rps

I have a rack of brined and dry rubbed St. Louis style ribs in the Kamado Joe Jr. I am putting together a potato salad to go with the ribs and a garden salad. I can't remember if I posted the potato salad recipe before so here it is: Potato Salad - No Eggs, No Olive I must give credit to Ina Garten as well as a Cooking Illustrated article. Of course, then I fiddled with it. Ingredients: 3 - 4 pounds waxy potatoes (Yukon Gold, New, Red, etc.) diced bite size with washed skins on. 3/4 cup diced red onion 3/4 cup diced celery 1/4 cup buttermilk 1 T. yellow mustard 1 T. Dijon mustard 2 T. coarse ground mustard 2 T. dry white wine 1 t. celery seed 1 cup mayo (Optional: 1/2 cup chopped fresh dill) Kosher salt and coarse cracked pepper to taste. Method: Steam the diced potatoes until done, remembering that cooled potatoes firm up a bit. When done remove from the heat. (Option for a more tart salad: sprinkle the potatoes with one T. Red Wine vinegar while hot) Allow to cool to merely warm. While the potatoes steam and cool, dice the celery and onion and prepare the sauce by whisking all the remaining ingredients together. Add the celery and onion to the finished sauce to begin flavor blending. When the potatoes have cooled to merely warm, gently blend the sauce into the potatoes while mushing as few as possible. Do not fear a loose salad as it will firm and dry as the sauce permeates the potatoes. Chill the finished salad to allow flavors to blend. Before service, check the seasoning. Potatoes are notorious for needing more salt.

Hello all. Tonight I tried simplicity. Marinated wings, roasted. Pan roasted broccoli, and mushroom rice pilaf.

Spinach and cheese ravioli from Sams with a sausage/onion/garlic/tomato finish.

In London they call this coronation chicken. It was invented by two Cordon Bleu chefs in London to celebrate Queen Elizabeth's 1953 coronation. Here in the Ozarks we call it curried chicken salad.

Kamodo Joe bacon wrapped pork tenderloin with a panzanella side.

You guys are shaming me. In a bit I will roast a bacon covered pork tenderloin in the Komado Joe Jr. (hikory will be involved) and finish a panzanella I have ready.

It doesn't get better. We've been married 46 years in August. No car, no boat, no RV. Although, to be fair, she has never complained even though I am on my seventh boat. 😁

BTW, saw three beds with buck bass nearby.

Today we had one of those annoying winds that blow from every direction at the same time. Water temp 58 - 59. I started off swimming a paddle tail grub with no bites. I fished a pbj Ned in 5 to 11 feet of water semi-parallel to steep banks near a notch or outcrop. 21 fish with 5 keeps.

The bucks are cruising. And, yes, it was fun! 😁

Went out at 7:30 after the air temp reached 55. Water temps were 57 to 59. Fished until 10:45 because I have afternoon errands. No joy on a crank. 21 on the Ned, including two dinky keepers. Had one good fish on but the line must have been nicked as it parted on the first jump. Two of the fish hit as I reeled it up from the bottom. I would guess a slow retrieve small swim bait would get bit.

As a rule, I do not post Blue Apron meals. I did nothing but cook them. That is one of the reasons I do not post as often. However, Friday night is pizza night! Salami, basil, tomatoes this time.

Green chicken enchilada casserole.

The beautiful wife and I have been discussing what to do after i retire (Spring 2020, I hope). One of the serious options is to buy into one of those communities where you start out in your own place and graduate to more intense care as needed. We intend to move closer to the younger daughter in Savannah, Ga. One such location is in Augusta, Ga. Both Savannah and Clarks Hill reservoir would be 20 to 25 minutes from where we would locate. That lake is known for its largemouth bass, stripers, and hybrids. I have fished a lake such as that (Lake Texhoma on the Oklahoma-Texas border). My question: Has anyone fished that lake? Does anyone have knowledge about the guides? The reason I ask is that the cost of a once a week guide compared to a boat purchase seems to be a no brainer, provided I can find a quality guide such as Babler, Wenners, House, etc. for a regular outing.My present boat is not well suited for that kind of lake. $350 + tip a week for 30 to 40 weeks a year compared to 40 TO 50K for the new boat will be a good deal for me and for the guide. Anyone have a thought, comment, or suggestion?

No, but it sounds really good.

My early morning task was not eggs. I put together a spicy but not hot chili. Two pounds seared ground chuck, two pounds seared chopped stew meat (about 1/4 inch size), one large can Cento crushed tomatoes, one bottle Founders porter, a mug of black coffee, two sautéed diced onions, 5 large cloves garlic, one dried Ancho chile (seeded, soaked, and pureed), 1 Tablespoon dutched cocoa, 1 cup unsalted beef broth, lots of Penzy's chili powder and cumin - about a palmful each, salt and pepper. All of that will simmer in the crock pot until this evening. Then I will freeze it. Thursday night I will take it out to thaw and reheat it Friday to serve at a school potluck.

So tonight I put together a mushroom risotto with a smoked bratwurst. Life is good.

or carp

I grew up with Revere ware. One of my sisters grabbed it when the time came. I use three non stick skillets, a thick saute pan, 2 enamel and one cast iron dutch ovens, and a cast iron griddle that weighs like 143 pounds.

Friday night pizza this week will be a Spinach Chicken Bacon Ranch. I will make a thin, cheesy bechamel with ranch mix powder and spread it over the crust. I will then distribute the other goodies and top with a light mozzarella topping. Nancy has finished the dough and I am getting up to make the toppings.

