chain longer. It can very easily break, so you can put it in a cup or glue it. You have to be careful with a necklace because it's very fragile.

I'd like my cousins to show me some of the things they think up.

Love, Gwendolyn

Fake Music

One of my favorite bands for the past decade at least, Yo La Tengo is comprised of a husband-and-wife team, Ira and Georgia, and their partner in crime, James. They are multi-instrumentalists who swap instruments at will during their shows. These concerts are always incredible -- in fact, I saw them at Royal Festival Hall in London, and Jen left Russia so that she could see them in Germany. Add those memorable concerts to a handful of appearances in Cambridge, Somerville (with Jen and Stephen), and Houston, and they may be the band I've gone to see most frequently. (They are also, incidentally, responsible for one of the funniest videos I've ever seen, in which they collaborate with Bob and David of Mr. Show.)

At times, their sound may be a little abrasive for younger ears, but their eclectic and melodic style frequently produces great songs to share; Gwennie in particular is fond of an album of covers, Fakebook. Rather than simply recreate versions of obscure songs (though the album frequently succeeds at this -- Ira was a music critic before becoming an international rock star), the band creates a sustained musical statement, partially by including "covers" of a few original songs among the reinventions. The entire album is a showcase for the good humor and gentleness of the band, while also hinting at their sonic adventurousness.

Here are some full-family favorites:

mp3: Here Comes My Baby

This cover of a Cat Stevens song actually reached the band through a wilder and rather more obscure version by a sixties garage band called The Tremeloes. A good dancing song for small (and larger) feet.

mp3: Griselda

Gwennie has called this song "Mazelda," one of her favorite made-up princess names, for the past few years. I think of it as the country equivalent of a Shakespearean sonnet, in the sense of a mannerly or courtly seduction. It strikes me as funny, but that may be due to its lyrical deftness. It's another obscure number originally by the Unholy Modal Rounders.

mp3: The Summer

And finally, one of the band's auto-covers: simple and perfect.

The Adventures of Polo

We found this book, The Adventures of Polo, at the library this summer. Liam cannot get enough of it. It is written by Regis Faller, who is French. In fact it may be a phenomenon in France.

The book is illustrated in comic book style with many frames with pictures to each page. There are no words, so it is great for non-readers. Liam enjoys looking at each picture and following the story like that.

Polo, who is a dog, is very expressive and has so many adventures. It reminds me a little of Harold and the Purple Crayon, without words. There is another Polo book, The Runaway Book, that we liked as well as the first.

Two children's music artists we met this summer

Justin Roberts started his career playing with an indie-rock band in Minneapolis. Success came slower than he’d hoped, and he became a Montessori preschool teacher during the days. One Christmas he sent out a CD of songs that he’d written for his young students to friends and family. One of his college friends, Liam Davis, was a music producer, and suggested they record the songs professionally.

He has visited our public library here in Rochester a few times since we moved here, but ironically, we really met his music this summer while we were away in Florida. His lyrics are deliberate and fun (often quite silly), and his indie family music style is engaging and varied.

The words that open an alphabet song he sings on his first album, Great Big Sun, were some of the first that caught our attention: “A is for the applesauce that mother poured into my bubble bath. Bath starts with B, and don’t starts with D, and I forgot C, but everything else starts with E.” The song does make its way through the rest of the alphabet, but not without much silliness. My boys are quite entertained. Worth a look if you need something new.

The second artist that we discovered this summer is Frances England. She has two cds. The first one, Fascinating Creatures, she wrote as a fundraiser for her son’s school. The second one, Family Tree (which I haven’t heard yet), celebrates the birth of her second son. Also a sort of indie-folk feel, her music is easy to listen to—do you have to live with a three-year-old to appreciate some of the issue she writes about? Toddler mood swings, tricycles, blueberry pancakes. No, I think you just have to have been three.

Key to the Treasure II

Since we planned a treasure hunt for Gwendolyn's birthday party on Saturday, I thought I'd write a followup post. After the children had shared their tea party and had decapitated the pinata, they returned inside for cupcakes. I'd secreted puzzle pieces under their plates, and set up the rest of the hunt while they were preoccupied. Once they'd finished with Chocolate Time, I told Gwennie to move her plate; she found the puzzle piece, and the rest of the girls discovered theirs as well. They rushed to clear a spot on the table, and to put the picture together.

