Last night I worked PZ5JT out of Suriname. The Dutch army!

Seems some Dutch Army outfit is doing jungle training in Suriname and gave the guys the go ahead to use the equipment for ham purposes.

I got wind of it and decided that I wanted to work them on the PRC 320 so I set it up outside and tuned it for 20 meters. Then I came back inside and started spinning the dial and hunting for them using my base rig.

I heard them just getting started and ran outside, tuned the PRC 320 and lo and behold I heard them so I threw out my call sign.

Because I got in early and things had not been posted on the clusters the pileup was fairly small and I got in early and got on the log on the third or fourth try.

When He called my callsign I jumped in and while I don't believe in a ragchew on rare DX I did tell him I was working a PRC 320 and he was impressed. He said he was running a PRC 150 which is a small 20 watt rig. The PRC runs 30 watts under ideal conditions and mine were less than ideal. I figure I was putting out about 15...maybe.

For perspective I am licensed to run 1500 watts and my base home barefoot rig runs 100 watts. 

The Dutch soldier quickly told me they used to use PRC 320s until they got the PRC 150s.

Anyway I dug through the web and found that they were doing some sort of field exercise involving field expedient antennas. 

Anyway, the Dutch army has a pretty good QSL policy for this station. It says to just send them my QSL card and they'll take care of the rest. No SASE or money. That's a pretty good deal!

My card is already in the outgoing mail. 

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Another ham was 'working the numbers'.

and I wanted him in my logbook.

He was on 8s and my callsign has a 3 in it. 

At the time I was prepping for a colonoscopy. I threw in my callsign anyway. The fourth or fifth time the DX station called me on it.

"XX3XXX you are a three and I am working on eights," he said. "Please wait until I get back to threes."

"Normally I would wait," I replied "But I am in the middle of a colonoscopy prep and if I wait until you get back into the threes I am going to be sitting in the middle of a terrible mess!"

"XX3XXX, You are IN THE LOG!" and I heard laughter.

I was right. I never would have made it until he got back into the threes.

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Piccolo goes to a Dunkin' Donuts.

and patiently waited in line behind some kind of soiboy who waits until he is at the counter to try and figure out what he wants.

I stepped up next to him and said, "While he is figuring out what he wants, how about grabbing me a medium regular, cream and sugar, please."

The barrista did just that and while he was pouring it the soiboy looked at me and said, "Dude, I don't know what kind of guy you are..."

I interrupted him and snapped, "DUDE!? DUDE!? DUDE!?Did you just assume my gender?"

He said, "I ought to..."

"Now you wouldn't hit an old lady now, would you?"

He didn't know what to say as the grinning barrista handed me my coffee. I threw three bucks on the counter and walked off.

Throw their bullshit right back at them. Read 'Rules for Radicals' and play their game better than they can.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

God bless Elon Musk for buying Twitter.

I've already seen quite a change and for the better. It's going to be a real zoo for a while but things will settle down to a nice healthy roar before long.

This country needs an open forum to insure its mental health. Stifling either side is just plain wrong.

I think the real reason the left doesn't like open forums is because it casts a light onto their stupidity. 

The only thing Twitter ought to not permit ideally is kiddie porn but if they ban porn in general I'm good with that. Other than that it's game on.

Thank you, Elon.

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The past week home has been interesting.

A couple of days ago I was doing old man stuff. I was talking to another guy my age griping about my prostate and hemorroids and that sort of stuff.

A guy about ten years our senior wearing a mask (we both were unmasked) strode past us at a good, fast gait. He walked like a guy in his forties and strode on past us rather quickly.

I looked at the guy I was gabbing with and asked him, "Who was that masked man?" We both laughed. Boomer humor. If you don't understand it, Google 'Who was that masked man?'.

A few days earlier some little Karen was masked and someone gave her crap about it. I butted in. "Leave her alone. She's got a right to wear that mask if she wants." She smiled and thanked me and wanted to hold me up as her champion but she was not off the hook. I turned to her and said, "And he has a right NOT to wear one. It's called 'liberty' and sometimes it's a bitch."

