It’s October 30 and we all know what that means! Time to panic and run down to the local drug-store to buy a last-minute Halloween costume. You can grouse about how that dented Miley Cyrus mask looks silly and makes your beard itch — or you can make a game of it and be proud you’re wearing The Last Shite in the Shop (as I heard an Irish DJ refer to this shopping pattern).
Of course, a lot can happen in two months — like a massive coronal eruption on the sun’s surface frying us all to a crisp — and lord knows I’m tired of waiting, but two months is nothing. Nothing.
When a recipe starts by telling you to boil ten squirrel heads, you know you’re onto something good! I found this little gem in “Louisiana Cultural Vistas,” one of those fancy magazines they put in upscale hotel rooms in New Orleans. It’s actually an excellent damn mag judging by this particular issue. And the potpie recipe was tucked in an article about Mary Land, author of Louisiana Cookery and a woman light years ahead of her time — conservationist, serial marrier, hunter, fisher, cook.
Anyway, the recipe card reads:
Boil ten squirrel heads until tender in just enough water to cover. Make pie crust and line casserole. Place a layer of heads and some juice. Dot with butter and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Make another layer of heads, juice and more pie crust strips. Cook in oven for one-half hour. (Serves six).
I sure as hell hope the recipe assumes you’ll take the meat off the skulls before putting it in the crust. Otherwise, that would be one huge (and crunchy) potpie.
This weekend, I made a quick pass through the real Grand Prairie, Louisiana — as opposed to the alternate-reality one I created for The First Annual Grand Prairie Rabbit Festival. To be honest, I didn’t expect to find that much difference between the two. After all, the one is based on the other.
Friday, I finished The Well and the Mine, by Gin Phillips. It was a beautiful bit of Southern fiction, the kind I used to aspire to write, but gave up for comedy and angry satire — because, as much as I love her voice, I know it’s not my voice. The characters in it — the Moore family — were, as they say, something else, and I really didn’t want the book to end. Extra bonus is that my copy is signed. I met Gin at SIBA a few weeks back and she had one of those great stories: Her book was published by a small house and then picked up by Penguin/Riverhead. Keep reading →
I think they should consider giving Leno’s 10 p.m. slot to the comedic genius of Craig Ferguson. Sent in by Dead Serious, who’s got video of a monkey riding a motorcycle.
The Nobel peace committee is a long-standing politicized joke. Witness the award to Jimmy Carter, whose sucking up to dictators while in office and complete bungling of the Iran hostage crisis likely set the entire tone for the relationship between the U.S. and tinpots and terrorist groups for the next 30 years.
Building houses for the poor and writing volumes of poetry does not make up for that. Keep reading →
Boudin. If you’re not from Louisiana, you probably haven’t had it and you probably can’t pronounce it. Boo-dan. But you have to cut about half of the n off of dan.
Sure, at first glance, a box of boudin may look like a carton full of soft-boiled geriatric, uh, weinies. But I promise you won’t put anything tastier in your mouth. (I’m talking about the boudin, you perv.) Keep reading →
Before everyone else jumps on the Pomplamoose bandwagon, let me just say that Susan has been listening to this on repeat since Saturday (hey, days count in the world of claiming to be so cool it hurts). And me? I can’t stand Beyonce’s “Single Ladies.” Hate that song. HATE. IT. But this cover, I’ve watched more than once. Our office Millennial/Music geek said he heard them on WFMU this weekend. And now the blogosphere — even Instapundit — is taking notice!
Some label should sign Pomplamoose immediately — and then we can accuse them of selling out!
“Inflate school spirit to new proportions!” You don’t say!? Hey, I don’t make this stuff up. I didn’t create the photo. I didn’t write the copy. Just pointing it out. I haven’t seen something so disgusting and hilarious since Woody the Pencilman. (Not surprisingly, both links were sent along by the same sick person, a lady teacher in our public-school system!)
