Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader wishes all of you, his loyal readers, a very Happy New Year. He hopes that you are all well and not too hung over. Your Maximum Leader, as is his habit, didn’t do too much to celebrate New Years. Indeed, for many years the extent of his celebration consisted of hanging around with his best buddy Kevin. We would watch movies, and then switch over to Dick Clark at about 11:55. We’d watch the ball drop in Times Square, then we would go back to watching movies until we drifted into the clutches of Morpheus. Now that Kevin is in Korea, our old plan is not practical. So, your Maximum Leader stays at home with is family and watches movies and then switches to Dick Clark at about 11:55 and watches the ball drop.

Pretty exciting huh?

Excursus: Your Maximum Leader isn’t sure how he should feel watching Dick Clark. On the one hand, Clark has made great progress since his stroke a few years ago. But on the other hand, your Maximum Leader feels badly watching him. He is overwhelmed by a feeling of being voyeuristic when watching Clark.

You know who your Maximum Leader misses on New Years Eve? Guy Lombardo and his Royal Canadians. He went out and bought a copy of Auld Lang Syne on iTunes to satisfy this nostalgic feeling.

Anyhoo, your Maximum Leader generally does indulge himself with a bottle of Pol Roger on New Years. But this year he opted to go with an Italian sparkling wine from Veneto. It was very good (he should say it is very good, as he hasn’t quite finished the bottle yet). The Processo he bought is dry with undercurrents of fruit (apples or pears). This sparkling wine has the benefit of only being about $17 a bottle - as opposed to the $50 a bottle your Maximum Leader is used to spending on the Pol Roger. Your Maximum Leader isn’t sure that he is enjoying the Italian wine as much as he has enjoyed the champagne in the past; but it is still pretty tasty.

Speaking of tasty…

The Almond encrusted pork loin was quite delicious. Your Maximum Leader took is massive pork tenderloin (featured in the post below) and cut it into thirds. He went ahead and prepared two of the three pieces for Christmas. He and his family wound up eating one third on Christmas day. The other prepared third was itself divided into thirds and divied up between your Maximum Leader’s in-laws, parents, and hungry self.

The third portion of tenderloin is thawed out and waiting to be prepared tonight. Your Maximum Leader hasn’t heard from anyone on a good preparation (NB to Mrs P: You teased me with a promise of recipe…). So he thinks he will do a typical rosemary and garlic marinade for a few hours then roast.

In unrelated news, Your Maximum Leader should tell you all that he’s been thinking recently that there is some big question in his life to which he knows the answer. The answer is (apparently) Venice. Yes, the city in Italy. He isn’t sure what the question is, but feels that Venice is the answer.

Anyhoo…

On to New Years resolutions. Your Maximum Leader will share a few of his with you all.

In 2008 your Maximum Leader will bring peace to the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem.

In 2008 your Maximum Leader will compete as his own nation in the summer Olympics in Beijing. He will not finish lower than fourth in every event. He will accomplish this feat by using his heretofore unknown ability to warp the time-space continuum.

In 2008 your Maximum Leader will win every Nobel Prize available when he completes his “Grand Unified Theory.” This theory, which will be ultimately be confirmed by scientists from the Gamma-Zeta 294 system 8,433 years from now, will unify all practical questions of physics, chemistry, biology, mathematics, and literature. The key to the unification of science will be the proto-electroneuquark partical - also known affectionately as “The Maxy”.

In 2008 your Maximum Leader will end global warming by meditating for 72 hours straight under a blossoming tree surrounded by dancing wood-nymphs.

In 2008 your Maximum Leader will be elected President of the United States without receiving a single popular vote. He will win a unanimous vote of the Electoral College. After his inauguration in 2009, Canada, Great Britain, Mexico, Brazil and Lichenstein will voluntarially surrender their national sovreignty to your Maximum Leader and the Mike World Order shall begin.

In 2008 your Maximum Leader will wish the previously dreamy Jennifer Love Hewitt a happy married life; he will move on to the passionate Lola Astanova as the object of his platonic affections.

In 2008 your Maximum Leader will try to improve the quality (if not quantity) of blog posts here at Naked Villainy.

There you have them. Your Maximum Leader is pretty sure he can keep up with at least two of them…

Carry on.

