Paper Beads Tutorial

It’s that time of year again: March Break! For the Ontario school board anyway; the Québec schools had theirs last week. My kids were really looking forward to the break, not just because of the days off, but because they loved all of the crafts we did last year. This year we started with a craft that I’m pretty sure I learned in Brownies as a child: paper beads.

Paper Beads

Materials:
– paper (I prefer recycled magazines with glossy photos)
– water-based, non-toxic liquid glue such as Mod Podge or plain white glue
– narrow-width ribbon or cord
– OPTIONAL: coordinating beads

Supplies Needed:
– paper scissors
– bamboo skewers
– ruler
– pencil
– paint brush
– old newspapers (to protect work surface)
– clean, recycled container (to use as glue pot)

1. Spread out your old newspapers to protect your work surface. Remove the piece of paper of your choice from the magazine. (Since we’ve gone paperless for the most part, we bought an old National Geographic magazine for a quarter at a thrift store.)

2. Flip your magazine clipping over so that the back side is showing. Using a ruler and a pencil, draw a long, thin triangle from the base of the paper to the top. The base of our triangles varied from 1cm to 2cm or so; under 1cm they can be a bit too small for little hands, and over 2cm they become very chunky beads.

3. Using the scissors, cut out the triangle.

4. Squirt a small amount of glue into the clean, recycled container. Dab the paint brush lightly in the glue, then spread a thin layer of glue onto the back of the paper, starting about 3cm away from the base. (If you start directly at the base, it will stick to the bamboo skewer.)

5. Starting at the non-glued end of the triangle and working toward the thinnest point, roll the paper tightly around the bamboo skewer. Once the paper is stuck down, apply a thin coat of glue to the outside of the bead, being careful not to get it on the skewer.

6. Allow the glue to dry, then slide the bead off of the skewer.

7. String the paper beads onto the cord, adding commercially-made beads if desired.

My kids really loved making these beads, especially since they can say that they made them from scratch! As a bonus, it introduced them to National Geographic magazines. Thing 1 insisted that we return to the thrift store and buy a whole bunch more, and at a quarter each I couldn’t exactly object. I have very happy memories of paging through these same magazines as a child and I’m glad that my children are getting as much enjoyment out of them as I did.

613flea Saturday March 9th

It’s finally that time again! This Saturday will be my first market of the season, and since I haven’t had a show in like three months I have so much new stuff to share. But first, the layout has changed a bit from last year, although I’m happy to say that I have a corner booth (perfect for my preferred layout) that is near where you could find me last year.

I’m still on the northwest side of the building, just a little further from the centre doors.

Since this is the March market and hence the one closest to Saint Patrick’s Day, I thought I’d showcase some of my green pieces.

These stacking Pyrex mixing bowls are from the 1980’s; this style remains a pretty constant favourite.

These Hazel-Atlas bowls have a lovely green ivy print.

This rather large oval casserole dish is from the 1972-1978 Pyrex Spring Blossom Green collection.

This is my most vibrantly green piece — although it’s only this bright under UV light. Granted, it’s still a lovely green otherwise. It’s Depression glass; this type is also known as uranium glass because a tiny bit of uranium in the mix is what gives it its colour. It’s also known as Vaseline glass in some places, but while all uranium glass may be called Vaseline glass due to its colour, all Vaseline glass may not be called uranium glass because it doesn’t all contain uranium. Don’t worry, there’s not enough uranium there for it to be dangerous; it’s no worse than eating a banana.

Hope to see you at 613flea!

Restaurante Sobrino de Botín

When I was in Madrid last month, one of the places I knew I had to visit was the Restaurante Sobrino de Botín (Botín’s Nephew’s Restaurant). This restaurant, which is very close to Plaza Mayor, is featured on Atlas Obscura, which is where I first learned of it. However, it’s in a lot of guidebooks and can be found on many websites because it has been recognized by Guinness World Records as the oldest restaurant in the world still in operation. A certificate in the front window from Guinness reads, “The oldest restaurant in the world is Restaurante Botín, in Calle Cuchilleros, Madrid, Spain, which opened in 1725 and has been operating ever since; it even retains the original 18th century firewood oven. It is currently run by the González family.”

The restaurant is in what used to be an inn built in the 1500’s; it originally only took up the main floor, but now occupies all four floors. The current exterior dates back to a renovation in the 1800’s, when the large windows were added. Originally they displayed cakes and pastries, but now they showcase photos and articles on the left, and a miniature model of the interior of the restaurant on the right.

