A Trip Down Memory Lane (Somewhat O.T.)

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doth sayeth:

I truly believe the shape of the container has a lot to do with taste. If you hold your mouth in a certain way to prevent pouring the drink all over you, aluminum cans are trickier than bottles, the product probably goes in you mouth and hits a different part of your tongue.
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On Tue, 13 Mar 2007 12:19:26 -0400, snipped-for-privacy@webtv.net (J T) wrote:

Don' know about the beer bottles, but I remember that phrase as "red necks, white sox, and Blue Ribbon beer." See how that incorporates the red, white, and blue? I remember it as an anthemn for Southern lads.
--
LRod

Master Woodbutcher and seasoned termite
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GROVER wrote:
> Many years ago when I lived in northern New Jersey, and before the > advent of the big box home improvement centers there were > independently owned hardware stores ( which have been discussed > previously on this NG ). They generally had creaky wooden floors, > gray haired clerks who knew the location and names of a lot of arcane > hardware, and a lot of bins which housed bulk items, not much blister > packaging.They had a scale and weighed out nails by the pound.
As a high school kid, I was one of those clerks.
Had some Amish customers which resulted in having some very interesting inventory.
Got to assemble all the lawn mowers, wheel barrows, kid's wagons, etc.
Got to cut the glass, repair broken windows, repair broken window screens, etc, etc.
Got to drive the truck after school to make all the deliveries which also included picking up kegs of nails from the local lumber yard, bringing them back to the store, opening them and putting the nails in bins.
Got pretty good at weighing out a pound of nails on the first try.
Every Saturday morning you could depend on some guy walking into the store with some pipe fittings in his hand and saying, "Moving this morning and I've gotta hook up the gas stove", or words to that effect.
Want to talk about paint?
How about firearms?
A trip to the town dump with a .22 rifle was a Sunday ritual in the summer.
All in all, a great experience for a pimple faced, snot nosed kid, in a small town.
No, those days will not return; however, my grandson has learned to be quite the cook while working at a restaurant after school.
The opportunities change, but they are still there.
Lew
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"Lew Hodgett" wrote in message

The summer I turned nine ('51) I got my first .22 and spent almost a month "living off the land" in my own "camp" on my grandparents farm in S. Louisiana ... with the occasional trip into the farmhouse at night time to avail myself of any goodies my grandmother made sure were left out for me to "find", even though I had assured her that I was tough enough to eat squirrel for the rest of my life.
... smart lady, that dear grandmother of mine!
--
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Swingman wrote:
> > The summer I turned nine ('51) I got my first .22 and spent almost a month > "living off the land" in my own "camp" on my grandparents farm in S. > Louisiana ... with the occasional trip into the farmhouse at night time to > avail myself of any goodies my grandmother made sure were left out for me to > "find", even though I had assured her that I was tough enough to eat > squirrel for the rest of my life. > > ... smart lady, that dear grandmother of mine!
My father grew up in Southern Indiana along the Ohio river.
Even gained a nickname that is on his tombstone, after one of those river towns.
Back then it was poor country, and if you didn't produce, you didn't eat.
My father told me that when he was about 6-7, they gave him a single shot .22, one cartridge, and was told to "Go get breakfast".
Don't have a clue if it was a tall tale or not, but my father used a single shot .22 to hunt squirrels, and was still able to "Bark a squirrel" until he was about 40 and his eyes began to show his age.
Still have that rifle someplace.
Used it to learn to shoot, and while never as good as the old man, became a pretty decent shot, learning to pick off rabbits with it while they were still setting.
Lew
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"Lew Hodgett" wrote in message

Wonder how many folks who, without using Google, actually knew what it meant to "bark" a squirrel?
Then again, knowing, even without Google, and doing, are another thing entirely.
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Being a city boy I had to Google that and found this.
http://www.nrvoutdoors.com/FOXSQUIRREL/FOXSQUIRREL.htm
A nice read.
Mark
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Swingman wrote:

I did, because I had a friend who could do it. I never could. Bad eyesight.
--
It's turtles, all the way down

