Shots Across The Bow

Scenes from the Holidays: The Hailey Way

Scenes from the Holidays: The Hailey Way The stories you are about to read are 100% true. Some of the names have been changed, and I may exaggerate a point or two, but folks, I couldn’t make this stuff up. Be forewarned that this story contains scenes of violence, including a catfight or two, but little or no sex. Remember, this is my life we’re talking about here.

The Barbeque Like many southerners, we have a tradition on the 4th of July weekend of barbequing. Now some folks might just buy their barbeque already cooked and pulled, or just do a few slabs of ribs, but that wouldn’t be our style. We have relatives come over from Nashville, and over the course of the weekend, we might have 20-30 people show up on any given day, so we usually build a fire pit and roast 5 or six pork shoulders and butts.

There is an art to roasting butts, and it all starts with the fire pit. Through years of experimentation, we have developed the ultimate in knock-down, do-it-yourself fire pit construction. First, you find a level, grassy area on the lawn; somebody else’s preferably, but you can use your own in a pinch. Just move the 63 Chevy on blocks, and build your pit there. After the holiday is over, or before snow falls, you can move the car back, and eliminate the inevitable eyesore. Be careful not to build the pit in the oil slick under the engine block; the oil will give the meat a bad flavor.

A lot of folks will dig their pits, but that’s just way too much work. Your best bet is to use some concrete foundation blocks you grabbed from a nearby construction site. Arrange the blocks in two layers of 9 blocks, forming three sides of a square. The rear wall of the pit has to contain a vent and a chimney, to allow the fire to get enough oxygen. A Budweiser short bottle placed under the center brick in the rear wall makes for the perfect vent. Place the second brick over the vent brick with the hollow section facing vertically. This forms your chimney.

Lay a piece of fencing over the second layer of blocks, and support with rebar. Place a third layer of block to hold the fencing in place, and you’ve constructed your basic pit. Now you need a reflector to cover the pit, and a front wall. We’ve found that an aluminum traffic sign makes the perfect reflector for your pit, and you can find them along any roadside, just waiting for you to dig up and haul off. For the front wall, a ¾” piece of plywood is just the ticket. With a little scrounging, you can complete your pit in a couple of hours, with little or no cash outlay. Next, you have to fire it.

Now shoulders and butts need to cook slowly, so you can’t have an open fire underneath the meat, so you build a bonfire near the pit. This bonfire is built in the traditional manner. First you wad up paper, and place it in a small pile. Next, you stack small twigs and branches in a pyramid over the paper. Then you build a small structure of dried limbs and branches. Once you arrange this pile, you light the paper with a butane lighter, and enjoy the beginnings of a glorious bonfire.

Five minutes later, as the last ember goes out, you cuss, wad twice as much paper and shove it under your kindling, scour the yard for some dead leaves, settled for some that looked sickly, and light off your glorious bonfire again.

Five minutes later, you realize that you aren’t Daniel Boone or Davy Crockett, and you get McGhee’s Famous Firestarter, also known as 87-octane gasoline, and liberally douse your stack of kindling. Next, you light the gas-soaked wood with a match.

Here’s an interesting tidbit about liquid gasoline: It doesn’t burn well. In fact, you could pour gasoline on a flame and it would put out the flame. Gas vapor, on the other hand, burns exceptionally well, so when you touch the match to the wood, nothing will happen.

For a moment.

Then, in a roar worthy of a mama bear rescuing her cub, the fumes located directly above the match will ignite. Since you are in all likelihood leaning over the fire at this particular time, the fumes directly over the match are usually directly around your upper body. Much hilarity for all onlookers ensues as you do your best “Michael Jackson on Fire” impression, dancing around, putting out your eyebrows, hair, mustache, and eyelashes.

Now your fire is lit, and you begin to place more logs on the fire. As the logs burn down, you shovel the burning embers and place them in the bottom of your pit. Of course some slide off of the shovel during transport, which means that it is best to wear shoes anywhere in the vicinity of the path between the fire, and the pit. Some folks ignore this precaution claiming that their feet are tough and if Polynesian chicks can walk on fire, then bigod so can they. These folks are usually inebriated when they make this claim, so it’s best to leave them alone, and let them discover the error of their ways in their own time. Besides, if their hangover is as bad as you know it is going to be, a little thing like third degree burns on the soles of their feet won’t even be noticed for at least a week.

Build up a bed of coals under the pit, then place your butts on the grill and baste with a marinade. Since you have probably been marinating yourself as well, it is advisable at this point to note that the butts placed on the grill should be the pork butts, and not your own. A word to the wise from the voice of experience.

Now, your meat is on the grill, and cooking. Now all you have to do is turn it every half hour for 8-10 hours, and you’re done. You now have enough food to feed an army, and you are starving yourself. Unfortunately, you’ve been smelling the pork roasting for 10 hours straight, and the last thing you want to do is taste it, so you bag the shoulders and throw them into the freezer, and everybody orders pizza.

The Pool What is it about a swimming pool that brings out the child in all of us? Splashing in the cool water, dicing in from the deep end, seeing the sun sparkle off the waves, burning your feet on the 110 degree pavement, all of these things remind us of our days as a child. We forget that we are getting older, and that our bodies do not spring back from abuse as quickly as they once did.

We get stupid.

I was in the pool, lazing around, minding my own business, when my younger brother challenged me to a dunking contest. I figured he was joking, so I told him to bring it on. What I had neglected to consider was that there was a woman there he wanted to impress.

So here we were, two men approaching 40 years of age, trying to dunk one another like two 18 year old bucks trying to win the girl. The battle was an epic one. He scored first, dunking my with a quick shove on top of my neck, then I caught him with a power move that took us both under. Score 2-1 favor him. We circled for a moment, regaining our wind, then went at it again. We were both a little more cautious, searching for an advantage, or a sign of weakness, grappling in the middle of the pool. The kids had all evacuated the area, trying to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. I got him again, barely, and the score was tied, 2 apiece. We agreed on one more fall for the championship.

The other adults were watching, laughing at us and calling out something, but I couldn’t hear them. I was battling for pride now. I saw an opportunity, and feinted to my left. He lunged to block, and I made my patented power move right and got around behind him. I wrapped him up in a bear hug and lifted him clear of the water for a double back suplex with a half twist. I won 3-2. The victory was short lived, however, as he still impressed his girl, and all I got was a sore neck.

There’s more to come, but it will have to wait for tomorrow.

Posted by Rich at July 8, 2002 6:54 AM