Fixing Our Gaze on The Immaculate Conception

A most blessed Feast of the Immaculate Conception to you!

In this clip from The Song of Bernadette we see Bernadette fixing her gaze on the beautiful lady who has been appearing to her at Lourdes.  In answer to Bernadette's request to learn her identity, the lady responds, "I am the Immaculate Conception."

Watching Bernadette in the opening scene as she knelt there on the ground, I was impressed by the purity of her expression as she looked upon the most pure Virgin.  How rare it is to see that kind of innocence today!  And I thought about the Catholic concept of custody of the eyes and what a daily battle we must fight to practice it.

It's frightening, but much of what we should guard against today, we may not even be aware that we see.

Let me explain.

I just finished reading a transcript of a Solari Report podcast on entrainment technology, a form of mind control.  In it, Catherine Austin Fitts interviews Adam Trombly, a scientist/physicist, about how this technology is used and what you can do to minimize its influence on your life.

Basically, the entrainment relaxes/pleasures you and puts you in a state of openness to suggestibility.  The suggestibility part is where they implant the subliminal message they want you to act upon.  Entrainment is used surreptitiously in all kinds of media--dvd's, cd's, radio, movies in the theaters, etc., but it seems television paved the way for the others starting way back in the 1950s.

Maybe I've finally discovered why Catholics accepted the New Mass in 1969.  They had been lulled to sleep by gathering in front of the TV at home instead of kneeling in front of the Immaculate Conception and the Crucifix.

John Senior was so right when he admonished Catholics to "smash the television," in his classic book, The Restoration of Christian Culture.

Of course now the television has morphed into all kinds of different screens that we must guard ourselves and our children against.  We haven't done such a good job.  Just look at how we fell for the notion that public school children needed computers in the classroom to be able to keep up with technology and compete in the modern world.

After reading about entrainment techniques, I firmly believe that the so-called "snowflakes" are a product of it.  Previously I had thought it odd that Hillary Clinton had called on pop singers to boost her campaign.  But now I understand that their music and videos are powerful vehicles for entraining listeners.  The raw emotion from the melting snowflakes finally makes sense.  At first I thought it was all the coddling they received in school and a lack of critical thinking skills.  And, of course, a lack of the True Faith.

As I thought more about the idea of how we, like Bernadette, should "fix our gaze" on the Immaculate Conception, I became aware of the double meaning, as "fix" also means to repair.  We do need to constantly fix our gaze by avoiding as much as possible the things the world wants us to see.  And we must pray the Rosary, which Our Lady gave us as the most efficacious weapon for our battles against the world, the flesh, and the devil.

The Rosary, with its beautiful mysteries, gives us lovely pictures to contemplate and incites the imagination to holy thoughts, which makes us more human, more alive, more able to create.  All this is in direct opposition to the sounds and images that the world wants us to consume.  Look around, and you will see the results--zombie-like people who are consumers, not creators.

Interestingly, entrainment technology takes advantage of God's design for our brains.  As  Mr. Trombly explained it, "Entrainment technology basically is the technology that exploits a neurological function called frequency following response. And, frequency following response was discovered in the earlier part of the 20th century and in terms of this type of entrainment was a matter of when the brain hears a repetitive pattern.

"It can be a repetitive pattern of words, it can be a repetitive cadence of rhythm, or in modern times it can be a repetitive acoustic sound coming across the loud speaker. It can be in a certain wave form, a certain frequency, the brain will follow that sound. The brain will follow that sound whether it’s monaural or binaural or surround sound; the brain will fall into rhythm with that sound." 

My conclusion from that explanation?  

God hard-wired our brains for the recitation of the Rosary with its repetitive pattern of words and repetitive cadence or rhythm!  Without fixing our gaze on the Immaculate Conception and praying the Rosary, we leave ourselves open to conquest by the Powers of Darkness, the enemies of Christ.

Three Steps to Follow

Fix your gaze  
Pray the Rosary and
Entrain your brain to follow that sound to Heaven.

Forget the Election and Celebrate Catholic Thanksgiving

From the movie "Babette's Feast"

Editor's Note: I got the idea and the historical background for this post from reading Dr. Marian Horvat's "The First Thanksgivings Were Catholic."

