GET 8 OR 10 (20-ounce) cans of pineapple rings packed in JUICE—do NOT get the kind packed in syrup. Drain the juice off as much as you can—you don’t have to, like, blot the pineapple or anything—don’t try to complicate this—it’s easy. Dump the drained pineapple into a great big container and pour a liter of GOOD vodka over it. Put the lid on the jar or bowl and put it in the refrigerator and let it sit there—LET IT SIT THERE—for one week. One week is 7 days—so after 7 days have come and gone—then you may drain off your vodka and get reeeally happy. Just shake it with ice and pour it into your chilled martini glass and mmmmmm.
Don’t obsess over the size of the cans or anything else. Just as long as you get a whole lot of pineapple in the vodka and let it sit and soak, it’ll be fine. This is not one of your real technical recipes—it really is as simple as it sounds—so just do it.
Some people freeze the pineapple rings and then put them in Sierra Mist—which sounds delightful to me. Some people figger the pineapple has done its job and they just throw it away. I’m thinking a vodka-soaked pineapple ring is a handy thing to have in the freezer—bound to come in handy.
Sweet Scott’s Great Nasty Recipe
Scott Caples is one of our newest Spud Studs and we do love him a LOT. He comes to every one of my book signings within two hundred miles of him and he brings divine deviled eggs and all manner of other tasty morsels—to soothe me in my travels. He is also really cute, a very snappy dresser with impeccable manners, and he comes to the Parade now—so y’all can meet him when you come to Jackson—one more reason why you need to come.
Scott sent me this SHOCKINGLY trashy recipe and it’s just so good, I knew y’all would love it, too. This is one of those that is just SO BAD—you’ll prolly want to lie and say you would never make such a thing. That’s what I do—and that way I don’t have to share it with anybody.
BROWN A POUND of ground beef—maybe drain off some of the grease if it’s, like, swimming—totally your call—and then add 2 tablespoons minced onion and cook it for a minute. In a Pam’d casserole dish, combine half the meat with a can of cream of chicken soup, then add the rest of the meat and top that with a can of Cheddar cheese soup. Cover all that wondrous glop with 2 cups of shredded VELVEETA, and on top of THAT put 20 or so TATER TOTS, and bake it all at 350°F for about an hour.
Is that disgusting or WHAT? You will feel so guilty eating it, I know, but hey, life is short. Actually, it will be a whole lot shorter if you eat this crap very often—but every once in a while, I think we deserve to eat something really revolting yet yummy.
Health-Nut Family’s Famous Fried Apples
Queen Susie, who sent me this recipe, seems to me to be clearly a full-fledged tree-hugging, patchouli-wearing health-food fanatic. Here’s the way she concocts a typical meal: she slices Jonathan apples very thin—without even peeling them first—and she cuts a whole lot of hickory-smoked bacon into little bitty bits. Then she fries the bacon bits until they’re almost done, and at that point she dumps in all the unpeeled apple slices and puts a lid on the skillet for a little while.
When the apples are cooked almost clear, she dumps in a “cloud” of white sugar. (I’m thinking dark brown might be even better, what do you think?) She stirs that around a little and covers it again and cooks it until the apples start to look like candy.
Then she says—and I quote, “Serve as a meal with warm bread—we use whole wheat or multigrain because we watch our health.” I love her.
Little Larva’s Homicidal Maniac and Cheese
That cute little baby girl Alexis sent me this recipe with the caveat that it is a double-sided funeral food: eat enough of it at a funeral and the next funeral can be your own. Worth it, though.
COOK A COUPLE of pounds of macaroni and just hang on—we’ll get back to it in a minute. Fry a whole lot of thick-sliced bacon—you’ll need at least a half dozen slices for this recipe, so however much more than that you need to fry in order to end up with 6 slices after you’ve stuffed yourself—cook that much.
Then melt 1/2 stick butter and 2 cups Gruyère cheese in 11/2 cups milk. Now dump your cooked macaroni into your Crock-Pot®—ooooh, I love my Crock-Pot®—and pour in a can of Cheddar cheese soup, 3 cups grated extra-sharp Cheddar cheese, 1 teaspoon dry mustard, and 1 cup sour cream. Then add the milk/butter/Gruyère stuff and stir it all up together and crumble up all the bacon in it, too. Turn the pot on low for about 3 hours—you can use that time to set your affairs in order, write your will, lay out your burial clothes, etc. Then eat up! I’m so proud of Alexis, I could just weep.
