Kiddy Cousins and Breakfast in Grove City

On Sunday morning, K. and I drove over to her parents' house. K.'s brother, wife and kids were also at the house, having driven up from Kentucky the day before. They have three kids, the youngest of which I had never met. K., the boy child, was just a baby the first and only time I met him before and, actually, I think it was the first and only time I met his older sister A. as well. It was nice to spend a few hours with these kiddies.
Note my new glasses. I do not need glasses, but K. had two sets of glasses on her dresser and I put them on to play around, and it turns out they're fake glasses. K. got them on a whim, but they hurt her eyes, so she gave them to me like the generous cousin that she is. The other pair are red. One of these days you'll see them too. I feel a little funny about wearing fake glasses, and have really only been wearing them in front of my parents as a gag...except that I think they make me look smart or different. I am smart and different, so it doesn't come as a surprise that the glasses boost these qualities. But, I'm not sure I'd want anyone I didn't know to meet me with the glasses, because I would be unable to keep myself from telling them they weren't real, and then they would think to themselves 'think of all the poor glasses-wearing people who have no choice, and here she is...' I know. I've over thought it.
Baby I. had quite a dexterous tongue. Can a tongue be dexterous? I swear it was like a little anteater tongue, she could hold a pencil with it.

Much bicycling was done in the court. I held baby I. for quite a while, she's a very laid back baby not at all flummoxed by total strangers hefting her around. A good quality, I think. I kept on lifting her over my head and making her smile, which was great fun, though I must admit that my shoulder and arm muscles ached something fierce the next day...I thought I was coming down with the flu until I remembered that I had been using parts of my body that are usually untaxed. Owning my flaws.




My aunt L. and cousin M. made breakfast for us all. The spread included fresh strawberries, pineapples and blueberries, as well as potatoes, fried eggs, homemade sausage gravy, biscuits and bacon. Oh, it was marvelous.
M.'s sausage gravy was a completely different beast than most diner varieties. I realized that with more sausage and far less flour, sausage gravy can appeal to me in a way that it hardly ever does when I've seen or eaten it in the outside world. Kudos. The eggs, also, were cooked nicely. Mmmmm.
Then K. and A. put on a show. K. would 'play' the piano while A. would dance, and then they would change positions. It made me think of my own performative years when I would insist that neighbor children, or playdate playmates would sing or act out scenes of my choosing. I want to be six again. Or twenty two.
I had troubles taking photographs inside without having the kids be entirely blurry, thus the poor grainy quality of these pictures. I like that it looks like K. is doing the mashed potato in the below image.



It was a nice few hours with the extended family. Thanks to all for the meals, company and entertainment!

Ravioli, Salad and Ravioli c/o Giorgio

The morning after my dinner with J&J and S. and N., I woke up early, packed my car and got on the road to head back down south. I took a different route than I have in the past, heading basically straight west through Pennsylvania and Ohio instead of a little west to 81 and then south. I stopped in Columbus for the night, which is where my cousin and her parents live. When we were kids I would often irritate K. when she would ask me what I wanted to do (play Rummy 500 or crimp our hair etc) and I would simply shrug and say it was up to her. I remember at least one time she was so infuriated with this deference/lack of opinion that she stormed out of the room and remained displeased with me for hours. What can I say, sometimes I know exactly what I want. Sometimes I do not.

