Just a Thought!

I find myself thinking about our goals as a nation and more over the world. In my country I’ve seen the more commercially aggressive rewarded while those that just try to build a life are taken advantage of. I have seen the majority of my efforts, monetarily speaking, go to interest, late fees, handling charges and so on. In short why are we allowing financiers to suck the life blood out of our working underclass. If the FED can loan banks money to stimulate the economy at almost no interest, and that money in turn is loaned out to everyday people and at a profit, and everyday people are losing their homes. Why don’t we, the people i.e. the FED, stop rewarding the crooks that crashed the economy and loan the money directly to the workers without someone getting rich in the middle. The country would be stronger, all of us, not just the top… just a thought!

Small Strawbale Home in New Mexico!

People are building their own homes without spending 30 years to pay them off. Small yes, humble yes, but paid of in five to ten years. What would you do if you owned your own home, free and clear?

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A Note to Our Readers

A Note to our Readers

For those of you that are new to this blog or not familiar with my history, it may seem a little confusing. One day we are discussing southwestern cooking, the next a cowboys funereal, or chapters out of a crime novel and then it’s barbecue cleaning videos or a discussion on how to make a building out of a shipping container, all of this is followed up with a few days of my poetry.

Let me explain. My personal history starts out with me being an Iron Worker, living and working here in the Arizona desert. Next I started a spice company, which led me into a television, cooking career. That took me into a series of cookbooks; from there it was live cooking demonstrations and playing music at least one night a week. After my show went off the air in 03 I had a baraitric procedure and over the next few years I had nine additional surgeries. While I was convalescing I went back to school and studied both, Creative and News writing. All of this shows up on my blog along with my love of green building and the plants of the Sonoran desert.

What drives me to write on a particular subject is either I just happen to be working on something, or a situation like the recent death of Micha McGurrea occurs and moves me to write, or my statistics page tells me that I’m gaining readers on a subject. In the last month most of my readers are American, over 70%, next is Hungary and here’s the odd thing. The Hungarians are reading my poetry and nothing but my poetry. There are about 15 other countries that have someone that is following my blog and they read everything both old and new, but when I launch a poem I can go to the Stats page and within a few minutes Hungary pops up. If you are in Hungary and following this blog Please leave a comment and let me know what is drawing you to these pages. That goes for all of you nice people, leave a comment and let me know what you like and what doesn’t quite do it for you.

Thanks

Mad Coyote Joe

If Heroes be Illusion A Poem by Daigneault

If Heroes be Illusion

A Poem by Daigneault

If heroes be illusion

The heroes as we say

Can true men then be heroes

In deeds of everyday

In stories facing giants

without a flinch or fear

Standing straight and solid

with will so true so clear

If men like that be fiction

and yet great deeds are done

The myth is calling fearless

The men that fail to run

For heroes are not different

from ordinary men

With fear and hearts a pounding

They stay to fight to win

Quiet... in three! A Poem by Daigneault

Quiet… in three!

A Poem by Daigneault

Hands that feel

Heart that speaks

Standing alone

To give

To please

No one

No plan

No staff

toward distant shore

Bleeding

calloused

Against a tide

Alone

to self

to all

climbing

silence speaks

Stomped

living

only the ride

never knowing

With words of steel

The best Sorbet I've Ever Had!

My wife, Chef Kathy and I went shopping two days ago. It was her day off and we went to see a movie. The Kings Speech, a great movie for performers, it was definitely a girl movie… but I loved it!

Anyway after the movie we went to Whole Foods and bought a piece of fresh cod, $8.99 a pound, the Frozen cod was $6.99 a pound. This was a really well spent $2 fresh, full of flavor and delicious. While we were shopping Kathy went to get some sorbet, I was buying dark chocolate covered, roasted almonds. I interrupted Kathy while she was getting the sorbet and she thought she had purchased the Mango… but no! She only thought she had the Mango sorbet.

Upon arriving home I was putting the frozen items in the freezer while Kathy was putting the produce away in the big fridge in the Mad Coyote room. I noticed (to my horror) that we did not have our beloved Mango sorbet… no we had… are you ready for this… Basil Lime sorbet. Who on God’s green earth would fuck up sorbet by combining basil with lime? I was sure that it was some recent culinary school graduate that was dropping acid between convincing his or her uncle that owned a sorbet company, that this was a good idea.

