ELVIS BALLS

oh state fair - how I love you!

I went to sleep last night with the sounds of sizzle and the grime of grease in my hair. I woke up at 5:30 this morning - went outside and while farmers were milking and babies were being born - I did my comparably pathetic duty and plugged in the fry-daddy.....it was time.

I mashed the bananas and creamed the peanut butter mentally adding up all the time and money I have spent on these cooking contests and if there is indeed a name for my addiction.

Tackling the elements of a drooling dog and a roommate sleeping in the backyard in a camper - I silently fried - trying not to wake the neighbors to yet another round of early morning oily aroma.

I am not a morning person. I do not like the early morning fry-daddy-ing. I prefer fish fries at dusk with total awareness and light to boot. I do not like forcing my friends to try my experiments. I do not like skulking around my own backyard like a shameful thief - stealing the morning air from my unsuspecting neighbors and feeling like the dirty one night stand contest junkie I have become. I am frying alone - and I fear it might be one of those danger signs of a true problem.

I am ashamed to admit that sometimes at work I think about the new tongs I need to help me in my fry-daddying/put-it-on-a-stick contest affair. I think about absorbent paper towels and types of crumbs to coat with and varieties of sticks I can stick with. I lost the cover to my 1970's fry-daddy and I now I search the thrift stores for the equivalent of a margarine tub cover to make my fry-daddy complete. Why I don't just buy a tub of SOMETHING - ANYTHING with the proper top size - I don't know....I think it keeps the dream alive.

SOOOOOOOO - My friends Chris, Tim and I went to the fair - dropped off the goods and sat at the Salem Lutheran Church Building and had Swedish coffee with egg where I was confused by the sign that read POSITIVELY NO PARROTS. There were blue and white checkered curtains and that summer camp dining hall atmosphere. Bliss. I just felt so - well - in the right place at the right time and then I KNEW I was when I started observing the latest trends in embroidered clothing motifs. I saw 3 - that is THREE separate ladies in THREE separate clothing items that had EMBROIDERED FLIP FLOPS on them. I saw a visor, a shirt and PANTS. FLIP FLOP PANTS. I need to type it again to make sure I actually typed that - FLIP FLOP PANTS. Where does one get them? I am guessing from the Wal-Mart's WHITE STAG line of clothing. (side note - WHO COMES UP WITH THESE CLOTHING LINES??? Seriously - they also carry FADED GLORY and underwear called NO BOUNDARIES)

I was so enthralled with the swedish coffee and the company at the old-fashioned dining hall that we actually missed the grand proclamation of the winners at the stage by the education building. We walk up and there are pictures being taken and the crowd is walking away and I guess I just assumed I did not place. Oh well - I did not place this year for SPAM or the Hidden Vally Ranch contest so I was not surprised until my friend Chris runs up and yells - YOU WON - YOU WON! And there - on the stage - was my entry with a big daddy blue ribbon on it!!!!!!!!

Take that morning deep-frying!

Here is my recipe - it is in honor of my dad - who owned an Elvis cafe in Davenport, Iowa years ago. He was a big fan of Elvis and his food and I like to think that these two Kings are now hanging out somewhere - getting foot rubs and eating anything they want without consequence....

ELVIS BALLS

INGREDIENTS

2 rolls (10 biscuits each) Pillsbury Buttermilk Biscuit Refrigerated Rolls

2 cups Corn Flake Crumbs

2 eggs (beaten)

2 ½ ripe bananas

1 cup creamy peanut butter

1 cup powdered sugar

1 bottle Wesson Canola Oil

DIRECTIONS

-Mash the bananas into a thick paste – stir in the peanut butter until evenly mixed.

-Take a Biscuit and flatten in out a bit – fill with almost one tablespoon of banana and peanut butter mixture.

- Flatten out another Biscuit and place on top – crimping both biscuits together

- cover with egg (beaten) and then roll in Corn Flake Crumbs

- gently put “ball” into hot oil!

-sprinkle with powdered sugar

(makes 10 “Elvis Balls”)

THANK YOU TO ALL MY FRIENDS WHO TASTED AND HELPED AND GAVE ME THEIR OPINIONS!!!!! MAY YOU STILL BE ABLE TO ENJOY FRIED STICK FOOD!New Folder (2)

ROASTED BRAVE I AM SPIDERS

Roasted Tarantulas

I sadly admit to loving the reality TV show SURVIVOR - it is fun to watch and imagine how one (aka - ME)- would hold up in such crazy yet perhaps scripted conditions - and so you watch and imagine and yell at the television the CORRECT way to do whatever - build a fire, get along with pompous folk, remember trivia about the enviroment you are living in - bait a hook, skin an eel. NEVER did I imagine I would actually be involved in a "survivor-esque" dare - and yet - there I was past Tuesday - dressed in a Siamese Marie Antionette costume - eating things for a show on the Travel channel - to be aired in October - ranging from ants and grasshoppers to cow's blood and raw lamb kidney to roasted tarantula. I am still recovering. My tongue STILL feels like it is hosting a brigade of fire ants building some outer space structure on my tongue - combined with the element of maybe one thousand wasps stinging the inside of my cheeks. I am indeed better - but any food or drink brings on the wrath of roasted spider. I have researched - I will be fine - yet the only thing I was informed I could NOT eat was the Thai peppers used for decor on the saucer of ants and worms. We could not legally consume in case we blistered out mouths. HMMMMMMMM - first of all - the spicier the better - second of all - I have some inner instinct that spicy stuff HEALS and third of all - where was the legal note about POISON SPIDERS????? I SOOOOOOOOO am not complaining - it was a FANTASTIC, gut-wrenching, daring, once in a lifetime experience and I am super proud for being so bold and digging in - but yet - oh yet - my tongue still hurts - my mouth still burns - and I am hoping the 2008 Chicken Tandorri Experience of new-founded hesitation will pass - I love that dish and yet all I could taste was luke warm guinea pig. (SIGH) I cannot help but think of my life - I am 41 - single (divorced - the ex soon to be all over in the entertainment news - another story - another time - I respect his privacy and soon to be fame and fortune) - menopausal (which means CRAPPY McCRAP weight gain though I work out and eat super spinach salads EVERY DAY) - I have yet to figure out my career - or LIFE - for that matter - and yet - I carry on - consuming spiders and clipping coupons and cheering for the day when I will no longer be sweeping out bugs..........

