Why I Love The Iowa State Fair

For a girl who was raised in “the big city”, I love the atmosphere and the uniqueness of the Iowa State Fair.

To remind Iowa State Fair scoffers of the significance of this event, I mentioned in my blog posts, dated August 14 and August 19, 2008, that, “You may know that the Iowa State Fair was listed as one of '1,000 Things To See Before You Die' as chronicled in a book of the same name (Schultz, Patricia. 1,000 Places to See Before You Die: A Traveler's Life List. New York: Workman Publishing, 2003. p. 630. http://www.1000beforeyoudie.com/ )." Take that and add it to your list!

With this in mind, I usually try to figure out a way to load up the kiddies and make an annual trek to The Iowa State Fair. In order to fully enjoy a day at the Fair, one must, first, option a second mortgage on the house in order to pay for all the yummy food delicacies that await you while there. With an average cost of $8 per “yummy” multiplied times myself and two bottomless pits for children, let’s just say the trip is really costly (especially if you have to include gas, hotel, souvenirs, etcetera, etcetera) but it is really worth it.

This year’s adventure included all of the traditional stops: the Super Bull (“Big Black,” an Angus bull rockin’ it in at 3,404 pounds), the Big Boar (“Buddy,” weighing in at 1,117 pounds), the butter sculptures (the traditional Jersey cow and an additional sculpture commemorating the 40th anniversary of the Lunar Landing), and a stop at the Lamb Association food stand for a stick of lamb jerky or a lamb burger. You can see all of these truly fascinating features by visiting the Iowa State Fair website at http://www.iowastatefair.org/fair.php

But this year, we also managed to take in the sights of Iowa’s biggest pumpkin….nearly 1,100 pounds! Now that is a pumpkin Charlie Brown would be proud of!

But what do I really love about the Iowa State Fair? It is all about a state coming together. It is all about the wholesomeness of Iowans gathering in Des Moines to show off the biggest, the best, the tastiest, and the kitschy-est attributes of this wonderful mid-western place. It is about families and fun and home-town pride. Folks representing their communities (and the pride of the family name!) enter into competitions for events like flower arranging, quilting, livestock showmanship, talent, and cooking….just to name a few!

Speaking of cooking….this year, I was really fortunate to be asked by Blue Bunny® to judge three cooking contests featuring Blue Bunny ICE CREAM!! Yes, 1SweetMama tasted and evaluated, in all, over 35 dessert entries in two dessert categories: youth and adult. At one point during the judging, I turned to my fellow co-worker and judge, and said, “I think I have died and gone to heaven!” The capper to the day was judging nearly 20 entries in the youth “Ugly Ice Cream Contest”. This is a contest in which kids ages 6-12 must create an ugly ice cream concoction (with a Blue Bunny Vanilla ice cream “base”) in which all inclusions MUST be edible foods….but the food combinations are ghastly! For instance…..one entry featured Blue Bunny Vanilla ice cream, pickled pigs’ feet, anchovies, pickled herring, and some other unidentifiably horrific (and stinky!) ingredients. Another entry featured Blue Bunny Vanilla ice cream, mealworm larvae, and crickets (dead and dried). You get the idea.

Fortunately, judges do NOT have to taste these entries and I wouldn’t exactly have described the experience as “heavenly”…. “otherworldly” is, perhaps, more of an accurate description. However, the Bug Ice Cream Chef’s mother invited us to try a larvae and we all reluctantly complied. Tasted like a musty potato chip.

With livestock pooh on the soles of our shoes, less cash in our pockets, and mealworm larvae in our bellies, the boys and I departed for home in “The Ice Cream Capital of the World(R)” with another fabulous Iowa State Fair experience in the 1SweetMama Family history books.

A great way to round out a summer in Iowa.

Until next time, I remain….1SweetMama

There's No Place Like Home

Settling back into the routine of living in Northwest Iowa after being completely engulfed by the hustle and bustle of The Big Apple has been a nice transition for me. It has enabled to me to, once again, review the reasons why I live where I do. I need to take a mental inventory every now and then when I am romanced by the light of the city.

Always a fan of big city life (I grew up in St. Louis), I miss a lot of the cultural and social activities that a city provides. It is also nice to be a small fish swimming in a big pond and not feel like you are living a life under a magnifying glass. There are museums and diversity and lots of great things to experience.

Having said this, there is much to be said for living in a place where you can walk to the farmers market and the grocery store on a sunny Saturday morning. One can also send your kids to the park without fear or know that if you forget to set your garbage can out the night before trash pick-up….your neighbor will remember to do it for you.

