It's going to be miserable again here this weekend, but about 3 to 5 degrees above an actual "winter weather" event according to the current forecast.
Regardless, looking at possibly doing a bunch of extra cooking over the next couple of days including another prototype test batch of my soon to be famous "Jamaican Me Cajun 'Green Butt' Chili," we ventured out early this morning to try to beat the lunchtime crowd on the Pike and at the local Kroger.
The place was basically as quiet as a Tomb, so my spirit rose as I flew through the produce section only tripping over one little guy busy with a giant overloaded cart of boxes of new inventory he was stocking on the shelves and display cases.
Then I hit somewhere...it was either row two or row three, and there was this young guy, dressed in all Black like a Johnny Cash Impersonator or something, standing at the far end of the isle "conversing" on his cell phone.
By "conversing" I mean he was having an animated conversation, and in between whatever disagreement he was having with the "she" or "he" he was talking to he was going through the motions of acting like he was shopping, except he didn't have a basket in his hands and there was no shopping cart within 25 yards of
Problem was, apparently his eyes and ears weren't working he was so engrossed in the cell phone tempest, because if I had to say "excuse me" once to the SOB I said it TEN TIMES within five minutes over the geographical space of six grocery isles.
He was just standing there in a trance blithering and looking somewhere close to exactly the opposite way I was coming from.
I finally skipped a whole row around the guy who was going BACKWARDS to the "normal" path that people take in MY store when shopping.
He must have gone down the "tutti fruity" organic granola and soy milk isle (thus probably being a sniveling, booger eating, tree hugging Owl Gore following Progressive bed wetter) that me and every other red blooded, God fearing, American man born before about 1965 SKIPS because we want saturated fats and extra glycerol in our food and think Tofu is something delivered by the Russians to make us too weak to fight back when they finally take over Niagara Falls and move on down into NYC.
So any way, everything came out good in the end and I returned home with about FIFTEEN POUNDS of Boston Butt and Whole Pork Tenderloin.
The Tenderloin will be butchered into giant chops and big end cut roast and dumped into the deep freezer before the end of the day, and the Butt is going into a nice brine to sit overnight before the calculators, scales, micrometers, and clipboards and spreadsheets are activated and I get serious about fine tuning this year's chili cooking process.
The event, St. Simons Island Rotary Red Hot Chili Cook-Off is exactly four weeks away tomorrow, and I have a lot of work to do still in order to standardize the process which has been all over the map the first three tries.
In the mean time, don't let me catch you wandering the isles of a grocery store talking on the cell phone asking "do we have blaa blaa blaa?...do we have any of THAT?"
Here's a hint...
Take a pen or pencil and a piece of paper, and make a LIST...else risk some angry guy with a calculator and an attitude putting shopping cart tire prints on your forehead or down the middle of your back.
O-Tay?
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