"Yes", I thought as I slid the grill into a huge ziplock bag and stuffed it in a suitcase, "me and my George Foreman will get along just fine on that little island!"
I don't cook much. Well I don't really cook at all - I leave the cooking to my beloved George Foreman grill. But even when I pull George out of the garage, my culinary talents are pretty limited. Though at my little house back in Virginia, I thought I cooked up a snazzy grilled chicken breast. I had visions of that as I packed for the Caribbean. Cooling breeze tickling across the lawn under serene blue skies as I sliced into a huge, juicy chicken breast.
Fast forward a little... a rooster crow... another rooster crow... perhaps the 30th rooster crowing... rudely awakens me... as I try to get to sleep... at night. At that's just the beginning of the problems of chickens here in this place! They cannot tell time. They crow continually. Those who went to school: err-err-err-err! Those who dropped out, a pathetic sounding: err-err-err! Day: err-err-err-err! Night: err-err-err-err! And even in between day and night: err-err-err-err! I didn't think there was such a time, but I am certain there must be now. Heck, they're crowing as I write this!
As much as they crow, you'd think they laid all the eggs. But of course they don't. Worse still, they do not come in clean, neat packages of plump, juicy Perdue chicken breasts - ready to marinate and throw to George. No. That same crowing mud-caked rooster that is strutting around, pawing the ground, leaving feathers and other gifts all over is the same rooster that might show up on my threshold a few hours later. This time making an appearance in a big messy package that I am supposed to slice and hack at only to salvage a puny little breast from that slab of bones and fat.
(sigh)
Somehow I have not yet made the trek to the local chicken lady's house. Just not quite ready for that conversation, "Yes... that one... he looks like he'll be delicious, don't you think? Thank you, but no. I'll come back. Seeing a chicken running around minus its head was a treat the first time. I don't think I could endure such pleasure twice... Oh thank you! But no, really... you keep the claws - my special gift to you. I really didn't feel like eating claw of chicken today."
So poor George has had to settle for some lesser cuts of beef (though I am not certain that some of that was beef), pork chops and ham. I am a bit worried about ol' George, I think he was addicted to those plump, juicy Perdues!
Speaking of food, I don't know if I am losing weight or not. But Caribbean Tom is definitely eating a lot less Strasburg Tom did. The big meal here is lunch. Everyone eats a large lunch - when it is typically hot outside. A large meal in the middle of a hot day? Are you kidding me?!! No wonder everyone takes 1 to 2 hour lunches. I bet they aren't even able to crawl away from the table sometimes before they begin their siestas. But no worries, I am sure that smashed yucca makes a very soft pillow! At least back in the day in East Texas, on the farm in Lufkin, the men of the family managed to get over to the couch before they dozed off! :)
Heat and eating just don't mix. Heat and cooking? As my Dominican friend Lulun likes to say, "Claro". But heat and eating? Ummm..... No. Many days, I just can't quite eat as much as I know I really WANT to. So I hardly ever feel quite full even though I don't often don't feel quite hungry either. I walk around feeling like I am hungry and thinking I am ready to eat. But once I sit down intent on tackling that hunger, I find I can't quite get the job done. And even as I am sitting there, I know that within an hour I am going to be wishing I could have taken a few more bites... of rice... and beans...
Life is so aMAZing here. Every day I wake up wishing for rice and beans for lunch. And so far my wish has been granted every day. Well every day except for maybe 4 or 5 - out of 60. Not that I am counting or anything. I am one of those boring people who can eat some things over and over and over without minding. Luckily for me, rice and beans are on the list of those foods. Sadly not as high on that list as Perdue chicken breasts.
Well at least I can still dream of eating scrumptious Perdue chicken breasts in the cool of my house... until the next rooster crows. :)
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
5 comments:
Hey Tom the roosters there can tell time. Haven't you noticed the difference? They crow differently at night and in the morning. It's like English in the south and English in the north it would sound the same for a Dominican but to you, there is a difference. If you listen really carefully you will probably notice a difference, hey you might as well, you're not sleeping any way. Just ask one of the little kids there to tell you the difference, the ones that you know can't tell time yet, but know when it's morning.
What? You haven't yet learned how to skin the bird without having to first pluck the feathers?
Hang in there, buddy. :-)
-- Marge in Maine
Grins about the roosters.
Well, you can always roast vegies and fruit? George might be ok with that... Hehe. Sounds like you are adapting well there, and having a sense of humor while on your great 'adventure' helps alot!
Or get ear plugs?
I do agree, more comments! More blogging! I would love to know how you are faring and what your life is like there. Ok? oh and stay healthy and whole while there. You dont know how much you are missed.
Maggs
Hi Tom! Some of your description of the roosters reminds me of our visits to your family's homestead in Arkansas. Your roosters crowed all the time!
I pray that you are doing well!
Hey,
Those roosters sound like the roosters that would "crow" (if you want to call it that...it was more like "trying" to crow) at all hours of the night. That was when we lived at the Delmar's. Although I was only 3...I'll never forget waking up to them screeching in my ears. :D
Hope you'll come back soon!
Love, Clair
Post a Comment