Honeymoon Surprise

So there we were, barely twenty, newlywed, poor, and sweating it out at a 'tent show' Renaissance Faire in Hollywood, Florida.

We'd been sent down there by my dad to run the little booth and make him some money while we earned a tiny living and attempted a honeymoon as well. He didn't make much money, we had to live off of our wedding gift money, and it all ended badly. But we did have some fun. We made some friends, as well as a few enemies. We had adventures and watched a couple of awful movies when there was nothing else to do. We went to Disney world for a couple of days, barbecued steak on the beach, and discovered Cuban food.

We also got a little surprise. Not, surprisingly enough, a kid. That discovery would come merely a few short months later, but this is not that story.

You see, a 'tent show' is not an established Renaissance Faire like King Richard's Faire or the Michigan Renaissance Festival. Those fine venues, both of which our family has sold at in times past, have permanent structures on land that they either own or lease. A tent show rents some land- a park in this case- and has their crafters, food vendors, performers, etc, set up tents, portable staging equipment, easily broken-down seating, you name it. It is somewhat like a freakish old time circus, with badly painted Olde English lettering on beer signs instead of bright red and yellow flashing lights. These shows generally, but not always, have inferior performers and craftspeople to the more established shows. My dad was not one of the inferior crafters, just an opportunist.

One of the problems with a tent show is the inherent temporariness of it all. Our booth was a simple setup of two tables, covered in cloth, rigged with an incredible X frame that held necklace bars and little shelves. Beside us, to our left, was a candle shop, and one more beside them, on the corner of that little pathway, was a theme clothing shop. Turn the corner in that jerry-rigged setup, and you would have found yourself at the small gaming alley. All of the typical barker carnival games are therem but in 'Ren Faire' mode- beanbag toss, Jacob's ladder, duck hunt, Chinese throwing stars. Wait, did I just say Chinese throwing stars? Why, yes, I believe I did. here's where this story gets better.

Michael and I were standing around one fine afternoon, wishing more people would buy stuff. The Miami area is not known for its absorption with culture, fantasy, or medeval jewelry. No, they tend to be more obsessed with their bodies, health drinks, and the beach. Frighteningly over-muscled men strutted about the little park with their beer cups and their equally muscled girlfriends. Doddering old people wandered around mumbling, some not even aware that a function was going on. the day was nearly over, and our take had been pathetic- more so than usual. We were just contemplating the grim prospect of having to cook a camp supper again, after a long day, when Michael suddenly let out a tiny gasp and kind of stood up straighter.

"What?" I asked, thinking that he had been stung by a bee, or possibly had a particularly revolutionary thought strike him. He merely looked at me, slightly wild-eyed, and vaguely motioned behind him.

"I... think something bit me," he stammered.

I ducked under the tent supports to look at his back, and almost didn't see it. Barely glancing at his back, I went to lift his shirt up, but saw instead our neighbor (from the candle place- nice people, by the way-) staring at Micheal in horror.
A Chinese star stuck out of his back, about half an inch from his spine. It must have been a wild throw from the rickety wooden target board twenty feet away. As I panicked and (stupidly) went to touch his back, it simply fell out onto the ground. Around this time, Michael realized that it was not simply a bug bite. He felt no pain, just kind of a pinch and a little pressure, which is why he didn't know what had happened to him. I think that possibly because it went into his skin so close to his spine was the reason that he felt no pain. A tiny cut in his muslin shirt was the only outside evidence of his near brush with medical mayhem and possible handicap.

Now I did lift up his shirt, still unable to believe what I had seen. A little cut was there on his back, about half an inch long. It barely bled, just kind of reddened a little, but it was so very close to the spine that it made my own spine curl with fear.

Michael marched the sharp star over to the throwing booth and presented it to them, Exhibit A. He then turned around, pointed to the fresh slit in his shirt, and explained what had happened to him.

"Oh, really?" Came the response, "We had a drunk guy here few minutes ago. He had some prett-ty wild throws, man. You musta got one of them. Haha."

