Have you ever had one of those days when you wake up with a crick in your neck?
Have you ever had one of those days when you go to take your morning medication and remember your prescription ran out and you forgot to refill it?
Have you ever had one of those days when you go to make a cup of coffee and remember you ran out of coffee and forgot to get more?
Have you ever had one of those days when you close the door behind you and realize you just locked yourself out?
Have you ever had one of those days when you realize you left your phone in the house right after you locked yourself out?
Have you ever had one of those days when you rush to get to work and when you arrive everything’s on hold because the power is out?
Have you ever had one of those days when a coworker comes to you with a question you’re pretty sure is the same one they asked you yesterday?
Have you ever had one of those days when you’re just about to step across the street to get a cup of coffee and your boss comes to you with an urgent project?
Have you ever had one of those days when you discover a possum living in the garbage can next to your desk?
Have you ever had one of those days when you go to the pharmacy to get your prescription refilled during your lunch break and there’s a really long line and the pharmacist brings out a giant pinata and yells, “Grab your bats, everybody, it’s asparagus season!”
Have you ever had one of those days when you go to the coffee shop and they tell you they ran out of coffee and forgot to get more?
Have you ever had one of those days when you put a dollar in the vending machine and it spits out confetti and laughs at you?
Have you ever had one of those days when you wake up with a creek in your neck and it’s got crawfish in it?
Have you ever had one of those days when you have a meeting and you’re the only one who shows up in a costume?
Have you ever had one of those days when there are two guardians, one who always tells the truth and one who always lies and you can only ask them one question and all you really want to know is where the bathroom is?
Have you ever had one of those days when you look down and your right foot is missing but there’s a note at the end of your leg that says “back in five minutes”?
Have you ever had one of those days when you try to go back to your desk but the way is blocked by a troll who demands payment in eggs?
Have you ever had one of those days when the boss tells you that urgent project has been cancelled five minutes after you’ve finished it?
Have you ever had one of those days when a coworker asks you a question and you don’t know the answer so you just throw up all over their desk?
Have you ever had one of those days when everyone else but you is called into a meeting and you hear “The Hokey Pokey” being played in the conference room?
Have you ever had one of those days when you slip and fall on shag carpeting?
Have you ever had one of those days when there’s a light at the end of the tunnel and it’s blinking?
Have you ever had one of those days when it’s below zero in the morning and over a hundred degrees in the afternoon so you have a lug a heavy coat home?
Have you ever had one of those days when you’re finally home and trying to relax and the grim specter of Death sweeps into your living room and stands over you and asks to borrow a dollar?
Have you ever had one of those days when it’s been one of those weeks?
The funny thing about awards is I never get tired of them. Recently I was nominated by Tom of Tom Being Tom–although I sometimes suspect Tom of being someone else, but then when I look closer he just turns out to be Tom but wearing a Thanos mask for some reason, but that’s another story–nominated me for the Blogger Recognition Award. And I’d like to thank him for the award. In fact I’d like to thank him so much I’ll just say, thank you, Tom. It’s nice to be recognized. It reassures me I’m still recognizable even after the surgery. I’d also like to thank all the little people including, but not limited to Merry, Pippin, and tardigrades.
One of the requested responses when one is the recipient of a Blogger Recognition Award is to provide an origin story. Well, mine is so common as to be almost cliche, but I’ll offer it anyway.
It was in Poughkeepsie in August, 1920–I forget the exact date, but I was leading the field in a goldfish-swallowing contest. I was so far ahead, in fact, that more goldfish were needed, so a batch that had been bred in a Revigator was provided. Having been thoroughly irradiated these goldfish had developed mutant powers which they passed on to me.
Another requirement is that I’m supposed to offer two pieces of advice, but, really, once I’ve told you that if you ever want to bury a body in a shallow grave you should use quicklime, what else do you need to know?
Here’s some advice: take wooden nickels. I know the expression used to be “don’t take any wooden nickels” but when was the last time someone offered you a wooden nickel? The last time I was offered a wooden nickel was in Poughkeepsie in 1920–in fact a bag full of wooden nickels was the grand prize in a goldfish swallowing contest, and now they’re antiques and worth about a dollar each, which just goes to show you.
