Mama Mulate's Blackberry Dumplings - a weekend recipe

Mama has a potion or spell for just about anything, and also has an enormous sweet tooth. She grows many of the ingredients for her potions in her lush backyard. Even though her blackberry bush requires little attention, she watches it like a hawk until the delicious berries are harvested. Once they are, her friends are usually the lucky recipients of this delicious dessert. Try it and enjoy.

Ingredients

• 3 pts blackberries
• ¼ c water
• 1 c sugar
• 1 ½ t butter
• 2 c flour
• 3 t sugar
• 1 t salt
• 1 egg
• 3 ½ t baking powder
• Milk

Directions

Combine blackberries, water, sugar and butter. Let mixture sit. Sift flour, sugar, salt and baking powder into bowl. Add egg and mix well. Add enough milk to make batter stiff. Bring blackberry mixture to a boil. Drop batter, a spoonful at a time, into boiling mixture. Reduce heat, cover and cook for 15 to 20 minutes. Mama serves her dumplings with whipped cream, but vanilla ice cream is also good.

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Mama's Green Gumbo - a weekend recipe

There are as many varieties of gumbo in New Orleans as there are streets with French names. One variety, Green Gumbo, or Gumbo Z’herbs, is little-known and generally found only in New Orleans. Catholic’s often serve this meatless gumbo (although meat may be added) on Good Friday. Superstition has it that a new friend will be made for every different green leafy vegetable used in the gumbo. Mama, a naturally suspicious person, always uses seven different types of greens. Here is her special recipe for Green Gumbo.

Ingredients

• 3 pounds leaves of (pick your own seven greens) collard, cabbage, radish, turnips, mustard, spinach, watercress, parsley and green onion, equal portions, chopped very fine
• 1 onion, white, large, chopped
• ½ red pepper pod
• ½ tsp. black pepper
• 1 bay leaf, finely chopped
• 1 sprig thyme, finely chopped
• 1 sprig parsley, finely chopped
• 1 sprig sweet marjoram, finely chopped
• 1 clove of garlic
• ¼ tsp. allspice, ground fine
• ½ tsp. cayenne
• ½ cup vegetable oil
• ½ cup flour, all-purpose
• boiled rice

Directions

Wash the leaves thoroughly then remove coarse midribs. Pat dry. Put greens in a large pot with enough water to cover. Add black pepper. Boil for about 2 hours, strain and then chop very fine. Save the water in which they were boiled. Combine cooking oil and flour over medium heat in a heavy pot or Dutch oven.

When hot, add chopped onion and chopped sprig of parsley. Stir until roux reaches a rich peanut brown, and then add the chopped greens. When the leaves become brown, pour contents into the water in which the leaves were boiled. Throw in the bay leaf, thyme, sweet marjoram, red pepper pod, clove of garlic and allspice. Stir slowly. Place pot over low flame and simmer, partially covered for about 2 more hours, adding cayenne during the process. Serve with rice and French bread. Enjoy.

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New Orleans Voodoo Shop

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Mama's Steamed Oysters - a weekend recipe

Mama has a PhD in English literature, but when it comes to sports, she isn’t a typical academic. A track star at the University of South Carolina, she participated in world-class sprints and relays. Her sleek body still attests to her former athletic prowess.

Another dirty little secret, Mama likes professional football and loves the New Orleans Saints. She attends every home game, at least when someone else is treating, that is. A recalcitrant cheapskate, she refuses to pay what she considers an exorbitant price for tickets. When she can’t see her beloved Saints playing in person, she often hosts a game party, serving steamed oysters, a New Orleans favorite.

Ingredients

• 4 dozen oysters, shucked
• Salt and pepper to taste
• A dash of cayenne

Directions

In a steamer, steam the oysters in a mixture of water and beer for about 5 minutes. Combine with salt, pepper and a dash of cayenne. Serve on crackers with drawn butter and, or Tabasco sauce.

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Mama Mulate's Chilled Mango-Melon Soup - a weekend recipe

Mama Mulate’s backyard is a tropical maze of garden pathways, stone masonry, fountains and birdbaths. Flowering vines grow up trellises and the back fence. Ferns, flower baskets and wind chimes hang from the eaves of her large covered deck where tropical ceiling fans provide a steady flow of air when you’re lounging in her porch swing, or comfortable rattan furniture.

Mama also has a garden where she grows peppers, okra, melons, and many other vegetables. What she doesn’t grow in her own backyard, she buys fresh at the French Market, a destination she likes to visit early in the morning.

Summers are always hot and humid in the Big Easy. The City’s residents—at least those that don’t have a mountain retreat—have found ways to stay cool and healthy. Mama loves making chilled soups and then serving them on her covered deck to the slow whirring of overhead fans, dripping of water in the fountains, and sounds of crickets and tree frogs. For a wonderful summer respite, try Mama’s chilled mango-melon soup.

Ingredients
• 1 large cantaloupe, peeled, seeded and chopped
• 2 large mangoes, peeled, pitted and chopped
• 2 limes, juiced
• ½ Tbsp. cinnamon, ground

Directions
Puree melon and mango chunks in a blender, until smooth, with lime juice and cinnamon. Pour into a large bowl, stirring well. Chill for at least 3 hours. Pour into glass bowls, garnish with strawberry slices and sliced almonds. Serve and enjoy.

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Eric's Magic Moonflowers Reemerge

Eric's Magic Moonflowers

As is much of the rest of the country, Oklahoma is in the throes of a major drought and heat wave. I wouldn’t complain, except I read somewhere that, as Americans, we have the absolute right, nay, the duty to carp about the weather. Not that difficult when you’re trying to fit in your daily walk and it’s still ninety degrees at midnight.


My new motto is “embrace the discomfort.” Not that it provides much protection from the heat, but at least it’s a strategy. Not everything is going badly. My magic moonflowers are blooming again for the first time since 2007.

