BRIC-A-BRAC

Riding the rails

The Holiday Train

One of my earliest memories is riding the upper deck of a passenger train from San Bruno, California to San Francisco. I must have been about 6 or 7. Mom put me on train in San Bruno and my Aunt Betty picked me up at the end of the line in San Francisco. I don’t remember for sure, but I think one or two of my little sisters came along. I mostly remember how grown up I felt sitting in the fancy seat, and watching the hills fly by.

I still like train travel. It’s more comfortable than flying, more elegant than a bus, and more relaxing than driving. Over the years since that first experience with trains I’ve had a many memorable train trips. I have taken the bullet train in Japan, and the Train de Gran Vitesse in France, a Jacobite steam train in Scotland, and Amtrak in the United States.

It’s a good thing I like trains, because the tracks in Winona run through my backyard. When my kids were little, we made a game of watching the trains (from a safe distance). To this day, freight trains clank and screech as they park just beyond bedroom window. They shake the house and rattle the windows as they rumble past.

Trains are a part of life in Winona, a town divided by train tracks. Getting from one place to another almost always involves crossing the tracks. That makes for a good excuse for being late, but a lot of people (myself included) get annoyed when they have to wait for a train.

The one train no one minds waiting for is the Canadian-Pacific Holiday Train. For the past nineteen years, this fabulous train has criss-crossed the US and Canada bringing holiday cheer as they raise support for local food banks. Over the years, they have raised C$13 million and four million pounds of food for food banks across North America. It’s a tradition in Winona I’ve grown to love.

This year, the train was due at 4:00 on December 8. Since the weather was so nice, I decided to walk to the station, only about a mile from my house. Families lined the tracks watching for the train. Children craned their necks and (mostly) minded their parents to stay off the tracks.

At last the train, ablaze with holiday lights, roared into the station, where hundreds of Winonans had gathered, munching cookies and sipping hot chocolate. The doors of the freight car rolled open and the band began to play. The audience clapped mittened hands and stomped boots on frozen ground as we sang along to Jingle Bells, Up on a House Top and other Christmas favorites. Fog rolled from the train car-turned stage and red and green laser lights flashed. Some years the fog comes from the singers’ breath and the musicians have had to play with frozen fingers, but this year we enjoyed a balmy 34 degrees. For 15 minutes we rocked-and-rolled Minnesota style. Then the band waved goodbye, the freight doors shut and the train chugged out of town.

Volunteers gathered up the food and money donations and cleared away the hot chocolate and cookies. Slowly the crowd dispersed, the streets emptied and the dark, quiet of a December night returned.

Until the next train rolls through!

Downtown

The concept of downtown started in New York and spread across North America in the 19th century. It designated the historical core and main business area of the city, (which was called city centre in Britain and Ireland). Throughout the 19th and early 20th centuries, downtown was indeed the place to find all the people, as the song claimed,, along with the best department stores, theatres and clubs. Downtown was where all important business took place. Skyscrapers grew. and shoppers thronged the streets. Transportation in the form of street cars, buses and trains converged near downtown, where most people lived, worked and played.

However, downtown today isn’t what it used to be. By the early decades of the 20th century, decentralization began changing the downtown areas of most cities. People began moving out to the suburbs. Department stores and other shopping venues moved out to malls. Businesses moved to the outskirts where land was cheaper. And museums and other cultural institutions moved away from the historic enter for room to spread out. Many modern downtowns, especially in bigger cities, are now filled with offices for white collar workers.

In spite of all these changes, some of the glory of those vibrant downtowns of long ago remain, especially in the architecture. Winona, Minnesota is a case in point. Like most small towns in the midwest, Winona has a downtown area of several blocks which are considered the city center. In the century and a half since its founding, the area has undergone many changes, but it is still possible to find the beauty and craftsmanship of the older city. At least seventeen buildings on 2nd and 3rd streets have been listed on the National Register of Historic places.

It may be cold, but December is a great time to appreciate the downtowns of yesteryear. In Winona the holidays encourage the old-fashioned habit of window shopping. Like stores from the 19th century, many Winona store fronts decorate for Christmas, with displays ranging from the cute and whimsical to to nostalgic.

While many of the 19th and 20th century buildings have been altered at street level, the upper stories retain much of their original characteristics. Year-round, Winona’s downtown can best be appreciated by looking up. Many buildings have the date of construction and the original owner’s name written in ornate lettering.

Upper-story windows often have intricate and ornate brickwork designs. Rooflines design and decoration is another example of quality 19th century workmanship. Though fewer in number, Winona’s rooflines and decorations rival those of bigger cities in the US and Europe.

The Choate building opened in 1888 as a grand department store.

Other buildings have flowers or geometric designs for ornamentation.

The Choate building opened in 1888 as a grand department store.

I’m no singer, but like Petula Clark, I urge you to head downtown, wherever you live. Take the time to stroll along the sidewalk, put away the phone and the to-do list, and look up. Who knows what delightful surprises await?

On Pumpkins

Even more than apple pie, the pumpkin is symbolic of early America. Before Europeans landed, Native Americans used pumpkins for both food and medicine. Indeed, early colonists from England found pumpkins so important that one of the earliest folk songs from the colonies satirizes the ubiquitous pumpkin in the oft-quoted pilgrim verse from c. 1630.

