Ecce Porcus

If the subtitle is wrong, it’s no surprise. I got a “D” in Latin.

This is a momentous week. One of the pastors from my church contacted me last night. They have a cafe, and because of the bad economy, they had to let the chef go. Guess what they want me to do?

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. My campaign of global food domination is finally launched!

They need some people to show up and cook, and they need recipes. I’m somewhat afraid I will kill half the congregation with arteriosclerosis, but you can’t make an omelette without breaking a few eggs.

Mmmm…eggs.

All kinds of warped ideas are rolling around in my head. I have a few dishes that are so good they will bring people to church just for the food. Maybe I can get those onto the menu. If I can get Trinity Church to sell my cheesecake, flan, and pizza, I’m sure the people in the neighborhood will notice. There is no good cheesecake anywhere on earth, and good pizza is rare in Miami. Good flan is not that hard to find, but good COCONUT flan, which is what I make, is another matter.

The nice thing about desserts is that I could make them at home, at my convenience, and bring them in and leave them. You could sell a slice of my cheesecake for two bucks, and there are twelve slices in a cake. They could keep it in the fridge and bring out slices as needed. I don’t know if they’d make any money, but I’m sure they’d break even, and don’t even tell me the women in that neighborhood wouldn’t come back for more.

Oh, baby. Strawberry croissants. Maybe I finally have an excuse to use my recipe. Strawberry croissants and pain au chocolat.

I guess I would not be able to eat much of this stuff, but I would enjoy putting my curious gift to work for God. I am still losing fat, due to his generosity.

Because I cook Cuban food and Southern soul food, I know how to make a number of cheap but excellent dishes. That’s a blessing. I could make congri for pennies a pound. Maybe we could serve it with caja-china-style pernil, which is a pork butt roasted with mojo. I could brine it to take the stink out. It would be excellent, and you can get pork butts for a dollar a pound.

I wonder if they’d let me do ham hocks. I love ham hocks, but some black people have a thing about pork these days. “Slave food” and so on. Of course, most of the blacks at my church are from Haiti and the other islands, so maybe they haven’t gotten all stuck up about pork yet.

The church is putting on its three-part Christmas musical these days, so on Sunday, I brought food for the cast. Macaroni and cheese and my startling Unauthentic White Anglo-Saxon Protestant Chili. That’s what got me the call from the pastor.

This should be a blast. I better go meet with him.

One of the Many Miracles of Beef

You know that potpourri stuff women like? It’s like a pile of dyed wood shavings that makes your house smell like a 50-year-old lap dancer? Forget that. Here is what you need.

Fix yourself a prime rib with lots of garlic. Then save the drippings in the freezer. When you finally get around to packaging them properly for storage, heat the whole mess in a big skillet.

Ahhhhhhhh…

That’s how everything should smell.

Plus Prison Ministry Stuff

Today I went to a class for people who want to help out with my church’s prison ministry. Apart from the pastor running the show, there were five adults present. Not a big group, but enough to start.

We didn’t talk much about the ministry itself. I learned that we’ll have a wing of a local jail handed over to us, but that’s about all I know. We talked mostly about fundamentals. Christians should read the Bible. We should memorize scripture. That kind of thing. Good, solid, essential information.

I don’t know where we’ll go with this, but I’m glad I went. Maybe I can accomplish something worthwhile in my remaining time on earth.

On the way home, going against common sense, I decided to give a local pizzeria another try. My area has two pizzerias that keep going out of business: Riviera Pizza and Cozzoli’s Pizza. In the past, these places have failed over and over, and I believe fake cheese is the reason. I can’t prove it, but the cheese always tasted mealy and disintegrated as I chewed it, and it didn’t really taste like cheese.

This morning I noticed that Riviera was under a third (at least) set of owners, and it got me wondering. My policy is to try any new place in the area, or any place that changes hands, because I figure some day someone will make decent pizza in the South Miami region. Right now we have Domino’s and Papa John’s, which are really bad, and we have Miami’s Best Pizza, which is weird and frequently burned or raw or covered with the wrong stuff. To get good pizza, you have to go to Bird Road (La Dolce Vita) or Ludlam (The Big Cheese), at least.

