RANCHO MIO MAYO

Greetings and welcome to the "Rancho Relaxo" blog for May. This month's issue isn't so late as the previous one. That doesn't mean that things aren't hectic around here. We're busier than the first hog at the trough! The Ol' Rooster and Ol' Hen just wanted to share what's happening here at our humble rancho nestled in the rapidly deteriorating glory of our beautiful foothills in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Our regal flower blooms have dropped off but our bees are still busy bees (but the heavy lifting is over with). We'll check our boxes for honey when we can get to it. Thanks for dropping in at the Rancho Relaxo global headquarters.

 

Note: click on the pictures to enlarge them.

This is Connie the Baker's rendition of Carmel Nut Coffee Cake. All it took for me to be addicted to these things was one bite! 

If you want to be a hero at the next family reunion or potluck, here's the recipe. You won't be disappointed! 

This is rather noteworthy to those who don't live in the southwest. It's an entire row of 5 shelves (with an end cap of 7 shelves) devoted solely to tortillas. We keep both corn and flour tortillas on hand. Tortillas are our friends! 

Don't buy it!! This is Fuzzy Dog who wants you to think that he's a cute, little, humble, patient, and well-mannered, and obedient pooch! It's an act and it's all nonsense! He is a boisterous, bouncing, presumptuous,

always hungry (despite there being no lack of calories tossed his way), attention hogging, wayfaring (but held in check with an electric collar), nosy, ornery, too smart for his own good, doggy! But......I love this little knuckle-headed canine clown. He's a hoot! Even though he's the Dennis the Menace of dogs, I can't help loving this headstrong pup. He'll look more presentable when I get to the shears and whack some fuzz off of him so that he's ready for warmer weather. 

This is Lucky Ducky with Doofus Duck in tow. Doofus, it turns out, wasn't laying eggs like Lucky Ducky was because he's a male (amazing how that works). At first, there seemed to be no obvious way to resolve the "no eggs" issue so it was decided to consult the  oracle known as "The All Knowing Google". Seems that male Pekin ducks' tails will have a little "flip up" curl at the end. Yep. The duck's tail had the curl. So, his name was changed from Darla Darla Fo Farla to Doofus. That's mainly due to the fact that that's the way he acts in the coop. An alternate name would have been "Toopid Duck" but Doofus works for now. 

The other day, we stopped a a yard sale and ran into at least a half-dozen peacocks and   peahens! Porterville used to have a few of them around back in the late '50's and early '60's but I didn't know that there were any still hanging around. This pretty boy did spread his tail but I wasn't able to have a camera ready at the time. 

Wanna see my whipped cream? This is  

in case the Ol' Rancher wants to pretend that

he's a ten year old who wants to have 

his own entire can of whipped cream. "So, what's the 

second can for?", you may ask. It's in case he decides

to pretend to be ten more than once. 

                                                                                  

 

Tip o’ the day:

“Build a man a fire, and he's warm for an hour. Set a man on fire, and he's warm for the rest of his life” - Ward Clark (“RedState” journalist)

And now a word from our sponsor:

This issue of Rancho Relaxo is brought to you by “Glitzy Glenda’s Glatty Glotty Glubbers”. Now, these are the best Glatty Glotty Glubbers that money can buy! You cannot...I say...you cannot get better Glatty Glotty Glubber anywheres! And, folks, they're made right here in the good ol’ US of A. You can get your bountiful supply of “Glitzy Glenda’s Glatty Glotty Glubbers” at the Wal-Mart, KMART, Speedy Mart, Save Mart, Quick Mart, Rapid Mart, and all those marts where those guys have them towels wrapped around their heads. Tell'em the Ol' Rancher sent you. You'll be glad you did!

                                THE RANCHO RELAXO REPORT

Holy cherry flavored psych meds, Batman! It’s May! Can you believe it?! It’s only 234 days until Christmas (is it OK to be dismayed in…May?)! Time is whizzing by as fast and as inexorably as a brakeless B&N freight train headed downhill on Cajon Pass! 

Movin’ along….We’re hectic and busy around here as always. In fact, we're about as busy as a loose pig at a luau! We’re cookin’, cannin’, and freezin’ with the best of them while we chase our bird herd and two diggity dogs (my, but Fuzzy can dig holes!). But, it’s better than having the neighbors call the cops to do wellness checks on us every few days.

Other than suffering from late-stage adulthood, we’re doing pretty well. The ability to daily articulate, formulate, masticate, medicate, meditate, micturate, postulate, punctuate, promulgate, perambulate, alliterate, and all those other “ates” without assistance is more than greatly appreciated. 

 Something Leeky This Way Comes or Taking a Leek: Once in a while, you simply must do what you simply must do. In this case, there were two big beautiful leeks quietly sitting on our kitchen counter apparently waiting to be stored in a cool dark place. I don’t trust quiet leeks for a minute so I immediately beheaded both of them, whacked them into small pieces and then, for good measure, I boiled them into submission. There was no negotiation or appeal.