“…Instead of pottage and puddings and custards and pies, Our pumpkins and parsnips are common supplies; We have pumpkin at morning and pumpkin at noon; If it was not for pumpkins we should be undone. If barley be wanting to make into malt We must be contented and think it no fault For we can make liquor, to sweeten our lips, Of pumpkins and parsnips and walnut-tree chips…” (1).

Of course, the neither the Native Americans nor the first settlers had wheat flour or sugar for making the familiar pumpkin pie. Pumpkins were baked, boiled, or roasted sometimes stuffed. These earliest pumpkins were not always the round, orange pumpkin we see today, but a variety of shapes and colors, much like other squash varieties.

By the 18th century, many of the traditional food stuffs from Europe were readily available and so were incorporated into pumpkin usage. Samuel Peters, writing in 1781, talks about marigold-colored pumpkins as large as 60 pounds. He writes,

“The pumpkin or pompion is one of the greatest blessings… Each pumpkin contains 500 seeds which, being boiled to a jelly are the Indian infallible cure for the strangury. Of its meat are made beer, bread, custards, sauce, molasses, vinegar, and on thanksgiving days, pies, as a substitute for what the Blue Laws brand as antichristian minced pies” (2).

Peters also claimed the pumpkin shell was good for making a cap by which to cut hair and also good for making lanterns. (3)

In spite of Peters’s glowing praise for the pumpkin, by the eighteenth and early nineteenth century it seems to have settled into the role of pie more than anything else. Cookbooks from the period often contain receipts for pumpkin pie, but rarely other ways of preparing pumpkin. The standard puimpkin pie, a custard made with mashed pumpkin, eggs., milk and seasoning, is much like the pie we know it today. Receipts for pumpkin pie or pudding from the late colonial and early revolutionary period differ primarily in proportion and the exact variety of spices recommended.

For instance, Hannah Glasse uses 1 pint of stewed pumpkin to 1 pint of milk, 1 glass of malaga wine, 1 glass of rose-water, 7 eggs, ½ pound of butter, one small nutmeg, and salt and sugar to taste (4).

Amelia Simmons has receipts for two versions of a pumpkin pie. The first uses 1 quart mashed pumpkin, 3 pints cream, 9 eggs, sugar, mace, nutmeg and ginger in a crust, with bits of pastry on top. Her second recipe calls for 1 quart of milk, 1 pint of pumpkin mash, 4 eggs, molasses, ginger and allspice (5).

Simmons does have a variation using both apples and pumpkin for a pudding thickened with breadcrumbs and a bit of flour and seasoned with rose-water, wine, sugar, nutmeg and salt. She says to use 1 large squash and 6 apples to ½ pint cream and 5 or 6 eggs. (5)

Mary Randolph’s pumpkin pudding adds 6 eggs to ½ pint of milk, with nutmeg, ginger wine for seasoning, sugar to taste and baked in a crust with bits of crust on top (6).

Am anonymous lady of Phildadelphia only offers one pumpkin recipe in her seventy five receipts. She directs cooks to use 1 quarter pound of stewed pumpkin with 3 eggs, a quarter pound of butter or cream, a quarter pound of sugar, a half glass of wine and brandy mixed, a half glass of rose water, and a teaspoon of mixed cinnamon, nutmeg and mace, poured in a pastry lined dish and sprinkled with sugar before baking (7).

Mrs. Child’s recipe assures cooks that 3 eggs to 1 quart of milk works very well for a common family pie, though even one egg will do. She says to remove the seeds but not scrape the pumpkin before stewing. The pie can be sweetened with molasses or sugar, and seasoned with salt, cinnamon, and ginger, and perhaps a bit of lemon peel. Ginger alone will suffice if there is enough of it. She does say the more eggs used, the better the pie (8).

Surpisingly, only Mrs. Randolph offered a recipe for fixing pumpkin in a different way.Her recipe for ‘Potato pumpkin’ makes a striking dish to bring to any fall table. (I have no idea why she calls it potato pumpkin. The recipe has no potatoes whatsoever.)

Potato Pumpkin

Get one of a good colour, and seven or eight inches in diameter; cut a piece off the top, take out all the seeds, wash and wipe the cavity, pare the rind off, and fill the hollow with good forcemeat–put the top on, and set it in a deep pan, to protect the sides; bake in a moderate oven, put it carefully in the dish without breaking, and it will look like a handsome mould… (6).

To modernize this recipe, I first had to research forcemeat. I found several receipts using veal, pork, or even fish, all bound with suet. Because veal and suet are hard to get in my town (make that impossible), I used a combination of ground pork and ground beef, seasoned with the spices suggested by Mary Randolph. Since paring a pumpkin is quite difficult, I pared only half the pumpkin before cooking to see if that step was necessary. The pared side developed a thicker outer surface that I found too dry. The unpared side was easier to scoop and held its shape better. The end result was quite tasty and made a great dinner center-piece.

Here is the modernized version of Potato Pumpkin.

pumpkin hollow with raw meat — Before cooking

1/2lb. ground pork
½ lb. ground beef
⅓ c. shortning
1/1 t. nutmeg
1 t. salt
¼ t. mace
½ t. pepper
2 t. lemon rind, grated
1 T. parsley
1 t. dried basil, crushed
1 egg.
1 small to medium pumpkin

Put all ingredients except the pumpkin in a food processor and grind to a smooth paste. (This can be done in a mortar, but that takes a long time.)

