Ararat

Ararat by Christopher Golden

     There is probably only one thing you think of when you hear “Ararat” and you wouldn’t be alone.  Mount Ararat, the resting place of Noah’s Ark. Depending on your religion the story of Noah and his ark is either biblical, folklore or just a fun story.  I mean, come on, the water rising that high?

     Enter Ararat by Christopher Golden.  An earthquake breaks off a sizeable chunk of the mountain revealing something that is, well, biblical.  A crew of archaeologists, paleolinguists and research students converge on the cave and begin their work under the supervision of Adam and Meryam, a young couple who find and film extreme adventures around the world. 

     What no one was expecting to find inside what is possibly Noah’s ark is ancient cadavers, some in positions of agony and fear still in their eyes. And a box that turns out to be the casket of a creature that changes everything. 

      From here on the story is a bit of Indiana Jones, but we love Indiana Jones for a reason. A malevolent force is unearthed and released and heads roll.  Literally.  The crew is hoping to just live long enough to get back down the mountain but there is also the concern and fear over what they uncovered and possibly released into the world. 

     While this isn’t normally what I’d choose to read, the story kept me on task until the last sentence. And I wasn’t sorry.  And maybe I shouldn’t have had the image of the malevolent one on my mind as I went to sleep late that night!

Addendum to Horsing Around

Well.  Who knew?  When my brother and sister-in-law arrived today I was very excited to tell him that I made horseradish.  He said, "don't you remember the fumes also killed her canary?"  NO! I didn't remember that!  Busia always had a canary,  they sang their hearts out and they were always called Caruso.  It seems this one day after my grandpa made the horseradish and brought it in the house it was noticed that Caruso wasn't singing.  They checked the cage and there he/she was, hanging upside down on the perch, dead.   The fumes killed the canary!

AND I found out my brother doesn't even like horseradish.  Never did!  While it took me a long time to learn to eat it and I blame this on how my grandpa looked after grating it,  my brother probably remembers the dead canary. 

Horsing around

I have very clear memories of being at my grandparents' house on Good Friday and Saturday while they prepared for the family to come for Easter.  My grandma made cruschiki and I watched, she made placzek, a very buttery bread, and I watched, she dyed eggs in onion skins and I watched, she decorated the lamb cake and I watched.   But when my grandpa went outside to grate the horseradish I was told to stay inside. I'll never forget how he looked when he came back in.  He looked like someone from a horror movie, someone who had been squeezed from the toes and all of his insides were coming out of his face.  His face was very red and bloated,  his eyes were tearing down his cheeks, his nose was running and drool was coming down the sides of his mouth.  After seeing that, who would ever want to eat horseradish??   Do you ever wonder who, way back in the root gathering days, first thought a horseradish root was edible?  Or how they prepared it and what they thought of it?  I mean, horseradish is an acquired taste and can easily send you running for a bucket of water to toss down your throat.   I like strong flavors so I do like horseradish in small doses but I had to be an adult before I tried it because all I could see in my brain when the word horseradish was spoken was my grandpa's face.

Since I seem to be channeling my maternal Polish grandparents this year by preparing the cruschiki, placzek, onion dyed eggs and lamb cake, I decided to try to make horseradish for the kielbasa and ham.

 I watched a YouTube to learn any tricks. First you peel it.  In its natural from-the-produce-section state it looks like a gnarled parsnip.  You peel it like that, too.

 But it's very woody and the pulp is tough.

 So for some of it I had to use a knife to cut away the outer edge.  Next, this is where I differed from my grandpa's preparation.  He used a box grater, that's why he went outside and why he suffered so.  I have a little chopper/grinder thing and I thought it would be safer.  I could take it outside if necessary and grind it out there.

 I cut the root into small pieces, measured out a pinch of salt, a teaspoon of sugar, two tablespoons of vinegar and some water.  Not sure if my grandpa did this but I know the vinegar and salt is necessary.

 The chopper worked very nicely and I was feeling a little cocky so I took the cover off.  Woo Boy!  Immediately my eyes started to water and the kitchen took on the smell so I opened windows and put the cover back on.  I didn't go outside with this because it's raining today.  Wow.  Potent stuff!  It's much, much stronger than the store bought. Phew!

The YouTube person was very explicit in saying to put it in a glass jar.  Probably because it would melt plastic!  Of course I don't have any small canning lids on hand so had to use this jar with a plastic lid.  My inner brain was telling me to put a piece of foil between the horseradish and the lid just in case this stuff DOES melt plastic! 

All in all, using the chopper gave a slightly coarser grain to it but I don't think I could live through grating it.  I just keep seeing my grandpa's face.