The backyard roosters woke me at 6:00 am, yes, this morning, as they have been doing for a couple of weeks now. We’re in the city so that probably is not a good thing, not sustainable; I worry about the neighbors calling the animal control officials, or worse, I’m worried about the neighbors being mad at me for the noisy early alarm.
But you know how daughters are, especially about pets. Even if they are not really pets, but working stock. Or Food-to-Be.
Maybe one rooster would have been fine but the guy who sold me the ‘pullets,’ what should have been nine hens, actually gave me five hens and four roosters. Maybe that would have been fine but my daughter tamed and made a pet out of at least one rooster.
I was very firm with her: the boys get eaten.
But you know how daughters are, especially about pets. Even if they are not really pets, but working stock. Or Food-to-Be.
It’s Fall. It’s Harvest. I bought a hatchet today. I’ve gotten wonderful vegetables at the Saturday Farmers’ Market. I found a list of recipes for Slaws of so many varieties that don’t count on cabbage, but use other combinations of root-fruit both savory and sweet.
Sriracha is one of the ingredients. How could I never have heard of this before? What is it? How do I get it? Can I make it now, and here?
Why, yes, its clever name is Hot Spicy Rooster.
It is hot peppers pulverized with garlic cloves… garlic, lots of garlic, as much as you can stuff into half the jar then add hot peppers. Right up my alley, garlic garlic garlic. Then grind it - that’s all it is, with a touch of salt & vinegar to make a paste. It is everything I think the promise of a man should be… amazing that; sometimes, the idea of things to come smell so good inside my head before they even exist – I think I’m going to like this stuff.
I make the first Slaw of Daikon radish shredded with carrots, a bit of roasted garlic, onion, salt, Thai basil, and a smidgen of toasted sesame oil; add a teaspoon of Sriracha, the Hot Spicy Rooster, and let it stew in its own juices overnight.
My, oh, my.
Hot Spicy Cock and so much work to do before winter.
3 comments:
I don't know whether I should be calling PETA or shun vegetarianism
I've inspired ambivalence.
Fox ate all the neighbor's hens, but one rooster survived. Neighbor, a harridan, abandoned it. It came under my barn, looking very thin, cold, hungry. I fed it through the winter, on the back porch. Shoveled lots of snow to protect him from the wind.
In Rupert's worldview, even before I named him Rupert Rooster and my British spouse declared him to be Collin the Cock, leftovers are all gourmet victuals. Spring and summer he helped me control the tomato horn worms by sucking the big, fat things up like a little boy ingesting spaghetti.
Then nature did its thing, and Rupert became raw
Chicken Kiev for one of the local foxes.
You've inspired my appetite for garlic, with other goodies added. Thaks.
Post a Comment