My mom died in 2007 and Marilyn insists that she hexed the moonflowers. When my parents lived here with us, starting in 2005, the vines behind my swimming pool teemed nightly with fragrant and beautiful moonflowers. Moonflowers only bloom at night, and only for one night. Still, we’d have seventy to ninety blossoms every night. This year’s moonflower crop began blooming on the 14th, the day before July’s full moon.

I don’t know if Mom hexed the moonflowers or why she would have hexed them. I suspect other causes. Whatever hexed them apparently expired because I counted seven blossoms tonight. The blossoms aren’t as full and fragrant as in years past. With this weather, how could they be? I’m just glad they’re back.

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Oklahoma Author Inks Publishing Deal with Turkish Publisher

Edmond, OK, July 18, 2011

Turkish publisher ARVO BASIM YAYIN has reached an agreement with Edmond, Oklahoma author Eric Wilder to republish four of his novels, beginning in September 2011.

ABY will translate the books into Turkish, a language spoken by eighty-three million people, worldwide. The first translation will be A Gathering of Diamonds. ABY will print one-thousand initial copies and also release the the ebook version in Turkey. Diamonds will be followed by Ghost of a Chance, Big Easy and Morning Mist of Blood.
 
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Mama Mulate's Creole Catfish Bites - a weekend recipe

Mama Mulate has a natural connection with her Tulane English students, often hosting poetry readings and literary events at her home in urban New Orleans. When she does, she always provides home cooked delicacies such as her famous Creole catfish bites. Bite into one yourself and you’ll see (and taste) why they’re famous.

Ingredients
 • 1 pound catfish fillets, poached
• 6 Tbsp. butter
• ¾ cup flour
• 2 cups milk
• ½ tsp. salt
• ½ tsp. black pepper
• ½ tsp. dry mustard
• ½ tsp. Jamaican allspice, ground
• 1 ½ cups bell pepper, finely chopped
• ½ cup green onions, finely chopped
• ½ tsp. Tabasco
• 1 ½ cups bread crumbs, fresh, plus more for coating Bites
• Vegetable oil for sautéing

Directions
 Melt the butter in a heavy saucepan. Add the flour, stirring constantly (2 to 3 minutes). Add the milk slowly, continuing to stir until the cream sauce is thick (10 to 12 minutes). Add salt, pepper, mustard, and allspice, mixing well. Flake the catfish fillets into a bowl. Add the cream sauce and the remaining ingredients, mixing thoroughly. Form bite-sized balls with the fish mixture, coating them with more bread crumbs. In about ½ inch of vegetable oil, gently sauté the bites in a heavy skillet, until they are browned.

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My Favorite 4th of July

My Brother Jack was born on July 3rd and he and I loved fireworks. We both wanted to be soldiers and practiced war our entire childhood. Because of our obsession, my favorite holiday, and Brother Jack’s, was and is the Fourth of July. The one I remember best is the first one that I can remember.

While growing up in small-town Vivian, there were no City ordinances barring the use of fireworks. Every manner of explosives was sold including M-80s and two-inchers. Jack and I are both lucky to have all our digits as we later experimented with everything we could strike a match too.

My friend Timmy Jon and I even mixed our own batch of gunpowder and almost burned up the house with it. The first Fourth that I can remember, however, we made do with firecrackers, bottle rockets, sparklers, and Roman candles.

On July 4, my mom and dad would buy us about ten dollars worth of fireworks. Ten dollars doesn’t sound like much but you could pop lots of firecrackers for that amount in the sixties. We always began the fireworks as soon as it was dark enough.

I don’t remember my age but I was old enough to feel the excitement of impending danger. With our dad’s help, we began lighting sparklers, popping firecrackers and launching one bottle rocket after another. We soon got down to the good stuff.

‘Hold it in the air and shake it,” My dad directed as he lit my first-ever Roman candle.

I can still remember the percussion and slight recoil as incandescent flame burst from the coiled-paper barrel of the explosive device. I could not count at the time but I had a seat-of-the-pants feel for how many fiery rounds the candle contained. When it was over, I held the warm rod in my hand, inhaling acrid smoke and burned powder - an odor I will never forget.

My redheaded Brother Jack was next at bat and he had mischief in mind before my dad ever lit the candle’s fuse. My mother was standing behind us in the open door of our house. Soon as the candle started spitting fire, Jack began pointing it at anything that caught his fancy - a tree, the family car, me, and finally toward the open door of the house.

Dodging the oncoming fireball, my mom screamed and jumped off the porch. Jack put at least three fireballs through the house, luckily catching nothing on fire. When he finally threw down the spent Roman candle my dad just shook his head, grabbed the remaining fireworks and walked into the house. Mom followed him, but not before unloading verbally on Jack.

Mom and Dad did not say much about the incident, giving Brother Jack the benefit of the doubt in believing that inexperience and lack of good sense caused the accident. After living in close proximity to him until I was fifteen, I know better. He went to sleep that night giggling about scaring my parents and getting away with it.

The 4th of July means a lot more to me than just fireworks and hot dogs and we should all reflect on the sacrifices this wonderful holiday immortalizes. Still, my favorite holiday remains July 4 and the one I remember best is the first one that I can remember.

###

Born near Black Bayou in the little Louisiana town of Vivian, Eric Wilder grew up listening to his grandmother’s tales of politics, corruption, and ghosts that haunt the night. He now lives in Oklahoma where he continues to pen mysteries and short stories with a southern accent. He is the author of the French Quarter Mystery Series set in New Orleans and the Paranormal Cowboy Series. Please check it out on his Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Kobo and iBook author pages. You might also like to check out his website.

