Vintage Skills and Style in the Modern World
Easter is over, Passover is coming to an end, and the forsythia down the street is blooming. You know what that means…time for me to have a horrible idea!
Also, it’s spring.
Things have been getting a little grimy here at home, and with spring comes a desire to clean things up a bit. And then I noticed my schedule is open for the next few days, and the weather’s decent, and…I decided to do an old-fashioned spring cleaning.
Since my last post, I’ve done a little research on varieties of seeds available during WWII, for the utmost historical accuracy. I anticipated this being a research hunt of epic proportions, leading to visiting museums and calling people on the phone, and analyzing photographs of gardens.
It was much, much easier.
Continue reading “What to Grow in a Historically Accurate Victory Garden”
I haven’t had a garden since 2008, when I moved out of my first apartment. I had dug out a little section by the driveway, and filled it with tomatoes and sunflowers and marigolds and weeds. I haven’t had space since then, and routinely miss the deadlines for signing up for the community gardens in my neighborhood. Not this year, I vowed. I set a calendar alarm for the moment registration began at the Peterson Garden Project location near my apartment. All summer long I had walked by it with envy and longing. I got my slot. A 4×8 garden bed shall be mine!
Okay, so life got a little crazy over here at Retrofitting Vintage, and our final pie of Seven Pie Mountain wasn’t featured! (Why is life so crazy, you ask? Well, I’m a full-time freelance writer, and co-artistic director of a theatre company, so pie reporting can get pushed to the back burner, I’m afraid).
Our most mysterious pie was Quince Custard. Neither A nor I had much experience with quince, and we were perplexed by them. They smell delicious, but are hard as rocks, or at least potatoes. My quince experience is forever colored by the quince tree in my early childhood back yard, that had wicked looking thorns on it. Still, we decided we would learn “how to quince.”
We adapted the original eggy custard to a vegan version, using minute tapioca. The result was a delicate flavor and creamy texture. I liked it quite a bit, but I think everyone else settled on, “just okay.”
Here is the recipe:
Ingredients:
1 pastry crust
2 large ripe quinces
1/2 c. sugar
1 tsp. lemon juice
1/4 tsp. nutmeg
1/4 tsp. cinnamon
2 T. melted margarine
3 T. minute tapioca
1 c. soy milk.
Dash of vanilla extract.
Directions:
The mister and I both brought cars into this relationship. His, a bought new vehicle that is reliable, fuel-efficient, and pretty, but not fancy. Mine, a 1998 Chevy Prism with an ichtyus permanently attached to it by previous owners, affectionately known as “The Fish.” The Fish has finally bit the dust, or at least gotten to the point where spending any money to fix it seems like folly. Poor fishy. May you rest in peace, or more likely, pieces, as you go on to another life as an NPR donation.
The loss of The Fish has lead to an opportunity to put my money where my mouth is about frugality and sustainability. I live in a city with good (though certainly imperfect) public transportation. I am a fifteen minute walk to the train, multiple bus lines are steps away from my door. My grocery store is a block away. I work at home. My partner has a car. I don’t need one. Nope. I look at the details of my life, and I am not a person who needs a car.
The mister is not convinced. You have to remember we’re from Michigan, the birthplace of the auto industry. Also a place that is almost impossible to traverse without a car. So I’m approaching it as an experiment. An attempt to lighten my load of possessions and pollution, to find out how that works in my life.
Here are the pros:
Not spending money on insurance, parking, gasoline, car payments, or yearly fees.
More socially responsible.
I will get more exercise.
I don’t actually like driving all that much.
Here are the cons:
Winter.
Occasionally both members of our household need to be in different places that would both be easier to get to by car.
If I ever get a gig out in the suburbs, this will get considerably more complicated.
Of course, what feels like a revolution to me is really how lots and lots of people do things. Many people in Chicago don’t drive at all, many people in the world share one motorbike amongst an entire family. Hardly a great sacrifice or world-altering event, really. Just a little adjustment. We shall see how it goes.