10:45 pm the night of the erroneous sorbet purchase; Kathy in a desperate attempt to find some sweet satisfaction decides to try the Basil lime sorbet. I’m not buying it.

In order to understand the dynamic going on here, you need some history.

Kathy for the past forty years has been the one that will say, “Hey Joe, what do you think that light background flavor in the cream sauce is?” She is acting like this is a little question between a husband and wife. No my friend this is much more devious, this is her punking me, she is stomping the holy shit, out of any chance that I may ever have, to have a better palate than her… and she is always right! Kathy has the most amazing palate that I have ever encountered.

So when she tells me, that the basil lime sorbet has “A flavor that she could become addicted to!” I approach it with caution. Again my wife and childhood sweetheart is spot on.

This is one of the greatest flavor combinations, that I have encountered, hands down.

You need to try Sweet Republic, Basil lime Sorbet!

It has my mind reeling with cooking ideas! My advice... get some tonight!

Warmly,

Mad Coyote Joe

Mad Coyote Ketchup

http://www.seriouseats.com/ is a website I subscribe to. It’s a great food site, high-energy… lots of good ideas and comments. This morning they had a Ketchup recipe. If you’ve never had homemade ketchup it’s well worth the effort. These were my comments, and below is the recipe, if you try it make sure to use my changes. I know the Italian Tomatoes are about $6 a can, trust me this is the best extra $5 you can spend in your kitchen!

When speaking of Ketchup we are thinking Tomato Ketchup, mushroom and even banana varieties have been popular. There are several different stories about the derivation of the word ketchup, every thing from, fish sauce to type of soy sauce to a sauce of pickled vegetables.

Ketchup like Salsa can be made from many other ingredients, and for my money homemade ketchup again like salsa is far superior to its canned or bottled relative. Once again convenience provides a very stable middle of the road flavor that appeals to the masses but the wow factor is completely lost. The only thing I would change in this recipe is the addition of San Marzano tomatoes from Italy or in season fresh from your garden! Oh… and I might try substituting Chipotle (a peat smoked jalapeno) for the cayenne, but that’s just my Sonoran twist!

Mad Coyote Joe

• 2 tablespoons olive oil

• 1 medium onion, chopped medium

• 1 clove garlic, minced

• 1 28-oz can tomato purée (MCJ Change Use San Marzano Tomatoes from Italy)

• 1/2 cup packed dark brown sugar

• 1/4 cup cider vinegar

• 1 tablespoon tomato paste

• 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

• 1/2 teaspoon ground mustard

• 1/8 teaspoon ground cloves

• 1/8 teaspoon allspice

• 1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper (MCJ Change Use Chipotle chile up to 1 tsp.)

PROCEDURES


Heat oil in a medium saucepan over medium heat until shimmering. Add in the onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened but not browned, 5 to 8 minutes. Add in the garlic and stir until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Add the tomato purée, brown sugar, vinegar, tomato paste, salt, mustard, cloves, allspice, and cayenne pepper and stir to combine. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low and simmer, stirring occasionally, until thickened to the consistency of ketchup, 45 to 60 minutes. 








Place ketchup in the jar of a blender and purée until completely smooth. 








Wash and dry saucepan then place a fine mesh strainer over top. Pour ketchup in the strainer and, using a spatula, force through all of the ketchup. 








Taste ketchup and adjust seasonings if necessary. Pour ketchup into a jar, seal, and store in the refrigerator for 3 weeks up to a month. 



The Beat

The Beat

I wrote this a few years ago, it's one of my favorite works. Let me know what you think!

The Beat

A poem

By Daigneault

Unspoken words

take wings tonight

Aromas dance

and rise

Piercing tones

reveal true heart

The brush carves

wood, cuts ice

Colors mixed find

notes not seen

Gracious hands

yield truth

Spade finds

earth, desire and flesh

The supple

muse of youth

And in the sky

beneath the waves

The beat,

the grain,

the stone

Unspoken words

take flight tonight

From gods these

gifts, on loan

Life here is good!

