PecanSpringsJournal

>>chili coyote

Susan is getting her notes together for a talk she plans to give on her book tour. I happened to be looking over her shoulder and spotted a name I didn't recognize.

"Chili coyote," I say. "What's that?"
"Whaddya mean, what's that? It's chili coyote," she says, frowning. "C-h-i-l-i--"
I roll my eyes. "So what is a chili coyote?"
"I can't believe you don't know what a chili coyote is," she says, in the tone that teachers reserve for especially backward pupils. "Especially an interesting herb like this one. Why, it's growing right next to the railroad track, behind--"
"Look, Susan," I say. "I don't care where it's growing. I want to know what it is, and what it's used for, and where it got that crazy name. What is a chili coyote?"

So she tells me. This is a chili coyote. It's a buffalo gourd (Cucurbita foetidissima, if you're fussy about nomenclature).

And she's right. It does grow next to the railroad track, behind the Pecan Springs Enterprise building. It's huge, a sprawling green mass of vines and leaves (in the summer, anyway) that takes up half a vacant lot. If you mistook it for a squash or a pumpkin--you haven't missed the mark by much. They're close kin.

Turns out that while the fruit isn't edible (it is bitter, bitter, bitter), the seeds are. You can treat them like pumpkin seeds, roast and salt and eat them. Medicinally, the root was used to treat headache, chest pains, fevers, toothache, and in childbirth. The leaves were used as an insecticide. And like yucca, it's a soap plant: chop up pieces of root and cook them up for a pot of suds. The dried gourds were used as ladles, scoops, and handy portable containers, just the right size to carry magical stones or bits of food.

"But the name," I persist. "Chili coyote. Where'd that come from?"

It comes, Susan says, from the use of the word 'coyote' as a name for the wild relatives of domesticated plants. In many Indian cultures, Coyote is a trickster who takes a mischievous pleasure in turning things upside down, altering them, just to frustrate people. That's how the earth got coyote tobacco, coyote corn--and coyote gourds. The real coyote marks his territory by peeing on conspicuous landmarks--so the idea here is that Coyote peed on a gourd (or corn or tobacco) and turned it bitter.

"But chili coyote?" I ask again, feeling a little frustrated myself.

Susan says she's still figuring that one out. But here's what she's got so far, from a book called Gathering the Desert, by Gary Paul Nabham. Nabham was also curious about the name, so he asked a Pima Indian. (In Pima dialect, the plant is called chichicoyota.) He was told that Indian women used the fruits to wean their babies, by smearing the bitter juice on their chichis. When the baby tries to suck, he's tricked into thinking that those wonderful chichis have turned bad. A coyote trick. "Chichicoyota," Nabham writes. "Trickster breasts. In English, the're called coyote gourds."

"I'm guessing that chili coyote is a corruption of chichicoyota," Susan says. "Maybe a polite corruption--a way of saying "breast" without saying it. Or maybe somebody had the idea that Coyote peed on a chile pepper and turned it into a chili coyote. Trickster chiles." She grins. "Hey, China. Maybe if you post this in your blog, somebody who's got a better guess will tell us--in time for me to include it in my talk."

Okay, gang, it's your turn. Tell us how the word chichicoyota got to be chili coyote. Susan doesn't leave until the end of March, so you've got plenty of time.

>>Spanish Dagger

Susan's new book is only a month or so away, and she's making plans for her tour through Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, Arizona, New Mexico, and Colorado. While she's getting packed, Peggy (our webmaster-beyond-compare) has posted a page of information about the book here. You can read the first chapter there, too.

Actually, I'm still pretty ambivalent about what happened in that case. I'm glad it all got sorted out in the end (well, most of it, anyway). But Ruby had a very hard time of it. And I'm sure that Sheila (that's Sheila Dawson, our esteemed chief of police) didn't appreciate my meddling in the case. But that was in the beginning. In the end, I think she was glad to have the help--especially when Rambo pitched in to lend a hand. No, make that a paw. A big paw. But if I go on, there won't be any mystery, so I'd better stop. If you want to read the book, you know where to find it.

