As opposed to hot potato, or even Hot Tuna, the late 60’s spin-off of Jefferson Airplane…
Now that you have no idea where I’m going with this; Welcome! I’m not really sure where I’m going with this post either. In essence I came here to talk about food. And by food I mean hot tomatoes. And by hot tomatoes I mean they ain’t my favorite.
When I was a kid, I enjoyed spaghetti. Not so much any more. My tastes have changed quite a bit over the years. I just don’t care tomato sauce all that much. I will eat it (except for sloppy joe’s – I cannot stomach those), but I prefer my tomatoes raw. And that goes for the majority of my veggies as well. Give me a salad, tacos, a sandwich, gyros (please more gyros), with nice chunks or slices of fresh tomato and I’m good. Throw them in a pot and turn up the heat and I’m going to the (beer) fridge to see what else I can find.
Even pizza! Yes, I know; I’m a geek. Pizza is supposed to be my main food group (along with Doritos and Mountain Dew). I don’t really care for any of those things. But give me a pizza that doesn’t have “red sauce” (Hello Mellow Mushroom’s Holy Shiitake!) and I’m down with that.
Son-the-younger (a.k.a. son-the-chef) makes a wonderful veggie sauce that uses tomatoes as it’s base. But there are so many other veggies in it the tomatoes aren’t so strong. We’re lucky that he’ll make a big ol’ pot of it and we can freeze several quarts for later use.
Not only has my tomato taste changed, so has many other foods. As a kid I would never eat brussel sprouts, asparagus, avocado or even broccoli. Now I eat them all. Again, preferably raw. Wifey makes this amazing dill dip that is so good on raw veggies (and chips, and grilled cheese sammies). There are so many nights that she and I will have fresh veggies and dip as our vegetable for dinner. I’m sure I make up for the calories that I save with the veggies with the amount of dip. Not that I use that much dip per piece, I just eat that much! Portion control is not my strong suit.
Funny story – the first time I had dinner at Wifey’s house (before we were married), my wonderful mother in law asked my if I wanted “a slice of pear”. “Sure” I said, “I like pears!”. Next thing I know I have a very large slice of avocado sitting in front of me. I look at it dumbfounded. “Uh… That’s not a pear” I say as respectfully as I could. Dear ol’ mother in law comes back; “Yes it is. It’s an alligator pear!” “A what?” I exclaim. “That’s an avocado. Not a pear!”. Needless to say, I had never heard the term alligator pear. I had to politely refuse said “pear”. Then sweet mom hit me with her all important question; “Have you ever tried it?”. Her one rule was you had try whatever food she was offering before you can say you didn’t like it. There were many dinners at her house where I had a spoonful of something I had never tried before. I learned early to say that it was something new, just a spoonful, please. I miss her.
I also have a good story where I turned the tables of trying new things on her. But that’s another post..
Here’s one of my guitar gods, Stevie Ray Vaughn doing Mary Had A Little Lamb. ‘Cause lamb is food, and this is a food post.. So it fits.. Kinda?
Well, here I am, two weeks into my semi-retirement. Just so you know, I have not been sitting on my ass the entire time. Mainly because I can’t sit for all that long, nor stand, nor lay down for that matter. The herniated discs in my back have not improved as I had expected.
And, since this is Veteran’s Day weekend, we have our annual “smoke out”. We used to do this twice a year, at Memorial Day as well, but we had to cut one out. Just too much work, and too expensive. As usual, we’ll have about 25 folks show up. Some driving an hour or so just to hang out with us. I consider this an honor and privilege to host these folks. Son-the-elder will not be joining us this year as he is still overseas with his Army unit. It’s also granddaughter-the-younger’s birthday celebration.
I have also been doing physical therapy three times a week in an effort to get my back and legs stronger, so that I can handle smoking all that meat overnight Saturday and most of the day Sunday. It’s been mixed results, as this week has been a very difficult week with a high level of pain. But between the doctor, my wonderful tech lady, Wifey and doing my exercises and stretches, I feel much better today. The jury is waiting to hear the complaints after this weekend..