Her tormenter looked at me and admitted, "You know, you're right."

Karen looked at me crestfallen. Funny how people like telling other people what to do. I bet if the government had simply recommended it instead of trying to mandate it they probably would have gotten more compliance.

I read somewhere else that a lot of blacks are still masked and I gave that one about three seconds a nanosecond of thought. A lot of blacks remember the Tuskegee experiment and based on that they don't trust things like government vaccines. Can't say I disagree because the same government department of health knew cigarettes were bad for the health before WW2 shilled for Big Tobacco until the mid 60s.

Don't believe it? Google 'Nine out of ten doctors prefer Camels' and check out the TV commercials of the 50s and early 60s.

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Just made a quick QSO with Qatar

which is cool. 

What has gotten somewhat annoying are those people that bust through the pileup and have to give the DX station their life's history.

Now I am a serious Luddite. I really am but there really is no need to give the DX station your name, the rig you are using and your antenna and on and on.

Most serious DX operators type your call into their laptops, hit 'enter' and your QRZ page pops up. They know who you are and a lot of them address you by your name. 

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A nice woman was talking to me about her little daughter

and said she was trying to raise her to be kind to people.

She said we needed more kind people in the world and she's right. We DO need kind people in the world. 

I threw her an interesting curve.

How about the kind and compassionate person that would help an old woman off the ground and return her stolen purse to her? She nodded. "After they shot her assailant stone dead," I added.

She looked at me for a second and said, "You're right."

We do need more people like that but the system won't allow it.

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Woke up this morning

planning on shooting a service rifle match but at the last minute decided to try something else. I grabbed a .22 instead of my match rifle.

A .22 is generally considered a 50-100 yard rifle and the match was at 200 yards.

It's been a while since I have shot an organized real match and it was like Old Home Week when I showed up. I was in what is generally semi-serious competition.

Instead of all of the shooting jacket, spotting scope and all the crap I used to carry I showed up with a .22, a mat to lay down on and a box of ammunition. I drew a lot of dubious looks and when I uncased the .22 a lot of eyes rolled and I got big grins and the usual ball busting.

There were hoots and whistles when I unrolled my sexy leopardskin shooting mat my niece made for me over 20 years ago. (Thank you, Niece! 20+ years later I still get teased about it)

Still, all things considered, I did OK. I shot a 362 out of a 500 possible. I'm normally a 430ish shooter with a service rifle.

The best line of the day was when someone was grousing about something or another and the Range Officer replied, "Yeah? Well Black just got ALL of his rounds in BOTH rapid fires into the scoring rings!"

I have just decided I am going to tune the 10/22 up a bit and wring it out and see just what I can do with it.

I spoke with a retired Gunny about this a few minutes ago and we recalled the day at Quantico when we were talking to Jim (Edward James) Land (Interesting man. Google him)and he said the best way to learn about windage is with a .22 at 200 yards.

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What I plan for now.

Use standard velocity ammo and find out which brand it likes. Some people have reported to me that 10/22 can be finicky about ammo. High velocity goes through the trans sonic twice at 200 yards. Standard velocity exits the muzzle just under the speed of sound. The reason for high velocity .22LR ammo is for small game huning. It hits harder. Speed of sound is about 1100 feet per second. Standard velocity leaves the muzzle at about 1040 fps.

Next. Get a GOOD 200 yard zero!! While the Tech sight I use is adjustable it really isn't too field adjustable. I had to find a point of aim on the white of the paper and guesstimate. I would have done better with a good zero.

Next. Change my sight picture. I have been using a 6 O'clock hold for years. Time to change to Point of aim/Point of impact hold (POA/POI)

Then we'll see what happens.

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Yup. Trump still lives rent free in people's minds.

On Quora someone asked how much in royalties Donald Trump makes for coining the term 'Fake news".

I answered, "Millions. You owe him two bucks just for asking. Pay the man."

Where do people come up with these questions? 

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I just checked with a couple of the cool kids.