Randall Reddinger was from Kansas as well. He came to Tulsa for college and became an accountant. He played for my Tulsa rugby team and became the A side hooker when I retired and started coaching. He married a delightful young lady, Betsy, who was also raised on a Kansas farm.When they married they held the reception in their home and many of the attendees were his rugby teammates. One of the treats they wanted on the buffet were calf fries. They asked me to do the butchery and help bread and season the fries. They recruited his Mom as well and she did the frying. That day I thin sliced, seasoned, and breaded a five gallon bucket of calf testicles. His mother used an outdoor fryer to cook them and the guests, my rugby players and people from ranch country, demolished them. Randall passed last year. They found him dead of a heart attack in his garage. One of my boys from the team traveled to attend the funeral. Randall's mother and Betsy prepared and served calf fries at the wake.

Not What I Expected All my life my family has had one or more dogs. Mother turned into a hardcore breeder and dog show exhibitor while I was still young. From that time until I left for college, we had five to twenty English Setters in our yard or kennel. What is more, she enlisted me as her kennel boy and helper. I learned how to trim and groom a dog. I learned how to exhibit a dog. I learned more about genetics and inheritance than what was covered in my college Biology class. I even began instructing classes in dog exhibition and acting as a ring steward during a show. In short, I was indoctrinated in dog shows and purebred dogs. When I began to feel deeply for Nancy, I arranged for her to visit my family. I do believe the setters are what made her begin to care for me as deeply. After we were married and at law school, we had Sis with us. She had been my dog since high school and was retired from the show ring. For a while we also had Cherub, an otterhound. Sis lasted until we were moved into our first house down by the Arkansas River. I came home one afternoon and found my wife sitting on the floor sobbing. Sis was in her lap. Sis had a stroke and was barely alive. I took her in for the vet to put down. That was one of my least favorite days of my life. For the next thirty years, we always had one or more of my mother’s setters. Some we loved more than others. At the end of life, I took them to the vet; except for one. I found her under the deck, dead from the heartworm she had when we got her from mother. I buried her in the back yard at night so my daughters would not see. The last setter we had was Harvey. He was young when he came to us. He was full of energy, clumsy, and somewhat overwhelming. By then our daughters were teens. After a year or so, we decided, as a family, that Harvey needed a companion. Our socially conscious daughters insisted we adopt a rescue dog. They found one at Pet Smart and convinced me to come see it. There I found them with a small puppy female doggy with a smooth black coat. She obviously had some Labrador in her, but not that much. She had terrier ears, a pointed muzzle and two odd characteristics. Her rear was taller than her shoulders, and she had a broken tail. Regardless of my reservations, my daughters insisted. I was unsettled. I was in my forties and had lived with purebred dogs all my life. We took her home. The girls named her Maya, Hindu for the supernatural power wielded by gods and demons to produce illusions. As a rescue puppy, we knew she had not been well socialized. Nancy spent hours cuddling her in her lap and teaching her not to nip. Harvey was ecstatic. We brought him a toy! That did not last long. Maya quickly learned to take shelter under beds out of Harvey’s reach Like her name, Maya grew quickly and became a force of nature. Although she never was more than a foot at the shoulders, she became the boss of the pack. When Harvey romped or scampered in the house, she stopped him. When I tried to play fetch outdoors with him, she disrupted it. As expected, both daughters left for college in the East. One later married and never came home. The other went to graduate school. Maya, their dog, became ours. Soon after that Nancy and I went to live in England. Their dog quarantine laws at that time were punitive and we decided not to subject the dogs to that torture. We left the dogs with a young man we knew through our daughters. We knew we would be back. Once during our time in England, I flew back to visit my father. While in the states, I visited the dogs. They were wildly happy to see me. Harvey romped, but Maya did not stop him. She was busy bounding up and down to unbelievable heights. I felt miserable when I left again. When we came home from England, we reclaimed the pair. By now they were mature but not senior. We moved to Arkansas to teach, and they loved living in the woods. Our first place in Arkansas was a duplex without a fenced yard. Nancy took them on long walks every day. Maya swam in creeks and rooted for mice and rabbits. When we drove around she barked madly at the cows and motorcyclists. We bought a house and they made it theirs. Even after we installed a fence, they demanded that Nancy walk them every day. I played fetch with Harvey, but she still hated romping. A few years later, Harvey suddenly sickened. It seemed that overnight his eyes went opaque and his ribs began to show. I made another trip to the vet. Maya thrived as an only child. She began to insist on playing fetch, for three throws only. Every week I rendered a chicken carcass and we served her the broth and tidbits on her kibble. She still wanted her daily walk, even after her vision dimmed and her stamina flagged. We had her quite a while after Harvey passed. One day she acted ill. Nancy took her to the vet. The vet diagnosed her as diabetic. From then on, Nancy, who hates and fears needles, gave her insulin shots. We adjusted her diet to reduce the carbohydrates and increase the protein – more chicken, less kibble. Her health deteriorated despite our care. Finally, one night, all night, I listened to her labored breathing while she lay at the foot of the bed. In the morning after talking and crying with Nancy, I drove her to the vet. For some reason, Maya had always hated vets. When I carried her into the vet’s office, she panicked. She thrashed, and her breathing became even more labored and deathly. The vet reached for seizure medicine to calm her. I told her no, and as Maya squirmed in my arms, the vet helped her leave. I came home and put her picture away. Sometimes we do things we know are right and still hate the results. Sometimes when Nancy and I shop and cannot decide what to buy for dinner, one of us will tell the other, “Maya says buy the whole chicken.”

carrots 2 hours; green beans 90 minutes

The carrots and green beans were exquisite: done, but crisp and with an intense flavor. The potatoes were creamy. The corned beef was done without being soggy. If one decides to sous vide corned beef, an overnight soak in plain water to leach out some of the salt is the way to go.

Let's just say I will be doing this again.