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Wow, indeed. Beans going in to soak THIS MINUTE.

They look like little beads on a string. Do you peel them? And HOW?

I didn't think to mention the choir, until Lucy's evocative "sway and sing" memory brought it back. And we weren't dining, exactly, but LOTS of beer was involved---gallons and tanks and big vats of it. Years ago, we went with a group of conventioneers to St. Louis, and one of the scheduled sightseeing things was a tour of Anheuser Busch. It was listed in the little itinerary we all got, a morning tour, with a nice ladies' luncheon after at a lovely restaurant. So we all dressed accordingly, in our dresses and pumps, and set off to tour the "building" where Budweiser was made. NOBODY told us that the site covered a couple of city blocks, and lots of the walking to and from was outside. In the snow. We stumbled along, up one sidewalk and down another, into buildings of tanks smelling of yeasty promise, through huge doors (one sidetrip through the stables, where the magnificent Clydesdales greeted us with gentle nods or derisive snorts) and up and down vast moving indoor tracks like flat escalators. We'd walk and look, trundling along or being levitated up several floors on a vast people-belt. And in our group of maybe fifty, there was a bit of unexpected magic. A college choir from Colorado or Utah--somewhere out there--was interspersed throughout our group, and in the long moving lines from floor to floor of those vast buildings, one or another would sing out, clear and true, and all the others would join right in, song after song. And they didn't mind if we joined in, singing along, being a part of something so special, our everyday voices grown exponentially more true and vivid by the talented company we kept. No ride through Willie Wonka's chocolate landscape was quite so appealing. It was like being in the middle of a wonderful musicbox, the notes echoing from all that copper and steel and cavernous space. They sang rousing choruses, they harmonized on old favorites, they stilled the entire place with a skin-tingling rendition of "Greensleeves" which I can hear to this day. It was a special moment in a special time, and their presence and wonderful voices rendered an everyday sightseeing tour magical. It's been YEARS, and it's still one of my favorite travel-memories.

No smirches intended, Fresser...any man who can create interest in scarfing whole oranges and anecdotes of body gases...that man can WRITE!! The silly is just lagniappe.

Don't you think some are terrible stories? Being taken for a child prostitute in a fancy hotel? That's just awful, shocking, and I would think that it constituted criminal activity on the part of both the patron and hotel. ← I have two daughters and two granddaughters, and the person who would make such an approach to any one of MINE would leave the vicinity plus wounds and MINUS necessities. I was expressing my appreciation of the tellings and the words, not referring to the serious content. Just the REAL of the episodes and the writers' ways of expressing those vivid moments...THAT's what I was referring to. Consider this an edit of my misspoken enthusiasm for the writing.

Stir-fry is fairly easy with the already-cut vegetables and meats. Things like already-formed meat patties, sliced turkey breast, boned chicken, go well on a sizzle-grill or in a hot skillet. Soups are easy, as well, with just chunks of onion, celery, chicken or beef, simmered in broth or stock, then noodles, rice or pasta dropped in. The very easiest one is a Sandra Lee-ish egg-drop soup; just bring canned broth to a simmer, season it however you like, pour in a couple of beaten eggs (or even Egg-Beaters, right out of the box spout) in a stream, and don't stir for a couple of minutes. Chris was out of cooking commission several years ago when he broke his right shoulder, then later had surgery to fix it---double time left-handed. He still mentions that he even learned to eat with chopsticks with the wrong hand. But it's awkward and aggravating and time-consuming to deal with that and what life brings on an ordinary day. I hope you're all well soon. ((((Malawry))))

These are all just wonderful stories. And JIM---for a man of few posts you certainly are one of eloquent words. Sweet story, lovely memory.

Indeed, it almost is!!! Even the chilly rain outside cannot hold back the blood-quickening thought of the glint of glassware, the smell of books. (Do not mention that I sent four bags and three boxes to Amvets this week---time for re-plenishing!!)

I forgot Alan Dershowitz, though we did not dine together. He heard a lady ask me something about a dish on the buffet at our favorite Chinese place and asked me something as well. He sat over at a table alone and seemed kind of forlorn; he was in town for quite a while for that Tyson thing. HIM I did not ask to join us---famous folks have quite enough people grabbing pieces of them as it is.

