Story Recipe

Jennifer called the recent elections with remarkable accuracy. She spent the week before writing letters of condolence and congratulations. I tried to convince her to wait a few days before mailing them out, but she confidently marched down to the post office on Saturday and sent every one. When election night came around, she conspired with cook to prepare a large dish of crow (It was really chicken baked in a crust of black lava salt).


Frank and Cook never doubted her. Frank liked the idea of the chaos that some of the wackier candidates promised to cause and Cook liked the outlook for progressive responses to initiatives. When Jennifer announced that Alaska, Oregon and Washington DC would legalize marijuana, they got right to work on the menus.


For Alaska, Frank suggested that his Tante Dorte's Gravlax was a perfect way to serve Alaskan King Salmon. I threw my 2 cents in by noting that if you live in Alaska long enough to see two springs, you are known as a Sourdough. "Perfect!" declared Cook. He had a nice starter going that would leaven a batch of bagels.


Oregon is cheese country. Some of the sourdough started would make a great crusty bread for grilled cheese sandwiches. A razor clam chowder for the Oregon coast would go well.


Leslie was the only one in our group to have spent any significant time in Washington DC. She complained that people came to the capital from every region and country and they all brought their food with them. The issue of what to make for DC was a hard to figure as it was to know what Congress would do to the initiative after the election. Finally, Leslie remembered a delicacy that she had only ever seen there – an over stuffed pork sandwich known as a Half-smoke.


Over the weekend, Frank and Cook disappeared into the kitchen and I filled out my mail-in ballot. I drank in all the news trying to figure out what was going to happen while wonderful smells drifted out of the kitchen. By Tuesday, I was a mess. I had charts and print outs of poll results scattered all over the family room table. Jennifer had to be wrong about Kansas, I figured. She'd get California. But, who could tell what would happen in South Carolina?


Why do I let these things drive me crazy? Why not just go to work, go bike riding, munch on a couple of Cooks famous Blue Dream corn chips and let the election happen? Maybe I'm wired wrong, but I have to find a pattern, some trend, an over looked bit of information – anything that would give me an answer. I've been through enough elections to know better, but I had to call in sick on Tuesday so that I could troll the internet until the polls closed.


Cook served dinner as soon as the marijuana initiatives started to show promise. It was quite a meal, and I ate everything in sight. By the time MSNBC started to call the races, I was well into a high brought on by the release of finally knowing the outcomes, several pot infused dishes and heartburn from eating three half-smokes with chili.


I don't remember the details. There was crying when the Senate leadership changed – it might have been me. There was a fist pump for the minimum wage and plenty of confusion when several counties voted for both of the incompatible gun initiatives. I was in the middle of a dream where Rachel Maddow was a giant bird who chased Anderson Cooper over a rainbow.


The next morning I woke up to see a plate on the night stand with a pile of "Crow" on it. Well played, Jennifer, Well played.


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