So I was saying…
Almost a year and a half between entries, and it’s still not the least frequently updated blog out there. Yippee.
So, where have I been? I’ve been visiting the land of none of your damned business, that’s where I’ve been. Actually, I think I just got bored. Or burned out. Bored with barbecue, maybe. A little bit. That rarely happens, though, because I fart around a lot. “Fart around,” by the way, means trying new stuff, like Mexican pastor pork or grilling chops breaded with Froot Loops. The pastor worked, although mine still isn’t even in the same league as what they serve at El Camino Real in KCK. What I’m lacking, I think, is the big upright spit to cook it on (like they do with gyros), and I haven’t tried slicing the pork pencil thin (remind me to bitch about “pencil width” slices of brisket again soon) and layering it with slices of fresh pineapple. And I’m not a four-foot-tall Mexican grandmother making tortillas by hand. That’d make a big difference, I think.
The Froot Loops never did work so well.
Anyway, I did burn out on barbecue a little bit, I think. A lot of barbecuers – really good barbecuers – can eat the same barbecue a couple times a week with no ill effect on their passion for it. I don’t get it. And I’m sorry, but no, their barbecue is not that much better than mine. I think it’s a mental thing. Like how Karl in Sling Blade would eat French fried taters with mustard every meal and still love it. I guess I am saying that people who eat their own barbecue every meal and never tire of it are very Karl-like. Mmm-hmmmm.
It’s also possible that I just got tired of writing about barbecue. And talking about barbecue. You know those people who collect stuff and are just obsessive about it? Like the lady who collects Mickey Mouse crap and trades her first born to a Dominican transient worker who has a Minnie Mouse keychain she’s never seen before? Some people are like that about barbecue. I knew a guy who had a ridiculous Coca-Cola collection. Acres of Coke crap, the guy had. One of the prized possessions in his collection was a glass paperweight that had a Coke logo on it, made by some one-armed kid in Hanoi or something like that. The collector worshiped the thing; called it the most important piece of his collection. I said, “But it’s not really a Coke piece. It’s something someone made with “Coke” on it. The good folks at Coca-Cola probably wouldn’t approve.” He beat me with an 1894 Hutchinson-style embossed Coke bottle until I took it back.
See, that ain’t me. Some barbecuers collect hatpins or t-shirts or grills and smokers or dry rubs and sauces. I do have more than my share of grills and smokers, but I don’t collect them, I use them, and I don’t find them to be a fascinating subject of conversation. Now, beer cans – well, that’s another story.
So I kind of tired of writing about barbecue. But it’s just as likely that I tired of writing. Got busy. And got laid-off. What does that have to do with writing about barbecue? Well, I got laid-off a few weeks after that last post in ’09. Yeah, damn the man, all that stuff. But when I got laid-off, I started freelancing. Remember, I write ads. I know, I know: corporate whore, sell-out, I’m part of the problem, blah blah blah. Tell me all about it – I’ll be on my boat.
Anyway, when I’d sit here and write ads for a few hours in the morning, the last thing I wanted to do when I was done was sit here and write blogs. It became like work. So I kind of quit doing it.
And, I became a vegan.
Now that’s some funny shit right there.
I have to go check on our Sunday stew, which my beloved Sara Jane requested, then demanded I not put gummi bears in it. Having never cooked stew without gummi bears, I’m not sure what I’m doing here. So I better look at it or something. And then I’ll start writing about barbecue and food again.