Gouda morning ...

How's that for a cheesy pun to start off today's cheesy food topic: cheese.

Most specifically macaroni and cheese, of which I started getting cravings for after reading Jean’s blog, “Foodie Thoughts.” Real homemade macaroni and cheese, and not the plastic-tasting stuff out of the box, which I have mastered making under my protest, and under pressure from my youngest daughter who prefers the boxed kind.

My "real" macaroni and cheese is a mixture of cheeses, mushrooms, onions, chopped spinach or whatever else I can find hanging out in the fridge, and is layered, and baked with a crusty au-gratin topping on it, which is again, made from whatever is hanging around.

I like to cook, and despite the self-perpetuated myth that I can’t, I’m actually pretty good at it. I just can’t follow a recipe. The urge to add, subtract, substitute, and play around with ingredients is too strong to resist. As a result my kitchen by the time I’m done looks like a chemistry lab after an experiment gone wrong, sometimes complete with stuff dripping from the ceiling and down the walls. I’ve never made anything too terribly horrible to eat….but my family is thankful I’ve never tried some of these experiments a second time (especially whoever is in charge of clean-up). There are dishes of mine they ask for repeatedly though, and my macaroni and cheese is one of them.

I love macaroni and cheese. And apparently I'm not alone. On average, Americans consume more than one-half pound of cheese per person, per week. In 1937, Kraft Foods introduced the first boxed macaroni and cheese, and today sells approximately a million boxes per day.

Shhhhh ... I hope that doesn’t upset the Cheese Gods! They'll take a-whey our cheese eating privileges for such blasphemous sacrilege! Nothing against Kraft and the millions of people, my daughter included, who eat it, but the boxed stuff is to macaroni and cheese, what American cheese is to real cheese. American cheese is not cheese; it is cheese product – whatever that means. And American cheese in macaroni and cheese?! In my opinion, it might as well be the thin plastic film the stuff comes wrapped in; it has the same texture ... although American cheese is the best for grilled cheese sandwiches to go with tomato soup. But for macaroni and cheese – never!

I like to use a couple of different cheeses; usually shredded cheddar and Monterey Jack because those two are pretty much staples in the refrigerator.

Eye-ball along with me, and I'll take you step-by-step through the process of making it up as you go along – there are no exact measurements; you have to estimate each time to get the total Culinary Artistry Impaired Cooking Experience.

1. Cook pasta ... yes, despite rumors to the contrary, I have actually mastered the Art of Boiling Water.

2. Rinse and drain.

3. Place a layer of pasta in the bottom of a buttered, large, really deep baking dish; the deeper the better.

4. Next comes a layer of cheese (or if you're adding other goodies, such as chopped veggies, add those next, and then the cheese).

5. Repeat layering until there are at least three layers of everything, ending with a layer of cheese.

6. Pack it down, because you will have over-estimated the amount of pasta to cook, and the baking dish will be overflowing. Pack it down again, just to be sure it stays put in the dish.

7. Whisk together one or two….sometimes three beaten eggs, and about 1/2 to 3/4 cup of milk depending on how much you over-estimated how much pasta to cook. Add your spice preferences (I like black pepper, paprika, parsley, a bit of cayenne pepper and a dash or two of hot sauce).

8. Stab the packed-down pasta and cheese layers with a knife, making sure you stab all the way down to the bottom of the dish. This allows the milk and egg mixture to seep through the layers; without this Stabbing Step it will run off the top of the dish because undoubtedly you will have packed it too tight.

9. Pour milk and egg mixture over the top.

10. The last layer is au-gratin. This step involves rummaging through the cupboard and searching for whatever ingredients you have that'll be suitable ... I usually end up using seasoned salad croutons plopped in a saucer of melted butter, then a sprinkling of fine bread crumbs over that.

11. Bake until done....approximately 20-30 minutes in an oven set with the dial at half-mast, which is probably around 350 degrees; I'm not exactly sure because I scrubbed the numbers off the oven dials when I first moved into this house in a cleaning frenzy.

