Well, we're finally recovered (mostly) from our Labor Day bacchanal.
My brother managed to get the lawn mowed and the bunting up along the fence by the path to the front door but the rain threatened and although it never did pour like it has every other day for the last two weeks, we wimped out and ate indoors.
I barbecued way too many ribs on the assumption my brother's new girl friend would be joining us which she didn't because she had apparently already made a commitment to her own kids' picnic (which was just as well because we didn't have enough corn on the cob, otherwise) so he and I ended up with basically a rack and a half each and, although we had left overs of the chips and dip and beans and potato salad and Cole slaw, we killed those ribs. (I suspect there may have been some Valium in the sauce because my brother collapsed and slept for six straight hours right afterward.)
So now Summer is unofficially over and Rainy Season is almost over and mango season is definitely over although its going to be next mango season before we manage to eat up all this year's harvest. What's next? Oh, look!
Catalogs.
Showing posts with label BBQ. Show all posts
Showing posts with label BBQ. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
Friday, February 1, 2013
Cocktails on the Poop Deck* with the Admiral of the Ocean Seas
 |
| (Nina on the left, Pinta on the right) |
Our local public radio station, WGCU, is offering a special meet-and-greet the captain and crew drinks-and-dinner fundraising program aboard next week. Sure beats their recent one day/one hundred thousand dollar not quite successful "let-us-fundraise-today-so-we-can-shorten-the-fundraiser-week-later" event.
Nina was built using traditional methods and claims to be the most authentic Columbian ship replica ever. Not sure if Columbus ever enjoyed Texas barbecue, though.
*(I don't know where the cocktails will be served. I just like saying "poop deck.")
Saturday, September 1, 2012
And a Couple Pounds of Dry Ice Until Delivery
In a case of fortuitous timing, our 25+ year old upright freezer has decided to give up the ghost.
My brother likes to buy meat in bulk, ten pounds of this, five pounds of that, whenever a particular type or cut goes on sale (and sometimes I inadvertently "help" which is how we ended up with seven pounds of bacon last week). Everything not destined for immediate consumption ends up in the freezer. He also, for some reason, really likes frozen waffles, and I put the excess chopped mango in there, too.
Last week he noticed his ice cream turning to mush although everything else remained frozen solid. This week the mango started to soften up. Yesterday he called the repairman.
The repair guy was running late so my brother, before leaving for work, gave me his repair price limits beyond which we would junk the old unit but that proved unnecessary as, when the repairman showed up, he took just five minutes (mostly emptying the freezer and taking off a panel) before calling out, "Time to buy a new one!" Turns out the poor thing was chugging along on 10% of its required coolant. Refilling is not an option, not even a possibility, really.
(Everyone keeps calling the coolant freon but I think that's just a case of the word becoming generic, like Aspirin becoming aspirin. In this instance, however, our machine is old enough that the coolant probably was Freon.)
It is fortuitous timing because, this being Labor Day weekend, a number of appliance stores are advertising nice big sales and we can get a larger version of the same model, brand new, with warranty for $500.
Also, I found a nice big forgotten rack of ribs buried down in the back which I transferred to the refrigerator to thaw (further) for our holiday barbecue. So, now I just need to buy the sides and some condiments.
My brother likes to buy meat in bulk, ten pounds of this, five pounds of that, whenever a particular type or cut goes on sale (and sometimes I inadvertently "help" which is how we ended up with seven pounds of bacon last week). Everything not destined for immediate consumption ends up in the freezer. He also, for some reason, really likes frozen waffles, and I put the excess chopped mango in there, too.
Last week he noticed his ice cream turning to mush although everything else remained frozen solid. This week the mango started to soften up. Yesterday he called the repairman.
The repair guy was running late so my brother, before leaving for work, gave me his repair price limits beyond which we would junk the old unit but that proved unnecessary as, when the repairman showed up, he took just five minutes (mostly emptying the freezer and taking off a panel) before calling out, "Time to buy a new one!" Turns out the poor thing was chugging along on 10% of its required coolant. Refilling is not an option, not even a possibility, really.
