It’s not as if there’s a lot of fishing going on around here. The good news (for me) is that I booked my early May trip to Tennessee.
This time, I’m hoping to avoid catching The Flying to Tennessee Death Flu a couple days before the flight.
This should allow me to remain conscious throughout the fishing portion of the trip (unlike last year, when a monster brown trout ate my streamer and I basically lost consciousness halfway through the hookset).
This trip’s already taking on a backcountry theme (I’ll likely backpack in the Smokies for three nights), and could also acquire a fiberglass-ish flavor on the fly rod end of things.
Expect nauseatingly detailed posts soon. It’s what I do.
The Southwestern Slaw Dog?
Those who remember last year’s trip to Tennessee should remember my photographs of the Phillips 66 gas station slaw dog.
Indeed, the slaw dog has been one of the Underground’s most-enduring topics.
Alert Reader Steve Bertrand pointed out the slaw dog may cross many cultural boundaries:
“Cody Thompson, 26 , is a loyal follower of the Sonoran hot dog.”
“Thompson, who says he has not a drop of Hispanic blood in his veins, became addicted to the South Side culinary staple after some “Spanish” coworkers took him to a roadside stand several years ago.” Source: Selecting Sonoran | www.azstarnet.com ®
Could this be the Southwestern Slaw Dog we never knew existed?
And could this very same slaw dog offer us a bridge between widely disparate cultures–a small handful of gas station/food stand tasty goodness that actually makes the world a better place to live?
The Underground thinks so. More on this as Alert Reader Steve Bertrand works up the courage to actually try one of the things.
A Big Equity Boomer Runs Through It.
From the Oregonian comes this “amusing-if-it-wasn’t-so-painfully-true” story about the invasion of the rural West by monied urban types, who no sooner buy into the lifestyle than they try to change it:
JOSEPH — Not wanting his Ferrari’s paint chipped by gravel, a landowner recently asked when workers from cash-strapped Wallowa County planned to pave the 21/2-mile road to his ranch.
A homeowner near Wallowa Lake wanted county commissioners to do something about the manure from horses that people ride on the road outside her house. Source: A fat wallet runs through it
It’s tempting (and very easy) to positively launch ourselves down the class wars road, but in truth, the rural folks don’t have a monopoly on righteousness either, and the whole gig–for me at least–has become more an economic question than one of social injustice.
How will the Western rural lifestyle survive in the face of added economic environmental pressures? In other words, how do you move somewhere for the fish and game when your very presence their makes both less viable?
Rutter Sees Bugs. Underground Insanely Jealous.
Much of this post seems to have a Tennessee theme.
For example, I’m about to point you to Ian Rutter’s fishing report, where the bastard–fresh from a triumphant trip to Belize–reports the presence of the first mayflies of the spring on his Tennessee home waters.
We’re a long ways away from fishable hatches out here, so naturally, I hate Ian’s guts.
Seems fair to me.
[tags]fly fishing, tennessee, ian rutter, oregon,[/tags]
Slaw Dog? That is redundant. It is not a dog without slaw. Still there is nothing like a good gas station dog where you can do a little creating with the fixin’s. It will be a sad day indeed when something better foodwise than a gas station opens up in East TN.
Teh Wind Knot(Quote)
It’s interesting that the Official Fly Fishing Fuel of the Upper Sacramento River is also found at a gas station, though ours is not the lovable slaw dog but instead the asking-to-be-eaten Amiratti’s Burrito.
Receptive to the warming rays of the microwave, an Amiratti’s burrito can be eaten with one hand while driving to an undisclosed secret spot.
Sadly, the word is out on the Amiratti Burrito’s corrosive effects, so eating one immediately voids any wader warranty.
Tom Chandler(Quote)
Hmmmph…
Slaw dogs…SW dogs…
First, SoCal boys (along with expatriots) have been eating these damn dogs for 30 plus years. I suppose the next new culinary treat is going to be a fish taco, properly topped with (of course) slaw and mayonase? San Felipe style?
Tuscon is just a water stop on the walk across the desert, now a hot dog break as well it seems. What the hell do they know?
The proper SoCal dog is topped with salsa fresca.
There is NO mayonase involved whatsoever!
Sorry youse eastern boys, mayonase does NOT belong on hot dogs! You want to put cabbage on a hot dog, that’s your business!
Easy Salsa Fresca:
One tomatoe chopped up,
A couple of Jalopenos chopped up,
Cilantro, chopped up
Onion, chopped up
bunch of green onions, chopped up
(hell just chop everything up)
a small palmful of salt to taste
Lime juice
a couple cloves of garlic (don’t forget to chop!)
Mix the mess up and let it sit in the fridge for a couple of hours if you can stand it.
Smother the dog with it.
With any luck you won’t have tasted the dog at all when you ate it, will still have chips and beer left over and can sit, with the top button of yer pants undone, and wonder why the house isn’t painted yet.
Oh yeah…this is a secret recipe. Don’t tell anyone.
It is loaded with testosterone, will make the hair grow on yer chest, and your hangy downies hang down. You will charge into the boss’ office Monday morning and demand a raise and get your damn corner office. Just what is it about the corner office anyway?
Eat a dog, confront Nestle I say! Then go for a swim in the blue algie.
You’ll feel better.
Bastard Mike
Bastard Mike(Quote)