Partisan fans

Serbian National Cup- Partisan vs. Red Star. March 21

Survey says…..

As a kid I was a fan of the game show “Family Feud” and it’s make-out king host Ricard Dawson.  Never did one man get more action from more random women in the history of television, he was a legend.  He was permitted to kiss any and all women he desired on his set while husbands and sons sat by smiling, cheering him on.  Nicely done sir. However my admiration for this swordsman is not the topic here, but his show that still lives on is.

Recently Milena got an email from her older sister saying that Family Feud is having a casting call in Chicago on March 10 & 11 and they are considering going to try out.  Actually she said,

“We should do this.”

Milena forwarded it to me and asked if I was interested in going with and trying out with them. Now, as most men do, over the years I have developed a survival instinct that, when dealing with my wife and in-laws, keeps me out of danger and safe. At this point my instinct was telling me to turn and run without saying a word.  I politely declined the offer and suggested that she do it with her mother, two sisters and cousin.  The later response was that she was, in fact, interested in doing it.  After the e-mail exchange had ended, and I had a moment or two to think about what I had suggested, an uncontrollable smile spread across my face.  I was sitting at my desk at work staring at nothing, smiling and fantasizing about them on Family Feud. The prospect of the five of them, five Serbian women, five Serbian women with little to no sense of humor answering questions from a smiling joke cracking game show host, Steve Harvey by the way, left my head spinning.

My day-dream developed into one tiny little yet vivid snap shot of Serbian Family Feud.  The team would be headed by their mother, Zorica, of course.  The top dog, the big cheese, no one messes with tetka Z.  She is a stern woman who rules with an iron fist in a velvet glove.  When a question would be asked by the host, the team would huddle, come up with an answer they all agree on (which is no small feat) and Zorica would unilaterally say whatever she wanted, completely dismissing the other team members.  When this incorrect answer would be given and everyone would protest, the oldest sister would back up her mother and her poor decision. Without question.  The eldest sister Mir, is being groomed to take over the throne, and the alliance between her and Zorica is as strong as Serbian brandy.  Meanwhile Milena, my wife and middle child suffering from a touch of Jan Brady syndrome, would sulk on the sideline shouting,

“I’m always wrong RIGHT?! That’s it isn’t it?  Stupid Milena doesn’t know anything!”

At which point the youngest sister, Maria, ever the voice of reason, would try to make some kind of peace amongst the fighting clan and soothe hurt feelings by snapping,

“JESUS! Just stop it okay? Gawd!”

All the while sweet cousin Vesna stands at the end of the podium giggling, smiling.  In a high-pitched baby-doll like squeal she would deliver her catch phrase,

“You’re all stupids.  Just little babies!”

When told by the host that her answer is wrong Z would ask,

“How could this be? Everyone knows that it is this way?”

While slowly shrugging her shoulders and scanning her head from side to side across the audience seeking approval and support.  Eventually the audience would turn on the family when they realise that every answer given has something to do with Nikola Tesla, in some way. This would be done in the same manner as Gus, from My Big Fat Greek Wedding, that ties every word in every language back to ancient Greek.  This would be done beacuse,

“Every one knows that Nikola Tesla is the greatest living Serb and the true inventor of electricity, not that fraud and charlatan Thomas Edison. Tesla has been robbed by the American history books and is only known in this country because of an 80′s rock band that illegally is using his name.  And, AND, they did an unplugged album, Five Man Acoustical Jam!!  They chose not to use the electricity that their namesake invented in their guitars, the final insult.”

But, if this team of all-stars were not able to work Tesla into the answer, the fall back would be Novak Djokovic, currently one of the top tennis players in the world and in the conversation for “Greatest Serb Ever”.

When nothing seems to be working in this game and all else has failed, the final tactic of the team would be bribery.  They would attempt to sway the host with suvo meso, rakija and pickled cabbage.  All home-made of course and “way better for you than that crap in the store.  You don’t know where it came from!”

