Friday, July 24, 2009

North Carolina BBQ

It seems to be a tradition that when we return from our mission, we make food for our family, that is native to where we served. So for this 4th of July, we decided to have an authentic North Carolina BBQ (although Heather wouldn't let us display the Confederate flag. She said it was like displaying Nazi items if we served in Germany). In North Carolina when you said BBQ, you mean pulled pork marinated in a unique vinegar based sauce. When we Western Yankees say BBQ, we think hamburgers, hot dogs, and anything else you put on a grill. In North Carolina, that is called grilling. So with the help of many family members, we had a North Carolina BBQ.

The Ortega's (a couple I met in North Carolina--someday I will blog about them) gave me the recipe for the BBQ sauce. The night before, my mom and I made the sauce, and the next day we put the pork into the crock pots to cook for about seven hours. Here is the finished product:

Also another Southern delight is the Hushpuppy. Most of us Western Yankees don't know what a hushpuppy is. Basically it is deep fried corn meal with other ingredients. You can put cheese in it, or jalapenos, or leave it plain. Then you dip the warm treat into honey-butter for a sweet taste. Next to the hushpuppies is the baked beans.


With the help of Heather, we had Slaw (not Cole Slaw. That's what we Western Yankees call it). Slaw is commonly served with BBQ and Hushpuppies.


From the look of the picture below, you can tell that mom made the Nana Puddin'. She topped it off with a few Banana slices and some herb from the garden for presentation (She reminds us frequently that it's not just about the taste, but also about the presentation. You can tell she watches Martha Stewart).


With Brianne's help, we have these Red Velvet cup cakes. I actually never had this in North Carolina, but these cup cakes are native to the South.


More important than the dinner itself, with all its fame and presentation, were the happy customers:


Thank you to all who helped make this dinner. It was a success because of your help.

Friday, July 17, 2009

Life on the Ranch

Part One: The Fence

Life on the Waite Ranch can be very interesting from time to time. Dad and Uncle Ronny run the show, and the rest of us tag along to help out. Every year we get together, round up the cows, and brand them. Shortly after we brand the cows, we then take them up to Starky to graze for the Summer.

Last month we did just that. Uncle Ronny, Aunt Gwen, Brian and Krissy showed up to help Mom, Dad, and I round up the cows and load them up in the trailers to take to Starky. We gathered around the 4-Wheelers and Uncle Ronny said, "What's the plan?" Over the years, we've learned that the answer to that question is: Chaos.

So we chased the cows with the 4-Wheelers and got them into the barn yard. Luckily most of the cows went in the right direction. There was only one cow and her calf that took off running the wrong direction. Uncle Ronny went after them with his 4-Wheeler going about 2 MPH. The cow and calf were running about 4 MPH. I don't think I need to do the math for you.

Once in the barn yard, we had to separate the cows into smaller groups. That was the job of "The Fence." Working for Dad and Uncle Ronny, we lose our individual identities and collectively become "The Fence." Uncle Ronny would say, "Fence, go here. Fence, go there." And we, the fence--Aunt Gwen, Brian, Krissy, Mom, and I--would run after the cows. Surprisingly the task went much better this year than in years past. The cows were loaded (somehow they fit) and taken to Starky. So job was complete....or so we thought.

Part Two: The Calf in the Mire

The next day was Sunday and somehow we realized we missed taking one calf up to Starky with his mother. So Dad comes in and says he needs my help and it would only take 30 minutes (which over the years we have learned to double or triple the amount of time dad tells us. Heather learned that one Summer when she came home to visit. Dad said he needed our help. He said we didn't need to get out of our PJ's and it would only take a short amount of time. Three hours later running in the mountains in our PJ's we were chasing t he cows back down the hill). So I knew it would take longer then 30 minutes, but I realized that meant I would probably get to miss most of church, so I was okay with that.

Dad said it would be simple. He said the calf was small, so we could catch it, tie it up, and he would stick it in the cab of the truck with him. He said the calf was this big:


But really it was this big:



So basically we had to tackle this calf to the ground and hog tie it. Somehow we shoved it in the back of the truck (because Dad realized it was a bit bigger then he first thought). Dad sat on the calf while I drove down to the house. We recruited mom to drive to Starky so both of us could keep the calf down. Dad gave mom only one instruction: Drive Fast! And fast she drove. So now image Dad and I in the back of this truck:



Now imagine mom flying down the freeway, while it's raining, with Dad and I holding down this large, angry calf. All of the sudden I feel my pocket vibrating. Sure enough, my mom was calling (and we all know mom likes to talk). The first thing she tells me is "I tried calling Reed, but of course he doesn't answer. He never answers when I call." Then she got to the point and needed to know how to get the truck out of 4-Wheel drive. We gave her the instructions and felt the truck go into neutral and the truck began to slow down...and slow down...and slow down...until the blinker turned on and we pulled off to the side fo the road. She jumped out and said she couldn't get it back into 2-Wheel drive, so Dad jumped in the cab and began to take off with me to hold down the angry calf alone, and mom on the side of the road. Mom was worried that Dad was going to forget her on the side of the freeway (and she would have never let him forget that if he really did forget her on the freeway).

Now that the truck was in 2-Wheel drive, mom began to fly down the freeway again. Eventually we made it to Starky and began to drive up the dirt road. Since it was rainy and wet, we couldn't drive all the way up, so we parked a little ways away from the gate. Dad shoved the calf out that back of the truck, and I grabbed the rope around his neck. Mom went ahead of me to open the gate (we should have down that first) and the calf and I followed behind. I told mom to hurry and she said she would run and get there before we did. Dad said, "You'll have to run faster then the calf." The calf took off running and drug me along. Both mom and I were slipping and sliding on the wet mud. If only we got this on film, it would have been a YouTube hit. I can't remember who got there first, but my guess is the calf. Eventually we got the calf in the right direction and to its mother.

The best part of the ordeal was I got to skip most of church. The Calf was in the Mire, right? I think mom and I aren't as excited about these experiences as Dad is. After this last experience, we posted this sign:



But so far no takers. Next we will try Craig's List.