If you, like I, really detest the whole Puritan/Pilgrim party that is foisted on us every November, right when Catholics should be preparing for Advent and Christmas, your chance to fight back with a holiday that is truly meaningful is coming up: Saturday, April 30.  That's the day the second Thanksgiving was celebrated, in Texas, with Holy Mass and a great feast.  Even better, according to "The First Thanksgivings Were Catholic," after the Mass, the expedition leader, "Don Juan de Oñate, took formal possession of the new land, called New Mexico, in the name of the Heavenly Lord, God Almighty, and the earthly lord King Philip II."

Now that's more like it! 

May Catholic men rise up in the spirit of Don Juan de Oñate and renew the effort that Catholic missionaries began so valiantly long ago, establishing outposts of the True Faith in the midst of our  pagan land.  Why waste time worrying over which narcissist will be the next president of the United States?  It's just another distraction at this point.  Plus, should Catholics aspire to getting back to America's Masonic roots and its godless Constitution as "conservatives" propose?

No, we must build from a solid foundation; we must establish a Catholic order, replacing Lady Liberty with Our Lady of Guadalupe, and it is not going to happen with anyone who is "electable" in the present system.  

The first priority is establishing the Social Reign of Christ the King in our homes and in our communities.  That will provide the rich soil from which the seeds of good government may burst forth and flower.  Catholic mothers, with Rosary in hand, must form Catholic citizens.   And it can start with simple things like celebrating Catholic Thanksgiving on April 30 and again on September 8, the day on which we celebrate the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary in a month rich with Marian feasts, when the real first American Thanksgiving was celebrated in Florida by Spanish Catholics.

And by all means invite your non-Catholic friends.

I highly recommend watching Babette's Feast.  It seems the perfect artistic representation of the difference between celebrating Protestant Thanksgiving and Catholic Thanksgiving, and not only that, it is a truly beautiful movie that will uplift and inspire you and increase your sensus Catholicus.

Fiona Aids My Missionarying Efforts

When the painter showed up on Monday, he couldn't find the paint for Emma's bathroom.  So I went out to the garage with him to see if we could locate it there.

As we were sorting through the collection of paint cans, he talked to me in Spanish, and I talked to him in English.  In between we smiled at each other, as neither one of us knew what the other one was saying.

I decided to open the garage door nearest to the paint cans so we could have more light.  My friend, Alfredo, looked at me and said, "La vaca?"

I laughed.  I do know the Spanish word for cow.

Apparently he had heard the story from Fernando, the other painter, about Fiona getting in the garage to enjoy a luncheon inside a 25-lb dog food bag, and he was concerned.

"Yes,  I told him.  I'll close it as soon as we're done."

He replied with a sentence that included "la vaca," "ocho," "rancho," and "Monterrey," complete with hand motions that depicted milking a cow.

"You milk eight cows at your ranch in Monterrey?" I asked.  "He nodded enthusiastically, smiling hugely.

"Wow!  I said.  Thinking to myself, "that's a lot of milk" and remembering the Spanish word for cheese, I asked him, "Queso?"

This provoked a long and enthusiastic response with more smiling.  I have no idea what he said, other than it was a positive response to making cheese with all that milk.

We found the right paint.  I closed the garage door, and we went back in the house.  I decided to show him my butter molds.  He was very happy to see them.  I have three wooden ones and one set of silicone molds for roses and leaves.  He told me the Spanish words for rose and leaves--rosa, la hojas--and had me repeat them three times.  It was great fun!  I got some butter out of the refrigerator and told him, "butter."

He repeated it.

Then he went away smiling to his work.

Soon the tile man, Mario, arrived.  He is the one who picked up the Cristero picture a few weeks ago. I found out that he is from Honduras.  He speaks pretty fair English, so I asked him whether Alfredo is Catholic.  Mario asked him.

He translated.  "He is Catholic, but he is not very religious.  He doesn't like to go to Mass very much."

"Tell him I want him to come to my church.  We have the Mass of the Cristeros!  The same one they were willing to die for, not the new one that is feminized."

Mario complied, and Alfredo smiled at me.  I ran and got a chapel veil.  I put it on and showed Alfredo.  "We wear mantillas," I told him, because I thought that idea might help convey the reverence to be found in the old Latin Mass.

His expression changed to one of emotion.

"Si?" I asked him.

He nodded and said something to Mario.

"He says he will come," Mario told me.  I grabbed an index card from my desk and wrote down the address for St. Jude's and gave him my phone number.  I asked Mario to tell him that he could text me when he got to the church, and I would introduce him to a Spanish speaker.

