A Tiny Fathers' Day Book-Signing Event in Brookfield, IL

So here's the deal: While my The Last Open Road series of novels have found a satisfyingly large and enthusiastic following among the racers, wrench-twisters, odd-vehicle lovers & collectors, sportycar nutcases and all-purpose petrolheads among us, Carol and I have pretty consistently come to the same (and somewhat grim) conclusion:

Our market niche is roughly a mile deep and something like four inches wide. Or maybe even three.

Mind you, the later books do get a bit sodden with tales and tidbits from automotive & motorsports history, but the first three books (and particularly the first two) are hopefully rewarding & entertaining reads for just about anyone. Which is why The Last Open Road is in its 12th hardcover printing, has earned rave reviews everywhere and has been used in several high school and college-level English classes and Montezuma's Ferrari earned more great reviews--including from Publishers' Weekly--and a Benjamin Franklin "Book of the Year" award back in 2000. And blah, blah, blah...

The point is that it's hard for any "old title" to get exposure or recommendations in the greater book world, and even moreso for a "Boy's Book" (as they call them in the publishing biz) when so many of today's fiction readers--particularly here in the U.S. of A.--are women. Case in point is that there is a wonderfully active and involved independent bookstore called Parnassus Books in Nashville, TN, that has a deservedly huge following, and I sent them a package of stuff in the mail and Carol and I even dropped in there when we were heading through town a couple years back to give them an in-person pitch. But it all fell on deaf ears, I'm afraid...

In the world of marketing, perception is reality.

That's a fact.

Still, you got to keep trying & hustling, right? So Carol and I were walking through the nearby village of Brookfield, IL, following a delicious breakfast, and stumbled on a TINY little bookstore that actually turned out to be one of three small locations run by a commando squadron of retired or moved on in life English Teachers who flat love to read and love to pass along books that they've fallen for or discovered. And why not? Plus they do a lot of events--many at local bars and breweries--dedicated to fun, friendships, fine books and a few brewskis, wines or shooters.

So right away I'm thinking to myself: Why don't we try this again???

Which is why Carol and I and our books will be there at the Brookfield location this coming Friday, June 12, from 4 to 6pm, trying to expand awareness among book fanciers and possibly our market in the process. The whole thing is linked to Fathers' Day (what better gift than a signed, personalized copy of The Last Open Road or A Potside Companion?). And if you're in the general area and have a hot or too cool car (you know who you are!) please drop by.

See blurb below:

Time With Our Kids

It's not unusual for parents to love their kids and even the other way 'round. But our Adam and Tara are also our very best friends (even though, with Carol as their staunch ally, the three of them are always ganging up on me). I don't deserve it! But I don't deserve them, either, because they are all really good, funny, thoughtful & caring people. Sometimes I think maybe I oughta be more like that. Only then I get distracted by some crazy new idea or loud, shiny object and I'm off to Never-Never Land again...

But the point is that we go there and spend a few weeks with them every year out in California and they return the favor by coming here to Chicagoland to spend a few weeks with us to even things up. Only last time they were in (for the Christmas holidays), they both got sick from whatever is in the wintertime air here in Chicago and spent the entire time holed up in our basement, wrapped up in woolen blankets and feeling well south of miserable. It was a pretty cruddy experience, and they didn't get to see any of their friends (or our greater family) and the whole thing was sad. But this time they came out in the late spring/early summer (endish of May just past) and it all went swimmingly. We had a big-family party to celebrate their 20th wedding anniversary, we spent a lot of quality time doing absolutely nothing and it broke Carol's heart to put them on a plane back to Burbank at the end of their stay. Mine, too. But that didn't dim all the fun and laughs and just being a part of something that simply doesn't exist unless the four of us are all together. Sniff.

FREAKING SPAMTACULAR!

