I Captured Me A Castle!

Well, not really. Wishful thinking on my part. But I did visit one this weekend, named…wait for it…Hammond Castle (cue thunder and lightning now!). As part of my October blogging spooky funfest, I thought I’d share my experience with you so that for once you’ll have to live vicariously through me instead of the other way around, which is what usually happens. Not only is this castle awesome, it’s located in the U.S., which means most of you Americans reading this won’t have to cross an ocean to see it. To add flavor to my blog (just a pinch of spice), I also want to share a couple of the strange things that happened to us while we were there.

Paranormal stuff, that is…(cue thunder and lightning now!).

First off, I’ll tell you a little bit about the history of Hammond Castle. It’s located in Gloucester, Massachusetts, a beautiful town stretched out along the Atlantic Ocean. It was built by John Hays Hammond, Jr. (the guy on the right) between the years 1926 and 1929. A world traveler and inventor, he built this home for his new bride and also to accommodate both his artifacts gathered while traveling and his laboratories for inventing all his hundreds of inventions. Thanks to Mr. Hammond, we have the remote control. It if weren’t for him (and a few others) I might actually have to get up off the couch to change the channel, and that’s just wrong! You da bomb, John!

John Hammond was, at least in my (always) humble opinion, a very unique and interesting man. I think you’ll agree when you see what he did and what he created. Inside the castle, you will find one of my favorite places - a conservatory made to look like a town square. The main feature of this glass-ceilinged room is the gorgeous, plant-lined pool that can be filled with tap water or switched to seawater with just the pull of a lever. There is also an optical illusion in the pool that I’ll leave for you to discover when you visit. Fun fact: Back in the day, Mr. Hammond used to jump into the pool from one of the windows overlooking it, which would have been quite a leap from what I can see. If I had lived there, I might have tried it myself. Admit it, you would have, too.

The kids especially liked seeing all the weapons and the suit of armor, sneaking up the spiral staircases that led to the turrets, and staring at the pool, wishing they could swim in it for just a ‘little’ bit. I was of the same opinion as my wee ones, plus I enjoyed visiting the rounded library, walking through the great hall and imagining this was mine, all mine!, studying all the old artifacts (including a skull, which I’m in the market for myself), and taking in the views overlooking the ocean.

I’m thinking of putting in a bid for the place.

Now comes the paranormal part…While we were there, my husband decided to take a picture of the two younger boys in front of the suit of armor. It was my middle child’s turn. While he was patiently trying to maintain his he-man pose, my husband was fiddling with the camera, which was not cooperating. Suddenly, my hubby looks up at us.

"That’s weird," he mutters. "The words (or something close to this), ‘You are not authorized to proceed as it is not deemed to be a public photograph’ just came up on the camera screen." We looked at him strangely, as we so often do, and he shrugs. "That’s what it says." We don’t know what to tell him. Too bad it disappeared before I had a chance to confirm his report. At any rate, he finally got the camera to work and was able to take the pictures in front of the suit of armor without consequence (i.e., the ghost of John Hammond did not strike us down). Not long after that, I tried to take some pictures of my oldest son and the dang camera wouldn’t work. I kept pushing the button and finally had to turn it off and back on before it would work again. Now I know this can be put down to a mechanical problem with the camera (I’ll mention here that when we left the house, our camera was fully charged and working well), but those words coming up are hard to explain away. If this is something that can be debunked (yes, I watch Ghost Hunters), please let me know. It’s a Kodak, Easy Share DX6490. The strange thing is that I feel like I’ve heard about this before.

So what had happened here? Was it a ghost? Maybe. The camera malfunctioning? Possibly. Was it spooky? Most definitely. Good thing I like spooky.

As you can see, we always enjoy our visits to Hammond Castle. Every time I go I feel like I learn something new. For more information on the castle, click here. Keep in mind that they put on a Halloween extravaganza (which I’ve never been to and would like to try out) in the middle of October, closing the castle to regular tours during those few weeks. I advise that you call ahead. For more photos of Hammond Castle, go to my photo page. Also know that there is a nearby park (you pass it on the way to the castle) for rock climbing, playing, beach combing and picknicking. We typically visit the castle, then have lunch at the park. Though we’ve also hit a couple of the restaurants for yummy chowder, like we did this last time (since it was raining).

I’ll leave you with John Hammond’s words, written in a letter to his father in 1924:

"My ambition is to leave a modest, but beautiful, museum. I want only an authentic atmosphere, some furniture, and genuine architectural pieces — doors, windows, etc. In cold restrained New England, a place with the romantic beauty of the Italian and French past may prove the inspiration of many poor artists and students to come. It will give them something that I have been fortunate enough to know and enjoy. It also gives me satisfaction to think that I may be able to produce something of lasting worth."

I believe he certainly accomplished that.