Later I thought with remorse what a weak plan that is, but I am entrusting this deficiency to the care of Our Lady of Guadalupe.

The contractor, Alex, arrived about 4 that afternoon, and he and Mario and Alfredo worked until at least 6.  I knew they were tired and had a long drive ahead of them.  Emma had just baked a batch of chocolate chip cookies, so I offered them coffee and cookies.

They readily accepted, and I invited them to sit at the kitchen table.  I served them their coffee and cookies, and we had such a nice visit.  Afterward, as they were preparing to leave, they spotted our wooden tortilla maker on the counter.  This provoked a stir of excitement among the men.

Alex asked, "You make tortillas?" somewhat incredulously.

"Yes," I replied.

"Do you use corn or flour?" he asked.

"We used to use flour," Emma told him.  "But since I am allergic to corn and wheat gluten, now we use cassava flour."

This segued into a lengthy conversation about the book, My Heart Lies South: The Story of My Mexican Marriage, by Elizabeth Borton de Trevino.  (My favorite edition is the 1972 with epilogue.  The epilogue is well worth the hunt for this out of print edition.)  Mario said that he would like to read it.  I quickly wrote down the title and author for him.  The book is a fabulous accounting of Catholic family life and culture in 1930s Mexico.  I just ordered two more copies, that way I can give him one if he doesn't order it before I see him next.  And I've got four copies of the Cristero movie, For Greater Glory, Spanish edition, on the way from a third party seller on Amazon.  I am especially hopeful that the movie and the book will help Mario, as when I asked him, "Are you Catholic?" he told me that he goes "to the Christian church, Lakewood."

"Joel Osteen's church?" I asked him, disheartened, as this place is otherwise known by me as the headquarters of "Prosperity Gospel, Inc."

He nodded in the affirmative.

"The Catholic Church is the only one established by Jesus Christ," I told him.  Then I smiled at him and dropped it.  I figured less is more in this case.  I know that one bit of information was of utmost importance to my conversion.

So far my missionarying from home efforts seem to be going well.  It is truly enjoyable work and gives me much food for thought when I consider how it has expanded my understanding of the Catholic term, "domestic church."  I'm really grateful for this opportunity I have been given to share my faith in a way that melds so perfectly with my state in life.  Deo gratias! 

Thanks in advance for any prayers you can lend for these dear souls.

Our Lady of Guadalupe, pray for us!

St. Therese of the Child Jesus and Holy Face, pray for us!

An Exciting Evening with the Disturbing Mary Poppins

Crazy girlies!

I went with Emma and some of her friends to the musical version of Mary Poppins last night in Houston's Theatre Under the Stars. I had no particular interest in seeing the show, other than realizing that I desperately needed to get out for an evening, and going somewhere with Emma and her friends always rejuvenates me. They're amazingly sweet and, as you can see in the photos above and below, crazy funny.  It's a special treat to do things with them.

Aaron and Angela ham it up after the show.

Michelle had spent the night with us.  She and Emma really pitched in to help me so that I could go, taking care of all the grandparents' evening rituals for me while I directed a crew of furniture movers until 6:15.   Talk about cutting it close!  The show was to begin at 7:30 and was a 45-minute drive away.  And I had to change clothes first.  If it hadn't been for Emma and Michelle steadfastly encouraging me to go, I would have given up and collapsed on the couch.  It had been a really long day in a series of long days.

Thanks to Emma Jo Go-go's high-speed driving skills we zipped in and out of traffic, narrowly missing a stalled vehicle in the middle lane of Hwy. 90 and skirting major congestion with two fire trucks at the scene of a burning vehicle on I-10, where we briefly shot toward the closest exit but then ricocheted back to our former lane when it was apparent we could get by the disaster relatively quickly.

I'm convinced Emma's guardian angel rocks a jetpack.

Michelle was following us in her car, poor baby!

"Come on, Mich," Emma would whisper under her breath when she lost sight of her in one of our fantastic maneuvers.  We arrived at the theatre with the warning bell signaling ten minutes till showtime.  By then I felt like I had already had enough excitement for the evening and was ready to go back home.

The usher directed us to take one flight of stairs to get to our seats in the mezzanine.  I should have asked her to define "flight".  My leg muscles turned to silly putty by the time we reached our destination.

"You've got to be kidding me," I thought, as each new stairway appeared before me.