Mama Mulate’s Salade de Crevettes d'Orange - a weekend recipe

Mama Mulate is a character from my French Quarter murder mystery Big Easy. Being a voodoo mambo, she is deft at preparing magical potions and enchanted concoctions. She’s also a great cook and here’s her recipe for a wonderful summer salad.

Ingredients

• 1 lb. large shrimp, peeled and deveined
• 1 Tbsp. orange peel, dried and ground
• 1 Tbsp. paprika
• ½ cup brown sugar
• 1 oz. lime juice, fresh
• 2/3 cup olive oil
• 4 plum tomatoes, diced
• 1 cucumber, diced
• 1 small red onion, chopped
• 1 red bell pepper, diced
• 1 green bell pepper, diced
• 1 Tbsp. cilantro, chopped
• 1 Tbsp. red wine vinegar
• 1 Tbsp. Triple Sec

Preparation

In a large bowl, combine orange peel, paprika and brown sugar. Toss the shrimp in the mixture, shaking until evenly coated. Sauté shrimp in olive oil. Toss plum tomatoes, cucumber, red onion, bell peppers, and cilantro in a large salad bowl. Whisk together red wine vinegar, remaining olive oil, lime juice and Triple Sec. Top individual salads with shrimp and serve.

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Sunset at Lake Hefner - a pic

Sunset at Lake Hefner

Here is a pic of the Lake Hefner (Oklahoma City) lighthouse at sunset.

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Vieux Carre Cocktail - a recipe

Vieux Carré Cocktail

If you’re a writer, don’t move to New Orleans and expect to pen the “Great American Novel.” You’ll probably wind up spending much of your time visiting the hundreds of bars, drinking wonderful cocktails, schmoozing with interesting locals and passing out in all your clothes before you ever keyboard a single word. A scene from my new book-in-progress, City of Spirits, takes place in the Carousel Lounge, located in the Monteleone Hotel on Royal Street, in the French Quarter. Here is a recipe for a drink supposedly invented there. Hey, I don’t write in New Orleans, but I’ve lost a few brain cells sitting at the revolving bar in the Carousel Lounge. And I loved every minute of it.

Ingredients

· ¾ oz Cognac
· ¾ oz rye whiskey
· ¾ oz sweet vermouth
· ¼ oz Benedictine
· dash Peychaud's Bitters
· dash Angostura Bitters

Directions

Stir and strain over rocks, lemon twist garnish

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Big Billy's Grilled Catfish with Pineapple Salsa - a weekend recipe

Originally from Arkansas, Texas oil man Big Billy loved catfish and had a hundred different ways of preparing and cooking it. He also liked to grill outdoors, drinking beer and telling oil stories (all true, by the way) while he cooked. Here is one of his favorite—and simple—ways to grill and serve catfish. For some of his stories, you’ll have to check out his Little Texas Cookbook.

Ingredients (Catfish)

• 4 catfish fillets

• 2 tsp olive oil

• 1 tsp garlic salt

• ½ tsp black pepper, cracked

• ¼ tsp red pepper, ground

Ingredients (Pineapple Salsa)

• 1 c pineapple, fresh, peeled and diced

• ¼ cup red onion, diced

• 1 c red bell pepper, diced

• 2 Tbsp cilantro leaves, fresh, chopped

• 2 tsp jalapeno pepper, fresh, minced

• 2 Tbsp lime juice, fresh

• ½ tsp salt

• Black pepper, freshly ground, to taste

Directions

(Catfish) Rinse fillets and pat dry. Brush with olive oil, combine ingredients and sprinkle on rounded side. On a pre-heated grill, cook on high heat, rounded side down for 3 to 4 minutes, flip the fillets and continue cooking for another 3 to 4 minutes or until fish flakes easily with a fork.

(Pineapple Salsa) Combine all ingredients and set aside until catfish is grilled, then spoon the salsa on the fillets and serve.

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Arkansas Mystery

I learned to read at an early age, and soon began enjoying books. We had a tiny, one-room town library in Vivian and Mrs. Files—I kid you not—was the librarian. The library had little or no budget but Mrs. Files always found an inexpensive way to keep our interest in reading high.

During the summer, she would mimeograph diagrams of the United States, or some such imaginative illustration. Whenever we read a book, she would give us a gold star for one of the states. The person with the most gold stars at the end of the summer got a five-dollar bill, which, I now feel sure, Mrs. Files contributed herself.

I liked mysteries from the time I was very young, books with heroes like Freddy the Pig and Miss Pickerel. As I grew older, I found I also liked a little adventure tossed in. I read everything I could find by Jules Verne, H. Rider Haggard and Edgar Rice Burroughs, so it was natural that when I began writing, I wrote stories that combined the two genres. If you have the need to label everything, I guess you could call them mys-ventures.

Growing up, I also loved history and have always wondered what happened to the ill-fated colony of Roanoke. It would seem with all our technology that we should be able to find the answer. Alas, this is not the case.

I have visited many wild and wooly places in my life but few as wild and remote as the deepest forests hidden in the ancient Ouachita Mountains of central Arkansas. I realized as much while working on my geological master’s thesis in Sevier County.

I remain entranced by the geologic mystery of the area and feel that central Arkansas is one of the top ten geologic wonders of the world. To me, it bears the same mystery and intrigue as Haggard’s vision of darkest Africa, or Burrough’s Pellucidar. Arkansas is also the only place in the United States with diamonds found at their source.

Not only are the Ouachita Mountains lush with mystery, intrigue and danger, their deep valleys and sharp peaks conceal limitless wealth in diamonds and many other valuable minerals. It seemed a perfect place for a mystery/adventure tale, and became the location for my novel A Gathering of Diamonds.

When I wrote A Gathering of Diamonds, I stole many ideas from masters such as Haggard, Burroughs, and yes-even Cussler. I also managed to solve the mystery of the disappearance of the Roanoke Colony, at least in my own fictional mind.

