Where the Fork is the Cheesecloth? - Iced Coffee, Arroz Rojo con Chorizo, Sprightly Stuffed Artichokes

I'm already in a bad mood.  I should say I am still in a bad mood.  I hurt, damn it.  Here I am on the precipice of retirement, looking forward to 30 years of daily pain.  Hey, it's all been worth it to reach this point! Those two hour trips on the Long Island Railroad, working two jobs, 3 1/2 years in law school, the school loan we got paid off just in time to pay Cory's college tuition, 15 years in the service of the State, working weekends, no overtime, no raises, saving children's lives with no recognition from the public or the Bench that we had done something remarkable under difficult conditions - priceless.

Fibromyalgia is not always an invisible disease

Yes, I am bitter. I am in chronic pain, I am facing impoverishment, and I can't remember the good times because my brain is befogged, and there weren't really any good times to remember.  I worked my used-to-be-enormous ass off my whole life, gave everything I had to give, and got a lot of grief or it. (Thank you very much, what have you done for me lately?)

In my next life I am going to skip all that school shit, and become a plumber, like Josephine.  Using my intellect, such as it is, got me where I am today.  Nowhere.

Got my last paycheck today. Happy happy joy joy.

Screw this. Let's talk about iced coffee.  I love iced coffee. I finally pulled my act together sufficiently to cold-brew a batch, following the Pioneer Woman's  recipe.  Really good, even without the sweetened condensed milk (I am a Sweet & Low kind of gal, and that is not likely to change).  So I've been drinking it all day, practically for free.  Would have cost me $13 in Starbucks so I'm feeling good about that.

Oops, I did it again.  Couldn't sleep, although the pain was bearable after I took some Ibuprofen PM. Decided I wanted a little pickled herring, so I headed downstairs, where I had a brand new cast iron skillet winking at me, calling me to light its fire.  Well, I can't resist that siren song, even after midnight, so I prepared some rice to go with the Midnight Tamales, and I almost ate the whole pan by myself. Okay, maybe I exaggerate just a tad. But really, the flavors I chose came together in a lovely, gently-burn-your-mouth sort of way.  If I enjoyed it, it can't be too hot.

Finally, due to circumstances beyond my control, I was sticking very close to home - actually, to my kitchen.  Work was being done inside and outside, and I needed to be attentive.  It was all good stuff, like pictures being hung (yeah, I know we've been here a year.  I've been busy).  While sorting through needlepoints and prints and deciding where they should go, I worked on my recipe for stuffed artichokes, and they were frankly delicious.

Seeing the pictures on the wall gave me a warm fuzzy that I hadn't had for a long time.  I had forgotten some of the framed prints we had bought over the years on cruise ships, and it was sort of like Christmas in July to rediscover them.  Still have more to do, but still have lots of wall space.

Oh, those recipes?  Maybe tomorrow; there's always time enough for food.

Conquering The Big Tamale - #spooniethatsme

Finally, at long last.  Easy tamales.  I'll post the recipe after my usual (or unusual) rant.

There was a time I thought Planned Parenthood was a great organization. My opinion has changed, because I find the harvesting and sale of fetal body parts to be morally repugnant.

Well first of all, in all honesty, I am in a different place regarding abortion than I was 20 years ago.  Even before Roe v. Wade, my home state of New York had legalized abortion.  I was a kid, a legal minor when the law was passed, and it frankly meant nothing to me. Later on, I adopted and maintained the position that  a woman should be in control of her body.  This was no easy thing for me; once abortion became legal in New York, the availability of adoptable infants plummeted.  By 1979 it was clear that adoption was likely in our future, but I continued to strongly support the right.

Then in 1986, while completing a paralegal course, I had the opportunity - and obligation - to read Roe v. Wade, in its entirety.  This was repeated when I took constitutional law in law school. I knew then that one day the decision would collapse in on itself.  And it has, in a very poignant way.  So let me explain that while I remain pro-choice, I sincerely hope the parents choose life.

