The Three Lemons..... a Turkish tale

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CERTAIN Sultan had a son of whom he was justly proud, for the young man was handsome and gay of temper, and had never been known to do an unworthy action. In the circle of the court he was the brightest star, and very sweet were the glances thrown him by the high-born ladies who served the Sultan. The Prince was courteous to them all, but he favoured no one, and as years went on, and he showed no signs of taking to himself a wife, the Sultan became disturbed.


"My son," he said, "why do you not choose a bride? It is time you were married, for I should like to see you the father of children before I go to my rest. Surely it would be easy to find a mate amidst these fair women you see around you? I should experience no difficulty were I in your place."
The young Prince looked at him thoughtfully.

"I must have something more than any of them can give me, my father," he replied, "and if you really wish me to take a wife, I will go on a long journey, perhaps even round the world, and seek a princess whom I can love. She must be fair as the morning, white as the snow, and as pure as an angel."

"Well said, my son," replied the Sultan. "I wish you good fortune and a safe return." And without more ado the Prince departed.

The air was crisp with frost, and the glittering crystals of the snow threw back the radiance of the sunlight from bank to meadow. The waves that tossed and tumbled on the distant shore seemed to beckon him towards them, so he hastened to the coast, where he found a splendid vessel resting at anchor. While he was yet wondering how it had come there, and whither it was bound, invisible hands drew him on board, and, as his feet touched the deck, the anchor lifted, and the ship set sail.

For three days and three nights it glided swiftly over the sea, steered by a shadowy pilot who spoke no word. On the morning of the fourth day it came to a stop beside a little islet, and the Prince was amazed to see his favourite horse issue from the hold, ready saddled and bridled. Concluding that he was expected to land, he led the horse on shore, and when he turned round to take another look at the ship, it had completely vanished.

No sign of any habitation was to be seen, and the cold was so intense that he could scarcely hold the reins. In spite of this, he rode on and on, till at last he reached a small white house that stood by itself on the top of a hill, unsheltered from the wind. He knocked at the door with eager haste, hoping for the glimpse of a fire, and perhaps some food. His summons was answered by a venerable woman with scanty hair like wisps of snow, who stared at him inquiringly.
"I seek a wife, good mother," said the Prince. "She must be the most beautiful princess in the world, and as good as she is beautiful. Can you tell me where to find her? "

The old woman half shut the door. "You will not find her here," she said, "for I am Winter, and this is my kingdom. My sister Autumn perhaps may help you, but I have no time for thoughts of love. You will find her if you go straight on."
The Prince thanked the old lady, and remounted his horse, hoping that Autumn would at least give him rest and refreshment. After a while he found that the snow had disappeared, and that luscious fruit now hung in clusters from the trees. The stubble of the corn tinted the fields with gold, and the squirrels were busily engaged in storing nuts for the winter. A little further on he came to a small brown house beside a wood, and, again dismounting, he knocked at the door. It was opened by a woman with abundant dark hair and eyes like sloes. Her cheeks were ruddy, and her look was kind; she did not, however, ask him in.
"What are you seeking, young man?" she inquired in a gentle voice.

"I seek a wife," he answered briefly.

"Ah," she exclaimed, "then I cannot help you. My name is Autumn, and I am far too busy gathering fruit to have time to spare for such things as love and marriage. My sister Summer is full of dreams, and she may find you what you want."

So saying, she shut the door, and as there was nothing else for him to do, the Prince resumed his journey.
E noticed ere long that the grass by the roadside was very tall, and that the fields were heavy with corn ready for harvest. The air was so warm that it touched his cheek caressingly, and the sun shone down so hotly that he was fain to unloose his coat. He was very glad when at last he saw a small yellow house shaded by a group of trees. As he knocked at the door, he heard the sound of a distant waterfall, and the hope of quenching his thirst was more in his mind just then than the fairest wife in Summer's kingdom. His summons was answered by a stately woman crowned with auburn tresses.

"I am sorry I cannot help you," she said, when he had told her the object of his journey, "for I too am very busy. Hasten you to my sister Spring; she is the friend of lovers, and will surely aid you."

So the Prince went on till he saw a little green house in a bower of lilac. Hyacinths and violets, jonquils, narcissi, and fragrant lilies-of-the-valley bloomed beneath the windows, and, when he knocked at the door, a little lady with flaxen hair, and eyes of soft deep violet, appeared on the threshold.

"Won't you take pity on me?" he asked her eagerly. "Your sisters sent me on to you. I seek a wife, who must be fair as the morning, white as the snow, and pure as an angel from Heaven."

"You ask a great deal," Spring told him, smilingly, "but I will do my best for you. Come in and rest–you must be tired and hungry." And to his great delight she ushered him into a long, low room, filled with the scent of flowers.

When he had feasted on bread and honey, and quenched his thirst with sweet new milk, she brought him three fine lemons on a crystal tray. Beside them was a handsome silver knife, and a quaint gold cup of rare design.

"These are magic gifts," she said, "so guard them carefully. Return at once to your own home, and make your way to the great fountains in the palace gardens. Having made quite sure that you are alone, take your silver knife and cut open the first lemon. As you do so, a lovely princess will instantly appear, and will ask you to give her water. If you at once offer her some in this golden cup, she will stay with you and be your wife, but should you hesitate, even for the space of a second, she will vanish into thin air, and you will never see her again."

"I am not likely to be so foolish," said the Prince, "but if I do, shall I have no wife at all?"

"You must then cut open the second lemon," Spring answered gravely, "and exactly the same thing will occur. If you hesitate this time also, and she too disappears, you will have one more chance with the third lemon. Should your wits fail you a third time, you will die without a mate."

HE Prince would have thanked her for her kindness, but she waved him away with a smile and a sigh, telling him not to delay. Full of joyful anticipation, he rode once more through the kingdoms of Summer, Autumn, and Winter, and when he arrived at the coast found the same stately vessel awaiting his pleasure. The wind was favourable on his homeward voyage, and in a very short time he had once more gained the precincts of his father's palace. Giving his horse into the care of a groom, he hurried into the great gardens, and, when he had filled Spring's gold cup with water from the splashing fountains, cut open the first lemon. He had no sooner done so, than a most exquisite Princess appeared before him, and with a timid glance asked him to give her water.

"I am thirsty," she murmured. "Will you not let me drink from your golden cup?"

The Prince was so lost in admiration that he could only gaze at her, and with a gesture of reproach the lovely maiden vanished. It was in vain that he lamented his stupidity. Do as he would, he could not call her back again, and with many regrets he cut the rind of the second lemon. Once more the gleaming spray of the dancing fountains took the form of a beautiful girl.

"Fair as the morning and white as snow!" cried the Prince in rapture, too delighted to heed her request for a cup of water. He did not regain his senses until she also had disappeared, when he again bewailed his neglect of Spring's injunctions. With trembling fingers he inserted the silver knife into the third lemon, and as the pungent odour of the golden fruit escaped into the air another Princess appeared before him. Closing his eyes, lest they might be dazzled by her exceeding beauty, he immediately offered the golden cup. The maiden raised it to her lips with a bewitching smile, and drained it to its dregs. The Prince laughed aloud for joy; now at last he had found the bride he sought.

No summer morning was fairer than she, for the whiteness of snow gleamed on chin and brow, and her expression was pure and gentle as an angel's. Drawing her down beside him on to a flowery bank, he held her hand and looked into her eyes.

"Will you be my wife?" he whispered, and to his delight she answered, "Yes."

"HE IMMEDIATELY OFFERED THE GOLDEN CUP"

When his first raptures were over, he noticed, with some disappointment, the simplicity of his bride's gown. It was of some simple stuff the colour of running water, and hung in long flowing folds round her lissom form. No necklace broke the outline of her dainty throat, and she looked so different from the maidens of the court that the Prince, who, after all, was only a man, and not, perhaps, a very wise one, felt that something was lacking to complete her beauty.

"Your robe is not worthy of you, dear love," he cried. "If you wait for me here, I will fetch you one of rich white satin from my father's palace, and a rope of pearls to twine around your neck."

But the Princess knew that she needed no ornaments to enhance her beauty, and she did not wish him to leave her. Her lover, however, was so insistent that she consented to stay by the fountains while he went home, and, more in love with her than ever, he hurried away.

Now the Princess was very timid, and as the Prince tarried long she grew frightened of being alone. So she stretched out her arms to a tree above her, and swung herself up that she might nestle amidst its branches. The foliage hid her slender limbs in their flowing draperies, but her exquisite face gleamed like a flower from a setting of glossy leaves, and was mirrored in the deep basin of the fountains. A very plain looking serving girl who came to fill her pitcher caught sight of its loveliness, and, since she had never gazed into a mirror, believed it to be her own.

"Oh, how very handsome I am!" she murmured. "I am far too beautiful to do the bidding of any mistress. I will never draw water again." And flinging the pitcher from her, she strutted home with the air of a peacock.
"Why have you come back empty-handed, Deborah?" inquired her mistress.

