Monday, November 22. New Starting Gun. Back To The Fried Chicken Buffet. I resolved on the retreat to start getting up earlier in the morning. This is actually necessary at precisely this time: starting today, the radio show begins an hour earlier, an answer to a prayer. But now I must finish my morning labors an hour earlier. That won't happen by magic. Every day's writing was a photo-finish as it was.
I know well the dynamics of this. During a long freelance-only period in the 1980s, it was necessary to apply some discipline. I forced myself to begin waking at seven instead of nine or ten, as I had since my college years. I wasn't a goof-off; I worked until two in the morning most nights back then. But when you awaken at ten and go to lunch at noon, you don't get much of a head of steam going. And after lunch motivation and creativity are attenuated.
Today I was at my desk at six-thirty. I finished my work in time to have lunch with Mary Ann, even with the impingement of the three o'clock radio deadline.
The lunch was at the Camellia Café again. Last week MA was thrilled by the discovery there of a small buffet with very good fried chicken. It has been on her mind ever since. She was pleased that it wasn't quite as hot and crisp as last time. Happy, because that fact will keep her from going after this buffet more often. They have a different one every day. No meal format does as much harm to a diet as a buffet.
I started with crawfish and corn chowder. It was fresh-tasting and on the lighter side, with only a touch of cream. My entree was half a muffuletta, which I specified should be served unwarmed. They bread could have used a little toasting, but I didn't want to chance asking for something so subtle. Warming the bread is too close to cheese melting and the salami turning slimy. Why anyone like a hot muffuletta is beyond me. All the flavors are thrown off.
I ate half of a quarter of the sandwich. An eighth of a muffuletta is all I can handle anymore. They served it with fries, which filled me up more than I wanted to be filled. But I've already used much of my self-control today. I don't think I've seen a muffuletta served with fries before.
Thanksgiving preparations are in motion. I bought the turkey last night on my way home--a little late. The instructions on the wrapper and in books say that turkeys need three days to thaw in the refrigerator. In my experience, it's at least five days for a twelve-pounder. After twenty-four hours, this one is still hard as a week-old muffuletta. I raised the temperature in the extra reefer to get this process moving. It would still be icy in the center when it was time to start brining.
Camellia Cafe. Abita Springs: 69455 LA 59. 985-809-6313.