I’ve also been trying to do some more of the home repairs/upgrades we started a couple of weeks ago. That is slow going for me, but I do what I can and take a break to rest my back and legs. Much to Wifey’s surprise and delight, I do the basic housecleaning (sweep/mop/etc..) during the day as I can. I am still looking for a part time job to both supplement my income and keep me from going stir crazy. I can only sit and do nothing for so long. I’ve already read three books down my down time.
For now, my beer costs have not gone up. I am doing my best not to start drinking at lunch every day. And so far, that has held true. But “watch this space”. One thing that has gone up is coffee. When I was working I would normally have just one cup at home in the mornings and then drink the job’s coffee. Now it’s my usual four cups every morning. And we won’t get into weekend consumption when both of us are hitting the brew hard.
So, today while making lunch for the crew today, I saw this on the bag of fries;
You don’t normally see a temp of 420. 425, 450, or 350 are the usual settings. So I asked Wifey, how do you think they came up with 420? Was it years of testing? Trying all the variables of times and temps? I would love to have seen the lab records…
“Tried half a bag @350 for 1 hour. Still soggy, inedible. Gave to the dog. He wouldn’t eat them either.”
“Tried half a bag @475 for 1 hour. Had to call the fire department. Dog howled at the sirens.”
“Tried half a bag @475 for 30 minutes. Dog chipped a tooth on them.”
“Tried half a bag @350 for 90 minutes. Same as last attempt. Dog afraid to try them.”
“Gave up and ate them frozen. Dog is very pissed.”
But what I think really happened was like this.
Tech 1: “Let’s try half a bag @420.”
Tech 2: “420? Who the fuck cooks at 420?”
Tech 1: “It’s 420. Get it?”
Tech 2: “Huh??”
Tech 1: “420 – you know.. As in.. (points at baggy in lab coat pocket).”
Tech 2: “Ah… Yes, they’ll eat anything after that shit!”
OK, maybe not. But it could have happened at my house!
It’s like the story that sharks don’t eat people because they don’t like the way we taste. Now who the hell did that taste test? I say it went like this;
Scene: Two labs techs stand by a large pool with a great white shark swimming in it.
Tech1: Throws in a chicken and watches while the shark eats the chicken.
Tech 2: Writes on clipboard; “Shark likes chicken”
Tech 1: Throws a pig into the pool, watches while shark eats the pig.
Tech 2: Writes on clipboard; “Shark likes pig”
Tech 1: Pushes a cow into the pool. Shark eats the cow.
Tech 2: Writes on clipboard; “Shark likes cow”
Tech 1: Thinks for a moment, pushes tech 2 into the pool. The shark bites Tech 2, but doesn’t eat him/her.
Tech 1: Writes on clipboard; “Shark doesn’t like humans”
Actually, the shark was full, and was hoping for some ice cream.
No? Then let me tell you a true story. Yes, really. This is true.
When we lived in Alaska our neighbors called us the “ethnic family”. Not that we were “ethnic” (whatever that means). After all we are your basic WASP. They were referring to our eating habits. If you follow me on Twitter or better yet, Instagram (links at the bottom of the post) you know we eat from just about every “ethnic” group out there.
One guy in particular, “Long John” asked almost every night; “What are you making tonight?”
“Don’t you guys eat normal food”? He would ask…
Now, to be honest, those pictures are not from when we were in Alaska. They are much more current, but that’s what we ate then and now. We have stepped up the game since then tho..
And seafood, of course. This is #Floriduh after all.
And I haven’t even started on the grilled and/or smoked stuff!
Now, I am not all that picky an eater. At least, not anymore. There was a time when there were lots of foods I wouldn’t eat. The majority of those foods are no longer in that category. Liver, however, is still at the top of that list. Yet, I like haggis. I’m going to blame this on preparation and presentation. Not to mention the cultural impact of a dish like haggis. I had an open mind that I wanted to try it when we took our vacation in Scotland a few months back. (You did read those posts right? If not, here’s the first of the series.)
One of the things that Wifey and I enjoy at times, actually as often as possible, is appetizers for dinner. Breakfast for dinner is another fav. We like that the portions are smaller and there are several choices available to share. We usually go out to enjoy this, but last night I decided we’d do it at home.
Just your basic spinach and blue cheese dip and a shrimp stuffed portobello mushroom. Sorry for the lousy picture of the mushroom cap, but Wifey was elbowing me out of the way to start eating.