ROASTED TARANTULA

get a spider - brush on olive oil.
sprinkle sea salt over it
roast at 350 degrees for 35-40 minutes.

Eat in two bites - it TRULY tastes a bit like crab......for real. I have the broken tongue to prove it!

MAN BEER STEW

I declare myself the new founder and creator of the Bad Boy Brigade. My luck with boys is not the best and perhaps it started when Scott Baio didn't return my affadavits of LUV - followed by a very serious incident at the Marshfield County Fair when I FINALLY got to ride the SKYDIVER with John Desmond who was dreamy and sweet and could only talk on the phone for 5 minutes and his mom made sure to clock it with a stove timer and he was too shy to speak and so he would either - tap ONCE on the receiver for YES - TWICE for NO - and only would utter these words - WOOF/MEOW/ MOO/ribbit/ribbit and I TRULY thought for months we were in a real live relationship and it became official the day I asked him to the County Fair on a FRIDAY night and he tapped once for YES and so there we were - him not talking and me raving on and on and unable to find the STOP button on my mouth and then we got into the SKYDIVER which was a scary THRILL ride where you would get into a metal CAGE and the cage would twirl upside down - similar to a Ferris wheel - but far more evil - and I wanted to hold his hand from the fear of it all but as we were going upside down and rightside up the smell of his GREEN BRAND MENNEN SPPEDSTICK deodorant made my stomach churl more than the ride and then I HAD to hold his hand because the dense fog of the deodorant stench combined with the motion of it all created an inner motion and there I was grabbing his hand as I PUKED all over his Marshfield Junior Varsity Soccer Shorts and the worst of it all was the vomit was then twirling around with us and landing on our laps and afterwards there were no more phone calls of animal noises and taps.

My first kiss was during a game of spin the bottle. A FORCED kiss - not one of WANT.

I never went on ONE date in high school.

I had some good guys- absolutely- and I might hold a top ranking in the lists of women who are still friends with their exes. They are great friends - great guys......and yet a club remains of cheaters and liars and thieves and bad deodorant choices.

I have always believed that MEN like BEEF and they like BEER - and it is no surprise that the letter F and the letter R are 13 letters apart.

And it is ALSO no surprise that TODAY I found this recipe that someone must have cut from a case of Schimdt Beer.

If you can't beat them - join them

FAY'S GOT BOOBIES - CHICKEN BREASTS

My name is Faith Ann Farrell. When I was a little girl I used to say my whole name REALLY FAST - so it sounded like one, singular NEW name -FAFANNFARRELL- and saying it SUPER SPEEDY 3 times in a row without stopping was my own personalized version of the tongue twister and even though I was in 6th grade and proud of my new tricky yet truthful name - my family just decided - I guess - to rename me with a shorter and easier and sadly BLANDER version - FAY and so FAY I was and this was when we lived in Marshfield, Massachusetts and even though we nearly(but not quite) lived walking distance from Humarock Beach where all the cool kids hung out during summer vacation and would meet by the corner store with their flip flops and lip gloss and everyone would be eating Lick-a-Stix or Push-Ups - I, FAY, would find myself making art projects for the Marshfield County Fair and it would be hot and breezy and you could still smell the salt from the ocean and I would be sitting at the picnic table on the deck gimping away keychains and carving soap sculptures and making candles that looked like ice cream sundaes and then the HEAT WAVE hit and the candles and soap started to melt and my mom announced that NO MORE should we suffer for we would be going to a POOL PARTY at Joanne Grant's House and she was pretty fancy and in Couple's Card Club and they had a pool and a grill and lots of fruit and chips and lots of people there and I went and had this orange and turquoise bathing suit on and I remember looking at the hair on my legs and wondering when I would be old enough to shave because there were a few girls there who went to my school and THEY had smooth legs and long, thin bodies and here I was - with my Leather Tuskadaro SHAG haircut and my unshaven legs and my chunky size and then I got really shy all of a sudden though my brother seemed to have NO problem talking folks up and making them laugh and so I thought the best solution was for me to disappear into the crisp, blue clean chloride of the pool and lose myself to swimming and perhaps some underwater spying and so I took off my towel and went to the diving board to avoid my popular brother in the shallow end and then I climbed the ladder to the top and even though I don't know how to dive I thought I could just jump in quietly and begin my disappearing act and as I stood on the tip of the diving board and was about to jump I hear my brother YELL - "MA - MA!!!!! FAY'S GOT BOOBIES!!!!" and the whole party stops and even the grill stops sizzling and everyone is looking at me - FAY -now with BOOBIES - UP AND CENTER on the diving board and I didn't know what to do except pray for lightning to strike and take me away and instead of just DIVING in to disappear as my initial plans dictated, I STOOD THERE and FROZE and sweated and then the HORROR of it all took over and I began to SCREAM and SCREAM and try to climb down that ladder as fast as I could which was not fast because I am clumsy and awkward and now I had BOOBIES to contend with and so I grabbed my towel and ran to the car and my mom brought us home and even though that wasn't the first of the pool parties we were invited to it was certainly the last - and then summer went by and even though I STILL wasn't allowed to shave my legs- I HAD to shop for bras and my body was going one way though my mind was going another and even though I won FIRST PLACE and a blue ribbon for my woven gimp keychain shaped into the letter F - the fun was gone because I knew that I was no longer a FAY.....but now a FAITH.


