You'd Better Shop Around

Thought for the day:  Seeing's as how most of the merchandise sold in America's WalMarts was produced in China, do you suppose most of the stuff in China's WalMarts was made in the USA?

Nah, I don't think so, either.

Even though WalMart stores have popped up in many parts of the world, including China, the merchandise must vary quite a bit from country to country. I mean, how likely is it that a shopper in China would have any interest in buying corn dogs, a book about Uncle Sam, or a Super Bowl tee shirt?

So what does a WalMart shopper in China want to buy, you ask? Hehe. I'm so glad you asked, because we're about to take a little gander inside a Chinese

                                                                    Ready??? Here goes!

Not sure if the powdered horse milk is for foals or fools people.

I reckon anti-bacterial undies keep a fella's dong phu from getting too phooey, huh?

In case you can't tell, that's assorted reptile parts in them there bags. For most of us, frog legs are about as adventurous as we wanta get.

Underwear may be sanitized, but Chinese people evidently don't have a problem scooping rice out of big open-air bins.

Now, this is a bunch of bull. Or at least, it's a pile of a certain anatomical part of a bunch of bulls, if you get my drift An aphrodisiac, maybe? More like a purgative, if ya ask me.

Not the kind of Crocs we're accustomed to seeing at the store, is it?

So exactly what do you remove from water to make it dietetic? Oh, wait! I've got it. Maybe they add something to it. Like ipecac. That'd knock those pounds right off...

YUM! Savory duck carcasses.

What? Not interested in DIY frog legs?

Again, no concerns about the sanitary conditions of bulk meat, either.

Now these are kinda cool. More men might drink water if it tasted like meat. Hey! Where's the bacon...?

Um, yep. Those things are exactly what they look like. Pig faces. Smoked, maybe? I'd rather have bacon with my eggs, thank you very much.

How about some assorted animal ribs? No need to be shy, people... just help yourself.

Although this picture was included on numerous websites along with a mess of other shots allegedly taken inside a Chinese WalMart, I suspect it's bogus. But funny. I like funny. (But I don't want to see eyeballs in my pickle jar.)










So there ya have it. What's the strangest thing you ever saw in a Superstore? In America, the strangest thing in the store may not be the merchandise; it may be the shoppers. Let's just say... they have a...  fantastic sense of fashion. Don't believe me? Check out this People of Walmart video. (There's plenty more of 'em on Youtube, too.)

Since the topic today is picking on  about Walmart, I might as well throw this out there, too. Didja hear that WalMart is thinking about selling wine under its own label? Their marketing department thinks a cheap-ass huge potential market for cheap-ass  inexpensive wine exists. Who knows? Could be they're right. After all, who doesn't love Two Buck Chuck? So whattaya think Wally World should call their wines? How about these creative suggestions:

•  Chateau Traileur Parc
• White Trashfindel
• Big Red Gulp
• World Championship WRiesling
• NASCARbernet
• Chef Boyardeaux
• Peanut Noir
• I Can't Believe it's not Vinegar 
• Grape Expectations
• Nasti Spumante

The beauty of Wal-Mart wine is it will make ya sick go equally well with white meat (possum) or red (squirrel). (No need to tell me this scintillating information I received from a friend is yet another hoax. I know perfectly well squirrel meat isn't red.)

Next Monday, the lovely and talented Dianne Salerni will be interviewing me on her blog. It seems she has a few questions about Hot Flashes and Cold Lemonade. How about that? She's a fantastic writer, and it'll be a genuine honor to visit with her. Tell ya what. Why don't y'all stop in and say howdy, okay? Heck, I'll even bake a chocolate rum cake.

Not enough blatant self-promotion for ya? How's this? Yesterday, my old hometown newspaper in Maryland ran an article about ... moi and my book. Life is good. Oh yeah, life is definitely good.

                                    Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

The Adventures of Three Old Poops

Thought for the day:  One aspect of serendipity to bear in mind is that you have to be looking for something in order to find something else.  [Lawrence Block]

Thanks to our anniversary trip to Dahlonega in May, Smarticus and I have a new-found interest in rocks and minerals. (Believe me, no one is more surprised by this unexpected development than I.) Anyway, because of this new interest, we went to a rock, mineral, and gemstone show a few weeks ago.

[Psssst! Guess where it was held? At a museum. Woo- HOO!]

See, as many of you already know, I'm an unabashed sucker for museums. Even though Tellus Museum is only about an hour's drive away, we'd never been there before, so by sheer serendipity, we were once again exposed to another new adventure.