The large door to the right of the main entrance is carved with the year 1725, and it was installed at the time of the restoration that transformed the main floor into a restaurant. It would originally have been called an inn, then a tavern, under the name Casa Botín, because at first the proprietors were forbidden by law to sell the food, only to cook it for customers. Eventually the laws changed and they began to provide food as well as prepare it; the restaurant was passed down to Candido Remis, the Botín’s nephew, which is when the name changed (“sobrino” means “nephew”).

The miniatures in the window showcase all four floors, but for some reason I didn’t take a picture of the top one (which was showcased off to one side of the window).

The basement, with its vaulted brick ceilings, used to be the wine cellar.

The ground level is the original restaurant.

The second floor used to be lodgings (I believe the proprietors lived there), but has since been expanded.

On the sidewalk just out front of the building (you can see it roughly at the center bottom of the first photo) is a plaque installed by the City of Madrid. These plaques don’t stand out, but they’re out front of a lot of the city’s culturally important locations.

When my husband and I went for dinner, we were seated on the second floor. It was outside of the main tourist season and we arrived relatively early by Spanish dinner standards, around 8:00pm, so we didn’t end up needing a reservation. Even so, the restaurant was doing a very brisk business and table turnover was steady.

Given the mixed reviews that this place has received for its food (since the recognition by Guinness, a lot of people claim it’s just a tourist trap), I was quite happy with the food. The bread was fresh and tasty, with a crisp, flaky crust, and soft insides.

Since we had to be budget-conscious, we skipped appetizers and went straight for the main meal. It’s probably a good thing we did, because it was really filling! I had the suckling pig roasted in the restaurant’s original wood-fired ovens, served with boiled potatoes. It was plain but delicious, with the crackling skin being the most delectable part. The pork is a traditional regional dish and the pig itself was brought in from Segovia, where we were actually going the next day, and where I also had suckling pig. If I’d realized that these events were going to happen two days in a row I would probably have switched my dinner order in Segovia itself, but we had to decide weeks in advance what we were eating because it was a large group and a tour meal. The restaurant in Segovia was fantastic, and I’d say that the suckling pig at the two locations was comparable.

We declined dessert so that we could take a walk around the area around the main square to find ourselves a separate place for coffee and sweets. I had a lovely meal at the oldest restaurant in the world, and I can see why it has been in business for so long!

Atlas Obscura in Madrid

I absolutely love Atlas Obscura. Not only do they write all about the kinds of weird things that I find interesting, but on a more practical level they help me to find the less-touristy interesting things when I’m travelling. I find when I’m in a new city it can be a bit overwhelming, what with trying to find my way around and looking at all the people and in all of the shop windows. Doing a bit of pre-planning with a traditional guidebook (I’m partial to the Lonely Planet ones) and Atlas Obscura helps keep me from walking by interesting things just because I had my head turned the wrong way at the wrong instant. It kind of turns my trip into a treasure hunt.

For example, the Fountain of the Fallen Angel (Ángel Caído) in the gorgeous Parque del Buen Retiro is pretty famous for being the only known public monument to the devil. This sculpture was in both guides and was part of the suggested walking tour in the Lonely Planet book…

But Air Crash near Plaza Mayor, which depicts an angel in the middle of plowing into a building, is about four stories up on a rather narrow street, and is easily missed.

I would probably have found the Muslim walls of Madrid, the last remnants of the pre-Christian city walls, with my traditional guide, since they were also part of a suggested walking tour…

And the Temple of Debod, an ancient Egyptian temple gifted to Spain from its home country, is both quite close to the palace and is in a major park that has stunning views of the city…

But I don’t think I would have found the tiny Caños del Peral Archaeological Museum located inside the Opera Metro station without help — although I might have passed by it on the way out of the subway, if I’d come out at that station for other reasons (it’s the closest station to the palace).

With all of the other vendors hanging around the outside of the palace trying to get a piece of the tourist pie, I almost walked by this barquilleros vendor, except that his tiny roulette wheel caught my eye. (You can play the game of chance in hopes of getting more waffles for your money.)

I had a really hard time finding the Kilometre Zero marking, from which all roads in Spain are measured, because it really is just one paving stone among many and people were literally standing on it.

