SAY CHEESE

I made hamburgers for supper the other night. I could eat burgers every night and never complain and since my one and only is away I will and I wont. I've been on a hunt for the perfect hamburger of late and have decided the one's I make at home are as good as any. Love to see cheese melting on that patty. And playing with fire is always fun right?

My hamburger tonight prompted a call I've been meaning to make for years now, to the International Cheese and Milk Byproduct Council. Wisconsin I suppose. At issue is the square cheese on a round burger and how to properly deal with the corners that droop over the edge. Not only is it a waste but you get those flare ups when it drops through the grill grates and onto the coals. Now I like seeing fire as much as the next guy but not when it's scorching the bottom of what will be my perfect dinner.

I did some research in various trade journals recently such as FDA Now, Food Statistics and the American Way and Mad Magazine found that fairly 76.3% of all American cheese slices consumed in America end up on a burger and only some 21% find their way to a sandwich. The other 2 or 3 %  end up either melted on a vegetable, eaten by a baby or fed to the dog under the table. I realize that when cheese was invented all we had was square bread so the square cheese made sense. Though what's up with Provolone cheese? It's the one cheese you don't put on a burger and it's round.  It goes on a square  sandwich.

I think the problem with this cheese/hamburger situation has roots in the 1950's when the hamburger conglomerates took over the care and feeding of the American public and their unwillingness to work with other sectors of the food industries. Knife wielding burly men with blood stained leather aprons using a campaign of intimidation and slander, labeling dairy producers as '...small men who fondle cow teats...',  wheedled their way into the darkest corners of our government, paying off officials and policy makers for favorable treatment in the laws concerning, well, lets just say it, burger shape.  One notable exception was the Wendys Corporation who made some various concessions with the cheese producers and bread unions, agreeing to make square burgers in exchange for keeping the buns round. While unorthodox it seems to have been beneficial for all sides.( I purposely didn't mention Krystal and White Castle because, my gosh, is that even meat?)

As I'm putting my square piece of cheese on the round burger I'm contemplating a campaign to bring uniformity to out tables. Take soup for instance. You put soup in a bowl. The bowl is round, the soup is round. Shouldn't it all  be this way? So I'm thinking of join one of the unions (Probably the dairy union, 'cause, well, who doesn't like to grab a teat once in a while?) to affect change from the inside out, working my way up until I get a seat at the table, so to speak, to push for the reforms every American deserves. I hope, that when the time comes I can count on your vote and your very best efforts. Help me put America back on the culinary map and make Julia Child proud. Thank you for your support. And God bless America.

Any questions, comments and financial contributions can be sent to 'Round Cheese Around the World' at  P.O. Box 27.......

SIMPLE

Somewhere in the spring of 1980 me and Ronnie Trojanowski hopped in his what had to be an 1870's  Datsun B210, Japans answer to the atomic bomb, and headed for the river. It was tan (or maybe that was rust), had four wheels and more duct tape than bolts holding it together. Come to think of it, it was probably far  more dangerous than the lightning that would be crashing down around us as we tubed down the river an hour later. That's the great thing about being 17 and a guy. You're mentally retarded and you're ok with that as long as you got someone along to be retarded with  you. Mostly I  was the one who came along with everyone else. We all have a place.

Florida is full of springs. All cold. All 72 degrees. Well, cold to Floridians. I only knew about the beach and it's warm 85 degree gulf stream waters as a child. The first real spring I ever went to was with the church group in high school during one of their many "summer outings" designed to keep us wee little cretins from smoking pot and setting off firecrackers at the nursing home. Usually on these trips half the kids were saved and half were degenerates sent by their parents to get that way and I think it was one of that  group who pushed me in. No warning. No dipping my toes in. No getting used to the water. I was airborne and then I couldn't breath.

Cold . So cold .. When you're not ready for it, cold water is a killer. It was Gods second choice of punishment for those cast into eternal damnation. It only helps a little to dip your feet in before the plunge but there's some psychological boost you get if you do it first. I get chills just walking up to the springs now. I'm getting a chill just talking about. One of my most favorite things is tubing down the Ichetucknee springs river but I almost can't do it. I don't like to be cold. Brrrr...72 degrees...

I got a chill the other day that had nothing to do with water. It was a song. You ever get that? It was Simple Man by Leonard Skynard (only the best southern band ever). It's about a mother telling her son about how to live life. Don't live fast. Find a woman. Not a fast one I suppose. Don't lust for rich mans gold. Be a simple kind of man. I got chills. And I cried because that's what I've always wanted. To be a simple man. To get up in the morning and love God to the best of my understanding. And my wife. And care for my neighbor. I didn't want to have a complicated life with business issues. Marital issues. Car issues. Money issues. Getting fat and growing old issues. I wanted it simple. I wanted it black and white not this nuanced colorful world I'm stuck with. That sounds stupid doesn't it?  Probably I shoulda told my wife this before we got married....

