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By SOBF
#694943
Those rice wrappers are a pain in the balls. Very little filling and no air pockets is key. Or treat them like a whore and double wrap.
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By LA Fly Guy
#694945
Should have shipped the rolling papers from home with the fryer.

Looks like you're going to have a tough time improving that 1 star rating.
By Kylemc
#694948
I would like to come to Londa land. January 2020 I will be allowed to venture outside the state of TN so theres that.
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By RockyMtHigh
#694949
Joe, I think Cornholio would agree. Egg rolls and Spring rolls are very different. A+ for the attempt though.

Hate that this trip was not in the cards for me this year... FML
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By cornholio
#694953
That is some funny shit right there Joe!
I would still eat that. Just pour some sweet chili sauce and sriracha on that and call it good!
Looks like a damn good time per usual. Looking forward to the rest! :cool
User avatar
By markl
#694956
Already having to adapt to local conditions. Nicely done. I can only presume that by the end of that experiment there were significantly less limes. And, maybe a bit less tequila too.
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By Average Joe
#694960
The next morning I woke up on the floor in Lando’s tying room.


“Why didn’t you sleep in the bedroom?”


“Because Hagen’s going to sleep there.”


“Hagen’s not getting in until Thursday, and that night we’re sleeping at the campground.”


My spidey-senses told me otherwise, but I said nothing.


After cleaning up the kitchen we headed out for breakfast, intent on going fishing afterwards.


While in the truck Lando got a text from Hagen.


“Should arrive in Cody a little after noon. See you then.”


Lando looked at me and said, "Did you know he was flying in today?"


"Just a hunch."


We stopped by the shop and then had some breakfast. Afterwards we picked Hagen up at the airport, and Lando asked him if he wanted to go fishing.


“Sure... whatever... but first I need a beer and some food.”


Lando took another look at him and said, "It looks like someone smashed a can of Copenhagen into the side of your face."


Hagen replied, "Don't pick on me Lando. I had skin cancer. I'm a cancer survivor!"


We took him to Brewgards and sat at the bar, where he started peppering the attractive young gal serving him with questions.

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“What’s good here?”


“The burgers.”


“Which one?”


“The blue cheese burger is good.”


“What’s on it?”


“Blue cheese.”


“What else?”


“Did you even look at the menu?”


“I can’t read, and I think you’re hot, so the longer I can keep you here the longer I can look at you.”


She rolled her eyes and played along. After hearing the entire menu he settled on a regular burger with American cheese and fries.


The waitress then looked at Lando and me and said, “Do either of you want any food?”


We told her we didn't and she replied, “Thank God! I don’t think I could go through that again!”


A burger and a beer turned into a burger and three beers, after which Lando said, “You ready to go fishing now?”


"Sure."


"Do you have a license?"


"Uh.. no."


We went to the shop.

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Hagen turned to me and said, "Do you have your license?"


"Yep. Bought it online."


"On the internet?"


"Yep."


"You can do that?"


"Yep."


"I didn't know you could buy fishing licenses on the internet. I only use it to watch porn."


Hagen bought a license. And some flies. And some tippet. And some clothing.


After that we went back to the house.


Hagen unpacked his things in the bedroom and then settled into a comfortable chair and started drinking beer. It was at this point that Lando and I knew there would be no fishing today.

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During this past winter Lando would often host a tying night on Taco Tuesday, and sometimes I’d call just to check in. During one of these calls his friend Ian got on the phone and claimed that he made the best margaritas anyone has ever had.

My reply consisted of two words.


Challenge accepted.


Lando gave Ian a call and said, "Joe's cooking Mexican food tonight and said he's got everything he needs to make a better margarita than you do. Get your stuff and come on over."


When Ian and his wife arrived, I fired up the fryer and asked Lando and Hagen to watch the oil while I prepared the guacamole.


Mistake.

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I've never read a recipe that said, "Heat your frying oil to 'Hazard'," so the chips would have to wait.


While the oil was cooling, Ian and I mixed up some margaritas. Ian used a 2-2-2 ratio: two shots of tequila, two shots of Cointreau, and the juice of two limes. I used a 3-2-1-1 ratio: three shots of tequila, two shots of Grand Marnier, one shot of simple syrup, and the juice of one lime. Shaken, not stirred.

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I mixed one up for Hagen, handed it to him and said, "Be careful. There's five shots of booze in there."