I had a much easier time finding the Bear and the Strawberry Tree (El Oso y el Madroño), even though it was just across the Puerta del Sol square, because I think every tourist and their dog was having their picture taken in front of it. (This bear is the symbol of Madrid and the motif can be found all over the place, including on manhole covers.)

I greatly enjoyed the free tour of the Chamberí Ghost Station, which is a subway station that was closed in 1966 that has now been restored and reopened as a museum.

When we were chatting with our Spanish hosts about where we’d visited, it came up that we’d made a special trip off of the beaten tourist path to check out the Olmec head roundabout. This exact replica of an Olmec head was donated by Mexico in 2007, but its ignominious placement in the middle of a traffic circle at the edge of a housing development means that even most city natives haven’t heard of it.

One place that we visited upon the suggestion of our Lonely Planet guidebook that wasn’t on Atlas Obscura, but I think it should be, was the Pacífico Power Plant. This station powered the metro from the 1920’s to the 1950’s, and also provided power for the city during the Spanish Civil War. It was closed completely in the 1970’s and was restored in 2008 to be turned into a museum. The massive diesel generators are similar to ship’s engines of the era.

Unfortunately I didn’t get to every single Atlas Obscura listing for Madrid, but I think I hit most of the ones I was interested in. There were a couple of museums that appealed to my scientific curiosity and sense of the macabre, but the weather was so sunny and beautiful for my entire trip that I didn’t really have a huge impetus to stay indoors. Especially since I knew how soon I’d be returning to snowy Canada in February!

Shrove Tuesday

I meant to write this post on Wednesday about Tuesday, but unfortunately I was in a minor car accident — a fender bender, really — which, while not severe in any shape or form, did eat away at my day. (Before you ask: I seem to be fine, the car is now in the shop but likely doesn’t require any major repairs, and no it wasn’t my fault (I was rear-ended while stopped in a right-hand turning lane, waiting for a gap in traffic so I could pull out).) So now I’m writing my posts all out of order, but this post will be backdated to Tuesday, which is when I actually made the pancakes.

I’ve written about Shrove Tuesday, also known as Pancake Tuesday before, since it was a yearly tradition in my family growing up. In all of the hustle and bustle with travel (and my remaining jet lag) this year I’d almost forgotten about it, but somebody’s post on Facebook reminded me just in time. Not that pancakes for supper are limited to one day a year, mind. Some days I just feel like pancakes.

This year I went with Basic Pancakes from the Joy of Cooking (Rombauer & Becker, 2006 edition); I’m not sure what page of the hard copy book, though, since this time I used the app (super-convenient, that thing). However, I discovered too late to go to the shops that I was low on eggs and completely out of butter, so I substituted half a mashed banana for an egg and canola oil for the butter. My substitutions seemed to work just fine since these pancakes were very fluffy and mighty tasty! I topped them with a fresh fruit salad of Granny Smith apples, dragon fruit, strawberries and more bananas, along with lots of maple syrup. And, as is pretty much a constant request in this family, I served bacon on the side.

Royal Palace of Madrid

Like many tourists, one of my first stops during my visit to Spain was the Royal Palace of Madrid (“Palacio Real de Madrid” in Spanish). I actually visited twice on consecutive days, because I underestimated how long it would take to properly appreciate all of the exhibits and I wanted to give this beautiful complex the attention it deserved.

The Royal Palace is located right in the middle of the old city; buildings that are commercial on the ground floor and apartments (or sometimes hotels) above are separated only by a road and the public parks such as the Plaza de Oriente and Jardines de Sabatini. This means that you can get a good look at the palace even from outside of the gates. It’s possible to look right inside the Plaza de Armeria (the main courtyard) from the publicly-accessible area between the Catedral de la Almudena and the palace. The throne room is on the second floor right above the central doors, and looks over the courtyard and at the cathedral.

This is the statue of Charles III at the base of the grand staircase.

And this is the grand staircase from above, with a statue of Charles IV at the center. It is, quite simply, awe-inspiring in its grandeur.

On ceiling above the grand staircase (and, indeed, most of the ceilings inside the palace) is a fresco. As this is probably the biggest single room that I saw, I’d venture to guess that it’s also the largest fresco. It is by Corrado Giaquinto and depicts Religion Protected by Spain (although I have to admit I had to look that up after the fact, I was so gobsmacked by the palace that I forgot less-consequential things like artists and titles).

