Plus Gun Stuff

Yesterday was pretty weird. It was a blast, but the usual speed bumps popped up.

I made pizza and rolls at church, and we also served apple pie and brownies I had brought to an event the night before. So it was pretty much like going to a restaurant in which I was the chef.

We didn’t sell much pizza. Why? No can opener, and not enough helpers. We keep buying cheap can openers, and they don’t like #10 cans much. One broke last week, and someone was supposed to replace it with a commercial can opener, but that did not happen, and I didn’t know until it was time to make sauce. That cost me the whole first service.

I had to attend the third service, so I couldn’t make pizza, and there was no one else available except for my eleven-year-old assistant. I can’t turn him loose without supervision, so I closed up shop. We sold six pies and six dozen rolls.

I have a problem with the people out front selling the rolls too cheap. I had to go out and remind them that the flour costs money. You can’t sell four rolls for a dollar and survive. The price is fifty cents each or $2.50 for half a dozen. I don’t mind making rolls if it will generate a hundred bucks for the church, but I’m not going to fool with them if the net is five dollars.

The apple pies were wonderful. The cream cheese crust I came up with is a dream come true. It’s flaky, it tastes and smells great, and it’s fairly tough, so it won’t fall apart when you’re making or serving the pie. It’s not tough in the sense that it’s not tender. It just doesn’t break up at the wrong times.

It gave me a fantastic idea for rolls. I make chocolate and strawberry/cheesecake croissants, but they’re a pain to prepare. The pie crust is somewhat similar to a croissant, and it has an even better flavor. I decided to add yeast and turn it into rolls. They were incredible. Better than croissants. They aren’t quite as flaky, but the flavor is magnificent. And they’re easy to make. Make dough in a food processor, roll it out, make rolls, let them rise, bake.

As dinner rolls, these things have no equal of which I am aware. Add a little sugar, and you have the perfect substrate for something similar to a strawberry or chocolate croissant.

I believe God drops these ideas on me out of nowhere. The Sicilian pizza still freaks me out, and so do the garlic rolls. I am not going to take credit for this stuff. That is a sure way to cause problems.

It’s wonderful having trained chefs to talk to. I’m not used to that. We exchange ideas about food, and we’re all pretty excited about cooking.

One of the chefs–Ruthie–told me men made the best cooks. That was surprising, but I think she’s right. The best cooks I’ve known have been men. I think it’s because we’re more aggressive with the food. We’ll try absolutely anything. After all, I’m the guy who made a casserole filled with doughnuts. And how many women will design a smoke box for a smoker, cut out the parts with a grinder, and weld them together?

These days, a lot of women disdain any type of work associated with housekeeping, so I suppose many women would feel silly bragging about their cookies and brownies. Hillary Clinton sneered at women who make cookies; we all remember that. This self-destructive and perverse snobbery is probably one of the reasons most modern women don’t cook well.

It’s very sad that we have so little respect for good housekeepers and child-rearers, because their work is more important than breadwinning. Think about it: in fifty years, will anyone care about your raise or the great Powerpoint presentation you did? Of course not. Those things chiefly affect strangers who don’t care whether you live or die. But the things a wife and mother does have direct and lasting impact within the family. Her job is to prepare the next generation and to create an environment in which the other members of the family can thrive. And besides, the preparation of good food is an altruistic expression of love.

Even a salmon understands the importance of putting the next generation first. Come to think of it, my pastor talked about that yesterday. Shoveling money at your kids is fine, but it’s no substitute for hands-on, traditional parenting.

One of the women at church started telling me I should open a restaurant. I waved my hands at the food, and I said, “I HAVE a restaurant.” But I appreciated the compliment. I have considered opening a pizza joint, but it has occurred to me that a gun shop might be more practical, not to mention much less expensive.

There are very few gun shops around here, and most of them are no good. The prices are generally bad, and most shops have poor service. When a good shop opens up, people go. And it’s a much easier business to run than a restaurant. You don’t have to come in at 6 a.m. and put yeast in the guns so they can rise. You don’t have to wash the guns or carry out bags of smelly gun scraps at 11 p.m. There are no gun inspectors counting your cockroaches or forcing you to remodel in order to conform to unrealistic codes. You show up, sell stuff, do the paperwork, and go home. It’s a nine-to-five job. You buy for x dollars and sell for x plus a profit. It is not rocket science. And you don’t need two hundred thousand dollars’ worth of commercial cooking equipment that breaks down when you need it most. Nor do you need a big staff of skilled people. Any honest person with a fair knowledge of guns can work for you.

On top of that, we have Barack Obama. The greatest gun salesman in history. This man has literally made gun sellers rich. While he’s in office, you can’t lose!

Sign a lease, get a license, put thirty grand into inventory and renovations, and you’re a gun shop owner. That’s how it seems, anyway. If things go sour, sell the inventory and go home. You won’t be like the failed restaurateurs on Craigslist, begging people to buy their dreams for twenty cents on the dollar.

South Florida needs someone who sells reloading stuff. If you buy powders and primer over the Internet, you get royally dinged on the hazmat fees. A local place that made a respectable effort should do well. I use Accurate No.7 for my .38 Super, and trying to buy this well-known product in Miami is like trying to score plutonium.

This week, I’m going to DC to participate in the National Day of Prayer and some events sponsored by the International Fellowship of Christians and Jews. I’ll be visiting Mike. I am distressed that I’ll be in a crime-plagued city without a sidearm. I’ve gotten so used to the security of concealed carry that it bothers me to think I’ll be unarmed up there. I decided to stay at a hotel, and while I was looking for good ones, I kept reading reviews referring to bulletproof glass and scary parking lots. What a failure that city must be, as a place to live. The Detroit of the East Coast. I want to get in and out, fast. I would appreciate prayers for my safety.

I don’t like Miami much, but I thank God I live in a place where I am permitted to take care of myself. When I get out of here and move to more rural setting, I think it will feel like paradise. Nicer people, less traffic, same gun rights, more room…that would be nice.

I look forward to getting some good food in DC. Indian and maybe Ethiopian. Mike is scanning the horizon for opportunities.

I didn’t want to go (still don’t), but it seemed like God’s hand was in it, and it’s wonderful to be invited to these events.

This might be a good day for some experimental cooking. I would really like to finalize that roll recipe.

Gallery of stuff I cooked: