21/2cups of flour( self rising)
2 tablespoons of cornstarch
2 whole eggs+ 1 yolk
2 Tablespoons of lemon juice
1 Tablespoon of Gin
1/2 Teaspoon of lemon zest
1 cup of bread crumbs
1 &1/2 cup of buttermilk
1 Tablespoon of cayenne pepper
2 tablespoon of dried chives
1 Teaspoon of salt
1 Table spoon of dehydrated onion
1 Tablespoon of garlic powder
1 Tablespoon of Paresean Cheese
3 cups of shucked Manoes
6 cups of oil for deep frying
mix all ingredeints
minus the clams
create a batter
add more or less to
create a sticky consistant batter
smooth
dip Manoes in the batte
and deep fry until golden brown
serve from a bed of watercrest
small cunks of deseed watermelon
crumbled feta
and fried onions with crumbled bacon
lettuce, fried green tomatos
and a vinagerette
serve with tartar sauce
Enjoy!
I’ll hang out here and hope to see
My hungry heart filled to the brim
With one of these little fish, my plea
Is that I’m watching my dinner swim
Carefully spinning, coming back to me
I’ll wait, you see, there may be two
Who would like to become the sacrifice
For a good dinner, I only need a few
Just a bit of tartar sauce will suffice
My only wish, to taste them, to chew
I’ll not hesitate to share my find
With another kitty, someone I like
Who will understand – one of my kind
A purr-fect friend who will strike
With a smile, bringing peace of mind
I must listen to my owner who reveals
The opinion that my hunger could kill
These little fish who would be such good meals
He says that, despite my hunting skill
These fish are pets so their bowl he conceals
Fat bellied man
It seems we have a
Miss
Under
Standing
What you huntin?
Nothin in here for you
The safe is bare
How dare
You
Not
Be aware
that
I was inclined
To go out and dine
Dressed to the nines
The corner fish fry was nice
just a bit of advic
I don’t do tartar
Only tar-tare
I thought you understood
The rules of this game
Those steam-sealed pockets
I don’t choose
to purposely inflame
But
Everything is a process
A test
Now was that really your best
Aside from clutching your leather so tight
If you had looked up from the pennies
You stowed away with that key
You would have recognized my grace
And would have known
There was no need to angst
The night was on me
That is a persnickety pussycat someone said.
She eats daintily with forethought, fork close to her head.
She wields a knife in the best technique of all.
Stabbing her fish with pizzazz and timely gall.
She is a food critic, she has wily wide ways.
Tasting our kibble and bits with tartar sauce glaze.
We see her doing it, and we cringe, waiting for her critique.
As a food critic goes, her reviews are harsh and unique.
There is a power the mightiest king can neither calm nor tether.
What power? you ask. The task I mean goes by the name of weather.
It was on Saint Mary Magdalene's Day in 1342,
on the twenty-second of July, a fact known but to few,
a raging fearful deluge descended from on high
like none since Noah's flood. In truth I do not lie.
It took away the rich man's house, it swept over hill and lea,
it blackened many a verdant plain as far as eye could see.
Every land in Christendom, from Wales to the tip of Spain
witnessed great loss of wealth and life, saw sorrow and great pain.
'Repent, ye sinners! the prelate preached. Pray God relieve this curse.'
In ignorance the people thought nothing could be worse.
but worse did come, not tarrying long, i whisper in low breath,
from Tartar land on the Black Sea shore. Alas, it was Black Death.
The I trois1:01 men-nuts long
The first time they s collaborate
Bunch used both electric and
traditional instruments in a fusion
Of we. The origin of togetherness.
Lying to one group to increase the
Interest of another. Making specticails
Of fools, while patting the back and ass
Of the other. When the neglected bunch
Sought redemption, they called to familiar things, familiar situations they joined together. Without guidance men struggle. With those who have been neglected in aeomans compatibility they used stories of more attractive people
Beyond the muck and dirt, who speaks kinder? When she needs me, what until then. Yes says enough. Tomorrows lover, yesterday's man. RowOne Seat One!, The Lute, The Oboe,and the Chello
. Woman Drawers, her panties! The Next Morning
Sumthangs Specail. Grungy Groove. Ah Ooh: ah ooh!
These were the titled for bassy stringed marinaded meatez. The right thang at the right time. Music for lovers!
The weird racing car
The car was driving on the thin track,
Oh no, the car bumped into a leather sack.
The driver limped out of his car,
Only to find some children eating tartar.
Am I going mad, the driver thought,
As he saw some goats gloat.
The driver started to scream...
As a huge machine started to spill on him, fresh cream.
THE SERGEANT MAJOR
I'll always remember Granpa Shreeve
No collar,braces and rolled up sleeves,
Leather buckled trouser belt;
Number forty-six with Gran he dwelt.
A curled up moustache,
His manner stiff and harsh;
Horse artillery in a younger day
A shilling a day his rate of pay.
