Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Monday, May 10, 2010
The Real Story Of "Skillet Shot"
Many years ago there was an event that took place in these parts called "High Cotton Cooking Contest". It was a weekend long affair of BBQ, Bands and Fun. Maybe you've heard of it, maybe you were there, maybe you had a team. This is the Story of one team that came out of obscurity to place 2nd in the "One-Rack Rib" category. There is no need for names for this story, as names are irrelevant and there were too many members to even try to name them all. And despite the statue of limitations being expired, there is no need to bring up the names if any crimes were committed during this timeframe. This is not embellished, as it needs no embellishment. If you were there, you know.
The BBQ contest had a pretty good following despite the fact that it was held around April every year and it usually poured rain for the entire weekend of events. Crowds would have been better had patrons not had to literally swim around the park of the event locale. This year was different. The weather was perfect.We were the youth movement. Most of us nearing the end of a Sophomore campaign of college, a few pounds heavier and the tolerance of Jim Morrison. We could party, we were trained, a little educated, and extremely insane. For the most part the event was held down by people that actually cared about the competition aspect and they all thought they could do the best shoulder or slab of ribs this side South of Memphis. There were some partiers in other crowds. Some with Corporate Sponsorship. That wasn't us. We were just a bunch of guys that pooled our money together, stole a grill(we gave it back), re-painted the grill(John Deere Green and Yellow), swindled a dad into scoring us some quality food products from a purveyor, and just went after it.
We arrived on Friday afternoon to setup what would be our home for the next 48 hours, give or take. Each team has there on designated area in which they can cook and engage in consumption and fun. We bought two spots, we had the numbers....we could afford it. So, we got the grill and a few chairs. A few calls from an old analog truck phone and an hour later, the couch and love seat arrive. Classy. We hang out in our locale for the remainder of the afternoon, carnival is getting setup close to our cooksite and it just so happens that one of the workers from that carnival comes strolling by with a duck in a cage. I know, what the heck is this guy carrying a duck in a cage for? We made him an offer, he took it. Every team needs a mascot and we had ours. We named him "Elbow". Not sure who came up with it, but we all agreed to it and it stuck. As the afternoon winds down and people start filling into the park for what is sure to be a good night of music. We notice that there is a tremendous amount of young people congregated at our location. No biggie, we had a large team and we knew allot of people. Apparently, the kids in Starkville and Oxford had caught wind of our efforts and decided to join us. In a matter of a few hours and several beers later, we had a crowd somewhere in the area of 150-200 people. I am willing to bet there wasn't 200 people up front listening to the band. Now consider that everybody in our area was underage and what you have is the potential for a problem. Security was there but fortunately we weren't buying it. Obviously, you had to be of legal age to purchase a beverage from the vendors in the park. However, we had a loophole. We were a cooking team, so we were able to bring in our own drinks and we brought plenty. As the crowd remained in our area around closing time of the first night, we were engulfed by the local police. It looked like a standoff in some old western, each side just waiting for the other side to make a move. We weren't violent, we just wanted to not get arrested. Fortunately, the friendly officers dismantled the crowd and everyone left. Some peacefully, some not. I survived and reconvened with my people at an after hours joint that is now a car dealership. Upon leaving there we decided to head back out to the park to get a leg up on the cooking, as the food had to be turned in the next day at noon. A quick stop by the grocery(it stayed open 24 hours back in those days) for some munchies and we were set. We somehow managed to get a fire going in our haze. We were set to compete in shoulder, ribs, chicken and wild game. The few of us that stuck it out watching the sun come up over the horizon, beer in hand, while inhaling the sweet perfume of meat burning on the grill, felt as if we had conquered something. All we conquered was what was going to be an awful hangover. In all our conversation and good time, we forgot that we had put some of our grocery store buys on the grill. So much for dinner/breakfast. We hadn't damaged any of our competition goods, shoulder was away from the fire and ribs and chicken were still in the cooler.
