Feast Day

Squid at Kroger. I was dumbfounded. Frozen, three pound packages, cleaned, for eight bucks. First I slice some into rings, dampen with clam juice, roll in seasoned flour, and fry in olive oil. Fry for only two minutes a side, less even, or they get tough. I usually have them with a bitter salad, with a balsamic dressing. I love the texture, like bird gizzards, which I also love; quahogs, abalone, pig ears, chicken cartilage, the mouth-feel is wonderful. Cold this morning, so I started a good fire, made a pone of cornbread, and stuffed some squid with a mild cornmeal mixture. I baked these in a clam juice, white wine liquid for about 40 minutes, and they were very good. Squid are designed to be stuffed. Poached and stuffed with a cream cheese/pepper/onion mixture, they make a great snack served cold. I like them chopped and stewed in their own ink (a Spanish favorite of Harvey's) served on rice. I make a squid cake that some people think is the best squid cake they've ever eaten. And I'm ready to just rest on my laurels, my walls are already covered with awards and certificates, I don't need that, They're mostly awards I've given myself. Best Screenplay For An Awkward Thought. That kind of thing. For the tenth year in a row I've not seen a single film that's nominated for anything. I don't miss social media as much as I don't know it's there. Half the time I can't even get my mail. Wall Street futures don't mean a lot to me, while having adequate canned corned beef hash is a serious issue. I'm looking forward to the motel room in March, soaking in a tub and showering, running water is a such a treat, emerging clean and purified. The promise of salvation. A dim and fading star. Sometimes though, you open both ends of the can, the corned beef slides out perfectly, you fry a slice with an egg perched in the middle, a perfect slice of toast, butter and bitter marmalade, a cup of that smoked tea. Seems pretty good to me.