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Posts Tagged ‘Travel’

The first time I ever heard about a “meat and three” restaurant was while visiting the Bride after their move to Nashville. In all my time spent in New England, then later on the Jersey Shore, and even here in Central Virginia I’d never heard of the “meat and three.’ But right around the corner in the Bride and Groom’s neighborhood there it stood; a tiny shack that looked like it was about to be condemned, and like the infamous Grilled Cheeserie food truck, it has eluded me ever since.

You are supposed to pick a meat – beef, chicken, pork – and then choose three side dishes from a large assortment. These may include: slaw; fried corn; stewed apples; candied yams; mashed potatoes; black eyed peas; lima beans; collard greens; mac and cheese; you get the picture. Usually it is all served up with corn bread and sweet tea. This place was only open for lunch, but it was always packed with people and parking was a nightmare. It was surrounded by high-dollar, swanky joints that opened at night with $30 entrees and valet parking.

It’s surprising that the Food Channel doesn’t have some sort of segment on this classic Southern theme, unless that Diners and Dives show is supposed to be a way of blending the ubiquitous Northern diner, all shining steel and mirrors with pies in a turntable kiosk, with the meat and three. Its chef is Guy Fieri, who “…hunts down America’s best little-known greasy spoons and samples their can’t-miss menu items.” Although, when I think of a greasy spoon, it’s usually a breakfast place. Still, lunch like a mini Thanksgiving dinner is pretty good for about $7!

Sorry to say, this Nashville mainstay has closed. “The oldest meat-and-threes in the area, was also the most popular. No one would mind the worn floors, dusty windowsills or creaky booths.” It was a place where the waitresses were sure to call you “Honey” and make you feel right at home. http://www.meatandthree.com

Back at home, cooking for two requires just one exemplary side dish imho.  So I thought I’d share my favorite summer side du jour. One day in Whole Foods, I picked up a small container of cubed feta cheese and olives in olive oil with fresh herbs. So I decided to mix that with some chopped organic kale, chickpeas, local cucumbers, fancy white almonds and cherry tomatoes. I sprinkled in some fresh parsley from the deck, and poured on a little truffle flavored balsamic vinegar glaze with a pinch of Crazy Susan’s garlic salt and viola, it’s my Southern Cville side!   photo

It’s too late for me to visit Nashville’s meat and three. But I may have to learn how to bake a chess pie!

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Here in the South, children go back to school very early. Maybe it’s our agricultural roots, but for some, backpacks are already packed, the yellow buses are rolling, and all the papers that must/be/signed have been returned to the school administration. I wonder if parents still have papers to sign, or have they gone paperless too?

For all my Northern friends, who insist that summer will last through Labor Day goshdarnit, here is a six worded memoir of summer so far.

My butterfly tree is done blooming, but the white hydrangeas are alive with golden monarch wings: Breathtaking photo copy

Sometimes, a Grandpa misses his little Love Bug, he takes to the sky for a quick trip to Nashville: Enchanting photo

On these wonderfully crisp mornings, the sleeping porch becomes an oasis of bird song and sun:  Musing IMG_1480

To prove that aging isn’t a dirty word, one Great Grandma tackled the wonders of the digital age:  Gratifying photo copy

Not wanting to be left behind, the local sport club’s pool beckoned for fun joint-pain-free exercise: Energizing  photo copy

And a fifth tooth has appeared in my dose of almost daily Baby Bug pictures, with bagel/on/nose: Captivating  photo copy 2

Hope your summer has been wonderful so far!

 

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A quick post about a documentary “Never Stand Still” that will be on PBS next Friday the 26th at 9 on PBS.

Episodes

When we lived in the Berkshires, summertime meant we’d drive over to Jacob’s Pillow every week for an evening of astonishingly beautiful dance.

You may remember, I used to dance. First at the Martha Graham studio, and later I minored in dance at SUNY Purchase when Bill Bales was the Dean. When the Bride was little, I would dance in the Nutcracker when she was a little reindeer.

