You should try the chicken. We're out, but you should try it.

Ramblings Post #395
I've always been the one to try the local shops around wherever it is I reside. Because sometimes it's that little spot off the beaten path, where they cook with a touch of love and creativity, or in some cases are just very happy to be there that the true gems are found. A little cafe with four booths and eight stools. A place that puts the cheese on after they put the toppings on. That one joint where the box is so heavy you've got to carry it with both hands lest your goodies spill out.

So I tried this "new" spot. First, it's a wing spot with no wings. The girl complaining as she left said that, but I didn't know what she meant until I was inside. Then the cashier even gets snippy me, not even looking up from his phone and tells me there is a worldwide shortage and nobody can get wings anywhere. I decide not to explain that my regular fish spot I went to the week before had them. And that this other spot with the great fries also had them. It's all they sell. But it might be that his supplier lied to them and I don't want to get into it.

Wait, let me back up.

I've started eating out more lately after a long period where, due to that silly pandemic thing, I cooked almost every night. No seriously, my freezer was stuffed and I tried out a whole bunch of things I normally would not have. I made different cheesy baked pastas, made what I'm going to call Chinese inspired dishes, switched up my seasonings and flavorings, fried different kids of fish, experimented briefly with different rices (um, no), mixed up my veggies, made fresh hamburgers by mixing meats (really, that should only be done by a butcher) and tried a thing or two I finally ate because I was the one that made it. That along with lots (read 'too much') of cookies and cakes, ice cream and the rest.

But finally, I just got tired of washing the pots. Because while you can throw out paper plates, there are no paper pots that I know of. If you know of some, please holla at me. I eat a lot less now because I don't want to clean. So, not to starve out of laziness, I started seeing what around me was still open and where I go dip in, get something and dip out. Masked up of course.

If you want to know how bad the pandemic is, consider that in Atlanta, the Waffle Houses now close. As close the doors and don't serve after a certain hour. Waffle Houses stay open during hurricanes. I weep.

But anyway the other week I found this spot, the name of which I'm not going to mention, on social media. The write up indicates one of the things that is different about the spot is that it hosts a small urban museum.  Which is a neat idea.

It's not too far from me, so after I've finished up my ranching duties I roll over that way and check it out. First, the music is loud. Like we're in the club loud. In a restaurant, and it's still daylight outside. There are no tables or chairs, duh, pandemic, but the art is still there. Only, the art didn't agree with me. What was billed as art proves the old adage 'beauty is in the eye of the beholder.' Okay, admittedly I grew up in the country, but my version of the "urban experience" is usually slightly cleaner. And would involve a lot less police tape. But it's really more down to personal preference and experience. And the artist was trying to make a statement. I guess. So there was that. Then we get to the aforementioned lack of wings in a wing spot. Then the cashier acting as though I was bothering him by showing up to get some food.  

Seriously, the wings thing bothers me. I could almost understand if we lived in say.... Chicago or maybe Butte, Montana. Because in Georgia, where I reside there are multiple chicken processing plants within reasonable driving distance. Multiple. The very idea that yard bird is not available around here borders on absolute lunacy. This is where the truck would stop first!

How is a wing spot out of WINGS?

So, they really didn't have any wings. But they did have chicken fingers. And I was trail busting hungry. So I got the fingers and a coney.

Okay, there really was only one good place to get a chili dog in Atlanta. Well, Marietta really. I used to go by every so often and get two with onions and fries. The chili wasn't too watery, the bun was warm with the seeds on it, the fries were crisp. It was all Chicago up in there, and swear that old guy behind the counter was always there. He must have slept in the walk-in freezer. Well, there was a spot in Sandy Springs but the sum of the parts didn't really make the whole. They tried valiantly, but it just wasn't it.  Sigh. Anyway, I would go up to Book Nook on a slow Saturday and spend a hour or so, then stop by the hot dog spot and enjoy my new finds. Memories.

You know what, I'm gonna let that coney go and just going to say the wing sauce was pretty good. I normally have to get my wings plain and sauce them at home - seriously. For the curious, Buffalo flavor is NOT medium. It has more butter. Their sauce, on the chicken fingers was pretty good. Tangy with just a taste of fire. I actually saved them and made a sandwich for lunch the next day.

So, bottom line? I still gotta try the wings. So I don't know.    

Barkeep. A Stella and book. Something bouncy. Do have anything with Calvin and Hobbs?
 

They came for my Bacon, and I said too far!

Ramblings Post # 303
What is life? Is not it an series of memories, experiences, sensations that we intersect with as time passes? And if that isn't the answer, pass me a drink. I don't really what know what life is, or what would be a good life or bad life in the grand scheme of things. But I do know that while whatever happens should happen in moderation, I also know that you can't always play it safe. Or those will all be some dull ass memories, experiences and sensations. 

I think we were talking about cooking on my last project, and somehow the subject of Bacon came up. I happen to like bacon. As it turns out, after a quick count, I just happen to have eighteen pictures of bacon on my phone. Not random pictures of bacon, that would be crazy, but photos of particularly well crafted batches that I have personally made over the past few years. I mean, it's a thing now, taking pictures of food before you eat it. Look it up. And I have posted pictures of bacon to Twitter and Instagram, declaring loudly on trying days or when things don't look too exciting that what the world needs is a Bacon day.

One of my better efforts. Properly turned and crispy.

By the way, the proper way to cook bacon is at a medium heat, not high heat. Spanky makes her bacon at high heat and has to use a press to keep the meat from curling up. On medium, the meat tightens but doesn't curl, so a press isn't necessary. Further, because it is cooking slowly, there is less chance of burning or overcooking, which can give your bacon a texture more unto jerky than the crisp you most likely want.

Never microwave bacon, or bake it, or use that abomination Turkey bacon unless you just hate yourself. If you do, take some time and properly cook REAL bacon and some of whatever it is you're subjecting yourself to and compare. It's the difference between Filet Mignon and McDonald's. Or a plane ride across the country and walking. Save yourself. 

Now, I don't eat bacon everyday. Too much of a good thing is just as bad as not eating it. I usually do it about once a week, on Saturdays. I take my time, make some biscuits, or do up some hash browns, eggs and toast. I have done pancakes, but not lately. And I make about a half pound of bacon, which I then proceed to eat over the course of a full day. Not all once, jeez. Maybe three or four pieces at breakfast and then the rest as snacks as I get hungry. A half pound is only like seven or eight pieces, give me a break. 

Get it? I really like bacon. Now some study says that eating bacon will increase my risk of cancer. Marginally. Supposedly proven and stuff, by like science and stuff, and I try not to argue with folks who can do better math than me. Sigh. 

Well, I wasn't going to live forever anyway.

Barkeep. Can I get a coffee, some toast and ....what do you mean, no breakfast food?

Bar Chatter

Bar Chatter #26
Sometimes it just ain't enough to make a post, but it's still needs to go out....it's just bar chatter.

