Malibu Way of Life / By Jody Stump
Sages say a man’s home is his castle, and our house even has a semblance of a moat and drawbridge, living as we do on a lagoon with six-foot fences and a 24/7 guard at the gate. You’d think that would be enough to keep out marauders, but in recent weeks, our battlements have been breached. Not once; not even twice, but three times in rapid succession by furred and feathered legions from the urban jungle.
Our resident sentries are short but vigilant, a pair of four-pound Yorkshire terriers. When yapping erupts in the midst of downy, deep slumber, my husband, the castle-keeper, wakes fast and, tucking a guard dog under each arm, ventures forth to investigate. Six weeks ago, my three boys found an opossum beneath our big old four-poster bed in the guest room. Bill called animal control and, while he waited on hold, googled “opossum, finding an official species rescue site. When the officer came on the line, the conversation went something like this:
“Hi, there’s a possum under my bed.”
“Well, take it out,” the officer suggested.
“That’s why I’m calling you. I just read they have 50 teeth!”
“Really?” the animal control rep replied. “I never knew that – but possums never bite. We just pick ’em up by the tail and flick ’em out.”
“Uh, thanks,” my sweet husband replied, giving the menacing rodent a wary glare. “Arrgggghhhhh!” he screamed, opening the door. The possum dashed out.
Two weeks later, the canines again raised Cain at three in the morning and, again, Bill grabbed both dogs and tramped downstairs to confront the dark invader. As he stepped from the staircase, he let loose a yowl to raise the dead or, at least, his slumbering wife. “Get out! Get out!” he yelled, stamping and screaming and slamming the door.
“I think we need 911,” he called up to me.
When I reached the living room, it was a bloodbath. A very large male raccoon had squeezed through the narrow doggie door, searching for who knows what. There was no food left out and there was no obvious way in from the lagoon. But, when the raccoon left, he ran away with most of Bill’s second toe. When did Rocky turn Cujo?
Spending that day in the hospital, Bill was visited by an orthopedist, podiatrist, infectious disease specialist, our family doctor, and a “case doctor.” Only the podiatrist did any work – Bill surmises the rest just came by to ogle. Of course, the disease specialist carefully questioned him to determine if rabies shots were in order.
First question: “Was the animal aggressive?”
Vicodin-induced answer: “I think so-he bit my toe off!”
Well, rabies shots aren’t what they used to be-the doc doesn’t even say this may sting a little, and the very little piggy is healing nicely.
Next time: Mad dogs and Egyptian goose in the midday sun.
Spicy Sweet Ragu
Serves 8
I’m not sure where the word “ragout” comes from, but I’m convinced it’s a corruption of raccoon. For the first 200 years of our history, raccoons were a significant source of protein and, although Davy Crockett preferred a roast, I’m sure he would have agreed that a nice ragout would be suitable for tenderizing the toughest of these wily beasts. I know you’re unlikely to try the recipe with Rocky, but it’s a great basic stew when made with almost any meat. Serve it with a Fess Parker Shiraz topped by the winery’s trademark coonskin cap.
Ragout, or the Italian version, ragu, refers to a meat-based stew simmered to a mouth-watering tenderness. Either way, the recipe is a “keeper,” this from the rocky island of Sardinia where we spent a few weeks dodging wildlife and dining well.
1 pound meat – chicken, beef, veal… (cook’s choice)
2 Tbs. butter
3 Tbs. olive oil
2 cup chopped onions
2 Tbs. minced garlic
1 large can crushed Marzano tomatoes
1 small jar sun-dried tomatoes in oil, drained and chopped
1 cup rich meat or chicken broth
1 T. red pepper flakes
1/4 cup dried currants or golden raisins
1 Tbs. brown sugar or honey
1 large bay leaf
1/ 2 cup chopped fresh herbs – parsley, plus 2 others (again, cook’s choice)
1 pound dried pasta, preferably something short and curly, like fusilli
Freshly grated nutmeg, black pepper and Pecorino
1. Chop the meat into nibble-size chunks and season with salt and pepper.
2. Melt 1 tablespoon butter and oil in a heavy pan. Toss the meat to brown lightly. Remove and set aside.
3. Put the rest of the butter and oil in the pan, and cook the onions over medium heat until transparent. Add the garlic and cook to color. Stir in tomatoes and broth and boil down slightly for 15 minutes. Add red pepper, currants, sugar and bay leaf. Return meat to pan with half the herbs. Cover and simmer gently, stirring occasionally for about an hour until the meat is meltingly tender.
4. In the last 15 minutes, cook the pasta and drain thoroughly. Toss with sauce and serve topped with fresh herbs, seasoning and grated cheese.