Report from the Rosetown Legion Steak Fry

Hi All!

In addition to my blogging duties I have volunteered to help out with the Post 542 newsleter as a roving reporter. I know it's pretty lazy to plagiarize myself by using such filler in Wogsblog, but perhaps it might provide some simple entertainment for the masses who have stumbled across this courtesy of a link from Mitch Berg.

Here goes.

It’s a nice Saturday afternoon in June. I am perched at the corner of the bar – the busy corner by the pull tab booth.

Kenn is getting the big gas grill fired up. Tony and Jeremy are holding down the lightly attended bar – the steak crowd hasn’t started gathering yet.

The Fry is supposed to start in 15 minutes at 5:00. Surely once the prime beef flesh starts hitting the grill the aroma will attract customers like bees to honey.

There’s Olga running around like a spring chicken making the setting up the inside operation. Her surgeries would seem to be pretty well healed.

Here is Denise, always there when needed in the kitchen or wherever else she find something to volunteer for.

A large family group of a few generations are out on the patio with Grandpa, who had just attended the WWII Memorial Dedication and was proudly showing off his beautiful new commemorative medal. He served on what I think of as a hardware store but was once the name of proud and very dangerous ship to live on, the USS Menard.

I spent some time being regaled with war tales of the Menard, how the veteran had been on deck for both the commissioning and decommissioning. I think the ship was a transport for troops, tanks and landing craft and was quite vulnerable to being sunk with a torpedo hitting the right spot in the spine of the front and back heavy craft.

Alas, the details escaped me as well as this fine old soldier’s name, but perhaps some readers will know just who I am writing about.

I left him to be with his kids and grandkids and went inside to refresh my beverage. I’ll be darned if I didn’t see that my luck “Free Drink” number “1” was up. What a break, as I never remember to look up there.

I will pause here to note that I didn’t do a great job of scribbling down names and I have absolutely no talent for remembering them.

There was a familiar lady of the Auxiliary sharing stories at the bar. Curious about my scribbling in on my steno pad, I explained that I was a cub reporter for the “new” newsletter.

I heard that Donnie was buried that day. I’m not sure I ever met him, but he sounds as though he was a great man. I guess Donnie didn’t like to gamble because he said he only won every 14 years!
I also learned of a mystery recipe for am awesome marinated radish that appeared on the share-a-dish table. Everyone who tried it wants the recipe but to this day the mystery Chef remains just that. I will have to watch out for that dish this 4th and catch the culprit.

Stopped on my way back out to the patio to share a little chat with a couple of my better friends whose names I naturally can’t ever remember. It drives me crazy that everyone seems to call me Paul and all I can reply is “How’re ya doin’, you!”

Learned of a rare stand of virgin timber in North Central Minnesota called “The Last 40 (acres)” To get there you go through Deer River on Hwy 46 past Squaw Lake for 10 miles to Dora Lake. See? I CAN take notes!

The steak fry was going well and Kenn was supervising the grill so I ordered a couple of delicious frozen pizzas to go and prepared to head for the barn.

Kenn caught me trying to slink away and asked if I would man the grill while he picked up someone at the airport. So I got to be a big shot, giving sage cooking advice to the steak grillers, adjusting the flames and even cooking one for Jeremy. He gave it the thumbs up and I got my next cranberry juice in a tall glass at the small glass price.


Cheers!