I could comment on the RNC convention, Clint and Chair (a new series on FOX) or the start of the DNC and what they'll need to pull out of their hat. Or on the passing of Micheal Clarke Duncan, who got into acting late in the game and makes me think I could still do it. Or the start of the football season.  Or that out the blue Chatty Mogul called me (why does this person have my phone number?) about some new conspiracy theory.

But no.... 

Monday morning, Labor Day, I made biscuits. From scratch, just milk, flour and shortening. They came out nice too. Biscuits and syrup, with bacon on the side.

They were so good I had to write about them.

Food I shouldn't be eating

Ramblings Post #196 
Things in motion, and while there is motion I've been seriously slacking on the old diet. Now I still buy the watermelon slices and grapes, eat mostly chicken and drink that Crystal Light faithfully, but the gaping holes in my eating habits may be starting the catch up with me. And since I have yet to find my way the gym (it's over there somewhere), I need to get a grasp on this before it comes an issue.  In the past two weeks I've eaten two meals that might be considered noteworthy.

Last week I rode down in the middle of the week to see the folks.  There was a job interview too, but that's a whole different story. Anyhow, when I head that way,  there are a number of places the bring back the feeling of home, that strike that mental comfort trigger.  Oddly enough, all of them seem to involve food.  Places like the The Brown Derby. Earl Dukes BBQ. Biddie Banquet. The House of Pizza. But the one I have to go is the one and only Dairy - O.

In my little hometown, the Dairy - O is legendary. It is a little restaurant on the main drag, in a nondescript brown brick building. The interior is bereft of decoration, featuring maybe ten hard plastic booths and a counter where they serve food. And this is the upgrade. It used to be a even smaller nondescript roadside stand with no interior at all. That said, it is a bad habit of mine that whenever I slide back through the homestead, I stop in and get a burger, fries and the vanilla malted. Or at least a chili dog.

When I was younger, I worked in my father's dry cleaners which was just up the street, and on Saturday mornings I worked from 6am to 10am on the front counter. The Dairy - O was my late breakfast or early lunch spot, depending on how you look at it. A couple of sausage biscuits with mustard or a quick burger were the norm. The taste just brings back that feeling of home. It might be the only hamburger I can eat without putting fries on it.

The burger itself, when I think about, is an oddity. It most resembles the more well known Whataburger, as the sandwich isn't fluffed up but apparently cooked in a two sided press, which mashes the bread down firmly onto the meat. Same for the sausage biscuits. And the meat tastes odd as well. Not an all beef patty but one with obvious filler. Unless of course it is an all beef patty and everyone else has filler. Or meat from SC just tastes different. In any case, it's in my opinion ...a very good burger. And not just because it evokes in me a taste memory of my teenage years. 

If perchance you ever end up in my hometown...and are hungry...and want something good, you might want to swing by the Dairy - O. Good stuff.

I like to believe that meal was an aberration. After all, my mother, who stopped cooking regularly about 10 years ago because "she's tired, and we're grown" baked a chicken and made some green peas (no seasoning). So I ate properly for most of the time. And my car doesn't have that AC thing, so my pores were nice and open when I got back. So I vowed to continue eating better...again. Again. Unless of course, I was back in the homestead.

Which brings us to Curly's Fried Chicken.

I don't remember the first time I saw the spot. It is a walk up stand (how throwback ) on the now trendy end of Howell Mill Road in Atlanta, over by the spot where Spanky went on her furniture shopping spree that time. Across from the original Chow Baby, or at least where it used to be, I'm not sure, I just realized I didn't see the sign (but then I didn't really look either). It's in a little white building, with four parking slots up front and a large wooden sign and it is the antithesis of the upscale modern design of area, including the Spanish restaurant next door with the cool floor to ceiling windows looking out onto the supply yard.

But something about it said stop, it will be good. So, the other day I stopped. 

To say it was like being back in the homestead would be silly, but here I am. The smell of the fried chicken was ...different, not the factory smell you get from some places, but a aroma of spices that took me back not only to the homestead, but back to the small town where my grandmother lives. I don't know if its the spices, or a brine they might soak the chicken in or what, but that smell hit my sense memory like a hammer. I scanned the combos, which had the most ethnic names I've every seen, and I got a tender basket so I wouldn't waste too much if wasn't good. I thought it would be a off - brand Zaxby's or maybe even Guthrie's, but I was wrong.

The chicken tenders were large and tasty, with that dark brown hue from the breading all over that you expect from the larger chains because that's what the commercials tout, but never actually shows up in your order.  And they were cooked all the way through, not that extra greasy feel you get from some chicken places. To dip I got the house sauce, which was good although a little thin, but I'll have it again when I go. Now, if you make it over that way, get the Cajun Rice as one of your sides, because I don't think they realize there isn't supposed to be that much meat in dirty rice you don't make yourself.  It's a thick rice mix.  Now this was the small meal, not one of the larger combos, and it almost put me to sleep.

That used to mean a lot, now...it just means there was a little bit more food that you would think.

Now, this doesn't mean that I'm going to give up the ghost or my Oak Hill shirts. I've found that although tasty, I feel better when what I eat is mostly the stuff off my old diet. They tricked me I tell you, they tricked me!

Oh, well. Barkeep. Since I'm eating what I shouldn't be eating, I'm going to drink what I shouldn't be drinking. Let me have a milkshake!

Going Back to My Grind

Ramblings Post #150
One day you get up, hit the alarm, snooze for a while, hit the alarm again, snooze, look over at the clock and try to figure how it got so late because you set the alarm for like 20 minutes before now, go to the bathroom look in the mirror and try to figure out who that person is staring back at you. He's heavier than you remember, and he's never looked that old or that tired. And that's the day you change. Well, not really that day, but like sometime that week...or later that month. And that for me was like last Tuesday...or Wednesday. Look it happened so, whatever.

Riley Freeman (Boondocks). Working the Grind.

On this coming Monday, I'm going back to where I was last year. I'm going back to my diet. Strong.

Since last late last fall, I've been in semi-regular mode for my diet. I still do parts of it because I like it - I eat a lot more fruit than I used to before this dietary change, cut back on the red meat to maybe twice a week, a lot less sugar, salads every day, etc. But I've indulged. Cake and pie from time to time. Fried chicken dinners. Sausage and Pepperoni pizza. A big bowl of cereal. Fries. And it's getting more frequent.

And remarkably, my size has not just ballooned back up. I'm a little bigger than I was at the bottom when I was in the 250 range, but I'm still on the downsize belt, the one I bought when pants started falling off. And I like them Oak Hill shirts I bought, so I gotta do something. I fully expected to wake up one morning having wiped away all the weight loss. I'd emerge from a fitful slumber and look down to find my frame grossly bloated from late night binges of Waffle House, Mayfield Ice Cream and Chinese food.

