Archive | Polly Jo Masters

Portuguese Kale Soup…

The story of the Portuguese diaspora in America is fascinating. It begins somewhere in the late 16th century and continues right up until the beginning of the 20th. For the most part they settled in the coastal areas of New England–Massachusetts and Rhode Island–and the phonebook of Fall River, Massachusetts has more De Silvas than you can count. Portuguese Jews came to escape persecution. Others settled for business–whaling and fishing primarily. Over the decades they became a large part of the once puritanical fabric of Mayflower territory, contributing their blend of spice, culture and industry. From Newport to Cuttyhunk, Martha’s Vineyard, Nantucket and New Bedford, Falmouth, Wellfleet, Provincetown, Gloucester…The list is as long and convoluted as the coastline it covers. I suggest you go here to find out more details.

Like all diaspora they brought their food. Many years ago I spent a summer cooking on a small island in the Elizabeth’s (a small island chain off of New Bedford) and made more Cioppino than you can shake a stick at. I drank enough Vino Verde (courtesy of Padanaram Liquors) to satisfy any thirst and ate enough fresh baked pastries to choke a cod fish. However, the best Portuguese dish, I feel, is Portuguese Kale Soup. I am not sure if they made this in Portugal but all up and down the New England coast you can find it, especially when the weather turns foul and the rains begin and the winter sets in. I grew up eating this soup in Provincetown and Truro from the time I was born until…well, now we come to it and to be honest I am getting a little weepy right now.

It is December 3, 2019 as I write this and I will post this tomorrow, December 4th. My mother died on December 4th four years ago, surrounded by love, and as peaceful as if she had just gone to sleep. She made Portuguese Kale Soup and that’s how I will always remember it. The recipe is simple and begins in the meat section of the A&P out on Shank Painter Road in Provincetown where mom would buy a package of Gaspar’s linguica and a box of frozen kale, a can of whole peeled tomatoes, a couple of potatoes, onions…the rest we had on hand. You basically just put it all in a pot, cover it all with water, add a bay leaf or two, some salt and pepper and cook it until the large-diced spuds are soft. As memories go it is a real winner. So much so that for the past year I have been trying to have some linguica, real-Massachusetts-grade-A-Portuguese-linguica, sent to me here on Paros. My sister brought some from Maine but the TSA took it. Every outlet I tried in the USA told me they couldn’t ship it overseas. Even Amazon didn’t have the right stuff. You see, there is a difference between Portuguese linguica (from Portugal) and the stuff I want. Worlds apart, as they say. And kale in Greece? What the heck is that?

But I found some kale…a little pale, but sturdy enough–fresh, not frozen. For the sausage I had to compromise. I will be using a mildly spicy Italian sausage I bought in Florence a few weeks ago at my sister’s suggestion. I am also using a little stock, not just water. The rest is the same. Almost. Yes…a little weepy again, but that’s alright. I have my mother’s spirit guiding me and her practical kitchen sense approving the alterations I must make. Because you see, the temperature is dropping and the rains are beginning and the winter is setting in on this little island in the sea and what I want is a bowl of Portuguese Kale Soup and the memory of a steamy kitchen filled with garlicky aromas and a voice saying, ‘Now…we’ll just let that sit and tomorrow it’ll be terrific…”

–JDCM

Early with the rain…

On the surface my parents would have had to be considered liberal and left-leaning. Certainly they voted that way. Their social views were in line with this, I think. In hindsight, however, I see my upbringing as being quite conservative. I guess it is the same with most beliefs. That which they held most dear they held with such fervour that it could be seen as a form of conservatism: strict in their liberalism. All of this means nothing except that for most of my formative years I was not allowed to eat pre-sweetened cereals or watch a lot of television. Or drink TANG. Remember TANG? TANG has not forgotten you. I loved TANG. A childhood friend drank it and it was a forbidden treat when I would visit his house and have a glass of TANG. My father would screw up his face in displeasure at the thought. That was over 35 years ago. I looked up TANG on the Billabong one-stop shopping website and there it was! And in several different flavours. Well, I am purist when it comes to these things so I ordered a tub of it, classic Astronaut Orange. It arrived the other day. I mixed some up and had a tentative sip. Amazing! It was exactly the same as I remember. Dee-lish! Why we are not all drinking this stuff? I don’t know.

