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Recipe of the Week: You had me at Coq au Vin...

Today’s post is the third in a series of weekly Julia Child recipes. This week, education technologist Carrie Kotcho shares her experience with a Julia Child recipe that changed the course of her life.

“How fortunate we are to have chicken in pieces”
 
Whether you purchase a whole chicken or use pre-cut pieces for Coq au Vin, you should check out Julia’s detailed instructions on disjointing poultry (not for the faint of heart) in Mastering the Art of French Cooking Volume II (pp.312-315). In another example of how she organized her kitchen work spaces, Julia kept her poultry shears, along with other cutting tools, on a pegboard hook near the butcher’s block in her kitchen. She didn’t waste time hunting for a tool in a drawer, but had it right at hand near the surface where it would be used.

Where to Find the Master Recipe

• Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Volume 1, p. 263
• The Way to Cook, p. 141, 142
• The French Chef cookbook, ‘Coq au Vin,’ p. 76
• The French Chef, episode “Coq au Vin”
• You can also find a variation online from Smitten Kitchen.

Carrie’s Story

In the winter of 1990, I sat down to a meal that would change my life forever.

I had been dating this guy for a month or two when he invited me over to his apartment for dinner. “I’m going to make Coq Au Vin,” he said. I was quite impressed that not only was he confident enough to cook for me but that he planned to make such a special dish.

I grew up in the 70’s in Northern New Jersey, so we had maybe five channels on TV, and one of them was PBS. Julia Child’s program seemed to be on quite frequently, so we watched. She was funny and plainspoken, and she always made you feel that you could handle whatever new technique or recipe she was demonstrating. As a young child, she gave me the impression that cooking was about caring. Caring about ingredients, caring about those you cooked for, and that taking time to prepare good food for others was an act of love.

Growing up, I can barely remember a night when we didn’t have something new or different to eat. Of course we had our favorites that would get repeated by request, but my Mom was always trying something new. Needless to say, we felt pretty loved in my house!

So when that guy broke out his cast iron pan and made a special shopping trip to pick up all the ingredients for Coq Au Vin, for the first time I wondered, “Could this guy be the one?” Well, the meal was fabulous . . . crusty bread, a rich and savory Coq Au Vin, and a fantastic bottle of red wine. A memorable evening.

And the guy?  Well, tonight we’re having Coq Au Vin again. For our 16th wedding anniversary. 

We have a lovely little chef in training now (our daughter), and we all love to cook together. She’ll have that cast iron pan to cook up her own creations when she grows up. But more importantly, she knows the secret ingredient to every recipe: love.

Do try this at home!

We invite you to join with us in this celebration of Julia Child’s life, work, and contributions to American culinary history. Please share your experiences making Julia Child’s recipes by posting your story, photos, or video on our Tumblr page for this recipe series. Don’t forget to check back next week.

Carrie Kotcho is an education technologist at the National Museum of American History.

Doing history

Imagine yourself at the head of an empty classroom. Your carefully prepared lesson lies on your desk next to activity sheets for each student. You breathe deeply and enjoy a brief moment of peace. Then a bell rings. Within a few minutes your room is teeming with teenagers; self-absorbed and self-conscious. You wave your hands to get their attention and begin your daily battle with the average American attention span.

A normal day. Then, you hear the question: “Teacher… Why are we learning about this stuff? It happened so long ago. Why does any of it matter?”

I’m an 8th grade history teacher interning at the Museum for the summer and like other teachers battling to get students to engage with history, I have faced this question many times.

Many Americans experienced history in school by attempting to memorize important dates, people, and places. For many, this experience led to a belief that history is an inflexible set of facts and figures. Students in classrooms that deliver history this way might be forgiven for wondering why history is relevant to them. In fact, these classrooms suppress curiosity so much that asking a meaningful question like “Why study history?” should be congratulated.

History is not a rigid list of events. History is a verb, a process, and way of understanding why the world is the way it is. More importantly, it is something students should practice. It sparks curiosity and puts students in a position to think. It reveals answers to questions about the world, sharpens reading and writing skills, and demonstrates connections between the past and the present. It can galvanize students to positive action, demonstrate the importance of real citizenship, and highlight the value of building local and national communities.

