Mr. Crankypants: Beer for Idiots

Normally here at The Greasy Skillet, we keep Mr. Crankypants away from the keyboard because we like to keep things positive. Lately though Mr. Crankypants has been rattling his cage and has been a bit unbearable. It all started this summer when he tried to purchase a new battery for his cordless. drill. He returned with a new drill and upset because purchasing a new one was cheaper than a new battery. He's grumbled all summer about our disposable society, landfills, the economy, the environment, and how the man's always backing him into a corner.

Consequently the we've agreed to give him his own regular post, something that would allow him to vent and curb his grumblings. We'll see how this goes.

The corporate boys at Coors are probably somewhere in Golden, Colorado, at this moment giving each other congratulatory back slaps for their recent stroke of ingenuity, a beer bottle label that turns blue when the beer reaches a suitable drinking temperature. I know the man at Coors is trying to persuade me to spend my hard-earned money on his product, but he’s only succeeding in pissing me off by insulting my intelligence. Here in Kansas we to ice our beer down well before we plan on drinking it. In addition to common sense, God blessed me with the sense of touch, so that I’m capable of grabbing a beer and gauging whether or not it’s a suitable drinking temperature. Just as I don't need a warning label telling me to not operate a backhoe after consuming a six pack, I don't need this label.

I have a sneaking suspicion that the demographic Coors is targeting is the same group who purchases this:


It’s also the same blindfolded demographic that eats processed Pizza Hut pasta in their own homes and who think they’re eating fine, handmade pasta in a fancy schmantzy restaurant. Don’t get me started on this idiocy; such gimmicks are for schmucks.

Today I'm driving to Colorado, and I'm contemplating driving to the the Coors headquarters, so I can kick the collective assess of all involved in this asinine plot to snare my hard-earned beer money. However, when push comes to shove, I probably won’t waste my time. Instead, I’ll just roll down the window when I drive by and unleash a flurry of profanity that will flutter away in the rarefied mountain air. Even though no one will hear those words, I’ll feel a hell of a lot better.

Stick it to the man,
Mr. Crankypants

PS . . . I'll stick to local beer.

God's Country

(Highway 36 in Kansas between Bird City and McDonald)

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A few years ago, the wrestling coach at my school took a group of athletes to the state tournament in Hays. Out of all of students, only two had been west of Topeka. As he drove the coach kept talking about how western Kansas was God's country. At a rest area one of the wrestlers surveyed the landscape and said,"I think I know why they call this God's country. It's because out here it's just you and God, and that's about it. There aren't even trees here."

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I thought about this story as I drove west last night and I chuckled.

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I love all of Kansas, especially the High Pains west of Hays.

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I love how strangers are more apt to wave as I drive through a town.

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I love the small town restaurants and convenience stores where farmers and ranchers gather to talk and drink coffee.

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I love how the stars and moon are more spectacular west of Hays.

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I love the sunsets west of Hays.

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I love how the people tend to be friendlier and more sincere the further west I drive.

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I love how the weather is always the center of conversation for those on the High Plains who make their livings from the land..

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I love how it is God's country, and there's something spiritual about the landscape.

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What do you love about your region of the country? I'd love to hear from you.

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I'm in southwest Nebraska, and tonight I'll be enjoying the Dundy County Fair.

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feelin' small under this big sky,

muddy

Parmesan-Sage Popcorn

Once upon a time, kids didn't eat chicken nuggets, popcorn was popped on a stove, and families watched television together. During this fabled time, my family settled down on Saturday evenings to watch Love Boat and Fantasy Island. While watching these kitschy shows, I'd munch on popcorn and wash it down with my only soda of the week.

Times have changed. Popcorn is prepared in a microwave, and while it's nice to throw a bag in the microwave, check my email, and return to a perfectly popped bowl of popcorn, I believe something is lost in the process. Microwaving popcorn is a detached experience and doesn't fully engage the senses like popping corn on the stove. There's something joyful about the first ping of kernels ricocheting off metal, a musical freeform Buddy Rich-like solo. Then as the popped kernels fill the dutch oven, the musical notes deepen to a chorus. There's just something romantic about the whole damn experience, and I miss it.

You could call me overly sentimental, but I'd like to see America return to popping popcorn on the stove. To spearhead this movement, I offer up this recipe for Parmesan-Sage Popcorn:

Parmesan-Sage Popcorn

Ingredients:

• 2 tablespoons vegetable oil
• 1/2 cup popcorn kernels
• 1 tablespoon unsalted butter
• 1 tablespoon minced fresh sage
• 3/4 cup finely grated Parmesan cheese
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 teaspoon pepper

Preparation:

1. Place a large, lidded dutch oven over medium-high heat, and add oil and popcorn kernels.
2. Cover the saucepan,t hen begin gently shaking the pan over the heat.
   
3. Listen for the joyful pinging of the kernels, after 4-5 minutes, and continue shaking the pan until the popping slows. I find it helps to sing and shake my body to facilitate the shaking of the pan.
   
4. Remove the lid and pour the popcorn into a large bowl.
5. Wipe out the dutch oven, turn the heat to low, and add the butter.
6. Melt the butter, and then add the sage. continue cooking for an additional 30-60 seconds, until the sage crisps. Add the butter and sage mixture to the popcorn, along with the Parmesan cheese, salt, and pepper. Toss well to evenly distribute.
7. Settle down with the family in time to hear Tattoo shout, "Ze plane! Ze plane!"
   

My mother would sometimes make popcorn with bacon grease? What are your favorite popcorn memories?

while we're at it, let's get rid of baby carrots and return to old-fashioned carrot sticks,
muddy