Sunday, April 3, 2011.
Like Old Times Around The Big Green Egg.
Mary Leigh declared a hunger for grilled chicken, almost blackened, heavy on the Creole seasoning--Daddy style. Mary Ann said she'd fire up the pit and call me to do the actual cooking. I think she was worried about my equilibrium with one hand on my walker and another on the spatula, while standing on top of the hot Big Green Egg next to a five-steps dropoff. Maybe she thought she could cook it better. But she didn't call me until dinner was ready.
We sat at the picnic table on the deck, with the grilled chicken and a salad and baked macaroni (I'm over that, but the Marys love it). It was just like old times, except for the excepts. No Jude, and only half a real Dad.
Mary Leigh said the chicken wasn't nearly spicy enough.
Peggy Scott Laborde used up a lot of my afternoon trying to track down reviews I'd written for our Lost Restaurants book, but which had somehow become. . . lost. Easy enough to send another copy. Only one glaring omission turned up. Somehow, neither one of us noticed that Uglesich's wasn't in the book. That had to be fixed. Uglesich's is not only one of the most asked-about lost restaurants, but has an especially interesting, anecdote-packed history. Fortunately, I'd written so much about Uglesich's over the years I pulled an article together in an hour.
Two days off the pain pills now, and I'm not feeling any pain at all. Looks like a good sign to me!