So it's not the end. I haven't regressed too far.

But, I now feel fat.

They tricked me. I looked in the mirror the other day and although I didn't look much different than I did the week before I noticed my cheeks were a little fuller, my stomach a touch softer. Not that I had gotten to a six pack the first time (way too much work in maintenance), but I was close. A stone's throw away. In the neighborhood. Not that damn far. Anyway...it looked, well, puffy. And i don't know why. Okay, I know why. Humor me. Them brownies from Boston Market? They the bizness.

But in any case, I'm going back in. The days were simpler, no figuring out what was for lunch, I knew I was headed to Subway. I knew pretty much what breakfast was. Dinner wasn't where I was going, but what I was making. I've been using the rationale that no AC means not turning on the stove, but that's just a cop out.

So, as the young boys say...back to the grind.

Hey, at least this time I'm starting a lot farther along. Six pack? Um...let's not get crazy.

Yes, Barkeep, I'm starting AFTER my birthday. Damn. Like what?

And So, we Return...

Ramblings Post #166
It is said that when Cortes landed in the New World, he burned his ships so his warriors couldn't turn back. It's a concept called pre-commitment. Where you eliminate the alternative, so you have no choice but to go forward. It didn't actually happen quite that way, but we all get the idea. There as some things, once begun which cannot be stopped until completed. For me...that is the return of the sexy. The arrival of the sexy? Some measure of sexy achieved? A couple of hungry looks would be nice.

After almost two months pigging out, I've started back on the "program."

It's an interesting thing, going back, something I really didn't think I would do. I realize, really I do realize, that weight loss is more of an attitude change than a temporary change of eating habits, but this is the part I thought I'd left behind.

My plan, once I'd gotten down, was that I would indulge every so often while smoothing out some of the less palatable edges. A little gravy every so often. A little sauce on the meat. The occasional burger every two weeks or so.

Didn't happen.

Hot wings and Fries. Slice of sausage, pepperoni and extra cheese. Five Guys two patties with fries. Zaxby's Chicken finger plate. Boston Market's chocolate chip brownie. Ice cream with crushed Oreos. Chili dogs with onions...

So, we're going back. Now, mind you that in that month of ridiculous amount of indulgence I only went back up one notch on the belt, but that little loss was all it took to get my mind right. And I was starting not to feel good. My mornings were starting to get sluggish again, the 45 minute wake up plan, and my focus was fading. I had a fairly good semester on this diet, may as well stick to what works. And I still want to be able to take my shirt off for no reason.

This isn't to say that I'm back on this till I die. I mean, there is a second stage of foods for the maintenance part of the program, but I'm putting that off until I'm happy with the overall look again. I got to get the sexy right. And now that I have some structure to this whole thing, that original occasional indulgence idea might creep back into the picture, only this time in focus.

Barkeep, one of them fruit smoothies. And by fruit smoothie, I actually mean fruit smoothie.

Lowcountry DTUD & BBQ.

This is a Political Post...


Who exactly is running the Democratic Party? I have to ask, because it looks like it's run out of the back of a comic store between World of War-craft missions. The country is at stake, the minions of darkness are running rampant [aka the Tea Party] and the people who pulled the country back from the chasm are now vulnerable politically. It's like they got the ship off the iceberg, got it patched up and now the guys who hit the iceberg in the first place by forgetting the safety precautions somehow convinced the passengers they didn't do it.

I ask who is running the Democratic Party, because I need to let them know that Lowcountry Dirty Tricks, Underhanded Dealings and BBQ, Inc is ready to pick up the ball and run with it...next election...because they really need some help. Why the Lowcountry? Because they practically invented dirty politics in South Carolina. We know our stuff.

I kind of envision the whole operation as occupying some offices a block or two off the capitol building, serving top quality BBQ with all the fixings [ Texas Toast, Brunswick stew, Baked Beans, Macaroni with Cheese, etc] and running counter political psy-ops out of the backroom. There will also be a pool table. Maybe even beer on tap. Now, to be clear, there wouldn't actually be anything illegal happening - just the common sense arguments you see from your local comedian or on the Daily show actually applied along with some candidate coaching, consulting and prep. The name however is an attention grabber.

Opposing candidate claim that the Democratic candidate is and elitist and over educated?

Cut to a commercial - featuring a casual doctor, making fun of patients and guessing at diagnosis, then an engineer building a bridge guessing at the measurements, then a "pilot" boarding a plane making remarks that he'll figure it out once they're in the sky - story point: Sometimes you want an expert.

Opposing candidate claim that the Democratic candidate is out of touch with the mainstream?

Sit the candidate down for three or four days with the people, in a hotel lobby or store front. Have him listen and talk to the folks from sun up to until he passes out - Story point: We've talked to the people (And not just supporters, people who are mad at him too!)

Opposing candidate claims he'll lower taxes and that will increase revenue?

Cut to commercial - featuring two little kids dividing up money. Have one little kid explain to the other how less money is more money - story point: You can't take in less and get more.

Think of the LDTUD and BBQ as a little propaganda think tank for the Democratic Party that makes a sweet but hot sauce you want to run your bread through after scarfing down a plate of the pulled pork. You know, that trademarked yeasty Texas Toast we'll serve.

Because although the the Republican party has been hijacked, and the vast majority of their programs are special interest directed, they've become very good at selling their message in the past few years. What the Democratic Party party really needs is better signage, a larger social presence. The truth in a brown paper bag seems to only get you so far these days, people need packaging and ribbons, to be entertained.

We'll skip the fear, and go straight for making laugh, then get them to think the arguments through. The key is making people feel like they're in on the joke.

It's worth a shot.

By the way, if this doesn't work I'd like to meet with the heads of the NBA, NFL and MLB to discuss my idea for Grown Man, Inc, a kind of program to teach athletes how not to end up a) destroying the league image and/or b)blowing through all the millions they're about to earn.

Barkeep, vanilla shake. I really, really want a good vanilla shake.

A Not Really Quick Restautrant Review - Thumbs Up Diner

It was Saturday morning, first day of spring break and I was prepared to spend it vegging the hell out. Okay, I was going to figure out the completely undocumented off-season of Madden 2010 franchise mode at some point in the afternoon, but mostly it was going to be spent just letting my soul breathe. Then my phone buzzed.

Okay, for those who don't know, I've only ever heard my phone ring once in two years. The day I got it turned on, somebody who I'm not gonna name put her number in it and put it on vibrate, where it's been ever since. So my phone doesn't ring, it buzzes, which accounts for a number of missed calls if the phone isn't on my person or a hard surface.

It was Spur - old friend, new nickname. I've known Spur a decade or so now, from the original game nights out East of Atlanta. She is one of the few people who recognizes the other facets of my personality - the arty side, the wine drinker side, the eclectic side. She was the one was gonna take me to the bullfights that time. Anyway, much like Schmoopy...who I haven't spoken to in second 'cause she's so busy...Spur is on the once and while hangout just to keep in touch. We used to hang out so much and look so comfortable together, we've often been accused of being married.

