Happy Thanksgiving!

All is good here, how about at your place?

We had some special friends over for dessert tonight. The general consensus was that the pies were Fabulous, the crusts were flaky and delicious, and the Scottish Cream Cheesecake was delectable.

The Pumpkin Custard was apparently tasty, and no one questioned the unusual presentation.

But, to be quite honest with you, the friends whom we invited came to enjoy our company.  They are not food critics.  And we had such a great time with them.   Memories to warm the heart.

We enjoyed each other's company, laughing and having a grand time.....just as a holiday should be celebrated.

Nope.....they didn't come for the dessert.

But.....come to think of it, they did all have seconds, 

.....so perhaps they did come for the desert after all!

I hope that you all had an equally exciting day.  Happy Thanksgiving!!

Pie , anyone?

Oh, I knew that little guy was laughing at me....

I just didn't know what was in store for me.

As you can see, the Pecan Pie came out looking FABulous!  (As well as the white chocolate/craisin Cinnamon rolls....but we're focusing on pie here.)

I was rolling along, pumpkin chiffon filling cooling, just about ready to finish and pop in the pre- cooked pie shell, which also looked Fabulous, by the way.  (You probably think I'm bragging.....well, don't get too excited yet.)

The pumpkin custard pie was baking, nearly done.  It was about the most perfect looking pumpkin custard pie that I have ever seen.  (note the word "was"). 

I tested the center with a knife, and felt that the pie needed just a few minutes more in the oven.

So, I went to pop it in the oven, put it on the rack, and all of a sudden.....

My pie plate was nearly vertical, having slipped, somehow, out of my hand....with half of the pie hanging sort of in mid-air in the plate, and the other half lying in a heap on the oven door.

It all happened so fast.  I wasn't sure what to do.  When the oven door is open, I can't access the cupboard that has my cookie sheets that I could have slid under the hunk of pie that was hanging on the door.  As I rushed around, looking for something to try to "rescue" what had been perfect (and you'll just have to take my word on that one), my ever-so helpful husband came over, looked at the oven, then said to me,  "How did that happen?"

Don't worry.......he's still alive.  Although he did mention how he needed a walk shortly after my response which I will refrain from putting into print here.

Thinking that it would help the situation, he said that he'd be glad to run to the store to buy another can of pumpkin.  I told him that he could forget that idea.  There was no way I was starting over. (Plus, let's face it, there are two other pies to choose from here.)

Well, somehow, the clever man convinced me to arrange all of the pieces back into the pie plate, as if nothing had happened.  (Don't you for one minute think that really worked).

Then, he went on, "cover the whole top with Cool Whip and no one will notice the difference."

Ok, I'll admit that  I probably looked like I had 3 heads after that suggestion.  But then I remembered a similar incident when I was a kid, and somehow dropped a cake that was freshly baked, crying at the resulting heap of broken cake pieces.  My mother had this novel idea that we could just put it together with Cool Whip.  Make up a new dessert.  

And you know what?  She was right!  Everyone loved it!  (Although we didn't add it to our "favorites" list to make year after year.)

So, the "pie" is back in the plate....sort of.  The crust around the edge is pieced together, but no one will know that, once I cover the top with Cool Whip.   Unless you're invited to my house for desert tomorrow and you're reading this blog.  (Oops!)

If I have time tomorrow, I'll let you know how it all turns out.

In the meantime.......HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!

Gallivanting through the Kitchen

Nope....I'm not out gallivanting.

Although I did head out to the grocery store today, and we all know that two days before Thanksgiving can be crazy.  But, I somehow managed to avoid the loonies, and even had a pleasant cashier.  Now, how nice was that?

But I digress from the purpose of this blog.  On our recent road trip, while sitting for hours in the car, I decided to browse through the pile of magazines that were stacking up that I never seem to find time to read.

You know how it is.....no food for hours in the car....looking at picture after picture of delectable delights.   Every page seems like a grand idea worth trying.   I managed to resist most temptation, but decided that this year would be the one to make the pie crusts from scratch.

The Woman's Day magazine had an "easy pie crust" recipe and instructions, and it sure convinced me to give it a try.  

Or, should I say that it sure tricked me?  Let me just say that I know why the Pillsbury Dough Boy was my good friend once.

There's something to be said about opening a box, pulling out the plastic sleeve, cutting it open, pulling out the pie crust and inserting it in glass pie dish.....perfect.  A little fluting around the edge and Wha La!  Pie crust!  What did that take....about 5 minutes total?  Times three that comes to about 15 minutes from start to finish.  