Of course, it is far easier to photocopy worksheets than it is to give students real opportunities to think critically or creatively. As a history teacher, I can attest to the difficulty of the challenge. Educators looking to go deeper must navigate unfamiliar territory like Web interactives, social media, and object or document-based teaching to find ways to make history real and relevant to students. (Not to mention additional obstacles like standardized testing and decreased seat time for Social Studies classes).

The museum’s education staff understand how difficult it is for teachers to find activities that provoke critical thinking and promote real understanding of American history. To address this need, they have developed a searchable database of outstanding educational resources, Smithsonian’s History Explorer. The activities, lessons, programs, and interactives on the site are based on the philosophy that students need to be engaged with history in order to learn it. They are excellent tools for creating lessons that foster critical thinking and engagement. Want to go beyond forcing your students to memorize the Gettysburg Address? Try engaging them with the Gettysburg Address interactive. Looking for a way to use social media in your classroom? Use the On The Water Snapshots in Time guide to help your students find evidence of maritime activities in their neighborhoods and to upload maritime pictures using Flickr.

During my internship, I have worked intimately with resources like these on Smithsonian’s History Explorer and have even had the chance to create some of my own. It is an outstanding resource for educators. That said, it cannot give you a neat one-sentence answer to the “Why Study History?” problem. What it can do is to help teachers give students the tools,the enthusiasm and the critical thinking skills to answer that question themselves.

Josh Desantis is an intern in the New Media program at the National Museum of American History and an eighth-grade American history teacher.

21 hours in the movie business

It’s safe to say that I had no idea what I was getting into. My boss was unable to attend the meetings about the proposed “Teen Orientation Video” for the museum, so I went in her place. And suddenly, I was a field producer.

Every spring, many teens and “tweens” come to visit our museum, but don’t really know what to expect. Hopefully, by viewing the Teen Orientation Video in the classroom or on the bus, teens will get excited about their visit. We wanted to convey, through the scenes and actors’ lines, that the museum’s objects and programs are all about the people who have made history, and we would like teens to know that they can be a part of history, too.

With these messages in mind, we set to work for two days of fast-paced filming. The cast and crew worked incredibly hard, had a ton of fun, and took a bunch of pictures. Here are some highlights of my 21 hours as a field producer on the museum’s Teen Orientation Video. Look for our video online in about six months.

Whenever we were wearing the official t-shirts, we had to hide off camera. For me, that meant spending about an hour hiding behind a pillar in Flag Hall.

One of our docents, Paul, volunteered to take part in the video. As we prepared to shoot his scene, we saw there were smudges on the glass display case, so Paul and I took out tissues and carefully removed the visitors’ fingerprints. 

I watched as our videographers prepared for a three-camera shoot of the museum’s Join the Student Sit-Ins program. One of our tiniest visitors was especially fascinated by the boom microphone.

The teen actors were tireless! I was amazed by their energy throughout the shoot. Here, they’re taking a break in our “green room.”

I even got a few lines and two seconds on film as the friendly staff member who offers to take a picture for the group. This must be part of my “other duties as assigned.”

Jenny Wei is an education specialist at the National Museum of American History.

Joy over grief

Several weeks ago a brown box full of photographs arrived at “The Smithsonian.” Being that “The Smithsonian” is actually made up of many museums and research centers, this brown box was circulated through several offices before I finally got the call to see if it was something I wanted. Usually the Smithsonian would rather not receive unsolicited donations, though sometimes it works out well—after all, James Smithson’s donation was an unsolicited gift!

I got a whiff of the box. Hmmm. Slightly moldy smell. I opened the box to find that the photographs were just dumped in and sliding around over each other. There was broken glass in the bottom. This wasn’t going too well. But then, I started pulling out the snapshots. And there it was. A snapshot of a woman at a funeral. Okay, so that’s not a Hope Diamond or a pair of Ruby Slippers, but for me it was a gem. You see, we humans don’t tend to take snapshots during moments of crisis, unless you are a photojournalist, perhaps. But then it usually isn’t your crisis.