I seem to have splintered off from the main topic, so let me close with a bonus word of advice: don’t hem your skirt with chewing gum in the summer.
The final step in this process is that I’m supposed to nominate other bloggers, and at least for this award, unlike some others, there’s no maximum, which is great because I feel there are so many bloggers that are deserving of recognition, but at the same time I never want anyone to feel obligated to respond in kind. Some may even respond in unkind if they felt obligated, and I’d rather go around handing out wooden nickels. So I’ll just conclude by saying that you should feel recognized if you’re so inclined, and don’t if you’d rather not, and always go out on a song if that’s your style, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to.
Sorry about the conclusion. It’s still a work in progress.
Merry Christmas everyone from all of us Whos in Whoville! It’s been a very busy season but I’m glad to take a few minutes for a break to sit down and catch everyone up. The reason it’s been so busy is because, well, you may remember last year when we had that crazy night with Mr. Grinch. That was the night Cindy-Lou found him stealing everything from our homes. Bless her heart, she thought he was Santa Claus. We were all a bit shocked when we got up and found our homes completely emptied, but it was Christmas and all refused to let that get us down. The season isn’t so much about the gifts that we give as the love that we live, and also the day off from work, so all of us from mayor to clerk gathered in the town square and sang against the sturm and drang.
The funny thing is that had a strange effect on Mr. Grinch. The poor old man had lived in a cave up on Mount Crumpit for fifty-three years and hadn’t gotten out much except on Halloweens when the Gree-Grumps start growlin’ and the Hakken-Krakks start howlin’ and the sour-sweet wind could blow away any small child who goes out to the euphemism, when he’d fall into brickle bushes hunting the last Wuzzy Woozoo or come to play a spook on a Who or two. When we started singing he had a complete change and brought everything back. It was so nice we invited him to stay and celebrate Christmas, and his little dog Max too, and we even let him carve the roast beast. He did a much better job than my brother Hugh, too, who tries to cut slices but is allergic to spices that make him a-choo.
We thought that would be the end of our troubles with Mr. Grinch, and it was, but Sue had to invite him to stay, so he parked his paraphernalia wagon next to Ponker’s Pond and took up in the guest room. I got to be the one who spent an hour cleaning Grinch hair out of the bathtub each morning.
After New Year’s when he insisted on toasting everyone until he passed out and then woke all of us up at the crack of dawn with a mighty shout we sent him off with a bleary-eyed wave and wished him well as he went back to his cave.
Then he came back, the next Christmas Eve, and you’ll never believe what he had up his sleeve. He brought presents for all of us, presents galore. He’d gone out and bought out every Who store, and then went online and bought even more. For every Who home he brought a new Christmas tree, and under each one he put a big screen TV, and have you heard of a Super-Zooper-Flooper-Do? He brought three. And a sectional couch big enough to hold all of us Whos, with a pouch that can chill up to six dozen brews.
He even got a new scarf for the Doctor.
We all felt so guilty, the shame it did sting, we hadn’t thought to get him anything. “That’s quite all right my Whos!” he said over as we apologized profusely, “I just want your happiness and to hear you all sing,” and then he pulled a roast Christmas goosely.
He played Santa too, and hired a band, two guys named Pete and Roger, from a town called Eng-land.
As I send this letter out to all on my holiday roster I don’t want to sound ungrateful for the lesson he taught us, or even for the wonderful gifts that he brought us, but I wish we had known while the sun shone, while filled with Christmas we gathered and sang and all the bells rang, that our happiness was making a monster.
Welcome To Long Pig Barbecue! We’re that little place off the beaten path, way up here where we look out for each other. That’s why we say the hills have eyes.
We stick to the old ways and treat all our customers like they’re one of us because there’s a little of you in all of us. It’s why we’re known as a place where people keep coming back up.
Come on in, sit down, and let us take care of you. At Long Pig Barbecue our motto is by the people, for the people, of the people.
And when it’s time for you to foot the bill don’t forget to tip your waiter or they might give you the finger.
Appetizers
All Ears
Crisp, crunchy, deep-fried goodness, a big plate of these treats is sure to satisfy the whole table.
