Country Forcemeat

A goose had been hit by a car down at the lake and I stopped to drag it off the road, then went back and cut out its liver. A little leftover filet, some reconstituted mushrooms, onion, some apple brandy. There was enough of this for two sandwiches, with sliced red onions. Actually I was surprised to end up with two sandwiches, but a goose liver is rather large. I'd saved the rendered fat from the bacon wrapping the filet right in the skillet (which I store in the oven to thwart the mice) so I cooked everything in that and added half-a-stick of butter. Lots of black pepper. The worst aspect of this is cleaning the blender. But the sandwiches, by all the saints, were incredible. I lightly toast the bread, smear on a coating of pesto mayo, and build what is certainly one of the messiest sandwiches in the history of sandwiches. I eat them hunched over a paper plate so I can field dribs and drabs with a finger. I reread John McPhee all day and he is a delight, holding to the issues at hand. On the Vineyard our place was about fifty feet from the maximum edge of the terminal moraine, the back yard was a tumble of rocks that had been rolled down from Newfoundland. In the out-wash channel and out to the beach, very hard rock had been tumbled round. A lot of the rocks looked like stone heads and I collected them. I suppose I could be arrested for that. Rain all day. My work chair window is usually in the lee, so I can leave that window open, the smells are lovely, and the sound of it is wonderful. The leaves all clean and gleaming. I reread McPhee all day, Oranges, The Crofter And The Laird, The Pine Barrens. He mentions the big freeze of 1962 and we were in Jacksonville at that time. We could get oranges, south of town at Mandarin (Parson Browns) and there were large groves west of St Augustine. They were all completely killed (some rootstock survived further down in the state) and there were never any oranges north of Daytona after that. And I had forgotten the name of the citrus disease "spreading decline". What a great combination of words. So sorry to hear about your spreading decline; Jesus she has one hell of a spreading decline; when you get down to the spreading decline ski over to the tree-line and you should hit virgin snow. B stopped over to ask if I could stop by his place and help him install his island/counter/table which had grown rather large and awkward. Happy to, after the trip to town tomorrow. He'd bought a thousand feet of poplar, for his ceiling and trim, ten feet long, a uniform 4/4, random width. Eight or ten of the boards are 16 inches wide. His island top is two boards, joined; an apron, framing, and it has grown heavy. Cleats, on the posts, where they need to be. Easy job but it actually takes two people for a minute and a half. One person could do it alone, but it would take an hour to rig it; and why not engage a friend in an interesting installation. He knew I wanted to see it installed. Afterwards, we'll probably get high and talk about a dead poet. We do this, time and again. My dead poet and your dead poet going to set the night on fire. I've done this kind of installation many times, and you only hope the width measurement isn't very much smaller anywhere between where you tip the counter into position and, then, down into place. If it is, that you have to take a skosh bit off, then sand it underneath, so be it. We all make adjustments, and I don't mind admitting my own stupidity, that's not the correct word, my own culpability. I don't think I'm eccentric at all.