In the meantime, I can at least tell you a little about the signature herb of the book, yucca. Susan borrowed one of its folknames, Spanish dagger, for the title of her book.  If you think of yucca as a plant that grows only in the southwestern deserts, you'd be wrong. This spiky plant, which belongs to the genus Agave, has an enormous distribution, ranging from the Atlantic (Yucca filamentosa) westward to the Pacific (Y. whipplei) and from Canada (Y. glacua ssp. albertana) south into Guatemala (Y. elephantipes). There are some fifty species native to the United States and thirty more to Mexico and Central America, some tall, some short, and all with that star-burst of sharp, spiny leaf-tips, sometimes at the base of the plant, sometimes near the top of the stalk.

So if you're looking for yucca, you'll probably find a native in your neighborhood. And where it's not native--the Atlantic northeast and the Pacific northwest--it has escaped from people's gardens and hightailed it for the wilderness. So you're likely to find it growing there, too.

Yuccas lead an interesting life. They require a specific moth for pollination, and if the right moth isn't hanging around in the neighborhood, the blooms won't produce any fruit. Exclusive company, huh?

I'll be posting more about yuccas over the next few weeks, including some really neat information about the various uses of yucca. So check in on Mondays. And in the meantime, don't forget about that first chapter. It's here.

When you've read it, you'll see why I say "poor Ruby." Really. You'd feel the same way if your mother began stealing--

But there I go again. Just read the chapter, and you'll see what I mean. --China Bayles

>>scratchy throat

It's that time of year when scratchy throats are the rule, rather than the exception. Now, we head for the nearest pharmacy for an over-the counter remedy. But in the old days, Grandma's medicine cabinet was the pharmacy, and her herb garden supplied most of the medicines. Here are a few of her favorite remedies.

• A poultice: The pulp of a roasted apple, mixed with an ounce of tobacco, the whole wet with spirits of wine, or any other high spirits, spread on a linen rag, and bound upon the throat at any period of the disorder.—The American Frugal Housewife, by Mrs. Child, 1833
• A syrup: Take of poplar bark and bethroot [lamb’s quarters, Trillium pendulum], each 1 lb.; water, 9 quarters; boil gently in a covered vessel 15 or 20 minutes; strain through a coarse cloth; add 7 lbs. loaf sugar, and simmer till the scum ceases to rise.—Family Hand Book, c. 1855
• A candy. Horehound lozenges are good for a sore throat. A Dictionary of Every-Day Wants, by A. E. Youman, M.D. 1878
• A bedtime snack: Water-gruel, with three or four onions simmered in it, prepared with a lump of butter, pepper, and salt, eaten just before one goes to bed, is said to be a cure for a hoarse cold.—The American Frugal Housewife, by Mrs. Child, 1833
• A Hot Toddy and a Cuddle: Before retiring soak the feet in mustard water as hot as can be endured . . . . On getting into bed take a hot camphor sling. [A hot toddy made with brandy or rum, honey, and tincture of camphor, Cinnamonum camphora] Rub the bridge of the nose between the eyes with a little oil. Cuddle in bed and sleep it off.—Healthy Living,1850-1870, compiled by Katie F.  Hamilton

If these remedies don't work, here's one that will, according to recent science. Gargle with a strong sage tea (Salvia officinalis). Studies have found that sage has antibacterial, antifungal, and antiviral properties. To make the tea: pour two cups boiling water over 4 teaspoons dried sage. Steep 8-10 minutes. Gargle several times a day. Refrigerate the unused portion and warm before gargling.

For more herbal lore, remedies, recipes, garden ideas, crafts, and just plain fun, read The China Bayles' Book of Days.

>>pass the salt

Have you ever been to a meeting of an herb guild? Here in Pecan Springs, the meetings of the Myra Merryweather Guild are always the highpoint of the month. You never know what sort of crazy thing is going to happen--they're as wild and wacky as the local Red Hatters. 

But other herb guilds are fun, too. Susan recently got an email from Carol Kelly, whom she met on book tour in Pennsylvania a while back. Carol, who is president of the Herb Guild of Historic Saltsburg PA, reported on a recent program called "Salts and Peppers" that sounds like a lot of fun. We thought you'd like to hear about it. (Yes, we know that salt is a mineral, not an herb, and that too much of it is bad for you. But that doesn't mean we can't enjoy it in moderation!)

