Cookbook Friday: Beanie Weenies

It has come to my attention that my Dad gets jealous when I write about anyone else but him on this blog.  This includes my “no-good husband.”  As well as “complete strangers.”  And especially doesn’t rule out “girly vegetables.”  How you can be jealous of a parsnip is beyond me.

So, fine, Dad, I’m writing about you.  You who gave me life and a conscience that burdens me daily.  Thanks a lot.

I was trying to spare you this next recipe from the family cookbook, but my dad feels it’s important.  In fact, it will probably give you some insight into how I might have inherited my love of hot dogs.  It might also give you a frightening peek into the life of a bachelor.  That’s right, ladies, all this can be yours.  You can put your phone numbers in the comment section.

So, without further ado, here's my Dad.

This is Freddie Donroe, third from the left, as a navigator on a (what kind of a plane is that?) in the Air Force in the early 1970s. 

Then, it was off to Vietnam.  Despite his nickname, Wrong-Way Al, he didn’t die.  (YAY!!!!)

I was born at some point after his return.  I’m a little fuzzy on the details of my birth, but I know it took place at a naval hospital in Kittery, Maine.  I imagine the accommodations were luxurious.  I didn’t think the Navy would let the Air Force use their hospitals, but I guess even hardened military men are afraid of laboring women. 

The rules at the time were that the dads were not allowed in the delivery rooms.  No siree, they were required to do the manly men’s work of smoking cigars in the waiting room.  But, not my dad.  They tried to kick him out but he refused, and when push came to shove, he pulled rank.  The doctor was a measly lieutenant or something, while my dad had worked his way up to Even More Important Guy.  As a reward, he got to stay and witness that living hell.  I’ve been a Daddy’s girl ever since.

Here’s his signature dish. 

Beanie Weenies

Can of beans
Hot dogs (preferably thawed)

Open can.  Pour contents of can into microwaveable dish.  Cut hot dogs into half-inch sections and put into dish.  Stir until you achieve a lumpy consistency.  Microwave on high for about 4 minutes.  Remove Beanie Weenies from center of dish, avoiding the burnt layer around the edges.  Add ketchup to taste.

Freddie Donroe
New Haven, CT – Worcester, MA
1948 –

Next: Yankee Stadium

     (Previous Recipe: Seven-Layer Cookies)

Comments

[Sally]

Hmmmm.... If it were me, Dad, I'd ask for a re-write. We both know she can do better.

[Danielle]

Your Dad was quite the dashing gentleman. I love that he pulled rank to be with your mother when she needed him! What a sweet story.

He's not alone in the hot dog thing, either - my grandfather used to make hot dog soup all the time.

[joey]

Sure!..."microwave 'em"! We used to have to HEAT THEM ON A STOVE!. With fire and everything .

[Dad]

You're right Sally, she could have done much better! You kind of get the feeling that she just mailed this one in in a half-hearted attempt to make up for months of neglect! BTW, the doctor was a colonel but he wasn't there so I pulled rank on the orderly and the nurses to get into the room. When the colonel finally came, I was already there and gowned up so he chuckled and let me stay. Four years later, when my second daughter was born, I had no trouble getting into delivery!

The plane was a KC-135 and the nickname was "Wrong-Way Donroe". Geez, you think she could have gotten some of the facts right!

Joey - So you still don't know how to use a microwave?

[Mary]

That's a great story about how you were born! I am the third out of 6 so by the time they got to me they were bored with it and had a routine or something.

I personally like to heat the beans on the stove and saute my hot dog slices in a separate pan so the edges get crispy and then mix them together.

[melissa]

*reading other comments*

I see where you get your humor from.

that story was really rather sweet though. perhaps it's because anything with "dad" in it makes me sentimental. ;) happy new year!

[Alecto]

I swear, aside from the incredible things you do to vegetables and that thing you've got going on with the farmer (does the farmer know yet?), this is why I come here.

[Tammy]

Alecto: Um, yeah, something tells me he has an idea. From now on, all Farmer-related comments must be conducted in Pig Latin. He'll never decode it.

Melissa: I know. Dads = yuck.

Mary: Do you mise en place beforehand?

Dad: Ah, the elusive facts. Sometimes it's hard for a fetus to parse them out.

Joey: Way to keep it real.

Danielle: Mmmmm, hot dog soup. Also, I shouldn't gloss over the role my mom played in all this. It's hard to push when the doctor's yelling, "Suck it up, woman. This ain't 'Nam."

Sally: Where did we get all of these high expectations?!

[Kathy]

I use this receipe all the time. However, I also add mustard and relish. Yum! Much better than vegetables!