It's official now. Covid's over.

The new cause is Ukraine. Let's see how that goes.

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I see where Florida has taken away Disneyworld's special legal status.

and heads are exploding. Of course the Disney people will threaten to close down and move but sources I have heard from that have either lived nearby or actually worked at Disney say there is no way in hell they can afford to pack up and leave.

If Disney DID manage to leave and go somewhere else then the land and everything else thay'd leave behind would make the foundation for one hell of another theme park.

I don't have a whole lot of details but there was a time when the Disney name was practically a symbol for wholesome entertainment. That's seemed to have gone down the tubes.

Walt would be spinning in his grave.

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I just sent out a message in a bottle.

I put it in a large lake nearby and I know it will be found because fishing and boating season are just around the corner.

Some poor bastard is going to find it and curiosity will take over. He'll probably bust his ass to fish the note out without breaking the bottle and it'll take him quite some time.

"I've been trying to contact you to talk about your car's extended warranty..."

What else could I have put in the bottle?

Years ago when I was running the east coast I threw a bunch of them over the side with my name and address in it and got quite a number of replies. One old woman would send me a Christmas card for years.

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There are Russians in Ukraine I feel sorry for.

They are the poorly trained conscripts that have been run through a piss poor basic training and have been flung into combat where they are getting chewed up.

While I do support the Ukranian people (but not their crooked government) I also have compassion for the poor basic draftee that got sent over to fight when he really doesn't want to be there.

But then again I feel the same way about most conscripts that are put in harm's way. It's a dirty trick to play on a teenager that would rather be somewhere else and doing something else.

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"I love you honey,

no $hit."

It's all in delivery and timing.

I do not know how some drunk with his honey in the back seat of my cab pulled it off, but that is absolutely the most romantic line I have ever heard in my life.

Actually you had to be there to appreciate it.

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You have been beaten, Vladmir.

You can pour on the coal and occupy Ukraine and you still will lose. Now that you have Ukraine how are you going to keep it? The entire country will become a mass of snipers, IEDs and ambushes. You are not wanted there and over time the Ukranians will throw you out just like the Afghans threw you out.

They will grind you down and you will go back home weaker and poorer for your efforts.

At one point you looked rather foolish but that time has past. Now you just look outright stupid. Yes, stooo-pid. 

You have sent your young conscripts in to be chewed up and further weaken your country and the Russian Army has been shown to be a paper tiger instead of the once feared source of Russian strength.

You keep sending in more and more of your young people in to get chewed up but I suppose that's OK because they are not YOUR children.

Right now it doesn't matter if you do finally occupy the Ukraine because world opinion of the Russian Army has already been formed. No matter how much shinola you apply to the Russian Army it will still look like a turd for years to come.

The iconic image of this entire war will forever be a captured Russian tank being towed away by a Ukranian farmer driving a tractor.

It's over, Vladmir. Accept it. You lost.

You may eventually occupy Ukraine but you have lost.

On another internet board someone asked what this year's May Day parade will look like. The first person to answer said it's likely that the entire parade will be stolen by Ukranian tractors.

Sounds about right. Better post a few more guards to keep it from happening.

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Well, we'll see what happens next.

Someone griped on Nextdoor that they have a neighbor that is doing all sorts of strange stuff.

I posted that perhaps it is time to call those nice young men in their clean white coats to relocate him to where life is happy all the time.

Let's see how many people get worked up over that one.

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Yesterday I called in sick at Target, Walmart and a local supermarket.

One of them told me that if they found out I was not really sick they were going to write me up.

Of course I don't work at any of these places.

Figures.

I woke up mad at the world and decided to call in sick but I am a sailor on my off time so I called in sick to whoever.

After I did that I was laughing so hard I couldn't be mad at anyone anymore. I guess I just passed my anger on to someone else.

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Today is one of those days where I want to do one out of two things.

Either eat an ice cream cone with a 5 or 6 year old girl or split a 1/2 pint of bourbon with a 90 year old man.

Either one will do.

It would be a joy to make a brief escape from people caught up in all the bullshit that goes with middle age.