What did it cost?  Well.....if it is Pillsbury pie crust, then I'd say 2 pkgs. for $5.00.  Two pies per box.  But, let's face it, you have to buy two packages regardless....so the total cost:  $5.00.

But, I'll be honest with you here.  It probably wouldn't be Pillsbury.  It would probably be Shurfine brand, which really is Sure Fine with me!  And, that would generally run a sale of 2 pgs. for $4.00.

Now, let's compare that with making it from scratch.  Measuring the flour, cutting in the shortening, adding the water to make a ball.  The recipe called for the dough to then be flattened into a disc, wrapped in plastic wrap, and refrigerated for 30 minutes.  That worked for me, since I was making three pies anyway.  And, I can tell you that by the time I finished the 3rd disc, it had been 30 minutes.

Then, there's the rolling of the dough.  Let's just say that it wasn't a pretty sight:

Although I will admit that the end result (prior to baking) looked rather impressive:

What did it cost?  A grand total of $2.25.  How much time was involved?  Well...with clean up...I'd say about an hour and a half.  But that included putting a little white dog in and out a couple of times, and chasing him out of the powder room a few times.  (He must have felt neglected or something.)

Was it worth the effort?   Well, the real test won't be until Thursday, when we taste test the finished product. 

In the meantime, I thought that I spotted this little guy laughing at me.

We'll see......

Cake, anyone?

That's one cute cake, don't you think?

"Who's Buster? "  you may ask.   It was quite obvious that the lady at the bakery counter had the same question in mind by the look she gave me when I asked her to write "Happy Birthday Buster" on the cake.

Actually, this reminds me of a quick story.......Once had a dishwasher repairman at the house.  An older gentleman who kind of looked like Benjamin Franklin.  Well, he had his head stuck into the dishwasher, looking for the problem, when the dog decided to go a bit crazy.
I yelled, " That's enough, Buster!".  The repairman pulled his head out of the dishwasher and asked, "Are you talking to me?"

It appears that he had been referred to as "Buster" sometime in the past. Who knew?

Well, by now, if you didn't already know, you've figured out that Buster is the family dog.  Yesterday was his birthday.  Fourteen years old.  Seemed worth celebrating.

And why not have some fun with it?

Buster was certainly up for it.

There was some fun singing "Happy Birthday to you"

And, of course, the blowing out of the candles.

Nope, there are not 14 candles on the cake.   We didn't want Buster feeling too old.

And we sure did all enjoy that yummy creation!

As much fun as these past few days have been, it's time to once again pack up Buster and head on home.  I've got lots to do at home to get ready for Thanksgiving Dinner.  

But before I close, let me take this opportunity to wish all of you bloggers a blessed holiday with family and friends. May the day be truly special for all of you.

Happy Turkey Day!

Fun on the Road

We've spent a LOT of hours on the road these past few days, but I can assure you that we have not been disappointed.

This little guy certainly kept us entertained.

There were so many firsts to enjoy,  including some new pearly whites that I managed to capture on camera.

with a great big smile after a big bowl of oatmeal for breakfast.

Then, over the river and through the woods......   (for many more hours)  to more excitement.

The oldest grandchild, who recently turned three.

And the youngest, who seems to almost always have a smile on that adorable face. 

Ok, so I know that the outfit doesn't match, but I couldn't resist popping that Scottish Tam on top of that cute baby's  head.  And, really....... she loved it.  The rest of the gang, however, thought she looked "ridiculous".  You needn't comment if you agree with them, by the way.  I reserve my right as a grandparent to have fun.  And, the best part of the tam is that it is One Size Fits All, so she'll be able to wear it into adulthood.  Bet you can't beat that!

Yep, it's been fun........and, the best part is..........

It's not over yet!

Relaxing in Strasbug

Does that photo look familiar?  It's Marty drinking a Fat Tire Beer in the Strasburg Hotel Restaurant.  A familiar sight to my regular blog followers.  We found this gem of a place a little over a year ago, when Becky moved down to Bristol, VA and I found it way too stressful to make the 500 mile drive in a day.

Now, we have done that trip in one day several times, but in the winter, when the dark comes early, there's something to be said about taking a break from the crazy truck traffic and breaking up the trip.

It's not far from the highway, and an early start will get us to Bristol right around lunchtime with the rest of the day available to be entertained by our grandson.

Now, I ask you, where else can you find a room for $68.00 a night that looks like this?

And, permits small dogs in the room for a $10.00 fee?  

Ok, so I'll admit that we're paying $78.00,  but that includes breakfast (for us, not for Buster....but no worries, we did bring dogfood for him.

