An extremely skilled worker named Daedalus many years ago, lived on the island of Crete. King Minos, who placed Daedalus in charge of building the island’s famed labyrinth, recognized his talents.
Soon after the labyrinth was completed, however, King Minos became very angry with Daedalus and ordered him sent to prison. Daedalus escaped from the prison, found his young son, Icarus, and took him to hide out in a cave. They could not leave the island because Minos put a watch on every ship.
One day, while lying on the beach, Daedalus became interested in the flight of a bird. He decided to build wings for Icarus and himself and fly from the island.
He carefully inspected the feathers of many birds and fowl, including those of the chickens he used to prepare a delicious meal.
He tied the larger feathers with thread onto a wooden frame. He used wax to bind the smaller feathers. Finally he finished. He fastened the wings to his arms, and copied the movements of the birds. Soon, he was soaring above the earth.
He then gave Icarus flying lessons. The boy was a fast, but impatient, learner. His father warned him not fly too low for the damp air would cause the feathers to stick together. And to be especially careful of flying too high. If he got near the sun, the heat would melt the wax.
The sight of Daedalus and Icarus flying over them boggled the shepherds and farmers. They winged over Samos and Delos. Icarus, in a burst of enthusiasm, forgot his father’s warning.
He soared higher and higher until the sun caused the wax to melt. Like a crippled bird, he fell and crashed into the Aegean Sea, near an island that today is called Icaria.
Daedalus mourned the loss of his son. He remembered the good days when Icarus reaped the wild oregano to be used in the wonderful chicken recipe which is below and obviously moderinzed.
Daedalus’ Crete Chicken
3 Lbs. chicken pieces
1/2 Cup vegetable oil
1/4 Cup lemon juice
2-1/2 Tsp. dried oregano
3/4 Tsp. salt
1/2 Tsp. pepper
1/2 Tsp. garlic powder
Place chicken in baking dish. Pour mixed ingredients over chicken. Bake uncovered in 375° F oven for an hour, occasionally spooning sauce over chicken and turning once. Garnish with citrus fruit slices — lime or orange — are nice and serve.
The July sun warmed the cockpit of the little monoplane as Louis Bleriot banked for a landing in a pasture outside Orleans.
The pilot was ecstatic. It had taken him just 45 minutes to fly the 33 miles from Etampes. The 25 horsepower engine purred all the way.
Bleriot’s mechanic, Marcel Donnet, was waiting in the pasture as the plane came in for a perfect landing. Donnet grasped the pilot and kissed him on the cheeks.
Squirming away, Bleriot announced that he had made a decision.
The London Daily Mail had upped its offer from 500 to 1,000 British pounds to the first pilot to fly across the English Channel.
“I am going to do it,” said Bleriot.
“No, my friend,” gasped Donnet, “it’s too dangerous.”
“Eh,” said Bleriot, “I have just flown 33 miles without mishap. It is only 20 miles from Calais to Dover.”
“But,” argued the mechanic, “the currents and water are treacherous. If you should crash, you will die.”
“I will not crash,” said Bleriot.
“You are sick in the head,” said Donnet.
On July 25, 1909, a Sunday that the weatherman promised would be completely clear, Bleriot took off from Baraques and headed for England.
As he climbed into the air, his mouth fell open and butterflies filled his stomach. There ahead were thick, black clouds.
“Mon dieu,” he whispered. But he never thought of turning back. His only navigational aid was a compass similar to that carried by the Boy Scouts.
He plunged into the clouds, and after what seemed to be much longer than the actual few minutes, broke into the clear. Then he spotted more thick clouds ahead. But they were clustered above the altitude at which he was flying. He continued to fly west. He had been flying for about 20 minutes. Another 15 minutes and he would be able to see England.
Suddenly there was another black cloud ahead. The choppy waters below were frightening. Bleriot flew into the black cloud. When he made it through, he checked his compass. He was heading due south. He turned west again, but now he was off course. He could not make a correction to take him to Dover where friends were waiting. It did not matter. All he had to do to win the 1,000 pounds was land in England.
