Beer rocks, please!

I grew up with German Mennonite parents and grandparents, and learned to cook and bake a lot of the traditional foods that go along with that heritage.

However, I realized early on that most of the wonderful dishes are often difficult and incredibly time-consuming, so I would rarely fix them. When I did, inevitably I would regret it halfway through the hours-long process. So over the years, my three kids learned to steer clear of the kitchen whenever mom was cooking veranika, or baking zwiebach, or making anything they couldn’t pronounce.

A few summers ago, I noticed “beer rocks” written in my son Harrison’s handwriting on my kitchen white board. I love when my kids leave me menu suggestions, but this one made me pause. Bierocks, which involves yeast, were part of my dreaded German Mennonite Pocket Trifecta. But I’d recently inherited a Kitchen Aid stand mixer with a dough hook. That would make it easy.

So I picked up a couple cabbages on my next grocery trip, and one afternoon decided to make bierocks. The recipe in the Ebenfeld Mennonite Brethren Church cookbook listed “your favorite sweet roll dough.” No problem. My mom had copied Grandma Epp’s “Rolls, Buns, or Doughnuts” and other family recipes for me for my bridal shower. After 17 years, I might as well try it, I thought. 

I used the mixer to combine the yeast with the other ingredients, “using enough flour to make a soft dough,” the recipe said. After four cups my flour bin was empty. I checked my pantry shelf for an extra bag. None. Darn. This was going to require more than a cup or two from my neighbor, so I headed to the store.  As I was in the checkout line (with a lot of other items I’d grabbed while I was there) my husband called my cell phone.

“Karen, your stuff is exploding all over the counter,” he said.

 

“I’m on my way.” 

When I got home, I saw the yeast-flour mixture had indeed risen and bubbled over the sides of the stainless steel bowl, and was spilling down the front of my cabinets onto the floor.

I cleaned up the mess and started adding flour. And more flour. I remembered the gigantic ceramic bowl Grandma used for baking on Saturdays, and the table piled with baked goods hours later. Oh no! I was making bread for a week!

I had plenty of dough for the double batch of bierock filling I’d made. After finally pinching the last pocket closed, tucking the ends under and placing it on the pan, I still had lots left. I rolled out the remaining dough and slathered on butter, brown sugar, and cinnamon and rolled it up for cinnamon rolls. I filled two pans.

But in the meantime my kids and husband had all at various times wandered through the kitchen, wondering when dinner would finally be ready. They’d all snagged a hot bierock or two from the cooling racks, which was fine with me. At that point I didn’t feel like having a sit-down meal anyway. On Harrison’s second trip into the kitchen, he noticed the kitchen in shambles and the exhaustion on my face.

“Mom,” he asked hesitantly, now realizing the enormity of his request, “are beer rocks German?”

“Yes,” I sighed, giving him a flour-dusted hug. “Yes, Harrison, they are.”

Bierocks are filled with seasoned ground beef and cabbage.

Get them while you can, they don't last long at our house.

The Lessons of Losing

One of my favorite amazing statistics:  On any given Friday night, of all the high school football teams who play, 50 percent of them LOSE.

Losing is a part of life. It happens. It happened to half of the teams who played last night. The problem is, North is ALWAYS in the bottom half.

But last night we had a chance. We were ahead! In the third quarter, we were ahead 18-9 against South. Then they scored, but we still were ahead 18-17. Then they had a chance to score but we held them FOR THREE DOWNS RIGHT AT THEIR OWN GOAL LINE. So, they kicked a field goal and got ahead 18-20 with a couple of minutes left. We took the ball almost down the field, but didn't even get a chance to kick a field goal of our own, and the game was over.

We lost, again.

And we knew it would be this way. Before Caleb enrolled at North last year, everyone told us "get ready to lose." But we wanted to stay with our assigned school. North has great tradition. We didn't want to jump through the hoops to get a special transfer so our son could play on the winning team of choice. We would tell people that if everyone would simply send their kids to their assigned schools, the teams would be more even. If the good kids living in North's district would actually attend and play for North, we could be competitive. And they would say, "Yeah, but you ultimately have to do what's best for your kid," with the implication that finding them a winning program was the way to go.

But last year we knew of some good players Caleb's age who were going to North. Their motto was, "We're bringing it back!" They won a few games as freshmen. Now those sophomores are playing varsity. They're trying. But they can't overcome an offensive line that steps aside to let the defense rush through. Players who have made mistakes are allowed to make them again and again, while others who have demonstrated they can do better are left on the sidelines or placed in positions where they are underused.

Because that's another problem with losing teams--poor coaching. Sloppy, unorganized practices lead to games like last night. Coaches who are not students of the game don't catch when the chain gang gives the opposing team an extra down on the first possession, causing them to score and setting the tone for the entire game (that was against Dodge City).

And of course, I'm speaking as a mother here, but last week playing fullback my son had 47 yards rushing on two carries (one two-yard gain, and an awesome 45-yard run in which he nearly scored. North did get one of their two touchdowns of the game from that series). So this week, did they even let him touch the ball? Did they even put him in as fullback? Of course not.

We know programs go through "rebuilding" years, but at this point we see no signs of construction. And don't get me wrong, the coach is a nice guy, but not all nice guys should be coaches.

So now we look at Harrison, who will enter high school next year (yikes). Should we take the advice of friends and "do what's best for our child' and seek out a high school with a winning program? I'd hate to do it, but faced with four more years of sitting through football games like last night, it's tempting.