Eric Wilder's Blog, page 21
October 7, 2011
Mama Mulate's Sticky Creole Muffins - a weekend recipe
Mama makes a breakfast muffin that is sticky, gooey and totally decadent. She rarely cooks them except in the morning, so mostly only her family and closest friends have had the pleasure of trying them. Since each muffin contains probably a million calories, this is likely a goodly thing. If you ever eat one, you may get permanently hooked. On the addiction scale from one to ten, these muffins are a ten. Enjoy, but try not to eat the whole pan.Ingredients
• ½ c sugar
• 1/3 c butter
• 1 egg
• 1 ½ c flour, sifted
• 1 ½ t baking powder
• ¼ t salt
• ¼ t nutmeg
• ½ c milk
• 6 T butter, melted
• 1 t cinnamon
• ½ c sugar
Directions
Cream ½ c sugar and 1/3 c butter, and then add the egg. Sift dry ingredients, except cinnamon and the second ½ c sugar. Stir in milk and creamed mixture. Fill 12 muffin holders and bake in 350° oven for 20 to 25 minutes. When muffins are done, dip in the melted butter, and then in the sugar and cinnamon. Serve the muffins warm and try not to eat more than one before you leave the kitchen.
Eric'sWeb
October 4, 2011
October 1, 2011
Mama Mulate's Blackberry Dumplings - a weekend recipe
Mama has a potion or spell for just about anything, and also has an enormous sweet tooth. She grows many of the ingredients for her potions in her lush backyard. Even though her blackberry bush requires little attention, she watches it like a hawk until the delicious berries are harvested. Once they are, her friends are usually the lucky recipients of this delicious dessert. Try it and enjoy.Ingredients
• 3 pts blackberries
• ¼ c water
• 1 c sugar
• 1 ½ t butter
• 2 c flour
• 3 t sugar
• 1 t salt
• 1 egg
• 3 ½ t baking powder
• Milk
Directions
Combine blackberries, water, sugar and butter. Let mixture sit. Sift flour, sugar, salt and baking powder into bowl. Add egg and mix well. Add enough milk to make batter stiff. Bring blackberry mixture to a boil. Drop batter, a spoonful at a time, into boiling mixture. Reduce heat, cover and cook for 15 to 20 minutes. Mama serves her dumplings with whipped cream, but vanilla ice cream is also good.
Eric'sWeb
Eric'sWeb
September 18, 2011
John's Story, Prairie Sunset - of love and magic
How old is too old to fall in love? The question haunted me when I read a newspaper article in the Oklahoman about an old man that had disappeared from his son's house during a late spring snowstorm.The numerous casinos now prevalent all over Oklahoma weren't in existence when I wrote this book. There was, however, Indian bingo. I drove through Red Rock, Oklahoma—site of a huge bingo gaming facility— the very day I read the article about the old man. It was springtime, flowers blooming and trees just beginning to bud. Like the flowers and trees, the story sprang forth in my mind, not letting me rest until I'd committed it to paper.
The Battle of the Bulge tale that John tells is true, at least as far as I know, recounted to me by my own father, a code clerk during World War II. Growing up, he was always my hero. His era produced many heroes, mostly unsung, their stories never told.
For awhile, I had the book posted on the website Authonomy.com, where authors critique each others' books and make suggestions for improving them. One author suggested I expand the book and resolve many of the questions left unanswered in the original version. Once I got started, the characters came alive again in my mind. When I finally stopped writing, the new version was almost fifteen thousand words longer than the original.
When is it too late to fall in love? Read John's story, Prairie Sunset - of love and magic , now available across the web, and find out.
Eric'sWeb
September 17, 2011
Psychodelic Nights
There's a storm brewing outside my window as I pen this story, all my dogs seeking shelter, warned of the impending squall by rolling thunder and lightning flashes.
I am a Vietnam vet, all manner of drugs available to me during my tour. I mostly passed on the drugs, fearing that I might be incognizant during an attack. Some of my fellow troopers saw things differently, wanting to feel stoned rather than face a possible unpleasant situation without some sort of anesthetic. Years later, no longer worrying about physical death, I learned to anesthetize myself against the mental pain that had begun attacking the fortress of my soul because of a rapidly failing marriage.
Carol, my girlfriend at the time, was also my drug guru, guiding me carefully down a path of knowledge and abuse. She was a gorgeous blonde-haired woman with smoky blue eyes, heaving breasts and a sardonic smile. She chain-smoked and always had a cigarette in her hand, except when she was burning a joint.
On a night such as this, we attended a concert and laser light show at the fairgrounds of Oklahoma City. As a noisy thunderstorm raged outside, hundreds of drugged-out latter day hippies raged inside, listening to psychedelic music while watching a colorful light show projected on the ceilings and walls. Like everyone else in the house, marijuana zonked Carol and I, the promoters of the event expecting as much. They did not care, nor did the off-duty Oklahoma City cops acting as security guards.
The time was the late seventies, long past the sixties hippie era. Radio stations were playing disco, as the English musical invasion had mostly waned. You would not have known it that night as hundreds of stoners watched a light show performed to the songs of perhaps the greatest psychedelic band ever - Pink Floyd. The music and drugs caused me to recall a time from my not so distant past.