Suculentos Platos de Carne de Vacuno de Mi Próximo Marido (Succulent Beef Dish of My Next Husband)
If The Cutest Boy in the World ever runs off with a blackjack dealer, I’ve got my next husband all picked out. His name is Robert St. John and he is THE most wonderful and adorable chef—and he has created, in my opinion, THE WORLD’S BEST POT ROAST, resulting in my falling hopelessly in love with him, or at least his pot roast. He does himself currently HAVE a wife, whom he seems excessively fond of—so that could be problematic, but I’ll worry about that later, right now I’m pretty focused on his pot roast. (However, regarding that Mrs., it’s handy that her name is also JILL—so I think it will be a plus for him that he won’t have to learn a new name. He’ll just have to adjust to “Jill” being a big hungry hulk instead of a really cute blonde. I’m sure with time, he’ll adjust.) You might think me shallow for being willing to marry a man for a tasty pot roast. Trust me, I’ve done a lot more for a lot less.
Robert’s original recipe is in one of his MANY outstanding cookbooks—DEEP SOUTH STAPLES: or How to Survive in a Southern Kitchen without a Can of Cream of Mushroom Soup—I am giving it to you here with the slight modifications that I have made to it on account of he cooks his in an actual oven and I cook mine—you know—in my CROCK-POT®—because I just loooove my Crock-Pot®. I swear, it’s like somebody else cooked—you just come home and a miracle has happened in your kitchen. I love it!
Anyway, the recipe calls for a 21/2-to 3-pound shoulder roast. I have found that I can do TWO in my big-ass Crock-Pot® at the SAME TIME—which either serves a crowd OR (my favorite thing) makes for MASSIVE leftovers. Whether you do one or two roasts, the rest of the recipe is the same—you don’t have to double anything—it makes a boatload of gravy with just the single recipe’s ingredients.
HERE’S ALL YOU do: Heat 1/4 cup of either bacon grease or canola oil in a heavy skillet. Season the roast(s) with kosher salt, black pepper, and Robert’s own Steak Seasoning (available at rob ertsjohn.com). (I have a sensitivity to black pepper—so all I use is the kosher salt, garlic powder, and onion powder.) Brown the roast(s) on all sides and put them in the Crock-Pot®.
Then lower the heat on the skillet and put in 1/4 cup olive oil and 1/2 cup flour—to make a peanut butter–colored roux. Add 2 cups diced onion (I just use a bag of frozen chopped onions—works perfectly) and 1/4 teaspoon thyme, and cook for about 4 to 5 minutes. Then add 3 cups hot beef broth, 2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce, 1 teaspoon salt, and 1 teaspoon black pepper. (I don’t use the pepper.) Stir all that until it’s smooth (except for the onion bits, obviously) and pour it over the roast(s). Cook it on low for 10 hours or so.
After it’s been cooking just a very short time, the house will smell so good, you will think you will DIE if you don’t get to eat that sucker NOW. By the time it’s done, everyone will be WEEPING with anticipation—and then joy at first bite. I will eat this, gravy and all, completely cold out of the refrigerator the next morning, too. It’s THAT good.
My Next Husband’s Grilled Sweet Potatoes
In yet ANOTHER of my next husband’s outstanding cookbooks, this one entitled New South Grilling (see the link to all things Robert St. John on my FRIENDS page at www.sweetpotatoqueens.com), he has come up with a most Queenly Sweet Potato recipe. I’m going to try to get him to come to the Parade and cook some for us. He has applied for Spud Studship and we have granted him an Apprentices
hip, and we have also asked his Jill to join us as an O-fficial Wannabe. Their first duty in our service will be to feed us—pretty slick, huh?
FIRST, YOU PEEL 4 sweet potatoes and cut them into 1/2-inch slices. Mix together 1/2 cup soft unsalted butter, 2 tablespoons dark brown sugar, 1/4 teaspoon cinnamon, and 1 teaspoon hot sauce. (Robert makes some EXCELLENT hot sauces—I use only his.) Put the tater slices on a cookie sheet and brush them with the butter stuff. Then put them on the grill (direct medium heat), buttered side down. Brush the tops with more butter and cook them for 12 to 15 minutes, turning once during that time. When they are fork-tender, take them off the grill, brush any remaining butter on them, and sprinkle them with kosher salt and black pepper (if you like it).