Shipping Container Building

Shipping Container Building

One of the goals we have in building our campus is to use our different buildings as individual labs, the buildings themselves. The goal being to discover ways for the average person on the street to build their own home or what ever other buildings they may need, at the lowest possible cost, and with the greatest future savings of energy.

What we’re studying is Shipping Container (Connex Box), Straw Bale, Cast in Place earth, and super insulated frame, Construction. Along with this we are implementing photovoltaic electric and passive solar hot water.

I am currently working on the utility building that will house our art studio, mechanical workshop, storage and potting shed. Its frame is a shipping container. Known as a “High Cube” it is forty feet long, nine and a half feet tall and eight feet wide.

These come with utility grade, hard wood floors and are strong enough to stack eight high fully loaded. What that means to us is they can handle almost any load that the average builder might want to place on top of their building.

These Connex boxes are made out a product called “Corten” also known as weather resistant steel. There are several builders worldwide thinking up new and unusual ways to stack these structures. After looking at several boxes, our criteria being; straight, without major holes or dents, minimal corrosion, floors in good shape, doors with good seals and in good working order and weather tight, we bought ours for $2700 delivered. A friend moved it into place with a backhoe and I leveled it with a 6-ton jack. I cut in the window for light and placed a vent on the roof. Our future plans include adding thermal mass with poured in place, reinforced adobe, wrapping the finished box with two inches of insulation and a living roof that will serve as an herb garden and possible second story office. This is one or most requested blog subjects we receive. Please let us know what you’re building needs and plans are. And if we can lab something or help answer any questions that you may have. I just grabbed these pics of the net as examples of box construction.

Warmly,

Mad Coyote Joe

The Garage Sale King

Being the reigning Garage Sale King has its responsibilities. One to be King you need to score treasures along with a constant flow of hot deals in whatever area you might be interested. This is my modes operandi upon arrival at a yard sale I find the owner or who ever is in charge. I ask if they have tools, building materials, musical instruments, guns, kitchen equipment, and coins. If no, I take a quick look and then move on.

If they have any of what I’m looking for I assign a price that it’s worth to me and then look for anything else that I may want. Then I ask what they want for it. If they want more that I want to pay I ask if they are willing to come down on the price. If no I leave if yes I offer the lowest price that I think they can live with. When the price is lower than I was thinking I still go lower quite often they will take the price. Where I really make money is when I will add other items in often a whole group. At one sale there was a weaving that I liked they wanted $5 I added in a table full of chisels and screwdrivers, a knife an eight-foot level and three boxes of nails one had about 40 lbs of nails inside. I offered $10. He came back with “How about $15?” These items at his prices were over $80 and at retail over $200. I gave the $15 and left.

My big Scores are tools at less than 10% of retail, I have found a nice Salvador Dali Serigraph $40, 2 Rembrandt Etchings $5, A 60 year old mandolin$20, A Gibson B25 12 string guitar$25, Building Materials for 5% of retail.

Yester day I took my Rembrandt Etchings down to a few galleries in Scottsdale with my good friend Rick Strole. After being helped out of the door by people that were better than the both of us we came upon a small Gallery. The owner was chatting with a friend and welcomed us. He took a look at the Rembrandt’s and told us they were struck from the original copper plates in the earily twentieth century. He could tell by the paper it was not from the 1600’s but still very old. He showed us a few of the etchings that he had in his gallery and suggested a retail price of my etchings of $125- $150 each.

Not bad for a $5 investment. A few years ago I found a nice lady selling coin rolls she had Washing silver quarters in $10 rolls she was asking $12 per roll. I took all she had 5 rolls for $60. I sold them a few months later when silver was up for $678.

Right now people are in need of bill money and selling anything that they are not using or in great need of. I wait until I need something. Like the other day I decided I needed a chainsaw for my Bread oven. So I started going to the sales. The second sale that I stopped at had a Remington electric Chainsaw. She was asking $12. It looked new, I plugged it in and it ran fine, plus the chain was very sharp. I said, “How about $8?” She agreed. I went home and checked the model number on line it was on sale at a reduced price of $87, so I got it for 10% of retail. The deals are out there go to the sales early, know what you want and what you will pay and you too can save some cash!

