Teats
and Sweets
By
John Martin
I
nearly bought my wife Katherine a cow for Christmas. I got the
idea of from glancing at one of Katherine's cook books when my
eyes fell upon a recipe for a pudding called Syllabub.
Who,
apart from the English, would call a dessert Syllabub? Spotted
Dick, I know. Sticky Date Pudding, I know. But Syllabub?
"This
old English sweet was traditionally made with milk straight from
the cow. The milk was poured from a height over wine, cider or
ale; this gave it a frothy mixture, which was sweetened to taste
and flavoured with spices and spirit."
How
would they do that? Would they bring the cow to the kitchen or
take the ingredients to the dairy? From what height would they
pour the milk? Would the cow be at normal standing height or would
they have to winch it up a few yards to get the best effect?
I
resolved to get her a cow of her own for Christmas. I thought
it would be terribly convenient to have a live cow in the kitchen,
at the ready, alongside the assorted mixers, spoons, whirly things,
slicing things, pots, pans and odds and sods. Need some fresh
milk for the Syllabub? No problem.
Just
saunter up to the cow fixed to the bench and squeeze a teat over
your bowl .... sssssssssssssssssssssssssss
Alas,
it was about this time I had a reality check.
How
on earth would I attach a cow to a kitchen bench, especially a
English Mad Cow which obviously would be best suited to an eccentric
English pudding recipe? And how on earth would I gift-wrap it?
How
would I go about trying to keep the paper around four legs, a
tail, an udder and a head which went mooooo? I gave up the idea
in the end- but only because I couldn't bear the thought of trying
to conceal it under the Christmas tree.
I
am unlikely ever to sample the delights of Syllabub now. I am
also unlikely ever to have to clean up cow pats from the kitchen
floor.
Read
more of John Martin's columns at his "Down Under, But Not
Out" humour and satire site: http://www.dunno.com.au
Top
Cows
as Far as the Little Doggie Eye can See
By
Lynette
While
driving around town where we live, Scooby will see the occasional
cow. Sometimes there may even be a herd of ten or so. Once spotted,
the dog goes into a frothing frenzy, barking and snarling and
literally mashing his nose against the car window, all in his
attempt to get at the offending bovine.
This
works fine around town but as we got further and further south,
the herds got larger.
Finally, we approached the infamous stockyards of lovely, lovely,
Stockton, California.
Our
car went over a rise in the freeway and there they were. Cows
as far as the little doggie eye could see. Acres and acres of
cows. They went on forever.
His
eyes bugged out about half an inch. You could smell the brain
synapses frying and almost read his thoughts. "Which cow
do I bark at first? That one? This one?"
Then,
I have never in my life see a dog do this, but I swear it happened,
his lower jaw dropped. His mouth hung open. No sound came out.
Slowly,
he sat down and then crawled to the back of the van. Man, the
dogs back home were never going to believe this one.
Copyright
2003 Lynette
Read
more of Lynette's writing at http://www.lynetteisfunny.com
Top
Save
the Earth: Tip a cow
By
Seth Brown
Flatulent bovine emissions produce methane, a poisonous gas which
is not only unbreathable but also smells really bad. We normally
rely on Mother Nature's green stuff to counteract this effect,
turning carbon dioxide into oxygen for us to breathe. But cows
not only pollute the air, they decimate the ground as well. A
single cow who needs to graze can easily destroy a whole field
of grass, and then moo with no remorse. Small wonder that George
W. Bush lobbied to weaken the Clean Air Act when the Texas cattle
industry
would be the most hurt by its fortification.
So
what can you do to help? Well, you could write a letter to Bush,
but it won't get read. A better plan is to start up your own grassroots
campaign. Environmental activism is often most effective at a
local level, so organize your friends to go after the root of
these problems. Go find a cow. Tell it, "I will not have
my planet ruined by your flatulent bovine apathy any longer!",
and push it over. Maybe the cow will die of embarrassment. If
not,
at least you and your friends had a good laugh.
And
hey, a good laugh makes your environment better.
Seth
Brown is a freelance humorist : http://wso.williams.edu/~sbrown
Top
Moooo-ved
to Laughter
by
JoAnn Reno Wray
My
first clear memory is of my family living in an old, rented farmhouse
about five miles east of Washington Court House, Ohio. My bedroom
was upstairs with a little dormer window. The sound of the crickets
and frogs chirping on summer nights floated into my room. Soft,
sultry breezes billowed the white eyelet curtains.
My
brother, Dale, shared the room with me his crib across the room.
It wasn't long before Dale shared the full-sized bed with me because
he learned to rock the crib across the room, crawl out and join
me under the covers. This was fine because brother number two,
Jackie, came along quickly.
Many
nights noise from the farm’s sizable herd of cows, kept in
a field across the road from the house, echoed loudly, chasing
sleep away. The bellowing of unknown creatures was not welcome
by our imaginations! In fact, it scared my brothers and me so
much there was much wailing from heads covered with blankets in
that tiny dormered upstairs room.
One
clear, early, cool fall night, the moon shining brightly, all
three of us kids confronted those cows. Dad, carrying Jackie,
the youngest, in his arms, herded Dale and I across the road.
There we stood next to the fence, nose to nose with a group of
black and white bovines in full moo. Half-asleep, I wondered why
we were there. Dale was all questions. "What’s this?
Why that? Is that cow pooping? Ewwww!"
Jackie,
terrified and crying so hard he hiccupped repeatedly, buried his
face in Dad's neck. His constant screaming cries were why we stood
in our pj's at the edge of the road, looking at a bunch of noisy
cows in the middle of the night. Terror of the unknown had seized
him. Truthfully, it gripped me as well. Dad had prodded us out
of bed to see there was nothing to fear. Just a bunch of fussy,
discontented, old cows.
After
what seemed forever to me, Dad finally persuaded Jackie to put
a timid hand on one friendly cow’s face. As he touched the
velvety, wet nose, the cow's pink tongue whisked out and licked
his hand. Jackie laughed, a deep and loud belly laugh, as if he
was expelling all the fear through his joy.
Now
when I hear cows lowing in a field, I recall that night when Dad
took the time to chase away his children's fear of the unknown
by helping us face that fear. In my mind, I can hear Jackie's
triumphant laugh wafting over the moos and Dad's accompanying
deep chuckle. God’s Word becomes real to me at that moment:
“For
God has not given us the spirit of fear; but of power and of love,
and of a sound mind.” II Timothy 1:7, KJV
When
I remember Dad’s demonstration of this so many years ago
any fears I've entertained evaporate like warm breath on a cold,
clear fall night and I’m instantly warmed by the quilt of
God’s eternal joy.
Sign
up for JoAnn's ezine Melody of the Heart at:
http://epistleworks.com/HeartMelody