It means that, come August, your co-workers bring bushels and bags of vegetables that have grown in abundance in their garden… “Please! Take them! They will go to waste if you don’t!” It also means sweet corn being sold on the side of the road out of an old pick-up truck by teenagers (usually the farmers’ kids) – the sign, painted in orange paint on a piece of 4’ x 8’ particle board that reads, “SUPER SWEET CORN” – while another pick-up truck 30 yards away is advertising on their own particle board sign, “SUPER CANDY SWEET CORN”. How does one choose??

Living where I live provides free concerts in the gazebo on Wednesday nights, county fairs, kids selling home-made pie at the 4-H stand, driving through country roads surrounded by the smells of earth and growing things and farm-fresh air.

Bon-fires.

It is a place where my children are being raised by a community who cares about growing kids up to be strong, patriotic, and responsible citizens. It is a place where family members live within walking distance and Sunday nights in which dinner, dessert, and/or a card game is the order of business. It is where I can sit on my mom and dad’s front porch swing and watch the world go by, waving at folks walking past on the sidewalk.

It is wide green spaces and no traffic jams and just about the only thing that makes you late for work is the 7:55 a.m. train that crosses through town.

It is chilled Pinot Grigio on the back porch, road trips to the lake, and Sunday church service. It is ice cream in the freezer 365 days a year.

It is life in “The Ice Cream Capital of the World®” – where, while it may not be over the rainbow, it is where life, truly, is sweet.

Until next time, I remain…..1SweetMama

Sweet Endings

This blog entry will mark the last of the “Summer Vacation” series and I hope you have enjoyed my musings and insights into a really wonderful adventure with my boys, Bud and Peanut.

Our final leg of the tour was a stop in St. Louis to do What St. Louisans Do. We attended a St. Louis Cardinal game (yes, 1SweetMama bleeds Cardinal red!!) and enjoyed frozen custard at Ted Drewes, a local tradition for decades.

Ted Drewes started when Ted Sr. opened his first ice cream store in Florida in 1929, followed by two locations on the north side of St. Louis in 1931. In 1941 the family opened stands on the south side. The current Chippewa location, where we ate, is on the famed old Route 66.

The above photo is the one I took of the stand. Bear in mind, it looks like this pretty much every hour of operation. Frozen custard-hungry patrons patiently stand in line, sometimes 6-8 people deep, for their favorite flavor concoctions. Some like it straight up in vanilla or chocolate, or you can order a Concrete (similar to a Dairy Queen Blizzard) in several varieties. My Concrete of choice is the “Frisco”. Having grown up in St. Louis, I ordered this absolutely yummy flavor a million times. Finally, I asked them why it was called a “Frisco”….they said it was because it is full of fruits and nuts. Their words…not mine.

By the way, the ballgame was great because it was my first time in the new Busch Stadium and I got to see Albert Pujols’ derriere (we were very close behind – no pun intended - the first base line) for 8 glorious innings. The photo is of Bud and Peanut at the ONLY moment the sun shone after we entered the ballpark. Very soon after this photo was taken, storm clouds blanketed the city and we cheered on the Red Birds in a thunderstorm….they never pulled the tarp out and the boys and I finally gave it up at the top of the 8th inning after we realized that the Cardinals could never rebound from a heartbreaking score of 8 to 2. Yes, the Colorado Rockies handed the Cardinals’ butts to them. Oh, well…..at least we knew that our day, and thus our vacationing fun, would end sweetly at Ted Drewes.
And so, on a sweet note, we ended our vacation and returned home the following morning. But we also knew that, at the end of our journey, we would arrive at another destination where life is sweet…..home in the “Ice Cream Capital of the World®”.

And as a sidebar, make sure you come back and read my blog next Tuesday….I will tell you about my experiences this weekend as our community hosts “Ice Cream Days”. If you find you are in the area, you really should come out to Le Mars, Iowa, and take in all the fun and festivities of this flagship ice cream event for our town. And if you happen to read this in time for the parade, you will recognize me….I will be dressed like a package of Blue Bunny® Bomb Pops®. Check out all the Ice Cream Days details by clicking here.

Gaining A New Perspective

(The St. Augustine Lighthouse, built in 1874)
Fresh from our travels, the boys and I are beginning to settle back into our usual routine following a wonderful and fulfilling vacation journey. For the last eleven days, we traversed nearly 4,000 miles and a total of eight states (Iowa, Missouri, Illinois, Indiana, Kentucky, Tennessee, Georgia, and Florida). We have seen mountains and valleys, rivers and oceans, rocks and sand, flora and fauna. But mostly, this journey allowed me to see something that I have been searching out for quite some time…..



A new perspective.

