Marinated Beef Fondue

Let me share with you some secrets on success:

1) When everyone is against you, then you are obviously winning.

People love to hate America, the Yankees and Darth Vader. Why? Because America, the Yankees and Darth Vader kick ass. They win.

Just like Dick Cheney.

To hell with what "the people" think. Fuck them.

The last resort for life's losers lies in a misappropriated distaste for winners.

I am a winner and so it goes for me.

2) There is no aphrodisiac stronger then revenge.

You want to poke and prod the sleeping tiger? Go right ahead, my friend.

I can handle the slings and arrows thrown my way by this nation's communist manifesto-driven press corp. I suppose they believe it some guaranteed constitutional right.

I've read the Constitution of the United States - at least I had Dylan read it for me - and according to him, nowhere in there did he find any specific reference to the New York Times.

So, let them enjoy their moment in the sun.

The Dick will eat their still-beating hearts from a silver platter while a Jarvik heart transplant machine keeps them all alive just long enough to see it.

Then, fresh blood dripping from my chin, I will stride calmly to the wall socket and unplug the Jarvik as they howl and beg mercy.

Motherfuckers.


Okay, today we have a tasty little addition to the beef world - a little something for those of you who really like to fancy it up.

I had the great honor of sitting down to a meal at the home of none other than Mr. Charlton Heston in the autumn of 2002. Old Moses really knows how to throw a first-rate shindig, even though the absence of Tom Selleck's keen wit was felt throughout the night as he had to cancel for shooting some television program. I suppose our loss that night later became the world's gain.

Anyway, "Chuck" knows a thing or two about meat and as his little Mexican handservants fixed our platters full with such exotic fare as "Spanish rice" and "salad," "Chuck" let himself go on a wide range of topics including gun control, illegal immigration and Dorothy Lamour's chest - a spledid evening thouroughly enjoyed by all who attended.

The signature portion of the meal was a fantastic beef smothered in cheese. I asked him for the recipe and he obliged. He went to the kitchen to retrive it and returned the first time with a handful of tranquilizers, the second he brought back what appeared to be a young Nicuraguan woman and small child, but he finally pulled his shit together on the third attempt and returned with this tremendous addition to our growning family of beef.

Chuck Heston's Marinated Beef Fondue

INGREDIENTS
3/4 cup soy sauce
1/4 cup Worcestershire sauce
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 1/2 pounds beef tenderloin, cut into 1-inch cubes
2 1/2 pounds pork tenderloin, cut into 1 inch cubes
HORSERADISH SAUCE:
1 cup sour cream
3 tablespoons prepared horseradish
1 tablespoon chopped onion
1 teaspoon vinegar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon pepper
BARBECUE SAUCE:
1 (8 ounce) can tomato sauce
1/3 cup steak sauce
2 tablespoons brown sugar
8 cups peanut or vegetable oil


DIRECTIONS
In a large resealable plastic bag, combine the soy sauce, Worcestershire sauce and garlic; add meat. Seal bag and turn to coat; refrigerate for 4 hours, turning occasionally.
Meanwhile, in a small bowl, combine horseradish sauce ingredients; cover and refrigerate. In another bowl, combine the tomato sauce, steak sauce and brown sugar; cover and refrigerate.
Drain and discard marinade. Pat meat dry with paper towels. using one fondue pot for every six people, heat 2-3 cups oil in each pot to 375 degrees F. Use fondue forks to cook meat in oil until it reaches desired doneness. Serve with the horseradish and barbecue sauces.



Note: It's somewhat disturbing to watch the Chuck Heston movie 'Soylent Green' after dining at his house or while preparing this recipe. I recommend 'Ben Hur.' Nice little revenge movie with a pretty decent race sequence. That Cathy O'Donnell as Tizra also has what I consider not a bad set of 'tizras,' if you know what I mean.