I decided to be bold this afternoon. I went into the new Gables Pizza and Salad (formerly Riviera Pizza) and asked the owner whether they used real cheese. Why play games? I’m tired of spending good money just to find out someone is feeding me thickened vegetable oil or a quasi-dairy product known almost facetiously as “pizza cheese.” Why not just ask?

Surprisingly, the owner did not seem happy to have a stranger barge in and loudly ask if he was cheating his customers, which is sort of what I did, but he told me the cheese was real, and that it was not all mozzarella, and that it was 2% fat. I think I have that right. He said he did not use Grande cheese because he thought it did not live up to the price and hype. He’s right about that. It’s very good, but it’s not the only good brand out there.

He claimed he had never heard of fake cheese. He must not be Jewish. Jews who keep kosher eat some of the scariest fake cheese imaginable. They call it “parve cheesy.” Anyway, you can Google and read all about fake pizza cheese. They may call it “non standard” cheese, or they may use the innocuous-looking term “pizza cheese” to describe it, but it’s lame, whatever it is.

I ordered a slice of regular and a slice of Sicilian. The verdict? It’s okay! I guess that doesn’t sound like a compliment, but it is. The other stuff available locally is so bad it’s only worth eating when you’re starving. Gables Pizza makes pretty good pizza, and around here, that’s a big achievement. Making pretty good pizza is very hard.

The cheese seems real. It didn’t make me want to get up and dance, but it tastes like cheese. The crust is fine, although for some reason the Sicilian was a little wet. He uses too much salt. The sauce is acceptable. Personally, I’d make it a little sweeter and tangier, and I’d use a little more than he uses. A small amount of sugar and some white vinegar would improve his sauce a great deal. But he’s as good as The Big Cheese and not much worse than La Dolce Vita. That will get the job done, as far as I’m concerned.

This guy did not want to hear my input on the local pizza market, and that was a mistake, because he is in an area that is desperate for good pizza. I know exactly why his predecessors failed, and I know how he could improve his product and be virtually assured of a steady flow of customers. If he would start using Stanislaus Super Dolce sauce as his sauce base, he’d be a millionaire in three years. But there is nothing wrong with solid B-plus pizza, which is what he’s making. I’ll return and buy more in the future. Everyone pray he makes money, so the dark days of bad pizza don’t come back to torment us.

Relief

I got my fly cutter working. Thanks for the help.

Big shock: it was not a mysterious problem. It was just bad workmanship. It appears that the relief on the bottom edge of the tool was not sufficient. It worked in the past, and I did not find any evidence that wear had changed it, but when I ground the tool over again and put a nicer radius on it, it cut beautifully.

I threw my aluminum plates on the mill and resurfaced them. I had intended to get them to 0.500″, as closely as possible, purely for the learning experience, but I had to settle for 0.498″.

I decided to get a 4″ cam action fake Heinrich vise from Grizzly. People said a 6″ vise might be unwieldy, and I noticed that the mounting holes were not a great match for my slide table. I also ordered T-nuts and countersinks. I want to sink 3/8″ screws into the bottom of the plates, and I can’t do that unless the holes are countersunk or otherwise recessed.

My dad wants to know what I want for Christmas. I may let him help me out with the VFD or motor for the drill press. I can’t resist a chance to install a VFD. As for his Christmas, all I am willing to say now is this: I was forced to call the BATF and get information about “straw purchases” before I could take care of him.

I’m so glad God has given me a great relationship with my dad. Apart from the things God has done within me, it’s the greatest treasure I have. If you’re on the outs with someone, remember this: as long as there is a sliver of light in them, it is possible for God to reach them (and you) and help you reconcile. Some people are reprobates and can’t be fixed, but others will surprise you.

This week I’m going to start classes for the prison ministry at my church. I have no idea what I’m doing; I can’t believe I’m going. Over the last year, I thought I saw changes in a very headstrong and self-destructive person, and it gave me hope that others could be turned around, so when I found out we had a prison ministry starting, something pulled at my heart. Or maybe it was God’s boot in my rear end. I wonder what it will be like. I fully expect 95% of these men to be completely dishonest and unwilling to change, but surely some will be reborn. Jesus would not have told us to visit prisons if it were a waste of time. I hope I overestimate their unwillingness to learn and change.

