Elfriede’s aphorisms

So we began the new year at the farm playing Pinochle and telling stories. Often the stories came back to Elfriede.

Everyone had a story or two and often the stories revolved around Elfriede’s insight. Seems we can all remember that she could say more in fewer words than many poet laureates from Hippocrates to tomorrow.
If you have a memory of Elfriede’s short pithy observations about life that your willing to share, please send them to us….tregocenterdairy@gmail.com We’ll add them to our collections

A family cinnamon roll syndication

Elfriede Mai was a woman without guile.
No secrets.
No hidden agendas.
Honesty served upright.
This was especially true if you were Family.
If you were not family well….
Elfriede was still very much a woman without guile.
No hidden agendas.
And honesty served as upright as possible.
After all, not-family is just
not family.

Years ago, Elfriede was in the kitchen, building cinnamon rolls.
World-class cinnamon rolls.
These are cinnamon rolls that are mentioned in wills. Cinnamon rolls requested by brides for their wedding night. Cinnamon rolls used as religious benchmarks: ‘If i find some of Ms Elfriede’s sticky-buns, i’ll know i’m in heaven.’
Down South we often call cinnamon rolls ‘sticky buns’.
But regardless of terminology anyone who had tried Elfriede’s cinnamon rolls
North or South of the Mason-Dixon
proclaimed them the best this side of the ‘Pearly Gates.’
Actually, our family’s handful of Lutheran Pastors have declared
after appropriate theological discussion and research
that the color of the Pearly Gates was chosen to match the color of the topping on Elfriede’s cinnamon rolls.

As i entered the kitchen i immediately began a quick survey of where Elfriede was in the process. This was the time when there was a lingering hope that i could learn to cook.
It led to nothing.
I knew enough to realize that Elfriede was just starting on the dough. There might yet be time for me to surreptitiously intervene. There was a long-standing understanding that the only cinnamon rolls that stayed home were those that were not worthy to be given away.
Elfriede often made cinnamon rolls to give away. Given on special occasions.
New baby.
New neighbor.
Marriage.
To keep some cinnamon rolls in the house i had, over the years, learned some of the subtle art of cinnamon roll sabotage.
A little extra yeast.
A bit more flour.
Or extra butter.
Or sugar.
I casually asked if the eggs had been out long enough to come to room temperature.
‘Yes they have and you know,’ said Elfriede, ‘you ought to write this down.’
I lost control of my jaw.
‘I’m just not sure,’ she said, ‘if Carolyn or Hilary have a copy of this recipe. And close your mouth. Don’t want a fly to fly in.’
I jumped at the chance.
To close my mouth and start writing.
A good friend at work, one of the ones who had been blessed with a dozen of Elfriede’s cinnamon rolls, had been bugging me for Elfriede’s recipe.
My work friend’s sister had died and Elfriede sent a dozen cinnamon rolls. This was almost four years ago and my friend’s hints about getting a copy of the recipe were no longer subtle. The opportunity to cement a work friendship suddenly overpowered the hope of keeping the cinnamon rolls home. A sacrifice on my part that i barely had the courage to attempt.
I love Elfriede’s cinnamon rolls.
But then again i love good food.
I love great food even more. And our household is a home of great food. Great chefs.
I’m not one of them.
Left to my own….cooking is strictly a survival skill.
There is a story about me that resurfaces every now and again. Usually at larger family get togethers.
The story recounts the time Carolyn and Hilary were visiting perspective colleges. I was teaching.  And the university breaks didn’t line up with Hilary’s high school breaks. There was no way i could join the grand tour of colleges. So, i was left alone to care for the house,
the dog,
the cat,
the mail and
myself.
The day the travelers returned, we went to dinner at a friend’s home. They were eager to learn about the potential colleges.
What Hilary thought.
What Carolyn thought.
And as an afterthought how i had done, while the girls were gone.
I had done well. The house was still standing.
The mail was brought in.
The cat and dog were fed, and
so was i.
Then someone asked an unfortunate question, ‘What did you cook?’
I bashfully admitted that i had gotten several cans of Campbell’s Condensed Split Pea Soup with Ham.
There was laughter.
A few slaps on the back.
Then THE unfortunate question. ‘Did you use the microwave or the stove top to heat the soup?’
I looked at my shoes. I looked at the ceiling. I rearranged my silverware. Looked back at my shoes.
‘Well neither.’
I removed the top of the unheated can of Campbell’s Condensed Split Pea Soup with Ham
and ate it right out of the can.
With a spoon.
The laughter died.  Replaced with poignant looks of shame and disgust.