My hope is that they follow through with the Feud audition and by some grace of God make it onto the show.  I will most certainly be front row live blogging the whole thing while tears of laughter cascade down my face.  I’m sure that I will find myself in trouble over this short story because no names were changed to protect the perpetrators innocent.  But I love my day-dreams and fantasies and the people I write about.  It is all in fun and tongue in cheek.

Joining CrystalLake.Patch.com

 

In the coming weeks I will be contributing to another site.  The brilliant, forward thinking editor at http://crystallake.patch.com/ has recognized the aptitude, skill, and talent that I have for both the spoken word and pointing out other people’s short comings!  After 2 years of toiling away in the far reaches of cyber-space I will now step boldly into the rural farm lands of the internet.

Becoming part of the Patch family will allow me to reach a wider audience that might not other wise be subjected to privledged enough to have read my prose.  I know it may seem like I am asking a lot of my dear readers lately, with all the requests to click this and ”like” that  but it will be worth it.  Give them a look and help me look influential in front of my new peers.

 

https://www.facebook.com/CrystalLakePatch?ref=ts

http://crystallake.patch.com/

 

Also, don’t forget that I contribute to www.usaserbs.net !!!  I’m shameless I know.  Free content for everyone!

 

 

 

 

Psycho Serbian Macka-take 2

Ima slice ya'll ups

In the past there have been posts on this blog about various animals and their varying degrees of unstableness.  Previously everyone was introduced to Fatty, the crazy Serbian cat that harasses and intimidates dogs on the street and is mesmerized by running water.  

http://promajaneck.wordpress.com/2010/10/14/psycho-serbian-macka/

http://promajaneck.wordpress.com/2011/01/11/behold-running-water/

Now we have the second installment of Psycho Serbian Macka.  This Sunday past, as is custom, we had some friends over early in the day.  Myself and some neighbors play in a flag football league and usually we all congregate at my house after the game for some beers and to talk about what we did wrong, which is usually a lot.  One of my teammates, Brian, was sitting on the edge of the couch, still wearing his uniform from the game and holding onto a beer.  He had on shorts and knee-high black socks so that only his bony knees were exposed.  At this time the cat, Fatty, strolled casually into the room, so much so that I barely noticed, from the corner of my eye I see him approach Brian.  So far, nothing out of the ordinary as both of Milena’s cats are sociable and like attention.  Again, from the corner of my eye I see Fatty sniff at Brian’s knee, and then…..

“Ow!!  That little f***er just bit me!”

For a heartbeat there was silence while everyone processed what just happened, and then the room erupted into laughter, victim included.  Fatty had just fallen backwards onto his side and lay in front of Brian much in the way a lion would lay next to a fresh kill, before devouring it.  For a few minutes Fatty just lay there, scanning the room, in front of Brian, when he finally said,

“This thing won’t leave me alone now.  Lo0k at it.  Ready to hit me again.”

Another guest answered with,

“That thing isn’t even looking at you and you’re still worried about it.”

If you find yourself lost, and make a wrong turn into the wrong neighborhood called Apple Creek Estates don’t try to pet the grey and white stripped cat.  It may cost you a knee cap.

And that’s how it goes on Courtland Street. Every day…..raw.

Facebook fan page

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Making ajvar

As I type this “Doomsday Preppers” is on T.V. and I am starting to feel like one.  Just a tad.

This past weekend Milena and I made our first batch of ajvar.  For the legions of you that don’t know what that is, the simplest definition is “fire roasted red pepper paste”.  It is popular throughout the Balkans and is a very traditional peasant type food that is simple yet highly labor intensive to make.  My experience with ajvar is that is not a spread in the traditional sense.  It is not used like butter, peanut butter or jams.  Ajvar sits on the plate for dipping bread or whatever else you want it on, but rarely is it spread across a slice of bread.  Ajvar can be bought in stores and comes in a variety of flavors, some are spicy but most are bland to my taste.

To get started Milena went to the store and bought 15 lbs. of red bell peppers, for 75 cents a pound.  This part was critical, had the price of the peppers not met the approval of my Serbian accountant (and her mother) the project would have never started.  She actually called her mom to verify the it was, in fact, a good price for peppers.  We were permitted to proceed.  I got the charcoal going before Milena got home so we could get rolling.