HAVE seen my face in the fountain," was the reply, "and I am much too lovely to fetch and carry like a poor slave."
"Why, you are as plain as pudding!" her mistress retorted sharply. "Go back at once, and do as you are told."

Deborah fetched another pitcher and went back to the fountains, grumbling the while. Again she caught sight of the Princess's face reflected in the water, and again her swarthy features became distorted with pride.

"It is true!" she cried. "I am lovely as a dream. I will marry a prince, and live in a palace." With this she threw down the second pitcher, and flounced into her mistress's presence with such an assumption of dignity that that lady burst out laughing.

"If you only knew how plain you are," she cried, when she could speak, "you would never talk such ridiculous nonsense." And daring her to return again without the water, she handed the mortified woman a third pitcher and sent her back to the fountain.

The flower-like face of the fair Princess smiled back at the angry serving girl as she bent over the pool, and the poor creature grinned and ogled.

"But I am handsome," she cried triumphantly. "As handsome as a queen."

She spoke so loudly that the Princess heard her, and her laugh rang out like a peal of bells. Looking hastily up, the Deborah saw her in the branches, and disappointed vanity rendered her almost speechless.... Her mistress was right then, after all, and the lovely vision she had seen in the water was not the reflection of herself. As she stared upward with dilated eyes, there came to her thoughts of revenge.

"I will make her suffer for this," she murmured, but wreathing her wide lips in a false smile, she bade the Princess "Good morrow."

"Why do you hide in a tree, lovely lady?" she asked her gently.

"I am waiting for my Prince, who has gone to fetch me a satin robe, and a rope of pearls to twine round my neck," answered the Princess shyly.

"Your golden hair has been tossed by the wind," remarked the servant girl. "Let me come up beside you, and I will make it smooth. It will not do to look untidy when your Prince arrives!"

"How kind you are!" said the Princess, and as she bent her silken head towards the servant girl, the treacherous woman stabbed it with a long sharp pin.

The Princess fell back, faint with pain, but before her body could touch the ground she turned into a snow-white pigeon, and flew off uttering plaintive cries.

The serving girl took her place in the tree, and when at last the Prince appeared, bearing a satin robe and a bridal veil, it was she whom he saw looking down on him.



HERE is my sweet Princess?" he asked. "She is fair as the morning, and white as snow. What have you done with her?"




"Alas! dear Prince," answered the plain girl sadly, "while you were away an enchantress came and changed me into my present form. When you have proved your love by making me your wife, I shall, in three days' time, once more become a fair and beautiful Princess; but if you desert me, I must remain as I am for ever."

Although he missed his lovely Princess, the Prince was a man of honour, and would not break his word. Calling the ladies who were waiting in the carriage which he had brought to convey his bride to the palace, he bade them array her in the satin gown, and, pretending not to see their astonishment, drove back with her to his father, introducing her as his promised wife.

The Sultan was naturally surprised at her appearance, but when the Prince explained to him how matters stood, he agreed that he must marry her, and hope for the best.

While the father and son talked thus together, the serving girl wandered over the palace, giving unnecessary orders to the servants, and making herself hateful to all. She even ventured into the great kitchens, and commanded the chief cook to prepare rich viands for her wedding ceremonies. As she issued her orders in a loud, harsh voice, she passed by the window, and noticed a slim white pigeon sitting on the sill.

"Kill me that bird," she cried, "and cook it for my supper."

Not daring to disobey her, the chief cook killed it immediately, plunging a sharp knife into its snowy breast. Three drops of blood fell from the windowsill into the courtyard, and a tiny seedling sprang from each of these. As if a fairy had waved her wand, they grew into trees of fragrant blossom, and in an instant the blossom turned into golden lemons.

Meanwhile the Prince was seeking for his bride, for since he had set himself so distasteful a task, he wished to perform it well.

"She is in the kitchen, your Royal Highness," he was informed by one of his shocked courtiers, and in going to meet her, the Prince passed under the lemon-trees. The sight of their fruit brought him a ray of hope, and gathering three of the finest that he could find, he hastened with them to his own room, where, having filled the golden cup with water, he plunged the blade of the silver knife into the rind of the first lemon.

As before, a beautiful girl appeared, and stretched out her fair hands for the golden cup.

"Ah, no!" he cried. "You are very charming, but you are not my Princess."

He cut the rind of a second lemon, and as he did so the second Princess took form before him. He shook his head at her mute entreaty for a cup of water, and she too disappeared. Then he cut the rind of the third lemon, and lo, his own Princess was once more in his arms!

REAT was the joy and relief of the old Sultan when he heard from the Prince that this beautiful girl was his real bride, but he listened with a frown of anger as she told them all that had happened when her lover left her by the fountain. He ordered the serving girl to be immediately brought before him, and, regarding her very sternly, asked her what she would think a fitting punishment for an affront offered to the future wife of his dear son.

"Nothing less than death," declared the spiteful girl, "and death by burning. Let the offender be cast into your Majesty's oven, and the great door shut."

"Madam, you have passed sentence on yourself," replied the Sultan dryly, and, shrieking with terror, the serving girl was led away.

But the sweet Princess would not let her suffer.

"She is but a poor ignorant woman." she said, "Set her free, I entreat you, and let her go. This is the boon I ask you for my wedding gift."

The Sultan could not refuse his new daughter's first request, and the Prince regarded her fondly.
"I saw you were fair as morning, and white as snow," he murmured, "and now I know that you are sweet as an angel."

And though the years to come brought him trouble and sorrow as well as joy, he was indeed blest. Beloved of all, his Princess wielded a gentle sway, and he never saw the fruit of a lemon without sending a grateful thought to Spring for the magic gifts by which he had fared so well.


"The Three Lemons." from: Folk Tales From Many Lands. retold by Lilian Gask published in 1910
original story can be found here  This story has been, for the most part, left as it appeared in the 1910 books I have changed a few descriptive words.



Lemon Turkish Delight seemed  to be just the right treat to make after this marvelous tale !

Meyer Lemon Turkish Delight

 (what is Turkish Delight? ask Wiki!)

Ingredients:

• 3 (1/4 ounce) envelope unflavored gelatin
• 1/2 cup cold water
• 2 cups sugar
• 1/8 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 cup hot water
• 2 large meyer lemons, juice and grated rind
• yellow food coloring (optional)
• confectioners' sugar

Directions

1. Soften the gelatin in the cold water.
2. Combine the sugar, salt and hot water in a saucepan; heat to boiling, stirring constantly.
3. Stir in the softened gelatin; turn the heat down and simmer, without stirring, for 20 minutes.
4. Remove from the heat and stir in the grated rind and lemon juice, and a little yellow food coloring to tint the mixture, if desired.
5. Let stand 3 minutes.
6. Strain the mixture into a 8 x 4-inch loaf pan which has been rinsed with cold water.
7. Let stand without disturbing until slightly jellied (to prevent filming the sides of the pan); then refrigerate overnight. Loosen around the sides of the pan with a wet spatula.
8. Slip the spatula down one end and underneath the jellied mixture, then pull it out of the pan with your hands onto a surface liberally dusted with confectioner's sugar.
9. Cut into 1-inch squares.
10. Roll in confectioners' sugar to coat. Store in one layer in a tightly covered container at room temperature.
11. The candies will stay moist for about 2 weeks.

*If you don't have Meyer lemons, you can use regular lemons. You can also substitute oranges for lemons.

recipe found at food.com

The Three Little Pigs ..... a folktale from England

The Story of the Three Little Pigs

Once upon a time when pigs spoke rhyme
And monkeys chewed tobacco,
And hens took snuff to make them tough,
And ducks went quack, quack, quack, O!

There was an old sow with three little pigs, and as she had not enough to keep them, she sent them out to seek their fortune. The first that went off met a man with a bundle of straw, and said to him, "Please, man, give me that straw to build me a house." Which the man did, and the little pig built a house with it.

Presently came along a wolf, and knocked at the door, and said, "Little pig, little pig, let me come in."

To which the pig answered, "No, no, by the hair of my chiny chin chin."

The wolf then answered to that, "Then I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house in." So he huffed, and he puffed, and he blew his house in, and ate up the little pig.

The second little pig met a man with a bundle of furze [sticks], and said, "Please, man, give me that furze to build a house." Which the man did, and the pig built his house.

Then along came the wolf, and said, "Little pig, little pig, let me come in."

"No, no, by the hair of my chiny chin chin."

"Then I'll puff, and I'll huff, and I'll blow your house in." So he huffed, and he puffed, and he puffed, and he huffed, and at last he blew the house down, and he ate up the little pig.

The third little pig met a man with a load of bricks, and said, "Please, man, give me those bricks to build a house with." So the man gave him the bricks, and he built his house with them.

So the wolf came, as he did to the other little pigs, and said, "Little pig, little pig, let me come in."

"No, no, by the hair of my chiny chin chin."

"Then I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house in."