I was quite proud of myself when she asked what I was thinking about for dinner that Saturday because, at some point during my eight hour drive, an overwhelming desire for lasagna and a little salad flooded my food brain cells. When prompted, I was quick to express this desire. So, K and I met up with her parents at Giorgio for dinner. This was a new place for all of us.
K. and I arrived earlier than her parents, and once we realized they wouldn't arrive for another 20 minutes we ordered the fried five cheese ravioli appetizer. While you hardly ever can go wrong with things that are fried and involve cheese, K. and I were a little let down by the lack of any real flavor in the dish (and an inability to discern any more than two cheeses). The ravioli were crisp and hot but the insides were comprised of a majority of bland ricotta. A little minced garlic or basil, or parsley or Gorgonzola might have improved our thoughts on the appetizer. I liked their pasta sauce but it didn't strike me as overly original or complex. I ordered a house salad, which I liked. It came with oven roasted tomatoes, which did a nice job of adding a surprising flavor and texture to the greens.
While I did want lasagna, the special of the night was lobster ravioli and I found this very tempting. I often ask my server what they would do if they were me when I can't decide between two dishes. This is often risky because, and this will sound snobby, I often have better taste and higher standards. Case in point: almost every time I have ever asked a server whether I should have Dish A or the crab cakes, they always go 'oh man, the crab cakes are really great, you should have them,' then I ask about the quality of the crab meat and the ratio of crab to filler, and they assure me it's the good stuff with a good ratio, so I go with it...and I am always disappointed. And yet, I continue to ask for their opinion. In this case, I asked the waitress whether I should have the lasagna or special ravioli. She enthusiastically recommended the ravioli, and so that is what I ordered. K. ordered the lasagna.
So. I bet you are just dying to know whether I was disappointed or satisfied with the ravioli. Chomping at the bit, no doubt. I will relieve this stressful situation by telling you how I felt about the ravioli right now: it was really quite good. The filling was great and creamy and had recognizable chunks of lobster, which was a pleasant, and welcome, surprise. The sauce was a buttery creamy concoction with a hint of sherry that didn't overwhelm the dish (too much sauce is sometimes just as bad as too little). I was very pleased.

K.'s lasagna was massive, and rather tasty, but I don't regret my choice. My aunt had the gnocchi with spicy sausage, which looked really terrible (I think her comparison was to Alpo) but tasted pretty good. Definitely had a kick to it. My uncle, as he often does, went simple with an order of spaghetti with marinara sauce. I think we were all generally pleased with our food, but, as K. said, this place isn't overly near her house and it probably won't become her go-to Italian eatery. Still, the ravioli was worth trying (I think they only do it on weekends).

Cheese, Quesadillas, Ice Cream and Silliness c/o J & J

On my last night in Philly before heading back to Nashville I drove over to J&J's for dinner. As always he-J had a nice spread of cheese and snacks to start the evening. This time I was introduced to a cheese with Dragon in its title that had a nice kick to it. I forget its full name. Dragon's Breath? Dragon's Fire? Dragon's Teeth? I think maybe it was Red Dragon. S. tried a bit and promptly spit it out; it was not a cheese for a four year old's (almost five I think) palate.
As has become the norm, soon after my arrival S. went up to his room and came back down in an entirely new outfit and persona. Who might this be, you ask? Well, obviously it is PAJAMA MAN!
For dinner he-J cooked up tasty quesadillas. One had shrimp and beans as well as cheese, the other mushrooms and cheese. I was especially fond of the mushroom version. It was delicious.
N. is seen here biting on something I think we were considering cookies.
S. made yet another clothing change...though only in the sense that the top-most outfit was changed, he still had the pajamas and maybe even his original outfit underneath. Only now he was a pirate chef. We heard the tell-tale sound of the ice cream truck and went out on their corner to flag it down. Ha ha. Get it? Flag?!
Same exact lighting conditions, two different color casts. Stephen Shore would be so disappointed with me.
Whilst waiting for the ice cream truck to appear, we sipped on he-J's always excellent homemade limoncello. Man, I love that stuff. I also tried a Japanese ginger beer.
You can't really see it, but she-J and he-J are dancing/jumping in the background.

S. asked for a spider man popsicle while N. had a cone. I abstained.
Something went awry with the foot of S. so we made preparations to cut it off. Not really.
Look how cute N. looks while I, on the other hand, give the camera my full-on crazy eye.
The sink.
I think my presence riled the kids up pretty fierce, which flatters me while making their parents' lives more difficult. I just love it when kids love hanging out with me. And I don't think I'm wrong in saying that S. and N. really do enjoy my company. God, what if they don't? Won't that just be the the biggest of all embarrassments? Hm. Well. Alas. Thanks, as always, goes to the whole clan for their food, libations and company.