I’m having some difficulties right now with someone I have been praying for and trying to help in the walk of faith. Perhaps a few readers would take a minute and say a prayer. God has been so wonderful to me, I want everyone to share in it, but you know what they say about leading horses to water. And it can be very frustrating when a difficult person provokes you to the point where you worry that your own attitude and behavior grieve the Holy Spirit and put the brakes on your development. It’s easy to sound holy on a blog on the same day you told someone off, face to face.

I keep saying I expect to be perfect any day now. I can’t understand why it has been delayed.

My jowl bacon, dried apples, and blackberry jam arrived from Kentucky. It’s almost like being at Granny’s house. I guess tomorrow I’ll fry up a couple of slices. The apples are not as brown and dry as the ones I remember. I don’t know if that will affect their usefulness in dried pies.

Life is good for me. Maybe some day I’ll succeed in helping one other person have it as good as I do. Perhaps this will occur next month, when perfection is finally upon me.

My Childhood is in my Shopping Cart

Today has been profitable. I spoke to my aunt,and she gave me the lowdown on my grandmother’s country hams. Now I know what to put on a ham, if I decide to try curing one. She also told me the correct name for June apples. They are Yellow Transparent apples, and believe it or not, they come from Russia. How they got to Kentucky is anyone’s guess.

I found a website–this is beyond belief–that will ship me a bushel of apples for $17.00 plus UPS charges. I can’t do it until next year, but I’m amazed that it can be done at all. I can’t come close to that price at my local grocery. I probably can’t touch it at Costco. And if I could, the apples would be Granny Smiths, which are not as good.

My aunt also said she would email me another aunt’s recipe for dried apple pies. The aunt who made the pies succumbed to lung cancer in 1994. She made exquisite fried pies. She used lard, according to what I was told years ago.

I’ve given up on drying apples for now. I can buy dried apples from Kentucky for six bucks per pound, and it would probably cost me over twice that much for dried apples made from scratch. Granny Smiths cost at least $1.50 per pound, and that’s before you throw out the core and peel and let the water evaporate. I’ll bet a pound of fresh apples turns into less than a pound of dried ones. I’d have to get apples for almost nothing in order to beat six bucks per pound.

I ordered some dried apples, and I could not resist ordering jowl bacon and apple butter. I plan to try to make my dad an apple stack cake for Christmas. I’ll bet he hasn’t seen one since my grandmother died.

Cardboard?

As much as I love lard, I am starting to have doubts about it. Today I really wanted a biscuit, but I had no bacon grease on hand, so I made biscuits with a mixture of butter and lard. The texture was fine, and there was no boar taint, but they tasted a little bit like cardboard. It’s very hard to beat bacon grease in biscuits. The flavor has no rival.

I suspect the cardboard flavor was caused by oxidation. Lard seems to go funny very quickly. The can I have is from Thanksgiving, and I wouldn’t want to use it after the middle of this month. Maybe lard should be kept in the freezer.

I used butter because lard doesn’t have a lot of flavor. I do this with pie crusts, too. If lard isn’t optimal in biscuits, maybe it’s not the right thing for pies, either. Maybe bacon grease is the fat of choice. Sometimes the hint of bacon flavor will be a problem, but it won’t hurt a fruit pie.

Country ham grease is fantastic for baking, but you have to dilute it because the flavor is so strong. It can add a strange flat taste to food. Hard to describe.

Now that I eat so little, I don’t see how I can work effectively on recipes. What would I do with the food? Today I made four biscuits, using half a cup of flour, and I gave half a biscuit to Maynard and Marv.

I didn’t make it to church yesterday. I figured I’d be home from Boca in more than enough time to make it to church by six, but I got home so late, I would have been here for about half an hour before turning around. I was wiped out, too. I didn’t eat enough, so the lights in my head were starting to dim. I corrected that with two slices of bad pizza. I feel bad for the people who recently took over the nearest pizza joint. Their food is never going to be any good until they start using real cheese, but I doubt they’d admit using the fake stuff if I offered a suggestion. The lady who waited on me yesterday had a great attitude, but when it comes to pizza, service means nothing. Quality is all.

