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Lunch Lady Cookbook Achin’ For Bacon Mac & Cheese

Lunch Lady Cookbook Achin’ For Bacon Mac & Cheese

Lunch Lady Action Figure
Lunch Lady Action Figure

Hey there boys and girls! This is the Lunch Laddy, Michael Gillan Maxwell comin’ at ya with a new installment of The Lunch Lady Cookbook. Back when the Lunch Lady Cookbook was just a gleam in his father’s eye, the Lunch Laddy was on a quest for the Holy Grail of Comfort Foods, the ultimate Mac & Cheese. I know our thousands of foodie fans out there were dismayed and even outraged by esoteric vegan recipes and gustatory explorations into parts unknown and roads untraveled.

People were saying: “Hey Lunch Laddy! What gives? You promised us Mac & Cheese and you give us recipes for vegan burritos and free range goulash. You bask in all the glory and we get bupkis! Enough already! We want the Mac & Cheese we were promised!”

The people have spoken and the Lunch Laddy has heard. I am here today to deliver what was promised. The Lunch Lady Cookbook is proud to present Achin’ For Bacon Mac & Cheese!

The Lunch Laddy will be the first to tell you he’s not a doctor and the last to offer medical advice. However, due to the rich nature of this particular dish, all of us here at The Lunch Lady Cookbook offices recommended that you schedule an EKG and a stress test to determine if you still have at least one available unclogged artery before proceeding. It’s like having enough available memory on your computer before taking on a software update.

Achin' for Bacon

You will need the following: 

  • 1 package Gluten Free Brown Rice Elbows (Hey! Shut up! We need something healthy in this dish!)
  • 2-3 cups of assorted cheeses ~ sharp cheddar, colby, jack & Romano for starters.
  • 3/4 cup skim milk
  • 5 slices cooked bacon ~ sliced, diced & chopped
  • Garlic powder
  • Red pepper flakes

How we do it:

  • Cook pasta for 2-3 minutes and drain. (It will be super el dente, but this is what you need because it’s gonna bake for a while. It’s called Mac & Cheese NOT Mush & Cheese)
  •  Lubricate baking dish with butter. This is no time to be shy. Grease that puppy up!
  •  Pour in pasta and stir in cheese, bacon and spices, saving some of each for the coup de grâce topping.
  •  Cover and bake at 350 for 45 minutes.
  •  Brown, uncovered for the last coupla minutes.
  •  Cover and let stand for at least an hour.
  •  Serve with copious amounts ketchup.

A Lunch Lady Cookbook Repast

Musical Accompaniment: Todd Snider station on Pandora

Libation: A rich full bodied red wine with undercurrents of blueberry jam and hot dogs. Jug wine from the bottom shelf will be the prefect accompaniment to this prosaic dish.

Until the next time, this is the Lunch Laddy, Michael Gillan Maxwell signing off and saying: Eat hearty me hearties!

0

When Bad Things Happen To Good Appliances

thinkerPeople use all kinds of different sources of wisdom to help predict the future and guide their decisions. Some methods of divination include reading the flights of birds or searching for answers to the mysteries of life in oracle cards, yarrow stalks, coins, tea leaves or the entrails of animals. For the ancient Greeks it was the Oracle at Delphi. The Vikings were big on reading rune stones. For some it’s the Bible. For others it’s the daily horoscope in the newspaper or Dial-a-Psychic. Me, I draw old folk sayings from a hat.

Old folk sayings have guided me through many of life’s tough choices. Here are some of my favorites:

A poor excuse is better than none at all.

Better late than never.

Better weak beer than lemonade.

Better bowlegs than no legs at all.

Bad breath is better than no breath at all.

Good things come in small packages.

Bad things happen in threes.

Go all the way on the third date.

More on this later.

We were doing a load of laundry last week. It was business as usual until the final spin cycle which sounded like the space shuttle lifting off from a launching pad in the utility room. The entire house vibrated with the sound and fury of a star going super nova. After it wound down and stopped, I unloaded the laundry and spun the basket around a few times. It sounded fine. So I thought this might be a small hiccup and it would go away by itself. This is where folk sayings come in handy to help me justify sheer insanity. Let sleeping dogs lie, I thought. This kind of logic is like hoping a flat tire will repair itself while you’re driving. This is why I’m not a mechanic or a surgeon.