Time to get serious, fire is pretty stable so its time to put some ribs on for a long and slow cook. Its around 8 am at this point, no sleep, still sipping cold ones. We have about 6-8 people hanging around, sleepless. The folks that wisely went home and got some sleep arrived about 10 am and we were relieved. I split and headed home for a shower and a nap. My intent was to come back around 1 but that didn't happen. I got there a little after 2 pm. When I arrived there were more than a few modifications to the cooksite. First off, we had a nice orange fence, the kind you see on construction sites. It had an entrance and everything. Our humble mascot, Elbow, had acquired a more suitable setting than his cage. Someone had gone and purchased a pool. So duck is swimming around and loving life. Few pieces of bread in the water because he has to eat to...right! Our other unofficial mascot, a team members dog, Tookie, was there as well. Tookie was an aggressive pooch. He had to be constantly reminded, "Tookie, no kill". In addition, we also had set up a rather large flagpole that was tied to the smokestack of the grill. The pole extended some twenty some odd feet into the air and housed a trio of flags including a State flag of Mississippi, a Rebel flag with Hank Williams Jr. face planted right smack in the middle and an Ole Miss Flag that was added since our team swung in that majority. So we got pets, A tower of flags, a large congregation of friends, some family and allot of strangers.
Mid afternoon, time to announce the winners. Obviously, we did not expect to even be in the running for anything. As you have probably gathered, we were there for the party and we won that event no contest. Even the Corporate team will tell you that. So you can imagine the pure shock and joy of hearing our team announced as second place in the "Rib" category. An honorary shotgun of a beer ensued after that as we felt it was only fitting to slam one down. I don't know how many teams were in competition, but it was an overwhelming sense of accomplishment to have placed in a competition. This was the kiss of death. After that, we felt the need to travel the region to compete in all the other BBQ cooking contest. At B.B. King in Indianola, the fire never got lit because half the team was still in jail and the other half never showed. Still don't know the whole story of the incarceration that took place. At Jubilee Jam in Clarksdale, same couches, same dog, converted the back of the truck into a swimming pool and acquired a golf cart. All bad touches but great ideas at the time. We did nothing there as well. After that event, well you guessed it, the money ran out. The fire was gone. It was a good run...3 events and 1 silver. Not bad for a team of kids that didn't care in the first place. The grill was returned and I am often reminded of how we "destroyed" this mans grill because we painted it John Deere green and yellow. I thought it looked nice. Green body with Yellow doors and smokestacks. Come on!!.... Elbow tragically lost his life at a nearby pond in the foothills of Carrollton. Seems he was victim of a predator attack. I like to think that saving Elbow from the clutches of that carnival worker was the best thing that ever happened to that duck He got to live, he got to be the star attraction for a BBQ team. He was like the solo duck in the fountain at the Peabody, just our Lil' ducky. You just have to think that the carnival guy was just going to eat him anyway, but at least he got a taste of freedom. Tookie lived on for several more years, randomly attacking cars and people that he knew. Upon his untimely demise, a rather large congregation of friends and fellow BBQ team members assembled for an appropriate wake for the pooch. We had a party in his honor.
Fortunately, the former team of "Skillet Shot" have remained close over the years. While there is no aspirations of reuniting the team for another run, we often reminisce of the time, along time ago, when we got 2nd in the One-rack Rib category at High Cotton Cooking. Those were the days!!!
The BBQ contest had a pretty good following despite the fact that it was held around April every year and it usually poured rain for the entire weekend of events. Crowds would have been better had patrons not had to literally swim around the park of the event locale. This year was different. The weather was perfect.We were the youth movement. Most of us nearing the end of a Sophomore campaign of college, a few pounds heavier and the tolerance of Jim Morrison. We could party, we were trained, a little educated, and extremely insane. For the most part the event was held down by people that actually cared about the competition aspect and they all thought they could do the best shoulder or slab of ribs this side South of Memphis. There were some partiers in other crowds. Some with Corporate Sponsorship. That wasn't us. We were just a bunch of guys that pooled our money together, stole a grill(we gave it back), re-painted the grill(John Deere Green and Yellow), swindled a dad into scoring us some quality food products from a purveyor, and just went after it.
