With amatuer night approaching we figured we give you a headstart on the next morning’s recovery. Among the many fabled restoratives, not the least of which is menudo, we’d like to offer posole, which outta knock that hangover on its ass.

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 lbs. pork shoulder
• 1/2 onion stuck with 2 cloves
• 2 cloves garlic, peeled
• 5 peppercorns
• 1/2 teaspoon whole cumin seed
• oregano, pinch
• 1 onion, chopped
• 2 cloves garlic, chopped
• 2 tablespoon oil
• 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
• 1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
• 1/2 teaspoon cloves
• 1/2 teaspoon cayenne
• 4 cups canned white hominy, drained and rinsed
• 3 to 5 cups pork broth from cooking pork shoulder
• 1 cup canned chopped green chilies
• Salt to taste
• 2 whole jalapenos, canned or fresh, chopped

Prep

Prepare the onion with the 2 cloves, peel the garlic, chop the onion, peel and chop the 2 garlic cloves, chop the green chilies and jalapenos if you are using them and get the hominy drained and rinsed.

Cook

Place the meat in a large saucepan and just cover with lightly salted water. Add the clove studded onion, 2 cloves peeled garlic, peppercorns, cumin seed, and oregano. Bring to a boil over medium heat, skim off any foam that rises, reduce heat, cover and simmer for 45 minutes. Remove meat and broth, reserving both.

Saute the chopped onion and garlic in oil until translucent. Add the remaining spices, stir for a minute. Cut the reserved pork into 1 inch cubes and add to the pan. Stir in the canned hominy, pork broth (if there is not enough pork broth, add chicken stock), green chilies and jalapenos (optional). 

Cook at a simmer, covered, for 45 to 60 minutes until the meat and hominy are tender. If necessary, cook for up to an additional 60 minutes until the chilies and onions are well blended into the broth. Degrease the stew, taste for salt, and serve in soup bowls. 

Enjoy it scamps

It’s either this or I start bustin up the furniture. I mean fixin stuff. Yeah, fixin stuff.

The word of the day is “melty“, but at least it’s fast, which makes screeching halts…interesting.

Beer is better than Yoo-Hoo.

Feliz Navidad, Scampes! It’s the Hideous Jabbering Head of Izaak Walton’s Big Yule Log Special!

Thee hooligans have once again laid aside bvsiness (such as it is) and gone awassailing, leaving me here with naught but this hat and an egge nogge IV drip, which is way better than having my skull wrapped in blinking lights and tinsel like last year. And if you’re very still and listen closely, you can just hear the sound of the PNW boys huddled around their coffee drinks quietly weeping into the snow. Anyway, since you’re here, I hope you enjoy this hvmble collection of seasonal merriment.

Reuben – Christmas Is Awesome

Quiz for Doug. Put your thinking toque on.

A festive holiday story from a while back that I like to share at this merry time of year. I grant you The Power of Lutefisk!

Dear Santa: Buster Wants a Roadie

Hey Glista made us a present! Thanks brother!

Donny Most?

This was my old timey jug band, back when I was a muppet. Don’t laugh that gig got me through college – WT

Santa ain’t coming for some of us…

Now SCAT! Go make merry.

Here stand, in myriad posture, a sampling of dignified remains from the Grumpy Fisherman’s Commiseratory Session #1, 503 Regional, Eastside Chapter.

And to borrow a few words from fellow commiserator, the quasi-famous Camosled,
“It is more than awesome to talk about plugs and newly designed short scandi lines in the same swig…”

‘Tis.

503 still in winter lockdown, no one I know has fished in at least a week and a half, the Banknote and I are getting all arts and craftsy outta sheer boredom and on top of all the no-steelheading gloom, we’re waking up to emails from a friend who’s somewhere less snowy absolutely pounding on fish that are actually feeding. Big fish. Steelhead-sized trouts. All on dry flies. With a supermodel chick packing his gear up and down the river while he fishes. Pretty sure the dude is getting a total BJ while eating elk jerky and watching Sportscenter as you read this.

