Tag Archives: Father’s Day

A Father’s Day Giveaway: Burgoo, Barbecue, and Bourbon

Schmid Cover for blogYes, Father’s Day is still about a month away, but it’s never too early to start thinking about what you might get dad. (He deserves it, right?) Luckily, we’re here to help you out with a Father’s Day giveaway!

This week, enter to win one of three available copies of Albert W. A. Schmid’s brand new Burgoo, Barbecue, and Bourbon: A Kentucky Culinary Trinity. Use the form at the end of this blog post to sign up by Friday, May 26 at 1:00 pm Eastern time for your chance to win!

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About the book

Burgoo, barbecue, and bourbon have long been acknowledged as a trinity of good taste in Kentucky. Known as the gumbo of the Bluegrass, burgoo is a savory stew that includes meat—usually smoked—from at least one “bird of the air,” at least one “beast of the field,” and as many vegetables as the cook wants to add. Often you’ll find this dish paired with one of the Commonwealth’s other favorite exports, bourbon, and the state’s distinctive barbecue.

Award-winning author and chef Albert W. A. Schmid serves up a feast for readers in Burgoo, Barbecue, and Bourbon, sharing recipes and lore surrounding these storied culinary traditions. He introduces readers to new and forgotten versions of favorite regional dishes from the time of Daniel Boone to today and uncovers many lost recipes, such as Mush Biscuits, Kentucky Tombstone Pudding, and the Original Kentucky Whiskey Cake. He also highlights classic bourbon drinks that pair well with burgoo and barbecue, including Moon Glow, Bourbaree, and the Hot Tom and Jerry. Featuring cuisine from the early American frontier to the present day, this entertaining book is filled with fascinating tidbits and innovative recipes for the modern cook.

Enter to Win!


Father’s Day Books on Dad Written by their Children

Protective. Goofy. Heroic. Hardworking. Stoic. Knowledgeable. Jovial. There are a number of adjectives that can be used to describe fathers and the significant role they play in their children’s lives. But each father has his own unique story –- a story that may never be told.

Below are some of our favorite books written by children about their dads. Whether a father is interested in sports, film, history, suspense, or the military, he’s sure to find some of the subjects (and stories) interesting and appealing.


More information:

My Life as a Mankiewicz: An Insider’s Journey through Hollywood

Portrait Of A Father

My Father, Daniel Boone: The Draper Interviews with Nathan Boone

Dalton Trumbo: Blacklisted Hollywood Radical

Voice of the Wildcats: Claude Sullivan and the Rise of Modern Sportscasting

Battlefield Surgeon: Life and Death on the Front Lines of World War II

Crane: Sex, Celebrity, and My Father’s Unsolved Murder

Hitchcock’s Partner in Suspense: The Life of Screenwriter Charles Bennett


‘Cue Cards: A Guide for Father’s Day

Father’s Day is approaching, and you know what that means . . . Time to find the perfect place to take Dad for dinner.


The first step to becoming a BBQ aficionado is being able to talk the talk. In The Kentucky Barbecue Book, Wes Berry defines many key terms for his readers. Here are a few you may not know:

Burgoo: an “everything but the kitchen sink” rich stew made with several meats and vegetables, cooked up in large quantities at Owensboro’s International Barbecue Festival and found at barbecue joints in Kentucky, especially those in the “burgoo tree” (my term) that includes the counties of Daviess, Hopkins, and Christian, among others.324255_346022322091385_842314571_o

Chip or chipped: a style of barbecue preparation popular in Union Co. and Henderson Co., where heavily smoked exterior pieces of pork shoulders, hams, and mutton quarters are chopped and mixed with a thin tangy dip sauce, a bold flavor creation that’s salty and good as a sandwich.

Fast Eddy: a meat smoking apparatus that often utilizes wood pellets and a gas flame.

Hickory: one of the hardest of the hardwoods, hickory trees are nut-bearing friends of squirrels and Kentucky pitmasters, who favor the smoke and heat imparted by hickory over all other woods. Several different species of hickory trees live in North America, including shagbark, shellbark, mockernut, bitternut, and pignut. Some pitmasters claim they prefer one species of hickory—like shagbark—to others.