A few days later I mustered the courage to do another load of laundry and everything sounded good until the final spin. This time it was the starting line at a NASCAR race or an F-15 taking off from the flight deck of an aircraft carrier. The machine was vibrating like a jackhammer and walking across the floor under its own power. This was as close to poltergeist activity as anything I’ve seen in this house. With another nugget of folk wisdom blazing in my brain, All good things must come to an end, we put in a call to a repairman.

The repairman arrived at the appointed hour looking every bit the part of Dan Akyroyd’s classic depiction of the Norge repairman. I did not, however, look at his ass to see if his crack was showing. It took him less than 30 seconds to diagnose the problem as a bad bearing which probably caused collateral damage to the fleegywinkle, bearing straits and various and sundry other parts. He hammered away at his iPad for a few minutes and handed me an estimate for parts and labor. After I recovered from my apoplectic episode, I stammered: “It would cost less to buy a new machine.” “Exactly,” he replied. “Too bad you didn’t have the extended service contract. This would have all been covered.” I have always thought that extended service contracts were like buying protection from the mob and that stuff should last beyond it’s warranty period. But still, I was silently kicking myself for not buying protection from the mob.

“You know” he said, “there’s an old saying that appliances break down in pairs.This dryer is a ticking time bomb. Could go anytime.” Yeah.” I thought, “ Washers and dryers mate for life like black vultures, gibbons or albatrosses.” 

“I’m just sayin’,” he said, “If that fleegywinkle goes bad it will be like a claymore mine exploding in your utility room. If the shrapnel doesn’t kill you, cleaning up the flood will be like Love Canal exploded in your house.’

After he left I briefly contemplated going back to washing my clothes by beating them on rocks in the river. Then I realized there is no nearby river and that I had never beaten my clothes on rocks. I started shopping the internet for a washer that would mate with my dryer for the rest of its troubled and uncertain life. I also needed a washer that would stack underneath the dryer.

I quickly found one that I thought would work. It was also the least expensive. I was starting to feel like a mail-order-bride broker. I was also haunted by the old folk saying that a man who marries twice is a two time loser. I started to get the creeping feeling that it might not be possible to remarry my old dryer to a spanky new washer.

Armed with internet quotes, a newly approved store charge card, coupons with guaranteed rebates, perks and discounts and the resolve to drive a hard bargain, I entered the store. I had a quote for a washer for $599. With all the rebates, coupons and Get-Out-Of-Jail-Free cards, I thought I could wheel and deal my way out of there for about 500 bucks. I figured I could cover that by recycling my empty beer bottles.

What happened next will always be one of the darkest events in the voluminous annals in my personal Hall of Shame. It is why you should NEVER allow me to negotiate the final price of a new home, new car or a double de-caf, half-caf latte at Starbucks.

A sales associate came to my assistance with iPad in hand. He was quite near sighted and asked for my help inputting data into his iPad. Of course, luring me into this “helping” role immediately sucked me into letting my guard down. It took mere minutes to go from driving a hard bargain on a washing machine for $599 to the purchase of new washing machine, new dryer, (They mate for life, you know. Just like albatrosses.)  and all the hoses, fittings, duct tube, mounting brackets and five year service contracts for just under two grand. I’m using the term two grand because that’s how we roll when we’re playing the numbers in the back alley gambling houses of Detroit.

I left there with my head reeling and wondering if I need to enroll in a 12 step program for gambling addiction. I’m taking delivery on my new appliances tomorrow. Sometime between 8AM and 5PM. I’m waiting for my man.

At least, this time, I did purchase protection from the mob. For five years. We’re gonna drive this thing ’till the wheels fall off! Even if a fool and his money are soon parted, maybe by that time, I’ll be living in a Buddhist monastery on some bleak hillside, dressed in an itchy woolen robe and won’t be needing a washer and dryer.

Self Portrait
Self Portrait
10

Lost in the Matrix Again: Consumer Madness and the Zombie Apocalypse

Lunch Laddy at the Dirt Track Races
Enough with the zombie apocalypse already!

I just returned from my mailbox. Today is Saturday and it’s a light day. There were only four catalogs. On any given day, it’s not uncommon to find a half dozen catalogs, and more as we approach the holidays. I wonder to what extent this may actually be keeping the US Postal Service afloat? Consider this scene from the classic Seinfeld episode “The Junk Mail.”

Postmaster General: “Kramer, I’ve been, uh, reading some of your material here. I gotta be honest with you: you make a pretty strong case. I mean, just imagine. An army of men in wool pants running through the neighborhood handing out pottery catalogs, door to door.”

