Round Robin for November--FOOD!!!!

This month's Round Robin subject is My Favorite Food. Why. When first found. A recipe.

Hmmm….

Somehow, this is a problem for me. It shouldn't be this difficult to think of my favorite food. Except, I suppose, I like so many. Shrimp, probably because of its scarcity during childhood, then expense when we lived on the coast and, abundance of it aside, we couldn't afford it. Now that we can, fresh shrimp resides an hour away. And I have developed a preference for wild caught Gulf shrimp. Picky, I know, but I can tell the difference with the farm-raised. Just. Not. The. Same.

I like crab and to be picky (again) about it, snow and blue over king. How's that for a pseudo-refined taste? In fact, it's a joke between my husband and me about how much crab I can crack and eat in one sitting. The benchmark? The week before our first son was born, Red Lobster had an all-you-can-eat crab special. So I did. Finally, my husband started cracking them out for me so we could pay the bill and leave. I think he was embarrassed.

So, I put the question to myself: What would I have for my last meal if I knew I was having such? What could I get my fill of?

I'd want a cheeseburger. A half pound of sirloin, grilled to perfection. Jack cheese with jalapenos. Guacamole. Dill pickles, preferably my home-preserved. Mayo. Lettuce, anything but iceberg. I'd pull one of the buns off to save the calories (but why if it's the last meal?) and want large, wonderful onion rings, like those at Liberty Burger.

That's the recipe. Serve with a glass of Biale zinfandel and there'd be bliss.

Next up is our hostess and the originator and caretaker of this enterprise, Robin.

Thank you, Robin.

On Veteran's Day

I don't post to FaceBook very often and indeed, it's been a study in making myself check it everyday. But today with all the photos of dads and spouses honoring their service, I posted one of my dad's portraits.

He joined the Army Air Corps right out of high school, hoping to be a pilot. He didn't know that what would keep him from his dream was a condition he was born with and didn't know he had: he was colorblind. Daddy saw shades of gray, he once told me, and knew that certain shades were what people called red. Or green. Or blue.

Colorblind men couldn't be pilots. The service offered to release him. It was 1940. He did not (did not, did not!) want to go back to the farm, so he waited for six weeks until the mechanics school began. In the meantime, he drove the camp doctor on his rounds to the outlying brothels. For a young man, straight off the Pennsylvania farm, I'm sure it was quite an education.

He excelled as an airplane mechanic and eventually spent the war trailing Patton across Europe with his crew. Daddy was the youngest and the one in charge. He told us stories, the fun stories, I think, until we were grown and time had eased and then we heard the ones that weren't so fun.

Over 20 years ago, I asked him to make me a video tape of his life. He did, three hours of memories, of talking to a video camera. He would lean over and switch it off sometimes, often on the verge of tears when he talked about his mother and some aspects of his youth. But he stopped at 18, at entering the service, and he would never go on.

Love you, Daddy, now gone to rest for over two years. Thank you for everything.

Kay vs. the Raccoon population. Again.

Things have rocked along and the backyard has been quiet since I de-populated it with one medium-sized, very crafty raccoon earlier this fall. Then… not so much.

The cat's water was disturbed and I knew I was again being invaded. I turned the game camera on and sure enough, two raccoons and a possum were taking turns divesting my cats of their midnight snack. I didn't care who went into the trap first, but we were once again playing the game.

First trapped: Sam cat. We had had ribs and raccoons (and cats) love them. We had shared with the cats away from the backyard and I put one in the trap. Alas, Sam decided he needed just one more. When he realized he was trapped, he curled up and slept the night away. All that was missing from the game camera was the raccoon looking on. They didn't show that night.

So much for ribs as bait. I went back to oranges and fruit and was successful! This raccoon must have been dining with me for some time because he was very large. I'm not sure how he got himself into the trap in the first place. I do know he turned it on its side and when I found him the next morning, he had stuck his little paw through the metal bar and was very sad-eyed. He got to be very sad-eyed all the way to the country. You know, where God intends raccoons to live.

It's been raining and I don't trap under those circumstances, but the game is back on tonight because the water was gone this morning. The raccoon had tipped it up and drained the quart onto the patio.

Oranges or strawberries or both? We'll soon see.