Finally we arrived at the mezzanine and found our seats.  We met Angela and Aaron there.  I dropped into my chair and anticipated an evening of light entertainment.  Unfortunately, I could never get into the show.  I was constantly trying to figure out why much of it made me uncomfortable.  I don't know if it was because I was so tired or what, but I couldn't come to a conclusion about it as a whole, other than something was not right about it, and there were a lot of things that really disturbed me.  One of the things was the occult-like symbols that were flashed in the background when Mary Poppins put some kind of spell on the children.  I think it was to get them to go to sleep.  I tried to focus on the symbols to see if I could recognize anything definitely of the occult, but I couldn't.  Casting a spell of any kind was serious enough to grab my attention, though.

I searched my memory trying to find if I had ever read anything about the author of the book or the original story itself, something that would help me understand my discomfort.  I realized I knew nothing other than the Disney movie, and I haven't seen it in years, certainly not since I have developed a Catholic worldview. I kept thinking, "Who is Mary Poppins?  Nothing is ever explained about her or her unusual relationship with Burt, the chimneysweep.

Then there was this song, "Anything Can Happen if You Let It."  I felt like it was conveying a twisted message, but I couldn't quite pin it down.  One line of it that really caught my attention was Mary Poppins' praising of free thinkers.  I couldn't understand the rest of the song, other than the refrain.  I looked up the lyrics this morning.  It promotes being open minded to the point of being able to "see the world more upside-downish," so that you can "turn it on its head then pirouette it."  Hmmmm.

After reading the lyrics, I decided to just google Mary Poppins and occult.  I found a post on the Women of Grace site that explains that the author of Mary Poppins, Pamela L. Travers, was into the occult and theosophy.

Although the Disney film (which Travers apparently hated) was clean, her books are quite dark and mixed with many occultic elements from magick to reincarnation, all of which came from her association with theosophy. 

Needless to say, things started making a lot more sense.  Clearly, the musical draws more from the book than the Disney movie, not that I'm making a case for Disney.  I'm definitely not.

One of the things that really bothered Emma was Mary Poppins' saying that she was "practically perfect." There was a song about this idea, and Emma and I talked about it on the way home.  In the Women of Grace post, there is a quote which addresses this issue: Mary Poppins as the Great Exception:  Helene Vachet of the Theosophical Society’s Quest Magazine clearly describes the theosophical meaning behind much of the symbolism and story of Mary Poppins.

“Mary Poppins, one could say, resembles a guardian angel, demon, or cosmic being who comes from time to time to visit Earth,” Vachet writes.

The sky and wind bringing Mary Poppins to Cherry Tree Lane refers to a “walker of the sky” described in theosophic writings as a siddhi, or spiritual power to which a yogi joins himself to “behold the things beyond the seas and stars” and to “hear the language of the devas”.

Travers’ Mary Poppins is referred to in the books as the “Great Exception,” which Vachet says means that “she has gone beyond the evolution of humanity and her life now stands in contrast to those who have not yet reached this stage.”

My goodness.  And at first I thought Mary Poppins was just a lot of fluff!

Now that you know all the background, you can really appreciate this picture from St. Cecilia Cathedral in Omaha, Nebraska, that I found in the March 14, 2016 online edition of Omaha.com. 

Are you starting to "see the world more upside-downish?"  Apparently this display of Mary Poppins is just to celebrate "culture."  It puts me in mind of a parody of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary into Heaven.  I'm sure it's just a coincidence, though.

Reading for Conversion and A New "Bells of Nagasaki" Movie

I have been reading A Song for Nagasaki (SFN) to my mom and dad while they eat breakfast and lunch.  We're almost finished.

It's my second effort at communicating Catholicism to them in the most accessible way I know.  My mom converted a couple of years ago while still in the rehab hospital after her stroke; my dad is agnostic.  

First we read The Shadow of His Wings (SHW).  Both books are set during World War II.  This theme as a backdrop is helpful, since they can identify with it well, having both been born in 1933.  It has made it easier to have discussions because of their personal memories of events.

The two books are ideal conversion tools for my dad because of his great respect for education, which is emphasized in both books, and science in particular, which is a main theme in SFN.  It does an excellent job of debunking the idea that science is in conflict with religion, a matter of utmost importance with my dad.  The idea that a truly Catholic priestly formation includes serious study of philosophy and logic and that a priest can be both supremely masculine and celibate, as modeled by Fr. Goldmann in SHW, also got my dad's attention.