We arrived on Friday afternoon to setup what would be our home for the next 48 hours, give or take. Each team has there on designated area in which they can cook and engage in consumption and fun. We bought two spots, we had the numbers....we could afford it. So, we got the grill and a few chairs. A few calls from an old analog truck phone and an hour later, the couch and love seat arrive. Classy. We hang out in our locale for the remainder of the afternoon, carnival is getting setup close to our cooksite and it just so happens that one of the workers from that carnival comes strolling by with a duck in a cage. I know, what the heck is this guy carrying a duck in a cage for? We made him an offer, he took it. Every team needs a mascot and we had ours. We named him "Elbow". Not sure who came up with it, but we all agreed to it and it stuck. As the afternoon winds down and people start filling into the park for what is sure to be a good night of music. We notice that there is a tremendous amount of young people congregated at our location. No biggie, we had a large team and we knew allot of people. Apparently, the kids in Starkville and Oxford had caught wind of our efforts and decided to join us. In a matter of a few hours and several beers later, we had a crowd somewhere in the area of 150-200 people. I am willing to bet there wasn't 200 people up front listening to the band. Now consider that everybody in our area was underage and what you have is the potential for a problem. Security was there but fortunately we weren't buying it. Obviously, you had to be of legal age to purchase a beverage from the vendors in the park. However, we had a loophole. We were a cooking team, so we were able to bring in our own drinks and we brought plenty. As the crowd remained in our area around closing time of the first night, we were engulfed by the local police. It looked like a standoff in some old western, each side just waiting for the other side to make a move. We weren't violent, we just wanted to not get arrested. Fortunately, the friendly officers dismantled the crowd and everyone left. Some peacefully, some not. I survived and reconvened with my people at an after hours joint that is now a car dealership. Upon leaving there we decided to head back out to the park to get a leg up on the cooking, as the food had to be turned in the next day at noon. A quick stop by the grocery(it stayed open 24 hours back in those days) for some munchies and we were set. We somehow managed to get a fire going in our haze. We were set to compete in shoulder, ribs, chicken and wild game. The few of us that stuck it out watching the sun come up over the horizon, beer in hand, while inhaling the sweet perfume of meat burning on the grill, felt as if we had conquered something. All we conquered was what was going to be an awful hangover. In all our conversation and good time, we forgot that we had put some of our grocery store buys on the grill. So much for dinner/breakfast. We hadn't damaged any of our competition goods, shoulder was away from the fire and ribs and chicken were still in the cooler.
Time to get serious, fire is pretty stable so its time to put some ribs on for a long and slow cook. Its around 8 am at this point, no sleep, still sipping cold ones. We have about 6-8 people hanging around, sleepless. The folks that wisely went home and got some sleep arrived about 10 am and we were relieved. I split and headed home for a shower and a nap. My intent was to come back around 1 but that didn't happen. I got there a little after 2 pm. When I arrived there were more than a few modifications to the cooksite. First off, we had a nice orange fence, the kind you see on construction sites. It had an entrance and everything. Our humble mascot, Elbow, had acquired a more suitable setting than his cage. Someone had gone and purchased a pool. So duck is swimming around and loving life. Few pieces of bread in the water because he has to eat to...right! Our other unofficial mascot, a team members dog, Tookie, was there as well. Tookie was an aggressive pooch. He had to be constantly reminded, "Tookie, no kill". In addition, we also had set up a rather large flagpole that was tied to the smokestack of the grill. The pole extended some twenty some odd feet into the air and housed a trio of flags including a State flag of Mississippi, a Rebel flag with Hank Williams Jr. face planted right smack in the middle and an Ole Miss Flag that was added since our team swung in that majority. So we got pets, A tower of flags, a large congregation of friends, some family and allot of strangers.