As you may recall from previous late-spring/early-summer E-blasts, our friend, neighbor and certified (or should that be "certifiable"?) Alfa Romeo nutcase Steve Crowley hosts an outdoor sort-of barbeque/pot luck built around the twin pillars of being "Alfa Queer" and trying to make something great to eat out of Spam. It's quite the happy tradition (particularly after a few wines or beers) and I'm pants-buttons-bursting THRILLED to pass along that I won FIRST PLACE this year for my somewhat unusual "Spamma-Lamma-Ding-Dong!" And here's how it's done:

See, usually I cook sort of the same way that Jackson Pollack used to paint, and sometimes it's good and sometimes I throw too damn much shit into the same pot or frypan and, just like when an artist smooshes and mooshes too many colors together on his or her pallette, it all turns a kind of muddy gray. Or sometimes a way-too-spicy muddy gray, which is even worse. So this time, based on watching a few cooking shows when we have our coffee and tea together in the morning (or "Somebody Feed Phil," which we absolutely love), I came to the realization that you have to keep the flavors and textures separated--like the adolescent boys and girls in a parochial school system--until they're ready for serious commitment. Or at least serious fooling around.

So here's what you need to do:

Start out with a can of pineapple chunks in their own juices. Open it up (that should be obvious) and put the juice part in a mixing/marinating bowl with several hefty shots of your favorite hot sauce (I like "Cholula," but, since they're not paying me, you can use any damn thing you want), plus say a half cup of red wine vinegar, ditto olive oil, a little dab of maple syrup, some lemon juice, some powdered ginger, ditto cinnamon and smoked paprika. Stir that all together, then cut your Spam block(s) into cubes, rectangles and trapezoids roughly the size of very large dice. I mean the kind you roll in a game of backgammon. Then set aside so the spam can absorb all those flavors. Which takes awhile, since Spam is less of a sponge-type material and more of a wet-linoleum or modeling clay type material. But give it a half-hour or 45 minutes and you should be good.

Now we start on Part Two: the root-vegetable yellow rice! First you need one huge or two smaller sweet potatoes, four or five hefty carrots at least as big around as a Wall Street fat cat's cigar and one good-sized parsnip. Y'gotta be careful with parsnips, because they pack a lot of flavor and can easily overpower most other root veggies unless you cut them back on quantity. So now you peel all the sweet potatoes, carrots and parsnip and cut them up into chunks. Not quite as big as the marinating Spam chunks, but not little candy-ass size, either.

Now y'gotta put a little olive oil in a big pot, get it slightly hot, add a couple tablespoons of butter and after that melts, throw in some chopped up onion (I like Vidalia sweet onions, but you can use whatever you prefer), cook till soft, then add all the chopped up root veggies and cook and stir a bit (if you get them soft, you've done too much) and add, oh, say, four cups of chicken broth. Cook that up a bit and add two cups of Jasmine rice (wife Carol claims the organic tastes better and is better for you, and I wouldn't argue with her if I wuz you) and now comes the spices. I use a lot of Tumeric (most of a teaspoon) plus some more ginger and curry powder, a little cumin and celery salt. Stir and bring to a sizzly boil over high heat--stirring regularly--then move to a back burner over low heat, cover, and let the Rice Magic begin.

While the rice is cooking, take a big frypan, give it some EVOO and a little butter and then drain those marinated spam chunks a bit and fry them up, harrassing them with a spatula so's they get nicely & evenly browned but not burned. Once they look about right (think of the skin color of a thin and spindly old Jewish man down in Florida who spends all of his time out on the fishing pier with no shirt on, trying to catch a lunker Snook), then move to paper towels to drain a bit.

Check the rice. Stir it a little so it doesn't stick to the bottom and re-cover.

Back to the recently Spam chunk-filled skillet. Chop up some more onion, toss that in plus one each yellow, red and green bell peppers cut into edible-size pieces. Wife Carol prefers organic, yadda-yadda-yadda. Cook a bit (but not too much). Then throw that lot (and the drained Spam chunks) into the rice pot & stir it all up. Almost done now.

The final two ingredients:

The rice should be all yellow, mellow and tender by now with all the other crapola mixed in, and now you add the pineapple chunks you've been saving from the very beginning AND (trumpet fanfare, please) roughly a cup of cold pomegranate seeds. I used to think you had to buy whole pomegranates and get the seeds out yourself (a thankless task at best) but you can buy them all done for you, which is much easier and much less mess.

Now stir everything up a bit with a big spoon or ladle, put in an appropriate deep serving dish & cover until the guests are ready to eat.

I don't know what kind of luck you'll have with it, but MY Spamma-Lamma-Ding-Dong was a first-place hit.

PIX from the SPAM PARTY:

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