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All in the Presentation
by PJ

Nothing better than a good pot roast. And now I must tell you my latest story on the Hobo Sandwiches.

It came about like this. It was Friday, and the boys (grandsons) were talking about what to have for supper. Andrew, remembering a time past, suggested Hobo Burgers, which I'm sure everyone recognizes as a nice fat beef patty topped with onions and potatoes, wrapped in foil, and cooked on an open fire (grill).

Well, as it happened, I had taken out a chuck roast to cook. And thus the dilemma -- not to thwart Andrew's enthusiasm. So, solution: Invent the Presentation!

Consequently, I said, "What about I make the biggest Hobo Burger in the world?"

Nods of approval and impression went around, and I knew I had them hooked.

They went about playing their Game Boys, and I set about the production of the Giant Hobo Burger. After studding the roast with garlic and browning it in a large heavy skillet, I dumped in a can of crushed tomatoes (a little extra they weren't expecting), sliced in some potatoes and onions and threw in several sprigs of fresh parsley and rosemary and covered it tightly.

Presently the roast began to bubble and give up the smell. The aroma was intoxicating. I removed the spent sprigs of parsley and rosemary and lay fresh sprigs of both atop the bubbly concoction.

I called the boys, who left their Game Boys and came to my beck.

"Are you ready to witness the world's largest Hobo Burger?"

There were nods of agreement with wide-eyed anticipation. Without further ado, except for a bit of flourish, I lifted the lid. And there before their wondering eyes lay the biggest Hobo Burger they had ever seen.

"Where's the bun?" asked Andrew.

"Ah, but we need special bread for this," says I. "You shall have a generous slice of yon garlic bread on your plate, heaped high with Hobo Burger fixings."

Nods of satisfaction all around.

And to the end of the story. On being presented his plate, Andrew wanted to know, "How do I pick it up?"

"You don't," says Gram, "you cut it up and eat it."

No problem. He finished all his and Wade went back for seconds.

The moral of this story is:



Paul Jones, lovingly called PJ by all who know him, is a musician and computer techie. He's sought after by friends who value his companionship not only for his expertise in zapping 'puter bugs and viruses but also for his delightful conversation and hugs. PJ has lived in the Mississippi Delta since young adulthood and has enriched the lives of many students and pals. Now he's added writing to his list of accomplishments . . . and we thank him for sharing with USADS readers.

Don't miss PJ's poetry here on the pages of USADEEPSOUTH!


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