Leeks are grown in a sandy soil and the grit can, and often does, become embedded in the folds of the leek. It is a good idea to wash them thoroughly, pulling the folds apart and rinsing to remove any grit.
Leeks with roots still attachedLeeks
If the leek still has its root, you should chop them off. If the dark green leaf is brown at the top, or appears extremely tough, you can remove some of this.
Procedure
Melt butter in 2 quart sauce pan over medium-low heat
I went over to Russ and Deborah’s today. We were going to cook something, but didn’t know what. Russ was supposed to work, but had muscle spasms in his lower back, which kept him home from work. At some point, Deborah asked what we were going to cook and I happened to be looking at the Williams-Sonoma magazine and there was a picture of “Balsamic Quick-Braised Pork Chops.” I pointed to it and said, “This looks good.” We went on the Williams-Sonoma web site and found the recipe below;
This is a delicious recipe. If you think that you are including bacon, onion and balsamic vinegar with brown sugar, you’ve got to guess that it’s going to be good.
Deborah also fixed green peas, creamy mashed potatoes and some stewed apples.
This is a meal worth repeating over and over again.
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Balsamic Quick-Braised Pork Chops
Seasoned with balsamic vinegar, bacon and fresh thyme, these pork chops come together quickly. They’re perfect for a weeknight supper with the family or a dinner for guests.
Ingredients:
4 bone-in pork chops, each 1 inch thick
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper, to taste
1 Tbs. olive oil
4 bacon slices, diced
1 red onion, sliced 1/4 inch thick
1 garlic clove, minced
2 Tbs. firmly packed dark brown sugar
1/2 cup balsamic vinegar
1 tsp. minced fresh thyme
1 cup low-sodium chicken broth
2 tsp. chicken demi-glace
Fresh rosemary leaves for garnish
Directions:
Season the pork chops with salt and pepper. In a large sauté pan over medium-high heat, warm the olive oil. Add the pork chops and sear, turning once, until golden brown, 3 to 4 minutes per side. Transfer to a plate.
In the same pan over medium heat, cook the bacon until crispy, 5 to 8 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the bacon to a paper towel-lined plate. Pour off all but 1 Tbs. of the fat in the pan.
Reduce the heat to medium-low, add the onion and partially cover the pan. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the onion is caramelized and tender, 10 to 12 minutes. Add the garlic and cook for 30 seconds. Stir in the brown sugar, vinegar, thyme and bacon. Increase the heat to medium and cook until the liquid is thickened and reduced by half, 10 to 12 minutes. Stir in the broth and demi-glace and bring the sauce to a simmer.
Return the pork chops to the pan. Cook, uncovered, coating the chops with the sauce, for 10 to 12 minutes. Garnish with the rosemary leaves and serve immediately. Serves 4.
I can see that I’m not in the mood to tell the story of Glen’s Landing today, but I wanted to get something down so that I can come back later and rewrite it coherently. I’ve written about it before, because Glen’s Landing was one of those sanctuaries from the world. When visited, there was nothing that could harm you, except perhaps stepping on an oyster shell.
Glen Matthews ran a “fish” house some years ago. My “Aunt Sis” would take me down there when she wanted to get some fish or other type of seafood. You could tell that they were old, good friends that were comfortable with each other and didn’t have to “put on airs.”
Sis would ask Glen what type of fish he had and he would start telling her and might even go over to one of the coolers filled with layers of ice and fish to scratch through the ice and pull up perhaps a fat flounder, or a couple of spots or maybe even mullets. *There was a Pepsi cooler with assorted drinks pushed down into the ice. I liked getting a “Chocolate Soldier,” which was a watery chocolate drink. There might be a reformed drink cooler set aside to keep fish cool.
I don’t recall exactly where the shrimp, scallops and oysters were, but those were also delicious options.
This house had been a private residence for several years. This is my first visit in a long time that leads me to believe that the location may once again be open for fishing business. I see the several boats and trucks parked as some might have been back when Glen ran his fish house and had a ramp for “putting in” to Queens Creek.