Well, he huffed, and he puffed, and he huffed and he puffed, and he puffed and huffed; but he could not get the house down. When he found that he could not, with all his huffing and puffing, blow the house down, he said, "Little pig, I know where there is a nice field of turnips."

"Where?" said the little pig.

"Oh, in Mr. Smith's home field, and if you will be ready tomorrow morning I will call for you, and we will go together and get some for dinner."

"Very well," said the little pig, "I will be ready. What time do you mean to go?"

"Oh, at six o'clock."

Well, the little pig got up at five, and got the turnips before the wolf came (which he did about six) and who said, "Little pig, are you ready?"

The little pig said, "Ready! I have been and come back again, and got a nice potful for dinner."

The wolf felt very angry at this, but thought that he would be up to the little pig somehow or other, so he said, "Little pig, I know where there is a nice apple tree."

"Where?" said the pig.

"Down at Merry Garden," replied the wolf, "and if you will not deceive me I will come for you, at five o'clock tomorrow and get some apples."

Well, the little pig bustled up the next morning at four o'clock, and went off for the apples, hoping to get back before the wolf came; but he had further to go, and had to climb the tree, so that just as he was coming down from it, he saw the wolf coming, which, as you may suppose, frightened him very much.

When the wolf came up he said, "Little pig, what! Are you here before me? Are they nice apples?"

"Yes, very," said the little pig. "I will throw you down one." And he threw it so far, that, while the wolf was gone to pick it up, the little pig jumped down and ran home.

The next day the wolf came again, and said to the little pig, "Little pig, there is a fair at Shanklin this afternoon. Will you go?"

"Oh yes," said the pig, "I will go. What time shall you be ready?"

"At three," said the wolf. So the little pig went off before the time as usual, and got to the fair, and bought a butter churn, which he was going home with, when he saw the wolf coming. Then he could not tell what to do. So he got into the churn to hide, and by so doing turned it around, and it rolled down the hill with the pig in it, which frightened the wolf so much, that he ran home without going to the fair. He went to the pig's house, and told him how frightened he had been by a great round thing which came down the hill past him.

Then the little pig said, "Ha, I frightened you, then. I had been to the fair and bought a butter churn, and when I saw you, I got into it, and rolled down the hill."

Then the wolf was very angry indeed, and declared he would eat up the little pig, and that he would get down the chimney after him. When the little pig saw what he was about, he hung on the pot full of water, and made up a blazing fire, and, just as the wolf was coming down, took off the cover, and in fell the wolf; so the little pig put on the cover again in an instant, boiled him up, and ate him for supper, and lived happily ever afterwards.

story by Joseph Jacobs from English Fairy Tales (1890)



Very, very easy Pigs in a Blanket
ingredients:

6 Crescent rolls (package of refrigerated crescent rolls)
6 Hot dogs
6 slices of cheese or you can use shredded cheese

directions:
1. Slice hot dogs down the middle and stuff with cheese
2. Wrap in crescent rolls.
3. Place wrapped hot dogs, seam side down, on an ungreased cookie sheet.
4. Bake according to directions on crescent rolls package.



In this video, the cook uses pastry dough instead of crescent rolls or other bread dough.

Stolen Garlic

A POOR man planted a bed of garlic, and as he had no land besides, each plant was separately tended and grew apace. When the crop was almost large enough for pulling he placed beside the bed a portable hutch, and slept there o' nights to guard against thieves. After watching for many nights without seeing sign of trespassers, he concluded that there were none about, and that he might as well sleep at home ; so he left the empty hutch beside the garlic bed, and spent the night in his own house. When he came back next morning to water his vegetables, he found that all had been pulled and carried off.

In consternation and tears he went to the magistrate and entered complaint of his loss. The magistrate called him up for examination, and asked him why he did not seize the thief.

" Because, your honor, I was not there when he came."

" Then why do you not bring as witness some one who saw him ? "

" Because, your honor, nobody caught a glimpse of him."

" Then why did you not bring from the garlic bed some clue by which he might be traced ? "

" Because, your honor, he left nothing in the bed besides the portable hutch which was there before."

" Very well," said the magistrate ; " since the hutch was the only object known to be on the field at the time of the theft, we will make the hutch the defendant in the suit, and to-morrow morning you will appear here as plaintiff against it."

The complaint and the result of the preliminary examination were reported far and wide, with the official announcement that on the next morning a portable hutch would be tried for theft. So remarkable a trial had never before been heard of, and it became the subject of inquiry, comment, and debate throughout the neighborhood.

When the case was called the court was crowded with spectators. The constables brought in the hutch and put it in the place for prisoners. It was charged with the crime, and as it offered no defense the magistrate ordered that it should be beaten until it confessed its guilt. The constables administered blows with a will, leaving it shattered in pieces. As the punishment proceeded, the amazement of the spectators gave way before their sense of the ludicrous, and by the time the constables were following up and whipping the fragments of the hutch the audience were laughing heartily.

In apparent rage the magistrate charged the whole assembly with contempt of court, ordered all the gates to be shut and locked, and fined each person present a pound of garlic, with no release till the fine should be paid. Many constables were deputed to escort those who wished to go out to buy garlic, and each merrily spent a few farthings in paying his fine.

In the course of the day all the garlic in the market had been bought up, and the adjoining hamlets had been ransacked to supply the unwonted demand. Each, as he handed in his fine, was required to tell where he got the garlic, which was then deposited bunch by bunch in a chamber of the courthouse.

When all the fines were paid, the plaintiff was invited to examine the bunches of garlic, and to state whether he recognized any as his own. He unhesitatingly declared certain bunches to be his, and when the record of the purchasers was examined, these bunches were found to have been all bought at the stall of a certain green-grocer. The green-grocer was arrested, and made to tell where he got the stolen goods. He declared that he knew nothing more about the garlic than that he had bought it from a certain villager. The villager was arrested and was proven by circumstantial evidence to have committed the theft. The magistrate thus got for himself a great reputation for sagacity ; the thief got forty blows ; and the poor gardener had awarded to him all the garlic that had been received in fines for
contempt of court.

from Chinese Fairy Tales By Adele M. Fielde published 1893

Here are two delicious recipe that use loooooots of garlic!


40 Clove Garlic Chicken
recipe found at A Year of Slow Cooking


The Ingredients.
serves 6

3-4 pounds chicken
1 large onion, sliced
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 teaspoons kosher salt
2 teaspoons paprika
1 teaspoon pepper
20-40 garlic cloves, peeled, but intact

The Directions.
The author used a 6 quart oval slow cooker.
Place onion slices on the bottom of the stoneware insert.
In a large mixing bowl, toss chicken parts with olive oil, salt, paprika, pepper, and all of the garlic cloves.
Pour into slow cooker, on top of the onion.

Do not add water.

Cover and cook on low for 6-8 hours, or on high for 4-6.
The longer you cook chicken-on-the-bone, the more tender it will be.
If you use drumsticks, the ones on the side will brown and may stick to the sides of the crock, burning a bit.
If this bothers you, you can rearrange them with tongs an hour before serving.


If the chicken isn't enough garlic for you, pair it with some:

Garlic Bread
Ingredients:
* 1 stick butter, room temperature
* 4 garlic cloves, minced
* 1 long loaf Italian bread, cut lengthwise

Directions
1. In a bowl, mix the butter and garlic together.
2. Spread the butter mixture on the bread.
3. On a baking sheet, bake the bread at 375F for 8-10 minutes, on the top rack of
the oven.
4. Then broil the bread for 1-2 minutes to brown.

Hanasaka Jiisan...a Japanese Fairy Tale

Hanasaka Jiisan or The Envious Neighbor

Long, long ago an old couple lived in a village, and, as they had no children to love and care for, they gave all their affection to a little dog. He was a pretty little creature, and instead of growing spoilt and disagreeable at not getting everything he
wanted, as even children will do sometimes, the dog was grateful to them for their kindness, and never left their side, whether they were in the house or out of it.

One day the old man was working in his garden, with his dog, as usual, close by. The morning was hot, and at last he put down his spade and wiped his wet forehead, noticing, as he did so, that the animal was snuffling and scratching at a spot a little way off. There was nothing very strange in this, as all dogs arefond of scratching, and he went on quietly with his digging, when the dog ran up to his master, barking loudly, and back again to the place where he had been scratching. This he did several times, till the old man wondered what could be the matter, and,
picking up the spade, followed where the dog led him. The dog was so delighted at his success that he jumped round, barking loudly, till the noise brought the old woman out of the house.

Curious to know if the dog had really found anything, the husband began to dig, and very soon the spade struck against something. He stooped down and pulled out a large box, filled quite full with shining gold pieces. The box was so heavy that the old
woman had to help to carry it home, and you may guess what a supper the dog had that night! Now that he had made them rich, they gave him every day all that a dog likes best to eat, and the cushions on which he lay were fit for a prince.

The story of the dog and his treasure soon became known, and a neighbor whose garden was next the old people's grew so envious of their good luck that he could neither eat nor sleep. As the dog had discovered a treasure once, this foolish man thought he must be able to discover one always, and begged the old couple to lend him their pet for a little while, so that he might be made rich also.

