Three Generations

Today, after the funeral, I took those that could, to a local restaurant to get a late lunch.  After lunch, my daughter-in-law, wanted a picture of the three of us.  Of course, we complied.

Three Generations of Dezendorf  men

The guy on the left is my son, the Displaced Louisiana Guy.  We talked about everything from Glocks, to Marlins, to the Ruger Security Six (remember those) and the difference between the cylinder measurements between the K-Frame and the N-Frame.  (Measure them sometimes, the difference in length will surprise you.) We talked about leather, and red dot sights and the state of police work in Louisiana.  It was a great visit.

The kid on the right is grandson Elyas.  He's probably the smartest individual I know. During lunch, while he devoured two California Rolls (with chopsticks, no less), we discussed  his education, the upcoming solar eclipse, and the state of the coral reefs off the US Virgin Islands, which he recently visited.

The old man in the middle is PawPaw hisself.  By this point today, we had culled the neckties.

It was a hard day, with a lot of sadness at the death of our friend, but it was tempered with a good visit from family.  PawPaw, of course, picked up the tab from lunch, but it was joy to watch the kid go through two California rolls like a Hoover vacuum cleaner.

Patricia Ann Scott

I'm burying a friend today.  Patricia Ann Roshto Scott has been my friend since I met my lady.  She and Belle had been friends for many years before I came into the picture, and Ms. Pat, with her husband Jerome were staunch friends.

She and her husband, along with Belle, went to Europe for the millennium, a whirlwind tour of Europe that took them across the continent.  She and Belle liked to josh each other about "the last time we were in Paris."

Ms. Pat was a true Southern lady.  She loved her family, stood by her friends, was active in small town events and supported her community.  I can't say enough about her, except that she was a lady, a true lady in every sense of the word.

She died young, at age 58.  Basically, she had a heart attack.  Passed quickly, so quickly that those of us who loved her are still in shock.    She was moving around, laughing one day and gone the next.  We bury her this morning, and I'm about to put on a coat and tie and start toward the funeral home.

Rest in Peace, Ms. Pat.

Congratulations, Plain Jane!

Great little video showcasing CFDA and celebrating the new CFDA Women's National Chamion, Plain Jane our of Vidor, TX.

Jamie is a friend of mine, she shoots with the Big Thicket Bushwackers out of Silsbee, TX.  She went to Colorado last week, and won it all.  I thought that I had highlighter her win, but I guess I didn't.  I was waiting for this video to come out.

Take a look at the video in full screen, and watch how these ladies compete.  Take a look also at the outfits some of them wear.  These gals are pretty, and fast.  You do not want to get in a gunfight with them.



Take a look also at her belt/holster rig.  It's a steampunk rig made by her husband, Parttime, who runs Crease N Corral.  If you want some high-grade custom leather, you couldn't do better than Crease N Corral.

Congratulations, Jamie!  We'll see you in a couple of months.

Meat, Bread

In about a half hour, I'm going to light the grill.  Mine is an old fashioned, charcoal fired grill, and the menu for lunch will be simple.  Meat, bread.  There will be condiments if you insist, but as regular readers know, PawPaw and Milady cook a big lunch on Sunday and we feed everyone who walks through the door.  Because this weekend is the July 4th celebration, the menu today will feature beef.  Burgers and Hot Dogs, the classic American backyard fare.

Some things simply shouldn't he tinkered with.

As a nice palate cleanser, I give you the clip from Parks and Recreation, where Ron and Chris have a burger cook-off.



Happy Fourth, Everyone.

Finally Friday

It's finally Friday, and thank God for it.  This has been One Of Those Weeks, and PawPaw is tired. Nothing major, just lots of hours.  Hopefully the day will go well and I'll start my weekend at 3:00.

I'll make a couple of quick stops o the way home, then start preparing for Saturday.  We'll get up pre-dawn tomorrow and head for Silsbee, TX for an invitational shoot, a tune-up before the big match in Fort Worth.  Drive home after dark, fall into bed and get ready for Sunday.

We'll do our normal Sunday thing.  I think I'm going to cook burgers on the charcoal pit.  I haven't done that in a while, then my son and I will install a booster pump on the swimming pool.  The booster pump went out last season, and I haven't gotten around to changing it.  This week I acquired the pump, all the fittings, and supplies we'll need.  It should be a fairly straightforward job, and he works around pumps for a living.  Much larger pumps than I use for a small pool, but the techniques should be the same.

