Riffs: The Plank’s New Album Jeff Plankenhorn, fondly known by his fans as “the Plank,” announced the completion of his new album “Alone at Sea” to his followers on Patreon, his supporter platform. He gave a sneak listen to supporters of a song — as yet publicly unnamed — co-written by collaborator Michael O’Connor. The album is set to be released in September on the Blue Corn Music indie label.
Percussionist George Receli, who spent 18 years playing with Bob Dylan and who has played with everyone from James Brown to Cyndi Lauper, performed on eight of the 10 songs on the album.
Electric guitar was played by Colin Linden, who also produced the album. Plankenhorn and O’Connor performed at Susanna’s Kitchen in Wimberley on March 16.
Roam: Ingram and Kerrville On a blustery spring day, I attended the Stonehenge II Second Annual Celtic Festival in Ingram, just 7 miles from Kerrville. By the time I got there at 11 a.m., only the most stalwart vendors had survived the early morning cold and wind. Fortunately, they had not received the rain and hail that other parts of the Hill Country endured the night before, so the fields were dry and the sun shone a comfortable 70 degrees, without the wind.
Flags and banners at the entrance of the Hill Country Arts Foundation took full advantage of the wind, slapping themselves and each other vigorously throughout the day.
A friendly man at the Stewart Clan booth motioned me over and asked me about my heritage. I confessed that I was of Scottish descent and shared my last name. He picked up the book “Tartan for Me!” by Philip D. Smith, Jr. with the subtitle, “Suggested Tartans for Scottish, Scotch-Irish, Irish, and North American Surnames with Lists of Clan, Family, and District Tartans.” What a mouthful.
Before long, we discovered I was allowed to wear both the Mac-Naughton and Henderson tartans. The Clan “Macnaghten” are one of the Scottish clans who claim descent from the early Pictish rulers of the Mormaer of Moray. While it was interesting to note that their crest is a castle tower and the clan motto is “I Hope in God,” I was wondering what tartan I was allowed to wear. Women traditionally wear a full length skirt in the traditional cloth, but I saw many women in kilts there, some knee length and some barely covering the bum.
A Scottish Pipe band performed within the Stonehenge II installation on the festival grounds.
An homage to the original Stonehenge monument, the concrete sculpture was conceived by Al Shepperd and built with the help of a friend and neighbor, Doug Hill of Hunt. Originally located west of Hunt, Stonehenge II was moved to the campus of the Hill Country Arts Foundation in 2010.
According to the signage at the site, Stonehenge II isn’t a replica. “Rather, it is Hill’s impression, in steel and concrete, of the nearly 5,000 year old circle of stones. . .” It’s about two-thirds the size of the original and is not oriented to the sun.
From a hundred paces, the Stonehenge installation is a convincing enough backdrop, and I opened myself up to the wonder I might experience in its presence. But once inside the circle, the energy felt unnervingly dead. It was a reminder to me that rock — the real thing, that is — emits a rich and steady energy that concrete cannot mimic. I came away feeling disappointed.
What did not disappoint were the Highland Games. Burly people in kilts tossed the caber, putt the stone, swung the hammer and threw the weight. I learned that there were two ways of throwing the weight: one is for distance and the other is to throw it, onearmed, over a bar. This was the game in which the women in kilts competed — to the cheering of onlookers who didn’t mind them throwing their weight around.
My favorite game was the caber tossing. A straight tree trunk weighing anywhere between 90 and 150 pounds and somewhere the size of 20 feet long is balanced between the feet of the competitor. He squats down, balances it on a shoulder for a minute until he gets his hands under the end of the caber and little by little, lifts it up, keeping it upright and balanced, and then throws it with a massive burst of energy. It is a thrilling exercise of balance, strength and timing. While no competitor was able to throw it end over end, a straight toss delivered a better score than one that veered off the “12 o’clock mark.”
Near the games, a vendor was selling all kinds of Celtic-related gear. I snagged a couple of kilt pins left over from an estate sale and looked at the sporrans they offered. Sporrans are traditional pouches worn by men in front — in the fig leaf area — and is a carry-all for keys, wallet, phone and other stuff for which pockets normally suffice. They can be made with furs, faux furs and horsehair, and often include two or more tassels. I learned that if one were to become a serious kilt wearer, one must choose between day wear, dress or ceremonial sporrans. It led me to wonder if Prince Charles was dusting off his ceremonial sporran for his Coronation after-party on Saturday.
Rave: Tamales and the Koenig Family If you don’t grow up with the “tamalada,” or the tradition of making tamales with family members, it can be quite a treat to get instructions by expert makers of the dish.
Erika Koenig, aided by her mother Tina Koenig and her aunt Blanca Lopez, taught such a class to nine people at the Wimberley Community Center kitchen recently. A Civic Club Spring Event, the class taught students to make a red sauce, a green sauce, the masa and to assemble each “tamal” for steaming.
For the red sauce, students donned gloves to remove the seeds, stems and ribs from two kinds of dried chiles: cascabel and ancho. Once cleaned, the chiles were browned in a skillet with vegetable shortening before they went into water for boiling.
For the green sauce, tomatillos were husked and put into a pot with a handful of cilantro, a third of an onion, and two large cloves of garlic. These were boiled for about 15 minutes until the tomatillos softened enough for the blender.
Mixing masa began with whipping a combination of vegetable shortening and lard in a mixer until fluffy. Masa was added and mixed until a dough was formed, and it was mixed enough to pull away from the bowl.
After that, the challenging part began. Students were tasked with spreading the masa onto soaked corn husks. Blanca and Tina placed a blob of masa on a husk and in three to four swipes of the back of their spoon had an even layer on the husk, ready to fill with pork, chicken or beans. For the rest of us, the masa chunked, or it slid off completely onto the floor or onto our clothes, shoes or into the palms of our gloves. Our teachers coached, tutored, clarified, illuminated and instructed us again.
“Let the bottom of your hand push up on the husk while you’re spooning it on the top of the husk,” they said. “Dribble a little water onto the masa.”
Somehow, each of us made a dozen tamales and watched as all hundred were stacked upright into the pot for steaming. Kudos to Erika, her mother Tina and Aunt Blanca for showing us how it was done.