'How can you ask such a thing?' answered the old man indignantly.

'You know how much we love him, and that he is never out of our sight for five minutes.'

But the envious neighbour would not heed his words, and came daily with the same request, till at last the old people, who could not bear to say no to anyone, promised to lend the dog, just for a night or two. No sooner did the man get hold of the dog than he turned him into the garden, but the dog did nothing but race about, and the man was forced to wait with what patience he could.

The next morning the man opened the house door, and the dog bounded joyfully into the garden, and, running up to the foot of a tree, began to scratch wildly. The man called loudly to his wife to bring a spade, and followed the dog, as he longed to catch the first glimpse of the expected treasure. But when he had dug up the ground, what did he find?
Why, nothing but a parcel of old bones, which smelt so badly that he could not stay
there a moment longer. And his heart was filled with rage against the dog who had played him this trick, and he seized a pickaxe and killed it on the spot, before he knew what he was doing. When he remembered that he would have to go with his
story to the old man and his wife he was rather frightened, but there was nothing to be gained by putting it off, so he pulled a very long face and went to his neighbour's garden.

'Your dog,' said he, pretending to weep, 'has suddenly fallen down dead, though I took every care of him, and gave him everything he could wish for. And I thought I had better come straight and tell you.'

Weeping bitterly, the old man went to fetch the body of his favorite, and brought it home and buried it under the fig-tree where he had found the treasure. From morning till night he and his wife mourned over their loss, and nothing could comfort them.

At length, one night when he was asleep, he dreamt that the dog appeared to him and told him to cut down the fig-tree over his grave, and out of its wood to make a mortar. But when the old man woke and thought of his dream he did not feel at all inclined to cut down the tree, which bore well every year, and consulted
his wife about it. The woman did not hesitate a moment, and said that after what had happened before, the dog's advice must certainly be obeyed, so the tree was felled, and a beautiful mortar made from it. And when the season came for the rice crop
to be gathered the mortar was taken down from its shelf, and the grains placed in it for pounding, when, lo and behold! in a twinkling of an eye, they all turned into gold pieces. At the sight of all this gold the hearts of the old people were glad,
and once more they blessed their faithful dog.

But it was not long before this story also came to the ears of their envious neighbor, and he lost no time in going to the old people and asking if they happened to have a mortar which they could lend him. The old man did not at all like parting with his precious treasure, but he never could say no, so the neighbor went off with the mortar under his arm.

The moment he got into his own house he took a great handful of rice, and began to shell off the husks, with the help of his wife. But, instead of the gold pieces for which they looked, the rice turned into berries with such a horrible smell that they
were obliged to run away, after smashing the mortar in a rage and setting fire to the bits.

The old people next door were naturally very much put out when they learned the fate of their mortar, and were not at all comforted by the explanations and excuses made by their neighbor. But that night the dog again appeared in a dream to his master, and told him that he must go and collect the ashes of the burnt mortar and bring them home. Then, when he heard that the Daimio, or great lord to whom this part of the country belonged, was expected at the capital, he was to carry the ashes to the high road, through which the procession would have to
pass. And as soon as it was in sight he was to climb up all the cherry-trees and sprinkle the ashes on them, and they would soon blossom as they had never blossomed before.

This time the old man did not wait to consult his wife as to whether he was to do what his dog had told him, but directly he got up he went to his neighbor's house and collected the ashes of the burnt mortar. He put them carefully in a china vase, and
carried it to the high road, Sitting down on a seat till the Daimio should pass. The cherry-trees were bare, for it was the season when small pots of them were sold to rich people, who kept them in hot places, so that they might blossom early and decorate their rooms. As to the trees in the open air, no one would ever think of looking for the tiniest bud for more than a month yet.

The old man had not been waiting very long before he saw a cloud of dust in the far distance, and knew that it must be the procession of the Daimio. On they came, every man dressed in his finest clothes, and the crowd that was lining the road bowed
their faces to the ground as they went by. Only the old man did not bow himself, and the great lord saw this, and bade one of his courtiers, in anger, go and inquire why he had disobeyed the ancient customs. But before the messenger could reach him the
old man had climbed the nearest tree and scattered his ashes far and wide, and in an instant the white flowers had flashed into life, and the heart of the Daimio rejoiced, and he gave rich presents to the old man, whom he sent for to his castle.

We may be sure that in a very little while the envious neighbor had heard this also, and his bosom was filled with hate. He hastened to the place where he had burned the mortar, collected a few of the ashes which the old man had left behind, and took them
to the road, hoping that his luck might be as good as the old man's, or perhaps even better. His heart beat with pleasure when he caught the first glimpses of the Daimio's train, and he held himself ready for the right moment. As the Daimio drew near he flung a great handful of ashes over the trees, but no buds or flowers followed the action: instead, the ashes were all blown back into the eyes of the Daimio and his warriors, till they cried out from pain. Then the prince ordered the evil-doer to be seized and bound and thrown into prison, where he was kept for
many months.
By the time he was set free everybody in his native village had found out his wickedness, and they would not let him live there any longer; and as he would not leave off his evil ways he soon went from bad to worse, and came to a miserable end.

from The Violet Fairy Book edited by Andrew Lang published in 1901

How to Make Sushi Rice



The next two vids show you how to use your "sushi rice" to make California rolls. Yum!!
Vid #1


Vid #2


This last video is just plain fun! It shows sushi making as art.
It's truly awe inspiring. Enjoy!!

The Boy Who Wanted More Cheese....a Dutch Folktale

Kees van Bommel was a boy from Holland, 12 years old, who lived where cows were plentiful. He was over 5 feet high, weighed a hundred pounds, and had rosy cheeks. His appetite was always good and his mother declared his stomach had no bottom. His hair was of a color half-way between a carrot and a sweet potato. It was as thick as reeds in a swamp and was cut level, from under one ear to another.

Kees stood in a pair of timber shoes, that made an awful rattle when he ran fast to catch a rabbit, or scuffed slowly along to school over the brick road of his village. In summer Kees was dressed in a rough, blue linen blouse. In winter he wore woollen breeches as wide as coffee bags. They were called bell trousers, and in shape were like a couple of cow-bells turned upwards. These were buttoned on to a thick warm jacket. Until he was five years old, Kees was dressed like his sisters. Then, on his birthday, he had boy's clothes, with two pockets in them, of which he was proud enough.

Kees was a farmer's boy. He had rye bread and fresh milk for breakfast. At dinner time, beside cheese and bread, he was given a plate heaped with boiled potatoes. Into these he first plunged a fork and then dipped each round, white ball into a bowl of hot melted butter. Very quickly then did potato and butter disappear "down the red lane." At supper, he had bread and skim milk, left after the cream had been taken off, with a saucer, to make butter. Twice a week the children enjoyed a bowl of bonnyclabber or curds, with a little brown sugar sprinkled on the top. But at every meal there was cheese, usually in thin slices, which the boy thought not thick enough. When Kees went to bed he usually fell asleep as soon as his shock of yellow hair touched the pillow. In summer time he slept till the birds began to sing, at dawn. In winter, when the bed felt warm and Jack Frost was lively, he often heard the cows talking, in their way, before he jumped out of his bag of straw, which served for a mattress. The Van Bommels were not rich, but everything was shining clean.

There was always plenty to eat at the Van Bommels' house. Stacks of rye bread, a yard long and thicker than a man's arm, stood on end in the corner of the cool, stone-lined basement. The loaves of dough were put in the oven once a week. Baking time was a great event at the Van Bommels' and no men-folks were allowed in the kitchen on that day, unless they were called in to help. As for the milk-pails and pans, filled or emptied, scrubbed or set in the sun every day to dry, and the cheeses, piled up in the pantry, they seemed sometimes enough to feed a small army.

But Kees always wanted more cheese. In other ways, he was a good boy, obedient at home, always ready to work on the cow-farm, and diligent in school. But at the table he never had enough. Sometimes his father laughed and asked him if he had a well, or a cave, under his jacket.

Kees had three younger sisters, Kaatje, Anneke and Saartje; which is Dutch for Kate, Annie and Sallie. These, their fond mother, who loved them dearly, called her "orange blossoms"; but when at dinner, Kees would keep on, dipping his potatoes into the hot butter, while others were all through, his mother would laugh and call him her Buttercup. But always Kees wanted more cheese. When unusually greedy, she twitted him as a boy "worse than Butter-and-Eggs"; that is, as troublesome as the yellow and white plant, called toad-flax, is to the farmer - very pretty, but nothing but a weed.

One summer's evening, after a good scolding, which he deserved well, Kees moped and, almost crying, went to bed in bad humor. He had teased each one of his sisters to give him her bit of cheese, and this, added to his own slice, made his stomach feel as heavy as lead.

Kees's bed was up in the garret. When the house was first built, one of the red tiles of the roof had been taken out and another one, made of glass, was put in its place. In the morning, this gave the boy light to put on his clothes. At night, in fair weather, it supplied air to his room.