It's going to be a busy weekend, but an enjoyable one.  I'll try to take plenty of pictures at the shoot on Saturday.

MIllenials

Surfing around this morning in the pre-dawn, I was struck by several articles over at PJMedia.  This one really got my head spinning.  This gal is be-moaning the millennial men she meets.

Last week, Tomi Lahren, a 23-year-old political commentator for The Blaze, ended her show by raising the following question:
“Is it just me, or have men gotten really soft these days?”

What, specifically, dear, do you mean?

“This has nothing to do with sexuality. It has to do with the helplessness of today’s young men. It seems few can change a light bulb let alone fix a flat tire or change oil, and that makes for pretty slim pickings for the females out there looking for a match.

 Chivalry is all but dead, and so is manliness. And by the way, wearing a flannel shirt and having a beard doesn’t make you a man if you still can’t change a tire and are scared of the dark. It seems like millennial men either don’t have jobs or are still using their parents’ credit cards to buy us drinks at the bar…

Ahh, you're talking about the bar scene, and if you write for The Blaze, you're probably in a big city somewhere, probably a left-eaning city (but that's redundant).  You're looking (as the song says) for love in all the wrong places.  There are still men out there, you're just fishing in the wrong pond.

Get in your car and drive out of town.  Drive for an hour or more, until there are more trees than buildings.  If bars are your thing, look for the ones that have pickup trucks around them.  There are men in there.  Real men.  Some have issues, some are almost dead broke, but they are men, with all their faults and foibles.

But, bars aren't the best place to find men.  Especially if you don't know what a man is (and it seems that you're having trouble with definitions, having been dating in millennial bars).  The men in there might scare you.

Better yet, find a church.  If you have driven far enough south, you'll find churches everywhere.  There are men in there too.  Many times, singe men.  Men who fear God, treat women like gold, and take time to get to know a woman before anything else much goes on.  Men who know how to pray, who know how to wait for a friend, and know how to build a home. They'll have dreams, they'll have plans, and if you're lucky, they'll change those plans to fit you in.

She continues, though:

So whose fault is it? Is it our fault, ladies? Are we getting too strong? Nah, I don’t buy that. See, a real man knows how to handle a strong woman, so this isn’t our problem. Maybe it’s the way boys are raised these days: fatherless homes and no male role models. It’s hard to learn how to be a man with no man around.”

Real men aren't afraid of strong women.  Real men depend on strong women.  Women who know how to be a partner rather than a dependent.  But, you're right that it takes two parents to raise a man.  Boys need a father figure, someone to teach them how to be a man.  They also need a mother, who teaches them what is responsible, gives them an idea of how a strong woman deals with a strong man.  It takes two to raise a family.

She finishes with a prayer:

“Please teach your sons to be men, because the women of the world are tired of the boys.”

It seems if there is only one thing for her to do.  Find a man, a real man, build a relationship, get married, and start raising a passel of children.  Or, one, or two, with a strong man, and teach the children to become responsible, loving, adults.

This is a generational problem.   Men aren't made in a day, and it's each generations challenge to raise the next generation of men (and women).  I'd like to offer optimism, though.  There are lots of veterans around, after almost 15 years of war.  Good men, probably some of them ooking for good women.  She can find these men, strong men, at any VA Hospital, any AmVets, or VFW lodge, or probably at the local bar.  They'll normally be clean-shaven, with short hair.  They'll be fit, because soldiers run PT every morning.  And, generally, they will be men.  Real men.

But, once again, a real man might scare you if you're not a strong woman.

Vintage Leather

Last week sometime, I was surprised to find an email in my inbox from a fellow I've never met.  Jim and I are members of the same forum and he goes by the screen name Old Grafton (an alias that I think is very cool, in a poetic fashion.)  He told me that he had come upon some vintage leather from the '60s and thought that I might be interested in it.

Vintage leather appeals to me and when he told me that it was from the old Lawrence company, I was intrigued.  I thanked him kindly and asked him to send it on.  I talked with my leather-working son, who told me that when it came in, to treat it carefully.  That old leather might need preservative techniques so that it wouldn't crack or split, and that if I had any questions, to get with him before I did anything.  That's good advise.

Lawrence Gunleather used to be a huge name in the gun-leather industry.  They made saddles and leather goods of all kinds.  A complete history is here.  They made very good leather products, and when I was growing up in the '60s and '70s I saw lots of ads for Lawrence leather products in the various hunting and fishing magazines I read.  To say the least, I watched for that package with great anticipation.