Cut off the top of the pumpkin. Remove seeds, scrape out the hollow, and rinse it. Form the forcemeat into small balls the size of walnuts, and place inthe cavity. Put the top back on the pumpkin and bake at 350 degrees. When it is done, a fork will easily puncture the pumpkin, and a meat thermometer placed in the center of a meatball will register 170 degrees. This took two hours for an eight inch pumpkin.

best cooked picture

To serve, scoop out a portion of the pumpkin along with the meatballs. This makes a great conversation piece, as well as a very tasty meal for four.

Notes:

Forefather’s Songs: New England’s Annoyances…Source: The Annuals of America: 1493-1754, Discovering a New World. Vol. I. Mortimer Adler, Ed. London: Encyclopedia Britannica, Inc., 1976. Print Retrieved from Masterpieces of American Literature
Peters, Samuel. A General History of Connecticutt by Samuel Peters, 1781 republished new Haven, D. Clark and Co. ,1829 Retrieved from google books
Strangury is a painful blockage of the bladder
Glasse, Hannah. The Art of Cookery. First published in England in 1747, 1st American edition Alexandria: Cottom and Stewart, 1805. 138.
Simmons, Amelia. American Cookery. 1796. 27-28.
Randolph, Mary. The Virginia Housewife Or, Methodical Cook. Washington, 1824. 127, 109, 91.
A Lady of Philadelphia. Seventy-five receipts. Boston: Munroe and Francis: 1828. 21-22.
Mrs. Child. The American Frugal Housewife. Boston: Carter, Hendee and Co., 1833 (12th edition, first published 1828) 66-67.

Crocodile on the Sandbank: A Discussion

Unknown One of the best gifts is a good book. The trouble is, picking a book for a fellow reader can be tough. It’s hard enough to keep track of what I’ve read, let alone remembering what my sisters, my children and my friends have on their shelves. One option is to buy new, just-published works. That’s a great idea, but if I take time to read the new book to make sure it is what the recipient would like, it’s not new any more.

So another option is to share great books from the past. One such book, well worth re-reading is Elizabeth Peters’ Crocodile on the Sandbank, first published in 1975.

This delightful historical mystery is the first in Peters’ Egyptian series. Set in the Victorian Era, the novels follow the adventures of the formidable Amelia Peabody, a woman firmly grounded in the expectations of her day, but so full of self-confidence that she blithely disregards any convention not suited to her own ideas.

Readers first meet Amelia Peabody in Crocodile on the Sandbank. Having inherited a surprising fortune when her father died, Amelia decides it is high time she travels to all the places her father had studied. In Rome, she meets, and rescues a young woman, Evelyn.

Together the two women travel to Egypt and eventually arrive at an archeological site where the Radcliffe brothers, Emerson and Walter are working. While Walter and Evelyn begin falling in love, Amelia and Emerson seem determined to out-shout each other. Meanwhile, several accidents and a wandering mummy threaten Evelyn’s safety.

Told in the witty, sardonic voice of Amelia, who is never wrong and unfailingly ready to act, the story is not only a great mystery, but also a romantic romp into the straight-laced Victorian world. Peters pokes fun at the stereotypes of Victorian England at the same time she present fully rounded, memorable characters.Amelia considers herself the very model of a perfect gentlewoman, the equal, or rather the superior to any man. With her sturdy umbrella and her unfailingly self confidence, Amelia is equally at home serving tea or fighting villains. And Emerson, blustering, full of life, a character to rival Indiana Jones, is equally lovable.

One thing I really appreciate in historical fiction is accuracy. Peters is a master at showing the British empire in the late 19th century and is a respected Egyptologist in her own right. She weaves details of real people into the narrative and accurately presents the state of museums, artifacts and archeology in Egypt at the turn of the last century. Although her writing never feels like a textbook, I always come away with the satisfaction of having learned a great deal.

There are twenty books about Amelia Peabody, with the most recent and unfortunately last in the series, A Painted Lady, just published. Though the characters age throughout the series, each one works as a stand-alone mystery. So whether your friends and family go in for old books or new, Elizabeth Peter’s Amelia Peabody series makes a great gift.

Dead Cakes

jack o lantern As fall gave way to winter this week, children all over the country dressed in funny, scary or highly marketed costumes, and went out begging for candy. With colorful decorations and ubiquitous advertising on all sides, it is easy to lose track of the main theme of this week, which is death.

The idea of Halloween with Jack 0’ Lanterns, ghosts, and tricks, stems from Celtic tradition of Samhain. This celebration marks the end of the harvest and the beginning of the dark half of the year. From sunset on October 31 to sunset on November 1st, this is the time of year when the gate between this world and the next is at its most flexible. The concept of contact between this world and the next gave rise to what we currently think of as Halloween or the evening before All saints or All souls or All hallows (hallow means holy or saint, or more recently holy or mystical relic). Halloween, therefore, is a good example of the Christian church absorbing earlier traditions.

The point is that whether we are ancient Celts or modern consumers or anything in between, this is a time of year when summer dies and the dead of winter looms. We may sidestep the theme of death with fanciful costumes and trick-or-treat games, but the reality of death lurks behind the fun. The mystery of what happens next has haunted humans across time and culture, so this is a good week to discuss some of the research I did for a colonial mystery I’m writing. For the novel, I needed to find out more about specific funeral customs in Colonial Pennsylvania.

