Song: "What it Stands for" by EMC
It’s my last day here entrapped on Marco Island which will be spent golfing, eating, drinking, playing cards, and reading . . . pretty much what I’ve done for the past two weeks. Perhaps my dream last night was the most exciting thing yet! An intimate moment with Jake Gyllenhaal and fine dining on some Ukrainian Salmon & Kobe Beef whilst I and my family were submerged in a Jacuzzi – the family style platter floating table something I’ve never seen before and the Chef, a local San Diegan named Richard Sweeney. Yesterday’s trip to the Everglades was complacent, not sure of any other word in the English dictionary is more appropriate.
Mother Mary Cleo, Master Dan and Myself set out at approximately one o’clock with a preliminary schedule of traversing the scenic HWY 41, Southeast bound for the Everglades. This should have been a twenty to thirty minute drive depending on how many handicapped seniors were preceding our vehicle. However, amongst the typical marital bickering back and forth, we missed the turnoff for what was to be an airboat ride through the subtropical wetlands otherwise known as “the 10,000 islands” region. We finally gave up and pulled over to the Visitor Center where there was a 1/8 mile boardwalk through a cypress swamp. This swamp was as dry as my Mother’s sense of humor but we did see a black snake, bald eagle, turtles, egrets, gar like fish and over fifty alligators basking in the sun. Old people own Florida and even here blending in amongst the bounty of tourists, both foreign and domestic, the Q-tips outnumbered the youth 17:3 (I use this term loosely here, like anyone under the age of 50).
My expectations having evaporated sometime ago, I really didn’t care about an airboat ride as I was more enthusiastic about this so called shack of a swamp restaurant named Josie’s. We pulled into the broken limestone gravel parking lot ready for some down home cookin! I imagined a backwash of culinary greatness and salivated in anticipation of a menu that might showcase such swamp fare as armadillo cutlets, beer battered froglegs, gator chili and roadkill hushpuppies. The chef would be no more than an inbreed, shirtless hillbilly. His overalls all but unraveling with a blood and fish gut stained apron wrapped around his scrawny 28” waist. We might even walk in to find him wiping his nose on his furry armpit, puffing away on a generic brand cigarette perfectly lodged between his chapped lips where there should have been some gangrene colored teeth. Shouting over the burnt peanut oil filled fryer he might say something like, “Lorraine, what’n dah holy shit f’kin crap does dis’in scratchin supse to be sayings!” The kitchen was closed. The “chef” had left to see the doctor that day, probably an annual appointment to saw off his toenails and sanitize the crevice of his buttocks. Oh, well.
The highlight of the day was finally seeing this little burrowing owl, no more than the size of a ruby red grapefruit and the rest of the evening was spent learning a new card game called “Hand & Foot.” My instructors divulging only partial pieces of the rules, it was slightly frustrating which ordained yet another night of too many cocktails. We ordered a pepperoni pizza and I wrapped up this uneventful day by reading in bed . . . thank god for my unconscious affair with Jake!
This trip was never about wining and dining at great establishments, soaking up copious amounts of Florida culture nor fully partaking in the many tropical pastimes . . . it was about spending time with my Mother & Stepfather, meeting some good people and unraveling some of the side effects of my lawsuit that still permeate a once pristine belief system. Tomorrow, I will say farewell to Marco Island and travel towards a very frigid, iced over Wisconsin to complete the other half of this journey. My Dad, Brother, Sister-n-Law, Nieces and Long-Lasting Friends all await my arrival for more memories, more booze, more cards and certainly more fried foods – Mardi Gras can’t compete with what’s to come, that’s for certain!
With Culinary Blessings,
Chef Scotty
Mardi Gras Gator Meatballs
I’ve used Gator plenty of times before and in my experience you don’t want any dark colored meat as it has a peculiar fishy/reptile taste (like the blood clot in a swordfish filet). You could just as easily substitute any other odd creature for this recipe including turtle, raccoon, opossum, snake, squirrel, feral cat . . . anything works just make sure it’s ethically harvested and legal. Gator is available via the internet or specialty markets in the frozen section –email if you need more details as to where you can purchase some.
Ingredients
- 2 1/4 pounds potatoes, peeled and diced
- 5 1/4 pounds alligator meat
- 1 1/2 pounds onions
- 2 bunches green onions
- 2 bunches fresh parsley
- 1 medium head garlic
- 1/2 bunch celery
- 1 quart oil for frying
- 2 eggs
- 3 tablespoons Old Bay Seasoning
- 2 tablespoons coriander
- 1 tablespoon cumin
- 2 1/2 pounds smashed cornflakes
Directions
- Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add potatoes and cook until tender but still firm, about 15 minutes; drain. Put the alligator meat, onions, green onions, parsley, celery and potatoes through a meat grinder (or food processor) into a large bowl. Mix in the eggs, Old Bay Seasoning, coriander and cumin until well blended. Shape into 1 ounce balls (golf ball sized) and roll in smashed cornflakes.
- Heat oil in deep-fryer to 375 degrees F (190 degrees C). Fry meat balls until golden and crisp. Drain on paper towels.
- Serve with that Dijon-Tarragon dipping Sauce I posted a few days back . . . Joe’s Stone Crab Title, maybe February 16th or there’s around.
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