Carol began the meeting with a presentation on the use of salt from historic times. including the importance of the 19th century town of Saltsburg as a commercial supplier of salt--which, she says, also led to the discovery of oil in the area and the commercial use of oil as an tonic and cure-all. Then the group tasted a variety of salts and peppers, both black peppers and capsicum peppers, while they admired the handsome collection of salt and pepper shakers on display.

And then, of course, came the moment everybody was waiting for--refreshments, each using one or more of those delicious salts and peppers. For the salts, the Saltsburg herbalists sampled Salt-rising Bread, Scalloped Pineapple, Sauerkraut Balls, Sea-salted Smoky Almond Bark,and Carmel Sauce with Apple Dippers.

For the black peppers, it was pepper butters and Peppercorn Fruit Compote, Chocolate Pecan  Brownies, Norwegian Pepper Cookies (there's a recipe in A Dilly of a Death), Zippy Chocolate Chip Cookies, and Pffernuesse.

For the capsicum peppers: Spicy Shrimp Pasta Cheese Dip and (of course!) Ruby's Hot Lips Cookie Crisps.

Doesn't that sound like a lot of fun? If you live in the Saltsburg area, I'm sure the Saltsburgian herbies would welcome you as a guest. If you don't, look up your nearest herb group on the Internet and visit one of their programs. And of course, the next time you're in Pecan Springs, you're invited to join the Merryweathers. No telling what they'll be up to, but it'll be fun!

chili time!

Every now and then, it gets cold in Pecan Springs, and I start thinking about cooking up a pot of chili for supper.

Yesterday, I was leafing through Chile Death, one of Susan’s mysteries, looking for the recipe for Pedernales chili (in Texan, that’s pronounced Purd-NAL-is). I found some notes about chile peppers that I thought might interest you. You might like the mystery, too--although I'm not crazy about the part where I nearly got roasted. Anyway, here are Susan's notes, and that recipe. Maybe it's a good day for chili in your neck of the woods.

The recorded history of the genus Capsicum begins with Columbus, who undertook his voyage of discovery in search of (among other things) black pepper, the most valuable of Eastern spices. Columbus did not find what he was looking for, but, he bit into something better. He became the first European to blister his tongue on a hot pepper.

There are about twenty species and hundreds of varieties in the genus Capsicum, indigenous to tropical America. In their native habitat, they are perennial and woody, growing to seven feet tall, though in American gardens they are grown as annuals, reaching a height of three feet. Two highly variable species of genus provide New World peppers--the red peppers. Bell peppers, pimento, paprika, chili, and cayenne peppers all belong to the species Capsicum annuum. The Tabasco peppers come from Capsicum frutescens, grown commercially in the Gulf states and New Mexico.--Steven Foster, Herbal Renaissance

Neuroscientists believe that when a concentrated solution of capsaicin [the chief chemical compound in chiles] is rubbed on the skin, the resulting burning causes pain messengers (Substance P) to notify the brain to start producing endorphins [natural painkillers]. However, on the skin, capsaicin apparently destroys the Substance P that is attracted to the site....Liniments [containing capsaicin] work on this principle, and capsaicin is the active ingredient of creams for painful skin and nerve conditions including shingles and neuralgia.--Carolyn Dille and Susan Belsinger, The Chile Pepper Book

On the origin of chili: "Before going on the trail, cowboys were known to pound dried beef, beef fat, dried chile peppers and salt into a brick-like compound, which they would add to a few cups of boiling water when it came time to eat. With an abundant supply of Texas longhorns on hand, meat chili became the West's most popular dish."--Chili Pepper Magazine, December, 1996

You can always judge a town by the quality of its chili.--Will Rogers

Pedernales Chili

4 lbs ground lean beef
1 large onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 tsp ground oregano
1 tsp ground cumin
3 tblsp chili powder
2 #2 cans tomatoes
2 cups hot water
salt to taste

Brown ground beef in heavy iron skillet. Add onion and garlic and cook 4-5 minutes. Add remaining ingredients and simmer one hour. When cool, skim fat. Better on the second day, when the flavors have mellowed.

