28 November 2010

Man Up

(Terps fan in parka. Freezing. Photo Socotra)

I am a little blurry this morning- it was the last Maryland home game yesterday and Jake wanted to do it right. There was a lack of general enthusiasm among his usual suspects, so a determined hard core of him, me, Melissa and Carl did it hard, partnering with the Man Up crowd who normally tail-gate near Jake’s place in the back of Lot 1A.

Their thing is to grill chicken and offer complementary shots of whiskey to passers-by, who in the warmth of the beginning of the season tend to be attractive co-eds with exposed midriffs. This day was slightly problematic. It was not raining or snowing, which as a Miami fan you have experienced. Michigan and Ohio people know about how miserable it can be out there in November in the blowing gale and flying snow.

We also have means of coping with the same, but that was what made things problematic. I slow-cooked Italian sausages, a stuffed flank steak, the left-over smoked turkey legs and some original soft-tortilla wrapped cheese-tomato-sausage fantasies and heated them while I ran around to the dry-cleaners and the other Saturday chores. Jake was determined to be there early, since Melissa and Carl were coming from the Maryland side and he wanted to be set up properly when they arrived.

I layered up pretty well, and was not uncomfortable in a turtleneck and wool Pendleton shirt, a miscalculation in comfort level. When I got back to Big Pink and loaded the tonic, vodka, lime, serving implements and the assorted condiments into a bag, and slipped the heated main-course elements into a glass chafing dish nestled in a heat-maintaining bag, I turned my attention to outer wear.

I selected a black hoodie sweatshirt to cover the shirt, my running gloves and a thick down parka. I contemplated the shell parka I wore in the Labrador winter, and decided against it. I mean, how cold could it be under the sunny skies?

I enjoy the ride to College Park from Northern Virginia; Jake went to school there, which accounts for his lifetime commitment to the Terrapins Club premium parking and a fist-full of season tickets. He knows all the interior streets across the District, and areas that once appeared bombed-out are coming back to life. It is always interesting to see what has changed in the city, and for the most part it is good and positive each time I ride with him to a game.

We sneak in the back way to the sprawling parking lot complex that surrounds the stadium. We were so early that only the most hard-core tailgaters were there, to include the people who bring the big RV's all tricked out in the colors of the House of Calvert.

As it turned out, it was pretty damn cold. The vast expanse of black asphalt has nothing to block the knife-edge of the bitter wind, and it comes relentless out of the west.

We got our of the car and I realized I was going to be cold for a long time. The down parka went on immediately, and I realized the hood to the sweatshirt was probably going to stay up for the afternoon. The Labrador layer might well have given me the appearance of the Michelin Man, but it would have been useful.

Melissa and Carl showed up a half hour later, with Swedish meatballs, shrimp, cole slaw, chips, seven layer bean dip and plenty of chips and chopped veggies for dipping. And beer. And Baileys. And peach-flavored vodka, just in case.

A few minutes after that, the Man Up crowd arrived with two vans and a Weber grill that soon was sending flames skyward and the aroma of their signature chicken legs, and if the parking lot was not full, it certainly was rocking.

The rising breeze brought the smell of chicken between the cars, and we gave up and combined our feast with theirs, staying as close to the flames as we could without actually setting ourselves alight.

Brett Favre is one of the Man Up crew, though he is not the real one. He wears Brett’s jersey to the Terps games for reasons best known to himself. He teams with Jim, a real man who wears shorts to all the games, regardless of the climatic conditions.

Jim cooks the chicken. He had two large storage bags filled with drumsticks, which placed at regular intervals on the grill, dancing in the flames. A bug skillet in the middle was blackening red, green and yellow peppers with onions. I slid in the thinly-sliced stuffed flank steak, the sausages and the smoked turkey for rewarming.
“The chicken smells great,’ I said. Jim took a swig of Jack Daniels from a red plastic cup.

“Thanks,” he said with a smile. “I man up the drumsticks with my own special marinade. I use extra virgin olive oil to baste it, then a rub of Montreal Steak Seasoning.” He shivered a bit in the breeze and moved around, downwind of the grill. “It comes from Old Montreal, a place of narrow alleyways and cobblestone streets lined with artists, jewelry makers, street performers, fruit and flower stands.”

“I think it comes from the McCormick company in Sparks, Maryland,” I said, pointing at the label with a gloved finger.

“Well, true enough, but it has no MSG and is robust enough to include a robust blend of gourmet spices and seasonings.” He poked at the legs with an industrial-grade spatula until the chicken was cooked thoroughly to separate cleanly from the bone. The he began to dispense them on paper plates to the shivering crowd around the grill.

(The longest two minutes in the history of college football. Photo Socotra.)

The game, when we actually walked to the stadium, was pretty good.
The Terps beat the Wolfpack, though not without some travail, and featured the longest last two minutes of any football game I have been to, as my core body temperature began to approach hypothermia. The Man Up crowd lit up the grill again, having quite sensibly left the game in time to have the charcoal glowing when the rest of us filed out of the stadium into the chilly darkness.

"Eight and Four," said Jake. "Not a bad year at all."

The flames from the grill made me agree completely. So that is done until next year, and the Christmas madness is coming down on us like a landslide. It is time to get some decorations up today.

Man Up Chicken Drumsticks

Ingredients:

2 packages chicken drumsticks- or more or less depending on the number of Terps fans you intend to feed. Look at the weather.
One cup Filippo Berio extra virgin olive oil
1/2 cup distilled white vinegar
Soy sauce to taste.
3 cups water
One bottle of McCormick Mesquite Grilling Sauce Grill Mates
Place the legs in large food storage zip lock bag. Wash your hands. Really serious step. Toss the legs with one bottle of Grill Mates Montreal Steak Seasoning and enough soy sauce to give some color. Shake vigorously to coat and allow the drumsticks to rest for one or two hours before tossing in a cooler. Keep separate from beer. No real man needs to get salmonella.

Drain off 1/2 liquid on the asphalt or on the grass away from other revelers. Salt lightly with more Montreal Chicken seasoning. Build a big enough fire to keep several increasingly erratic Terrapin fans par-boiled.  Move chicken from bag to grill, keeping tongs in one hand and drink in the other. Sprinkle on the Grilling Sauce during the last 7 minutes of the grilling process; turn over legs and brush on the other side.

Char until the spatula can slit the flesh away from the bone and pass them around. Stay warm, and think about next season.

Copyright 2010 Vic Socotra
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