I can see that the docks are still located in about the same place as they had been when Glen was alive. But, the large A frame house was not what was there. Glen had a little one story A frame house, with a large barn-type door at the front and a smaller door at the back. The back door opened out onto a covered deck which had several weather grayed picnic tables, and off to one side, a raised trough system for scaling and cleaning fish. Glen would start a spigot of water and then start cleaning a fish. The scales and guts of the fish would wash down the trough and eventually make their way to a gutter which allowed the entrails to plop down into Queens Creek. Not sure that would be allowed today, but since it was all bio-degradable, I don’t see why not.
Eels and crabs would congregate at the water’s edge where the “fish guts” became a feast.
Fishermen used Glen’s boat ramp to put their small boats into and remove them from Queens Creek. The Intra-Coastal Waterway was just a short distance from this location. Glen had a gas pump so that the boaters could fill up their little red gas tanks.
There were oyster shells, being bleached by the sun, which formed part of the boat ramp. The ramp then became poured concrete which slipped from view down into the sometimes brownish (rootbeer) creek. *I would often be barefoot during the summer, and in shorts. If it was the start of the summer, just as shoes had come off after the long Winter and school days, and my feet were still tender, I might step across the shells as if walking across something hot. But, after my soles became calloused, walking across the oyster and clam shells was not an obstacle.
Reverend E. J. Hines was one of those unique personalities that stood out. I was fortunate to have worked under him, and with Faye Edwards, at the Baptist Association for several years. Those were some of the “best years of my life.”
E. J. needed to talk in order to process his thoughts, and talk he did, for he had many thoughts. But, E. J. had a “good” ear, and a “bad” ear, although I think he hid that well. If you were smart, and wanted to convince him of something, it was wise to stand and deliver to his good ear.
He was a great leader. He was a politician. E. J. drew exceptional people around him. And at times, he directed ordinary people toward tackling extraordinary tasks, and the Southern Baptist churches, the people, of the area reaped the benefits.
E. J. was comfortable in meetings, dressed in coat and tie, but I like the thought of him on an old Farmall tractor, a picture of which he had in his office for many years.
I loved to get him to tell the story of “Uncle ‘Aintney’ (Anthony) and the Snake,” which he did by going into character and using a high pitched, brogue-ish voice.
I’ll miss him. We’ll miss him. But we are all better for having known him.
To use a word that E. J. used quite often, “Everything for E. J. is now copacetic.”
“Uncle Aintney” = Uncle Anthony
The story went that one day E. J. was out in the field. I don’t recall if it was a corn, tobacco, cotton, or other type of field. E. J. came upon a snake, and he called up to the house, “Uncle Aintney, bring the gun. There’s a snake.” So, Uncle Aintney gets the gun and brings it out in the field to E. J., but when he gets there, there are no bullets, and E. J. asks Aintney, “Where are the bullets?” To which Uncle Aintney replied, “Well, you didn’t tell me to bring no bullets.” I guess that says a whole lot about Uncle Aintney.
I had forgotten about my mother and how on the first day of the month, she would come into my room, or pass by my bed and tell me to say, “rabbit.” I might be asleep or still groggy as she was telling me to, “Say rabbit. Say rabbit. It’s the first of the month. Say ‘rabbit’ for good luck.”
As I grew older, I would say something else like “cow” or “dog.”
I had not heard anyone mention this until several years ago, Robin Roberts, a black morning TV show anchor was talking about growing up and that her father would tell them to “say rabbit.” She grew up in Louisiana, I think. I also think she said that her father was an Air Force officer.
That was several years ago, but I just saw Robin Roberts on TV this morning and it reminded me of this, so I got online and googled and found that this was a British supersititon that may have appeared in the 1800’s, but the earliest they are aware of is the 1920’s.
Yesterday, Sunday October 17, 2010 was one of those days where little frustration after little frustration seemed to pile on. But, it was only after the day was over that I looked back on it to see how many frustrating incidents there were:
I had stayed the night at Mary Ann and Jim’s in Hubert, NC. I found that I had forgotten to bring my toothbrush with the rest of my toiletries. I left a little after 8:30 am and went through Jacksonville, stopping at a Hardees to get a country ham & egg biscuit and a $1 drink. They must really make the biscuits from scratch, because the biscuit I had wasn’t nearly as well made as the ones I consistently get that are good from the Hardees on Ramsey Street in Fayetteville. It also had a hint of cinnamon, which made me think that they probably baked these biscuits on the same tray as they had a cinnamon biscuit (I didn’t even think to check if there was that on the menu.), or in too close a proximity.
