Damn it I had to keep the Super Soaker at home!
I knew something was amiss last Friday after successfully evading capture one more time in the land of the Bluegrass and returning home with my princess for another weekend of nonstop fun…dad style. Karma was more hyper than usual, Miss Madison had me a 16-ounce porterhouse grilled to perfection (bear with me this is my ideal of a romance blog, it was actually a can of Manwich), and out of nowhere I heard my long lost buddy Sammy bouncing up and down like a two-year-old in the back of the line at a port-a-potty.
If you don’t remember Sammy, you can read about his epic love making skills right here. Since there wasn’t anything on the weekend agenda that would need Sammy’s soft touch, I was flummoxed as to what was wrong with him. Was he sending me signals that he was ready for another conjugal with Elsie the Cow or Porky Pig? It has been awhile for him after all. While sizing up the various cuts of beef at the local meat market, it dawned on me! To be continued……….
The preceding is an excerpt from Skipah’s unreleased novella food porn series Smoking Sammy: The Epicurean Don Juan.
No, boys and girls, Skipah hasn’t started eating Xanax and chasing it with antifreeze. Just a little side project I’ve been working on lately……PSYCHE! Sammy was actually more excited than a virgin on prom night. I know you are asking yourself why? Ribberfest BBQ & Blues Festival was this past weekend, that why! While Sammy didn’t get to participate because I’m far from ready to compete with the big boys in the BBQ cooking circuit, he could smell all the ribs, brisket, pork butts, chicken, dogs & cats (there was a Chinese restaurant entry this year), and sausages all the way up to our little abode from the competition that was going on downtown.
Nestled on the banks of the Ohio River in lovely downtown Madison, Indiana Ribberfest is a celebration of bbq, blues music, and serves as a pit stop on the Kansas City Barbeque Society championship tour that culminates later this year. This guy has been looking forward to this weekend since he set foot in this city and other than the rain and the knack for getting pickpocketed by the culinary pimps (neat and fun it was, cheap it was not) it was a good time.
Due to the fact Miss Madison and I have jobs and I just completed a two-day 325-mile jaunt all over Kentucky to see Sloane on her birthday and then pick her up for my janitorial weekend, we skipped the festivities Friday night. With Sloane in tow, the three of us graced the event Saturday evening. Miss Madison the philanthropist had volunteered to donate her time for a few hours to face paint for the local children. Sloane, who thinks Miss Madison is cooler than Fonzie, of course decided to tag along with her and they shooed me away to take in some bbq madness.
This could be a wonderful evening!
First stop was the parade of pigs. No, there wasn’t Wilbur playing trombone while Babe was driving a flatbed truck adorned in the finest pig craftsmanship promoting their latest advertising promotion. Instead, it was concrete pigs dressed up to win a fund raising/costume contest. The details and creativity were second to none. This guy (me) dropped a dollar in the Hickory High/Jimmy Chitwood replica (c’mon fellow Hoosiers you better get that one) and proceeded to see if I could find a cardiologist on call before the evening was over.
I play, coach stays. He goes, I go.
I don’t know if the pictures do it justice, but the “pig” parade was pretty cool
Apparently Joey Chestnut had visited the night before because most everybody was out of food. I had a better chance of landing a rack of ribs from a dead possum on the side of the road before finding an edible set Saturday night. Brisket forget it! It was rarer than an amicable divorce. Then I found the good folks that make up the Skin and Bones bbq competition team.
Didn’t see any wild boar on the menu.
Skin and Bones had more hardware than an area Home Depot. This guy knows his business and knows it well. We fancied a conversation as I donned my Ernie Pyle journalism notebook and was soaking up every word this man was telling me. He was a super cool guy who doubled as one of the aforementioned culinary pimps. He was only at the competition to sell his food as he informed me he was semi-retired and letting the new guys get a sniff of the trophy. His brothel of hookers though were some of the finest food this side of the Mississippi River. The pulled pork was spot on, but he was trying to hook me on his finest woman..err dish. I finally relented and he introduced me to Miss Yeti.
Miss Yeti is going to keep many heart institutes in business for years to come. It’s a bbq goddess, quite possibly the sexiest food dish I’ve ever seen in my life. Miss Yeti the seductress is a foot-long grilled smoked sausage, topped with a pound of Skin and Bones super-secret pulled pork recipe, topped with their own homemade cheese sauce and then gently placed on a roll. Call girls in Vegas couldn’t get their mouth around this thing!
Food porn at its finest!
After I finished two-thirds of it, I tapped out and by now I had rejoined the face painting gang. Sloane’s bbq antenna started short circuiting once she laid eyes on this behemoth and she quickly devoured what she could. The initial plan was to kill some time and then see the headlining act for the evening Los Lobos (those guys are still around, wasn’t La Bamba like 30 years ago), but mother nature was pissed off about something and the skies turned dark quickly. I jettisoned the girls to safety while I braved life and limb to beat the ensuing storm to grab our gear. I made it but then got to spend an hour under an awning watching Olympic style puddle stomping and waiting for the air to clear.
Unfortunately Stevie Ray Vaughn wasn’t available!
Melting my heart one day at a time!
Mother nature needs her own conjugal I think, this has to be the rainiest summer on record!
All in all, it was a great time, although the food was expensive. We (I) went through forty bucks like I was passing out candy on Halloween. Hell, a large soda for Miss Madison was five bucks. I even let Sammy get in on the fun the following day at a much cheaper price and he rewarded us with two of the finest birds he’s ever sired.
The force is strong with Karma, but the master Jedi was able to relocate the birds to the dinner table just in time!
About it for now, I’ve got to get to a precautionary appointment with a local cardiologist to make sure my heart isn’t about to stop. I’m hoping he/she tells me I’ve got at least another year left in the tank because I’m already dreaming about Miss Yeti again!