Butter Fingers
We’re not stingy with the butter and these are slow-cooked so the meat falls right off the bone.
Entrees
Baby Back Ribs
Fresh and tender, but ask your server about the rack size. You might want to order a double.
All Hands
Popular with the kids! Served fried or grilled, and either way they’re finger-lickin’ good.
Well-armed
Baked to a nice crisp and also served in a special novelty dish to tickle your funny bone.
Tongue-tied
You won’t know what to say when this mouth-watering platter is placed in front of you.
Cold Shoulder
Great during the summer months you won’t be able to turn away from this dish.
Cold Feet
Another summer specialty that’s sure to keep you on your toes.
Bleeding Heart
Served up hot and rare and swimming in its own juices people get choked up over this dish.
Combo Meals (2-4 People)
Double Header
Two heads are better than one, and this big platter is bound to please all palates.
Foot in Mouth
One of our signature dishes for couples, people can’t stop talking about it.
Feast For The Eyes
When we say the eyes have it we mean you’ll love this specialty platter that you have to see to believe.
While reintroducing wolves in many areas has been controversial the introduction of wolves into New York City wasn’t controversial at all, since it took care of a much more serious problem. The Mayor Ed Koch Wolf Foundation, which has a new monument to the decision to release wolves in New York City parks, explains the history:
In the late 1970s, New York Mayor Edward I. Koch launched an unprecedented campaign against subway graffiti. The city employed new guardians to patrol its vast train yards—wolves. Captured from upstate New York and set loose in various borough depots, the wolves successfully kept taggers at bay until anti-graffiti technology eliminated the need for the animals.
It goes on to explain that the wolves then migrated underground and survive in tunnels, although I think this had absolutely nothing to do with graffiti, which the wolves did nothing to prevent, and it was really an excuse to distract people from the problem of alligators in the sewers.
Why wolves? For that matter, where wolves? “There! There wolf! There castle!” as Marty Feldman said, but that’s another story.
Lycanthropy has long been a subject of fascination. There’s also ursanthropy–transformation into a bear–which isn’t as well known, although the term “berserk” can trace its etymology back to an Icelandic term for warriors who wore bearskins in the belief they would impart the bear’s power. And that’s really useful if you want to go into battle and eat a ton of salmon and blueberries. Maybe that’s why werewolves are more famous: bears hibernate through the winter, but wolves are on the prowl all year long, and lycanthropes can be out even when there’s not a full moon.
Now I’m not saying there are werewolves among New York City’s wolves. I’m also not not saying there are werewolves among New York City’s wolves. New York City is a big place that’s seen a lot of history, and if you can’t find werewolves there you can’t find ’em anywhere. And if wolves, or werewolves, can make it in New York City they can make it anywhere.
Honestly I’m surprised New York’s werewolf population, or just its wolf population, hasn’t become a bigger tourist attraction. As the monument reminds us tourists have a real way of attracting wolves.
EPA Region 2, Directorial Meeting, October 12, 1984
Present:
EPA Administrator William Ruckelshaus
Regional Administrator John Bruno
Deputy Regional Administrator Richard Edlund
Chief of Staff Chuck Gaspar
Subject: Statement by Enforcement and Compliance Assurance Division Director Walter J. Peck
Gentlemen, I appreciate this opportunity to make a statement that will become part of the official record regarding the recent events in New York. I’m sorry they’ve brought a great deal of negative attention to the EPA. There are several misconceptions and misunderstandings regarding my handling of the situation, and I will do my best to clarify my role.
As you know from my own reports I, like many others, became aware of a number of strange occurrences in New York City in early June, occurrences which were described as “paranormal”. While we’re all familiar with ghost stories and New York, as I’ve learned, has more than its share of eccentrics, the number and nature of the occurrences was unusual. However none of them seemed to fall within the EPA’s purview. I, like many others, wrote off these stories as a passing fad.
That changed following the now infamous incident at the Sedgewick Hotel. This, as you know, was the first commercial venture by the group of paranormal investigators calling themselves “Ghostbusters”. As reported by the New York Post the havoc they wreaked in the hotel’s ballroom forced the last-minute cancellation of the Eastside Theater Guild’s annual “Midnight Buffet”. Even worse they nearly killed a maid with what appeared to be homemade flamethrowers that also left major burn marks along a wall of the thirteenth floor.
