Yank's Free Range Turkey Trot Warming House and Bondage Barn

[twister947]

I just got rid of my George Foreman. Ever since The Office episode with Michael’s foot...

I showed George to the door when I weighed frequency of use against the amount of space it was taking up.

 

[Acktion]

...but have you had a NY bagel?

*runs*

Actually, I have. They brought me one back after a trip to visit their folks. (I think to get even with me for proving them wrong about steak and pizza.)

And was positively ruined for any bagel available here for a long time.

Until a friend (before she disappeared) found a couple of Jewish New Yorkers, brothers I think although they could have been life partners for all I know, that had made their way here for reasons that defy my understanding and opened their own bagel shop.

And even those just didn't quite work as well as the one that had made the trip without their own secret recipe garlic schmear.

 

[Acktion]

The only reason I mentioned their being Jewish at all was that I eventually decided in my quest to emulate their garlic and herb schmear recipe had to have been that they were using kosher versions of the same ingredients.

I don't know that for a fact, of course. Fargin sneaky bastiche would just wink at me and smile each trip when I, inevitably, brought it up. And bought a dozen more bagels and four more tubs of schmear. Two to use on the bagels and two to experiment with.

Haven't had 'em in... at least a year, more probably two. And now I'm wondering if they are still around. But, can't remember the name. Or where it was.

 

[midwestyankee]

...but have you had a NY bagel?

*runs*

A Texan and a New Yorker jousting over food. I'll be over here in the corner with a glass of Scotch and a permanent grin.

 

[ultramarineblue]

That's a shame. Benadryl makes me feel like shit the next morning so I'm glad you get some good from it.

I don't like taking Benadryl but taking it is better than itching like crazy. Time for a drink and to feed my sourdough starter.

 

[midwestyankee]

I don't like taking Benadryl but taking it is better than itching like crazy. Time for a drink and to feed my sourdough starter.

From what I see here, you'd better feed it a steak. Or at least a decent bagel.

 

[Acktion]

Whatever you do, don't feed it a Benedryl. It won't rise for days.

 

[midwestyankee]

Chances are, the place(s) that you call home (I consider two places home, hence my nom de perv), produces a few locally favored foods. You know the kind: you're going to Boston so you absolutely have to try the fried clams or the baked beans, or the foldable pizza in New York, or the barbecue in Memphis.

So...from the place(s) you call home, what do you think is the best local favorite food? I'll hold off on mine for a bit but I will definitely be weighing in (quite literally).

 

[phil1955]

Raised in RI so clam chowder with clam cakes is always on my must eat list when going back home.

 

[Acktion]

Well... I've pretty well hung my ass out for a paddlin' here there and everywhere on this subject. However... I am something of a galloping galumphed gourmand. And, frankly, a lot of the places I've mentioned, I don't even know if they are still around since they were favorites over a decade ago.

For the last decade, I've been pretty well housebound and mostly living off cans of processed food stuffs, typically since Love's death just right out of the can and without even heating it up.

However...

However, the tastebuds are still in working order. And I will occasionally be brought out of exile to experience real food once more.

And without a doubt, my current favorite is "Stormin' Norman's Smoked Sandwiches" Frito Pie.

All right, so for those that are not from the South and particularly Texas where high school football is king, there is a long-standing ubiquitous food roughly similar in standing to baseball's hot dog. Typically, the way it made at those fall high school game concession stands is they will tear open a bag of Fritos corn chips sideways, ladle in some cheap assed chili facsimile, stick a plastic fork in it, and call "next!"

This is NOT what Willard "Stormin' Norman" serves from his food truck. Not by a long shot.

Oh, he starts off with a bag of Frito Corn chips, right enough. But, a full-sized bag. Not those piddly little "snack-size" you get at high school concession stands.

And the thing is, here in Texas, we can make chili, y'all. And being something of a galloping galumphed gourmand, I have put my own personal black bean chili up against many in competitions over the years. And I've had probably more than my fair share of Frito Pies where the chef ladled over their own brand of chili and found it from palatable to damn good eatin'.