Many moons have passed since those days in Vivian’s little library. Mrs. Files is no longer around to read any of my books. If she were, I am sure that she would smile, pat me on the shoulder, and give me a gold star. That thought makes me very happy.

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Odors, Shadows and Mist

The weather in central Oklahoma has been stormy lately, one series thunderous tempests after the other racing through and leaving paths of destruction. I awoke to a rainstorm this morning. By three, the weather was hot, muggy and sunny.

The combination didn’t last for long. Yet another storm front moved through the area, bringing with it high winds and golf ball-sized hail. It quickly passed, doing no damage in my neighborhood, but it postponed my afternoon walk.

A fragile mist hung in the air as I finally started up the road. Elevated humidity carried lingering odors with it, mostly in moist pockets settling in low spots. They reminded me of the months I had spent in the boonies of Vietnam, shielded from the elements by only a poncho liner and sheet of plastic. After living outdoors for so long, my senses became more acute. They stayed that way long after I returned to the States.

Once, Anne, Ray, Kathy and I were sitting outside by their pool. “It’s going to rain,” I said.

“I don’t know what you’re smoking, Pard, but there isn’t a cloud in the sky,” Ray said.

Within five minutes, gentle rain began soaking the cement around the pool causing Ray, Anne and Kathy to stare at me, wide-eyed.

“I could smell it coming,” I explained.

I wasn’t lying. My sense of smell was more acute than others. After living many years now in heated and air conditioned houses, that particular talent has disappeared. Still, as I plodded up the blacktop through my neighborhood, the odors carried by the mist—someone’s septic tank, the fetid smell of damp earth and grass, a dead animal—brought back memories.

It was almost dark as I rounded the last bend and started up the gentle hill to my house. Shadows cast by a darkened sky and surrounding trees formed eerie patterns on the damp and broken asphalt road. A tiny crescent moon and one bright star shined dimly through an open spot in the thick layer of clouds. It was a night perfect for wispy ghosts playing in shadowy mists. The thought crossed my mind as I shut the front door behind me.

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Something Terrible

Years ago, I wrote a short story called Prairie Justice. I had almost forgotten the story and found it again, recently, while deleting unnecessary files from my computer. As I reread and reedited the story, details of why I wrote it in the first place flooded my brain.

The year was 1995. During April of that year, a madman blew up the Alfred P. Murrah Building, killing 168 innocent victims, including many children in daycare there. Anne, my wife then, was a fledgling lawyer, having gone to law school late in life (mid-forties). She partnered with Becky S., and we were about to move into our new offices when the bomb exploded.

I had returned home from an early-morning dentist’s appointment. I found Anne sobbing uncontrollably.

I was puzzled because Anne was a trooper. Despite all the bad things that had happened to us, I don’t recall having ever seen her cry. When I saw her that morning, she was crying like a baby.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Something terrible has happened.”

We turned on the TV to a local news station. Their helicopter was heading downtown to check out an explosion that had rocked the City.

“There’s lots of smoke coming from one of the buildings. I think it’s the Federal Building,” the chopper pilot said.

A camera man was taking pictures. Except for the smoke, the front of the building looked normal. We watched as the chopper circled around the building. When the camera focused on what remained of the north side of the building, Anne and I gasped in disbelief.

“Oh my God!” the pilot said. “Oh my God!”

Days passed, and then weeks. The bombing was like a blow to the head for the entire City. It became all to common to be talking to someone, and suddenly have them dissolve into tears, blurting out some heart-wrenching story they’d kept bottled inside for far too long. Everyone had a story. Everyone was affected.

Shortly after the bombing, Becky sent Anne to interview a deadbeat, druggie client that had been put in jail for beating his wife.

“You may think he’s scum, but he deserves his day in court. He’s your client so treat him with respect, no matter how you feel about him in your heart,” Becky counseled.

Anne and I left Oklahoma City early one morning, heading west to El Reno, the Canadian County seat. I can’t even remember why we stopped there, but Iremember the courthouse facilities and the historic town well. Leaving El Reno, we passed a Las Vegas-style bingo hall in nearby Concho. Gambling was in its infancy in Oklahoma. Sixteen years later, it’s rampant.

We drove through the tiny town of Okarche, to Eischen’s Bar. The longest continuously operating bar in Oklahoma was shut down at the time because of a flash fire. We made it to Enid shortly before lunch, finding the correction’s facility ensconsced in an old neighborhood.

The jailers brought Doug (that was his first name) into a visitor’s room, wearing an orange jump suit, shackled in leg irons, hand cuffs and a belly chain. I watched from a distance as Anne talked with him for about half an hour. Wearing her own shackles of lawyer/client privilege, she never told me what they talked about.

Later that night, I wrote Prairie Justice, a short story featuring Buck McDivit, a character that had suddenly invaded my mind. The story is about a crooked oil man and mirrors a real oil man responsible for the bankruptcy of the oil company Anne and I started from scratch. Most of the description in the story actually occurred.

Years have passed since I wrote Prairie Justice, but I published it as an ebook this week. Anne died three years after the Murrah bombing. I wrote Ghost of a Chance, my first Buck McDivit novel, some years later. It was published in 2005. The scar of the 1995 Oklahoma City Bombing has faded. As I wrote this story, tears streamed down my face. Buck McDivit is now a real person to me.The Murrah Building scar has faded, and people no longer sob during normal conversation. Maybe, but the bombing still rests like a red blotch on my soul, as I’m sure it does for everyone that experienced that sad day.

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New Ebook by Eric Wilder Released

Gondwana Press has released Eric Wilder's Ghost of a Chance in eBook format. The novel features cowboy detective Buck McDivit in a mystery set on a lonely island in Caddo Lake, the largest natural lake in Texas. The full-length mystery is available in all eBook formats for $5.99. Read Ghost of a Chance and check out all the adventure, romance and mystery in Book 1 of the Buck McDivit Mystery Series.