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader is nothing if not a traditionalist when it comes to Christmas dinner. Standing rib roast, broiled potatoes, yorkshire pudding, etc., etc.. But this year he discovered that he had consumed the rib roasts from the steer that the Smallholder had raised for him. He consumed them earlier by cooking for parties. So now here comes Christmas and he doesn’t have rib roasts.

Your Maximum Leader, while not miserly, is of Scottish extraction. This means that does have a cheap streak in him. He just couldn’t bring himself to buy a rib roast from the grocer when he has a huge chest freezer filled with meat (raised for him by Smallholder).

This past year your Maximum Leader purchased from Smallholder a whole steer and a whole hog. Your Maximum Leader has frequently praised Smallholder for both. Well, when it came time to send the animals to the abbatoir, your Maximum Leader asked the butcher to keep the hog’s tenderlion completely intact. This was out mostly out of curiosity. Your Maximum Leader figured that he could always cut down the tenderloin to the size he needed for any particular meal - and if he wanted to cook up the whole thing while entertaining he could.

Well… When the meat came the tenderloin package was massive. Much larger than he thought in fact. He forgets sometimes that Smallholder’s hogs are often twice “normal market” weight. The tenderloin sat in the freezer. Sat until last night that is. It was then that your Maximum Leader determined that the pork tenderloin would be Christmas dinner. He took the tenderloin out to thaw and started to unwrap it this morning.

For your edification, here is his tenderloin - still mostly frozen.

Yes. That pork tenderloin is about 10 inches long - when doubled over on itself! It is about 5 and a half inches thick on the narrow end. It weighs (frozen) about 12 pounds.

Your Maximum Leader is going to cut it into sections and use it over the whole holiday stretch. It is much too large to use for one meal (plus he doesn’t think he could cook the whole thing effectively without a large spit).

Christmas dinner will consist of an Almond Encrusted Tenderloin (section), whipped potatoes, a baked apple casserole, asparagus and hollandaise, and a green salad.

If any reader would like to suggest additional tenderloin preparations (for New Years perhaps) they would be appreciated. He is considering a tenderloin in orange sauce and a rosemary tenderloin already.

Carry on.

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader has long extolled the virtues and taste of the animals raised for consumption by his good friend Smallholder. Well, Smallholder’s neighbor and friend (and your Maximum Leader’s friend too - lest there be confusion), Polymath is making an offering to the Gods of charcuterie.

Check it out.

Carry on.

The Maximum Leader, my friend Polymath, and another friend are going to have a wild caught dinner night this winter. We will dine on a variety of dishes we have killed ourselves.

I’m not sure if Polymath reads the Llama Butchers, so I’ll pass on this link to what we should have for appetizers.

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader pulled a chuck roast out of ye olde chest freezer the other night for dinner. He thawed out the roast, browned it on all sides with salt and pepper. Then in the same pan in which he did his browning, he sauteed up some onions, carrots and celery. He seasoned the whole bit liberally with salt, pepper, a touch of garlic, some paprika, and a shot of scotch. Then he put the roast back in the pot and added water. When the roast was cooked he drained off much of the liquid and made a gravy from it with roux. He served the meat with mashed potatoes and the gravy.

As he ate it he was transported back in time. Back in time to his paternal grandmother’s kitchen. It tasted just like the pot roast his grandmother used to make for him. It was a warm and comforting memory.

But he was surprised to think that his grandmother might have added some scotch into her gravy…

Carry on.

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader is transfixed by a blog he found via Rachel.

He’s now added the Old Foodie to the blogroll.

Your Maximum Leader has been reading old entries for waaaay too long today.

Clicky and read-y.

Carry on.

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader has been frustrated for the past few days. You see, he’s been trying to leave a congratulatory comment over at The Ministry of Minor Perfidy for new papa, Johno. (Awww… See the cute baby and proud father here.) Your Maximum Leader’s frustrations stem from the fact that when he tries to leave a comment, the little graphic “phrase” that you have to enter to prove you are a person and not some nasty spamming computer doesn’t load. So his comment doesn’t get published.

Of course, the flip side of the trouble commenting is that your Maximum Leader must make his congratulatory comments here. Johno, Mrs Johno, many congratulations. Your Maximum Leader doffs his bejeweled floppy cap to you both. (But mostly to Mrs Johno — who we all know did the hard stuff.) And to the Wee Johno… Your Maximum Leader wishes you the best. You’ve got two great parents who will steer you right.

