(My mouth started watering last night, thinking of left-overs.)

I got home from Willow, a contemplative evening with the staff, Old Jim, and Rebekka-with-two-Cs who was sitting in my accustomed place when I arrived a little late. The early night had been so dark, and the pedestrians clad in dark clothes almost completely invisible. I drove gingerly, counting on the fact they would be safe in their expensive little apartments when I was heading home.

A demure young woman named Rebekka was grading papers and drinking a cocktail- it looked like a Seven and Seven- and Jim was expansive and flirting with her. She had lovely dark hair and the assertive manner of someone who is used to presiding over an unruly classroom.

I slowly peeled off layers of clothing- the Columbia waterproof shell and then the snuggly Tannery Creek Market promotional hoodie from the Little Village By the Bay as my core body temperature warmed, and discovered by turns that she taught English to middle school kids out in the wilds of Manassas, and braved the I-66 corridor everyday to be in front of the little monsters each day.

“That commute would kill me,” I said.

She looked askance. “Well, you are of an age where something like that could happen…”

Ouch. Tex the bartender described his visit to the Dulles Expo Center with Jon-without over the weekend, who is looked for a compact carry capability, but could not make up his mind to pull the trigger on the decision. We agreed about the odd mood that seemed to hang over the crowd, and I responded with my current problem.

(Shooting party. Brian on the left is holding the 9mm Beretta Storm CX4, while Clark J is holding the .40 S&W version.)

At the shooting party over the weekend I had a chance to shoot the Beretta CX4 Storm carbine in two calibers, the 9mm and the .40 Smith & Wesson. Both of them are wickedly accurate, and since they come in three common pistol calibers it reduces the traditional problem of having to maintain two different streams of ammunition either in the closet or on the back.

“Which do you recommend for utility?” I asked. “I can’t make up my mind about which one matches up with the right pistol.”

Tex shrugged. Double C shrugged, too. She is not anti-gun, per se, though finds the fascination that some people have with them to be curious, and the description of the mood at the show to be a little unsettling.

I shrugged. “Last Spring it was panic, and a lot of panic buying. This show was a lot more earnest. Almost determined.” I had been meaning to talk to Jim about the Chinese establishment of an Air Defense Identification Zone over the disputed Senkaku islands in the East China Sea, because I had been fascinated by the day’s military developments.

“The Administration sent two B-52 bombers on what we used to call “Busy Observer” flights right through the middle of the ADIZ. No notification to the Chinese or anything. Way cool. I thought it was a way of Sticking It to The Man. I was sort of stunned when I heard the news.”

Double C had little interest, and Jim glowered at me. “You saying the President did something right for a change?”

“I doubt if he knew, but you never know. He apparently gets his news the same way I do, in the New York Times.”

Jim laughed, and we wound up talking about education instead in deference to Double C’s profession and interests, and covered the No Child Left Behind Program, which did, and the new Common Core, which isn’t.

Fun evening- comfortable as an old shoe, but when I got home I found the wind had been gusting to gale force and had snapped the mount that secured the staff that supports the US flag I fly from the trunk of the tree on the patio. When I retrieved a flashlight, I did the preliminary accident investigation. It must have been a hell of a gust, or repeated battering by the swirling, scouring wind that pummels my corner unit of Big Pink.

Old Glory was soaked and the wind had twisted it in a knot around one of the bare lower branches.

Thankfully it had not touched the ground, so no dishonor was involved, but in the process of gently unwrapping the branches while staining in the shrubs, I felt the moist chill penetrate my jeans and shirt. I was hoping this was not some kind of metaphor for the roads, and got wet getting the flag down.

I brought it inside and draped it over the couch to dry. I turned on the Christmas lights I strung in one of the front windows and began to think about the Holidays. The kids are way gone, and I had intended to ignore the whole thing, and may yet.

I am still conflicted about what to do for Thanksgiving. Willow has graciously said that I can have a turkey dinner at my usual place at the bar, and though everyone else will be gone, that has a mild attraction.

The Russians have one of Andrew’s turkeys staged up from Croftburn Farms, and that too would be fun, though I have some things to do up here on Friday that makes it a bit complicated, particularly if the roads are crappy. One way or another, I am not cooking and will not have to deal with the left-overs, as the bird goes through the evolutionary process from turkey to turkey sandwiches, then turkey tetrazzini, then…well you know.

That got me thinking about left-over recipes I will not be needing this year. My mouth began to water over the idea of a real hearty pot pie brimming with gravy and savory vegetables with the crust rolled from scratch.

Then I thought about turkey tetrazzini, the All-American dish often made with diced left-over turkey, mushrooms and almonds in a nice tasty Parmesan béchamel sauce with onions, celery, peas and carrots, served hot over noodles or some thin pasta and garnished with lemon or fresh parsley and topped with additional almonds and/or Parmesan cheese.

As I’m sure you will recall, the dish is named after the famed Italian opera star, Luisa Tetrazzini, the “Florentine Nightingale,” who knocked out the audiences of San Francisco a hundred years ago.

The Palace Hotel’s Chef Ernest Arbogast. created his dish in 1910 after Tetrazzini gave her famous outdoor Christmas Eve concert in before an estimated quarter of a million people at Lotta’s Fountain. She was in Baghdad By The Bay due to a legal dispute between two Broadway producers back in New York, and she fled the city to carry out her promise to sing in the streets, if she had to.

And she did. Arbogast was inspired.

(Luisa Tetrazzini in costume for her role in Rossini’s Barber of Seville.)

As a holiday function of our full-service Socotra Industries, I provide the following holiday recipe for your convenience (when it seems the turkey will never go away).

Turkey Tetrazzini

2 tablespoons butter
3 tablespoons flour
1 cup cream
1 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon celery salt
1/2 teaspoon pepper
1 cup cold turkey cut in thin strips
1/2 cup cooked spaghetti, cut in 1/2 inch pieces
1/2 cup sautéed sliced mushroom caps
1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese
3/4 cup buttered cracker crumbs

Make a béchamel sauce of butter, flour, cream, salt, celery salt and pepper and Parmesan. When boiling point is reached, add turkey, spaghetti and mushrooms. Fill buttered ramekin dishes with mixture, sprinkle with cheese and crumbs and bake until crumbs are brown. So have a very happy Thanksgiving, and travel safely if you must.

And enjoy the turkey!

Copyright 2013 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
Twitter: @jayare303