However, Willard doesn't make chili. No, sir. He makes a damn fine barbecue in a custom self-built smoker that started life as a fifty-five-gallon drum. And, being as Willard is my next-door neighbor, I can tell you that I have watched my late wife (before her death) float like a cartoon character following her nose on the days when he would fire up the pit from the wonderful aromas.

So, in lieu of chili, he spoons on the most delicious, mouth-watering barbecue you've ever encountered. And keeps spooning it on. And keeps spooning it on. Three different kinds. Pork, chicken, and beef.

Now, this is where any sane and rational person typically stops. Not Willard. Nope. He then proceeds to pile on peppers, onion,... Well, I'm not going to give his secrets away. You'll just have to find him and try it for yourself to see the... salad he piles on top of it.

Oh, it is good. Very, very good.

I don't often get it because Willard has, for reasons that escape me, adopted me and won't let me pay for anything. But, oh, when I do...

Right about here, the particularly astute would say, "but, you've been virtually housebound and eating canned shit for the last decade. It doesn't have to be that good to be better than your jar of queso and saltines."

Ah... but let me mention that my gal is from Dallas (now and originally Chicago) where there are a whole lot of available culinary options. And thoroughly enjoys exploring those culinary options. And during her visits, we have explored the culinary options available here with her support in venturing outside the mile neighborhood where I live. (Not to mention being a fine cook in her own right that stocks my fridge every trip with her own efforts.)

In her words, "I will never be able to understand Anorexia. I understand it's a real thing for some people. But, I just enjoy food too damn much!"

However, I never could seem to catch Willard to allow her to sample the ambrosia from his truck.

Until this last trip.

I got the Frito Pie, naturally. 'Cause once you've found the best, why would you settle for less?

She decided the second-best Stuffed and Piled Baked Potato, 'cause "taters."

Now, here's the thing friends. Once upon a time, I was disqualified from having my name on the board at "The Big Texan" because I jokingly leaned over and asked our, foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier, tackle (who went on to play for the Eagles after OU), "are you gonna eat that?" as I swiped something off his plate. But, that was several decades ago when I was still burning reactor mass almost as fast as I could shovel it in. I don't eat like that anymore. I can't. One of Willard's Frito Pies will typically feed me for a day and a half. Up to three when I'm off my feed.

I don't remember exactly what went on as we settled back in bed with our plunder, but I know I could not have had my back to her all THAT long.

But, somehow "I'm going to try a bite" turned into a third of my Frito Pie disappearing by the time I turned back around, looking for it!

I got even by swiping a bite of her "is there a potato under there?" And, okay, it was good. But, my Frito Pie, damn it!

To add insult to injury, that was during her last full twenty-four hours of her last visit. And somehow, I didn't notice that she had swiped the leftovers and put them in her cooler until she was about halfway home.

Ah, well. I would just make do with potato.

Only, she'd taken that too!

***sigh***

A few days later, I got my sweet revenge as Willard (laughing his ass off over the story) brought me another Frito Pie. And I ate it as she was forced to watch live in video chat! Ha!

My sweet little spice mentioned that she is coming for another visit soon. And, me being me, I asked if she was coming to see me or Willard.

Smiling sweetly, she asked, "can't it be both?"

Well, I've probably blathered on enough. So, ladies and gentlemen, with no further ado, I present to you, Stormin' Norman's Smoke Sandwiches Frito Pie.

 

[midwestyankee]

Well... I've pretty well hung my ass out for a paddlin' here there and everywhere on this subject. However... I am something of a galloping galumphed gourmand. And, frankly, a lot of the places I've mentioned, I don't even know if they are still around since they were favorites over a decade ago.

[snip]


Well, I've probably blathered on enough. So, ladies and gentlemen, with no further ado, I present to you, Stormin' Norman's Smoke Sandwiches Frito Pie.

You, sir, should get out more often and look for a way to write publicly about food and people. Your posts remind me of Calvin Trillin if he had been born and stayed a few hundred miles south and west of his native Kansas City.

 

[midwestyankee]

Oysters on the half shell. Hands down, the best I’ve ever had. Sweet.

Best apple cider.


Pizza.
Bagels.
There are particular places, but I’m not gonna list them due to privacy. Mine.

Oh, yes. People don't automatically associate seafood with your neck of the great megalopolis, but they should. Best soft-shelled crab I have ever had was from a olace that's likely just down the road a ways for you.