Amazon-Kindle

Barnes & Noble-Nook

Smashwords-All formats
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Buck McDivit Mystery - Ghost of a Chance

My contract with PublishAmerica finally expired and they released Ghost of a Chance back to me. I took a while, reedited the book and made a new cover before releasing it as an ebook. I grew up in northwest Louisiana, near Caddo, a large natural lake that occupies parts of Texas and Louisiana. The lake is beautiful and mysterious, unlike any place on earth. I used it as the location of my first mystery, Ghost of a Chance. If you like ghost stories (and who doesn't?) please give it a read. I think you'll like it, but then again I'm a little biased. - Eric

Edmond Crow Pics

Crows are intriguing birds and thousands live in Edmond, Oklahoma. I see them everyday and often take their pictures. Getting a great pic is tough because the birds are so cautious, they never let you get too close. Their color also makes proper exposure almost impossible. Still, here are two crow pics.



Crow in flight




Crow in tree

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Great Gatsby Mansion Razed

httThe mansion that supposedly inspired the novel The Great Gatsby was recently demolished to make room for new development.

Mansion slideshow.

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Marilyn's Jalapeno Cornbread - a weekend recipe

Cornbread is a staple for every good southern cook. When it comes to making cornbread, few can compete with my own wife, and wonderful southern cook, Marilyn. Here is her cornbread recipe using jalapenos, her daughter Shannon’s favorite.

Ingredients

• 2 ½ c cornmeal

• 1 c flour

• 2 Tbsp. sugar

• 1 Tbsp. salt

• 4 tsp. baking powder

• 3 eggs, lightly beaten

• 1 ½ c milk

• ½ c cooking oil

• 16 oz. can cream corn

• 2 jalapeno chili peppers, chopped and seeded

• 2 c sharp cheddar cheese, grated

• 1 onion, large, grated

Directions

Combine first five ingredients in a bowl. In another bowl, mix milk, eggs and cooking oil, and then combine with cornmeal mixture. Stir in remaining ingredients, and then pour into two well greased baking pans. Bake at 425° for 25 minutes, or until done.

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Big Billy's Texas Pintos withTomatillo Salsa Verde - a weekend recipe

Big Billy loved his beans. Once when he was staying with me and Anne, he cooked up pinto beans, complete with his special tomatillo salsa Verde. He also whipped up a pan of cornbread using ingredients he found in our pantry. To say the meal was wonderful is an understatement. It was sublime!

Ingredients

• 1 lb dry pinto beans

• 29 oz chicken broth

• 1 onion, large, chopped

• 1 jalapeno pepper, chopped

• 3 cloves garlic, minced

• ½ c tomatillo salsa Verde

• 1 tsp cumin

• ½ tsp black pepper, ground

• 1 c water

Directions

Soak beans overnight in a large pot with ample cold water. Drain and place the pinto beans in a crock pot. Pour in the chicken broth and water. Stir in onion, jalapeno, garlic, tomatillo salsa Verde, cumin, and black pepper. Cook for 8 hours.

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Big Billy’s Tomatillo Salsa Verde - a weekend recipe

Big Billy’s green sauce was to die for, and goes well with many dishes. Here is his special recipe with tomatillos.
Ingredients

• 1 lb tomatillos, husked

• ½ c onion, finely chopped

• 1 tsp garlic, minced

• 2 Poblano peppers, minced

• 2 Tbsp cilantro, chopped

• 1 Tbsp oregano, chopped, fresh

• ½ tsp cumin, ground

• 1 ½ tsp salt, or to taste

• 1 Lime, juiced

Directions

Place all ingredients in a blender. Puree until smooth. Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce heat to medium-low, and simmer about 15 minutes.

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Grunt

I was at the barber’s the other day. The barber shop, located in a strip shopping center near my office, is part of a national chain. The barbers don’t seem to stay around long. They always do a credible job, although I’ve only had the same hair cutter on one or two occasions. This time, my hair cutter was an older man of Vietnamese heritage.

After inquiring how I wanted my hair cut, he asked if I had been in the armed services. I told him that I had.

“Navy or Air Force?”

“No, I was in the Army.”
He asked if I served in Vietnam and smiled when I told him I had.
“What did you do there?”

Tiny hairs on back of my neck abruptly rose at his question. The last time I was in a barber’s chair with a Vietnamese barber was on the Army base in Bien Hoa, South Vietnam. Even though I knew the man was friendly, I had a difficult time not reacting when he shaved me with a straight razor. After all, the Vietnamese were our enemy, and I couldn’t help but fret that the man so close to my jugular vein with a straight razor might be a barber by day and Viet Cong by night.

“Infantry,” I answered.
“Oh, what weapon did you carry?”

“M60 machinegun,” I said.

“Then you weren’t an officer.”
“No, a private.”

"When were you there?” he asked.

I had to think a minute before answering, “Parts of 1970 and 1971.”

“I was an officer from 1971 to 1975,” he said, still not offering if it was for the North or the South. “Where were you in Vietnam?”

“We operated in triple canopy jungle off of Firebase Betty, not far from the Cambodian border. At least during the six months or so I spent as a grunt patrolling the Jolly Trail System. Later, I got a job as a company clerk on Firebase Buttons, near Song Be. Did you lose friends or family in the war?”

“My family survived. I lost a few close friends. I was drafted into the Army after two years of college. Following the war, I was imprisoned for three years. When I got out, I escaped the country on a boat. The journey took fourteen days and there were many of us on board.”

“I’m glad you made it,” I said. “Sounds like you should write a book.”

“A book, yes,” he said, smiling, his accent making his words hard to understand. “America lost many men—58,000.”