Monroe County dip: Sopping sauce favored in several south-central Kentucky counties, made with vinegar, butter, lard, salt, black and cayenne pepper, and sometimes other ingredients like tomato or mustard, used for basting meats as they cook slowly over hickory coals. Also served as a finishing sauce.

Mutton: Mature sheep, either female or castrated males. Mutton is Kentucky’s claim to barbecue fame, although only 10 percent of the barbecue places in the state serve it.

Smoke ring: the pinkish hue imparted to smoked meats (a very good thing).

Grab a copy of Wes berry’s book to learn even more BBQ lingo and scope out the best places for smoky meats and saucy treats in the state.

Humphrey Bogart, Ava Gardner, Joseph Mankiewicz, Tom Mankiewicz Robert Crane University Press of Kentucky

Bogart, Ava, Dad and Me: Growing Up as Hollywood Royalty

9780813161235Yes, we know, Father’s Day was yesterday. But, we have one more story for you that’s too good to not share!

All dad’s are certainly ‘cool’—in their own special ways—but when you’re the son of famed director and screenwriter Joseph L. Mankiewicz (All About Eve, Guys and Dolls, Cleopatra) and the nephew of Citizen Kane screenwriter Herman Mankiewicz, stories about your family are just a bit ‘cooler.’

Tom Mankiewicz was genuine Hollywood royalty. He grew up in Beverly Hills and New York; spent summers on his dad’s film sets; dined with Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton; and traveled the world writing for Brando, Sinatra, and Connery. A member of one of Hollywood’s most elite cinema families, Tom “Mank” Mankiewicz was destined for a career in film.

In his memoir, My Life as a Mankiewicz (Paperback $19.95), Mank describes one very memorable summer on set with his father in Rome:

