Oh, I see! moments
Travel Cultures Language

An OIC Vegetable Moment

by Meredith Mullins on November 8, 2012

Endive for sale in a Normandy vegetable market gives the author an "Oh, I see" moment about the endive growing cycle

Endive for sale in a Normandy vegetable market
© Meredith Mullins

Endive Indeed

How could I have eaten endive for so many years and have no idea how it looks “in the wild” or how complex its growing process is?

How could I be so uncaring about a vegetable’s life cycle or take such a crunchy treat for granted?

It took the convergence of a Saturday morning market in Normandy and a stall dedicated solely to endives to lead me to an endive ephiphany. What is that I C?

The Bizarre Life of an Endive

I recognized the finished product easily enough, as it sat on the scale waiting to be weighed and bagged, looking like plump little rolled white cigars.

But what was that off to the side in the big red tub? It was something completely alien. The endive “bud,” perched on its root throne, looked so bizarre that I had to ask the friendly endive seller if this was normal . . . or some sort of weird mutant.

Tub of endive attached to its root, creating an "Oh, I see" moment about how the vegetable grows

Endive attached to its root
© Meredith Mullins

He looked at me as if were some sort of weird mutant—as if the crusty root stalk and the scraggly feeder tendrils, with a proud crown of cream-colored tightly packed leaves was something every schoolchild would recognize.

Endive is in the same botanical family as chicory and is sometimes called witloof (white leaf). After the initial plant is grown in an open field, the roots are “harvested.” They are taken to storage, somewhere completely dark, to allow the endive bud to sprout in second growth. The dark room keeps the leaves from turning green.

Endive attached to its long root, providing an "Oh, I see" moment on its growth process

An “alien” endive?
© Meredith Mullins

A History as Long as Its Root

The edible endive was born by accident. The story goes like this:

  • A Belgian farmer was storing chicory roots in his cellar so that he could dry and roast them for coffee.
  • He was called to war and, when he returned, he found that the roots had sprouted small, white leaves.
  • Curious . . . he ate one. It was tender and crunchy.

Immediately, visions of endive salad (with tangerines and caramelized walnuts) and baked endive with ham danced in his head. OK, probably not. He was probably just craving coffee.

But, eventually, the taste of the slightly bitter endive leaf caught on and the rest is culinary history.

My Endive Epiphany

I left the market in Normandy with a memorable Oh, I see moment: I will never take another vegetable for granted. When I really stop to think, the preparation of any vegetable takes a lot of time and care. The flavor should be savored.

And when I pay 50 cents for a tasty, crunchy endive, I’ll think to myself—a two-part growing cycle that took 150 days— “50 cents is a real bargain!”

Comment on this post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here.

Creative Ideas in a Cornfield

by Janine Boylan on October 29, 2012

corn maze, showing creative ideas in a cornfield

Corn maze in Lodi, Wisconsin, designed as a modernized Vitruvian Man
© Treinen Farm

Get Lost in  a Wisconsin Corn Maze

Angie and Alan Treinen’s corn maze in Lodi, Wisconsin, is, well, aMAZing. I had to find out how they make a field of stalks into the perfect canvas for their creative ideas.

The Kernel of the Corn Maze Idea

About twelve years ago, the Treinens wanted to expand their third-generation farming business. Families already came to their 200-acre property in the fall for hay rides and a pumpkin patch, but the Treinens considered adding a corn maze to draw more teens and young adults.

They visited other corn mazes and attended the corn maze convention (yes, there is a convention for corn mazes, and all corn maze creators know one another!). Then they decided to make their own maze.

With their decision in place, Angie was determined to make their maze a destination in Wisconsin. At first, the family worked with a designer to plot out their ideas, but they quickly learned that Angie had the talent to make the design herself. So she turned away from her veterinary practice to devote her time to the maze.

Designing a Corn Maze

Every May since then, when Alan plants the seeds, Angie sits down and works through design ideas. In past years, she found inspiration in stained glass—the lead between the colored glass is a little like the paths in a corn maze. That yielded corn mazes with mermaids and Tiffany-style dragonflies.

Angie talks about  the pattern:

“It really needs to be a striking and beautiful maze.”

“It needs to be instantly recognizable.”

“You can’t have any dead ends. People get really angry and frustrated.”

The trails are usually about five feet wide; the main design has ten-foot wide trails. The Treinens have also learned to keep ten feet or more between trails so that visitors can’t see from one path through the corn to the next—otherwise, people tend to crash through the corn rather than follow the trail.

For this year’s design, Angie chose da Vinci’s Vitruvian man as inspiration simply because she finds it interesting. She modernized the figure in several ways:

  • She added a ray gun in one hand and a mechanical wing.
  • She surrounded him by a hypercube.
  • She included gears (a nod to steampunk) and a knotted carbon nanotube.

Angie and Alan worked through the details of the design together, as they always do. Nevertheless, his first reaction to the pattern was, “Are you kidding me? You’re going to make me cut this?”

