Gunfighter: A Modern Warrior's Life

Manicotti... Southern Style!

As usual, your friend Gunfighter has food on the brain. 

Not just any food, but a dish that has some real history with me.

Manicotti. 

Now, I'm not of Italian descent, but manicotti has played an important role in my life, as it was the first meal that I prepared for Mrs Gunfighter, when I began to woo her those many years ago.

True story:  After Mrs GF had our first "non-date" as we still refer to it, I invited her over to my bachelor pad so that I could thrill her with my culinary skills.  So, there I was, in my tiny Capitol Hill apartment, with it's 5x4 (and that is generous) kitchen, making manicotti for the first time.... apparently I did well enough to keep her around, and there you are.  I have been cooking for her ever since.

So, last week, I decided to make manicotti because it is a fairly simple recipe and I didn't have a huge amount of time to cook something more elaborate for a mid-week meal.  I gathered all of the things that I needed and went home to get busy.  Well, I got busy and then I got really irritated because I forgot an important ingredient... the ricotta cheese! 

Damn it!

It was getting late, and I needed to get dinner on the table so I did what I usually do when a recipe doesn't go right... I improvised.  I remembered that I had grits in the cupboard (of course, I  ALWAYS have grits on hand).  I made six servings of grits, using chicken broth instead of water, and the rest is history.  the recipe is below, but you know how I cook... I like to throw in a little of this, and some of that, so I may have forgotten something, but this is a pretty fair place to start.  If you ever make this, feel free to add what you like and leave out what you don't.

 

Manitcotti… Southern Style!

 

 

Ingredients 

• 2 (8 ounce) packages of manicotti shells
• 4 cups shredded mozzarella cheese, divided
• 3 cans of chicken broth
• 1 six-serving recipe of quick grits 
• 1 cup grated Parmesan cheese, divided
• 2 tablespoon minced garlic
• 1 egg
•  1 cup crumbled Gorganzola cheese
• 2 tablespoons dried basil
• 1 (and a half) jars of spaghetti Sauce
• 1 medium onion, chopped
• 1 bunch of scallions, chopped
• 1 head of  cauliflower, chopped
• 4 slices of crisp bacon, crushed

 

 

 

1.                    Bring a large pot of lightly salted water to a boil.

 

2.                    Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Lightly grease a 9x13 inch baking dish.

 

3.                    Sautee the cauliflower until mostly softened.

 

4.                    Sautee the onions until clear, and set aside.

 

5.                    Sautee the scallions until soft, and set aside

 

6.                    Cook grits in broth until done, then spread them out on a large  plate (or two) to cool

 

7.                    Add manicotti & cook for 4 to 5 minutes, drain.

 

8.                    In a bowl, mix 2 cups mozzarella cheese, 1 cup of Gorgonzola cheese, 1/2 cup Parmesan cheese, garlic, egg, basil, ¼ cup of spaghetti sauce, and grits.

 

9.                     Stuff cooked manicotti with the mixture.

 

10.               Spread about 2 cups pasta sauce over the bottom of the prepared baking dish. Arrange stuffed manicotti in the dish, and cover with remaining sauce (as much or as little as you like).

 

11.               Cover with aluminum foil

 

12.               Bake 20 to 25 minutes in the preheated oven.

 

13.               Remove foil, Sprinkle with remaining Parmesan, and continue baking 10 minutes, until mozzarella is melted and bubbly.

 

 

 

MacArthur Park (is melting in the dark?)

I have been thinking about music for the past few days... not that music isn't regularly on my mind, but this is different. I have been thinking about sad songs, and songs that, no matter what, I simply cannot grasp. I plan to spend the next few days writing about music, not as a critic, but as a consumer. I wanted to start with my thoughts on a particular Beatle's song, but another song has pushed it's way to the forefront of my tiny little brain and won't go away. That song is MacArthur Park.

You know that one, don't you? If you aren't old enough to remember British actor Richard Harris' original recording from 1968, you might remember the more popular version recorded by Donna Summer in 1978. Anyway, the song has been covered by a long list of artists, including Frank Sinatra, Waylon Jennings, The Four Tops, Maynard Ferguson, Percy Faith, and Sammy Davis, Jr... even Maureen McGovern recorded the song (don't lie, you know that you know who Maureen McGovern is/was... Torn Between Two Lovers.... right?).

They say that if you want to know how great a song is, all you have to do is see how many different artists have covered it, and how many different genres of music it has been arranged for. If that truly is the test, and I beleive that it is, then MacArthur Park has to qualifiy as a true giant in musical history, and full credit must be given to Jimmy Webb for having written it.

Now to the point of this post: Here is the thing... I am old enough to remember both of the most popular versions of this song, and as much as I love the musicality, it still makes no sense to me. Now, I know that there are strong feelings about it, but let's be reasonable, no matter what Mr. Webb was trying to say with his lyrics, he cearly failed since most people still can't grasp his point without a study guide. Now, you talk about genius.... this guy writes a song that makes NO SENSE WHATSOEVER and it is an unqualified hit by any measurement you care to use.