Now, potatoes are my friends and, as quiet, unassuming, and harmless as they may be, a couple of them had to be sacrificed for the cause. So, it was “Off with their skins!” and they too were sliced and diced and chucked into the calmly awaiting cauldron. Add salt and boil a spell.

A chicken bouillon cube was tossed into the leeky pot followed by a couple cloves of ajo (ajo = garlic) and a “whatever” amount of salt. After everything was boiled to perfection, about three-fourths of it was poured into the blender along with a cup of heavy cream and made into a purée. Then the other fourth was mixed in which made for a marvelous smooth-but-with-bumps potato and leek soup. 

Add a small round loaf of buttered (real butter) sourdough bread, a spoon, and, bingo! It’s dinner time. Oh, man! That stuff was so good that I had to remind myself to eat until I was full and not until I was tired!

More food or We're talkin' Pot Luck: Speaking of good food, the other day (uh-huh), we were invited to another potluck (am I the only one who never tires of potlucks?). Dear friend and brother, Charlie Morrell, was back in town for a week to take care of some personal matters so it was “Jam Time” in Porterville. Arrangements were made to meet at the “Colonial Community Homes” at Morton and Westwood where he and his wife, Marney, used to live prior to moving to Tennessee (Daniel Boone country, as I recall).

Well, you can’t have a jam session without having a potluck now, can you? Heck no! So, everyone pitched in and built one of the best potlucks you can possibly have at a jam session  (you starving musicians know what I’m talking about!)! 

In the book of “Third Randy”, it says “Man does not live by bread alone; he has to have beans and ham hocks at least now and again!”.  So, it's not a secret that the Ol’ Rancher is quick to whomp up a huge pot of pinto beans and ham hocks for any good reason (or for any bad reason, for that matter)! A good jam session is a mighty fine reason, so out came the apron and the bean pot. When the beans were cooked to perfection, they were placed on the stove to "cure" in the pressure cooker until the next day.

There was no end to the fabulous array of food that night! It's been a long while since we had been to such a gala! It was a grand night to fling a fork. You can bet that not a single person left there hungry that night!

After the feast, we fired up the amps and set to having a good time pickin’ and grinnin’ like we used to do, oh so many years ago. Charlie pulled out his song list and we had at it.

Ol’ Ran, the Bean Man, is also Ol’ Ran the Bass Man so the ol’ Fender Precision Bass was hauled out and hooked up. Charlie had to travel light so he played rhythm and lead on my Fender Telecaster. When he switched to an acoustic guitar, I played lead guitar on the Tele and dear friend and bass player (and fellow bean eater), Bob Bartlett, played bass the rest of the evening. Long time friend and lead guitar picker, Jim Duggins (beans are his friends, too!), was also there with his Fender Telecaster so we all had a great time!

Jim, Charlie, Bob, and I have played music together for most of 25 years so it was as much a family reunion as it was a jam session. No doubt about it; we had a grand time! When it was time to “stow and go”, we all agreed that we simply must do this again! The good Lord willing and the Creek don’t rise (they won’t. They’re too busy minding the casinos and taking the white man’s money), we will do just that.

 Not through eating yet: Because Charlie hasn’t been in Porterville in quite awhile (they moved to Tenn.), he wanted to knock over a couple of his favorite restaurants while here. One of those places was “El Nuevo Mexicali II” on N. Prospect where he ordered up a big bowl of albondigas soup (Mexican meat ball soup). It was a delight to his soul.

When it was my turn to pick a plate, the pozole (Mexican hominy) soup was chosen. This was because I had been to this particular restaurant many times and only selected their taco combo plate almost every time. And, I hadn’t had a big bowl of the stuff in years.

Pozole has the same basic soup base as menudo but the main ingredient is pork or chicken instead of beef tripe. Traditionally, the main meat ingredient is a pork knuckle or hock. An excellent second choice is shredded or chopped/cubed pork shoulder. Chicken is also a hit with the hungry. 

When the big bowl was delivered and set down in front of me, it was evident that something wasn’t right. Other than the hominy, it didn’t even look like the previous bowls of pozole that I had eaten. The soup base was brown and not reddish meaning that they didn’t use chili powder in the recipe. That won’t work for me. Straying so far from the fabulous recipes that work well just isn't a good thing. In fact, it's almost impossible to screw this soup up and I didn't even think it was possible until now. 

It didn’t take long to make a decision to reject this imposter dish. After one sip of the soup and after just looking at the very small, darkish, dense, unidentifiable piece of meat (seriously. There was no way to tell what it was), I called a halt to this culinary catastrophe.   

I had to advise the server that “I can’t eat this. This isn’t edible. And, I can’t even tell what kind of meat is in it (one small chintzy peace in a 10 dollar dish)! It looks like road kill. I don’t know what this is but, after having eaten pozole for decades, I know that this isn’t pozole. It’s supposed to have a large ham hock in it". She took it back.