Why the shift? Well, it was clear, at least to me, that given ever-increasing scientific achievements of the last 40 years, the day would come that the viability of the tiniest preemies would increase considerably. If you have ever looked at a one-pound micro preemie in a NICU - and I have - you quickly learn to appreciate the miracle of life.  Viability at 23 weeks. Most states permit abortion up to 24 weeks.  Some years ago, I was at Winnie Palmer Hospital in Orlando, a mini-field trip arranged by my employer, and I was shocked to tears by what I saw.  I could have held these tiny humans in my hand. Their little diapers were the size of an old-fashioned menstrual pad. And yet, the law allows them to be aborted, their organs harvested, and their remains casually discarded.  This causes me to cry and makes my head want to explode.  This is reprehensible amoral behavior.

And that is why I don't like Planned Parenthood all that much anymore.

I survived one of those terrible nights last night.  It followed a terrible day.  Lately my pain has been worse than usual, and that is saying something.  I had to take two Benadryl to get to sleep, and that was after 3:30 AM, and after I'd spent hours crying in pain.  This morning I've got the Insane Itching thing going on, which is weird because of all that Benadryl.  Now I am waiting for a phone call from the Very Nice Lady in Employee Relations.  I have a pad and pen ready because if I don't write everything down, I will forget the whole conversation.

From the "what was I thinking of" department: I need a bra that fits me properly.  This has been a problem my whole life, or at least since sixth grade.  We also needed fitted sheets, and Robert was pretty sure that the ones we liked had been purchased in Walmart. So my cane and I headed over to do some shopping at Walmart.  Holy crap, what an adventure!  First, I was there for close to 2 hours, and did not get either of the items I was looking for.  No matter what size I happen to be, I can never find a bra that fits me.  Where were all those 48DDDs I saw today, when I needed them?  Why is there (apparently) no such thing as a 36DD?  Yes, yes, I'll start investigating on Amazon, but why can't I just walk into a store and snag a sling for the girls?

I did communicate with the VNL from ER, and I wrote down what she explained, and she was, as always, helpful and kind.  Thank you VNL!

Gorgeous Globe Artichoke, TBS (To be stuffed)

I want to give you the recipe for the tamales, even though I haven't created the rice dish to go with it (it's in my head, and you know how that goes).  My refrigerator is, as Rob noted, wall-to-wall aluminum pans, which means I've been cooking too much for this audience.  But I've got some coffee being cold-brewed, Mexican chorizo sausage, a gorgeous artichoke and a sharp sharp knife.  Tune in tomorrow.

Easiest Tamales Ever: Midnight Tamales

Filling:
oil for cooking
1-15 oz. can corned beef hash
3 large scallions, sliced thin
3 large garlic cloves, chopped
1/2 small red bell pepper
1 1/2 tablespoon Paula Deen's Southern Spice Rub
kosher salt
ground black pepper
dried oregano
1-10 oz. can Old El Paso Mild Green Chile Enchilada Sauce
queso fresco cheese, cut into 2 x 1/2 inch pieces
12 stuffed green olives, halved
zante currants or dark raisins

Masa:
1-18 oz. tube precooked polenta

Wrap - a - wrap - a - wrap:
15 dried corn husks (you will only need 12, but just in case any rip during soaking)
12 pieces kitchen twine, 10-12 inches each
No-stick spray

Paula Deen's Southern Spice Rub - make it in advance; days, weeks, a month or two

2 T. ground cumin 

2 T. chili powder

1 T. ground coriander 

1 T. kosher salt 

2 t. ground pepper

1/2 t. ground cinnamon 

1/2 t. red pepper flakes

You need to soak the dried corn husks for a couple of hours at least.  Place them in your largest pot (the one in which you boil spaghetti, make all your soups, chilies and stews - you know, the one you can't live without.  Mine was part of an engagement present - one of my parent's friends worked for Farberware - and after 41 years of almost daily use, it looks pretty good) and fill the pot 3/4 full of water.  Bring the water to a boil, weight down the husks with a heat-proof plate, cover the pot and turn off the heat.  Leave the husks to soften, up to overnight.