This is going to be GREAT!!! Our #4 Son lives there and we're going to visit this Spring. Have never been West of Colorado, so tell lots and lots about your area. Cookware Gadgets Dish Junkie

Great stories, all...and LEXICON keeper!!!!! Add this word. Perhaps for the "Worst Meal" or "Regrettable Dinners" threads...it should come in handy, and I know Portia will share. I have quite a few of these shared-meal memories myself, including one in which we got into a conversation with a couple at our side of the Benihana table, were persuaded to come for job interviews, were given several weeks training, and worked for them for more than a year, which led to Hubby's getting his stockbroker's license, etc., etc., and another move, onward and upward. Strange how the little steps off Life's path stray our feet onto another route entirely. We've met odd fellows and charming couples and downright weird folks; we've made new friends and in other instances, considered escaping with our lives a bonus. We dived into a mob of bikers at their invitation once---two seats at their huge round table were the only ones available, and we had a hilarious, raucous evening, lasting well past midnight, and ended up going to their rally in another county, enjoying a wonderful day amongst the Rumble Sisters and Thunderheads. We sat over our breakfast at Shoney's one Sunday, and seeing a nice scruffy-bearded man with a flag bandana, invited him to leave the long line and take a chair at our table. He was the head of a Vietnam Vets organization, and we were intrigued by his charitable works and humble manners...visited his home later, and could help with printer problems in the little newsletter office he ran. A young couple joined us one evening at a catfish place, and we clumsily conversed betwixt our Southern lingo and their Bosnian language, discovering an odd link involving our mutual fondness for Lonesome Dove---how that came up I still cannot remember, and discussing the Wild West with folks from the Eastern bloc was quite a feat. We later ran into them in another restaurant, where they both are waiters, and they just couldn't do enough for us, even brought over the manager to meet us. And several years ago, waiting at the airport here to pick up DS#5, I sat in the food court, reading. I felt a bump on the back of my chair, looked down, and there was an immense guitar case. I went on reading, then looked back at the floor to see several black instrument cases spread around the adjoining table. Another Bump of chairs, and the bearded man sitting back-to-back with me apologized. I smiled, got up and moved one-around-the-table to give them more room, and he caught my eye and mentioned the weather here or some local topic. THEN the others chimed in with their last night's activities, and despite the years since I last saw them perform, I recognized Peter, Paul and Mary. Talking to ME just like we knew each other. Icons of an age, and I couldn't stop humming "Puff, the Magic...." all the way home.

Reminder of my college roommate's invitation: Let's go over to the cafeteria and if they have any ham, we'll have ham and eggs if they have any eggs. And I'm shuddering at the US exchange---25 pounds for fish for TWO? To cook at home. And provide all the sides and dessert. Wow. And the sauce sounds greenly scrumptious and refreshing. Maybe a forever-found serendipity recipe you'll use and use.

Would a mandrake root taste like potted meat? And would Smurfs make blue stew? Would a gryphon always get the catbird seat? I've heard centaurs make great chefs; you just have to have a really BIG kitchen.

I'm old and I love 'em too. The sense of silly is infectious.

Maybe only from the waist down...uppers maybe chicken (of the sea?). Unicorns taste of hope and moonbeams; dodos, of the short clumsy dreams of what might have been, and T-Rex of ancient leather, much like the smell of money from an old man's wallet. The minotaur probably had the flavor of already-peppered steak, tough and fiercely sinewed, running redly warm even before the sizzle. There'd be a mouthfeel of jubilant combat, with an aftertaste of puzzlement and isolation. Dragons, and there do indeed be, have the ancient taste-echoes of flight and fight, with the oldpenny tang of tarnishing armor, the sense-memory of valorous knightflesh and the terrified, fleeting breath of sacrificial maidens. The whole dragon-slaying thing has been carried out in an erroneous manner for far too long. What knighthood needed was a slew (the number, not the past tense) of those pet-catcher sticks with the little noose on the end...snagged snugly around the scaly neck, the resulting backfire would provide a barbecue effect sufficient to char-broil the beast from the inside out. A little salt, some potato salad, and the neighboring kingdoms could troop over with frisbees and sixpacks of mead. And Nessie, that Grand Old Dame of the lake, would be fishy and have the lingering aftertaste of plaid and sheepdip. Fairies, though not even remotely considered to be either mythical, extinct, nor edible, DO have the loveliest scents. Their presence is heralded by the aroma of baking cookies, sparks and sunshine, with a bit of clover and a finish of green silence. And the smaller fire-dragons are very peppery and crunchy, kind of like armadillo nachos.

Welcome Louisa!! Care to elaborate on that burger? ETA: Great tagline---I didn't think of its being Melville---it read like Dinesen.

RALPH'S PRETTY GOOD GROCERY!!! This is a lovely peek into your kitchen and life and family.