Mid afternoon, time to announce the winners. Obviously, we did not expect to even be in the running for anything. As you have probably gathered, we were there for the party and we won that event no contest. Even the Corporate team will tell you that. So you can imagine the pure shock and joy of hearing our team announced as second place in the "Rib" category. An honorary shotgun of a beer ensued after that as we felt it was only fitting to slam one down. I don't know how many teams were in competition, but it was an overwhelming sense of accomplishment to have placed in a competition. This was the kiss of death. After that, we felt the need to travel the region to compete in all the other BBQ cooking contest. At B.B. King in Indianola, the fire never got lit because half the team was still in jail and the other half never showed. Still don't know the whole story of the incarceration that took place. At Jubilee Jam in Clarksdale, same couches, same dog, converted the back of the truck into a swimming pool and acquired a golf cart. All bad touches but great ideas at the time. We did nothing there as well. After that event, well you guessed it, the money ran out. The fire was gone. It was a good run...3 events and 1 silver. Not bad for a team of kids that didn't care in the first place. The grill was returned and I am often reminded of how we "destroyed" this mans grill because we painted it John Deere green and yellow. I thought it looked nice. Green body with Yellow doors and smokestacks. Come on!!.... Elbow tragically lost his life at a nearby pond in the foothills of Carrollton. Seems he was victim of a predator attack. I like to think that saving Elbow from the clutches of that carnival worker was the best thing that ever happened to that duck He got to live, he got to be the star attraction for a BBQ team. He was like the solo duck in the fountain at the Peabody, just our Lil' ducky. You just have to think that the carnival guy was just going to eat him anyway, but at least he got a taste of freedom. Tookie lived on for several more years, randomly attacking cars and people that he knew. Upon his untimely demise, a rather large congregation of friends and fellow BBQ team members assembled for an appropriate wake for the pooch. We had a party in his honor.
Fortunately, the former team of "Skillet Shot" have remained close over the years. While there is no aspirations of reuniting the team for another run, we often reminisce of the time, along time ago, when we got 2nd in the One-rack Rib category at High Cotton Cooking. Those were the days!!!
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Buzz Bin Tuesday....On Thursday
Second time posting this here on the homepage....I guess it just works
Monday, May 3, 2010
AND SHE'S DONE...AGAIN...SERIOUS THIS TIME
Ok, so if you read my post from the other day before I was able to remove it, you thought I was done with my rifle on Saturday. Well the magnifier I bought was defective so I returned it and got a scope instead. So now I have a scope and a red dot sight. Now I'm really done.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Something to get the day started...
Well, it almost midnight, so nobody will see this till the a.m. so what the heck. Can't argue with this guy. A true friggin badass from Mississippi.
The Misadventures of Doe and Terry....part 4
At this point, my fire is a flicker. I am burnt out. Several months of the same routine, grinding it out. I directly attributed this to being still in my young twenties and wanting to partake in activities with friends and family, etc. I had about three or four friends that lived across town in the bustling downtown area, hadn't seen them once. They went out each weekend and lived it up, while I was in a restaurant taking care of a staff of people older than me, but the maturity level of a pre-schooler and having to constantly be as sharp as a razor. Well that razor was dull and I was pretty stressed out. I recall an impromptu visit from the folks on a early weeknight for dinner. After dinner, I walked them to their car and they had all these concerns about my health. Said, I looked like hell. I did. And I felt like hell too. I had slowed down on the going out every night after work and opted to just go home. The only certain nights of after work intoxication were on Monday and Tuesday. Three for One on Monday and Two for one on Tuesday. Times were tough, had to be economical about the party scene.