12. Enjoy ... for a couple of days at least, due to pasta over-estimation.

It was the perfect day for it. Though temperatures during the preceding week ranged between the below zero mark and the single digits, the thermometer that Sunday afternoon hovered in the mid-twenties. Downright balmy, it seemed. The storm had dumped day-after-day of snow, and it was still coming down. Wind added to the over-all feeling that one just might have been transported back to the winter of 1885. A photo shown during the presentation I was attending confirmed it: The only noticeable difference between the South Haven in the photo during the 1880s, and today was the mode of transportation of the time; horses struggled to make their way through the snow instead of cars.

Mother Nature certainly appeared to have set the stage well for Valerie van Heest’s lecture at the Michigan Maritime Museum. But appearances can be deceiving: the feet of snow already on the ground and still accumulating, the wind and bitter temperatures, and the layer of ice on the channel outside the museum, were nothing compared to what George Sheldon and his fellow crewmates aboard the SS Michigan endured 125 years earlier.

Valerie van Heest is not only an engaging speaker, but is a world class diving champion, shipwreck hunter, and author. She a member of the Women Divers Hall of Fame and co-founded Chicago’s Underwater Archeological Society, the Southwest Michigan Underwater Preserve and Michigan Shipwreck Research Associates. The topic of her presentation at the maritime museum was the wrecks she and her team have discovered on the bottom of Lake Michigan, particularly focusing on the SS Michigan.

The SS Michigan was a 200 foot luxury passenger steamship. One of the grandest on the Great Lakes, it boasted the best of amenities for the vacationing passengers traveling from West Michigan to Wisconsin in the 1880’s. No expense had been spared on the rich wood paneling, oriental rugs, artwork, and the grand staircase with the sky light above. And with five watertight compartments and a double iron hull below, the Michigan was strong as well as stately.

Its strength was the reason it was called into service as a rescue boat in the winter of 1885. The double hull was thought strong enough to break through the ice that had stranded its sister ship, the Oneida, in the worst storm to hit the area in a decade.

The SS Michigan left port on February 9, 1885, never to return. Ironically in a time before ship-to-ship communication, the sister ship broke free at nearly the same time the S.S. Michigan left to rescue her. For forty days the Michigan was stuck in the ice, until finally its hull buckled under the pressure, and it sank to the bottom of the lake. All of the twenty-nine crew aboard though, made it to safety due in large part to the efforts and perseverance of one young man – the ship's porter, George Sheldon.

Stranded, the Michigan had drifted with the ice pack 40 miles from where she started. After about a week, with rations running short, and the storm showing no signs of stopping, the captain picked seventeen of the strongest crew members to attempt a walk to shore. George Sheldon, the youngest aboard, was one of those who trekked across the snow and ice, equipped with only with axes, a small supply of rations, and a compass.

For more than 10 hours in temperatures below minus 10 degrees Fahrenheit, they hiked twelve to fifteen miles to shore, and then trudged even further until they reached a farmhouse. From there, they were sleighed to a train station for the trip back home.

Once they reached Grand Haven where they began their voyage, George wasn't done. He returned to the ship on foot with news, letters from home, food, and even whiskey! Then only 2 days later, carrying a bag packed with letters from the crew, George returned back to shore, and helped organize a rescue. On February 25th, bringing six locals with him, George once again boarded the Michigan with supplies ... but not enough to feed the six extra men, and they were ordered back to shore.

The immense pressure of the ice was too much; on March 19^th the hull began to buckle. A tug boat, The Artic, had been sent as a rescue, and was spotted by the Michigan’s crew nearly four miles in the distance. The tug’s nickname, “The Ice Crusher,” did it little good, and the smaller boat got stranded in the ice also. With its hull breaking apart, the remaining crew aboard the S.S. Michigan made their way across the ice to The Artic. With less than the mile left to walk, the crew watched the SS Michigan sink to its final resting place.