This is Lady Bird Johnson's recipe. She used to carry it with her on a card and hand it out whenever anyone asked for her favorite chili recipe.

P.S. Susan says to tell you that in Illinois, where she grew up, beans (preferably red kidney beans) were an essential ingredient of chili. But one of the things she learned when she moved to Texas was that Texans NEVER put beans in their chili. Pity.

P.P.S. There's a different chili recipe on the Chile Death page. It's good, too!

>>herbal hangover remedies

It's New Year's Day here in Pecan Springs, and many of our friends are recuperating from a little too much bottled happiness on New Year's Eve. Since this is a problem that's been with us since somebody first discovered the intoxicating power of fermented grain, we've collected a few tips on ways to handle a hangover. If you're suffering, maybe one of these will help.

Homer Mayo swears by the prickly pear cactus remedy that his daddy taught him. He felt pretty good last New Year's Day, especially after he read in the newspaper that scientists say that this really works. He says to drink it before you start on the hard stuff.

Homer's pal, Pete Hitchens, has a different cure. He mixes a cup of sauerkraut juice with a generous shot of Bloody Mary mix, for taste. In a couple of hours, he's feeling fit enough to turn on the TV and watch the bowl games.

Pansy Pride, president of the Myra Merryweather Herb Guild here in Pecan Springs, has a great deal of faith in a ginger-peppermint-feverfew tea, sweetened with 2-3 teaspoons honey. Ginger and peppermint are well-known stomach soothers, and feverfew is a time-tested headache remedy. The potassium in the honey will help to counteract the effects of the alcohol. Pansy's other remedy is just-say-no, but that never gets her very far.

Constance Letterman, who runs the Emporium, next door to Thyme & Seasons, lays in a supply of kudzu extract before the holidays. She read an article that claims that kudzu's isoflavones, diadzin and puerarin, will relieve the pain of over-indulgence. I was glad to hear this. A plant as prolific as kudzu has got to be good for something. (Actually, it's good for a lot of things, besides eating fences, telephone poles, and whole hillsides. You can read about them here. Scroll down the page for an intriguing recipe for kudzu blossom jelly. Now, aren't you glad you read this blog?)

For Ruby, thyme heals all things, including hangovers. She brews up a tea of crushed fresh or dried leaves, let's it steep for six or seven minutes, strains, and drinks.

Personally, I'm a firm believer in the power of milk thistle, or silymarin. It prevents toxins from entering liver cells and helps remove existing toxins. Take two 70 mg capsules before you head for that party.

All your friends in Pecan Springs send you a great big wish for a New Year that is happy and bright. We're praying for peace, too, and some good sense in Washington. We don't know about your town, but a whole lot of us here would be glad to have our military men and women back home with us to celebrate New Year's, 2008. Wouldn't that be a wonderful party?

>>pick a peck of peppercorns

Today's issue of Susan Albert's new weekly eletter, All About Thyme, includes the recipe for pepper cookies that I served to Ruby's' daughter Amy in A Dilly of a Death. Which brings up the subject of pepper, one of those "invisible" spices that we use frequently and never think about.

Almost never, anyway. How often do you reach for the pepper in the same way you reach for salt, almost unconsciously?

But there are people who say that if you can have only one spice in your kitchen (what a horrible thought!) it ought to be pepper, for pepper adds the greatest flavor to the greatest variety of dishes. Maybe they're right. After all, plenty of people have succombed to the power of pepper. Rome was ransomed with with it (Attilla the Hun demanded 3,000 pounds of pepper to raise his siege of the city in 408 CE), men have died for it, and oceans were crossed in its pursuit. So let's pay a little more attention to it, shall we?

Pepper Times Three

Black pepper, green pepper, white pepper? Three kinds of pepper? True, but there is actually only one true pepper (Piper nigrum). It is native to India but now grown widely throughout the tropics. Three different peppercorns are produced from this plant, depending on how they are processed.