Also on the Ministry’s web page…

Anadama bread. Which your Maximum Leader has never had before, but it reads very well and makes him salivate…

Carry on.

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader and Mrs P’s biorythms must be in sync. (Excursus: Does anyone ever talk about biorythms any more? Do you remember those cheesey machines in malls in the late 70’s where you put your birthday in to the machine with a quarter and got out that card telling you how your day was going to go? Hummm…) Your Maixmum Leader had a pork post, and Mrs. P had a pork post. Admittedly, hers was much more entertaining and informative…

Your Maximum Leader will now step into some heretical areas (Father M - please get your rosary ready…).

The Smallholder and your Maximum Leader were musing the other day on the telephone about pork. We were discussing the glories of bacon actually. Then it popped out of Smallholder’s mouth… “You know,” he said. “That bacon isn’t perfectly healthy for you must be proof against the concept of a omnibenevolent God. Afterall, if God really loved us he’d let us eat all the bacon we wanted.”

Your Maximum Leader, as longtime readers know, is not an adherent to the concept of an omnibenevolent God (at least the omnibenevolence that most people think of). But in the broadest sense your Maximum Leader agreed with the Smallholder. Of course, God must favor Christians because there is no dietary injunction against pork and pork products. On the other hand, the fact that there is bacon at all should count for something. Bacon (and beer, according to Ben Franklin) are proof that God does love us and want us happy.

If only that love were less cholesterol laden…

At some point when your Maximum Leader has some time, he’ll have to come up with a porcine theology post…

Carry on.

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader remembers that it was just a little over a year ago that he and the delightful Mrs P were having a conversation about ham.

It all started with this post your Maximum Leader wrote while guest-hosting for the Crack Young Staff of The Hatemonger’s Quarterly. Mrs P was kind enough to follow-up that post with one of her own where she shared the secrets of the Bacon Buttie recipe. In the comment section of Mrs P’s post, your Maximum Leader saw an opportunity to impress with his knowledge of hams. That resulted in the “Know your ham” post on this site. (And the “Know your ham” post resulted in one more follow-on from Mrs P.)

Have you got all the background there?

Now… You may have seen this little piece on the AP news wires yesterday. “World’s costliest ham triggers pork envy.” Let us review the highlights of the article, shall we?

Now, hard-core foodies are drooling over the prospect of something truly superlative from Spain, at least in price: a salt-cured ham costing about $2,100 per leg, or a cruel $160 per pound. It’s a price believed to make it the most expensive ham in the world.

[…]

The 2006 Alba Quercus Reserve (as this pricey pork will be known) won’t be available until late 2008 and you must buy the whole ham or nothing at all. But that hasn’t dissuaded gastronomic Web sites and blogs from buzzing with talk of the farm where it is being produced, likening it to a Mount Olympus of pork.

Its mastermind, Manuel Maldonado, 44, comes from a long line of ham producers in a country that’s nuts about the stuff. In bars and restaurants, legs of ham hanging from the wall are as common as TV sets.

But Maldonado is taking the art of the ham to new heights, pampering his pigs with a free-range lifestyle and top-quality diet of acorns before slaughtering them, then curing the meat for two years — twice as long as his competitors.

It’s that last step that Maldonado credits with creating a delicacy that justifies the heavenly price.

Maldonado had hoped to roll out his super-gourmet ham this year, but felt the first batch fell short of his ultra-demanding standards and did not put it up for sale. He hopes to do better this time and have it ready around Christmas 2008.

“This is the best ham in the world because it comes from the best pig in the world,” Maldonado says of 2006 Alba Quercus Reserve, a reference to the year the pigs were slaughtered.

“It is the most important ham in Spain,” adds Pedro Soley, a Barcelona connoisseur who is among the lucky few lining up to buy one. Indeed, this is a limited edition piece: Maldonado will produce just 80 to 100 legs.

And they are expected to be a world apart from Spain’s more common Iberian ham — named for the breed of pig used — which is similar to Italian prosciutto, but a darker red and chewier.

For comparison, Italy’s finest Prosciutto di Parma and Spain’s top-grade Spanish acorn-fed Iberian ham — both savory, umami-rich meats usually served as ultra-thin slices — top out at $30 a pound.

With Spanish pigs bound for ham glory, diet is everything. The least expensive ham is made from pigs fed on grain, whereas mid-grade hams come from pigs raised on a combination of wheat and acorns.

