Found in the Street

 

   Teresa and I were recently in the city of Richmond Virginia on a tour of Civil War sights, of which there are many in the former capital of the Confederacy. The White House of the Confederacy is there, where Jefferson Davis and his family lived during the war. It fell into ruin after the war but was saved from demolition by the Confederate Literary Society. The haunted looking building now stands in the shadow of a medical center.

   Down on the banks of the James River sits the Tredegar Iron Works, which produced most the armaments for the Confederate Army. The huge brick factory is now the home of the American Civil War Museum. The museum was giving out a pamphlet about Civil War Monuments that have recently been removed from Monument Row in Richmond. The pamphlet contained excepts from articles about the monuments written over the decades. At first everyone (except black writers) praised the monuments. But in more recent years most people agreed the monuments needed to be removed from public property.

   We were only in town for a couple of days but our overall impression of the place was favorable. We stayed in the hilly downtown area where some of the streets are paved with cobblestones. The food was good and inexpensive. On Sunday morning we drove over to Carytown, the bohemian district of boutiques and cafes. After breakfast we wandered around the streets. Teresa spotted a pile of free stuff in front of an apartment building. 

   "Look!" Teresa said. We had flown on this trip so I didn't bother looking at the stuff. Teresa was pointing at an oblong terracotta pot. "It's probably cracked," I said sourly. But neither the bottom nor the cover was cracked. The highly decorated pot had obviously been much used for baking. I tried not to fall in love. We had travelled with one small suitcase which had gone in the overhead bin. "I can pack it in the suitcase if you want it," Teresa said.

   I wanted it very much. For the past several years I've been making overnight no-knead bread in a cast iron Dutch oven. I'd love to have a clay baking dish in my arsenal. Teresa did indeed manage to get the pot in our suitcase. The suitcase had been heavy on the trip out. Now getting it into the overhead bin required both of us.

   The pot arrived home safely. There were bread riots in Richmond towards the end of the Civil War when rations were running low. In commemoration of those days, I started a loaf of no-knead bread and baked it next day in our new pot. It didn't taste any better than bread baked in the Dutch oven, but the oblong loaf was an easier shape to cut. While the cast iron kettle could be dropped with impunity, I'll have to be careful with the newcomer.

     I want to thank our friends Jim and Ginny Graham for ferrying us around Richmond and taking us places where treasures can be found. 

"There's treasure everywhere." --Calvin and Hobbes