Say what you will, but the best person I have been seated with on an airline was a small boy that had never seen the Wizard of Oz before.

We watched it while flying between Pittsburgh and Seattle.

There is nothing more entertaining and heart warming than watching a little kid see it for the first time and quietly singing along with it because I have seen it over 87 times before and practically have it memorized.

Edited to add, I did NOT sing 'Somewhere over the rainbow'. Songs like 'Follow the yellow brick road' were made for me to sing along with for people like me because I can't carry a tune in a Homer bucket. 'Somewhere over the rainbow' is reserved for Judy Garland.

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Have I always been this way?

Let's put it this way. Back in the day of punch card computers I was given a 'student number'. It showed up on my 8th grade report card and I promptly stenciled it on the back of the jackets I wore to school.

When I entered 9th grade my mother headed me off at the pass and hauled my somewhat amused father into the fray. Dad wanted peace and with lips pinched to keep from cracking up he told me I could NOT wear (no $hit) prison shirts with my student number stenciled above the shirt pocket. He also had to lay the law down and stop telling teachers "I am NOT Poccolo anymore. The school changed that. I am now 03754. You WILL address me by my proper number."

Getting it tattooed on my wrist ala Auschwitz survivors was definitely out of the question. However a Sharpie did the trick.

Then again the school always called my mother because my father more often than not used to tell them "Settle it with him."

Yeah. I have not changed much.

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the solar cycle is certainly on the upswing!

Propagation is getting better and better and it won't be long before I can start working Australia and Japan regularly on 10 watts and a wire in a tree.

Maybe I can start working stations in what's been pretty much a dead zone for me for years. 

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everyone seems to be reaching out and/or saying they're sorry these days.

Looks like we're in for a generation of long-armed sorry people.

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Another one from back in the day.

I just got word that one of my old friends from the days in Alaska just went off to the Great Halibut Grounds in the Sky. He was in his 60s, about 9 years younger than me.

He was being himself at the time although he had a snootful of beer under his belt and was being what he was at the time, a big, tall muscular dopey cheerful kid horsing around.

A couple of people in the bar that didn't know him I don't remember exactly what he did to alarm a group of them. They were immigrants and probably didn't understand local custom but I saw them looking at him worried and they were obviously ready to defend themselves.

It was a potentially ugly situation.

I knew a lot of these guys. They were mostly immigrants but were not troublemakers in general by any means but they did have a reputation of defending themselves with sharp knives. Frankly I didn't blame them at the time. I would have.

I sucked in a breath and let it out and looked at one of the older guys there, Poncho, caught his eye and said to him quietly, "Tell the guys to stand down." He nodded and in their language softly told a couple of them to put their knives away. I knew he would because I had been over his place for supper a couple of times. I had teased his pretty wife one night when I was there for dinner the first time and she had playfully thrown a wet dishrag at me, much to everyone's amusement.  

I walked over to Bob and said to him softly, "Leave. Don't argue, just leave. Just quietly walk out the door with your hands in sight."

In an alcohol induced fog his eyes grew wide and he asked me, "Am I f***ing up?"

"Yes," I said. "Big time. Talk to me tomorrow."

And he did. He quietly left. 

I went in and had a word with Poncho. Poncho said the littlest one of the lot, a very slight man had been intimidated by Bob's size and that he was a physical person. I told Poncho, "That big, dopey kid wouldn have hurt anyone and you know it. Then again, I suppose if he tripped and fell on that kid he'd have squashed him like a pancake." and we chuckled.

The next day I ran into him and we discussed how he could mend fences and he started to about a week later when he ran into the guys.

He befriended the little man that he had terrified a week earlier via the buy him a beer and just shooting the $hit a while. The little guy came out of his shell and the two of them became bar room buddies.

I looked over at Poncho and grinned. "Generally takes about 20 minutes," I said and Poncho nodded.

Everything was fine and the world was turning on its axis and even the weather was pretty good which was rare in that part of Alaska.

