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.
Nope. Not making it up. I'm serious. And speaking as something of an internet guru on how to make crispy, crunchy, sweet pickles I'm going to give this a try as another dangerous kitchen experiment. The gardening world needs more alternative uses for all of those green tomato fruits hanging out there on the vine all vulnerable to Jack Frost this time of year.
My pal Braumeister, the blonde Lab and I are up at the farm bow hunting and hanging-out. It’s been raining steadily so the gardens are a sucking morass and the potatoes unharvested. Between torrential bouts of monsoons we did get the firewood stacked. Since I still cannot hunt and Brau still hasn’t gotten a deer we dined on grilled pork steaks from the local butcher.
Just a bit more than twenty-four hours to go. I've stocked-up on microwave popcorn and am looking forward to settling-in and enjoying the theatrics.