But enough asides, she wants to do brunch on what turns out to be the first warm day in Atlanta at the venerable Thumbs Up Diner on Edgewood. I'm with it, so we agree to meet after her gym session at 11:30am.

For the uninitiated, what you see here is a horrible mistake. Saturdays in Atlanta in the Spring and Summer are simply made for brunch, that crucial weekend meal that you get when you oversleep because you can and still want breakfast food. And since people oversleep, then wander out around 10am looking for sustenance, anytime after 10:30 until say 1 in the afternoon you can give it up for going someplace without a twenty to thirty minute wait. And if the place is good, even longer. And for the record, Thumbs Up Diner is supposed to be good.

We find a park not too far away, and put our names on the list for a twenty minute wait, then because the space is small, take up our post outside with the other waiting patrons. We'd opted to sit at the counter if seats became available in the interest of time, and because Spur heard it was faster while trying to get our name on the list. Thumbs Up on Edgewood is a part of town that if five years will really be something, but right now is still finding its way. But they have some benches out front, and little spot on the side next to the hard to get into parking lot...and we didn't stay long because they called our name in like less than five minutes.

In the interest of full disclosure, I will note that as we were finishing up our meal sometime later, they called our party again. So in essence we stole somebody's seats. So don't get the impression saying you'll sit at the counter makes it go whoosh!

We sat at the counter - seats so close together I called it family style. I mean brushing up on folks. The space itself is industrial chic, with the prerequisite leather booths and curvy bar, with lots of exposed brick. It has that city diner feel it's supposed to have. The menu on the other hand is huge. Not Cheesecake Factory huge, but for a diner it's huge. Spur got the Catfish and grits and I opted for the Chicken and Belgian Waffles.

This is getting pretty long, but let say this...the food was outstanding! The waffle was thick, the hash browns were the sheaf not the strings, the chicken tenders looked cooked and not just "goldened", and the portions were huge.We left food on the table. Er...counter.

As we left, full and burping...and I say this warn those who follow, keep you group to four and under. I saw a group of eight walk up as Spur's name got called. We sat down, ordered, chatted, ate, chatted, and rolled out...and they were still there waiting. Big groups take a long time to seat. That said, a group with kids locked up two booths for must have been an hour and half in the back.

Bottom Line: I'm going back. But this time before 10am.

Cheese

Ramblings Post #64
Everything isn't for everybody. Some of us have no business eating shellfish, some of us need to re-think skinny jeans, some of us need to stop at the first glass of whatever we're drinking and let's just say that certain clothes need to stop at certain sizes. And moreover (legal word) there are things that some of us just don't like. And we shouldn't have to put up them all the damn time.

Why cheese?

This morning I went down to the lady who makes the breakfast sandwiches and got what I had hoped to be a nice bacon and egg sandwich on multi-grain bread. Chatting with a co-worker who had just discovered YouTube, my tummy was ready for a little touch up before lunch, and then my later classes. So, I get my little styrofoam container head back up, grab a cup of coffee (it's free) and settle in the do a little munching.

No bacon. But a liberal slathering of cheese.I'm not a big cheese fan. Oh, I'll eat pizza, and sometimes even get extra cheese as a topping. But on my sandwiches? No. I don't even eat mac and cheese unless she's really cute. I make a reportedly delicious grilled cheese sandwich - you need a touch of garlic salt and two kinds of cheese (I've never actually tasted it) - and my baked pasta is the kind that makes you look at me cross eyed. But I'm so not into cheese on everything. I don't want it on my taco, my hamburger, my french fries, my salad, my fish sandwich, my hot dog, my hash browns, my grits, or as a basic add on to anything else on a menu.

So why does everybody offer to throw on piece of cheese like they're doing me a favor? When did a thin piece of cheese because a value item? At Wendy's they throw the cheese on like they're trying to get rid of it! Why do you have to ask for something without cheese anyway? They should have to ask if you WANT cheese. Like loving cheese is the default or something.

I'm not the crazy one. They are the crazy ones.

Meat, bread, ketchup, maybe a little mustard. Topped with french fries. And the occasional lettuce and tomato. And Fried onions. And if you got one of the sesame seed buns or a kaiser bun great. A little steak sauce isn't the end of the world. BBQ sauce if we're on the grill. But no, and I repeat, no cheese. Seriously.

Thanks.

Barkeep. If you're serving cheese martini's so help me I will....

Bar Chatter

Bar Chatter #6
When it's not enough to make a post, but deserves to go out to the world... it's just Bar Chatter.

I've pretty much stopped eating.

I'm down to the one meal a day. Well, one good meal and maybe a snack or two. And I wish I could say it was due to my renewed commitment to health and the betterment of me as a person, when in reality, it's because I've gotten lazy. My kitchen is relatively clean and after the bug guy makes his 3 month check - that was money well spent, believe it - it's gonna be even cleaner. And since I don't get home until 9pm or so three nights...and I sleep in on weekends...

I think I need some vitamins.

A Quick Restaurant Review - Parish

Last year, for the first time in four or five years, Shade and I didn't spend her birthday together. She'd just moved to DC from Boston, had just started her residency and the idea of flying in for one or two days just wasn't in the cards. I thought we'd ended that little streak when she hit me up this year and let me know that she was slipping into town this year to do her usual, I was like yeah.

Then the rains came. And came and came. Then it rained some more. And her plan had been to eat her favorite little hideaway, Canoe. With it's garden right on the river.

Yeah.

Did I mention the rain? Did I mention it rained so hard it flooded and shut down I-20, I-285, and the I75/85 downtown connector? THE three major arteries of the city? Whole neighborhoods underwater? And did I mention Canoe with it's garden is, er, was "riverside"? I did? Oh. Well, let's just say that Canoe probably wasn't going to be the spot this year. Probably not.

So Sunday, we dropped into this Spot in the Virgina Highlands called Parish, as the fill-in location. It's the kind of restaurant that Sporty and I would have hit in our heyday, a little off the beaten path but still cool enough to charm your pants off. I had originally invited Schmoopy along when it was at Canoe, but I demurred, as I had also been supposed to slide into her birthday party the night before and had fallen asleep with Tort Law in my lap. I didn't figure she'd be too happy I'd went to one and not the other. Next time we go to brunch I'm taking her there...as kind of a makeup trip. I'm a bad friend.

Parish is one of those spots you're not sure of. The interior looks like the building has been their a hundred years, but the exterior looks brand new. The walls are a mix of raw brick and peeled plaster, and the ceiling is a medley of tin tiles that looked like they were salvaged from an abandoned building. It's supposed to be a New Orleans theme, and it looks like they nailed it. And if I hadn't been reading every home renovation magazine and and watched HGTV off and on before goign to law school, I would have much like my dining companions been wondering "how did they do that?" Don't get me wrong, it's a good look, but it's just a look. Also note, because the sound echoes off the brick, the din is gonna be a little thick once the place gets full. We mercifully had a fairly slim late brunch crowd.