The biggest problem that I’ve come across as a “foodie” is a general dislike of “fast food”. I basically refuse to eat at the usual places, McDonald’s, Burger King, Chick-Fil-A, or even KFC. So, where’s a guy to eat a quick lunch? Arby’s is a passing choice, but even Subway or other sandwich shops are unappealing to me. I do my best to make enough dinner to bring leftovers for lunch, but there are many nights that we skip dinner entirely, or like last night just make “tapas” kind of dishes that don’t leave much for leftovers.
If you saw my post the other day (this one), I am happy to report that this morning I caught the little froggie and released her to the front yard. She (Wifey insists on calling the froggie a “she”. I didn’t know how to go about asking a froggie which gender he/she may be. I’m not even sure if froggies have a gender discrimination group or not.) had been hopping around under the kitchen sink for over a week, we first saw her last Wednesday, 14 August. There was a great chorus of froggies when I left for work this morning. I’d like to think they were singing my praises. Not likely, but that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
I’ll leave you with this video that has no bearing what-so-ever on this post. But it’s my favorite Van Morrison song, and I heard it on the way to work this morning (after the froggies finished). I suggest you turn it up loud and let the music envelope you!
Today would have been Julia Child’s 107th birthday (15 August 1912 – 13 August 2004). Wow! Where does the time go? My grandmother, Nanny, and I used to watch her shows often. But I must admit I much preferred Graham Kerr and The Galloping Gourmet. Most likely it was the accent. Julia was a bit hard for my young ears to understand.
Specifically, two ladies that gave me a love of good food and how to prepare it.
Those two ladies, are my paternal grandmother “Nanny” and my great aunt (my maternal grandmother’s sister), Arline. I’ve mentioned Nanny several times before on this blog, so I will start with Aunt Arline.
Just about every year of my childhood we would all pile into the family station wagon (mom always drove a station wagon) and head out to visit mom’s family in South Carolina. We would leave way before the sun came up and drive the 14 or so hours straight through, stopping only for gas, restroom breaks, and a quick meal. Since this was before I-95 was completed, we had to travel the entire distance of the Florida Turnpike. The turnpike is, without a doubt, one the most boring drives in America. Flat and straight, and the same damn trees the entire way. Since it runs through the middle of the state, there aren’t even any alligators to break up the monotomy.
But it did have well maintained and clean rest areas. Several of them, such as the one at Fort Pierce, even had full service restuarants. Dad wouldn’t dare pass up that rest area. It was a great place to gas up the car and fill our bellies as well. The only other stop would be somewhere in Georgia at a Stucky’s for the filling up of both car and kids.
Finally arriving at our destination of Marion, SC things would go downhill quickly as all the cousins showed up. Many days were spent running around in the yards of various family members; especially Aunt Arline’s yard. You do remember Aunt Arline right? This part of the post is about her.
She had a pond in her back yard. I wasn’t allowed to go down to the pond by myself. My mom couldn’t swim and was deathly afraid I would fall in and drown. And with good reason, as when I was abvout 5 I did fall into a pool at a friend’s house; and if it wasn’t for my brother who noticed my struggling to get to the side of the pool and jumped in a brought me safely out of the water, I probably would have drowned.
Out of that pond Aunt Arline would catch some little brim or sunfish. She would scale and gut them, then fry them whole. Remember, this is South Carolina in the 60’s. Damn near everything was fried. I will admit that at first I didn’t even want to try a whole fried fish (I means bones??). But one of my uncles showed me how to open them up and get to the good stuff. I was hooked after that – bones and all. Aunt Arline also had a cage that she kept crickets in for bait. She would somehow catch these crickets by hand! I never did figure out how.
So, let’s talk about Sunday dinners at Aunt Arline’s. There would so much food! There isn’t a buffet around that could compare. Of course there were, at times, 20 or so of us eating. I was not allowed in the kitchen then. That was all the women. My mom, her sisters, my older sisters and some cousins that were old enough handled all the cooking. The “men folk” sat out front talking weather, politics and such. My cousins that were too young to take part in the serious talk would be outside playing in the mud, trying to get down to pond, and just basically getting into trouble.
But then, those magic words – “Dinner is ready”! Naturally, we all had to wash up, which took quite some time since there was only one bathroom we were allowed to use. But by the time the kids got to our table, our moms would have a plate ready for us.
