Tom grew up in Milwaukee, bartended in Wauwatosa in the '70s and moved here in 1984.
Commentary, observations and musings about the outdoors, life in general and maybe Tosa politics and personalities will be the order of the day. He savors a lively debate as much as terrific cooking.
How about these sultry summer weekends?
I'm not sure this qualifies as the dog days of summer yet - but it sure has been hot lately.
This is the kind of weather I like to sit upon the porch and have a steaming cuppa joe early in the morning - before the temp rises. I am talking very early.
Same for late in the day when the sun gets low in the western sky. Of course then it would be an adult beverage.
Mr. Metcalf had baby back ribs on sale this weekend. $2.99 a pound. And I picked-up a full rack when I was over there a day or so ago to fetch a gallon of milk and a sixer of Tecate.
I was thinking - At some point you can grill those delectable ribs low and slow over some hickory and enjoy an icy cerveza or two during the process.
Today was good for grilling. Hot but not humid.
First I took a double fistful of hickory chips and started them soaking in water. Next I took that rack-o-ribs and gave them a gentle dusting of Rudy's Rub. Leaving them to set for a spell I charged the Weber kettle with some natural Grove Charcoal (easily acquired at Ray's on North Avenue) and lit the fire. My pal Smokey Joe knows what I am talking about. So do the rest of the guys. Schuetzenfest approaches.
After the grill was glowing I tossed-in half the hickory and ensconced the ribs on the safe side of the grill.
Girlfriend and I retired to the porch and relaxed. That dog was the perfect porch dwelling hound dog until some family strolled along on their walk.
The dang dog leaped from the porch and scampered over to the kids and promptly rolled-over on her back for a belly rub.
I had to apologize for her bad manners.
After scratches were administered all-around Girlfriend did her crazy dog routine on the neighbor's front lawn, ran to the opposite neighbor's yard to grab one of Ernie's sticks and returned promptly to collapse on the porch in a heap.
It is tough being a big black dog in all of this heat.
Back to the hound dog lounging routine.
The ribs cooked. Low and slow as planned. In the last hour they were basted with a coating of Speed Queen BBQ sauce. Mild. Like Jill likes it.
To round-out the perfect Sunday BBQ there was potato salad and slaw. And some naan bread.
Naan Bread? What's that? Did you make it? Where is it from?
Naan bread is a leavened, oven-baked, flat bread from that part of the world that includes India. No, I did not make it. Furthermore, I purchased it at Metcalf's Sentry. It was an impulse buy.
It is from Concord, Ontario, Canada.
I know. That seems like a far distance for flat bread to travel.
I was speculating that maybe an enterprising fella from India up there close to to the Arctic Circle was manufacturing flat bread by the transport load for export to the states. After-all, Canada is largely a country of immigrants. Which reminds me to tell you the story someday about the world cup that involves Angel the Spaniard who lives across the street from Saunaman. A lamb on a spit and beers were involved. If you care to read the success story about the flat bread from Canada go here.
But I digress.
All I know is that when I crossed over the border from Canada recently I was searched and my Florida oranges were confiscated. Go figure.
Here is that naan bread.
Toss it over your dying, but direct coals, to grill it before serving.
Girlfriend slept through most of tonight's dinner.
After-all, it's tough being a big black dog in all this heat.
Later she enjoyed a snack of yam skin stuffed in her kong. She's sleeping it-off as I tap this out.