I could get rich selling pizza in this neighborhood. I could make a dynamite cheese pizza from $1.50 in ingredients and sell it for ten bucks. Surely that margin would cover rent and other costs. There has never been a decent pizzeria within half a mile of downtown South Miami, which is the nearest conglomeration of stores and restaurants. Anyone who makes good pizza available in this area will be a millionaire in a year. I wish someone would do it. I wish there were two of me, so one could open the pizzeria and the other could go on with life.

If I had a pizza joint, I’d sell pizza, rolls, and soft drinks. Forget the other stuff. Too much aggravation. People would come. No one would refuse to do business with me because I didn’t offer fripperies like stromboli and spaghetti. They’d crawl on their knees and pay whatever I asked. The local pizza famine is at least 25 years old. I’d be hailed as a hero.

Mike needs to move down here so we can become pizza magnates. I’ll make him do all the work. Of course, he’d be dead in six months, and they’d have to bury him in a cargo container. That’s the down side. My dad would probably be buried next to him.

I should just go in there and tell those people they’re doomed. I can hand them my recipe, plus directions to Gordon Food Supply, so they can get real sauce and real cheese. But they probably have to buy whatever garbage their company sells. They’re part of the Cozzoli’s chain. I’ll bet they have some sort of exclusive commissary contract.

Time to leave for church.

Man, We’re Old

Someone suggested I fix my dubious Lodge skillet by machining it. I have considered that, but I would have to be able to mount it on my rotary table, and that would be a pretty good trick. The table is not as wide as the skillet, so I’d have to put a plate on it, and the plate’s thickness would have to be extremely uniform. If it weren’t uniform, I’d get a skillet that wasn’t uniform. Which is what I already have.

Not sure what to do about that.

The plate would also have to be perfectly flat and very rigid.

I’m going to try to get a couple of bigger Griswold skillets. Now that my bone-filled head has accepted the time-honored wisdom about cleaning skillets with salt and a spatula, I am not as reluctant to use them as I used to be. I’d go ahead and use the Lodge, but one side gets hotter than the other due to the varying bottom thickness.

Hmm…maybe I should boil a little water in one of my Griswolds and make sure they don’t have this problem. If they heat unevenly, I have less motivation to get more of them.

You can get Griswolds fairly cheap on Ebay, but if you get picky about features, the cost goes up. And the bigger skillets can be extremely expensive unless you get lucky. One thing I can say about them: you only pay once. I’m buying used items that are up to 70 years old and nearly like new.

I want one or two more matching skillets before I give up and go cheap. I think the size 13 jobs (and whatever comes after them) will have to remain an unrealized dream. If I paid over $300 for a skillet, I’d have to have myself institutionalized to find out why. The big ones can cost that much.

I’m really looking forward to church this week. It’s the first week of the month, so we’ll be having Breakthrough Wednesday. This is a fantastic service. It’s not as regimented as the regular services. There are tables up front and in the back for communion, and there are people available to pray for you. The worship is very intense. I love it.

I’m going to be an “armorbearer,” which means I’ll be helping the church out as needed. One of my duties will be to put on a two-way radio and wander around keeping an eye on things. I had to buy my own “surveillance set,” which is what they call the microphone and the earpiece with the squiggly cord that runs up your neck. The church has radios, but the surveillance sets have a way of vanishing. I think people just don’t want to share them, which is understandable. I sure don’t want to. Yech.

God has been so kind to me, helping me to find purpose in life. Works don’t get you into heaven, but they help determine what heaven is like for you, and besides, they allow you to express your love for other people and your gratitude for God. I’m way behind, so any opportunity he gives me is appreciated.

Speaking of God’s kindness, Aaron just had a grandson! Unbelievable! I’ll be praying his mom recovers fast, and that he has a life of blessings and righteousness. Perhaps you will join me.

Another thing you might want to pray about: reader Dave Rodenborn lost his African grey parrot, Splint. The poor little guy wasn’t trimmed correctly, and he managed to fly out Dave’s front door. Dave is in California, so the weather shouldn’t be too hard on Splint. Many greys are recovered; they don’t like to fly far in the first month. I truly hope Dave gets another chance. Nothing is worse than knowing your mistake harmed your pet.

The Duct Tape of Meats

The bacon/sausage experiment is a success.