Most of the rock show was set up outside, but the admission price included entrance to the museum, as well. The show was fun, with lots and lots of gorgeous rocks, jewelry, and fossils, etc, to gawk at, and I even bought grab bags of goodies from a couple of the vendors. (Okay, so I'm a sucker for grab bags, too.)

But enough of that. I want to tell you about the museum. Especially blogging pal Sherry... she and her family will be relocating to Georgia pretty soon, and I just KNOW her Bubba would love this museum...

Its transportation section contains a nifty collection of motorbikes, cars, airplanes, and even space age displays. There's plenty of variety to capture interest, but not an overabundance of any one thing. This 1886 Benz Motorwagen is the world's first automobile.

The museum's rock and mineral collection is large and eye-catching.   The little boy in this picture (a future geologist?) stood transfixed in front of these fluorescent minerals for quite a while, watching them transition from being illuminated by artificial light to startling glow-in-the-dark luminescence when the light was turned off. His dad finally had to pull him away.

In addition to all the geodes, gems, and whatnot on display, there's also a place in the museum to pan for gems and hunt for fossils. Smarticus wasn't interested in digging in the dirt for itty bitty fossils, but we did pan some teensy weensy gems.

Another section of the museum is called My Big Back Yard, and it's specifically designed for children to explore and learn. It looked like fun, but we're a little outside the demographics for it, so we didn't spend any time there. Now, the last section... the last section is my favorite. Dinosaur fossils!

Check out this bad-ass! The dunkleosteus, meaning terrible fish, had bony armor over most of its body, grew up to twenty feet long, and instead of teeth, had sharpened edges in its super powerful jaws. Needless to say, he was at the top of the oceanic food chain. This particular specimen, however, must have been a loner: he had no body. Nope. He's just a scary-looking head attached to a wooden cut-out.

I've always loved pterodactyls; don't you? Of course, none of them have ever chased me and tried to nibble on my flesh, either.

Of COURSE I touched it. What kid could resist? Boys, especially, love to be grossed out at the idea of touching an old pile of fossilized dinosaur poop.

I don't remember what this guy is, but he's kinda cute, isn't he? For some reason, he reminds me of a dog that should've been part of Mad magazine's Spy vs. Spy cartoon.

Naturally, Tellus has its very own fearsome-looking T. rex.

I tried to lure Smarticus into posing in front of this big-mouthed fossil with his mouth opened wide, but darn it, my favorite old poop wouldn't bite. However,  I had no problem with acting the fool. Actually, come to think of it, the role comes rather naturally.




So there ya have it. We went to look at a bunch of rocks, and discovered a whole new museum to explore. A terrific museum, with a diverse smorgasbord of exhibits from rocks... to old cars and satellites... to kid's stuff... to dinosaur poop. What more could ya ask for?

{The following weekend, we had another kind of adventure. After going to a car show, we stopped at a new-to-us place in Lawrenceville to have pizza. Best pizza we've ever eaten in the state of Georgia! For all you locals reading this, the restaurant is called Romeo's. Fantastic! Everything in this New York-style pizza place is handmade in-store, except for the cannolis, which they special-order from a bakery in New York City. Mama mia! They have-a some good food!}

                                      Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

     [Don't be a procratinataur... embrace an adventure today! It's life's whipped cream.]

Baltimore Spice

Thought for the day:  Anyone can love a perfect place. Loving Baltimore takes some resilience.   [Laura Lippman]

On Tuesday, I asked if y'all thought a city could have a personality. What can I say about Baltimore? It definitely has personality. And attitude. Lots and lots of attitude, hon. Even though we moved away from there more than forty years ago, part of my heart is still up there. Matter of fact, Baltimore is where my book Hot Flashes and Cold Lemonade takes place.

There is a saying in Baltimore that crabs may be prepared in fifty ways and that all of them are good. [H.L. Mencken]

Well, I can't say that I've had them fifty different ways, but I've yet to try any that weren't lip-smacking good. I mean, just look at this crab cake, wouldja?

It's a real crab cake, meaning it's made with luscious lumps of honest-to-goodness blue crab meat. Not a bunch of breading and vegetables. Yeah, sure, I like green peppers and celery and onions, too, but in the name of all that's good and holy, none of that stuff belongs in a crab cake. Crab meat belongs in a crab cake.