(Everyone keeps calling the coolant freon but I think that's just a case of the word becoming generic, like Aspirin becoming aspirin. In this instance, however, our machine is old enough that the coolant probably was Freon.)
It is fortuitous timing because, this being Labor Day weekend, a number of appliance stores are advertising nice big sales and we can get a larger version of the same model, brand new, with warranty for $500.
Also, I found a nice big forgotten rack of ribs buried down in the back which I transferred to the refrigerator to thaw (further) for our holiday barbecue. So, now I just need to buy the sides and some condiments.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Out of Town Visitors
Yesterday, my brother decided to fix a picnic lunch/dinner. And so we had barbecued ribs, baked beans, cole slaw, potato salad (for Mom and me) and macaroni salad (for himself) and sat and watched the birds at their bath.
The cat, now she is being fed regularly, is content to confine her wanderings to the front of the house between the head of the driveway, where she is fed, and the cushioned lawn chair by the front door where she naps. The birds retain the backyard unmolested. In addition to the expected murder of crows and piteousness of doves there was a small band of blue jays (not unexpected but seldom seen in quantity) and a couple of mockingbirds. The crows were quite civilized but the doves, and especially the jays, kept splashing water everywhere necessitating a half-time refill of the bath.
What excited us, however, were two singleton visitors we have not seen before: a red-wing blackbird (smaller than the crows and blending in until it took flight and revealed its stripes) and a Baltimore oriole which perched in Neighbor Mike's orange tree. We're hoping they'll stay around for a while.
Winter in Florida.
The cat, now she is being fed regularly, is content to confine her wanderings to the front of the house between the head of the driveway, where she is fed, and the cushioned lawn chair by the front door where she naps. The birds retain the backyard unmolested. In addition to the expected murder of crows and piteousness of doves there was a small band of blue jays (not unexpected but seldom seen in quantity) and a couple of mockingbirds. The crows were quite civilized but the doves, and especially the jays, kept splashing water everywhere necessitating a half-time refill of the bath.
What excited us, however, were two singleton visitors we have not seen before: a red-wing blackbird (smaller than the crows and blending in until it took flight and revealed its stripes) and a Baltimore oriole which perched in Neighbor Mike's orange tree. We're hoping they'll stay around for a while.
Winter in Florida.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
The Curative Properties of Barbecued Ribs
Monday being Labor Day, we had a "picnic" of sorts. We ate it inside, at the dining room table, but we had corn on the cob, barbecued ribs, beans, etc. The ribs took about five hours to cook and were falling-off-the-bone tender. Mom had a great time. She remarked on the food throughout the entire meal and it was fun to see a 91 year old woman wrist deep in barbecue sauce. We were done about 4:30.
Whereupon Mom went to bed.
Actually it was about 5 when she turned in, without announcing the decision to us. She simply went to her room and didn't come back out. For twelve hours.
Now 5 o'clock is about four or five hours earlier than usual and when she does go to bed at nine or ten she's usually up again an hour or two later saying "Good morning!" and toddling all over the house until we chase her back only to repeat the drill every hour until 3 a.m. She'll then wake up anywhere between 7 a.m. and noon. So twelve hours straight was something to remark upon.
Part of the reason, I think, is that we had a doctor's appointment Tuesday. Mom always gets a little nervous about missing appointments and being presentable and so forth and is frequently less random the day before. Tuesday morning she was up early, dressed to go out, bright, alert, sense of humor working. It was a fun day in spite of the thundering cloudbursts and the doctor freezing two patches (one on her forehead) and biopsying two others (on her nose and neck).
Tuesday's dinner was pasta with sweet sausage and onions in a marinara sauce. Tuesday night was the typical yoyoing between bed and the living room all night long.