A week or two back, I made my own sausage from picnic hams. It was excellent. Better than store sausage. But I wanted to take advantage of cheap Costco pork, and I wanted to use boneless cuts which are easier to grind.

Costco sells beautiful pork loin (no bone) for $1.79 per pound, which is what I pay for picnic hams, including the bone. But the loins are lean. What to do? Pork sausage needs to be around 40% fat. Last time, even using fatty picnic hams, I had to mix lard into the meat.

Last week while shopping for Thanksgiving stuff, I got a three-pound package of bacon scraps for about $1.70 per pound. Today I made a mixture of bacon and pork loin, half and half. About six pounds. I used the sausage recipe I came up with for the last batch, but I reduced the salt to account for the salt in the bacon, and I used apple juice concentrate instead of brown sugar.

Someone told me it would be a waste to put bacon in sausage, but it’s delicious. It adds a smoky flavor; you know what bacon tastes like. The fat content is actually a little high, so next time I think I’ll go 60/40. Bacon scraps are perfect for adding fat to pork sausage.

I learned something interesting today. Apple juice concentrate is nearly pure sugar. If you measure it like sugar and add 25%, you’re right on the money. And the little cans can be resealed and kept frozen.

I can’t wait to plow into this stuff, but I’m still working on the second or third pound of the first sausage I made. I eat it every day for breakfast. Two patties plus a thin slice of country ham. And a lovely glass of water.

This is good, cheap, healthy food. When I say “healthy,” I’m addressing low-carb believers. The rest of you won’t buy it. Anyway, I have never had pork sausage this good. I wish I could get away with biscuits and gravy. The gravy from this sausage would be the stuff of culinary history.

It’s too bad so few sausage companies do it right. They use gamy meat and too much sage. I guess the object is to use the cheapest pork available, so they have to spice it very heavily to mask the stink, and the product suffers.

Bacon scraps are very useful. I like to nuke them until they’re good and cooked and then pile them in a thick layer on top of baked beans. Geez, that would make a killer BLT.

It’s hard mixing the spices into the sausage. There must be a better way than using a big spoon.

Now that the sausage is made and the pork chops are in the freezer, the pork monkey is off my back, and I can go on to other things.

Auction Worked

Ebay actually got me a decent deal on an auction product. How often does that happen? Half the time, noobs ruin auctions with pointless bids days before the final moments. And a lot of the stuff has high reserves or high minimum bids. I nailed this one, though. I got a nice new Jacobs chuck, using a sniping program. And I beat another sniper, which is incredibly satisfying!

Before I knew about sniping, I wondered why I never won anything. I marveled at the amazing people who somehow managed to place bids ten seconds before auctions ended. It was frustrating. I’d sit there thinking I had won, and then POW, a snipe would come in and blow me out of the water.

Life is full of cheats. Sometimes you never find out why you lost. It’s nice to have the inside track once in a while.

Long ago, I used to play Duke Nukem 3D on a network, and I got thrashed constantly. I used to shoot other guys over and over, and they didn’t die. Later I found out they were cheating. They had hacked the game so they could take huge numbers of hits without dying. What jerks. You have to wonder how a person can feel satisfaction, playing people who have no chance of winning.

Lots of things in life work that way. Racist hiring policies, for example. Now affirmative action does the same thing, only the victims are white, male, or heterosexual.

I got the chuck because the used one I Ebayed a long time ago is a piece of junk. I tried to fix it, but it was a waste of time. Sometimes trying to save money is a stupid idea. You have to do it right. I trusted a used item, and I got burned. Now I’ll have a decent chuck for my mill. I’ll use the drill press most of the time, but the mill’s higher horsepower may be useful for bigger bits.

I ordered a slide table for the drill press. I’m going to act mature and hold off on a VFD and motor. Those things are luxuries. The slide table is a necessity. I think I’m going to try my old drill press vise before springing for a Grizzly. I’m not sure a cam-action vise is worth the money. It’s not that hard to turn a screw and tighten a vise.

I have fun on the agenda today. More pork sausage. And I have to slice and freeze Costco loin so I’ll have chops.

Contain Your Amazement

I forgot to blog yesterday. Is that even possible? There must be some kind of mind ray aimed at my house.

