TIME
LIFE UN-Limited
PILLSBURY’S WORST
SPONSORS BETTY LINGO CROCKED POT BAKING SCHOOL
Water is the beginning of life. Bread is the continuity of Life. So
illiterate Mt-Men learned to bake open air bread without bothering to follow
the nit=picking directions in cook books. Using unmeasured handfuls of raw
materials, just like the pioneers used to do before we lost our individuality
and started following subliminal directions of Big Brother with the attaché
case, each man mixed a pile of ground wheat-grass seed, tossed in a bit o salt, mixed a sludge
of water, sugar, yeast and lubricating beargrease, then kneaded the mess
together. After rising for several
hours, in a greased canteen cup, the ballooned sponges were put in a tin oven
over a hot bed of coals.
Theory is this: Flour by itself is
edible and nutritious. Baked it is delictible.
By distributing CO2 gas thruout the water paste, the unleavened matzoth
is made light, fluffy and airy. Baking
solidifies the millions of bubble pockets in the elastic membrane of
wheat. By Nature, wheat molecules are
sticky friends with each other, so to help the gas push them apart into the
bubbles, we lubricate each wheat-water molecule with one of any kind of
slippery bear grease. Bacon drippings
are fine and cheaper than the nonsense greases the advertisers want us to buy at many times the
price.
(See
drawings in scan of page above.)
In order to put some
precision to the baking of all canteen cups together, al lmen formed an Injun
Council circle around the oven, and while sitting cross-legged meditating on
the wonder of, the spirit of, the religion of bread – each took his turn
changing: “One Commanche, two Commanche, three…” until 30 minutes were passed.
The procession of golden loaves to the pot of honey and the slab ov butter and
the jar of peach jam was a sight of pride to behold.
Mountain Men – Bread –
Joy – Life. Yes, Life was good
today.
TDL
////////////////////
T
R A I L M E D I T A T I O N
By Iron Jaw
Drawn by a bright
yellow flower
I stride to the crest
of Swantantra
To Individuality
To separation from the
crowd
Upon inspecting my lur
I try and fall, to
behold a
Limited view of
Unlimited beauty –
SO I THINK !
I am lured on – Up a
rocky slope
In earch of a vague but
beautiful shape
Beneath me, ground
collapses often
Yet I approach – And
Finally touch – My goal
I am the goal.
(Dedicated to “Old Pow”
Cane, Author of “Making A Poem”, Harcourt Brace)
::::::::::::::::::::
“It
tasted better than store bought bread because I made it!” – Squirrel
::::::::::::::::::::
Fe Toes, Golden Sunset
Squaw, Clanking Bear and Medicine Man came up.
No comments:
Post a Comment