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…

*     *     *     *     *

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

For the title of this blog entry to actually make any sense, we really need to jump into the “wayback machine” and set the dial for 2008.

Well… I suppose that would technically make it a “recent back” or maybe “near back” machine…

Suffice it to say, we have to take a short jaunt back in time.

Ready?

Okay, here we go…

Kerchunk, flumminerp! Glorp. Chonk. Chonk. Glorp.

And, here we are…

In 2008 I attended a wonderful little gathering called “OstaraFest.” It was held in Killeen / Fort Hood, Texas, and sponsored by Sisters of the Earth and Sea, a fantastic little spirituality store there in town. The owners, Joyce and Lolly, brought Morrison and me in for the event, and were not only by proxy, but by self-assignation, our handlers. This meant Joyce took care of Morrison, and Lolly took care of me – as in, seeing to it I was where I needed to be when I needed to be there, that I had a ride to and from the hotel, and very importantly, that I ate.

This is where the fun began. So much was happening at the 1 day festival proper, that Lolly forgot to “feed me.” Not for the whole event, mind you. Just lunch on Saturday during the event. It was really a comedy of errors to be sure, as it went something like this –

Lolly: “Murv, have you eaten yet?”

Me: “No, but I’m giving a workshop in 5 minutes.”

Lolly: “I’ll get you some lunch as soon as you are finished.”

2 hours later…

Lolly: “Murv, have you eaten yet?”

Me: “No, but I’m giving a workshop in 5 minutes.”

Lolly: “I’ll get you some lunch as soon as you are finished.”

2 hours later…

Lolly: “Murv, have you eaten yet?”

Me: “Nope…”

Lolly: “Ummm… the vendors ran out of food.”

In all honesty, it wasn’t a big deal. Seriously. I hadn’t even thought about eating, plus I’m a fat guy. I could probably go for a week without food, no worries. Still, the entire debacle became a running joke.

Back into the “way-near-back-forward machine” we go…

Prolg. Knohc. Knohc. Prolg. Prenimmulf, knuhcrek!

And here we are, back in 2010. Morrison and I were invited back to Texas for the second OstaraFest (they had to skip 2009 for a variety of reasons). Again, Joyce and Lolly were our defacto handlers, but this time they also enlisted the aid of their husbands, AND everyone else within a 25 mile radius. It seems Lolly was dead set on making sure “Murv gets fed.”

After the harrowing experience of the Flight Attendant from Hell, not to mention being up since 3AM and hanging out in airports, I was ready to relax when I arrived. Lolly hauled me off to their house, where they set me up in a guest room with my own private bath – complete with a huge faux fish tank and flamingos – see photos…

Then, once I was settled in her husband Doug began providing me with beer. Now, I already liked Doug to begin with. We had met during my previous trip and he’s a really great guy. But, now he was giving me beer. Therefore, we was instantly elevated to best friend status. That evening we had Beer Butt Chicken, Brisket, Baked Beans, and Cole Slaw. And, of course, more beer.

But, that was just the beginning…

The next morning, Lolly had to head off to the festival early to do setup. I wasn’t due there for a while, so I became Doug’s charge. Apparently he had been told not to feed me beer for breakfast, so we drove over to Joyce’s, where Butch, her husband, was tasked with preparing breakfast for Morrison and me. Upon entering the house it became obvious that all would be good. Not only was there coffee, but pepper bacon, sausage, biscuits, cantaloupe, sliced tomatoes, and even chocolate muffins; Butch was simply waiting for us to arrive so that he could find out what we wanted in our made to order omelets. Nope. Not kidding. See photographic evidence on the right…

So, after having a breakfast that simply couldn’t be beat, we were off to the festival itself. This is where things became a little crazy – if I was asked by one person, I was asked by thirty-five of them, “Murv, has Lolly fed you yet?” Well, as it happens, a young man with a menu had searched me out and taken my order, then delivered lunch right back into my hands. Therefore, I had been the recipient of an utterly fantastic Brisket Sammich with all the trimmings. Of course, as soon as I finished it I was asked by Joyce if Lolly had fed me yet. I told her “Nope,” to which she immediately went into a tizzy and told me she would see to it that I was fed. Unfortunately, Morrison stopped her and told her I was lying before I could get my hands on another sammich. Ahem… Curse you Dorothy Morrison… Of course, it was probably a good thing I didn’t get that second sandwich because that evening Butch and Joyce hosted us for dinner and we were treated to both Chicken Gumbo and “Sweep the Swamp Gumbo” (crawfish, shrimp, and alligator). And, I have to say it was probably even the best gumbo I’d ever eaten – maybe even better than any I’ve had in NOLA over the years – of course, Joyce is from Louisiana, so I don’t suppose I should be surprised.

Fast forward to Sunday morning. Once again, I was shuttled off to Butch and Joyce’s for breakfast. This time, in addition to all of the original fixin’s, Butch was preparing pancakes and fried eggs.

Now… I suppose you are wondering at this point why I have all of these pictures of said food items. Trust me, everyone there was wondering why I was pulling out my cell phone and snapping pictures.

Well, what’s a blog entry from me without a few pics, right? Besides, since there was this running joke, it was pretty much a moral imperative that I see to it there was photographic evidence of the chow.

And again, after another incredible breakfast, we were off to the store to do seminars and sign books. Near the end of my workshop, the door to the room slid open and a hand slipped through. It belonged to Lolly of all people, and in it was a dressed hot dog. It seems that after everyone else had seen to it I was fed, Lolly wanted to make up for having NOT fed me at the last event. And so, she has her own photographic evidence of having “fed the author”…

Yep, that’s MY hand in there grabbing the plate… I was hungry!

That evening, we were hustled off to Ernie’s, a local bar with utterly fantastic burgers. During all of this, whenever I would sign a book or simply be on my way to the restroom, people would ask me, “Murv, has Lolly fed you yet?”

I think maybe I put on elebenty-twelve pounds while I was there. But, I think we’ve finally answered the ages old question – How Many People Does It Take To Feed Murv?

Half the state of Texas, apparently…

More to come…

Murv