Initially, they thought that the image depicted a shelf of books, but after a little thought, Gwennie recognized the children's picnic table on our patio. They all rushed outside and found the cutout which I'd taped underneath. After a little more searching, they found the pictures of the three sand buckets which usually live in the sandbox, but which I'd hidden around the yard, each with a rolled-up "scroll" inside.

This finished picture led to a birdhouse in our tree, where they found the final image, a closeup of part of a play structure in the yard. I'd hung a basket with the sewn bags holding the party favors beneath the playset, which the girls swarmed after they'd put everything together. I think that they had a fun time with the hunt; it might have taken them fifteen minutes all told, but they seemed absorbed throughout. (It's impossible to say how much of that is attributable to the hunt itself, and how much is simply the promise of treasure.)

Here's what I found interesting about all of this: we called Mom and Dad tonight to tell them about the party and the past few weeks. When I mentioned the Giant Turnip enterprise to them, I told them about the treasure hunt, and Mom said, "oh, just like your Dad used to make." Now, I've stolen many of the games which Dad invented, from the ten minute game to the dollar game. In fact, it's not uncommon for Gwennie to come into the living room when she's supposed to be sleeping, and ask for me to come and talk with her for a minute or two to help her sleep. When this happens, she invariably asks for a story about when I was a little boy, and I tell her about playing tic-tac-toe with Dad's pipe clamps, or about the wooden rhino pin or model of a California mission we (he) made for my school projects. But I don't recall picture-directed treasure hunts distinctly, much as it's characteristic of his creative games. Andrea may remember better than I do. But I wonder how much of my pleasure in the return to the Key to the Treasure book comes from an unremembered association with Dad's games.

Shells and Cheese

Fresh off its triumph at the family reunion, here is the recipe for shells and cheese that has become a family standard for us over the past half year. All kidding aside, I'm gratified that so many of us -- particularly the younger ones -- enjoyed this dish. It's from Fine Cooking, the cuisine magazine which Dad introduced me to a few years ago (remember his Fine Woodworking magazines? They come from the same publishing house, Taunton Press) and which I've kept up a subscription to. Great recipes, lively writing, good design. And we're all the beneficiaries of recipes like this one.

INGREDIENTS

kosher salt
6 Tbsp. unsalted butter
1 medium onion, finely diced
6 Tbsp. all-purpose flour
1 Tbsp. Dijon mustard
1 quart whole milk, heated
1 large sprig fresh thyme, plus 1 tsp. chopped thyme leaves
1 bay leaf
8 oz (2 packed cups) grated extra-sharp white cheddar (such as Cabot’s Seriously Sharp)
4 oz (1 packed cup) grated Monterey Jack
½ tsp. Worcestershire sauce (optional)
½ tsp. Tabasco sauce (optional)
black pepper
1 lb. shell pasta
2 Tbsp. extra virgin olive oil; more for the baking dish
2 cups fresh breadcrumbs
1 ½ oz (1/2 lightly packed cup) freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano
2 cups small-diced ham

DIRECTIONS

Heat the oven to 400 degrees. Put on water to boil.

Brown the diced ham in the butter over medium-high heat. After five or ten minutes, drain it on paper towels. (I've taken to putting the ham in the oven to get a touch of a char after taking it from the butter; you can do this while the bread crumbs dry on another rack, and it will free up the saucepan for the rest of your work.)

Reduce the heat to medium, then add the onion and ½ tsp salt. Cook 4-5 minutes. Add the flour and cook, stirring, until slightly darker, 1-2 minutes. Stir in the mustard. Switch to a whisk and gradually add the milk, whisking constantly.

When all the milk has been added, switch back to the spoon and stir in the thyme sprig, bay leaf, and ½ tsp. salt. Let come to a bare simmer, and cook, stirring frequently, for 15 minutes to meld the flavors, reducing the heat to maintain a bare simmer. (In Idaho I had problems with the sauce thickening properly, though this has never been an issue for me at home. Perhaps it's a sea level problem. At any rate, if this happens, you can either make a flour slurry of a quarter cup flour and a quarter cup milk, mixed well, to add to the sauce, which should give it some body. If not, or if you don't want to go to the trouble, don't worry -- it will thicken in the oven.)

