Breakfast of champions

Because nothing puts your day off to a good start like the last of the chili that you made two days ago.

No carbs, and enough peppers to clear your sinuses in advance for the next couple of weeks. It truly doesn't get much better than this.

Don't Mess With Texas...I Get It.

So after yesterday's post about chili, I was deluged with comments from people in America's second-largest state about how chili is supposed to be made. In those comments, one could not help but discern that Texans consider themselves to be a breed apart from the rest of us, or "special", if you will.

Well to be fair, I spent a week in Austin once, and I can attest that many of those that I met there were "special" indeed.

OK, stop the hate mail before it gets here. I know that saying Austin is representative of Texas is like saying that Anchorage is what Alaska is really like or that all of Michigan is just like Detroit. Still, how can you not poke fun at Texans every now and again? I mean, you've got a whole state where it's apparently required by law that every citizen must own a cowboy hat. Plus George W. Bush. Just saying...

To be fair, the multiple invites down to the chili cook-off were really nice, and I will definitely have to try that one of these days, although probably without the dogs, since, while Belle rides nicely and just curls up and sleeps, Murphy bounces around the vehicle like a hyperactive pinball, whining and pacing and doing his damnedest to get up in the front seat with me the whole trip. I'd sooner volunteer for an unneeded root canal at the local dental school than make a cross-country drive with him in the car. Plus, he can't really be trusted around food. There have been at least three incidents at neighborhood barbecues and local picnics where Murphy has walked up to people, looked them square in the eye, and taken their hamburgers or hotdogs right out of their hands. And for some reason, no one wants to tell a German Shepherd "no".

But I digress.

Texans got grit, and you have to admire them for that. Seriously, who else would have stood up to Mexico like they did back in 1836, basically telling Santa Ana, commander of the largest army on the continent, to go suck eggs? That was bally, right there. And that stand at the Alamo? Beautiful. I have been to the Alamo and I could only imaging what it must have felt like, trying to hold that place with just a hundred and eighty nine volunteers against the thousands of Mexicans that everyone knew were coming.

Of course when I was there, I just looked around and decided that had it been me in charge, I'd have moved my forces into the US Post Office just across E. Houston Street to the north. That building has a smaller and much more defensible perimeter, the highest rooftop in the area, and air conditioning. Yeah, I'm thinking I'd have made my stand there instead. But hey--that's just me.

Yeah, I do like Texas, and if Texas ever gets around to being the first state to secede from the present-day union like some of them keep hinting at, I'll likely buy me a big cowboy hat and drive down and join them, even if it means a road trip with Murphy. (But if we do this, Sheila Jackson Lee has to go, ok?)

Yeah, Texans are pretty cool. Of course, there are those who might disagree:


And yeah, I'd probably not have dared post that if Texan Ed Rasimus was still around. Not after the ear-blistering I got when I innocently asked him how to do an aileron roll in a Cessna 172. I got the feeling after that short and mostly one-sided "discussion" that old R. Lee Ermey would have had himself some competition.

Geez...where's the love?

OK, mea culpa, mea culpa...beans aren't supposed to go in chili. (Then why do they call them "chili beans"?) The internet has spoken. Next time I'll leave them out.

But I did add half a can of Coors, so that at least should get me something from the Texans, right?

That's not Chili--it's tear gas with beef!

A coupe of spoonfuls makes you sweat, and a good whiff brings tears to your eyes and clears your sinuses. But day-um, it is GOOD!

Made a large pot of it last night, and it will be lunch and dinner for a couple of days until it's gone.

I need to treat myself right like this more often.

Stop being on our side, dammit!

Sonic. Chipotle. Chili's. Starbucks. Wendy's. Jack in the Box. Applebee's. What do these restaurant chains have in common?

Well each of them used to have no problem with law-abiding gun owners carrying their handguns, concealed or open, into their establishments. But currently, all of them have changed their policies and barred firearms on their premises either in Texas or nationwide thanks to a small but destructive group of squirrels known as "Open Carry Texas", whose members seem to get off on carying long guns into local businesses and yelling "Hey, look at us!" while snapping pictures and shooting video until the businesses react to the unfavorable attention and just ban firearms on their property. Because of their actions and their boorish behavior, restaurant chain after restaurant chain that heretofore never had a problem with open or concealed carry is now banning firearms. But these window-licking toads show no sign of knocking it off or taking a break and they apparently plan to keep doing this dumb shit until they've got every business in the state--or America--banning guns.