And this belongs in a crab cake. Yep, if Baltimore could be defined by a flavor, it'd have to be Old Bay. It's a must-have in every self-respecting Baltimore kitchen, not just for crab cakes, but for steamed shrimp and crabs, too. Some people even put it in their scrambled eggs, but um, I'll pass on that one.

                   

For better or for worse, Baltimore is also known for the kinda spice found on its infamous Block. Ah, yeah, that's where a long line of well-known strippers have performed over the years, and where decades and decades of soldiers and sailors drooled and spent their cash. At one time, this section of Baltimore Street may have had a certain amount of class. Maybe. Back in the sixties, I walked through the Block in broad daylight to get to where I had to take a civil service test. I was curious about the gaudy looking joints, but not curious enough to slow down and take a good look.

Talking about taking a good look, in Hot Flashes and Cold Lemonade, a busybody neighbor who lives across the street from Tindeco Wharf seems to get her greatest kicks from looking out her window and into the business of everyone she sees below. Mildred is particularly interested in Pearl's comings and goings, and insists that her husband get up from his easy chair and take a look, because she's sure that woman is up to no good:

     Thornton looked out the window and grinned. "I'll be damned! Do you know who that is?" he said. "That, my dear, is Blaze Starlet. Classiest stripper Baltimore Street ever saw." He smoothed his eyebrows with some spit, and ran a hand through his hair. "I believe I'll go down there and see if that young lady needs a hand."
    Mildred grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the window. "You'll do no such thing! I think we should both sit down and mind our own business."
   Hiding a smile, he let her lead him back to the easy chair, which was precisely where he wanted to be in the first place. That oughta keep her away from that window for a while, he thought smugly.
    Blaze Starlet. Damn, I crack me up.

****

Old Bay and the Block's brand of spice aren't the only defining flavors of Baltimore. Since it was a primary entry point for European immigrants prior to the opening of Ellis Island, ethnic neighborhoods and restaurants abound. If you've got a hankering for a particular European dish, there's a good chance you can find an authentic version of  it. And lots of beer to wash it down, too. Neighborhood taverns, many of them owned and run by a live-in family, freckle Baltimore's landscape as abundantly as churches. And not all of them are, shall we say... showcases:

   George steered his truck into a dimly lit gravel lot near the water's edge, and parked beside a dingy cinderblock building. Looked like Hoover may have been president the last time the place got a coat of whitewash, and the neon palm tree flickering beside the door was moaning a 60-hertz dirge, but the Budweiser sign in the window was all he really needed to see...
   ... Inside, the bar smelled like low tide, mixed with rancid cooking oil and cheap cigars. Limp curtains drooped at the windows, the chipped floor tiles bore evidence of use and abuse, and the tables and chairs looked like rejects from a last chance mix-and-match sale at the Salvation Army thrift shop.

****

It's kinda funny. After Smarticus read my book, I asked him if that Miller's Island bar George went into sounded like any of the places he'd frequented in the old days. He said, "Yeah. All of 'em."

Okay, just so you don't think this post is all about (ugh) self-promotion, let me leave you with a few smiles. Since Baltimore is on the water, and activities on the Chesapeake Bay and down the ocean are so much a way of life, the following comments, allegedly made by actual children, seemed rather appropriate. And heck, what do I care about appropriate, anyway? They're funny! Yep, it seems that kids do say the darnedest things. (Thanks, Pat!)

• Kelly, age 6- This is a picture of an octopus. It has eight testicles.
• Jerry, age 6- Oysters' balls are called pearls.
• Mike, age 7- If you are surrounded by ocean, you are an island. If you don't have ocean all round you, you are incontinent. 
• Kylie, age 6-  Sharks are ugly and mean, and have big teeth, just like Emily Richardson . She's not my friend any more.
• Billy, age 8-  A dolphin breathes through an asshole on the top of its head.
• Millie, age 6- My uncle goes out in his boat with 2 other men and a woman and pots and comes back with crabs.
• William, age 7- When ships had sails, they used to use the trade winds to cross the ocean. Sometimes when the wind didn't blow the sailors would whistle to make the wind come. My brother said they would have been better off eating beans.
• Helen, age 6- Mermaids live in the ocean. I like mermaids. They are beautiful and I like their shiny tails, but how on earth do mermaids get pregnant? Like, really?
• Christopher, age 7- Some fish are dangerous. Jellyfish can sting. Electric eels can give you a shock. They have to live in caves under the sea where I think they have to plug themselves in to chargers.
• Kevin, age 6- When you go swimming in the ocean, it is very cold, and it makes my willy small.
• Julie, age 7- On vacation my Mom went water skiing. She fell off when she was going very fast. She says she won't do it again because water fired right up her big fat ass.
• Bobby, age 6- The ocean is made up of water and fish. Why the fish don't drown I don't know.
• James, age 7- My dad was a sailor on the ocean. He knows all about the ocean. What he doesn't know is why he quit being a sailor and married my mom.

