Well we started the argument at the Christmas table. Funny enough it wasn't about trees. Who the fuck argues about trees? It was about important stuff. Sauce.
My mother-in-law and I have been having this argument for about twenty years. She calls it gravy. I call it sauce. Gravy is on your freaking roast beef. Sauce is on your meatballs. Stop the bullshit.
Look I know I have an Irish name and I look like a retired cop as if Officer Joe Bolton got locked in a bakery but I am pure guinea. The grease oozes out of me like the bottom of a brown paper bag of zeppole at the feast. So stop with the bullshit.
I finally figured it out though. Her family comes from Yugoslavia. She ain't even really Italian. She hates when I say that. But it's true.
What do youse mooks think? Is it sauce or is it gravy?
35 comments:
With meatballs, it's sauce. BUT, what is the stuff called that's made from the sweet pineapple juice and drippings from a ham baked with pineapple chunks???
SonM, who grew up with his Dutch Grandma making Raisin Sauce to serve along with her Easter Hams (using the recipe below from the Better Homes and Gardens cook book) reported back from dinner at his girlfriend's house, that her mom served something called Ham Gravy that was sweet and seemed closer to Raisin Sauce than gravy.
BH and Garden's Raisin Sauce
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 t dry mustard
2 T cornstarch
2 T vinegar
1/4 t grated lemon peel
T lemon juice
1 and 1/2 cup water
1/2 cup raisins
2 T butter
Cook over heat and stir til thick
I received my 23 and me report back yesterday, with an ancestry composition that's 99.3 % Northwestern European, which means I know more about potatoes than sauce.
It's simple, jeez. It ALL starts out as sauce unless and until you add meat. THEN, and only then it becomes gravy.
Defense rests. Your witness...
Joe
https://theviewfromladylake.blogspot.com/
When I cook a roast in the crockpot and reduce the non-meat parts over time that becomes gravy. Then, at least in my house, it becomes something to pour over the pet food. That stuff will kill a human.
And, a couple of corrections are in order - it wasn't Christmas, it was Christmas eve. It wasn't an argument, it was a little bitch getting his panties in a twist when it was pointed out that the "original American forest" he loved so dearly was nothing of the sort, then he went all Stompyfoot McFlouncyPants, slammed the door and had a fit in his room. So it goes. I don't think he can handle facts too well, but his flouncing has no equal.
Lastly, of course you didn't argue about trees. As far as I know there has never been an example of a tree growing in Brooklyn.
It's sauce. I never heard it called gravy until I went to school w/ Jersey dudes.
Sauce. Get real.
Scouts honor I was certain all genuine Eyeties called it gravy....but whaddaIknow.
Those things that grow in Brooklyn are like giant ferns. But technically they are trees....I think.
Those giant fern type trees are way ancient, like from the age of Brontosauruses.
I almost crapped my pants today but made it to a public bathroom just. on. time. When you get that close to disaster but avoid disaster it's all good. I mean after, it's all good. 'Tis the season for sharing, right?
Words of advice "When they bring a gravy to a food fight we bring a gun." Argument done and won.
I think calling it sauce is pretentious bullshit like calling macaroni pasta. Get the fuck outta here.
You see it all the time where people want to find authenticity in an identity they don't have.
Gravy is for the roast beef that my Irish Grandmother used to burn because she couldn't cook for shit.
She couldn't cook. She boiled.
I'm getting a Felix and Oscar vibe from all this latest toodoo.
ric, I walk a lot and sometimes have quick onset of bowel onset. I've crab walked to bathrooms and even just gone on the bushes. I'm sure everyone has this experience. Not all are secure enough to discuss it.
I walk in the woods. With the bears, if you take my drift, and I think you do.
Probiotics. Trust me.
Dom Imus is dead. Some of y'all were fans, I think.
I used to listen to him on my morning commute. He had some funny guests and was at times, amusing himself. He was born in '40. He had a good run.
Trooper York said...
She couldn't cook. She boiled.
A hallowed tradition of many Army cooks. Also Irish.
And my Aunt Mary.
Eyeties?
Medigan hillbilly fuckwad.
Does anybody know why Chip has left the blog?
What did I miss?
Check your email.
Lem, see comments at "Last of the Mohicans" post.
Chip's been having medical issues. That puts one under a great deal of stress. He deserves some slack and hopefully he'll be back. He's the main one who has kept this place going.
There's been some tension building for a while with another poster. That's the guy that could solve this with a show of magnanimity.
Or not.
I think we can all tell Chip that we wish he would come back
Rabel, con tutti il respetto, assuming you are referring to me, I could be magnanimous, but Chip has bailed out. Nothing I write now will change that.
He is not alone in having medical issues, I can still recall the time a few years ago when Trooper got a heart transplant, and he's still posting dirty pictures and having a grand ol' time. Others have in the past or are currently facing life and death situations without melting down. Yet somehow we manage to muddle through.
I remain abrasive, always have been, hence my nom de blog. I get that my sense of humor is not always appreciated. So it goes. However I still love life and realize that no one gets out of there alive, so why not have the occasional laugh. If you lose your sense of humor you might as well be dead.
