Author: Julie M. McKinnon

Mom’s Catsup

/ Julie M. McKinnon / 3 Comments
Mom and I on an Alaskan cruise two years before she died.

With Mom on an Alaskan cruise two years before she died.

My Mom canned pretty much everything. Vegetables, fruits, juices, soups, sauces, kraut, pickles, jams, jellies. If we could grow it, she would can it.

I didn’t like my Mom’s homemade “catsup” growing up, though. It was so different than ketchup from the store, which I thought was the ideal. Mom’s canned catsup was runny. It often soaked through sandwich bread. Plus, her catsup was more tangy than sweet.

Now I would give just about anything for a jar of my Mom’s flavorful catsup. Mom would be 88 today and tickled to find out her homespun, produce-filled recipes are rather trendy. Comfort food, indeed.

Our basement, a.k.a. Mom’s grocery store, always had rows and rows of her canned goods. How Mom managed to “put up” all of that food in the summer heat without air conditioning I’ll never know. I didn’t appreciate everything my Mom did for me then; I suppose few people truly do until they are adults.

Obsessing about Mom’s catsup may seem strange, especially since there are so many things I miss about her. We used to go garage saling or junking together, play poker or other games with Dad, travel even after he died, have daily phone chats, just lots of things. Even when I was a child, we would read our books in the same room and be perfectly content, silent but bonding over written words. Somehow, missing Mom’s catsup symbolizes all of those memories and feelings.

I may try to can some of Mom’s catsup this summer. It will never be the same, but it’s definitely worth trying. That would tickle her, too.

Viewing the World

/ Julie M. McKinnon / 3 Comments
View of the Alhambra in Grenada, Spain.

View of the Alhambra in Granada, Spain.

After spending several hours on the grounds of the Alhambra, site of the last Moorish palace in Spain, you would think I could have called it a day. I was in the mid-13th century fort, the sultan’s gardens and the museum in Charles V’s Palace. I stood in the Palacios Nazaries room where Queen Isabel told Christopher Columbus he could set sail in 1492.

Still, I wanted to see what the Alhambra looked like at sunset from the San Nicolás Viewpoint, reportedly one of former President Bill Clinton’s favorite spots.

Savoring such views, getting to them and the surrounding atmosphere have made a huge impact on my travel experiences. I like to stroll through neighborhoods and really see how people live, not just the tourist sites. I favor grocery stores, parks and markets over endless souvenir shops. I like to look over listings in the windows of real estate offices.

To get to San Nicolás Viewpoint after visiting the Alhambra, we took a roundabout walk on winding streets in Granada’s Moorish district, passing homes and neighborhood businesses. The little park was a bit of a party, with street performers providing entertainment and dreadlocked women selling jewelry. The view of the Alhambra alone certainly was worthwhile, but I recall the climb and ambiance, too.

Climbing often seems to be a requirement for getting a good view. In Salzburg, it wasn’t enough for me to get up to the Hohensalzburg Fortress for a look around. I trudged up another hill to the Museum der Moderne Mönchsberg to see the view recommended by a tour guide. Sure, I could have used the funicular to get to the fortress and an elevator to the modern museum. But then I would have missed many sites and views – and the anticipation. This is the picture of the fortress and Old Town below that I snapped near the modern museum:

Salzburg, Austria

Salzburg, Austria

Once again, the view was definitely worth the extra effort. And a beer garden, tapas bar or other welcoming establishment always seems to be waiting at the bottom of the hill.

Back to the Farm

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Goats on a dairy farm I photographed for a freelance story.

People seem to have one of two assumptions about growing up on a farm: It’s grueling or idyllic.

Somewhere decidedly in between was the case for me – and probably for most northwest Ohio farm kids in the 1970s and 1980s. Yes, there were chores, but they taught me how to be responsible. Roaming around outdoors and playing with animals were the foundation for a lifelong love of nature.

At some point in high school, I decided I wanted to be a reporter in the midst of the action. While I covered the occasional ag story at every newspaper I ever worked for, I never really sought them out. I would joke that I didn’t go to college to write about farming.

A quarter century later, here I am.

I realized a few years ago that there are a lot of good stories to tell in rural America. Sure, farming is a lot different even than when I grew up. But that’s part of what makes agriculture interesting.

There are siblings who want to keep homesteads that have been in their family for generations after their parents die. Farmers who continue working despite illnesses. People who return to farming because their careers were unfulfilling. Those who believe farm to table has always been a way of life, not a trend. And many, many more ag-related stories.

Now I want to cover them all.