The actual food on the other hand is real. The Belgian Waffle with the brown butter, powdered sugar and maple syrup was great. I should have ordered two. The waitress thoughtfully had it brought out first, unlike some places where all the food arrives at once. Shade, myself and two other all got a taste and agreed that somebody needed to go steal the recipe. The food emerged a few scants seconds after we'd finished, a testament to the kitchen's timing and even the two people who arrived late and ordered late had their food arrive quickly. The cook is a professional, not one of the many food burners that infest far too many a restaurant. Considering our orders varied between standard fare, omelets, eggs Benedict, shrimp and grits and a few other things, we really had worked him out.

There was supposed to be a picture here, but my little camera sucks.

The conversation on the other hand was a little too varied. The side debate of health care and big government turned into conversations of home security and the recent Atlanta flooding. The sound issue made it hard for one end of the table to talk to the other, so we were kind of stretched out and couldn't be as inclusive as some other spots. That and I met the other black person who isn't an Obama fan. Imagine that.

The last time we gathered for Shade's birthday brunch, it lasted well into the time the restaurant was setting up for dinner. We repeated this time, only after we'd taken the requisite pictures and had the one more conversation, we looked up and found ourselves in an empty restaurant. I mean no other patrons, no staff, just us. We considered turning off the music and the lights before we left. I've been places before where I have been told to "lock up" when I leave, but this just struck me as unusual.

All in all, Parish is a gem. I just wouldn't expect to be too conversational if you arrive and the place is full. I understand, but didn't go down and see, that they have a nice little specialty market downstairs from the restaurant, which a couple of my party breezed into afterward. The neighborhood is nice, the food is good and if I can get this law stuff off the ground, this is the area where I'll be moving to when I get the chance. If you get a chance, swing by and hit Parish. I know I will again.

A Week Without Food

Ramblings Post #35
Change is constant. And that's all I have to say about that. I find myself not a crossroads, but rather at one of those little benches at the side of the path I've chosen, where a weary traveler can sit for a minute and contemplate there scenery on the path they've chosen. And honestly from where I'm sitting, I'm hoping the broad vistas of majestic yadda yadda show up soon, because where I am sucks.

It's odd. I must have ten or fifteen seasoned pieces of steak in freezer. Three or four chicken breasts. Two packages of porkchops. Those frozen pizza rolls that are so good with a little garlic salt and fresh pepper. Frozen whiting. Frozen bread. Mayfield vanilla ice cream. Hot dogs. Hashbrowns. Three caches of ground beef. And whole bunch of stuff I probably need to throw out because I don't even remember what's in the foil.

I want a one inch thick porterhouse, with a baked potato drenched in butter, and yeast rolls on the side.

And this week my diet consisted of a V8 for breakfast, an Arden's Garden smoothie (when I can remember) as a snack, a smoothie from Smoothie King and tomato soup for dinner.

I did this for a whole bunch of reasons. In part I needed to get my mind right for working out. Thomas was doing it and I did it in part in solidarity (and no, I'm going to add on another week like he keeps asking). In part my digestive system needed the break anyway. In part because I eat too much of the wrong stuff and needed to cleanse my palate. In part to stop looking and feeling bloated. In part because I'm getting old and need to correct.

I am so craving a chili dog with onions and some really greasy fries.

I'm calling it at a five days because around day three I had a few moments where my body felt supremely weak. Last time I felt that bad I was already in a hospital room, so repeats of the sensation are not looked forward to. I'm calling it at five days because working out and these extremely reduced calories are not a good combination, as I'm repeatedly being told. I'm also calling it at five because actually healthy people are starting to annoy me. - I ran into Slim (who I hadn't seen in a while) and she immediately wanted to go into juicing strategies, content listings and where I got my juice. I was too ashamed to tell her I bought it at Publix, so I stayed vague. - my other buddies keep asking me if this is it, what's the business, when am I gonna get to the good part? And since the cardio and other functions are on the agenda, I'm getting a little testy about explaining that it's coming

I would like Honey BBQ wings, fried extra crispy and some crinkle cut fries.

And when your whole day is work, school (and or studying) and home...with little respite or individual excitement or entertainment... you need something.

And though I'm not pigging out, I need a little nosh.

Today was National Doughnut day. No doughnuts.
Today they served us free lunch at work...and for the first time in a while a decent spread. No food.
Today I'm supposed to meet friends after work. I can't eat or drink anything there.
Today it is nearly 5pm...and all I've had was that V8 because I keep getting interrupted.

I could go for a Double Sausage and Double Pepperoni pizza, with garlic butter for the crusts.

I already have a deep seated (okay, mildly psychotic) need to be included in the happenings around me....and my schedule was keeping me from that, and now my diet is in the way as my schedule finally relaxed....and someone is suggesting another week of self torture putting up obstacles between me and enjoying life? The phrase "are you high?" comes to mind.

I'm going to get in shape. I liked the mornings in the park, the running and other stuff. I want the trim waist line and the ass you can bounce a quarter off of. I want to feeling you get when you've started a good sweat going, that elation from exertion I used to get. But has to be a my pace. I hate when I say I'm thinking about starting to get in shape and some over healthy individual (with gobs of free time and no social life) suggests for a start I run 5 miles the first day, or like Thomas who suggested I fast for 60 days, or something crazy like that. You don't start with Mount Everest! And I know to you - "healthians" - I know what you suggest doesn't seem like much, but from the other side of that conversation, it just shows how you really don't listen.

I love BBQ pork spare ribs, beans and texas toast, with corn on the cob and slaw.

Ten pushups in the morning to start. No, it doesn't sound like much, but it is better than nothing. And ten becomes twenty. And twenty becomes thirty. Then onto fifty and a few months from now, a hundred. And much like the journey of thousand miles starts with a single step, I will get there. Eventually.

Cheez Doodles.

I got my LA fitness membership. I got my new sneaks with the gel insoles. I got new shorts from Target, people who seem to understand the term "pair of grey sweat shorts". And I got week where I proved to myself, I can put my mind to it.

Barkeep. Whiskey. I'll be on Wheatgrass and Goat Weed from here on in. One for the road!

I'm Juice, Baby!

Ramblings Post #34
You never know what you can do until you try. And then like an idiot, there are things you probably shouldn't be trying. Skydiving comes to mind. The idea of jumping out of a perfectly good airplane just doesn't strike me as too bright. Other bright ideas that would show either I'm a sad old man or have just come to my senses spring to mind, but I won't go there. In any case, I'm giving something new a whirl, and if it don't work...well, at least I tried.

It's a Monday and I'm juice.

