One of the biggest days celebrated in my family is, of course, the Super Bowl! Since I was seven years old my dad and my brothers and my mother go all out every year for game day. You would think it would be a simple recipe of maybe wings, nachos, chips, maybe some extras thrown out on a grill but, no. It always starts the day before game day crag legs, fried corn, wings, lobster, sausage, and of course the Winners punch and the Losers punch. I’m talking big messy crab boil, mixed with fried foods and our traditional winner/loser punch! Safe to say that at the end of it all everyone 21 and up are all inebriated and barely functioning.
Crab Boil:
3lbs- Crablegs
2lbs- Andouille Sausage (or whatever your choice of meat would be)
4- Red Potatoes (sliced or diced)
6- corn on the cob
3- lobster tail
Old Bay seasoning
Rosemary
Creole Seasoning
Garlic
Sliced lemons
Boil
On top of the crab boil my father will fry corn on the cob and chicken (for my mother). To top off all the festivities we have our moms famous winner punch and the famous loser punch.
Winners Punch (Purple Haze)
Cranberry Juice
Black Rasberry Liquor
And of course Vodka (varies depending on how my mom is feeling in the moment of purchasing)
Losers Punch (Yuck)
Hennessy mixed lightly with sprite ( It’s absolutely meant to be strong and face twisting)
So the point of the two punch’s is that at every touch down, whoever is in the lead takes two shots of the Winners punch and whichever team is down; takes one shot of the Losers punch. So I’m sure you can imagine the craziness involved by the time we get into halftime. A room filled with animosity and love all at once. The entire room trash talking one another over team stats and bets. All while the game is going, in-between drinks, the crab legs begin to go around and the smell of seafood fills the home. I know it all sounds a little cliche but that’s all I’ve ever known since a child. Of the feuding sometimes get out of control when your passionately watching two teams that you bother equally hate and love but in the end that’s what the food is for. How can anyone be that upset when you crab legs, corn, fried corn, potatoes, lobster tail, and of course alcohol? Needless to say that I look forward to every single super bowl each and every year because I know I get to get together with my entire family and indulge on some amazing foods! Now I know what you’re thinking; how does a 7 year old enjoy the punch’s? Well of course I didn’t when I was seven, I just saw the outcomes of the amazing punch’s. But once I turned twenty one I got a chance to get the full experience of the punch’s and just how they make the entire game a thousand times better. So in my opinion my families super snacks are literally the best when put altogether. The way the alcohol compliments the crab boil and the fried food it is absolutely the best game day EVER, besides the NBA playoffs, haha. It makes me really curious on what other families and friends do to celebrate the festivities of the super bowl, from halftime traditions, food traditions, pregame traditions, or even color traditions. I’m super excited to read other recipes and traditions, I mean who knows I may reinvent my super bowl snack traditions one year and try someone else’s recipes, could be less of clean up.
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Unexpectedly Extraordinary
Since I was about 7 years old I’ve always been a big dreamer. Starting off aspiring to one day be a firefighter, a Nurse, a Psychologist, a Teacher, a Singer, a Rapper, a Videographer and the list goes on. I’d sit for hours writing in my little black, poorly constructed, book of how extraordinary my life would be once I turned twenty two years old. If only I knew that at twenty eight years old I would still be writing in that same little black book about dreams I would never aspire to be. I would only grow to be a basic human making minimum wage at a local internet company in a retirement state of no excitement. I’d play lotteries but I’d never win; I’d fantasize of having basic necessities that others around me achieve effortlessly. I would be denied at every advance to be better. I would invest and lose, I would even participate in “helping” my local community; when to be honest, I was the one in the community that needed help the most. I would even be so basic so ordinary that I would get a chance to pocket a $20,000 donation that was misplaced into my personal account, and no one knew, that my heart and my basic, so ordinary, mind would return every penny to its rightful owner. Of course they would be so thankful that I would get so much praise from the community for simply doing the right thing. They would say that I am truly “unexpectedly extraordinary” and that I am “wealthy” in ways money couldn’t amount to.But what does that even mean? How am I wealthy but still dust bowl broke? Well once I get home and prepare for my next ordinary day, I sit and open my poorly constructed little black book and I read over all of the dreams I had aspired to be and I would ultimately agree that turning in that unexpected fortune definitely made me “unexpectedly extraordinary”; but not in the way the community saw. It made me unexpectedly extraordinary in a sense that I was exactly where I started when I was only seven, doing the right thing. Believing that the good I put out into the world would be returned. In a sense of “good karma”. How naive could I be? Did I really get a blessing of someone else’s mishap and turn around to reject that blessing? I began to hyperventilate, realizing that my life was mediocre so unnecessary that even if given the opportunity to advance with twenty thousand dollars, it just wasn’t in the “little black book for me”. Even if I wrote in my little black book an elaborate plan to take back what wasn’t mines to begin with, would it even be worth it? Would I get caught? As I thought about conjuring up this extraordinary plan to steal from a nonprofit organization I began to second guess and my weak heart and mind turned against me. Was it unexpectedly extraordinary that I returned what wasn’t mines? Was it unexpectedly extraordinary that I regretted returning it? Was it unexpectedly extraordinary that I wrote up a plan in a little black book to steal twenty thousand dollars from a community that needed it most? Or was it just unexpectedly extraordinary that I turned something so small, into such a big deal that I questioned my own worth and my own honor, nobility, respect, decency, lofty bearing, lowliness, self-respect, elevated deportment, lordliness, and dignity? Or was it really just unexpectedly extraordinary that the only thing I could consider during this entire mishap is my own misfortunes?
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