What cinched things a few weeks later was when the guys were all in the bar and some huge Scandanavian fisherman came in with a snootful, saw the Asians and something about looking to beat the while push of them up.

My friend looked at the Asians and said simply, "I got this. You guys are my friends." He turned to the big fisherman and told him to beat it.

Later he mentioned to me that he was astonished that the entire Asian community had flung their doors open to him.

I grinned at him and said, "I'm not."

Later I went halibut fishing with the guy. During the trip after a brutal 3 days I was in the engine room and climbing up the ladder to get out. Suddenly my leg locked up. "My damned leg locked up," I said.

"Right or left?"

"Left. inside upper thigh. It'll probably be OK in a few minutes."

A spring steel hand reached up to my inside thigh and started massaging for a second. I went into excruciating pain followed by a loud crunch and immediate relief. As I started up the ladder he laughed and saaid, "That one let go with a good pop!"

I could go on about this guy but my regret is I didn't manage to stay in touch with him after I left the island. We were both still moving around.

I got the news third hand. A month or two after he was gone.

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Another visit to a convenience store and a chat with a cop.

Most people do not know that cops have a pretty good sense of humor. Otherwise they'd eat their pistols. It's a coping mechanism that most of them develop to one degree or another.

Some clown was beating some poor cops ear about the litter at some park or someplace and so on and so forth. I felt bad for the cop so I pitched in. I looked at Joe Citizen and said he could at least pitch in and cut down on the litter. He asked how.

"When you buy beer for teenagers always get them to promise to throw their empties on well manicured lawns so they'll get picked up and recycled," I said.

He went agape and the cop would have snarfed it he was drinking his soda. 

"I don't buy beer for teenager!" he exclaimed, indignantly.

"So, you admit you let just ANYBODY buy beer for the kids even if he doesn't make them promise to throw the empties on a well manicured lawn so they'll be picked up and properly recycled, right?"

"Interesting," said the cop. "There is a certain amount of truth in that argument. It would cut down of littering somewhat."

Joe Citizen stared at the cop and said, "You mean I should buy beer for kids?"

"I didn't say that," said the officer. "It's illegal. It's just that if the people that did buy beer for kids at least got them to not throw their empties just anywhere it would reduce the amount of litter."

"It would certainly help the appearance of our great nation's highways and byways," I interjected. The cop held back a smirk because when I said that  used the feigned innocent tone of voice. It went over Joe's head.

Joe Citizen turned to me. "So, when you buy beer for kids you make sure they don't litter, right?"

"I don't buy beer for under aged people," I said. "It's most certainly quite illegal and endangers and lowers the moral of the fine upstanding youth of America. I'm a good law abiding good American citizen!"

"But you said..." Joe stammered.

"I never said I bought intoxicating beverages for under aged people," I said. "Not only is it immoral but it corrupts the very essence of our future, the American youth. It's also a criminal act and I'm a responsible citizen and one of the solid pillars of the community."

A voice shouted, "Number eighty-seven!"

"That's me," I said. "Well, off to pick up my well planned out low calorie lunch and then go off to work and spin the wheels of industry."

I grabbed my two hot dogs for a buck and hit the bricks and started to eat it outside using the tonneau of my pickup as a table. The cop walked out, looked at me and shook his head.

I looked back and laughed. "When I heard him beating your ear about the litter wherever it was I figured you were having a day that your job needed a little help."

"Thanks, Pal," he said. But as he walked away he was clearly amused. Then he stopped again and asked me, "You wouldn't know who the guy was that told some woman he was buying beer to trade with high school kids for dope, would you?"

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Mah bluetooth!

I'm not retired yet. I shouldn't post this one.

You'll have to meet me in person for a beer if you want to hear the story.

All I can say here is that bluetooth ear pieces do not float.

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I think I WILL write a book when I retire

And a lot of people are going to be in it that don't want to be.

A lot of people that do get put in my book are not going to like it very much.

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There's nothing funnier than explaining to someone that the laws don't apply to you because you're a criminal.