For a while now I have struggled with questions about my faith. Scripture. And God. Why He does  or doesn't do the things He does. I feel small when I say something like that. How I'm really supposed to live and does it even matter if I do or don't live a particular way. Sometimes it appears to not matter. What's that old saying? Evil wins when good men do nothing? I am a good man and  I'm tired of doing nothing. Uncertainty will make you that way. Very lukewarm. In not pursuing answers to my questions and doubts I've become something I never wanted. A simpleton, not the simple man I long to be.  I've become the Gilligan of my world. Loveable, funny, nice and about as deep as a puddle. I want to change that. I want to live up to the worth and value God bestowed on me. And I will. How can I not? I have been touched by the One who loved us all and I can't not follow. Because he loves me. And that, feels really good to this simple man. Real good.

SCREWED

I thought I'd never drive . I didn't get my license until I was 18 . I knew if I ever did  learn I'd have to learn in a light blue 1978 Chevrolet Impala . Station wagon . When you're 15 isn't a station wagon just a brightly painted hearse ? In fact , when you're 15 wouldn't it be way cooler to drive an actual  hearse ? What say's street cred more than a 15 year old in a hearse ? It would be a chick magnet right , even for this 15 year old ? What's really behind those dark tinted windows with those swag curtains they'd want to know. If the hearse is a rockin'. . . .  .

I drive like my dad . Slow and steady wins the race . Maybe he was hell on wheels before I knew him but all I remember is getting honked at by passing cyclists . Possibly because he drove a Volkswagon Rabbit and a Datsun B210 before that . Not familiar with those ? On the historical time line they're sandwiched somewhere between the invention of the wheel and the wheel barrow . Not the fastest of rides but it seemed to suit him . My mom on the other hand drive like a woman running moonshine in a dry county . pssshh . Earnhardt . He never drove against my  mother . Well , all in all I think I turned out ok in the driving department . I mean I can at least .

Another thing I can do is fix cars . Well , in a gorilla can fix a stuck door sorta way . I have my wife to thank for that . When we were first married she asked me to fix a stuck glove box or something and I gave my litany of excuses of why it couldn't be done except the true one about how I was mentally retarded when it came to fixing cars . ''It's ok snookems (she doesn't call me that anymore) . My brothers have been fixing cars for years . Mike is coming . He can fix anything I need ''. I didn't know at the time what a gauntlet was but it was thrown down so off I went to Sears for a set of Craftsman tools so I could rescue my fair maiden in her time of despair . And have been doing so in the many years since .

I don't remember what I fixed then but I'm sure I had parts left over . I always seem to . A few extra screws , a nut or bolt or bracket . Something . I have a jar filled with all the left overs , thinking that some day , with all the cars we've had over the years between my wife and kids and me , I'll have enough to make a whole new one . I mentioned one time I took the dash off to fix the A/C and had 19 screws left over . 19 ! I keep thinking they must not be necessary , hoping really . I fear the day when I hit a speed bump doing 35 and end up with the dash in my lap and the air bag flapping out the window . But until then they'll just decorate my shop in the jar for the unnecessary .

In church this morning someone said something that made me think of those parts . Those screws . The screws that no one sees . The screws that are so insignificant that they aren't even noticed when they're gone . Do you ever feel like that ? Like your role in life is so small you don't really matter and in fact the world seems to operate just fine even when you've checked out . It's a bummer of a feeling going around knowing  you're not really  necessary . I feel like that at times . Like this blog . I read other peoples stuff and I'm like 'why even try? Everybody else is so much better'. I have to tell myself ''So what?''. Of course there are people better . Doesn't mean I take my ball and go home . Well, I guess I have the last 6 months but never mind that . I'm back .

Somewhere at General Motors there's a bespectacled engineer with high water pants, a pocket protector and a salary somewhere north of 80 grand who drew the spot where the screw held the thing a ma jig to the manifold . He though it was important and he should know . He designed it . He knows it works without it but better with it . And somewhere out there , is the Engineer of the universe who is way smart and knows what works best . Who best to be a screw and who to be a wheel . A trunk . A horn . I'm sort of a screw , or one of the minor parts that no one sees . I wanted to be a paint job . Flashy . Attention grabbing . I like to have people polish me . But I'm a screw who's been in a jar for a while . Maybe I should get back in my place and do my job . How 'bout you? Anonymity anyone ?