Supplies on The Artic were short too, so on March 23rd the crew of the Michigan headed out once again on the ice. Finally, 40 days after they first left shore, the crew set foot on land.

The tug boat though, was still stranded ... and you guessed it, George made another walk across the ice carrying supplies. Though he was a strong young man – only 21 – the trips took their toll on his health, and he never recovered. He died at the age of twenty-five.

One hundred and twenty years later, Van Heest's team found the wreck of the S.S. Michigan under 275 feet of water, preserved like a time capsule – even George Sheldon’s lanterns were in place much in the way he left them. His story displays the same type of spirit that GRIT is based upon – perseverance, responsibility, and determination – and is told in Van Heest’s 2008 Michigan State History Award winning children’s book, Icebound! The Adventures of Young George Sheldon and the SS Michigan.

She and her team continue to persevere also, striving to bring to light stories like George’s for the families of shipwreck survivors, for those who lost their lives in Lake Michigan, and to preserve Michigan’s maritime history. Currently her team is working with best selling author and founder of the National Underwater Marine Agency, Clive Cussler, in the search for the elusive wreck of Northwest Flight 1205 which went down off the shores of South Haven in 1950.

To learn more about the search for Flight 1205, the worst U.S. aviation disaster of the time, Icebound! The Adventures of Young George Sheldon and the SS Michigan, and other of Van Heest’s discoveries, check out her website.

Not urban skiing exactly. ... I don’t live in “urbania”, or suburbia either. But I do live in town, and don’t have the luxury of having wooded acreage or farmland outside my back door. If I did, I’d be out there cross-country skiing whenever I had the chance.

Skiing is my thing; my greatest moments of bliss in the outdoors come from cross-country. I do it all year ’round; traditional cross-country skis in winter, and roller-skis (essentially cross-country skis on wheels), the rest of the year. I don’t always have the time though, to pack up the equipment, drive to one of my favorite spots, do my thing, then pack up and drive home. That’s when I take to the streets and head through the neighborhoods, downtown, or to the beach for a bit of urban skiing. With driving conditions being as bad as they had been the past couple of weeks, the urban ski conditions have been great.

A woman unburying her car from the most recent snowfall told me, “Now, that’s the perfect transportation for this kind of weather. ... Too bad you can’t carry groceries home on skis though.” I’m sure that’s where she was headed; she had that desperate “it’s snowing; I need milk and bread!” look in her eyes. I’ve thought about skiing to the grocery store, but the groceries I buy for the week would need an entire sled dog team to haul home, instead of one mere woman on skis. Whatever fits in a backpack though, I’ve carried – DVDs from the video store, books from the library, cookies from the bakery and a gallon of milk from the convenience mart to go with them. Once, I took canned goods to a friend who was preparing baskets for the food pantry at Christmas time. She is the one who coined the term “urban skiing.” Laughing, she said I should lead Urban Ski Expeditions through town for the tourists during the off-season.

She’s not alone in thinking skiing down the sidewalks and streets seems a bit odd. “Mommy! Mommy! There’s that lady coming down the sidewalk on skis again!” “Don’t look, Dear,” I imagine her mother said as I skied by, “she’ll be gone in a minute.” And there are the strange looks I receive “parking” my skis outside the video store and library. You’d think they never saw a person on skis before.

But I don’t think it’s that odd at all. People bike, roller-blade, skate-board and go for strolls down the sidewalk. What is so different about skiing down them? Of course, there is that warning painted on the sidewalks in the shopping district of downtown proper: No Skateboards, Roller blades, or Bicycles on Sidewalks. It says nothing about skis though. Even if it did, the warning is covered by snow, so I could always claim ignorance if I were pulled over for being in violation of it.