Okay, this sounds absolutely crazy when you consider how much shit I gave Thomas that summer for going off food for forty days, but for the next five days, I'm juicing. No solid food, only the V8 juice for my vitamins, and smoothies and soup. I'll have tea and water to fend off hunger. Like most things, I'm fairly certain that after the third day it will all be cool. Before that, I'm gonna be hungry!

Mental note: In the future prior to any endeavor such as this...do not have the big fat yeast rolls.

But I digress. I need to do something, and while this isn't the answer (you can't apply temporary fixes to an ongoing problem) this is the kickstart to getting my healthy rolling. I've been down this road before: the walking in the morning, the cutting of the carbs, the adding the salads, etc and so on, and I need to get my head turned back to healthy.

I'm feeling some aches and pains I shouldn't feel. At least at my age I think.

Side Note: In the middle of my Sales Law class, a philosophy lesson broke, as we struggled for 15 minutes trying to figure out what was the difference between a fact and an opinion.

I had the Acai Berry this morning, water for a snack (doesn't that sound weird) and the smoothie for lunch. Tonight it's tomato soup. And CranGrape juice for a snack. I may cheat and have some Kool-aid. And this is the plan until Friday. Have I lost my mind? Just so you know, the Acai Berry V8 is not bad.

Looking back, that Steak and Eggs with Schmoopy on Saturday at the Flying Biscuit sure was good. And then I messed around and didn't eat again that day. Okay, I'm still trying to keep the house clean since my mom cleaned up a week ago, so I'm cooking as little as possible. But last night, knowing this was juice coming I baked a potato, broiled a steak and had those damn yeast rolls. One of my running partners invited me to her house for salmon and baked sweet potato, and I damn 'shole should have went over there, but I homework to read so I buckled down and did what I had to do and let the food cook in the background. And the yeast rolls got done first.

I should have put some butter on them.

I need to stop thinking about them! So I stop at Publix on the way home, because thinking of all the walking and stuff made me remember that Publix carries the Arden's Garden juices, which if you've never had are great for health. Pure fruit, not even any water. So I go and grab a few, mixing it up for variety and decide to see, just out of curiosity if they just happen to have them Crunchy Cheez Doodles I love...the week I'm not eating.

Damned if they don't. First time in three months. I'm not eating and they got it. I bought three bags.

They're in the pantry now just waiting on Saturday baby! You ain't know? I almost asked to speak to Publix management to get them cuss out the Wise Potato chip man on my behalf.

But anyway...soup is ready, I got stuff to read for Thursday class. So...Barkeep....a banana mango smoothie and a B12 shot.

I'm doing it to myself

Ramblings Post #32
What are our triggers? Those things that actually spur us into action as opposed to those things that were supposed to spur us into action. A lot of my personal starters stem from puberty and the usually well suppressed memories and the teenage thinking inflated traumas contained therein. Sometimes it's an innocent comment that cuts to the core, a feeling, sometimes its a scent, but whatever the term, I think I should be in control of them. And I find out more and more, I'm not.



I ate a whole box of Nilla wafers in less than 24 hours.

I don't normally keep snack food in my house for just this reason. It was easy to get a few more, then a few more, then a napkin full and suddenly "where did the rest go?" Oh.

I picked up the box on a whim, because the people ate Wise haven't figured out the person doing the stocking in Atlanta is either an idiot or is hoarding the Crunchy Cheez Doodles for himself. If you double the price and it still sells out, so.... let's load up on a completely different product? (Note: to Wise Foods executive reading this I am a Publix shopper)

So I bought some Nilla wafers. Something haven't eaten in forever. They were so good.

And I ate the whole box.

I already feel big. Okay, check that...I feel fat. And since it's beginning to dawn on me that a sparkling wit and personality really doesn't offset a gut, I need to do something. I still remember that stinging comment I overheard, being described by a someone I met at a party as the "fat guy in the kitchen". I had not thought about that in a long time.

My gym membership is about to go big time.

Barkeep. Water. Large amounts.

A Quick Restaurant Review - Gato Bizco

Ramblings Post #2
The return of something I really liked to do, go new places and see what the food is like. Sure I generally order the same things, but it's off a different menu. And just like your scrambled eggs don't taste just like your mom's scrambled eggs, it's all a little different. I like to think of it as finding the variations. Don't snicker.

It was Saturday, I needed to do two hundred things and work on the first draft of my brief, but I'd promised Schmoopy we'd have brunch this weekend. I had not seen her in the new year, so it would be a treat. When I asked if we were still on Friday afternoon, she already had the spot picked out. One of those hidden Atlanta gems that you almost have to be from here to know about, a spot called Gato Bizco.

The spot is over near Little Five points, actually right across the street from another Atlanta gem, the Flying Biscuit.

From the BBerry. I'm getting a real camera, I swear. Soon.

It was odd. There was a line outside of the Biscuit when I walked into Gato, but I've eaten both and food and service is much better at Gato. First, however, let me say this: It is a closet. Four or five booths, and maybe 10 stools at the bar. That's the whole place, all of it. The staff is comfortable cool, with piercings and tattoos, but friendly as all get out.

We arrived right on time, as three booths opened up and all three waiting parties, we were the third, sat down less than five minutes after we got there. I watched through the window as people stood waiting in the cold for Flying Biscuit. I know the Biscuit is good, but is it that good? Then I got the look that told me I was in the right spot. That look from a regular patron that says they're scared the word is getting out.

The menu isn't deep, but then they only have the one cook and she needs to focus on what she's doing. Schmoopy had the Huevos Rancheros and a Sweet Potato Pancake. I tried a bit and it's good, with a just a hint of cinnamon. I went with the grits and eggs, a side of bacon (you gotta order meat separate) and a regular pancake.The food showed up quickly and the Ranchero(s) was/were huge and as usual, my lil buddy was stuffed after eating only half of her plate. Not that she didn't stop trying to eat the other half. Let me tell you now, three of these pancakes and you'll have to just go back home and go to sleep.

Two more things. The orange juice is fresh squeezed. I mean like from actual oranges so don't expect minute maid flavor, expect Orange Juice. And they do know how to make sweet tea.

Schoompy claims she has no prospects on the romance front. I found this hard to believe. She had the puppies out for some reason, and - so she can read this - they were very, very distracting, so that idea that no acceptable guy is interested is highly unlikely. She claims she'll be joining e-harmony soon, as she's tired of the same old dating scene and the younger men who keep trying to date her. I'm not sure why she keeps acting like she's so old, her young ass, she looks all of twenty three. Other that, she's just holding it in the road so to speak - work, work, work. She also told me two things I'll need another woman to explain - she feels fat AND she's a size zero. I don't get it either.

My old soul and good table manners had me bussing the table to help out the servers. They brought me a wet cloth from the back and told me to help myself. They even offered to let me wash dishes if I wanted. You don't get that in every restaurant.

this about 40% of the spot in this one pic.