Of course, colonial customs varied by religious teachings, resources, and circumstances just as funeral customs do today, but a surprising number of traditions cross cultures. For instance, laying coins on eyes of the deceased developed in Greece to provide for paying the ferryman to cross the river styx. Preparing the corpse for burial, a process called laying out, follows specific procedures including washing the body, and closing or covering the eyes.

One of the most intriguing customs I found is the idea of dead cakes I found dead cakes listed in various places as a Dutch or German or English custom in which cakes or cookies were marked with the initials of the deceased and either sent out by rider as a funeral invitation or sent home with the mourners. Such cakes might be eaten as part of the funeral feast or kept, sometimes for years as a memento of the dead person.

In spite of the historical references to dead cakes, none of my 18th and early 19th century cookery books have a specific recipe specifically for them. Several sources suggest that dead cakes were a sort of caraway flavored shortbread. I found that 18th century recipes for caraway or seed cakes vary greatly, ranging from a drop cookie to more of a cake batter. Several require eggs and/or yeast (or emptins) for leavening. Since the point of the dead cakes is to commemorate the deceased with the carved initials, I opted for a recipe without any eggs or yeast, since detail like letters is usually lost when dough rises.

One recipe for dead cakes comes from Alice Morse Earle’s Colonial Days in Old New York. She quotes a recipe from Mrs. Ferris as: “Fourteen pounds of flour, six pounds of sugar, five pounds of butter, one quart of water, two teaspoonfuls of pearl ash, two teaspoonfuls of salt, one ounce of caraway seeds. Cut in thick dishes, four inches in diameter” (306). Earle doesn’t give a date or reference for Mrs. Ferris’s recipe, but the use of pearl ash suggests an 18th century origin. Earle also asserts that these dead cakes were advertised in 18th century newspapers (citing an ad for burial cakes in 1748 from a Philadelphia newspaper), but were also often baked at home. (306-307)

I experimented with two recipe variations–a scaled down version of Mrs. Ferris’ recipe and a recipe for apees– a caraway cookie apparently named for Ann Page, who sold the cookies in Philadelphia around the time of the Revolutionary War. She marked her cookies with ‘AP’ so customers could tell which were her’s. The original recipe for apees that I used comes from Seventy-Five Receipts for Pastry, Cakes and Sweetmeats, published in Boston in 1828.

The two recipes have some significant differences. Mrs. Ferris’ recipe calls for pearl ash, though so little that it made no difference in either taste or rise. Her recipe also has considerably fewer caraway seeds (3 Tablespoons as opposed to 1 teaspoon). The apees recipe calls for wine instead of water, and adds nutmeg, cinnamon and mace. I left out these extra spices to better compare the flavors of the finished products.

The recommended size of the finished cake also differed. Mrs. Ferris suggested cutting cakes four inches in diameter, while the Lady of Philadelphia calls for cutting circles with a tumbler. It seems to me the four inch cookie is a better memento, but the smaller cookie is more practical for serving at a funeral meal. The initials of the deceased are also more easily seen with fewer caraway seeds in the dough.

Taking all these variations into consideration, I ended up with the following recipe for modern use: best finished

Dead Cakes

3 ⅓ c. flour
1 c. sugar
¼ t. Salt
1 T. caraway seed
½ lb. butter
½ c. water or wine

Mix the dry ingredients. Cut in the butter as for pie crust (until it resembles coarse meal). Add the water or wine and press into a ball. Roll out on a floured surface about ¼ inch. Cut the cakes to the desired size and shape. Cut the initial you want into the cookies. Bake at 350 degrees for 20 -25 minutes (depending on the thickness.) Cool and enjoy.

In spite of the somber name and original purpose, these sweet treats are surprisingly good. Perfect for a modern Halloween celebration.

Sources

Earle, Alice Morse. Colonial Days in Old New York. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1896. Digitized by Google.

Lady of Philadelphia. Seventy-five receipts for Pastry, Cakes, and Sweetmeats. Boston: Munroe and Francis, 1828. 56.

Levitt, Alice. Funerary Feasts From Around the World. Vermont’s Independent Voice: 7 Days. October 29,2014.

Rogak, Lisa. Death Warmed Over. Berkeley: 10 Speed Press, 2004

Beautiful Beets: Pink Pancakes

Beets are prettier than potatoes, more colorful than turnips and easier to pronounce than rutabagas. So why do so many of my friends and family say they hate beets? Some even say the lovely purple root tastes like dirt. (They are probably reacting to the high levels of geosmin in beets, which is the element that gives a garden a rich smell after a rain.)

People have been eating beet greens for centuries, possibly as early as Babylonian times. Romans brought the beet to England. A 14th century manuscript calls for chopping and boiling the greens, then stir-frying them with pork fat, saffron and pepper, but warn insufficient cooking may harm the ‘wombee’ (stomach) (Cury on Inglysch, 1985, 53)

Beet roots took longer to become popular. At first, beet roots were used for medicinal purposes. Both the Greeks and the Romans considered beets to be an aphrodisiac. Aphrodite supposedly ate beets to enhance her already considerable appeal, and beet juice was used at least until the 19th century to redden cheeks and lips to make women more attractive. Both the health claims and carnal claims have some basis in chemistry. Beets contain betalains which are thought to fight cancer. They also contain tryptophan and betaine (natural mood enhancers) and boron, a trace element said to increase human sex hormones.

At least by the middle ages, recipes for beet roots can be found. In the 16th century John Gerard wrote that the beetroot was both more beautiful and better than the leaves. Another cookbook, The good Huswifes handmaide for the kitchin, has this recipe for a beet pie.

