The Son of the last of a long line of thinkers. (delascabezas) wrote,
The Son of the last of a long line of thinkers.

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Reasons I am the way I am # 244345

Dear Michael,

Glad to help you out with the recipe and its nice that you remembered making the stuff back in Macungie when you were young, although, that scenario tends to have other implications concerning the fond memories of you youth?

What did you do when you were young daddy?? Well son, I grew up in Ohio and occasionally went east with your Grandfather Joe and visited that wild McCormick Clan in Macungie.. They were all very large people out that way if I remember correctly and they all drank and ate a lot, plus they talked real fast.. Hell, I remember one of them took me into a pub and I was served alcohol when I was only 16 years old .. Afterwards we went and bought these monster sandwiches called "Cheese Steaks" from a place called Sewards.. They were huge and tasted like nothing I had ever eaten before in my life, but I didn’t vomit when I arrived home son, nosiree, not like that Greg McCormick did in their basement when he went out with that big bastard Tim a few years previously, Yes son they were grand times..

And after all the booze, food, and high speed driving, we arrived back at the ranch and made horseradish. Tim told me at the time son, that he never allowed anyone to witness the making of the horseradish unless they were legless, only to protect magical powers of the recipe. It didn’t make any sense at the time Son,? But to tell you the truth, hell I don’t remember how the hell we made it. I can tell you truthfully though Son, it was a magical experience of flavours…

Big Bern’s Recipe.. The Creation..

I was working up in the mountains and Pop and I were left to fend for ourselves in Macungie. You see Mom had gone away to stay at one of the boys’ home to help out one of there wives who was pregnant at the time. I don’t remember which one exactly, but the time frame was in the early 80’s.

Pop and I enjoyed a lovely meal one evening and while cleaning up the dishes Pop said he really had a hankering for poached eggs on toast for breakfast. We were after all bacheloring it and we could live extravagantly if we so desired. I said " Yah Pop, that’s no problem, Mom has an egg poacher in one of the cupboards somewhere". Well, after doing the dishes we both got down on the floor and started ripping out stuff looking for the thing. Pots and pans and other strange stuff were being piled up all over the kitchen floor while we pursued our quest for the elusive egg poacher. Amazingly enough and low and behold, I found tucked way back in on of the cupboards a jug of McCormick’s Corn Whiskey that Pop had stashed away years ago previous to that and had forgotten all about.

Editors note: (I believe Brother Bob brought the Corn Whiskey back from Minnesota or some other Midwest State in the 70’s) …

No egg poacher as of yet, but McCormick’s Corn Whiskey, hmmmmm??

I uncorked the jug and had a big belt of it and passed it over to Pop and he replied, " Why the hell not"?
Well we did eventually find the egg poacher as we sat on the floor. Pop was saying stuff like "I wish you wouldn’t give that old black dog whiskey, it makes her nuts! Pass that thing back over here please."

Well, the next morning we all woke up on the floor… Pop, Me and Mitsy, that old black dog lived to be 16 years old..

In the morning the dog wanted to go out to take a leak and so did we, when we all woke up we were all bathed in the early morning light from the eastern sun that was shining through the kitchen window on the floor.. The dog was eventually let outside.. Pop and I had poached eggs for breakfast along with that black bastard Mitsy, as he liked to call her..

Later on during that day Pop said he had some horse radish root growing in the yard and he would like to make some of that…

"No worries Pop".. Horse radish grows under the ground and lives for years, like a turnip…

I went up and hammered the tundra to dig the stuff up..

Later on in life Pop and I made horse radish for the Hogan’s, the McCormick’s and for the Owl’s Social Club in East Greenville, Pa.. It was always loved by all people that loved alcohol...

But on that particular day….

Big Bern’s Wild Horseradish Recipe…

dig the root up.. The smaller the root the hotter it will be

shave it…trim it, what ever…

Have a large dog that you bitch about that chews up your shoes whenever you have them lying around on the floor and drink heavily……

Grind the root up in a food processor and put into sterile jars that you have in the oven. (Ball Jars) Talk to Grand Ma McCormick about that…

Then take the finally chopped substance (horse radish) and fill the jar to the top..

Then fill the bottle up with white vinegar too the top and put a tablespoon of sea salt ( Morton's Kosher) over the top of it. This was found out by quite an accident, cap it and let it set for a week in the fridge…

It will be tasty, and if you contact me directly I will tell you how to make a good horse radish mustard…

But then again that is another story….

All My Love,

Tim McCormick became fed up with the world and ran away to Australia. He has no permanent address and lives with a six toed mutant cat named Spatt. On weekends he cooks for his excentric girlfriend Barb, but other than that he is a master story teller and a total reprobate.. His favourate saying is " It is what it is".....Along with the new Pope...BenidictXVI
Tags: damily, drinking, tim

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