Kramer: “Yeah! Ha ha.”

Postmaster General: “Well, it’s my job. And I’m pretty damn serious about it.

(from:Seinfeld Scripts episode 5 season 9)                                                                                http://www.seinfeldscripts.com/TheJunkMail.htm

I must admit, I’ve wondered how I ended up on so many catalog mailing lists. But then again, considering how much shopping I do from catalogs and from the internet in general, it should come as no surprise. Pretty much every active consumer in today’s economy ends up on multiple mailing lists. It’s almost impossible not to. All you need to do is subscribe to a magazine, fill out a warranty, register a product, enter a contest, carry a mortgage or auto loan, use a credit card, give to a charity, have a baby, use a retail store charge card, register to vote, send in for a rebate, belong to a supermarket loyalty club, or purchase anything from a catalogue or online. If you do any of these things, forget about it, you’re on someone’s direct mailing list. Unless you’re a monk or in an institution, that covers pretty much most of us in 21st century America. I’ve done all of these things so I’m on a diverse group of lists. So much for my fantasy of going underground.  Companies rent or sell these lists to other retailers who are searching for new consumers for their products. Hell, even a casual internet search puts you in the crosshairs of internet search engines. That’s how you end up with so many whacky ads showing up on your Facebook sidebar and your web browser.

Even though I like to think I’m doing my part to help bring our economy out of recession, there are times when I wonder if I’m contributing to the destruction of the rain forests with so many paper catalogs filling my recycle container on Thursday morning. Sometimes the sheer volume is a little much. People don’t write letters much anymore, and nearly all of my bill paying is done online, so most days my mailbox is filled with nothing but catalogs. It can be a little vexing. Consider this scene from that same Seinfeld episode.

Kramer: (entering Jerry’s apartment) “Will you look at this? More catalogs! ‘Omaha Steaks’, ‘Mac Warehouse’, ‘Newsweek’?! I can’t stop all these companies, so, I’m gonna attack this problem at the choke point. I’ve had it with these jackbooted thugs!”

Kramer: (throwing his catalogs in the Pottery Barn store) “Hey, you like sending out catalogs!? How do you like gettin’ ’em back!?

(from:Seinfeld Scripts episode 5 season 9)                                                                                http://www.seinfeldscripts.com/TheJunkMail.htm

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining. They make marvelous reading material in the bathroom where I do most of my heavy thinking and profound intellectual work.

thinker

This is not really a new phenomenon. Going as far back as the late 19th century it was possible to purchase nearly everything you needed to survive from a catalog including food, clothing, shelter and even a mail order bride. From 1908–1940, Sears, Roebuck and Co. sold more than  75,000 homes through their mail-order Modern Homes program. You could buy a kit for a complete house ranging from $425-$3,000, which is about what it might cost you to buy a garden shed today.

Now you can do it all online. All you need is an internet connection and a credit card. It is consumerism run amok on steroids, but I am an unabashed internet consumer and certainly not the only one who is attracted by the ease and convenience. However, I could do without those annoying live chat boxes. “No I don’t want to chat! That’s why I’m shopping from home on the internet in nothing but my underwear !”

In Buddhism, desire and ignorance lie at the root of suffering. By desire, Buddhists refer to craving pleasure, material goods, and immortality. If consumers are jonesin’ for that, then internet commerce certainly fills that need.

Happy Buddha

One catalog I got this week advertises “nothing you ever needed but everything you want.” That about says it all. From another catalog, it’s possible to purchase such other items of necessary esoterica as a genuine brass periscope from a World War II German U Boat, a “Faithful Freddie” Royal Navy Submarine Binnacle for $6000, Japanese Admiralty Signaling Searchlights for $3,000, Italian Air Force Long Underwear.  (I guess I never think “air force” when I think of Italy. When a country produces the quality of wine they produce, who needs an air force?) This catalog also offers dozens of Swiss Army surplus items, which are of superior quality. I can see why the swiss Army has so much surplus to offer since the country has been neutral since 1515 and their last armed conflict was a brief civil war between the Catholic and the Protestant cantons which resulted in about a hundred casualties. Instead of waging war like the rest of us idiots, they invested their time and resources inventing cool stuff like Ricola and the Swiss army knife.