The Best Steak

Dr. Mandingo says that this hasn't helped one goddamn bit. My stress level is still off the fucking chart and I'm beginning to see little pinprick stars every time I stand up. Last night I had dreams of a bright light shining just off in the distance and I floated toward it ever so gently when suddenly I could feel a warmth tingling around my lower extremities. Looking down, I could see a gnarled red hand with long Howard Hughes-like fingernails grasping at my feet, pulling me downward into an abyss, my feet and ankles engulfed in flames.

I've already told you of my prior arrangement, so naturally I became panicked. I cried out, "No, not now! I'm still a young man!" Lucky for me the old lady heard me from her bedroom and came running (we haven't slept in the same bed for over twenty years). She helped get me into a sitting posture and my breathing returned to normal after a minute or so. Jesus, it was all too real.

Dr. Mandingo says at best it was a bad dream, at worst some type of episode. Either way, the cause always comes back to stress. For this sudden increase in my stress levels, I have the goddamn American people to thank. Don't give me the innocent act, each of you is fully aware of what you're doing to me.

Motherfuckers.

Let me tell each of you this: I have the launch codes.

If I go down, you cocksuckers are going with me.

Now how does it feel to have death staring you in the face?

Okay, onward to the recipe.

Most of you, I'm sure, are familiar with today's cook. I've enjoyed his act for going on 40 years now and, if you ask me, it never gets old. Jimmy Stewart, John Wayne, Johnny Carson, George Burns - he does them all and to perfection, just like this recipe.

I was invited to a cookout/campaign event at Rich Little's house in Las Vegas in the summer of 2000. Never in my life had I laughed as hard or as long as I did that night. The zingers were really flying and they came from a thousand different voices. After last year's fiasco at the press dinner, I decided to class the joint up a bit and we went after the guy, 'Rich,' as I've been invited to call him. Let me tell you, I'm counting down the days until we see him break loose on those fucking defeatocrats using the Duke, Clint Eastwood and (hopefully) Magnum.

Until then, enjoy a solid piece of meat:

Rich Little's Best Steak

INGREDIENTS
4 (6 ounce) rib-eye steaks
2 tablespoons olive oil
salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
8 cloves garlic, minced
4 sprigs fresh rosemary

DIRECTIONS
Preheat grill for high heat.

Rub each steak lightly with olive oil - this is to ensure that the steaks don't stick to the grill. Season with salt and pepper. Rub fresh garlic into both sides of each steak. Let stand for 15 minutes.

Place the steaks on the preheated grill, and immediately turn after 30 seconds (this first turn is to ensure that one side is seared). Place the fresh rosemary sprigs on top. Cook 7 minutes per side, to desired doneness, remembering to remove the rosemary sprigs before turning, and to replace on top of the meat after turning.

Note: Make sure somebody at the table knows the Heimlich maneuver if you're trying to eat while Rich is doing his act. It may save your life.

It did mine.

Beef Tenderloin with Roasted Shallots

I suppose this could be the type of thing that may cause a reconsideration on your part of everything you know about me, but as this is intended to be a journal, a chronicle, if you will, of me and my daily life, then there are things that you, the reader, should be aware of right up front in order that we move on with this thing and establish who Dick Cheney really is and why things are done in a certain manner.

Well, strap in.

About thirty-five years ago, some men approached me with a proposal.

"How would you like to have success and fortune beyond your wildest dreams," they asked.

Well, shit, who wouldn't?

They proceeded to tell me about a power -- a life-altering power that was available to me if I would just ask graciously and then accept it into my heart.

Now, you know me. Dick Cheney has never asked anyone for anything and never will. I mean, if you don't consider five draft deferments asking for something. I guess that's up for debate, but I digress.

The offer filled me with intrigue. Never mind failing to really adhere to any particular belief system before. I was being given a chance to wipe clear all of my previous short-sighted life and begin something new. It was just the kind of thing that a young go-getter could sink his teeth into. For the first time I would believe in something greater than myself.

It was there, in the office of my boss, Don Rumsfeld, that I accepted Lord Satan into my heart.

Now, I know you're asking why the hell anybody would accept Satan. I mean, Jesus, aren't you just damning yourself for all eternity?