Then there are Spain’s poshest pigs, which feast exclusively on acorns, producing a rich flavor and oily texture that make the meat a delicacy. Spain’s finest hams are not considered first-rate without an “acorn-fed” stamp on the label.

At least some foodies apparently haven’t been put off by the price of Maldonado’s work. One food blog, Directo al Paladar, called the cost of the ham “almost a gift,” considering how it is made.

Maldonado has yet to set a price for customers who buy the 13-pound hams directly from him, but the food site Ibergour.com has a dozen for sale at $2,100 each, and is accepting $250 deposits.

Is it ridiculous to pay that for a piece of pig?

No, says Maldonado. A ham like this can be shared among 20 people, he notes, whereas a bottle of the finest wine going for the same amount goes down quickly among just a few.

For four generations, Maldonado’s family has been making ham from high-quality hogs in this town of 5,000 in Spain’s southwest Extremadura region.

Their herds of black Iberian beauties are kept on a handful of acorn-rich farms in the surrounding meadowlands, walking freely up to 6 miles daily without any swineherds to look after them.

After the pigs are butchered, they are cured in high-grade sea salts and refrigerated at 39 degrees. The salt is wiped off after about 12 days. Over the course of the next three months, the temperature is gradually raised to 68 degrees.

The hams then are brought into one of Maldonado’s two warehouse-size cellars where they cure for two years, hanging on a series of interconnected hooks from floor to ceiling, like curtains.

Maldonado will only give a ham the top-grade seal if it passes his olfactory test after the curing process. He drives a small rod through the outer layer of fat and into the meat to see if he considers it up to snuff.

In his cellar, Maldonado drew one of the hams close and rubbed his thumbs gently against the smooth roundness of the ham’s firm base.

“Ham provides us with life,” he said with a smile.

Your Maximum Leader floated the prospect of buying a leg of this ham by Mrs Villain. He was rebuffed in a way that his lovely wife generally reserves for those for whom she has mentally crossed-off her list of worthwhile people. Alas, your Maximum Leader will have to do some digging around and find out if any restaurants in the DC area will acquire any of these ham-alicious legs ‘o heaven. If he finds one that does, he’ll make a special trip (marital consequences be damned!). Of course, the article begs the question… What happened to all those “substandard” hams from 2006? Did Senor Maldonado destroy them? Did he horde them for himself? Were they fed to substandard pigs? Your Maximum Leader wants to know.

Also, your Maximum Leader, next time he gets to Spain (and alas, who knows when that will be) he will have to go again to Extremadura. He remembers Extremedura as being more arid and hot than it must be. Of course, he visited in August and really only went to see the Roman ruins of Merida. From his memory it didn’t seem like Extremedura was a good place to raise the most delicious pig in the world. He imagines that the aridness might help on the curing side of things, but he doesn’t see how the climate could be good for acorns. But then again… He didn’t spend lots of time in Extremedura…

Your Maximum Leader wonders if the Smallholder could raise a comparable pig. Your Maximum Leader isn’t sure what breed of pig the Smallholder raises for sale, but he’s willing to bet it is not an Iberian pig. (Your Maximum Leader must figure out the breed of pig the Smallholder raises…) Of course, your Maximum Leader threatened to buy a ton of peanuts for Smallholder to use to “finish” the pigs before he sent them off to the Mennonite butchers. But, alas, that was an empty promise. Your Maximum Leader will have to try harder next year.

Sadly, even if the Smallholder could raise the pig, your Maximum Leader would have to find a way to cure the ham. This is actually something that the Smallholder and your Maximum Leader have spoken about in the past. We need to get ourselves a smokehouse and figure out bacon and ham curing for ourselves. Perhaps there is some sort of book, or site on the interwebs that could help us. (Exursus: God bless the good people at Virginia Tech for providing this great site and sharing with us the secrets of curing. While we are excursusing: Whoa doggie! Here’s a British site all about sausage-making. And here is an organic farm in Britain that cures their own hams. Of course there is always this 1943 book from the Morton Salt company on curing your own pork, sausage, and other meats. Or this book for the professional charcuterie.)

Yes… Your Maximum Leader needs a smokehouse (or he needs the Smallholder to get a smokehouse) so that he can make hams out of the Smallholder’s delicious pigs.

Carry on.