There is at least one other person in town that shares my point of view. My neighbor had a visitor close to Christmas who arrived on cross-country skis. Keith got a laugh out of that, saying it looks like my Urban Skiing Movement has finally caught on. I met the man a few days later at a holiday open house in a downtown shop. I told him what Keith said, adding I’d thought I might be the only one who "Urban Skied" around here. He said no, no – he's been doing it all his life in this town, an activity passed on by his parents who found creative ways to make time to cross-country ski.

He grew up with five siblings, and his parents rarely had any time to breathe by themselves. Cross-country skiing was their one indulgence without the kids – he'd see the tracks going around and around the house when he'd get up in the morning. His parents woke before any of the kids, and not wanting to leave them home alone, got their bliss by skiing in the yard.

Urban skiing, like with any “adventure sport,” does come with a set of unique challenges. Tandem plowing presents a problem. One huge plow barrels down the street, followed closely by another spreading salt and cleaning up what the first plow missed. Early rising, overzealous home owners and shop-keeps fire up their snow-blowers, clearing the sidewalks before the cock even thinks about crowing. Like guests at a wedding party, they smile and wave as I ski by ... except instead of rice, they throw enough ice-melt to make a dent in the polar icecap. All seem determined to turn my fun into mush.

But we reached the point earlier this week, when the streets cannot be plowed even close to bare pavement – there's a nice thick base of compacted snow covering all but the main thoroughfares. Road salt doesn’t work when the temperatures are this low, so they don't even bother with the salt trucks. It makes for a nice slick surface to catch the perfect slide. If only the plows wouldn’t leave those mounds of snow behind; mountain-climbing gear is more suitable equipment than skis to conquer some of them.

As much as I’d like it to, I really don’t think the Urban Ski Movement will catch on; I can’t imagine a skier trying to navigate through pedestrians or traffic on the snowy sidewalks and streets of Detroit, Minneapolis, Chicago or Buffalo. But it’s movement that is the important thing; an activity that brings the kind of feeling that only being outdoors can bring. Too often we tend to hole up inside when the weather turns cold, or just fail to take time out of our busy schedules for ourselves.

We hear that time is valuable and not to be wasted. Always there seems not enough to go around. But taking time – making time if we have to – to be outdoors doing something you love doing, is equally as precious. Whether it is time snow-shoeing, hiking, an early morning walk with the dogs, photographing the beauty of the seasons ... or even cross-country skiing around the house a few times, it’s time well-spent. Layers of clothing keep the body warm this time of year, but it’s getting out and enjoying yourself that warms the soul.

Once upon a time, there were no computers, and no Internet. Remember going to the library to look up information? Remember first digging through the card catalog to find out where to look for that information?

Remember libraries? And books?

Computer technology certainly has made things quicker and easier. I can't count how many times I’ve searched the Internet in the last week seeking blurbs of information, most of which has no use except to satisfy my curiosity. But what if technology were the demise of things like books with actual pages to turn, and libraries to hold them?

My friend received a Sony Digital Reader this Christmas. Completely portable, it's a small thing about the size of an average address book, but can hold up to 160 e-books. It also has an MP3 player, so she can listen to music while she reads – all with the same gadget. All she has to do is go to an e-book website – many of the books offered are free, and download what ever looks good to her. Ta-da! She’s got a virtual library at her fingertips. It looks so simple that even the technically inept, such as myself, can easily use one.

It's all very cool and hi-tech … and sterile. There is something to me that seems so comforting about turning the well-worn pages of a book. I watched as she explained how it worked, and it made me want to read a real book … feeling the weight of it resting in my lap, the stiff paper under my fingertips … feeling the tangible substance of it.

I posted the topic on a message board I belong to, and the responses that followed I found interesting.

One woman says, “I prefer the actual book to an e-book. However, I look at all the books I have cluttering up space that could be used for other things if I had them all on an e-book reader instead … and e-books are cheaper than hard-covers and paperbacks (for the most part).”

