Issue 16, containing: At Home Witchery and Practical Magics, Whisking, Correction, Yet More Notes Regarding Various Recipes, Letters, Commonplaces, &c.

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SOME EDITORIAL NOTES

At some point, I’m going to have to give up the ghost and stop trying to compose in the Patreon window.

…but if I do that, the program wins.

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AT HOME WITCHERY AND PRACTICAL MAGICS

One of the strange delights of living the life of a solitary bee is that I get to discover the household tips and tricks that sustained generations before me while, simultaneously, feeling like I am well on my way to becoming a combination of Morwen, Nanny Ogg, and a Victorian household guide. There is a peculiar delight in being able to solve household problems by taking a spoonful of something, mixing it with something else, and then applying it like a fantasy-novel hedgewitch with muttered incantations and cats watching over my shoulder.

I don’t know why I like it. When I was young, I would collect flowers from the yard and carefully take them apart, dry them, press them, any strange activity I could think of, and put them into tiny containers and label them with the magical sounding names I thought such ingredients deserved. As I recall, Queen Anne’s Lace became Dragon’s Claw or something similar — which just goes to show that even the fantastic can become mundane with familiarity. How magical would Queen Anne’s Lace sound to a stranger’s ear?

When I was a little older, I became cheerfully obsessed with a book called The Backyard Medicine Chest, which, looking back on it now, was just a fairly straightforward herbal guide for the budding alternative-medicine crowd — but to me, it was a gateway to the magical understanding of plantlife that I’d been reaching for when I was younger.

These days, while I enjoy messing about with edible plants (and cooking in general is a whole separate matter), I’ve shifted my longings for hedgewitchery toward the wild world of homemade household cleaning supplies, which have all the benefits of weird plant shenanigans, while simultaneously actually, well, working.

My favorite household items to cosplay Baba Yaga have fairly solidified to the following:

1. White Vinegar.

I buy this by the gallon. Leaving aside the fact that a dollop of vinegar into tuna fish salad makes everything amazing, it can be used to clean windows, break up soap scum, and, in one fabulous case of overnight soaking, remove the smell of cat urine from a favorite t-shirt. Diluting it with water, or mixing it with baking soda to form a cleaning paste, is how I generally use it.

2. Baking Soda.

This, I buy buy the pound bag. Leaving aside its culinary uses, I’ve also taken to sprinkling it on stinky garbage, mixing it into fabric softener (with the help of epsom salts, another household wonder), and using it as a mild cleaning abrasive on everything from stovetops to bathtubs to ornery dishes. It’s delightful.

3. Blue Dawn liquid soap.

This one, I admit, is less housewitchy than the others, but I was seduced at an early age by seeing it used to clean oil off of birds, and it’s lived in my heart ever since. A tablespoon of this mixed into a large spray bottle of water makes for an excellent spray cleaner for floors, carpets, clothes, whatever. Combining it with baking soda or vinegar, in varying ratios, will allow for astonishing feats of cleaning. And if worse comes to worst, you can wash dishes with it.

There are several other items I kept around even before the Current Circumstances — hydrogen peroxide, the aforementioned epsom salts, sea salts, rubbing alcohol, lemons, glycerin, a variety of essential oils to add a dash of perfumery to my concoctions — but the above three are the overall winners at the moment.

At some point, I may expand my repertoire by actually going into one of my old household guides (Regency, rather than Victorian, but who’s counting) and start trying the really odd stuff. It makes me happy to do so, and sometimes the results are far and away better than I could have even anticipated– and so, why not? The enjoyment alone would be reason enough, but being a successful housewitch is truly a delight.

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WHISKING; OR, A NEW ADVENTURE

I mentioned in the previous article that cooking has become its own separate field of exploration. This is true, and also not something I’m particularly alone in doing. However, I’m always delighted by new discoveries, and so let me now try and convert you all to the wild, wonderful world of whisking.

Growing up, I envied my grandmother’s metal sifter, which was the choice tool for all pancake-making activities. Whisks were never a major feature either with her or in my own home. I didn’t even own one until a year or so ago, and I think I only bought it to whisk egg whites.

But, dear readers, let me tell you: Whisking dry ingredients is where it’s at.

I whisked the dry ingredients of a cake the other day– it mixed better and more finely than anything I have previously attempted. And just a day or so ago, I made a large batch of Martha Stewart’s hot chocolate mix (good for an entire winter, and also an excuse to purchase another air-tight container, how could I say no). This too required whisking, and the result was a finely mixed powder that dissolved with ease and was immaculately combined.

