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Saturday, June 20, 2015.
Return To WWL With MA. More Hamburgers. Catching Up With Grass.[/title]
Mary Ann and I are reunited after her week on the West Coast. We make it official by hosting a full three-hour radio show together. The subject slides into the matter of hamburgers, which are never far from Mary Ann's mind. She says that far more people eat hamburgers than the gourmet food I usually talk about. I'm sure she's right about that. But we party company when I assert that that the hamburger crowd isn't enough interested in more advanced forms of eating to support a radio show or a website--the two main pillars of support for our family. But that discussion could go on for years. In fact, it has.
After the show, I tackle the Cool Water Ranch's overly grassy fields. They have not been mowed since a week before we left on the cruise, over a month ago. It didn't rain much while we were away, so the mower can still be seen from the outside world as I cut my swaths through the waving greenery. It is also nice not to have to worry about getting stuck in the mud.
Mary Leigh and I go to dinner at the Acme. Ironically, what we come for is a hamburger, as advertised as a new menu item on the letterboard outside the Covington Acme. I have seen it for a few weeks, and my curiosity gets the better of me. The waitress (who, according to the neon signs, is available sometimes) says that the burger is made of beef brisket and top round, plus a small percentage of ground pork. It comes out thick and juicy, but lacks the crustiness I like in a hamburger. And the bun is the usual spongy thing. It's not good enough for me to blow my whole one-point-two monthly hamburger limit on it. Certainly not in the presence of the Acme's great raw, fried and grilled oysters, which have my full allegiance. But I'm sure the burger will sell well to those who don't like oysters.
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[title type="h5"]Sunday, June 21, 2015.
Two Father's Day Repasts.
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Restaurateurs are telling me that Father's Day--once only a joke based on Mother's Day--has become almost as busy a dining day as Mother's Day. At least in terms of customer counts. Mother's Day still creates the biggest one-day influx of dollars of the year. Moms want to see a big feast in a fancy place. Dads have an appreciation for watching the budget, and prefer less formal restaurants. Steak houses, seafood joints, Mexican food, Vietnamese. . . that's what fathers like. Especially when it's time for the ultimate irony: the dads' paying of the bill.
Mary Ann says she will take me to breakfast at Mattina Bella. I expect that the place is full, and it is: a half-hour wait for a table at ten-thirty. I think Mattina Bella's food is worth that any day of the year. MA has fried eggs and a small pancake. For me, an omelette filled with the house's spinach-artichoke dip, with melted mozzarella. I am no fan of spin-dip, but something about this appeals to me today. It is as good as I was hoping for, mainly by being less cheesy-rich than it sounded.
Mary Leigh is working at Sucre today, and isn't back home until about five. Which is long enough since breakfast for us to go out again. The Marys ask me where I want to go for my big Father's Day dinner, and I say Zea. It will be relaxing, and I will get the kind of food that's on my mind. The tomato bisque soup du jour, for example. But the Covington Zea has sold out of that and moved over to the corn bisque, which I think is just about as good. I have a salad and a tuna stack. Ribs and salads for the Marys. On the way out, I receive a four-pack of Zea's beers, as do all the other dads who come here today. I hand the quartet over to the waiter. My refrigerator at home is already full of Zea beer. I like it well enough, but I almost never drink beer at home.
My family usually gives me joke cards on Father's Day. That's perfectly appropriate, given the kind of joker I am. Mary Leigh almost bought me another card with a cat jumping out or the like. But she changed her mind, and sent me a serious missive, whose verses include everything I ever wanted to hear or read from a daughter. "Thanks, Dad, for supporting my dreams, for giving me the freedom to grow, for showing your love in so many way, and for being such an all-around wonderful dad. I love you!"
I think that this means that everyone in my family is now fully grown up. Which is, of course, The Big Goal.
Just like a dad, when we get back home I get back to work.
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[title type="h5"]Monday, June 22, 2015.
A Not-So-Good Oyster Loaf From A Very Good Roast Beef Poor Boy Shop.[/title]
Mary Leigh suggests that we go for lunch to the Po-Boy Company in Mandeville, and the three of us do so. They make a great roast beef here, but I have never had one of their fried seafood sandwiches. So an oyster loaf it is, preceded by a stack of thinly-sliced onion rings. I learn that this is not a house specialty. The oysters are soft and lack the crackly coating that make the fried bivalves so good. I eat the whole thing anyway. And a chocolate-chip cookie on the way out. The order-taker has a hard time extracting the cookie from the clear plastic display case. To make up for the delay, he gives me two. "We don't sell many cookies, anyway," he says. I eat both cookies after the Marys refuse them. This is one of those places where weight-loss programs run off the rails, sometimes permanently.
My day feels off balance as the annual summer hiatus for the North Shore Performing Arts Society continues. I miss all the wonderful mental boosts I get from singing.
