One More Tiny Bit of Revenge

I had this close friend, Kay Fields (name altered), who had the most extraordinary barbecue sauce recipe she used at her bar every Thursday on steak night.
The sauce would transform even Styrofoam into a delicious grilled entree.
She had dreams of marketing her sauce, so she would not part with the recipe.
I, being her good friend, insisted she part with the recipe.
She insisted many times she would not, claiming I would spread it all over the world.
I swore I would not. Still, she wouldn't budge.
So one night I was with my girlfriend and another friend at my dining room table and Kay called. She sighed and said she was ready to give me the recipe.
Excitedly, I mouthed to my companions what was about to happen.
I got a pen and paper and started to write down the ingredients.
"You take two cans of Lone Star beer and boil for an hour."
Odd, but plausible, I thought.
"Then you add a big can of stewed tomatoes." I wrote that down.
"Then you add a finely minced two of clubs."
Huh? Two of cl...?"
The bitch was toying with me. She cackled and hung up.
I called back. "Katie Fields. Remember the name."
Next day, I enrolled Katie Fields in AARP and started sending in response cards to funeral homes, cemeteries, mobile home sales, Jehovah's Witnesses, gyms, Fruit of the Month clubs and anyone else I could find that would send her a "colorful brochure."
All addressed to Katie Fields.
A month later, Kay called and said, "What's with all this fucking junk mail?"
"If I don't get that bbq sauce recipe soon, you'll be prying your mail out with a crowbar by Christmas," I replied.
I got the recipe a few weeks later.
Anyone want it?