To make Lumbardy tartes.

Take Beets, chop them small, and put to them grated bread and cheese, and mingle them wel in the chopping, take a few Corrans, and a dish of sweet Butter, & melt it then stir al these in the Butter, together with three yolks of Egs, Synamon, ginger, and sugar, and and make your Tart as large as you will, and fill it with the stuffe, bake it, and serue it in. (The good Huswifes Handmaide for the Kitchin. London 1594, 1597 Digital text and notes by Sam Wallace)

Even with such marvelous recipes, beets have never been popular with everyone. There is no mention of beets in Martha Washington’s Booke of Cookery. Amelia Simmons’ American Cookery (1796) doesn’t tell how to cook them, but says red are richest and better than white, which many people dislike as having a ‘sickish sweetness” (11). Although Thomas Jefferson grew beets in his garden, Mary Randolph, an in-law and The Virginia Housewife or Methodical Cook (1824) has a recipe only for pickled beets. Indeed, most colonial cookbooks recommend pickled beets.

However the versatile root is surprisingly delicious in soups, stews, tarts and cakes. My favorite is beet pancakes served as a side dish. Colonial Williamsburg Foodways (add link) cites Hannah Glasse’s (18th century) recipe for pink pancakes. Colonial Williamsburg Historic Foodways

Boil a large beet-root tender, and beat it fine in a marble mortar, then add the yolks of four eggs, two spoonfuls of flour, and three spoonfuls of good cream, sweeten to your taste, and grate in half a nutmeg, and put in half a glass of brandy; beat them all together half an hour, fry them in butter, and garnish them with green sweet-meats, preserved apricots, or green sprigs of myrtle. It is a pretty corner dish for either dinner or supper. —Glasse, Hannah. The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy, p. 220.

For modern cooks I suggest the following;

1-2  red beets
4 egg yolks 
¼  c. sugar (more or less depending on your taste)
¼ c. brandy
½ t. Nutmeg
3 T.  cream 
2 rounded tablespoons of flour
   Butter for frying
   Apricot jam or pistachios for garnish

Remove the beet top and stem, then boil until tender. (Test with a 
fork. Cool the beets enough to peel them. The skins should slip off  easily when rubbed.

Chop the beets, then mash them in a mortar (or use a food processor).

Add the remaining ingredients (except for the butter and garnish) a 
little at time to make a smooth batter. (I did not find it necessary to beat it for half an hour.)

Melt butter in a heavy skillet. ( I always use an iron skillet.) 
Pour in about 1/4 cup of batter and fry gently on both sides.

Serve hot with apricot jam for a delicious breakfast or side dish.

These days, beets turn up in salads, added to brownies or burgers or even in hummus. So many delicious ways to serve beets! What’s your favorite?

Machu Picchu: The Mystery and the Challenge

Because it’s there.

That, of course, is the standard answer to the age old question: Why cross the unknown sea? Why brave the harsh desert? Or in this case, why climb the mountain?

The real question is why do people, myself included, challenge personal limits and seek out adventure?

There is no doubt thousands of people do just that. Witness the number of tourists to Peru each year, most of whom come to Machu Picchu.

Rest assured, any visit to Machu Picchu involves challenges on a variety of levels. Even at its easiest– taking a train to Aguas Calientes, a bus up the narrow, steep, winding one-lane road without guardrails, and walking/climbing hundreds of steps to rock-strewn terraces- getting there is daunting. The hardest way to get to Machu Picchu is walking in on the Inca Trail–four days of grueling hiking at high altitude.

I opted for the middle level challenge–the one day hike from Kilometer 104. It’s about six miles long, with 2,600 feet rise in elevation. That hike ranks as one of the hardest and most rewarding hikes I’ve ever done.

The beginning of the hike

Part-way up the mountain- we started at river level.

So, why go?

I first heard of this mysterious Inca city in grade school. The city had been swallowed by the jungle, abandoned and forgotten in the centuries following the Spanish Conquest of Peru. Sure, local farmers still knew of the ruins in the shadow of the mountain they called Machu Picchu, but the rest of the world did not. Most importantly, the Spanish conquistadors had not plundered or defaced the place. In 1911, Hiram Bingham–one of those intrepid adventurers seeking challenge– found the city in his quest for Vitcos, the last capital of the Inca state. His pictures of this mysterious city emerging from the thick vegetation intrigued me.

To get to Machu Picchu (which means old mountain) I took the train from Ollantaytambo to Kilometer 104. There isn’t really a station there, just a place where the train stops. Amid the cheers and calls for good luck from my fellow travellers who had not opted to walk in, my guide, Marcelino, and I left the train and crossed the Urubamba River.

We set off, slow and steady, walking up…and up…and up some more. The trail was rocky, narrow in places, and fairly steep. I had to stop and suck air often.

We walked on the windy side of the mountain, across the river from the train. We soon lost sight of the tracks, though we could hear its echo across the valley from time to time, and occasionally we saw another train.

The sky was clear, and so it was very hot as we walked. The tall grasses on the mountain side were dry-season brown, but it is still a tropical cloud forest. Besides the overwhelming majesty of the mountains surrounding us were smaller glories. Nestled among the craggy rocks are many beautiful orchids

For about 2 ½ or 3 hours we walked mostly uphill on a rocky, narrow path. Sometimes there were uneven steps, carved centuries ago by the Inca. Sometimes the trail was just steep. My legs burned, my breath was ragged, and we stopped often. A few minutes to slow my pounding heart and catch my breath, then on again. I thought about the drop-off edge to my right, wondering what would happen if my legs, wobbly with exhaustion, gave out, and I were to stumble.

