He filled those tortillas with fried bacon and beans prepared with just a dash or two of chili powder that he always carried. That, along with a pot of coffee, satisfied our stomachs.”
–D.C. Adkisson (Mal de Ojo)
Mornin’, Pard. Hope the coffee’s strong enough for yuh, this mornin’. I’ve got a new blend, and only used it once so not sure how strong to make it. I tried it once, and it needed a little more “umph” so I added another spoonful for the brew. It’s from a local boy who’s startin’ a business. I admire his gumption so I purchased a bag.
Pard, the missus made some good gallimaufry this week. Ha, yur reaction made me smile. What’s that? If’n yuh can’t pronounce it yuh don’t eat it. Ha, don’t blame yuh there, Pard. That’s a new term for me. I was doin’ some relaxin’ readin’ this week, and it showed up. When I looked up the meanin’ I found it meant, just like yuh said, watch out what yur eatin’ ’cause yuh don’t know what’s in the pot. Really, it’s the same as hash, or what the Cajuns call gumbo. Most folk don’t realize that gumbo isn’t necessarily what yuh find on the table of fine dinin’. It’s whatever those poor bayou runners could find durin’ the day to throw in the pot. Sometime yuh don’t want to know. But mix it all together an’ usually it taste mighty fine. I remember Pappy makin’ “camp hash.” We were up at the fishin’ camp, and the last day, he threw everythin’ left in the skillet. Not bad, not real cuisine, but it did the gizzard an’ other innards good. Whether it’s gallimaufry, or gumbo, or even plain ol’ hash we need to be thankful. Why, I recall one of them forty-niners back in Californy days askin’ a Chinaman was the food was called to which he replied “chop suey.” The miner then asked, what does that mean in plain American? “Hash,” came the reply. So count yur blessin’s for the hash the Lord gives yuh.
How’s the coffee, Pard? Stout enough fer yuh? Weak coffee would be tofu touted out makin’ believe it was steak. Maybe next week we can discuss the new steak, if’n it can be called that, which is totally artificial. Yuh think, it all started way back when they developed Astroturf for ballfields? I remember Dick Allen sayin’ that if a horse can’t eat it he don’t want to play on it. Artificial this and that, and now… Well, I’ll save it.
I do want to mention, go ‘head, I don’t mind yur slurpin’ I can talk over it. Tomorrow’s the missus’ birthday. Whoooeeee, a milestone! I surely thank the good Lord ev’ryday for Him a-blessin’ me with her. By my side, now for the long ride. The bumps in the road, and the long downhill stretches, she’s been a good un. He knew good an’ well that she was the only one that could put up with me. Oh, plus did I ever tell yuh, she can really make a good pie! An’ I don’t want to be remiss, my youngest daughter celebrated a birthday last week.
Yuh be sure to check yur cinch, I want yuh back so’s I can bend yur ear some ’bout that artificial stuff yuh might have been puttin’ down yur gullet. Until then…
Vaya con Dios.