The Staff, despite there bitchiness and occasional screwed up barometer for life, was in pretty good shape. Business wasn't as hectic in the early parts of the week as it had been so some people got the night off. Good and Bad with this crowd. The kitchen was better from the standpoint of having guys cross-trained to handle all the various stations so that some peeps could catch a break as well. I was one of six people who didn't have the luxury of a night off during the week. If we were open for business, we were there. Someone had to watch over things, just part of it. However, it would have been nice to have a break midweek or sometime. Get rested up for the weekend, maybe take a stab at having a social life or a relationship. Something to keep you fresh. All the same, it was nothing but business from the time you walked in that door to the time you left. The way it is and the way it should be. No time to play around, there is a job to be had here.
The boys in the back, keeping the place running, in dishland. Well, they ran like a top. Full speed ahead. They didn't take nights off. Not because they didn't want too, but because they couldn't. Every time we brought in a new guy to work back there, they ran him off. I think they had stated a claim on that piece of turf. This was there dishland. A great deal of pride on there part for wanting to be there. Maybe they didn't think the job would get done with a new guy, I don't know. I think they just like the idea of having money in there pocket. Lord knows, with the child support, it had to be rough on them. Not to mention, they had it setup pretty well with the fish all day, work all night routine. Even with the guys in dishland doing well, there was still some dissention between them and the waitstaff personnel. No biggie, happens in a lot of restaurants. Most waitstaff look down on the dishwashers because they feel they are beneath them and in the grand scheme of things, they really are, but that shouldn't be an issue. I am pretty sure none of the lightweights we had on the floor wanted to tangle with the muscle in the back. Wouldn't have been pretty. And to further infuriate the staff, Terry slapped up a tip jar on the pass of the dishland station. There was a lot of scoffing by some of the staff, not all, but some took this as a slap in the face. I thought it was brilliant. He should be getting tipped out at the end of the night by these people. They are making bank and he is doing some of the legwork that puts money in there pockets. Why not slide the boys a fiver or ten when you have a good night. Keeps the respect thing in check. Some of the front of the house peeps gladly did this and in return they would ask Terry or Doe for favor and more often that not, they did it. But they ones who didn't play ball, well they were just bitter asses who really just needed there asses whipped.
One waiter in particular really must have had it in for Terry. I guess the guy just didn't like Terry and all the love and praise that he received. Probably because this guy got none. He was a prick, he had a raucous case of halitosis, and by and large was a jackass when it came to all things wine related. He and I never really got along all that well either. He felt like since he knew more about wine than I did that he should be in charge of the cellar. He bitched enough about it that we finally gave him a key to the cellar and even let him assist in the inventory side of it. Anyway, he came up to me and too several other people and expressed his concern because he sensed the smell of pot on Terry. I told him, you probably do. Is he falling behind back there with the dishes? Are there any problems at his dish station? To which he replied, well no, but I thought you should know this. At this point, after all the crap we had been through just to have two guys here to do this job of washing dishes, I pretty much told him to focus on his work and I would handle Terry and Doe. So, I went back there and struck up a convo with Terry to see if I could detect any smell that resembled that of one who had been blazin. I didn't. All I smelt was sweat and fish. I promptly told him that he smelt like fish and that he need to make sure his hands were scrubbed better even though he had washed them. I knew that guy was trying to sabotage the dishland crew. He was that type. Eventually, as the afternoon turned into evening, Terry caught wind of this and he had some fun. As the front of the house crew was assembling for pre-shift meeting at the pass between the kitchen and the dining room, Terry came strolling by with the mop and bucket. He had just gotten done putting the finishing touches on the bathrooms. He took a long hard look at the waitstaff and belted out, "Can you smell me now?" Sorta his way of saying, kiss my ass, too all the people who had been spending so much time around him trying to catch a whiff to see if they could detect any hints of the green on him. Nobody ever messed with Terry again after that. Victory Dishland.
