(Scene on the way to farmer's market.)
During the winter we make a monthly meat delivery to customers in South Burlington on the weekend. Afterward, we stop at the indoor farmer’s market to visit and load up on organic veggies, cheeses that I didn’t have to make myself - and for my husband Dan, it is the opportunity to have pastries and all sorts of wheaty things we can’t have around the house because of my allergy. I call this “cereal bingeing”.
We also go to
Pet Food Warehouse for cases of wheat-free cat food. The service is tops, employees are attentive and there are always friendly dogs to meet, because of their pet washing service.
Last time we went, Dan was excited to be parking the truck next to another Silverado. That must be a man thing, because he made a big deal about it that I totally didn’t understand. I left him talking trucks to passerby and walked to the entrance.
A car pulled in while he was being social, the driver exited and opened a door to let out her dog. That’s when it all went bad. The dog took off like a streak across the parking lot.
It was a pit bull, a white one with red spots, taller than I’ve ever seen before – and it was trailing one of those retractable ribbon leashes, fully extended, with the plastic handled box swinging wildly, twelve feet behind it.
(Retractable leashes)
It was coming straight for me, and Jesus, it got bigger every second.
The entire incident was over in less time than it took you to read this, and yet it all seemed to happen in slow motion.
Have you ever seen a gaucho work boleadoras (
bolas) to take down cattle?
(From WikipediA)
Hold on to that thought.
On its way, the dog sped by a tall, thin woman. The weighted end of the leash wrapped around one of her legs, the line went taut, and down she went, square on her backside, in the blink of an eye.
The dog reached me; stopped still, and wagged its wee stumpy tail. I gave it a “Nice Doggie” and tried to get some fingers under the metal collar, hidden by thick folds of skin. It had a clean, short coat. Very soft.
Dog Lady had been standing by her car, screaming “Bad girl! Bad girl!” as though the beast had actually ever turned around and returned to her in the past.
She retrieved her dog, and then went over to apologize to Thin Woman, still on the ground.
As far as I was concerned, my involvement was over, and I wanted to get away from that extremely powerful, undisciplined dog before my luck changed.
Thin Woman got up, had words with Dog Lady, entered the store, turned around, and left. No purchase. Strange.
She didn’t approach us as witnesses for that lawsuit I would be calculating if I had suddenly found myself tits-up on the pavement in my good clothes.
I wondered what Judge Wapner (The People’s Court, Animal Court) would make of it all?
Spicy pork shoulder tamale with mole.
To the meat, I added a section (one wedge) of mexican chocolate, ground.
To that, three tablespoons of dry-roasted pumpkin seeds.
I ground those, too, and added them to two cups of shredded pork, and 1/2 cup of Candeleros brand mole sauce.
This alone was very tasty and had a creeping heat. If the filling is fine, how can the rest of a recipe fail?
This time, instead of duck fat or Crisco, I sprung for lard.
It made a very fluffy batter.
I used equal amounts of meat and batter this time, and made thinner tamales.
There were nine in all.
They steamed for 1 1/2 hours.
