As I went about my life maintenance errands last weekend the words of a Merle Haggard song kept running through my mind. “How far can a man stretch a Dollar, I thought as I take home my pay”. I made a trip to the grocery store designed to get me through to the next paycheck and spent twice as much as I intended to. I was able to get what I needed and then some but it is always a nice trick making whatever you buy last as long as possible.

As I was working up a need for feed last Sunday I decided that I would make some nice Spaghetti Sauce that would last me into the work week. An Italian Merchant Seaman from Boston taught me that proper Spaghetti Sauce must have three varieties of Meat in it. I admit that having abided by that basic rule since learning it, even sauces with the most humble of beginnings has a fullness of flavor I had always fallen short of previously.

As I scanned the contents of my freezer I found ground beef, pork chops and a half-empty bag of nearly freezer burnt chicken wings. Those would be my three meats. It’s a bit unconventional but the object of the manage-a-trois of meats is to produce an amalgamation of the various animal fats. That is the key to developing the flavor. Beyond that it is a simple matter of adding Oregano, Garlic and Onion along with stewed tomatoes, tomato sauce and some tomato paste. Voila, you can become a master spaghetti saucier without being an experienced craftsman or lady if you will just get three meats properly browned to begin your sauce. That is unless one of the meats is Lobster, in which case you should boil it in salty water and pick it clean and add it with your tomato elements. Yes, in Boston you can find very good sauce with Lobster in it. Alaskan King Crab works good as well as Shrimp, if you like shell fish. Shell fish should be boiled and added with tomato stocks as opposed to being browned as chicken, pork or beef would be.

As I gathered my ingredients I realized that I didn’t have a conventional stock pot of the proper size that I hadn’t already ruined. It was then that I considered a piece of cast iron cookware that I purchased last spring when it was on sale but had yet to use. It is a range style Dutch oven. This particular type of Dutch oven has legs cast into the body of the pot so that it may be placed directly over coals and has a lid with a rim designed to hold hot coals on top. In the moment I remembered that I had yet to use this awesome piece of cookware I realized how good it is to be a nerd.

I decided to stick it to the man on a Sunday evening. I could have very easily shoved that loaded Dutch oven into my electric oven, cranked it up to 500 degrees and let ‘er rip but I thought about how that adds to my heavily taxed utility bill. I made the correct choice by taking the Dutch oven outside to cook it on a fire in my driveway. I realize that this may seem a bit unconventional but my driveway is made up of bricks that paved roads in my city around the turn of the 20th century and they cannot be damaged by heat from a charcoal fire. There is no “Hood Association” to report me to somebody who might give a shit which is yet another advantage of living in the Ghetto.

I poured a pile of charcoal into my driveway, loaded it up with started fluid and let it soak in a bit before lighting it. As the flames came to life I observed a nice carbon footprint being emitted. Inspired by this I immediately lit my Tiki Torches in order to get as much smoke into the atmosphere as I could. I may have been saving money on my utility bill but nobody could accuse me of going green, even though I was using methods familiar to Native Americans.

As my meat browned I considered how many people actually know how to make good spaghetti sauce anymore. I wondered what percentage of our population believes that good spaghetti sauce is something to be found only when you order it in a restaurant. Then I considered how many people really even cook anything anymore, if it is more complicated than popping something into a microwave. Being contemplative in nature I also considered how something as essential to living as knowing how to cook is something that in modern society is not required in order to survive as long as you have money to pay others to do it for you.

Finally the meat was brown, beautiful, falling of the bone where required and had rendered a glorious trifecta of animal fats. The tomatoes and tomato sauce went in and the lid full of hot coals went back on top. Getting lost in my thoughts again I wondered if there would come a day when I would have to employ my outdoor cooking skills on a daily basis in austere conditions that might come with “going Galt”. As I contemplated that I realized that in such an eventuality I would be okay. I’ve already had several experiences of cooking meals on a regular basis in austere conditions. There’s no Rocketry to it, it’s pretty straightforward. The only trick to it is having the hardware, provisions and ability to use them wisely. I’ve been able to cook meals in the wilderness, prison and on commercial fishing boats on a daily basis. I possess the basic knowledge required to keep myself fed in the Gulch.

Then I began to wonder if anybody would find this information to be valuable. That will depend on a variety of factors outside of my control. One factor that is within my ability to control is marketing. It was then that the concept of “Mad Brads Cookbook for the Pockeelypse” was born. Yes, what a sales gimmick. It takes advantage of the natural fears that permeate our society right now while at the same time providing advice on how to effectively confront them.

What a gold mine. Having consulted arch-capitalist R.D. Walker we have schemed the way to bring it to market and get paid in gold bouillon. It’s all so simple now. With the profits we can begin colonizing the Moon and build a dry ice factory there that can supply every amusement park and street vendor in the world, soon putting all other earth-bound dry ice producers out of business. Then we will set the market price for dry ice because we will BE the market.

Because my personal code requires me to share such knowledge and opportunity with Gods children of kindred spirit here’s your opportunity to get in on the action. Submit your favorite outdoor recipe to MadBrad@TheRealRevo.com and I will review them. I will make it my goal to duplicate them in my driveway if they are within my humble means and represent excellent nutritional value.

I am open to ALL suggestions. I plan to cover the conventional stuff but that’s been done before. I’ll do insects and rodents if you’ve got any recipes (Gopher Everett?). This can be the culinary version of Jackass if it is of value. The object is to provide knowledge to people that may help them feed themselves in hard times.

Using amateur video equipment and editing software I will produce my own driveway cooking shows and accumulate recipes for the cookbook that will be available here at the Real Revo and elsewhere, proceeds from which will help us colonize the Moon, do the Dry Ice thingee, make our voice heard, get the old flag back, take over the world, blah, blah, blah.

As I write this remnants of last weeks Spaghetti Sauce are out in the driveway in the cast iron range style Dutch oven over a bed of hot coals and being added to in order to render a nice pot of Chili that will last me through the week. I’ve stretched a Dollar pretty good as far as ingredients go and I haven’t added to my utility bill one bit. This kind of cooking is good stuff. It’s something to know and be good at before your life has to depend on it.

It’s got to be worth a few bucks, right? I mean there’s hard times and Revolution ahead and whatnot. An Army travels on its stomach and all. We ain’t gonna have Halliburton running cafeterias for the Revolutionary Army. Come on, help me market this thang. I think I’ve got a good gimmick and it’s no effort at all for me to develop the sales pitch that will work. I’ve got a character that I’ve been working on since 1991 who will be perfect for doing the online promotional cooking shows from the driveway. This is the ticket out of the Ghetto, baby. Next stop: The Moon.

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