A gentle breeze was blowing from the pine woods on the sandy slope, not far away. So Kees climbed up on the stool to sniff the sweet piny odors. He thought he saw lights dancing under the tree. One beam seemed to approach his roof hole, and coming nearer played round the chimney. Then it passed to and fro in front of him. It seemed to whisper in his ear, as it moved by. It looked very much as if a hundred fire-flies had united their cold light into one lamp. Then Kees thought that the strange beams bore the shape of a lovely girl, but he only laughed at himself at the idea. Pretty soon, however, he thought the whisper became a voice. Again, he laughed so heartily, that he forgot his moping and the scolding his mother had given him. In fact, his eyes twinkled with delight, when the voice gave this invitation:

"There's plenty of cheese. Come with us."

To make sure of it, the sleepy boy now rubbed his eyes and cocked his ears. Again, the light-bearer spoke to him: "Come."

Could it be? He had heard old people tell of the ladies of the wood, that whispered and warned travellers. In fact, he himself had often seen the "fairies' ring" in the pine woods. To this, the flame-lady was inviting him.

Again and again the moving, cold light circled round the red tile roof, which the moon, then rising and peeping over the chimneys, seemed to turn into silver plates. As the disc rose higher in the sky, he could hardly see the moving light, that had looked like a lady; but the voice, no longer a whisper, as at first, was now even plainer:

"There's plenty of cheese. Come with us."

"I'll see what it is, anyhow," said Kees, as he drew on his thick woolen stockings and prepared to go down-stairs and out, without waking a soul. At the door he stepped into his wooden shoes. Just then the cat purred and rubbed up against his shins. He jumped, for he was scared; but looking down, for a moment, he saw the two balls of yellow fire in her head and knew what they were. Then he sped to the pine woods and towards the fairy ring.

What an odd sight! At first Kees thought it was a circle of big fire-flies. Then he saw clearly that there were dozens of pretty creatures, hardly as large as dolls, but as lively as crickets. They were as full of light, as if lamps had wings. Hand in hand, they flitted and danced around the ring of grass, as if this was fun.

Hardly had Kees got over his first surprise, than of a sudden he felt himself surrounded by the fairies. Some of the strongest among them had left the main party in the circle and come to him. He felt himself pulled by their dainty fingers. One of them, the loveliest of all, whispered in his ear:

"Come, you must dance with us."

Then a dozen of the pretty creatures murmured in chorus:

"Plenty of cheese here. Plenty of cheese here. Come, come!"

Upon this, the heels of Kees seemed as light as a feather. In a moment, with both hands clasped in those of the fairies, he was dancing in high glee. It was as much fun as if he were at the kermiss, with a row of boys and girls, hand in hand, swinging along the streets, as Dutch maids and youth do, during kermiss week.

Kees had not time to look hard at the fairies, for he was too full of the fun. He danced and danced, all night and until the sky in the east began to turn, first gray and then rosy. Then he tumbled down, tired out, and fell asleep. His head lay on the inner curve of the fairy ring, with his feet in the centre.

Kees felt very happy, for he had no sense of being tired, and he did not know he was asleep. He thought his fairy partners, who had danced with him, were now waiting on him to bring him cheeses. With a golden knife, they sliced them off and fed him out of their own hands. How good it tasted! He thought now he could, and would, eat all the cheese he had longed for all his life. There was no mother to scold him, or daddy to shake his finger at him. How delightful!

But by and by, he wanted to stop eating and rest a while. His jaws were tired. His stomach seemed to be loaded with cannon-balls. He gasped for breath.

But the fairies would not let him stop, for Dutch fairies never get tired. Flying out of the sky - from the north, south, east and west - they came, bringing cheeses. These they dropped down around him, until the piles of the round masses threatened first to enclose him as with a wall, and then to overtop him. There were the red balls from Edam, the pink and yellow spheres from Gouda, and the gray loaf-shaped ones from Leyden. Down through the vista of sand, in the pine woods, he looked, and oh, horrors! There were the tallest and strongest of the fairies rolling along the huge, round, flat cheeses from Friesland! Any one of these was as big as a cart wheel, and would feed a regiment. The fairies trundled the heavy discs along, as if they were playing with hoops. They shouted hilariously, as, with a pine stick, they beat them forward like boys at play. Farm cheese, factory cheese, Alkmaar cheese, and, to crown all, cheese from Limburg - which Kees never could bear, because of its strong odor. Soon the cakes and balls were heaped so high around him that the boy, as he looked up, felt like a frog in a well. He groaned when he thought the high cheese walls were tottering to fall on him. Then he screamed, but the fairies thought he was making music. They, not being human, do not know how a boy feels.

At last, with a thick slice in one hand and a big hunk in the other, he could eat no more cheese; though the fairies, led by their queen, standing on one side, or hovering over his head, still urged him to take more.

At this moment, while afraid that he would burst, Kees saw the pile of cheeses, as big as a house, topple over. The heavy mass fell inwards upon him. With a scream of terror, he thought himself crushed as flat as a Friesland cheese.

But he wasn't! Waking up and rubbing his eyes, he saw the red sun rising on the sand-dunes. Birds were singing and the cocks were crowing all around him, in chorus, as if saluting him. Just then also the village clock chimed out the hour. He felt his clothes. They were wet with dew. He sat up to look around. There were no fairies, but in his mouth was a bunch of grass which he had been chewing lustily.

Kees never would tell the story of his night with the fairies, nor has he yet settled the question whether they left him because the cheese-house of his dream had fallen, or because daylight had come.

from DUTCH FAIRY TALES FOR YOUNG FOLKS By WILLIAM ELLIOT GRIFFIS published in 1919


Snowman Cheese Ball
(recipe from Kraft Foods)

1 container (8 ounces) PHILADELPHIA cream cheese spread
1/4 cup finely chopped fresh chives or green onions
1/4 cup PLANTERS slivered almonds, toasted
1/4 teaspoon ground cayenne pepper (more or less to taste)
2 cups KRAFT shredded cheddar cheese
1/4 cup KRAFT grated Parmesan cheese
12-15 peppercorns
1 baby carrot

Directions:
Mix cream cheese spread, fresh chives or onion, almonds, cayenne pepper and cheddar cheese until well blended.
Cover and refrigerate 1 hour.

Divide mixture into 3 different size balls: 1 small, 1 medium, and 1 large.
These balls will make the body of the snowman.
Coat each with Parmesan cheese.
Arrange on a serving platter in a line to resemble a snowman lying down (largest ball at the bottom, smallest (head) at the top).

Decorate with peppercorns for the eyes, mouth and buttons, and use a sliver of baby carrot for the nose.

Serve with crackers and/or cut up vegetable dippers.

The Apple of Contentment

There was a woman once, and she had three daughters. The first daughter squinted with both eyes, yet the woman loved her as she loved salt, for she herself squinted with both eyes. The second daughter had one shoulder higher than the other, and eyebrows as black as soot in the chimney, yet the woman loved her as well as she loved the other, for she herself had black eyebrows and one shoulder higher than the other. The youngest daughter was as pretty as a ripe apple, and had hair as fine as silk and the color of pure gold, but the woman loved her not at all, for, as I have said, she herself was neither pretty, nor had she hair of the color of pure gold. Why all this was so, even Hans Pfifendrummel cannot tell, though he has read many books and one over.

The first sister and the second sister dressed in their Sunday clothes every day, and sat in the sun doing nothing, just as though they had been born ladies, both of them.

As for Christine—that was the name of the youngest girl—as for Christine, she dressed in nothing but rags, and had to drive the geese to the hills in the morning and home again in the evening, so that they might feed on the young grass all day and grow fat.

The first sister and the second sister had white bread (and butter beside) and as much fresh milk as they could drink; but Christine had to eat cheese-parings and bread-crusts, and had hardly enough of them to keep Goodman Hunger from whispering in her ear.

This was how the churn clacked in that house!

Well, one morning Christine started off to the hills with her flock of geese, and in her hands she carried her knitting, at which she worked to save time. So she went along the dusty road until, by-and-by, she came to a place where a bridge crossed the brook, and what should she see there but a little red cap, with a silver bell at the point of it, hanging from the alder branch. It was such a nice, pretty little red cap that Christine thought that she would take it home with her, for she had never seen the like of it in all of her life before.

So she put it in her pocket, and then off she went with her geese again. But she had hardly gone two-score of paces when she heard a voice calling her, "Christine! Christine!"

She looked, and who should she see but a queer little gray man, with a great head as big as a cabbage and little legs as thin as young radishes.

"What do you want?" said Christine, when the little man had come to where she was.

Oh, the little man only wanted his cap again, for without it he could not go back home into the hill—that was where he belonged.

But how did the cap come to be hanging from the bush? Yes, Christine would like to know that before she gave it back again.


"The little man asks far his cap."

Well, the little hill-man was fishing by the brook over yonder when a puff of wind blew his cap into the water, and he just hung it up to dry. That was all that there was about it; and now would Christine please give it to him?