The staff is friendly and eager to please.  The water in the shower is hot.  The room is quiet, probably because there are few people here in this hotel.  Really, it can't be beat.

Now, if this type of style doesn't suit you, you can choose the  Ramada or the Fairfield hotels that are located right off of the highway.

But, I'll bet you don't find one of these in either of those places:

They sure do have the most unusual collection of lamps in this place.  Gotta love it!

Sunday in Midlothian

Would you ever guess that one could actually spend FOUR hours in a mining museum?

Would I even bother to mention it if it could not be done?  I don't think that either of us planned on being inside that long, but the staff was eager to sign us up for a tour of the Big Equipment and not knowing any better, we happily agreed.  That was just the beginning.

What I can tell you about that experience is that a man who once worked in this mine, (called Victoria mine in reference to the wife of the man who owned the mine way back in the 1800's) was more than eager to not only share the equipment that was used in this mine over the many years that it was in existence, he was equally excited to share with us numerous horror stories of the many accidents that occurred in relation to the mine, not exactly my cup of tea.

So what did we learn from him?   I'll omit the horror stories.

 A miner's "lunch" was called a "piece".  That was the word for Sandwich.  A miner would have to take his piece and a bottle of water down into the mine with him.  He was given 20 minutes break during the day to eat his piece, and he was not permitted to sleep, or he would be sacked.

That was because he needed to watch his lamp to be sure that the flame did not go out, because if it did, he'd be sleeping forever.

Miners were originally "slaves" of the owners.  They were not permitted to leave the mine to find employment elsewhere.  Men, women and children over 8 all worked in the mines back in the 1800's.

When a law was enacted to prevent the women and children from working in the mines, the men then used shetland ponies which stayed down in the mines for as long as 4 years.  They rarely saw sunlight until it was time for them to retire.

The ponies somehow learned how to dig down into the coat pockets that miner's hung up when entering the mine, and then happily snack on the miner's "piece" leading to a very unhappy and hungry miner.

Rats would sneak into the pony feed bags, and once underground would eat the pony feed, and then move onto the miner's "piece", once again leading to a hungry and unhappy miner.

When the miners went on holiday, they would put bread crumbs into the bottom of a coal cart and lean a wooden plank onto the cart so the rats could climb up the plank, jump into the cart, and feast away.

But the rats had no way to get out, so they would end up eating each other to the point that only a few would remain when the miner's returned after holiday.  At that point the miner's would congratulate them for surviving, and give them a slap on the head....with a coal shovel.  Need I say more?

As you can tell, the tour was really quite informative.  Actually, I was surprised to hear of the enslavement of the miners in the early days.  And, I was equally surprised to read that during both world wars, men were actually drafted into the mines. Most of the miners were excited to enlist in the army to get out of the mine.  Business dropped considerably, so a law was made that every 10th man needed to be "enlisted" to work in the mine, whether they had any knowledge of how to do so, or not. 

The museum is actually the site of a once working mine. the third largest in Scotland.  Marty found the whole concept to be quite fascinating, and he even mentioned that the Steel Industry should have left one mill intact and turned it into a museum like this one.   Isn't he too funny?

The inside of the Scottish Mining Museum was filled with fascinating history, explaining the different types of coal, where they were located, how they formed, and the processes for mining coal that developed over the years.

Here you see some carbon molecule structures.

Some Carbon jewelry from 1870.  

A photo of a mining rescue team, complete with canary.

Most of you probably realize that the canary, being so small, would succumb to deadly gases much sooner than a person, so they were used to determine if a mine area was safe.  What I did not know was that the canary often recovered when removed from the source of the gas.  So, the good news is that the canary could be used time and again to determine danger in the mine.  I'm not quite sure if the canary saw that as good news, though.

Here you see a Spirelmo breathing apparatus. A bellows was used to pump air through a hose to the some helmet. A horn was used to send signals to the man at the bellows.  

One hoot meant help.  Two hoots meant more air.  And three hoots meant less air.  Guess they figured that you had more time to breath so you had time for more hoots.

And here you see a tool that was used for emergency mouth to mouth resuscitation.  

Ok, you probably get the point.  A miner's life was never easy.  Even with the newest state of the art equipment of the day.

After walking through all of the exhibition rooms, we ended up in yet another room that involved a tour of the actual mine itself.   Now, how could we pass on that?

Here you see the cage that the miners used upon entry and exiting the mine.

Here is part of the winding wheel that was used to move the equipment and men in and out of the mine. 

Pretty impressive, don't you think?

And as if that wasn't exciting enough for you, we actually walked down into a mine shaft for a close up look at what the mine would have looked like just before it closed.