Prepare the filling - heat about 1/4 cup canola oil in a large skillet - add the hash and cooked until it falls apart and browns a bit.  Add the scallions, garlic, and red bell pepper, cooking for a few minutes after each addition. Add the spice rub, salt, pepper, and oregano, and cook for a few more minutes. Add about half of the green enchilada sauce, and simmer for a few more minutes. Set aside and allow the filling to cool to room temperature, or even better, refrigerate in a small square container overnight.  Next day, divide the square into 12 even pieces.

Remove the polenta from the tube; cut off the rounded ends (discard or pan fry for another dish) and slice into 12 equal pieces.

Create the tamales: I work two at a time.  Lay out two of the corn husks, smooth side up.  Hit them with a shot of no-stick spray across the top half of the husk.  Place one slice of polenta, and a one-twelfth piece of the hash filling.  Place one piece of the queso fresco in the middle of the hash filling. Place 2 olive halves on one side of the cheese, and about 5 currants on the other side. Spoon a little more of the green enchilada sauce over the filling.  Wrap and tie each tamales using the twine.  Place the finished tamales, open end up, in a steamer.  I don't own a fancy steamer, so I put on inch or so of water in the bottom of my 41-year old wonder pot, place the tamales in an old fashioned metal colander (older than the pot; my mother gave it to me when I started cooking) and then put the filled colander in the pot.  Divide any remaining sauce over the top of each tamales..   Place the pot on the  stove, bring the water to a boil.  Put the lid on the pot and lower the heat to simmer, and steam the tamales for 50 to 60 minutes.

Serve with Spanish rice (recipe tomorrow, kids), and congratulate yourself on conquering the Big Tamale!  Next time we make the masa from scratch.  It's not overwhelming if you limit the batch to one dozen tamales. I'm game if you are.  Well, even if you're not.

Sign of the Times - Midnight Tamale

A sign two doors down, sending me a message

Petula Clark was my first.  (Stop dancing off into the gutter, you with the leer on your face.) She sang my first favorite rock song, "Downtown" which I listened to every hour on the hour on the old WMCA-AM radio station in NYC, home of the Good Guys and the Woolyburger (a 1965 version of a Wookiee. Yes, let the Wookiee win.)  Petula also sang "It's a Sign of the Times", the source for my ear worm which came out of my current pissed-off-at-the-President mood, and half a dozen other favorites which I still listen to.  Without a doubt, I am a child of the sixties.  In my sixties, ha.

Petula Clark, Harry Belafonte, and "The Touch" felt around the world, 1968

It's a sign of the times

That your love for me is getting so much stronger

It's a sign of the times

And I know that I won't have to wait much longer

You've changed a lot somehow

From the one I used to know

For when you hold me now

I feel like you never want to let me go

Corner of Rose and Patrick, across from the courthouse

I caught the above photo during one of my strolls, and it pleased me.  I'm not sure whose office building this is, but it did my heart good to see our flag being displayed right out there, upfront where it belongs. 

The American flag should be a sign of respect, but under this pathetic administration, it is not being properly used as a sign of the time.  The President screwed up (AGAIN) and probably insulted at least as many veterans as did Donald Trump when he dragged his feet as to lowering the flag to half-mast in honor of the shooting victims in Chattanooga. Now I've been told by some that it is "contrary to military protocol" to lower the flag - like this president ever cared about military protocol, or the rule of law for that matter. The President has the authority to lower the flag whenever he damn well pleases, and for some reason it did not please him to honor dead servicemen. After being pressured, however, he gave the order, just in time to prevent White House Press Secretary Josh Earnest from expiring from terminal shame and embarrassment.