Christine did not know how about that; perhaps she would and perhaps she would not. It was a nice, pretty little cap; what would the little underground man give her for it? that was the question.

Oh, the little man would give her five thalers for it, and gladly.

No; five thalers was not enough for such a pretty little cap—see, there was a silver bell hanging to it too.

Well, the little man did not want to be hard at a bargain; he would give her a hundred thalers for it.

No; Christine did not care for money. What else would he give for this nice, dear little cap?

"See, Christine," said the little man, "I will give you this for the cap"; and he showed her something in his hand that looked just like a bean, only it was as black as a lump of coal.

"Yes, good; but what is that?" said Christine.

"That," said the little man, "is a seed from the apple of contentment. Plant it, and from it will grow a tree, and from the tree an apple. Everybody in the world that sees the apple will long for it, but nobody in the world can pluck it but you. It will always be meat and drink to you when you are hungry, and warm clothes to your back when you are cold. Moreover, as soon as you pluck it from the tree, another as good will grow in its place. Now, will you give me my hat?"

Oh yes; Christine would give the little man his cap for such a seed as that, and gladly enough. So the little man gave Christine the seed, and Christine gave the little man his cap again. He put the cap on his head, and—puff!—away he was gone, as suddenly as the light of a candle when you blow it out.

So Christine took the seed home with her, and planted it before the window of her room. The next morning when she looked out of the window she beheld a beautiful tree, and on the tree hung an apple that shone in the sun as though it were pure gold. Then she went to the tree and plucked the apple as easily as though it were a gooseberry, and as soon as she had plucked it another as good grew in its place. Being hungry she ate it, and thought that she had never eaten anything as good, for it tasted like pancake with honey and milk.

By-and-by the oldest sister came out of the house and looked around, but when she saw the beautiful tree with the golden apple hanging from it you can guess how she stared.

Presently she began to long and long for the apple as she had never longed for anything in her life. "I will just pluck it," said she, "and no one will be the wiser for it." But that was easier said than done. She reached and reached, but she might as well have reached for the moon; she climbed and climbed, but she might as well have climbed for the sun—for either one would have been as easy to get as that which she wanted. At last she had to give up trying for it, and her temper was none the sweeter for that, you may be sure.


"Christine's Mother and Sisters wish for the Apple."

After a while came the second sister, and when she saw the golden apple she wanted it just as much as the first had done. But to want and to get are very different things, as she soon found, for she was no more able to get it than the other had been.

Last of all came the mother, and she also strove to pluck the apple. But it was no use. She had no more luck of her trying than her daughters; all that the three could do was to stand under the tree and look at the apple, and wish for it and wish for it.

They are not the only ones who have done the like, with the apple of contentment hanging just above them.

As for Christine, she had nothing to do but to pluck an apple whenever she wanted it. Was she hungry? there was the apple hanging in the tree for her. Was she thirsty? there was the apple. Cold? there was the apple. So you see, she was the happiest girl betwixt all the seven hills that stand at the ends of the earth; for nobody in the world can have more than contentment, and that was what the apple brought her.

II

One day a king came riding along the road, and all of his people with him. He looked up and saw the apple hanging in the tree, and a great desire came upon him to have a taste of it. So he called one of the servants to him, and told him to go and ask whether it could be bought for a potful of gold.

So the servant went to the house, and knocked on the door—rap! tap! tap!

"What do you want?" said the mother of the three sisters, coming to the door.

Oh, nothing much; only a king was out there in the road, and wanted to know if she would sell the apple yonder for a potful of gold.

Yes, the woman would do that. Just pay her the pot of gold and he might go and pluck it and welcome.

So the servant gave her the pot of gold, and then he tried to pluck the apple. First he reached for it, and then he climbed for it, and then he shook the limb.

But it was no use for him to try; he could no more get it—well—than I could if I had been in his place.

At last the servant had to go back to the King. The apple was there, he said, and the woman had sold it, but try and try as he would he could no more get it than he could get the little stars in the sky.

Then the King told the steward to go and get it for him; but the steward, though he was a tall man and a strong man, could no more pluck the apple than the servant.

So he had to go back to the King with an empty fist. No; he could not gather it, either.

Then the King himself went. He knew that he could pluck it—of course he could! Well, he tried and tried; but nothing came of his trying, and he had to ride away at last without, having had so much as a smell of the apple.

After the King came home, he talked and dreamed and thought of nothing but the apple; for the more he could not get it the more he wanted it—that is the way we are made in this world. At last he grew melancholy and sick for want of that which he could not get. Then he sent for one who was so wise that he had more in his head than ten men together. This wise man told him that the only one who could pluck the fruit of contentment for him was the one to whom the tree belonged. This was one of the daughters of the woman who had sold the apple to him for the pot of gold.

When the King heard this he was very glad; he had his horse saddled, and he and his court rode away, and so came at last to the cottage where Christine lived. There they found the mother and the elder sisters, for Christine was away on the hills with her geese.

The King took off his hat and made a fine bow.

The wise man at home had told him this and that; now to which one of her daughters did the apple-tree belong? so said the King.

"Oh, it is my oldest daughter who owns the tree," said the woman.

So, good! Then if the oldest daughter would pluck the apple for him he would take her home and marry her and make a queen of her. Only let her get it for him without delay.

Prut! that would never do. What! was the girl to climb the apple-tree before the King and all of the court? No! no! Let the King go home, and she would bring the apple to him all in good time; that was what the woman said.

Well, the King would do that, only let her make haste, for he wanted it very much indeed.

As soon as the King had gone, the woman and her daughters sent for the goose-girl to the hills. Then they told her that the King wanted the apple yonder, and that she must pluck it for her sister to take to him; if she did not do as they said they would throw her into the well. So Christine had to pluck the fruit; and as soon as she had done so the oldest sister wrapped it up in a napkin and set off with it to the King's house, as pleased as pleased could be. Rap! tap! tap! she knocked at the door. Had she brought the apple for the King?

Oh yes, she had brought it. Here it was, all wrapped up in a fine napkin.

After that they did not let her stand outside the door till her toes were cold, I can tell you. As soon as she had come to the King she opened her napkin. Believe me or not as you please, all the same, I tell you that there was nothing in the napkin but a hard round stone. When the King saw only a stone he was so angry that he stamped like a rabbit and told them to put the girl out of the house. So they did, and she went home with a flea in her ear, I can tell you.

Then the King sent his steward to the house where Christine and her sisters lived.

He told the woman that he had come to find whether she had any other daughters.

Yes; the woman had another daughter, and, to tell the truth, it was she who owned the tree. Just let the steward go home again and the girl would fetch the apple in a little while.

As soon as the steward had gone, they sent to the hills for Christine again. Look! she must pluck the apple for the second sister to take to the King; if she did not do that they would throw her into the well.

So Christine had to pluck it, and gave it to the second sister, who wrapped it up in a napkin and set off for the King's house. But she fared no better than the other, for, when she opened the napkin, there was nothing in it but a lump of mud. So they packed her home again with her apron to her eyes.

After a while the King's steward came to the house again. Had the woman no other daughter than these two?

Well, yes, there was one, but she was a poor ragged thing, of no account, and fit for nothing in the world but to tend the geese.

Where was she?

Oh, she was up on the hills now tending her flock.

But could the steward see her?

Yes, he might see her, but she was nothing but a poor simpleton.

That was all very good, but the steward would like to see her, for that was what the King had sent him there for.

So there was nothing to do but to send to the hills for Christine.

After a while she came, and the steward asked her if she could pluck the apple yonder for the King.

Yes; Christine could do that easily enough. So she reached and picked it as though it had been nothing but a gooseberry on the bush. Then the steward took off his hat and made her a low bow in spite of her ragged dress, for he saw that she was the one for whom they had been looking all this time.

So Christine slipped the golden apple into her pocket, and then she and the steward set off to the King's house together.

When they had come there everybody began to titter and laugh behind the palms of their hands to see what a poor ragged goose-girl the steward had brought home with him. But for that the steward cared not a rap.

"Have you brought the apple?" said the King, as soon as Christine had come before him.



Yes; here it was; and Christine thrust her hand into her pocket and brought it forth. Then the King took a great bite of it, and as soon as he had done so he looked at Christine and thought that he had never seen such a pretty girl. As for her rags, he minded them no more than one minds the spots on a cherry; that was because he had eaten of the apple of contentment.

And were they married? Of course they were! and a grand wedding it was, I can tell you. It is a pity that you were not there; but though you were not, Christine's mother and sisters were, and, what is more, they danced with the others, though I believe they would rather have danced upon pins and needles.

"Never mind," said they; "we still have the apple of contentment at home, though we cannot taste of it." But no; they had nothing of the kind. The next morning it stood before the young Queen Christine's window, just as it had at her old home, for it belonged to her and to no one else in all of the world. That was lucky for the King, for he needed a taste of it now and then as much as anybody else, and no one could pluck it for him but Christine.