And what a plate! There would be at least three kinds of meats; ham, the fish she caught, and my all time favorite – fried chicken. Fried chicken is still my most favorite meal. Many times there would also be a turkey or a beef roast! Then there would be so many veggies – all fresh. Lima beans (another of my favorites), corn, black-eyed peas, collard and/or mustard greens. Then mashed potatoes and rice. Three kinds of bread – cornbread, dinner rolls, and just plain white. Three or four sticks of real butter would be placed around the tables, along with the usual vinegear for the greens, and if needed, condiments to make sandwiches. One thing I don’t remember is ever seeing a “garden salad”; you know lettuce and chopped veggies. But I don’t think I missed it. To this day, I still don’t care for greens.
We would sit around and eat and drink (Carolina Sweet Tea) until we couldn’t move. Then at some secret signal (unknown to “men folk” and kids), out of nowhere large white bed sheets would be used to cover everything up. Nothing put into little plastic containers that go “burp” when you do that other secret thing men folk are not allowed to understand. Nothing even close to a precaution except keeping the bugs off (and kids out).
Then, at another prearranged secret signal the sheets would be taken off and everyone would sit back down and eat. Remember, this is the 60’s in rural South Carolina. Microwave ovens are still a good 10 – 15 years away from general use, so everything was at “room tempature”, whatever that is.
Now, I had no issues with the meat not being reheated. And as much as I love mashed potatoes and limas, I balked at eating them cold. This was where the sandwich fixings came in for me. But mom still wasn’t happy. I had to have a “balanced meal”, meaning veggies. But I would not eat them cold like that. So Aunt Arline came up with a fix. She would take a big helping of the limas (she knew I would eat them all), toss them into a small pan with another stick of butter (Paula Dean has nothing on my family), and heat them up for me. Such a sweet lady! I would then take the entire pot of butter and beans and pour it over a mound of mashed potatoes or rice, depending on which I could get my hands on. Guess it’s not really odd that the majority of my mom’s family died of cholestrol issues, and that I fight that myself.
Let’s switch gears and sides (in a civil war theme). Obvisiouly, my mom is from South Carolina. The little town her daddy’s tobacco farm was in, Fork, is no longer there. She couldn’t remember exactly where the town was but believed it was swallowed by Marion. And that’s where Aunt Arline lived, Marion, South Carolina.
Dad, on the other hand, was from central Pennsylvania. I joke we had the civil war in our house growing up. Mom was a southerner and grew up Baptist. Dad, a yankee (and a damn yankee at that), grew up in a Methodist church. After WWII they settled in the south (if you can consider Miami part of the “south”) and went to a Methodist church. Best of both worlds?
Nanny (again, you do remember Nanny, right? This part of the post is about her), was an exceptional lady. She was widowed at the age of 34 in 1919. Dad was all of 6. She never remarried. From 1919 until she came to live with us about 1968 or so, she was out on her own. She spent a lot of time going between Pennsylvania and Florida, playing the snowbird roll, before she stayed permantly. This was mostly before my time and when I was an infant, so I don’t really remember it.
What I do remember is her cooking. We may not have had the big ol’ spread that we had in South Carolina, but the quality was every bit as good. Nanny was the one that really started me cooking. I was old enough (well almost) to stay around when she was preparing meals. It also helped that I was the only child at home then and our little kitchen had a dining table. I could sit there out of the way and watch, ask questions and more importantly taste!
Not only did she cook your basic meals, she could bake. She would make bread from scratch. This is where I learned how to use yeast. Being the smart woman that she was, she always made me a small loaf when she was baking bread. As soon as it was cool enough to remove from the pan she would give me the first loaf and yet another stick of butter and send me off to get out of her way.
And here is another example of fried chicken; yet completly different from Aunt Arline’s. The crust was different and she would use a buttermilk bath on the chicken pieces. Still every bit as good, just different. Not to brag (who am I kidding??) I have been told that my fried chicken is better than either of their’s. That may be, but I will admit that I am nowhere as consistent as either of these ladies.
