CANDY MAN

Nishan Roubian, 1938,  at the "breaking of ground" for the Armenian Brethren Church in Watertown, Massachusetts.   Photo thanks to Mari Kricorian who left the photo to her son who gave the photo to his daughter, the author Nancy Kricorian

Nishan Roubian was a joyous member of the United Armenian Brethren Evangelical Church on Arsenal Street in Watertown, Massachusetts.  The children loved Uncle Nishan, as they should have called him; Candy Man as they did call him.  Every Sunday, after (a seemingly) unending church service, the children would run down the front stairs of the church to Candy Man, who would always be waiting on the sidewalk at the foot of the stairs (how did he get there so quickly) with his left hand in his pocket.  The children would run to him shouting, "Candy Man, Candy Man," grins on their faces, excitement in their voices.  As they approached, he would reach into his pocket and take out a handful of white, sugar-coated almonds, (Did he save them from all the weddings he went to?  Did he buy them especially for Sundays?) holding his hand out to the children who were jumping up and down, encircling him.  Candy Man, Candy Man, they all shouted.  Uncle Nishan, their parents admonished them.  Candy Man, Candy Man, the children shouted, as they crunched on the gift he always had awaiting them in the left pocket of his Sunday "go to meeting" jacket.

Ethel Roubian's Orange Cake Recipe

Last night, Marash Girl dreamed about her mother, Jennie Bilezikian and her aunt, Zabelle Bilezikian, and their friend, Ethel Roubian.  The dream wasn't exactly about them, but rather about the puzzlement over a recipe, the recipe that Ethel Roubian had given them for her most delectable Orange Cake.  Here is what happened.  Jennie & Zabelle had gone to visit their friend Ethel Roubian who had served them her special orange cake. . . Or perhaps Ethel had brought her cake to the Armenian Women's Educational Club meeting.  Ethel's Orange Cake was so delicious that Jennie & Zabelle asked Ethel if she might share her recipe. Now this was a rare occurrence, for Jennie baked the most superb cakes, using Betty Crocker's Cook Book (NOT cake mixes) as her source. . . Jennie could out bake the best, and needn't ask anyone for anything in the area of cake recipes or instructions to bake.  But here is the strange part.  Ethel Roubian did agree to share her recipe, leaving Jennie (downstairs) and Zabelle (upstairs) to follow that recipe, a recipe that called for the use of freshly squeezed orange juice and freshly grated orange zest in the batter.  They followed the recipe to a "T" as it were, or should I say to an "O", meticulously replicating the actions called for on the recipe card.  The cake?  A failure.  It fell.  Oh, dear, they commiserated.  We must have missed an instruction or two.  Once again, they attempted the cake.  Once again, it failed.  After the third failure, they called Ethel Roubian to ask what they might have done wrong. . . she went over the recipe with them.  All was there.   They tried again.  The cake fell.

So this is, in a sense, another riddle.  Why do you think the cake fell?  And whether or not you have the answer to that question, do you have a recipe for Orange Cake that you're willing to share, a recipe that will work?

Answers to yesterday's riddles:
1) Fire
2) Your shoes
3) Your bed
4) A rope

Turning Cheeses: A Game for Young Girls at Plimoth Plantation in the 1620's

Turning Cheeses was a game popular with young girls living at the Plimoth Plantation in the 1620's.  Wearing their long voluminous skirts and petticoats, they would twirl as best they could (without tripping, amazingly enough), and settle down onto the ground with their skirts settling around them.  The winner of the game was the girl whose skirt settled around her in the most perfect circle.

Telling riddles was another popular past time.  Here are a few favorites:  
1) What lives if it eats, but dies when it drinks?  
2) What's full during the day, but empty at night?  
3) What's empty during the day, but full at night?
4) What is ten men's length and ten men's strength, yet ten men cannot stand it on its end?

For the answers, check the end of Marash Girl's blog tomorrow.

Please add your own favorite riddles in the comments below.

