O-Dark-Thirty

I don't usually blog about what and where I eat. For one thing, that would be a lot of blog posts. For another, I don't want people to know what I'm eating. Besides, I need something for Twitter! Yet, tonight we just had the best ribs I've ever eaten. Let me explain. Darling found a coupon for ribs at the local Spring Creek Barbeque, a buy one Rib Meal at the regular price, get one free. Today was the last day for the coupon, so we had to go – use it or lose it. We decided to use it. We've eaten there once before and it was okay. I had the beef, and we had a salad. That seems odd for a BBQ place, but I felt like a salad that day. They brought fresh bread to our table – little loaves hot from the oven. I'm not supposed to be eating much bread, but I couldn't resist those. They smelled just like the bread my Aunt Nora used to make for us as boys. If you've ever seen the movie Ratatouille, when the food critic is transported back to his childho...

I remember Spam™ but as a food that Mom liked and we boys tried to avoid. Avoidance wasn’t always possible. Mom always shopped at the Base Post Exchange (PX) for food. I remember those trips, especially when I was a little older. We went to the base in our station wagon, Mom and me and my three small brothers. I remember Barry about five, Dave about three and Tim two. That would make me nine or ten. Mom would get two carts and put Tim in the seat of one of them. She put Dave into the seat of the other. Barry sometimes sat in the cart itself, but mostly Mom required him to just walk next to one of the carts and hang on. He wasn’t supposed to let go, and he usually didn’t. I pushed one cart and Mom pushed the other. I had to make sure that Dave and Barry didn't do anything wrong - though Dave was pretty well secured and Barry came back every time he wandered away. He was careful that Mom didn't see him for the wrath of Mom was always to be avoided. The goal was to fill the...

Frank: "Recently, I was honored to be selected as a judge at a chili cook-off. The original person called in sick at the last moment and I happened to be standing there at the judge's table asking for directions, when the call came in. I was assured by the other two judges (Native Texans) that the chili wouldn't be all that spicy, so I accepted. Here are the scorecards from the event: v       Chili #1 – Cecil’s Maniac Mobster Monster Chili Ø        Judge # 1 – A little too heavy on the tomato. Amusing kick. Ø        Judge # 2 – Nice, smooth tomato flavor. Very mild. Ø        Judge # 3 (Frank) – Wow, what is this stuff? You could remove dried paint from your driveway. Took me about a half gallon of water to put the flames out. I hope that’s the worst one. These Texans are crazy. v       Chili #2 – Dave’s Afterburner Chili Ø ...

(Not quite this bad, but... Read on!) One of my brothers is now adding more war stories from our respective younger years to his blog. Already he covered an analysis of my blog post on Mom's meatloaf , a funny confession of electrocuting our youngest brother , and now a post giving the enduring tale of Mom's grits . Somehow I think he still thinks Mom was a good cook. I loved my Mom and I miss her all the time. At some level I can say that Mom was a good cook. She had the fabled ability to take a quarter pound of meat and expand it to a complete meal, including vegetables, for four growing boys, my Dad and herself. Let me be clear, however. I'm the eldest, and I watched Mom cook. I can say with absolute authority that she imbued beef flavor into a steaming pot of water and beef bouillon by waving a small piece of left-over beef over the top of the kettle. This was her beef stew recipe. She tried, as evidenced by the foray into cooking Southern grits ( my short...

Some stories are not mine, but they should be told anyway. For the record, my brother gave me permission to tell this story, so I hope I get it right. One of my other brothers, D, has his own blog and is starting to tell his own stories . I really like that. Not this meatloaf My next younger brother, B, is a warrior. There’s no better term for it. Oh, he adapted to civilization well enough, and as a young man was adept at the saxophone, but King David was also a warrior and he composed all the Psalms, so the two skills are not incompatible. B is married to a Treasure. When B first met L they were both in high school. He asked her out, they had a good enough time, but when he dropped her off at her house afterwards he told her that he would marry her. Understandably, that freaked her out and she refused to date him again. She dated some of his high-school friends, but never again went out with him. B left high school and did what all males in our family do – he enlisted. (I ...

Home-made Pickles I like pickles. Dill pickles mostly, but for some reason I’ve craved pickles this last year. Sometimes I can substitute green olives, and sometimes I’d rather have olives than pickles, but if I go too long without eating a pickle, I get really hungry for them. I’ve liked pickles my entire life, it seems. I also like hot peppers, often at the same time as the pickles. The mixture is a great flavor. Okay, this isn't about hot peppers, but it's a cool picture My Mom used to can pickles. She made all sorts. She made dill, of course, but she sliced some, turned some into spears, did some of them whole. She also tried sweet pickles, but she wasn’t much of a fan of her own sweet pickles. I think Mom’s favorite pickles were bread and butter pickles. She made some of those also, in a large, clay pot with a lid. This crock was designed specifically for letting bread and butter pickles ferment, or whatever they do while they sit in the co...