Wondering why this would be, I naturally took to the Googles to find out, and found this article from The Cake Blog. As with the previously discussed fruit fly trap search, I appreciate blog posts that test out all the options and present me with results– and this was no different. Here the author demonstrated sifting versus whisking versus none of the above, and it was there that I discovered that aerating the dry ingredients with a whisk allows for better mixing and a certain fluffiness to the finished product.

The real question for me now is… what else can I whisk? Would my beloved pancakes improve? What would happen if I whisked my fabric softener concoction? Is there nothing that whisking can’t solve? Stay tuned for further research, or write the magazine with your own revelations.

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A NOTE TO GENTLE READERS

The end of the year is coming upon us all. Tell me, Gentle Readers, do you do anything in particular at the end or start of the year, to mark what has been, or try and divine what is to come?

I am considering holding a personal business retreat. I suspect there will be a PowerPoint presentation.

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CORRECTION

In an earlier issue, the Editors wrote out a recipe under the title “A Recommendation”, but which might also be called “Apple Pasta Thing” or possibly “Wait Does It Have to Be Pumpkin or Can It Be Squash”. When making it recently, it was discovered that dried parsley (of a sweet smelling variety) is a crucial ingredient that was sadly left out of the overall list.

The Editors would like to apologize for the error, and not for anything else.

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YET MORE NOTES REGARDING VARIOUS RECIPES

For the Martha Stewart hot chocolate: I recommend a mix of regular cocoa and dark or Dutch chocolate. It added a pleasant depth.

For fabric softener: 2 cups epsom or coarse sea salts, 20-30 drops of some nice smelling essential oil (I use lavender), 1/2 cup baking soda. Add oil to the salts, and stir (or whisk?) well, until oil is spread and absorbed by the salt. Stir (OR WHISK?) in baking soda until evenly distributed. Add 2 to 3 Tbs to rinse water, or however much you see fit.

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LETTERS

From the Magazine, to the Vintage Baby Bassinet by the Side of the Road, “What Happened Here?”:

Previously, before the borders were shut down, the Editors had cause to drive to southern New Hampshire. On the drive before last, they noticed you on side of the road. Black, vintage, missing your wheels. You had a sign next you that just read “FREE”.

The last time they made the trip, you were still there — more waterlogged and somehow even sadder. You seemed to be the unfortunate sequel to someone else’s 6-word short story. The Editors wonder if someone ever picked you up. If you are now the happy container of an indoor succulent garden, or, at least, given the dignity of a fast demise in a trash compactor.

It’s strange not knowing. The Editors wish you well, little bassinet, and a better life hereafter.

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From the Magazine, to Kenny the Donut Man, “Happy Holidays”:

Many years ago, the Editors were in college. Because sleep is a lie perpetuated by the elderly, the Editors and their friends had frequent cause to go to Dunkin Donuts at 2 AM, buy donuts, buy coffee, and sit with other late-night oddballs that made up the rollicking environs of a 24-hour donut shop.

You introduced yourself as Kenny, which the Editors were 1000% was not your real name, but they called you that nonetheless. You worked the night shift. Because the donuts would just get thrown out anyway to make way for the new day’s baking, if we ordered one donut, you would fill our bag with five more. We never asked, and you never said anything about it. It was just a really nice thing.

The Editors would like to formally thank you, Kenny, for the services you provided to hungry, idiotic college students, and for creating a genuinely interesting and inviting environment for otherwise strange people. It always felt safe. The Editors hope you are well, and happy, and given all good things. 

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COMMONPLACES

From Patricia C. Wrede’s Dealing with Dragons: 

NONE OF THIS NONSENSE, PLEASE.

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From E.M. Forster’s Maurice:

Why don’t you stop being shocked, and attend to your own happiness?

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From the Editors:

We were looking for more quotes, and accidentally opened Tumblr.com to find out that everything is Supernatural and made of pain. So you only get two commonplaces this issue. We must all suffer.

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ANNOUNCEMENTS

After a fairly gross afternoon, I found myself having a reasonable evening and a fairly decent night. May you have as pleasant a change in circumstance as I.

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If you would like to write a letter to be produced/answered in the magazine, please email me at minor.hours.magazine@gmail.com with the subject line:

Letter to the Magazine: [subject of letter as you would like to see it printed]

If you wish the letter to be anonymous or under a nom de plume, please state so in the body of the email; similarly, if you’d rather not be printed at all, please also state so in the body of the email. It will otherwise be assumed that mail sent to that address is intended for print.

Alternately, commenting on this post will get you a similar result, with much less fuss.

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-Until next week, be safe.