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Tue, Mar 13, 2007, 8:36am (EDT-2) snipped-for-privacy@nospam.com (Swingman) doth query. Wonder how many folks who, without using Google, actually knew what it meant to "bark" a squirrel? Then again, knowing, even without Google, and doing, are another thing entirely.
I barked exactly one. And that was only because I missed the squirrel. If I'd had a .22 instead of a 30-06 I'd have nailed it.
JOAT It was too early in the morning for it to be early in the morning. That was the only thing that he currently knew for sure. - Clodpool
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Ahhhh, yes. Or to gig a frog or ten. I remember gigging on the shore of the creek, and it was tough going as a kid. I gave it up in lieu of bank fishing under the low hanging trees for perch. Better return.
Then I worked on a ranch for a while and they had a 5-7 acre man made tank that took care of most of the ranch water needs. The frogs and catfish that were in it were enormous as the folks that owned the place liked neither.
We brought a small canoe out one evening, a flashlight and an old cooler. We paddled around that tank in the dull moonlight, night after night absolutely having a blast gigging - it was easy and the cooler was full every night of the biggest frogs I had ever seen. I didn't even know frogs got >that< big.
I was so focused on the gigging one night that I almost gigged a coon. He was being still since like many night animals they are blinded by bright light. Just when I was getting ready to gig him (think of the tornado that would have unleashed!) I thought *crap!* wrong color of eyes!
The catfish that came out of that tank tasted like an old drain pipe. No amount of red sauce or lemon could kill that flavor. But the frog legs.... marvelous. Dipped in egg wash, rolled in flour with a little cornmeal and salt and pepper, then deep fried. We felt like kings after wiping out about 6-8 pairs apiece.
What great memories. And I hadn't thought of that in years.
Robert
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snipped-for-privacy@aol.com wrote:
> > Ahhhh, yes. Or to gig a frog or ten. I remember gigging on the shore > of the creek, and it was tough going as a kid. I gave it up in lieu > of bank fishing under the low hanging trees for perch. Better return. <snip>
Took one look at gigging and said, "Forget it".
If it was daytime, used a fly rod or a cane pole and a fly.
If it was night time, jacklighting with a row boat, and no, never got caught.
As far as catfish, or most any other fish, for that matter are concerned, I'll pass on the egg wash, but rolled in a spiced up cornmeal/flour mix, and deep fried in a cast iron chicken fryer, now that is to die for, IMHO.
It's a tough life, but somebody has got to do it.<G>
Lew
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What? No frogs? We used to scare the youngsters by showing them the legs while they were frying. When they start to get hot, there is a tendon that shrinks, then lets go. We told the kids the legs were still alive, and when they would seize up, the kids eyes would be like saucers. When the tendon broke and the leg relaxed (moved again) we always lost the kids. They were SURE the legs were still alive.
Same damn joke played on me when I was their age.

I'll pass on the egg wash, but rolled in a >spiced up cornmeal/flour mix, and deep fried in a cast >iron chicken fryer, now

That sir, is about as good as it gets for this Southern boy. If you can fry it, I will probably eat it, and if tasted good that's helluva bonus. (Just kidding)
I fry up some fish pretty frequently, and we are lucky to have a bbq joint that has great catfish so we can get the good stuff (fried) whenever we want it.
After goofing with all manner of coating recipes, I do this: take the fish out of the fridge and let it warm a bit while the oil is getting hot. Get the oil to +/- 325 F. Roll the moist fish in Zatarain's southern style cornmeal coating that has been dosed with cayenne, citric acid, a tiny bit of chili powder, and black pepper. Fry until golden, then cool on an open rack over paper towels. Eat until you see the grim reaper threatening you, then rest. Wait two hours, eat any remaining fish.
No lemon, sauces, condiments or anything else needed.
And you?
Robert
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snipped-for-privacy@aol.com wrote:
> > What? No frogs?
You missed it, used a fly rod or a cane pole with an artificial fly.
More frogs, less work.
> Same damn joke played on me when I was their age.
Shades of a snipe hunt.
Badges to document the rite of passage.
> That sir, is about as good as it gets for this Southern boy. If you > can fry it, I will probably eat it, and if tasted good that's helluva > bonus. (Just kidding)
If you are going to fry it, gotta have a cast iron chicken fryer, no "ifs", "ands" or "buts" about it.
> After goofing with all manner of coating recipes, I do this: take the > fish out of the fridge and let it warm a bit while the oil is getting > hot.
Ever soak it in buttermilk, just like chicken?
> Get the oil to +/- 325 F. Roll the moist fish in Zatarain's > southern style cornmeal coating that has been dosed with cayenne, > citric acid, a tiny bit of chili powder, and black pepper.
A little spicy for my tastes these days; however, still mix my own using flour, cornmeal, and one of Emeril's spice mixes except I cut down on the cayenne some and add more Kosher salt and fresh cracked black pepper.
BTW, keep a couple of jars of Zatarain's mustard handy. Good stuff.
> Fry until > golden, then cool on an open rack over paper towels.
Works for me.
> Eat until you > see the grim reaper threatening you, then rest. Wait two hours, eat > any remaining fish.
Yep.
> No lemon, sauces, condiments or anything else needed.
Strictly for amateurs.
Lew
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No kiddin'.... I sure did miss it. Catching frogs with a cane pole and a artificial fly is almost diabolical.

