Thanksgiving has unexpectedly appeared in my rear view mirror. And like most Thanksgivings of late, memories of ’09 suddenly come to mind. That year, I volunteered to cook Thanksgiving dinner for the entire family. And like the dumb ass that I am, I decided it was the perfect time to try something new!
Being a fan of all things Cajun, I had always wanted to try my hands at the infamous Turducken…..you know, a chicken, stuffed inside a duck, stuffed inside a turkey…..coonass engineering at its finest. Now, I am sure for the true Cajun, cooking a Turducken is just another day on the bayou. But, for an over weight, drunken, city boy like myself, a “turphucken” (as I now call it) is a proverbial ass whip’n.
If you are easily offended, then you probably should stop reading my blog……if not, then here is a little funny.
A Cowboy walks up to this Indian and says, “Indian, can I talk to your horse?” Indian says, “Horse no talk.” Cowboy looks at the horse and says, “Horse, is Indian treating you good?” The horse looks over at the Cowboy and says, “Yea, Indian is treating me good. He feeds me oats, he washes me down from time to time and occasionally he combs my mane. All and all, life is good.”
Humor seems to have evaded me today. For that matter, humor seems to have evaded me for the last several days. Why you might ask? Well the years are catching up to me and Siete has decided that I need to make some changes. She seems to think that I need to eat a little healthy, actually start using the gym I belong to and stop drinking. The dieting and working out are one thing, but sobriety, that is for the birds.
Given my new perspective on life, I decided to go back and review a few of my old posts to see if they would offer up any humorous inspiration. I checked out “Virgin Run”, “A Former Life” and “I Have A Dream”. All decent blogs, but nothing too inspiring. I went a little deeper and perused “Wham, Bam, Thank You Ma’am”, “Pure Insanity” and “The Tortoise And The Hare”. Again, all good blogs, but still nothing. Then it hit me……humor has been evading me these last few days, humor has evaded me most of my adult born life. What the f__k Chuck?
Depending on the driver and of course the number of riders, Bourbon Street is only about a case of beer away from A&M. Much to my parent’s chagrin, New Orleans became a second home for me and my running buddies, which may partially explain my insatiable drinking habit and my affinity for Cajun cuisine.
As much as I enjoy good drunken buffoonery, I have never been a huge fan of Mardi Gras. A mob of 100,000 drunken idiots, crammed onto narrow streets, pushing and shoving as they move to and fro is not my idea of fun. No, I prefer to drink alone….. But, regardless of my likes or dislikes, Mardi Gras has become a huge part of the Cajun culture and has greatly influenced the region as a whole.
For a lot of Texans, we are coming to the end of our Religious Pilgrimage. Sure there is always a spring turkey to shoot or a big redfish to land, but for all intents and purposes, hunting season is all but over. We must now return to our familial responsibilities and hope that the return of the season comes sooner than we might expect.
It has become a tradition within my group of hunting buddies to have a “Man Dinner” at the close of every season. A time to bring families together and enjoy the fruits of our labor. A time to enjoy the company of our wives, our kids and……blah, blah, blah. Who am I trying to kid. The Man Dinner has very little to do with bring our families together. No, the Man Dinner has everything to do with drinking beer, eating good food and telling lies about all the good and bad hunts we had. And from what I can tell, though I have never asked, I think the women folk may enjoy it too.
I have a hard time understanding someone being prejudice towards a certain race or creed. Don’t get me wrong, those who know me know that I am extremely prejudice, but I don’t discriminate. I just don’t care for people.
Well, it appears prejudism runs deep in our Twisted family. The other day, I was making one of my Cajun classics, when Siete comes in ranting and raving about how she hates Cajuns. I don’t mean dislike or just don’t care for, I mean out and out hatred. Seems that husband number three (Vermilion Parish Cajun) ran off with a hussy at the local bar and left her to take care of the kids and the….well you know, blah, blah, blah. Without wading too deep into shallow waters of her mind, I quickly changed the subject and asked her to try the boudin I was making……well it appears Cajun cuisine left an even worst taste in her mouth than her ex-husband…..”Those ?*!@##@^&, sons a bitches are a bunch of ?>(&^%^#@ and can’t cook for the life of them. Cajun food is nothing but a bunch of pig lips and assholes, much like Tres”. Well then, there will no dinner for you.
Being an Okie, one could argue that I am not a true Southerner and for that matter, I would have a hard time disagreeing. Southern or not, I do love southern cooking and have had the pleasure of traveling throughout the South sampling some truly exceptional cuisine.
When I was young, our family often made our way down to the Mississippi Delta region to visit some lifelong family friends. Like all good southern families, these friends had grown up in the region for many generations and rarely had a reason to venture outside the bubble. As a result of their sedentary lifestyles, the Delta has developed into a truly unique region, steep in tradition and good ole southern hospitality. In the eyes of Delta folk, “slow and easy wins the race”.