Also, across the street from Gato, just down from the Biscuit is this little art store that everybody needs to stop in after they eat at either place. Had to toss that in, as the lady there treated us like old friends. I can't remember the name of it though, but I am going back.

So Gato is a definite plus. I read up on it afterward and people who love the biscuit try to down play it's homey charm, but as I've said, I've had both and whereas it doesn't knock out it's larger competitor on it's butt, it's a definite, welcome, slightly better, change of pace.

Barkeep. Some of that fresh squeezed OJ.

A Quick Restaurant Review - Ray's on the River

If you've lived in Atlanta more than say, I don't know, a week maybe, you've heard of Ray's on the River. It is quite frankly an Atlanta Institution. Oddly, most of this jewel of the south's "institutions" are places to eat and not places of great triumph or happenings. But we do know a great restaurant.

So anyway, it was Serve's birthday, and I decided since I hadn't been out in forever, and I'd always wanted to go to Ray's on the River - it was on my list for me and you know who - that I should take this opportunity to go for their famous brunch, eat hearty and enjoy the river view. Why yes, it does have a river view. It's called Ray's on the River for a reason.

The decor is nice, smooth with the mood waterfall wall in the front and row after row of wine bottles. I liked it. My party is in the lounge and we are, as black folks tend to do, waiting for everyone to show up. I'm hoping CPtime comes to end when Obama is inaugurated, but I doubt it. It's then I realize what Ray's is...it's a 50's bar. They've got pictures of the Rat Pack on the wall and Frank on the sound system and it's cool. I almost feel under dressed, and I'm in slacks and suit jacket. We're a foursome waiting for a moresome for about thirty minutes or so, and I like to think I'm convivial and personable. I like to think that because the bar doesn't open until 12:30.

The rest of us FINALLY arrive and we're seated at a nice table with a view of the river and that's when my imagination and reality diverge.

Now, as I said, Ray's on the River is an Atlanta landmark. I had heard about this brunch for ages. Let's just say my expectations were high. Very high. Statospheric even.

This is not to say it wasn't good food, or plenty of good food, or a vast variety of good food, but when you're expecting say...a Kobe beef steak, that Angus beef hamburger is still a let down. Good, but a let down.

Brunch at Ray's is really the best of what they have. They renovated two years ago and I swore what they would do, since brunch is such a constant, is set up a special brunch area, or one that converted easily to brunch specific. It appeared to me like they took out a row of tables here, took the stools from the bar here, and opened the door for feed.

Now, they had an omlette station with more toppings than whoooo, prime rib, ham, a baked salmon puff pastry, the standards of eggs, crisp bacon (hard to do in quantity), sausage, eggs Benedict, hash browns, cheese grits, Belgian waffles that were simply amazing, salmon, shrimp, a beef in this sauce that was good, the baked fish in a lobster sauce, the sesame chicken. And that's just what I sampled. They must have had 23 kinds of dessert, with cookies, red velvet cake, chocolate mousse, brownies etc.

Don't get me wrong, the food was great. The restaurant looked smooth. The people I was with were for the most part fun. Serve apparently has a new man, because he didn't even flinch when she wiped at his eye.

But in the end...it wasn't the manna from heaven in the form of brunch I had been lead to believe the good Lord had placed here for the hungry. It was just, well, brunch.

On the upside, since brunch lasted from 11am (when we were seated) until the bar opened, what a lucky coinky dink, I found out the real treasure of Ray's. They serve brown liquor.

Most bars in town don't carry a lot of brown liquor outside of the standards - a bourbon, a rum. High end vodkas they might have by the crate, but the browns get no love. Not at Ray's, they had Knob Creek, they even had Booker's which is a rare find indeed. As we sat having our after brunch sip, and considering sneaking back into the food line, I marveled at the sheer numbers of bottles containing brown liquor.

Wonderbar!

In the end, is the brunch worth it? All you can eat in a swank joint? Sure. Will it be the end all be all of brunch experiences one might have been lead to believe? Um....man, what a view of the river!

Barkeep....we're gonna see what's in them brown bottles.

Quiet Moments

Sporty and I did lunch on Sunday at this little Indian place in Norcross. Moments like that are why I wonder who we are to each other. She was fresh from sport, but looked radiant. It was a place we'd been before, Himalayas Restaurant on Peachtree Industial, and the food was again great. Last time we went they had a large party, a group of 25 with multiple small kids running about in the small space, so it was good but not good. You know? This time it was low key Sunday Brunch kinda chill. They were a little mad we didn't get the lunch buffet though.

In a missive a week before I had declared who she was to me. The next week we're chatting on BB and it's just like old times.

I would be confused.

She got the Vindaloos and the waiter suggested the Balti for me, the naan as always was fantastic, the little onion part of the appetizer set it off just right and the food came quickly. We talked about ....well, we just shot the breeze. A little of this, a little of that. She asked about my family, we talked about vacations, she joked about me having to go to work the next day. Ha ha. I get her, but I don't. She was hungry as she cleaned her plate, and I swear the waiter was about to fight me if I didn't take my doggie bag. Friendly little spot I tells ya.

...and the band played on.

Later that night she texted me that she was going to get more Indian takeout for dinner. I let her know I'd just finished eating my leftover takeout. So it was like we had dinner together again. It felt like we were in sync again.

It was a quiet moment. And with her I like those.

A Quick Restaurant Review - Trader Vics

I've long heard of Trader Vics. It's legendary. They invented the Mai-Tai. And I've often meant to end up at the one here in Atlanta and see what all the hubbub is about. Yeah. So when Sporty suggested we try it out I was with it. It's supposed to Tiki island decor and all that, so was ready to put on my Hawaiian shirt and get jiggy with it.

I'm sorry I just wrote that.

First, Trader Vic's is in the basement - yeah, funny thing - the basement of the Hilton. No idea why. None. And there are no real signs, just a little thing over the elevator door that says Trader Vics and the writing on the button. And the Hilton has this really funny elevator bank, with elevators on all sides...but only on two opposite sides do they go down. Which they don't tell you, so I'm standing there for like three minutes wondering why the light keeps going off but the doors on the side I'm looking at aren't opening. Genius!

So I get downstairs and it's...a bar. Um...a bar?

Okay...let me tell you what I expected. Some place ill lit, with a long bar worked by with guys in formal Hawaiian shirts. A series of dark and darker rooms, flame pits (or at least charcoal), odd but delicious smells wafting around corners and drinks that looked semi lethal being carted about by Polynesian style Hooters girls. What I got was a stiff Applebees with a Tiki motif. Hey I enjoy a tourist spot as much as the next guy...but this was tourist circa 1950. The music was okay but the rest? Er...

No matter, I came for the company. Sporty and I settle in and get the appetizers for two instead of the usual crab cakes and couple of Mai Tais. These drinks were big AND strong. And then I found out something else. Trader Vic's is a Chinese restaurant! Okay, not strictly Chinese, more Polynesian Asian flair, but still, our entrees were in the "from our Wok" part of the menu. Rice in a bowl with chicken and shrimp for her, beef in bowl with veggies and rice for me. We got fortune cookies to finish.