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader was reading over the new wires and came across an interesting little tidbit on the AP. From reading the title of this blog post you might think that the AP was (finally) reporting on the trial of Socrates. Alas, the tidbit from the AP is much more mundane. The actual title of the piece reads: Alabama city considers end to alcohol sales. Here are some interesting passages of the article:

Voters have a chance on Tuesday to return this northern Alabama city to the days of Prohibition.

A measure to end the sale of alcohol in Athens is up for a citywide vote, a rare instance where voters could overturn a previous vote to allow sales. Business interests are against repeal, but church leaders who helped organize the petition drive that got the measure on the ballot are asking members to pray and fast in support of a ban.

Christians who oppose drinking on moral grounds believe they have a chance to win, however small.

[…]

Business leaders argue that ending the sale of beer, wine and liquor would hurt tax revenues and send the message that Athens is backward.

[…]

The United States went dry in 1920 after the 18th Amendment outlawed the production, transportation and sale of alcohol. Prohibition was repealed in 1933.

Now, less than four years after they first voted to legalize alcohol sales, the nearly 22,000 residents of Athens will decide whether to prohibit alcohol sales within the city, located about 95 miles north of Birmingham. Possession and consumption would remain legal.

[…]

Twenty-six of Alabama’s 67 counties, including Limestome, where Athens is located, don’t allow alcohol sales. Besides the Athens vote, residents of the southern Alabama town of Thomasville were to cast their ballots Tuesday on whether to legalize alcohol sales.

Regardless of whether Athens winds up wet or dry, a leader of the 138-year-old National Prohibition Party is glad voters have a chance to decide. Such issues rarely make it to the ballot any more, said attorney Howard Lydick, a member of the party’s executive committee.

“The beer and wine industry has very good PR,” Lydick said. “Those pushing (prohibition) have been pushed aside.”

The Rev. Eddie Gooch feels good about the chances of ending alcohol sales in Athens, but he isn’t taking any chances.

A leader of the petition drive, Gooch urged members of his United Methodist Church to pray and fast on election day and the two days leading up to it. Church volunteers have sent thousands of letters and made phone calls encouraging people to vote “dry.”

Mayor Dan Williams said the city government is making nearly $250,000 in extra sales taxes directly tied to alcohol, and the city’s schools get the same amount.

Besides that money, he said, overall tax revenues have grown since alcohol sales were legalized in January 2004 — an increase he attributes partly to alcohol sales.

An upscale Italian restaurant recently moved to Athens from the nearby dry city of Hartselle in order to sell alcohol, and Williams said other restaurants have arrived since it went wet.

“It’s a big deal for a small town to get a new restaurant,” he said.

Gooch isn’t worried about the city losing businesses or tax revenues if alcohol sales are banned. Normal economic growth and God will make up any difference if residents dump the bottle, he said.

“We believe that God will honor and bless our city,” Gooch said.

Your Maximum Leader apologizes. He thought he’d just excerpt a few short segments of the piece. Then he wound up keeping most of the piece in the quote. He supposes there is no need for the link, but hey, attribution is king.

You know… At first your Maximum Leader was going to cast aspersions at some overzealous activists (and he was tempted to accuse some of them of being rednecks or hayseeds) trying to turn back the clocks in their communities. But then he started to think more about it and while he doesn’t applaud the prohibition activists, he does admire their pluck and organizational abilities. Really now, without this piece who would have known that the National Prohibition Party was still out there (and apparently active) after 130+ years.

Your Maximum Leader is glad that the article did point out that the prohibition is on sales, and they further point out that there are many “dry” areas in Alabama. (As there are, in all actuality, all over the US.) Being “dry” means that you can’t buy alcohol in a particular locality but the possesion or consumption is not outlawed.

Now, as any (even casual) reader of this space knows; your Maximum Leader likes his alcohol. He likes all sorts of alcohol in fact. Beer, Bourbon, Scotch. He drinks alcohol in reasonable (but not excessive) quantities. Frankly, your Maximum Leader doesn’t think he could live in a “dry” county. He might if he was still in reasonable proximity to a place where he could get his alcohol. But being “dry” would be a real negative in his eyes. Your Maximum Leader realizes that his feelings on this matter aren’t the last word on the matter in Athens, Alabama.

