Fringeville #204: Ham Pies, Politics and More...

...I hear you make ham pies.

Plop me in a kitchen, and I’m a 50% cook. Which means half the time it’s edible and half the time I keep the ambulance on standby.

There are, however, a very few things I have a knack for.

I make great subs.

I cut my teeth on those back when Allen’s Subs was still around. I worked in the Kingston location. The original place on High Street in Wilkes-Barre was legendary. It was a tiny little joint that made these gargantuan subs on what looked like loaves of bread. Folks would line up at lunch time. I worked at General Hospital at the time, and I would take orders and use my entire lunch to zip down to High Street, pick up the subs, and zip back. I usually ended up taking most of mine home, but managed a bite here and there through the afternoon. When I make subs, they are heavily influenced by my time building subs at Allen’s.

I make great stuffed white pizza.

It’s my own version of Old Forge stuffed white. My first attempt was so-so, because I tried to be fancy with the cheese mix. Lesson learned. Since then I keep it basic, and I’ve hit my stride.

Apologies. All the food talk stoked my appetite. Needed a wing break. Moving on...

I also make one helluva ham pie. Easter pie. Easter pizza. Whatever you call these wonderful creations in your NEPA household.

Ham pies are a something I’ve only been doing for two years. I was motivated by the escalating price of these babies in the store. I figured I could take a shot and get the same mouth-watering result for less dough (no pun intended).

I made a couple last year for Easter. This year I did the same, and the missus told her sister I’d bring one to the annual Easter food orgy at my sister-in-law’s place in Penn Lake.

My sister-in-law apparently forgot because she tried to order one from her usual supplier, who will remain nameless. They told her they weren’t taking any more orders. On Holy Saturday, they left a message on her phone that they had extra pies if she was interested.

She didn’t call back. She was pissed. (My advice to all: don’t piss off Italian women). She picked one up elsewhere.

And then, on Easter Sunday, I also brought mine to the foodapalooza.

Did she like it?

Here’s what she said: “You’ve got my order next year.”

That leaves me plenty of time to fix the oven which broke last week.

Yes, I’m bragging about the few things I do very well. I’m also honest. I pretty much suck at regular cooking. Except for mac-n-cheese. I forgot that.

In retrospect, it’s clear I love making foods most likely to kill me. I will die with every artery sealed shut by cheese. But I will be buried with a smile.

(I also bake damned good rolls for burgers and subs. But that’s baking. Totally different skill set. A pic follows anyway.)

* * *

I am probably off Alyssa Milano’s holiday card list. She has this idea that women should go on a sex strike to protest restrictive abortion bills.

I think it is every American’s God-given right to protest. I truly do. Get involved. Speak your piece. Be passionate about it. But don’t be stupid.

Alyssa’s sex strike is, well, just plain stupid. She’s reduced sex to a transaction which feeds into stereotypes that:

• All men care about is boinking.
• Women use boinking as a bargaining tool to get what they want.

As one woman on Twitter said: “…how does not [boinking] my boyfriend have any impact on these abortion bills?”

Well, it doesn’t.

However, being a reasonable person I am willing to meet Alyssa halfway. Here goes:

I promise unequivocally not to have sex with Alyssa.

I have shared this promise in the Twitterverse. I think in a Facebook comment as well. Not Instagram, though. That’s for pizza, ham pies, etc. Foodgasms only.

Should Alyssa have other ideas and show up clothed in plastic wrap on my porch, two things will happen:

• She’ll frighten the dog. Which will frighten the cat. There will be a wild rumpus of fur and flying furniture and knick-knacks while the pets seek cover.
•  The missus will kick her butt up and down the street.

I will be in the doghouse as well, just because she shows up. I will probably have to play the ham pie card to get out of jail. I do have the Nimrod manning his post in case Alyssa does show up:

...Guard Duty.

* * *

Laureen Campaigning in 2012

There is a campaign ad out there for a Lackawanna County Commissioner team that talks about breaking glass ceilings.

Been done.

Last Election.

Laureen Cummings. And she didn’t break it. She took a hammer and smashed the sumbitch. She's been doing it for years.