• Black peppercorns have been valued for centuries as a medicine: a treatment for impotence, an appetite stimulant and digestive, a cure for nausea and flatulence, and an antidote to poison. They are harvested green and left to dry for a week or more, shriveling and hardening. Black peppercorns have the strongest flavor, and are best when freshly ground. Also used whole in pickling spices and soup stocks.
• Green peppercorns are also picked green, but preserved to keep them from darkening. Historically, they were pickled; today, they’re freeze-dried. They have a fresh, clean flavor, suited to poultry, vegetables, and seafood. You can crush them between your fingers.
• White peppercorns are allowed to ripen on the vine, producing a large berry with a loose outer shell, which is removed. White pepper is regarded as having a richer, more complex flavor; it is used in light-colored dishes, in sauces, and on grilled poultry.

And then there are pink peppercorns, which (just to confuse you) aren't actually peppercorns at all, but berries of the Baies Rose (Schinus Terebinthifolius), which grows in Brazil. You'll find pink peppercorns freeze-dried or packed in brine or water at gourmet stores. Grind them to release their fruity, peppery taste and aroma. They're used in French cuisine.

Here’s an easy recipe that will introduce you to the variety of pepper flavors. Make it with each pepper separately, or all three peppers mixed in equal parts. Super with vegetables, great with fish and poultry.

Pepper Butter

1/2 cup butter, softened
3 teaspoons freshly ground peppercorns, black, green, OR white (if mixing, 1 teaspoon of each)
1 clove garlic, minced
3 tablespoons fresh minced parsley

Grind the peppercorns to a medium coarseness (easy in a mortar and pestle, or in your favorite peppergrinder). Add to softened butter. Add garlic and parsley and mix. Place in a small dish, cover, and refrigerate at least one hour before using. If you like, dust the surface with gound pink peppercorns for color.

And if you're looking for a different holiday gift for that herb-lover on your gift list, drop in at Thyme & Seasons and check out our display of pretty pepper pots, grinders and all three kinds of peppers. (Oh, and Ruby says to tell you that she's having a special on Ouiji boards today.) If you can't make it to Pecan Springs, try this for a pretty gift. Purchase a clear acrylic pepper grinder and fill with a mixture of black, green, and pink peppers. Tie on a pretty bow. Include a card with a bit of pepper history and a copy of the Norwegian cookie recipe, and get ready to accept enthusiastic thanks and a hug! If you hint hard, maybe your recipient will even bake you a batch of those cookies!

More reading: Salt and Pepper, by Sandra Cook
A Dilly of a Death, by Susan Wittig Albert, Book 12 in the China Bayles series

>>gingerbread ornaments

The day after Thanksgiving is always a big day at Thyme & Seasons. It's the day when Molly McGregor brings a gaggle of kids to our tea room and spends the afternoon making holiday ornaments to hang on the Christmas tree that stands in the Hobbit House window.

Molly opened the Hobbit House Children's Bookstore a couple of years ago, right next door in the three-story frame house that used to belong to Vida Plunkett. (You can read Molly's story in An Unthymely Death and Other Garden Mysteries), and is always up to her elbows in one project or another. On Friday, Molly and a dozen kids were up to their elbows in gingerbread and spice dough. Judging from the giggles and shouts of laughter, they were having a wonderful time. Ruby's granddaughter, Baby Grace, was there, too. She's a little too young to be making ornaments, but she had her own bit of cinnamon dough to pound and she loved being part of the fun. Ruby made a couple of cookie ornaments just for Grace, to add to her growing Christmas keepsake collection.

Molly asked us to pass these recipes along to you, for your own holiday fun. So here they are, with holiday wishes from Molly and friends at the Hobbit House, Pecan Springs' only children's bookstore!

Gingerbread Ornaments

1 1/4 cup margarine, room temperature
1 1/4 cup sugar
2 eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla
4 cups sifted flour
1 1/4 teaspoon salt
4 teaspoons cinnamon
1 teaspoon ginger
1 teaspoon cloves
3 teaspoons nutmeg

Combine butter, sugar, eggs, and vanilla extract. Cream well until smooth.
Sift together dry ingredients. Stir into butter mixture until smooth, adding
more flour if necessary to form a firm, slightly sticky dough. Wrap in
plastic and chill until cold. Roll out 3/8" thick and cut into shapes. With
a chopstick, make a hole through each shape for hanging. Bake at 350 degrees
until brown underneath and slightly pale on top. Makes enough for 12-14 small
gingerbread figures. If you want to make more, it's easier to make separate
batches than to double the recipe. Freeze extra dough. Decorate with
frosting and colored candies. (You can also use this recipe to make
gingerbread houses. Just roll it out a little thicker.)

