Yep And Katrina gave it a bit of bath a few years ago. Chuck (the CA uncle-in-law) says they speak Yat down there. Yes, they got whacked during Katrina, and Rita did them no favors either. That area was totally overlooked during the post hurricane media frenzy that followed. And now, that area had re-bounded ten-fold as opposed to New Orleans. Yes, Yat is the predominate dialect there. Go to The Gumbo Pages :: Make Levees, Not War for translations if interested. Does you Chalmation Uncle-in-law cook gumbo?
Gumbo, the only word I understood in the last dozen posts Your favourite recipe? Please keep it practical! We have okra by the bushel here!
Myself and Urqh are both from Liverpool where we have our own version of English ... Called "Scouse", ya no warra min la, ya do dough dont ya dough ... But it would seem Urqh is "Tri" lingual ... English (limited), Scouse (fluent) and Army (wot de ell di e juss say) ... I'll ave to get R kid to translate dat one la. Ear, R Daz, u woz in da armee ... wots R Urqh onna bout R kid ............... Monkey is an MP, stag, on guard ... oh right, I ger it now .... Hey blacksnake, that "Scouse" dialect you mention, is that what the Cockney people speak? And where do the Cockney's come from in England? Do they have their own area or county? Or are they like our Red Necks, scattered all across the South?
"I don't go for the okra in the gumbo me, I go heavy with the cayenne and habaneros yeah." That's Cajun for I don't use okra. I prefer peppers. Okra is real popular down this way too. Y'all grow them over there? Gumbo is real easy. A friend of mine explained it to me over the phone at the duck camp one night while drinking and shooting ducks. He said you can't fonk up a gumbo. He was at the duck camp, I was at home cooking. It was poker night and my turn to cook. I really don't use a recipe, but go from memory. It's the Cajun way. So here goes; I prefer turkey and andouille, but the most common gumbo would be chicken and sausage. First you make a roux (roo). A roux is a mixture of cooking oil and flour. Put about a shot glass of oil in a big pot, with the fire on about half way between half way and high (I use a gas stove, and judge heat by the height of the fire), and I use olive oil, you know, keeping with the heart-healthy thing. Get the oil hot, and then drop about a couple of table spoons of flour in there. Continually stir it until it gets like a brown gooey paste. Use a big wooden spoon too, and don't scorch the roux. After a few minutes, turn the fire down below half way between half and low. Now you add the holy trinity (onions, bell pepper & celery). Go with two large onions, one large bell pepper, and three or four stalks of celery. Dice them up real small and cook them down in the roux. I modify it by adding green onions, garlic, cayenne and habanero peppers. How much, well that depends on who is coming over to eat. Ok, use about 7 or 8 stalks of green onions, 4 or 5 cloves of peeled garlic, and it's up to you with the peppers. I also add fresh parsely, about a handful will do it. I also add about half a red bell pepper, and a half a yellow bell pepper too. Tastes good, and makes it look nice. Keep stirring, don't burn nothing, and don't drink too much beer while at the stove, and limit the input from the "experts" who always seems to have a better way to do it. That's what the wooden spoon is for too, for running off drunks from the kitchen. You can add okra now if you like. Four or five diced up will do. Season to taste with the usual stuff, salt and black pepper. When the roux is done and the modified trinity is cooked down, add a can or two of chicken stock. If you have no stock, use broth. Now for the meats. Go with the chicken. Dark meat is the best, and I use the thighs, boneless/skinless. Again, it depends on how many mouths you are feeding to determine how much chicken to use. Start with about a pound. Cut the thighs into smaller pieces, and drop them into the pot and get them going. Get about two links of sausage, cut them into half inch portions, and drop them in next. I use hot pork sausage. Fill the pot to just about an inch below the rim with water, broth or stock, your choice. I use a water and broth mix. Get the whole mixture going to a low rolling boil for about 5 minutes, then turn the fire down below half way to let it simmer. Let it simmer for about 45 minutes, stirring ever so often so nothing sticks to the bottom of the pot. Remember the drill with the spoon. Once you determine that it is ready (by taste test), turn the fire to as low as it goes, and add a can of ro-tel tomatoes. I use the hot kind. If that is not available, dice up some roma tomatoes or whatever you have in the kitchen, and through them in. Let it go for about 15 more minutes. Serve over rice. Gumbo is classified as a soup by the experts, so make sure you have more gumbo than rice in your bowl. The traditional side dish for gumbo is potato salad and hot French bread, garlic bread if you like will do too. Beer is excellent choice for the dinner beverage. Dessert, gotta be Mississippi Mudpie. I don't bake, so maybe Slip could help out in that department. My Grandma did the best mudpie, but she didn't speak much English, and I wasn't interested in cooking when she was alive. I hope this does it for you. Any questions, clarifications, re-assurances? Ready to cook now? Let me know how it turns out. I'm hungry now!