Swiss Army Knife

Other catalogs in this week’s mail offer a men’s leather shearling coat for $3,000, a beaver fur felt stingy brim hat for $800,(who actually wears beaver hats anymore?) shirts for $200, an English pub sign for $1500, an Allied Victory Sidecar Motorcycle, a wireless Pavlovian canine trainer, a variety of haunting zombie statues and zombie garden gnomes. Still other catalogs offer classes like Defense Against the Paranormal for Men and Women and the Zombie Apocalypse workshop.

zombie_apocalypse_survival_kit_decal_vinyl_car_sticker_-_free_shipping_530f48e3

Enough with the zombie apocalypse already!

If you’ve been there, done that, got the T-shirt and adventure travel is your thing, then why not take the 14 day Mongolian Horse Trek, or if your bucket list’s gettin’ a little low, how about  Around the World by Private Jet ~ a 24-day journey to five continents by private jet for $72,950? What’s not to love?

Yesterday, I got the ultimate catalog crammed with dozens of “must-have” items that you just can’t live without! Now you can have your own kitchen hot dog roller. Nothing handles a hangover better than a couple of gas station grade roller dogs. What about a flask that holds a gallon of your favorite libation? How can you say no to a pair of zombie flamingos for the front lawn? But wait! There’s more! You’ll be the envy of the neighborhood with your very own Zombie Apocalypse Tactical Tomahawk & Kommando Survival Tools and nothing settles an argument faster than a One Million Volt Zap Baton Stun Gun! And who can live without your own personal Backyard Tiki Bar~ on sale now for only $499?

Hold on a second ~ let me get my credit card …..

Catalogs

4

THE LUNCH LADY COOKBOOK

DOG DAYS INSALATA CAPRESE

Cooking

Cooking

DOG DAYS INSALATA CAPRESE

Hey there boys and girls! This is the Lunch Laddy, Michael Gillan Maxwell coming’ at ya with a late summer dog days edition of The Lunch Lady Cookbook. For those of you who have spent any quality time in the trenches with real Lunch Ladies, you know that public school cafeterias are not known for their hors d’oeuvres. But maybe they oughtta be. Perhaps it would bring a whole new level of sophistication and civility to the 30 minute lunch period. But first we need to call it something different. Just trying to say “hors d’oeuvres” correctly, much less trying to spell it, is a recipe for a Beavis and Butthead moment in any middle school cafeteria. So let’s just call it an “appetizer”.

Today we celebrate late summer with a time honored seasonal appetizer ~ Insalata Caprese, or in American layman’s terms ~ Mozzarella, Tomatoes and Basil.  While arguably, this dish can be made during any season, nothing beats freshly picked, vine ripened tomatoes and basil straight from the garden. Let’s face it, unless you’re an Italian dairy farmer, most of us don’t have the capacity to produce fresh mozzarella on site, so we’ll just have to do the best we can with what we can get. Not only is this recipe mindlessly simple, it’s also lots of fun because you get to use a really, really sharp knife.

And so, without any further adieu, I present Lunch Lady Cookbook Dog Days Insalata Caprese!

Ingredients

Ingredients:

1 large freshly picked vine ripened beefsteak tomato

1 sprig freshly picked sweet Italian basil

Ball of fresh mozzarella

Colossal Spanish Olives (stuffed with feta cheese)

Process: 

Slice mozzarella and arrange on platter

Sliced Mozzarella

Slice tomato and place on mozzarella slices

Sliced Tomato

Slice olives and place on top of mozzarella and tomato slices (are you sensing a pattern here?)

Olives

Garnish with shredded basil and VOILA! There you have it!

Appetizer

Libation:

Ice cold Pinot Grigio (This will generally not be available in the cafeteria except as a black market item, but you may find it in some faculty lounges)

Wine

Musical Accompaniment:

The Lunch Laddy had Guy Clark’s “Cold Dog Soup” dialed in on Pandora, but adjust to suit your own tastes.

Serve “al fresco” on screened porch with other appetizers while shouting “Mangia! Mangia!”

This is your Lunch Laddy, Michael Gillan Maxwell wishing you all a dog days Bon Appetit and saying arrividirci from The Lunch Lady Cookbook!