Well, right you are. I am damned to hell, but I think this is where it is esential that we all know ourselves. I know Dick Cheney; I've lived with him all my life. Dick Cheney's not a good person. No way in hell I was ever getting through the pearly gates, so why not cut my losses and shoot for something a little better in my likely destination. Sort of like knowing you're going to Mexico, but instead of Nuevo Laredo you shoot for Cancun.

Now, I've been cheating death for awhile. I've probably pissed off Satan a little with the failed fatal heart attacks, but as I get older and death creeps closer, I find myself looking for some way out of this deal. Sure, it paid off - it paid off in spades. How the hell else can you explain a 'C' student from Caspar Community College rising to my current post? I don't want to die, you know? I mean, what if I've signed up for an eternity of blowing Hitler or, worse yet, Milton Berle? Jesus. What if those are the best things that can happen to you in hell? See, like I said, I'm not a smart man and never asked what eternity held. My bad. All I wanted at the time was immediate gratification. Okay, this has been pretty good, but now what? I'm just trying to stave off death until this is cleared up somewhat.

Rummy and I laugh about it now, but my "initiation" was quite the hoot. I didn't realize there was going to be quite so much ass fucking by so many different people.

It was almost five years before I realized that there is no initiation.

Beef Tenderloin with Roasted Shallots

INGREDIENTS
3/4 pound shallots, halved lengthwise and peeled
1 1/2 tablespoons olive oil
salt and pepper to taste
3 cups beef broth
3/4 cup port wine
1 1/2 teaspoons tomato paste
2 pounds beef tenderloin roast, trimmed
1 teaspoon dried thyme
3 slices bacon, diced
3 tablespoons butter
1 tablespoon all-purpose flour
4 sprigs watercress, for garnish

DIRECTIONS
Preheat oven to 375 degrees F (190 degrees C). In 9 inch pie pan, toss shallots with oil to coat. Season with salt and pepper. Roast until shallots are deep brown and very tender, stirring occasionally, about 30 minutes.
In a large saucepan, combine beef broth and port. Bring to a boil. Cook over high heat until the volume is reduced by half, about 30 minutes. Whisk in tomato paste. Set aside.
Pat beef dry; sprinkle with thyme, salt and pepper. In a large roasting pan, set over medium heat on the stove top, saute bacon until golden. Using a slotted spoon, transfer bacon to paper towels. Add beef to pan; brown on all sides over medium high heat, about 7 minutes.
Transfer pan to oven. Roast beef until meat thermometer inserted into center registers 125 degrees F (50 degrees C) for medium rare, about 25 minutes. Transfer beef to platter. Tent loosely with foil.
Spoon fat off top of pan drippings in roasting pan. Place pan over high heat on stove top. Add broth mixture, and bring to boil; stir to scrape up any browned bits. Transfer to a medium saucepan, and bring to simmer. Mix 1 1/2 tablespoon butter and flour in small bowl to form smooth paste; whisk into broth mixture, and simmer until sauce thickens. Whisk in remaining butter. Stir in roasted shallots and reserved bacon. Season with salt and pepper.
Cut beef into 1/2 inch thick slices. Spoon some sauce over, and garnish with watercress.

Garlic Prime Rib

Stressful day here in the bunker.

Motherfuckers think they've got a bead on me, but they better think again. Scooter has proven himself a loyal lieutenant who will throw himself into the meat grinder to save his captain. By the time he testifies, I'll be shocked if he even knows my name.

Remember Reagan and Iran Contra?

"I don't remember."

"I can't recall."

Brilliant. And do you know whose idea it was?

I'll give you some time to think about it.

Ready?

If you guessed the Dickmeister, then you are correct. Arguably the Old Man's finest performance and he carried it all the way to the end. Jesus, what an actor.

Just between us, if he chooses to testify, Scooter's game plan is similar. Well, shit, I suppose we can say it's exactly the same.

Why fuck with success?