(a view of the 219 steps going to the top of the lighthouse)

Both literally and philosophically, this trip was a fantastic opportunity for me to escape with my children and take a journey with no physical limitations. Sure, we had destinations, but the trip was not so over programmed that we felt too much pressure to be at too many things at pre-determined times. We meandered. We explored. But most importantly, we found each other.

I gained a new insight into my boys who are growing up so fast that I just don’t see it when we are operating within our daily routines. Between school and work and all of our activities and obligations, there seems to be no real leftover time for us to sit with each other and talk. Nearly 50 hours in a closed car will provide you plenty of opportunity to interact.

I joked with my friends and family who we saw during our travels that my boys matured into men somewhere between Iowa and Florida. Sure – we had a few moments of “I’m not touching you….I’m not touching you” drama but overall, these guys made me so proud to be their mom.

We had a wonderful trip from start to finish and I can’t wait to tell you about some of the highlights over the next few blog entries.

But for today, my message to you is that in order to get closer to your children, maybe you need to get further away from your usual routine. You will gain a whole new perspective on the kind of people they are growing in to.

And, in case you were wondering, the photos from today’s entry are of the St. Augustine (Florida) Lighthouse. You can read more about this beautiful city landmark at http://www.staugustinelighthouse.com/history.php

It was 219 steps to the top.

It took a lot of effort to get there but with a few stops to catch our breath along the way, we made it to the top where the view was positively breathtaking. Hmmm….sounds a little bit like life.

Until Friday, I remain…..1SweetMama

Springtime in the Ice Cream Capital of the World

Photo, courtesy of D. Smetter, May 5, 2009

Warm weather is sometimes a long time a-comin’ when you live in Northwest Iowa. The April Showers that bring the May Flowers often become May Showers that bring the June Flowers.

But, late as it may be, I am always amazed at the beauty and wonder all around us as the deadness of winter springs forth in green lushness once the shower and thunderstorm season arrives.

It also never ceases to amaze me how we are all caught by the moments that Mother Nature brings us. I continually try to remind myself that it is so important to stop and smell the flowers. Take the time to breathe in the little things that life gives us that sometimes go unnoticed. I was so refreshed this morning when I came into work….just moments after the photo at the top of my blog was taken… and opened my Inbox to discover a half dozen emails from co-workers, including my boss who submitted today’s photo, of the double rainbow that appeared at 7:21 a.m. Adults routinely immersed with their usual morning routines suddenly stopped, took notice of the event and (thanks to the miracle of cell phone and digital camera technology) captured it. Photos of every angle and in many settings – farmland, interstate, residential – displaying this simple little thing that presented its loveliness to us today.

And that so many of my friends and co-workers took the time to stop and take in the beauty of this rainbow and wanted to spread it around via email is a wonderful thing. It means that we haven’t stopped appreciating the little things and they aren’t going unnoticed here in the place where I live.

As sweet as an ice cream cone on a warm, sunny day or as wondrous as a double rainbow in the heart of Springtime….thus is life in The Ice Cream Capital of the World®.

Introducing The Family To Bocce Ball

(This is NOT my family playing Bocce Ball but, most likely, some Italians enjoying the game on a traditional-style court. this photo was taken from the Wikipedia sight. Maybe someday, I will be able to provide my own photo of ME enjoying a game of Bocce Ball IN Italy!)

This past fall, I was fortunate enough to be introduced by some business contemporaries to the game of Bocce Ball. For those of us not counted among the cultured and worldly types, Bocce (or Bocci, or Boccie) is a precision sport belonging to the boules (bowling) sport family, with an origin dating back to the Roman Empire. Developed into its present form in Italy (where it is called Bocce, the plural of the Italian word boccia which means "bowl"), it is played around Europe and also in overseas countries that have received Italian migrants, including Australia, North America and South America.

For Christmas, these business contemporaries sent me my very own Bocce Ball set, which until last night, was being used as a weight (18.6 pounds!) strategically placed in the trunk of my car to give me better driving traction during the Iowa winter months. I figured that since it was the end of April and it was a record-setting 90 degrees yesterday, it was time to pull the set out of the car and introduce it to my family.

Coincidentally, in celebration of April 23 being National Picnic Day, my folks, my sister, my youngest son, Peanut, and I set out for the neighborhood park and enjoyed a picnic supper and an introductory Bocce Ball game. Initially leery of the game, my family entertained me as I read through the rules and provided a visual demonstration of the balls. The jack, or “puck” for lack of a better term, is called the Pallino and is generally smaller than the other player balls, which resemble the size and weight of croquet balls.