But Nanny taught me something more than fried chicken and bread. She taught me BBQ. We didn’t have a smoker growing up, and I can only remember my dad grilling something once. But both my brother and I love to cook with fire. We had to get it from somewhere. It was Nanny. She had a BBQ resuarant in the Altoona, Pennsylvania area. I can find city directories from 1935 and 1936 that list her as the owner. Can you imagine being a widow with a young adult son, in the middle of the Great Depression, and making a good living from a restuarant? The industry that has a very high if not the highest failure rate? Blows my mind.
Her potato salad, fresh made coleslaw and beans were out of this world! And a meatloaf to die for. Somewhere there is a recipe book with all these notes. I really think the printed recipes were there as a distraction. The true treasure were the handwritten notes in the back. My mom, a better than average cook in her own right, added to that collection.
It makes me a bit sad to know that I didn’t get the chance to cook for these ladies before they shuffled off to wherever great cooks go. I’m sure there would have been lots of “this is nice, but if you had done ….” comments. And I would have taken everyone of those comments to heart and tried to live up to their legacy another time.
(I originally was calling this event a “Throw Down”, but since I was the only one running the smoker, that title just didn’t fit. Kinda hard to “throw down” against yourself!)
Yes, I’m a bit late, but it was a very busy weekend. I seriously doubt I had more than 8 hours total sleep between Friday night and Sunday morning. Keep reading and you’ll understand.
The Sunday party was excellent. We had about 30 – 35 people show up. We had friends and family come in from an hour or more away, and folks from just down the street. Several kids for granddaughter-the-younger’s birthday. Lots of food, craftbeer, whisky (and whiskey), and did I mention food??
I picked up a not quite 10-pound pork butt and a not quite 16-pound beef brisket from my local butcher on Wednesday. While I have smoked a brisket this size before, I have never smoked a butt ever! I was somewhat apprehensive but very eager to try.
The butt, all trimmed
The brisket, all trimmed
I started the butt about noon on Saturday. The plan was to heavily smoke it (I used a combination of hickory, cherry and apple woods) until it reached about 140º F internal temperature. I had recently purchased a little device to help maintain the temperature in my big ol’ smoker and to keep a better eye on the meat temperature as well. And I had nothing but problems with this device.
It’s called a “CyberQ Cloud”, put out by The BBQ Gurus. I had already done a test run two weeks ago to make sure it was working as expected. One excellent feature is that it can connect to my home Wi-Fi setup and I can sit inside and watch a webpage that has all my temps, timers, and just about anything else being monitored. But for whatever reason, it just would not connect to my Wi-Fi even though it showed it as available in the list. I tried calling the support 800 number, but they’re not open on the weekends? Seriously? You have to figure that most people BBQ on the weekends (unlike my family – we’ll fire up a grill anytime!). Yet there was nobody to answer the phone. “Please leave a message and we’ll get back to you” is NOT good customer support. I even tried to contact them via their Twitter, and never got a response. I could still use the unit, I just had to run in and out to check the monitor since it wouldn’t connect to the cloud.
We used “Cool Smoke Rub” all over the outside and injected it with a basic solution of apple juice, salt & sugar and other stuff. The butt reached the target temp about 6PM. I let it sit a little longer while we ate dinner.
After the smoker but before wrapping and into the oven.
Then I wrapped it in foil and placed it in a low (225º F) oven for overnight. It didn’t need any more smoke since I had very heavy smoke going the entire time it was in the smoker.
So it was time to trim the brisket, inject with a beef broth solution and dry brine it. It would not get its “Big Bad Beef Rub” until tomorrow morning.
The plan was to get up at 3AM Sunday morning so I could get the brisket on the smoker by 4AM. Due to the problems I had with the CyberQ, I changed my alarm to 2AM to give me time to get it working again. And since the universe hates me, I was up and out of bed at 1AM. What a life.
It took a factory reset to get the CyberQ reconnected. Thankfully there is ample documentation on the web for the device. It only took about 45 minutes to get it back up and connected. Whew!
So the brisket when on the smoker about an hour earlier than planned. No worries, it can be held in a faux cambro (basically an empty plastic beer cooler) for up to 5 hours without a problem.
This what a brisket looks like at 0 dark 30!