2

The Lunch Lady Cookbook ~ A Midsummer’s Night Dream ~ Wild Texas Gulf Coast Shrimp

The Lunch Lady Cookbook

A Midsummer’s Night Dream  ~ Wild Texas Gulf Coast Shrimp

Lunch Laddy at the Dirt Track Races
The Lunch Laddy at the Grill

Hey there boys and girls! This is The Lunch Laddy, Michael Gillan Maxwell comin’ at ya with a summer edition of The Lunch Lady Cookbook! It’s the season for running around naked in the back yard, chasing fireflies, dodging lightning bolts during thunderstorms and jumpin’ in the old swimmin’ hole (or the neighbor’s pool when they’re out of town!) And nothing says “summer” more than grillin’ & chillin’ and munchin’ on savory summer salads.

Today, the Lunch Laddy checks in with a sumptuous feast for a midsummer’s eve consisting of Wild Texas Gulf Coast Shrimp, Avocado Salad With Fresh Garden Herbs, Coleslaw and the appropriate libations and musical accompaniment.

That’s enough pussy footin’ around. Without further adieu, The Lunch Lady Cookbook is proud to present A Midsummer’s Night Dream ~ Wild Texas Gulf Coast Shrimp.

As you know, The Lunch Laddy cut his teeth hangin’ with the home girl Lunch Ladies in their respective middle school cafeterias. Although Shrimp on the Barbie ~ Hey! Get your minds out of the gutter! We’re not talking about Ken’s relationship with Barbie here! That’s what they call it Down Under. No. That’s not what I mean either. We’re talkin’ about Australia here. OK. Go ahead and snicker all you want wise guy. I know where you live!

Ken & Barbie

Shrimp on the Barbie? Not!

Now, as I was saying, although Shrimp on the Barbie is not exactly a middle school cafeteria staple, The Lunch Laddy thinks it oughta be! It’s mindlessly simple and it’s good and good for ya!

Ingredients:

Jumbo Wild Texas Gulf Coast Shrimp

Lunch Laddy Sweet Honey Sauce

Raw Honey (Tablespoon)

Olive Oil (Tablespoon Extra Virgin, if you please)

Sweet Mustard (Tablespoon)

Garlic Powder

Sea Salt

Ground Red Pepper

How We Do It:

While the Barbie is heating up  ~ again, people, minds out the gutter?

Clean and de-vein shrimp (if you just hauled it out of the Gulf, you’ll need to do this) then peel shrimp and remove tail

(might as well get this all out of the way before grilling!)

Skewer, if you’re in the mood for poking stuff with a sharp stick

Combine honey, olive oil, mustard and spices and mix briskly

Brush coating of Lunch Laddy Sweet Honey Sauce on shrimp

Place on grill

Hey! Snap out of it! Either glowing coals or turn that puppy waaay down ~ You’re not working in a foundry here ~ this requires restraint and the delicate touch of a sensitive backyard grill chef. And this is no time to get caught up in swilling brewskies! Keep an eye on these guys, turning frequently and brushing with Lunch Laddy Sweet Honey Sauce. (While you’re at it, brush some on yourself too ~ Barbie will thank you for it later!) Shrimp is done when it turns pink and sauce starts to get a little crispy. A few minutes ~ tops!

Shrimp

Wild Texas Gulf Coast Shrimp

Lunch Laddy Avocado Salad With Fresh Garden Herbs

Ingredients:

Avocado

Tomato

Sweet Vidalia Onion

Spanish Olives w/Pimento

Fresh Lime

Basil

Chives

Olive Oil

Feta Cheese

How We Do It:

Dice avocado, tomato, and onion

Combine with juice from lime, olives, fresh basil & chives

Toss with olive oil and feta cheese

Serve chilled

Avocado Salad

Avocado Salad With Fresh Cut Garden Herbs

Coleslaw:

Ingredients:

Shredded cabbage

Shredded carrots

Mayonnaise

Olive oil

Honey

and a whole bunch of other stuff

How We Do It:

Combine bag of shredded cabbage and carrots with coleslaw sauce.

(Available in the fresh produce section of your local grocery store)

Did I mention ~ “mindlessly simple”?

Serve chilled.

Cole Slaw

Cole Slaw ~ The Cowboy Way

Libations:

Corona beer ~ Ice cold with a twist of lime

The Lunch Laddy’s not usually a fruity beer guy, but this is to die for. Unless you get the lime wedged in your esophagus, then it’s to die from.

Corona

Corona With Lime ~ No ~ You can’t Just Drink One

Musical Accompaniment:

Robert Earle Keane, Townes Van Zandt, Guy Clark, James McMurtry & Jerry Jeff Walker for that Up Against the Wall Redneck Mother Wild Texas Gulf Coast vibe.

