posing as a local

Dr. Leo Marvin: I want some peace and quiet!
Bob Wiley: Well, I'll be quiet.
Siggy: I'll be peace!
[Bob and Siggy burst into giggles]

I have this thing about eating where the locals eat. Whether I'm in New York City or tiny Beaver Dam Kentucky, I want to eat where the locals eat. Why? Because I figure the locals know what's best. Heck, they live there year round! So when I go to NYC, I'm not big on eating at Tavern on the Green. No doubt, Tavern on the Green is good. I've discovered that the hole-in-the-walls though are the gems. My favorite restaurant in the world is literally a hole-in-the-wall in Nashville called Rotiers. It's in West End and it's phenomenal. The cheeseburgers on french bread get voted the best in Nashville every year. It's been there for over 50 years. It's a hangout for Vanderbilt students, the governor of Tennesse (yes, the governor), and country music peeps. When I've taken people there they enter apprehensive and even sometimes snobby about it's appearance. They leave impressed.

One of my alltime favorite movies "What About Bob" keeps me rolling on the floor because during a big chunk of the movie Bob (Bill Murray) is hanging out in this vacation town wearing a shirt that says "Don't Hassle Me, I'm Local". Sometimes when I'm on vacay I feel like Bob, trying to blend in with the people that live in the beach town yearround. Seaside for example. I pretend that I live right around the corner.

Monday night I went to a Boz Scaggs and John Hiatt concert at the ryman. The next morning as we were leaving our hotel, we decided to ask the bellmen where to eat breakfast. They suggested we go to Khan's Mongolian BBQ. Once again, remember that we were looking for a BREAKFAST eatery so a BBQ joint didn't sound appetizing to us at first. Then we were assured by the young chaps not to be fooled by the name.

So we walked into this joint and it was deeeserted. No typo there. I mean to add those extra e's for Emphasis. It was a vast wasteland. Likely because it was 9:30AM on a Tuesday and we were downtown so everybody who eats breakfast there probably eats before 8 or 9 before they WORK (i was off work that day). Then a man walks up to us and from the start, treated us like royalty. And it was deeeeelish. Added e's for Emphasis with the world delish as well. Authentic southern cooking. Like my memaw used to make before she went to the nursing home. Sausage gravy & biscuits. Omelets. Bacon. Grits. Wow.

As we left there I said "he treated us like we were the only customers he had!" Then I paused and said "oh yeah, it's because we really were the only customers he had!" So who knows if I'll ever find out if the Mongolian BBQ is good, but let me assure you that I'll be there at 9:30 AM for breakfast the night after my next concert (ps- it's Willie Nelson next! woot woot)
“There are no foreign lands. It is the traveler only who is foreign." -Robert Louis Stevenson

miss domestic, that's me...

So all my adult life I've been wishing and hoping and praying for one thing... an antique pink refrigerator. I've always wanted one. The desire as a little girl was faint, just one of awe and fascination when I'd see one in my dad's antique books, or at an auction, or on a Nick-At-Nite tv show. But now, now that I have a house and now that I'm revisiting the idea of cooking (key word: revisiting... the grocery store still overwhelms me), I'm thinking it's time to get serious about buying one of these puppies for my kitchen. Let me introduce you to my favorite....

This is a 1950s General Electric.
It's appealing to me because:
A) It's the size of a normal refrigerator, so you don't lose space.
B) It's pink.
C) It's teal inside, which matches the teal color scheme in my kitchen.

So this week I called up my pops, since he's the antique authority in the area, and he said he will keep his eyes peeled at auctions. Some websites sell restored ones but they are insanely overpriced. Let's hope he finds one fast. Because if you know me, then you know this newfound curiousity with cooking/the kitchen isn't bound to last.

Was it for this I uttered prayers, and sobbed and cursed and kicked the stairs, that now, domestic as a plate, I should retire at half-past eight?

-Edna St. Vincent Millay (American Poet & Dramatist, 1892-1950)

Thanksgiving and Vegetarians don't mix

"What we're really talking about is a
wonderful day set aside on the fourth Thursday of November when no one diets. I
mean, why else would they call it Thanksgiving? ~Erma Bombeck, "No One Diets on
Thanksgiving," 26 November 1981
(pictured above: Kennedy 1963, The Annual Pardoning of the Thanksgiving Turkey)

When I was 5 I killed a fly. I didn't want to but my aunt made that fly swatter seem so fascinating and the buzzing in the summer heat was grating on my four foot eight nerves. I immediately regretted ending it's life. I cried like a baby for a solid hour. No amount of persuasion convinced me that this act was meaningless. A proper burial ensued and I stood in the garden reciting what I called "Eulogy for a Fly named Fannie". This gave me little piece of mind. I was devastated.


My point with this story is that I have always been a true animal lover. I even tried to be a vegetarian once. Four years ago. Living in DC for a summer took its toll on me and I became just a lil bit liberal. PETA (people for the ethical treatment of animals) people were EVERYWHERE. You know how you will be walking in a city and someone tries to hand you a piece of paper? Well, you probably ignore them and walk on, knowing that it is a waste of your time and theirs for you to pretend like you are interested. Well I ALWAYS take the flyer. And then I talk to those people and then I make the mistake of signing up for their email list. Getting emails like "Feces found on Chicken Farms!" and "Fish have Feelings" would have made you start to reconsider what you ate and wore too. Oh and the videos...I'll spare you from having to read about those. It was a relatively easy transition because DC restaurants are very vegatarian friendly. The veggie burgers were yummy and shopping at the Whole Foods Market was an adventure. I was a proud of my lifestyle change.

However, summer ended. I came home and discovered Bowling Green and my grandmother are not vegetarian friendly. I came back with these menus options: salad and pasta. Let me tell you my friends, that gets OLD. Let's not even talk about the impact it had on my friendships: I put up with friends saying "you were more fun when you ate meat" and friends hiding meat in my food at restaurants. Believe me, I tried to stay the course. I spend bookoos of moola on creating dishes that somehow didn't look like the picture in the magazine. I bought countless packages of tofu but everytime I started to cook it I just became so perplexed. I felt like I was trying to turn play-doh into filet mignon.


Make no mistake though, I am an advocate for animals! When KFC became Kentucky Fried Cruelty, I boycotted the restaurant that bears the name of my own state. When United Colors of Bennetton was mean to sheep, I shopped next door at Banana Republic. I even routinely flirt with the idea of becoming a vegetarian again. But I just can't eat tofu on Thanksgiving. I will purchase my veggie burgers from the organic frozen food isle at Kroger and I refuse to buy products tested on animals. But I love Thanksgiving and all of its traditions, namely carving the turkey for dinner and eating my ham sandwiches for lunch. So on the fourth Thursday every year look for the giddy girl at Honey Baked Ham, eagerly anticipating shelling out 60 buck-a-roos for that delightful half ham. Because a Tofu-themed Thanksgiving just won't do.