Ah Jaysus, will yis ever give it a rest. Yis are doin me head in sumpin fierce!! I dunno, some of yisser posts are about as useful as a skanger in a convent. Me head is melted over tryin to sort out wha yisser sayin, y'know wha oi mean??
Ah Jaysus, will yis ever give it a rest. Yis are doin me head in sumpin fierce!! I dunno, some of yisser posts are about as useful as a skanger in a convent. Me head is melted over tryin to sort out wha yisser sayin, y'know wha oi mean?? I gotta go back to ww2f for awhile. I'm starting to be able to follow what you people are saying....
If we're talking banter, something I typed out on t'other forum...cant be nearly said it, but remembering where I am...cant be bummed to type it out again so as was... Owen and co may recognise some things...Dont think the lingo's changed that much over the years... Right The British army, or a version of it from 70’s thru till 90’s, cant talk for the modern army, Drew and Stefan may speak a different language these days. Anyway… Stefan is a Rupert, not a Rodney but a Rupert in a cavalry reg…not the skipping chickens though one would hope.. a brown job, a pongo as is or was Drew and myself, unlike Jaeger who is a foreign Rupert of sorts, with strong attachments to the Agile and Bolton Wanderers. I myself have been a crab or crabfat before being a brown job and pongo. Don’t ask which I prefer I cant possibly say, but a monkey definitely, serving as a helmet in the heavy army and not the light army or black mafia as some may know it as they control the light army. Although I do like the old Angle Irons as I spent much time attached to their glourious ranks. The other 3 would say I was a Ponti, I’d object and state we have to know how to read and write. Which is why we always are given 2 stripes in the main. One for reading and one for errrr…well you get the idea…if you get 3 you know someone who can read and or write… Ruperts are unlike Hats, who constantly amaze by wearing their woodentop hats to breakfast even in the field. Usually to be found though in London area around Jimmy’s or saluting the Birthday cake as they march or ride past. But rather a woodentop than a loggie or even the dreaded loamshires or Blankshires, 2 regiments usually coloured orange for us blues to play with, a bunch of losers…in fact they never won a firefight that I know of. Drew I believe was a scaley back at some stage or a bleep, but moved on up to PTI. Probably enjoying his regular beastings given out to many a poor sod in pumps. Drew is also known for his abundance of happy snaps, which he never fails to avail us with…Oh for a digital world instead of Kodak moments for me as my time was spent before the industrial revolution and her with the handbag was still top dog. And she wasn’t as nice to us then as she should have been…I was constantly fed up with the old Irishmens pay rise her government kept giving me. Stefan the Rupert attended Sandhurst I believe but I could never see him as a Blade Runner, There are of course many tribes in the British army, made up of Jocks and Micks too…and occasionally Taffs, not to be confused with the old Viet Taffs of 70’s news fame. We have all probably served our time in the confines of the corner shop doing stag, which sometimes involves a fair bit of the old Egyptian PtT and blanket pressing. but none I believe have done the glasshouse or done a Colchester.Although I suspect like me the other 3 have done their fair share of jankers. None of us 4 though I would say were bog standard or buckshee budgies or commnly better known as fish and chip outfits. No Hackles for us. And certainly none of us I believe had any doings with the Chunkies. We all 4 do share a certain decorum and intelligence that kept us away from such idlers… We have all probably dated a cadbury’s snack in our time or lumpies as they could be known due to the old wooley pully of my time. Never enough room in the old maggot for more than two though. And have all had occasion to fill in the odd chuff chart…some with more glee than others I would suspect. We all I suppose have travelled in or at least looked up at Fat Albert via Crab air if not at least to practice dagger daggering at one. My own brother was a coloured beret, or dangler, but never to be called Bird s..t unless a fast runner….and we would be crap hats to him. Stefan belonged to the donkey whallopers, who at times have a need to do a zulu forwards, and a swift zulu warrior backwards while on net or R/T to the good ole Dropshorts. Driving as fast as the dinkey toys will possibly go. I don’t think he has ever done a tour of the death star and if so has never had the opportunity of taking a bimble box or horror bag out whilst on a bimble, something he will probably not get round to doing as I don’t think his oppos go that far south. Bimble boxes, get you out of pan diving and Dixie bashing, but we all do that at some stage after Scran or scoff lovingly