Tanzies for Lunch, Plimouth Plantation Style

I must prepare tanzies for Mrs. Bradford's lunch.  Would you like to know how I do so?  You must begin with fresh eggs from your hen yard.  The fresher the eggs, the better the tanzy.  Crack the eggs and separate them from the shells, for we would not want to have egg shells in our tanzy.  Beat the eggs with a fork (although I beat mine with my trusty knife that is always at my side); then add bread crumbs (the only bread we have here in the New World is a very coarse corn bread), and chopped herbs of your choice (I believe Enila will use parsley chopped finely).  Melt butter in a flat iron pan (I believe you call them cast iron fry pans), then pour the egg mixture into the pan of sizzling butter, making sure the egg mixture covers the pan and is about 1/4 inch in depth.  Place the pan over the ashes at the front of the fire. Do continue to check the edges of the tanzy as it cooks, to make sure the tanzy is cooking evenly.  When it is browned all along the edges, remove the fry pan from from the fire, and slip the tansy out of the pan onto a flat board or platter.  Then turn the tansy wet side down onto the hot iron pan.  (This is a bit tricky.) Place the pan  full of eggs back onto the front of the fire and as the tanzy cooks, check around the edges to make sure the eggs are browning evenly.  When the underside is sufficiently browned, slip the tansy onto a platter, and serve.  If you're lucky, it will land in one piece and your family will be pleased.

The tansy cooks over hot ashes
at the front of the fire in a heavy
 iron fry pan.

Anna checks the readiness of the tanzy.

Be sure to remove the tansy carefully from the pan; we mustn't present broken tansies -- not very appetizing!

Now Enila & Iffar know how to make a tansy (tanzie, tanzy, tansie), and you do, too!

Button, button, who's got the button?

Button, button, who's got the button?  Yesterday, as she watched the re-enactor at Plymouth Plantation making buttons from cloth, Marash Girl remembered playing that button game during the rainy days of childhood.  

Marash Girl used to sew, and used to sew buttons onto cloth, but she never knew that you could make buttons out of cloth.  Even before she started sewing buttons, one of her favorite past times was  sorting through her mom's big fat button bottle, treating those beautiful creations, buttons they were called, with reverence.  

Rarely was there a match . . .  large mother of pearl buttons, tiny pressed metal buttons, wonderful shapes, colors, textures,  buttons with two holes,  buttons with three holes (yes, three holed buttons), buttons with four holes. . .  But she never found a cloth button with no holes!  Of course, she wouldn't have known it was a button; it would have looked like a tiny ball of cloth, for this is how they made buttons in the 1600's on Plimoth Plantation:  

1.  Cut a piece of roughly woven cloth into a 1 inch square (or any cloth that would match the clothing that needs buttons).

2.  Tuck the edges of the cloth into the center, forming a smooth ball on one side, with all the cut edges tucked together to one point on the other side; with a needle and thread matching the color of the material.

3.  Sew all those edges together at the center and knot the thread.  That's the back of the button.  And your button is complete!  

No, you don't have to buy a mold for the button.  Just the cloth, a needle and thread, and, for comfort, a thimble.   

When to stop? Keep making buttons until you have enough, or even more!

From Plymouth to Sandwich on a hot summer's day!

The Plymouth Rock Behind Bars (protected from over zealous patriots!)

The masthead of the Mayflower Two

Enila & Iffar sporting Bilezikian Family Picnic caps on the Mayflower Two, hoping to go fishing!

Exciting as the visit to the Mayflower II was, nothing could match the trip to the air-conditioned                           Sandwich Public Library!

The wonderful end to a hot summer's day!

Remembering Peter Bilezikian on his Birthday

Yesterday, August 7, was the birthday of Otro Baba, Grandpa Peter, Daddy, Uncle Peter, Peter (Bedros) Bilezikian.  Enila and Iffar remember playing "Shaplak" with Otro Baba on the porch in Falmouth 5 summers ago. They asked to post the photos of their fun time with Otro Baba today.  Wonderful memories. . . Here they are.  Photo Credits:  Lorig Charkoudian

A Walk Along Phillips Road Early in the Morning: Sagamore Beach, MA

Return to Westview Creamery, Monson, Massachusetts

Iffar offers a piece of carrot to a baby goat as the throng looks on.