The brisket probably weighed in around 14 1/2 pound or so after trimming. And since I didn’t separate the two muscles that make up a brisket, I knew this would take quite a bit of time. Following a very basic plan for brisket is simple. Smoke (I used all mesquite for this brisket) until it hits the “stall”. This usually occurs around 150º – 170º F. Mine kicked in about 160º F. I then wrapped it in butcher paper in a process known as the “Texas Crutch”. Some use foil for this step, but I prefer to use the paper. I believe it leaves the “bark” (that wonderful outer crispy edge) much dryer and crunchy. It also will help cut down on the cooking time. Once the brisket is wrapped, you return it to the smoker (or an oven at 235º F or so) until it reaches an internal temp somewhere around 195º F or so. When you hit the mark at 195º then cut the point muscle off from the flat muscle. I then test the flat for tenderness by sliding my temp probe into various areas of the meat. If it slides in “like buttah” then you’re good to go, if not you can continue to cook until it reaches the 203º to 205º F range. But be careful, it’s very easy to overcook and dry it out!
When I separate the point, they become the wonderful concoction known as “burnt ends”. What I like to do, and Wifey® requires that I do this any time I’m doing brisket,
Chunking the point
is to chunk the point up and throw in the pan that has been set in the smoker to catch all the drippings along with some warmed Au Jus and then covered and set in a warm oven to braise for a time. There are no “set times” for any of this. Every piece of meat and every smoker are different. Throw in other variables like weather (I had to pull the brisket off the smoker early due to a sudden rainstorm and finish it in the oven), and you can’t go by time. The temperature and tenderness of the meat is what makes it done.
These little flavor bombs are damn tasty. And look how juicy those are.
On Sunday, the CyberQ redeemed itself. It worked as expected, and I enjoyed sitting in the garage with my music playing and watching my cook being recorded on the web.
The butt shredded up very nicely! I had also made a vinegar sauce for the butt. As much as Wifey® loves her brisket, I love pulled pork even more. My grandmother taught me that if any meat is seasoned and cooked properly it won’t need sauce. Seeing as she had, as a widow, at the height of the great depression, a successful BBQ restaurant, I’ll believe her. But I do like a vinegar sauce with my pulled pork.
And I’m very happy to say that several folks said the magic words – “Best I’ve ever had!” and “It didn’t need any sauce”. I take that as the highest compliment to be had. Thank you all!
I guess it was a good cook in any event. With all that meat, there was damn near nothing left. I was really hoping to have a pulled pork sandwich from lunch Monday, as I think I had one burnt end, one slice of brisket, and maybe two tastes of the pork. I did graze on all the other side dishes that friends brought, and some we made, but I didn’t get much of the meat.
This is all that was left.. (And I brought it for lunch today!)
A little bit of pork, and one lonely brisket slice!
And my beautiful granddaughter-the-younger had a good birthday with her friends as well. I do believe her uncle’s (son-the-elder) gift was the hit of the party! A Harry Potter Lego set.
I have no idea what time it was when I fell asleep. I remember most everybody leaving, especially those that had to drive an hour or more. All I remember was sitting down with a nice craftbeer and nodding off. It was a very long day. It started at 1AM, and didn’t end until that evening. I’m way too old to be up that long. Wifey® and I were smart enough to take Monday off. We knew that we’d be in no shape to do anything. I slept most of the day away.
Here are some links to the recipes and instructions I’ve been using.
Smoking Meat. Jeff Phillips website. This was the first website I found several years ago. I have used many of the resources available here. For this cook I based my pork butt on this guide.
Cool Smoke. BBQ Champion Tuffy Stone’s website. The website doesn’t have much in the way of free recipes, but his book; Cool Smoke: The Art of Great Barbecue has a crazy amount of good stuff.
CyberQ Cloud. The BBQ Gurus have a whole line of BBQ stuff. From full on smokers, to tongs and other accessories.
I hope this little post was something enjoyable for you to read. Hopefully, the food porn didn’t make you drool too much!
And thanks again, to everyone that came over. I enjoyed myself, and I think ya’ll did too! (And a special thanks to those that helped put away the food, the grills and other parts and pieces after I had crashed for the night!)
I was challenged by Kirsten over at Once Upon A Spine to do the “7 Day Black and White Photo Challenge”, and I’m always up for a challenge. The rules are simple: Seven days. Seven black and white photos of your life. No people. No explanation. Challenge someone new each day.
