Friday, January 29, 2010

Interesting Food Continued

The photo probably is all you need to figure out why this was an interesting food. This fine sausage is a Christmas speciality Tuscany and probably other parts of Italy as well. We found it in a tiny grocery store in Castiglione d'Orcia, a small hill town near Montipulchiano. We were looking for some smoked salmon and the ingredients for a nice pasta dish when we saw it. Now this, I thought, is really a "head cheese". Naturally I had to have a slice and despite the way it looks, the taste was wonderful. Spicy and tangy, and not many bristles. If you get out that way in the winter, look for it. You won't be disappointed. By the way, Sally passed up this chance to taste the head. Maybe next time I can convince her to take the plunge.
Image: Woody Search

Thursday, January 28, 2010

From the Past


It came from deep inside me. Growing quickly outward and upward into my chest. Pressure. Like something trying to get out. Then the tears. Not flowing, just lingering on my lids. I could barely breathe. Not once, but twice within 15 minutes. Death? Ecstasy? Neither. A primeval, genetic response probably. But what could cause such a deep and awe-inspiring sensation? God? A heart attack? No, it was a stunning performance of the TCC African Drum and Dance Ensemble. Unbelievable power in the pulsing rhythm and the harmony of many drums. I was within ten feet of the group and I swear I have never heard anything so powerful. It spoke to the deepest level of human history. If you ever get a chance to experience this group, do it. I suspect you will be changed in ways you won’t see coming.

Monday, January 25, 2010

The definition of "Craven Coward"

Gay marriage foes want campaign contributions anonymous, citing 'harassment' What a bunch of whining cowardly assholes. Oops. My New York upbringing just slipped out. Maybe I ought to publish this ANONYMOUSLY so no one would know I think using words like "asshole" is a good idea sometimes. These AHs push to get gay marriage banned because of some misguided religious or moral compass, then want to hide. If you hate fags, stand up and say so. If you love Jesus, stand up and say so. Or, say them both in the same sentence. I don't care. But at least have the guts to say "My name is Roger Rabbit and I hate fags and love Jesus." Now I know who to talk to.
Peel away the curtain of secrecy and cowardice and you will find a whining simpering AH with a sappy smile saying something like "I have the right to my opinions." Yeah, so do I.
I guess you could tell? This really pisses me off. (Oops. NY again.)

Sunday, January 24, 2010

Another Very Bad Sign: 5/4

In a stunning reversal of "established law" the Supreme Court has decided that companies are "people" and therefore protected by the First Amendment right to free speech. So this means that any entity can mount a multi-million or -billion dollar ad campaign to defeat or support someone running for office. This actually means that huge amounts of money will be spent to make sure House and Senate members are elected or reelected if and when they show respect and support for the corporate entities that put them in office. You and I can take out ads in the N.Y. Times for or against anybody. Now the big players can do the same. Got some spare change for a one minute spot on CNN? They do. And best of all they can be really dirty and tell lies and half truths if they want to because by the time they get slapped (if they ever do, remember the guys that have to slap them are the guys they put in office) the election is long over. Sue away pal, sue away.
But the big surprise is who voted to gut all the campaign finance regs. Kennedy, Roberts, Alito, Scalia and Thomas. Are you surprised yet?
That sound you hear in the distance is the sound of politicians sucking harder and longer at the tit of big money.
Interestingly the big Republican guns think this is a good news event. Hmmmmm. Makes me kind of queasy. No, actually it makes me really sick.

Cooking the Goose Part II: Cook Same


Where were we? Oh yeah. Well the question of why we were the only hunters in the bay is easy: the Canada geese weren't in yet, and everybody in the world but us knew that. Back to the story. We got home, divvied up the game and I went home. One went in the freezer for a mount and I cleaned the others. Next day I popped goosey in the oven and waited while it cooked. Then the smell started. Nasty. Was this a Heron? No, a Brant. A quick call to one of the other hunters confirmed that it wasn't just my goose. Vile smell went out back in the roaster and in the garbage next morning.

What the hell had happened? An ornithologist friend explained it this way: Atlantic flyway Brant eat eel grass and sea lettuce while migrating and this gives them a peculiar odor. Peculiar? His mother suggested soaking the entire goose in milk for 24hrs before cooking to get rid of the aroma. Did that. Didn't help. Another garbaged goose. Now we knew why the locals were laughing. Dumb city boys. I never hunted another waterfowl after that trip. I actually gave up on birds entirely, relying on supermarkets. At least if you get a stinky goose at Publix you can get your money back. But I got a great hatch cover, and nearly 40 years later we still use it for a coffee table. It sits there silently laughing.

Cooking the Goose, Part I: First Obtain a Goose


The dream of a hunting lifetime: goose hunting in the Chesapeake just off Wallops Island. We got out before sunup on the opening day. A couple of miles by boat from Chincoteague put us in shallow water with a fair number of permanent blinds in sight. Strangely, no one was in any of the blinds. The 4 of us took over a big blind and settled in to wait. Geese came in waves and in a few hours we had our limits, and a low tide. So, we slogged a mile or more pulling the boat. I stepped on something that felt unusual, reached down and put my hand in the handle of a very old hatch cover. The thing weighed a couple of hundred pounds and was completely waterlogged. I talked the guys into putting it on the bow of the boat (15' aluminum) and we added that to the pull. We got back to the dock at dusk, loaded the boat with the geese on the floor and tired but happy started for home. A quick stop for gas and we would be off. So there we were, in a gas station on Chincoteague, obviously hunters, when a few locals walked up an started the conversation: "You boys (our average age then was about 30) been huntin?". Yeah man! we got our limit too!! One of them looked in the boat and started to laugh. "Hey boys, look here!" The locals went to the boat and looked in. They all started to laugh and one of the said, to no one in particular "Them's Brant geese" and started laughing again. They walked away talking to each other and laughing. We wondered what the joke was, and why we were the only hunters on the bay that day. We found out and that tale continues in part II of "Cooking the Goose."
Image: sdakotabirds.com/species/photos/brant.jpg