The last movie I saw as a civilian before becoming one with the military was Easy Rider. To say the movie affected me is an understatement. I rarely remember a movie for a week after seeing it, but almost forty years have passed since viewing Easy Rider and many of the scenes remain lodged in my mind.
What I remember most is the noir scene in the St. Louis #1 Cemetery where Wyatt and Billy take two whores they recently met and do drugs in perhaps the most surreal vista ever filmed in an American movie. Maybe I remembered this scene when penning Big Easy because hero Wyatt Thomas has a tryst with his own girlfriend at the St. Louis #1 Cemetery, the burial spot for famous New Orleans voodoo mambo Marie Laveau.
Eric'sWeb
Carol and I watched the laser light show, and then sated and satisfied we returned to her tiny house. Too stoned for lovemaking, we simply tried to sleep before Monday morning returned us to stark reality. Lying in the darkness of Carol's bedroom, I stared at ceiling shadows, recalling the many bizarre events that had occurred in my life, and pondering what the next day might bring.
I am a Vietnam vet, all manner of drugs available to me during my tour. I mostly passed on the drugs, fearing that I might be incognizant during an attack. Some of my fellow troopers saw things differently, wanting to feel stoned rather than face a possible unpleasant situation without some sort of anesthetic. Years later, no longer worrying about physical death, I learned to anesthetize myself against the mental pain that had begun attacking the fortress of my soul because of a rapidly failing marriage.
Carol, my girlfriend at the time, was also my drug guru, guiding me carefully down a path of knowledge and abuse. She was a gorgeous blonde-haired woman with smoky blue eyes, heaving breasts and a sardonic smile. She chain-smoked and always had a cigarette in her hand, except when she was burning a joint.
On a night such as this, we attended a concert and laser light show at the fairgrounds of Oklahoma City. As a noisy thunderstorm raged outside, hundreds of drugged-out latter day hippies raged inside, listening to psychedelic music while watching a colorful light show projected on the ceilings and walls. Like everyone else in the house, marijuana zonked Carol and I, the promoters of the event expecting as much. They did not care, nor did the off-duty Oklahoma City cops acting as security guards.
The time was the late seventies, long past the sixties hippie era. Radio stations were playing disco, as the English musical invasion had mostly waned. You would not have known it that night as hundreds of stoners watched a light show performed to the songs of perhaps the greatest psychedelic band ever - Pink Floyd. The music and drugs caused me to recall a time from my not so distant past.
The last movie I saw as a civilian before becoming one with the military was Easy Rider. To say the movie affected me is an understatement. I rarely remember a movie for a week after seeing it, but almost forty years have passed since viewing Easy Rider and many of the scenes remain lodged in my mind.
What I remember most is the noir scene in the St. Louis #1 Cemetery where Wyatt and Billy take two whores they recently met and do drugs in perhaps the most surreal vista ever filmed in an American movie. Maybe I remembered this scene when penning Big Easy because hero Wyatt Thomas has a tryst with his own girlfriend at the St. Louis #1 Cemetery, the burial spot for famous New Orleans voodoo mambo Marie Laveau.
Eric'sWeb
Carol and I watched the laser light show, and then sated and satisfied we returned to her tiny house. Too stoned for lovemaking, we simply tried to sleep before Monday morning returned us to stark reality. Lying in the darkness of Carol's bedroom, I stared at ceiling shadows, recalling the many bizarre events that had occurred in my life, and pondering what the next day might bring.
Mama Mulate's Cajun Tomato Fritters - a weekend recipe
The mirliton is an aggressively-growing vegetable that thrives in south Louisiana, and dominates Mama's backyard. An itinerant cheapskate, the voodoo mambo can't stand to see a single plant go to waste, and compensates by creating many mirliton recipes. Here is one of her favorites.
Ingredients
• 4 tomatoes, finely chopped
• 2 mirlitons, finely chopped
• 1 green chili pepper, deseeded, and finely chopped
• 1 onion, finely chopped
• 1 ½ cups flour
• ½ bunch fresh parsley, finely chopped
• ½ bunch fresh mint, finely chopped
• Salt and pepper to taste
• Vegetable oil
Directions
Combine all ingredients, except flour, in a bowl. Add enough flour to make a thick batter. In a frying pan, heat oil until hot. Drop the batter, by spoonfuls, into the oil, and fry until browned. Turn once to brown on both sides. Remove fritters with a slotted spoon and drain on absorbent paper towels. Enjoy.
Eric'sWeb
Ingredients
• 4 tomatoes, finely chopped
• 2 mirlitons, finely chopped
• 1 green chili pepper, deseeded, and finely chopped
• 1 onion, finely chopped
• 1 ½ cups flour
• ½ bunch fresh parsley, finely chopped
• ½ bunch fresh mint, finely chopped
• Salt and pepper to taste
• Vegetable oil
Directions
Combine all ingredients, except flour, in a bowl. Add enough flour to make a thick batter. In a frying pan, heat oil until hot. Drop the batter, by spoonfuls, into the oil, and fry until browned. Turn once to brown on both sides. Remove fritters with a slotted spoon and drain on absorbent paper towels. Enjoy.