I won't bore you with any more details but I will mention that both of these guides were very excited to show us around the place.  They had both worked in the mines their entire life, this guy beginning at the age of 14, and they were eager to share what everyday life in the mine was like.  

The experience was certainly memorable, but I was more than eager to move on, since this is my last day in Scotland with Marty.

We had agreed that we would treat ourselves to High Tea at the Dalhousie Castle Hotel, which is actually a real castle just a few miles from our B&B.  

We found ourselves the only patrons, and were soon escorted to a library room with a roaring fire at a seat nest to the window with a lovely view of the grounds.

I decided to splurge on the champagne.

As you can see, we are the only guests in the room.  But, for just a little while, we shared this room with a prospective bride and her fiancé and parents.  They were looking at the castle as a wedding venue.  I heard the bride's father ask what the criteria was for the wedding, and the groom to be said "A Castle....or something that looks like a castle....that's my only specification."

That's too bad, because I had seen that one could actually have a wedding reception at the Scottish Mining museum.  Now, that would be an experience don't you think? 

The guide had commented on how the brides would wonder why the hems of their dresses turned black as they walked around sipping champagne.  I suppose no one warned them of the lingering coal dust?

Well, it's once again time to call my adventures to a close.....at least for the meantime.  

Let me leave you with a lovely evening view of Dalkeith House and its surroundings, where we walked this evening prior to the sunsetting.

Just beautiful, don't you think?

Before I close, let me remind you of my motto: 

 Life is an adventure, so you better hang on for the ride.

So, until my next adventure....which really could happen at anytime, I bid you fond farewell.

Exploring the Scottish Borders

No worries, as they say here in Scotland.  I did not roll out of the bed as feared.  That could be partially due to the wedding celebration that was taking place just around the corner from our room, and lasted until about 3:00 a.m.  I'm not complaining, as it is duly noted on the webpage that the hotel hosts such events, and I was forewarned.  I was just a bit surprised to hear "Achy Breaky Hart" as one of the apparent favorites of the night. We are in Scotland, after all.

Today was spent venturing out along the hills and dales of the Scottish Borders, named appropriately as it involves the land that is adjacent to England's "border".  (thereby the name, Border.)

Throughout history, these lands are considered to be the bloodiest, meaning that more battles were fought here just because of the proximity to England, whose sovereigns were intent on invading.  But driving along the little roads of this area, with sheep scattered on nearly every hill on sight, there are few remnants of those days of past.

Tucked off a little road is a viewpoint called "Scott's View".  This was a favorite of Walter C. Scott's.  You can see the river Tweed in my zoomed-in photo.  If you look closely, you can see a little fishing boat on the river.

The panoramas offered from this viewpoint were amazing.    I can only imagine how much more beautiful they would have been had the weather not been overcast and drizzling.

The story goes that Scott's horses were so accustomed to stopping at this point, that when the funeral procession with Scott's body (on a cart pulled by his horses), passed by this point on the way to his burial, the horses stopped just as they would when he would visit this spot.  It's not difficult to see why it was considered his favorite.

Not far from here there is another pull-off with a walk through the woods, that leads to a statue of William Wallace who stands upon a hill, looking south over the River Tweed.

Do you remember the movie, Bravehart?  Well, this is the man who was represented in the movie, played by Mel Gibson.  The movie is not historically accurate, but it certainly is close enough to give you an idea of the battles that went on attempting to keep the country of Scotland from being controlled by the "southern" England.  

This giant statue stands alone, about a third of a mile from the road, and you can only get there by foot. I didn't notice the statue anywhere from a distance, so I find it very interesting that it would be placed so far out of the way.  One really does have to know to look for it.  William Wallace was considered larger than life by his fellow Scotsman, and I can say that the statue definitely represents that aura.

Driving just a bit further down the road, we came to Dryburgh, where an abbey ruins still remains, the spot where Walter C. Scott is buried next to his wife and his son. 

Before we actually entered the grounds of the Abbey, we parked the car and headed towards the entrance.  We were quite surprised to round the corner and see these two ladies, which kind of looked like mirror images, bringing a chuckle to both of us.

They were having a grand time munching on the moss on the trunk of that tree.  

And, as usual,  it didn't take long for Marty to find a friend.

Once we entered the grounds and walked toward the abbey, the sight was pretty amazing.

Dryburgh Abbey was founded in the 12th Century by a sect of Augustinian monks known as White Canons.  Due to its location, it was burned by the English, and rebuilt by the Scots on several occasions.  After the reformation, the ruins were gifted to the Earl of Mar by James VI.  They are now owned and kept preserved by Historic Scotland. 

