Every time I visit my friends and relatives on the East Coast the question I am being asked the most is “when will you finally move here”. I have to admit that it’s a pretty tempting idea that ocasionally visits me since I moved to Kansas City almost 16 years ago.
Giving the Life Magazine a break, we continue onto the May 1914 issue of the Rotarian Magazine which was largely dedicated to Kansas City. Filled with photos and articles where mustachioed men took turns extolling the virtues of Kansas City, its businesses, theaters, schools, real estate and architecture. If you are bored at work a fan of Kansas City history, you should be reading this magazine already. 1914 was the year when the Kansas City Union Station was opened and the magazine dedicates the cover and several pages of photographs and essays to the “largest Union Station in the world”.
A recent post on Kansas Travel and my own visit to a gallery this week, where I was chastised by my daughter for not understanding art, reminded me that I had this set of photos from 1955 bookmarked for a long time.
Up to now Attica, Kan., for all its classical name, could pass for any other tiny town in the wheatlands – a slowdown point on a rural highway leading to Wichita. But today traffic through Attica not only slows down but stops and looks. Encamped with palettes and drawing boards on the sidewalks, along the railroad, in the wheatfields are painters – singly or in bunches – recording the surroundings with the earnest concentration of Paris professionals. The painters are members of the Artists Guild of Attica, a burgeoning group that in course of three years had made the town of 622 people aware, curious and eager about art.
By a strange coincidence as I was preparing to write this, a post showed up in my reader with some research on the origins of this recipe. Apparently it has some Jewish roots and comes from the regions of Ukraine and Moldova, where people enjoyed it for years with a myriad of variations. It has a pleasant refreshing taste but I was surprised to discover that many people enjoy drinking slightly fermented brine than eating the greens. In any case this is very simple to make and goes well with any meal.
As with most recipes published here you can’t really screw this up. I started with 2 bunches of leaf lettuce (you probably want to start with one), garlic (young garlic is preferred, but I didn’t have it), and a bunch of dill.
Chop dill and garlic, cut and throw away the thick ends off the lettuce and chop or chiffonade the rest in 1/4” or wider strips. You cannot have too much of any ingredient here, so don’t bother weighing and measuring.
Place everything in a bowl or container. In a pot heat up some water, add salt, white vinegar and sugar to taste. The taste should be pleasant, not too sweet, not too sour, not too salty. We are not making pickles here or brining a turkey, make it so the taste is enjoyable to you. Heat up the liquid until it boils, then let cool down a little. There should be enough liquid to submerge the greens, but keep in mind that they will compact to about a third of the original size. Pour warm brine over the green mix and let sit on the counter until it cools completely or even overnight. It’s ready to eat in just a few hours.
According to the article I read, many people add a piece of rye bread to promote fermentation and consume the resulting refreshing drink. In my family we just eat it as a salad, but I must admit that I never drain it and enjoy the brine as well as the greens.
When I was growing up® and the produce was still seasonal, this was a welcome taste of the spring and early summer – fresh, green, smelling of dill and garlic. Nowadays, you don’t have to wait til May to try your first lettuce of the year but somehow it still tastes better around this time.
