I went to the racetrack today but it was shut, so I just pushed all my money through the gate. — W.C. Fields and Crockpot Beef Pozole (Mexican Stew)

Saturday I popped a bowl of popcorn and sat down with Rick to watch the Belmont Stakes. For him, being of Egyptian descent, having American Pharoah as the front runner added to the excitement. Not one to disappoint, the magnificent animal ran with great heart and broke a long dry spell, becoming the first horse in 37 years to capture the Triple Crown. Horse racing is an interesting sport. The only one not taking home the spoils is the one doing all the work. Hopefully he’ll have some special oats and a rub down waiting for him when he gets back to his stall.

Twice in my life I’ve actually gone to a race track. Experiencing it first hand you can fully understand how people get caught up in the thrill of the race. In particular, if you’ve bet the rent money on IMFEELINLUCKY and the horse isn’t seeing anything but tails. Betting is such an addictive preoccupation. The possibility of stretching $20 into thousands, heady stuff. From what I’ve read it can be one of the hardest addictions to shake. To leak a bit of personal information here, I was married to a person with exactly such a problem. Sometimes he bet upwards of $2500 a hand. Finding himself quite deep in the hole, I remained blissfully ignorant of the sinkhole forming in our life, at first. Naturally, after several months the fissures opening up in our financial landscape couldn’t be ignored. Not to make light of what can be a very heavy situation, the cards were on the table (so to speak). The die was cast (I know it means a different kind of die, but you have to admit it works). At one point it became serious enough a man sounding like a cast member from Goodfellas called suggesting he was going to restructure my exes skeletal arrangement should monies not be forthcoming. Ex giving you a hint this is now far behind me. He tried many times to shake the persistent urge to splurge, but couldn’t let it go. This, naturally, is while I knew him. Hopefully things have improved for him since then. My money, if you will, is on not. You can’t quit addictive behavior for anyone but yourself and hope to be successful. It’s a personal demon requiring persistence, strength, encouragement, love, and constant vigilance. A tough, tough, road.

I’m sure many overextended hearts were pounding beneath the Belmont finery yesterday as the horses rounded that last turn. Millions of dollars were laid out with hopes dashed or dreams fulfilled as American Pharoah’s nose nudged the finish line. For the rider, the trainer, and the owner, a body of work was rewarded with the ultimate acknowledgement. For the horse, perhaps retirement to a stud farm, not a bad gig, or back to work racing again.

Horses are at the same time graceful, and massively powerful creatures. When in full run, a horse’s muscles flexing beneath you, there is a sense of freedom as a rider hard to recreate anywhere else. As a child I was pushed into equestrian lessons. I say pushed, because in the beginning I had no interest in mounting the beasts. I stood in my hat and jodhpurs, a chubby little girl gazing up at a shuffling animal looking down at me as if I was the blue plate special at the local diner. It was not, I guarantee, love at first sight. In spite my misgivings, I came to be comfortable in the saddle and gained a respect for the animal beneath me.

My two best friends as a child, Kitty and Vicky, were identical twins. Their father, owned a horse which on occasion we were permitted to ride. Around Christmas the sleigh was brought out of the shed and lap robes in place we drove through the park. At the lead the trotting horse clopping through the snow breath suspended in air.That memory has held in place while so many others have sloughed off over the years.

I wasn’t to ride again until high school. Again a friend with horses reintroduced me to riding in the summer of my sophomore year. Three horses resided in their paddocks. Two quarter horses and Futuna, half horse and half ass, with an emphasis on the ass. Futuna, a hard mouthed ornery critter, was ridden without benefit of a saddle. Hard mouthed and feisty, a heavy Indian blanket was all that separated my skin from the animal’s back. The horse, though she never actually mouthed the words, appeared to love to be ridden. Well, at least outwardly she seemed to love it. Once led into a field she would buck with pleasure nearly dumping me where we stood and then move like the wind on the short legs provided her.

Living in Southern California at the time we spent that summer exploring the foothills behind my friend’s San Dimas home. On one particularly warm day we rode high up into the hills ducking as we passed under low lying tree branches. The oldest of us, Cyd, also the owner of the horses, stopped short when
her hair caught in a limb. Turning to help her untangle she began to scream as bees circled her head. Now to say I have a phobia about bees would be diminishing the feeling I get around them. My skin is actually crawling as I write this. The horse Cyd rode, as spooked as the rest of us at the situation unfolding, bolted. The forward thrust dragged Cyd free. Down the trail they sped, us behind her, and the bees behind us. At some point, thankfully, the bees tired of the chase. It was hot and there was honey to be made, I would suppose. At the ER the doctors said we were very lucky. All of us were stung including the horses, fortunately no one seriously, but it was another memory I tucked in my “keep” file..

My riding days are behind me I fear. I can still remember the feel of it, and the smells and sensations of communing with the animals in such a way.

We had unexpected family for dinner yesterday, a nice surprise. Fortunately, I had this yummy version of pozole in the crock pot.

Crockpot Beef Pozole (Mexican Stew)

3 red potatoes, chunked
1 onion, cut in wedges
1 flank steak
4 cups rich beef broth
1/2 cup hot chunky salsa
1 15 1/2 can diced tomatoes, undrained
2 Tbsp. hot chili powder
1 tsp. ground cumin
2 Tbsp. Taco seasoning, hot
1 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. cayenne pepper
1/4 tsp. black pepper
1/4 tsp. ground coriander
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 15 1/2 oz. can Mexican hominy, rinsed and drained
3 cups shredded cabbage
Garnish with: snipped cilantro, queso fresco, radishes, green onions, black olives, sour cream, and lime wedges

Place cut potatoes in microwavable dish. Heat on high 2 mins. Put in bottom of 6 quart slow cooker. Top with wedges of onion.

Cut flank stead widthwise into six pieces. Place on top of onions. Mix together all remaining ingredients through hominy. Pour over meat. Cook for 9 hrs. on low.

Add cabbage and increase temperature to high. Cook for 1 1/2-2 hrs. until cabbage is tender. Remove meat from sauce and shred with fork. Return to sauce. Serve with garnishes as desired.

Serves 8