“All I want in this life and time is some good clean fun.” — “Fat Man in the Bathtub,” by Lowell George, from “Waiting for Columbus.”
“All I want in this life and time is some good clean fun.” — “Fat Man in the Bathtub,” by Lowell George, from “Waiting for Columbus.”
Mad Blog Media 
Well, I was going to have spaghetti and sausage tonight for dinner since I had to rescue a bunch of frost-damaged tomatoes and so I made sauce. Is that too politically incorrect? Should I add a yellow squash to the mix?
What you want is a smoking tureen of this here: Heirloom bean stew with chile, corn and tomatoes. In fact, you should cycle on over to the school and buy the cookbook.
You could also turn that frostbitten gravy into a nice red chili con carne. But then you’re into the whole Texican thing and that might end badly too.
Dunno, Colombo was ITALIAN but his voyage was bankrolled by the Spaniards no? Enjoying something else like this – https://ricette-utenti.cookaround.com/pasta-broccoli-e-salsiccia.html doesn’t seem politically incorrect especially since it’s from Umbria, one of the few regions of Italy not bordered by a sea.
Frost damage? In October? I know, life in the high country. So, I guess BLTs are out. Go for the pasta I say. Pasta and oatmeal is jet fuel for cyclists. Patrick likes beans for the JATO (jet assisted takeoff) effect. Also, it deters wheel suckers.
Pasta al cavolfiore from the Moosewood Cookbook here last night, snapping a long string of chile dishes. It made for a nice change of pace.
But I put some red chile powder in it anyway, so there. Pffffppbbhhlllff.
There’s not much (perhaps oatmeal?) that a few red pepper flakes doesn’t improve. In Calabria it’s the poor man’s viagra.
Oh, yea, the old 7,000 feet issue plus on the north side, we probably get the downdrafts from the Sangres. Last week I covered everything with plastic tenting. Then went out and bought some old fashioned 75 watt incandescent bulbs since they put out more heat than light. Still, everything was frozen the next morning. Sad carnage. So I picked whatever had some red or yellow or orange in it and brought them all in, piled them in a blender, and then made a batch of sauce.
Weird, too. This morning the NWS said the temp at 0700 in Fanta Se was 43 deg F. I went out to walk the dog and there was frost on both cars. Go figure. I think its colder at our house.
I suppose I could make a corn, beans, and squash side dish. The Three Sisters. Serve it up with spaghetti, and call it a truce. Can’t we all just get along?
https://www.almanac.com/content/three-sisters-corn-bean-and-squash
Khal My Man: We’re up at 7600 feet in the Black Forest, CO and our 4 inches of snow and a high of 23F last Thursday turned our tomato/pumpkin/basel/etc. patch/pots (I know, poor choice of verbiage on the “pot” plural since we’re in CO) into cryogenic lab specimens. Fortunately we had pulled the basel pot in and, unfortunately, our best efforts to cover the tomatoes and use a halogen light underneath for some heating, were to no avail. The pumpkins, planted by our 3- and 2-year old grand-daughters in July from seeds harvested last year, were started too late and looked more like green tomatoes. 😦
We’re now into the coming month of “draining the drip sprinkler system/refilling the drip system” exercise. Gotta love the CO climate!! And It comes again next May! 🙂
PO’G: The heirloom bean stew sounds scrumptious! Hold that recipe for next Spring too…..adding a few more Hatch green chiles should also help your allergies then, eh? 🙂
Hi JD
I was up at a friend’s place in Lafayette two Sundays ago and saw that it was going to dip seriously into cold territory on Thursday. I think that’s when I got nailed, too. but it was a dry freeze down here.
Dry freeze is what Ted Williams went with. 🙂
When you say BLT, the B is bacon and it is tasty. I don’t do the bacon anymore, but some smart person could probably fix a pounded eggplant to satiate folks like me.
No bacon here either Dale. One of our favorite brewpubs has a BLAT (bacon, lettuce, tomato; and avacado) on grilled sourdough sandwich that the better half likes, but other than that bacon is out.
https://www.copperbrothelbrewery.com
We’re off the bacon as well. In fact, we’re pretty much down to fish and fowl. Heavy on the chicken thighs. It’s gonna suck when I get to Hell and find out that the Devil is a big-ass Rhode Island Red with fire for eyes and white-hot vibranium spurs.
We are neither fish nor fowl…
Err err err errrrrrrrrr … err errr err errrrrrrrrrrr. …
No pancetta? Mamma Mia! Everything in moderation, amico mio.
Speaking of more of the same in the Duke City.
https://www.abqjournal.com/1378074/apd-swat-officers-shoot-armed-man.html
Reminds me of the old song.
Oh, boy. Those actors would last five seconds today before someone assumed mass shooters and blew them away.
Otherwise known in these parts as “put the sixteen year old dog to sleep day”.
Shit.
Hi Khal,
my sincere condolences.
Sadly, you give a few years of your life to your pet but they give you their lifetime.
Been through this many times & it does not get easier
One of the hardest things you ever have to do. Duffy is 9 years old, and I have one more time left in me. I hope he doesn’t need it. No more after that.
A sad day. Condolences, K. Sixteen years sounds like a good long life, but it’s never long enough, is it? Herself still misses The Boo dreadfully, as I miss all my old pals — Jojo, Fuerte, Bandit, Ike and Tina.
Turkish and Mia are both coming up on 13, which I find hard to believe. It seems like just yesterday that the Turk was a wee spalpeen trying to get the negative attention of Chairman Meow. Now he’s an auld fella who takes a lot of naps.
I’m not looking forward to that final nap. He’s not an easy cat to love, but I love him anyway.
Darth Ike works a Sith mind trick on the young Turk Skywalker.
Thanks, everyone. I kinda feel like someone left a hole in my life this morning. Better half is off in the UK and I woke her at o-dark thirty to let her know I was barreling down St. Francis on the way to doggy ER. Shitty way to be woken up. Briefed Meena on the situation and we concurred it was time for Molly to check out.
Molly was fine at 1600 when I got home. Gave her the usual chicken strip as she bounced around the kitchen. Went for a walk and she stumbled on a curb, but I figured at sixteen dog years, what can you say. Got home and was fixing kibble at about 1730. Went to get Molly, who had gone deaf in the last year, and found her gasping and unsteady on her feet facing a bedroom wall. Helped her into the kitchen and she collapsed onto her dog bed. it was not getting better.
She was in worse shape by the time i got to Vet ER and I carried her inside. Even on oxygen, she seemed to be going into shock and getting unresponsive. Ultraound found abdominal cavity full of fluid, which turned out to be blood. Vet though a tumor or some mass had ruptured. We sent her to the Great Dog Park in the Sky.
First thing I thought of as I was driving home was Patrick’s story about Fuerte, which is one of the most poignant things I’ve read. I wondered if it was better for one’s dog pal to just fade away like Fuerte, or to be there with the hound as the DVM administers the needle, as I have done for our last three pooches when end of life decisions need to be made.
Neither road is a pleasant stroll, K. But we must walk the one we’re given.
As I have no priest to comfort me in time of need, whenever one of my furry friends goes west I revisit the Frank O’Connor short story “Requiem.” It was published in The New Yorker back in June 21, 1957, and can be found in its online archives and in O’Connor’s “Collected Stories.”
Got it. Thanks! Luckily, my better half ensures we have a Neew Yawrker subscription, too.
I am sorry. I screwed that up to the nth degree. Feel free to delete it.
Consider it done.