Anyway, as I said, it's been stressful around here, so to try and lighten the mood I had Dylan go out to find some baby powder and a paper drinking cup, then we headed for the Secretary of State's office. In a little something I learned during my days at Casper Community College, we filled the cup with baby powder and then pursed the top closed until just the lip fit nicely under her closed door with the powder-filled bottom sticking out just so.

The idea is to create something of a powder bomb, so you really need maximum stomping power to get full room penetration. With Dylan standing watch, I stomped that son of a bitch cup as hard as I could and then we hightailed it out of there.

Boy, is that bitch going to be surprised when she gets back from the Mid-East to find a fine layer of baby powder coating her office. Ha-ha.

Cunt.

Alright, on with the recipe.

Today we have something special.

When you're a successful man who's garnered more than his fair share of power, you have the opportunity to meet other big time people. You probably wouldn't understand this, but successful people like to hang around with other successful people. In 1988 I attended a small gathering with none other than Magnum himself, Mr. Tom Selleck. Now, not only is Tom Selleck a big star and a very sexy man, but he also knows beef and how to cook it. He proved quite an accommodating host and I would classify that night as a premium example of two powerful men enjoying a fantastic piece of meat.

I asked for and received his recipe and still use it to this day. I enjoying that succulent meat while fondly recalling my evening with Magnum.

Enjoy, my friend.

Magnum's Garlic Prime Rib

INGREDIENTS
1 (10 pound) prime rib roast
10 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 teaspoons salt
2 teaspoons ground black pepper
2 teaspoons dried thyme

DIRECTIONS
Place the roast in a roasting pan with the fatty side up. In a small bowl, mix together the garlic, olive oil, salt, pepper and thyme. Spread the mixture over the fatty layer of the roast, and let the roast sit out until it is at room temperature, no longer than 1 hour.

Preheat the oven to 500 degrees F (260 degrees C).

Bake the roast for 20 minutes in the preheated oven, then reduce the temperature to 325 degrees F (165 degrees C), and continue roasting for an additional 60 to 75 minutes. The internal temperature of the roast should be at 145 degrees F (53 degrees C) for medium rare.

Allow the roast to rest for 10 or 15 minutes before carving so the meat can retain its juices.

Note: For full effect, try serving this while wearing a Hawaiian-style shirt. May I say that it usually gets the juices flowing, if you know what I mean.

Grilled Steaks with a Martini Twist

I've mentioned 'Big Boy' previously and I think it's only fair that you know exactly what the hell we're talking about here without this turning into 'Dick's Erotica.'

Check out 'the package.'

It's common knowledge that Katherine Harris uses this photo for the wallpaper on her laptop. Nothing I love to think about more than Katherine Harris' "laptop," if you know what I mean.

One weekend after this is over, it's going to be just me and Katherine and a 40 year-old bottle of scotch at my hunting lodge outside Cheyenne.

Tonight we have a little recipe I got from Bill Bennett. That crazy motherfucker can't pass a game of pitching pennies without jumping in, but the man knows how to cook a good piece of meat.

Bill Bennett's Grilled Steaks

with a Martini Twist

Ingredients
4 boneless beef top loin steaks, cut 1-inch thick (1-3/4 to 2 pounds total)
1/4 cup finely chopped green onions
1/4 cup gin
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 teaspoon finely shredded lemon peel
1 teaspoon tricolored peppercorns, crushed
2 tablespoons sliced pimento-stuffed green olives
Lemon peel strips

Directions
1. Trim fat from steaks. Place steaks in a plastic bag set in a shallow dish. For marinade, in a small bowl stir together the green onions, gin, olive oil, and lemon peel. Pour over steaks; seal bag. Marinate in the refrigerator for 30 minutes, turning bag once. Drain steaks, discarding marinade. Press the crushed peppercorns onto both sides of the steaks.
2. Preheat gas grill. Reduce heat to medium. Place steaks on the grill rack directly over heat. Cover and grill until steaks are desired doneness, turning once halfway through grilling. (Allow 14 to 18 minutes for medium rare and 18 to 22 minutes for medium.) Season to taste with salt. Garnish the steaks with sliced onions and lemon peel strips. Makes 4 servings.
To cook on a charcoal grill, prepare steaks as above. Grill directly over medium coals, allowing 14 to 18 minutes for medium rare and 18 to 22 minutes for medium, and turning once halfway through grilling.