Such thoughts made me walk closer to the cliff side of the trail.

At 11:30 I had to stop for a snack. Marcellino assured me we were close to the spot we would stop for lunch. And we were, but first we had to ascend and cross Wiñay Wayna (which means forever young- named after a local orchid.)

Looking up at this Inca agricultural marvel, I was awed by the symmetry of the terraces, by the beauty of the stone work, and by the sheer height of the ruins. Imagine looking up from the bottom of three stadiums stacked, one on top of the other. Tired as I was, I wasn’t sure I could do it.

Marcelino had no such doubts and urged me onward. We stopped at each terrace to breathe and rest my ‘spaghetti’ legs. My thighs burned as I clambered up the rugged steps.

Finally we reached the top. Cheering quietly, I sank to rest on a nearby boulder (no shortage of boulders). Looking back across Wiñay Wayna, I felt a dizzying sense of satisfaction, amazed I had made it.

We stopped for lunch shortly after that at the spot where our section of the Inca Trail meets the campsite for the third day of the 4-day trail. Here a bit of rain fell, more like mist from a low cloud, just enough to cool us off.

Refreshed by the rain, the rest, and some chicken and vegetables, Marcelino and I tackled the next bit of the trail, the flat part as Marcelino claimed. Turns out the ‘flat part’ is Inca flat, which really means rolling bumps– up ten steps, down ten steps and so on. We walked this way for another couple of hours, enjoying the parakeets whistling in the trees, bright hummingbirds flitting through the leaves, and dozens of butterflies hovering in patches of sunshine. We paused at a waterfall splashing over the rocks. The misty rain sprinkled off and on, never hard enough to really wet us. The trail here was delightful and much easier- at least on my breath, if not on my knees, one of which started twinging with each downhill step.

The final stretch of the trail was uphill again, steep and rocky, uneven steps for about 45 minutes.

And at the top: the sun gate, (Inti Punku in Quechua) where centuries ago, Inca guards controlled the main entrance to the citadel. I rounded the corner and took in my first view of the marvel of the city below. The sun came out and shone on the citadel as I looked upon Machu Picchu unfolding beneath me.

Tears filled my eyes and a smile stretched across my face. I had done it.

The ache in my legs, the pain in my knees, the exhaustion all disappeared in the satisfaction of mastering the challenge, that moment of sublime joy at reaching a difficult goal. It’s a little bit like giving birth–all the pain and difficulty forgotten in the exhilaration of the reward.

No one knows for sure why Machu Picchu was built and ultimately abandoned, but I can tell you why it’s worth the effort of visiting.

Because it’s there.

In all its sun-drenched, mist-shrouded, magical glory. It’s there.

Cusco and the Sacred Valley

As empires go, the Inca were not around for very long. They first appeared in the 12th century and expanded to rule a large part of South America in 1438. They were conquered by the Spanish in 1533. But in that century of prominence, they left an indelible mark on the Andes.

Pachacutek – pointing toward Sacsaywamin

In September (the dry season) the roads are parched and dusty. Our bus rattled over gravel and dirt roads, along cliff edges and through fields. It bounced on cobblestone streets, navigated one-lane, two-way roads, and occasionally, sped along a few paved roads. Clearly, traveling in the sacred valley is an adventure, but a visit to the Sacred Valley helps in understanding Inca Civilization.

Legends and Riches

In the Inca world view, Cusco was the center of the world, and all parts of the empire were connected to Cusco. The Urubamba River forms the sacred valley. The Inca saw this river as a reflection on earth of the great river in the sky, the Milky Way. They saw in the Milky Way constellations both from bright stars, as the Greeks did, and also from the dark spaces, unlike any other civilization. The animals living in the Milky Way interacted with each other and parallel those same animals on earth. (learn more about the Inca Astronomy at the Cusco Planetarium)

The condor, messenger of the gods, represented the sky. The puma represented the earth and the snake represented the underworld.

Borrowing some ideas from the many different groups inhabiting Peru before them, the Inca saw connections between all parts of the world. They worshiped Pachamama (world mother), Inti (the sun god), sacred mountains, and many others.

Qorikancha (in Cusco) (elevation 3,400 meters)

Inca stone work is nothing short of incredible. In their most important buildings, the stones fit so tightly together, without mortar, that not even a piece of paper could slip between. Qorikancha is a marvelous example of this exquisite work. Spanish chroniclers reported that Qorikancha was covered in gold and fabulous beyond belief. Just like the Inca before them, (and probably every conquering civilization in the history of the world) the Spanish adopted some Incan ways, and built upon their special places. At Qorikancha the beautiful Inca Temple of the Sun remains, and the beautiful Spanish Santo Domingo church and convent is built on and around it.

Ollantaytambo (Elevation 2792 meters)

Ollantaytambo is both a town with a thriving tourist market and an archeological site. It was an important fortress for the Inca, and one of the places the Spaniards lost a major battle. It was built in the 15th century. Though many have been remodeled and repurposed, some of the oldest continuously inhabited buildings in South America can be found here.