I had a lot of stuff to do. I had to cope with 96 ounces of Costco hamburger, which had to be mixed with salt and garlic and frozen in patties. I had to freeze a crop of bananas before they turned black. And I had to deal with stuff related to my sister’s illness.

I let the burger sit in the fridge for nearly a week, until it turned a nice shade of beige. Fresh hamburger is just no good. You have to let it start to turn a little. I know it will upset some people to read that, but it’s true. We age beef, and hamburger is beef, right? So shut up.

This stuff was a little brown on the outside, with plenty of pink inside to balance it. Once I mushed it up with salt and garlic, it was a nice uniform color. It will make wonderful burgers. Costco claims it’s “extra lean,” but that isn’t true, because if it were, the burgers would be dry and nasty. They’re not. They’re juicy and wonderful.

Costco is selling bone-in rib roasts for around five bucks per pound. Tempting, to say the very least. I’d love to age a couple of those babies and freeze them for later use. Rib roasts are glorious, even if the meat is only choice. Mike says I need to pop one in the Showtime oven. Sounds like a plan to me.

I ran down to Northern Tool today. I don’t like to shop on Sunday, for religious reasons, but they had the warranty part I ordered, and the parts guy is a little crabby, so I needed to get it in hand before he could ship it back. I drove all the way down there, and I asked an employee for help, and he told me the parts guy wasn’t there on weekends.

This is the same parts guy who implied I was a big liar when I said the pulley on my band saw was already chipped when I bought it. It only makes sense that he would fail to inform me that he did not work on weekends.

I sent the employee to talk to the manager, and the news got worse. Not only was the manager unable to do the parts specialist’s difficult job (reaching onto a shelf and grabbing a part and handing it to me); the parts guy was on vacation (probably attending a grouch convention), so I would have to wait another week.

No.

I asked for an audience with the manager, and he came out, and I said surely he could hand me the part. And he agreed. He had been under the impression that I needed to order a part, which requires parts-guy skills. We went to the parts region, and he handed me a box, and off I went.

It must be really easy to qualify for a Northern Tool franchise. The store charges more than the website, and their customer-relations skills are not good. If I hadn’t been pushy, I would have been forced to make the ten-mile drive two more times, in addition to tolerating a ten-day delay.

I am trying to fix up the drill press, although again, not on Sunday. I think I may put a 3-phase motor and a VFD on it. The speeds range from 385 RPM to 2250 RPM, and with a VFD, I could get 200 to 5000, with no loss of torque. I would also be able to leave the pulleys on the middle setting and get a nice wide range of speeds without touching the belts. Plus–come on–it would be fun. And cheap. Even with the motor and VFD, this drill press would be way cheaper than a 17″ Chinese cheapo like the new Deltas or Steel Citys.

I think I’m going to get a Phase II slide table. They’re $243 at MSC, but Enco (different name, same company) sells them for about $90.

Okay, that makes perfect sense.

Anyway, I can stick one of those on the drill press, and I can add a Grizzly cam-action vise, and I should be set for all drilling needs for the rest of the millennium.

Come on. You KNOW I need that VFD. I can hear you grumbling about it, but you know it’s the right thing to do. I have a 2 HP motor which will fit the drill press. I’m sure it will be fine. I don’t totally understand the consequences of going up in horsepower, but it would compensate partially for the loss of torque at low speeds. I don’t think it would hurt the bearings or anything, because the drill bit and the workpiece and the belt drive should be the weak points in the power train.

It’s a mess to explain. The VFD gives constant torque, but because the pulley ratio would not change except in rare circumstances in which I felt motivated to move the belt, you can end up with less low-speed torque than the stock configuration provides. The bigger motor should double the torque, making belt changes necessary less often.

Let’s see. The middle setting on the pulleys is 935 RPM, and the low setting is 385. So you would figure 2.42 times the middle-setting torque when you use the low-speed setting. Right? I think so. That means a 2 HP motor would be pretty close to the machine’s current torque output at low speed, without moving the belt. Dang, how can you beat that? How often would I need that extra 0.42 fraction? Belt moves would be pretty rare.

I can’t believe how much physics I’ve forgotten. I’m actually going to have to draw myself a picture.

I want that VFD, however. I just want it.

