The Talbergs (and Giant Creatures)

This is Jake's 2nd of 4 articles (so far) on the topic of family memories created around food. Again, he may have exaggerated a detail or two.

Excerpts from the mind and memory of a chef (installation #2):

My maternal grandparents lived in Foley, MN.  They had an old farmhouse replete with a dilapidated red barn in which we had our unsupervised childhood fun (mostly hassling the “polydactylated” barn cats).  When my family would gather, feeding everyone was quite a task.  To understand the volume of food that would be required to feed a gathering of my family, consider that on my mom’s side of the family, there are 43 grandchildren.  Some of those grandkids had kids, include aunts, uncles, friends and you’ve got a healthy sized group.  Now, rest assured that every get-together did not include everyone for any number of reasons.  But what my grandma produced out of her farmhouse kitchen was nothing short of extraordinary. 

My grandma worked in Wayzata when my mother was young, tending to the children of the Whitney family.  As I progressed in the culinary world, she was always inquisitive of how the operations worked, what we did, how did it compare to when she was in the “industry”.  Her interest in my work, as well as that of my youngest brother always brought her a smile.  Conversely, the first time I beat her in cribbage was the last time she ever played with me (that, I suppose was the German in her).  My grandpa did tree work and worked construction, worked on the Alaskan pipeline where he witnessed men drink antifreeze to keep warm (they were drunk, then dead) and in Guam where he lost the lower half of his leg in a pile-driver accident. But what they cultivated on their property is still talked about in my family.

My grandpa planted a fruit tree for every grandkid, mine was apricot.  He had two gardens where ALL of their fruits and vegetables were produced.  They canned and froze everything.  Sauerkraut was made in clay pots and buried in the ground to be exhumed the following spring.  Rows and rows of the best corn I have eaten in my life, potatoes both Russet and sweet, peas, beans, beets, red currants for jelly, strawberries, raspberries and cucumbers for pickles to name just a few things.  The cellar shelves were loaded with year’s worth of supplies.  It was a true cellar, one light bulb, a wringer dryer and a toilet.  But try getting a kid to use it with all the spiders and other creepy crawlies down there.  No thanks.

Meal times were chaos.  Adults ate first.  If kids entered prior, they would be chased out of the kitchen with the fly-swatter.  It hung on the wall and I have no idea how my grandma commandeered it so quickly.  The kids ate in the stairway, no room in the kitchen, dining area or living room.  Oldest cousins sat at the top and the youngest at the bottom.  There was great pride in rising to the top of the stairs.  Reason was, if you were on the top and someone spilled milk (which happened every time), you were safe and thus could eat uninterrupted. 

Once my grandparents passed, my mom and her remaining siblings were tasked with cleaning out the house.  She asked if there was anything I wanted from the house.  Without hesitation I replied, “the jelly jar that’s shaped like an apple and the little plaque with the dinner bell that read ‘Good bread, good meat, good gosh, let’s eat.’”  She told me later that 25 of my cousins had requested the plaque.  We were fond of the food, the visits and the company.  When gathering with family now, we still talk about the food.  It came from nowhere and it came from everywhere.  Thanks Ruth & George!

See you at the Club, Jake

 

 

 

 

 

 

Work

Kayla is up north with her dad's family this week. She texted me that she was "crowned employee of the month!!!" at the nursing home. Anna started waiting tables at Byerly's, which is proving to be an excellent job for her. She's also been refinishing a lovely bedroom set generously donated by her great grandparents, so she's keeping busy. Next week, Kayla heads back to Henn. Tech and Anna to Normandale.

"I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now." -Bob Dylan, My Back Pages

 

Two nights ago, the club hosted this fundraiser. Jake said he wouldn't be on the news, so we didn't tape it and I had to resort to rewinding and photographing the tv. But there he is, with his sous chef, moving their cars to accommodate the event. At this moment, they were saying to each other that this had better not be on the news.