Breakfast c/o Sabrina's

Through previous trips to Sabrina's, I have learned that I like my meal far more when it's simple. I think my main example of complexity leading to trouble was when K., J. and I went there, geez, nearly two years ago (which is funny because I said it was tasty, but I remember it being too many things in one dish, and that the crab portion was lame...perhaps I lie to myself in my blog?). In any case, L. and I went to Sabrina's for breakfast and I ordered two poached eggs and sausage links. Oh man, so predictable. Poached eggs, poached eggs, why am I so in love with you? And, also, I do love me my sausage links. This was an entirely satisfying meal. At first I thought the eggs were overpoached, as I saw the tell-tale pale yellow of an almost completely cooked yolk, but upon egg white puncture I found there was still a nice yolk ooze ratio that I could get behind. L. ordered some wild and crazy omelet, which she seemed to enjoy greatly.

Nachos and Salad c/o Kite and Key

After nearly two weeks in Nashville I returned to Philadelphia to gather some stuff before returning to Tennessee. L. drove down from NYC and picked me up, which was way beyond the call of duty of any friend, but I must admit that hers was a face I was very glad to see. While I often give Kite and Key a hard time, I couldn't think of anywhere better to go for a late dinner and beer. We split the nachos, and I ordered their salad with calamari. The nachos were good though, as is often the case, I thought there could have been more layering of the cheese and chorizo and other goodness so it wasn't predominantly on the top.
This was a heaping helping of fried calamari and greens. The fried-ness of the calamari pretty much cancelled out my attempt at being healthy with the greens...but you can't win them all. Or any of them if you don't really try.
L. and I returned to my apartment where we tried playing S.'s Playstation. We were extremely pleased to find that his version of Tekken had all the characters we spent hours and hours and hours playing during our freshmen year of college. Problem was that one controller didn't work, which meant we couldn't really fight one another. So we played as a team, which was actually kind of fun. One of us would try to beat a level, and then, success or not, pass it on to the other. When we beat certain characters we squealed and high fived one another. When certain characters came up, we were suddenly reminded of old friends and their favorite characters. T. as Bryan Fury was particularly nostalgia-inducing. And while our moves were rusty, L. and I both excelled at our own respective favorites: Eddy and Xiaoyu (or maybe her favorite wasn't Eddy but that crazy character with a sword). A hearty and heartfelt thank you to L. for making the drive and keeping me company.

Hospital Pizza and Pie in the Sky Pizza

Another day brought pizza to mom's hospital room, which, in turn, led my father and I to have our own pizza hankering. Or maybe our pizza hankering came out of my father's desire to watch Pacific and Treme, and not enough time to out before these shows.
We ordered a large pizza, half of which was made my way, half his way...my way = olives and artichokes, his way = pepperoni. All of it, at my father's behest, had extra cheese. It was delicious. I also like Treme the television show well enough.

Dinner c/o Blackstone Brew Pub

Another night Dad and I went to Blackstone Brew Pub. He wasn't with my cousin, aunt and uncle and me when we went, and I was feeling a desire for more of their Nut Brown Ale.
We both ordered the soup of the day, which was a red lentil soup. Though we found the underlying base of the soup -what seemed to be straight up Campbell's tomato soup- a bit of a disappointment.
I ordered the Cobb Salad with grilled chicken. It was generous in size, and pretty tasty. Dad had the fish and chips, minus the chips and plus a double sized helping of coleslaw.
Dad found that they had casked ales, which meant nothing to me until he explained it. So I tried a sip of his casked IPA and found it to be far more to my liking than most IPAs, including the one I tried from Blackstone in the earlier week.