Indeed, your Maximum Leader — as he mentioned — admires the citizens who finally got this measure onto a ballot for a vote. It shows a lot of things. It shows they are willing to organize and be advocates for something in which they believe strongly. It shows that they are a significant force in their community. And it shows that they have an understanding for how politics in a democratic republic ought to work.

Tip O’Neill famously quipped that all politics are local. Frankly that is the way it ought to be. Local citizens decided issues in a way that suits the character of the community. Your Maximum Leader is not so naive to believe that the US is one great homogeneous blob. Localities should be encouraged to pass local ordinances that engender the type of community that the citizens want to have (so long as they respect state and federal laws). It is at the local level that the individual has the greatest opportunity to impact the political process; and it is the local level of government that is the most responsive to the will of its citizens.

Your Maximum Leader hopes that the ballot measure in Athens, Alabama fails. He hopes this mainly because he doesn’t like his ability to make choices for himself limited in the way proposed. But he is glad to see the democratic process at work.

Carry on.

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader got an interesting mailing yesterday. It was from Malts.com. The people at Malts.com invited your Maximum Leader to a scotch tasting — in New York City and offered to send him a “journal” in which he can write his thoughts down on the various scotches of which he partakes.

It seems as though Malts.com is run by the people who import a number of whiskys into the US. Among the brands they are promoting are: Lagavulin, Oban, Talisker, Cragganmore, Caol Ila, Dalwhinnie, Clynelish, and Glenkinchie. Your Maximum Leader has heard of and consumed all of these except Glenkinchie. Have any of you, his loyal readers, ever had any of this scotch? It is described as a mild lowland scotch. Not lots of smoke. Very smooth and light. Apparently it is distilled near Edinburgh. Your Maximum Leader might try and find some, but a recommendation from a trusty reader might hasten him to the liquor store.

By the way… Cragganmore is one of your Maximum Leader’s favorite whiskies. He is quite fond of Talisker (18 year old) as well. But the Cragganmore has a depth of flavor that appeals to him.

For those of you who are interested… You can visit this link and sign up to get your own free scotch tasting journal.

And in case you are wondering… Sadly, your Maximum Leader is receiving no compensation of any sort for this plug…

Carry on.

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader made himself some Fish House Punch yesterday. He used a shotglass instead of gallon-jugs to do the measures. He drank it in one of his new tiki mugs…

It was just as potent as your Maximum Leader remembered.

Carry on.

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader was in the mood for a lamb stew yesterday. Normally, this would be a craving that would require a trip to a butcher and some cooking. But, since his Monday visit to the good Smallholder, he now has a freezer full of lamb. So, your Maximum Leader had to decide an important question… To get a larger cut of lamb and roast it, thereby getting the requisite cooked lamb for the stew, or get some of the smaller “stew-sized” chunks (separately packaged by the Smallholder’s butcher) and slow cook them in the crock pot to get the required cooked lamb. Your Maximum Leader opted for the latter course. This course also gave him a broth from which he could make a gravy.

So, your Maximum Leader cooked his lamb, made gravy out of the broth, then prepared his very simple lamb stew. While his lamb stew was coming together, he boiled and mashed some potatoes and steamed up some broccoli.

When all was prepared, your Maximum Leader, Mrs Villain, and the Wee Villain settled down for dinner. (The Villainettes are out of town for their annual trip to Mrs Villain’s parents.)

After dinner your Maximum Leader was cleaning up. He had a few scraps from the Wee Villain’s plate and Mrs Villain’s plate. He put them together, added just a touch of the gravy from the stew to the mix and gave them to his faithful hound, Maia. She devoured the treat and the sat politely — yet gazing longingly at the leftovers, until your Maximum Leader informed her there would be no more for her tonight.

Then the pseudo-deep question struck him… Would Maia be able to recognize a live lamb as the meat she just ate? For example, if your Maximum Leader brought his faithful hound with him to Smallholder’s farm would the dog be able to see/smell the sheep/lambs and know that if you cook up that beastie for a little while and then cook it in some gravy you have a very tasty meal? Would a dog recognize any taste in common between a serving of lamb that was cooked and fed to it by humans and a lamb it might have killed and eaten raw in the wild?

Of course the answers to all these questions is of course the dog wouldn’t know… But it made your Maximum Leader wonder for a minute.

Carry on.

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader had a great friend in the form of one of his college professors. Richard T. Couture was a very good and close friend of your Maximum Leader’s until his unfortunate passing a number of years ago.