My mother thoroughly enjoyed SHW, often excitedly interjecting some comment that I guess could be considered as the equivalent of an "Amen!".  Father Goldmann's many escapes from death, but especially any mention of Sister Solana May's interventions, elicited these responses from her.  With SFN, she is entranced by Dr. Nagai's wife, Midori, and fretted about what had happened to her after the A-bomb was dropped.  Midori is an excellent role model for Catholic wives, and I think her way of handling difficulties was a revelation to my mom.

The fact that a movie was made in 1950, based on Takashi Nagai's Bells for Nagasaki, was mentioned several times in SFN.  This sent me scurrying to the internet to see if I could find it.  I will have to look again, because in my search results was the exciting news that a new movie is being released in English, based on Bells for Nagasaki.  The UK release date is Nov. 15, and it is called, All that Remains.  Here is a page about the filmmakers and a promo video of the film. I couldn't find any information on when it will be available in the US.

Pre-Order "For Greater Glory"

I've secured mine!

You can get it from Wal Mart or Amazon.  Or go to the movie site HERE for information on all the other viewing options.

For a wonderful review, including an explanation of how the Cristero War was not fought for religious liberty, read Tradition in Action's "A Historic Lesson: The Danger of Compromise".  It includes a link to another article that gives an accurate biography of the young martyr José Sánchez del Río.

The Symphony and a Movie, Together

Emma and I watched the first movie in the "The Lord of the Rings" series, The Fellowship of the Ring, last night while listening to the soundtrack being performed live by the Houston Symphony, a chorus, and soloists.

I noticed that I enjoyed the music much more, but I also often felt torn between watching the movie and listening to the music.  This has never happened to me while watching the video at home.  Sitting in Jones Hall last night, I tried to imagine what my brain was doing every time I felt that tug.  I didn't figure out anything.  I wish I could have my brain scanned while watching the movie on a big screen with the recorded soundtrack and again in a situation like last night's with the live music.  Without that kind of feedback, all I can say is that I did not like my attention being divided that way, even though I did much prefer the live music.  Maybe if the musicians had been hidden in an orchestra pit as they are in a ballet performance, I would not have had a problem.  I noticed that when the music grabbed my attention, I listened to it more intently and looked at the musicians.  I missed a lot of the movie this way.  Of course, I  have seen the movie before, so maybe I would not have done this if it were my first viewing.

The Houston Symphony has several of these live soundtrack-plus-a-movie performances on their schedule.  I suspect that it has figured out that the segment of the public that will buy a ticket to sit and listen to a traditional live symphony performance is dying off and that the symphony must provide the visual stimulation that young people are used to in order to attract them.  Several years ago I started noticing the trend of offering pop music on the schedule, complete with pop singers.  For example, Earth, Wind & Fire will perform with the Houston Symphony next spring.  (If you are not familiar with its music, just click on the link for a sample.)  I guess this is concert is to attract the 50 year-olds?  This movie thing just continues this dumbing-us-down development.  It's sad.

I had expected that a lot of "Lord of the Rings" fans would come dressed as a favorite character.  Emma spotted a couple, but that was all.  I didn't see them myself.  I did see several women in shorts.  Someday maybe I'll learn not to be disappointed by this.  Going to a symphony concert is so much more pleasurable to me when women wear sequined gowns and diamond earrings.

The Grocer's Son

This French movie delighted Emma and me. We especially had fun trying to apply what we've been learning from the book, Iron John, which I've written about here and here. It's a modern movie, so not everything fit the fairy tale, but I did think it worked better than trying to compare it to the Prodigal Son, which many reviewers of this film did.


The Grocer's Son is a movie about a selfish 30-year-old man-boy, Antoine Sforza, who has been estranged from his rural Provence family for ten years because he and his domineering dad have such a horrible relationship. Antoine lives in a big city and can't keep a job because his actions are tainted by his "what's in it for me" attitude. Clearly, he's "stolen the key from under his mother's pillow," by leaving home and going off on his own, but he's stuck emotionally and has yet to become a real man.

Then his dad has a heart attack and is unable to drive the grocery delivery van that serves his elderly customers.  Antoine reluctantly agrees to go back home and take over this job while his dad recovers.  In the process of serving the community in this way, he finally grows up.

Now he is ready to accept the responsibilities of manhood, marry the princess, and rule his kingdom!

