Of Bread and Defiance

There's not much of note in regard to the 10th of August with the exception of poor martyred Saint Lawrence whose feast day this is. He was probably decapitated for his defiance of the Emperor Valerian in the year 258, but legend has it that he was roasted to death on a gridiron instead. Wikipedia informs us that, as a result, he is now Patron Saint of Chefs (among others) - particularly those who barbecue! Appropriate for August, I must say.

Oh, and the anniversary of the Pueblo Rebellion in 1680 against the Spanish! Repeated droughts, famines, and continuing Spanish subjugation weakened relations between Spanish overlords and the Pueblo communities. Dissatisfied with the Catholic church's patronage during such harsh times, the Pueblos reverted to their familiar religion. You can imagine what the Spanish did then. Among other things, medicine men were executed, whipped, imprisoned. One who survived, Popé, a medicine man from Tewa Pueblo, led a successful Revolt on - you guessed it - the feast day of Saint Lawrence. Respite from Spanish domination, however, lasted only about 4 years.

Pueblo of Taos, New Mexico, Circa 1895

On another note:
I went to a produce stand the other day and reveled in the sight of so many jewels of the earth. Their scent in the heat was joyous. Here in Washington State we are at the height of harvest - too late for rhubarb, too early for nuts and pumpkins, but all else abounds. In the eastern part of the state, cereal harvest of winter and spring wheat is in full swing. Makes me want to cook again!

It's almost time for the Corn Dances in the Southwest; it's the middle of Harvest; so, to bring it all together, let's try some Pueblo Adobe Bread, which, they say, has been a popular item at the Dances:

• 1 pkg active dry yeast
• 1/2 cup lukewarm water
• 1 1/2 cups hot water
• 2 Tbs. shortening
• 1 Tbs. sugar
• 1 tsp salt
• 4 1/2 - 5 1/2 cups unbleached flour

Dissolve yeast in lukewarm water. You might want to add a pinch of sugar to help it rise. Set it aside to rise. In a large mixing bowl, mix the hot water, shortening, sugar, and salt. Add 1 cup of flour and beat well. Stir in the yeast/water until well incorporated. Add 3 to 3 1/2 cups more flour, beating thoroughly.

Turn out onto a lightly floured surface and knead for about 10 minutes, adding more flour if necessary, until the dough is smooth and elastic. Put the dough in a greased bowl, cover with a towel, and set to rise in a warm place until it doubles in size - about 1 hour. Meanwhile preheat your oven to 375 degrees.

Punch down the dough, and divide it in half. Place in 2 smaller greased oven-proof baking dishes. Turn the dough once so the tops are greased. Bake for 45 to 50 minutes or until the tops are nicely browned. Turn the loaves out to cool on a rack. 2 loaves /12 servings [Beverly Cox and Martin Jacobs, Spirit of the Harvest: North American Indian Cooking, Stewart, Tabori & Chang, New York: 1991]

Have a delightful day!

The Sacred King

We are just past the height of the grain harvest celebration, but I thought I'd put in a poem that came up in one of my 3:15's two years ago... Death of the Sacred King (see Frazer's The Golden Bough) for the sake of continuing harvest in the year to come... I must also cite a youthful fascination with Mary Renault's mid-20th century fiction, The King Must Die and The Last of the Wine. Wherever my l'il peabrain got it's subterranean idea, this is what it came up with at 3:15 am, August 1, 2004:

The Corn King awakes…
knowing.
Bread he takes
in cool palms.
Its taste furrows
his tongue.
The last of the wine:
water in his throat.
Relentless light
greets the grain knife…
knowing.
They throng slopes,
fallow places resting from
last year’s yield.
Down through
olive groves above the sea
comes the Corn King,
bedecked,
to kneel before his queen.
His sight seeks
glittering scythe she
lifts.
And then, before
that sunstruck arc, he
bends his white neck:

Knowing.

***********

I hunted and hunted for actual evidence of this sacrificial regicide - and, indeed, regicide has been rampant. The sacrifice of king for harvest, however, seems to be more mythic than historic, as most vital human archetypal images are. The concept gathers bits from here and there until we have an extravaganza with mega-sound. At any rate - the king, old John Barleycorn, is dying to make fertile ground for next year's harvest. I don't intend to let that sacrifice go to waste. Make bread, not war!

Turning the Leaf

There is a tradition - begun in the Northwest - amongst poets to set the alarm for 3:15 AM during the month of August. At that unpredictable moment, one must take pen in hand and move from dreaming to writing. No editing may occur, just pure words pouring from the altered brain... I have been doing it this year, and finding it easier to do than in the past. This last one, however, has kept me up and awake, and setting up this blog at 6 AM.

I am choosing a new beginning, I think. Many disconnects and reconnects within myself - even at this late date. I am finally free of some old emotional clutter that has held me prisoner for most of my adult life (which is a considerable length of time in relative terms). To this, I raise a toast : orange juice, or tea, to a cleaner, more joyful, slate! Slainte!