Note: If you're ever invited to Bill Bennett's house, be aware that he's got a goddamn Pomeranian named 'Chipper' who'll hump your foot all fucking night if you don't set some ground rules. I always take along a couple of baby pins. Gets rid of the little fucker without drawing too much blood.

American Beef Pot Roast and Cheesy Mashed Potatoes

Jesus Christ, it never ends.

"Cheer Captain" wobbles again.

It's such a pain in the ass when he feels the need to think.

First, let me tell you that you should always have grave doubts about any man who's been a cheerleader at any time in his life. What does that really say about him?

After all, "Cheerleader" is just French for "big pussy."

No real man would ever be caught dead in a cheerleader outfit.

John Wayne?
Spinning in his grave right now just from the very thought.

Clint Eastwood?
In what world do you live?

Tom Selleck?
Only if Magnum is undercover.

Me?
Not likely, my friend. Not likely.

Male cheerleaders stand as singularly fucked-up human beings. Many of them spectacularly so.

I find it bothersome that the uber-manly state of Texas' last two governors were both cheerleaders - male cheerleaders. The first was a 'fuck up - move up' kind of guy and the other's a queer who ends up blowing his secretary of state on theclosed circuit video in the governor's mansion.

Jesus.

That really shoots a goddamn hole through some perceptions I held near and dear, I'll tell you.

I didn't know Brokeback Mountain was in Texas.

(Heh, heh - now that was a good one. I'll have to remember to crack that one around "Cheer Captain" some time.)

Real men fuck cheerleaders - girl cheerleaders, not men cheerleaders - girls like Kay Bailey Hutchinson. Boy, there's a piece of ass who let's the old Dickster know in no uncertain terms what's cooking, if you know what I mean. I'd like to see her do the splits on 'Big Boy.'

Rah, rah.

I suppose real men are rare around these parts, but those of us who are get action - big time.

Believe me.

Being manly is nothing less than a license to intimidate. You should watch the fuckers cower when I walk through a room. Feels goddamn good. Hell, my manliness permeates so that even my daughter is more macho than most of the limp-wristed cocksuckers around here. Hell, because of my super-testosterone even she bangs chicks.

What does that tell you about my manliness?

Well, back to the wobble - oh, shit - I'm not even going to get into it. Dr. Mandingo says not to get worked up. We'll get the "Cheer Captain" straightened out again, but many more of these missteps and he'll find himself "stepping aside" to overcome the 'tremendous personal strain' he's been under lately. Hell, if I left an ounce of blow in his office, he'd be pissing off the White House roof naked within the fucking hour. Lots of options here - lots. Don't think I'm not calculating every possible angle - martial law, suspension of the constitution - gives me a hard-on just thinking about it.

Alright, to the recipe - Jeanne Kirkpatrick made this for us one Sunday back in 1987. I told her it was an awesome piece of fucking beef and asked for the recipe.

From her lips to yours... RIP, baby.

Jeanne Kirkpatrick's

American Beef Pot Roast and Cheesy Mashed Potatoes

Ingredients:
1 package (1-3/4 to 2-1/2 pounds) refrigerated fully-cooked boneless beef pot roast with gravy
1 package (16 to 20 ounces) refrigerated or frozen ready-to-eat mashed potatoes
1/3 cup crumbled blue cheese
1 tablespoon milk
Salt and pepper
1 teaspoon coarse-grain or Dijon-style mustard
3/4 cup canned Cheddar-flavored French-fried onions
1 tablespoon chopped fresh parsley

Instructions:
1. Prepare potatoes according to package directions. Stir in cheese, milk and salt and pepper as desired; keep warm.
2. Meanwhile remove pot roast from package. Transfer gravy to 2-quart microwave-safe casserole. Stir in mustard. Cut pot roast into 1-inch pieces. Combine beef with gravy mixture. Cover and microwave on HIGH 6 to 9 minutes or until hot, stirring once.
3. Transfer beef mixture to platter; spoon potatoes around beef. Sprinkle with onions and parsley.
Makes 4 servings

Note: If you have a pacemaker, stand away from the microwave when cooking this motherfucker. I was enjoying the delicious aroma emitting from my Westinghouse machine, got a little too close for too long and the next thing I know, Dr. Mandingo's coming at me with those goddamn electric paddles.