It's been a crazy busy summer for Jake at the club. Writing a monthly article for the club newspaper is just one of the multitude of things that he does. I think his summer articles are particularly rich and well-written, so I asked if I could post them here. He agreed, but wanted to include the disclaimer that he embellished a detail here and there to make for a better read. So, this is Jake's June article (I'll post the others later):

 

Excerpts from the mind and memory of a chef (installation #1):

As a 9 to 13 year old, my brothers and I would spend a few weeks in the summer with my paternal grandparents in northern California.  My grandpa was a part-time custodian at his church, a part-time swimming pool salesman and a full-time walnut orchard owner.  Grandma worked part-time for my uncle in his dental practice doing the filing and appointments.  Their ten acres of trees were surrounded by an irrigation ditch covered in wild blackberry brambles.  Morning sojourns to collect the berries resulted in poor yields.  We would eat more than we would save.  We’d return with black syrupy juice dried all over our faces and shirts.  Mollie, their golden retriever, would go to the end of the long drive to get the Sacramento Bee.  She’d slobber all over the paper, but she always got a treat.  Our next chore was to go to the chicken coop to pluck any eggs the hens may have laid over night.  We would usually be rewarded with four or five (except for a five day dry spell when the hens wouldn’t lay because a black widow spider decided the coop was a great place to hang her web.  Grandpa found her and took care of her with two 2x4’s).  We’d have a quick breakfast and then get on with our day.  We’d hop on the tractor with Grandpa while he disked the soil into dykes to ready the orchard for irrigation.  Irrigation would be a day long process starting with opening the irrigation valves and flooding the north sector.  Two hours later with shovels in hand, we’d break the dykes and allow the water to flow into the next section and so on until the last section was flooded.  Each time an area was emptied, we’d go and collect the crawfish that lay exposed and run them up to the house.  Freshwater crawfish aren’t too bad when you catch them yourself.

Some days we’d go across the street and get kiwis from the orchard there.  Other days we’d skip over a couple of lots and get peaches.  We never, ever went to the store to buy produce.  Grandma and Grandpa always knew and traded with someone.  Walnuts for honeydew, blackberries for corn, eggs for peaches.  We’d visit our cousins in Yuba City and stop at road side stands for other fruits and vegetables.  We rode in the bed of Grandpa’s Chevy pick-up past a tomato distribution center where semi trucks full of tomatoes would endlessly enter, dropping tomatoes on the road.  The pavement was always stained red and the bees were thick.  Past that were the almond and pecan orchards, followed by the peaches and nectarines.  I was always impressed at the linear nature of the orchards.  When we’d whip by them quickly (Grandpa always drove fast) the passing rows created a hypnotic pattern if you positioned yourself just right.  I was always amazed with the growing of food there.

Food is important.  Food creates memories.  Kids remember food, they remember where they were, what they ate, how it tasted, who was there when they ate.  As adults, we share meals with friends and family.  We invite them to our homes; we meet them at restaurants and converse over food and wine.  These gatherings are important, especially today.  Everyday can be a memory and so often it revolves around food.  Lafayette Club is a great place for these memories to happen.  We as staff are fortunate to be a part of this process.

See you at the Club,



Jake

 

 

 





On vacation

Jake had the week off. It was great to have him home. Actually, we weren't home that much. We started off the week by visiting Mike & Jen in South Dakota. Everyone had a great time swimming, & spending time with cousins and seeing the animals.

The baby goats were at the Bramble Park Zoo, where they also had a fat coyote, albino peacocks, and Maya's favorite, the Lady Ross Turaco. She's really into birds right now.

After a day or two at home, we headed to Marissa's family cabin in Wisconsin. We had a great time fishing, swimming and relaxing.

I found the following pics on Dylan's camera. (Sara, maybe you can pass the lizard one on to Jimmy). This is Dylan's leopard gecko, Sesto. Named for a Lamborghini, I think.

 The week before our family vacation, Dylan went up north into the BWCACWA (or whatever) with his friend's family. Looks like he had a good time, there, too.

 Dylan's bunk must be the one with the blanket Grandma Olsen made for Jake which Dylan claimed as his own.

I've never thought of taking a picture in the Mpls tunnel, but it is a good feeling to know you're getting close to home.

While Dylan was away, Maya successfully completed swimming lessons. This was a daunting challenge for her, but she overcame her fears of the deep water and putting her face in. As a reward, she got to go to the U of M Raptor center. She's especially interested in birds of prey as of late. Her favorite was the turkey vulture. Here she is with other faves, the one eyed bald eagle and the peregrine falcon. She impressed the tour guide by already knowing all of the birds given names and details about each one. She'd been studying their website for weeks.

Dylan's band

For the 3rd year in a row, Dylan's guitar teacher formed a summer student band. This is one of the songs they performed at Mtka. Music in Excelsior. This one showcases Dylan's emerging rap skills. He's up north with his friend this week and I'm missing him a lot!