FAY'S GOT BOOBIES - CHICKEN BREASTS

(dictated from my mom - Gloria!!!! Go MOM!)

Go buy a pack of regular chicken breasts - about 4-6 in a packet. DO NOT buy the boneless kind! Salt and Pepper them- and braise them a bit in butter to let out the flavor. Put them in a buttered pan UPSIDE DOWN and take about a cup of stuffing (your choice - already made) into each breast - cover with tin-foil and bake in the oven at 325 degrees for about an hour - (this depends on how big the breasts are - but if you look in a cookbook or go online it should tell you the time per pound)

Monster at the End of the Book Basic Pastry for Pies

Today I missed my grandma. I miss my grandma ALL days - but today her GRANDMA SMELL wafted through my mind as I tried to shake that MONSTER AT THE END OF THE BOOK monster far away from me. The Monster at the End of the Book was my favorite book as a little girl and starred the lovable, furry old Grover and Grandma Seering would read it with such fierce glee and terror I found myself between a world of intense suspense and loyal love.

I share a secret with my Grandma. Still - even though she's gone. Whe knows that I have a ritual when I go to her house. She knows that when I go to the bathroom, I slide shut the sliding door and open the closet to find this - the BAND AID BOX. It's an old gallon milk carton cut in half - still shiny with it's forty year old wax. My grandma hadn't changed this box for over 20 years - I love that she took the time to label the masking tape on it - and the loop-de-loop of her letters remain the same.

My fascination with the BAND AID BOX, perhaps - is strange considering all of the beautiful photos and antiques and stories hanging in her house - I am obsessed with this cut-up cardboard box. I cherish the old logo and the clunky printing. I take deep whiffs of the the Grandma smell which lives inside along with yellowed cotton balls, rolls of medical tape and a tin of old matches - and of course - there are the band-aids.

Grandma was MY band-aid - she could kiss away the scrapes and bake away the bruises. THere was nothing her handpicked blueberry pie couldn't fix. She was her own kind of medicine man - bringing sunshine to plants and cheering them on throughout the years. In her garden STILL blooms the 60 year old peony plant that sister Agnes gave her. She mothered a family of Easter Cacti - the oldest one over 38 years old - and I do my best to carry them on....Her plants raise their punky, healthy leaves to salute her.

Grandma could fix a heavy heart with her gift of words - an animated story-teller, she grabbed on to the details of a moment and would weave them together to fix a sad spirit. Every card she sent was personalized with a thought, observation, homemade prayer or poem. Doodled in the margins of her phone book - you can find her thoughts scrawled in her loopy, perfect penmanship.

My grandma could cure boredom as well - "let's play BINGO - let's play UNO - let's play JACKS - tell me a story and I will tell you one - Oh my stars, let's stop for fresh bread". We would wash dishes with the game of the biggest SQUEAK of a clean plate.

In college, Grandma healed my home-sickness with care packages of cheese, molasses cookies and Tabu perfume. My roommates would gawk as I untied the string from the brown papered package and revealed the cookies and cheese. You can send cheese through the mail???? OF COURSE you can - it's Wisconsin.

We all know that band-aids can sting it you rip them off too quickly and even though you know its coming, I closed my eyes and STILL -an unspeakable OUCH.

My grandma was more than a grandma - she was a mother, a wife, a friend, and aunt, a cousin, a daughter, a neighbor, a sister a volunteer, a gardener and a cook. She collected panda bears and loved to watch birds. She made the world beautiful with her love for flowers and bright and bold colors. She was sassy and spunky and generous and real. She could gut a fish and make home-made 7-UP. She had flawless skin and beautiful hair. She loved to laugh out loud and win at cards.

As I look at my clunky, homemade treasure chest of Grandma's mystic healings - I realize that the secret I thought I shared with her turned out to not be a secret at all.

SHE is my monster at the end of the book.


Monster at the End of the Book Basic Pastry for Pies

2 cups sifted flour
1 teaspoon salt
2/3 cups shortening
5-7 tablespoons COLD water.

Sift flour - salt together. cut in shortening with pastry blender till all mixture looks like cornmeal or small peas. Sprinkle 1 TBSP water over part of mixture - gently toss with fork. PUsh to side of bowl - repeat till all mixture is moistened - then from into a ball - for double crust - divide ball.