Since we did not have a formal court (91’ by 13’) and we did not play on the traditional “oyster shell” bed, we improvised in the grass of the park and did more of a version of “lawn bowling” than an official Bocce Ball game. The end result? A family who now wants me to not only construct our own official Bocce Ball court in my back yard, but the creation of several new fans to the game.

What better way to celebrate National Picnic Day and enjoy springtime in Iowa than to learn a new family sport that can be played by a full range of ages and physical abilities. I see a summer full of Bocce Ball and I am forever grateful to expand both my and my family’s knowledge of global recreational opportunities.

I am curious if any of you have ever played Bocce Ball? Any game tips? Feel free to share. You may post a comment “Anonymously” if you do not want to post one with an ID. I am anxious to hear your feedback….

And don’t forget to take the poll over to the right!! I have extended the poll closing date for another week. Thanks!

Until next Tuesday, I remain…..1SweetMama

Easter Eggs Gone Bad and the People Who Provoke Them, Part 1

It all started so innocently. Due to plans that will take members of our family away for the Easter weekend, 1SweetMama decided to play “host-ess with the most-est” to the gang and have “Fake Easter” this past Saturday.

It is also important to note that everyone was feeling a little edgy over the weather. Forecasters were predicting the worst snowstorm of the season to begin that evening, culminating in blizzard-like conditions and over a foot of snow overnight. Iowans are pretty hearty folk, but weather events, such as this one, the week before Easter puts us close to the edge.

This year being no different, just a week earlier and in the face of an oncoming weather event, we gathered – my parents, my expectant-sister and her husband, myself and my children, to color Easter eggs and play ping-pong (okay – so the ping pong isn’t as traditional – but it was fun!). In preparation for the event, I boiled two batches of eggs so that they would be ready to go before company arrived.

Our family’s typical pre-Easter activities includes following a 35 – 40 year old tradition of dying Easter eggs on “heirloom rags” (by “heirloom”, I simply mean old bedspreads that Grandma S. had cut up) that have been passed from my grandmother to my mother and, now, to me. As I place the protective cloths over my table, I smile as I see the decades of dye stains on these cloths as they serve as an annual reminder of how this holiday, like many of the others we celebrate, are steeped in participation by my entire family.

Additionally, each year we dye the eggs and conduct the “Ugly Egg Contest” – this is a much coveted honor. Amidst all the beautifully colored and decorated eggs we contribute to the bounty, anyone who so chooses, may offer up one of their eggs for the title of “ugliest”. The winner of the “Ugly Egg Contest” usually has the honor of starting the “Egg-Cracking Contest”, another piece of the traditional Easter festivities that takes place on Easter Sunday. Now, this time-honored tradition is where everyone chooses their “weapon of choice” and goes head-to-head (or egg-to-egg) to see who can inflict the most damage to their opponent’s egg.

My Grandpa S., usually emerged as the Grand Champion Egg-Cracker, every year until he passed a few years ago. It was only a few years before the end of this magnificent man’s life, that he finally confessed his secret….he used his knuckle!! - but made it look like he used his egg! - thereby sparing his egg the impact from the opponent and emerging triumphantly when he inflicted the mortal wound upon the shell of the opposition. He also offered this bit of advice for future Egg-Cracking champions: always let the opponent come at you first. Through a carefully calculated energy/mass equation, he deduced that the aggressor’s egg would always receive the damage from impact. So, when we would shout out the countdown (“Three…Two….One…..go!”), Grandpa (using his secret knuckle strategy) would hold his egg still and emerge every time, triumphantly, as the Egg-Cracking Winner. No one ever figured out this man’s strategy until he chose to offer it up to the family. Now, every year we laugh and regale stories in tribute to Grandpa S. and his legendary egg-cracking proficiencies.

The guests arrived. The coloring commenced. We had a ball. We ate snacks. We played ping pong. Toward the end of the evening, Peanut decided that, since we would not be together for Easter, we should conduct the Egg-Cracking Contest.

Everyone selected their eggs. My brother-in-law, whose egg had been honored with the title, “Ugly Egg Winner” chose to match forces with Peanut.

For the conclusion of “Eggs Gone Bad”, tune in on Friday. Until then, I remain…1SweetMama

On The Street Where I Live

I love life in Le Mars, Iowa. I love its small town attitude and quirkiness and the people who live here. I have learned to perfect the Iowa "farmer's wave," which is, simply, the slight finger-raise off the top of the steering wheel accompanied by a slight tilt of the head meant for oncoming motorists. It always amazes me that, even though I may be driving in some remote location miles away from anyone or anywhere I know, I am still met with a "farmer's wave" from a perfect stranger. That is Iowa and that is why I enjoy living in this state.