It came in on Friday, packed in a Boyd's gunstock box.  Milady asked if I had ordered a stock and I told her "No, but someone sent me a gift."  Like an archaeologist opening a tomb, I gently opened the box wondering what I'd find.

Great Jumping Jehosephat!  This leather is in  great shape.  Supple, well preserved, it looks almost as good as it did when it came out of the box a half-century ago.  Let's take a look, shall we?

First up, we have an absolutely marvelous Lawrence Model 120BN holster for the Ruger Super Blackhawk.  It's fleece lined and absolutely pristine.  I don't think that it's ever been on a belt, indeed my SBH may be the first gun that has ever been in that holster.

Next, we have a box from the period.

Cool graphics, and reminiscent of the boxes I remember from my youth as I'd drool over those magazine ads.  Of course, you can click on the picture for a better look.  I think that the box is cooler than hell.  But wait, there's something inside.

It's a Lawrence Model 79 holster for what looks like a Colt Single Action.  Of course, I immediately grabbed a cowboy revolver and tried to  holster it.  That didn't work, the holster is simply too small by a degree to hold the Model P.  So, I look at the fitment chart on the back of the box.  This particular model is designed for the Ruger Single Six or similar sized revolver.  I don't own one of those, but this holster is pristine, supple, and looks like new-old stock.  I'll keep it in the box and I'm sure that eventually we'll find a home for it.

Then I found a gunbelt at the bottom of the box.  Stilll supple, it feels like it was oiled regularly.  It's tooled with cartridge loops, and just beautiful.

The stamp on the inside of the belt says that it's their Sportsman model and that it's cut for a 40" waist.  The cartridge loops are adjustable and it is 1-3/4 inches wide.  I may set it up for .45 Colt cartridges and see if I "lock" the adjustment in place.  Either way, it will go in my spares bag as a trying belt for new shooters, grandkids, or other folks who need to borrow a belt.  My tape measure tells me that it will fit from a 38" to a 42" waist, but the way we wear our belts in the cowboy game, it will likely be a good fit for someone with a 36" to a 40" waist size.  It's a size that I don't have in the bag right now, and it's a really beautiful belt.

Thanks, Jim, for thinking of me.  We'll use them for sure.

Odessa - Day 1

Today was the first day of the Odessa Shoot, formally titled The Southern Territorial Championship.  Today we had category matches, an opportunity to shoot against your own age group.  With several age groups, it's an opportunity for some folks to excel.  And, it's good fun.  A few photos.

Thorn Valley's Big Mark, vs Delta Whiskey of the Big Thicket Bushwhackers.

That's two of my good friends on the line, going head-to-head.  They shoot in the traditional category and they're both very fast.

That's Milady on the line, also known as Louisiana Calamity ane.  She's running and gunning in the Ladies Senior category.

The guy in the white hat is grandson, Zachary, also known as Akarate Zach.  That's pronounced Accurate.  Next to him is Willie Hit It, Then next is Lonestar Leadslinger. Then, Trigger Happy on the far end.  Good kids all, great competitors, and fun to be around.

We finished the evening with a fun shoot, not part of the competition, but purely to raise money for  the CFDA scholarship program, Shoot For The Stars.  It's a fun shoot, fast and furious, with some weird rules.  Times faster than .700 don't count (in fact, if you shoot a .699 or faster, it costs you a dollar.)  Times over 1.000 don't count, so what you're trying to do is shoot between .700 and 1.000.  Nothing else counts.  And, everybody is thrown on the line together.

Here is KK Kid, a very fast woman shooter, against Akarate Zach.  KK is trying to slow it down (she normally shoots in the .3s and .4s) against Zachary, who is just trying to stay on the line.  It's a lot of fun, and raises money for a good cause, youth college scholarships.

All in all, it was a very good day.  The host clubs took care of us, fed us well, and everyone had a great time in a wonderful venue.  Tomorrow is the main match, so I'm going to take off my boots and have a little drink before I turn in.  Tomorrow is going to be fast and furious.

Road Warrior

I've been a road warrior today, helping a good friend.  Got up at 4:00 a.m. to meet him at 5:00.  Drove from Trout, LA to Tatum, TX so he could buy a pickup truck that he found on Craigslist, then back to Trout, LA, then back here.  All told, nearly 11 hours on the road, counting time to seal the deal.