Frosty Come Back Pop-Rock Cocktail

When I was a little girl we had a dog named Frosty who was large and white and fluffy and sweet and one time woke up my mom in the middle of the night and dragged her into my bedroom where I was hot with sweat and laying in puke even though the room was eerily ICE cold and there were no windows open and OF COURSE we ALL LOVED Frosty for he was the Farrell version of Lassie by saving me from the chill and the fever and watching over us as my dad traveled the country due to work and then one day my dad comes back from his work travels and tells us that for Christmas we are going to Disneyland where I was tall enough to ride Space Mountain and buy POP ROCKS - the candy of the future- and we all rode the Flying Dumbos and even the Twirling Tea Cups where - in a midst of swirl and twirl I hear screaming from my brother and so I try to crane my neck up to look at the CAUSE and I see my mom laughing hysterically and her hair flying out loud in the twirl of it all - and then I see blood coming from her mouth - but it is FLYING BLOOD and now I am scared like my brother and my dad is on the sidelines snapping away pictures to remember our now not FUN but HORROR and the teacups stop and my mom is still laughing because she doesn't know she is bleeding and she looks at the FEAR on our faces and the blood on her hands and HUSHES us up because it is no big deal - she just bit her tongue and LET'S NOT RUIN THE FUN and hurt your father's feelings.....and there we were in the land of CROCODILES and FUTURE CANDY and TRA-LA-LA ladies like Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty who bothered me with their prissy pomp when my dad announces that we were getting one final gift - the gift of music and salt-water sea fish!!!! We were going to Sea World on CHRISTMAS DAY to see Johnny Cash and June Carter LIVE - singing about jail and love and boys named Sue while having a killer whale named Shamu as their back-up dancer/splasher -and my dad took pictures of Johnny and June and also my brother who was pirate-like with a REAL parrot on his shoulder and one of me feeding some goats though the goats actually FED ON ME as they actually tried to EAT the Holly Hobby T-shirt I was wearing - and then our VACATION FUN TIME was over and so we flew back to Ohio and going home meant coming home to loyal FROSTY and that meant the holiday wasn't yet quite over - but when we got to the place to pick him up our family ride stopped spinning and my dad returned after a very long time - and when he came to the car there was no dog and only my dad taking off his glasses and wiping what looked like tears though he NEVER cried and I remember thinking how odd it was to see now BOTH my mom and dad have things leak from their faces on vacation - and there was just silence and even as a kid you KNEW without KNOWING and so I went straight to my room where the air was once again CHILLY and sadly now empty and I opened my pop-rocks - my CANDY of the FUTURE - and like blackmail money for the Tooth Fairy - poured some on the end of my night table in hopes that the FUTURE could somehow be changed and lure back Frosty into the chill of my room and make me warm once again.

FROSTY COME BACK POP-ROCK COCKTAIL
(thanks to Pop-Rock Web Page)

Ingredients:

1 oz Absolut Kurant
1/2 oz Chambord raspberry liqueur
Fill with Tonic water
Drop Sour Berry Pop Rocks on top

EXHAUSTION LEMON WATER

I am tired and my body looks like a beat up robot with its toxic silver spray paint drippings even though I wore a paint SUIT and a hair CAP and eye goggles and a respirator and gloves and steel tipped boots and even did the LADY'S SPA TREATMENT of slathering vaseline on hands under gloves and I am beat and tired and tired of the color SILVER and so today - my story is over and I know that when I wake up I will be - once again - content to know that even though I may not win first place and WIN GOLD - a second place SILVER MEDAL is not so bad............

EXHAUSTION LEMON WATER

Get your favorite glass and fill it with ice CUBES - preferably from those metal ice trays with the lever on them.

Throw in a slice of lemon

Pour water over them and nod HELLO to the goosebumps you get from the sound of the ice CRACKING and be thankful that YOU - yourself - are somehow not.

SCOTT BAIO- YOU BASTARD- CHEESECAKE

One day in 6th grade we got an extra thrilling assignment to write about what our FANTASY WORLD would be like if we ever were to get one and live it and we were also told to draw a picture of it and the only other rule was that we could only have ONE other person in our FANTASY LAND and so I ran home and sharpened my pencils and arranged my crayons and started writing about how I would live on a cloud and this cloud would be made of cherry cheesecake and I would never be STUCK on the cloud for important events like birthdays and slumber parties because there was a RAINBOW SLIDE connected to home and on my cherry cheesecake cloud were palm trees because palm trees were exotic and I lacked the exotic and fancy even though I DID have a canopy bed with pink and lime patchwork fabric and because I would need liquid to survive on my cloud I had a water bubbler but instead of water you could press a whole bunch of buttons and get different flavored kool-aids like cherry or grape but never orange because orange was like that McDonald's orange drink which gave me sore throats and then - for comfort - I designed a giant HEART SHAPED BED that turned around and sparkled and played music like Beethoven and the B-52's and I was soon done with my composition but stumped on the other person to share with part and really I knew who it would be because I LOVED HIM - and I knew he LOVED ME - I spent all babysitting earnings on Tiger Beat and Teen Beat and memorized the gold cross necklace he wore and all the foods he loved to eat and so after a while I let the TRUTH - the FATE of my life take over and gently push me towards the union I would forever have with SCOTT BAIO and then I made my picture and used an eraser - which I NEVER used- to make sure all the drawings of palm trees and rainbows and heart shaped beds were perfect and when it came to the drawing of Scott and Me sitting on the bed I got stumped on drawing the faces so I unglued one of the photos of Scott's beautiful head from my window shade and pasted it on his body and then it dried and I didn't know what to do for my face and all I had was a 3x5 photo of me with my permed hair and buck teeth but it was almost time for bed and my picture to be done and so I glued my GIGANTIC HEAD next to Scott's proportionate peanut head and I knew I could win him over by my LOVE DECLARATION and so when we got our graded themes back there was no going back and so I sent it off in a homemade envelope made of his heads and sent it to the PRESIDENT of the Scott Baio Fan Club and for the next 3 months I would rush home and check the mailbox for I had NO DOUBT that he TOO was in LOVE with ME and then another 3 months went by and I notice I didn't like tape-recording the audio to Happy Days as much as I used to and then 3 MORE months go by and finally I throw myself on my canopy bed and listen to Air Supply's - I'm All Out of Love - and as I cry into my diary I realize that my quest was not one of FANTASY - and only one of FAN.