And if that's not accomplishment enough, now they want to publicly lock horns with the NRA, which is trying to rein them in and get them to act like mature adults.

It's official: Open Carry Texas has become to gun owners what the Westboro Baptist Church is to Christians.

If I were a Texan, I'd be organizing a posse of my fellow gun owners to tar and feather every one of these fruit loops before deporting them to California.

Seriously, someone needs to ask these dweebs why, if they want to carry rifles around 24/7, they aren't serving in Afghanistan or anywhere else that we've got troops deployed. They may well offer up a reason but my own guess is that they're too scared to stand against a real opponent but they still want to feel important so they compensate by making a big. blustery stand against other gun owners and private businesses that aren't actually posing any problems. Either that or they're paid operatives for the gun-banning side and they're doing this on purpose.

Lucky, Lucky Murphy

It's his lucky day. I'm making up a big pot of "Dead Dog Chili" today.
It'll be hours in the making and it'll last for days...and it will be SO good. I have not made any since Murphy has been here, but Lagniappe used to love it.

Lucky Murphy...he has no idea what's going to be in his bowl tonight.

Edited: Guess I'd better head to the store. I didn't realize that I'm out of brown sugar and tobasco, and I can always use more peppers and spices in general since I'm there. Oh--and beer. This chili requires beer in the pot, and much more to be consumed while preparing and eating it.

Mom orders fake alcohol drinks for her kids, calls police when they actually contain alcohol

In today's "News of the Stupid", we have Pamela Bruenning of Longmont, Colorado. Pamela decided to take her three kids ages 8,6 and 1 to Chili's bar and Grill the other day. (And we all know that every adult who goes to Chili's really wants to dine in a room full of kids, right?)

Well Pamela, being a trendy sort of mom, orders "virgin daquiris" for her kids, because it's so much cooler to buy fake adult beverages for them than it is to give them milk of fruit juice or even soda pop. Well surprise, surprise, but the drinks were accidentally made with alcohol like real daquiris. The result: the children took sips, announced that they "tasted bad", and refused to drink any more. Mommy Dearest took a sip, recognized the rum taste immediately, and complained to the manager who apologized, brought over new drinks, and comped the entire meal for everyone.

This should have been the end of it, but the next thing you know, she's calling the police and the media, doing interviews, and hinting at a lawsuit even though the police dismissed it as being a simple mistake, unworthy of criminal charges.

Police used a breath-analysis test on the kids to determine their blood alcohol level, but the readings were negative, police reported. Bruenning said her children successfully completed field sobriety tests.

OK, aside from the question that poses, (how do you get little kids to perform SFTS?)it seems that Pamela is seeing dollar signs now, so she's doing her best to whip up the outrage of anyone who will side with her and no doubt hoping that no one will remember that she's the one who insisted that her pre-teens all get fake alcoholic drinks in the first place at a place that has plenty of other beverages for kids, including regular fruit smoothies (daquiris without alcohol or daquiri mix).


As a side note, Pamela has a profile on Etsy where she twice talks about drinking alcohol in the one paragraph that she uses to introduce herself to the world:

Sometimes I picture myself as an old man in a cigar room with an Old Fashioned, communicating with a general slur and sway. Transparency fascinates me, especially when it's tinted, like pool water. I love fine papers and book binding. I buy way too many pens, & think calligraphy has a certain, "je ne se qua". A good beer, or an even better wine, and a sky full of stars is the best inspiration for anything.

Pamela, it sounds like you're the one with the alcohol problem. Back away from the cameras and consider looking for an AA program instead of a sleazy lawyer.

Cooking with dogs

So this evening, I decided to make some spaghetti. Both Lagniappe and I enjoy a good spaghetti.

First I started some meat browning and boiled some water, then I tossed some dried spaghetti noodles in. This is when I realized that I had no spaghetti sauce. Nothing in jars, nothing in packets...nothing.

"Now what?" I asked, looking at Lagniappe. Lagniappe just looked up into the pantry, and there on the shelf were cans of tomato paste and a packet of chili mix.

"You think we should try it with chili mix?" I asked him. When he didn't say no, I opened the packet and dumped it into the meat with a can of paste.
"I dunno, dog," I said. It looks kinda dark. What else can we add?
Lagniappe looked up to the spice cupboard, so on his advice, I tossed in some crushed red peppers, some tobasco, some garlic powder and some hot sauce.