Still none of this seemed to be of concern to the EPA until I was contacted by a colleague at the Department of Consumer and Worker Protection about the unusual nature of the damage to the Sedgewick, including traces of a viscous substance and high levels of radiation.
I was further alarmed by a lengthy profile of the Ghostbusters in The Atlantic, reports of additional strange events on Larry King’s call-in show, and an issue of OMNI magazine which described the Ghostbusters’ “tools of the trade”. These included “unlicensed nuclear accelerators”.
Gentlemen, I don’t need to remind you that neither the EPA nor the Department of Energy license nuclear accelerators for personal use. With my background in physics I can also assure you that if such a device existed outside of science fiction it would be very difficult to manage. Even in a city the size of New York the mere testing of such nuclear accelerators would cause alarm, especially if the tests were unsuccessful.
The Ghostbusters’ electricity consumption, enough, for ten city blocks at their facility was cause for even further concern. This facility, a former firehouse, was never designed for such power storage, and their renovations were dangerously insufficient.
In spite of all this I decided to make my first visit to the Ghostbusters facility a casual, even friendly one. I tried several times to make an appointment but their secretary, a Ms. Janine Melnitz, was extremely overworked and asked that I simply come in. As an aside Ms. Melnitz and I are members of the same racquetball club, although she didn’t recognize me.
My concerns were also allayed somewhat when I learned that other Ghostbusters employees included Dr. Egon Spengler. Dr. Spengler and I were at MIT at the same time, although he was a few years ahead of me. He’s a brilliant polymath with degrees in physics and engineering. It’s unfortunate he turned his attention to studying the paranormal. His colleague Dr. Raymond Stantz is another brilliant, if eccentric, academic with a background in architecture and astronomy before he too turned his attention to studying the paranormal. Shortly before my first visit the Ghostbusters had also just hired Major Winston Zeddemore, formerly of the Air Force. It seems suspicious, by the way, even with high unemployment that a respected and high ranking military officer would stoop to working with such an organization.
Had I met with any of these men I believe the EPA’s concerns could have been resolved quietly. Unfortunately, as you know, I met with Dr. Peter Venkman. Dr. Venkman’s disheveled appearance and disorganized office did not, to put it mildly, inspire confidence.
Let me remind you that my first visit was casual. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions based on wild rumors and hearsay. Dr. Venkman, however, chided me for failing to say “please” when I asked to see the facilities then became belligerent when I informed him I could get a court order.
Following our meeting I spoke to Dean Yeager at Columbia University and learned Dr. Venkman’s position there had been terminated some months earlier as a result of unprofessional conduct. This included both questionable scholarship and reports of affairs with multiple students. Gentlemen, I believe Dr. Venkman is a sort of Svengali who exercises a strong influence over almost everyone he encounters. This influence resulted in the firing of Dr. Stantz, and the resignation of Dr. Spengler, presumably in protest. Dr. Venkman, I learned, acquired multiple high-risk loans using Dr. Stantz’s childhood home as collateral, in order to found the Ghostbusters as part of what I believe was an elaborate hoax or grift.
At this point I had good reason to believe Dr. Venkman was hiding something and that it was a matter for the EPA. When the public’s health is at risk because of potential hazardous waste chemicals whom are you going to contact?
I had no trouble getting a cease and desist all commerce order, seizure of premises and chattels, a ban on use of public utilities for unauthorized waste handlers, and a federal entry and inspection order from Judge Stephen Wexler, highly respected for his role in the prosecution and execution of the infamous Scoleri Brothers.
What happened next is, I admit, murky. What I still believe is that shutting down the Ghostbusters facility resulted in the release of toxic mind-altering substances that dissipated too quickly to be analyzed. I take full responsibility for my hasty actions, but I’m sure you can understand that I saw no other way to find out what Dr. Venkman was hiding. I’m sorry that, in the confusion that followed, a local accountant, Mr. Louis Tully, who’d earlier been arrested for public intoxication, disappeared into the crowd.