Braised Beef Tips

The cocksuckers really try to bring you down, don't they?

Are we running the last superpower on Earth here or a goddamned day spa? Now the Ds are back and it's all "constitutional rights" this and "habeus corpus" that. It's enough to shoot your goddamned blood pressure through the fucking roof.

It did mine.

Not that there's really anything to worry about.

The war?
Fucking piece of cake.

Economy?
Steamroller.

Republican Party?
Never fucking stronger.

As a matter of fact, I should have sixteen year old virgins walking before me throwing rose petals. Let me jot this down...

So the fucking doctors told me to find something to relieve the stress - the common, everyday stress that we all face from time to time.

"What do you like to do?" they asked.

"Rule with an iron fist."

"Too stressful," they say.

"Shoot."

"No way," say my boys in the Secret Service.

"Something to relax - really get into your own head and chill a bit," the Black guy doctor who's married to the white woman says.

Hey, I "chill" plenty, Dr. Mandingo.

We went around and around for awhile until we happened upon the idea of a journal. Of course, all my favorite topics were all off limits - all except for beef.

Goddamn, I love beef.

There's really nothing you can do to fuck up a good piece of beef - other than overcooking it, of course.

One of the interns, Dylan, offers to set up this goddamn thing. Now I've got a way to kill a couple of hours a day that should be spent spent crushing enemies.

But Dr. Mandingo says health before pleasure, so here we go:

A dear friend gave me this recipe some time back. I'll give it to you just as it was given to me.

I used it for a dinner party we had with Dick and Pat Nixon back in 1976.

That damned Pat could really hold her liquor, let me tell you. She downed three bottles of the best Pinot we had. It came time to load her into the Le Sabre, Dick (the other Dick) had one arm and I had the other. She kept doing that little fall women do when they want to rub their tits on you and it was pretty obvious what was happening.

"Has anybody ever called you 'Big Dick," she whispered in my ear.

I was too embarrassed to tell her that,indeed, many people have referred to me as 'Big Dick.' At least, too embarrassed to say it in front of the old man.

Now let me state unequivocally that nothing untoward happened between me and Pat Nixon.

Nothing.

There may have been a few phone calls with the dirty talk, but nothing ever came of it.

A fine woman, but, Jesus, I'll bet she could've sucked the chrome off a trailer hitch.

Alright, enjoy the fucking beef tips.

Kurt Waldheim's Braised Beef Tips

1 pound sirloin tips
1 teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon black pepper
½ teaspoon dried summer savory
all purpose flour
2 tablespoons butter
1 ½ teaspoons olive oil
1 cup dry red wine
2 tablespoons tomato paste
1 ½ cups canned beef broth

Season beef tips with salt, pepper, and savory and dust lightly with flour.
Heat butter and oil together in skillet. When hot, put in seasoned beef and brown.
Whisk wine and tomato paste together and blend well. Add to beef and bring to a boil. Continue boiling until wine thickens slightly, stirring frequently, about five minutes.
Add broth, bring to a boil, lower heat, and simmer until gravy thickens, about 15 minutes. Season to taste with salt and pepper.
Serve over brown rice or mashed potatoes.

NOTE: This recipe was for braised meatballs in red-wine gravy, but die Fuhrer hates meat balls, so I did it with sirloin tips instead. I did not use salt and pepper, but seasoned the tips with season salt and garlic powder. When it was finished, I did add some salt and pepper to it. And I used red cooking wine and beef broth. The flavor was wonderful and He really liked it.