TANG: The drink of astronauts

I guess I have to rethink the food thing, because in reality I ate a lot of Jell-O. And hotdogs and Campbell’s Pork and Beans. Also my fair share of Chef- Boy-R-Dee Beef-a-Roni and Ravioli. Then again, I was a just a little guy and my mother had figured out that if I was eating, that as fine, regardless. So who had the distasteful views of these forbidden fruits? Probably my father, who was so strict on himself and with others he could never really relax. His disdain for modern comforts like air-conditioning was offset not long after he left us by his embracing the machinery of mechanical coolants in his own home: central air. The way he looked down on certain restaurants in Provincetown as being beneath us was eventually nullified by his making these places his favourite haunts. Was he aware of the hypocrisy? Maybe. Who cares? I have my TANG.

I was thinking about this because I woke up early this morning, about 04:30. I heard the steady patter of the rain. I started the coffee, fed the cat, brushed my teeth and went out beneath the pergola to say hello to the Cosmos and encountered a minor flood. The drain pipe on my terrace was blocked and about 8 cm of water had pooled on most of the marble balcony. I found a wire clothes hanger, unbent it, and, while being rained on (I was wearing a hat and raincoat) reamed out the top of the pipe. Gurgle, gurgle…and the rater began to flow. As I was doing this I remembered back to how my father would wake up in the middle of a rain storm to go pull a board out of the spillway so the pond wouldn’t overflow. He grew to resent these aspects of his life, those rural elements that distracted him from the urban (and snobbishly urbane) lifestyle he craved. So he left.

After that, the menu was more relaxed. I even ate my fair share of Captain Crunch, another item on the Culinary List of Scorn. It seems that only one of my parents had had such hard and fast beliefs. So were they both liberal or was one more so than the other? Or, perhaps, one was willing to be flexible, more easy-going, than the other and, in the end, more independent. I must not forget that my mother was also one to wake up at 3AM, slip on her rubber boots and barn coat (before it was fashionable) over her pyjamas and trudge out into the rainy gloom, yank a piece of wood from the concrete spillway and go back into the house for a cup of coffee. In fact, she probably did it more often than he did.

It is supposed to rain all day. This is good. The island needs it. It drinks it in and, in a few months, will reward us all with a symphony of wild flowers. I will stay inside as much as I can today, venturing out only to go to the PO. These are familiar rhythms, movements I have learned. I am flexible. I can bend. I can let it go. I have my TANG.

–JDCM

PS: sorry about the size fo the new header, my dental X-ray. I can’t make it smaller and still have it fit.

Following some familial footsteps…

I would like to blog a lot about the terrible political situations that are sweeping the globe, but there is so much of that already from all sides that I have decided not to do so.  I re-Tweet, comment, etc…already.  That’s enough from me.  I would like to tell you a story instead.  I hope that, in some small way, it helps to dispel some of the darkness.

In the late 1890s, at the University of Iowa, there was a writer by the name of George Cram Cook.  From 1896 to 1899 he taught what is considered by many to be the very first creative writing course.  He titled it ‘Verse-Making.’  When he left in 1899, the course was continued by his colleagues and became what is now known as the Iowa Writer’s Workshop.  Cook then went to Stanford University and taught a similar course and, in 1915, after marrying his second wife Susan Glaspell, moved to Provincetown, Massachusetts where they founded the Provincetown Players, an avant-garde theatre group.  He produced plays written by Glaspell, some of Eugene O’Neill’s first plays and also those of Edna St. Vincent Millay.  That is just a small sample.  He worked with the group until 1919.  A long-time Hellenophile, he moved to Greece in 1922, settling in Delphi, home of the Oracle.  He died in Delphi 2 years later after contracting glanders from a dog bite.  The Greek government granted him status to be buried there, his grave marked by an ancient stone from the Temple of Apollo.  His daughter Nella was buried alongside him in the town necropolis and there is a memorial to Glaspell, Cook’s mother Ellen Dodge and his first wife Mollie on the wall above.