I have one that is about 90 years or so old. It was a stovetop staple from a friend of mine's ancient grandparents before they passed. It made his grandpa's two strips of bacon and two eggs every day as long they could, as well as fried everything from squirrel and rabbit to steaks.
It is one that has the "fryer" lid. The lid has the hanging teats inside it to redistribute the moisture and grease back onto the cooking victim inside. My other one is my first personal cast pan, and it is proudly serving after 40 years. (How in the hell could I have had that all that long...)

Never have. You? I am always up for something new in the kitchen. Is this a recommendation?
I will egg wash a heavy fleshed fish like whiting, talapia, or catfish that is a little aromatic to the nose. Otherwise, the moisure on the fish is good enough for me when cooking farm raised catfish, trout, cod, etc. Of course, swordfish, salmon, tuna, shark, etc. all go to the grill.

One of my old compadres turned me to Zatarains after I was complaining of not being able to get the "fine" grained cornmeal coating on my fish. As much as I experimented with ratios of flour and cornmeal, I couldn't get it. He gave me some Z's to try, and it worked great. The secret to that style of coating? The Zatarain's is ground much, much finer than cornmeal.
Lew... I'm still working over the cane pole and fly business. I'm getting a picture of a frog dangling on the end of pole with a hook in his mouth.
Wicked.
Robert
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snipped-for-privacy@aol.com wrote:
> No kiddin'.... I sure did miss it. Catching frogs with a cane pole > and a artificial fly is almost diabolical.
Naw, just an efficient way of harvesting frogs.
BTW, haven't been fishing in probably close to 50 years, but still have those fly rods squirreled away. They were my fathers.
> I have one that is about 90 years or so old.
Just getting broken in I see.<G>
> It is one that has the "fryer" lid. The lid has the hanging teats > inside it to redistribute the moisture and grease back onto the > cooking victim inside.
My Dutch oven has a lid like that.
My chicken fryer has a flat lid which makes it suitable for flap jacks.
> My other one is my first personal cast pan, > and it is proudly serving after 40 years. > (How in the hell could I have had that all that long...)
Time flies when you are having fun.
>> Ever soak it in buttermilk, just like chicken?
> Never have. You? I am always up for something new in the kitchen. > Is this a recommendation?
Straight from Emeril.
Helps take out the strong taste.
> One of my old compadres turned me to Zatarains after I was complaining > of not being able to get the "fine" grained cornmeal coating on my > fish. As much as I experimented with ratios of flour and cornmeal, I > couldn't get it. He gave me some Z's to try, and it worked great. > The secret to that style of coating? The Zatarain's is ground much, > much finer than cornmeal.
I'll have to check it out, but this is SoCal.
They have some strange tastes in food.
> > Lew... I'm still working over the cane pole and fly business. I'm > getting a picture of a frog dangling on the end of pole with a hook in > his mouth.
> Wicked.
Think of it as a jib crane for harvesting frogs.
Lew
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snipped-for-privacy@aol.com wrote:

As a matter of curiosity have you ever tried Mexican corn flour (Amazon.com product link shortened)?

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--John
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Different animal. That stuff is a staple around here, and becoming more popular for its intention, tortillas de maiz due to it being significantly more healthy than its counterpart, tortillas de harina (flour).
It is slaked cornmeal, not meant for frying.
Robert
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Wed, Mar 14, 2007, 1:02am (EDT+4) snipped-for-privacy@earthlink.net (LewHodgett) doth sayeth: You missed it, used a fly rod or a cane pole with an artificial fly. More frogs, less work.
Small piece of white or red rag. You can get a frog to jump 2-3 feet straight up.
JOAT It was too early in the morning for it to be early in the morning. That was the only thing that he currently knew for sure. - Clodpool
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Lew Hodgett wrote:

Spent a summer on my grandparents farm in WV a long, long time ago. The trick was to swat a bumble bee and stun it. Put him on the hook. Walk a few feet over to the pond and drop the bumblebee into the water. He'd revive and start buzzing. Pull the frog out and walk over to a tree. Swing the frog into the trunk. Place in bucket. When you've got a half-dozen each, it's time to go fishing (down in the New River Gorge) in earnest. ;-)
I'm a vegetarian now.
Bill
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How would you put it on a hook and not kill it?...or without at least a temporary reaction resulting in a sting? Are you putting me on? Bill? Tell me you're kidding us?
*shudders* (hates bee-like buzzing things)
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