Now, Richard was a professor of history. He specialized in the American Colonial period. He also had a great practical and learned knowledge of historic preservation. Particularly preservation of buildings from the colonial to ante-bellum period in Virginia. Your Maximum Leader says practical knowledge because he was self-taught in a great many fields like construction methods and basic structural engineering. He had to be. You see, Richard bought a run-down wreck of a ‘plantation’ house in 1963. Richard knew he wanted to live in a historic home, but he also knew he was a young man and couldn’t afford much. So, in 1963 he came across Bolling Island Plantation. Bolling Island was a ancient house (by American standards); and when he agreed to purchase the house, its dependencies, and 50 acres of land for $25,000 the consensus among his friends and family was that he had been taken to the cleaners.

Over the next twenty years he restored the house to its former glory. The oldest wing of the house was built by Thomas Bolling of Bolling Hall in 1771. The house was enlarged (and set in a Greek revival style - favored by Thomas Jefferson) around 1805. It was enlarged again in 1848. The house passed through various owners was on a long downward spiral by 1930. In 1963 many people who saw the house thought it should be torn down. But Richard was not one to tear down a building he could see restored.

By the time your Maximum Leader was befriended by Richard Couture, the house was mostly restored. The elements left incomplete were cosmetic. The house was listed on the National Register of Historic Places. Richard was regularly offered million dollar figures to sell the house to various members of the Richmond illuminati.

But Richard lived in the house until his death. It has since been sold. If your Maximum Leader had the means, he might have tried to buy it.

Anyhow…

Richard used to throw a big Christmas party every year on December 27th. It was one of the brightest stars in the constellation of fabulous Christmas parties thrown by the modern landed gentry of Goochland County, Virginia. Everyone who was anyone in the area came to socialize.

Your Maximum Leader was, to quote Shakespeare, a “pack-horse in the great affair” of the Christmas party. Often he would be carving meats (of which there were many - during the typical party there were consumed: a whole country ham (salt-cured 15 lbs) a whole ham (smoked and sugar cured 15-20 lbs), a whole roast beef (15 lbs), two or three turkeys (15lbs each), and probably 15-25 pounds of ground meats like meatballs and party sized sausages), helping with the cooking (of meats and other side dishes, pastries, and appetizers), or tending the bar/punch bowl. Now, for many many years there was an open bar at this party. Bourbon, Scotch, Gin, and Vodka were swilled in abundance. Indeed, your Maximum Leader probably saw more bourbon consumed at these parties than at any other time in a private home. Virginians love their whisky. (Or should your Maximum Leader say “Olde Virginians” love their whisky?)

In addition to the bar, there was the punch bowl. That ubiquitous feature of the holiday party. Of course, this being a serious party for serious people, there was no consideration given to making a punch for the teetotalers (of which there were few). The punch was, like the other libations at the bar, for drinkers. The standard punch for these parties was “black velvet.” Your Maximum Leader was, at first, offended by “black velvet.” The punch consists of two bottles of Guiness Stout to one bottle of Champagne. This whole concept offended your Maximum Leader’s sensibilities. It seemed like a waste of good beer AND a waste of a perfectly good bottle of Champagne.

Excursus: Once there was a great error made in mixing the black velvet. Luckily, it was not made by your Maximum Leader. Normally the champagne used for making the punch was not really champagne but inexpensive sparkling wine from California. It was typical of us to buy a few cases of sparkling wine by Taylor or some other brand you could get for about $8-10/bottle. Stash the cases in the liquor closet until they needed to be chilled down. If the weather was cold, the bottles were chilled on an outdoor porch. If the weather wasn’t cold enough, they were iced in coolers on the outdoor porch. Now as you might expect, since it was a Christmas party afterall, many guests brought gifts for Richard. When you live in a restored plantation on the James River among the landed gentry of Virginia, the typical gift to bring to a party — regardless of the time of year — is alcohol. Richard, like your Maximum Leader, was a Scotch drinker. So most guests brought him Scotch. Indeed, so many bottles of Scotch were brought that Richard rarely had to go out to the liquor store to buy his own until June. But sometimes the guest would bring wine… Or Champagne. One year, one of the guests brought Richard a bottle of Bollinger. Not knowing exactly where to put the Bollinger, and not wanting to ask anyone. The guest put it in the cooler with the Taylor that was chilling for the black velvet. Your Maximum Leader knows that his readers are smart and they can put together what happened. The error was discovered the next morning when we were participating in the annual post party bottle toss. (Excursus within Excursus: The bottle toss was when we (Richard and those friends, numbering about 10 who helped him throw the party) would take the empty beer, liquor and champagne bottles down to a little revine behind the house that had been used since about 1777 as a “dump” for the house residents. Richard had found bottle shards, animal bones, buttons, household remains, in this revine and decided that once a year we’d do our best to add to the archeological record for our time.) Richard happened to pick up the empty bottle of Bollinger and ask why we (his friends) had consumed a $100 bottle of champagne without a) asking or b) sharing.