That about does it for this summer edition of The Lunch Lady Cookbook.

This is your Lunch Laddy, Michael Gillan Maxwell signing off and reminding you all to

hang in the shade, drink plenty of cerveza & most importantly

Be Cool ~ DON”T Stay in School!

8

Fly the Friendly Skies

(Published in “real”
Pure Slush Vol. 3 (October 2012)
Thank you publisher and editor Matt Potter for including my story in the same company as so many wonderful writers. It’s not too late to get “real”!)

Fly the Friendly Skies

The well-known slogan fly the friendly skies runs through my head as I board the monstrous plane that seats 10 across in coach. I’m in the middle of the plane, aisle seat in the center section, surrounded by a large group of public school teachers traveling to attend a conference. We’re settling in for the six-hour flight from New York City to San Francisco.

As the last few passengers straggle in, a young man in T-shirt, jeans and sandals, with a short beard and unruly mop of curly hair passes by. He stops directly behind me, shoves his attaché case into the overhead compartment, and slides into the window seat across the aisle. He smells a little funky, as if he hasn’t showered for a couple of days.

The attendant closes the curtain that separates first class from coach, as the last passenger to board walks up the aisle. The passenger is a young woman with lustrous shoulder-length, black hair and hazel eyes, wearing a short, white sleeveless dress, nylons and red high heels. She’s as glamorous as a runway model, and I don’t think there’s much chance she’s traveling with the school teachers, but I can always hope. She’s laden with glitzy shopping bags from various 5th Avenue stores and maneuvers up the aisle holding the bags in front of her. She apologizes for all the commotion, smiling and nodding her head at passengers as she passes by and heads for the center seat directly next to the man who just sat down. The aisle passenger gallantly volunteers to move to another available seat, so she’ll have more room for all her things. Window Seat Guy looks delighted. He should be.

On the other hand, I’m crammed into my seat next to a mountainous and dour woman who’s reading a Bible. The headphones clamped over her ears make it clear there’ll be no small talk; which is fine with me since I’m seriously delinquent in my Bible studies. She’s already claimed the armrest between us and is even spilling into my space.

I briefly consider offering to switch seats with her to give her more room, but I realize I’d really be trapped and possibly crushed. I quickly change my mind and thumb through a magazine article about marijuana farming in Humboldt County. Window Seat Guy and Glamour Puss are chatting up a storm about all the wonderful things New York City has to offer. He helps by carefully tucking her shopping bags under the seats in front of them. I raise an eyebrow. I see where this is going. Lucky bastard, he gets Glamour Puss and I get lady wrestler who’s giving off the vibe she’ll bludgeon me to death with her Bible if I make one false move.

The plane takes off and climbs to cruising altitude. Passengers talk, read books, listen to music, work on their laptops or adjust the seat back and rest. Window Seat Guy and Glamour Puss lounge across all three seats like they’re lying around in their living room. Ensconced in pillows and blankets, they’re drinking wine and giggling themselves silly. Bible Lady is already fast asleep and snoring like a buzz saw, head lolling on her ample bosom. Every so often she stops. Dead Silence. While this may be preferable to the harsh rasping and gurgling, it’s also disconcerting as I’m thinking she must have sleep apnea. This goes on for at least the next hour and I do my best to shut it out by eavesdropping on Window Seat Guy and Glamour Puss. They’re drinking more wine and carrying on about Broadway shows and shopping and restaurants and God knows what all. I sigh and go back to my magazine article profiling Humboldt County as the vanguard of high-octane marijuana farming in California.

It sounds like Bible Lady’s breathing has stopped altogether. I’m alarmed enough to start mentally reviewing CPR and mouth-to-mouth resuscitation protocols. Just thinking about it makes me sick to my stomach. Still no sounds of breathing. I grit my teeth and lean closer. Just as I get my ear up to her face, she erupts with a violent snort and a loud gasp that sends spittle flying in all directions. I pull back so abruptly I bang my head on the seat in front of me.

Bible Lady settles back into a regular breathing pattern and I settle back into my seat. I notice her Bible has fallen off her lap. I gently pick it up and slide it into the seat pocket in front of her. I’m just starting to enjoy the quiet when I realize it’s too quiet. There’s no sound coming from Window Seat Guy and Glamour Puss. I know they can’t possibly have sleep apnea too, so I turn to look. They’re lip-locked, tongues down each other’s throats. I jerk back around in disbelief, my mouth hanging open.