Corn and Gyro c/o Earth Day at Centennial Park

Nashville celebrated Earth Day on the 17th, or the Saturday before the 22nd, whichever one makes chronological sense. This celebration was held at Centennial Park, which was very close by the hospital at which my mother was residing. When the lunch time hour came around I went on over to have a look. There were a number of farm stands and booths on display, but staying at a hotel with no kitchen led me to shy away from produce and meat envy. In other words, I did not go and touch what they were selling. I did, however, take a walk along the main food stall area, observing what was offered before deciding on what I would actually eat (funnel cake you tempted me greatly). There were towering stacks of fresh fried potato chips...I passed. And huge drumsticks for those who wanted to feel like they were at a Renaissance fair...I did not want to feel that way.
But roasted corn? Oh man did I want some of that action, even though where the corn came from is clearly going against the whole point of Earth Day. I found it funny how much of the food made no effort to be at all sustainable. I mean, am I crazy? Could they have local corn in late April? I really don't think so, which means it was shipped some crazy long distance just to be eaten at an event purportedly geared towards everything that is not agri-business. I don't know enough to be knowledgeable about this sort of thing, but I do know just enough to be righteous about it.
That said, I bought an ear of corn and sprinkled parmesan cheese and old bay spices on it...would have been so much better if they had mayo and limes but, alas, they did not. Hypocrisy!
Still a little hungry, I stopped and ordered a gyro pita from the Greek restaurant stand. It was unwieldy and overstuffed, but I would prefer my food generous to withholding. Just like I like my men. Ha. Ha. No, it's true.
It's strange, the dichotomy of my time in Nashville. While I continue to have little interest in discussing the recent and important events of my life in any detail, it must be clear to those of you who read the blog regularly (or know me in real life) that the whole reason that I'm in Nashville is rather serious. And yet here I am: still eating, still making the jokes, still providing my half-assed commentary on food that no one really cares about. The fact that I'm almost two weeks behind my real life is also interesting. Even if it is only through meals, I get just the tiniest bit of reflection and insight on the events that I cover here, which I might have otherwise missed. I have long considered this blog a sort of place holder for larger, more expansive and smart-fancy-pantsy writing projects. But perhaps it is fine for them to simply be the markers. Will I get rich and famous? No. Will the blog ever become anything more than what it is right now? Probably not. But I find great comfort in its chronicles. Of course I do, it's my life. This will end the philosophical part, and the entirety, of this post.

Another Meal Mom Ate, and Barbeque c/o Hog Heaven

I recall this set of meals being eaten on a rather shitty day, hospital-wise. But Mom says that this is one of her favorite hospital meals. I think she's referring mainly to the beef stew, not the Jello or carrots...but I could be mistaken.

Dad went out and came back with Hog Heaven barbeque, which was good though not overly exciting to me. It may have been the day. The meat could have been more moist and I thought the potatoes tasted funny. Is it possible to put too much butter in potatoes? I felt like they had too much of some weird, cloying taste. I also think it's funny that I assume that if I order mashed potatoes they will necessarily come with gravy, but twice I have ordered mashed potatoes in Nashville, and twice they have come with no gravy.

Dinner c/o Miel

Another day, another sunset walk back to the hotel.
Later that evening, my father and I went to Miel for dinner. I started with a glass of sparkling wine, the name of which (of course) escapes me. Oh wait, maybe I do remember it. Well, on the receipt it says 'Poema.'
Forgive the color casts, please. The amuse bouche.
Dad chose to go with the $30 prix fixe menu, which included a soup or salad option, choice of three entrees, and dessert. I went a slightly less economical way and ordered the Osso Bucco. Before our entrees arrived, however, we snacked on fresh bread, creamy butter, lovely marinated olives and some of the best soup either of us have had in quite some time. The soup, pureed sunchokes with caramelized onions, was nice and hot. Oh man, and delicious. Did I mention the delicious-ness quotient? It was quite high. Quite high indeed.

Dad ordered a bottle of 2008 Domaine Faury Syrah. This was a fine, fine wine. Nicely balanced and mellow. I ended up drinking more than my fair share, and its buzz was a generally optimistic expansive kind.
The Osso Bucco came with polenta and a little toothpick with which to scoop out the marrow of the huge chunk of tender goodness's central bone. I have no doubt I will one day write far more on this meal and methods - in terms of the context of this meal - but for the time being I'll abstain from too much intellectualization of my food and simply say that it was quite rich, but delightful.