A little closer to home is Central Avenue. Central Avenue dissects The Ice Cream Capital of the World, from east to west, right down the middle. Fall is the best time take in the beauty of Central Avenue, with its grand Victorian homes set between oak and maple trees strategically placed a hundred years ago by our city fathers. I would believe that they were thinking of us when they planted those trees. In the summer, the trees provide ample shade for spectators along what is, now, the town's parade route. In the falls, they provide explosions of color - oranges, reds and yellows. On a clear sunny day in the fall, when the leaves are raining down upon the sidewalks of Central Avenue, I find myself celebrating that my boys and I live in such a quaint Midwestern community - a real slice of Americana.



Our downtown is full of sweet little shops – clothing, home décor, a pet shop, shoe stores a couple of banks and miscellaneous offices, and some restaurants. For a town of 9,500 people, our little downtown represents a vibrant and resilient business district. Nowhere else in the world can you get a sense of the economy’s effect on “Wall Street to Main Street” (a term often thrown out by our Presidential candidates) than in a small town shopping district. These persistent shop owners refuse to give in to the economy and find that the only way to compete with the “box stores” is to provide personal customer service. They not only know your name and all of your children’s names when you walk in the door but they also know what the last item was that you bought in their store and whether or not you attended church on Sunday.

Most of these stores have stood the test of time, but there is one little café that started out as “The Pantry Café” sometime in the 40s and the décor has remained virtually the same since then. When I first came to town and worked in one of the banks across the street from The Pantry Café, I would eat there for lunch. They had the best BLT sandwiches. Every time I ate there, I felt like I had stepped back in time about forty years. Over the past 18 years, since I came to town, that little café has changed hands a number of times. It is tough for a Main Street diner to remain competitive with the Subways, McDonalds, and finer dining establishments that line the highway in Le Mars.

The Pantry Café became Wiener’s Café, then La Potranca (a Mexican diner). In between, long vacancies took its toll on this wonderful little establishment. It is beginning to feel a little run down and, while La Potranca serves some amazing authentic chicken quesadillas, my little corner eatery just isn’t the same.

But there remains one piece of this little building that has stood the test of time. The sign attached to the building was altered from the uniquely vintage neon lettering (The Pantry Café) against a turquoise background to an embarrassing refurbishment that has never changed since it once advertised the location of Wiener’s Café. To illustrate the virtuousness of small town America, this sign was purposefully revamped with care by the then-owners of Wiener’s Café. As if the name of the eatery wasn’t funny enough (and in their defense, it was their last name and they did serve GREAT German fare), here is a picture of this curious representation that, in my opinion, defaces the quaintness of our downtown. Few people ever even notice…but the ones that do certainly appreciate its quirkiness. Maybe it is my twisted interpretation of life. Maybe it is my sick sense of humor.

BUT it does capture the innocence of life in a small town. What do you think?

Adam Roberts' Musical Tribute To a Malted Milk Ice Cream Recipe

I happened to stumble upon Adam Roberts a few weeks ago when I was surfing the web in an attempt to find someone or something that would be an entertaining highlight to feature in one of my blogs.

This guy is fun, good natured, creative, and quite talented. Among all of his other creative offerings on his website, I happened upon his musical ode to an ice cream dessert.

When I first heard this sweet little rendition, my reaction was, “This guy needs a couple of voice lessons and, perhaps, a hobby.” But after looking further in to Adam Roberts, I learned that his hobbies are food, music, and sharing his light-hearted perspective on those things along with lots of other fun stuff. This guy plays a mean piano and I had to laugh out loud at his hilarious tribute to David Lebovitz’ Malted Milk Ice Cream Recipe. Then I proceeded to forward it to several of my co-workers. Adam’s alter ego is The Amateur Gourmet and he has a pretty cool website and blog, which includes songs, comics, and lots more dedicated to his love of food.

Looking for inspiration for a new song, Adam turned to David Lebovitz , author, pasty chef and aficionado of all things sweet and decadent. Lebovitz’s Malted Milk Ice Cream recipe proved the perfect muse. Just as an aside, you should also take a listen to The Lasagna Song.

Coincidentally, after writing several books, including “The Perfect Scoop”, David Lebovitz authored the book, “Living The Sweet Life in Paris”. Apparently he didn’t know that “The Sweet Life” can also be lived in the “Ice Cream Capital of the World®” (as attested to by myself, 1SweetMama) in Le Mars, Iowa! David Lebovitz has lots of fab "foodie" publications that you should go check out.

Well, Adam, I have subscribed to your blog and look forward to being entertained by you for many meals to come.

Check it out…..then go make your own tub of David Lebowitz’ Malted Milk Ice Cream. No piano required.