"Alice" a Chapter in my up coming Novel Willie

This is a chapter in my up coming Novel Willie. Please send any comments that you may have or share it with friends that might like reading this.

Alice

1642 words

by Daigneault

“Joe, it’s Bill, I’m in the city jail on Trent Avenue. They want $85 for bail, could you go to my place, I’ve got a few bucks stashed behind my TV inside an old chessboard. Just bring the box with you and I’ll make it worth your while.”

Joe finds the key under the mat just where Billy had said it would be. He opens the door, walks over to the big, wooden television cabinet and feels around behind it. The wooden box with the chessboard printed on the lid was there, just like he had said. Joe walks back to the door, opens it and starts to step out.

He hears the distinctive metallic click of a shotgun slide, jacking a shell into its chamber. He instinctively, slows to a snails pace, raising his hands.

“That’s right… nice and easy. Step out slowly and keep those hands up,” says a big, rugged looking, detective, that is holding the pump riot gun, dead center on Joe. There are five other men, two more in suits and the other three wearing police uniforms. All have their guns drawn. Joe has a bad reputation.

While the first detective keeps the shotgun on Joe the two other detectives carefully approach. One takes the chess set away from Joe, while the other slaps the handcuffs on and grabs Joe firmly by the back of his shirt and pushes him toward a waiting squad car. One of the detectives opens the chess set and pulls out a plastic bag of small, black capsules. He utters, “Black beauties… must be 300 here. Pal you’re in for some time.”

Immediately Joe knows two things; first if they do a record check on him he’s gone for at least five years without this bullshit charge, and second, Billy sold him out. Billy’s reward from Joe could wait he had bigger problems.

Back at the station, Joe calls Alice and fills her in. Without being told she knows what to do and as soon as she hangs up with Joe she calls the lawyer.

“Look honey, I won’t bullshit you. He’s fucked. He’s looking at a minimum of seven years,” says Joe’s lawyer.

The year is 1964. Alice, twenty–eight years old, thin and unassuming, wipes down the long white counter, straightening the stainless steel napkin holders, plastic bowls filled with packets of sugar and the pancake syrup as she works her way down to top off his coffee. She is wearing a pink dress and an apron with black trim.

The lawyer keeps wiping off the beads of sweat, that are forming on his huge, bulldog like face. Red-eyed, peering at Alice over the top of his black-rimmed glasses and looking like he crawled out of a laundry hamper, his gray suit and dark blue tie need pressing. He’s been representing Joe for the past 15 years. Although she has never meet him before, she has heard plenty, about all the times he’s gotten Joe out of serious beefs in the past. She also knows if he drove all the way from Dallas last night to make the arraignment, this must be bad.

“What about bail” she asks?

“Bail… yeah the judge offered bail. Five thousand and he can get out until the trial. You wouldn’t have five grand lying around would you?” he asks.

“We don’t have that kind of cash, we don’t have $500”, says Alice.

The cook taps the bell on the counter, “Order up, Alice,” he says, as he slides two, dinghy plates of ham, eggs and hash browns into the service window. Alice turns around and stacks the plates on one arm along with two smaller plates of buttered toast. Grabbing a coffee pot with her free hand, she takes care of her customers and comes back to the lawyer.

“How long does he have?” she asks.

“I’d say three or four days… after that his paper will start to catch up with him and they’ll rescind the bail offer. How are you holding up,” he asks?

“Well… I’m married to a man that lives in a world that I’m not supposed to know about. I thought he was working again… when he left yesterday morning… something in the way he was moving when he walked out the door… I could see he had something on his mind. Like he was being overly careful… apparently not careful enough! He has friends with that kind of money but I don’t know them. I’ve never been to jail or in any real trouble. I’ll be fine… if we can just get him out we could disappear.” The words tumble off her lips as a distant thought. Suddenly she snaps back into the coffee shop and has a look of clarity as she tells the lawyer, “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine… we’ll be fine.”

