The cuisine in our house has changed significantly since my
wife passed away. I had done most of the cooking in our house for the last ten
years but she had limits to what she would and would not eat. But now the
gloves are off and my palate is being tickled once more. My stomach does revolt
from time to time but there’s a pill for that and I bought three bottles full.
I’m kind of like the drunk who knows tomorrow morning is not going to be good---
but just for tonight ----well who cares.
We used to have chili in our house, which I called bean soup
and she called chili. There is no good way to spice up chili after the fact.
It’s just not the same to put that old chili powder on it once its cooked. It
must be cooked right to start with. If an apple a day keeps the doctor away
just think what a couple of jalapeño peppers can do. Cut up and mixed in the
chili, they are an almost magical ingredient. If your not sweating when you eat
it--- its not done right. Davy Crockett owes them Mexicans an apology for
chasing them away.
Corned beef sandwiches’ and pastrami sandwiches should be on
any sub shops menu. I’ll share my recipe with you, just this once. Three slices
of pastrami and three slices of corn beef on seven-grain bread. Yellow mustard
and one spoonful of horseradish spread around on top of the meat. Three slices
of Colby cheese and two slices of tomatoes and one thin slice of onion. Go easy
on the onion because they can give you a bellyache. Bon appétit my friends.
I love hot-dishes and I think if some one opened an all you
can eat hot dish, buffet café, they would have every silver head east of the
Rockies eating there. I used to get a free lunch at work once in awhile at the
community center when the Seniors had their monthly potluck dinner. A whole
table full of hot-dishes. Like a kid in a candy store I was. Once you had your
plate full you could throw that slice of hot apple pie on top of it and your
saliva glands would be leaking like a tin roof on a shed, in the Bahamas,
during hurricane season. Yum Yum.
My grandkids and even their parents to some extent have
drifted far away from the world of real food. They subsist on artificial food
wrapped in doughy bread or things that look like pizza crust and really would
make better mud flaps than food wrap. Their kitchens at home are just used in
emergencies, to like, cook a wiener, or warm up a pizza--- Jeez Louise, I’m
even starting to talk like them. Their refrigerators have no food in them just
bottles of water and the dog’s medicine and packets of left over condiments
from places they frequent with drive through dining rooms. If you think driving
and talking on a cell phone is risky, try eating a juicy whooper with your good
clothes on, balancing a pack of fry’s on one knee, onion rings on the other
knee, and a 32oz coke between your legs while trying to keep the dog in the
back seat. I figure I’m at least three quarters home from beginning to the end,
so I’m not going to get my underwear in a knot over this. But it’s food for
thought. No pun intended.
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