Since I never tend to follow directions I’m going to comment on my selections for this challenge. First, the “no people” requirement made it very difficult for me. As you can tell, all the photos I’ve used are old photos that I’ve scanned in to add to various genealogy projects. I have some wonderful old photographs of family members dating back to the early 1900’s. But I couldn’t use them for this challenge. What a shame. Maybe I’ll use some for another post.
Day one is a picture taken by my father of the beach at Matheson Hammock in Miami, Florida. My family (and Wifey’s®) grew up on this beach. My dad was a pretty good amateur photographer. He had some of his work of Hurricane Donna damage (1960) picked by the Associated Press and United Press International.
Day two is the “Campbell House – Milesburg, PA”. Yes, there are people in it, but they’re not the focus of the shot, and it’s not really a B&W – more of a sepia, but I used it anyway. The 1930 census lists my paternal grandmother as a “boarding house owner”. I think this is that house, but I am not sure. And I have no idea who the people sitting on the porch are.
Day three is a winter shot of my mother’s house in Gaston, SC, where she moved after my father passed. It may not be a true black and white, but I always thought it was a striking photo, so I used it. Plus it’s one of my favorites that I actually took!
Day four is, according to the note on the back, a picture of Shep. Shep was my dad’s dog way before my siblings and I were around. The location is unknown.
Day five shows my brother’s, Chevy Nova. I’m not sure of the year, but the house I grew up in is in the background so it had to be after 1960.
Day 6 has a very interesting note on the back; “This is where the cookies come from – Friend’s Union State College, PA.” My paternal grandmother, “Nanny”, told me many times that she was the first cook hired by Penn State University. I have a letter from the Civil Engineering Camp of the Penn State Univ. accepting Josephine as Head Cook for the school camp demonstration project, dated 9/20/1956. The demonstration project ran from 9/30 through 10/12 of the same year. Along with many pictures of her in the kitchen of this building cooking up a storm.
And finally, Day 7. Just to show how good a cook Nanny was, this is a picture of her BBQ restaurant. All I know is that it was somewhere in Pennsylvania. And you see that I come by my love of all things grilled naturally.
This is a picture of the inside of her restaurant:
So yesterday was Father’s Day. I hope all the fathers reading this had a wonderful day. I know I did. I spent the majority of the weekend smoking fish, ribs, and chicken. It was so hot (95° F according to the weather app on my phone) and time-consuming, my feet and ankles are so swollen I could barely get my shoes on this morning.
But it was worth it. And this is not what I came here to talk about today.
While I was checking on the smokers, I saw a pizza delivery guy go by. I was going to tweet a sarcastic remark about “who would order pizza on father’s day”? But then I thought about and grew troubled by that thought. Since son-the-younger did pizza delivery for many years, I’ve come to realize that for some folks pizza is the “world’s best food”. I don’t agree with that, especially not your average delivery pizza, but it’s not my call. If someone enjoys pizza that much, then go for it.
But then my thoughts went a bit deeper. What if father’s day doesn’t have the same connotation for that person as it does for me? Maybe the pizza was going to a single mother or a family that has lost a child, or a father? What then? I looked at all the food I had going on the smokers. What if they couldn’t afford anything more than a pizza? I wanted to follow the delivery guy and see if I could invite them over to eat with us.
And then it went deeper. What about those families that are torn apart by the draconian policy currently in force by our sham president and his evil Keebler elf? I cannot imagine the thoughts going through the minds of families seeking asylum in our country just to have their children forcibly taken from them. Seeking asylum is a human right. If you are running from a terrible situation in your home country, you don’t exactly have the time, nor the resources, to apply for entrance to a safer country. Asylum seekers are not entering this country illegally, they are running for their lives. If America will not accept them as they are, then we need to change our leadership. I’m pretty sure that it’s always been our policy to accept immigrants, especially those seeking asylum.
But, unfortunately, this behavior by our administration doesn’t surprise me. This country is built on the bones of slaughtered indigenous people, the bones of families taken from their home country and forced to work as slaves, the bones of any and all marginalized people, women especially. We need to change this. We need to be better.
Sorry for such a morose post, it’s not like me. But it’s Monday, I’m a bit hungover, and my feet hurt. So there!