Berry-A-Gogo

Yesterday some culinary school kids, Chris, and I mustered up all of our white-trashery and ventured down to the Poteet Strawberry Festival for some straight up ruckus, as well as some “holyshitwhatrockdidyoucrawloutfromunder” people watching. Can I tell you how NOT disappointed I was? OMFG. I have NEVER seen so many people with FUPAs ripping hunks of flesh off of giant turkey legs with their few-and-far-between teeth. Wow. I had to join in. And drink copious amounts of beer.

The thing is, Poteet, TX is rural. Ru-ral. It’s mostly farmland and trailers, and the fire ant population is so monstrous that I would be in no way surprised to find out that the mayor of Poteet was actually a fire ant queen herself. Poteet’s claim to fame is that it’s the “strawberry capitol of Texas.” Good for you, Poteet, good for you. There was even a giant strawberry, with whom we took pictures.
Great stuff.

I came home with a solid 20 pounds of strawberries, at least. And while there, I consumed:
Strawberry ice cream (too creamy, if possible)
Strawberry wine (the liquid equivalent of bathtub meth)
Several Coors lights
One Bud light lime
One very large turkey leg

I did not consume a funnel cake with strawberry glop on it, because I couldn’t find that stand to save my life. I saw people walking around with these gorgeous funnel cakes, drowning in what looked like strawberry pie filling, and I wanted one with all of my soul, but no matter who I asked, nobody could tell me where to find one. Heartbreaking. I’m going to make them at school tomorrow, I think.

I bought an awesome drinking hat, and we did manage to locate a couple of memorable attractions.

First, we found a stall with the “world’s smallest woman.” It was a little walkaround booth that had people going through and gawking and peering around a box like it was a piece of unique furniture. It cost a dollar to get it. We, collectively, decided it was a gimmick, and dutifully paid our dollar. Inside, we found a teensy-weensy Hatian woman waving from a toddler chair. My soul has never felt dirtier. I tried to make small talk, so I didn’t feel like such an asshole, but it didn’t help. Honestly, I’m a worse person for having seen that.

Second, we found a petting zoo with some of the cutest friggin’ animals alive. Baby goats, for example. I got to cuddle with a goat so small it was pretty much still a fetus, and now I will never be able to eat goat again. Ever. It was all cuddly and warm and would lay on its back in your arms and nurse your finger. Here is a picture of both the baby goat and my awesome new hat: I also got to cuddle a piglet (not a bacon piglet, obviously, but a cuddling one). And a grown-ass goat tried to steal my hat. Fun stuff.

Oh, and Chris got to sit on a ride-a-mower, thus moving closer to his goal of having his own ride-a-mower someday, meaning he can stop pretending he’s going to go out and mow the lawn until I call the lawn service because I’m tired of watching him mope. At least, that’s the hope.

I’m going to spend tomorrow making jam, which I’m looking forward to, using the school equipment. For some reason, the school kitchen is easier to deal with than my own. All the stainless and mop buckets and hotel pans, I think. Anyway, I’ll keep you posted.

5 thoughts on “Berry-A-Gogo”

  1. Congratulations. You’ve officially done more Texas things than I have. Are you going to go to the Peach Festival in Fredricksburg too? I think it’s in June some time…

  2. Check out your hat and TELL ME that you don’t like Texas. Seriously.

    That baby goat is the sweetest little much(ing)kin that I’ve ever seen. Something about baby anything, with their big soulful eyes and warm bodies, makes me feel like I’m starting to lactate a little bit. But then I remind myself that I can’t even take care of houseplants, and that’s the end of that.

  3. Ah, Tina. You have so much to learn. There is a VERY distinct difference between a Texan cowboy hat (barf) and a Cancun-style drinking hat. Sure, the profiles are similar-ish, but one is bendable, has the side brims curled up beer-pong style, and is all ratty and tatty. This is the latter.

  4. Ha! Point taken. I have a similar drinking hat at home from a Corona promotion that we did at the bar. I used to scrap with my boss over the ridiculous things he would make us wear (I love titty tops, but anything that shows my questionable midriff is O.U.T.)and I fought tooth and nail not to wear that G.D. hat…and then by the end of that very sweaty day it was my salvation. Score 1 for straw hats…..

  5. You’ve eaten goat?!?!? You jerk. I love goats. I almost moved to Norway to start a goat farm, but then Obama was elected and my dream was postponed for at least 4 years.

    I swear, it’s the square pupils. The baby goat you have there just strengthened my eagerness to farm them.

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