Well… One year, while planning for the Christmas party, Richard mentioned that having the open bar was awfully expensive; and guests seemed to have grown tired of “black velvet.” He wanted to try something different. Something new — to us at least. And something alcoholic — of course. So a number of us took it upon ourselves to find something interesting to serve as a punch at the party. Richard was the one that found the punch we were to use. He said he found it in an early 19th Century cookbook he had. The punch was described as something that was served near the docks in major colonial seaports. This was “Fish House Punch.”

When the time came for the party we got out a huge copper cauldron Richard had had in the basement for decades. We did our best to clean it up, but it wouldn’t come shiny clean for us. We started mixing the punch. We squeezed limes, we squeezed lemons. We dumped in gallon after gallon of liquor. We stirred. Then we sampled. (NB: the copper cauldron did shine after the punch was finished the next day.)

We guessed it was called “Fish House punch” because after a few cups you could probably work in a colonial fish house without being offended by the smell.

We chilled down the punch. To add “color” to the punch floated various fruits in it, mostly peaches. A jar or two of marachino cherries (and their juice) might also have been added to the mix.

We served the punch all night. It was the only choice of alcoholic beverage. It was tepidly received at first. Then people really started to drink it. We noticed that people sort of worked their way through the first cup, then could throw down subseqent cups with reckless abandon. Some of the older matriarchal types didn’t drink the punch, but did come by to request that we fill a punch cup with “those wonderful peaches from the punch bowl.” Those older ladies were plastered by the end of the night. Your Maximum Leader remember helping to carry some of them to their cars…

Anyhoo… In case you are wondering what exactly was in Fish House Punch… Here you go…

Fish House Punch.

Into a great bowl mix:
The juice and pulp of 25-30 limes
The juice and pulp of 10-15 lemons
1 part dark rum
2 parts white rum
1 part brandy (peach brandy if available)
1 part water (club soda if you want to moderize the mix)
1 part brown sugar

When your Maximum Leader helped to mix it, we took a “part” to equate to “a gallon” with the liquid and a “part” of sugar was about 5 pounds.

In case you were wondering… Richard only served the Fish House Punch one year. We in Virginia are a conservative people. We love our traditions. Our politicians speak of George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, James Madision, and Patrick Henry as though they have just stepped out of the room for a moment’s respite. And say what you will, if you have a Christmas party every year for decades; and at every party serve the same punch; people notice. And they miss it if you take it away. So, the year after the Fish House Punch experiement, it was back to Black Velvet and an open bar…

Now… If you are still reading this, you might be wondering, why is my Maximum Leader going on about this today. No reason really. Perhaps he was a little melencholy while remembering his friend Richard Couture… Perhaps he was spurred to write by the fact that he has some rum in the Villainschloss liquor closet and is thinking of ways to get rid of it… Perhaps your Maximum Leader wanted to show Skippy that if he (Skippy that is) and the Velociman ever come to the Villainschloss, your Maximum Leader will do what he can to facilitate them having a good time. (It is no Chatham Artillery Punch, but it is the best your Maximum Leader has at hand right now.)

Or perhaps your Maximum Leader just had some time to write at leisure and this is what he came up with…

Carry on.

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader loves japanese cuisine. He wishes there was a good japanese place here in his area. Alas, the best one is a long way away…

Anyhow… A long time ago your Maximum Leader lived in a place with one good japanese restaurant. And that place would do Bento Boxes for lunch for $10.99. He would treat himself from time to time…

If you are interested in bento boxes, you should check out this piece in the Washington Post today about the healthy lunchtime alternative a Bento Box represents…

All this talk of Bento Boxes makes your Maximum Leader hungry… He will get some lunch now…

Carry on.