Dad's meal ended with sorbet. I don't think I tried much of it, but it also looked great.
The final touch of the meal was a plate with two dollops of honey splaced on silver spoons. This was entirely appropriate, as 'Miel' is the French word for honey. I believe this particular honey was relatively local, and it definitely had more depth that your usual honey bear variety.
Just a great, great meal. Service was a little wacky. When we arrived, the front door was locked because the host had gone into the back and felt it best to keep any potential customers out of the foyer...weird. Our waiter was generally on top of his game, though I picked up on a certain 'I am not just a waiter and resent being considered such' vibe from him, which I, as a former service worker, understand but could have done without.

Also, on an entirely unrelated note, though chronologically relevant:

On our return to the hotel, L. called my cell phone. Dad went on up to the hotel room while I spoke with her in the hotel's back parking lot area. It was during this conversation that I saw the pants-less man. Or, as my cousin K. called him when I told her about it, the 'Nash Villain.' Heh. I just can't quite get over it. I mean, it was a well-lit and traveled parking lot, and not too late at night, and yet I turn my head and see a naked butt receding from my view? Where did he come from?! Why no pants!? These were, of course, questions I immediately started to discuss with L. I can only imagine that the pants-less man heard these queries and thought it best to return to show me the view from the front (which didn't really answer any of the questions). I can't tell you a thing about his face, so distracted was I by his pink tee shirt, longish gray hair and, oh yes, the 'junk.' When did people first start referring to male genitalia as 'junk'? Well, I guess I can now cross 'see naked man's scrotum and penis in a Nashville hotel parking lot' off my bucket list.

Tornado Observation

It sure takes a long time for a tornado to actually appear. Or not appear. I'm waiting to go to my 'safe place.'

Kentucky Derby Observation

Calvin Borrel says 'baby' or 'sweetie' in every sentence.

Five

I don't have television in my life, though I watch a lot of television shows online. So, this commercial may be old hat to most of you, but I only just saw it and found it quite funny. Hm. Maybe I should track down the two other commercials I have found funny as of late. It makes me weird to to such a think as it's all consumerist bullshit, but sometimes something can be funny even if it is trying to trick you into buying something you do not need.

This one I like mainly for the last five seconds.

I first saw this when watching Lost with Ak. It is funny. It was also funny to see how tickled she was, especially since she knew exactly what was coming.

So those are my notable funny commercials of the last six months. I feel kind of dirty.

Hospital Pizza and Samurai Sushi

So, my parents live about an hour and a half away from the hospital where my mother was staying, which meant that that it made more sense to stay in Nashville instead of commute back and forth every day. This led, as I'm sure you noticed, to a lot of un-homecooked meals. I like eating out, and I like trying new places, so while the circumstances of my time in Nashville has been entirely crappy, I can't help but enjoy the excuse not to cook my own meals (though I need to work on eating more vegetables). Regardless, mom's lunch on this particular day was pizza and overly cooked asparagus. The pizza, each time I saw it, actually looked pretty good.
While Mom ate pizza in the hospital, I walked to nearby Samurai Sushi. I sat at the sushi bar and the woman two seats down from me asked me if I was from the area, to which I replied no...she then told me that I had picked the best sushi joint in town. Having only tried one other, years back, I don't have the true ability to compare, but I really enjoyed my meal. Unfortunately Samurai Sushi doesn't seem to have a website for me to look back upon and remember the name of the crazy roll I ordered....but it had white tuna and all sorts of crazy sauces.
In addition to the fancy roll, I ordered ikura, white tuna, and spicy tuna. All was good. The ikura portions were very generous, almost more than I needed.
When the sushi chef saw that I was taking photographs (the woman and I were basically the only people in the restaurant, which makes sense since I went after the lunch hour rush time) he made up a little taste of something else. This comped three-roll was a staggering compilation of salmon, tuna, shrimp tempura, kiwi and some sort of rice paper instead of seaweed. It was really good. I also saw the assistant sushi chef guy make some sort of roll topped with seaweed salad...I'm hoping to get back there and try it.

This seems to be a quality place that engenders loyalty. My seating mate brought her own sushi knife with her, which she seems to do each time she comes in. She told me she would bring it in, show it to the chef, and if it needed sharpening he would tell her and then go and sharpen it for her. Any place that fosters that kind of staff/guest relationship is clearly on the up and up. Go there.