She went on to explain that she recently saw Amazon’s “Kindle” featured on Oprah and yearned for one, but is currently holding out. E-book readers are relatively new for the most part. According to Wikipedia, there were a few devices developed early in this decade, which are now discontinued, but Sony’s Digital Reader hit the market in 2006, and Amazon’s Kindle followed in 2007. Like all new technology, once it’s not so new any more, the price becomes more affordable. “When the price is more reasonable, I'll seriously consider getting one. Until then, I'm sticking with books, and cramming them into storage boxes and stuffing them into closets,” she says.

I look at the over-flowing book shelf next to my desk, the one across the room, the one in the living room ... the stack of books threatening to topple over on my desk, and I think less clutter would be nice. Less clutter … less paper in landfills … less raw materials used. Although many books seem to be made of recycled product, I wonder what the environmental impact would be going to paper-less books. But the paper industry supports how many jobs? There'd be economical impact as well. Then there are the printers, bookbinders, publishers, and booksellers – would these time-honored careers be lost due to progress?

A man from England writes, “I'd never really given e-readers a thought. I was raised with books, and libraries were a valuable and big part of my life. Now you've gone and waved a gadget at me. Ahhhh, why did you have to do that? They do look interesting though, don't they?

“I think I would probably wait for the bugs to be ironed out, and even then I would be selective about what I read from on it. The real concern I think, is that the cheaper they become, the more people would buy them rather than 'real' books. I remember some years ago, the music stores said they would continue to supply vinyl for people that preferred it. Now you can't find a single store that supplies it.

“One of my favourite stores closed last year. It was a second-hand bookshop in Maldon, Essex. I spent many hours, and pounds, in there over the years. The owner, however, couldn't continue with the high overheads of a shop when he was selling far more stock from his internet site. It's a sad sign of the times, but at least he's still selling the 'real thing.'”

His wife adds, “I think it would be criminal if the youngsters of today relied on e-books … the younger generation would grow up and not even know what a book is (or was!), what it feels like to hold and smell a book (yes they do have a distinctive smell)!

“It is a very good idea for people who cannot get out and about and love reading, but let's not encourage the young to spend more and more time in front of the computers! Sorry if that sounds a bit harsh, but I feel that the young spend too much time as it is in front of one screen or another!”

My daughters have little idea what a vinyl record is – Shelby, my teenager, said she’d seen them in movies a couple of times. Will books go the way of vinyl records? How sad to think that future generations – perhaps even that of my daughters’ children – would only know what a book is from what they’ve seen in movies, or housed behind glass cases in museums.

This comment echoes my own feelings:

“There are obviously things I love about computers. But I'm very old-school in many ways, and books are one of my old-school stand-bys. There is something comforting about revisiting a well-loved old book. I never catch an airplane that there isn't a Sue Grafton mystery in my backpack. There's always a book (usually one of Sue's) in my overnight bag. And my garage is stacked with books I haven't touched in awhile, but can't bear to part with. An e-reader just couldn't have the same comforting qualities that a worn, often-read book has.

“I have the same worry about e-books as I do about mp3s – there is no way that every book will be available, especially the obscure ones. And many of my favorites are obscure titles. I have several photography books, too ... an e-reader can't do them justice.”

Amazon’s website describes the Kindle as “the future of book reading. It will be everywhere." It’s inevitable. But I am a heel-dragger when it comes to change. The message board’s on-going thread in which I posted this topic is titled “Commonplace Rarities” – things that were once very common, but now are considered quite rare. I imagine libraries in the near future will be multi-media centers housing more computers and electronic reading materials than actual books, and already I’m nostalgic for a time when I could get lost within the pages of a book.

How do you feel?

Look at any USDA Cold Hardiness Map and you’ll see a thin band along Lake Michigan colored different from most of the rest of Michigan.  Weather Channel maps in winter often show that same area colored white when the rest of the state is colored green.  Though it may seem as if the map-makers run out of the color they’ve been using when they get to the western side of the state, Lake Michigan is the actual cause of the change in color. 