I'm whacked.  Milady will be home soon and we'll have a cocktail, then it will be early abed and early to rise.  This weekend is Milady's mom's birthday.  Miss Reba will be 94 years old and we've got lots planned for the weekend.

If the posting gets to light around here, go to my blogroll on the right sidebar.  Look around there.  Good stuff, I promise you.

Blog Buddy

This morning while I was fighting a trucklload of sand for the paver project, my phone rang.  Old NFO was passing through town and asked if I wanted to eat lunch.  Oh, hell yeah.  We made plans to eat at a local barbequie joint, and to meet in an hour.

I've been commenting on his blog for years and he's been commenting on mine for years, and we've never met, until today.  When he drove into the parking lot, I knew immediately it was him, because his license plate says OLDNFO.  That's easy enough to figure out.  We shook hands, went in and ordered lunch.  Beef, 'tater salad and beans.  Talked for an hour like the old friends that we are, we've just never been in the same room together.  No pictures, just because we didn't think about it.

Along toward the end of the meal, Jim asked me "who are those guys".  I looked around and saw three officers, strapped, but wearing shorts and red tee-shirts.  I told him that I didn't have a clue, and that I didn't know anyone who wore red tee-shirts and shorts.  A few minutes later, one of them turned around and I recognized a guy I worked with twenty years ago.  He rose to great ranks in the Louisiana State Police and retired a year ago.  I asked what they were doing, and in his typical fashion, told me that they were trying to eat lunch.

The Louisiana State Police is famous for eating lunch.  They spend several hours each day deciding where to eat lunch.  I understand the motivation.  The main decision that a State Police Sergeant, Lieutenant, of Captain makes ever day is where to eat lunch.  However, I remarked that I had never seen LSP in short, and besides , he was retired.  Evidently, he was on the range today in some advisory capacity, and they do, in fact, wear shorts (but very tactical shorts) on range day.  Go figure.

Jim has miles to go before the day was over, taking care of family business, and I had another load of sand to move into the paver bed, so we parted.  However, he did give me a challenge coin.

Thanks, old friend.  I'll put it in my collection.  Many thanks for a pleasant lunch.

Let Freedom Ring

Proponents of gay marriage are winning the argument, they're winning in town halls and in the courts and in the state legislatures, and I think that's a good thing.  Many, many Americans are re-evaluating their knee-jerk opposition, and that's a good thing.  Freedom for thee means freedom for me, and freedom is always a good thing.

I see today that a court has struck down Texas' law against same sex marriage, and I see that enormous pressure is being placed on Arizona governor Jan Brewer, and both of those are good things because they expand freedom.

However, (and there is always an however) I am concerned about the holier-than-thou attitude about some of the gays, not only requiring that people respect their rights, but wanting to require those people who opposed them to participate, like the couple who sued the baker in Colorado when he didn't want to provide a wedding cake for a same-sex wedding, and based that desire on a firm religious belief.

Of all the pundits writing about this monumental moment in gay-rights history, I think that Andrew Sullivan says it best in his piece from Monday.

The truth is: we’re winning this argument. We’ve made the compelling moral case that gay citizens should be treated no differently by their government than straight citizens. And the world has shifted dramatically in our direction. Inevitably, many fundamentalist Christians and Orthodox Jews and many Muslims feel threatened and bewildered by such change and feel that it inchoately affects their religious convictions. I think they’re mistaken – but we’re not talking logic here. We’re talking religious conviction. My view is that in a free and live-and-let-live society, we should give them space. As long as our government is not discriminating against us, we should be tolerant of prejudice as long as it does not truly hurt us. And finding another florist may be a bother, and even upsetting, as one reader expressed so well. But we can surely handle it. And should.

Leave the fundamentalists and bigots alone. In any marketplace in a diverse society, they will suffer economically by refusing and alienating some customers, their families and their friends. By all means stop patronizing them in both senses of the word. Let them embrace discrimination and lose revenue. Let us let them be in the name of their freedom – and ours’.

I don't think that any gay couple would suffer one bit in trying to find someone to bake a cake, or take photographs, or any of the myriad of tasks that are normally contracted in the standard wedding.  Just because Baker A really doesn't want to bake the cake, doesn't mean that Baker B wouldn't jump at the chance.

But then I see another business who intends to discriminate in the name of gay rights.

 David Cooley, the founder of The Abbey Food & Bar located at 692 North Robertson Blvd., has announced the popular gay bar will add any legislator in any state who votes for “bills to allow for discrimination against LGBT people” to a “Deny Entry List.”

