When it comes to handyman stuff, mark me down as poor to medium. Maybe about the fortieth percentile. I mean, I can rewire a lamp, do simple carpentry – as long as it doesn’t involve power tools, blow leaves and paint anything I can reach. I used to be able to clean gutters, but old age has cost me the steadiness I used to have with ladders.
Anything harder than that and I call my brother-in-law Greg. (unless my son-in-law Doug is around, which he usually isn’t because he lives two states away. Doug can fix anything. When Amy was growing up, I used to wish she’d marry a doctor or a lawyer, Nah, I get a lot more pro bono work out of Doug than I would any of those guys.)
Greg’s as good as Doug, but he’s more expensive. He lives just two mailboxes away here at Union Grove Farm, so he’s technically available pretty much whenever he’s not away on business, which he is a lot, but even so…
And since he’s the owner of Union Grove Farm, he’s technically my landlord. We’ve never formally worked out who’s responsible for what here at the Little House by the Vineyard, where I live, but it usually works out to whatever I can do, I do, and if I can’t do it, I call him.
So, a couple of weeks ago, I called and told him the exhaust fan in the guest bathroom wasn’t working; he said he’d come over and take a look at it. And he did, with only a couple more reminders, which is relatively quicker than usual. When he got here, he pronounced that the switch was bad and sent me off to Home Depot to buy a new one. Which formalized the deal: on this project, I pay for the parts, he supplies the labor. A reasonable deal, given the steep family discount I get on the rent.
So Greg put the new switch in, and wouldn’t you know it, the fan still didn’t go whirr, whirr like it’s supposed to. “Your fan’s bad,” he said, in the exact tone he’d used an hour before referring to the switch. Even to a fortieth percentile handyman, that was a pretty Captain Obvious comment.
You need to understand that Greg Bohlen is the busiest man I know. How many guys do you know who run a thousand acre farm and the most successful venture capital firm in the country and still find time to swap out their whiny brother-in-law’s bathroom fan.
None? Right, I thought so.
So I knew I’d had all Greg’s time I could reasonably expect for one day, So I didn’t rush off to Home Depot for the fan. I did go get it the next day, but I knew I was on thin ice trying to get a second trip on one measly project. It was Saturday, and I figured my best bet was to wait for the regular Union Grove Farm Leadership Team Meeting on Monday afternoon. Greg likes me to attend these meetings, to provide some comic relief and – very occasionally -- have something pertinent to say. I’d wait until the meeting was breaking up and offhandedly mention it to Greg as he was leaving.
But wouldn’t you know it, the meeting was cancelled at the last minute because something urgent came up in one of the several non-farm worlds in which he lives.
So I needed a new plan. The next morning, I was scrouging around looking for something for breakfast and I wished I had some pimento cheese, which is great for breakfast and any other time of day. Bong, bong, bong – bells went off in my brain. Greg loves my homemade pimento cheese, like everyone else who’s ever tried it. It is an old Bohlen family recipe, meaning that Greg grew up eating it. At some point in the intervening years, my late wife Susan, also, of course, Greg’s sister, started making it, and even included it in her book, “How the Rich Ought to Eat – Recipes and Remembrances,” which regrettably was never published.. After she died, I found the recipe, made a batch and discovered even I couldn’t screw it up.
So I fixed some up and sent Greg a text. “I’ve got pimento cheese for whoever comes by and installs my bathroom fan,” it read. I got a chuckly response that he’d “try and get by tomorrow.” Then we lost a day because it snowed. Then he came but got interrupted by a fire call. (Yes, in spite of everything else, Greg is also an active member of Orange Grove Station 2 Volunteer Fire Department, and responds to any call that comes in while he’s in town.).
But these were minor inconveniences, and I’m happy to report the fan is now whir-whirring away like a champ.
So, you see, I DO know how to fix a bathroom fan. You fix a batch of pimento cheese.
Pimento Cheese from “How the Rich Ought to Eat” by Susan Bryant
2 Eggs
3 Tbsp Sugar
7 Tbsp Vinegar*
3 Tbsp Flour
1 Tsp Salt
1 Cup cream or canned milk
Combine all ingredients in a saucepan. Cook on low heat until thickened. Mix ½ pound Velveeta cheese which has been grated, chopped or generally cut into smaller pieces than one big hunk of cheese. Stir until the cheese is melted. Remove from heat, add a small can Chopped Pimentos. Chill and spread away. Note:If you’re not too poor, add ¾ pound cheese and 1 large can chopped pimentos. It tastes better (also richer) to me in my old age.
Written by Susan Bryant circa 1990. All bold emphasis by Jay Bryant, circa the other day..
*ed. note: this is the secret ingredient. Don’t skimp on it.
Right now, it’s too cold for me to suggest a tour of Union Grove Farm in good conscience. Which makes it the perfect time to plan your springtime tour. By then, our hundreds of Katahdin sheep, including dozens of new lambs, our tens of thousands of red wiggler worms and all the other critters on the farm, will be decked out in their Spring finery and we will be hard at work planting a new generation of our fabulous seedless, thin-skinned Muscadine grapevines. You won’t want to miss all the excitement.
For more information, click here.