Discard the thyme sprig and bay leaf. Add the Cheddar and Jack cheeses, stirring until melted, and then add the Worcestershire and Tabasco. (About half the time I've made this dish, I've added the Tabasco, or some hot sauce such as Cholula or Frank's Red Hot, two local favorites. I think it gives a more complex and balanced flavor, but the children may prefer the dish without. Even with the Tabasco, the final result won't be very hot.) Season to taste with the salt and pepper. Keep warm, stirring occasionally.

Cook the pasta in the boiling water, and drain. Add the pasta to the cheese sauce and diced ham, stirring until well combined. Season. Lightly oil a 9x13 inch baking dish; spread the pasta in the dish.

In a medium bowl, toss the breadcrumbs, Parmigiano, olive oil, chopped thyme, ½ tsp salt, and ¼ tsp pepper. (The best part of the entire dish is the Parmigiano, so make sure you grate fresh from a block; it's something you want in your refrigerator, anyway, and it will last forever, or until you find enough dishes to use it all. You should also take the time to make your own bread crumbs -- grind storebought French bread in a food processor, smooth a layer out on a cookie sheet, and put it in the heating oven for ten minutes or so, just long enough for the crumbs to dry and start to get a little crunchy around the edges.) Scatter the crumbs evenly over the pasta. Bake in the center of the oven until the topping is golden, around 15 minutes. Let rest for 5-10 minutes before serving.

Macaroni and Cheese
by Jennifer Armentrout
from Fine Cooking v.91, March 2008, p. 48

Key to the Treasure

For at least a year, I’ve been trying to recollect the name of a series of books I read as a pre-teen. Because of what I remember of their gentle domestic mysteries and propulsive (though relatively simple) riddles, I’d thought that they would be ideal for Gwendolyn, our almost-six-year old. Unfortunately, I couldn’t remember the author or the title of the series, which I remembered only through ancillary details – four siblings, I thought, and their search for hidden treasure (of mostly sentimental value). The image I remembered best came from the end of one of the books, when a young protagonist is stung by a wasp, preventing her from making a final discovery.

I started thinking that in order to find the books, I’d have to call in the professionals – maybe a children’s librarian, or the book dealers at Loganberry Books (who have a service in which they, and their readers, attempt to locate books based upon the most sketchy descriptions and faulty memories). I’d procrastinated following this prompt, maybe out of a perverse desire to solve my own riddles.

A week ago, I returned from work to find the children ready to take me on a field trip. I had never been to our local library’s main branch, which is older and larger than the location we started visiting when we moved here. I found this building much more to my liking than the new, computer-centric library we’ve frequented; it reminded me of the county library I remember from my childhood, with its stolid architecture, hulking bookstacks, and the tang of dust and paste in the air. While the children were picking out their choices for the week, I walked the aisles, and a book caught my glance. Whether I recognized the binding from some subterranean memory, or whether the title finally returned to me, I realized that I’d found the book I remembered.

The book – Key to the Treasure (1966) – was written for younger children than I’d expected, but still carried, more or less, the charms which had attracted me as a young reader. Glancing through the pages at the library, I found three siblings, not four, but there is the wasp scene, and others I’d forgotten. I had also never realized that the author, Peggy Parish, was more familiar to me from another set of books I’d enjoyed, but as an even younger reader – the Amelia Bedelia series. Linus, our three-year old, especially enjoyed the ink sketches by Paul Frame, which – though not especially remarkable – give a lively pace to the chapters.

I read it to the two older kids, who responded much as I’d anticipated. They were caught up in the behavior of the children, and the dynamic series of clues and discoveries. At times, the description of the three children's interactions struck me as having a bit of a fifties-sitcom sheen, but they are allowed enough squabbles and setbacks to seem like authentic children. Rather than the fanciful “treasure” which is common fare of children’s literature, I thought that the result of their search – a “treasure” hidden by the children’s great-great-grandfather for his own children, which, because of the loss of his first clue, was never found – was striking in its emotional resonances.

One mark of a lasting book – at least as far as Gwendolyn is concerned – is whether she wants to revisit the story for a time after we read. Key to the Treasure passed this test. On Sunday, she asked to “play” it, so I made up a series of visual clues (drawings of details of items throughout the house), and hid them so one led to the next. I hid the final image, a photograph of the children peering over their mother’s belly shortly before the birth of Casper. When they followed the clues to the picture, they found their treasure (candy necklaces). It was enough of a hit that I think we’ll work a similar hunt into the six-year birthday party this weekend.