So it’s more than thrilling to let you know that a dear friend, Nan Honsa from Rumson, Imagehas produced this dance documentary with her husband. http://mpny.tv

I hope you tune in, and imagine the wall at the back stage opening up and the wind and the sounds of birds and insects coming through with the twilight. Imagine the music as the dancers float onto the stage.

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My journey lasted all of 9 hours. Along the way I passed a church billboard that read,

“Never give up, remember Moses was a basket case,”

and I listened to Ira Glass on NPR’s This American Life. That’s right folks, no audiobook on this trip. Just when you’re ready to give up, the Bat Building appears around the bend on 40 West. Nashville was welcoming me back. Music to my ears, I could hear the Love Bug from the street; the front door was wide open and she was enjoying her dinner punctuated by boisterously loud “Ummmms,” and Arghhhhhs.” Hooray, I thought, she’s going to be a good eater…and a great talker!

Over the past year, The Bride had told me repeatedly how much she enjoyed listening to This American Life. The Groom also listened to their podcasts on his iPhone, so before my trip, I downloaded the App http://www.thisamericanlife.org/ and plugged my cell into my car’s auxiliary outlet. The first story was about 2 doctors with the same name, and it was a medical/murder mystery too, called “Dr Gilmer and Mr Hyde.”

“Benjamin (Gilmer) starts to get very curious about the murder Dr Vince Gilmer committed, so he begins asking questions and poking around. Soon he develops his own theories to explain the murder, that never came up at Vince’s trial.” You’ll just have to listen in, I’m not spoiling the suspense.

This should be a fun week. The Bride is off for most of the time and we’re planning to celebrate her first Mother’s Day a little early – Nashville style. Maybe some fried pickles along with our blueberries and avocado?
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Why is tonight different from all other nights? This is one of the questions we must ponder at Great Grandma Ada’s Seder. Jewish people everywhere will recall their exodus from bondage in Egypt while eating matzoh and other ritualistic food. This holiday is equivalent to Christmas in terms of importance, only without all the gifts.

Since the dinner begins at sundown Monday night, we are traveling back to NJ today. In the past, I would drive up to help out early, being a kind of kosher sous chef to Ada and cousin Sue. We’d dice and slice, polish silver and set the tables. There were usually 30 odd family and friends expected.

I remember the first Seder with my baby Bride. It was her introduction to cousins that felt more like sisters over the years. Now it’s the Love Bug’s turn. She’ll meet her NY and CT family. Can we all sing The Circle of Life.

So tonight (Monday) will be different. Chopped chicken liver will probably be on your list of new foods to try baby girl. And Nana will make haroses just like I’ve been doing for 33 years. Maybe it won’t be so different after all.

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Two things happened to collide in my first week home. One was our overabundance – how big America is, how wide our roads, how many choices we have for cereal. And “B” (it’s a family joke) was a New Yorker article I was reading at the gym about Walmart art. http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/culture/2013/02/walmart-art.html#ixzz2MfZBirVd

Artist Brendan O’Connell worked for the Winn Dixie as a teenager when he had the brilliant idea that he wanted to paint the patterns and colors of store shelves. He saw beauty in the endless void of our material world, someone called him the Warhol of this generation. But he didn’t actually start painting until he started to photograph shoppers and shelves in Walmart. Imagine, Cheeto bags inspired passion; well actually he hasn’t painted a Cheeto bag, yet…

Now, his is the only art hung in Walmart’s corporate headquarters in Arkansas, and Alec Baldwin is a collector. “A company executive said, (O’Connell is) capturing ‘the art in the Wonderbread; the art in the Jif.'”

I like to think that’s about how I write. Something ordinary, or maybe newsworthy, might catch my eye and off I’ll run with words. Seeing something extraordinary in everyday things. The Flapper and my beautiful sister Kay were the artists in my family, so drawing was out of the question for me, but painting a picture with words and metaphor seemed doable. Still, I can appreciate art when I see it.