The other passengers stick their noses in books, snooze or watch the movie, which ironically enough, is The Wild Wild West. I whip open the magazine again and fix my eyes on the page, but I can’t concentrate enough to read. The cabin is dark except for scattered reading lights and the flickering movie monitors. The other passengers are at least pretending to mind their own business. They read, do crossword puzzles, chat and do everything but pay attention to Window Seat Guy and Glamour Puss, who are now rustling around and muffling giggles as they rearrange themselves in the mountain of pillows and blankets. No way can I ignore this and I sneak a peek back to see what’s going on.

Glamour Puss is sitting on Window Seat Guy’s lap, facing him. They’re wrapped in blankets doing their own interpretation of “the beast with two backs.” Once again, I turn away in disbelief. Am I the only one who knows what’s going on here? I can’t believe Window Seat Guy got so lucky. That could be me back there, except he’s the one with the cojones to reach out and grab a once in a lifetime opportunity and I’m a rule follower. I’m a rule follower sitting next to a snoring giant who might be suffocating while Window Seat Guy gets to act like Caligula.

I eventually drift off until the captain’s voice jolts me out of my slumber. “We’ve begun our descent to San Francisco International Airport and will be landing shortly. It’s been a pleasure having you aboard.” I look back to see the couple sleeping like babies. Window Seat Guy is resting his head upon Glamour Puss’s shoulder with a blissful smile on his face. I shake my head as I turn back to fasten my seatbelt. I gotta hand it to the guy, I think, and actually chuckle out loud.

“Did I miss something funny?” Bible Lady asks.

“Oh good morning,” I say, “I didn’t realize you were awake. You certainly are a sound sleeper.”

“I took a sleeping pill,” she says. “It helps with my fear of flying. I could have slept through a hurricane. Did I miss anything?”

“Nope,” I reply. “Just another long, quiet plane ride.” The plane arrives at the gate.

“I put your Bible in the seat pocket,” I say. “I was afraid it would fall on the floor, and I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Oh that’s sweet,” Bible Lady says. “You didn’t have to be so worried about disturbing me.”

“Well, blessed are the meek,” I reply.

Window Seat Guy and Glamour Puss stand in the aisle beside my seat like they’ve just been introduced at a cocktail party.

Glamour Puss says, “My name’s Adriana. What’s yours?”

“Josh,” he replies. “Here’s my card. Look me up if you’re ever up my way. I’m an organic farmer up in Humboldt County.”

They move a little way up the aisle. “They seem like they’d make an awfully sweet couple,” Bible Lady says. I smile and nod as I stand up and move back in the aisle so she can exit. I see the graphics on Window Seat Guy’s T-shirt: a marijuana leaf surrounded by the words, “Organic farmers do it in the dirt.” I realize I’m still holding my magazine and toss it in the pile of blankets on Window Guy’s empty seat.

0

The Suburban Cowboy Catalogue

My piece “The Suburban Cowboy Catalogue” has been published in the current edition of Defenestration Magazine.

“The Suburban Cowboy Catalogue,” by Michael Gillan Maxwell

Thank you Eileen Lavelle for including my piece in your publication!

Defenestration Magazine

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Group Therapy

My piece “Group Therapy” is up on the Lascaux Flash Fiction Contest website. Thank you editors Stephan Parrish and Wendy Russ.
The link is below:
http://www.lascauxflash.com/2013/03/21-group-therapy.html

lascaux-header

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The Lunch Lady Cookbook Campfire Cookin’ in the Kitchen

Bowl of Eggs
Bowl of Eggs

The Lunch Lady Cookbook

 Campfire Cookin’ in the Kitchen

Hi there boys and girls! This is The Lunch Laddy comin’ at ya with a new chapter of The Lunch Lady Cookbook. This week’s theme is Campfire Cookin’ in the Kitchen, one man’s harrowing tale of survival and redemption during (a 2 hour) power outage. We had some blustery weather recently. Actually, more like 24 hours of sustained high winds, with gusts up to 50 miles per hour. Not exactly Hurricane Sandy, but enough to blow your hat off and take down trees and power lines. We used to lose power all the time up here in God’s country. In fact, it seemed that the power would go out every time I sneezed or passed more gas than usual. Although things have recently improved in at least one of those areas, it’s still “lights out” in blustery high winds, which brings us to the point of this chapter.