Eric'sWeb
September 16, 2011
Route 66 Pet Adopt-a-thon hits Amarillo
September 10, 2011
And When I Die
War is a game I played when I was young. I didn't know at the time, it was a reality that would steal my youth.
I was twenty three when I went to war. I didn't get much time off during my stay at Fort Polk, learning how to kill, maybe two weekends. One of them I spent in Chalmette, visiting then wife Gail and her parents. I traveled there on the bus and the trip was memorable, not in what I saw, but in what I felt.
Leesville is the Louisiana town just outside of Fort Polk and one word describes it—seedy. The Leesville bus station fit the bill. I can't remember how I got there, though I probably hitchhiked from the base. The lobby reeked with the vague odor of despair, the station empty except for the lady that issued my ticket without seeming to see me, and about a half dozen GI's; like me, they were all privates.
I sat alone in the back of the bus, reveling in the legroom but saddened by the darkened loneliness. We were fifty miles out of town when one of the GI's began to sing. I wasn't very old. This kid was younger, probably no more than eighteen. There was a song out at the time called And When I Die. Laura Nyro wrote it and Blood, Sweat and Tears had a hit with the song. The young man had no accompaniment and sang it much slower even than Nyro's version. His words tore the heart right out of my chest. The young man was an Eleven Bravo, same as me. We were both infantry bullet-stoppers bound for the human gristmill that was Vietnam.
Like me, he was probably afraid of death. I was afraid of something much worse—the decisive act of taking another human life. I didn't know if I was up to the task, even though I'd had the act of ultimate enactment drummed into the very essence of my soul for the past four months.
The song's lyrics ripped at my heart, though didn't make me cry. I was drenched in the steel resolve of personal survival at the time. I would do what I had to do. I only hoped that any act of violence I might ultimately have to perform wouldn't corrupt my soul—at least not forever.
Eric'sWeb
I was twenty three when I went to war. I didn't get much time off during my stay at Fort Polk, learning how to kill, maybe two weekends. One of them I spent in Chalmette, visiting then wife Gail and her parents. I traveled there on the bus and the trip was memorable, not in what I saw, but in what I felt.
Leesville is the Louisiana town just outside of Fort Polk and one word describes it—seedy. The Leesville bus station fit the bill. I can't remember how I got there, though I probably hitchhiked from the base. The lobby reeked with the vague odor of despair, the station empty except for the lady that issued my ticket without seeming to see me, and about a half dozen GI's; like me, they were all privates.
I sat alone in the back of the bus, reveling in the legroom but saddened by the darkened loneliness. We were fifty miles out of town when one of the GI's began to sing. I wasn't very old. This kid was younger, probably no more than eighteen. There was a song out at the time called And When I Die. Laura Nyro wrote it and Blood, Sweat and Tears had a hit with the song. The young man had no accompaniment and sang it much slower even than Nyro's version. His words tore the heart right out of my chest. The young man was an Eleven Bravo, same as me. We were both infantry bullet-stoppers bound for the human gristmill that was Vietnam.
Like me, he was probably afraid of death. I was afraid of something much worse—the decisive act of taking another human life. I didn't know if I was up to the task, even though I'd had the act of ultimate enactment drummed into the very essence of my soul for the past four months.
The song's lyrics ripped at my heart, though didn't make me cry. I was drenched in the steel resolve of personal survival at the time. I would do what I had to do. I only hoped that any act of violence I might ultimately have to perform wouldn't corrupt my soul—at least not forever.
Eric'sWeb
September 9, 2011
Mama Mulate's Shrimp and Mirliton Casserole - a weekend recipe
Mirlitons may originally be from Mexico and Central America, but they've found a home, and a faithful following, in New Orleans. The vegetable grows on a vine, and can be found in abundance in Mama's backyard, climbing up trellises, fences and whatever. There are many ways to prepare the mirliton. Here is one of Mama's favorites.Ingredients
• 4 medium mirlitons
• 4 tbsp. butter
• 1 lb. shrimp, peeled and deveined
• 1 cup green onions, chopped
• 1 onion, large, finely chopped
• ¼ cup parsley, chopped
• ½ cup celery, chopped
• ½ bell pepper, medium, chopped
• Salt, pepper and garlic powder to taste
• ½ cup bread crumbs
Directions
Boil mirlitons in salty water until tender. Peel and cube the pulp. In a skillet, using butter, sauté green onions, onions, bell pepper, celery and parsley. Add shrimp and cook 10 minutes. Add mirliton, garlic powder, salt and pepper to taste, and then mix well. Pour into large casserole dish, sprinkle with bread crumbs. In an oven preheated to 350 degrees, bake the ingredients 30 minutes, or until top is golden brown.
Eric'sWeb
Critters, Crows and Moonies - Pics
Scooter, Princess & Oscar
Watch Crow A few pics I took in my backyard the last day or so. The dogs, crows, and the spiders are loving the cooler weather.Eric'sWeb
Garden Spider 
Bloomin' Moonies
Spider & Moonies
Oscar & Princess
Scooter & Princess