Cinnamon Spice Ornaments

one cup unsweetened applesauce
1 1/4 cup ground cinnamon or a mix of cinnamon and other spices

Mix the applesauce and cinnamon together to form a dough. Roll out the spice dough on a cinnamon-dusted work surface, then cut out the ornament shapes using cookie cutters. Use a chopstick to make a hole for hanging. Bake in a 170-degree oven for one hour. Turn off the heat and let the ornaments cool in the oven for several hours.

At home, you and the kids can make these ornaments one evening and decorate them the next. You can use frosting, candies, and other cookie decorations--or you can glue on bits of paper, greeting card cutouts, lace, ribbon, and beads. These will be family keepsakes, so you'll want to store them for next holiday in a tin box with a lid, carefully packed to keep them from breaking. Next year, when you open the tin, they'll still smell spicy, but if they lose their scent, a few drops of cinnamon oil will do the trick.

>>election cake

Election Cake (adapted for the Web from China Bayles' Book of Days for November 4)

Here in Pecan Springs, as everywhere across the country, we'll be voting tomorrow. And since it's bound to be a big day (and a long evening), we'll want a little something for snacks.

The tradition of celebrating an electoral victory (or consoling yourself for an electoral loss) with food seems to be a long one. I was browsing through an early nineteenth-century cookbook the other day when I came across a  recipe for something called Election Cake. “Old-fashioned election cake,” I read, “is made of four pounds of flour . . . .”

Election cake? I’d never heard of it!

But some online research pulled up an answer, in an article written by the well-known food historian Alice Ross. Election cake, Miss Ross says, was a tradition that began back in England, with the “Great Cake,” rich, spicy fruit-filled cakes baked to celebrate important family or community occasions, such as weddings, births, funerals, and holidays.

One such occasion arose during the Revolutionary War, when men flocked to the colonial towns to report for duty in the Revolutionary Army. According to Ross, the inns and taverns served cake: “Mustering Cake.” After the War, men came to town again—this time to vote in elections for which they had fought and died. It was time to celebrate again, this time, with “Election Cake.”

The recipe for Election Cake appears in the second edition of Amelia Simmons’ American Cookery (1800, online at Project Gutenberg)—a truly American cookbook, with recipes for such colonial novelties as Johnny Cake, Indian Slapjacks, “Pompkin pudding” (the first pumpkin pie), cooked squash with whortleberries, even the quintessentially American Spruce Beer. What’s more, Mrs. Simmons was the first cookbook author to use the word "cooky," from the Dutch “koekje,” the treats offered in colonial New York to holiday callers.

So it seems altogether appropriate that American Cookery should include recipes for three American cakes: Independence Cake, Federal Pan Cake, and Election Cake. Here is Amelia Simmons’s recipe for a cake that was obviously intended to be served to a large crowd of enthusiastic (and hungry) voters.

Election Cake

30 quarts flour
10 pound butter
14 pound sugar
12 pound raisins
3 doz eggs
one pint wine
one quart brandy
4 ounces cinnamon
4 ounces fine colander seed*
3 ounces ground allspice

Wet the flour with milk to the consistence of bread over night, adding one quart yeast; the next morning work the butter and sugar together for half an hour, which will render the cake much lighter and whiter; when it has rise light work in every other ingredient except the plumbs**, which work in when going into the oven.

*Colander seed is coriander seed, which was brought to Britain by the Romans. It was once used extensively in confectionery.  “The seeds are quite round, like tiny balls,” Mrs. Grieve tells us, “about the size of a Sweet Pea Seed . . . The longer they are kept the more fragrant they become, with a warm pungent taste.” Coriander seed was kept whole and roasted and ground before use. You might want to include more coriander in your diet. The Chinese thought it conferred immortality!