The Staff, despite there bitchiness and occasional screwed up barometer for life, was in pretty good shape. Business wasn't as hectic in the early parts of the week as it had been so some people got the night off. Good and Bad with this crowd. The kitchen was better from the standpoint of having guys cross-trained to handle all the various stations so that some peeps could catch a break as well. I was one of six people who didn't have the luxury of a night off during the week. If we were open for business, we were there. Someone had to watch over things, just part of it. However, it would have been nice to have a break midweek or sometime. Get rested up for the weekend, maybe take a stab at having a social life or a relationship. Something to keep you fresh. All the same, it was nothing but business from the time you walked in that door to the time you left. The way it is and the way it should be. No time to play around, there is a job to be had here.
The boys in the back, keeping the place running, in dishland. Well, they ran like a top. Full speed ahead. They didn't take nights off. Not because they didn't want too, but because they couldn't. Every time we brought in a new guy to work back there, they ran him off. I think they had stated a claim on that piece of turf. This was there dishland. A great deal of pride on there part for wanting to be there. Maybe they didn't think the job would get done with a new guy, I don't know. I think they just like the idea of having money in there pocket. Lord knows, with the child support, it had to be rough on them. Not to mention, they had it setup pretty well with the fish all day, work all night routine. Even with the guys in dishland doing well, there was still some dissention between them and the waitstaff personnel. No biggie, happens in a lot of restaurants. Most waitstaff look down on the dishwashers because they feel they are beneath them and in the grand scheme of things, they really are, but that shouldn't be an issue. I am pretty sure none of the lightweights we had on the floor wanted to tangle with the muscle in the back. Wouldn't have been pretty. And to further infuriate the staff, Terry slapped up a tip jar on the pass of the dishland station. There was a lot of scoffing by some of the staff, not all, but some took this as a slap in the face. I thought it was brilliant. He should be getting tipped out at the end of the night by these people. They are making bank and he is doing some of the legwork that puts money in there pockets. Why not slide the boys a fiver or ten when you have a good night. Keeps the respect thing in check. Some of the front of the house peeps gladly did this and in return they would ask Terry or Doe for favor and more often that not, they did it. But they ones who didn't play ball, well they were just bitter asses who really just needed there asses whipped.
One waiter in particular really must have had it in for Terry. I guess the guy just didn't like Terry and all the love and praise that he received. Probably because this guy got none. He was a prick, he had a raucous case of halitosis, and by and large was a jackass when it came to all things wine related. He and I never really got along all that well either. He felt like since he knew more about wine than I did that he should be in charge of the cellar. He bitched enough about it that we finally gave him a key to the cellar and even let him assist in the inventory side of it. Anyway, he came up to me and too several other people and expressed his concern because he sensed the smell of pot on Terry. I told him, you probably do. Is he falling behind back there with the dishes? Are there any problems at his dish station? To which he replied, well no, but I thought you should know this. At this point, after all the crap we had been through just to have two guys here to do this job of washing dishes, I pretty much told him to focus on his work and I would handle Terry and Doe. So, I went back there and struck up a convo with Terry to see if I could detect any smell that resembled that of one who had been blazin. I didn't. All I smelt was sweat and fish. I promptly told him that he smelt like fish and that he need to make sure his hands were scrubbed better even though he had washed them. I knew that guy was trying to sabotage the dishland crew. He was that type. Eventually, as the afternoon turned into evening, Terry caught wind of this and he had some fun. As the front of the house crew was assembling for pre-shift meeting at the pass between the kitchen and the dining room, Terry came strolling by with the mop and bucket. He had just gotten done putting the finishing touches on the bathrooms. He took a long hard look at the waitstaff and belted out, "Can you smell me now?" Sorta his way of saying, kiss my ass, too all the people who had been spending so much time around him trying to catch a whiff to see if they could detect any hints of the green on him. Nobody ever messed with Terry again after that. Victory Dishland.
The Spocker
I know what you are thinking...me too. Damndest thing I've ever seen. Don't know who the other dude is, but it's not me.
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