Saturday, January 26, 2013.
Magnetizing. My Failure In Slidell.
A friend of mine who divorced her husband about thirty years ago told me, "The best thing about being unattached again is that you no longer have to ask permission to do anything." That would not strike me as a bonus. It also means that nobody gives a damn what you do, and that's certainly not a good feeling.
But in little doses. . .
I had breakfast at the café in the Covington Marriott Courtyard, just the way the kids and I did every Saturday when they were little. It's not about nostalgia anymore. I like the scrambled eggs, and usually I like the bacon and the waffles. (The bacon today was a little too lean and undercooked.) And, since I've ben a breakfast customer since the hotel opened in the 1990s, I get treated with the kind of good cheer that I want more than anything else from a breakfast out.
My day was open after that. No radio show. I bought a magnet on a stick to perform a needed bit of cleanup. When I burned up the pile of construction scraps a couple of weeks ago, a lot of nails and screws were left behind. I figured it would be wise to collect them, lest the lawnmower fling one into somebody's eye or kill an innocent rabbit. This proved to be a bigger job than I expected. It took two hours to pull enough metal from the ash pile nearly to fill the gallon milk jug I used as a receptacle. Even then, I was still getting a few fasteners with every pass.
I ran out of projects at around five-thirty, and began thinking about dinner. I considered Mi Mamacita's in Mandeville, whose sign says it is now serving New Mexican (as in Santa Fe) cuisine. But the large parking lot was full, and I could see people waiting for tables inside.
My next idea was to head to Slidell and dine at Palmetto on the Bayou. The manager recently wrote to tell me he was disappointed that the restaurant hadn't made my top 25 list in North Shore CityBusiness, and that I should try the place again. Fair enough. When I arrived, the person at the door seemed to be genuinely puzzled to see me. What on earth did I want? "I was thinking about dinner," I said. She sort of laughed and said the place was closed for a private party. I should have called, I guess.
The next three restaurants I checked were not available, either. Young's Steakhouse had a crowd in the bar waiting. Schaeffer's on Robert Blvd. was closed completely--a rumor I had heard. And Assunta's was another full house. Thus weakened, I fell prey to an urge from the long ago. I went to the Krystal and had two of their little square onionburgers. I wonder if I will ever be able to kill the taste I have for those things, which I ate by the bagful in my teens.
To browse through all of the Dining Diaries since 2008, go here.