If there are any additional diners—other than yourownself, I mean—you prolly shoulda cooked more than 4. You’ll have eaten those before you get them to the table.
Martha Jean’s By-Gawd Apple Enchiladas
Martha Jean is from Booneville, Mississippi, and that puts her several cuts above just about everybody—especially anybody from, say, Guntown or Baldwyn. She also loves Jesus, though she does take a drink—now and then—which when you actually think about it means ALL THE TIME, and that’s just not so. Booneville is not, after all, the Delta. Martha Jean is a By-Gawd Southern Cook, and many of us in the Queendom have been the regular recipients of her famous jams and jellies. Her friend Robin also brought me some jelly once—not only was it not ho-made, it was not even a name brand—I still have it, naturally—it was a GIFT, after all, and I think of Robin every time I see that discount-store jar of grape jelly.
Here is a dessert Martha Jean was known for—until she went off and joined the Pilates Cult and became a stick. We are praying for her deprogramming.
TAKE ABOUT 6 to 8 flour tortillas and roll them up with some apple pie filling. Put them in a baking pan, seam side down, and sprinkle them with a bunch of cinnamon. Melt together 1/2 cup butter, 1/2 cup sugar, 1/2 cup dark brown sugar, and 1/2 cup water. Bring that to a boil and then let it simmer for about 3 minutes, then pour it over your enchiladas and let it sit for about 30 minutes. Then bake it at 350°F for about 20 minutes and serve immediately with ’niller ice cream.
When Martha Jean gets rescued from the Pilates, maybe we can get her to make us some. It’s what we’re living for.
All the Good Cooks Have Moved to West Point, Georgia
As I mentioned elsewhere in this book, I have been to West Point, Georgia, several times and I intend to go back—soon and often—and I recommend you put it on your travel list as well—for the FOOD. When you get to town, go directly to the Heart of the South Tea Room and get you some fried black-eyed peas on account of you cannot get them anyplace else—ON EARTH—and that right there is reason enough to go. It’s fun to eat them and try to figure out how the hell they make ’em—and trust me, they will NOT tell you!
If you’re an author, get the local library to have a book signing for you because the whole town will come and they will bring food for days. This has become my favorite stop on my book tour for obvious reasons.
You might get some of MICHAEL’S MAGICAL SWEET POTATO MUFFINS, but in case you don’t rate that high (boohoo for you!)—here’s how to make ’em:
Michael’s Magical Sweet Potato Muffins
WHISK TOGETHER 1 cup dark brown sugar, 1/2 cup oil, 1 running-over teaspoon vanilla, and 2 eggs. Then, in another bowl, mix together 2 cups all-purpose flour, 2 teaspoons baking powder, 1 teaspoon cinnamon, 1 teaspoon nutmeg, 1/2 teaspoon allspice, and 1/2 teaspoon salt. To that, add 2 big giant sweet potatoes—either baked or boiled—and mashed. I suppose you COULD use canned ones, but it kinda makes me gag to think about. Add your egg/sugar mixture to all of that and stir it up without beating it to death. Put it in greased muffin tins and bake for about 25 to 30 minutes at 350°F. (If you want to, you could add 1/2 cup raisins or 1 cup pecans. I’d go with the pecans—not a big fan of raisins in stuff, but that’s just me.)
Okay—I have got two pieces of life-altering good news for you now. First, I am gonna tell you how to make TEXAS CORNBREAD, which you may or may not thank me for in the long run on account of it is addictive and you may be the SIZE of Texas before too long. I do not know WHY it is called Texas Cornbread—there is no cornmeal in it—it has nothing to do with cornbread as we know it—but that is what Miss Red, granny of Queen LuAnne Berlin, called it, and we are not about to start arguing with Miss Red. We are too busy adoring her. (Note: This is, and will probably remain, the ONLY recipe I have EVER endorsed that actually contains LIGHT brown sugar. You KNOW how I feel about it from earlier books, and thus, you KNOW just HOW good this must BE—for me to be willing to use the stuff.)
Texas Cornbread
MIX ALL THIS in a bowl: 1 cup plain flour, 1 cup self-rising flour, 1 packed cup LIGHT brown sugar (yuck, but trust me), 1 cup white sugar, 4 eggs, 1 cup vegetable oil, 2 cups chopped pecans, and 1 running-over teaspoon vanilla. Put it into a greased 10 by 14-inch pan—the size of the pan matters—I bought this size especially for this recipe. Bake at 350°F for about 20 to 25 minutes, then rotate the pan and bake it for a few more minutes.