Ollantaytambo means the resting place of Ollantay. See the man in the mountain

Salineras de Maras (Elevation 3380 meters)

Long before the Inca ruled, a natural spring, bubbling up through ancient buried seas, has brought salt to the surface of this part of the Andes. For at least 500 years, local inhabitants have created and mined these pans. Many people believe the salt pans were first created even earlier by the Wari, a civilization pre-dating the Incas. The Spanish conquerors continued to mine salt here. The pans are now owned and mined by individual families in the Maras community.

I tasted the water flowing from the spring into the pans and was surprised by how warm and salty it was.

Farming in the Andes

Fundamentally, the Incans were great farmers. Their highly developed astronomical observations helped them determine when to plant and harvest. There were only six domesticated animals in Peru: the llama, alpaca, vicuna, guanaco, hairless dog, and guinea pig. Along with these, Inca farming focused on corn, quinoa and potatoes.

Moray (elevation 3,500 meters)

Moray is an Inca ruin with few visitors. Many scientists believe the terraced farms were an experiment in growing various crops at different altitudes or different temperatures. Their scientific development of high altitude farming was one reason for their success. There is a 27 degree (Fahrenheit) difference in temperature from top to bottom.

Pisac (Elevations 2715 meters)

The site at Pisac includes a military area, agricultural area and residential area, as well as many tombs. (Unfortunately these were looted long ago.)

The name comes from an Aymara word, Pisaca, meaning partridge. The site is shaped like a partridge, which mirrors the partridge constellation in the Milky Way.

Wiñay Wayna (Elevation 2650 meters)

Because it is located on the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu, the only way to get to this beautiful ruin is by walking. It is near the Day 3 campsite for the 4 day Inca Trail walk, or the mid-way point for the 1 day Inca Trail Walk. However you get there the journey is daunting and the view spectacular. Rough stone buildings, probably storehouses, and steep, semi-circular terraces overlook the Urubamba River far below.

The name means “Forever Young” and is a reference to the beautiful orchids found in the Cloud Forest surrounding this area. Far fewer visitors find Winay Wayna than Machu Picchu, so a visit lets you bask in near-solitary wonder (as you sit and try to catch your breath after the hike here.)

Parque de la papa (Elevation 4000 meters)

Here, six local communities have come together to preserve native methods of potato culture. This is the highest spot in the Andes we visited, kick-started and supported by G-Adventures and the Planeterra Foundation. Besides learning about varieties of potatoes and quinoa, we had a weaving demonstration and a chance to buy hand-made goods directly from their creators.

The end of the Incas

Though weakened by civil war, and decimated by the Spanish conquerors, remnants of the Incan civilization remain. A visit to the Sacred Valley shows us the importance of the knowledge developed by the Incas. No matter how far away earth and sky may be, (even in the Andes where the mountains pierce the sky) everything is connected.

Historical Fiction–What makes it good?

A discussion of The Silver Pigs, by Lindsey Davis

first published 1989, republished 2006

51Yu9jklKWL._SX333_BO1,204,203,200_ I’m an eclectic reader, reading almost anything from English canon literature to urban fantasy and many types of non-fiction as well. In this space I will highlight some examples of my favorite genre- historical fiction, starting off with an old favorite, The Silver Pigs. This book opens the series with Marcus Didius Falco, an informer (think- detective) in first century Rome. His efforts to figure out who killed a young girl he was trying to protect and how her death was connected to stolen silver ingots takes Falco to the farthest reaches of the Roman Empire and back to his hometown, Rome.

There are a lot of things to like about The Silver Pigs, including the humor, the complex relationships among the characters, and the well-developed back-story. But I’d like to talk about The Silver Pigs as an fine example of the three things I look for in quality historical fiction: character, plot and setting.

In all fiction, character is one of the most important aspects of story. I want the main character to be developed and likable enough that I want to spend time with this person, He or she does not have to be perfect, but must seem real. Especially in historical fiction, the protagonist must represent the times accurately and be believable in the context of the period.

Marcus Didius Falco fits the bill well. He is a Roman citizen and knows his rights as such. Though he acts tough and pretends not to care, he’s a guy I’d want on my side. He’d never admit it, but he is what I’d call a gentleman– not the kind with polished manners, a high class education, land or wealth, but the kind who is gallant and protective of those who are weak. Falco is not a Byronic hero, outside of society. No he’s firmly planted in the middle of Rome, dodging his landlord, watching over his own relatives, and hobnobbing with laundresses, guards, vigiles and senators alike. Though fictional, Falco, and his friends, family, clients, and even his enemies have become just as reall as the historical figures Davis includes, like Vespasian and his sons.

The second characteristic of good historical fiction is a plot that is interesting. Fun characters aren’t enough to make a good story. Something has to happen to keep me turning the pages. This is true of any fiction really, but the plot of historical fiction ought to also provide insight into life in the time it’s portraying. Characters can’t do things that don’t fit. I love the way Davis includes such bits as the carts waiting outside the city gates because carts weren’t allowed in before dark. This very accurate detail is key to helping Falco figure out who had access to a key piece of news that helps him identify the killer. Of course the main plot in the story revolves around the mines in Roman Britain and the smuggling of silver ingots. Falco’s adventures give readers great insight into the brutal life of the slaves working the mines

The most important aspect of good historical fiction is the setting. I read historical fiction so I can travel to a different time and place, so I want the details of that time and place to be accurate and developed enough to carry me into the world. I want to learn about the time and place, but I don’t want a textbook lesson. Davis gives wonderful detail about life in Rome, but never stops the story to lecture. For instance, we learn about the chaotic period shortly after the year of four emperors and the change from a republic to empire through Falco’s very strong opinions and the actions of the characters.