If you are a fairly young person and have to go to iTunes to hear this song for the first time, that's OK... go listen and come back, you'll like it, I promise you, but her are the lyrics for your perusal... tell me if any of this makes sense to you.

Spring was never waiting for us, girl
It ran one step ahead
As we followed in the dance
Between the parted pages and were pressed,
In love's hot, fevered iron
Like a striped pair of pants

CHORUS
MacArthur's Park is melting in the dark
All the sweet, green icing flowing down...
Someone left the cake out in the rain
I don't think that I can take it
'cause it took so long to bake it
And I'll never have that recipe again
Oh, no!

I recall the yellow cotton dress
Foaming like a wave
On the ground around your knees
The birds, like tender babies in your hands
And the old men playing checkers by the trees

If someonw were to ask me, and of course nobody gives a crap about what I think, this song MIGHT be interpreted as being about the loss of innocence, or virginity... or baby birds, or.... hell, I don't know.

What do you think?

My Summer Reading List

So, summer is upon us and I have some reading to do. Well, you know me, I always have reading to do... but my summer reading list is usually about reading fiction, not as much this year, but there are some treats in store for me. So here it is, my list of books that I plan to read this summer.

• Against All Enemies - Tom Clancy & Peter Telep
• OMG: A Youth Ministry Handbook - Kenda Creasy Dean
• The Pastor - Eugene Peterson
• Heresy - Alister E. McGrath
• A Simple Blessing - Michael W. Smith
• The Big Switch - Harry Turtledove
• Tears of The Sun - S.M. Stirling
• March of The Legion - Marshall Thomas
• Citizen Washington - William Martin

The Story of 17 years of Marriage

Today is my wedding anniversary.

Seventeen years ago, today, Mrs Gunfighter and I tied the knot about 15 feet from where I am typing this. Our house tells the story of our marriage, and it is one worth reading.

The first chapter begins six weeks before the wedding, when we moved into this new place with it's white walls and slight smell of new paint and drywall dust. Over the next several months it became a home instead of a house with the addition of furniture and cookware.

The story moves on to being a place full of music and stacks of books that overflowed from our shelves (this part of the story continues to this day, despite the quadrupling of our shelf space and our efforts to donate books to the local library). Later chapters will speak of dancing in the family room while listening to a radio show dedicated to the disco years that we both remembered.

Other chapters will be filled with stories of rescued greyhounds, and the happiness we shared with them and through them. You could also read about the expansion of our family, not only through the adoption of dogs, but of the birth of SoccerGirl. That is a story in itself, but one I have told many times.

The story told in this house will include the discovery of new interests and new music. In these pages you will read about Bossa Nova; Frank Sinatra; Tuck & Patti; Nina Simone; Mel Torme; Peder Eide and an incredible host of others that have made us happy or kept us company.

Still later, our house becomes the home of local political activists; of a couple that has strong careers; and of parents dedicated to raising a wonderful, loving, talented, studious, multifaceted child. A family active in fitness, sports, and the church.

The most recent chapters of this little story will tell of the arrival of middle age... of small aches once laughed off that are now serious concerns. They will tell about respect, hard work, and more music and MORE books... because despite constant change, some things never change.

This story isn't a fairy tale. It isn't without loss, grief, discord or pain. The thing to remember is that loss, pain, grief, and discord are things to work past because all of the other things are what are important.

The story of this house has been and continues to be about love and family and faith and joy.

I can't wait to read the rest.

****This story is dedicated to Susan and Olivia (and Crystal, and Duncan, Zoom, & Charlie), without whom this house would just be a collection of walls.

Haiku XXXI

Allergic symptoms

I have lost my speaking voice

Honking like a goose

Pulp Fiction

Have I ever told you that Pulp Fiction is one of my favorite films?  Well, it is, and it isn't because of all of the violence as some of you might surmise because of my online moniker.  No, I love that movie because of it's tightly written dialouge.  I mean seriously, who doesn't love the "Breakfast Scene"?  If you have ever seen this movie, you have probably spent more time than you care to admit chuckling about the "Royale with Cheese" or have said to more than one would-be know it all "Hey, check out the big brain on Brett!"

You don't do that?  Well, I do... and I'm not ashamed.

A question that I often hear from people who didn't enjoy Pulp Fiction as much as I did is this:  "Exactly what was the move all about, Bill... it didn't make sense to me."  That is a fair question as the film was certainly non-linear.  Rather than feed you a lot of BS on the duality of man, or the true conflict of good and evil, and certainly not to write a treatise on modern film noire (as if I could), I will say simply this:  This movie was "about" two things, and everything else is just stuff. 

Pulp Fiction is about a briefcase, and it is about what Marcellus Wallace looks like.

See my review from a few years ago, here (http://gunfighter1.typepad.com/warrior/2008/01/man-movies-6.html#tp)