Two hours later, across town Alice is wearing a scarf over her hair, a tan, full length, rain slicker and a pair of large, round, black sunglasses. Parking on the side of the building, she knows there is no turning back. She leaves the car running. Stepping from the car, with her heart almost jumping out of her chest, she tries to catch her breath, finding it hard to concentrate over the deafening rush of blood in her ears that sounds like a thundering locomotive. Walking into the bank, through the heavy glass doors, time is bending…moving sideways. Crossing the room, she feels like she’s wading, uphill, through a wall of honey. She watches what looks like someone else’s hand give, the teller the note. He reads it and reaches for the drawer… for the money. Yes… he’s putting the bills in a bank bag. Then she watches him slip his other hand under the counter. Lucidity gone, she barely registers the ringing of the alarm and wave of commotion. People start ducking and running in a slow-motion panic. And then like a sudden slap on a cold face in the dead of winter, the bank comes into sharp focus. The alarm is screaming. Every eye is on her. She is staring down the length of her arm, across the span, of the shiny black barrel, of an enormous revolver, that she is now pointing directly into the anxious eyes, of the bank teller, who is holding out the bag of cash. She grabs the bag and runs to the big glass door. Reaching for the brass push plate, she sees a massive fist, flash into the corner of her eye. The room suddenly flips sideways with a sickening crunch that throws her off her feet. Flying into the immense, plate glass door, face first, another smashing sound is followed by the warm rush of blood in her eyes and mouth.

She hears, “Don’t fucking move!” along with the distinct ‘click’ of a cocking pistol that is being pressed firmly against the back of her head. The blood dripping from her mouth, tastes like wet copper. Pain is shooting through the side of her smashed face and jaw. Oddly the marble floor feels cool… almost comforting to her cheek. Someone takes the pistol from her hand and then the bag of money. She is slowly rolled over by a bulky, middle-aged man, wearing a guard’s uniform. She hadn’t noticed him while entering the bank.

“A woman… it’s a goddamn woman! Just what were you thinking?” he mutters, while shaking his head.

Her trial was a mere formality. The judge gave her three years like he was sending her to summer camp. Doing three years in a State of Georgia work camp for women is like 50 years in the modern joints around the country. Alice was familiar with hard work. She had been working since she was 14, but this was something different. Her cellmates were mostly poor, angry blacks, bull dykes, and mentally ill housewives that had been thrown away by their husbands or hookers and junkies, any of whom will cut your throat, rape you or give you a beating in the showers as soon as talk with you. And then there are the guards; prison guards are the very bottom of the barrel. And women’s prison guards in Georgia are the worst of the worst. For the most part they are a bunch of uneducated, rednecks that love the idea of having control over a large group of trashy women that are in need of favors. Favors like; a shower once a week or seeing the doctor when they have a wound or a fever, or access to their lawyer.

In a women’s joint there are only a few forms of currency, drugs, cigarettes, weapons or violence and when all else fails for these women…the thing they’ve been trading all their lives, pussy.

Alice is a hard woman, but she has to fight almost everyday just to stay alive. The feds waited three months before coming to have a chat with her. She shows to the interview with a swollen lip and fresh, dark, bruise over her left eye and cheek.

“Look honey, all we want is the names of your husbands friends around the country. You give us five names that check out and we’ll arrange for there to be an error in your trial transcripts. You’ll go home and no one will ever know, not even Joe. We know that he’s connected. If you don’t go along we’ll make sure that you do every fucking day of your time in this shit-hole, no parole, no probation,” says the squeaky clean, fed wearing a gray suit and Ray-ban sunglasses.

Alice looks the fed that is doing the talking straight in the eye and says, “You must be mistaken… I have no idea what you’re talking about. So if we’re done I’d like to go back to my cell now.”

###

Who Are You?

Who Are You?

I was going through my Blog Stats. This tells me who is reading my blog and where they are. Below is the breakdown for the past few days. Historically most of my readers are from the good old USofA. Next it’s Germany then Canada, Australia, Russa, Iraq, Malaysia, Netherlands (I sure this is my friends Sabina and Roland), Japan then Thailand. These are rounded off but in correct order. Germany in number two was a big surprise, I would have thought England or Canada. This week I'm getting new readers from Asia and Eastern Europe.