** “Plumbs” are dried raisins. A Washington Post article reports that one teacher and her students baked an Election Cake as part of their study of the voting process. Queried about what they liked and didn't like about the cake, one boy, who wasn't too keen on raisins, voted for replacing the raisins with double chocolate chips.

For a more manageable recipe (but still rich in the traditional spices that made this cake special) try this adaptation from Fannie Farmer's The Boston Cooking School Cookbook:

Election Cake

1/2 cup butter
8 finely chopped figs
1 cup bread dough
1 1/4 cups flour
1 egg
1/2 teaspoon soda
1 cup brown sugar
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 cup sour milk
1/4 teaspoon clove
2/3 cup raisins seeded, and cut in pieces
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
1 teaspoon salt

Directions:
1. Work butter into dough, using the hand.
2. Add egg well beaten, sugar, milk, fruit dredged with two tablespoons flour, and flour mixed and sifted with remaining ingredients.
3. Put into a well-buttered bread pan, cover, and let rise one and one-fourth hours.
4. Bake one hour in a slow oven.
5. Cover with Boiled Milk Frosting.

Boiled Milk Frosting
Ingredients:
1 teaspoon butter
1 1/2 cups sugar
1/2 cup milk
1/2 teaspoon vanilla

Put the butter into a saucepan and, when it is melted, add the sugar and milk. Stir until the boiling-point is reached and then boil for 10 minutes without stirring (235 degrees). Remove from the heat, add vanilla and beat until of spreading consistency.

And be sure to vote!

>>chinaberry beads

Around Pecan Springs, the chinaberry trees (Melia azedarach) are turning golden and their berries hang on the trees like small golden balls. This is what the berries (more accurately: drupes) look like, up close and personal.

This fast-growing, drought-tolerant tree (a relative of India's famous neem tree) came to the United States from Asia as an ornamental back in the 1880s, and has spread across the country. In fact, in some areas chinaberry (also called an umbrella tree, for its arching canopy of lacy green leaves) is considered invasive. It grows in clumps, sometimes occupying habitats that native trees enjoy, and may crowd out the natives.

We have a chinaberry here at the shop, and I always point it out to visitors as an herbal tree--especially in the spring, when it is covered with light lavender-pink blossoms. From a distance, the tree seems to be enveloped in a cloud of lilac smoke. The berries persist throughout the winter, giving the tree a lovely silhouette against a dark winter sky.

In the far East, this tree plays a role in herbal medicine: its bark is emetic and has been used to treat intestinal parasites. It is also thought to have anti-viral and anti-cancer properties, although there is no scientific confirmation of this. A strong tea made from ground seeds or bark, mixed with water and dishwashing liquid and sprayed on grass, has been used as a flea and insect repellent. (Birds don't seem to be affected by the toxicity, although they may get drunk on the fermented berries.)

I like to demonstrate another use for chinaberries: making a bead necklace. In India, this tree is called the Bead Tree, and its seeds are valued for their use as beads. If you have chinaberry trees, you might want to try your hand at making beads. Boil the berries (they're toxic, so use a pan that you don't use to cook with) to soften and remove the fleshy covering. Drain. When they're dry, they'll turn a soft bone-white. You can dye them with food coloring or fabric dye--a quarter teaspoon in a half cup of hot water will do the trick. (In the photo, I've dyed the red with fabric dye, the blue with Wilton's food coloring.) The hardest part is drilling the center hole without cracking the seed. I use a Dremel drill with a 1-2 mm bit (be careful!), and position the berry in a small vise to hold it. String on waxed linen thread or filament, alone or with other beads.

Other seeds make beautiful botanical beads: Job's tears, castor beans, datura, acorns, melons. And of course, there are rose beads, made from rose petals. Check out the directions in the May 20th entry in the Book of Days.

Herb writer Susan Belsinger has written an article about Ruth J. Smith's fascinating collection, part of which Smith donated to Kew Gardens. The article will give you some ideas for experimenting with seed beads and starting your own collection.

Have you made seed beads? Have a story to tell, or information to offer? Share by posting a comment.

And drop in next Monday (the day before the mid-term elections), when I'll be posting on Election Cake!