"I can handle it."


Once he downed that, he tried one of Ian's.


Lando told Hagen that he wasn't able to get the Airstream this year, and that we'd be tenting it instead. Hagen was not pleased, and said there was no way he was sleeping in a tent. Ian then mentioned that he had a trailer Hagen could sleep in, and a deal was struck.


Lando had yet to have a margarita, so he was elected judge. He put on a blindfold and tasted one of mine and one of Ian's, and declared me the winner. He then gave them both to Hagen, and Hagen polished them off.


The oil had cooled by now, so we fried up some corn tortilla chips, and they went great with the homemade guac.

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I looked over at Hagen and noticed that his right eye was twitching and his left eye was completely closed, and at 7:30 he got up and stumbled off to bed.

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Guess he was tired.


For dinner I made fried chicken tacos: boneless fried chicken on a corn tortilla, topped with homemade tomatillo salsa and homemade pico de gallo.
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They turned out much better than the egg rolls.


I also made a big pot of Spanish rice, while Lando cooked up a delicious pot of black beans, along with some skirt steak.

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It was one helluva feast, and made up for the previous evening's disaster of a meal.


I ran out of gas around midnight and vowed to clean up the kitchen the next morning.

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More to come.

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By Average Joe
#694982
Been trying to post more photos all day, but I keep getting kicked off.

Maybe tomorrow will be better.
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By Average Joe
#694987
The next morning I woke to the sound of Hagen doing something in the kitchen.

I knew it wasn’t the dishes.

I got up, let out some brandy, and shuffled down the hall to join him.

When I walked into the kitchen, he had a piece of steak in one hand and another piece in his mouth.

He looked at me and said, “This dip is really good. Did you make it?”

“That’s not dip Hagen. That's what’s left of the chicken batter. I dredged two pounds of raw chicken through that stuff after you went to bed, and it’s been sitting out all night.”

He swallowed what was in his mouth, pointed to a small bowl of tomatillo salsa and asked, “Did you put any raw chicken into that?”

“No.”

He dipped the last piece of steak in the salsa and said, “That’s pretty good too.”

My memory of the rest of the trip is somewhat sketchy, and so the others who attended should feel free to correct the sequence of events or details I get wrong.

At some point Big Timber rolled in.

The leftover steak and chicken batter was not enough to appease Hagen’s hunger, so we headed out for some breakfast.
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I thought we might need a second table to accommodate all of the food he ordered.
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After breakfast Hagen said, “I bled all over your pillows last night. We need to stop somewhere so I can some beer and ice. And maybe some bandages.”

After a bit of shopping we went back to the house, loaded up some stuff, dropped it off at camp, and then headed to the river.
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We waited for heero, but he never showed.

I took the truck down to camp while Lando floated Hagen and 50 lbs of beer and ice.

I fished the river for a bit.

I caught nothing.
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A storm started brewing in the distance, so I got off the river and went back to camp to wait for heero.
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He never showed.

Lando and Hagen beached the boat below camp, and I jumped in and floated with them to the takeout.

Hagen looked at me and said, “Dude. The fishing has been stupid good.”

Then he proved it.
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Lando re-rigged my rod, and soon I caught a fish as well.
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Given how long it’s been since that’s happened, I had no idea what to do afterwards.
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Louie’s reaction to my fish-handling skills sums it up nicely.
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Big Timber met us at the takeout.

We waited for heero, but he never showed.

When we got back to camp, Ian was there with the trailer.

Hagen was pleased.

Lando and I went back to the house, picked up some more stuff, and did some grocery shopping.

When we got back to camp, Lando did another float with Timber, while Hagen and I stayed at camp.

I started getting dinner ready, and Hagen said, “You know, I could really go for some pizza. I’ll give you a hundred bucks if you throw all of that food away right now, and then I’ll take everyone out for pizza.”

“I can’t do that Hagen.”

“Fuck.”

I cooked the same dishes as the night before: fried tortilla chips, fried chicken tacos, and Spanish rice. Lando made beans again, and everyone was happy.
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Everyone but Hagen. He was really upset that he didn’t get his pizza.
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Fishskibum and Sheldon The Puppy Dog showed up late.

Sheldon was so excited to see Louie that he knocked over the deep fryer. Better than breaking a fly rod.

More to come.
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