As you know I then attempted to plead my case to Mayor Lenny Clotch. Unfortunately he chose to hear from the Ghostbusters at the same time. This meeting was the most humiliating experience of my life. My masculinity was questioned and I was compared to some kind of rodent. Not only that Dr. Venkman was able to appeal to the mayor’s political ambitions. The mayor was able to get the assistance of the National Guard who blocked off several major streets around Central Park West and aided and abetted the Ghostbusters in what was clearly the biggest hoax in the history of New York. How they damaged a large section of street and sidewalk in front of a historic hotel, created a massive light show, convinced hundreds they were seeing an enormous Sta-Puft Marshmallow man, remains a mystery. Doctor Spengler’s engineering skills and Major Zeddemore’s expertise with munitions likely enabled much of what they were able to pull off. Somehow they even managed to target me with a massive spill of marshmallow fluff, nearly causing me serious injury.
The Ghostbusters, I am happy to say, have had their merchant licenses revoked and are now the subjects of several lawsuits. That, however, is a matter for the courts.
Gentlemen, as I said earlier, I take full responsibility for my hasty and ill-informed actions. Had I shown more restraint perhaps these events could have been avoided. I hereby resign my position as New York EPA Enforcement and Compliance Assurance Division Director.
I will instead be taking up a teaching and research position at Pacific Tech in Southern California, where the students, I understand, are doing some very exciting work with lasers. First, however, I plan to take some time to visit with family in Iowa.
Funny you should ask. I happen to be allergic to popcorn.
First of all we’d like to thank you for your understanding while participating in the emergency drill earlier this week. This is our first test of the emergency notification system or ENS, which is required annually, since we began managing the building seventeen months ago. We know there were some mistakes made and we’d like to address some of those now. We’d also like to offer assurance that we are reviewing the procedures and will be making adjustments based on both our own conclusions and feedback from you. We’ve already received a great deal of constructive feedback from you as well as from the police and fire departments and we really appreciate it.
First of all we’d like to defend the decision not to inform building employees that we would be conducting a test of the building’s ENS. We felt that it would be a more effective test if people were not given advance warning. This decision is currently under review. Going forward, however, it will always be our policy to notify the police and fire departments in advance that we’ll be conducting a test. On the bright side we found that if there had been a real emergency we can count on first responders to get here within minutes.
We also made several changes to our plans before conducting the test. For example it was suggested that someone from building management run down the hallway of each floor screaming unintelligibly just before or during the activation of the emergency notification system. We didn’t want to cause too much alarm by having the person scream something specific and we can all agree that this was the right decision. Abandoning this plan before we conducted the test, we can all agree, was also the right decision.
We apologize to employees who work on the 9th Floor that Kevin was not informed that we decided not to implement this part of the test.
Second, it is standard procedure for the elevators to shut down automatically when the ENS is activated. We apologize to those who were in the elevators at the time and will be making adjustments to make sure the elevators don’t stop between floors, and that the doors open.
Third, and speaking of doors, we are very glad to see that almost everyone used the stairwells and proceeded to the emergency exits at the ground floor, as instructed. We apologize for the fact that the emergency exits were locked. In our defense the building goes on automatic lockdown between 7:00PM and 7:00AM for security reasons.
The ENS was activated at 8:30AM, but after careful review we realized Kevin had failed to adjust the building clocks correctly, due to confusion over time zones and Daylight Savings Time. Since we’d received several complaints about the building not being open or going into lockdown at odd hours we should have noticed this sooner. We promise this will be fixed immediately even if we have to work overtime.
You can take some comfort in knowing that in the future all tests of the ENS will be conducted between 7:00AM and 7:00PM, so if the alarm goes off outside of those hours it’s probably a real emergency. Ha ha.
Finally there’s been a lot of confusion and misinformation about the wasps. We’d like to make it absolutely clearly that we were testing the ENS and that there was no emergency prior to that. The accidental release of the wasps at the same time was purely coincidental. Fun fact: the wasps are not native to this area but in Japan are known as “the yak-killer wasp”. We’ve consulted local naturalists who assure us the wasps will “probably” not survive the winter and are not an environmental threat unless a queen was also released. We’re checking on that, how they were brought into the country, and why Kevin had them at work.
