[lit-ideas] Re: On Sausages and Grimm
- From: David Ritchie <ritchierd@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- To: lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
- Date: Tue, 5 Oct 2010 11:50:01 -0700
Were there a competitive event for being able to feed people for very little
cash outlay, I'm sure that you'd all be contenders in the professional class.
Just that kind of person. Last week, however, I had one of those brief runs of
luck that sometimes befall an amateur. When I went to buy the bait for
crabbing, I found some chicken at thirty some cents per pound which is thirty
cents more per pound than the ideal price for crab bait (crab are attracted to
meat that is unfit for human consumption, but health inspectors prevent the
giving out of same..."liability issues"). Anyway, thirty cents was a good
start. Then I found a package of a dozen sausages in the meat clearance
tray--two dollars and some for the whole package. They were described as
"Italian," with none of the nasty, unwholesome stuff included, sourced entirely
from contented pigs. I tried a couple of them on the Tuesday, after tennis,
when I was eating alone and late. Not great sausages, but very lean. Had to
add a little old wine to the pan to create steam. (That liquid, of course,
should not be counted in the week's food accounting, it having been amortized
in prior times).
One of the few rifts in our marriage concerns sausages. L. is of that strange
American religion that regards the color of meat as a vitally important fact:
red is bad, white is good. Consequently she brings home chicken sausages
rather than, say, beef. I, on the other hand, remember (or believe that I
remember... I haven't checked the source in a good long while) Orwell's essay
that says one sign that the end of the world has arrived is when they start
making sausages out of chicken or fish. I'll eat chicken sausages, but I
rarely enjoy them. What I really want is British sausages but they, alas, are
impossible to find in these wild climes. (Note: people do sell things
identified as B.S... once in a while I'll try to convince myself that there's
little difference...and then I cross the pond and wander into an average
supermarket in Britain and buy a very good sausage without expending even an
ounce of striving).
L. took one look at the Italian sausages, saw white bits in them and concluded
that they were instant death. No amount of appeal to evidence, or
demonstration with the pan's residue, would convince her that they were as lean
as a chicken sausage could ever hope to be. So it was up to me and the animals
to polish off the remaining ten. Here I lucked out. The dog and one cat were
of the opinion that nothing in their lives had ever tasted better.
Thus we all three managed for the best part of a week on one dozen sausages.
It was, I'll be the first to admit, a somewhat dull and tiresome week, but when
the world championships roll around I shall now be prepared to act... in an
advisory capacity.
In today's obits, Duane E. "Red" MacLeod II had eight kids: Kim, KayCee, Kelly,
Kevin, Kent, Karey, Timothy Sr. and Christoper [sic] Taaca. Two adoptions
possibly? Barbara Jo Boner was a caregiver. There's no indication what Howard
"Buddy-Bud" Finkle did. Gayline Jones was a laborer from Oklahoma. She is
survived by sons Herbert Pinion, Charles Wally, Stanley and Terry Jones and
daughters who changed their names when they married men: McBride, Bottoms,
Jenks and Matton.
The nurse who came to talk at PNCA yesterday was named Grimm. You can see why
he doesn't work inpatient care, "Lie still now. Nurse Grimm will be in to see
you momentarily."
Carry on,
David Ritchie,
Portland,
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