You ain’t exactly making our windigo any better, Richard.

Anyway, thought I’d throw up some pornografia in the hopes it makes some of you as miserable as those of us winter shut-ins of the 503…

Aw damn, it’s that time already, and you just drew David James Duncan for your Secret Santa antic. What the hell do you get for that guy? Pocket Soduku? ShamWow? He does that weird whippy fishing thing, right? Yeah, something with a fish on it, good, that’s good. But what? Lookit all this stuff!

No fear, intrepid reader, commence merriment! Buster’s here to help you separate the sweet from the daft with Buster’s Yuletide Gift Guide ’08. OK we know you’re happy. Please stop with the screaming.

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The Screamin’ Reel Alarm Clock

($130.00 for wood, $189.00 for aluminum, from Reeltime) – goes RZZZZZ when the alarm goes off.

Thee: Simulates the sound of line ripping off the reel when the alarm goes off, huh? So, obviously, this is not appropriate for trout fishermen.

Smiff: An essential ingredient in any Rube Goldberg device. Try rigging it so the alarm starts the kettle and pulls the blanket off when you have a boil.

Salty: Cork drag? Aircraft aluminum frame? Nope. Sound of line going out while I’m stuck here in the desert? What is this the kick in teh nuts wakeup alarm?

Wook: No sign of a drag, so maybe if you get a nice backlash you can sleep for another hour. Includes a real fly stuck in it, so when your sleepy self tries to palm it you’ll get a little extra wake-up action.

A Trout for Holding Those Things With Lots of Pages and Words and stuff

($19.99) – Wood and simulated fish parts hold books perfectly upright. Better than a pair of bricks because, hey cmon, fish!

Thee: Does the full collection of James Prosek “masterworks” come with this or does the angler need to purchase that separately (by the pound)?

Smiff: “Hey look – a trout swam right through my collection of purely decorative leather-bound books! HA! Would you care for another Cosmopolitan?”

Wook: Seems weird that a handsomely bound collection of words celebrating the fish and its pursuit would then be used to chop one in half.

Thee: Warning: Likely burst into flames if exposed to anything from Frank Amato Publishing.

Christmas Trout

($12.95 from Kumquat Art) – Glass trout ornament by Inge Glas of Germany. Very fancy. Tail not included or even available.

Wook: It looks like a pickle. With gills and fins and a face. And a rash.

WT: Look at its tail. I think that it’s got the whiling disease.

Wook: No seriously, it’s a pickle.

Thee: Well, what happens when you lick it?

Wook: Buster has yet to find anyone willing to lick the mutant space trout pickle. Let’s get Salty.

Salty: Look, I made you a wooden pickle.

Bait Shop Bird House

($18.99 from Log Cabin Fever) – “Bass Lake Lodge” birdhouse with fishing-themed accents that are reminiscent of a lakeside retreat. For birds to poop on.

Thee: It’s missing the tweaker’s old camo pickup with the rebel battleflag in the back window that’s parked out front. While the birdies are in the store getting their seed, that asshole will be breaking into their nests and stealing their TVs.

Wook: I’m sure my mob of blue jays would appreciate the “fishing-themed accents” while they’re slobbering seed all over the joint.

Tackle Box Thing Full of Candy With Santa On It

($3.95 from Carol’s Candy Corner) – fudge-filled “bobbers”, chocolate “sinkers”, gummy worms, fish and frogs, packed in a plastic box. Box features Cartoon Santa putting the right jolly old wood to a gummy burbot. Net Wt 5 oz.

Smiff: I’m not putting one of those bobbers in my mouf, no matter how much nog you pour down my throat.

Wook: Safe bet: if the words “fun gift for any fisherman” are printed on the item, then it likely isn’t.