Planting and Cutting the Corn to Match the Design

After the maze is designed, Angie prints it out on a grid. The corn is planted in a similar, much larger grid with very distinct rows. Alan starts cutting after the seedlings are fully emerged but before the stalks are about knee high—high enough to see where the plants are, but not so high that he would get lost in his own maze.

Alan marks the field with stakes. He flags and counts the rows to transfer Angie’s design to the field (each grid on the plan is fifteen rows in the field). Then he works with a crew to cut the field accurate to within a few inches of the design. This process takes three to four days.

The Treinen maze is unusually intricate and precise because Alan cuts it by hand. Angie says one year, when the field was over-planted and the seedlings were too thick to see the rows, they tried using GPS tracking to cut the design into the field.

That year’s design was a gecko with a mathematically-precise curved tail. But the GPS wasn’t accurate enough, so the tail came out as a series of straight lines! Alan has cut the field by hand ever since.

Capturing the Creativity in a Photo

Another unique thing about the Treinen’s maze is, quite frankly, the photo. Every year, Alan goes up in a plane early in the morning or late in the day to capture the perfect image. Sometimes it takes more than one trip.

Often farmers don’t go to this extreme to photo their mazes—they simply photoshop the design on an aerial photograph of their field. The Treinen images are real.

So, What’s It Like to Go Through the Treinen Maze?

Cell service isn’t reliable in their field so, while other corn mazes use QR codes or texting to provide clues along the pathways, the Treinens take a more traditional approach. When visitors arrive, they receive a map that shows the entrances and about 1/8 of the field. If they can stay focused and follow the map precisely, they will get to the first mailbox and get a map to the next mailbox.

On the first day that their first maze was open, Angie visited the maze and learned that there was a very distinct trail of footprints from one mailbox to the next. She didn’t want the path to be so obvious.

To encourage people to explore different paths, she added ten secret locations within the maze where visitors can collect paper punches. The more punches they collect, the bigger prize they can receive when they emerge. One prize is a compass, which Angie laughingly admits, is a bit after the fact.

Oh, I see so many creative ideas in this cornfield. I can’t wait to get to Lodi, Wisconsin, and get lost in the creativity!

For more about the Treinen maze, visit Angie’s blog.

Comment on this post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here.

How a Paris Mime Made Me See Things Differently

by Meredith Mullins on October 18, 2012

eyes of Paris mime seeing things  differently

Eyes of a Paris mime
© Meredith Mullins

Street Sweeper or Zen Master?

Street Sweeper. Silent Statue. Performance Artist. Zen Master. The character poised on the Pont St Louis (a “bridge with a view” across the Seine in Paris) could be any or all of these. He stands suspended in mid-sweep, as the flowing crowd passes around him.

Some bridgegoers glance at the silver sweeper and smile at the surprising oddity of it all. Some stop for a moment and stare, waiting for a sign that he is real, a twitch of his little finger or a silver blink. Yet, he remains frozen in time.

Paris Mime as Silent Statue

Every day, Robert Gheorghe comes to work. He’s a normal guy. A Romanian in Paris, trying to make a living, just like most people. For his job, though, he stops in the park behind Notre Dame, changes to his “work” clothes, covers himself in silver paint, and strikes a pose on the bridge. He doesn’t move. In fact, he can stand perfectly still for 40 minutes.

Paris mime sweeping street, causing the writer to see things differently

Paris mime in street-sweeping position
© Meredith Mullins

There are certain skills required for the art of being still.

  • Stage actors use shallow breathing and meditation techniques.
  • Buddhists use mantras and focused concentration on the now, finding peace beneath the clutter.
  • Martial arts practitioners use kamae (postures) to control their entire body (including mental “posture”) where countervailing forces help the body to stay still.

 

Things to Do While Frozen

Robert uses his own form of kamae.

  • He thinks of gentle lapping water or cello music . . . or he passes the time by watching people’s shoes (all so different!) in his limited range of vision.
  • He also creates featurette films on the gray pavement within his gaze.
  • He replays memorable conversations, practices one of his five languages in his head, dreams of traveling to other countries, or imagines himself with his older brother’s job (at the other end of the bridge) blowing giant bubbles and entertaining children.

He longs for a time when he is not in a frozen state. “A statue can’t communicate,” he says. “I want to get to know the people passing by, but I must remain still . . . and silent.”

Oh, I See—Things Are More Than What They Seem

Diving into deeper layers and going beyond an immediate response can almost always give you an Oh, I see moment. I had one the day I looked at Robert and realized  that things are more than what they seem.

Head of Paris mime who made the writer see things differently

Head of a Paris mime
© Meredith Mullins

As I walked across the bridge most days, I saw Robert as a curious “statue” with an amazing command of inner and outer silence.

But, one day, after talking with this silver sweeper, I learned that he sees himself differently, and I began to see him differently, too.

He may be the only thing on the bridge that doesn’t move, but he is not a statue . . . and he really doesn’t want to be silent.

He wants to get to know the people who are wondering about him . . .  and marveling at his performance. He wants to see beyond the shoes.

Comment on this post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here.

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