As an added act of good faith and retribution on our parts we’ll be giving each floor a tin of butter, cheese, and caramel flavored popcorn, as well as sending around a collection of get well cards for those employees who sustained injuries during the test of the ENS but which, for legal reasons, we can’t currently acknowledge had anything to do with the test.
Please feel free to sign the cards and enjoy the popcorn which will be delivered to you by Kevin.
Thank you again for your understanding and acting appropriately during the test of the ENS.
I went out with someone and we had a great time. I thought we had a great time, anyway: we had a nice dinner, we laughed a lot. We played miniature golf. I haven’t done that since I was a kid. I didn’t even know there were still courses around but he suggested it and I was enthusiastic. He seemed a little competitive about it but I was okay with that. Mostly we just had a lot of fun. The evening ended nicely, and I was certain we’d see each other again. Now, though, he won’t return my calls, texts, or emails. None of my friends can find any hint that I might have done anything wrong. If I did something wrong how am I supposed to know if he won’t answer?
-Ghosted In Gainesville
Dear Ghosted,
A narrow Fellow in the Grass
Occasionally rides –
You may have met him? Did you not
His notice instant is –
The Grass divides as with a Comb,
A spotted Shaft is seen,
And then it closes at your Feet
And opens further on –
He likes a Boggy Acre –
A Floor too cool for Corn –
But when a Boy and Barefoot
I more than once at Noon
Have passed I thought a Whip Lash
Unbraiding in the Sun
When stooping to secure it
It wrinkled And was gone –
Several of Nature’s People
I know, and they know me
I feel for them a transport
Of Cordiality
But never met this Fellow
Attended or alone
Without a tighter Breathing
And Zero at the Bone.
Dear Emily,
I have a coworker who’s needlessly critical. It’s nothing to do with work that she’s critical of. She criticizes my hair, the outfits I choose to wear to work. I brought in a jar I made in a pottery class and put it on the main table for pencils and pens. She didn’t know it was mine but loudly said it didn’t fit with the office “look” and put it on a shelf in the storage room. She does this to other people too. It’s not something the managers or HR can or should respond to but is there a way to deal with this?
-Fed Up In Phoenix
Dear Phoenix,
A Man may make a Remark –
In itself – a quiet thing
That may furnish the Fuse unto a Spark
In dormant nature – lain –
Let us divide – with skill –
Let us discourse – with care –
Powder exists in Charcoal –
Before it exists in Fire –
Dear Emily,
Our child’s teacher is terrible. He assigns much more homework than I think is appropriate (our child is in third grade), and one afternoon when I took my child back after school to pick up a book I found the previous day’s homework in the trashcan unmarked, like he didn’t even look at it. From what our child has said he’s also unnecessarily harsh and leaves them in the classroom unsupervised a lot. We’re going to move our child to another class but would it be overreaching to report some of this to the school board too?
-Educating In Edmonton
Dear Educating,
There’s a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons –
That oppresses, like the Heft
Of Cathedral Tunes –
Heavenly Hurt, it gives us –
We can find no scar,
But internal difference –
Where the Meanings, are –
None may teach it – Any –
‘Tis the seal Despair –
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the Air –
When it comes, the Landscape listens –
Shadows – hold their breath –
When it goes, ’tis like the Distance
On the look of Death –
Dear Emily,
I’ve been struggling for several years as a writer. I’ve had some encouraging results, but mostly I just seem to be hitting a wall. It also occurs to me that I’m never going to be able to make a living at writing; at best it’ll be a major hobby. That leaves me feeling frustrated and sad. Should I just quit trying and move on with my life, to see if focusing on my day job really makes me happier?
-Pondering In Poughkeepsie
Dear Pondering,
Because I could not stop for Death –
He kindly stopped for me –
And who am I kidding? If you like it keep doing it. Writing isn’t a bad hobby and it’s cheaper than tropical fish and safer than skydiving. Who knows? You might get lucky and someday smartass high schoolers will go around singing your poems to the tune of “The Yellow Rose Of Texas”.
