 On The Line -- Issue 597 -- August 25, 2006  Online News and Views of Life in San Benito County with Herman Wrede Published by HollisterOnline.com -- Copyright 1995-2008 HollisterOnline.com
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On The Line -- Issue 597 -- August 25, 2006 Online News and Views of Life in San Benito County with Herman Wrede Published by HollisterOnline.com -- Copyright 1995-2008 HollisterOnline.com
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Something elemental about a barbecue strikes a responsive chord in most men. Even those who are generations removed from sallying into the forest with a rifle for that night's meal react to a distant bell in cooking outside.
It may appeal to women but to a lesser degree. With well-ordered kitchens and a modern range and utensils, the ladies prefer to prepare meals without the toil, heat and time that their great-grandmothers experienced in getting supper ready. But men -- "still boys at heart," their wives sigh -- love to get around a grill and throw slabs of red meat upon it and note with satisfaction its juices sputtering and sizzling onto the coals. Early Monday morning, Aug. 21, John Hodges drives to Hollister from his Hidden Valley home to his favorite supermarket. At its meat section, he orders ribs, both beef and pork, tri-tip roasts and pullets -- "enough to feed 40 men," he stresses. At the produce section he selects giant mushrooms, many heads of lettuce, tomatoes and onions. As an afterthought he picks up several large cans of olives, jalapeno peppers, then goes to the bakery section and buys many loafs of French bread. Hodges checks his list again; many cans of beans, bottles of oil, garlic spread, butter and other incidentals figured in his shopping. Finally, he nods and pushes the shopping cart to the checkout stand. Back home he and his friend, Alfonso Zavala, unload the truck at Hidden Valley's clubhouse and start charcoal fires in the grill and in two large metal barrels. They pierce the pullets with heavy wire whose hooks they secure on top of the barrels as they lower the fowls inside. The other meat is kept on ice until that afternoon when the pair slice the tri-tip roasts and separate the ribs. The beans are simmering by them and the garlic spread stands at the ready. The occasion is in lieu of the regular Monday evening meeting of the Hollister Exchange Club. Many members have visited him at Hidden Valley and enjoyed the scenery, so a few members suggested that the club meet there "while it's still barbecue weather." Hodges took the subtle hint and arrangements were made. He needs no urging because he is good at barbecuing and always welcomes an opportunity to host friends at the pit. He and Zavala busy themselves with preparation. It is a perfect day for it; the temperature is in the mid-70s and a blue sky with one or two clouds slowly moving ahead of a gentle breeze over the tawny hills. The pair works well together and the smell of the cooking pullets and accompanying smoke fill the air Rick Shelton arrives at mid-afternoon with his customary smile and desire to help out. He chops lettuce, tomatoes, onions and other ingredients in a large plastic salad bowl, and talk about this and that goes back and forth. By the time Leonard Poletti arrives shortly after 6, about 20 people have gathered in little knots near the barbecuing area and Hodges nods a warm welcome. Standing in the heart of the smoke, he resembles a genial fiend presiding at the first portal of Hell as the newcomers file in. Al Williams and Gil Perreira set up the bar and most guests take a can of beer or a oft drink but some have a glass of red wine. Gary Welch proffers trays of ripe olives and marinated onion rings as hors d'oeuvres and there are many takers. In the meantime, Bill Gere is slicing thin strips of tri-tip and they go nearly as fast as he slices them with some guests risking amputation by snatching one as he is slicing. George Lake sits nearby in perfect contentment. Joe Fahy, who has a bit of the poet in him, nods toward the hills and in a passable Irish accent says, "Shure now, an the chaparral and oleander trees make a beautiful sight, they do indeed." Ron Rodrigues, among the host's oldest friends, is there the day after arriving home with wife Dianne from their vacation in Hawaii. And it is also the eve of another birthday for him. Gene Francis falls into conversation with him and the talk soon drifts back to their teenage days. Francis had intended becoming a farmer in Illinois, like his father, until a particularly bad year shows him how much work, money and hopes could be wiped out by weather in a few days or weeks. Doug Skow sits back and listens to friends talking on either side of him. Howard Schipper is there with his son, Steve Schipper, and reminisces for awhile about how Hollister has changed since he and his late brother, Lester Schipper, came to it to start Schippers' Clothing, a landmark at Sixth and San Benito streets for nearly a half-century. Then others arrive -- Brant Redmond, Mac Mota and Gary Nicklaus. Nicklaus is especially gregarious and with the booming voice of the radio announcer he once was, greets friends exuberantly. Sonny Flores circulates in his quiet way and smiles at memories and anecdotes. He says friend Fernando Gonzalez wanted to be there that evening but business demanded his presence at True Value Hardware. Flores manages the store for him. Then Hodges announces it's time to eat, and the guests gather in a twinkling at the serving table, then head to the patio on the side of the clubhouse where tables and chairs have been set up. Rick Shelton dispenses garlic bread, and in the patio Dave Ortiz serves the beans. By then a few members have put on jackets with the breeze turning cooler. But at the many tables, everyone eats -- "it's the best chicken I've ever tasted -" some say of the smoked pullets whose skin falls away in sheets of golden parchment. John and Adrian Arballo roll their eyes in silent pleasure. Dean Croft holds forth at his table about his family's move to Hollister. Ron Rodrigues recounts some of the places he went to in Europe as a soldier stationed in Germany years before. Leonard Poletti laughs as he remembers Robert Scattini, "fresh out of the Army with his shoes at a high polish and a sharp crease in his pants" as he applied to become a sheriff's deputy. As the sun sinks, many guests pause to linger in conversation with the smell of smoke permeating their clothes and hair, full of good food and perfectly happy. Hodges leads a cheer for Zavala's work and everyone applauds. Then, one by one, the vehicles go down the hill on the way back to town. The guests' wives may wrinkle their noses as their spouses come in full of the smell of smoke but the evening has been a total success for all. |
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