We talked about the mundane: house stuff, work stuff, why she only had on one earring. Or at least we did till we got to the second round of Mai Tais. Then we talked about more philosophical things. And stress. Her leaving has me extremely stressed - eating wise, sleep wise, energy wise. She told me I need to just let go of my stress - but then doesn't appear to realize she is the cause of it. We got in a conversation where we danced around the issue, and if she wasn't occasionally the most wonderfully oblivious person I know I would have thought she was toying with me. I have a tendency to hang onto things in my soul. I want so much to tell her this...but it won't change anything and will only cause grief. She told me to pray on it, and I have been. Only when I pray I'm not praying for my happiness...I'm praying for success for her.

A third round of these and we'd have had to get a room to sleep it off. And it would have gotten ugly because I was already breaking a drinking rule, so we stopped. The service was swift, a bit of the beef undercooked, the "stuffed" puffer fish looked dusty and the bill for two plates of rice and couple of drinks was steep. On the upside they do validate.

Barkeep...water with umbrella. Man them Mai Tai's was strong.

A Quick Restaurant Review - J. Christopher's

I looked back over my past few entries, and damned if I omitted...or forgot...to include my write up for J. Christopher's. I breezed through a Saturday ago with Schmoopy, one of my older buddies. I don't want to give the impression I eat out a lot, but as much as I love cooking, I cannot stand the clean up. So to avoid the clean up I don't cook as much as I want to. That and my hours right now really ain't conducive to firing up the stove that often. That said, I bake a mean biscuit.

J. Christopher's for those who don't know is one of Atlanta's quirky little breakfast spots (we have a lot of those now that I think about it) that the locals fall into and eat up, then don't tell a soul, because they don't want it get so big they end up standing outside for an hour like at another little Atlanta eatery I know. The waitstaff is friendly (I once gave them one of my pens), the restaurants have some great art and the food is usually smoking.

I hadn't seen Schmoopy (who reads this blog, hey girl!) in like forever, and since then she's gotten married and everything. We were going to sit down, have a meal and just catch up.

We popped into JC's in Marietta, although I love the one on Ponce, and only had to wait five minutes for a table. The whole chain only serves breakfast, brunch and lunch. That's it. No dinner. But I've yet to walk into one that wasn't crowded, so it might be worth waking up at a decent hour on Saturday to trek down to.

She got one of their omelets, I got a pancakes with eggs and bacon and a side of bacon. I would have a much more detailed description, but it's been a few days, and don't want to lie. I will say this however....they make real good sweet tea. Yeah.

I've known Schmoopy for seven years now, we've worked together and she's one of the women who asked me to marry her. As I told her last Saturday, I probably should have taken her up on it. But that's past now, and so we talked about her business ventures (she's very ambitious) and my current dilemmas. She has joined the growing ranks of friends who believe I need to either cut back or cut out Sporty all together. Looking from the outside must be a vastly different view.

The food was great that I remember. The pancakes a little more bready than I like, but good. The eggs and potatoes cooked just about right. Schmoopy told me she was full, but couldn't stop eating the omelet. We laughed and talked and chatted and basically caught up. And although I had three other things to do that day...Walmart (ugh!), auto body shop, and Home Depot, after that meal I went home sprawled on my couch into a deep ass sleep.

This would be a sign of a good meal.

Barkeep - man, let me tell you 'bout this breakfast I had...gimme an OJ

The Crunchy Cheez Doodle Affair

As a kid, I never really liked cheese. If the family went out for pizza, we would have to stop at McDonald's (a whole other story, whoo boy) and get me a burger. Cheese looked nasty and I wanted no parts of it. It messed up the taste of hamburger, made a pizza look like someone with a cold had blew their nose on it, and on cracker did something to my mouth that made swallowing it impossible. And I love Ritz.

But sometime in high school, I discovered of all things - a cheese flavored snack I liked. Don't ask me how.

I ate Cheetos on Friday nights when my brother I watched the Dukes of Hazzard (which is another amazing story in retrospect) and we'd go through a whole bag in an hour. It's one of those moments you look back on think how great childhood was, forgetting now that bedtime was 9:30pm, dinner was what was put in front of you and your mother picked your clothes. Let's just say my mother and I don't share the same style.

Then sometime either in high school or right when I got to college, I switched to Wise brand Crunchy Cheez Doodle. An air puffed crunchy confection that saw me through the best and worst of times.

If I only had five dollars with which to buy groceries for the week, I would waste a buck and change on a bag.
If I only had two dollars for lunch, they sold a snack bag for fifty cents at the union.
If I had more than few dollars, I'd buy two or three bags.

After I graduated, I kept up the habit. And when I moved to Atlanta I can say I honestly based my shopping habits around if the store carried them or not. Kroger didn't carry them but Publix did. I became a Publix shopper. There were days I'd pop in after work and in an aisle chock full of chips and dip, pretzels and the like, that blue bagged cheez-like crack would be the only thing they would sell out of. I had discussions with management over why they didn't keep more on hand. That and why Publix doesn't sell Orange kool-aid, which is still a mystery (I can however, order it according the manager.)

When the Internet start up only paid me in their tissue paper like stock, I ate the CCD.
When I was on a diet and could eat no carbs, I snuck the CCD.
When I had no other snack food in my house, a bowl of CCD and tall glass of koolaid were enough.

Then, somebody real bright decided to change the forumla. Make it MORE cheezy.

Look, if I wanted a real cheese flavor, I would I dunno...eat cheese?

So I tried it. And for the first time in my life, I wrote a company to complain about their product. Okay, I wrote them on the internet, but I still wrote. I expressed digust and dismay. I told them this story (not verbatim, but close) and they sent me back a lovely thank you for writing email. In other words, they brushed me off.

I would wander up the chip aisle at the grocery store, hungry for a chip...but nothing caught my eye.

Or rather, something did catch my eye. Wise brand Crunchy Cheez Doodles. Where I used to have to search for a bag, hoping for one last one in among the potato chips, there now were ten or twelve bags of the new stuff just sitting there. In the past they sold out regularly, now... apparently I wasn't the only one! There was hope!

So I waited, checking periodically, hoping somebody's brain would finally kick in and say "Hey, the new stuff isn't selling, let's go back to old stuff before we run off our market!" But apparently they need to hire someone with a MBA in common sense at whoever owns the Wise Brand...I forget who it is. This maybe two years ago.

Last week I went in Publix and there were NO Crunchy Cheez Doodles of any kind. It looked like there wasn't even a space for them in the chip racks. It made me sad. Oh what I would give to taste that semi cheezy like flavor once again...alas.

Barkeep...Orange koolaid. To keep the memory fresh.