Diary 11|16, 17|2014

[title type="h5"]Sunday, November 16, 2014. Cleanup. Indian Trout. [/title] One of my favorite parts of Thanksgiving: the pre-event cleanup. But Mary Ann is more vigorous about it than usual. And Thanksgiving is ten days away, putting her far ahead of schedule. Then it hits me. Jude arrives in a couple of days. Nothing--not even a big holiday--makes this house as spic and span as the approach of a visit from the golden boy of Hollywood. Meanwhile, I'm getting myself ready for the coming of Jude. Npo doubt we will dine out at least a couple of times while he is here. And then he and I will be off to Manresa on Thursday. [caption id="attachment_44188" align="alignnone" width="480"] Freshwater trout with pesto.[/caption] Dinner at Zea. The soup of the day is a thick corn bisque that I like rather well. The entree is a pair of the freshwater trout (I hear these are genuine steel heads) raised by the Lummi Indian tribe in Idaho, among other fish farmers in that part of the world. It's emphatically non-local, but it's a good fish.[divider type=""] [title type="h5"]Monday, November 17, 2014. Trash And Check. Acme Needs Better Fish. Big Wheel.[/title] The trash requires three block-long trips back and forth to the road. On the last return, I grab the newspapers and the mail. I note that even though we have remained faithful subscribers of the Times-Picayune (since 1975), we don't read it as much, even as a percentage of the number of issues we get. (Which seems now to be five a week, not the three that made everybody mad.) In the mail is a rare surprise: a tax refund check from the IRS. It's the first one I've received in over twenty years. It's only a hundred and something, but something is better than five figures headed the other direction. Last Thursday, I go to the auto dealership to buy a new wheel for the PT Cruiser. The guys at the tire store tell me that the wheel is corroded through, releasing air constantly. They think I can just put up with this if I don't mind reinflating the tire once a week. But that routine has escalated to daily, and I'm not sure that's quite often enough. I have an electric pump that makes this easy, but I can't bear the idea of driving around with such a vulnerability. Especially not on the Causeway, which seems to have more incidents of cars and trucks flying off the road lately. I have to pay for the wheel up front: $603. Not including a new tire. They say it will be three to five days for it to come in. Of course, that almost certainly means five days, not three. I don't bother to check on it today. Not that it would matter in the long run. Late lunch at the Acme, the Marys and Me. Two wedge salads, grilled chicken caesar, and a grilled drumfish for me. Grilling fish is something the Acme does very poorly, which is something I always forget, so long is the time between samplings). Shellfish in general is two or three levels up from any of the finfish dishes. When Simone Rathle told me yesterday that Brennan's is to reopen next Tuesday (the 25th), I ask if they would be interested in hosting the Eat Club's annual Christmas gala. They were ecstatic about the idea. The idea of having a black-tie affair with my readers and listeners at this season started at Brennan's back in the 1990s, and was our most avidly-attended event of the year until they fended us off some four years ago. What can they do for $150 each for forty or fifty people? We will find out in the Pineapple Room, at the top of the stairs, on the tentative date of December 17. Hurray! At the NPAS rehearsal tonight, I am supposed to bring the music for my solo in one of our Christmas caroling appearance. But there is no time for that tonight, what with an intensive program of run-throughs for the madrigal program in a couple of weeks. We are supposed to wear kilts for that. I am pleased that the PT Cruiser goes all the way into Covington (about five miles) and back without my having to pump up the tire.