Then he saw the coastline. He did not see Dover, but he saw a nice field on which to land. He set down exactly 40 minutes after leaving France.
An English policeman came running across the field as Bleriot climbed out.
Bleriot smiled at the constable and said, “Allo, I am Louis Bleriot. I am French.”
The constable introduced himself as George Sanford and offered to guard the plane while Bleriot sent telegrams to his friends in Dover.
He was picked up shortly thereafter and taken to an English pub, where Chip Parker, the cook, fed him a meal of fish and chips.
Bleriot, enthusiastically praised the seafood treat and returned the favor by giving Parker the recipe for his mother’s onion soup. The grateful cook responded by giving Louis Bleriot the fish and chips recipe.
Parker’s Fish and Chips
1 1/2 Lbs. fresh thick cod fillets
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1/2 Cup all-purpose flour
1/2 Tbs. baking powder
1/8 Tsp. cayenne pepper
1/2 Cup water
1 large egg
Vegetable oil, for frying
Lay the cod fillets on a cutting board. Sprinkle both sides with salt and pepper. Cut the fillets in 1 1/2 by 3-inch pieces.
In a bowl, combine the flour, baking powder, lemon zest, cayenne pepper, 1 Tsp. salt, and 1/2 Tsp. pepper. Whisk in 1/2 Cup of water and then the egg.
Pour 1/2-inch of oil into a large (12-inch) frying pan and heat it to about 360 degrees F.
Dip each fillet into the batter, allowing the excess to drip back into the bowl. Place it very carefully into the hot oil. Don’t crowd the pieces. Adjust the heat as needed to keep the oil between 360 and 400 degrees F. Cook the fish on each side for 2 to 3 minutes, until lightly browned and cooked through. Remove to a plate lined with a paper towel. Sprinkle with salt and serve hot with the “chips.”
Recipe for Baked “Chips”
2 large baking potatoes, unpeeled
2 Tbs. good olive oil
3/4 Tsp. kosher salt
1/3 Tsp. freshly ground black pepper
1/2 Tsp. minced fresh garlic (or 1 Tb garlic powder if you ar lazy and like garlic)
1/2 Tsp. minced fresh rosemary leaves
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F.
Scrub the potatoes and cut them in coins. Place the potatoes on a sheet pan with the olive oil, salt, pepper, garlic, and rosemary. With clean hands, toss all the ingredients together, making sure the potatoes are covered with oil. Spread the potatoes in a single layer with 1 cut side down.
Bake the potatoes for 30 to 35 minutes, turning to the other cut side after 20 minutes. Bake until they are lightly browned, crisp outside, and tender inside. Sprinkle with salt and serve immediately.
Louis Bleriot’s Fish And Chips — A Legendary Recipe
Edith Cavell watched silently as the August sun beat down on the green-gray lines of German troops marching into Brussels.
She had arrived from her native England seven years before to organize and direct L’Ecole Belge pour les Infirmieres Diplomees, Belgium’s first nursing school, which almost immediately became known simply as the Clinique.
She had already made a dent in the country’s nursing profession. Before her arrival, doctors had treated nurses as servants. She told her students to demand they be addressed as “Nurse.”
When they expressed doubt, Miss Cavell insisted that “even doctors can learn to be courteous.”
By 1914, the nursing profession had been uplifted to a point where the school was not longer having a problem attracting excellent students.
Then the Germans came. Miss Cavell ordered her charges to treat all soldiers equally without regard to nationality. There were many allied soldiers still wandering around Belgium. Many were sick or wounded.
Miss Cavell welcomed them to the Clinique, then went a step further and helped to smuggle them through German lines to France or Holland.
The quiet spoken nurse was always small and slender. The night journeys caused her to lose even more weight and become haggard.
The Belgians soon knew the Clinique was a haven for Allied soldiers. There, unfortunately were a few pro-German Belgians, who alerted the Germans.
They planted a couple of men who posed as French soldiers, and about a year after Miss Cavell had started smuggling operation she was arrested.
She had probably never told a lie in her life, and she refused to lie at her trial.
Asked if she had helped 20 soldiers to escape, she softly replied, “It was more like 200.”