"It really doesn't look much better," I told him.

Lagniappe was now looking at the refrigerator, so I opened it. Back behind the beer, there were some cherry tomatoes in there that a nice neighbor had given us. "Good idea, boy," I told him. I chopped a few up and added them. I saw that Lagniappe was still looking into the open fridge, so I looked in there again too and saw a packet of Swiss Cheese. I checked it and noticed that it was almost a month past it's "sell by" date.

"Use it or lose it, eh, boy?" It still smelled ok so I used that to top the chili spaghetti after dishing it up.

There's nothing like a good spaghetti...and that was definitely nothing like a good spaghetti. To be honest, it was about half way between "lousy" and "completely foul".

Lagniappe seemed to like his portion, though. So that's a "thumbs down" and a "paws up" for using chili mix to make spaghetti sauce.

Dead Dog Chili

We made us some "Dead Dog Chili" today. It's almost indescribable when done right--so much flavor from the peppers and spices....your eyes water and your nose runs, but it's so good that you just can't stop eating it. Long-time readers will know that Lagniappe and I love to create and devour some serious chili. And Dead Dog Chili is serious manly stuff--definitely not suitable for women, wimps or liberals.

So where does the name come from? Well you just have to look at Lagniappe after he has some of it.
Happy dog...dead to the world. Or maybe just dead. I might have gone just a bit too heavy on the habernero peppers this batch...

Chili redux

Wow.

I just finished a couple of bowls of my latest batch of chili. Actually I just finished drying my hair and changing my shirt, necessary after eating two bowls of that wonderfully flavorful, incredibly hot but irresistible chili.

It's the sort of chili that separates the men from the boys. It's so caustic that it cleans it's own pan, but damn, it's good!

And I made some observations at the grocery store while I was there. Interestingly, they had some cloth bags for sale by the cash registers. A sign announced that they were "recyclable grocery bags" and urged everyone to save the environment, ostensibly by not using paper or plastic bags. The bags cost a dollar each and had the store's logo on them.

Now hang on a minute. I might have been born at night but it wasn't last night. Here's the store actually saving money if people use these bags because then the store doesn't have to pay for paper or plastic bags, and they want us to pay for these bags that save them money, plus they get free advertising by putting their logos on the bags! Come on... if you want me to spare you the cost of giving me a dozen or so plastic bags then you need to up and give me those cloth bags for free. You'll still come out ahead in the long run. And if you want me to carry a commercial for your store by displaying your logo, then you need to give ME a dollar each time I carry one of those things out in public. But charging me to advertise for you while I'm costing you less by not using your bags? Please...

And while we're talking grocery stores, what's up with the sizes of the prepared meals that they sell? It's like every pizza or lasagna in the place is either some sissy ten-ounce size (translated: chick food) or some monster two-and-a-half pound deal that might feed a family of illegal aliens just fine but works out to be way too much for one non-obese American male. Why can't they market something in between the two extremes? 16-18 ounces is just fine for a single guy meal. No leftovers and we don't go away all hungry. Come on, food companies...stop marketing to anorexics and blimps and just sell food in sizes that normal single guys can call a decent meal.

Chili, chili, chili...

Oh man... I just finished a big bowl of what had to have been some of the best chili I've ever had.
Now to be good, chili has to be hearty, flavorful, and HOT. And I don't mean "throw in tobasco until it scorches your tongue on the first bite" hot...it's got to be the kind of heat that starts out as flavor and builds and builds as you eat.
And that's what I managed to create tonight. Using just the right blend of 93% lean beef, spiced diced tomatoes, crushed red peppers, onions, jalapenos, and other herbs and spices, I managed to hit Chili nirvana. I'd made enough for several meals but I just couldn't stop eating it because it was sooo good... most of it's gone now. And my sinuses are clear, my tongue is swollen but happy, (especially because it took four beers to cool it off again) and my shirt and hair are literally wringing wet from sweat...it was that hot. And that good.

If I ever get me another chick moving in here, she'll get to do most of the cooking (as a chick should) but every now and again, I will make the chili.

Oh, wow.

And Lagniappe couldn't quit, either. Here he is, cleaning the pan. He'd take a few licks, step back and shake his head with his tongue out, then dive right back in for a few more licks.
That ought to take care of those pesky fleas for a while, eh boy?