“Vietnam lost 1,500,000 people,” I said.
“Yes, from both the North and South.”
The half-grin on his face looked contrived, almost as if he were trying to keep from crying.

“No one even remembers the war anymore,” I added. “It was a senseless conflict. I didn’t believe in it, even then, and that’s why I refused to be an officer.”

“I hate war,” he said. “I worry about our involvement in Iraq and Afghanistan.”

After dusting loose hair off my shoulders, he led me to the cash register, nodding when I said, “Nice talking to you.”

As I walked out the door, I realized we’d never exchanged names.

I was shaking when I reached my car. More than forty years have passed since boarding a jet plane leaving Vietnam. I’d almost forgotten. Funny how old memories come flooding back when you least expect them.
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  The story above really happened. Some of my Vietnam stories were fictionalized in my novel A Gathering of Diamonds. Tom Logan, a Vietnam vet suffering from PTSD, battles his demons as he participates in an epic adventure and the romance of his life, high in the Ouachita Mountains of Arkansas.

Ghost of a Chance Revisited - a trip to Caddo Lake

  I grew up in the sleepy little northwest Louisiana town of Vivian, a few miles from Caddo Lake. Caddo, as many of you may know, is the largest natural lake in Texas. It also crosses the state line into Louisiana. The lake is, quite simply, one of the most mysterious spots on Earth. Giant cypress trees with bloated trunks and branches draped with Spanish moss, grow in dark water, and the place is alive with garfish, gators and colorful waterfowl. Caddo stretches for miles, through endless canebrakes and hidden pools, so large and winding that even the United States doesn't have an accurate map.
The first offshore oil well was drilled from a wooden platform in Caddo Lake. These tiny structures still dot the water, some converted to duck blinds, while slow moving pumping units occupy others, sipping oil from a subsurface anticline called the Sabine Uplift.

Caddo Indians once occupied the area. Legend has it the lake was formed by a monster earthquake. When the Tribe's powerful chief had a dream, he awoke his people up in the middle of the night, moving them to safety. Next morning, as the story goes, Caddo Lake had formed following the earthquake, possibly the New Madrid Earthquake, the most powerful ever felt in the United States - so powerful, the Mississippi River flowed backwards for two days. I don't know if the old Chief's prophesy was true, but it's a fact that the area is littered with shards of broken pottery, arrowheads and other artifacts.

Caddo Indian's aren't the only history makers at Caddo Lake. Potter's Point was the home of Robert Potter, a Texas hero, along with Sam Houston, and the primary influence for the historical novel Love is a Wild Assault (wonderful! Out of print. Grab a copy if you can find one). Nearby Uncertain, Texas is a great place to visit. The model for my fictional town Deception, Uncertain was an overnight stop for riverboats on their way up from New Orleans.

One of the riverboats that plied the waterways from New Orleans to Jefferson, Texas was the Mittie Stephens. It caught fire and sank one night, reportedly loaded with a fortune in gold to pay Confederate troops stationed in Jefferson. Neither the boat nor the gold has ever been found.

Buck McDivit, my cowboy gumshoe from Oklahoma, comes to east Texas to meet his only known relative. His Aunt Emma is murdered before he gets there. He soon learns he has inherited an island in Caddo Lake, along with a marina and fishing lodge. This is when his troubles begin.

Many things haven't changed in the Old South. Racism still abounds in Deception, led by racist judge Jefferson Travis, and his two skinhead reprobates Humpback and Deacon John. Buck also meets beautiful Lila Richardson and is instantly enamored. Oh, and he gets drunk and sees a ghost his first night in town.

Ghost of a Chance is now available for the first time in ebook form. It's available, complete with new cover and newly edited 71,000 words, at Amazon.com (Kindle version) and Smashwords.com (Nook, Sony Reader, Kindle, etc.) for the ridiculously low price of $1.29.

If you have an e-reader, please check out Ghost of a Chance. If you don't, loosen up and buy one. If you're an avid reader, you'll be glad you did.
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Mama Mulate's Creole Zucchini Casserole - a weekend recipe

Mama Mulate is a character in my French Quarter murder mystery Big Easy. When she’s not mixing voodoo potions, or teaching English at Tulane University, she’s likely in her kitchen, whipping up a meal fit for a Mardi Gras king. She has a garden behind her house near the river in New Orleans, where she grows her own herbs and vegetables. Check out her recipe for Creole zucchini.

Ingredients

• 2 zucchini squashes, ¼ inch slices

• 1 onion, chopped

• 2 cloves garlic

• 3 tomatoes, chopped

• 1 green bell pepper, seeded and chopped

• 3 Tbsp butter

• 2 Tbsps flour

• 1 Tbsp brown sugar

• ¼ tsp oregano

• ¼ tsp basil

• 1 bay leaf

• ¼ tsp salt

• ½ cup Parmesan cheese, freshly grated

• ½ cup bread crumbs

Directions

Cook zucchini (about 5 minutes) until tender, but firm. Drain and arrange in greased 2 quart casserole dish. Melt butter over medium heat in medium saucepan, and add flour. Stir until smooth and bubbly.

Add tomatoes, onion, and cloves of garlic, green bell pepper, brown sugar, salt, bay leaf, oregano and basil. Cook for 5 or 6 minutes. Remove bay leaf and cloves of garlic. Pour mixture over zucchini. Top with bread crumbs and cheese. Bake, uncovered, at 350° for 30 minutes.

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It's Read an Ebook Week

This is Read an Ebook Week, and all my ebooks are steeply discounted on Smashwords.com. That's not all! Many of the ebooks on the site are also steeply discounted. All ebook formats are supported, including Sony, Kindle and Nook. So much traffic today that it briefly crashed the site. If you are a reader, and you like ebooks, check it out for a once-a-year bargain hunt.