She was found guilty by the German military tribunal. A judge read the verdict: “Edith Cavell – todesstrafe – death!”
During the following weeks she wrote to all those dear to her never once expressing fear. To her nurses, she wrote “If there is one among you whom I have wronged, I beg you to forgive me. I have been perhaps too severe sometimes but never voluntarily unjust. And I have loved you all much more than you thought.”
When the guards arrived at 6 a.m. on the day of her execution, she had just finished jotting a note in her prayer book. It read: “Died at 7 a.m. on Oct. 12th, 1915. With love to my mother. E. Cavell.”
She was taken to a rose garden to face the firing squad. A German officer shouted a command. There was a burst of gunfire. Edith Cavell was dead.
But she is still remembered. The Clinique is now called: “Ecole Edith Cavell.”
A beautiful statue of Edith Cavell in her nurse’s cloak stands majestically in London’s Trafalgar Square. There is a sculpture of her in Paris’ Tuileries Garden. There is Mt. Cavell in Canada and Cavell Glacier in the U.S. Rocky Mountains. Her portrait hangs in her childhood home in Swardeston, England and over the altar of the church of which her father served as pastor is a stained glass window dedicated to her memory.
Edith Cavell’s favorite meal, as with many Brits, was breakfast. She especially enjoyed a simple but delicious Belgian cheese omelet similar to the one that follows.
Edith Cavell’s Belgian Cheese Omelet
2/3 Cup chopped or shredded Swiss or gruyere cheese
2 Tbs. of butter
Thyme (what makes it special)
Mix eggs in bowl. Add salt and pepper to taste, along with healthy sprinkle of thyme. Melt butter in 12-inch frying pan. Pour eggs in pan. Tilt pan so eggs cover bottom of pan. Let stand over heat a few seconds. Loosen edge of omelet all around with spatula. Sprinkle with cheese. Tilt pan, using spatula carefully roll up omelet or fold in half.
Hold skillet so that bottom rests on edge of platter, slowly roll omelet onto plate.
Molly Pitcher’s Pepper Pot Soup is a legenary recipie for this 4th of July.
William W. Lawrence Sr.
Mary Ludwig Hays was in on one of the most delicious concoctions ever invented. Who was Mary Ludwig Hays? You have heard of her, but by a different name.
She married John Casper Hays, a barber who lived in Carlisle, Pa., in 1769. Her husband enlisted in the First Pennsylvania Artillery in 1775. Like many other soldiers of the time, he took his wife with him.
The couple spent the bitter winter of 1777-1778 at Valley Forge. The men were in tatters. There was little food, and desertions were frequent.
General Washington called his mess sergeants together and implored them to devise a belly-filling meal. They went back to the wives, who did most of the cooking, and took inventory of their supplies.
The only meat available was tripe and veal bones. They had an abundance of peppercorns, some potatoes, onions, and hot peppers. Mary Hays helped to dice the provisions. The cooks came up with enough scraps to brew a thick, hearty soup.
It later was named Philadelphia Pepper Pot. Some historians credit the dish with saving the Continental Army.
A few months later, on Sunday, June 28, 1778, the Battle of Monmouth took place. John Hays and his wife were there. It was a scorching day. John and the rest of the gunners fired their artillery pieces steadily under the broiling sun.
His wife grabbed a pitcher, which she filled and refilled from a cool spring. She went from gun to gun, taking the delicious water to the thirsty fighters. It was they who named her Molly Pitcher.
When her exhausted husband fell from the heat, Molly took over and fired until the battle ended.
George Washington awarded her a non-commissioned officer rank and in later life she became known as Sergeant Molly.
Those later years, however, were not happy ones. After Hays died, she married George McCauley, a former soldier and close friend of her husband. McCauley was lazy and refused to work. The heroine had to work as a laundress to keep both of them.
She welcomed a $40-a-year pension the Pennsylvania Legislature authorized. She continued to brew Philadelphia Pepper Pot soup until she died.
She is listed as Molly McCauley on her tombstone in Carlisle.
