Nominated for world’s crappiest beer! Ptooie!
Tag Archives: food
Pillars and palm stalks
Thx to our server — Jenn — and chef marlon werleman at norah’s restaurant.
Break, fast
Thanks to Sheree, Jordan, Stacey, hostess and kitchen at Blue Plate Cafe:
Maria and Brianna at McD’s:
Friendly faces at China Cook:
Shucks, Tom, it’s Huck!
“Tom, how are you doing, this fine day?”
“Not bad, Huck. Not bad ‘tall. Haven’t seen you in a cat’s nine lives. Where are you living now?”
“Why do you ask?”
“No reason, reason ‘tall. I’ve been solving mysteries of all-seeing eyes for many years, though, I can tell you.”
“Private inspecturating, are you?”
“Private investigator!”
“Private eye is what you are.”
“And you…what are you going about?”
“Me? Well, haven’t you heard? I’m a politician’s politician. Head of the City Council. They want me to run for governor.”
“Are the you Sean Finnegan what’s holding up headlines?”
“The very same, I am. Yes, indeed.”
“The one with an honest wife and three little ones?”
“So the Good Lord has made it out for me in His own sweet time, yes.”
“Lord a’mighty. Who woulda thunk it, you and I, two successful businessmen.”
“Busy is the word for it, Tom. Do you think our tales are any better with age?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But they sure pay a lot more per word than they used to, don’t they?”
“Paid…or stolen?” Huck winked at Tom and nudged his shoulder with an outstretched hand. “Would you be interested in joining my campaign. I could use a good man on the team, one who knows his way with the ladies, especially the little old ladies like your aunt. They say I’m a shoo-in if I can nab the elderly vote.”
Tom motioned Huck over to a bench next to the entrance of the corner druggist’s shop.
“Huck, I’m not the man you once knew.”
“Aww, don’t be modest. Your reputation is as good as gold, assuming we can keep a gold standard in this wonderful country of ours.”
Tom dropped his elbows on his knees and lowered his head, his shiny boots reflecting the passing carriages.
“Tom, it’s not like you to be silent. What gives?”
“Huck, have you ever heard of Edgar Allan Poe or Victor Hugo?”
“Of course.”
“Do their stories appear as anything other than a child’s tale?”
“No, of course not. These are troubled men, men in whom the light of God’s love is distorted, good for scaring kids and twisting an old morality tale into troubled plots, but they are not stories meant for good, law-abiding adult citizens. Certainly not a decent voter like you or I!”
Tom wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, wiping off a day’s worth of worry written in sweat and road dust.
“Huck, in my job…well…there’s more than conspiracies in what we see. The rawness, the open wounds, the lies…”
“Tom, Tom, it’s all in a day’s work for an elected official like myself. I completely understand where you’re coming from. Have you been backed into a corner and forced to take a bribe to look the other way before a certain someone in a prominent position will let you loose?”
“That I have, yes, but…”
“Well, there you have it. Nothing to worry about. A job’s a job and you’re the man for it. If you weren’t yourself, I wouldn’t be offering you this job, now, would I?”
Tom pushed himself to his feet. “Huck, what say we find a saloon and talk this out some more?”
“You sayin’ you’re thirsty?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you say so?”
They agreed to meet a few hours later after they both finished business for the day, joining each other at the Red Lion Inn, an old hotel famous for its saloon that sold ‘genuwyne’ moonshine in bottles labeled “Grandma’s Secret Recipe Cough Medicine.”
TO BE CONTINUED…
Baron Bluff benefit dinner
Celebratory brew
Shared with the dance partners on Saturday…one of a few rare bottles of vintage ale brewed by yours truly last century.
Food groupies
Thanks to Anne Marie, Jasmine and kitchen at Panera Bread.
Pop, corn
Thx to Miranda, Blake, projectionist and coworkers at Carmike Cinema; Sherman, mgmt and kitchen at Beauregard’s.
This is…
This is my 2626th post on this blog.
Thanks to Lori and chef at Marketplace Cafe; all the smiling faces at Interior Marketplace; the singing scoopers at Coldstone Creamery; the cooks who made the great Mexican post-showcase dinner; the support staff at Madison Ballroom.
What I love and take for granted in my community
In the last two weeks, I have conversed with an international consortium of dance enthusiasts.
Our conversations took place in a dance studio in the town of Madison, the county of Madison, the state of Alabama, the United States of America, Earth.
Countries of origin included the Philippines, Italy, Germany, France, Russia, Mexico and the United States, of the ones specifically stated; heritage included unspecified European, African and Southeast Asian countries.
In some conversations, I was the “American” toward whom the comparison was made about ethnic/national meal preparation — I agreed that some cultures were known for watering down or making bland the spicy foods of other cultures, such that a Mexican or Italian restaurant in the U.S. was not “authentic”.
[this blog entry was interrupted so my wife and I could watch an episode of “SNAPPED” about the murder of a high school mate of mine, Jeffrey Freeman, one of the funniest guys I knew, an impersonator who was great at portraying Carnac the Magnificent, both Jeffrey and Johnny an inspiration for my humour then and now — my thought trail has been shifted as a result]
What I heard from every one of the people with whom I talked was their love for the variety of foods available from countries all over the world here in the U.S. — if there wasn’t a restaurant serving their favourite dishes, there was almost always a grocery store that carried the spices, fruits and vegetables of their home country with which they could cook their family secret recipes and share with friends/family.
Millions of people travel around the world, settling down in new places, rediscovering themselves and their subcultures.
In fact, it’s the story of the billions of us who’ve lived and wandered this planet to make a better life for ourselves.
I have learned a lot about myself in preparation for a dance showcase — rediscovering the joy of living with people of many different backgrounds just as important.
How people outside the state of Alabama see the people inside the state is a perception I don’t control. What I see is the thriving community around the Marshall Space Flight Center and Redstone Arsenal responsible for moon landings and solar system exploration, with all the ancillary occupations that give the community’s residents a healthy lifestyle.
I have taken my fulfilling life in Huntsville for granted. For that alone, I am thankful this beautiful autumn day, leaves falling on the driveway, and chipmunks, their cheeks filled with winter food, hopping across the flagstones surrounding the backyard pond.
treetrunkdings 