Can you Diggy it?

My roommate and I passed Sensai Pepe on our corner the other day. Sensai Pepe is a guy that hangs out on our corner a lot of the time. I can't go as far as to say he's homeless. We never seem him sleep there, and he is not there all the time. He is there enough though that we named him. Sensai Pepe got his name because sometimes he likes to teach children karate moves. Well, we only saw children once, and they were passing by, so maybe he just likes to do karate moves on the street. He's not an athletic man, actually quite large and usually disheveled, but seemingly harmless.

We've only named two people who hang out on our corner. The aforementioned Sensai Pepe and Mr. Marbles. Mr. Marbles is so named because we thought he had lost his, though he didn't seem too concerned, and he sometimes drank, so maybe he just forgot where he kept them. I say kept, because earlier this year, we lost Mr. Marbles. Through various roommate sightings, we pieced together what happened - seems he suffered a head injury. Our suspicions were confirmed when a shrine was erected at the base of the steps he hung out on. Large vodka bottles doubled as vases and Puerto Rican flags and Virgin Marys paid homage to a man named Pedro. Turns out Mr. Marbles had a name.

The whole thing was oddly touching. We didn't know him, but he was a part of our lives for the whole time we have lived here. It made me think about a man who lived in my little hometown when I was growing up - someone else we had all given a name to.

I guess every city has people that don't have anywhere to go. In Port Allen, LA, we had Diggy Doo. I don't remember a whole lot about Diggy Doo, I just know we passed him on the way to and from school on Jefferson Avenue. I seem to remember him shuffling from one end of town to the other, with nowhere really to settle - Port Allen has no stoops, and in the South I'm sure his loitering would have seemed a nuisance. I think he was pretty harmless and everyone knew him or of him, even if they didn't speak to him.

As a kid, i thought he had a funny name. I think sometimes we give people names, or make them characters because it makes them less scary. They become characters in our lives. I will always remember Sensai Pepe and Mr. Marbles and Diggy Doo, perhaps because they DO have names.

I sit here wondering what Diggy Doo's real name was, and how many people knew it. I don't think it was Pedro, but I'm sure it was nice, and I hope more people called him by it than Diggy Doo.

Happy Fried Turkey Day

Was in Texas with the family this Thanksgiving and was pleasantly surprised a Thanksgiving tradition from Port Allen made it all the way to Dallas.

Most people are content simply baking their turkey. They spend hours thawing, prepping, and basting every 30 minutes. Where I'm from, however, we fry that sucker. Why bake for hours something you can fry in 45 minutes?

Ladies and Gentlemen, may i introduce you to the wonder of outdoor cooking, the Bayou Classic Turkey Fryer. I love that name...Bayou Classic. It just screams Southern and Tradition. (Southern Trivia: The Bayou Classic is also a football game played between Grambling and Southern). You could fry anything in this - whole. Turkey, pig, horse. Rhino? Bring it on! Folks, this is a serious piece of equipment: From the website "Unlike the competitors pots you find in the “Mart” stores, you kick this one . . . you hurt your foot and not the pot." Nice.

You start by injecting the turkey, or meat of choice (MOC) with yummy juices. But, you don't use a regular injector, no, for Fried Turkey (or MOC), you need the Cajun Injector. If the turkey (or MOC) was a person, and the cajun injector was herion, the turkey would OD on awesome. There are over 20 flavors from creole butter to honey bacon bbq.

We haven't always fried our Turkeys, and this is the first time we've done it ourselves (props to my bro for doing it pretty much solo) but once you've had a Cajun Injected, Bayou Classic, Deep Fried Turkey, you won't be going back anytime soon.

Crispy skin + Juicy Turkey = deep fried Southern Thanksgiving.

Hurricane Season

Though it may seem like it's over, Hurricane Season won't officially end until November 30. With only a few days left, I thought it would be a good time to get in a post about the Hurricane. I know where you think this is going, but it's not. Today we're going to talk about that other Hurricane - the sweet drink from the Big Easy. So named, cause it will knock you on your ass, like the storm.

There's lots of different recipes for a Hurricane, but I won't debate that here. Mostly, because there is no debate. The best Hurricane is at Pat O'Briens in the French Quarter. Bar none. End of story. Everything else is more or less a sugary Crappicane.

The storm and the drink have more than a name in common - they both have 5 categories.

Why don't we call this the Pat O'Briens scale.

Category 1 - The excitement begins. Things aren't too bad, in fact, they are a little breezy.

Category 2 - Things begin to pick up. The lights start to flicker a little and you maybe can't stand up straight with all that wind.

Category 3 - The wind picks up major. Things are beginning to spin around.

Category 4 - Uh oh. Couldn't make it to the bathroom, and your basement is flooded.

Category 5 - Total Blackout. Everything that was on the inside is blown to the outside.