New Bern Waterfront & Pink Mums
When I got into New Bern, I noted that the old St. Luke’s Hospital building had been renovated. The sign had been removed or covered up with new brick. I then stopped in New Bern, along the waterfront to take some pictures. I think I noted that there had been a Mum Festival recently because there were bunches of mums in various pots and containers in different locations about the area.
I then headed up Highway 17 North toward “little” Washington. In Bridgeton, just across the river from New Bern I got behind a motorcyclist, who looked from the back like someone that might have been in Easy Rider. No, he didn’t have an American Flag helmet, but he had a green duffle bag, with what appeared to be clothes hanging out from the openings, and later, I noted a plastic water bottle strapped to the bag. He had white shoes. At first I thought they were tennis shoes, but later thought they just might be bone colored leather. I never thought that they were boots. I mention the cyclist because I stayed behind him until I got to the turn off at Chocowinity, a few miles from Washington. As I turned, there were several vehicles that went on by, including about 5 or 6 other motorcycles (not with him) an continued on the “new” section of Hwy. 17.
I came through Chocowinity (I guess an Indian name.) and then along an old portion of Hwy. 17 heading into Washington. I had been on this section many times throughout the years when I had been travelling between Jacksonville, NC and Portsmouth, VA. My mother had moved up there to live with her sister, Zeta “Aunt Pete” when I was in 8th grade. I stayed in Hubert with my “Aunt Sis” (Carrie Kellum) and continued to attend Swansboro High School, through my graduation. On holidays and during the summer, I would go to visit or stay with my mother. I would ride the Trailways bus which stopped at most of the little towns on Hwy. 17. *The Hwy. 17 bridge at New Bern was torn down after they had built the new “high rise” bridge there. It was a low straight bridge.
It was a little after 11 am when I crossed the old Washington bridge. I went up a few blocks and turned into Marabella’s Restaurant parking lot, which was empty. I drove up close to the door. Although the sign said that they would open a 1pm, I wasn’t sure if they were actually open on Sunday.
I then headed up Hwy 264 West, a short distance to see if I could find a good price on gas. I think I paid $2.75 per gallon. Later in the day, I would pay $2.69 per gallon at a BP Station. If I had realized that it was a BP station before I turned in, I wouldn’t have turned in.
I then turned around, still on Hwy 264 and headed toward Pantego. At Pantego, you turn off on Hwy 99 and then after a few more turns and down a long dirt road, you are supposed to get to Phelps Lake. This was my second attempt to go to Phelps Lake. I had aborted my first attempt just a few miles from my destination because I didn’t realize how close I was, and as desolate as my surroundings had become, I had become convinced that my GPS was in error.
About to turn the corner from Canal “D” Road.
Well, once again, I had followed my GPS that had me travelling down the long, straight, dirt road called “Canal D.” As I turned the corner, and just a few
Now the road was chained.
yards from where I had turned around previously, I came upon a chain that had been stretched across the path between two posts. The sign said that this part of the park was closed from November until … I don’t recall if it was January or some other month, when things started to warm up. Well, it was October 17th, which was close to November, but not November.
Deja Vu, Back Down Canal D Road
So, I turned around once again and headed back down Canal D road, which then becomes Pat’s Lane (or Road ?). I did make a short detour and took a couple of pictures of a pontoon houseboat that was parked on it’s trailer in what appeared to be a farm yard. I don’t think it was a residence.
I didn’t have a map with me, but I recalled having noted that I would have to make a circuitous route around and get on Hwy 64 before heading south to Pettigrew State Park. But, circuitous doesn’t do justice to the seemingly endless long straight roads that must be endured. Large commercial farms seem almost endless that cover the area.