I wonder if I can adjust a VFD to increase torque at a given speed. I guess so, since constant torque VFDs would not exist if it were impossible. Maybe I could jack the torque up at low speeds.

Oh, great. Now I’m going to have to download a manual or something. Now I’ll have to THINK. I hate that.

Can’t do anything until tomorrow anyway.

Aftermath

I can’t move.

Let’s see if I can critique the meal.

The Showtime turkey was very good, but I found it dryer than a roasted turkey. I got the internal temperature up to 161°, and I knew that wasn’t enough, so I hit it with another half-hour. That came out to about 17 1/2 minutes per pound, which is way above the recommended time. Maybe I did something wrong. The skin was magnificent. It was very dark and loaded with browned-bird flavor. I’ll probably do my next turkey this way, even if it’s not perfect, because it frees up the oven for other things.

Mike told me the texture of a Showtime turkey would be way better than that of an oven turkey. The one I cooked today seemed like every other turkey I’ve roasted.

My dad loved the turkey, so I guess the rotisserie flavor offset the dryness.

I was not thrilled by the mashed potatoes. I tried the ricer again, even though I didn’t like it the first time I used it. I thought it gave the potatoes a heavy texture. I guess that could have been the microwave, though. The microwave makes very good baked potatoes (when I’m in too much of a hurry to do it right), so I don’t see why it would adversely affect mashed potatoes. I guess I could boil a test potato and then use the ricer to peel and moosh it up.

I ate way too much. I guess I can’t be a crusader against gluttony every day. I made a whole bunch of dishes, and a small serving of each would make for a big meal, so there wasn’t much I could do.

Marv and Maynard seem to be enjoying their share. You can always tell when Marv likes his food, because he buries his snout in it and grunts like a small pig.

Grace

I am so thankful. Today I made pies, cranberry sauce, and cornbread dressing. I generally pig out on Thanksgiving and the day before, because it’s just too hard to be good. I have to taste the food while I cook it, and it’s very hard to resist eating the extra cornbread, not to mention the bacon I have to fry to get the grease. But today I forgot to eat lunch and had to make myself have home-canned chili at about 6 p.m. While I was eating it, I got a little concerned about my calorie total for the day, and I dumped a third of the chili and part of my Coke.

I could never do things like that in the past.

I have a big bag of size 34 Old Navy cargo shorts I have to get rid of. They’re going to Goodwill, along with my size 36 Levis and size 35 Ralph Lauren shorts. In a month or so, I expect to be getting tired of the size 32s I’m wearing now. They’re really more like 34s, but still, it will be great to downsize out of them.

“Delight thyself also in the Lord, and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart.” Who, more than I, knows this to be true? I love and enjoy life more than ever, yet I am less and less attached to it. I don’t put my hope in it. Is this the way it’s supposed to work–have I been led to the blessings God intends for all of us to have–or am I just deluded?

Holding on to things out of fear is one of the fundamental errors of mankind. It’s bad for artists. It’s bad for investors. It’s bad for people who need to flee countries in turmoil. And it’s what we do when we insist on doing things our own way and trying to achieve happiness by earthly means. Over and over, the Bible tells us the same thing: give up what you treasure, and God will give you something better. Jump, and he will catch you.

Give the priests your first fruits, before you know the rest of the harvest is going to come in. Give them your best ten percent, in hopes that God’s blessing will outweigh the loss. Sacrifice the son through whom God said you would have descendants as numerous as the stars. Give your last handful of meal to a prophet, in the midst of a famine. Die on a cross so you can sit at God’s right hand and save the world. Follow in Jesus’s footsteps and count yourself part of the sacrifice, in order to have a fuller life here and perfect satisfaction in the world to come. Give up your own strength of character, in order to be given God’s. Over and over, we are told to exchange that which we can see and touch for that which we have been promised.

I love this life, but if I prize it too highly, it will be a curse to me. A bowl of pottage for me to eat, when I could have had a glorious birthright.

Luckily for me, it would be hard not to trust God, when things are going this well. I wish everyone had it so easy, and I wonder what it’s like for people who are farther along in faith and obedience and even more blessed. I wonder how they stand it.

A few weeks back, I was having a day when I kept feeling the presence of God very powerfully in my prayers, and it became so intense that at one point, I was a little afraid to continue, because I thought it would be too much. That was stupid of me, but the story says a lot about what is possible.

