Poop Chute Fricasee

By Seamus Muldoon, Himself
Copyright © 1997-2017
All Rights Reserved


Belinda and I have enjoyed watching food shows on television for 25 years. I love to cook and from time to time she will want something she sees some big name chef preparing on his show and I will go to its website, get the recipe and prepare it for her. Good cooking has as much to do with being in love as anything else, with the notable exceptions of respect, caring and kindness. Since Belinda is so much smarter than I am about so many things, and saves me from having to think about most of life’s present tense issues, respect and gratitude are automatic and the least I can do is cook what she likes. So far it seems to be working extremely well. I have recently been told, for example, that I now rank evenly with her cats.

To be sure, we often vary a recipe to swap lipids, trading off animal fat and cream/butter for olive oil. The taste is actually better and cleaner and nothing is lost in the process unless you just have to have animal grease and nothing else will do.

You can actually watch the effects of the regular use of animal fats, butter, cream, sugar and eggs upon the big time chefs. Paula Dean is now diabetic and has to change away from her love of animal lipids and sugar by the ton in everything. That she hasn’t killed off her whole family yet with her terrible cooking is nothing short of miraculous. Since most of the big time chefs are into a lot of olive oil – Mario Batali actually fries with it – they look the same year in and year out. Emeril Lagasse is the notable exception, puffed up and red faced, eyes sunk into his fat face, busting out of his ill fitting clothes, as though he wants to be like Paul Prudhomme who can barely walk from being so obese and indifferent to matters of health. Prudhomme can’t even stand up through his show. He has to sit down to cook.

Obesity has become our national malaise. Fat people waddle down every street and grocery Isle. They like fat and sugar more than pussy and stiff dick. My favorite obstetrician/gynecologist must often have extra people in the operating room to hold back the fat so she can reach the organs that need attention. Surgical gloves for gynecologists must now reach to the elbow and cervixes are almost out of reach. You need long arms and a miner’s light on your head to see that deeply into a fat vagina. Healing is all but impossible since air doesn’t reach to the inside of folds of fat. Whoever is impregnating these women has to be a man of heroic measurements and a very strong stomach.

And that fat person smell permeates not only the room but also your clothing. People back in the days of pervasive smoking used to smell like Camels and Lucky Strike. Today they have that fat ass, something smells like it is infected aroma. Vaginas are beginning to look more and more like catchers’ mitts, but dicks are not getting any bigger in this pandemic of obesity. The girls are being short changed. In fairness, dicks should now be at least 12 inches long and 6 – 8 inches around.

Since we make adjustments in the interest of health and longevity, Belinda can still get into her high school cheerleader outfit (and zip it up) and I am now 30 pounds lighter than I was a year or two ago. But we eat extremely well here.

Living in Houston means that there is no limit to access to the best and most diverse food in the whole world. You can eat animal fat if you do it sparsely and not every day.Sowbelly is unctuous and luxurious in its taste and texture properly prepared. A rack of Berkshire pork is wonderful in its pork fat richness, but you don’t eat that kind of stuff very often. It isn’t as good and luxurious if it is as common as oatmeal. The same can be said for bacon and eggs and pancakes and sausage with maple syrup.

Houston’s most diverse population in America means we can food shop for anything you would ever see on T V and all within ten minutes from our front door. If you are smart you develop a taste for Asian food and shop the produce sections of our Asian markets. My favorite is KoMart, the Korean grocery market very near here.

Every week I hear at least twenty different languages in the food markets of this area of Houston. If the rest of the world could manage its diverse relationships the way mutual respect works in Houston, there would be way too much peace and without all the killing we would have by now outgrown the ability of the earth to provide food for us all. When peace and love result in food scarcity, the only way to restore balance is for the formerly peaceful folks to kill each other off until balance is restored. Logic aside, that is the way nature really works all up and down the food chain.

Doomsday preppers are now stockpiling food and toilet paper in the expectation of Armageddon or at least another Presidential election victory by the Democrats that will herald confiscation of all private property, either through main force or confiscatory taxation. According to their doctrines, the United Nations will send the French to Texas to take away our guns. No one in his right mind can even imagine the French being able to do anything remotely like that, considering their history, but that’s the theory in vogue these days.

If the entire French armed forces were to come to Texas for any hostile purpose we would send a policeman and have them all arrested, just as old Otto Von Bismark promised to do if they tried to cross the river and enter Germany.

Watching the food network and other food shows has trended away from the Julia Childs and Jaques Pepin traditional Eurocentric food selections and methods of preparation. Larding and barding with hog fat are pretty much gone by the wayside, although you can still watch Anthony Bourdain at Joel Robuchon’s Atelier sucking up the famous mashed potatoes made with 5 pounds of potatoes and 2 pounds of butter plus smoothed out with heavy cream.