Now one of the sixties references I am so fond of - are you familiar with the movie "Midnight Cowboy?"  If you're not, perhaps you are too young to be reading this blog.  "Midnight Cowboy" was downright scandalous for its time and place, because when released, it was the first X-rated mainstream movie.  It starred Dustin Hoffman, for crying out loud, and this was only a few years after "The Graduate."  If you are not familiar with "The Graduate", I give up.  Here's to you, Mrs. Robinson.  "Midnight Cowboy" also starred Jon Voight, before he ruined "Mission Impossible" for me forever.  Rest in peace, Jim Phelps.  And also before he donated his genes to a certain Angelina Jolie, who really should treat her father a little better.  If nothing else, then to thank him for his awesome genes. Ungrateful brat.

"Midnight Cowboy" is also glorious proof that we all get older - some, like Dustin Hoffman's co-stars  the late Anne Bancroft and Meryl Streep, are ageless.  Others, like formerly gorgeous Robert Redford and "Cowboy" Jon Voight, not so much, but having said that, I give them credit for putting their aging faces out there without going all Kenny Rogers on them.

I fell into this whole "Midnight Cowboy" train of thought in the middle of last night, when I went downstairs for a snack, and after sharing some chicken with Anakin and Romeo, I started to prepare tamales. Midnight Tamales. From now on, I am going to start all my tamales at midnight.  These were particularly easy and turned out to be ridiculously tasty, and it helped to prepare the filling and set the corn husks to soak the night before.  One thing I did not have to do was prepare the masa, because I used a tube of pre-cooked polenta.  I know, ridiculous, right?

This turned out to be a pantry-buster, because I hadn't been planning to making tamales this week, much less when I walking down the stairs.  I admit that I don't normally stock dried corn husks, but after this I may treat them as a necessity.  The rest of the recipe shall be revealed in the fullness of time - which means tomorrow - because I've run out of energy and my day is done.

Now there's a sign I would love to see.

I have moved one step closer to retirement, as I gather all my forms and such to ship off to the Division of Retirement in Tallahassee.  I am at peace with my decision. I wish I was better at following through in a timely linear fashion, but fibromyalgia continues to scramble my brain.  Filling out forms and following procedures are mostly beyond my abilities. Logic is a foreign concept.

Ack! - Sloppy Jo Comes Home

"Ack" indeed.  Well, that's how I'm feeling this morning - like a "skinny, half-dead Garfield" - and if you don't know who Bill the Cat is, you are too young to be reading this blog.

I made the biscuits this morning, doubling the recipe.  Don't double the recipe; it will be difficult to work with it, although still delicious. Here is the original recipe from the November 21, 2014 blog post and I really encourage you to try it because these biscuits are so good, I want to eat the entire pan.  With one egg.  One medium egg.

This morning's batch of biscuit

I wish that my medication was somehow more efficacious, I really do.  I know that the doctor has told me that only time will bring the desired result, but it seems that I have been waiting forever for something resembling stabilization.  For now my hands shake and my mood swings more than Benny Goodman's band.  After the last five days, Josephine the Plumber has risen to the top of my hit list, right behind Jim the Tech from Bright House Networks. (Relax, these are both imaginary characters.) My Internet connection is for shit, while pots and pans are piling up on the kitchen counter.  This isn't helping my mood, which is no longer swinging but stuck on uber-cranky.

Serve the Sloppy Jo with biscuits, or corn bread, or mac & cheese, or rice,

I also made the Sloppy Josephine - this version being a Spicy, Sexy, Schmaltzy Josephine - and it turn out quite tasty. I recommend serving this on a Sprightly Biscuit, or with some good old fashioned long grain white rice.  Rice is nice, but biscuits are better.  Ack! Alliteration!

He wanted my flip-flops, I gave them to him

Anakin is acting weirder than usual - he was trying to steal my flip-flop right off my foot.  He has a terrible wound on his tail, a good 5 inches along the tail's length.  As best we can tell, and I agree with Robert, his tail got burned while he was sashaying across the cooktop.