Even more than textbook history, I like learning about everyday life. DAvis does an excellent job here also. For instance Falco lives next door to a laundry. It seems that laundry in Rome was bleached with urine collected from public latrines and obliging neighbors. Not only is this an interesting bit of trivia, Lena’s vat of ‘bleach’ plays a key role in solving the murder.

Davis reveals Rome as a surprisingly modern urban area from its seamy side to its posh neighborhoods and everything in between, with as much detail as if she had actually lived there.

The story also takes readers out of the city of Rome to the cold, misty edge of the Roman Empire, Britain.This is a place Falco hates, for the weather, the lack of urban comforts, and the provincial attitudes. Davis give a fascinating look into how centers of civilization saw the fringes of empire as backward, dull, and uncivilized. (At attitude that is unfortunately still common in many parts of the world.)

So here we have a fun read that meets all of my criteria for good historical fiction; a likeable if gruff protagonist, an array of fully developed supporting cast, a plot dependent on the history of the time and place, and a setting that evokes the time and place so well I feel transported to Ancient Rome.

Best of all in this case, is that Lindsey Davis has written a whole series of mysteries following set in first century Rome. Readers can look forward to spending a lot of time with Marcus Didius Falco.

Fort Necessity

A mistake that led to Independence

SAM_4498 On our way from Minnesota to Virginia, we stopped for a late lunch at Fort Necessity National Battlefield in the southwest corner of Pennsylvania. The rain of the morning had mostly stopped, but there weren’t many people visiting. The place has a very well designed visitor center and a pleasant walk to the reconstructed fort that commemorates the battle between George Washington’s Virginia Militia and the French Canadians and Indian.

The fort is small, unassuming and apparently insignificant. But the wilderness battle fought there on July 3, 1754 shook the world, changing the course of history. It started what could be called the first world war and ultimately lead to the Revolutionary War and the establishment of the United States of America as an independent nation

It seems incredible that such a peaceful place could have been so important. In 1754, there were no roads leading to this meadow. There were no villages or businesses to protect. There weren’t even very many settlers in the region.

So why build a fort in this wilderness?

SAM_4502 The answer is LAND–untamed, and to European eyes, unclaimed, land, rich for the taking.

The British wanted it. The French wanted it. Not to mention the various groups of Native American, including the Shawnee, the Mingo, the Iroquois, the Monangahela and the Delaware.

All of them claimed it. Rival British colonies even squabbled among themselves over who had the right to settle here and exploit its resources.

In all this vast territory, the question remains, why is Fort Necessity important?

Fort Necessity’s significance is really built on two mistakes, both made by George Washington.

When we think of the first president of the United States of America, we usually see a serious, white haired gentleman of with strong morals and a clear sense of duty. We remember the courageous general who led the Continental Army to victory. We rarely consider George as a somewhat rash young man, upright and eager to earn a good reputation.

George was 22 when he led a the Virginia militia to what is now southwestern Pennsylvania. He was acting on orders from Virginia’s Governor Dinwiddie to secure the territory for Virginia and make the French leave, with force if required.

Washington’s first mistake was leading an ambush against the French. This didn’t seem like a mistake at the time. He thoroughly defeated the troops led by Joseph Coulon de Villiers de Jumonville. In the short skirmish or its aftermath, Jumonville was killed. The French claimed he was an ambassador, delivering to the British that same message Washington had been ordered to give the French: leave this area. Therefore, killing him was in fact an assassination. Washington claimed ambassadors don’t travel with troops, justifying his act of aggression.

After this encounter, Washington expected to be attacked, and so he choose Great Meadow to set up his defenses. This was his second mistake. He had his men build a circular stockade, 53 feet in diameter, with earthworks surrounding it and a small shed in the middle of it. This storehouse was intended to shelter supplies, not men. In fact, the purpose of the storehouse was to protect those supplies from his own men. Washington choose the meadow because they would be able to see the enemy approach. But the meadow was too small, and the trees were too close. The attackers could use the cover of the trees to fire on the fort’s defenders.

Walking across the quiet meadow in July of 2017, it was hard to imagine what took place here 263 years early. In 1754, it rained heavily, turning the trenches Washington had built into stream. The two forces exchanged fire all day, but in the end, Washington surrendered. His men had found the supplies and gotten drunk. Their powder was wet. The French and Indians attackers had a better position and outnumbered the his troops. This was the first and only time George Washington surrendered.

When news of the battle reached Europe, both sides escalated military presence in the new world, eventually declaring war in 1756. The Seven Years War was fought world-wide, involving all the powers in Europe. The conflict raged across five continents, including Europe, North and South America, Africa, India and the Philippines.

One result of this war was increased British control of North America and opened up the Ohio Territory to colonial settlers. The war had been very expensive for the British, and they naturally expected the colonists to help pay. This led to a number of tax initiatives, and we all know the result of ‘taxation without representation.’

What strikes me as particularly ironic about the battle of Fort Necessity is Washington’s role in it. In this battle, Washington fought alongside British troops against the French and their Indian allies. Twenty-one years later, an older, wiser Washington took charge of the Continental Army. In the following years, Washington led that army to victory, fighting alongside French troops against the British. It just goes to show the two sides of the conflict were not so different after all. SAM_4504

A lesson we might still need to learn.