Pie Throwing School, Pissed Moms, and a Neighborhood Feast

Saturday News Digest V1/E9

Table of Contents

• The Pie Offensive

• Another Thing About This Week

• Couple’s Deception

• Out and About in the Neighborhood

• Readers’ Questions Answered

The Pie Offensive
A culinary nonviolent, satisfying reaction to the week's news

You have to be careful who you aim a pie at because not all candidates are created equal. This age-old activist tool should be hilarious not actionable, thrown with minimum force but sure accuracy to land on the intended target and not anyone nearby. As of this past Monday, you have a full array of characters to choose from, starting, of course, with members of the Supreme Court, then scurrying on to government legislators and officials (current and defeated). It has to be pointed out that women are pie worthy as well. In particular, the delusional, shockingly easy-to-dupe women during the Senate confirmation hearings. Those who claim to give two figs about the women they say they’re protecting get extra meringue. However, pie throwing should not be partisan: Both sides of the issue deserve our pie vote for lots of reasons. The Second Amendment of the Constitution says it’s a citizen’s inalienable right to bear arms, even if it is composed of a flaky crust and high peaks of cream. I’m sure your lawyer will bring that up at your bail hearing.

Until then, follow these instructions for technique and recommended types of pies to achieve the full effect. For further reading, pick up Pie Any Means Necessary: The Biotic Baking Brigade Cookbook by James John Bell. The recipes are really pretty good even when politely served as dessert.

Another Thing About This Week
What Mom would have said

My mom is on the right at what looks to have been some kind of community banquet. Mrs. Boguslaw is in the middle and Mrs. Jaworowski on the left across from Mom. What I love about this photo is how the women are bound together with my mom so obviously amused by whatever she’s talking about. She has them completely enthralled with what I can only imagine was one of her insightful and sassy opinions.

Which brings up the subject of Roe v. Wade. She never revealed her thoughts on the subject that was so heated in our house my dad changed his party affiliation to Republican just so he could vote for a pro-life candidate. (He returned to the fold before he died.) It was not like her to keep her views to herself and she might, as a devout Catholic, have agreed with my dad. But then again, she was a lifelong vocal proponent of a woman’s sanctified right to be the mistress of her own body. If my dad didn’t convince her otherwise, then four men and one imperious woman wouldn’t have had a chance. Fact is, they would all piss her off, something you really didn’t want to do.

My mom would point out the timing of the leaked decision coming to light the week before Mother’s Day. A marketing agency couldn’t have arranged such a coincidence better. Think how much the holiday underscores the blessed thrill of being a mom, all those bouquets and cards, devoted dads and loving children surrounding her. “Bullshit,” (one of her favorite words) she’d exclaim and then go on to point out that she hasn’t heard what the people who claim to offer pregnant women support after birth do beyond a bag of diapers and onesies. Where are they in pushing forward the parental leave bill? Since there’s an expectation that parents will have some sway over their baby’s well-being for at least the next 18 years, where are anti-abortion proponents in securing federal help in raising them by fighting for universal childcare, food security, equal housing, and education opportunities?

Yell about that, my mom would say. And keep your hands off us.

And then she’d tell you to sit down with her at her kitchen table, pour you a drink, and tell you one of her sassy stories.

Couple’s Deceptions
Excuse: Everyone does it.

There is much to miss when a partner is away from home, but the private ritual of mealtime is generally not among them. Over the years a certain rhythm forms out of the need to provide food and dishes that are oftentimes more liked by one than the other. A certain writer with a long connection to a meat (rarely fish) and potato eater has spent the last four days alone. This is what she ate for lunch and dinner instead of what would have normally been plated:

• Monday: cheese and crackers (instead of a hot dog and potato chips and glued to CNN); a spinach-stuffed portabella mushroom (instead of a pork chop with mashed potatoes) and a large glass of white wine while scrolling through the New York Times online.

• Tuesday: half a peanut butter and mixed berry jelly sandwich while working (instead of liverwurst and onion on rye and potato chips and two comforting old reruns of Bob’s Burgers for comic relief); two poached eggs on pita bread with steamed garlic broccoli rabe (instead of fried chicken thighs and rice) and several glasses of white wine while watching the news.

• Wednesday: after reading the morning news, vanilla ice cream sandwiched between two store-bought oatmeal cookies (instead of grilled cheese with potato chips and a pickle and watching CNN); a martini while make a contrite-sized salad with lots of anchovies and a splash more gin during the evening news (instead of skirt steak and mashed potatoes, maybe sneak in a salad); the last of the ice cream with a drizzle of chocolate sauce before bed.

• Thursday: nothing—had a deadline and it finally stopped raining, so planted flowers (instead of a BLT and potato chips and a return to Bob’s Burger); mid-afternoon: a chocolate bunny leftover from Easter and found on her husband's desk; a bunch of eggrolls and dumplings discovered in the bottom of the freezer, the last of the white wine, and a large slice of buttercream cake bought because there was no more ice cream left (instead of his beloved tuna casserole made with a can of mushroom soup).

He came home Friday to a wife who missed everything else about him. Lunch consisted of a hot dog (he didn’t have any on his trip) and one episode of Ted Lasso. Dinner was rigatoni with Italian sausage. He was disappointed to discover all the ice cream had been eaten while he was gone.

What do you like to eat when you don’t have to cook for someone else? Tell us in the comment section!

Out and About in the Neighborhood
A lucky girl's Cinco de Mayo Report

Ate all of this:

Carne Enchilada tacos from Tacos El Bronco food truck

And this:

Asado—pork stew—from Tacos El Bronco food truck

And, of course, followed by a very spicy Raspados.

While watching a rousing parade that somehow was even more festive because of the drizzling rain.

Then I waddled home, vowing to find an identical skirt and blouse to dance and spin around in.

Readers’ Questions Answered
About that plantation

Where is Bulow Plantation?
I was coming from Jacksonville, Florida and the straightest way to the plantation from there is to take I95. But you want to take the Old Dixie Highway, now called U.S. Highway 31, because it passes through small towns and farmland. It will run into Old Kings Road, where you should begin to look for a sign. It may seem impossible to miss the plantation’s entrance, but you will because it’s on the opposite side of the road and the opening is partly obscured by foliage.

Was John Bulow good to his slaves?
John, who had grown up in Paris, was very young—16 or 17—when he inherited the plantation. A neighbor described the youth as “very wild and dissipated.” Another, speaking of John as a twenty-year-old, said he was “tyrannical and cruel” toward his slaves. There’s a suggestion that he may have impregnated a couple of them. However, after a long stay at the plantation, John James Audubon described the 24-year-old as a kind and generous host, who expertly accompanied him on bird shoots and enjoying long conversations in his impressive library over excellent claret. This doesn't really answer the question but that's historical records for you.

This is John’s father, Charles, but it gives a good idea of what he would have looked like.

Did you see any interesting places to eat along the way?
Why, yes we did! Woodpecker’s Backyard BBQ. But it was Monday and it was CLOSED!! 

Do you want to go back to Florida?
I don’t know. I guess. The state is beautiful and the people I met were universally fun and interesting and kind to a stranger. A big reason would be to stay again with one of my most beloved girlfriends, who I hadn’t seen in 40 years before this trip. The state’s current politics are repugnant to me, but another 40 years can’t go by until I see my friend again. 

And I have to go back to eat at Woodpecker’s Backyard BBQ!