Jump ahead about 50 years.  My mother, the ever curious historian, began to research the P’town Players, Glaspell, Cook, et al…At that time my family lived in Provincetown as summer residents and were a part of the arts community, largely due to my novelist father.  Mom’s curiosity was such that she planned an excursion to Greece with my grandmother.  Grammaw had lived and worked in Athens and Thessaloniki in the mid-1960s and, as she was more familiar with the lay of the land, joined my mother in a search for Cook’s grave.  I do not remember if they found it, and I sense there was some disappointment to their quest.  I would have been about 7 or 8 years old at the time, so this tale is bathed in the slippery mist of memory.  I am skipping a lot here, especially about Grammaw and her interest.  Another story for a later time.

Jump ahead again to yesterday, 23 June, 2018.  I had a free day in Athens so I signed up for a tour of Delphi.  I had been there in 2006, but the Mom/Grammaw/Cook story had slipped my mind.  I decided to rectify this and follow their footsteps to find the grave.  The tour was pleasant enough and an economical way to get there, see the sacred site, the superb museum, have lunch and be transported back to the hotel later in the afternoon.  My tour mates were mostly American and Australian tourists and were curious about this aspect of my trip.  It was fun.  They enjoyed the tale as well.  I related a more truncated, less rambling version, by the way.

During a free 45 minutes between the site visit and the museum, I scurried up to the modern town and asked a local about the cemetery.  It was easy to find, and when I entered I queried two workmen if they knew of the grave.  “No..no English here…no Americans here…”  Undaunted, I looked around the small cemetery.  Among the cleanly carved headstones and markers, one stood out, up in the northeast corner, beneath a cypress tree–an ancient marble stele.  There it was.  After sweeping off the graves and taking some pictures, I looked at my watch.  I had just enough time to make it back down the hill and join my group for the museum tour.

 

 

–JDCM

 

It’s been a while…

I haven’t blogged in a long time.  I have had so many ideas about what to say, how to say it…it has all become a jumbled mess.  I should have taken notes.  I’ll try to untangle some threads…

News from the world of photography–some of my work has been chosen to be part of the Antiparos International Photography Exhibition in July.  It is a group show of about 14-15 different photographers and I have a feeling I will be a black sheep.  Going by what has been shown in the past, there will be a lot of street photography, travel/editorial work and landscapes.  I have submitted a new portfolio of abstract digital work–more of my Found Horizons.   They are very colourful and somewhat large, so they benefit from being seen from a few meters away.  When I have an e-poster, I’ll post it in a few places for you all to see.  It is a true privilege to be a part of this event.

–I have suspended my gum bichromate work until the autumn when the temperatures and humidity drops to a manageable level.  It has become too hot to work in the darkroom these days.  By that time I hope to have some new, larger digital negatives to work with.

–My work with the Photographic Club of Paros has come to an end for the season.  I had a wonderful time with them all and they printed some good work, some of which can be seen this upcoming weekend here in Paroikia.  I am very excited to see what it all looks like matted, framed and behind glass (ok..plastic).

–After years of waiting, the collection of my mother’s newspaper articles from the little local weekly has finally been collected and made into a book.  I dare to say ‘published’ since there is no ISBN number and it is not for sale.  I have given copies away to family and friends. I am so happy this has come about.  I began the process a few years before she died and I feel it is a fitting memorial for who she was, how she thought, what she believed, how she lived.

–I am hoping to embark upon another artistic path this summer.  That’s all I can and will say about it now.  If I follow through I’ll be sure to share.

–I go through eating phases. For instance, last winter I was eating a larger ratio of quesadillas than normal.  Sometimes for lunch and dinner.  These days it is caesar salads.  I have been making my own caesar salad dressing and have confirmed that this wonderfully garlicky, tangy aoili tastes good on just about anything–except fruit.  This may seem banal, but it is the little joys in life, isn’t it? I do not make them the way the Greeks make them.  For them it is a meal with chicken, corn, bacon…yummy, but I am more of a purest.  I even skip the croutons.  Just the romaine lettuce and the dressing.  Funnily enough, both the quesadilla and the caesar salad are from Mexico.  Hmmmm…

–I am convinced that TFitWH is yearning for the Nobel Peace Prize.  He’ll try to take credit for anything good that happens in Asia or the Middle East.  He’s a corrupt shark and we all know it.  He was corrupt long before he became TFitWH.  What does this say about the moral and ethical state of America?  I know that there is outrage, political movements, protests…and that is healthy and right and I support them all.  But what about the rest?  Have the citizens been gorging themselves so long on bread and circuses that they’ve become complacent cattle led by their collective noses?  I know many who are not.  This gives me hope.

I guess that’s it for now.

–JDCM

 

 

 

Birthday, friends, good food, Lent and photography…

I haven’t written much about photography lately.  Or if I have it has been fleeting.  I am not one to talk about my work a lot, especially work that I have not done or that may in process.  I learned from my father that this is a good way to “talk it out” and I end up not doing it.  This has been my experience.  But I’ll mention some goings-on.

My winter’s work with the Photografiki Omada Parou has been a real joy.  The 20 or so people that signed up in the fall for the 35mm analog project have all been enthusiastic, fun to work with and, without exception, have produced interesting and striking work.  Today I am meeting with one of them to develop their film.  Tomorrow I hand the camera over to another, and Thursday I work in the darkroom printing with a third.    I think I will try to print on Friday too.  This project has kept me busy through the winter but it has been much more.  I have come to know many locals who I had never met, and they I.  During the weekly club meetings (Wednesday, 19:30hrs) I get to hear at least two hours of solid Greek from numerous voices which has helped my Greek language studies which I work on every Friday afternoon with my teacher Stella.  So all around it has been a “win-win” situation.  They do all the work, by the way.  I am just a guide.

My own work?  This week I hope to submit a new portfolio of digital abstract work to the Antiparos International Photography Exhibition for the upcoming summer 2018 show.  This work is finished  so I can talk about the fantasy digital land-sea scapes I have found and photographed.  Very little Photoshopping, as you may guess.  Just a slight curve here or there for contrast and to keep it WYSIWYG.  Cross my fingers…I am also embarking on some alternative work which will open up some new technical and artistic avenues.  I won’t say much more except that if the winter time is for the darkroom, this project will be perfect for the summer and all of our sun.

Oh yes…the anniversary of my 53rd trip around the sun was a few days ago so I celebrated yesterday with some friends at a local taverna–that is was also ‘Katheri Deutera’, or Clean Monday, informed the menu.  The remains of the meal can be seen below.  Lent begins today.  I would like to keep the Lenten diet as much as possible for the next 40 days.  It is a healthy choice here in Greece.  Of course, this ‘diet’ predates any religious function as it was a result of the end of the winter, when the stored foods from the autumn harvest had run low (or out) and the agricultural population waited for the new crops of spring.  So it will be lots of veggies for me, seafood without backbones, no cheese, no meat…thank the gods the Greeks are sensible enough to still allow olives and olive oil…

The collection of my mother’s newspaper articles is all but done.  Last week I submitted the digital files to a printing company in Athens and the book goes to press this week.  Finally!  It has been years since I began this project, a memorial to my mother and a gift to family and friends.  And I like this book company.  They do nice work.  I may put together a book of my own.  A small collection of my photographs.  We’ll see…let’s not talk about it yet.