But don't forget that Chip flat out slammed MamaM on this site. I have always found MamaM's writing insightful, thoughtful, kind and wise. For him to say that he will never read anything she writes, ever again, truly says more about his state of mind than any other person who posts or comments here. That is on him. There is nothing I can do about that.
So he is gone. Not the first, not the last. Will I miss his creativity? Of course. The rest, not so much.
OK
Merry Christmas from the Family
It's been said, right to my face, that the person I was mad at was reflecting something in myself and that I wasn't really mad at that person so much as being mad at myself and using the other person as a scapegoat. I'm not sure on that because I liked - and still like - being mad at the other one in our little skirmish.
We often do great and wonderful things but I suspect that most of us go into the ground having missed our chance to shake off our earthly baggage and quite possibly remain burdened by it wherever we're going.
This blog is the island of the misfit toys. Very smart and opinionated toys from many different regions so it's kind of amazing it has lasted as long as it has given the strong personalities. Every now and then someone flames out for a bit, a joke or an opinion doesn't land right for them, or whatever. It happens. Hope Chip comes back.
I think Chip holds stuff in and then explodes. Hopefully he'll cool off and return.
Do you think it's possible to hold in or cope with the mood swings and emotional lability that accompany experiences of major organ failure, without exploding, succumbing to depression, or recognizing it for what it is and seeking help and support from others?
He won't be back, with or without his kidneys.
I wonder what meds he is on - his docs may have prescribed some powerful drugs and anyone who has been through serious medical issues knows that any medication can affect one's mood.
I'm of the mind that controlled explosions are good. I worked a drilling construction job one summer. We would travel to quarries around New England, drill 100 feet, 6 inch holes and then pack them w/ TNT and do a controlled explosion. The job fit my personality.
Chip is a different guy. I like different.
Nothing wrong with anger, ND, which serves as a signal as well as a fuel. When handled with awareness, it can be very useful in controlled explosions, like the gas that's poured into a tank and used to power a car. It can also be heedlessly, carelessly, or reactively spilled or dumped, providing release while burning down the garage that houses the car and harming the neighbors, bystanders, and loved ones standing alongside. As with gas, the fumes alone can unintendedly flash with just a spark and cause unexpected damage.
This summer one of the SonsM helped out a friend who runs a fireworks team, and he enjoyed the risk and the reward of setting up and triggering the shells, finding it very satisfying to work with the barely controlled explosions that produced visible, much appreciated and impressive results.
I too like different. I've invested considerable time over the past ten years in reading and considering the stories, posts and comments ChipAhoy has presented, here and at Althouse, where he'd link to illustrations he'd created that I'd enjoy and often respond to with appreciation and support. (I recently found copies of the comments I'd made over there, courtesy of a link Palladin had provided to chickelit and me and they made for an interesting read.)
However, something has been seriously off in recent months and it took me a while to come to some understanding of what that might be. On top of the anger that arises when death, illness, and disability push into one's life, the physical and biochemical changes that come with kidney failure can also bring on mood swings and emotional lability. Potassium deficiency can present another disruption in the force, along with the side effects (as Sixty G noted) from whatever medication is needed to address not one, but two seriously disabling and life-affecting conditions.
Whatever is going on, it's a lot. As a woman he disregards and won't read, I'm not in a good position to reach out to him though I may do so anyway. At present, I commit to doing what I did for my contentious, troubled and mentally ill mom, and that is to hold him in my heart with love and regard. I'm hoping there may be others here in a more neutral position who might be open to connect and reach out to offer their encouragement and support if that is what's needed.
By the time someone is entering into a life review (as seems to have been happening here in the stories shared in recent weeks) and pulling away in disconnect from those they've experienced previous connection with, to leave the place where they've found meaning, purpose and enjoyment in sharing their creativity, stories, insights, and emotions (hating those meeses to pieces) something larger and more concerning than a disagreement, an opinion that didn't land right or lack of magnanimity is going on.
With my mom, all I could do was tell her what I saw and was concerned about, and leave her with the freedom to make her own decisions while she was still able. And in the end, the gift I received was the opportunity to be present with her in love and support when she died and speak with respect at her funeral
Whatever you decide to do, Chip Ahoy, please know you are not alone and what you are going through is more than any human should contend with on their own. When Jesus's friends fell asleep and were unable to be present with him, an angel was sent to strengthen him and that's my hope for you as well.
Your life has touched and continues to touch many others in meaningful ways. May you experience a return to health in the new year, along with more opportunities for connection and creative expression.
Mama, I know little about Chips physical ailments, I just knew he had issues. Many men, including myself, have the ability to go toe to toe in battle, and then let it go. My genetic predisposition in that regard was reinforced in my profession. I have been cross examined on the stand by attorneys that are friends. It could get very contentious. Then, after the trial, go and drink beers w/ the attorney. As the Frozen song says, we had the ability to "Let it Go." I am grateful for that gift.
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