                                Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

With a Horn and a Gun

Thought for the day:  Jokes about German sausage are the absolute wurst.

Okay, so this post isn't about German sausage, but it IS about kielbasa... Polish sausage. How'd ya like to learn how to make it?

And as a bonus, you can also see how my old-fashioned vs. new-fangled competition went.

 That chunk of cow horn is what I've used to stuff sausage casings for more than forty years. We'll call it Davey, okay? And the modern sausage-making tool, a nifty gift from my brother, is our Goliath. This was my first time using it.

Just for kicks, I decided to use Davey to make the first ring of sausage, and Goliath for the other, and compare the times. Yeah, I know. Kinda like comparing a modern text messenger with an old guy sending Morse code, right?

Still, let's see how it went, shall we?

First, to make any sausage, you need ground meat. For kielbasa, I use pork butt, and have the butcher grind it for me, including all its fat. To make good juicy sausage, you MUST have some fat. Pork is so much leaner than it used to be, some people add additional ground fat to their sausage. Not my choice to do that, though. Just try to find meats with some marbling and fat around the edges, and you'll be fine, as long as you don't overcook it.

These are the four simple ingredients I use. Of the four, I consider marjoram to be the most important. If you make kielbasa, don't use a dusty ol' bottle of marjoram that's been sitting on your pantry shelf for God only knows how long, okay? Spring for a fresh bottle. You'll notice the salt, pepper and garlic are all coarse ground.

You need to add enough spices to your sausage to be able to see them. I don't follow a recipe, and judge when it's just right by the smell and look of the meat. The latest batch I made was about three and a half pounds of meat, and I used about half a bottle of marjoram, maybe a tablespoon or so of garlic powder and pepper, and about a teaspoon of salt. (Sorry I can't be more specific. I don't measure.) When the mixture looks and smells good, you can pinch off a small patty's worth and fry it for a quick taste test.

A squirt of Pam makes it easier to slip the casing onto the horn. Tie a knot in the end, and start pushing the meat through the horn with your fingers and into the casing. Keep a straight pin handy so you can prick the casing if an air pocket develops. As for the casing, it's fairly easy to find in some parts of the country, but not so much in others. Here, I can get it fresh at Whole Foods. You may even be able to order it online.

The first ring, made with Davey, is almost finished here. Total time from first bit of meat shoved through the horn to the second end tie-off? Fifteen minutes. Not too shabby, huh?

Time to try the big gun. It comes with several different sizes of tubes, but this one looked about right, so I gave it a shot of Pam and pushed the casing on, easy-peasy, slick as all get-out. Time to check the clock...

Here's the gun, fully loaded with meat and ready to shoot. Doesn't it look cool?

Unfortunately, I encountered a few (ahem) ESO (Equipment Superior to Operator) problems. Those black screw-on caps at either end of the tube LOOK the same, don't they? I thought so, too. But the threading isn't the same. After I loaded the tube with meat the first time, I couldn't screw the darned thing onto the gun. Once it was switched, reloaded, casing reattached, and then hooked up correctly, squeezing the trigger emptied the tube and shot the meat into the casing lightning fast. Too fast. (Okay, so maybe I was blasting it like Al Capone with a tommy gun...) The Pam I'd stupidly put on the nozzle didn't help, either. The casing flew off the nozzle so fast, the meat packed way too loosely amid a ton of monster air pockets. So, after I used a wooden spoon handle to push the last bits of meat out of the nozzle, I had to manually squeeze the meat through the casing and eliminate all the air pockets. Bottom line: with all my screw-ups, it was well over thirty minutes before I tied the final knot in the second ring of sausage.

So, Davey beat Goliath. This time. Kinda. Next time, the gun will definitely blast my handy dandy horn outta the water. If I hadn't been so darned trigger-happy and charmed by the gun's speed this time, I could've ... I should've... been controlling the packing and air pockets as I went along.

