The Kentucky Derby: "The Greatest Two Minutes in Sports"

Unless you have ever lived in Kentucky, you probably don't understand the excitement over the Kentucky Derby held each year on the first Saturday of May in Louisville, Kentucky (Louisville is pronounced by the local natives as "Luhvuhl" since it was named after King Luh XVI of France).

My last stop before moving to DC was Kentucky and it is a state blessed with gorgeous scenery, very nice people, many of my kinder relatives, majestic horses and some great bourbon. However, for most of the year there really is not that much to do there. Sorry. I said it. So beat me with a sterling silver Mint Julep cup and call me Secretariat.

During the weeks leading up to Derby though the state is gripped with excitement as Kentucky men dress up as dapper Col. Sanders' escorting their saucy Kentucky Fried belles from one over-the-top event to another in a marathon of liver punishing excesses reaching Mardi Gras-like proportions. Whether a woman is a corporate executive or a stock clerk at the Rural King, for the two weeks leading up to the Derby she is a fiery Scarlett O' Hara sucking down bourbon as though only that and the cloud of smoke from her Newport Lite cigarettes are the two things that will keep the damn Yankees at bay.

The day of the Run for the Roses most Kentuckians attend a Derby party with family and friends to watch the race since tickets to Churchill Downs are expensive and extremely difficult to obtain. They imbibe on Derby party food consisting of delicious yet artery clogging classics such as beaten biscuits with country ham, Benedictine dip, cheese grits, Derby Pie, and of course, Mint Juleps. There are probably also some deviled eggs, beer cheese, Henry Bain Sauce over cream cheese with crackers and maybe even burgoo.

Occasionally there is a veggie tray offered that usually makes it through the party untouched. Resourceful hostesses know to rearrange the veggies prettily before they completely wilt and decoupage the platter in order to use it for generations to come. Only layers of dust or the uninvited vegetarian, probably from Ohio will ever give the secret away.

The race itself is known as "The Greatest Two Minutes in Sports" and is preceded by the crowd singing "My Old Kentucky Home." Most Kentuckians don't know every word to the song but all join in the haunting chorus:

"Weep no more, my lady Oh, weep no more, today
We will sing one song for the old Kentucky home
For the old Kentucky home far away."

There are few dry eyes in the house after the song ends and there is always a short moment of silence before the cheering breaks out again. Even cynical, jaded know-it-all East Coast DC types pause for a minute to think of family and friends, the living and the dead, new and old traditions, choices made and how joyous life is when instead of looking at our differences, we celebrate how similar we all really are.

After that there is a horse race.

"The Greatest Two Minutes in Sports."

How to Make the Perfect Mint Julep!

It is that time of year--the Kentucky Derby! It has been a few years since I have hosted a Derby party in DC but since I will be in the Kentuckiana area the first weekend of May, I will no doubt have at least one Mint Julep.

Locally U.S. Senator Henry Clay of Kentucky introduced the drink to Washington, D.C. at the Round Robin Bar in the Willard Hotel during his residence in the city.

One of the most famous recipes for the perfect Mint Julep comes from Henry Watterson, the Pulitzer Prize-winning editor of The Louisville Courier-Journal, whose recipe for the Julep still speaks to the old-fashioned Kentuckian desire for unblemished bourbon, says:

“Pluck the mint gently from its bed, just as the dew of the evening is about to form on it. Select the choicer sprigs only, but do not rinse them. Prepare the simple syrup and measure out a half-tumbler of whiskey."

"Pour the whiskey into a well-frosted silver cup, throw the other ingredients away, and drink the whiskey.”


Warning: Mint Juleps may cause Derby Fashion Faux Pas. Here's one from 1991. I still have the shorts.

Indytucky Christmas Wrap-Up

Lights were viewed...



















Santa stopped by...

























and of course the breakfast casserole was served...
















More to come soon!

"The Year Onions Ruined Christmas!"

My sister called last night and asked "What are you making us for Christmas Brunch?" I don't know why she asks this question every year--she knows the answer. "The same thing we have every year!"

Ever since my mother passed away, it has fallen upon me to drive 800 miles to cook Christmas brunch for my family in Southern Indiana and Western Kentucky. Yes, I have the honor of getting up at 5:30 am on Christmas morning to cook for the some of the pickiest group of eaters ever assembled.

As I noted last year, my vision of a Christmas brunch is something out of a Food Network special without Rachael Ray-- salmon Eggs Benedict, Duchess potatoes, Challah Bread French toast, brandied fruit, dry champagne, and a team of uniformed personal assistants to clean it up. Unfortunately the family demands that the brunch be prepared exactly as my Mother would have done it.

E-x-a-c-t-l-y.

Recipes from one of those Midwestern cookbooks where 90% of the recipes start with a can of cream of mushroom soup. No substitutions and no deletions. No smuggling of exotic illegal aliens across the culinary border such as oregano or green bell pepper. If the dreaded onion is added in a dish (how is it possible that I am related to these people?) it must be minced until unrecognizable. The precision chopping I perform on the rosemary to hide in the potatoes practically calls for a magnifying glass attachment to the knife. And you can just forget adding garlic to anything.

The "Menu":

• Breakfast casserole (you know the one you start the day before with white bread as the base) made with milk, eggs, cheese, bacon and sausage


• Cranberry Casserole (the topping is made with Quaker Oats Instant Cinnamon and Spice Cereal)


• Ham (because we need to complete the Trinity of Pork)


• Roasted Potatoes a la Hidden Rosemary and Onions
  


• Green Bean casserole (yes THAT one)


• Biscuits from a can
  


• Fruit salad (usually only touched by any visiting girl dates)


• Butter


• Salt


• Pepper


• Jelly


• Soft Drinks (Dr Pepper is the Midwestern Red Bull, apparently)
  

• Sanka

• An assortment of Christmas cookies

Now I am just as mildly OCD as the next guy, and there is really nothing wrong with never setting the dryer timer at anything past 50 minutes (the house might burn down), or always turning the TV in the kitchen on regardless as to how long you are going to be in there (the house might burn down) or always carrying the green umbrella with you (the house might burn down). But I am starting to dread now the pressure each year of our OCD Christmas. What if I lost a recipe? What if I made a dicing miscalculation and the onions were found in the potatoes? Would I be the source of some sad future Christmas Movie of the Week "The Year Onions Ruined Christmas?"

Last year I did make a mistake with the breakfast casserole but one that I was able to eventually recover from. Smug in my knowledge that I had sneaked in a pinch of cumin and had the perfect cover story if discovered "That Jimmy Dean Sausage is just not the same ever since they fired Jimmy Dean!" I realized that something didn't look right as I was about to put the breakfast casserole in the refrigerator.

I had left out the two cups of milk. F***! It was Christmas eve and the stores were closed so I had to make it work. I poured the milk in but it just sat there looking very white like the rest of the state of Indiana and politely mocked me while refusing to mix with the diverse layer of egg, bacon, sausage and cheese.

I got three bowls out. I dipped out the cheese and bacon from one end, the cheese and sausage from the other end, and the highly desired middle section of cheese, bacon, AND sausage.

Swishing the milk around with my fingers I was able to mix it with the eggs, rearranged the soggy white bread and poured the meat and cheese back to their respective sections.

Everyone said it was the best breakfast casserole ever. And no one even noticed the cumin. It was the best brunch ever because it was exactly like all the others before it.

I will repeat this menu next week. Maybe our OCD Christmas isn't that bad. Traditions are what makes visiting family special over the holidays and with my family, I never have to worry about any surprises! Or Onions!