After this, though, I have very few photos of the palace, since there were only a few areas where photos were allowed. Suffice it to say that it is an exercise in opulence and incredible attention to detail. Also on the palace grounds is the armory, which contains fantastic examples of full plate armour (for men, children, and horses) alongside swords, crossbows, and other weapons. Most of the items on display belonged to royalty or upper nobility, so they are beautifully detailed as well. Of course I wasn’t allowed to take photos in there either.

One place that photography was allowed was an extra to the basic tour that I just had to go see: the royal kitchens. They are absolutely huge, which makes sense because they once played host to hundreds of people working at hot, sweaty, tiring jobs that eventually produced all of the food that royalty and nobility at the palace ate. Above is a selection of the kinds of copper and glass molds that were in use.

A wooden work table with the more delicate tools for preparing and decorating the foods prepared in the molds.

The station for washing vegetables.

The pastry station with its marble counter top for keeping the pastry dough cool (much as we still use marble rolling pins or rolling pins filled with cold water for the same purpose today — it keeps the lard or butter from melting, which makes the dough flaky).

Prep table in the room with the main ovens and stoves. The big rack in the background holds all of the different kinds of spits for roasting above the massive fireplace.

The stoves used wood as fuel and the smoke was vented through pipes that ran under the floor, which kept them from having to have overhead chimneys. I’m not sure how they managed to get the chimneys to draw correctly; apparently it was quite the feat of engineering. Notice the high ceilings for air flow; the kitchens were in the basement and the windows that light it and allow for air circulation are at ground level.

Here you can see another of the massive cast-iron stove/ovens, with the fireplace for spit-roasting in the background.

Back when these kitchens were in use, they were often written about by visitors who were impressed by how much work it took to feed the upper classes in the manner to which they were accustomed. They also wrote about how the kitchens ran like a well-oiled machine, or they compared it to a military operation. I personally have a hard time imagining the monumental task it must have been to make these kitchens anything but absolute chaos. My hat is off to the generations of people who worked here.

St. James Restaurante Juan Bravo

I am very happy to be able to say that I just spent ten days in Madrid, Spain! I prefer to write about trips after the fact because it’s generally not a good idea to announce to the world that your house is empty while you’re out of town. But I returned last night, jet-lagged as all get out, and now it’s time to write all about it.

Due to the jet lag I think I’m going to keep this one fairly short and sweet, and I’ll tell you a bit about the fancy group dinner that we had at Saint James Restaurante Juan Bravo. I believe that our hosts wanted us to get a chance to try some good, traditional Spanish food, which is the specialty of this restaurant. Most of us had paella, which is a slow-cooked, savoury rice dish with many variations. Above is Valencian paella, which includes chicken, rabbit, vegetables and snails.

These Norway lobsters (which are much smaller and more delicate than the American lobsters I’m familiar with from our East Coast) and prawns came on the side of a paella that also included chicken, vegetables, mussels and squid.

The crowning glory, at least for me, was the paella with Galician lobster, which is what my husband and I had. This serving was for at least four people (all of the paellas had to be ordered in portion sizes for two people or more), but I could have eaten all of that delicious lobster all by myself. The rice was also amazing, but it paled in comparison to the seafood. It was obvious to me that all of the dishes were prepared with care and pride, and the depth of flavour is where this showed the most.

This was the one and only time I tried paella in Spain, but it was absolutely delicious, so I hope that it was a good representation of the dish. It definitely makes me want to learn how to make it myself, especially since Spanish restaurants are few and far between around here. I think I’d have to keep the ingredients for homemade versions a little more simple, though; eating like kings while on vacation is definitely different than what we can afford to have every day at home. Maybe I should just keep an eye out for a sale on lobster…

Flotte Socke Christmas

I am loving working on my sweater of many colours, but it has become just a little bit too large to comfortably carry around in my purse. I mean, I could always buy a larger purse, but I am generally most comfortable with one that fits my wallet, cell phone, a paperback novel, and a small knitting project. The last time I carried around a Mary Poppins-sized bag was back when the kids were really little and I always had to have diapers, extra onesies, blankets, and bottles on hand. I’m really glad to be past that stage, to tell you the honest truth.