SCOTT BAIO - YOU BASTARD -CHEESECAKE

1 - 9 inch graham cracker crumb crust
8 oz cream cheese - softened
14 oz EAGLE Sweetened Condensed Milk (NOT evaporated)
1/3 cup Lemon Juice
1 TSP vanilla extract
Canned cherry pie filling - chilled

In large bowl, beat cheese until fluffy. Gradually add sweetened condensed milk - beatuntil smooth. Stir in lemon juice and vanilla. POur into crust. Chill 3 hours or until set. Top with desired amount of pie filling. Refrigerate leftovers.

Enjoy while NOT watching Happy Days or Charles in Charge!

CHAIN GANG MAGIC DUMPLINGS

Today I got to be a member of a chain gang making these giant chain links for some fancy pants magician's billboard......... I don't like magic.

I have a faint and defined memory of one evening in this Pizza Parlour Basement Restaurant near the brownstone I first grew up in on 6th Street in Milwaukee. One particular FAMILY NIGHT we all went to have pizza in this vine-coated cellar full of smoke and garlic and dusty plastic grapes and SOON - the pizza was coming and I was excited because there was to be a MAGIC SHOW and all little girls LOVE magic because it is what girls loved besides ponies and TV's Judy the Monkey and Partridge Family and my homemade white dress with daisies on it and things that glitter and I once had a fun gift given to me by a distant relative who bought me a camera that squirted water when you said CHEESE and BOY did I think that was MAGICAL and I was eager to see a PRO at work with his arm flingings and TA-DA's and everything ABRACADABRA - and this magician meant business with his top-hat and red velvet cape and he was a MOUNTAIN of a man - a MAGICAL MAN - and there were card tricks and birds and laughter and then - the END-ALL TRICK TO END ALL TRICKS ! - CUTTING A LITTLE GIRL IN HALF! and I sat there wide eyed and scared and secretly hoping he would pick me though I knew that THAT meant there might be blood and no legs and I sat there and then - MAGICALLY -all pizza-eating stopped at the table because MR. RED VELVET TOP HAT was there - standing in front of me and I look at the little-girl-cutting-box on stage and there was this GIANT SHINY SILVER SQUARE KNIFE BLADE that was bigger than the pizza next to the cutting-little-girls-in-half- box and then he is speaking his mystical speak to me and next thing I know is that my eyes have turned into pancakes and I was shaking my head - NO NO NO - I WANT TO LIVE and tears are running down my cheeks and I just wanted the SCARY MAGIC MAN to disappear into that magic hat of scarves and bunnies and bag of tricks - I would not, could not look into his hypnotic, lightning-bolt BLACK EYES and so I threw my UNCUT, NOT-HALVED BODY into the nook of my mom whose Jean Nate Perfume and last night's Vicks Vapo-Rub and her HUSHES- meant only for me -quieted THE FEAR - and made me calm and finally allowed me to fall - like Alice - into the lap of a different, new kind of magic.

CHAIN GANG MAGIC DUMPLINGS
(discover the MAGIC and COMFORT of simple ingredients turned magical)

1/2 cup NON-SKIM milk (or cream)
dash salt
2 eggs - maybe 3 - depending on consistency
2 1/2 cups flour plus 1 TBSP

Mix together so neither runny nor stiff. Dollop about 1 TSP into boiling soup/water for 10 minutes.

Enjoy the light, dumpling magic!

MOUNTAIN CABIN RUM and ROOTBEER

I once dropped a boat engine in a lake - and I didn't even touch it. I was told to sit on the dock and watch the engine to make sure nothing happened to it. I watched - it fell. I am good at watching - lots of people are - I have working eyes and I like to look. It is not hard to fail at watching UNTIL you witness the MIRACLE of BOAT MOTOR SUICIDE. I just sat and watched and next thing I knew there was a SPLASH and then no engine and next thing I hear is Grandpa Seering running down the hill from the Dew Drop Inn waving his bait bucket like those airplane light-up-in-the-dark-stick-guider-guys and yelling if I was "full of hops" and I knew inside I wasn't a BOY but who cares cause when it comes to fishing you just need the WANT of it all - that's all - and some worms....and possibly some Hamm's Beer if you are older and so there I was - jumping in the cold lake while wearing a dress and lugging up the mystery monster engine to let it dry in the sun as Grandpa drank a Black Label and I had a Food Club Cola.