Last night I served the leftovers from the picnic. In spite of falling asleep in the middle of dinner with a rib bone clenched in her fist, Mom enjoyed it immensely, and said so. When she couldn't stay awake on the couch and I suggested she retire for the night, we had an extended conversation regarding how to stay in bed and what she should do if she felt like getting up. She agreed to give it her best shot and, in spite of turning in at 8:30, didn't come out once until 3 a.m. (When we chased her back in again.) She was up early this morning, fixed her own breakfast, was sitting up straight and communicating in full sentences.
I reckon thar's somethin' in them ribs a'right.
Whereupon Mom went to bed.
Actually it was about 5 when she turned in, without announcing the decision to us. She simply went to her room and didn't come back out. For twelve hours.
Now 5 o'clock is about four or five hours earlier than usual and when she does go to bed at nine or ten she's usually up again an hour or two later saying "Good morning!" and toddling all over the house until we chase her back only to repeat the drill every hour until 3 a.m. She'll then wake up anywhere between 7 a.m. and noon. So twelve hours straight was something to remark upon.
Part of the reason, I think, is that we had a doctor's appointment Tuesday. Mom always gets a little nervous about missing appointments and being presentable and so forth and is frequently less random the day before. Tuesday morning she was up early, dressed to go out, bright, alert, sense of humor working. It was a fun day in spite of the thundering cloudbursts and the doctor freezing two patches (one on her forehead) and biopsying two others (on her nose and neck).
Tuesday's dinner was pasta with sweet sausage and onions in a marinara sauce. Tuesday night was the typical yoyoing between bed and the living room all night long.
Last night I served the leftovers from the picnic. In spite of falling asleep in the middle of dinner with a rib bone clenched in her fist, Mom enjoyed it immensely, and said so. When she couldn't stay awake on the couch and I suggested she retire for the night, we had an extended conversation regarding how to stay in bed and what she should do if she felt like getting up. She agreed to give it her best shot and, in spite of turning in at 8:30, didn't come out once until 3 a.m. (When we chased her back in again.) She was up early this morning, fixed her own breakfast, was sitting up straight and communicating in full sentences.
I reckon thar's somethin' in them ribs a'right.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
From the Continental Divide...It's Downhill All the Way
O.K.
For the record: I made it. In the same number of pieces I started with.
Got a good start Wednesday morning, officially 7:30 am, in reality more like 8:45 after dropping off my key, topping off the tank and getting the car washed. (Hate starting a trip in a filthy vehicle.)
The windmills outside Spanish Fork were hypnotic to the point of almost ending the trip down an embankment right then and there. I don't think I saw more than half a dozen vehicles going my way from there to Price. Stopped for lunch in Moab and continued down into Navajo country. I was just wondering if I would get the chance to see Shiprock when this perfect nineteenth century sailing vessel appeared as a gray silhouette on the horizon. Stunning. Made it as far as Grants, NM before stopping.
Thursday was pure road from Grants, NM to Shawnee, OK. The two biggest sights were, again, windfarms. Somewhere in NM south of the highway there is a table mount covered with windmills, each as tall above the table as the table is above the valley floor. Felt like I was travelling through the 21st century or something. In Texas, there was another windfarm along the road about two miles long with dozens of towers. They dipped partially behind a rise for awhile so the towers weren't visible and the blades (combined with the motion of the car) looked like they were walking across the plain.
I spent half of Friday in Shawnee when my car suddenly became incontinent and sent coolant all over the gas station apron. Fortunately, it happened first thing in the morning so the engine didn't overheat. The gentleman who came out form town took a look and decided I didn't need a new radiator after all. After following him back to town, he replaced the thermostat and the fluids and I was back on track. I made it only to Forrest City, AR, 30 miles west of Memphis before quitting for the day. I did, however, have a nice lunch at Big Daddy's in (the aptly named) Ozark, AR. The main wall consists of the remnants of an Art Deco curved wood and stainless steel barber shop imported from Germany in the 1930s. They make a good BBQ beef sandwich with onion rings and Big Daddy's logo branded into the top of the bun. They gave me a Big Daddy pen as a souvenir. (They don't see a lot of people there on a dead small town main street in the middle of the afternoon.)