When I awoke to the sound of howling wind and the lights winking out, my first concern was survival. Survival, as in “How the Hell am I gonna make coffee?” Fortunately, my days as a Boy Scout taught me more than how to execute the J stroke with a canoe paddle or how to weave a lanyard. It burned the phrase: “Be Prepared” into the very core of my being. I have an old fashioned hand powered coffee grinder for occasions such as this. While it may look like something from Little House on the Prairie it gets the job done and grinds those beans as good as my fancy schmancy high tech Cuisinart coffee grinder.

Coffee Grinder

Then there’s the problem of heating water. The Lunch Laddy’s primary stove is electric. I know, “Electric stove? Blasphemy!” you say. But you work with what you got. I do have a wood stove that I could hang a cauldron over, but it wasn’t necessary to go totally American Colonial quite yet. A quick rummage through the Lunch Laddy’s well stocked Apocalypse Closet produced a three burner Coleman camp stove and a propane supply that could barbecue enough yak meat to feed Batu Khan’s Golden Horde. After a bit of fumbling around, I managed to set up the stove and singe my hair and eyebrows in the process of lighting one of the burners. With the immediate crisis averted and caffeine now properly stimulating my frontal cortex, I turned my attention to cooking breakfast.

Propane Camp Stove

I contemplated my fate as the January winds howled and moaned outside the frost covered windows, and asked myself, what would Jack London do? I imagined him calling: “ A whisk! A whisk! My kingdom for a whisk!” While I didn’t have all the fixin’s that a cook in a Klondike gold mining camp might have had, such as fatback, sourdough biscuits & redeye, I did have ham & potatoes & eggs & cheese. I also had a secret weapon to pull it all together ~ Dave’s Gourmet Insanity Sauce. (TM) More on that in a bit.

49erAndMule

Now, I present to you the Lunch Lady Mining Camp Scramble.

Ingredients:

  • 3 Large Eggs
  • Worcester Sauce (dash)
  • Milk (dash)
  • 2 Small Red Potatoes (chopped)
  • Chopped Onion (1/2 cup)
  • Chopped Ham (1/2 cup)
  • Shredded Sharp Cheddar (1/2 cup)
  • Garlic Powder
  • Sea Salt
  • Black Pepper
  • Dave’s Gourmet Insanity Sauce (TM)
  • Olive Oil (2 tablespoons)
  • Mixing Bowl, Whisk & Spices

Preparation:

  1. Heat oil in a cast iron frying pan (Yes, cast iron. After all this is a mining camp recipe)
  2. Chop potatoes into small pieces and throw ‘em in the pan. Keep tossing and turning until they start to soften up and turn brown and crispy. This may take a while.
  3. Add chopped onions and ham.
  4. Combine eggs, worcester sauce, milk and spice in mixing bowl. Whisk vigorously.
  5. Toss it all into the pan, scrambling, turning, whisking, tossing and flogging continuously.
  6. Add cheese and continue the above contortions until cheese is melted.
  7. Serve immediately. Garnish with hot sauce for an extra kick.

Lunch Lady Mining Camp Scramble

Beverage Pairing:  Cowboy coffee (with chewable grounds)

Music Pairing: Oh Susana, Sweet Betsy From Pike, 15 Miles on the Erie Canal, My Darlin’ Clementine

Dave's Gourmet Insanity Sauce

OK ~ so here’s the thing with the hot sauce. Pay attention to the label! You think I’m kidding? I’m not! Dave’s Gourmet Insanity Sauce is a high quality product. While it does come with several caveats on the label, I think it should also come with nuclear launch codes. The label says “The Original Hottest Sauce in the Universe!” I am now a true believer. It is every bit of that and more. It’s described as “A great cooking ingredient for sauces, soups and stews. Also, strips waxed floors and removes driveway grease stains.”  But here’s the IMPORTANT part, so PAY ATTENTION. It says “use one drop at a time.” Did you hear me? I said ONE. DROP. AT. A. TIME!  Don’t make the same mistake I did, and slather it on your eggs, because it is FIRE in the HOLE Baby ~ Goin’ in and comin’ out!

By the way, the power came back on before I finished cooking breakfast. At least now I know that I can survive campfire cookin’ in the kitchen and if Dave’s Gourmet Insanity Sauce doesn’t actually cause the Apocalypse, it will help me survive it.

Until next time, savor life one drop at a time and eat hearty maties!

Rock 'n RollBot
Rock ‘n RollBot

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