Food – The Surly Farmer

Kid Number Two has joined us for the Thanksgiving break. Just wait until she learns that the Real World (TM) does not recognize Thanksgiving as a weeklong process. Kid Number One has just stumbled upon this reality. KNO will be joining us for the main feasting day (MFD), as will the original hippies (OH) from across the boulevard.

But I’m not complaining, I’m happy to see everyone.

NoVa readers may remember The Greaseman’s scorn concerning the holidays: Basically, it was a rage against the pull of familial demands during the season between Halloween and President’s Day. I dig it. But man, I gotta say that I love Christmas. I’m not Christian, but I sure like a midwinter pause where we gather, eat, drink and embrace. Thanksgiving good, Christmas better.

Food is inextricably woven into the winter holidays, of course. Left unchecked, I would prepare feasts straight from The Hobbit. Unfortunately, as it stands, I need to consider delicate gullets and vegan and vegetarian supplicants, but dangit, we are going to feast during these darkest hours.

When a recipe calls for only the green parts of green onions, you can place the root stems in a glass of water and new greens will grow from them. But whenever I do this, I experience a certain discomfort. I blame it on Cormac McCarthy.

He started down the rough wooden steps. He ducked his head and then flicked the lighter and swung the flame out over the darkness like an offering. Coldness and damp. An ungodly stench. He could see part of a stone wall. Clay floor. An old mattress darkly stained. He crouched and stepped down again and held out the light.

Huddled against the back wall were naked people, male and female, all trying to hide, shielding their faces with their hands. On the mattress lay a man with his legs gone to the hip and the stumps of them blackened and burnt. The smell was hideous.

Jesus, he whispered.

Then one by one they turned and blinked in the pitiful light. Help us, they whispered. Please help us.

The Surly Farmer

Tag: Food

I’m a Monster