So thats it for February.  Right now there is a lovely, gentle, soaking rain blanketing the island.  It is supposed to rain all day.  Really great.  I am tired of winter.  I want spring, warmth and green things to see and eat.  I need to swim in the sea and shed some of the layers I have had to wear all winter to stay warm and dry.  The world moves ahead into the light and the alchemy I practice draws its magic from an ancient source.

clams, mussels, bean salad, pickles…

–JDCM

 

Mom’s hours…

I haven’t blogged in a while.  I have been busy–good busy.  Too busy to do this.  I have neglected this ongoing missive.  And, to be honest, this post is made up of excerpts from a post I didn’t publish last August, so be patient.  My mother has been on my mind lately and I have been getting up very early, well before dawn usually.  The unpublished post was to be called “Mom’s hours” so I have pasted that into the title field.   I promise to  blog again with something more current in a couple of weeks.

“It’s just after 6 and I have had my coffee, made my bed, fed the cats and it is still dark…the sun is creeping up in the east, I can just see rosy fingered dawn…Much too early to be awake, yet here I am.”

“After raising three children for consecutive decades, getting them up in the morning, making their breakfasts and getting them all on the bus to school, my mother just stayed in the habit if getting up at 5AM, even when she lived alone.”

“…so many of those mornings long ago were dark and cold, frosty, drizzly.  Terrible mornings in which to thrust one’s children, into the palaeolithic harshness of the American public educational system of the 1960s and 70s…”

“…early mornings, sweet tea and cinnamon toast and daypacks heaved onto small, grumpy, narrow shoulders.”

–JDCM

 

Kalo mina!

It’s November 1st and here on Paros the weather is decidedly cold and chilly this morning.  The winter is beginning to set in.  99% of the tourists have left and the few that remain wander around the empty streets, looking in the windows of closed shops, shuttered tavernas…the island has been returned to those who live here.  Thank the gods!

Here are the bullet points…

— I am going to Naxos this weekend for a mountain bike race, my third on that island.  27km around a mountain and through the town of Sangri, high above the port.  The weather predictions are good–high pressure, 14-18C, sunny, breezy.  Perfect for biking.  We have had some rain which will keep the dust down and reduce the amount of loose, gravely ruts.  I’ll go and have fun.

— I am grateful and happy to have joined up with the Photography Club of Paros.  They are a good bunch of photography-loving folks with excellent eyes who love to take pictures.  I will begin a long-term darkroom project with them tonight.  For most of them, it will be a first in this digital-automatic age.  Each week, a member gets a 35mm camera (Pentax K1000/f.2 50mm lens) and roll of 35mm film (Ilford Pan 400) and shoots the roll.  Then we (me and the group member) go into the darkroom, develop the film, print, etc…all in a week.  So far there are about 10 people signed up, but that number, I predict, will jump to 20 quickly.  The project will go until the end of April and then they will look at the assembled portfolio and hang a small show.  For more reasons than I can count, this is a superb thing/event/group/happening with which to be involved.

— My own work is moving along.  The year-long Canon G-11 project is ticking away.  I am ready to print a new portfolio of abstract pieces.  I have to re-shoot or otherwise re-evaluate a b/w still life idea.  I am unhappy with several of the pieces due to their DoF, i.e. focus.

— My gym membership is paying off.  I have been going 2-4 times a week for either Hip/Abs classes or just to burn off calories on the treadmill.  After only a few weeks I can once again fit into my 34″ green Levis.  I will go this morning and push some more limits.  That, plus the biking, is keeping me fit and sane.

— The world?  Well…we all read the news and while it isn’t all bad, it isn’t great.  Leaks in the dam…death and disease, as Polly Jo would have said.

My life is Greece is expanding and growing every day.  I am eternally thankful to the wise woman who advised me over 5 years ago that if were to stay here on Paros, I would need to build a life around me.  And so I have.  Biking and exercise, photography and fellowship, the arts and humanities, connections in the community.  Thank you Liz!

–JDCM

 

Buona Pasqua da Padova…!