Grandpa LOVED to fish - he also loved picking berries at the cabin in Mountain, Wisconsin where my Uncle Jeff would water-ski his death defying water-ski moves and my grandma would clean berries and fillet fish while I played on these giant boulders which were painted different bold solid colors and I would believe I was in a real version of candy-land until I got stung by bees and run to grandma who would tell me stories of filling big cuts with spider webs in the times when she was a little girl due to poorness and then my mom would tell me about HER grandma (which was weird because you never think of your parents having grandparents) who would tell HER stories about the boy who lived in her ear and how it runs in the family that we know things to happen that haven't happened yet (even though I didn't predict the engine fall incident of 85) and then Grandpa would rush in with a cooler of fish and Muskmelon the size of Basketballs and that ripeness of the fruit mingling with the lakeness of the fish would fill the kitchen and me with a sense of HOME and sometimes grandpa would come home with a GIANT TURTLE and cut off its head and hang it from a tree upside down so the blood would spill into a bucket and it was creepy and scary and deliciously fascinating. The turtle they used for soup and there would be fried ELK and barbecued BEAR and my grandpa made his own caviar by eating STURGEON EGGS - though he was the ONLY one eating THAT - and he also enjoyed his BRAIN SANDWICHES and homemade Blood Sausage which I don't have a recipe for - and he was big on ALL the world of organ meats like heart and tongue and really JOLLY about them -and well - basically - JOLLY ABOUT ALL FOOD and he would get super excited about eating and dining out and one time on the way to a Surf and Turf Supper Club he saw the billboard which said TURN HERE and TURN THERE he did - right into a corn field and we were all screaming in the back seat and he just smiled and smiled and exclaimed that the sign told him to and he was just following directions and sometimes he would bring tomatoes and beans and melons that he grew - he would bring them along with him and give them out as tips to the servers and as thank yous to the supermarket check out people even though they sold things like vegetables and fish and he loved SHARING all of this wonderful world of food he would grow and catch and my grandma would clean and prepare and in the evening all the grown-ups would play card games like Canasta and Pinochle and they would be drinking things us kids couldn't have and I would sit on the stairs in my homemade nightgown and though I was supposed to be in bed I would listen to the laughter of card cheating and stories of water skiing and neighbors and crops and grandchildren and I would sit there silently - holding my breath - hoping I would not be like the engine - and fall off the dock and disturb their world.

MOUNTAIN CABIN RUM AND ROOTBEER
(for adults only)

Get a glass and fill with ice.
Pour a shot of rum (can be spiced rum or regular rum)
Fill with QUALITY or HOMEMADE rootbeer
Stir a bit and ENJOY!!!!

DELI URGE potato salad (AND SORRY IF THIS IS ON EMAIL - CANNOT GET OFF)

APOLOGIES TO ALL WHO ARE GETTING THIS SENT TO EMAIL. THAT IS NOT MY INTENTION. I WOULD NEVER EVEN DREAM OF FORCING PEOPLE TO READ THIS. I AM SORRY AND WILL TRY TO FIX PROBLEM SOON. WITH THAT SAID - my blog.......


In high school, my friend Patty Porter and I worked at a deli that used to be a bank in Center City. Deli's - when you're a high schooler - are not a fun job by nature so you learn HOW to invent fun. (Ways to make fun - get a fun gun and shoot fun bullets into arm of unsuspecting person - leaves no blood and bonus - no pain!/ Put aside shame of being 17 and making doll house into a scaled version of Lakeside Deli - secretly making miniature deli props of meat trays and sanitary paper hats and an industrial cold cut slicer out of a thimble for your Barbies )

Humans sometimes get this anxious feeling inside where they've just GOT to do SOMETHING - like run around naked yelling EARTHQUAKE or SNAKE or HOT POCKET - or biting fellow students with meaty arms (not so it hurts) or sometimes if you have bad feelings inside - you might want to break a window or yell NICE FANNY PACK to unsuspecting strangers.

These anxious feelings are really URGES - and when work was slow - which was often because who wants to eat at a deli that used to be a bank? - the ITCH would sneak on up. And with that - the birth of the DELI URGE. Why stir soup with a spoon when a corndog will do???.....or throw potato salad against the wall with our BARE HANDS (not a lot - just a bit to cure the urge). You may need proper attire - Patty and I recommend brown aprons and orange and tan hats - a mainstay in the 1980's deli design. As Patty says - it is not the ACT itself that creates the DELI URGE - it is the atmosphere SURROUNDING the urge. Giving cute boy from the newly moved bank next store extra roast beef is NOT a deli urge - that is just wishful flirting. Squeezing a cupful of baked beans through your hands into the toilet? DELI URGE.

Warning: Deli Urges can strike at any time - and most often NOT in a deli. IT IS GOOD to let out the urges if they're relatively harmless cause then it CAN'T build up to LIFE-LIKE URGES like giving up or running away or throwing dishes or sabotaging love or stealing gems from museums. BAD URGES!!!! Urges to kiss people are especially common and good BUT BEWARE if they have girlfriend/boyfriend/spouse - then urge is REALLY BAD - run away and go somewhere boring and urge-less - like an apron factory or the community bank break room.


DELI URGE POTATO SALAD (quote - "It's NEVER the same twice" - Gloria, my mom)

(Think 1/2 an egg and a full potato per person)

Boil 6 potatoes with SKIN ON. Let cool - peel skins if you want or leave 'em on.
Put in a bowl - add 3 chopped boiled eggs - some basil, some sugar (just a bit) - grate 1/2 onion (this way non-onion eaters get the bonus of the flavor without the horror of the texture) Taste it - if it needs "ZIP" - add a squirt of vinegar and a dash or dry mustard.

In separate bowl whisk mayo with some milk so it gets to a nice consistency - (NON LUMPY) - toss potatoes with this and add salt and pepper to taste.

Eat up and try not to throw on walls!

Deep Fried PITY Pickle Portions

I am a horrible liar - this is why I don't speed.

I am one half of a "band" called Lady Hard-On. We auditioned for Last Comic Standing way back when it was icy and cold and hot chocolate would freeze in your hands. We made it to round two wearing our Siamese Twin Leiderhosen and trying to sing about tea-baggin' and sausage souvenirs. We lugged around corn dogs bought from Super America hours before hand. They filmed a special segment on us. For them we even ATE the corn dogs - now even 5 hours older. We are not great - this we know - we KNEW we weren't EVER EVER EVER going to be America's Last Comic Standing - we might be Minnesota's First Siamese-Twin Polka-ish Band SITTING - but we know what we are.....and what we are not.

