There’s a little-known tale that deserves to be told.
It involves a plain ol’ guy living in the shadow of his older brother, a life of unfulfilled dreams and turnips. Lots and lots of turnips.
It begins with Valentine, who, you see, was a man of fine reputation. Charming, eloquent and pleasant to look at. His family threw lavish, colorful banquets in his honor. Valentine’s Day, as you know, evolved as the men of the land attempted to copy his methods in order to woo their favored ladies, who seemed to have eyes only for Valentine.
Valentine’s younger brother Chuck was not so fortunate. A plain, awkward man, his only striking feature was the force of his bad breath. Since Chuck’s family spent their fortune on banquets for Valentine and his friends, poor Chuck was forced to live on leftovers and scraps – bits and pieces, really. He consoled himself by riding his bicycle through the countryside, reveling in the beauty and solitude of the turnip fields. It was his dream to establish his own turnip dynasty and became an expert in turnip-ology, extolling their virtues to anyone willing to listen.
When he approached people, he’d ring his bicycle bell so they’d know he was coming and could get out of his way. He may be awkward, but he didn’t want to kill anyone. Occasionally he’d stop to talk, so neighbors near and far kept a package of breath mints with them at all times – it was the only way they’d survive the encounter. It became a custom in their province that any time they heard a bicycle bell ring, they’d wink, shake their mint container three times and say, “Got your mints?”
He became a sort of mascot to the people. “Poor plain ol’ Chuck,” they’d say, “he really is a nice guy. Too bad he’s so awkward and stinky.”
Unfortunately, Chuck did not realize his turnip dynasty dream. He lived out his plain, lonely days surviving on leftovers & black licorice, learning bicycle repair and becoming a connoisseur of breath mints and really odd music. At his funeral, the people brought loads of turnips in his honor and exchanged breath mints, which they still do to this day.
Over the years, just as Valentine’s Day grew into a pink and red holiday filled with flowers, candy and excess, Plain Ol’ Chuck’s Day exists in black and white, celebrated with turnips, breath mints and scraps of food cooked in fondue pots.
A plain ol’ holiday befitting plain ol’ Chuck.
A tradition in my family is to carve likenesses of loved ones into turnips. Once each family member has completed his ‘Chuck’, we compare them and the winner is the person who has managed to re-create the most obscure family member. In this way, we try to honor those who may otherwise be forgotten.
We remember Plain Ol Chuck with the best of a long sought but awkward meal. Right after Valentines day, a large supply of the less tender meats are available for relatively low prices. We get a large tough steak from the butcher. That steak, when cooked long and wet with the strongest of garlic and onions and combined with a fresh steamed turnip, is the essence of Plain Ol Chuck Day. A Chuck Steak with Turnips and Vampire Killer gravy. We like finish the meal with vanilla ice cream with black licorice pieces. Mmm! A tradition we can attribute to Chuck.
My favorite Chuck Day memory was the day my great aunt Edna flew to CA to pay us a surprise visit. We were celebrating the holiday in Mexico that year. I really didn’t like my aunt.
Did you have turnip tacos there? Heard they were pretty good but haven’t tried them yet. We usually stick to traditional menus at our house.
Vampire Killer Gravy sounds great right now!
I thought my family were some of the only ones who celebrated this holiday… we have always been awkward and have never fit in, so we’ve always kept Plain Ol’ Chuck’s Day traditions close to our hearts. I can remember my granny teaching us to dig to the bottom of the laundry heap to find the stinkiest socks we could. We’d hang them from the backs of our chairs in hopes that Plain Ol’ Chuck would leave us a variety of mints and licorice (I always traded my licorice for mints with my little brother, Matty, because I wasn’t fond of the black licorice). Following a long bike ride in which we’d ring our bells ’til the neighbors shouted “STOP IT, FOR THE LOVE OF PLAIN OL’ CHUCK!,” we’d come in to a feast my auntie prepared. She’d begin by taking every leftover from the fridge (from old jams and sauces to hardened cheese and leftover meals of pasta and chicken) and she’d blend them up into magic mixtures. On the side she’d place, of course, roasted turnips. Happy Plain Ol’ Chuck’s Day to all!
Shesabetty2, you are exactly who we started this blog for. No one should have to hide their heritage! You are alone no longer!
Our office is planning a Plain Ol’ Chuck Day lunch next week. I think my cup will be the best!