Molly Pitcher’s Philadelphia Pepper Pot
1 Lb. fresh white honeycomb tripe
1 Veal knuckle
3 Quarts. cold water
1 Small bunch parsley
3 Large diced potatoes
15 Peppercorns crushed
1 Tsp. marjoram
1/2 Tbs. thyme
1 Tsp. basil
1 Hot red pepper
1 Tbs. salt
3/4 Cup flour
1/2 Tsp. salt
2 Tbs. margarine
3 Tbs. flour
Wash tripe in several times changing the waters, then cut with scissors into strips, then dice. Place in pot with knuckle, add water. Heat slowly to boiling, let boil for 15 minutes. Skim. Cover and simmer gently for two hours. Put spices and crushed peppercorns in cheesecloth bag. Add the pepper, diced potatoes and diced onion. Let the soup return to a boil and add balls the size of little marbles made from the 3/4 cup flour, egg and 1/2 Tsp. salt. To make these, beat the egg, add the salt and enough flour to make a not-too-stiff dough. Roll between palms into tiny balls. Cook an hour longer, then thicken with the melted margarine and three Tbs. flour. Cook a few minutes longer and serve piping hot.
The morning sun burned away the mist and shone brightly upon the majestic palace in the city of Themiscyra on the Black Sea.
The sparkling white marble edifice was the home of the raven-haired Queen Penthesilea, the magnificent ruler of the Amazons.
Now, as the sun poured through the windows and beat on her over-sized bed, her nearly seven-foot body stirred.
Cranius, her chief slave and servant, stoodsilently and watched. He was in love with his beautiful queen, but she hardly knew Cranius was there. He was treated like a piece of furniture.
Cranius cast his eyes downward, as Penthesilea stretched, causing the muscles to ripple in her broad back. She yawned and the soft brown eyes flecked with gold which matched her gossamer sleeping garments opened wide. Cranius, as always, was taken aback by her amazing beauty.
Except for the servants, the Amazons allowed no men in Themiscyra. Even the male children were sent away, and only daughters were allowed to be reared in the city.
Years before, during a deer hunt, Penthesilia aimed at an animal, but the arrow went astray and killed her only sister. She was overcome with grief, but decided not to slay herself. Instead, she vowed “to die on the sword of the bravest man in the world. Of course, that was Achilles.
Penthesilea snapped her fingers and told Cranius she was ready for breakfast.
She needed plenty of fuel to power her large and lithe body.
The gorgeous queen ate a morning feast of eggs, cheese, cold chicken, sizzling hot fish, sweet rolls, and then polished off a double portion of Strawberries Cranius, a wonderful desert invented by her faithful servant.
Finished eating, she leaped frorm the bed. Her thick black hair fell below her waist.
Cranius felt a chill as the watched her dress. She was preparing for combat. The short white skirt, the halter and the high boots were white. The breast plate and helmet were gold.
She ordered her army to assemble.
“Saddle up,” she said. “We are going to fight the Greeks.”
Within minutes the disciplined regiment was mounted and galloping off to help the Trojans.
Achilles, naturally, sided with the Greeks.
Penthesilea caught sight of Achilles as she led her brave warriors into combat. Achilles saw the beautiful queen sitting high in the saddle of a sorrel stallion. Their eyes met. It was love at first sight.
It was a love that was not meant to be. Penthesilea attacked Achilles with the ferocity of a tiger and the brave soldier was forced to defend himself. He smote the Amazon queen with his sword. She fell, mortally wounded. Achilles tried to save her, but could not.
Cranius sobbed uncontrollably at the word of his queen’s death. He vowed he would never make his strawberry dessert for the new amazon queen. It would be his secret memorial to Penthesilea.
And while the following recipe is not exactly the same, it is similar and very delicious.
1 quart strawberries
1/2 cup powdered sugar
1/4 cup kirsch
1 cup whipping cream
Cut strawberries in halves and place a few aside for garnishing. Sprinkle with powdered sugar and kirsch, stir. Cover, refrigerate about two hours. Before serving, beat whipping cream in a bowl until soft peaks form, fold in strawberries and garnish.