Michael calmly pointed out that the wild throw coud have paralyzed him. More stoned laughter, along with an offer for Mike to keep the star 'as a souvenir'. That's about as far as he was going to get. I think the guys tightened up the gaps between their rickety wooden boards and the ones beside them, but I really can't remember. We did keep the throwing star, but have lost track of it over the years. No more mishaps really came about from there, unless you count the star that stuck into the canvas of our beautiful period tent (which is up for sale, by the way!). That endangered no one, so it didn't seem nearly as frightening.

The wound, which was clean, healed up with no problems, and there is barely even the hint of a scar there now. Some of the people who have heard this story raise an eyebrow in disbelief, some laugh, some are horrified. I am a tiny bit of all three when I think back to it. No one else that I know got a swiftly moving sharp metal star stuck in their body on their honeymoon.

And if there are any of ya, let me know, maybe we'll start a club!

While-you're-at-it Brownies

I call these brownies 'While-you're-at-it' because the steps can be done in between other things, such as laundry, other cooking, or basic around the kitchen stuff. They are very rich, and I can generally only eat a 1" square at a time. I know, I'm a wimp!

Adapted from Practical Cooking.

1 - 6 oz bar Scharffen Berger bittersweet chocolate, coarsely chopped*
6 oz butter, chopped
3 eggs, lightly beaten
1 1/2 cups light brown sugar
1 tbsp vanilla
1 cup plus two tbsp all-purpose unbleached flour
1/4 cup cocoa powder
1 - 8 oz package walnuts

*Why do I command that thou usest expensive chocolate? Why, because your brownies are what they start with. You want bitter, gritty, mealy, stick-in-your-throat-sweet brownies, go ahead and use generic semi-sweet chips. I pity your soul.

Start with a smallish heatproof dish that just fits into a sauce pan without falling in. For example, I have a Pyrex bowl that is about an inch larger around than my medium saucepan. Bring your water to a boil, then remove from heat. Set your bowl into this, not touching the water, not boiling the water, and being careful not to cross your arms. Kidding on that last one there, guys, relax.
Preheat your oven to 350˚
Now drop your chopped butter and chopped chocolate together into the glass dish.
Go about your business.
Or, as my Italian nonno used to say: "bidness"
In a few minutes, drop by the dish, give it a swizzle with a whisk, and resist the temptation to lick it. Yeah, right.
You can use this time to measure out your other ingredients, unless you're a Type A and already did. If you're like me, you will start about fifteen kitchen projects that are destined to never be finished. Oh, and you'll probably clean up 1.2 kid messes, answer the phone, and spill something on yourself in this time.
Give the butter/chocolate heaven another swizzle. Is it starting to get shiny? Good. Not? Maybe you could reheat the water, keeping the glass out of it again (you knew, that, right? ok, I won't bring it up again)
Now you can suddenly remember that you need an 8" x 8" glass baking dish and scramble to wash last week's frittata out of it. Once it's dry, you can brush melty butter on it and rip off a piece of parchment paper appx double the width of your baking dish. The overhang is to allow you to pull the greasy things out of the pan when they're cool.
Squish the paper down in the dish, trying desperately not to pay attention to the fact that it doesn't fit. This part always reminds me of the classic Phil Hartman SNL skit: The Anal Retentive Chef. I wonder how he would deal with oversize parchment paper.

Now that you've wasted even more time on JibJab, your stuff should be mostly melty. Blend your sugar & vanilla with the eggs. Is your chocolate/butter mix shiny? Fold it into the egg mixture, gently. Add your cocoa powder, flour and walnuts at once, mix just until the white no longer shows (is that like holding fire until you see the whites of their eyes?) and dump unceremoniously into the baking dish. Anticlimatic, isn't it?

Bake for appx 40 minutes, dreaming of better things. I suppose this could be another moment where you do other things, like finish one of the fifteen things started or yell at your kids again.

These brownies are messy when cut while warm. I do not know if they are any different when cut while cool, because they never make it to that point in my house. They are SO GOOD that they melt in your mouth, and the bigger you leave the walnut chunks, the better, for some odd reason. No wimpy 'bits' for me, thanks.

Enjoy.

...and RIP, Phil Hartman.

Middle Age.