And now we're liars.

Apologies to all who tuned in - I feel that in the world of apologies given - I am now somewhat - SADLY ENOUGH - becoming UNFORTUNATELY USED TO apologizing for making people stay up and watch the band or me on the television set. Ah- perhaps you will recall the Letterman Incident of 2007?

Never would have voted for me in the WILL SAY SORRY COUNTLESS TIMES FOR NOT BEING ON TV category in the yearbook.

Liar - liar - Pants on fire. Pockets of shame. Cuffs of humility. Belt of scorn. Ah - our next costume is shaping up to be quite a doozey!!!!!



DEEP FRIED PITY PICKLE PORTIONS
(contributed last night at the corn-dog jamboree in my backyard by Eric Hayes and DeAnn Strenke and conceived by Bethany Burton)

1 jar of genetically wrong GIANT PICKLES
1 cup pancake batter
1/2 cup corn meal
3/4 cup milk
1 egg
some salt
Fry-Daddy (this is a deep fryer - you may have the Fry-Pappy or the L'il Fryer Jr. - all will do and there are just fun to say)


Slice pickles into patty-like portions. Mix all other ingredients in a bowl. Dry off pickle portions. coat pickle portions with batter. Throw pickle portions into hot, sizzling vegetable oil of a FryDaddy - they will turn around and around enjoying their hot greased spa treatment. Take them out when golden brown and let them cool.

Enjoyed best with a liar or someone who feels guilt or shame!!!!

LIAR'S CLUB ADDENDUM
when asking about batter was told originally these ingredients: 1/8 tsp cream of tartar - 2 key limes - 1 cup EXOTIC Indian Saffron (DUH - should have known right there - that must cost only a thousand dollars) 3 TBSP blood red orange juice 1 tsp horseradish?????? and 1 pomello..... NOT ONLY AM I NOW A LIAR - I BELIEVE EVERYTHING I HEAR. (though honestly - the saffron threw me off - the person giving the ingredients is an adventurous cook - so I thought - maybe...just maybe he DID use these ingredients - STRANGE , but I'll trust him)

Hopefully you will never have to make these pathetic pity pickles - and instead delight in the WE WERE ON TV AND ARE TRUTH TELLERS salsa I originally planned to share!

Don't Burn the Circus Animals Birthday Cake

Dawn Gundlach was the first person to get me grounded. Getting grounded is no fun when you are in seventh grade and trying to be liked even though you do unlikable things like pogo-stick on down to the bus stop and store said pogo stick in your locker or - in a desperate moment of wanting that element of LIKE - you join in with the cool kids at the back of the bus and cheer them on as they try to make Dawn Gundlach eat her shoe.

The shoe-eating incident was reported to Dawn's dad - Wally Gundlach who then on the next day at the bus stop came down and called me a whore while I was pogo-sticking away and avoiding eye contact with Dawn. Whore? What's that? I asked my mom that night and she asked where did I hear that word and I told her Wally and she called Wally up and he came over and told my mom and dad that on the bus ride home I tried to make Dawn EAT her show and that I smoked at the bus stop and that I probably made-out with Matthew Henry in the back of the bus like Linda Stack did. That wasn't the WORST of it because 3 years later we became friends and I went over to Dawn's for an after-school snack and she took this peanut butter and put it in a yellow tupperware bowl and then she took this grape jelly and dumped it on top and she mixed the two together until it was GREY and thick and then spread it on some Wonderbread and made ME eat it and next thing I know I am throwing up on their brand new bathroom carpet and Wally called Gloria and told them to pick up their impolite daughter (whore) but that didn't matter in the end because I was still invited to Dawn's birthday Party! Dawn had a twin brother David and so girls AND boys were there and the boys sat by the front porch music speakers and listened to the new Foreigner 4 album and the girls looked at this bundt cake that was supposed to be filled with pudding but was filled with frosting and there was this paper/candle carousel topping and when they lit the candles and sang Happy Birthday the Merry GO Round shot up in flames and there was fire and Laurie Pierce started to cry so we decided to then play some games and one game was a TRUTH game and if we were caught LYING we would have to drink SALT WATER and the worst was that for treats we didn't get chips or cookies but we got to help ourselves tot he SWEET PICKLE bowl which was no fun at all - so we went upstairs to Wally's bathroom and looked inside the medicine cabinet because it was rumored at the bus stop that there was a picture of a nude lady in there - so we looked and there was - there WAS a picture of a naked lady and when I went home - full of salt water, sweet pickles and burnt cake - I understood that indeed I wasn't the whore at all - Wally was.

Don't Burn the Circus Animals Birthday Cake

WHITE CAKE WITH PEANUT BUTTER (and no jelly) FROSTING

White Cake Supreme

3/4 cup shortening
1 1/3 cups sugar
1 1/2 tsp vanilla
2 1/2 cups flour - sifted
3 tsp baking powder
1 tsp salt
1 cup skim milk
5 egg whites
1/3 cup sugar

Stir shortening to soften. Add 1 1/3 cups sugar and cream together until light and fluffy. Add vanilla. Stir flour, baking powder and salt together - add to creamed mixture alternately with milk - beat until smooth. Beat egg whites til foamy - add 1/3 cup sugar gradually - beating until meringue holds into peaks - stir into batter. Bake in 2 greased 9x1 1/2 inch round pans at 375 degrees for 30 minutes.

