BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Ah, Thanksgiving weekend…

Four full days of not having the house to myself, which is something to which I have become comfortably accustomed. But I can’t complain too much. After all, I am sharing it with the O-spring and the Evil One, so it’s all good.

Speaking of The Evil One, Thanksgiving weekend is also the time when a hot redhead’s fancy turns to grinding her heel into her poor abused spouse even more than usual. Yes, it marks the beginning of “that season”…

That season? What season? Which season?

Easy… The season where the Evil Redhead chains me to the island in the kitchen and forces me to cook until my fingers bleed and I can barely hold up my head. And even then she comes by and slaps me around with a spatula and forces me to cook some more.

One of the reasons this particular weekend marks the beginning of “that season” is the fact that her supreme redheaded evilness loves turkey. And I mean she LOVES turkey. You know the Adam Sandler Thanksgiving song? Well, he’s got nothing on E K. She thinks turkey is “the bomb”. Hell, she even married one. But seriously… Okay, so that was seriously… But OTHER seriously – E K really and truly loves turkey. Almost as much as corned beef, but that’s a different holiday.

Therefore, when we do the family Thanksgiving with her clan, since I’m usually in charge of a side dish and a pie, I have to fix a small turkey at home so that she has some leftovers, otherwise she mopes around and takes out her frustrations on me even more than usual. And, on the off years, such as this one, when the family spreads across the country visiting other extended family, I have to fix an extra large bird for the three of us. Why? So she has leftovers. Weren’t you listening?

Now, the thing is, even the redhead can only eat just so many turkey sandwiches before she starts getting grumpy, no matter how much she likes it. Therefore, back to where we started this endeavor, she chains me in the kitchen and demands that I concoct ever increasingly delectable dishes using the remainder of the roasted fowl.

From our icebox door - srsly...

As always, Friday is “turn the stripped carcass into stock day.” After that, my kitchen becomes the staging area for intense culinary endeavors designed to satisfy – or at least temporarily quell – the savage redhead.

Therefore, over the next few blog entries I will be sharing recipes straight from my kitchen, some designed to make use of leftover turkey, others concocted merely to save myself from the wrath of the whip-wielding, leather and stiletto-clad redhead.

We will begin with Turkey Chili. Why? Because this year, as it happens, E K announced that she really wanted some turkey chili. And when the redhead says she REALLY WANTS something, well, you know what THAT means. It says so right there on the sign…

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GREAT NORTHERN CANARY CHILI WITH TURKEY

Unlike the name might allude, no canaries were harmed in the preparation of this chili…

INGREDIENTS:

DIRECTIONS:

Prepare beans as directed by soaking at least overnight. I usually go for a 20 to 24 hour soak, rinsing first, and then changing the water twice during the soak. Rinse soaked beans and place in a large crock pot with turkey stock to cover (plus an 1/2 to 1 inch) – add chopped onion, chopped celery, chopped red bell pepper, and chopped green bell pepper. Stir. Set on high and allow to come up to a simmer. Add chopped banana peppers, diced turkey, vinegar, green chilis, chopped jalapeno, chopped chipotle, honey, hot sauce, and dry seasonings. Mix well and allow to simmer until beans are tender and flavors have fully incorporated.

Adjust seasonings to taste – i.e. I am fixing this for the redhead and the offspring, and they don’t like things to be too spicy. Therefore, you might want to increase the amount of cumin, chili powder, hot sauce, jalapeno, and chipotle. I generally doctor mine tableside to bring it up to “heat,” and will even add some finely chopped habanero (courtesy of my dear friend, Celeste Webster, Habanero Babe Supreme)…

Serve with cornbread or blue corn tortilla chips, and a good beer. Given that we are dealing with a white bean chili I prefer a crisp Pilsner or basic Wheat.

Other possible garnishes – Plain yogurt, sour cream, cheese, chopped onions, or sliced avocado.

More to come…

Murv

This is actually a Halloween story. So, why am I not deploying it on Halloween? Look back at the 10/31 blog and ask that again… I may be as stupid as I look, but I’m not about to trump the anniversary wishes to the redhead. That would be suicide.