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you. I hope every one of you will become at least as rich as I am.

Scale is Immaterial

I’ll tell you what. Don’t even try to tell me God doesn’t work little miracles in our lives. I have two pones of mouth-watering cornbread baked, the whole place smells like pumpkin pie, there is country ham in the kitchen, I have ham hocks in the fridge, the just-made cranberry sauce is cooling…and I keep forgetting to eat lunch.

Salt Really Works

I have two pones of tasty bacon-grease cornbread in the oven. This will be a real test of my deliverance from gluttony. The smell of that stuff alone can put five pounds on you.

After this, I make pies. After that, I mix the dressing and put it in a 9 x 13 Pyrex pan and store it until tomorrow. I may also break the beans and put them in a pot with a ham hock. If I get all that done, I won’t have all that much to do tomorrow.

I think I’m going to nail that Ebay drill press. The price is just too good. It has a split head, so even if there’s slop, I should be able to adjust it out. And with the money I save, I can put a 3-phase motor and VFD on it and still come out way ahead. I already found a new Baldor cheap.

It turns out it only has 5″ of quill travel, but I can tolerate that.

I used my big Lodge skillet to make sausage and ham today. What a piece of junk. The surface inside it is pitted, even after I sanded it, and it gets hotter on one side than the other. Griswold skillets are completely superior. I have resumed my search for larger Griswolds to match the ones I already have. It’s not easy finding large-logo skillets without heat rings.

I know how to season cast iron. You ignore the stupid instructions that come with it. In particular, you ignore the 350-degree nonsense. You use pork fat, and you season at 450. I used to do 500, but it had a tendency to burn the seasoning in places.

What I have had trouble with is cleaning cast iron. I have three skillets I only use for cornbread, and they’re not a problem, since they never get dirty. The bread falls out without any problems. I have a #9 breakfast skillet which is also trouble-free. Eggs slide right out. My Lodge skillet is different. I fry meat in it.

I have always been told to use salt to clean cast iron. It sounded dumb, so I paid no attention, figuring a light application of water wouldn’t hurt the finish. Man, was I wrong. My skillet never looked good, and the water messed it up. I have been using salt lately, and it works great. I dump two or three tablespoons of salt in the skillet while it’s still warm and after the wet stuff has evaporated, and I scrape the bottom thoroughly with a spatula. Plastic spatulas work just as well as metal. Then I give the skillet a brief squirt with water to knock the salt off. I should probably just use paper towels, but because I use so little water, I’m not disturbing the seasoning.

If I can get a #10 and #11 skillet in good shape, I’ll use cast iron more often. If I were less picky about getting really nice skillets that match the others, I’d be able to get one fast, for a low price. Oh well.

Bring the Funk

I had an all-meat breakfast today. I had to try the country ham I ordered from Scott Hams.

I had planned to buy a ham from Col. Newsom’s, but they wanted about $90, which is just too much. It’s almost twice what other companies charge. Their hams are fantastic, but it’s not like they invented the concept. Anyone can cure a ham, if he is willing to let it hang long enough.

I fried up a big slice, along with two chunks of my homemade pork sausage. Here’s the verdict. This is a very nice ham for people who are new to country ham. But it’s too tame for me.

My grandmother cured her hams for two years, and they turned dark red inside, and they smelled wonderful. They were very salty and acidic, and they made a lot of delicious grease gravy when she fried them. This ham has almost no funk to it, and it’s not very salty. I fried it without adding water to reduce the salt, and I still found the salt content too low.

The sausage was a thing of beauty, as always. I’m so glad I bought a meat grinder.

I’m thinking I may get my next ham from Benton’s, in Tennessee. They sell very old hams. But they use sodium nitrite, which is not exactly traditional. I’ve read up on this stuff, and supposedly, it can make food carcinogenic if used in large amounts. Some people claim it gives them migraines. Ham companies use tiny amounts, so it should not be a cancer risk, but I’d rather just have salt.

I have a lot of stuff to do today. Pumpkin pies, boiling potatoes, injecting the turkey, and making cornbread, for starters. I think I’ll skip the pecan pie and see if anyone notices.

Any day that starts with meat is a beautiful day.