The Churlish Churro

Raise your hand if you’ve ever made churros… I, myself, have wanted to try my hand at making them for a while now. They’re a simple food, basically fried dough rolled in sugar. A Spanish treat, they sounded like just the perfect thing to make for our annual pumpkin carving event. Unfortunately, as I was about to find out, they can also be lethal weapons.

Okay, so here’s the story. I should warn you, if you’re looking for something about my book or about the writing process, you won’t find it in this blog (a nice break, hm?). No, this is about my near-death experience with the churlish churro.

Cue dramatic music…

I’ve had the recipe to make churros for a long time but finally decided to give it a try recently. It was a Saturday and we had planned that day to carve our pumpkins and drink fresh New England apple cider. But, of course, we needed something to snack on. Pumpkin carving is hard work.

So I start making the recipe along with the help of my 3-year-old. He loves anything to do with cooking - he actually starts to salivate when we pass the aisle in the grocery store where they display their cooking utensils (he’s also constantly ‘borrowing’ mine). Anyway, the first part of the recipe is easy. Bring water and salt to a boil, then add flour. Stir it up until you make a ball. While you let it cool, heat up a half-inch of oil. Easy, peasy. I was loving these churros…

Then the problems began. I didn’t have a pastry bag to use to push the dough into the oil, but I did have a frosting decorating tool. So I carefully shoved some dough into the small tube and put on the cap with its handy-dandy plunger. I was set to go! When the oil was hot enough, I pushed on the plunger so that the dough would drop into the oil and begin to fry. Sounds simple, right? Unfortunately, frosting decorating tools are not made for pushing dough. After some heavy-duty shoving and grunting on my part, the front part popped away from the plunger and fell into the oil. Immediately the dough inside began to sizzle and cook while the plastic began to melt. While frantically trying to scoop the mess out with tongs, I thoroughly mangled the plastic part. So much for my frosting decorating tool. Into the garbage it went.

So now what was I supposed to do now? Well, I thought to myself, I could just roll up the dough and put it in the oil. It sounded easier than using a pastry bag. Why didn’t they recommend that in the first place? It was a mystery, but I started the process and soon the little rolls of dough were cooking up quite nicely. My 3-year-old was watching from about two feet away, standing on the little green stool he uses when he helps me in the kitchen. About a minute after I’d put the first churros in, one of them popped, spraying us with hot oil. It was only a little bit but I thought maybe my child should remove himself from the vicinity. He heartily agreed.

Okay, back to work. I had returned to rolling up some more churros when another one popped. More oil spattered about, but I was okay, if slightly singed. I decided to stand a couple feet away while they cooked and continued to roll up more churros.

That’s when the big one hit. One of the churros literally exploded. First I heard a tremendous popping noise (like a firecracker, gunshot or atomic bomb), then felt hot oil spattering the top of my head. "Ow! Ow! Ow!" I cried out in pain. It kinda hurt, you see. I dashed away from the stove to what I hoped was safety. When I turned to see the damage, there was oil EVERYWHERE! Oil on the ceiling, oil on the floor, oil on the cupboards, oil on the door. The churro itself was lying on the floor by the dishwasher, which is about five feet away. There were even bits of churro on the ceiling. My churro had become a deadly missile.

Oh, crud.

Have you ever tried to clean up oil? It’s not easy. Normally I would’ve started sobbing and cursing and maybe shouting for my husband to help me, but I just went into the bathroom and began to douse my head with cold water. Then I returned to the kitchen, my head dripping - I still had to turn off that burner. I made a few false starts - with some stutter stepping and some bobbing and weaving - but finally I was able to dash up and turn the thing off without slipping in the oil and knocking myself out. Then I slowly proceeded to clean the entire very messy, very slippery mess up.

Pumpkin carving, I decided, would have to be delayed until tomorrow. My children accepted the news gracefully, bless their little souls. Instead of churros, I would have to make chocolate chip muffins. They don’t explode, or at least they haven’t in the past. It turned out to be a good decision, both in the delay and in the muffins, as it was a lovely day on Sunday, even though my head still burned in places.

So where did I go wrong? I have decided that by rolling the dough, I was allowing too much air in the mix, creating air bubbles, which then expanded and popped once heated. I never saw that coming, I tell you.

As I write this, with my head still sore in spots, I sit here thinking…What if I were just reaching in with the tongs to fetch a churro when the explosion happened? I would’ve gotten oil all over my face, maybe even a churro up the nose. Even worse, what if my little boy was still standing on that stool? He would have been terribly burned.

After my little incident, I could have complained and been grumpy for the rest of the day (which is my typical m.o. when something goes wrong), but this time I simply was grateful that it hadn’t been worse. Maybe I’m finally growing up. Or maybe I was still in shock.

My husband, who had been downstairs at the time and hadn’t heard a thing, told me that from now on, if I want anything fried, to stick to Dunkin’ Donuts. He may be right. For now, I must say adios, my churlish churros, and muchas gracias for not taking me down with you.