Almost Summer. Summer. Still Summer. Christmas. We have officially entered Still Summer. That’s without the heat index– not that that matters. Hardest hit? Poor Tiger.
Pretty funny and not too far off.
SueK asked yesterday if I’d recovered from Drudge Work Monday. Today is Thursday, and no I have not. This is how exhausted I am. One day this week (??) I came down with a load of white cotton curtains that needed to be bleached and washed. So I started the machine, put the detergent in
I am not going to eat liver mush. I don’t care.
I understand that most of y’all don’t live in The South, and may not fully appreciate why– when the lights go out on a perfectly clear day such as this– I speculate that Bubba musta run up a pole. Ta. Da. Amanda reports that both drivers involved are okay (Bubba got cut off by another
If you are unfamiliar with Plate Lunches, they are a southern staple, served at fine restaurants and dives alike. Usually they consist of a choice of meat and choice of three side dishes. With the advent of vegetarianism in the south, some years ago, “vegetarian” plate lunches became available. You will soon see why the
The menu, a litany of updated regional classics such as black-eyed pea cakes, was relentlessly “improved” by garnishes such as avocados and Basmati rice. The joint’s “philosophy” — since all new restaurants must now publish a justifying manifesto along with their menu — centered on the now tedious homage to “local” “organic” produce and a
Whole sweet little crappy old book to read or borrow for free here. That infallible source tells me that Stanton, hailing from, and always living in Georgia, was sometimes called the James Whitcomb Riley of The South. Indeed, they were pals! Stanton was named poet laureate of Georgia– the first southern state to have a
What a beautiful morning! Warmish & sunny. Whiffs of leftover fireplace smoke in a slight breeze. Later on, one of the neighbors had a burn pile going. Fall. Breakfast. Fried leftover mashed potatoes with onions, and a fried egg. Chatted with the Thanksgiving Orphan about one of his favorite authors, Will Durant. Pie Brunch was
I noted that I hate casinos– and SueK responded that they are pretty easy to avoid. That’s true, unless your in-laws have invited to to spend the weekend at a casino. Mr. Big Food’s Father & Mr. Big Food’s Mother celebrated 60 years of wedded bliss this past weekend. As they frequently do, they invited
Not even going to tag this as “silliness.” Via Powerline’s The Week in Pictures.
Via Powerline’s The Week in Pictures Neither words nor pictures describe what flooding is really like. If you haven’t seen it– or lived through it– you can’t really know. That said, if you’re interested keeping up with what’s happening on the ground in Louisiana, may I suggest you follow along with Rod Dreher’s life. Dreher
Via Powerline’s The Week in Pictures
Apparently, I did not take a photograph of the finished burgoo. I am sorry. The finished burgoo is a stew. Mr. Big Food cooked it over the course of two days– well worth the effort. We had it for supper on Derby Day! The recipe is from Craig Claiborne’s Southern Cooking (1987). Here’s part of
In writing or speaking, give to every person his due title, according to his degree and the custom of the place. George Washington’s “Rules of Behavior” as found in Stepping Stones to Literature: A Reader for Seventh Grades (1898).
via Powerline’s The Week in Pictures
“Marica, you seem a bit pensive this evening. Is everything alright?” “Ruff?” “Oh, Missy! Oh Rocky! I love you both so so much!!” “Ummm…. . umpherhaharr. [cough] We love you, too, Marica.” “ruff.” “I’m sorry. That was so uncharacteristically emotional of me. I apologize.” “No need, Marica, no need. You love us. We love you.
The cookbook from which this recipe comes– Royal Recipes from Cajun Country— is a real hoot. Nearly every entry begins with a little story about “King Culinary.” Some are funnier than others, but Mr. Big Food included them all in his Big Food Manual. King Culinary’s good friend, ole Bill Landry, runs the hometown newspaper
We have covered this ground already but apparently Mr. Guy Martin of Garden & Gun did not take the lesson to heart. “Must you say goodbye?” is the first reader question Mr. Martin addresses in the most recent “Ask G&G”– filed under, of all headings considering his answer, “Talk of the South.” I’m not able to find
Mr. Big Food’s Southern antipasto: It’s Southern because it has pickled okra and chow-chow Wednesday is “guy food” night. (Meatless Monday, Fancy Tuesday, etc. We are fans of order– of a certain sort– here at the Farm.) Southern antipasto was followed by fried barbecue-seasoned oysters and boiled shrimp.What. A. Feast. Thursday is Heritage night. Tomorrow is