Knight Gambit

I'd crashed early, layered deep in long underwear, tucked into my down bag, and when I needed to get up and pee, six in the morning, I lurched into the pile of books neatly stacked next to the coffee table, and about a hundred books and magazines, with their slick covers, slid down to the angle of repose. An avalanche of reading matter. A mess that I merely pushed aside. Outdoors, the ridge was so white and crystalline that it seems to glow in the pre-dawn. I pissed an arrow in the snow, pointing in the direction of due south. Compasses don't work on the ridge for reasons B and I have discussed at great length, but our dead reckoning agrees within a degree or two, so I'm reasonably sure I'm pointing in the right direction. Hot switchel with a wee dram of rum is a great way to start a cold day, a drink usually made in gallon jugs, placed in a hole in the ground at the end of a field one was plowing with a mule, to keep it cool. I've had it that way, often flavored with sumac, but I love it hot. Water, with local molasses or honey, and a splash of apple-cider vinegar. A simple thing, and cheap, that seems to prevent colds. I stamped a path, out to the woodshed, and split a couple of knots, started a good fire. I'd put on a crock pot of grits, overnight, in a small pot designed for dips, picked up for ten bucks at Kroger, perfect for half-a-cup of grits and two cups of water. Pound out a couple of rounds of pork tenderloin and fry them quickly in olive oil; grits, an egg on top. I keep a few small cans of mushrooms around, and one of those, with it's juices, stirred into the blackened butter/olive oil makes a fine sauce. Sop up the juices with a piece of pita bread. Ah, pilgrim, I must say, it puts a smile on my face, to eat like this when the world is frozen around me. Stir fried shrimp tomorrow, and there's a story with that too. I saw that Denise (the sea-food lady) was putting a sign on the precooked baby shrimp for half-price, grabbed a bag and made it to the cash register before the change was made in the system (Monday morning is the time to do this) and they not only have to give it to me for free, but they have to refund my money. I actually make five dollars on this meal. Do this the same way as the pork fried rice, but cook the rice in clam juice, those baby shrimp are almost tasteless. I keep a fish sauce around, that I wouldn't actually recommend; that's made from rotting fish-heads in the sun. An acquired taste, based on a Roman recipe, garum, which is way to the left of anything you ever considered. I like it now, on plain rice, with butter and black pepper. It reminds you that you're never more than a few steps away from death. Rotted fish heads, really? you're eating that?