By this time we were beginning to get some glimpses of sun!  We jumped in the car and began the drive to Jedburgh, which had been our original destination before we got side-tracked.  But we were so glad that we did!

One of the amusing points of Jedburgh is that it did once hold a large castle.  But the townspeople took a real beating attempting to defend it during the nearly constant battles initiated by the English who attempted to overtake it.  In the early 1400's the council of Jedburgh decided that it would be easier to dismantle the castle than to try to defend it from attack.  So a castle has not stood there since the 15th century.  

The one item of interest to me in the town was the Mary Queen of Scots house.

This is an extremely well preserved house where Mary stayed for a spell while she was traveling through the area.  The bedroom where she stayed is in the turret that you can see in the photo.

The house is amazingly well-preserved, and we were at leisure to walk through it.  It isn't furnished in period, but, rather, it has a lot of information regarding the history of Mary Queen of Scots.  It contains a copy of the death decree written by Elizabeth I.  And it also holds a copy of the letter that Mary sent off the night before her execution, explaining that the reason for her death was because she would not relinquish her Catholic beliefs.  She wanted people to know that she held her Catholic Religion dear and was not willing to compromise her beliefs in order to live.  Quite an interesting piece of history to read.

Although there was plenty to see in Jedburgh, we decided to head to Tranquair.  I knew that it closed early at this time of the year, and we wanted to get there in time to tour the building. Unfortunately, it was not so easy to find, and we arrived 35 minutes prior to closing.  

Since the last house tour was an hour prior to closing, we were out of luck.  The building dates back to 1107 and it was originally built as a hunting lodge for the kings and queens of Scotland.  Mary, Queen of Scots, stayed here with her infant son, James VI of Scotland.

In later years, it became a refuge for Catholic priests in times of terror.  Traquair supported Mary Queen of Scots and the Jacobite cause.

As fascinating as the interior would have been to see, we had to satisfy ourselves with walking around the grounds.

This place brews its own beer, and we were able to pop our head into one of the buildings that explained just how they made their special Traquair ales.

                                         

Here's a brief description of the method.

I can tell you with certainty that the guy with the beard has relatives working at the place, because two fellas, who looked an awful lot like him, were walking around in plaid flannel shirts and knit caps on their heads acting as ground guards.  I wasn't quite sure if he was a guide or a tourist, as he had the long beard and wasn't dressed as a guide, but I dared to ask one if he knew where I could find a bathroom.  

He peered at me with his beady eyes and said "We din na have that here, but there are the woods yonder" while pointing in the direction of the woods.  By that point, I saw a name tag on his jacket. 

Real funny, I thought.  My response?  "Yeah, I'll bet!"  He then directed me to a door which said "Cloakroom".    Sure enough, behind the door, there were restrooms.  Don''t know if I'd have figured that one out myself as I thought that Cloakrooms were for hanging coats, but really, had I been desperate enough, (and I was close, believe me) I probably would have just started opening doors in search of one, despite the scary men guarding the place.

Well, we were running on short time before the place closed up, so we headed out in an attempt to get a meal since we hadn't eaten since breakfast.  About 12 miles down the road, we drove into Peebles.

What a lovely town along the River Tweed.  Unfortunately for us, no one was serving dinner prior to six o'clock.  But we did find a restaurant that was still serving lunch at 4:00, so we settled on that for dinner.

Then, we headed to Rosewell for evening mass and arrived with about 5 minutes to spare.  I don't know much about the history of the place, but I can tell you that the grounds are huge.  And the church was actually toasty, although everyone in the place, including the lectors, and ministers kept their coats on.  

When we returned to our hotel, we were in for quite a surprise.  We had mentioned at breakfast that there was a peculiar odor in our room which was affecting my breathing.  Also mentioned that the bathroom door did not close, which Jude was quite aware of.  She told us that she would be more than happy to switch rooms.  Just leave our luggage and they'd even move them for us.

When we arrived for the evening, we were escorted to room 6.

A four poster bed room, complete with a turret.  Just like the place where Mary Queen of Scots stayed, only much larger.  (Let's hope that there is no connection!)

I did notice that the bathroom door doesn't close in this room either. When I mentioned it to Marty, he said that he thinks that it is a hotel rule.  No bathroom doors can close.

He may be onto something, but I don't plan on taking a survey or sneaking into any rooms to see if there is a trend.

I'm looking foward to a great night's sleep!

Tomorrow will be my last day in Scotland.  We're hoping to make a great fun day out of it.

First stop:  The Scottish Mining Museum.  Marty's idea.  Sounds like fun, don't you think?

I'll keep you posted......