Peppers roasting on the grill

In addition to the bell peppers, I roasted two eggplants, a dozen jalapeno peppers and a dozen Serrano peppers.  We prefer spicier foods so we decided to add the jalapeno and Serrano.  The peppers stayed on the grill until they were black and soft to the touch.  This makes it much easier to peel the skin off the pepper.  Once they were taken off they are placed in a plastic grocery bag, the bag is tied then they are placed in a covered roasting pan.  This allows the water to start draining from the peppers.  Allow the peppers to sit in the bags for a few hours for two reasons; One so the water can start draining from them, and two, so they can cool and then be peeled.  On a side note; it is necessary to pierce the skin of the eggplants much the way one would a potato.  I learned that the hard way.  Almost immediately after closing the lid on the grill I heard a soft “pop”, so I opened it back up to find the eggplant had exploded.  As big and dense as they are they hold a lot of heat and pressure.

Peeling the peppers is the longest and most mind numbing task of the process but an important one.  Once that is done the peppers need to go into a colander in order to further drain the water.  Leaving them over night will accomplish that.  The final step is to run them through a meat grinder, add a pinch of salt if you like, give it a quick stir and then portion into canning jars.  I canned the ajvar so that I can keep it for a long time without having to wolf it down in a week.

The addition of the hot peppers was nice.  There is a subtle, delayed spiciness to the ajvar that we enjoy.  For a first try I think we did a good job, and fortunately we made enough that we shouldn’t have to do it again for several months.

Finished ajvar, canned and ready

canned ajvar

I *heart* Gary, IN

Last weekend Kum and I made our annual trip to Flora, Indiana to pick up our beef.  We travel there because the farmer’s daughter (sweet!) is friends with the female Kum and he has awesome beef.  He takes care of his livestock and it translates to the taste of the meat.

Anyway, we left from his house at around 4 in the morning to make the trip.  I needed gas when we left but I decided to wait until we made it into Indiana and avoid the high Illinois prices and taxes.  We cleared the border the gas light kicked on just as we were approaching Gary, Indiana, so we pulled off the highway to fill up.  This is where the story begins.

It is still dark outside as we pull into the station.  After finishing at the pump we both head inside to get a coffee and some smokes.  We decided to hang around and have one so that Kum could warm up.  He was generously loaned a truck by his father-in-law that didn’t have heat, and it was the coldest day of the year.  Standing in front of the station I take the plastic and foil off my fresh pack and absent-mindedly toss it on the dirty snow-covered asphalt.  I get the cigarette up to my lips, look up, and my gaze is met by a bald-headed, youngish looking Gary police officer that had been sitting in his cruiser 20 feet away the whole time.

“I’m about to give you a $290 ticket for littering if you don’t pick that up”, he snapped.

“Are you serious?” was my stunned reply.

“Do I look like a man who isn’t serious?”

I give him one last look, reading his face and without a word I turned and started chasing a clear scrap of plastic across the wind-swept parking lot.  I disappeared around the corner and finally caught the damn thing.  Cursing this guy in my mind the whole time I toss it in the garbage can and continue back to the both of them.  Before I can stop walking over he jabs his gloved finger towards my feet and says,

“There’s one more right there.  It stuck around for you”.

At that point I saw red and was ready to unleash a torrent of obscenities on this clown, but I choked it down, bent over and picked it up, whatever it was.  Satisfied that he had humiliated me enough the cop turned to get back in his cruiser and I just couldn’t help myself,

“Have a nice day”, I said in my least sarcastic-but-hoping-I-sound-like-an-asshole voice.

“Don’t get mad at me because you threw it on the ground” he said.

“I said ‘have a nice day’ sir.  I’m sorry if there was inflection in my voice”.

At that point I was pissed and wanted him to know it.

The cop got the last words though and I will never forget them for all their absurdity.  Turning from me, while walking away he said, without laughing,

“That’s the reason this city looks the way it does.”

Here are a couple of pictures of beautiful Gary, Indiana, a city of civic pride.

Gary lakefront

Gary train station

Gutted house in Gary, IN