Tripes and Trilibags

"Mas menudo. Andale. Y... por favor, una helado Dos Equis..."

Our garcon darts to the kitchen and brings out a steaming bowl of that most tasty Mexican dish - the Menudo. I can see the jalapeno peppers, the bloated hominy of white corn kernels just bursting with flavor, the cilantro sprigs and the most important ingredient - the beef tripes. The scent of cumin fills the air and such savory smells and aromas only experienced in a rancho cucina!

Don Juan Diego emerges from his seat behind the cash register. He was counting some of the receipts from the previous morning. "Buenos dias Caballeros... como esta... how you like the food, eh?"

We managed to nod our heads. Our mouths were full of food so we couldn't even talk. "Senor Diego! Mucho gusto!"

Okay, well... what are tripes and trilibags exactly? They are the cow's stomach. There are four chambers in a cow's stomach.

Here are some pictures so you'll be able to shop for some just in case you would like to spice up your football viewing parties with a bowl of menudo!

Top is the "Toweltripe". The least expensive of the three types of tripe, it is also the toughest and the more abundant.

The middle picture is the "Book tripe". Named so because it has "pages"... by far the most expensive kind of tripe. It is sliced super thin when used in Vietnamese soups.

The last one and the bottom is the famous "Honeycomb tripe" and if you look at it closely you'll know why it is called so. It is expensive, tasty and lends to good presentation of the cooked food product.

All the Things You Are

This Stan Kenton piece is a gem in jazz composition and a standard in jazz harmonics. Note how patiently the trombone section, the reeds, and the entire orchestra works its way up to the climactic phrases descending to the statement of fulfillment at the end. Stan Kenton's group was an incubator of jazz talent, not only instrumental soloists and performers but also composers and arrangers.

Maynard Ferguson, Pete Rugulo, Kai Winding, Stan Getz, Chet Baker, Gerry Mulligan - these names come to mind when I remember Stan Kenton's orchestra. I also remember my uncle who, on a weekly basis, would just wait in line to buy his copy of the latest Stan Kenton musical recording - remember the old 78 rpm wax records - at the local sheet music store.

Stan Kenton played music with unequaled artistry and passion.

A Nation Without Borders

Don't you just love it - I mean the diverse population of our country? Where else in the world can you go and sample German cuisine, or Greek, or Lithuanian cuisine without going overseas? Heck, just stumble along the main drag in the windy city of Chicago, or amble down the Avenue of the Americas in Los Angeles and you will find the cuisine you are looking for. This is America! There is no place like it in the world.

But anymore, America as we have known it for some time, is being erased from the very maps that used to highlight it. There is talk about combining Mexico, the US and Canada into one great big nation with common perimeters, common security interests and common prosperity interests. We are going to be called the United Nations of North America or UNNA. We will be connected by an international freeway and for money we will spend Ameros.

I've always dreamed of having a vacation home in the plateaus of Guadalajara, high up there in the clouds, overlooking the city of Mexico. There I can use my small savings to hire me a maid, a gardener, a cook, a masseuse, even a chauffer. I can raise my own fighting cocks and engage in the grand Spanish pastime of cockfighting, eat tacos and burritos, drink tequila and ask the local mariachi band to serenade me to sleep each evening. In my yard I will grow my own mangoes and papayas and have the local help pick the fruit when harvest time comes. And I don't have to mess with ICE fat cats because there will be no illegal aliens in my employ.

Of course I will have to learn to speak Spanish - perhaps even un poco - so that I can mosey on down to Rosa's cantina and have a good conversation. Maybe this idea of open borders and the unabated incursion of illegal aliens into the United States is good. Just think. Now I am learning to "press 2 for Espanish" and the art of how to holler, "Si se puede" like Ted "Chappaquiddick" Kennedy loves to do out in front of the assembled illegal alien throng - in between sips of his gin and tonic. What a deal...

Speaking of Jazz. . . These Foolish Things

1959. . . things were so much simpler then. 26 cents for a gallon of gas and 16 cents for a pound of chicken. Two bits went a long way. The one thing that I remember most is the music of jazz that swept the college campuses. Of course Charlie Parker set the standard on the Alto Saxophone, this I know - how it was supposed to be played, the artistry, etc.

But in my humble opinion no one can match the velvet sounds of Paul Desmond on the alto saxophone. His melodic lines are never obscured by just peeps and squeaks, I mean, these are melodious strains that come out in one string of well connected phrases, riffs, and articulations.

The Dave Brubeck Quartet took the college campuses by storm with their rendition of Take Five but let me tell you something. These Foolish Things is a ballad worth savoring.

I Can't Get Started

I have heard many renditions of this standard but being a trumpet player myself I can appreciate Maynard's and Al's efforts in this interpretation of this famous ballad.



My, my... what a performance!

A World that Works

Newt Gingrich's got what it takes.



Wouldn't you rather be part of a world that works?

Fred Thompson

Listen to Fred Thompson's announcement of his candidacy. About time! Conservatives need to come together now and rally behind our man. There is no time to lose. Fred Thompson is our man.

Generosity gone wrong...

The generosity of the American people knows no bounds. Regardless of the cause they are there in the forefront lending their personal support and financial backing. Whether it is to save the old oak trees in the town square, or to save the old historical homes of a veritable ghost town, or whether it is to save the poor animals stranded during the recent floods, American generosity keeps pouring in. It's not only in the form of money but also in the form of volunteer services, food, medical supplies, outreach. Americans just can't seem to do enough when it comes to charitable works. In fact American charity is not contained and limited by the geographical boundaries of the nation. It is dispensed worldwide.

But why are Americans - in their generosity toward others - considered "ugly Americans" by the same peoples that receive these generous gifts and favors? It's almost as if Uncle Sam's hand is constantly being bitten by those same critters who feed from that generous hand. And still America keeps the donations flowing - no one has turned off the spigot - and even those countries that would just as soon kill us as to be our friends do receive a trickle or two. Could this fall under "careless" handling of resources, or "profligacy" on the part of the US government?

Famous economist Walter E. Williams and colorful speaker behind the golden EIB microphone courtesy of the vacationing Rush Limbaugh often opines, "It is okay for me personally, in an act of kindness and charity, to give my money to a needy total stranger. But it is not okay for the government to come to me, take the money out of my pocket even if it is to distribute it to the needy total stranger. That is robbery!"

How can America control its seemingly indiscriminate redistribution of wealth? Maybe we ought to listen to Neal Boortz talk about the fair tax.

Gratitude

A friend of mine just got back from a three-day hospital stay. He had surgery to correct one of his spine disks that had gone bad. I spoke to him briefly on the telephone.

"The pain," he said, "is way too intense. I have never felt pain like this before."

I didn't quite know what to say, - how to react. I remained silent. Thinking.

"You there?" came the voice on the other end of the line.

"Yes... I'm here," I blurted back.

"Ya know, not a one of the girls came by to wish me well before I went in to be cut up." He was referring to the three girls he and his wife had raised ever since they were toddlers, abandoned by their alcoholic mother. "Not a one came by to welcome me back home either."

I became more contemplative, reflecting on the gravity of his feelings and the implications of his concerned voice. I knew their family. This friend had been more than a loving father to these girls. He had raised them to be good, caring Christian people - so I thought.

What would I do if I were in his shoes? I would probably be steaming. What kind of gratitude is this? But I am going to restrain myself from going any further with my own feelings. I need to talk to the girls to find out their side of the story.