We seem to be moving into destination cooking as Bourdain and Andrew Zimmern travel about the globe showing us how the real people of Indonesia, Transylvania and central Europe cook and eat. When you are sated with watching the “enjoyment” of worms and bugs, lizards and the guts of assorted amphibians, you can begin watching real people slaughter their livestock and use absolutely everything in some manner.

I am old enough to remember when hot dogs were the most suspect of foods. They had such a bad reputation for containing essentially an amalgam of lips, snouts, udders, uteruses, assholes, penises, ears and testicles that Nathans in New York had to dress people in doctors’ outfits and have them eat it. People believed that if a doctor would eat one they must be OK. Now they contain less of that and some skeletal meat, but they taste like shit. If you don’t eat ethnic sausages nothing tastes as good as an old time hot dog.

As bas relief you can enjoy your evening meal watching Adam Richman overeat for prizes, stuffing his gross face with several pounds of junk food in a timed contest to see whether he can qualify for his name and picture on the wall of suckers at some greasy spoon dive. It is too bad that starving Somalis are not forced to watch this particular show so they can come to appreciate what a truly successful society America really is. People so emaciated and flyblown ought to appreciate a country where the epidemic du jour is obesity.

A recent Andrew Zimmern show took him, and us, to southern Louisiana for a hog slaughter celebration with real Cajuns. I personally happen to be extremely familiar with Cajun culture and its wonderful people and history of oppression and survival. Driven from eastern Canada by the British during the French and Indian war of the 18th century, they found their way to southern Louisiana where they have preserved their language and culture and are true conservators of the natural treasures of the area that provides them with sustenance.

One of my very favorite all time poems is Longfellow’s poem “Evangeline”, the story of their life settled along the Bayou Teche just south of Breaux Bridge Louisiana. I went to that bayou every spring to sit on its bank and read the poem aloud. Its poetic line has passages that speak of a girl not unlike Belinda, saying things like “and when she had passed it seemed like the ceasing of exquisite music”. I have loved things Cajun for many years and it is a bit sad that Zimmern presents their gastronomic practices as though they were little more than primitive, rough, savage and uncultured people. He concentrates on how good the food is, but the style of presenting the people leaves much to be desired in terms of cultural respect. Zimmern portrays Cajun food practice on the same level as one might portray Santeria in Haiti.

Rural people who are not materially wealthy tend to waste nothing and use everything. They are the same way with their food animals. But I know that Americans are not accustomed to seeing how real people live on the land and prepare their food right from the fields as it were. This is not your shrink wrapped super market fresh food presentation of genetically modified manufactured products that may once have lived on a farm but have no resemblance, aroma or taste similar to what people eat who do everything for themselves rather than buy finished product in some super market.

It has always been thus everywhere on the planet. What regular Americans buy in supermarkets tastes only vaguely like the same genre of food taken at the farm by the people who raised it.

But now it seems that more and more food shows are morphing into the portrayal of gourmandize through the use of offal. Livers, spleens, kidneys, intestines, stomachs, lips, tongues, noses, cheeks, testicles, rectums and penises now seem to occupy almost one fourth of all food shows. It is harder and harder to get on television if you claim that you don’t like the taste and feel of a good cock. One lady sitting in a restaurant eating mountain oysters looks up smiling and proclaims “great balls”. Anthony Bourdain goes to Europe and eats what he calls “poop chutes”, the business end of an animal’s excretory system that tastes “barnyardy” in many offerings.

In some cultures eyeballs are plucked from boiled or roasted lamb or goat head and consumed by “brave” men. The more alcohol one consumes the braver he becomes until he can eat eyeballs plucked right from an animal’s head without retching.

Zimmern recently took us to Greece where he introduced us to Kokoretsi, organ meat skewered and wrapped in intestines and then grilled. Bourdain seems to be transfixed by poop chutes in central Europe. Normal Americans’ interest in Greek and other European food runs to lamb and pork chops, rotisseried chicken, rice, grilled fish, lemons, feta cheese and veggies. There seems to be some driving mood of guilt for having hogged the good cuts, making us focus more on what we normally grind up and feed to our dogs and cats. If you don’t believe me try Googling up or searching FoodChannel.com for fricasseed assholes and penises garnished with chopped noses and assorted other dog and cat food typical ingredients.

When someone yells “Suck a dick!” at you now, is he cussin’ you or suggesting that you go watch a new T V reality show? When a waiter hands you a menu and begins to tell you about the off menu specials and says that there is a wonderful “Suck a bag of dicks” ragout with cum sauce, try not to act surprised or offended. The world may be changing and folks like Tony Bourdain and Andrew Zimmern only trying to prepare us for it.

Belinda and I are sticking with chops and steaks. No barnyardy poop chutes for us thank you very much.There are some things that Belinda just won’t do. Y’all are welcome to this trend in gastronomy.

 



By Seamus Muldoon, Himself
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Copyright © 1997-2017 All Rights Reserved