The movie is in French with English subtitles. It has gorgeous rural scenery, charming old folks, and lots of humor thrown in. There are some bad words. Frankly, I would rather have to hear them than read them, but I had no choice. One of them stayed on the screen such a long time because of a lull in dialog, that the awkwardness of it caused us to start giggling.  There is one scene where you glimpse a naked woman through a doorway, and there is a bedroom scene that is so tame we didn't even have to fast forward.

I watched the movie a second time with my son Nathaniel, who is 19.  I had to bribe him by agreeing to watch two episodes of Lost with him.  He figured The Grocer's Son was some mushy chick flick and didn't want anything to do with it, but he loved it after all and laughed out loud several times.  He even admitted that he loved it, which is an even bigger deal.

My Kind of Indians

I bought two sheets of these new "Cowboys of the Silver Screen" postage stamps the other day. I'm not a cowboy movie fan, I just liked the artwork better on these than the other limited choices I was shown. That evening, I was reading William Bollaert's Texas, and he described how a group of his shipmates tried to take a small boat to shore, were capsized, had their clothes torn off by the fierceness of the waves, and after much struggling miraculously crawled onto the beach where they felt so desolated that they sat and wept. A band of Indians that had watched their travails sat down and wept with them for a half an hour.

It occurred to me that they were not the kind of Indians that make good cowboy movies.

The Best Possession

"It's very important to praise people early. Otherwise they might die of disappointment."--Ludovic Meyer

That is one of my favorite lines in the movie, Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont. Ludovic says it to Mrs. Palfrey during the park bench scene. His mother was disappointed in him. I guess that she thinks of him as a failure because he owns nothing: he earns money as a street musician so that he can focus on his writing. Mrs. Palfrey sees a beautiful soul and thinks he's wonderful. I want to be like Mrs. Palfrey.

The friendship begins when Mrs. Palfrey trips and falls in front of Ludovic's apartment. He runs to assist her, takes her in, bandages her wound, and makes her a cup of tea. I loved his enthusiasm and gentleness. The friendship grows as they play along with Mrs. Palfrey's fellow residents at the Claremont retirement hotel, who mistakenly assume that Ludovic is Mrs. Palfrey's grandson.

One of the most touching scenes is when Ludovic "interviews" Mrs. Palfrey. He asks her to name her favorite song. She says it is "For All We Know", adding that he's probably never heard of it. He agrees, but then he starts playing it on his guitar and sings it to her. I liked it so much, I went looking for the song and bought Donny Hathaway's version of it. I know the song's message is really a romantic one, but I choose to understand the "we may never meet again" line in a much broader way. I want to approach all my relationships like that, because truly, we know not the day nor the hour.

La Belle Dame Sans Merci read by Ben Whishaw

An Unusual Thursday

We almost didn't go to hear Andrew and Noah at Anderson Fair Thursday night.

We had had a bad afternoon dealing with an incompetent Post Office employee, who made us despair of ever getting Emma's passport.

Emma was so disconsolate when we got home that I suggested we watch just a little of Bright Star, the movie about the romance between poet John Keats and Fannie Brawn.

What a ludicrous idea! Once we started it, there was no turning it off. The film mesmerized us, right through to the last credit. It was difficult to move afterward. We wanted to stay in that dreamy world of poesy.

Emma even said, "Let's don't go to Anderson Fair."

I insisted, though, because backing out of going places at the last minute is one of my worst faults. But, oh, it was hard! We had to hustle to get the milking done so that we could make it downtown before 9:00, when the music would begin at Anderson Fair.

We were a few minutes late, so Andrew and Noah were already playing when we came in. We ordered a chicken quesadilla at the counter and then slipped into the darkened music hall--the combination of no light and an old uneven floor forcing us to feel our way to a table and chairs. Thankfully, the stage was lit.

By its light we saw dimly a man's outline pause at our table to deliver the chicken quesadilla. We soon discovered that it was loaded with "the works". Each shadowy forkful foretold a little adventure. "Ooooh. Yuck," Emma whispered after choking down a blob of sour cream. I inadvertently consumed a chunk of avocado, which I find disgusting. Overall, though, it tasted delicious, and the chicken especially was tender and flavorful.

The entertainment proved similar to the quesadilla. It was songwriter's night, so the van Norstrands shared the stage with an older, local duo, which for us was sour cream and avocadoes.

