Thanksgiving is time to pork out
Obama’s stimulus package is bigger than President Bush’s. Brag,
brag, brag.
Last week when I mentioned using crocheted condoms that my
grandmother made some of you thought I was kidding. Not so. My Nana
thought rightfully that the Valenzuelas were ugly enough and so she
started giving out crocheted condoms to all her sons and grandsons.
Nana went to her grave wondering how the nine males using her
condoms could still end up having a total of 69 children. Aye chee
waa waa I miss you Nana and so does little Bobby in the winter.
Thanksgiving is time to pork out
Obama’s stimulus package is bigger than President Bush’s. Brag, brag, brag.
Last week when I mentioned using crocheted condoms that my grandmother made some of you thought I was kidding. Not so. My Nana thought rightfully that the Valenzuelas were ugly enough and so she started giving out crocheted condoms to all her sons and grandsons. Nana went to her grave wondering how the nine males using her condoms could still end up having a total of 69 children. Aye chee waa waa I miss you Nana and so does little Bobby in the winter.
This was the best Thanksgiving ever thanks to the Pinnacle’s editor, Melissa Flores. Several weeks ago she published her great applesauce recipe. Since we always have pig for Thanksgiving I decided to wait until Thanksgiving to make her recipe for applesauce. Her recipe called for a cup of cognac or brandy for six apples. I knew that was a rare newspaper typo and surely she must have meant a cup of cognac and a cup of brandy for each apple. Best applesauce I ever got sauced to.
The reason we have pig for Thanksgiving is because in the 1940s and early 1950s turkey was quite expensive for the average family. Luckily the nice Jewish couple next door grew pigs and they would trade Mom pigs for tamales and enchiladas.
The couple, Mabel and Myrtle Greenberg, had not been able to sire children, so they took us to their bosoms. Ample bosoms I must say, and to this Thanksgiving I am a breast man. I still find myself humming “Hava Nagila” at the mere memories of mammaries.
Mom on Thanksgiving would just pluck a few feathers off our rooster Heysoos and told us the pig was a turkey with the skinniest drumsticks. But our turkey, unlike most, had four drumsticks to compensate.
Our rooster was named Heysoos because one Easter when we could not afford rabbit she was going to use our rooster as the Easter meal in hopes she could pass him off as a bunny. When she finished wringing his neck she put him in the refrigerator. Three days later when she went to prep him and try to make him look like a roast bunny with the help of four rabbit’s foot keychains he was still alive and rose from the dead. He rose from the dead after three days on Easter and that is why we named him Heysoos. Aye chee waa waa.
Last week I wrote that when any pizza pie man goes to ye olde pizza pie in the sky I shed a tear but when my favorite pizza man, Nino Imbronone, the inventor of the most heavenly pizza ever made, I can only be jealous of God. It’s good to be God.
I loved Nino’s even more when he moved from his tiny Fifth Street pizzeria pie palace to the old railroad depot across the tracks, where good pizza belongs.
Every Friday after work Nancy and I would meet at Nino’s at 5 for a pizza and a glass of wine from his vast selection of jug wines: burgundy and not-burgundy. We would be his first customers of the evening and he would always have “our” table ready. After months of ordering the same pizza combination he insisted he was going to make us something we’d like even better. We could hear him in the kitchen because Nino was unfamiliar with the word “whisper.” “A little of this, a lot of this, oops, too much of that. Oh, what the heck. They won’t notice.” When he brought the pizza pie to our table it was like the Picasso of pizza with more colors than Ted Kennedy’s nose.
When God took Nino is it too much to ask for someone to open up a pizza place with low prices, tables covered with red and white checkered oilcloth, pizza, a simple spaghetti, tossed salad, jug wine and garlic bread in a friendly environment and make a comfortable living? We have enough haute cuisine. We want hot linguine.
The answer to last week’s Quick Quiz about the sausage king Jimmy Dean and what James Bond film he appeared in was “Diamonds are Forever.” This was Sean Connery’s return after a one-time turn with a replacement, George Lazenby, in the best Bond flick of them all, “On His Majesty’s Secret Service.”
This week’s Quick Quiz: Harvey Milk, as portrayed in the new film “Milk,” was hardly killed because he was a gay martyr. Why did his killer, who only wanted to kill Mayor George Moscone, kill Milk?
I am thankful for so much. I have a great love and wife, may they never meet. The best son a man can hope for and a great country where a black man can be president but not a Mexican. I love my country and have always been patriotic. I’m still proud that when I go back to Hollister my old girlfriends can be heard saying, “There goes Bob, a true minuteman.”