prepared by the slop jocks and gobbled up with the old one two gobble sticks…Usually followed by a gonk if pudding provided. Gravel bellies don’t scan or scoff as much due to the requirement to lay for long periods on wet ground. And the need to not gozome as much as the rest of us for the old loo break. But heaven to such a brave comrade would be the old egg banjo, with extra oil on bread. Black finger prints a must. But always aware that once home from manouveres the old alternative command structure will probably put a greasy on for him. As they don’t tend to take the old meals rejected by the Ethiopeans into battle as they cant leave packets around after them. Unless of course we have a Alternative command structure who will then do the pan diving on our behalf and also supply dhobi dust and in fact do the dhobi when required. Then off to Naafi, never the club, and unless a time served specialist in moaning never, a mess…In summer into the car park or nearest field to Naafi for a game of Nerdles best played with a nut strangler as opposition as they always want to protect their delicate hands., but never with an opsi, secret squirrel or sneaky beakie as they cheat at all games of skill. Who wants cunning in the army I ask you? Although after much Naafying the old pit comes in very useful for much pushing out of the Zeds. Then we have the pride of the army the rotor heads and the talking baggage, guys and gals who mostly spin around merrily recounting tales of their run ins with the crabs and matelots…and sometimes on grey funnel lines with the wavey navy…Usually they do though poach the best of the wedgeheads. All this and more…but I forget…only one last thing to say…Most of us at some time become the whenwees, its inevitable, but that’s life, and that’s the Army…Or Toms as we like to address the jolly folk properly. <!-- / message --><!-- sig --> errrrrr.............................................. Could you please send me a translation of............ whatever it is you were trying to say???? Sorry, I'm a, what is it you guys call us.... steps, sheep, oh yeah septic, and am not sure if we are all speaking the same language. Jeff, A-58. As a Yankee, I would like too know what the hell your talking about!:p
curious this is the 3rd day that the site has shut down for me about 11.30am PCT in the States. I cannot access it since firefox does not or cannot find the URL. all seems well in the early morn hours then it is like taking a long rest from reality. Maybe the site is having a good German Bier for a pause very odd
errrrrr.............................................. Could you please send me a translation of............ whatever it is you were trying to say???? Sorry, I'm a, what is it you guys call us.... steps, sheep, oh yeah septic, and am not sure if we are all speaking the same language. Jeff, A-58. As a Yankee, I would like too know what the hell your talking about!:p mikebatzel, it's a Southern thang, you wouldn't understand anyhow....But seriously, let me know what you are having trouble with and I will translate it in Yankee for you if possible....
mikebatzel, it's a Southern thang, you wouldn't understand anyhow....But seriously, let me know what you are having trouble with and I will translate it in Yankee for you if possible.... Yeah, we'll try to translate, but words like "fixin'" and "ova-air" may not translate well, without the accent. Fixin'= about to ... as in "I am fixin' to go to town, yownta come along?" ova-air = "Where are my car keys?" "Ova-air on the countertop." Other words, like "shurf" and "chee-er", translate well. Shurf = the chief law enforcement of a county. also called the High Shurf. His subordinates are called depadees. Chee-er = What you are sitting in.
Hey blacksnake, that "Scouse" dialect you mention, is that what the Cockney people speak? And where do the Cockney's come from in England? Do they have their own area or county? Or are they like our Red Necks, scattered all across the South? A-58 ... "How very Dare you". Scouse is strictly a Liverpool dialect (reference - The Beatles) often requiring translation outside the city, never mind in another country Cockneys, as Drew would tell you are native to London. Specifically, the definition of a true Cockney, anybody born within the sound of "Bow Bells"...Bow being a London suburb, and the bells being that of the church St. Mary-Le-Bow. Accent reference...Michael Cain, Vinny Jones... Don't even get me started on the Cockney "Rhyming Slang". Apples-n-Pears = Stairs Septic-Tank = Yank (honestly...No offense intended, it just rhymes) Bees-n-Honey = Money Bubble-Bath = Laugh Speaking of your "Red Necks", I've always assumed (obviously incorrectly) that was a reference to Southern folk in general, no offense intended. So what is the correct definition of a Red neck? If this carries on maybe we should start a thread for Trans-Atlantic Translations and Definitions...
