I’ll be out of town for Thanksgiving this year, but if you are thinking about making a turkey yourself, you should try this bacon-wrapped turkey recipe and let me know how it is (video link). Come to think of it, I believe my Grandma has made this a few times. I remember the bacon being soppy.
It’s a week late but I thought I’d share a little about my Independence Day holiday. I woke up early and headed over to Bear’s house for the 4th of July Pool Party And 2nd Annual Beer Olympics: Aquatic Version. Events included blind mans beer, swim-chug-pull, beer tread. G and I came in second place thanks mainly to G’s ability to tread water for 55 minutes with a beer in one hand. She said she could have gone longer but frankly everybody was getting bored (and a little too drunk) with watching her.
Afterward we swung over to my brothers for some pizza and tacos from “Tacoss” taquería (no website, no yellow pages address, no citysearch, located here and more beer. We picked up Pandy and headed back to the pool party where many pool games were played, long floats were floated and cold beers were drankeded. The rest of the evening consisted of a Sopranos marathon. Good times indeed.
Other things that have been occupying my time include:
I have a couple of friends who are head grounds keepers for private golf courses around town. This year we caught the fireworks show at Green Gables country Club. It was unique because we got to be right there on on the cool lawn of a nearby fairway, about 40 feet away from where the fireworks launch from, with beer, snacks, and friends.
Pageantry and ritual are what I enjoy most out of organized religion. Judaism is no slacker religion when it comes to pageantry and ritual. I celebrated my first ever Passover Seder last year. This year me and G decided to step it up a notch and host (really, circumstances as they were, our house worked best in which to host the Seder we were invited to) Passover Seder this year. So on Monday night we had 20 close friends and acquaintances over. The guests brought the food and religious paraphernalia I didn’t own or had never heard of. G simply supplied a couple some snacks. It was just as fun as the last one with lots of singing, laughing, questions & answers (because nearly a third of us were gentiles), discussions, food, and wine. We all had a (matzoh) ball.
It seemed every single part of the meal held some sort of meaning and there are so many little details I was unaware of or just learning about. For example before we all sat down, many of our guests were asking for pillows. I figured our seats were too hard. It turns out it was another ritual: “We lean on a pillow to be comfortable and to remind us that once we were slaves, but now we are free.” See, I dig this stuff. Little secrets messages, ceremony and procedure; not so much the liturgy, sacrament and days of reckoning so often emphasized in organized religion. Speaking of things religiousy, does anyone know where in Denver kosher Coca-cola can be purchased?
Since we now have a coon-ass in the family, Mardi Gras and its associated holiday’s, have become much more important. At least the party part of them has. Yesterday’s Fat Tuesday was no different (though my sister-inlaw wasn’t involved at all). Me and G headed over to Lincoln’s Raodhouse (home of the meat loaf cheeseburger and pot roast burrito), or as it is affectionately called during Mardi Gras: Poirrier’s Cajun Cafe, for their annual crawfish boil. How do you say it Down South? Crawfish or Crayfish? We called them crawdads growing up. Anyway, we settled up to five pounds of crawfish, a six pack of beer, a roll of paper towels, and several beaded necklaces.
The place got pretty crowded and the kitchen was churning out bucket after bucket of crawfish as fast as it could and it wasn’t close to keeping up with demand. By the time the washboard band that was crammed in the corner started blaring their zydofied (I think I just invented a word) zz top music, the place was standing room only. The dancing began but we left before the place it was in full fervor, which, given the clientele in this place, was probably a good idea. I don’t care to imagine the place with beads, beer bottles, and boobs flying around.