It was kind of a cold day a few years back when I drove an elderly lady to a store to pick up a few things. The plan was that I'd drop her off at the door and find a place to park and when she was done I'd swing by the door and pick her up.

I was dropping her off when some Joe Citizen said to me loudly,"Hey! That's a fire lane! You're not supposed to park there! It's against the law!"

"It's OK," I shot back."The laws don't apply to me. I'm a criminal. I break the law all the time. It's what I do. I commit crimes. What do you do?"

He didn't know what to say so he walked off agape.

Let's face it, there are not a whole lot of cops that are going to cart someone off for dropping an 80+ year old woman off at the door of a store, fire lane or not. If there was a fire the person dropping the other person off would simply drive off and vacate the fire lane, probably taking his passenger with him.

The law was put there to keep some jerk from parking in front of the door then going into the store and leaving his car there and possibly blocking fire equipment from access. 

Come to think of it, the law was put there because we have too many irresponsible people out there. If people lived responsibly we would not need too many laws at all.

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Elon Musk makes me laugh sometimes.

He complained that Twitter wasn't an open forum.

The Left said it was a private company and didn't have to and if he didn't like it he could open his own.

I guess he didn't have the time or want to bother opening a social media web site so instead he opened his checkbook and bought 9.2% of the shares ot Twitter making him the largest stockholder.

Of course the Left is screaming the often heard war cry of ''That's not fair!"

Funny how that works.

Reminds me of the acryptical story of the rich guy buying a business just so he could fire a rude clerk. 

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Some people have some strange ideas about kitchens

which are nothing more or less than workshops to prepare food in.

I'll cheerfully admit that the knife I use almost constantly looks like it belongs in a tackle box but it's easy to use and sharpens very easily.

I do most of my cooking on cast iron and on rare occasions something sticks. When that happens I grab a 5 in 1 painter's tool to use as a scraper. It works very well.

I didn't pull it out of my tool box, I bought it specifically for that purpose and it stays in the kitchen.

If you look around my kitchen you'll find a couple of odds and ends that you don't find in the housewares department because they don't sell them there.

Another thing that looks out of place is my knife sharpener made by Smith's. It would be at home in a tackle box because it has a small stone built in for sharpening fish hooks and a monofiliment cutter.

Of course all I use it for is for sharpening my knife. It's a simple draw-through and sharpens my carbon steel Green River Hunter in just a few strokes. You won't find that in housewares, either.

Come to think about it, you won't find a Green River Hunter in housewares, either.

Then again, for me it's all about practicality.

To find out why the blog is pink just cut and paste this: http://piccoloshash.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-feminine-side-blog-stays-pink.html NO ANIMALS WERE HARMED IN THE WRITING OF TODAY'S ESSAY

I'm hoping OH0Z downloads their

OH0Z is a station on the Aland Islands that I worked fairly recently. 

I'm trying to confirm it but they have not downloaded their list of QSOs (contacts) to the OQRS which is where I can go to get myQSL card and add another one to my list of confirmed worldwide contacts.

OQRS is actually a pretty good deal becaue not only do I save a buck or two but I don't have to play games with foreign post offices and risk mailing cash overseas.

I plug in my call and the QSO pops up with the date/time blank. I fill my date/time in and if they agree with what is on their log a little square called 'request QSL card' pops up. I click that and for about $3 USD I PayPal the funds o them and they mail me my card.

To find out why the blog is pink just cut and paste this: http://piccoloshash.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-feminine-side-blog-stays-pink.html NO ANIMALS WERE HARMED IN THE WRITING OF TODAY'S ESSAY

There are times when it should be perfectly legal

to knock someone out. Male or female. It makes no difference.

I talked to a guy that lived in a strict HOA area and one of the rules was garage doors are to be kept closed except when either driving into the garage or leaving it.

The guy I waas talking to said he opened his to get the lawn mower out of it and some petty little dweeb took a cell phone video of it and turned it into the HOA.

The HOA actually had a 'so what?" attitude and did nothing about it because someone had some common sense.

Still, anyone as petty as that ought to get knocked out. Just because of who he is.

