Entire text of this post is taken from the Time article “Wedding Day at Independence”
“I feel that marriage vows are sacred,” memoired Margaret Truman recently, “and I hope that mine will be spared the hurly-burly attending a news event.” Last week in Trinity Episcopal Church at Independence, Mo., where her parents were married 36 years ago, Margaret, now 32, saw her hope accomplished; she became Mrs. Elbert Clifton Daniel Jr. with more dignity and less hurly-burly than a former President’s daughter and TV-radio star could expect.
A month after her engagement announcement, Margaret left Manhattan for Independence stubbornly determined on dignity. She disappeared into the family’s 14-room, white Victorian house at 219 North Delaware Street for a week’s seclusion, emerged only to greet New York Timesman Daniel when he flew in,
On the wedding eve she relented slightly, agreed to join Daniel in a 20-minute press conference for 50 encamped reporters. (Sample exchange: News hen: “I would like to ask what may be an embarrassing question . . .” Daniel: “Don’t ask it.”)
The wedding day burst fair and warm; Margaret Truman walked out of the 91-year-old house a last time on the arm of her ever-punctual, this time solemn father.
A crowd had circled the Truman gate to admire her gown of antique Venetian lace, pale beige in color because “white doesn’t become me.” Margaret paused to smile at them, then ducked into a limousine for the five-minute, six-block journey to Trinity Church. “She looks beautiful, Mr. Truman,” called a voice from the crowd. “Thank you, thank you very much,” said the farther of the bride. “I think so too.”
The tiny, freshly painted church was half full; some 60-odd were there, including ten reporters chosen to represent the corps. The guests were relatives and friends.
Among them were a handful whose names were familiar: ex-Treasury Secretary John Snyder, New York Real Estate Magnate William Zeckendorf, John Frederics (whose lace-crowned bridal veil Margaret wore), Italian Couturière Micol Fontana (who was commissioned to create the wedding gown because it was a Fontana dress Margaret was wearing one evening last November when she first met Daniel).
The Rev. Patric Hutton, 30-year-old rector of the church, read the marriage ceremony, watched as Daniel slipped a plain gold band on his bride’s finger.
After 30 minutes in the receiving line, bride and groom slipped away to catch a train for the first leg of their honeymoon in Nassau. Margaret Truman had not been the only important bride of the week, but when it was all said and done, hers was the wedding that gave the U.S. that next-door feeling even if the nation stood on tiptoe to catch every detail of the other one.
After a cup of malted milk, the only thing you want is some square-dancing. The kid seated next to the door looks like he is doing community service, the girl standing on the right stuck her tongue out; must be thirsty for some of that milk.
This time of the year is the apple season around here, the time when we make our annual trip to our favorite apple orchard in Williamsburg, KS. Over the years we’ve done quite a bit of driving in this part of Kansas, visiting small towns like Garnett and Osawatomie, Burlington, Ottawa, Williamsburg and this year we stopped for a few minutes in Lebo and Osage City.
I knew there was a post somewhere on this blog about the Russian pancakes made with Farmer Cheese for which I coined a term cheese-niki, but when my sophisticated gastronomical friend Katrina posted a recipe on her blog, I thought it was time to revisit the subject.
There must be some unfortunate reason why the American people are being deprived of multiple milk products. Kefir is only now becoming widely available or even known to many people, there is probably one lonely brand of Farmer Cheese, and such delicacies as baked milk and ryazhenka are mostly unheard of outside of the Russian store. In light of the aforementioned shortages of common ingredients I had to adapt my recipe to whatever is available on hand. Yes, there are ways of making Farmer Cheese at home, but as my daughter would gladly tell you – I am lazy, and all my cooking is based on the least possible amount of work and clean-up.
For this recipe you’ll need a 32 oz tub of the all-natural plain or vanilla yogurt, 1 egg, about a cup of flour, a small amount of salt and baking soda, sugar, and optional vanilla and raisins, craisins or whatever else you might like. You will also need cheesecloth, which is widely available at most grocery stores, craft department at Walmart, kitchen stores and elsewhere.
When buying yogurt look for one with the least possible amount of ingredients; the one I used had just one ingredient -milk. I usually pick a large container at Walmart where it only costs around two dollars. Other yogurts contain fillers, white paint, super-glue and other fine ingredients, but while it may be OK to eat, I have no idea what will happen when you try to cook with it.
The night before you want to cook pancakes (or few nights, if you are a long-term planner), strain the yogurt. The way I do it is to cut a piece of cheesecloth large enough to cover a colander when folded in two. Then I cover the colander with two layers of cheesecloth, empty the yogurt container into it, tie the ends to create sort of a pouch and hang it overnight to drain.