Heh!  Really?  You're going to discriminate against discriminators by discriminating?  Okay, have fun with that.  I'm sure that there's another watering hole down the road who'll serve them, which goes to my (and Andrew's) original argument.

But, especially in the wedding business, it's best to have someone who graciously, lovingly, enthusiastically provides the services necessary.  You don't want to be like this poor gal.

Let Freedom Ring.

St. Valentine's Day

Milady and I were talking earlier this week and we recognized that we haven't "cut loose" in quite a while.  It's been a tough winter with lots of family obligations and we needed a little recreation.  As the calendar conspired to make last night St. Valentine's Day, we decided to go out and have an evening of couple-time.

We reviewed options and decided to go down to the local indian casino.  It's small and has been open barely a year, but they put on a really nice seafood buffet   We got to the casino at about 6:00, and the parking lot was packed.  Evidently we weren't the only ones with the idea to enjoy a seafood feast.  So, I got one of those little call-buzzers and visited with folks I know while the restaurant found a table.

After a very pleasant meal, (they bring in crab legs with a forklift, and shrimp by the bushel-basket) we sat for a while, playing video games (it is a penny arcade, after all).  We kind of lost track of time what with all the pretty lights and fellowship.  I looked at my watch and realized that the calendar had flipped, so we came home and fell into bed.  I awoke at 9:00 this morning, not being able to remember the last time I slept till that late hour.

Assessing my liquidity, I am surprised to learn that the machines didn't hurt me a bit last night.  All the coinage is accounted for, with a little surplus.  That doesn't happen often and I'm relatively pleased with the outcome.

Brisket

It's been a while since I cooked a brisket, and I normally use a "packer-cut" brisket, which weighs about 20 lbs with lots of fat.  I've always cooked a brisket with the fat cap on top, so that as the meat cooks, the fat melts through the meat, tenderizing the beef as it cooks.  No one likes a tough brisket, and no one likes a dry brisket.

When we bought brisket this week, we found some really nice little (8 lb) trimmed brisket and we thought we'd give them a try.  However, I was worried about the brisket drying out and I went to my local butcher's shop and asked him.  Sausage, of course.  A good, pork sausage, almost an andoille.  So, this morning after rubbing the brisket, I capped it with Guillory's good pork sausage.

That's about 16 pounds of trimmed brisket and three pounds of good country link sausage.  With some good potatoes, beans, and bread, that should do just fine.  The brisket is in the 300F oven for the next six hours, and when company gets here tonight it should be ready to slice and enjoy.

New Year's Eve

I've often wondered why we make a big deal of New Year's. It's simply the calendar spinning over, and honestly there are other more auspicious days on the calendar that make more sense to re-start the year. Like the vernal or autumnal equinox, or the summer or winter solstice. Yet, today is December 31st and tomorrow will be January 1st, bringing with it the New Year. Yippee.

Milady and I were married on the summer solstice, more out of an accident of our schedules than anything else. At that time I was a cop on shift work and she was an RN on shift work. After we'd become engaged, we sat down with her work schedule and mine. The first convenient weekend that we were both off work was June 21st, and that happened to fall on a Saturday. We never considered the whole "solstice" thing at all. It was simply a convenient Saturday. A good time for a party. However, that accidental date makes it easy for me to remember my anniversary.

But, here we are at this non-auspicious New Year's Eve, and it is customary to celebrate that event by making a resolution. Here is mine.

I resolve to make no resolutions.

Tonite, Milady and I will slip off for a little entertainment. I'll put on slacks, a nice shirt, and a sport coat. Milady will, of course, dress better than I. She always does. We'll go to a place that has a champagne toast at the rolling of the clock, and we'll come home to sleep the sleep of the just.

Tomorrow, though, we'll host another couple, two dear friends with whom we've spend every New Years since I've known Milady. The menu is always the same. Baked chicken and pork chops over rice, blackeyed peas, cabbage, and cornbread. It is a traditional menu, reminding us to be frugal and humble during the New Year.

I don't have much problem with frugal, but humble is a problem.

Update:  A commenter reminded me that the summer solstice is in June.  HA!  And that's my anniversary, I really should remember that.  It's fixed above, and thanks for the reminder.