He wanted my seat, so I let him have it

It has been healing; today, however, a long scab came free, and he is showing some raw skin which has to be painful.  I found the scab, which was furry on one side (gulp) and I saw the redness which may have involved some surface bleeding.  My poor Ani.

He played the cute card with me, and he won

So I cried for him, and gave him my flip-flops for a while.  Then he decided he wanted to sit in the seat I happened to be using, so I moved.  He seems to be quite comfortable now, and not in pain from his wound.  Me, well I'm comfortable in an alternate seat, but I am always in pain. Damn, spit, and dirty socks.

Time to make friends with Sloppy Josephine.  She's cheap, easy, and no jokes, thank you very much.

1 to 1 1/4 pound ground beef (market beef or ground round)
1 large red bell pepper, large chop
1 large green bell, large chop
(Optional: jalapeno and/or red hot chile pepper)
1 very large onion, chopped
4 or more large garlic cloves, chopped
1 - 14.5 oz. Green Giant corn niblets, drained
1 - 15 oz. can black beans, drained
1 - 15 oz. can light red kidney beans, drained
1 large (about 28 oz.) can Sloppy Joe or Manwich sauce

My spice blend, to taste
Dried oregano, to taste
Sugar
Cayenne pepper, optional
                                 
1/4 cup oil for cooking

Heat about a tablespoon of the oil over medium-high heat and add the beef.  Break up the beef while cooking, with a pastry blender (this works so well).  At the end of cooking, stir in the dried oregano and remove from the heat. Remove the cooked beef to a plate or aluminum pan; use a slotted spoon, and then discard any grease in the pan.  Set aside the beef.  Add the remaining oil to the pan, and heat over a medium-high setting.  Add the bell peppers (and spicy peppers, if using) and onion.  Season with the spice blend, sugar, and cayenne.  Sauté the vegetables until softened.  Add the chopped garlic and continue cooking until the onion starts to caramelize.

Add the cooked beef and stir. Add the the drained beans and corn; stir and adjust seasonings.  Add the Sloppy Joe or Manwich sauce, lower the heat and simmer for about 10 minutes.  And enjoy enjoy enjoy!  This is hearty and wholesome and just plain good.

One Giant Step for Mankind - Monday, Bread and Butter

Almost everybody agrees that "Monday, string beans, all you hungry children, we wish the same to you." Probably my favorite ear worm, dating back to the long distant past of my childhood.  I caught it from my kid brother, who brought it home from early elementary school.  There are countless versions, and I know I've blogged about this before, but I just found this online and almost plotzed - finally, all of the correct words in the correct order, proving that Monday is bread and butter,  not string beans. Guess what I'm eating for breakfast?

Today is Monday,

Today is Monday,
Monday bread and butter
All you hungry children,
I wish the same to you.

Today is Tuesday,
Today is Tuesday,
Tuesday string beans
Monday bread and butter
All you hungry children,
I wish the same to you.

Today is Wednesday,
Today is Wednesday,
Wednesday soup
Tuesday string beans
Monday bread and butter
All you hungry children,
I wish the same to you.

Today is Thursday,
Today is Thursday,
Thursday roast beef
Wednesday soup
Tuesday string beans
Monday bread and butter
All you hungry children,
I wish the same to you.

Today is Friday,
Today is Friday,
Friday fish
Thursday roast beef
Wednesday soup
Tuesday string beans
Monday bread and butter
All you hungry children,
I wish the same to you.

Today is Saturday,
Today is Saturday,
Saturday payday
Friday fish
Thursday roast beef
Wednesday soup
Tuesday string beans
Monday bread and butter
All you hungry children,
I wish the same to you.

Today is Sunday,
Today is Sunday,
Sunday church
Saturday payday
Friday fish
Thursday roast beef
Wednesday soup
Tuesday string beans
Monday bread and butter
All you hungry children,
I wish the same to you.

Needless to say, this version predated Madalyn Murray O'Hair and her pernicious influence on the American public school system.