But if I was leaving the sweater at home, I needed another, more portable project to occupy my hands during downtime. (I know that I can always read, but I can actually now read and knit at the same time, so long as the pattern is simple and I don’t have to hold a physical book open.) So I dug around in my stash for a ball of sock yarn that I bought before Christmas so that I could get started on gifts for next year — or maybe something for myself for a change? Who knows, it’s usually far in advance for me.

I bought the yarn during the Christmas stocking rush and I knew I’d drive myself crazy trying to complete yet another pair of socks in time for the holiday, so I didn’t even try. I’m really liking how it’s coming together now, though. The self-striping pattern is really cute and the yarn itself is actually quite soft (75% superwash wool, 25% polyamide). The yarn is Flotte Socke 4f Christmas by Rellana Garne in color 2401. One way or another, even if I knit the sweater at home and the socks on the go, these Christmas socks should be done in time for the holidays.

If it sounds a bit like I’m trying to justify starting a second project while the first isn’t complete, honestly, that’s exactly what’s happening. I learned a long time ago that if I have too many projects on the go at once, I end up finishing nothing! I try very hard to limit myself to one type of project at a time, i.e. one knitting, one sewing, one costume (except during final con crunch), etc. Working on this pair of socks seems like I’m breaking a rule somehow.

Sansotei Ramen

Over time, I hope to try every ramen restaurant in Ottawa. What with ramen becoming more popular, this process has become more difficult, but I think I’ll manage! Recently I had the chance to check out the Sansotei Ramen location at 1537 Merivale Rd.

A few things you should know before I even talk about the food: they’re closed Mondays, they don’t take reservations, and they’re really popular right now due to positive reviews in the paper. The last two factors mean that even if you arrive shortly after opening for dinner, as we did, there’s going to be a wait. The line only gets longer as you progress further in to the dinner hour, with people squashed into the tiny vestibule awaiting their turn, and then a line going out the outer door and down the sidewalk. Although turnover was fairly quick (ramen is generally supposed to be a quick meal), the entrance looked like the above the entire time we were there — although to be fair, it was a Saturday.

Now to the food. I tried the tonkotsu ramen black (i.e. pork bone broth with black garlic oil) with chashu pork, which is one of my favourite dishes. It’s also one of the more complicated ones to make, so I find that it’s a pretty good test of a restaurant. I was very happy with my soup! The broth was rich without being too fatty, and bursting with flavour. The pork was melt-in-your-mouth. The noodles had just the right amount of chewiness. I have to admit that my favourite ramen place in Ottawa is still Koichi Ramen (formerly Ginza Ramen) in Chinatown, but Sansotei is definitely giving them a run for their money. I would definitely recommend this restaurant; it’s well worth the wait in line.

“New” Vintage Pyrex Casserole Dishes

I know I’ve been posting so many pics lately of my “new” vintage pieces that I’m preparing for the upcoming market season, but I’m so hyped! I’ve found so many cool things that I can’t wait to share with you all. For example:

I’ve featured the Daisy pattern (1969-1970) on my blog before, but this is the first time I’ve had a casserole with the clear lid. It was also printed in the same pattern on a white lid during the same run.

The Early American pattern (1962-1971) was also called Early Canadian; the pattern is the same, but it was named differently for the different markets. It came in multiple colourways, and all of featured designs printed in 22-karat gold. Since microwave ovens only started to become affordable for home use in the early 1970’s, and common beginning in the 1980’s, the company wasn’t able to foresee the issues surrounding metal decoration for dishes. Therefore, as with all Pyrex dishes with gold designs, this one isn’t microwave safe — but it is still good for fridge, freezer, and oven.

The Wheat pattern, from 1978, is a little more versatile than its fancier brethren, since the non-metallic screen-printed design is microwave-safe.

Last but not least, I found two versions of the Market Garden print (1971-1982), which remains as colourful and detailed as the day they were printed. These dishes were labelled as JAJ pyrex, which means they were made before 1973, since Pyrex made in England was only labelled as such between 1921 and 1973; after that it would have been labelled Pyrex England, when the company changed hands. I do find that there is quite a stylistic difference between the dishes made by the American and English subsidiaries of the company. Overall, the ones with American or shared designs tend to be plainer and simpler. However, many of the ones released solely in England are much more complicated, often with multiple colours, finer lines, and designs that are closer to photos than line drawings. Which one is better is entirely a matter of personal preference, though; functionally, they all work just as well.