Thee: I’ve actually received this gift — no lie. Here’s my review: The gummies were redolent of petrol, tho I found myself intrigued by their stale, non-gummy texture. An interesting juxtaposition! The green things, well, I wasn’t really so sure what they were… I have a sneaking suspicion that they were part of this new “molecular gastronomy” situation. Nonetheless, these had been put through the flavor extractor — twice. I cannot remember what the bobber things were, but I ate them. NOT yummy, holmes. The sinkers were little chocolate turds, also stale, mealy and borderline rancid. I ate them, too. So, yeah, this was loaded with crap candy that tasted horrible. Perfect for the angler in your life you’d like to see writhing on the floor with dysentery.

Salty: So this is the perfect gift for Larry Craig and Donny Beaver?

Really Big Fish Hook

(Starting at $25 from Hand Made Fish Hooks) – For ass-hooking really big fish, we guess.

WT: You could tie a therma-rest to this thing and have the biggest Chernobyl Ant ever! Ha Ha!

Wook: Body part bait sold separately.

Thee: Let’s see, I’ve found my really big-assed fish hook, now where in the world did I leave that encyclopedia sized-Zippo?

Salty: It obvious none of you humps fish the salt. I’ll take 2 dozen and a couple of dead baby dolphins.

Toilet Bowl Brush Caddy Thing With A Fish On It

($23.40 from The Jungle Store) – Looks like a wicker basket creel with a hat and a fish on it, but it’s not really, because it’s plastic. Is trick! Ha!

Wook: I’m so crazy nuts about fishing that I like to pretend I’m fishing when I’m swabbing out the ol thunder bucket. Thank you, Aunt Edna, for indulging my disturbing compulsion with this thoughtful gift.*SCHLAP*

Salty: Just what I’ve always wanted. Something that will associate the shittiest job in the house with my favorite pastime. Awesome, thanks dear.

Smiff: “Big brown on!! Bring the net!!”

How To Shit In The Woods

($9.95 at Amazon.com) – By Kathleen Meyer, from Ten Speed Press. Second edition – yes, second edition – includes a new chapter entitled “Plight of the Solo Poop Packer”.

Wook: Can’t possibly go wrong. I mean c’mon, the first chapter is called “Anatomy of a Crap”. According to Amazon, people who purchased this book also bought “Up Shit Creek: A Collection of Horrifyingly True Wilderness Toilet Misadventures”. That’s gold.

Salty: That and the toilet brush make a great package gift for mother-in-laws and bosses.

Christmas Bonus Dick Joke!

If that special angler on your list gets nothing else this X-mas, there’s always the Wunder Boner:

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OK scamps, that’s it for this year! Go to bed or you get nothing! NOTHING!

From Mark at the University of Delaware

send yours to salty@busterwantstofish.com

West Oregon snow’s got no dignity.

Too puss to really accumulate proper in the lower elevations. Too sissy to let you drive over it without getting hella slippery. To weak to turn itself into the really cold snow that squeaks when you walk in it and gets packy enough to drive over. Pretty much, West Oregon snow’s only capable of becoming heavy, wet, fuckoff black ice instead of melting, preventing you and the rest of humps from getting down those bigass switchback hills and into the rivers. Even the river shuttle drivers around here won’t shuttle rigs, and those dudes go out in damn near anything.

Been in a fool-ass citywide lockdown for days, haven’t fished in almost a week and it’s gotdam killing us, because there’s a few bigass winter fish around that fact makes us cagey as all hell. Everyone I know’s turning borderline assholish and going windigo with cabin fever. Sucks.

West Oregon snow is not to be trusted. Fact.

FEMA please help the 503.

PS: Anne stop reading this shit. It will rot your brain and make you hang out with steelheaders.

Photoshoppery done by Nemo

Coquihalla Red – Fly & photo by Glista

Freely admit the ‘Note’s a stud for getting it done down and across in 45° air temps, we’re not all that surprised he doubled up two in two hours ’cause he’s fishy scroat like that and all told, we’re a bit jealous he and his “let’s walk down that hill and fuck ‘em all” know-how put him on the water primetime when he could actually make a cast without his guides growing iceballs.