Dad made The Barefoot Contessa in Italy in 1953, directing his own screenplay. It was the first film he made for his recently formed independent production company (Figaro) and starred Humphrey Bogart and Ava Gardner. Dad was nominated for his writing. Edmond O’Brien won the Oscar for Best Supporting Actor. Dad and Mother had decided to take me to Rome with them. I was going on twelve.
[ . . . ]
I remember one cold, cold night when the film was shooting in a cemetery. I’d been dressed for the day in shirt sleeves, and the wardrobe man got me a jacket. I was still shivering. Humphrey Bogart walked by and noticed: “Are you cold, Tommy?”
“I sure am.”
“Here, try some of this.” Bogart pulled out a flask, took off the top, and filled it with a thimbleful of scotch.
I’d never had a drink of hard liquor in my life, only an occasional sip of wine at home. But what the hell, he was Humphrey Bogart. I downed it, just like they do in the movies. My throat started burning. I coughed. And then, son of a bitch, my chest did feel warmer. Bogart grinned.
In a half hour he passed by again. “Still cold?”
“A little bit.”
He filled the top again. I drank.
Later on Dad came by to take me home. “Ready?”
I looked up at him with a stupid smile. “Yesss . . .” The smile remained plastered on my face.
Dad looked around, zeroing in on Bogart. “He’s drunk. It has to be you, you prick.”
“Christ, Joe, the kid was cold. I was just trying to help out.”
To this day I have the singular honor of having received my first real drink from Humphrey Bogart.
On another late afternoon I found myself sitting near the set with Ava Gardner and several cast and crew members. Ava was described in the film as “The World’s Most Beautiful Animal.” She was certainly all of that at the time. A huge celebrity, constantly pursued by a gaggle of paparazzi, she had recently divorced Frank Sinatra and was currently keeping company with Luis Miguel Dominguin, the most charismatic matador of his day. Part artist in the bull ring, part rock star, he was impossibly handsome with zero body fat and a thin scar running down the side of his face. Sinatra had come to Rome in an attempt to get Ava back, but left empty handed.
During this particular week, Dominguin was fighting in Spain and Ava had time on her hands after shooting. “I want to go to the movies tonight,” she announced. “What’s at the Fiametta?” (The Fiametta was a little theater that ran American films in English, the only cinema in Rome to do so.)
“Who wants to take me to the movies?”
She looked around. Silence. “Anybody?” Silence. Clearly, the prospect of escorting a publicity magnet to a public venue was too intimidating to those sitting there.
“Tommy, how about you? Want to take me to the movies tonight?”
“Sure,” I said.
She grinned. “Great. It’s a date. I’ll send my car to pick you up at Joe’s.” She smiled at me and walked off.
A while later Dad had wrapped and was ready to take me home. “Guess what, Dad? I’m taking Ava Gardner to the movies tonight.”
His face darkened. “Like hell you are.”
“Why not? She asked me to.”
“Because I’m not going to have my twelve-year-old son’s picture in a hundred magazines escorting Ava Gardner in Rome for the evening. When you’re older you’ll understand how truly bizarre that’s going to look.”
My eyes misted over. I was about to cry. Dad noticed, softening. As usual, he solved the problem. That night, the public relations man on the film escorted Ava to the movies. I went with them. It was fine with me since secretly I knew I was the one who was really taking her.
Just a note, though it doesn’t really apply to a twelve-year-old and Ava Gardner. Actresses, especially beautiful or publicly famous ones, are quite intimidating to most men. At the end of a marriage or a publicized affair, you’d be surprised how often their phone doesn’t ring. Many guys are too scared to call. “Oh, she’d never go out with me. I’m not rich enough, good looking enough, famous enough, etc.” The truth is that most actresses are simply women with a fragile public occupation. They’re just as insecure and sometimes more so than anyone else. There is, after all, a certain pressure on them to be seen as publicly desirable, which sometimes forces them to make terrible personal choices in their lives. I’ve known several who got married just because they thought it looked good and relieved them of the need to date men in order to stay in the news.
I remember going to Disneyland in the late seventies with Kate Jackson and her little niece. She’d been somewhat known for a TV series called The Rookies, but now was one of Charlie’s Angels, which made her as instantly recognizable as anyone in show business. Suddenly, restaurants you couldn’t get into before are holding their best table for you. Going to be a little late? Don’t worry about it. Disneyland called out security to escort us, no waiting in line, as hundreds of fans screamed at and for her. Kate, a very private person, seemed almost scared. “You know, Mank,” she said, “I’m still little Skater (her father’s nickname for her) Jackson from Alabama. I haven’t changed. Everyone else has.”
I never knew where Dad went those nights he left our Rome apartment. All he would offer by way of explanation was: “Somewhere down by the train station where I can sleep.” A few weeks before the end of shooting, Bogie and Betty Bacall invited me to have Sunday brunch with them in their suite at the luxurious Excelsior Hotel on the Via Veneto. I arrived at the appointed time, picked up the house phone in the lobby, and asked for Mr. Bogart. He answered. “We’re in 675, you know, just a couple of doors down from where Joe keeps his suite.”
I could hear Betty’s voice in the background, warning him: “Bogie . . .”
“Come on up,” he said quickly.
It was a wonderful brunch. They were both so kind to me and such fun. When Betty wrote her autobiography By Myself, she inscribed a copy to me: “Tom. Remember Rome . . . Love, Betty.” By the way, the Excelsior Hotel is kind of near the train station. Say . . . two miles away.
Father's Day Reads University Press of Kentucky

Happy Father’s Day! Books on Dad Written by their Children

Oh, Dads…a seemingly limitless source of bad jokes (have you heard this one? What do you call an Alligator wearing a vest? An investigator!), bear hugs, and well-meaning advice. Some Dads are goofy, some serious, and my Dad will probably spend all day watching the U.S. Open, yelling at golf balls to “Get in there!” If I were to write a book about my Dad, it would include his terrible scrambled eggs recipe and endless battle against the rabbits that eat the flowers in his yard. Below are a few of our favorite books written by children about their fathers…I promise, the stories are much more interesting than scrambled eggs.

More Information:

Crane: Sex, Celebrity, and My Father’s Unsolved Murder

Hitchcock’s Partner in Suspense

Voice of the Wildcats

Dalton Trumbo

My Life as a Mankiewicz

Portrait of a Father

My Father, Daniel Boone