BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

This election season has been trying. To be honest, it has just about done me in. Normally, I am somewhat like the character Chris from the old TV show, Northern Exposure. As anti-establishment as this character tended to be, he had a great respect for the process. For the whole idea of democracy, and voting. Exercising free will, free thought, free expression… Freedom.

Honestly, I still am like Chris in that regard. But, like I said, this has been a long, trying election season.

As it turned out, my preferred candidate didn’t get the nod in the primaries, so I was left with a field I didn’t particularly like. And, I’m not just talking about the two party system here, I’m talking about all of them…. Dems, Pubs, Constitution, Libertarian, Green, all of them…

There were things I liked about each candidate, but then there were things I absolutely couldn’t stand about each of them as well. This left me with a hard decision, and one that I was wholly unable to make until this morning, while standing in line at the polling place, and thoughts of freedom of choice bounced around inside my head…

Normally, my vote is played close to the vest. It is my vote, and no one else’s. That is why we have the secret ballot in this country. So, I generally don’t make my vote known to anyone, with the exception of family and a few close friends.

This year, I am breaking with that tradition.

Since I couldn’t see my way clear to cast my vote for any of the candidates listed on the ballot, I exercised my rights to use the write-in option. And, yes… I voted for EK.

When I told her this she thought I was kidding. Once I convinced her that I was deadly serious, she informed me she doesn’t want the job. In my mind, that makes her far more qualified than any of the folks clamoring for it…

More to come…

Murv

It doesn’t take Rowan Gant’s clairvoyant abilities to know that a good parcel of you are now thinking, “Eeeewwwwwwwww!” And, a whole raft of you who are thinking such are also involuntarily saying it aloud as well. Just like you would be if the title had been Chitterlings (that’s properly pronounced Chit’lins, mind you), brain sandwiches, or a whole host of other organ meat based delicacies.

Not much I can do about that except to say, don’t knock it until you try it. If you’ve tried it (any of the above, PROPERLY prepared) and you still didn’t care for it, well, at least you tried so I respect your opinion. (Even though it’s wrong.)

You see, I’m sure my love of such foods has something to do with my farm upbringing. Where I come from you don’t cut the prime rib and tenderloins out of a bull/cow, and then leave the rest for the turkey vultures. We used everything. Meaning, everything… Whether it was Chitlin’s, Brains, or an entire head boiled down to make Head Cheese. Didn’t matter. We used it.

We even rendered out all the fat to cook with and also to make lye soap.

Now, on the note of Head Cheese, I’ll admit to not being a big fan. I’ve had it on several occasions. It’s not bad, but also not my favorite thing in the world– probably because I still have memories of my grandmother boiling a hog’s head to make it. Not a pretty- nor particularly wonderful smelling – process, trust me.

But, back to Liver and Onions… This happens to be one of my favorite all-time meals. I’ve always loved it. Even as a child. I suppose part of that could be the fact that until I was an adult and ordered it in a big city restaurant I had always been served PROPERLY prepared Liver and Onions. Since that horrible incident I’ve been careful not to order it in the big city. Diners in small southern towns, well that’s a different story. But mostly I make it at home, preparing it exactly the way I learned to do it from my mother, grandmother, and grandfather…

Speaking of my grandfather, his name was Elvis. Yes Elvis, although his last name was Babb, not Presley. He wasn’t much of a singer, but he could play the harmonica like nobody’s business. I actually have a recording of him that I made a few months before he died. At that point he had emphysema, but he could still make that harp talk. (On that note, I also have the harmonica and it is displayed in our curio cabinet, but that was a different blog I wrote a year or so back)… But, let’s move on… Elvis Babb owned a diner in the small Kentucky town where I was born. While the diner was gone before I was really old enough to know better I do have memories of toddling around in it. But, more importantly I still watched my grandfather cook at home. I may have only been in my high single digits and low double digits – he crossed over when I was 11 or so – but I still learned a whole raft of things from him about cooking, probably because where I come from food is love. Food is comfort.

And, we all want love and comfort.

Now, one of the interesting things about preparing something properly is that sometimes – not always, but sometimes – a person who had the dish and hated it will try it again, done correctly, and love it. Such is the case with my wife. She hated Liver and Onions. I can remember the first time I fixed it (I do all the cooking in our house) back when we were first married some twent-cough-cough years ago. She had this horribly crestfallen look on her face and I could see that she was gearing herself up for choking it down so as to not hurt my feelings. After the first bite, however, her expression changed. Now, it is one of her favorites as well.

At any rate, prior to my father crossing over in 2003, I used to try timing my Liver and Onion dinners with his trips through Saint Louis. (He had a house here, but more or less lived in Kentucky and since he was retired, traveled extensively). I would time it that way because Dad loved Liver and Onions too. Even if he couldn’t make it to the house for the actual dinner, I made sure there was a “take out” container for him.

I just made Liver and Onions for supper Monday. As is customary – nay, IMPERATIVE – it was served with a big ass bowl of mashed potatoes and buttered green peas. Life was good.

Since Dad is no longer around, there were some leftovers. I just killed those off a few minutes ago… (Yeah, Liver and Onions for breakfast. I’m sure Edain would be appalled LOL! – note: Ask Edain McCoy about her impression of my morning eating habits and that joke will make sense.)

Honestly, I’d just as soon have Dad back and give the leftovers to him, but since that isn’t going to happen, I figured I should at least enjoy them in his place.

And I did.

More to come…

Murv