The van Norstrands, however, did not disappoint. Their music exudes freshness and energy, and their manners were almost courtly in their collaboration with the two other musicians. Andrew and Noah's songs seem grounded in folk tradition and do not shy away from expressions of love and lifelong commitment.

When Andrew introduced one of his songs as one that he wrote for his girlfriend, who has since become his wife, one of the older men said that you want your songs to be "effective, but not that effective". We shuddered.

Between sets we explored the building, a quirky, tumbledown old place. To the left of the counter, we found a strange room that had one wall lined with books. Emma giggled when she discovered a book on logic, shelved above a label that read, "MYSTERY". The bathroom was a rustic throne room, as the toilet sat upon a platform, a whole step up from the main floor. The tiny bar area boasted a painting of a bare-breasted lady that was mounted high up on the wall. The customary promotional photos of mostly unknown-to-us performers papered the walls elsewhere.

The customer service was really good; they treated us like family. I liked the fact that they don't take credit cards. They even had a wide selection of teas for Emma. She ordered a cup of red raspberry.

Emma drove us there and back and did fairly well. She told me on the last leg of the trip home that we shouldn't stay out late like this except on rare occasions. I felt kind of guilty. Then I remembered that this is the girl who was playing hide 'n' seek with her cow at 2 a.m. Monday morning, jumping up and roaring, "RAAAAAAH!" whenever Fiona found her, causing Fiona to jump and run, kicking her heels, at which point Emma would hide again, and the whole process would start over.

I ignored her.

The Whey and the Life

At the Leisure Learning cheesemaking class last Tuesday night.

God gave us every good thing to preserve health.

That is my conclusion from all the reading I've been doing about traditional diets and farming methods. I am completely, sincerely, almost painfully awestruck by His creation, down to the tiniest microbes bursting with life.

For instance, Acres USA reported that the droplets of moisture that you can see in a healthy cow's nostrils actually fertilize the plants that the cow grazes. A botany specialist "harvested this culture, diluted it with water, and sprayed it on potted plants. The usual treated and untreated plants anointed the greenhouse. There was a 50 percent increase in those
treated with the cow culture."

Now I am learning about the wonders of traditional aged cheeses, the portable milk.

Last Tuesday night, Emma and her friend, Scarlett, participated in a cheesemaking class. The teachers demonstrated how to make goat milk chevre and then taught about cheesemaking in general as they passed around samples of a variety of homemade or locally-produced artisanal cheeses to sample. Though the chevre was pasteurized, I found a strong defense of raw milk cheese in the class handout, which said:

Is the nutritive quality of pasteurized milk high enough to be acceptable?

The answer is clear: NO! Heat treated milk is dead!. . .Only now are we beginning to understand the system where bacteria, yeasts, molds, enzymes, minerals, and many other yet unknown biochemical elements work together to make the natural milk what it is: the perfect food.

It is beyond any doubt that pasteurization destroys this perfect balance: all the flora are killed, the minerals are denaturalized (and hence become inactive), and most of the enzymes are eliminated. . .

After pasteurization, the calcium is denaturalized. If we don't add calcium to pasteurized milk, we cannot make good cheese. . .

It is clear that the ideal basic material for cheesemaking is raw milk. For the cheesemaking process, the milk is heated at body temperature or lower. Cheese made from raw milk is a living product, the taste develops during the ripening process. The bacteria, yeasts, and molds keep working. In exchange for their food, they grant us the greatest aromas and flavors.

After the class was over, the teacher who hosted it in her home invited us to watch The Cheese Nun, a DVD produced by PBS. Emma and I sat mesmerized through the whole thing. It is about an American Benedictine, Sister Noella, whose expertise is the fungi that create the distinct flavors of different traditional cheeses.

A succinct explanation of her work is given by an International Herald Tribune article as quoted here by Mirabalis.ca :

PARIS — Mother Noella Marcellino likes cheese a lot, though what intrigues her most is not its middle but its rind. And on the rind her delight is the Geotrichum candidum fungus, Gc for short, that flourishes on the Bethlehem cheese made by her abbey, Regina Laudis in Bethlehem, Connecticut.

Strains of Gc are also found in such cheeses as Reblochon and Brie, doing good work in enhancing flavor and repelling pathogens. They are so diverse that they even vary from one cheese cave to another in the Auvergne - Mother Noella found 14 different strains among seven St. Nectaire-cheese makers - and all in all they testify to the richness of creation, as Mother Noella summarized in her doctoral dissertation, "Biodiversity of Geotrichum candidum Strains Isolated from Traditional French Cheese."