The reorder was for the same albondigas soup that Charlie had ordered. It was OK but it didn't do wonders for my soul. It's not likely to be on my menu again. In fact, after the mediocre food from the previous four times or so, it isn’t likely that the Yo-Yo twins will return to this restaurant. There are too many really good restaurants in Porterville to have to endure lousy Mexican food. 

Soup’erman or Ol’ Rancho Ran brews again:

Ten years ago, Rancho Ran experienced a myocardial infarction. It was the classic “MI” with all (as in all) of the classic symptoms being presented. After all of the drama was over and normality set in, Connie the Seamstress (I was going to title her “Connie the Sew and Sew” but I think I may have spared myself a few of bruises this way) took my mighty handsome “Superman” cape and modified it into a tidy apron. That means that I can now be a super cook, don'tcha know! 

Since we’ve had an abundance of veggies as of late, it seemed a shame to let them go to the chickens or to waste. The best way to handle that situation came when Connie the canner suggested making a couple of pots of soup so she could can them. That sounded like a plan to Ol’ Ran.

The first big ol' pot consisted of cabbage, potato, onion, white kidney bean, and kielbasa sausage. This is a pretty standard cabbage recipe so there's not much to brag about. Of course, you can't can it until you first take it for a test drive, eh? That meant more sourdough bread and butter was dragged out for the event. Guess what? It passed the test with flying colors! Connie canned the remainder. 

Then, there was the cabbage, butternut squash, potato, heavy garlic, salt, a touch of thyme, and cannellini beans (basically, white kidney beans) soup. This was unscripted but not far from an off-the-shelf cabbage recipe. It too was brewed then sampled a few times to make sure that it was fit for canning. It was,  so the several jugs of the two soups were parked on a shelf in a cool dark place. 

 Ain't That Just Ducky? Ever since we took in our our two ducks, we've been blessed with the one we call "Lucky Ducky". That's because she has been a blessing by being a consistent layer of really nice big eggs. We've been waiting for the other duck, who we named, Darla Darla Fo Farla, to follow suit and add to the pile of eggs around here. That would at least mean that she has been earning her keep. This quacker isn't a bit shy about chowing down with the chickens but not laying so we know that she's not earning her oats. 

The only conclusions that we could come to was that, either the duck had a personal problem or it was a male and we were asking way too much of it. Now, you’d think that the Ol’ Rancher would have consulted the “crystal ball” (i.e. “Google”) a lot sooner than now but, sadly, he didn’t. Not surprisingly, all it took was a quick check on "YouTube" and the duck gender issue was resolved.

The key to sexing a Pekin duck is that the tip of the male’s tail will invariably have an upward curl in it while the female’s tail will not. How simple is that?! So, don’t I feel silly? Therefore, the duck has a new name: "Doofus" because he follows Lucky Ducky around like a puppy. This also means that he'll need a new home soon since we don't cotton to freeloading fowls around here. The wheels are turning. 

Shear pleasure: Our Labra-Doodle, Fuzzy Dog (Rancho Relaxo's answer to the Yeti) and Abby the Wander Dog, have been on the perimeter limiting electric shock collar. However, not long ago (but longer than the other day), we discovered that, if the battery in Abby's collar is dead and she sneaks off somewhere, Fuzz Ball will follow her without suffering a shocking reprisal. After a bit of checking, we were able to solve the mystery. 

The first mystery was that his collar wasn't quite as tight as it should be. Ah, but there was another issue that  kept his collar from being correctly positioned. His fur coat is so thick that the contact prongs on his collar weren't actually making contact. He could hear the warning buzzer but he wasn't being shocked when he violated the perimeter. Time for a fix. 

The object was to whack the fur around Fuzzy's neck so that the prongs could contact his skin. All that was necessary was to grab a pair of heavy duty sharp scissors and git'r done. But, we're talking Fuzzy, the goofball dog, who isn't about to humbly submit to a simple haircut. Oh, no. Not today. Instead, he simply played dead. No training...no nothing. He just flopped down and died. 

It took awhile of pushing, pulling, prying all the while trying to whack away at this totally limp four-legged hay stack. But, the task of chopping off the locks around his neck was finally accomplished. The collar is still not cinching down enough but it seems to work for now. 

Fuzzy's fur has gotten out of hand but it's my fault. His tonsorial issues should have been addressed much earlier before he morphed into a densely matted Persian rug. It'll take quite some time to make him presentable. But, he's going to have to pay attention and behave and stop being a goofball or he could "accidently" end up as an Amazon return. 

Well....there you have it: another short episode of the long happenings at Rancho Relaxo (aka “Dos Acres”): home of Rancho Ran, the world's least-most greatest authority: home of the Yo-Yo  twins and  three ducks that we try to keep in a row (one of which is retarded): home of Connie the Canner, the world's greatest side-kook and CEE (Chief of Everything Else): where the air smells and where alliteration reigns supreme: where being modern is optional and where there are no slaves to fashion: where the eggs are always mostly fresh: where things can get...interesting: where it's all news to me and where...you just never know.