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Mama Mulate's Voodoo Dipping Sauce - a Mardi Gras, weekend recipe

Mardi Gras Day, or Fat Tuesday, is this coming Tuesday. Six Carnivals since Katrina, the Crescent City will be rocking. Voodoo mambo Mama Mulate can mix a potion for anything from growing hair to casting an undying spell of love. She’s also a great cook.


One of Mama’s favorite Mardi Gras finger foods is Cajun Chicken Fingers, a lightly-breaded delicacy you can’t eat just one of. Along with her chicken fingers, she makes the meanest dipping sauce in the universe. Here is the secret recipe for her famous Voodoo Dipping Sauce. Don’t tell her I gave it to you, or she’s liable to make a certain bodily part of mine shrivel up and fall off. P.S.- read more about Mama Mulate in my new ebook Voodoo Nights.

Mama Mulate’s Voodoo Dipping Sauce

Ingredients

• ½ cup cold water
• 1 t cornstarch
• ¼ cup honey
• 2 T green onions, thinly sliced
• ½ green pepper, small, thinly sliced
• 1 T lemon juice
• 4 t prepared Dijon-style mustard
• ¼ t onion powder

Directions

Place water in a medium saucepan, and mix in cornstarch to dissolve. Stir in honey. Heat to boiling, stirring constantly. Reduce heat and simmer until sauce thickens, about 15 minutes. Remove sauce from heat. Stir in green onions, lemon juice, prepared Dijon-style mustard, onion powder and green pepper. Serve warm or chill in the refrigerator. Happy Mardi Gras, and laissez les bons temps rouler!!

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Big Billy's Italiano Baked Shrimp

Here is one of Big Billy’s favorite dishes. No, he wasn’t of Italian ancestry, but he sure knew how to cook their signature delicacies. This is one he made his own.

Ingredients

• 2 lbs shrimp, cooked and deveined

• 3 Tbsp olive oil

• 4 green onions, chopped

• 4 stalks celery, chopped

• 1 green pepper, chopped

• 3 garlic cloves, crushed

• 1 Tbsp parsley, fresh, finely minced

• 1 Tbsp cornstarch

• 1 8 oz can tomato sauce

• ½ tsp oregano

• ½ tsp sweet basil

• Salt and pepper to taste

• 1 c Mozzarella cheese, grated

• ½ c bread crumbs, seasoned

Directions

In a saucepan, sauté onions, celery, green pepper, garlic and parsley in olive oil until soft. Add cornstarch and stir until well blended. Add tomato sauce, oregano and sweet basil and simmer for fifteen minutes. Add salt and pepper to taste. Layer the shrimp, and the tomato mixture in a greased casserole dish. Top with Mozzarella and bread crumbs and cook at 350 degrees until bubbly, about thirty minutes.

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Big Billy's Sour Cream Enchiladas - a weekend recipe

Big Billy loved to entertain and he loved football. He almost always hosted rowdy guests for the Super bowl, oftentimes cooking up a one-dish meal. This is one that always pleased, and always will.

Ingredients

• 2 lbs shrimp, cooked, deveined and diced

• 2 Tbsp butter

• 1 onion, chopped

• 1 garlic clove, finely minced

• 16 oz tomatoes, chopped and drained

• 8 oz can tomato sauce

• ¼ c chilies, chopped

• 1 tsp cumin

• ½ tsp oregano

• ½ tsp basil

• ½ tsp salt

• 1 pkg tortillas

• 2 ½ c Monterrey Jack cheese

• ¾ c sour cream

Directions

In a saucepan, sauté onion and garlic, in butter, until soft. Add tomatoes, tomato sauce, chilies, spices and salt and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer, covered, for 20 minutes. Remove from heat.

Dip tortillas in tomato mixture. Put about 2 Tbsp shrimp and 2 Tbsp cheese on each tortilla. Roll and place seam down in a large baking dish.

Blend sour cream with remaining sauce mixture and pour over tortillas. Sprinkle with remaining cheese and bake, covered at 350 degrees until thoroughly heated, about 30 minutes. Serves 6 hungry football fans.

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Too hot for Young Adults!

Check out Eric Wilder's new erotic thriller Morning Mist of Blood. Too hot for young adults and Sunday school teachers. Watch out for the flames, you might just get burned. CAUTION: Don't read this book unless you're ready for the ride of your life.
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Best Buds - Pics

Here are some pics of my cat Buster and stepson Shane's dog Oscar. I took these a few months ago. Today, there's snow all over the ground courtesy of the Blizzard of 2011. I'm not complaining. I know everyone is in the same boat. Still, I hope the groundhog's latest prediction proves correct.

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Lily's Stuffed Mirlitons

Lily was a religious woman and never missed a Sunday service. Gail and I were spiritual, but not so religious. Still, whenever we visited Chalmette, we somehow managed to make it to church. It all seemed worth it when we returned home, enjoying the feast Lily always prepared on Sundays. Here is just one of the wonderful side dishes we often enjoyed.

Lily’s Stuffed Mirlitons

Ingredients

• 6 mirlitons

• 1 onion, large, finely chopped

• 3 shallots, finely chopped

• 4 cloves garlic, minced

• ½ green pepper, chopped

• 1 tbsp parsley, chopped

• 2 c bread crumbs, or as needed

• 1 egg, beaten

• 1 tsp Creole seasoning

• 1 lb beef, ground, lean

Directions

Cut mirlitons in halves and cover with cold water. Bring to aboil and continue until tender. Remove from water. Let cool and scoop out pulp, discarding seed and fibrous pulp around seed. Place pulp in colander over bowl, and chop, reserving water. Place shells on a coated pizza pan.