Hurricanes can be dangerous, kids. But, as long as you know your limits and learn the categories, you can get away with a lot of fun and a little damage.

Ya'll come back now ya hear?

Pigs & Tigers

Now that LSU is again the Number 1 ranked football team in the nation, I thought it was time to go ahead and write about the pigskin - better known as FOOTBALL.

In the South, we do a lot of things with the pig. Hamhocks are used to cook down your beans, Cracklins are fried up peices of pork fat with a little skin, Andouille is a spicy Cajun sausage made from the butt-meat, and Chitlins are made from the intestines, again (shocking!) fried up. Heck, I've even seen people chase pigs around at a Rodeo.

But, when it comes to pigs and sport in the South, there is nothing like football. To be more precise - College Football. To be even more precise - the Southeastern Conference. It's something not everyone understands. Like being on a date and telling him you had a great day because Ohio State lost, or asking to sit at the bar because the game is on. It just doesn't translate.

I grew up watching LSU football. Every Saturday (Arkansas on Fridays), we would all gather at someones house to watch the game. The SEC is brutal, it is physical football, it is always heartpounding, and it is sometimes heartbreaking.

When you are in Tiger Stadium on a Saturday night and the band takes to the field and blasts out those four notes - Bah, bah, bah bah! - 90,000 plus fans go crazy. And it can get loud - so loud in fact that in 1988 after a last-minute, game winning touchdown pass the crowd was so loud, an actual earthquake was recorded at the LSU geological department.

I think this coming together is what it is all about. For 4 hours every week in the fall, we all have something in common. The LSU alumni group in NYC meets every week to watch. It ties us together and it ties us back to our alma mater.

Friends and family, gathered around eating Rotel dip and yelling at the TV - and your mom dropping the F-bomb. That's what it's all about.

Next on Hot Times...Southern in the City: Trying to Reason with Hurricane Season

Mama

We move from 4 strong Southern women to one crotchety old hag in orthopedic shoes and support hose.

Let's meet the family, shall we?

Thelma - mean, selfish, overbearing grandmother.

Vinton - moronic, mildly retarded son.

Naomi - slutty, skanky, daughter-in-law; AKA Skeeter.

Iola - prudish, annoying neighbor.

Bubba - enough said.

The family Harper lives in the small, generically Southern Raytown. Born from a strong set of sketches on the amazing Carol Burnett Show, the show ran on network for a full season and the rest was syndication history. From 1983 - 1990 Thelma & Co. brought some pretty blaring Southern stereotypes to its tens of fans.

The worst part is that it isn't even funny. It doesn't find humor in Southern colloquial life, nor does it satirize larger Southern stereotypes. I mean, in tonight's very special episode, the family tires of pretending to like Iola's hand-knitted tea cozies. What the hell is a tea cozy? Oh, she makes them for toasters too because toasters need hats. Right?

If for some reason you find yourself in a situation where Mama's Family is on TV and you can not escape (maybe you can't find your remote, or maybe you're busy knitting a cozy for a random appliance), relax and remember it's not real - there's really no Raytown, no Thelma or Bubba and no tea cozies.

And try not to hate Carol Burnett. At least not for this.

Next on Hot Time...Southern in the City: SEC Football From NYC

Dixie & Delta

Anyone raised in the South misses it. And, no matter how far they run, or how much they lament its sometimes, umm, less-than-stellar reputation, they will defend it. Vehemently. And with beer bottles if necessary.

It's always comforting to find little peices of the South in NYC: food, friends, family, umm....well that pretty much sums up the South. So, you can imagine what a comfort it was to find 1 full hour of comfort one night on my TV - Designing Women (yes, I am Southern and Gay - IMPOSSIBLE, right? We will get into that in later posts).

Spending time with Julia, Suzzane, Mary Jo, and Charlene is like making biscuits in the kitchen with your Mom. I knew these women growing up. They are my Mom and her friends. The strong southern woman, the former beauty queen, the sassy firecracker, and the sweet blonde farm girl. The clothes, the HAIR! I used to wish I could work at Sugarbaker's (yep, Southern and Gay), but not like Anthony - he was a little bitch. I wanted to live and work in those big Southern houses, and tackle important issues like sex, AIDS, abuse, race, and paint swatches.

Even when Charlene and Suzzane were replaced with Carlene and Allison - the latter stupider and blonder- the show stayed true to it's Southern roots, but not it's funny roots. The show eventually wilted like a magnolia blossom in the warm July sun, but it's roots, my roots, stayed alive. And, whenever I'm not running crazy around the city, I sit back, relax and join the ladies for their laid-back Southern hi-jinks, their sweet, lilting accents bringing me back home for a sweet little hour.

Next on Hot Time...Southern in the City

Mama's Family: Life in Raytown or Everything Designing Women gets right, Mama's Family gets HORRIBLY wrong.

Ya'll come back now, ya hear?