Because today is Monday I'm having an early morning panic attack and not liking it at all.  Too many things going on that merit concern - Rob's appointment with the audiologist, the possibility that all our cast iron pipes are going to have to be replaced, my upcoming employment hearing - big stuff, all of it.

Incipient Eggplant in my garden

Maybe things would feel better if I had picked a different ear worm.  Or maybe not ... the second verse sums things up splendidly.

Monday, Monday, so good to me
Monday morning, it was all I hoped it would be
Oh, Monday morning, Monday morning couldn't guarantee
That Monday evening, you would still be here with me

Monday, Monday, can't trust that day
Monday, Monday, sometimes it just turns out that way
Oh, Monday morning, you gave me no warning of what was to be
Oh, Monday, Monday, how could you leave and not take me?

I hate Mondays, I really do, damn it.  I am trying to stop the brain fog rolling in and have gotten way off track. This is just supposed to be about bread and butter, and God willing (did you see that, Madalyn?) a rerun of the recipe for Sprightly Southern Biscuits to go with some Sloppy Josephine.  Right now, waiting for the appearance of Son of Josephine the Plumber, I hesitate to start any projects in the kitchen.

Yesterday's chameleon, today's parking lot attendant

I should have never mentioned Madalyn Murray O'Hair on a Monday. My blood is starting to boil, or at least maintaining a steady simmer. Atheists annoy me because they have no respect for non-atheists. If they don't believe in God, so be it.  Don't mock me because I believe in the God of our Fathers, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, and of our Mothers, Sarah, Rebecca, Leah and Rachel.  Don't insult me because I was raised to show respect to those who believe differently than me.  Don't pervert the First Amendment so that even a Moment of Silence is forbidden in most classrooms.

Enough.  I have to stop.  I'm supposed to be sweeping the negativity out of my life, but I just allowed it to blow right back in.  Feh. So there will be no mention of Donald Trump, John Mc Cain, nuclear anything, shark attacks, or Bill Cosby.  I will mention that 46 years ago today Neil Armstrong made history when he made that "one small step" on the Lunar surface, but I will stop myself from ranting about the death of our space exploration program.  Stop.  Now.

As it turned out, Son of Josephine did not make it, and probably won't be here before Wednesday.  I did not bake biscuits or prepare the Spicy Josephine - yeah, I've tweaked the recipe a bit, at least in my head - but I did move forward another step in the state disability process, and began work on Social Security.  That's gonna be a whole lotta other blog posts, another time.

The best news I've had all day is that Doctor Who returns to BBC on September 19, 2015.  Something to look forward to besides retirement, old age, and fibromyalgia.                                                                                                                               

Crabby Sunday - Oven Smoked Chicken Lollipops and Bacon Wrapped Corn on the Cob

I sat and watched and waited and hoped the little lizard would turn magenta like my bougainvillea, but no such luck. For sure, he's not getting that job with Valspar.

Just so you know, I've got a headache and an attitude.  There, got that out of the way.

Soak 'em if you got 'em

Look, if you don't have a container of this chicken spice rub in one of your cabinets, your life is much poorer for it.  Mix this up and put it aside - we're smoking lollipops later today.

1 tablespoon ground cinnamon

1/2 tablespoon McCormick's dark chili powder

1/2 tablespoon Badia chili powder
1 tablespoon ground cumin

1 tablespoon ground coriander
2 teaspoons garlic powder
1 teaspoon onion powder

1 teaspoon ground ginger

1/2 teaspoon ground cloves

1 teaspoon ground fennel seed

1/2 teaspoon ground allspice

2 tablespoons sugar

1 tablespoon kosher salt

1 tablespoon coarsely ground black pepper

1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper

I post a lot about so-called "invisible diseases" both here and on Facebook because it sucks to have people think you are faking your aching because you don't show traditional marks and scars. Sometimes, it seems that I am one of those people who has trouble  believing that I am always in pain.  I think this is what my cousin Sheryl meant when she said she had fibromyalgia, but she was in denial.