Fry beef in cast iron skillet until all lumps are broken but not brown. Add vegetables and continue cooking for about 5 minutes. Add merliton pulp, bread crumbs, and a little merliton water if needed. Add beaten egg. Mix all ingredients thoroughly. Fill each mirliton half shell. Top with bread crumbs and ½ slice bacon. Bake at 350 degrees for 45 minutes. Enjoy.

Eric'sWeb

Just Keep Drilling

My first wife, Gail, was the youngest of a very large south Louisiana family, two brothers and five sisters. This meant I had many brothers and sister-in-laws. Bobby, one of my brother-in-laws, was a drilling contractor at the time, and owned drilling rigs. I’ve known many drilling contractors since then, many whom I count as best friends. They all have several things in common: intelligence, strong opinions, and egos the size of Dallas.

Bobby was the only drilling contractor I knew in those days and seemed very stand-offish to me. I took this to mean that he disliked me, but found out later this wasn’t true. I learned as much as a young geologist working for the now defunct Cities Service Oil Company.

I was an exploration geologist, looking for wildcat deposits of oil and gas in Kansas. The company had just drilled my first well, a dry hole, and I was devastated. I barely talked as Gail and I drove to New Orleans to celebrate some holiday or other, but it was apparent she knew something was wrong. Knowing me pretty well, she also had a good idea what was eating at my gut.

Our first night in Chalmette, Bobby and Mertye asked us to their house for a crawfish boil. Mertye, like her mother Lily, was a wonderful cook, and she and Bobby loved to entertain. They were building a swimming pool in their backyard. Everyone apparently feeling my pain, they somehow contrived to leave me alone, outside by the pool. As stars and a gorgeous moon lighted the south Louisiana sky, Bobby wandered outside and joined me.

“How’s work going?” he asked.

“Okay,” I answered.

“Gail told Mertye you just got your first well drilled.”

“Yeah, well it didn’t turn out too well.”

It was dark in the backyard, Bobby illuminated only by the light of moon and stars. Still, I could see he had a somber expression on his face.

“You know,” he said. “I been in the oil business a long time. Let me tell you a little story. Not long ago, we staked a well for an oil company. When we went to move in the rig, the stake was out in the middle of a bayou. We had orders from the oil company to drill that exact location because that’s where the company geologist said the oil was. Know what I did?”

I shook my head.

“I told the boys to close their eyes, and waded into shallow water, pulled up that stake and moved it to high ground, not more than a hundred feet or so from the original location. Know why?”

I shook my head again.

“Because, if a hundred feet makes that much difference, the prospect ain’t worth drilling in the first place. Hell, Eric, we barely know what to expect a hundred feet below the earth’s surface. There damn sure ain’t a road map 10,000 feet down. What I’m trying to tell you is there’s not a geologist alive, at least one that’s drilled an oil well, that hasn’t drilled a dry hole. If they tell you different, they’re lying.”

Bobby was silent for a moment, and then touched my shoulder. He said, “The world can’t survive without people like you. You’re just a kid and are gonna find lots of oil and gas before you die. Keep your head up and go drill another well.”

We wandered back into the house, back to the party, my spirits uplifted by sage advice from a person I admired and respected. When Gail and I returned to Oklahoma, I took his advice, working up a new prospect and drilling yet a second dry hole. This time, I took a deep breath, remembered his words, and just kept drilling.

Years have passed and I’ve drilled hundreds of wells, far more producers than dry holes. We all have angels in our lives from time to time. That night, so long ago in south Louisiana, Bobby taught me a lesson I’ll never forget. And yes, that night, he was an angel—my angel.

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Pedernales River Chili

I found this recipe in an old cookbook. It was submitted by Lady Bird Johnson, former First Lady and wife of President Lyndon B. Johnson. In case you haven’t read about her, Lady Bird was a most interesting person. She was the first, First Lady to become a millionaire in her own right, but her biggest claim to fame was the beautification of our Nation’s highways, ridding them of billboards and planting Texas wildflowers along the way. Don’t know if this will win any chili cookoff contests, but it is quick to prepare and mighty tasty.

Pedernales River Chili

Ingredients

• 4 lbs chili meat

• 1 onion, large, chopped

• 2 cloves garlic, chopped

• 1 tsp oregano, ground

• 1 tsp comino seed

• 2 tbsp chili powder

• 2 cans Ro-tel tomatoes

• Salt to taste

• 2 c hot water

Directions

Put chili meat, onions, and garlic in large heavy boiler or skillet. Sear until light colored. Add oregano, comino, chili powder, tomatoes and hot water. Bring to a boil, lower heat and simmer about 1 hour. Skim away fat as it cooks off.

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Shannon's Logan County Venison Chili - a weekend recipe

My stepdaughter Shannon lives on a ten-acre farm west of Guthrie in Logan County, Oklahoma. She has nine horses and far too many cats, dogs, chickens, peacocks and other assorted animals. Like her Grandmother Joy and Mother Marilyn, she is a wonderful cook. When Scotty, her significant other, returns from a hunt during deer season, she often prepares her own version of venison chili. Take it from me, it’s wonderful!


Ingredients
• 2 T vegetable oil

• 1 onion, large, chopped

• 1 green pepper, chopped

• 2 garlic cloves, large, minced

• 2 ½ T chili powder

• 1 ½ lbs venison, well trimmed, cubed

• ¾ lbs venison, well trimmed, ground

• 1 28 oz can tomatoes, crushed

• 1 c red wine

• 2 T cumin, ground

• 2 T Worcestershire Sauce

• ½ t red pepper

• ½ t salt

• 1 t black pepper

• 2 t Massa powder

Directions
Heat oil in large skillet. Stir in onion, green pepper, garlic and chili powder. Sauté until tender. Add venison and stir with a wooden spoon until brown. Drain off fat. Add remaining ingredients and bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer 30 minutes or long enough for chili to thicken. Serve in festive bowls topped with shredded cheddar cheese.

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