Like the lovely Art in Place project that has sculpture and murals popping up all over Cville. http://www.artinplace.org I am consistently  delighted to see ever-changing roadscapes while I drive around town.The fin of a giant whale, a zipper being unzipped, a harried commuter with his tie flying in the wind, or even a butterfly made out of stone by Philip Kyle Hathcock hathcock  

Since I don’t go to Walmarts, here is my photo montage of O’Connell-like shelves I found intriguing after getting through customs, my dignity somewhat intact and my avocat lotion not confiscated:
A still life of 100 calorie snack packs at a Harris Teeter grocery store. The French do not have a word for “snack.” photo copy
The Starbucks mermaid.photo copy 3
A favorite chip for teens in Target photo copy
And a woman looking for beauty products photo copy 3

What is art, what is beauty? Discuss.

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A six picture memoir for SBH. Did you notice the matching polka dot bikinis? We noticed the Love Bug pursing her lips. The opposite of her reverse Elvis pout. And sure enough, she said, “Mama.”

 

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Lots of firsts on this trip: a dip into the aquamarine Caribbean Sea; a sail to a secluded island; a bath in the open-air kitchen sink; organic French baby food, “Legumes et cereal.”
We are ready for her first Spring!

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So long my lovely island. We made a farewell dinner last night at the villa, crevettes in a coconut curry sauce with pasta and salad of endive, beets and Brie. Only when you clean the shrimp, it’s a bit more involved since they come to you with their heads on, their eyes looking right at you. Aunt Caitly and Bob were the best fishmongers, it’s not a job I particularly enjoy.

The night before, we gave the Bride and Groom a date night. It’s a tradition we started when our children were young, one night a week scheduled on the calendar, to go out just the two of you. Bob used to insist that we not talk about babies, but of course that didn’t last long. Still, it was a small oasis in a week of work and dirty diapers, a time to remember why you were procreating in the first place.

Goodbye Saline and sun and sand. Goodbye Cleo, Fabienne and Juan. Rosita I’m so sorry we missed you. Goodbye to our little Fourchue, the bay where we saw a starfish. Remember this island Love Bug when you return to Nashville. I’m afraid the whole co-sleeping thing will be coming to an abrupt end, your nights are about to get back to business. No more parties in your cabana, till the next time.

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There is a silly tee shirt here that says something like, “Shopping is my Cardio.” Ah, if only that were true. The problem with a French island is that the concept of gym workouts is foreign. Even when the Bride spent her Junior semester in Paris, the gym was a strange American place. Yoga, yes, maybe even Pilates has made it this far, but not cross-training or body pumping.

We climb the hills, and we walk on the beach; that is the sum of our exercise so far. Although yesterday we were walking on Petit Cul de Sac and thought for a minute we saw a dead body. Being superstitious only made it worse, I wanted to turn away and walk back to our car. I remembered the last time we found a dead body on this island. A Canadian man had fallen out of his dinghy one night, his blue foot was sticking out from under a sheet on the dock. It was a major CSI moment.

We had to walk off a wonderful moules frites when the gendarmes thought to redirect us around the dead man. At the very last minute…

Then I thought maybe it’s only a hat bobbing in the waves. Probably that’s all. But then we looked, it was a dead goat! Poor thing, it probably lost its footing on a cliff.

I broke into a trot. We had happier times ahead. We had to do a 6 month birthday photo shoot of the Love Bug and take her out for crepe caramel and ice cream. And maybe do some cardio.

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We are traveling again. Can you tell where we’ve landed?

Touchdown makes Bob laugh

Birds and builders compete for attention

Vaval has been burned on the beach

Colors of the sea range from indigo to periwinkle

La cuisine est magnifique

Oops, did I give it away? Time is standing still here. The people are the most welcoming of any island paradise. It’s a place to slow down and breathe, read, knit, swim, and refresh ourselves. Thank you for my Valentine’s flowers.

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