Saturday was a long stretch from Arkansas to Dothan, AL. The most memorable moments were the horrendous traffic through Birmingham (Birmhingham=worst traffic, Oklahoma City=worst roads, Florida=worst drivers) and the red beans and rice at the Smokehouse in I-have-no-idea-where, Alabama. My waitress, Ms Sunny Woods, originally from Nevada by way of UC Davis and then Florida where she met her now-ex husband who took her back here to Alabama to be near his family (business was slow and she talks fast), was honest enough to recommend against the barbecue ("You can get better almost anywhere around. We buy our sauce."). Spent the night in Dothan about 30 miles from the Florida border.
Sunday was almost entirely Florida. I got a late start and lost another hour crossing into the Eastern time zone. Florida drivers drive like the New Yorkers they used to be. In spite of their best efforts I arrived safe and no less sound than when I left about 7:30 Sunday evening. I cut in front of Ida which went into Mississippi and Alabama a day later.
Mom is well.
For the record: I made it. In the same number of pieces I started with.
Got a good start Wednesday morning, officially 7:30 am, in reality more like 8:45 after dropping off my key, topping off the tank and getting the car washed. (Hate starting a trip in a filthy vehicle.)
The windmills outside Spanish Fork were hypnotic to the point of almost ending the trip down an embankment right then and there. I don't think I saw more than half a dozen vehicles going my way from there to Price. Stopped for lunch in Moab and continued down into Navajo country. I was just wondering if I would get the chance to see Shiprock when this perfect nineteenth century sailing vessel appeared as a gray silhouette on the horizon. Stunning. Made it as far as Grants, NM before stopping.
Thursday was pure road from Grants, NM to Shawnee, OK. The two biggest sights were, again, windfarms. Somewhere in NM south of the highway there is a table mount covered with windmills, each as tall above the table as the table is above the valley floor. Felt like I was travelling through the 21st century or something. In Texas, there was another windfarm along the road about two miles long with dozens of towers. They dipped partially behind a rise for awhile so the towers weren't visible and the blades (combined with the motion of the car) looked like they were walking across the plain.
I spent half of Friday in Shawnee when my car suddenly became incontinent and sent coolant all over the gas station apron. Fortunately, it happened first thing in the morning so the engine didn't overheat. The gentleman who came out form town took a look and decided I didn't need a new radiator after all. After following him back to town, he replaced the thermostat and the fluids and I was back on track. I made it only to Forrest City, AR, 30 miles west of Memphis before quitting for the day. I did, however, have a nice lunch at Big Daddy's in (the aptly named) Ozark, AR. The main wall consists of the remnants of an Art Deco curved wood and stainless steel barber shop imported from Germany in the 1930s. They make a good BBQ beef sandwich with onion rings and Big Daddy's logo branded into the top of the bun. They gave me a Big Daddy pen as a souvenir. (They don't see a lot of people there on a dead small town main street in the middle of the afternoon.)
Saturday was a long stretch from Arkansas to Dothan, AL. The most memorable moments were the horrendous traffic through Birmingham (Birmhingham=worst traffic, Oklahoma City=worst roads, Florida=worst drivers) and the red beans and rice at the Smokehouse in I-have-no-idea-where, Alabama. My waitress, Ms Sunny Woods, originally from Nevada by way of UC Davis and then Florida where she met her now-ex husband who took her back here to Alabama to be near his family (business was slow and she talks fast), was honest enough to recommend against the barbecue ("You can get better almost anywhere around. We buy our sauce."). Spent the night in Dothan about 30 miles from the Florida border.
Sunday was almost entirely Florida. I got a late start and lost another hour crossing into the Eastern time zone. Florida drivers drive like the New Yorkers they used to be. In spite of their best efforts I arrived safe and no less sound than when I left about 7:30 Sunday evening. I cut in front of Ida which went into Mississippi and Alabama a day later.
Mom is well.
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