The baking time is tricky and important so watch it closely. Your oven may have it done in 20 minutes—in which case, skip the turning and additional oven time. I cook mine for 20 minutes exactly. You want it to be kinda chewy, so you don’t want to overcook it. It is GOOD even if it is overcooked—there still won’t be any leftovers—but when it’s chewy, whoo-lard! You just can’t believe how good it is. And it’s real sneaky. You take the first bite and you just kinda acknowledge that it’s pleasant-tasting—but then it sorta wakes up something on your tongue and you get that second bite, and from then on you’re like a bed of bream on a bucket of crickets—just thrashing around, trying to get more and eating it as fast as you can, and you can’t quit until it’s gone.
The OTHER thing I’m gonna share with you is the GREAT GOOD NEWS that you can ORDER Texas Cornbread and a whole big pile of other YUMMY STUFF—and have it SHIPPED DIRECTLY TO YOU by Queen LuAnne and her Spud Stud, Craig. Unfortunately, Miss Red has passed on—but luckily she entrusted LuAnne with all her recipes, so Miss Red’s Place—and we—are saved. LuAnne allows as how she has THE CUTEST FEDEX GUY EVER and so she hopes you order lots and often.
I don’t know how they do it—the prices are UNBELIEVABLE—so order a bunch right away before they figger out they are practically GIVING THIS STUFF AWAY! I’m telling you, a GALLON of lobster bisque is $26—sausage balls are 60 for $16—TWO of Craig’s Favorite Meatloaves are $22. Log on to www.missredsplace.com and Lu will send you a full menu. You may never cook for yourself again—at these prices, why would you?!
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F-F-F-F-F-T After Fifty
I’ve seen that written, I’ve heard it said, I’ve seen it happen to others, and believe me, I’ve experienced it in assorted very personal ways. It sucks.
I could just say “The End,” I suppose, and that would sum it up for some folks. But those are the folks who were more than likely F-F-F-F-F-T after FIFTEEN. They were joyless then, have been joyless ever since, and will remain joyless until they finally do just fizzle completely on out, like the fuse on a dud firecracker.
For those of us who prefer to think of all that f-f-f-f-f-ing as our SIZZLING sound—building ever hotter and higher, right up to our last big crashing KA-POW!—well, let’s take a look at some of those f’s.
Faith. This is a big one for me. I recommend it to you highly. I know people with lots—know people with none. In my observation and experience, shit happens to everybody. The faithful aren’t immune but they sure do seem to fare better. It’s not what happens to us in our lives that determines who and what we are—it’s the choices we make about how to deal with it that forms our character.
Frying. No, I don’t think it’s second in importance only to faith—I just thought it would be funny to put it there. Funny is important to me, too. Not that frying is UNIMPORTANT to me—I am fairly fon
d—perhaps foolishly so—of flavorful fried foods. But frequently frequenting fabulous fried feasts will mean farewell forever to foxy fashions and finery and finally force us to face famine in order to fight the fat.
Family. We don’t get to choose the families we’re born into. Some of us are incredibly lucky with this—some of us are real-life Waltons. Some of us had childhoods that seemed like never-ending nightmares. But they did end. No matter how bad your childhood may have been—IT IS OVER and what you do with the REST of your life is totally up to you.
Faith. Family. Friends. Failure. Forgiveness.
We all fail from time to time. We fail at school, we fail at work, we fail our friends and families in countless ways, big and small. There is just so much to learn in life. And it’s like taking tests in school—often you don’t really know if you learned anything or not until the test is over, and sometimes then it is too late to get credit for the course.
Relationships are like that, I think. You go along with this person or that and you think you’re understanding it—all seems well until there is a big test—a pop quiz—and you didn’t know it was coming and you sure didn’t know it was gonna count for 99 percent of your grade—and before you know what hit you, you have flat failed the class.
Failing AT something—anything—does NOT make YOU a failure. God made you and He made you just the way He intended to make you and He doesn’t make any trash. Whatever happens to us, no matter what we do—That Person—who God made—is still right there and it is never too late for That Person.
The good news is that we can start over anytime, at any moment, and choose to do something different, something better. This won’t erase the pain our failure caused us or others, but it does make way for forgiveness in the future. What the world needs now—besides love, sweet love—is a whole big lot of forgiveness.
American Thighs Page 22