PEANUT BUTTER FROSTING

1/2 cup softened butter
1 cup peanut butter
2 cups powdered sugar
1/4 cup heavy cream

Beat all ingredients until smooth and airy! Frost cake - DO NOT USE PAPER CAROUSEL as decoration!!!!!!! TRY candles with plastic doodads from Party/Cake Decorating Store!!!!

Morning has Broken Coffee Cake

I've never been good with odds - and I've never been good at singing - but explaining these facts to grown-ups when you're a kid doesn't work - no matter how urgent and bright you are. Furnace Brook Middle School Staff was no exception.

It's not everyday that the 6th grade gets to participate in S.I.D. (Student Interest Days) - in which you get to have 2 periods of learning scratched off the roster in order to prepare for concerts and plays and newspaper activities and the only BAD thing is that you don't get to choose where they put you. You get to make a list of preferences like Thespian Club, Slimnastics or Yearbook but it really doesn't matter because I got stuck in the Chamber Singing QUARTET which featured Laurie Bunting who had bad breath and we'd sit there around some man with a guitar and sing songs about hope and freedom and pancakes. I would sit there and remember how I didn't even get accepted into 4th grade glee club and now I was being taught note-reading and breath support even though Mark Dunderdale kept calling it BREAST support. And so Mr Heath - the head of all of this - says we have to perform at the Annual Spring Concert Benefit for the Booster Club and I was relieved because something FUN was FINALLY going to happen but when I got up on stage in my new dress and white tights and the first chords to Morning Has Broken sang out from the piano I looked at the other three people on stage and started to move my mouth though no sound came out and Mr Heath starts giving us these googley eyes across the piano bench like we better sing louder or ELSE - and all I could hear was Laurie Bunting chirping away and pretty soon she even stopped and so we all just stood there opening and moving our mouths to a song without words and listened to Mr Heath play a solo on the piano.

MORNING HAS BROKEN COFFEE CAKE
(Grandma Anna Seering - altered a bit from Mrs Kindy)

* this is how my grandma TOLD me to make it on 3/18/01. Basically it is a dictation*

Creme together 1 cup butter - 1 1/2 cups sugar and 2 eggs. Whip it up good withan electric mixer

Fold in 1 cup sour cream - gently with mixer

Then add:
2 cups sifted flour
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 1/2 baking powder
1 tsp vanilla

Mix it all up - it will be very thick

Now it's time to make the nutty mixture!

3/4 cups chopped nuts mixed with 2 tbsp sugar and 1 tsp cinnamon

Grease and flour a bundt cake pan and alternate the batter with the nut mixture 3 times - ending with the nuts.

Bake at 350 degrees for 40-60 minutes - depending on the stove

My grandma would like to eat this on Christmas with some smoked sausage from Usinger's Butcher Shop in Milwaukee.

Corn on the Cob

Corn on the Cob

Decisions are difficult -especially those that revolve around the ones you love. I had prepared to begin with a grandma recipe - and now (sorry grandma - homemade 7UP and blueberry pies on deck) - and now - well - (SIGH)

I am doing a bunch of cleaning. I soon will have a new roommate. With cleaning comes diving - diving in and swimming with the unexpected. To this I write....

I have a box. - a box of items of my dads. (I like to avoid the box). But the box's time had come. Hello box. Things I have discovered:

My dad was a great gunsman - he NEVER hunted but was a Marksman - an EXPERT marksman and he has all these neat patches and certificates to boot. My dad was a bowler (this I knew) - he almost bowled a 300 on New Year's Eve in 1986 - sadly, while mowing the lawn one day - he mowed off half his finger resulting in horrifying kids with his 1/2 finger "picking"his nose and revelling in his new title - Four Finger Farrell.

He was a proud owner of his American Bowling League Belt Buckle and a host of NRA patches and pins and yet was not your run of the mill NRA sort of guy. He had a sharp eye and liked to shoot at targets - that is all.

In the box today I found his high school diploma. And I found it after midnight - thus on June 11, 2008. The date of his diploma was that of year 1962 - JUNE 11th - I am both sad and a-tingle to discover that it is his 46th High School Graduation Anniversary - TODAY....I never even KNEW the year he graduated and I am honored to discover such a find. Tucked behind his diploma was a worn out, yellowed newspaper article heralding the 216 graduates that were going on to college. My dad was the first Farrell to go to college and I like to think about how proud he was to see and then save his name in print.

Thus, my first recipe - is one of my dad's. Though he owned an Elvis themed restaurant and made a mean grilled peanut butter and banana sandwich - I shall try to recreate a recipe he was a master of - and before he died - I double checked his method - it is loose and free - a lot like him..... I miss him dearly.

I remember vividly driving over the Mississippi river on our family treks to visit his family- and each time - no matter how old we were or who we were with - these two statements were true! Spelling out the Mississippi River forwards and then backwards - M-I-S-S-I-S-S-I-P-P-I/ I-P-P-I-S-S-I-S-S-I-M! Soon followed out with a shout to the Corn Huskers!!!!

With that -

Gaylen Farrell's Corn on the Cob Recipe

Get a dozen corn cobs
Put UNHUSKED corn in pot on stove in boiling water
Add a can of cheap beer (this is the secret ingredient) Boil a bit!
Put UNHUSKED cobs on grill
Cobs will steam
Take off - unhusk and slather with butter and salt!

ENJOY!

I am reminded of a middle school essay I had to write on following directions - the first line being -Start eating corn by starting at the right hand corner of the the corn!!!!!

and a humbled and heartfelt congratulations to my dad on his 46th high school graduation! I hope I am serving your recipe with honors......