Us, not so much.

The following day after the Note’s balmy-weather pillaging of SW Washington, we woke to 27° and getting colder, 10-30 mph downstream winds, what’ll likely be the only PDX snow of the year and the flat-out admission that our feet were never to touch a gravel bar from the put-in to the takeout. Boat day for us.

Recruited two flyfisherman friends, stoked up the Mr. Heater and proceeded to learn/corrupt these boys in the lost art of draggin’ Tadpollys. Even busted out the old-schoolie 5mm Simms Extremes neoprenes and proceeded to make nut butter. Forgot how manky neoprene makes your balls.

Cold day, good day, big day, and one hell of a lot better than sitting at home tying flies. Sometimes, a fella’s just gotta get on the water and see who’s home.

Little one that went back:

This one was bigger and not so lucky:

we had to literally chip it off the drift boat floor. never seen that one before.:

James Prosek goes fishing for stripers with the frogs. The frogs are amazed we do something better than them.

Awesomeness: The criminals at Anglo American have to take $4 Billion cut in capital expenditures.

G_Smolt gets down with kimchi. We do not. It’s worse than mayonaise.

The 503 is braced against a descending arctic airmass, almost certain to lay a glaze of that palest of precipitates, and these two dead fish on a stick shall serve to confirm: winter hath preceded itself.

the 169% laser awesomnality that is holly golightly and thee brokeoffs with a lil’ number they call “gettin’ high for jesus”

Hackensaw Boys – Gospel Plow

For our homies still left in Michigan…

Farandole. Because it’s the season whether you like it or not, so you might as well hear some good music.

Who’s more likely to suffer an undignified and thoroughly goofy death at the bottom of a river with a chicken bone in his larynx – Buster’s pal Nofoolin, or Hammer’s dog Henry?

Consider: Henry is less than one year old.

Drinks with trapper, guide and close personal friend, Mark.

From Jerome

send yours to salty@busterwantstofish.com

See the angler cast his trout fly. See the trout fly drift downstream. See the giant rainbow trout – on his way home from a long trip to the North Pacific – stick his nose out of the water and suck the tiny fly into his maw. See Johny’s backing knot disappear downstream.

See one of the filmmakers speaking into the camera. See him tell the viewer what just happened or what will happen or what he just wishes would happen. See any one of these pilgrims speak thusly into the camera every other scene. See your thumb press the fast advance button on your remote.

See the angling legend types – the likes of Jerry Kustich, Bob Clay, and Russ Chatham – share their views on steelhead, steelhead fishing and steelhead conservation. See footatge of the scenic Skeena River Watershed. See the anglers depostited into the wilderness via helicopter.

See the features menu. Select the “chapters” option. Re-watch the scenes where the big steelhead come to the surface and take dry flies, presumably like they did all up and down the west coast way back when.

The New York Times (yes, the geedee NY Times) waxes philosophy-like upon the joys n’ wonders of “the Caucasian”
Money Quote: Still, some prefer the drink precisely because it is so rich. “I’m one of those fat guys that guzzle milk by the gallon,” said Steve Barber, 28, an antique motorcycle restorer from Saugerties, N.Y., who was attending his first Lebowski Fest and came dressed in a flak vest like the Dude’s Vietnam veteran buddy, Walter. Unlike a lot of Lebowski fans, Mr. Barber has a taste for the drink that predates his viewing of the movie. Several years ago, he said, he used to mix himself a White Russian every day for breakfast: “I called it the ‘Big Boy Milkshake.’ “
In case you’ve forgotten, that’ll be:
* 2 oz Vodka
* 1 oz Coffee Liqueur
* Light Cream
* Pour over ice, stir, go bowling

I pay more in taxes per rod that I make here in the US than the total cost for someone else to manufacture and import a rod from overseas.

– paraphrased from a recent discussion with a true builder of American made rods.