Elfriede’s offer to teach me the recipe was very opportune.  I jumped at the chance.
Elfriede smiled.
Patiently explaining every step in detail. After all, any effort on my part to learn about cooking was to be encouraged. But after a while her tone changed, ever so slightly.
It seems she had cottoned on that i might be writing down the recipe with someone else in mind.
A woman without guile is not easily beguiled.
‘Who are you going to give this to recipe to?’
‘A teacher from work. You gave her some rolls a few years ago. When they had that death in their family.’
‘I remember.’
I began back peddling ‘Is it alright. I mean can i give her this recipe? She was very complimentary of your cinnamon rolls. Said they were the best she’d ever had.’
‘Oh, i don’t mind if you give it to her. It was very sad what happened. And the thank you card she sent was very polite.’
Elfriede continued her cinnamon roll constructing. Providing detailed information and copious commentary.
How to measure various dry ingredients. (Leveled or humped up in the middle).
Eggs at room temperature. Water at room temperature. Yeast at room temperature.
How long to knead the dough.
What kind of lard is best.
Lard?
‘Elfriede i thought you used butter not lard.’
‘I do.
But she doesn’t need to know that.’
Oh, yes. Family is family and
not-family is not
family.

Sufficiently sofossified

26 degrees, Partly cloudy
Dew point: 6 degrees
Humidity: 36%
Wind: NE @ 10 mph
Forecast: Partly cloudy, cold

 If you come to the farm and go away hungry….it’s your fault. There is always food. Plenty of food. New Year 2015 was certainly no exception.
After the first round of Pinochle there was ice cream, cake and pie. Coffee of course.
As happens some folks not playing. On New Year’s someone, who was not playing, would sit in for a hand so the other person could go for seconds. Maybe thirds. Hot chocolate began to make the rounds. Coffee of course.
As the year slipped to a close Don offered me a marshmallow dipped in chocolate from the hot chocolate fountain. Pam had brought the fountain from Denver. Just for the fun of it.
I took the marshmallow.
Gazed at it longingly then passed it off to one of the ‘kids’.
‘I really thought you would want that’ he said.
‘I do. But i’m really full and one more bite will push me over the edge.’
‘Sufficiently Sofossified.’ Said Carolyn to general laughter.
It was a Grandma saying. ‘Sufficiently sofossified.’
That perfect moment of gastronomic satisfaction.
No one knows where Grandma came up with the expression but everyone knows what it means….to be full but not over full.
Grandma didn’t even know where it came from.
I know.
I asked.
She said she had known the term all of her life.
‘Was it from the German?’ i asked. ‘No,’ she said, ‘i don’t think so.’
‘How about the Russian?’ ‘No,’ she said, ‘i don’t think so.’ (Grandma & Grandpa’s people were from the Volga area. Left in the early 20^th Century).
She really seemed to have no idea where the term came from. But she had known it all of her life, so naturally John, Bruce, Carolyn and Pam knew it all of their lives. Even the grandkids knew what it meant.
Wherever the term came from there can be no doubt that as the year ended i was sufficiently sofossified. 

When in doubt, play a queen

26 degrees, Partly cloudy
Dew point: 6 degrees
Humidity: 36%
Wind: NE @ 10 mph
Forecast: Partly cloudy, cold

Right in the middle of a Pinochle game there was a lull.
The play had been going a bit slowly. Sometimes the play is so fast the cards snap on the table and then are swept into the winner’s pile with the promise of bragging rights. Other times the play creeps along.
This was one of those hands.
Roman, who is developing into the next generation’s Pinochle whiz, was taking a bit longer than usual to play. Roman is Elfriede’s great-grandson. He is relatively new to the game but at ten years old he not only has a grasp of the game but also strategy. He has also developed a mischievous smile, worthy of a veteran card shark, whenever he trumps a hand.
Roman’s grandfather John, who was not playing, asked if he could help. Roman said he had several different cards he could play but just wasn’t sure which one would be best.
On queue, in chorus, with three-part harmony, the everyone else around the table, and a few sitting nearby, said: ‘When in doubt play a queen.’
It was the first bit of advice Elfriede gave me when i was learning to play. And a bit of advice everyone in the family has heard and employed on many occasions.

Do what you can

12.31.14
-8 degrees, Cloudy
Dew point: -12 degrees
Humidity: 67%
Wind: NW @ 10 mph
Forecast: Partly cloudy, cold

We had just finished a game of Pinochle. At least the folks in the front room had. At the kitchen table, the game was still in progress. But the noise and laughter made it clear that there was a lot more mirth than meaningful card playing.
During our break to get coffee, cake, ice-cream and apple-pie moonshine we talked about fixing the leak in the washing machine. Looked like the leak was caused by a small hole in the pipe that connected the washing machine drain to the drain running out of the house.
A bit of discussion lead to a plan to disconnect the pipes (PVC), clean and sand the joints, glue and tape them back together. Bob agreed to start on it in the morning with the caveat that he’d go as far as he could then get Bruce to help with the gluing.
‘You got it’ Bruce nodded, ‘It’s just like mom (Elfriede) always said:
“i do what i can do and what i can’t do i don’t do”’.
Yep….a pretty good philosophy for living on the farm.