..... Don't even get me started on the Cockney "Rhyming Slang". Apples-n-Pears = Stairs Septic-Tank = Yank (honestly...No offense intended, it just rhymes) Bees-n-Honey = Money Bubble-Bath = Laugh ........ So the Brits invented "Rap" ? Thanks for that.........I do so enjoy listening to the invigorating sonnets pertaining to the Capping of fools and the slapping of Ho's. I suppose that means you folks are also responsible for the total disregard of belts to hold up one's trousers.
A-58 ... "How very Dare you". Scouse is strictly a Liverpool dialect (reference - The Beatles) often requiring translation outside the city, never mind in another country Cockneys, as Drew would tell you are native to London. Specifically, the definition of a true Cockney, anybody born within the sound of "Bow Bells"...Bow being a London suburb, and the bells being that of the church St. Mary-Le-Bow. Accent reference...Michael Cain, Vinny Jones... Don't even get me started on the Cockney "Rhyming Slang". Apples-n-Pears = Stairs Septic-Tank = Yank (honestly...No offense intended, it just rhymes) Bees-n-Honey = Money Bubble-Bath = Laugh Speaking of your "Red Necks", I've always assumed (obviously incorrectly) that was a reference to Southern folk in general, no offense intended. So what is the correct definition of a Red neck? If this carries on maybe we should start a thread for Trans-Atlantic Translations and Definitions... Red Necks are decendants of the English, Scots, Irish and Welsh types, with an emphasis on the Irish being they were the largest group to immigrate here from the British Isles. They are mostly scattered across the South, and up the Atlantic seaboard to where the Yankees live. The Red Neck label came from a period in the early 1900s, during the coal mining strikes going on in the Apalachia area (the Appalachain Mountain Range, it runs from NE Alabama all the way to the Mason-Dixon Line and beyond). Anyway, a group of striking and hell-raising miners were marching on another town to gain strength and recruits against the mine owners. That was back in the pre-labor union days you know. This group tied red bandannas around their necks as a way to distinguish themselves in the coming melee, hence the "Red Neck" moniker. The strike breakers called out when the strikers were approaching, "the Red Necks are coming, the Red Necks are coming," sort of like Paul Revere's call to arms about 150 years earlier - "the redcoats are coming...." Well not really, I just made the Paul Revere part up, but it sounded good. The rest is the real deal, sure enough. From that point on, most Southerners were referred to as "Red Necks." Over the years, many more groups of people migrated to the South, diluting Red Neck strength, but we (they) still remain a force to be reckoned with (see RATE MY MULLET - mullet pictures, mullets! and Mullets & Mullet Hair - MulletJoe.com and Jeff Foxworthy.com). Brother Jeff Foxworthy is the Red Neck ambassador to the world. Sorry Slip. The truth hurts sometimes. I owed it to blacksnake for owning up to the soccer name thing.... Really, Red Necks are everywhere....
We always spelled it as one word - redneck - and to me is 100% derogatory. It is analagous to a word that rhymes with bigger, that for some reason I can't say, because my skin is too fair.
I never considered it as such, but some do. My dad is a redneck, and my mom is Cajun, with all the names assigned to it was considered a thing of pride, not shame or fighting words - as long as it was one of us calling another one of us that name!
It is analagous to a word that rhymes with bigger, that for some reason I can't say, because my skin is too fair. TIGGER.......?
I never considered it as such, but some do. My dad is a redneck, and my mom is Cajun, with all the names assigned to it was considered a thing of pride, not shame or fighting words - as long as it was one of us calling another one of us that name! I guess it has different meaning to different people. All too often here and in the media, it is confused with "country" people, which is a different species entirely. We don't view it as a thing of pride...it's kinda like talking about that part of your family you don't want people to know is part of your family. TIGGER.......? good guess, but not quite.
Red Necks are decendants of the English, Scots, Irish and Welsh types, with an emphasis on the Irish Oh thats it!! Blame us!! Typical!!
