I think I’ve belonged to this Hunt Club since either 2000 or 2001.  Can’t remember.  But honestly, there’s a lot I can’t remember……………..What a fun, hysterical, mixed-kettle of fish!  You never know what to expect, but you can rest assured it will probably be unexpected.

We have the best parties.  We have the best stories.  We have Hunt Club brawls (that was before my time in the 80’s, but it’s a legend).  We have the best Teas.  What is a Tea you may ask?  Well, firstly………..I don’t think it has ever had anything to do with actual tea.  Maybe Long Island, but not the brewed kind.  It’s kind-of-like an equine event/tail-gate…………but in a pasture or in the woods, not in a parking lot.  Teas usually start between 10:00 and 11:00am or 6:30 and 7:00pm depending on the Hunt.  People come in, untack, are exhausted & filthy.  (This is the time when you always check people’s backsides and backs to see who has dirt on them.  It’s that ah-ha moment when you know who departed from their horse out in the field.)  Horses are then subsequently left munching, tied off to their trailers, and riders filter in to the picnic tables or chairs to eat and re-count the past few hours.

It’s a revolving system of who hosts the Tea.  Most are good, but some are fantastic!  We even had a Greek-themed one planned by another member complete with a belly-dancer———but a Hurricane came through or something and that Hunt & Tea were cancelled.  Sigh!  You know the great ones by how long people stay, because lets face it, everyone is sore and dirty and they have to haul a horse trailer home and then bathe and care for their mount before they can continue with their “regular” day.  I’m proud to say, my Teas are great!  Here’s my recipe for success:  Serve peasant food in large quantities (you know the tasty, inexpensive stuff with wonderful carbs & calories).  But whatever is served make sure you’ve made copious amounts so it doesn’t run out.  Concentrate on refined sugars and inordinate amounts of butter (always a plus/salted or sweet) and if you’re worried then add more butter.  And when in doubt, make real mashed potatoes (with said butter and real whipping cream—–yes, whipping cream).  (I suggest just spackling them directly onto your chins or thighs.)  I like to leave lumps in mine.  They are kind of like that precious little “find” in your mound on your plate of your own personal carb.  Really a treat.

We have a bumper-pull cooker/smoker with multiple propane attachments for skillets, smokers, boilers, grilling.  It’s great.  I put a plaque on one of the fenders naming it my father’s memorial cooker/smoker…………….we have our priorities straight here.  Usually at our Teas we deep-fry a huge turkey or two in peanut oil.  Oh!  My Great Aunt Gertie’s pantaloons!!!!!!!!!  Those birds are good!  You northerners out there……………if you’ve never had a deep-fried turkey, you have been missing one of the eight wonders of the world!  I kid you not………..and the skin……………..!!!!!!!  How I’m not on cholesterol medication at my age, I do not understand!

Oh, and really what makes my Teas fly is the re-using of my parent’s bridge table.   (My Mother was a bridge fanatic in the 60’s and was sure I loved the game and the accompanying home-made finger-sandwiches cut into the shapes of the four suits w/o crusts AND lets not forget the Jell-O salads!?!   (Who makes Jell-O salads anymore?  And why where the green ones always made with shredded carrots in them?  My mother even had this one recipe of a chilled salad with shredded, canned, corned beef……………IN JELL-O with peas!!!  I’m serious!!! Blah!).  I’m just glad the 70’s quickly followed the 60’s.)  Well, Mom would force me to be her partner (some sort of warped, cultural up-lifting attempt on her part)———until I bid her into a void and left the table……………..and the house (I hid in the barn for hours)……………..she never forgave me for that———ever!   (Bet you lost track of this sentence’s real intention?)—————–The bridge table’s real and intended purpose in life.  Well it’s simple———supporting my full service bar!  I feel like I’ve saved that old bridge table.  I hear it sigh every time I use it to serve drinks.  I have two (not one but two) stainless steel penguin shakers(One is an Emperor penguin and the other is a King penguin), I have every bottle imaginable with handles (it’s safer that way) filled with every shade of transparent and amber to brown and even greens.  I’m even growing a Persian lime tree (with difficulty per the “Greening” citrus disease down here in Florida) for the perfect accoutrement to Cosmopolitans.

Now THAT’s how a bridge table should be used!  (And really who puts canned corned beef in Jell-O?  Anyone?  Anyone?  I think it should be a crime on most continents.)

Back to the perfect Tea……………………..I also always take zip lock bags and insist people take home leftovers (we are so over preparing the food by that time, we don’t want to see it ever, ever again).  That brings me to a fun little story about Simone.  Well, I had easily made at least ten pounds of butter-saturated mashed potatoes and sent it home with people.  Later my friend Simone told me a secret (which I am telling the World now, or at least some silly “Cloud”)  and the guilty secret was that after she drove home, (along with the help of Rex Goliath/chicken wine and those wonderful red Solo Cups————-great song by the way) that she hid in her vehicle and ate the mashed potatoes right out of the plastic bag, in the garage before going in the house and having to share.  She said she felt guilty and wonderful at the same time.  What a great dichotomy!……………………..honestly, that made my day……………..that a common, little tuber and copious amounts of butter can be so tasty and popular.      Lumps and all!  Hmmmmmmmmmmm.  I think there’s a philosophy about life there somewhere———“lumps and all”………………….

Whoops!  Too deep.  Mike drop.  I’m outta here……………………later………………..