BRAVO to all the vallant, courageous people who are still riding out a storm, unvanquished and as triumphant as the trumpets blasting out "Oh, When the Saints...." as the umbrellas bob and the marchers swing off down a good ole New Orleans procession. No wonder---this is the city of resurrections and renewals, of Lenten abstinence following the most grand and glorious of parties. As sure as Spring follows a long cold season, those blossoms are going to spring forth, the music is going to float higher and higher, and the people are going to be stronger and more alive than ever before. A phoenix rising from the ashes will have no such coloring and no such beauty as the spirits rising from the mud and destruction which was New Orleans. We watched them mourn, we watched them cry, we watched them clutch each other and their meager belongings, and we wept and were touched and did what we could from a far remove. We were appalled and enraged and moved to tears, by the absolute waste and destruction, the loss of life and property, and the images which were a constant reminder day after day. But our truest tears were caused by the great heroic spirits, the moments of reunion and joy, the faces and the hugs and the small gestures of caring and concern. I have one moment in particular that I will never forget, and I think of him often, this half-year removed. A young face filled the screen, the sweat-and-tear-stained face of a young African-American man, alone in the stadium. For nights, he had tried to sleep sitting in a stadium seat, and had at last lain down on the dirty concrete. His despair came through the screen with his picture and his words, which I repeat to myself sometimes, and I still wish I could have just driven down and FOUND him and brought him to our home and given him a bed for as long as he needed it. He was weeping as he spoke so quietly: "My head is killing me. I need a bed. I need a bath." I still think of him, and hope he is safe and warm and clean, with a good place to rest. Maybe my prayers for just ONE helped in the greater scheme of things. That indomitable spirit, that zest for life, that bonhommie which has always been embodied by the people of New Orleans has been shining even more brightly in the past few months than ever before in its long history. The rebuilding and the renewal of a city is a wonderful thing. The unshakable, unvanquishable spirit of those courageous, determined people is even more glorious.

Hooray, It's YOU!!! What fun---all these great bloggers all-in-a-row!! Just don't say the "M" word too often---we've "M"-ed eleven times in the twenty years we've been married, always UP, I comfort myself, and we're now firmly settled for the past eight years. But it brings back all those newspapers and boxes and wrapping tape nightmares. And you could take the cracklin's as part of your dowry to Oregon---kind of like carrying kitchen-seed for the new place. They seem to keep forever frozen, so just throw them in the truck last thing and bon voyage. (Munch a few on the trek and say they're pork jerky). Good to hear from you again...looking forward to a great week.

Our Joes are on an international scale: we have Acapulco, Tokyo, and Tejano, along with two of the more home-grown variety: Trader and Average. And several versions of that tarted-up, light/gangplank/rope and pelican-encrusted crab place. (Which seems to have an ironclad contract with Gorton's).

Thank you again, Megan, Dear, for the tour. Following your Size Fours through the lovely labyrinth was akin to a weeklong "I'm Flyyyyyy-ing" after Peter through the clouds. We've seen where you live and work and shop and browse, where your life pulses and encompasses and finds meaning, where your heart is. And a generous and gracious heart it is, sharing great bites and sweet slurps of that fabled Big Apple with all of us who eagerly partake of the sounds and colors and tastes through your eyes and words. Your forays and wanderings and sidetrips are akin to magic, because of your happy outlook and your eager anticipation for the next adventure. This has been just a lovely week, and we're all so glad to be your companions. Thank you for the invitation. rachel PS Are our Golden Tickets valid for the next excursion?

I've just been reading the last day's worth to DD, who just came home from her early shift at her bakery. She's gonna read it all later today. THEN she came over and waved a wedge of fresh warm focaccia under my nose, reciting "olives, thin onion, brushed with garlic butter before baking, scatter of seasalt." They gotta get us a drool smilie!! Or at least a swoony one.

Glad to see you like our GG's--we love all three generations. Anything involving stacked-up sweet stuff..pancakes, waffles (Eggo's in their case), muffins or doughnuts. But be sure to make lots of substitutions in the recipes. Endless coffee in a cup big enough to bathe a baby in. Eggs in any form. Devilled eggs, even---you never know when a snarky person will be driving by. I don't want this to be over. Stay another week

Thank you, thank you!!! It's a wonderful visit to your New York.

Schoon diner, Chufi!!! Schoon en heerlijk!!! Now, go put your feet up and have some tea. ETA: I once dropped the top tier of a wedding cake upside down into the trunk of the car and smushed the frosting daisies all to heck. Three hours before the wedding. (Empathy smilie)