They say there’s a little boy in every man….. and if that’s true?
Mine is playing cowboys and Indians.
Left to his own devices, my husband could easily watch the western channel 24 hours a day. I know…. because True Grit, Fort Apache and Rio Bravo have been the background soundtrack to my life for the past 36 years.
He likes westerns, ergo he likes John Wayne.
Not as a real person, he neither knows nor cares who that was….. but rather as an idealized portrait of what a real man is supposed to be. At least on screen.
So when we went to Lowes the other day and were standing on the check out line? You know he had to grab this:
I’m sure you can hear my eyes rolling from there.
Who knew my husband wanted to be a cookout legend?
The man who has never read a recipe in his life, but had to buy this book. And may I just say?
I was not impressed.
That is the saddest excuse for steak I’ve ever seen. And with pesto made from cilantro as an accompaniment? The Duke and his horse should be run out of town with their heads hanging down in shame.
Now correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t Texas do everything up big?
If so, these are misnamed…. because those are the skimpiest, most pathetic tacos to ever grace a shell.
And I’m from Maine.
We fill our tacos with haddock and lobster… what do we know?
I’ll spare you the Gun Smokey Barbecue Chicken and the Ringo Kid’s Skirt Steak, but suffice it to say I doubt any of Wayne’s dishes will ever make it to our table.
And now, because this is my blog and you know I can’t help myself…. here’s one final picture of the quintessential manly man.
You can thank me later.