 

[midwestyankee]

Raised in RI so clam chowder with clam cakes is always on my must eat list when going back home.

When every part of the state is no more than an hour's drive to the coast, you've got to go with the clams.

 

[gracie920101]

Where I was born and the place I adopted as home are pretty similar.

Barbeque beef, pork,ribs, sausage tops the list.

Dr. Pepper or sweet icetea

Chicken fried steak with mashed taters and creamed corn and of course it's topped with gravy. White gravy only! Don't let anyone try to give you that yellow muck that some try to pass off as gravy.

Corn bread and beans preferably with some good homemade chowchow.

Biscuits and gravy. No self-respecting Okie girl leaves home without knowing how to make decent gravy. Or biscuits for that matter.

Pecan pie

Sand Plum jelly

And you had best know how to grow your own watermelon, corn, okra and tomatoes

 

[gracie920101]

That frito pie looks so good. I’ve never had it.

That one is pretty well over the top.

Easy to make.

In shallow bowl or deep plate place a mound of Fritos. Do NOT substitute. It's not the same!
Cover Fritos with the chili of your choice.
Top the chili with shredded cheddar cheese and onions.
Enjoy!

This is a simple, hot dish made for warming you up at coldass high school football games long before anyone knew anything about jalapenos or sour cream.

You're welcome.

 

[twister947]

Gracie speaks for me, with a couple of footnotes:
A) Gravy from cafes and restaurants is a wretched abomination that starts out life as a mix. Proper gravy requires skillet drippings. This can only happen in a home kitchen with a black iron skillet and fat.
B) Chicken fried steak is dredged in seasoned flour, NOT dipped in batter. Then fried in oil. Gravy follows. See A) above.

Oh. And pico de gallo is a fine garnish for brown beans.

Fried catfish deserves it's own chapter.

 

[gracie920101]

Gracie speaks for me, with a couple of footnotes:

Fried catfish deserves it's own chapter.

Sorry, my family fished and ate so much catfish when I was a kid that I just can't face any fish now except shellfish. So catfish isn't in my recipe repertoire.

*I make damned fine gravy without cast iron. Sacrilege, I know but I just can't lift them anymore. I've switched to ceramic coating and they seem to work okay.

 

[ultramarineblue]

I'm from the land of catfish, hush puppies, biscuits and gravy, grits, cornbread and turnip greens with pepper sauce, hot tamales (spicy yummy goodness), boiled peanuts, flavorful tomatoes grown in your garden (or friend's garden), crawfish, fried deer tenderloin, sweet potatoes, fried okra, squash and onions, and all kinds of other good stuff.

 

[cookiecat]

I'm from the land of catfish, hush puppies, biscuits and gravy, grits, cornbread and turnip greens with pepper sauce, hot tamales (spicy yummy goodness), boiled peanuts, flavorful tomatoes grown in your garden (or friend's garden), crawfish, fried deer tenderloin, sweet potatoes, fried okra, squash and onions, and all kinds of other good stuff.

So was my husband. Unfortunately, I'm from the land of meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Wild rice hotdish is good! Fortunately, he was a great cook! I was introduced to a lot of interesting, tasty down south food.

 

[twister947]

A footnote:
I have a friend from Baldwin county, Alabama, who swears Interstate 40 is the sweet tea and grits line. I haven't had cause to doubt him yet.

 

[cookiecat]

A footnote:
I have a friend from Baldwin county, Alabama, who swears Interstate 40 is the sweet tea and grits line. I haven't had cause to doubt him yet.

I had the best ribs in Alabama at some divey joint.

Grits! We were eating someplace down south. Hubs got grits and mixed 'em up in runny soft boiled eggs. It was an unsightly combination.

 

[Acktion]

You, sir, should get out more often and look for a way to write publicly about food and people. Your posts remind me of Calvin Trillin if he had been born and stayed a few hundred miles south and west of his native Kansas City.

La, sir. Talk like that will have me blushing behind my fan.

Or at least holding my hat on my chest and scuffing my boot in the dirt.