His hens roamed at the end of the patch
Each day free to root and scratch;
Collecting eggs from his homemade coop
His aging back acquired a stoop.
Fresh,brown and range free
Daily for breakfast or tea;
He killed a chicken as a special treat,
Plucking now a forgotten feat.
A waist-coated old stager
Known to all as the Sargeant Major;
Old fashioned,a bit of a tartar-
Made my Gran a domestic martyr.
repost fro m Year Posted 2007
I have loved this dish all my life
my mum made it so ever new
but always best at chippy shop
wrapped in newspaper after a queue
Always loved splashing my chips
with vinegar, pepper and salt
haddock or cod my favourite fish
cover with tartar sauce without fault
Loved to have after the match
soccer my fab game, go every week
get my fish supper before go home
real tangy taste so to speak
Remember holidays in my twenties
Blackpool on the west coast yearly
last thing at night fish supper a must
diet forgotten weight high I did fear!
In Scotland, we called it a fish supper
if in England fish and chips was its name
over the years price has changed too high
but even so, its never lost its fishy fame
(I am writing a poem about the classic British dish... fish and chips!)
They found
ground green peppers
Ground ground onions
Ground garlic
.ground cucumbers
Cultured buttered milk
Cayeene pepper
Ground shrimp
Ground catfish
Some flour and eggs
Mixed well
And rolled in bread crumbs
Fried crisp
And served with a tart
Candied ginger
yogurt tartar sauce
Man that's some
Delicious great tasting goodness
They found
ground green peppers
Ground ground onions
Ground garlic
.ground cucumbers
Cultured buttered milk
Cayeene pepper
Ground shrimp
Ground catfish
Some flour and eggs
Mixed well
And rolled in bread crumbs
Fried crisp
And served with a tart
Candied ginger
yogurt tartar sauce
Man that's some
Delicious great tasting goodness
2 cups of grounded goeduck clam snouts( cooked, steamed)
1 cup of crab meat (claw)
3/4 cup of catfish grounded (steamed)
1 cup of whipping cream
1 cup of chicken stock
1 cup of mushrooms chopped fine
3/4 cup of olive oil
3/4 cup of flour
1/2 cup of onions
4 Tablespoons of garlic
2 tablespoons of chopped dill weed
1.5 to 2 tablespoons of cayenne pepper
1/4 cup of lemon juice
2 tablespoons of cognac
6 egg whites whipped to form a merguine
1/4 teaspoon of cream of tartar
in a pan sauté onions and mushrooms, and garlic add flour make a brown roux add
chicken stock and cream, set aside. combine all ingredient except the merguine, fold in egg whites and bake in a 400 degree oven.
serve with a lemon hollandaise!
Catfish I love is on a plate
with tartar sauce, french fries, and slaw;
but I despise the type that trolls
online, those pervs who break the law
and tell some trusting kid, “I’m twelve,
like YOU! I live right by the park
near you. Let’s meet there by the bridge.
You’ll be back home before it’s dark.
Don’t tell your mom! If she’s like mine,
she’ll tell you NO. Let’s just sneak out.”
She says, “I’ll go slip out the back.
We’ll have a lot of fun—no doubt!”
The sicko rushed right to the bridge.
The “kid” he met was twenty-five,
an undercover cop with cuffs
and back-up. “Channel 14 LIVE”
rushed in on this newsworthy scene.
A big catfish was caught that day.
Because such wickedness abounds,
not all such stories end this way.
May 15, 2018, entered in Catie Lindsey's Catfish Poetry Contest
A Plate of Disorder
Are you ready to Disorder Sir?
What can I tempt you for a starter,
May I recommend the Turmoil Soup?
Garnished with Havoc Green Tartar.
For the main, perhaps our house speciality,
Goujons of Chaos and Sweet Bedlam.
With a Medley of Confusion and Mess,
Served on a bed of Smoked Mayhem.
On the Dessert Trolley tonight,
We have a Disarray of Cheese Cake,
A delicious Rhubarb Anarchy,
Or Sticky Turbulent Plum Bake.
Please enjoy your hearty and Riotous feast,
May it temper and fulfil the agitated beast.
THE MALEVOLENT GOLDEN HORDE
By Roy Merritt
They rode out over the Asian steppes their ponies hooves flashing
Their arrows taking wing their blades brutally slashing
A river of blood they left in their horrid wake
Their victims cursing their gods for those they did forsake
They went along the Urals and further moving west
And all who opposed them these monsters did suppress
On to the Danube they rode this murderous eastern tribe
And rested their haggard steeds and these waters did imbibe
And others went to the east into the Siberian cold
To conquer all before them their terror to behold
They rode in the name of Batu the grandson of Genghis Khan
And ruled these lands for a century and even years beyond
And yet they were destined in these lands near and far
Rebellion was their plight in the days of the Tartar
And now they are but a faint memory their infamy long ignored
But history shan't forget them The Malevolent Golden Horde.
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