I guess I've been in denial for a few truly precious days, but all good things come to an end.  My back pain has become really awful.  Crippling, you might say. But I am used to that; that's why God created Advil,  The scary thing of late is the pain in my legs and the resulting difficulty in climbing stairs.  The bedrooms and family bathroom are upstairs, naturally.

I'm crabby and I'm agitated and my medication is taking its sweet ass time becoming fully effective.  I finally gave up on being patient with my kitchen sink, and I start cooking.  Handwashing took place in the office bathroom, so I guess I did my exercise walking in the house.  Today was about smoked chicken lollipops and bacon wrapped corn on the cob. I'm still working on timing and temperature, which is annoying me.

Still no Sloppy Josephine. Tomorrow, God willing. And biscuits, I love my biscuits.

Chicken Ood? Ask a Whovian.

Oven-Smoked Chicken Lollipops

These were AWESOME. And adorable.  Having said that, I confused myself on the timing, shuttling back and forth between convection to conventional oven, bottom heat to top only heat sources and changing temperature willy-nilly.  The hardest part of this recipe is creating the lollipop, but it's not that bad, and gets easier as you keep working on them.  This is the page I referred to for general instructions, but you can certainly look elsewhere.  No matter what, you've got to have a very sharp boning knife and heavy duty kitchen shears.

12 chicken legs, frenched (creates the lollipops)
Spice rub, above
Apple wood chips, soaked in water for at least an hour
Top quality barbecue sauce
Wildflower honey

Season the chicken all over with the spice rub.  Cover with foil and refrigerate for 1 to 2 hours. When you are ready to start smoking, preheat the oven to 400 degrees.  Add the drained wood chips to the bottom of a 9 by 13 aluminum baking dish.

Set the chicken lollipops into an aluminum veggie grill pan (perforated) and then place it on top of the wood chips.

Cover this with an upside-down aluminum pan, and use a very large piece of heavy duty aluminum foil to wrap and enclose everything so that the smoke will remain inside with the chicken.  Set this inside the preheated oven (the heat source has to be on the bottom).

Now here's where things get dicey because I was experimenting with time and temperature.  But what I should have done at this point is to leave the oven on this high heat for 30 to 45 minutes, and then without opening the oven door, lowering the temperature to between 235 and 250 degrees and let the chicken continue to cook another few hours, checked the internal temperature after the first 2 hours, then letting the chicken cook till finished with an internal temperature of about 170 degrees.  I did the whole thing backwards and never really got the smoke production I was hoping for.  In spite of that, the smoke was light and very pleasant.  Next time, hopefully a little more smoke.

To finish these lovely lollipops, remove the foil and top pan, and raise the oven temperature to 350 degrees. While the oven is preheating, brush the chicken with barbecue sauce (I used Jimmy Bear's) and then drizzle with the honey.  Place back in the oven, uncovered, for 5 to 10 minutes, just enough time to develop a glaze.

In the Oven Bacon-Wrapped Corn on the Cob

This is easy but aggravating, because I left the husk on the cob, like I would if I was preparing it on the gas grill.  That confused my timing, so I have nothing definitive to pass on to you, except for my "next time."

Next time, I may or may not soak the corn in water and sugar, after removing the husk and of course, the silk. Then I will wrap each ear of corn with 2 pieces of bacon and sprinkle with my favorite seasoning-of-the-moment.  Next I will cook the corn under the broiler, turning so that the bacon cooks on all sides. When done, I will brush each ear of corn with a little melted butter on all sides, and sprinkle on a bit more seasoning (I used Emeril's Essence) and sugar.

I would suggest you google various methods for cooking this in the oven, but this gives you a basic idea.

(Don't even ask what I did, as I overcomplicated what should be a simple but really tasty side dish.)

This popped up on Facebook just as I was finishing up today's post. Timing, eh?