So anyway…

Back in nineteen-hundred and eighty-five… No, not like the McCartney and Wings song… The REAL nineteen hundred and eighty-five. October, more specifically. If you want to get right down to it, October 31st, hence the whole Halloween thing. (And yes, for those of you who have been following Brainpan Leakage and have read the “Mahwage” chronicles – linked on the right – this was just a few short months prior to me doing the whole love at first sight thing with E K… But that’s another story and I already told it.)

BR (Before Redhead) I worked for American Home Video. Then I didn’t. It’s a long story involving Radio Shack, a buyout, and subsequently the unceremonious expulsion of original employees. So be it. I was fashionably unemployed with bills to pay, a bit of cash in the bank, and no standing prospects. However, it had been a number of years since I’d been on a vacation and as it happened some very good friends of mine had moved to Aberdeen, South Dakota of all places. Why? To manage a Domino’s pizza joint, but that’s another story too.

At any rate, I packed a bag, took some cash out of the bank, then hopped into the Mustang – yes, I used to be cool – and jammed gears westward then northward, to go visit. In all honesty, while this was sort of a spur of the moment thing, it wasn’t wake up one morning and go. I planned it for a few days so that my ducks were all in a row. Got myself a real, live folding map – back then we had BBS’s, not Internet, so there wasn’t a Google maps option. The Interwebz were in their infancy and called ARPnet; and they belonged primarily to the government and military.

But I digress…

The thing is, I planned it out a bit. Then, one day, I jumped in the ‘Stang and hit the road, not even thinking about the date, or what it means to a good chunk of the folks in the United States. Back then we were under the double-nickel law – that being “I can’t drive fifty-five” but you’d damn well better unless you want a ticket. Therefore, the trip was going to be about 13.5 hours. No biggie. I was in my early twenties, my prostate was normal sized, and I had a damn good bladder. Besides, we DID have rest areas back then.

Still, it was a long trip. Long about Council Bluffs, Iowa, I got hungry. And a little sleepy. So, I jumped on an exit, downshifted, and rolled myself into the palace of the golden arches. Back then my metabolism could handle that sort of crap being thrown at it.

Without paying much attention, I stretched, then wandered in through the door. As I stepped up to the register a voice said, “Welcome to McFatty’s, how may I help you?”

I replied, “Yeah, I’ll have a McBigButt with Fr…” at that moment I looked up in the direction of the voice and was greeted with the face of some kind of insane, spree-killing clown. I screamed, “GAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

The insane, spree-killing clown screamed, “GAAAAAAIIIIIIEEEEEEEE!”

We both involuntarily jumped back a step. Well, maybe the insane killer clown did it involuntarily. Me, I was fully conscious of putting some distance between me and all that facepaint.

“What the…” I said.

The insane clown, which turned out to be a young lady of about 19 or 20 screwed up her face and gave me a look like I’d lost my mind. After a few seconds passed she said, “Happy Halloween.”

“Crap,” I muttered, looking past her and seeing the rest of the workers in various odd attire. “That’s today… No wonder all I could get on the radio was Purple People Eater, Monster Mash, and Martian Boogie…”

I ended up having a McBigButt, Large McFry, and a Large McCoffee.  But, I decided to eat in my car rather than deal with the freak show inside. Good thing too, because the McCoffee turned out to be McBattery Acid and I had to dispose of it on the parking lot. It left a pothole I’m afraid, but given what might have happened if I’d tossed it into the trash with the McScraps… Well… I shudder to think about it.

After that, I hit the interstate once more, flipping through the stations until I found something non-Halloweenie. As it happened, the first thing I found was the theme from Miami Vice. I opened the sunroof, jammed the clutch, and aimed myself for the hub city of the Dakotas. By the time I arrived I had forgotten all about the incident – and the fact that it was Halloween.

Imagine my surprise when I rolled into town at the height of the madness…

More to come…

Murv