Padova is a lovely place to visit.  It is not a touristic town—all the tourists are in Venice, just north of here.  The current groups are mostly Italian, here for the Easter weekend.  There are lovely basilica (Basilica Pontificia di Sant’Antonio di Padova, etc…), some outstanding frescos (Cappella degli Scrovegni housing the most important…).  The restaurants are good to excellent.  My lodging is fine–the Hotel Donatello–a clean and neat family-run place right on the piazza opposite ‘Il Santo’….It has that thing that all 3-star Italian hotels seem to have–a sense of slightly frayed and rundown charm.  I’ll write a more comprehensive review of food, lodging and sights later.

The real reason I came here was to have my mother’s Olivetti Lettera 22 repaired and refurbished by Alessio Vescovo.   When the Olivetti was stripped down it was revealed to be more complex and more interesting than a modern computer.  He disassembled, cleaned and the reassembled it,  making the necessary needed repairs along the way.  He did all of this with a great sense of confidence and care. Today’s post only has photos of the disassembly.  Later will come photos of the cleaning and reassembly.  We found out some things.  It was built sometime between 1952 and 1954 and had been repainted a slightly darker shade if green before my mother bought it used in the mid-60s.  Interesting, no?

So Happy Easter, Kalo Pascha, etc…It’s all about renewal.

–JDCM

Happy Birthday!

Happy Birthday to Christina Book and Joe Splendido, wherever you are, and to me too!  I have forgotten how old they are…friends from the distant past…maybe the same as me, or damn close.

52 years and doing alright, all things considered.

I woke up this morning at 6AM after a fitful 5 hours of sleep–dreams of lost luggage, being stuck in crumbling concrete airports, missed flights, mercenary taxi cabs…

As of tomorrow I will be off-line for almost two weeks.  I am sending my laptop into Athens to Apple to be repaired and cleaned.  I am taking this time to avoid my mobile phone as well.  I’ll get some reading done, take a lot of pictures and sleep differently, I imagine.

I inherited my mother’s old Olivetti Lettera 22 (c.1966) which she used for over 30 years, one of many typewriters she owned.  It needs some TLC, and I found a repairman in Venice who will do it, but it will be expensive.  It will be expensive to send it there and have it sent back but I feel it is worth it.  It might be cheaper to go to Venice and deliver it, stay for a few days, then bring it back.  Well…not really, but it might be worth the trip!  Venice in the spring?  I would like to use it…type some letters to those I love…write something interesting.  The happy organic sound of a manual typewriter clacking away on the front terrace…

Olivetti Lettera 22, c.1966

This post was going to be about politics, but I deleted what I wrote.  Not worth the effort.

–JDCM

 

Autumn, elections, swimming, biking…even photography!

*It has taken me some time to get back on the horse.  I was out the other day with my Voigtlander, exposing some film…it felt good…gentle.  No urgency, no great time-line to follow.  So I took some pictures.  I have some ideas.

*I have been combing through my negative notebooks, trying to find images of my mother’s office.  I have found some.  I know there are others.  I would like to print some of these this winter.

*I need to type up my mother’s newspaper articles.  I keep on saying that to myself…siga-siga…it’ll happen.

*I developed the 4 rolls of Tri-X that I shot when I was back in America in July.  The camera I had on hand was a medium format Holga, so that’s what I used.  I guess that sums up a philosophy…The best camera I could use is the one I am using.  People talk a lot about camera X, or  lens Y.  They list the many attributes and the technical aspects…these things never made a photographer better, or even good.  That has to come from within.  Ansel Adams said something about that…good gear, bad photography…I can’t remember the exact quote.  Liz knows.

*It is autumn, and we have had some cooler weather, but not right now.  It is Little Summer and the scirocco blows a steady Force 5, gusting to 6.  The air is hazy and hot and feels like 26C.  I was out for a bit of mountain biking and then a swim in the sea.  People here say the water is cold, but they haven’t been in Cape Cod in August.

*The election for the next American President is today.  Polls have begun to open, voters are lining up to cast their ballots. There is so much at stake in this contest.  I am not sure anyone can really guess everything that hangs in the balance.  I mailed in my absentee ballot well over a month ago.  We shall see.  I am more concerned about the potential for aggression and actual violence at the polls.  America will be divided whatever the outcome.

–JDCM