**sigh** Sadly, you have hit on one of my fondest erstwhile ambitions.

I'd had a dream of being a professional (read "paid") writer from the time I published my first poem before I graduated high school. But, being the proverbial "jack of all trades yet master of none" I was too busy with everything else I was doing to get much actual writing done. Until I took retirement from the detention units and sat my ass down to focus on that ambition.

If the metric you use is actual writing done, then I was a tremendous success as I churned out a self-help book, five novels, twenty-two short stories, and one hundred and forty-four poems that were then gathered in their own chapbook with my own hand-drawn illustrations in just a few short months.

If, on the other hand, your metric is the amount of work actually sold, it was an abyssmal failure as I only managed to place five more poems for the payment of a free copy of the issue they appeared in. Not that I didn't try my ass off. I collected over two hundred rejection slips for one novel alone. Two virtually identical ones rubber-stamped with the signatures of Jim Baen and Tom Doherty.

When the retirement monies ran out and the wife's paycheck wasn't gonna be enough, I threw everything in the bathtub one night (along with my waist-length ponytail) and tossed in a match. And never looked back. Well, until a decade later when, disabled and virtually housebound, I washed up on Lit and decided I'd burned better manuscripts than I was finding on the stories side.

Wrote a little something in a carbidopa/levodopa, ropinirole, Lyrica, and I-don't-remember-what-all-else induced haze. And got it sent back in my face by Laurel like I'd written about her mother.

***shrug*** I like to think I've gotten a little better. At least Laurel decided to give me a shot after a few more rejections. And I've managed to swipe a couple of cash prizes in contests.

But, sadly, the second chance at a fond ambition came too late. I haven't been able to finish anything other than my long-winded forum posts and blogs (on another site) in... oh, a couple of years now. I have ideas and get started, but then a combination of physical and mental issues will combine to knock me off it. Hell, even some of my posts here, I'll pause to light a smoke and suddenly wonder what the hell I was talking about.

My gal, who knows me really too damn well by half, saw my posts yesterday and got scared because she knows that when I write that much, it's typically because I'm fighting to hang on to what mental faculties I yet possess and trying to self-stimulate to avoid losing any more ground for just a little longer.

The reason I tend to stick to my neighborhood, even getting my "groceries" from the food aisles of a dollar store is only partially due to lack of transportation. Not too long ago, I hiked down to that little store where I'd been shopping for years and got off in the dry good aisles for something... and blanked out and had no idea where I was. Could not remember.

Fortunately, the manager who is a very kind lady (and more importantly I recognized) spotted me and asked if I was okay. And I was once I'd trailed after her into the familiar territory.

So, no. I'm afraid it falls under the heading of "A Bad Idea" for me to get all over adventuresome as I once did without a second thought, scootin' my boots from Arizona all the way across to Georgia and Florida and as far up as Kansas and Colorado. (I don't count Michigan since I was only three.) Not without my gal there to keep me centered and focused, or to see me safely home if it turns out to be one of my (more frequent) "Bad Days."

***shrug*** It is what it is. And while I am still fighting my ass off, "surrender" not being in my repertoire, I tend to try to keep it as safe as I can for mine and the least bother for others we might encounter.

But, thank you. I can honestly think of no more desired praise than the accolade bestowed in your comment.

 

[gracie920101]

A footnote:
I have a friend from Baldwin county, Alabama, who swears Interstate 40 is the sweet tea and grits line. I haven't had cause to doubt him yet.

I was born on that line and I spent my youth a few hundred miles north of there but I would tend to agree with that oath.

 

[Acktion]

Wait, wait, wait.

Did you say, "Dr. Pepper?"

Would that be a real Dr. Pepper, from Dublin, TX made with cane sugar rather than high-fructose corn syrup?

Never mind. I'll just stick to the sweet tea. But, make mine an Arnold Palmer.

 

[gracie920101]

Wait, wait, wait.

Did you say, "Dr. Pepper?"

Would that be a real Dr. Pepper, from Dublin, TX made with cane sugar rather than high-fructose corn syrup?

Never mind. I'll just stick to the sweet tea. But, make mine an Arnold Palmer.

Psssst....I have 2 bottles of Dublin DP left in my pantry I've been saving for a special occasion since we moved. They were wrapped and padded like fine china and made it just fine.