Now, that is all of this story. What does it
mean? Can you not see? Prut! rub
your spectacles and look again!

THE END

I have left this story just as it was written by Howard Pyle in 1886 in his book Pepper and Salt, or Seasoning for Young Folk

I have to admit that I have a few personal issues with some of the old fairytales and folktales because physical beauty is often the sign of a good person and bad folks are often unattractive. Of course, this is not always the case but it is most of the time. Anyway, I decided to give you this one just as it was written. In retelling it to your child you can choose to change it or not.
Okay, enough of this....on to the recipe which of course has to have Apples in it!




Baked Apples

4 Apples (your favorite type)
2 teaspoons of cinnamon
1/2 cup of brown sugar
4 tablespoons of butter

3/4 cup of boiling water

Optional:
1/4 cup of raisins or cranberries
chopped nuts


Preheat oven to 350degrees.

Adult or older child: Place the apples on a cutting board. With a sharp knife, carefully cut the top 1/2-inch from each apple.

Younger Child: Using an apple corer or a small melon baler, scoop out the stem, core, and seeds from each apple, leaving the bottom intact.

Stand the apples in a 9-inch square baking dish.

In a small bowl, combine the brown sugar, cinnamon and raisins/cranberries if you wish to use them.

Stuff each apple with this mixture. Top with a 1 tablespoon pat of butter.

Add boiling water to the baking pan.

Bake 30-40 minutes, until tender, but not mushy.

Remove from the oven and baste the apples several times with the pan juices.

The Ugly Duckling (and a bonus vid)

It was summer in the land of Denmark, and though for most of the year
the country looks flat and ugly, it was beautiful now. The wheat was
yellow, the oats were green, the hay was dry and delicious to roll in,
and from the old ruined house which nobody lived in, down to the edge
of the canal, was a forest of great burdocks, so tall that a whole
family of children might have dwelt in them and never have been found
out.

It was under these burdocks that a duck had built herself a warm nest,
and was not sitting all day on six pretty eggs. Five of them were
white, but the sixth, which was larger than the others, was of an ugly
grey colour. The duck was always puzzled about that egg, and how it
came to be so different from the rest. Other birds might have thought
that when the duck went down in the morning and evening to the water to
stretch her legs in a good swim, some lazy mother might have been on
the watch, and have popped her egg into the nest. But ducks are not
clever at all, and are not quick at counting, so this duck did not
worry herself about the matter, but just took care that the big egg
should be as warm as the rest.

This was the first set of eggs that the duck had ever laid, and, to
begin with, she was very pleased and proud, and laughed at the other
mothers, who were always neglecting their duties to gossip with each
other or to take little extra swims besides the two in the morning and
evening that were necessary for health. But at length she grew tired
of sitting there all day. 'Surely eggs take longer hatching than they
did,' she said to herself; and she pined for a little amusement also.
Still, she knew that if she left her eggs and the ducklings in them to
die none of her friends would ever speak to her again; so there she
stayed, only getting off the eggs several times a day to see if the
shells were cracking--which may have been the very reason why they did
not crack sooner.

She had looked at the eggs at least a hundred and fifty times, when, to
her joy, she saw a tiny crack on two of them, and scrambling back to
the nest she drew the eggs closer the one to the other, and never moved
for the whole of that day. Next morning she was rewarded by noticing
cracks in the whole five eggs, and by midday two little yellow heads
were poking out from the shells. This encouraged her so much that,
after breaking the shells with her bill, so that the little creatures
could get free of them, she sat steadily for a whole night upon the
nest, and before the sun arose the five white eggs were empty, and ten
pairs of eyes were gazing out upon the green world.

Now the duck had been carefully brought up, and did not like dirt, and,
besides, broken shells are not at all comfortable things to sit or walk
upon; so she pushed the rest out over the side, and felt delighted to
have some company to talk to till the big egg hatched. But day after
day went on, and the big egg showed no signs of cracking, and the duck
grew more and more impatient, and began to wish to consult her husband,
who never came.

'I can't think what is the matter with it,' the duck grumbled to her
neighbour who had called in to pay her a visit. 'Why I could have
hatched two broods in the time that this one has taken!'

'Let me look at it,' said the old neighbour. 'Ah, I thought so; it is
a turkey's egg. Once, when I was young, they tricked me to sitting on
a brood of turkey's eggs myself, and when they were hatched the
creatures were so stupid that nothing would make them learn to swim. I
have no patience when I think of it.'

'Well, I will give it another chance,' sighed the duck, 'and if it does
not come out of its shell in another twenty-four hours, I will just
leave it alone and teach the rest of them to swim properly and to find
their own food. I really can't be expected to do two things at once.'
And with a fluff of her feathers she pushed the egg into the middle of
the nest.

All through the next day she sat on, giving up even her morning bath
for fear that a blast of cold might strike the big egg. In the
evening, when she ventured to peep, she thought she saw a tiny crack in
the upper part of the shell. Filled with hope, she went back to her
duties, though she could hardly sleep all night for excitement. When
she woke with the first steaks of light she felt something stirring
under her. Yes, there it was at last; and as she moved, a big awkward
bird tumbled head foremost on the ground.

There was no denying it was ugly, even the mother was forced to admit
that to herself, though she only said it was 'large' and 'strong.'
'You won't need any teaching when you are once in the water,' she told
him, with a glance of surprise at the dull brown which covered his
back, and at his long naked neck. And indeed he did not, though he was
not half so pretty to look at as the little yellow balls that followed
her.

When they returned they found the old neighbour on the bank waiting for
them to take them into the duckyard. 'No, it is not a young turkey,
certainly,' whispered she in confidence to the mother, 'for though it
is lean and skinny, and has no colour to speak of, yet there is
something rather distinguished about it, and it holds its head up well.'

'It is very kind of you to say so,' answered the mother, who by this
time had some secret doubts of its loveliness. 'Of course, when you
see it by itself it is all right, though it is different, somehow, from
the others. But one cannot expect all one's children to be beautiful!'

By this time they had reached the centre of the yard, where a very old
duck was sitting, who was treated with great respect by all the fowls
present.

'You must go up and bow low before her,' whispered the mother to her
children, nodding her head in the direction of the old lady, 'and keep
your legs well apart, as you see me do. No well-bred duckling turns in
its toes. It is a sign of common parents.'

The little ducks tried hard to make their small fat bodies copy the
movements of their mother, and the old lady was quite pleased with
them; but the rest of the ducks looked on discontentedly, and said to
each other:

'Oh, dear me, here are ever so many more! The yard is full already;
and did you ever see anything quite as ugly as that great tall
creature? He is a disgrace to any brood. I shall go and chase him
out!' So saying she put up her feathers, and running to the big
duckling bit his neck.

The duckling gave a loud quack; it was the first time he had felt any
pain, and at the sound his mother turned quickly.

'Leave him alone,' she said fiercely, 'or I will send for his father.
He was not troubling you.'

'No; but he is so ugly and awkward no one can put up with him,'
answered the stranger. And though the duckling did not understand the
meaning of the words, he felt he was being blamed, and became more
uncomfortable still when the old Spanish duck who ruled the fowlyard
struck in:

'It certainly is a great pity he is so different from these beautiful
darlings. If he could only be hatched over again!'

The poor little fellow drooped his head, and did not know where to
look, but was comforted when his mother answered:

'He may not be quite as handsome as the others, but he swims better,
and is very strong; I am sure he will make his way in the world as well
as anybody.'

'Well, you must feel quite at home here,' said the old duck waddling
off. And so they did, all except the duckling, who was snapped at by
everyone when they thought his mother was not looking. Even the
turkey-cock, who was so big, never passed him without mocking words,
and his brothers and sisters, who would not have noticed any difference
unless it had been put into their heads, soon became as rude and unkind
as the rest.

At last he could bear it no longer, and one day he fancied he saw signs
of his mother turning against him too; so that night, when the ducks
and hens were still asleep, he stole away through an open door, and
under cover of the burdock leaves scrambled on by the bank of the
canal, till he reached a wide grassy moor, full of soft marshy places
where the reeds grew. Here he lay down, but he was too tired and too
frightened to fall asleep, and with the earliest peep of the sun the
reeds began to rustle, and he saw that he had blundered into a colony
of wild ducks. But as he could not run away again he stood up and
bowed politely.

'You are ugly,' said the wild ducks, when they had looked him well
over; 'but, however, it is no business of ours, unless you wish to
marry one of our daughters, and that we should not allow.' And the
duckling answered that he had no idea of marrying anybody, and wanted
nothing but to be left alone after his long journey.

So for two whole days he lay quietly among the reeds, eating such food
as he could find, and drinking the water of the moorland pool, till he
felt himself quite strong again. He wished he might stay were he was
for ever, he was so comfortable and happy, away from everyone, with
nobody to bite him and tell him how ugly he was.

He was thinking these thoughts, when two young ganders caught sight of
him as they were having their evening splash among the reeds, looking
for their supper.