As she gathered samples from French cheese caves and studied them, Sister Noella befriended artisan cheesemakers. Many of them are only making cheese for their family's use now, as even France is forcing cheesemakers out of business by regulations. Surprisingly, the beauty of convent life is allowed to be shown, making this DVD at once a medium for promoting vocations to the religious life and a defense of artisanal cheesemaking.

More Interesting Tidbits from the Cheese Class Handout:

Cheesemaking from raw milk is craftsman's work. It demands skill and experience to work with a living material influenced by constantly changing circumstances: temperature, relative humidity, amount of bacteria, fat content, and more.

Why do the milk companies prefer to pasteurize the milk before processing, and why are the authorities so determined to impose mandatory pasteurization?

The milk companies work with dead material, unchanging in all circumstances. They don't need craftsmen, only workers who do menial labor. Their products are common. These companies cannot match the supreme quality of the craftsmen's products. The latter occupy an important part of the market. For example: seventy (70) percent of all legally protected French denomination cheeses are raw milk cheeses, including Roquefort cheese which is produced from over 1 million sheep.

The cheese factories lobby the FDA, Ministry of Agriculture, etc., to emit laws to impose a mandatory pasteurization of the milk before any processing. They inspire the media to keep the prejudices alive. For instance, the myth that raw milk provokes listeria contamination. In reality, listeria infection is the result of bad hygienic handling. Statistics show that there are more cases of listeria infection with pasteurized milk than with raw milk. In fact, after pasteurization, the milk can be infected much easier, because of the absence of the self-defending elements. . .

The factories' goal is to achieve a uniform quality of milk at a low standard. Once all raw material has a uniform standard, the craftsmen will be unable to produce a unique, artisanal, wholesome, and flavorful product. With their high cost rate (due to low production) artisan cheesemakers cannot compete with the cheese factories on price and the final result will be: big factories take over the entire market.

The large cheese trusts know that the power and influence of the health and food specialists and gourmet cheese connoisseurs is limited as is their ability to protest against their plans. So far, the mass of consumers are not aware of the issue. The universities and scientists receive their funding from USDA, FDA, and big industry, so therefore, they stay quiet, only looking for arguments supporting general pasteurization.

Julie and Julia: Just a Little Spicy

Our plans to go see the movie, Julie and Julia, with our cooking class did not work out, as Herb and I were in Birmingham visiting my sister and brother-in-law. They were just as interested in seeing the movie as I, so we all went together.

We loved the movie, but we loved it despite some overly sexualized scenes. Having read My Life In France and knowing the main subject matter was cooking, I was not expecting this. The scenes were uncomfortable enough for me that I was exceedingly grateful that I was not watching it with my three cooking class teenagers. They would have been embarrassed, and so would I. This movie is rated PG-13. Perhaps that should have clued me in, but I have never found the ratings system particularly helpful.

On the other hand, the humor was done so well that I laughed out loud on several occasions. Meryl Streep played Julia Child fabulously, and I appreciated the effort that went into choosing an actor who resembled her husband, Paul.

Near the end of the movie, Julie finds out that Julia Child does not like her. She doesn't know why, but she wonders aloud if it is because of her use of "the F word" in her blog about cooking her way through Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking. It would not surprise me. Bad language and bedroom scenes are better kept private.

Having said that, I would still recommend the movie for adults. I would watch it again.

See "Julie and Julia" Free

I became a big fan of Julia Child last year after reading her book, My Life in France. It prompted me to purchase her magnum opus, Mastering the Art of French Cooking. My enthusiasm for her teaching eventually led to a group cooking class for my children and the daughter of a "foodie" friend, who taught the class.

Naturally I was thrilled to see that a movie about Julia Child is coming out next month. I was especially happy to see that the idea of learning to cook from Mastering the Art is woven into the movie by the character of Julie.
I watched the trailer and immediately contacted my friend about going to the movie opening on Aug. 7 as a "field trip" for our little cooking class. She was as excited as I, and we have laid our plans.

However, for those who can't wait, I saw today that Houston Whole Foods locations are giving away coupons to see the movie early, July 27. They may be obtained today, starting at noon. Here's a link to the info. The offer does not appear to be available at all stores. If you don't live in Houston, call your Whole Foods location to inquire.