Ricotta Blackberry Shortcakes with Honey and Thyme | The Bojon Gourmet
In the eight days since Michael Brown, an eighteen-year-old, was killed by a police officer named Darren Wilson in Ferguson, Missouri, what began as an impromptu vigil evolved into a sustained protest; it is now beginning to look like a movement.
The local QuikTrip, a gas station and convenience store that was looted and burned on the second night of the protests, has now been repurposed as the epicenter for gatherings and the exchange of information. The front of the lot bears an improvised graffiti sign identifying the area as the “QT People’s Park.”
With the exception of a few stretches, such as Thursday afternoon, when it was veiled in clouds of tear gas, protesters have been a constant presence in the lot. On Sunday afternoon the area was populated by members of local churches, black fraternity and sorority groups, Amnesty International, the Outcast Motorcycle Club, and twenty or so white supporters from the surrounding area.
On the north side of the station, a group of volunteers with a mobile grill served free hot dogs and water, and a man stood on a crate, handing out bright yellow T-shirts with the logo of the National Action Network, the group led by Al Sharpton.
The conversation here has shifted from the immediate reaction to Michael Brown’s death and toward the underlying social dynamics. Two men I spoke with pointed to the disparity in education funding for Ferguson and more affluent municipalities nearby.
Another talked about being pulled over by an officer who claimed to smell marijuana in the car as a pretense for searching him.
“I’m in the United States Navy,” he told me. “We have to take drug tests in the military so I had proof that there were no drugs in my system. But other people can’t do that.”
Six black men I spoke to, nearly consecutively, pointed to Missouri’s felon-disfranchisement laws as part of the equation.
“If you’re a student in one of the black schools here and you get into a fight you’ll probably get arrested and charged with assault. We have kids here who are barred from voting before they’re even old enough to register,” one said.
Ferguson’s elected officials did not look much different than they had years earlier, when it was a largely white community.
The community in Ferguson is struggling to come up with the money to keep their kids fed, since school has been cancelled all this time, yet people have donated over $12,000 to the murderer who started all of this in the last 24 hours alone. Think about that. And then donate to the right cause.
Please do not click away because this is about football. First, let me explain the gist of it: a couple of years ago, this comic sportswriter I adore, Jon Bois, came up with this surrealist stroke of brilliance, and this summer he expanded it into a 40,000 word intensely illustrated story. This is the first thing I have read in maybe five to ten years that actually slowed down my browser loading it because it is so full of gifs and video, and I am still recommending it.
It is a tale of epic trekking across a vast, unpopulated plain, the friendships you forge when you’re doing something utterly pointless with more enthusiasm than anyone ever intended, a man who was born to do one thing being deprived of the chance to do it over and over again and then finding a way back into its heart, and what would happen to your moral compass if you faked out a pair of wolves into headbutting each other unconscious.
Also it’s about football. NO DON’T GO AWAY. You do not need to know shit about football to read this story, though you will enjoy it more if you do. Here is what you need to know:
- American football is played by having one man, the quarterback, try to get a pointy-egg-shaped ball at least ten yards away from him in the hands of someone on his team;
- Tim Tebow was a football quarterback who was really into Jesus, and the American media got really obsessed with him for a couple of years, and then it turned out he was not that great at football, he just was great at soundbites, and everyone lost interest except for one hot second when it looked like he was going to join a Canadian football league.
That’s all, because the rest of this story is lies. Sometimes really intense, existentialist lies.
The food arrives, and I dig into it like a starved dog. Poutine is a popular dish up here. Variations abound, but the basic definition of poutine includes a pile of fries, gravy, cheese curds, a half-pound of bacon fat, parmesan cheese, butter, steak, chocolate, Crown Royal, malt vinegar, mayonnaise, ketchup, a few fried eggs, crushed oatmeal cookies, Ranch dressing, foie gras, heavy cream, maple syrup, raspberry jam, ground beef, three tablespoons of salt, cocktail sauce, guacamole, Doritos, hoisin sauce, fried chicken, Starburst, blood sausage, calamari, butterscotch pudding, barbecue sauce, duck carpaccio, corn syrup, potato chips, fried oysters, boiled peaches, beef jerky, coffee creamer, a pickled hard-boiled egg, rocky road ice cream, three packets of Ramen noodle seasoning, $5, fried candy canes, onion rings, triple sec, pizza rolls, a braised pork butt, cake frosting, Olestra, and pancake batter. One popular variant calls for a slice of blueberry pie set gently on top, but purists frown upon it.
I linked the first draft of some segments of this story on my journal a year or so back. I think I got like two notes. I am trying again because this is some John Dies at the End shit now. I really need other people to understand how weird this is and how completely wonderful. Please read the Tim Tebow CFL Chronicles. Please don’t leave me alone here. It’s dark and there are wolves headbutting each other.
also when i made that text post i wasn’t sure whether it was a Real Post or a prelude to “imagen if tim lincum WAS busty poser. IMAGEN” but i’m satisfied.
imagen if tim lincum cotte busty poser
#yes thank you #would inhale several thousand words of this #omg are upside-down batterymates baseball fandom’s equivalent of reverse!verse au? #THE BATTERY #giants #fic ideas #baseball reverse!verse #posey throwing heat and lincecum gunning down would-be basestealers
i’m here for this, but only if buster posey, long-awaited pitching prospect, comes up from fresno still smelling of sunshine and dryer sheets, and is immediately incensed because his catcher has No Plan