It’s rodeo time in Houston. I love this time of year. What Texan doesn’t love seeing the trail ride heading through downtown Houston? I love that I never seek out the trail ride, but year after year just happen upon it. Rush and Tate were laughing and waving out the window when we pulled over to let the horses and covered wagons pass on our way to visit Trent at work and check out the job site. Cowboys and horses and excavators and dump trucks in one day??? And it was garbage day! It’s too much!
(Which is why both boys are still too adrenaline filled to nap and are both screaming and jumping in their beds. Or maybe at this point they’re both in Tate’s crib. I don’t even want to know.)
The best thing about the rodeo is the reminder that as non-western as you may be, if you live in Texas you’re going to be a part of it anyway. My western wear for Go Texan Day (today) consists of the same thing year after year: jeans and cowboy boot earrings. Rush and Tate had even less luck with their cowboy attire; I couldn’t even find Rush’s armadillo t-shirt. Trent was lobbying again today for me to get a real pair of cowboy boots, and even though most people in this area actually do own boots –even my mother- I would only wear them once a year, rodeo time. So I’m passing on the boots. But I’ve still got Texas in my veins- my wooden boot earrings were whittled by Pop, my grandfather who drove cattle when he was a child and actually owned an oil well. I guarantee that even the most urban or hipster Texans fit into some proud Texas stereotypes.
I may not have proper western attire, or be even slightly cowgirl-ish, but I am married to a man who wears boots to work every day and I can sit at my kitchen table eating chili (state dish) watching a mockingbird (state bird) flit around in our pecan tree (state tree).
However, the opposite of chili is the worst dinner that I’ve ever made: lentil rice.
There are few foods I like less than a big pot of mush. I’m on board with a lot of the health-foody items that have gone mainstream, like bulgur wheat and quinoa. But something about lentils grosses me out. Like bananas, I want to like them for their nutrients and convenience, but…hmmm…consistency maybe? I thought maybe this recipe would work.
After shaving 10 minutes off the cooking time when it seems to be getting overly mushy, I trusted the final step of the recipe, which called for removing the pot from heat, covering it wish a dish towel, replacing the lid and letting it sit for 10 minutes. Mistake! Agh, such a steamy, disgusting mistake!
Oddly enough, every time I make something so mushy that I can tell just be looking at it that it was a fail, Trent happily eats seconds and deems the recipe a keeper. One time I made cornbread so dense with creamed corn and green chilies that it was heavy and almost gray and Trent proclaimed it “the best cornbread I’ve ever made.” The same man who loves fancy raw tuna really gets into a bowlful of mush.
I’m hoping to replace the memory of lentil rice with a big oniony bowl of chili soon. I didn’t purchase any frozen chili from St. Mark’s last fall (it’s the best chili ever, so big mistake on my part) so I’ll be making my own. The most surefire delicious cookbook I have is Lone Star Five Star, a gift from my sister-in-law. Every single recipe we have tried from that cookbook has been excellent and the chili looks promising.
It’s rodeo time, a time where we can all give up lentils and enjoy a spicy bowl of ground meat. God Bless Texas.
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