Lake Michigan keeps this area more temperate than the rest of the state.  Here, along the shore, the wind passing over the cooler lake water keeps our summer temperatures milder.  This gives us a Zone 6 cold-hardiness rating, a zone warmer than most of the rest of the Lower Peninsula – even just a few miles inland from the lake.  In winter, the lake is warmer than the air, resulting in less extreme fluctuations in temperatures.

It’s this relatively warm water in comparison with the cold winter wind that produces the phenomena known as “the lake effect,” and it generates a tremendous amount of snow.  Artic air blowing over the Great Lakes picks up moisture from the water, and deposits it inland as snow.  Areas east and southeast of the lakes are where the lake effect snows are dumped because artic air masses typically come from the west.  So while that same artic air is clearing up the skies over most of the rest of the country, Great Lake communities are fueling their plows and preparing to get buried in snow.  Thirty to sixty percent of annual snowfall in these communities are due to the lake effect.

The local radio station here reported that the South Haven area has had 50 inches of snow since November of this year; 2 feet were on the ground on Christmas Day which makes it the whitest Christmas we've had in the past few years.

Not all of this snow is lake effect; the low pressure cell of winter storms that hit much of the country recently is responsible for some of it.  It’s the air flow that typically comes behind the storm’s front that produces lake effect snow squalls.  The wind can last for days, making lake effect snow bands persistent.

Lake effect snows are not restricted to the Great Lakes region; any large, relatively ice-free lake which provides a long stretch of water (known as “fetch”) with warmer water than the cold air blowing across it can produce lake effect snow.  But lake effect snows are the most common and heaviest along the Great Lakes shorelines.

I’ve always loved Lake Michigan.  I spent many summers of my childhood camping along her shoreline with my family.  Now decades later, living in South Haven just a few blocks from the lake, is a dream come true.  Living on the oppose side of the state as a child, however, I did not experience the lake in winter. 

The shoreline is an entirely different experience than it is in summer; it looks foreign – almost like a barren alien landscape on another planet.  There are no sun-worshippers on the beach – the fair weather visitors are gone as the sun rarely shines in winter.  Yachts and pleasure boats sit elsewhere in dry-dock like beached whales with their bellies exposed.  Great chunks of ice clog the channel to the lake.  Waves roll the icebergs in fluid motion, giving it the appearance of a long serpent breathing deep, deep breaths.  

The pier is relentlessly beaten by waves, which start to freeze even as they crash over the top of the structure.  The lighthouse at the pier’s end wears an icy sheath, its paint a red undergarment peeking from beneath.  There are always a few cars in the beach parking lot, their occupants protected from the elements as they watch the power of the lake from their tiny capsules of safety.

One cannot live by the Lake and not be awe-struck by her power.  Lake Michigan’s voice is deafening in winter, and it calls to me as urgently as a bright summer day beckons the sun-worshippers to the beach.  Weird as some may think this is, I prefer to be out in the elements close to the water, rather then just view it from inside a vehicle.  I love the beach in winter, and I usually have it all to myself.  The fierce howl of the wind blows as bitter as an old maid’s memoirs, and the roar of her waves drowns out any of my yelps caused from the wind slapping my face.       

As I write this, it occurs to me that the lake effect is not just a weather phenomenon.  It’s a feeling; it’s Lake Michigan’s effect on my soul.  At times, it may be as stormy as the lake itself (as when I’ve fired up the snow-blower multiple times a day just to try to keep up with the continuous snow that sometimes never seems to stop).  Most times though, even on the darkest winter days, it’s a peaceful feeling; a feeling of awe that this thing of great beauty and power inspires. 

Lake Michigan has as many moods as it inspires in those who live near her.  Local photographer Karen Murphy (no family relation to me) captures them beautifully on her photo gallery website at http://www.kmurphyphoto.com/lighthouse.htm.

Map courtesy USDA.