Tag Archives: Pennsylvania

by

a creative writing experiment

I have posted fiction on my blog before, but it’s always been previously-composed pieces that I’ve had the chance to revise.  Today, I’m going to try something different: Right here, in the next half-hour, I’m going to write a section of my in-progress zombie apocalypse story.  It could be horrible.  Let’s see what happens.

Around midnight, they were driving through a string of townships north of Pittsburgh.  Butler and Cranberry passed by quietly, with only an occasional glimpse of a roaming figure in the dim space just outside the light of the high beams.  In Evans City, Adrian felt compelled to say out loud that this was where they had filmed Night of the Living Dead, even though he knew that Sam knew.  He laughed hysterically–like a person literally in hysterics–at the irony.

They had gotten out of Sam’s apartment without encountering anyone, living or dead.  Everyone had been at the riot at Sheetz.  “Want to go get an MTO?” Sam had joked.

“We have a cooler full of food; I’m not risking my life for a hot dog,” Adrian had scowled, too intent on his task to get the joke, as he brushed past Sam and started to run down the emergency exit stairs.  “I guess it’s a good thing you just went grocery shopping,” he hollered from two flights down.

They had taken Adrian’s car because it was less junky than Sam’s and because Adrian liked to feel like he was doing something productive.  They had decided to go north because the first exit they had come to was a road going north.

After a while, they came to a Family Dollar, one of those Family Dollars that seems like it has been dropped from the sky onto an otherwise godforsaken stretch of roadside.  It was glowing eerily in the darkness.  “There might be supplies in there,” said Adrian as he pulled off the road.

“There will definitely be zombies in there,” said Sam.  “We should take weapons.”

They looked at each other.  Neither Sam nor Adrian had ever fired a gun outside of a video game.  Then Sam thought of something.  “I have a little knife that I use to sharpen charcoals and pastels.”

 

All right, that’s it for now.  Not a whole lot happened, but I think there were a couple of good moments in there.  Stay tuned for more.

 

by

Gobs of fun in the kitchen

Tonight I thought I’d be all domestic and try out a new recipe.  Well, that’s not exactly true.  Here’s how it actually went down: On Monday, my co-worker who directs the Foreign Language Lab was going around asking people from Canada, Korea, etc., to contribute desserts to tomorrow’s International Candy and Dessert Tasting.  When she approached my office, I quickly attempted to ward off the question by saying, “I’m an American!  You don’t want my food!”  But apparently the United States is a nation, which means it’s included in “international,” so my excuse didn’t work–which was fine, since I do like to bake.  In keeping with the educative nature of the event, I decided to contribute a regional favorite from Pennsylvania.  I had always thought it was a specifically western PA specialty until I learned in my research that it’s also popular among the Amish.  It also exists in New England, but under a different name–read on.

I’m speaking of the gob.  The term gob, like hoagie (i.e., a sub) and steamer (i.e., a sloppy joe), is a word designed by Pennsylvanians to confuse other English speakers.  Most people, if they are aware of this delicacy at all (and I’m finding that a lot of people aren’t) call it a whoopie pie.  Regardless of what you call it, it consists of two large, soft chocolate cookies (really more like cake rounds) with marshmallow creme or another white icing-like substance between them.  Invariably, they are served in plastic wrap (because they tend to stick together), which makes them great for bake sales.  The best thing about gobs from my standpoint as a dilettante baker is that they don’t have to look good; they just have to taste good.  Also, please note: If you’ve had a Moon Pie or one of those Korean Choco-Pies, you have not had a gob.  Similar concept, but the store-bought ones are pale imitations.

After a brief evaluation process, I decided on a recipe from this website, which not only details the history and geography of the gob (the site favors the term whoopie pie, unfortunately) but also provides several variations of the recipe.  I went with the Amish Whoopie Pie, figuring it would be the closest to the experience I wanted to capture.  If you don’t have an electric mixer, though, go with one of the other two recipes.  I don’t have one of those fancy stand mixers that’s pictured on the site, but my bright green Kitchen Aid hand mixer (a birthday gift from my parents, who are probably tired of buying me kitchen appliances) works just fine.  

That’s about all I can tell you right now because I haven’t assembled my gobs yet; I’m still waiting for the cookie part to cool.  Well, I can tell you that the batter tastes really good.  I’m a little nervous, but since odds are that most of the people at tomorrow’s event won’t know what a gob is supposed to look or taste like, there’s not much pressure, I guess.  I have some extended family members who would probably destroy me in a gob-baking contest, so perhaps next time I’m with them, I can watch them at work and try to learn their ways.  Meanwhile, give the recipe a shot and let me know what you think.  And if you’re in Lynchburg on Wednesday, November 14, stop by Liberty University’s Center for Writing and Languages and try one of mine!