I’m a warm weather person, so it will seem a bit strange
after hearing that, to hear too, that this period of the year is precious to
me. I was born in Santa Cruz, California, along the northern coast of fabled
Monterey Bay, spent my high school years on the Island of Guam, and the U.S.
Army felt a need for my services in San Juan, Puerto Rico. Simply stated, I
love warm weather.
Now, about that precious statement. Growly and grumpy old
men turn into slobbering puppy dogs or mewing kittens when seeing visions of
roast venison or slow smoked duck at Thanksgiving. Battling, mean-tempered old
witches become sainted on thinking of a finely decorated tree, and enjoying the
aroma of a roasted goose, or even a traditional turkey.
And I’m right alongside them all. Patty and I protect these
holidays; they are ours. We can have family in but we don’t go out unless it’s
family. It’s a roast goose for Thanksgiving this year, done on the Weber, with
some bourbon soaked oak chips providing the smoke. The oak is staves from
whiskey barrels, and the aroma from that smoke will tempt the neighbors into an
invasion.
I’m planning acorn squash soup for starters and sweet potato
pie covered in whipped cream, the real stuff, to wrap it up. More than likely
we’ll take a short walk to get things settled and then sink into easy chairs
and spend a couple of hours with a movie.
It’s the plottin’ and plannin’ that makes it so much fun. I
learned, nay, that ain’t the truth, Ruth. I’m still learning the art of slow
roasting on the Weber, allowing the heat to come down before putting the meat
in, stacking the coals to the sides and allowing for convection to work its
magic, and adding coals at the proper time. Pork shoulder is my favorite to
roast, and a large slab of beef would be next. Ribs? Always!
Chicken, duck, and goose take a little more finesse to
roast, as does rabbit. Goat and lamb are as much fun as pork and beef, and the
one that Patty likes the most is when I slow roast a large trout. She hovers
near the hot kettle, picking up the smoke swirling from the top vent.
Tradition, as Tevia said, is more than just tradition, it’s
that feeling one gets, way down inside, the thought that might bring a tear or
a quick intake of air. On Guam, pigs were wrapped in banana leaves and put in
the ground on top of hot rocks. In Cold Springs, I wrap the pig in seed bags
and soak them in a tub full of white wine and put them in the ground on top of
hot rocks. I like it both ways.
Fish too were often steamed while wrapped in banana leaves,
and breadfruit would be sliced and fried or roasted as potatoes might be. And
so, we slow roast the trout in the kettle and serve it with French fries.
It’s the food of every season that makes them special for me.
Open pit grilling and barbecuing with roasted corn on the cob and ice-cold
salads for the hot months, and steamy rich soups and roasts of large animals
and fowl in the cold months make life worth living. The traditions of having
family in, the giving and receiving of gifts, and the pleasure of the lights
and music add to the winter season, but it’s the food that I take most pleasure
from.
A pork roast in a Dutch oven, simmering in a Mexican sauce
and served with great crusts of French bread can make the coldest day warm. Or
a sirloin of beef on the Weber splashed with a Texas mop sauce will brighten
spirits quickly. And, then, a large cast iron pot filled with venison, beef,
pork, and goat, half a ton of Jalapeñoes, onions, garlic, and tomatoes,
simmered for an afternoon is simply heaven on the coldest day of the year.
Yup, mi compadre, the winter season is precious. Until next
time, read good books and stay regular.
Johnny Gunn
Member, Western Fictioneers
Member,
International Thriller Writers
Will you join me on facebook from time to time?
Or Tweet with me, darlin’?
