Reckless Road Trip to JazzFest

Posted: April 25th, 2018 | Filed under: Culture, Food, Ruminations | 3 Comments »

I could have jammed all the way through to New Orleans in one day. I’ve done it many a time. But that’s when I was younger and my piss and vinegar levels were higher.

So I had a res at one of these generic interstate service area motels, the ones that keep their lights on for you, even if the baseboards are falling away from the plastic wallpaper. And I was getting close to it and Meridian, home of Jimmie Rodgers, and couldn’t decide whether to be prudent, stop, get a good night’s rest and finish up on the morrow as planned? Or, put the pedal to the metal and sleep under the Crescent City’s yellow moon yellow moon?

That’s when I noticed that I, with a penchant for mph in the 80s, was trundling along at 56 miles per hour.

Taking the internal hint, I figured it was best to stop, pulled off, cruised by Cracker Barrel and Applebee’s and into the parking lot of my fully laminated hostel. There will be no late night snacking at Café du Monde this evening.

And then a weird trip got more furshlungener. Read the rest of this entry »


The Spyglass Chronicles: 8/16/16

Posted: August 16th, 2016 | Filed under: Cinema, Culture, Dining, Food, Music | No Comments »

chron

“Affordable Shotguns Planned at Broadway, Baxter” Courier-Journal Headline. Geez, just what we need another gun shop. A discount one at that. Or, so I thought when reading that not so clear — to me, anyway — headline in the C-J. I thought it was referring to the next biz in the long vacant gas station/ convenience store there at that corner. Turns out it referred to “shotgun houses,” that were being turned over to Preservation Louisville Inc. by the developers of the new housing project. Guess the NRA and its acolytes have made me a little gun shy.

Margherita Pizza, Birracibo. Artisanal, my ass. Crafted by a hack is more like it. No subtlety whatsoever. Wimpy dough. (Would be a travesty to call it crust.) “Pomodoro” sauce that tasted like Chef Boyardee himself was in the kitchen. Overwhelmed with glops upon glops of tasteless cheese. So wet I almost asked our very attentive waitress for a mop during one of her many visits to the table. It’s what I get for suggesting to my pals we try out the new “Italian” place in Fourth Street Live. Never again.

“Bo Diddley” Bo Diddley. It reverberates through the speakers as mysterious and messianic as it did more than a half century ago. Read the rest of this entry »


My Life with Pizza

Posted: September 4th, 2015 | Filed under: Culture, Dining, Food, Ruminations | 2 Comments »

pizzaindexThe names ring authentic.

Luvisi’s. Calendrino’s. Lentini’s.

Somewhere among that triumvirate, I was introduced to what has come to be my go to favorite food.

Pizza.

When people ask me what’s my favorite meal in any of all the truly excellent restaurants in Louisville, I advise, “Impellizzeri’s pizza.”

Ah, but today, this food has become Americanized and ubiquitous. And branded. You can get it at places called the Pizza Teepee, Pieology, etc, etc.

My favorite disorientation in this regard was a diner in Shediac, New Brunswick called the Hub Grill. At least the place was so called in the summer of ’70, when some hippie pals and I breakfasted there after tripping on the beach all night.

On the back of the Guest Check, it read, “Hub Grill. We specialize in Elmer’s Pizza.”

Never met Elmer. Was he one of the Fudds? Never tasted his pie. But the disconcerting juxtaposition of the name Elmer and the idea of his pizza being a specialty has never left.

What it does reveal is that long after you didn’t have to be Italian to appreciate this delicacy first made in Naples, you apparently didn’t have to be Italian to make it right.

But it helps. Read the rest of this entry »