There's just somethin to be said for 'brown-nosin'...

...especially if you're on the 'receiving' end.



Zig is a supervisor at the nasty place that gives him a paycheck. He's either well-liked or someone's tryin to majorly suck up.

Last night, he came home with a big ole bag of morels that one of his guys gave him. I almost had an orgasm...uh morelgasm, right there on the spot.

For those of you not in the know, the elusive morel is just about the most wonderful morsel of delicious goodness that you'd ever wanna wrap yer lips around, especially when they're dipped in egg, rolled in cracker crumbs and fried up to a golden brown. Well, hell...they're good fixed just about any ole way, but fried is my own personal favorite.

I'm certainly no stranger to these little bits of yumminess. Every spring, my dad, who's personal hero was Euell Gibbons, would tromp through the timber, gathering morels. They were plentiful back then...I mean plentiful. Honest ta gawd, I remember times when I'd get sick of morels.

"Mushrooms? AGAIN?" Ok, maybe it wasn't that bad. But we had fried morels, sauteed morels, morels over steak, roast and morels, morels in vegetable soup or spaghetti sauce...kinda like Bubba Blue tellin ole Forrest about all the ways to fix shrimp.

Dad was an eagle-eye when it came to morel huntin, too. Unlike his progeny. I can clearly hear him screeching at me, "You're WALKING ALL OVER THE DAMN THINGS!" It was the strangest thing...I could be lookin right AT one and never see it, but once I found that first one, they were a helluva lot easier to see. Never did figure that out.

But as farmers started clearing more land around where we lived, they became harder and harder to find. Add to that all the "NO TRESSPASSING" signs and morel hunting just got waaaay too difficult.

When I was working at the small hospital in my hometown, every spring I'd buy a couple pounds from kids that would come in selling 'em. I think the last time I bought any there, they charged $10 a pound and we considered that a damn bargain. I have noooo idea what they'd sell for now. Twice that, I betcha.

So anyway, I've got this lovely big bag of heaven in my refrigerator...probably enough for two good messes for us. I was just thinking...I bet it's been seven or eight or years...oh, at least that long...since I've had any. So, like some miser drooling over his pile of money...some coke-head waiting for his next snort...some nymphomaniac breathlessly waiting for her next encounter...I've been planning and planning just exactly how I'm gonna fix 'em.

Ohhhh...the planning. The anticipation....it's like...morel foreplay.