Okay I’d like to know who you are and where you are from, so if you have the time and the desire to help. Please tell us a little about how you ended up at our site and where you are from. I write on everything from food to low cost building design, with crime stories and poetry thrown in, along with stories about our open mic. What drew you to our site? This will tell me where I’m serving you and not just practicing my writing. Just go to the bottom of this posting and click on comments.

United States 115

Canada 4

Singapore 4

United Kingdom 3

China 2

Slovenia 2

Australia 1

Spain 1

France 1

Spain 1

Historic Views by %

United States 87%

Germany 3%

Canada 2%

Australia 1%

Russia 1%

IIraq 1% Malaysia 1% Netherlands 1% Japan 1% Thailand 1%

Cooking School update

In building the cooking school there are several issues that I need to deal with. I’m building a venue that will serve as a school, an event location, as in weddings, meetings, perhaps a gallery, also we are looking at television and photo shoots maybe even exercise, tai chi, or even lectures and workshops. I’m, by nature, a packrat I love to collect things that others have discarded and then reuse them in construction or sculpture. This is a challenge as, I’m having to toss out things that may have a future use, but the business comes first.

I have divided our property into three outdoor and four indoor areas. Our home and the packaging room for our spice company, the connex box which will be used as an art studio, a garage and a storage area and the classroom and kitchen are all indoor venues and out door we have the cooking set and bakery, the main yard and a 16 car parking lot. My plan is to finish the bakery and cooking set first so that we can start outdoor cooking classes this spring. We will use the money from these classes to finish the other venues.

I’m working on the connex box, which I want to make look more like a little adobe building and less like a shipping container.

I'm using a CIP or cast in place adobe system of my own design.

I was given the dirt for my adobes and after inspecting it I became worried about the ratio of sand to soil.

Most of the information floating around the web and in the various books on adobe construction in our library agrees that adobe needs to be a minimum mix of 30 % clay and 70% sand and no more than 50/50. After doing a standard water / soil test my dirt looks like it’s about 80% sand 20% clay.

So I made two test blocks as I have two different piles of dirt. You can see the rings from the cardboard drink case I used as a form,

My system has additional reinforcement in several different areas that standard adobe is missing.

First it’s attached to the connex box, second it has a chain link fence diaphragm, third it has a two-inch hi density foam exterior that is tied to both the box and the fence. After making my test blocks I believe that it will be more than strong enough.

However as an added binder I’m going to add a shovel of gypsum to each wheelbarrow, which will be about 5%. I’ll let you know how it works out.

Baguettes and Country white bread just out of the wood fired oven!

Sucess at Last!

This is our first batch of any size, sixteen loaves, eight Baguettes and eight Country white. The Country white is coming out the same every time; light, mild sour dough, with a crunch that can be heard across the room… delicious!

The Baguettes are getting better with each bake, this time we have the flavor and crunch we are looking for, but the surface is a little irregular and the final loaf is not deep in color.

We are thinking maybe an egg-wash will produce the color we are looking for. For the next bake we are thinking maybe 16-32 loafs of each. After the oven gets hot enough, each bake takes about 30% more time, so we need to use hearth space as economically as possible.

I believe we can do about 30 Country loaves per bake and about 16-18 loaves of Baguette, per bake. Add that to about 10 – 12 bakes per fire and we’ve got a nice little bread business on our hands. The best part of this process is I feel alive about food again, like when I was 28 and had little kids and a young wife that I was grilling for. My mind is busy with the process of baking and it feels good.

Kathy is still by my side, tasting and helping and suggesting, only now she is an Executive chef with 35 years of cooking under her belt. Money is tight, business is slow, and my health is still in question, but life here is good!

While we were getting our oven heated and our bread dough ready, I put a pork shoulder with baby red potatoes and about 20 garlic cloves in an old iron Dutch oven in about two inches of chicken broth. As the fire was quite hot, I placed it just in the doorway. Right before our first bake, I took it inside and let it rest. When the baking was done we had supper, the pork was juicy and almost sweet, combined with the Country white just out of the oven with a schmear of organic sweet cream butter, a few cloves of the roasted garlic and a glass of Cabernet. It wasn’t fancy but WOW! Did it taste great!

The Columns are up on the Bakery pavilion and next week we go to beams and joists for the roof… photos to follow!

Shot of oven during the first counter pour!