For the first time since the tornado (which hit Wilbraham and Monson on June 1, 2011), Enila & Iffar (their pen names) returned to the mountain in Monson this past Friday, to visit their favorite Western Massachusetts haunt, the goats at Westview Creamery (oh, and of course, to sample the ice cream)!  Although it was almost sunset, they managed to feed the goats a cone filled with goat food, a carrot, and flowers of clover for dessert.

Enila struggles to make sure the baby goats get to eat the treats she has to offer before the adults "horn in".

Tiring of the struggle to feed one goat at a time, Iffar tosses a handful of goat feed to the mother goat as the goat's kid chooses to nurse.

Enila poses for the camera as a neighboring hand offers food to the ever hungry goats.

As the sun sets in the west, we gaze upon what was once our Wilbraham Mountain abode (far left mountain top).

Interested in reading more about the tornado that hit Wilbraham & Monson on June 1, 2011?  Go to http://marashgirl.blogspot.com/search/label/Tornado

The Surrey with the Fringe on Top

If you haven't visited the train station in Palmer, Massachusetts, recently, and you happen to be between the ages of 5 and 10, you're missing a real treat. While your parents enjoy the architecture of the train station (a little known gem designed by famous 19th century architect H. H. Richardson) and a quick bite to eat, you can enjoy a quick trip into the travel days of the railroad -- you may even be lucky enough to see trains passing by within several feet of where you're 'stationed'.  And if the train breaks down, you can always take the 'surrey with the fringe on top.'

Enila takes orders for train tickets to Boston.

Iffar scans the horizon to make sure that his horses are all set and  the weather is right for taking his passenger on the express to Boston.

Enila takes over the driving as Iffar and Marash Boy enjoy the fine summer weather on their trip to Los Angeles in the surrey with the fringe on top.

Staples, not stitches! Phew!

"I know I'm going to need stitches. . . "

 Phew!  Only two staples in my head!

Enila and Iffar couldn't wait to go to the Springfield Science Museum to see the Legos exhibit yesterday, but while waiting in  line for tickets, guess who fell on his head . . .  Many tears and much blood later found Enila and Iffar at the Emergency Room of Bay State Medical Center in Springfield, Massachusetts, where Iffar's gash was stapled closed (only two staples)!  He was so relieved that he didn't need stitches.

Soon after, proudly stapled, Iffar led Enila back to the Museum to become king and queen of the castle

                and to visit once again the Wilbraham Indians who were represented at the Springfield Science Museum.

CELEBRATING MARASH BOY: SPRINGFIELD, MASSACHUSETTS

Callers from all over the country wish Marash Boy a "Happy Birthday"!

A toast to Marash Boy!

Family and friends fete Marash Boy on the occasion of his birthday, celebrated in Springfield, Massachusetts,
the place of his birth.   Adolfo's, the site of the dinner, is built on the site of his father's cobbler shop.

"I can't help falling in love with you!"

As Marash Boy's birthday fell on a Thursday this year, bikies from all around rode to Springfield, Massachusetts, to join in the celebration.  They knew that Marash Boy was once one of them!

Springfield, Massachusetts:  Happy Birthday, Marash Boy!

The Flowering of the Zucchini

How many zucchini does that make? And how many loaves of zucchini bread?  Or should I not count my zucchinis "before they're hatched . . ."

Mosquitos gotcha?

Many years ago, on the top of Wilbraham Mountain, [long before the days of Afterbite,] Uncle Harry (Haroutioun Charkoudian, born in Marash, owner of  Springfield, Mass.'s CHARKOUDIAN DRUGS) saw the young 'uns scratching their mosquito bites.  "Do you have any ammonia?" he asked Marash Girl.  "Bring it here with some cotton balls and I'll show you something."  He proceeded to soak a cotton ball with ammonia, and hold it against the itching bite.  Lo and behold, the itching stopped.  Just like magic.  And so when the father in MY BIG FAT GREEK WEDDING recommended Windex to his daughter and future son-in-law as a cure for everything from cold sores to you name it, he was actually emulating Uncle Harry's use of ammonia.   (An old country cure?) Conclusion?  If you're itching and don't have any ammonia, or you can't bear the smell of ammonia, simply spray some Windex on those itchy spots, and like magic, the itch will disappear!  Thank you, Uncle Harry.