Columbia, NC
Once I got on Hwy 64, I headed east toward Columbia, NC. I had never been there, and probably because of the many large billboards that advertised seafood restaurants, I thought I might eat a seafood dinner there. That was to be another disappointment. Columbia, NC reminds me of Darien, GA.
After travelling many miles on Hwy 64, I finally saw the sign for Pettigrew State Park. I turned (Clement?) off of Hwy 64. It was still quite a distance before I came to the Park Office, which was closed. But, there were Park pamphlets that were available by the Park map outside the office, and the bathrooms were open and clean.
Pettigrew State Park Office
I could see a little bit of the lake from the office, and drove down to the boat ramp turnaround and parked. I then walked to the docks, looked around and took some pictures.
Boat Ramp & Docks
Trees Close to Lake Shore
Now, here is where the map does not prepare you for the long journey around ¾ of the lake. In the upper left hand corner of the Phelps Lake map, there isn’t room to show you how you actually get from the Park Office to the next “canoe/kayak put-in.” You don’t actually ride around next to the lake, but take a great detour away from the lake and then back to it. And, some of the road is very bumpy. It doesn’t appear to be bumpy. It’s paved and appears to be flat, but it’s not.
A Swarm of Mosquitoes Waiting Just in the Shadows.
The next “put-in” and overlook was arrived at by parking and walking a short distance through the woods to the lake. But, to my surprise, on October 17th (a rather warm day for mid-month) there were large mosquitoes still swarming. They became noticeable just after I had walked through an invisible spider web that must have hung across the walk. I started brushing the web from my face, and then noted the mosquitoes. I slapped at them and brushed them from my shirt and walked faster to get near the water, hoping that somehow the sunlight would fend them off. Although they are little blood suckers, they are NOT vampires, and they do not burst into flame when sunlight hits them.
Surprisingly, most of the mosquitoes stayed in the shade of the nearby trees and I took a few more pictures. I did swat one large mosquito, but surprisingly I don’t recall any actual bite, and that is even after I made it back to my truck and headed down the road.
Houses Along the Southern Shore
The road is winding around the southwestern end of the lake, and then came a surprise. A couple of small brick houses. I first thought they might be for the Ranger families, or maybe even a nice Park rental. But as I continued around the south end of the lake, there were more and more homes, and campers, and docks jutting out into the lake. There was even a small store with the title “Conman’s.”
Conman’s on the Southern Shore
The road changes from paved to tightly packed gravel and eventually comes to an end at the Pocosin Natural Area. Evan’s road is an unpaved straight road heading south from near the Pocosin Natural Area. Near Conman’s there is Allen Road, which is where I think I would have come to the Shore Road, if I had not had to turn around at the chained posts.
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After I found that there were not the plethora of seafood restaurants at Columbia, NC, I thought that I might find a place to eat in Plymouth or maybe even Williamston. I am not sure if I had ever been through Plymouth, NC before yesterday. There were the standard fast food restaurants, but I decided to continue on to Williamston before stopping for dinner. The “fat man” hadn’t had anything since the country ham & egg biscuit at about 9am, but I wasn’t that hungry yet.
For BBQ Chicken, Go Somewhere Else!
I came into Williamston, NC perpendicular to the path I had always traveled on Hwy 17. Hwy 17 being situated mostly north and south, and Hwy 64 being mostly east and west. I recalled that on the bus, we had passed a country restaurant which seemed to advertise seafood. I didn’t see that place, but soon after a few blocks saw the Shamrock Family Restaurant. There were quite a number of vehicles parked around it so I turned around and came back to stop for dinner.
I may write more later, but the highlight of my visit to the Shamrock was that I had the worst BBQ Chicken I have ever had. Actually, they advertised a BBQ Chicken special for $7.95?, but what I got was chicken cooked in a watery sweet tomato sauce. The sauce reminded me of the cheap tomato sauce you get in pork-n-beans. Nothing had been done to it to make it resemble any BBQ sauce I’ve ever had. One of my prerequisites (and I had never thought to come up with a list of prerequisites until yesterday) for BBQ Chicken would be that the sauce would have to be allowed to bake on the chicken. I don’t care if you bake the chicken in an oven, or on a grill, but the sauce has to thicken and stick to the chicken.