* * *

MSNBC came to town last night. The ever-hyperventilating Chris Matthews planned to stock a room with an even split of Republicans and Democrats to (for the 5 millionth time and at least one major book) discuss why the heck Luzerne County delivered quite possibly the 2016 Election to Donald Trump.

I didn’t go. Had to floss my toes.

From what I read in local coverage, Matthews was a tad surprised at the actual makeup of the audience. Democrats heavily outnumbered Republicans. The Citizens Voice quoted Matthews as saying to MSNBC workers prior to the broadcast: “...how did this happen? I am stunned.”

Chris, what network do you work for? If Fox did this presentation, I’d pretty much expect the exact opposite.

The question of what happened in Luzerne County back in 2016 was ** big drumroll ** not answered during that broadcast. I’ve included links to the coverage from both local papers.

Citizens Voice - Anti-Trump Sentiment Surprises Matthews

Times Leader - Democrats Trash Trump

I was on the ground in 2016. I saw Donald Trump’s Luzerne County win coming in the Primary Election that year. That is not a typo. The Primary Election. 

I’d worked outside my poll for years. Primary Elections are often sleepy little affairs. Not that one. I was barraged constantly by people who had not voted in years, mostly Democrats, asking how they could vote for Trump delegates, and if they couldn’t vote for delegates, could they still vote for him come November? They came back in November, too. By the ton. And cast their vote.

During that whole stretch of bad polling and a drumbeat of Hillary Clinton’s inevitability, I didn’t see Chris Matthews popping by the county. But to anyone paying attention, something was clearly happening here.

I have no idea if such a thing will happen again. I’m no longer connected to the GOP political apparatus. Or any other, for that matter. I’m just another voter at this point. The one thing I learned in politics was that things can turn on a dime. Today’s political reality is in tomorrow’s dustbin.

Perhaps instead of asking why Trump won in Luzerne County, the experts should concentrate on how Democrats lost their grip here for that Election.

There. That’s my political bit. I’m done for a coupla-two-tree months.

Except for this…

* * *

Collusion, collusion, collusion…

I’ve posted very little about national politics on social media over the past couple of years. It’s not because I have no political leanings. Heaven knows I do. It’s just damned near impossible to comment about national politics without running headlong into tribalism. Ditto social issues or climate change or even if the New England Patriots cheat on a regular basis.

Collusion, collusion, collusion…

National politics by far is where the tribalism is most evident. Seems a lot of folks spend most if not all their time on social media either bashing and vilifying the President or demonizing his opposition and the left in general. It gets downright nasty at times, just slightly worse than throwing two rabid cats in a canvas bag.

Collusion, collusion, collusion…

If you are participating in America’s nasty little social media war, regardless of which tribe you come from, I have a revelation for you. Guess who’s colluding with the Russians?

You are.

Good ol’ Vladimir got one hell of a return on his investment. There’s been virtually no cost to himself or his mission of empire building. As long as we eat each other alive he can go on his merry way restoring Russia to greatness.

If you disagree with me, that’s fine. It’s America. Believe what you wish. Just think for yourself, for gosh sakes. Avoid tribal speak and the mindless forwarding of Facebook memes or the knee-jerk retweeting of inflammatory Twitter posts.

You’ve got a brain in that noggin. Use it.

Lastly, remember this: every time you share those “AOC (insert hysteria here)” or ”Trump (insert hysteria here)” memes, posts or tweets, Vladimir Putin smiles.

Uncle Vlad

That’s it. I’m done. I’m taking the dog out. Maybe he’ll bark at the birds or eyeball passing vehicles suspiciously. He’s predictable. No matter how many times I tell him he won’t catch those birds in our yard or the tiny-penis idiot in his big blue pickup that blows through the all-way-stop-sign at the corner, he wants to try. It’s in his blood. He’s a dog. That’s his tribe. He can’t help himself.

I’d like to think we humans are a little smarter than dogs but at times, quite honestly, I wonder.

As a disclaimer, I belong to the ‘New England cheats from time to time …and it doesn’t make a damned bit of difference’ tribe.

* * *

Be good to each other. I must run along now. Someone is at the door and the dog’s going haywire. He also does this when he smells plastic wrap.

Uh-oh…

* * *