As a photo curator interested in vernacular photography (the personal use of photography), I’m on the look-out for those photographs that fall outside of the typical snapshot. Since the introduction and wide spread use of inexpensive photography in 1900 by Kodak’s Brownie, snapshots have fallen into fairly typical categories: celebrations (birthdays, anniversaries, graduations, etc.), religious milestones (confirmations, bar mitvahs and bat mitzvahs), holidays, travel, and general good times. Good times are the key. As we use photography to document our lives, we tend only to capture the happy and positive aspects. Understandably, in the midst of our own crisis, rarely do we pick up a camera and think to document domestic violence, a tragic accident, a dying person, or the like. Nor do we tend to photograph dirty dishes stacked in the sink, crying children, and other such images that may have a negative connotation to future viewers.

So when I saw this slightly faded photograph printed in September 1956 of a woman with a tissue or wadded up handkerchief in her hand, the expressions of the woman being comforted and the one comforting, and the funeral canopy, it made me happy. “Ahh,” I sighed. Someone in rural South Carolina captured the challenges we face in life. I can’t know the intention of the photographer, and whether or not he or she felt this was crisis. Perhaps someone said, “Bring your camera and photograph the funeral,” and then the photographer deviated from the decorum of picturing the coffin and the flowers, but not the grieving. There are other photographs of this funeral. But not of the tears.

When putting your scrapbooks and albums together—as you construct these histories of your life—think about all of its ups and downs, and how you can share a fuller life story. (And if you want to send in an unsolicited donation, the Photographic History Collection is always happy to receive a spontaneous check.)

Shannon Perich is Associate Curator for the Photographic History Collection at the National Museum of American History.

Ellington in Ethiopia, Armstrong in Kenya

I recently had the pleasure of traveling to Ethiopia—a trip sponsored by the State Department—to lecture on American jazz and culture. After receiving our Jazz Appreciation Month (JAM) posters for many years, the U.S. Embassy in Ethiopia decided this year to celebrate JAM (now celebrated in 40 countries) for the first time.

Interviewing Mulatu Astatke on stage.

Ellington is of particular interest in Ethiopia because he performed there, in 1973—a visit recalled warmly by Mulatu Astatke, “the father of Ethiojazz” —a pianist-composer who was Ellington’s guide during that historic visit. I had the honor of interviewing Mulatu before an audience of 350 on Ellington’s 110th birthday anniversary. That and a longer interview with Mulatu will be added to the Jazz Oral History Collection, in the museum’s Archives Center. I’m now helping Mulatu to arrange a concert in Washington, D.C. The museum has objects from the 1973 tour in the Duke Ellington Collection, and my slides included the striking medal that Emperor Haile Selassie presented Ellington, as well as program booklets and photos documenting his performances.

Based on the National Museum of American History’s example, the National Museum of Ethiopia (famous for housing the 3.2-million-year-old “Lucy” skeleton) is now interested in establishing its own music program. There is a strong bond between Ethiopians and the United States—in fact, there are more than a million Ethiopians living in the US, with an estimated 250,000 of them in the Washington area. The fact that Ethiopia has a homegrown jazz tradition also creates a basis for communication, friendship, and relationship-building.

John Hasse (far right) in Nairobi, Kenya.

Barack Obama’s election has electrified East Africa, heightening interest in American history and culture. Louis Armstrong performed several times in Kenya, so he was the focus of my talks there. One of the museum’s musical treasures is a battered cornet he is believed to have been taught on, and that figured in my lectures in Nairobi. JAM posters of Armstrong (and of Benny Goodman) were received eagerly by the Kenyans. The JAM posters are so appreciated by the US Embassies that they have framed them for permanent use.

After my visit, U.S. Embassy officials from Addis Ababa and Nairobi came to Washington and I introduced them to museum director Brent D. Glass; they met with Daniel Sheehy, acting Director of the Smithsonian Folklife program, about Folkways Recordings of their countries’ music and the potential to be featured at the Smithsonian Folklife Festival with Joann Stevens, Program Manager, Jazz Appreciation Month Initiatives, about expanding their participation in Jazz Appreciation Month; and with Ken Kimery, Executive Producer of the Smithsonian Jazz Masterworks Orchestra (SJMO), to explore the potential of bringing the SJMO to their countries to perform Ellington music, from the museum’s Archives Center, and other American jazz.

A trip such as this benefits audiences in Africa and showcases the work of the Museum.  It reminds us of the power of American musical innovators such as Armstrong and Ellington to transcend time, language, and culture.

John Edward Hasse is a curator in the Division of Music, Sports and Entertainment at the National Museum of American History.