Another prerequisite would be that the sauce has to be more than a watery tomato soup. That’s it. I had chicken in tomato soup, not BBQ Chicken.
Shortly before I got up to pay for my meal, I saw the cashier go up to one of the waitresses and whisper something about the BBQ Chicken not being available. The cashier then went to the board and wiped “BBQ Chicken” from the list… leaving Roast Beef and Turkey & Dressing as the remaining choices. This emboldened me to profess my extreme dislike for what they had called BBQ Chicken, when the cashier asked me if I had enjoyed my meal.
I told her to tell the cook that “I hated it” and that “I wished you had erased the BBQ Chicken option from the board before I had ordered it.” The cashier laughed curtly, but never made an offer to discount my meal.
The sweet tea was good. The fried okra were crisp. The coleslaw was good. The salad, from the salad bar was passable. Nothing bad, but nothing special either. The hush puppies were in that same category. Not bad, but nothing special.
Now, it didn’t help that many miles down the road from Williamston, NC, shortly before Interstate 40 (heading nw/se) crosses over Interstate 95 (north/south) I started to belch that sweet tomato sauce. Oh, by the way, I had tried the chicken about 3 times. The second time, I tried to convince myself that this is “just a different way of fixing the dish.” But, the third time, is when I said to myself, “I don’t care what they call it, this isn’t BBQ Chicken!” So, I left about 4/5’s of that generous portion of BBQ Chicken on my plate.
Fifteen years later and I just checked. The Shamrock Family Restaurant is still in business in Williamston, North Carolina. But it still hasn’t been long enough for me to return for some more BBQ Chicken.
It seems to have been almost 2 months since I first put in a request to test out the App Inventor. Since then, I have returned and probably filled out the form a couple of more times. Notice came in my email about a week ago, and I didn’t have time to start “fiddling.”
You need to download some App Inventor extras to your PC or laptop, which include some phone drivers. You have to have Java version 6 installed on your PC. The App Inventor application is actually hosted on the Google site, and you have to follow some simple instructions for setting your phone up before beginning to create your first application.
I did have a problem with the image and sound files not loading to my phone until I tried a different connection setting (for the HTC Hero, I set it the “HTC Sync” mode). After that, the files loaded without a problem and I started having some simple fun.
Following is my first successful attempt at creating a simple Android app and installing it on my HTC Hero phone. After you have your app created, there is an option to download it by first scanning a QR code image and then clicking on the URL to download the app .apk file. Once it is downloaded, you just click on the file and go through the app install process. Once that was successfully completed, I went to the apps area and found what was called “HelloPurr,” which was something of a misnomer because I didn’t use the picture of the kitty or the mp3 file which was a meow sound.
I recorded an mp3 of me saying “Hello, I’m Bill,” and added a picture of me when I was 50 years old. The original program was to have you click on the button which was the image of a cat, and it would meow for you. On my version, you click on my picture and I say, “Hello, I’m Bill.” I also found that the logic was simple for me to add a “close app” button, and to have the screen name appear as “Hello App.”
Below is the Android Blocks Editor where you go to create the logic paths for your app.
Difficult to see, but HelloPurr app is left of HIFICORDER, which has the large red dot.
NOTE: I have included this information regarding the steamboat, Isaac Scott, because Capt. J. G. Bagley who brought the steamer J. C. Stewart down from Wilmington, NC mentioned that he had been the engineer on the Isaac Scott back in 1852. When Capt. Bagley arrived in Hawkinsville, GA in December of 1886, I suppose that he would have passed the twenty-five year old wreckage of the Isaac Scott.
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Report of the Chief of Engineers U.S. Army by United States. Army. Corps of Engineers
NOTE: I have included this information regarding the steamboat, Isaac Scott, because Capt. J. G. Bagley who brought the steamer J. C. Stewart down from Wilmington, NC mentioned that he had been the engineer on the Isaac Scott back in 1852. When Capt. Bagley arrived in Hawkinsville, GA in December of 1886, I suppose that he would have passed the twenty-five year old wreckage of the Isaac Scott.
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Report of the Chief of Engineers U.S. Army by United States. Army. Corps of Engineers
Bill Gibson, II 