'We are getting tired of this moor,' they said, 'and to-morrow we think
of trying another, where the lakes are larger and the feeding better.
Will you come with us?'

'Is it nicer than this?' asked the duckling doubtfully. And the words
were hardly out of his mouth, when 'Pif! pah!' and the two new- comers
were stretched dead beside him.

At the sound of the gun the wild ducks in the rushes flew into the air,
and for a few minutes the firing continued.

Luckily for himself the duckling could not fly, and he floundered along
through the water till he could hide himself amidst some tall ferns
which grew in a hollow. But before he got there he met a huge creature
on four legs, which he afterwards knew to be a dog, who stood and gazed
at him with a long red tongue hanging out of his mouth. The duckling
grew cold with terror, and tried to hide his head beneath his little
wings; but the dog snuffed at him and passed on, and he was able to
reach his place of shelter.

'I am too ugly even for a dog to eat,' said he to himself. 'Well, that
is a great mercy.' And he curled himself up in the soft grass till the
shots died away in the distance.

When all had been quiet for a long time, and there were only stars to
see him, he crept out and looked about him.

He would never go near a pool again, never, thought he; and seeing that
the moor stretched far away in the opposite direction from which he had
come, he marched bravely on till he got to a small cottage, which
seemed too tumbledown for the stones to hold together many hours
longer. Even the door only hung upon one hinge, and as the only light
in the room sprang from a tiny fire, the duckling edged himself
cautiously in, and lay down under a chair close to the broken door,
from which he could get out if necessary. But no one seemed to see him
or smell him; so he spend the rest of the night in peace.

Now in the cottage dwelt an old woman, her cat, and a hen; and it was
really they, and not she, who were masters of the house. The old
woman, who passed all her days in spinning yarn, which she sold at the
nearest town, loved both the cat and the hen as her own children, and
never contradicted them in any way; so it was their grace, and not
hers, that the duckling would have to gain.

It was only next morning, when it grew light, that they noticed their
visitor, who stood trembling before them, with his eye on the door
ready to escape at any moment. They did not, however, appear very
fierce, and the duckling became less afraid as they approached him.

'Can you lay eggs?' asked the hen. And the duckling answered meekly:

'No; I don't know how.' Upon which the hen turned her back, and the
cat came forward.

'Can you ruffle your fur when you are angry, or purr when you are
pleased?' said she. And again the duckling had to admit that he could
do nothing but swim, which did not seem of much use to anybody.

So the cat and the hen went straight off to the old woman, who was
still in bed.

'Such a useless creature has taken refuge here,' they said. 'It calls
itself a duckling; but it can neither lay eggs nor purr! What had we
better do with it?'

'Keep it, to be sure!' replied the old woman briskly. 'It is all
nonsense about it not laying eggs. Anyway, we will let it stay here
for a bit, and see what happens.'

So the duckling remained for three weeks, and shared the food of the
cat and the hen; but nothing in the way of eggs happened at all. Then
the sun came out, and the air grew soft, and the duckling grew tired of
being in a hut, and wanted with all his might to have a swim. And one
morning he got so restless that even his friends noticed it.

'What is the matter?' asked the hen; and the duckling told her.

'I am so longing for the water again. You can't think how delicious it
is to put your head under the water and dive straight to the bottom.'

'I don't think I should enjoy it,' replied the hen doubtfully. 'And I
don't think the cat would like it either.' And the cat, when asked,
agreed there was nothing she would hate so much.

'I can't stay here any longer, I Must get to the water,' repeated the
duck. And the cat and the hen, who felt hurt and offended, answered
shortly:

'Very well then, go.'

The duckling would have liked to say good- bye, and thank them for
their kindness, as he was polite by nature; but they had both turned
their backs on him, so he went out of the rickety door feeling rather
sad. But, in spite of himself, he could not help a thrill of joy when
he was out in the air and water once more, and cared little for the
rude glances of the creatures he met. For a while he was quite happy
and content; but soon the winter came on, and snow began to fall, and
everything to grow very wet and uncomfortable. And the duckling soon
found that it is one thing to enjoy being in the water, and quite
another to like being damp on land.

The sun was setting one day, like a great scarlet globe, and the river,
to the duckling's vast bewilderment, was getting hard and slippery,
when he heard a sound of whirring wings, and high up in the air a flock
of swans were flying. They were as white as snow which had fallen
during the night, and their long necks with yellow bills were stretched
southwards, for they were going--they did not quite know whither--but
to a land where the sun shone all day. Oh, if he only could have gone
with them! But that was not possible, of course; and besides, what
sort of companion could an ugly thing like him be to those beautiful
beings? So he walked sadly down to a sheltered pool and dived to the
very bottom, and tried to think it was the greatest happiness he could
dream of. But, all the same, he knew it wasn't!

And every morning it grew colder and colder, and the duckling had hard
work to keep himself warm. Indeed, it would be truer to say that he
never was warm at all; and at last, after one bitter night, his legs
moved so slowly that the ice crept closer and closer, and when the
morning light broke he was caught fast, as in a trap; and soon his
senses went from him.

A few hours more and the poor duckling's life had been ended. But, by
good fortune, a man was crossing the river on his way to his work, and
saw in a moment what had happened. He had on thick wooden shoes, and
he went and stamped so hard on the ice that it broke, and then he
picked up the duckling and tucked him under his sheepskin coat, where
his frozen bones began to thaw a little.

Instead of going on his work, the man turned back and took the bird to
his children, who gave him a warm mess to eat and put him in a box by
the fire, and when they came back from school he was much more
comfortable than he had been since he had left the old woman's cottage.
They were kind little children, and wanted to play with him; but,
alas! the poor fellow had never played in his life, and thought they
wanted to tease him, and flew straight into the milk-pan, and then into
the butter-dish, and from that into the meal- barrel, and at last,
terrified at the noise and confusion, right out of the door, and hid
himself in the snow amongst the bushes at the back of the house.

He never could tell afterwards exactly how he had spent the rest of the
winter. He only knew that he was very miserable and that he never had
enough to eat. But by-and-by things grew better. The earth became
softer, the sun hotter, the birds sang, and the flowers once more
appeared in the grass. When he stood up, he felt different, somehow,
from what he had done before he fell asleep among the reeds to which he
had wandered after he had escaped from the peasant's hut. His body
seemed larger, and his wings stronger. Something pink looked at him
from the side of a hill. He thought he would fly towards it and see
what it was.

Oh, how glorious it felt to be rushing through the air, wheeling first
one way and then the other! He had never thought that flying could be
like that! The duckling was almost sorry when he drew near the pink
cloud and found it was made up of apple blossoms growing beside a
cottage whose garden ran down to the banks of the canal. He fluttered
slowly to the ground and paused for a few minutes under a thicket of
syringas, and while he was gazing about him, there walked slowly past a
flock of the same beautiful birds he had seen so many months ago.
Fascinated, he watched them one by one step into the canal, and float
quietly upon the waters as if they were part of them.

'I will follow them,' said the duckling to himself; 'ugly though I am,
I would rather be killed by them than suffer all I have suffered from
cold and hunger, and from the ducks and fowls who should have treated
me kindly.' And flying quickly down to the water, he swam after them
as fast as he could.

It did not take him long to reach them, for they had stopped to rest in
a green pool shaded by a tree whose branches swept the water. And
directly they saw him coming some of the younger ones swam out to meet
him with cries of welcome, which again the duckling hardly understood.
He approached them glad, yet trembling, and turning to one of the older
birds, who by this time had left the shade of the tree, he said:

'If I am to die, I would rather you should kill me. I don't know why I
was ever hatched, for I am too ugly to live.' And as he spoke, he
bowed his head and looked down into the water.

Reflected in the still pool he saw many white shapes, with long necks
and golden bills, and, without thinking, he looked for the dull grey
body and the awkward skinny neck. But no such thing was there.
Instead, he beheld beneath him a beautiful white swan!

'The new one is the best of all,' said the children when they came down
to feed the swans with biscuit and cake before going to bed. 'His
feathers are whiter and his beak more golden than the rest.' And when
he heard that, the duckling thought that it was worth while having
undergone all the persecution and loneliness that he had passed
through, as otherwise he would never have known what it was to be
really happy.

written by Hans Christian Andersen

I had to work hard for a recipe to go with this story but I found one!!!


Ugly Duckling Cake

1 box yellow cake mix
1 (17oz) can fruit cocktail with syrup
1 cup coconut
2 eggs

Preheat oven to 350.
Blend above ingredients.
Beat 2 minutes at medium speed.
Pour into a greased 9x13-inch cake pan.
Bake for 45 minutes.


Ugly Duckling Frosting
1 cup brown sugar
1/4 cup evaporated milk
1 stick margarine
1 cup coconut

In a saucepan, combine brown sugar, milk and margarine.
Cook 5 minutes over medium heat, stirring constantly.
Remove from heat and stir in coconut. Pour over cake.


Here's a bonus! A classic Disney Silly Symphony...