Unraveling

If you've noticed, I'm posting less about politics and more about cooking.  Hopefully I'll get more into guns and shooting after the first of the year.  Whether or not we drive off the fiscal cliff is plainly off my radar.  I just don't give a crap.  This country needs a serious realignment with reality and until there's a little pain, there won't be any gain.

However, I am compelled to think about the unions and the right-to-work states and notice that the latest round of asinine behavior is in Michigan, where the unions lost the right-to-work argument and have resorted to thuggery and destruction of property.  I find it interesting that while the Democrats won the national election for The Lightworker, that more and more states are leaning conservative with 29 Republican governors, and a majority of state legislatures are Republican.  Now, Michigan has gone right-to-work and if the governor can show increased economic activity over the next two years, there is little chance that the state house will flip sides.  The blue model is dying and when union members revert to fistic tactics, they're plainly losing.

In other news, Milady and I are heading to Texas Roadhouse in another hour to meet some friends for dinner.  I've been a good boy today, and I see a ribeye steak in my immediate future.

Rainy Saturday

It's a rainy Saturday and I'm piddling around the house.  Tomorrow is Mother's Day and we're going to church where I'll hug my mother's neck, then we're going to Jena, to see Milady's mother.  Several of the family are gathering at her house and I'm bringing Italian Beef.  It's a great recipe and everyone who samples it seems to like it.  Slow cooker, beef, au jus, what's not to like?

In this recipe as in all others, presentation is everything, so why not post a picture?

That is a great looking sandwich, isn't it?  You can click on the link above for the full recipe.

Halloween

We celebrated Halloween last night, first at a family party for the kids.

That's our newest family member, Lucas. All the kids took part, we did all the traditional Halloween stuff, to include bobbing for apples.

Afterwards, Milady and I went to a gala event, the annual, much ballyhooed party hosted by the esteemed physicians at the Rayburn clinic. Doc Rayburn is Milady's boss. A true gentleman, a gracious host and a renowned surgeon. Milady dressed as the legendary Witch, Marie Laveau.

This morning we went to church, came home and cooked lunch for everyone in the assembled clan. We're having Mulligan Stew.

Goin' Out

I came home today and found my brother-in-law visiting from Florida. We've decided to go our for supper, so we're heading to Tunk's Cypress Inn, a little restaurant of some repute. I haven't been to Tunks in several years, so maybe it's time to see if they've upgraded the menu.

Y'all have fun tonight. I'm gonna get catfish.

Many Thanks

Thanksgiving is a big deal in our family, as it is in many families across the country. The whole family tries to come home for the holiday, and that makes for some huge meals.

Several years ago, Milady and I decided to host a family dinner the night before Thanksgiving. The clan gathers at my mother's house for the traditional meal and sometimes she feeds upwards of forty people. That's a lot of prep work and we thought that we could share the burden just a bit and feed everyone the night before, with non-traditional Thanksgiving food. The gathering has become quite a hit, and last night we fed over 30 people. Thankfully (again, I have much to be thankful for), Milady and I love to entertain and we've spent considerable energy learning how to set the house up for a crowd of folks.

The menu was Turkey and Sausage Gumbo, Crawfish Etouffee, Garlic Bread, Garden Salad, and various desserts. We had people eating in the kitchen, in the living room, the garage, and the back deck. Thankfully (I have much to be thankful for), the weather cooperated.

That pic above is one of my gorgeous, intelligent nieces (I have much to be thankful for) trying to dodge the camera.  You'll notice my tools in the back wall.  Yeah, we were eating in the garage last night.

I fed over 30 folks last night, and there isn't much left over.  (Again, thanks are in order).   In another hour or so, we're heading over to my Mother's to do it all again. 

Y'all have a wonderful Thanksgiving.

Meat Pies

My youngest son is making meat pies. These are a staple food around Natchitoches, LA. A simple crust filled with a meat filling, they are a folk food, some say Spanish, some say French, I think they're Creole. Regardless, Milady has a good basic recipe that's served thousands of these things, and it works good every time. Some folks try to use pie-crust, but most pie crust tends to puff up when it fries and what you want in a meat pie is a thin, flaky crust.



That's what 64 meat pies look like. Traditionally they're deep-fried, but you can bake them for a more heart-healthy meal. Serve them with rice and gravy, or dirty rice. A big pitcher of iced tea, a salad, and you've got supper.

They look good, Son. We'll have to cook a batch in Gatlinburg this summer. You're brother-in-law JimBob thinks he can make meat pies and wants to challenge you to a cook-off. I'll make the dirty rice.