Bottom line? It doesn't matter how ya fill the casing. (My mother-in-law had a sausage attachment on her electric mixer.) This stuff is DEE-licious. Simple to prepare, too. Barely cover it with water, bring to a slow boil, and then simmer for fifteen to twenty minutes. Drain most of the water, and add sauerkraut. Cook until heated through. Serve with mashed potatoes. And there ya have it... Polish comfort food at its finest. And if you don't want to stuff your meat into casings at all, you could always make some unique-tasting burgers.

                     I'd show you what it looked like after it was cooked... but we (erp!) ate it.

(Oh yeah, just so ya know, a pair of old-timer Morse code operators DID beat a pair of hot shot text messengers on the Jay Leno show a couple years ago... )

                                      So, what's YOUR favorite comfort food?

My doctor told me to stop having intimate dinners for four unless there are three other people.  [Orson Welles}

My mom made two dishes: Take it or Leave it.  [Stephen Wright]

                          Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Give a Friend Crabs

Thought for the day: I have an answering machine in my car. It says, I'm home now. But leave a message and I'll call when I'm out.  [Steven Wright]

REAL crab cakes contain very little filler.

Okay, WE don't have an answering machine in OUR car, but now that we're back home, let me share a little bit about our time away.

First, it's entirely untrue that my husband and I ate our weight in crab meat while we were in Maryland. Not that we didn't TRY, mind you, and since we're such fair equal opportunity eaters, I'll have you know we gave ample time and belly space to crab cakes, soft crabs, steamed hard crabs, and several varieties of crab soup.

Not saying the reason we went to Maryland was to stuff ourselves with seafood, but, well, we're no fools. We're there? By golly, we're gonna support the local economy and EAT it.

 Recognize this... Guy?

Several Baltimore eateries were featured on TV's Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives shortly before we headed up that-a-way, so we made a point of visiting one of them while we were there... Broadway Diner. Wow. I repeat, WOW. This place is only a distant cousin, several times removed, from the slightly disreputable greasy spoon trucker hang-outs that used to line Route 40 when we were kids. It may have the iconic streamlined chrome look from the outside, but this place is much larger, much flashier, much hipper than any ol' diner-next-to-a-cheesy-motel ever hoped to be. Lots of tables and comfy booths. Little booth-side jukeboxes. (Remember them? 'Course, instead of nickels and quarters, these babies require greenbacks.) Great service, great ambience, a happy hum from a hungry crowd, but not an exorbitant wait. But the greatest thing about this place is its food. I kid you not, they served me the world's BEST sandwich ever. Called the ultimate grilled cheese, it was made on thick slabs of scrumptious brioche with four (Count 'em, FOUR!) different kinds of cheeses. The kicker? A generous layer of well-seasoned lump backfin crab meat. No kidding. The BEST. My hubby had the Chesapeake burger, made of Angus beef ... in itself top-notch... but it ALSO had a layer of that perfect-tasting crab meat. Quite a culinary experience. A bit pricier than our usual luncheon fare, but worth every penny. PLUS we got to see a bunch of cool pics from Guy Fieri's visit to the place. Wanta peek at some?

It isn't as though we don't eat seafood when we're at home, ya know. Even in a landlocked place like Atlanta, it's possible to find quite a decent variety of it. Even live blue crabs. Matter of fact, a while back,  I went to the doctor for one of those regular kinda check-up visits, and afterwards, stopped at the market across the street from the medical center to see what kind of seafood goodies were available. On the way home from there, I gave my hubby a call via amateur radio and told him something along the lines of, "I'm out of the doctor's, and I got crabs!"

Yeah. As you can imagine, I took quite a ribbing from our radio buddies over THAT one. (Now, if I want to give hubby a message about getting crabs, I say, "I got the Motts!")

In addition to tons of seafood, it's entirely possible that I ate a lot more sweets than usual while we were in Maryland, too. Lemon meringue pie. Smear cake. Powdered sugar-covered Polish cookies, and some amaaaaazing Polish candy--- liqueur-filled chocolates! Incredibly good. Oh, and let's not forget my mother-in-law's wonderful homemade kielbasa. She made twenty-some pounds of it for the wedding reception. Oh, didn't I mention that? Yep, that's the primary reason we went to Maryland. For our beautiful niece's wedding. Grrrreat wedding, too. I'll tell you more about it next time. (Ever been to a Polish wedding?)

In the meantime, how about you? How do you indulge your tastebuds when you're away from home? Oh, and in case you're worried about all that food I ate totally ruining my (ahem) girlish figure, don't. Everybody know vacation calories ... don't count.

                                      Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Oh yeah, definitely. Give a friend crabs!