Seriously.

To find out why the blog is pink just cut and paste this: http://piccoloshash.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-feminine-side-blog-stays-pink.html NO ANIMALS WERE HARMED IN THE WRITING OF TODAY'S ESSAY

Why do I wrire 'czech' instead of 'check'?

For rhe same reason I sometimes write 'gnus' instead of 'news'.

Live with it.

To find out why the blog is pink just cut and paste this: http://piccoloshash.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-feminine-side-blog-stays-pink.html NO ANIMALS WERE HARMED IN THE WRITING OF TODAY'S ESSAY

How they made do in the Old West.

This is because I was thinking about the dumbass that asked me in an appalled tone of voice why the EPA permitted the old trains to emit such a cloud of smoke back in the 1800s.

Then I thought about chili because I am hungry and a bowl of Piccolo's finest would hit the spot right about now.

Now chili is not really a Mexican dish. For that matter, chop suey is not a Chinese dish. Chop suey was a San Fancisco Chinese restaurant creation of back in the day when a customer would walk into a restaurant (probably when he was trashed) and want something to eat. The cook would chop up a bunch of leftovers and cook them up. Hence the 'chop' in chop suey.

There is and was no real recipe for it. It varied with every cooking because of it's very nature and ingredients, chopped up leftovers. Hence CHOP suey.

Chili really isn't Mexican in origin, either. Ask any Mexican and they'll tell you. Chili is a Tex-Mex concoction from Texas that in this day and age a lot of people ruin by using expensive meat. It's origin was steer beef from a stringy old longhorn.

Many a Delmonico steak has been wasted and foolishly ground up by people that do not understand the origins or spirit of this fine dish. 

Chili was kind of a saddle tramp dish made of meat and whatever you had in your saddlebags. Dried peppers were common along with maybe an onion or two. Occasionally some spices were added.

Meat was a real treat on the trail back then. Refrigeration was rare. Seldom could a cowboy afford a second horse to pack a freezer on (powered with solar panels,of course. Electricity as we know it now was non-existant) Needless to say if a cowboy did pack a freezer on his pack horse he had no room for a microwave.

Those scenes in the movies about cowboys sitting next to a fire eating elk or venison steaks are a bunch of hooey. It was a rare occurence and would only last a night or two before the meat spoiled unless it was the dead of winter. In winter the meat lasted longer. Call it natural refrigeration if you will.

Cowboys and saddle tramps lived for weeks on end on beans and rice or maybe occasionally small game or whatever they could scare up.

Without refrigeration meat could only be preserved by smoking although sometimes by canning but the can opener was not invented until 1858 and it didn't really open cans for sour apples. The P-38 wasn't invented until 1942 so opening cans was dangerous and required tools the average cowboy didn't carry with him.

Anyway, they made do with what they could get their hands on.

There are two things I am pretty much Old School on. Chili and bourbon. Chili is made out of beef that is purchased strictly by price. The cheaper the price the more desirable it becomes for chili.

Bourbon to me is bought pretty much the same way. If you give me a bottle of Knob Creek or Maker's Mark I will mix it with Coke or something. The Erza Brooks, Evan Williams and Jim Beam white are to be taken neat. While I respect what distillers have done to bourbon by making is so smooth, Old School bourbon has a touch of roughness about it. Smoothing it out takes the authority of it away in my opinion.

Back to chili. The one new and improved modern piece of equipment that had been a great step forward to chili makers (and spaghetti sauce makers) is the freezer. I generally don't even eat more than a spoonful of two after I make it until it's been frozen first. I batch it up in plastic containers and freeze it and even if it's the next day take it out and thaw it. 

Putting a pot in the refrigerator works pretty good, too. It's delicious on the third or fourth reheat. Back in the Old West they used to use snowbanks in the winter to do this.

 

To find out why the blog is pink just cut and paste this: http://piccoloshash.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-feminine-side-blog-stays-pink.html NO ANIMALS WERE HARMED IN THE WRITING OF TODAY'S ESSAY