Even though summer’s almost over there are still some warm days left and a chance to revisit one of childhood’s simple pleasures: making a mud pie. The following is excerpted from the recipe book Get Baked: The High Art Of All Forms Of Pastry by Eunice Phelan.
How To: Make A Mud Pie.
Locally sourced mud pies are best but this may not be possible if you live in a coastal area or in parts of the American southwest where the soil is too sandy to adhere properly, creating more of a sludge than bona fide mud. In these areas, or if you live in a city and don’t have easy access to topsoil, try commercial potting soil. Its dark color and perlite can give your mud pie a nice chocolate cookie quality similar to Oreo or Hydrox. Commercial potting soil tends toward dryness, though, so check on local water restrictions.
For added appeal you can blend commercial potting soil with lighter brown soil, if you can find it. This blending is a very advanced technique that requires more patience, skill, and practice than most mud pie makers are going to have, but the results are worth it.
In much of the southeast you’ll find a dense clay-rich soil that’s a perfect mud pie base. Add enough water to give it a consistency that’s easy to shape but not too soft. You can always add more water but it can take hours or even days for any excess water to evaporate. Mud pies always benefit from being served right away and can be spoiled if it rains or if you just forget about them.
Once you have the right consistency place your mud base in a pan. I find a round 9-inch metal baking pan works best. Metal is prone to rust, especially if left outside, but holds its shape better than plastic. I find mud pies in metal pans also dry faster.
Once your pan is filled add finishing touches like a crimped edge and vertical cuts in the center. Garnish with leaves for color.
It started a few years ago when breweries in the United States began to offer “hard cider” or, as it’s known in the rest of the world, “cider”. It caught on. People liked having an alcoholic fruit beverage made with a fruit other than grapes, and the convenience of having alcohol in their apple juice without having to go to prison or add their own alcohol since the combination of apple juice and vodka has the taste, smell, and many other attributes of butane. Soon pear cider followed, and although cider from other pomaceous fruits hasn’t caught on yet someone out there is cultivating medlars right now.
What did follow was “hard” versions of other beverages. “Hard lemonade” was soon offered, and then “hard orange soda”, quickly followed by “hard grape soda”, which caused red wine producers around the world to say, “Why didn’t we think of that?” until they tried it and realized they hadn’t tried it because it was terrible. There was “hard ginger ale”, and “hard iced tea” for people who wanted all the Southern charm of a mint julep without the mint or the julep or anything else except the alcohol. There was “hard cream soda” and “hard fruit punch” for people who wanted to combine all the joys of childhood nostalgia with a DUI. At some point someone started making “hard root beer”, or, as it’s known in the rest of the world, “what is wrong with you?”
Source: gifimage
Maybe it started earlier than that. The flavors of amaretto and Irish cream had been added to coffee for decades by people who wanted to combine the taste of liqueurs with being able to stay jittery all night. In the early ‘90’s a brewery west of the Rockies started making a beverage called “Zima”. It was very popular with a previously untapped demographic, guys who wore turtlenecks all the time, even though it was really just a combination of Sprite and vodka and had all the taste, smell, and many other attributes of sparkling butane. In chain restaurants glazes and barbecue sauces infused with bourbon and other whiskies became a staple and were slathered on steak, chicken, fish, and pork, which meant some nine-year olds who ordered the all-you-can-eat rib platter were able to combine all the joys of childhood with a DUI without the nostalgia.
As history has shown there is no idea so terrible that it can’t be made worse by marketing. Not content with “hard” sodas, teas, juices, sparkling waters, and milk, as well as milk substitutes made from soy, almonds, oats, rice, and eggplant, the industry started offering “hard” versions of other items. Salad dressings, pretzels, breads, peanut butter, mashed potatoes, garden gnomes, and pies had new labels indicating proof. “Hard cheese” took on a whole new meaning. Candy bars couldn’t be purchased without ID. Editorials suggested the Eighteenth Amendment hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.
Still the trend continued. It wasn’t until one morning in the shower when we opened a bottle of shampoo and were hit by the fragrance of aquavit that we looked at our shelves and admitted we had a problem.
Have you ever had one of those days when you wake up with a crick in your neck?
