Stop and Smell the Lichen
Since I have moved here I have been experimenting and learning about ptarmigan and their many little quirks. I have also been trying new recipes. The first batch of ptarmigan this year went to making a ptarmigan stew, something a little different. I like this much better than roasted ptarmigan or fried ptarmigan.
Be aware that I don't really measure things so you will have to use a bit of common kitchen sense and adjust to your own tastes and requirements.
3-4 ptarmigan cleaned and cut into bit sized pieces
half an onion
a few strips of really good bacon
a couple of garlic cloves (or about a tablespoon of powdered)
a couple pieces of celery (or a teaspoon of celery seed)
a tomato (or a can of tomatoes)
three or four good sized potatoes
a cup or so of rice
Tablespoon dried rosemary herb finely crushed
one bay leaf (remove before eating)
teaspoon dried dill
teaspoon cayenne pepper (optional, but we like it hot!)
A coupled of cubes of chicken bouillon or replace some water with liquid chicken stock
1. Prep ptarmigan and add to a big pot. I personally like to use cubed breast, the
I wish my Reflection was different.
But I do not create the Waste that portrays me
In its tarnished silver surface
What is it that is seen?
Suicide braided into my hair
Scholastic failure upon my skin
My clothes tattered and soaked in Alcohol and bruises
I wish my Song was different.
But I do not own the Stolen breath that defines me
In the joy of the rumor monger
What is it that is heard?
Sloth tinged laughter
An unwanted language exhaled
My words colored red and painted with vexation
I wish my Story was different.
But I do not write the Benevolent tombs that cement me
In their dusty, dusty Pages
What is it that is written?
Alien Paragraphs across my soul
‘The End’ found at My beginning
My dreams found to be too brown, and not brown enough
I wish I was different.
But I do not create the road that will Save me
concrete embedded with tundra loam
One never builds the Reflection, the Song and the Story
So what thunderous magic builds the Road?
According to the BIA it is the presence of a card. My Indian card. Here in the U.S. you inherit your ethnicity. But I often squint at this system with suspicion and anti-trust. Though it affords me certain things and minimal health care it also comes with miles and miles of strings attached. Lists of rules and tittering stacks of paper and red tape.
They judge you solely by your blood quantum. 'Blood Quantum' sounds like the title of some sci-fi book. Some sort of vampire sci-fi book, where the lead character lives off of blood and travels through time. Or something. The system is built to eventually relieve the U.S. of their duties to our ancestors. The U.S. is a melting pot of races, where people blend themselves and blend themselves. According to the U.S. if you dilute yourself too much you become...nothing. I am, for instance, only 1/2 Inupiaq by blood bequeathed to me by my mother who was full blooded.
I am a portal
Stop and Smell the Lichen
Nasugraq Rainey Hopson is a Inupiaq Eskimo woman who lives in the Brooks range mountains of northern Alaska with her Hunting Partner. She is originally from a village on the coast, but was wooed from her village by a very handsome and Inupiaq rich Nunamiut mountain man.
He surrounds her with Native riches and beauty so she is more than content. Her days consist of artwork and mythological stories, and she sometimes thinks deep thoughts that have no answers but define the questions better.
She shares both her days and her thoughts on her blog,"Stop and Smell the Lichen." She has four dogs, and an internet connection that has it's own particular sense of humor. She hopes you enjoy your stay!