Hoosier Sweetheart
Indianapolis NASCAR Race Weekend, Part II
Saturday arrived just as Saturday was supposed to arrive. That’s good. The world didn’t end overnight. Not that anyone thought it would, right? Right. The sun came up, it was warm, kind of humid, and not hung-over. So we went to the races.
Well-fed and goin' fast.
Vrooooom: off to IRP to cook for Jay Robinson Racing’s #28 Border Patrol Chevy (Kenny Wallace), the #4 JVC Chevy (Derrike Cope) and the…um...#49 Gremlin Grill Chevy (Kertus Davis).
Dammit. Ok, I was going to write about all the fun stuff that happened at IRP, but I can’t. I was going to start with Kelly’s cookies, which were pretty damn good, even if they don’t have bacon. But I can’t talk about the cookies because I’m at work, in my cube. And if decent work can’t get done in a cube, there’s no way a crappy train-of-thought blog that’s spell-checked, let alone entertaining, can get done here.
Pat, are you writing about hog dewormers? Or ribs?
I was going to tell our hundreds of thousands of readers about the loin chops. Kent made some kind of mustard and vinegar marinade that they soaked in for a couple days. It was awesome. I wonder if Kelly spit in it? Anyway, I was going to write about the marinade and then about the Blues Hog mustard sauce we finished the chops with, but I can’t. Which is a shame, because Blues Hog mustard is incredible. But instead, I’m sitting at the least private cubicle in a building with hundreds of cubicles. If I sat down in the center lane of I-70 in St. Charles, Missouri at about 5 pm on a Wednesday, I wouldn’t have as many people zooming by as I do where I’m sitting right now.
Stand there an' look purty
Oh! Oh! At IRP, which I refuse to call ORP, we also grilled wings and drums for the Discount Tire racing team. I’ll tell you about it if the two bastards discussing leadership skills RIGHT ON THE OTHER SIDE OF MY DAMNED WALL will shut the hell up and leave. But they’re not going to. So I can’t tell you that Allison, the new member of the JRR team who is a hoot and kept an eye on us (we love Allison, but wonder why she was assigned watch-the-barbecue-guys duty), wanted some grilling tips, and that her husband is the spotter for David Ragan, so we showed her the squeeze margarine thing and the aluminum pan w/ pineapple juice braise and what have you. I’m not going to tell you about that unless these jerks leave. Ok, one of the jerks is a girl and she smells really good.
Anyway, all that was lunch and it was a good time. Hot, but a good time. Dinner was uneventful, which is good, because apparently the top of the half wall of my cube is a coffee table. Yep: my cube has one wall that rises just high enough that it’s the perfect height for passers-by to put their drinks on it. If I had a full wall, I’d tell you the ribs were great, the brisket great, the beans adequate, the cheesy corn predictably brilliant, the cukes and onions a sweettangyspicy work of freakin’ art. But Les Nessman and I, we don’t get walls, so you don’t get to hear about it.
SIlver Swine Award Winners know their pulled pork
So that’s Saturday at IRP. Oh, and the race was cool, I held the pit sign. That is all.