The Fine Art of Fine Dining...!!??

Memoirs of a Geezer!

Reflections and Observations -- A Bright Passage from the Fantasies of Youth 

to Illuminations of Advanced Maturity!

This Episode:             The Fine Art of Fine Dining...??


(Please Note:    As one advances into another level of consciousness, namely, "advancing maturity," one's tastes in cuisine -- dining establishments as well -- undergo a kind of metamorphosis, hence this dissertation on that specific topic!...  as follows...)


It devastates me to have to admit...   In my Geezerhood, I'm neither a gourmet nor a gourmand (probably never was either, even in my callow youth!).  SweetHeart insists I would savor styrofoam served under the guise of genuine beef, or any sort of ersatz stuff, like tofu or bean curd disguised as meaty dishes....   (Presented under a stainless serving platter?  Maybe on fine china??)  

These are identified as Tofu Tacos!

I will confess this, however, at this point in my life, if offered a choice of a large sack of pistachios or a similarly large portion of salted in the shell peanuts, vs. a fine steak or even chateaubriand, I'd choose the former, that is, the nuts!!  (What's that you said?  We are what we eat??!!...  Keep a civil tongue...!!)

There are some additional "however's" to this admission. On special occasions, such as SweetHeart's birthday or visits from beloved relatives and other dignitaries, we do venture to enjoy the culinary delights of fine local purveyors.  Examples:  Milwaukee Ale House has our favorite chicken pot pie, possibly in the entire hemisphere!  Oh yes, and their pot roast too!  

Traveling to the delightful environs of Kinnickinnic Avenue (the so-called "Heart of Bayview") in beautiful and often unheralded suburban Milwaukee, one might discover Cafe Corazon on the left (south side?) of that fabled and increasingly popular roadway, one suffused with fine restaurants, saloons and other attractions...  bowling, too, I believe! 

An image of Kinnickinnic Ave. We're
reliably told the word means "tobacco"
in a Native American dialect!

I haven't completely warmed to Tapas.  The other evening, our beautiful and talented daughter, Bethie, persuaded SweetHeart and me to plunge bravely into the unexplored territory of Tapas, paella too, I should add.  To me, the food was quite good, if a bit spare.  To SweetHeart, a different opinion.  

On balance, the restaurant was crowded and perhaps "understaffed."  In any case, ordering a couple of tapas at a time, and individually, spaced several minutes apart, is probably not a great idea for the ravenous!!  The paella, purportedly a 40-minute process for the kitchen, arrived in

Why is this image titled in French?  

an hour and a half.  

We were, however, treated to two desserts free of charge, a reward for enduring the overly long wait for each of the tapas and the slow-moving paella (that may have been cooked, packaged and exported directly from Spain while we waited -- eating buns and drinking beverages during said wait -- and then ferried to us aboard a lumbering commercial aircraft with one working propeller)!  (Oh, and the grandchildren both nearly fainted from hunger during our sojourn...  There was grumbling from more than just our table, I noted during my search for a restroom!!)

Moving on to other preferred dining establishments, I particularly enjoy a dish served by Simple Cafe.  It's a kind of breakfast hash affair, complete with glorious Brussel sprouts, adorned with turkey breast and assorted vegetables, topped -- like a crown, denoting a kind of royal feast -- by an egg, its golden orb staring upward, unblinking and majestic as a sunrise!  They have lots of other fine fare for the discerning diner...  breakfast and lunch only!

And then there's Benji's!  Quite possibly, Benji's serves the best breakfast fare in all of the metroplex, at least in this ranter's opinion.  The hash browns are superb.  I tend to ask the server to make them extra crispy.  I like burnt cookies too!  Oh, and the Hoppel Poppel.  You should try it at least once.  The Matzo Ball soup has healing properties!  The Hear-O Israel sandwich was featured on "Man vs. Food..."

Coffee Houses:   They serve food too, don't they?! SweetHeart and I have been devotees of Colectivo (formerly, Alterra) since approximately 1994.  We are fond of all of their coffees with the exception of Velo.  We've amassed more than a million points, at times, now down to more than 900,000.  But we're making a comeback?  They serve some fine sandwiches, and now offer a Bowl.  Stone creek has an excellent breakfast bowl, and the decaf coffee is very good.  There's a new location on Downer and Park.  We've noticed some deserters there, on occasion!  No

names!!  

I can't recall not being fond of various ethnic foods and the restaurants that serve them.  Two of my favorites are Indian -- Maharaja and Bollywood -- both on the east side of Milwaukee, WI, and both excellent.  Mango beef, chicken or port...  Jalfrazie...  naan...

roti...  samosa...  Taste, close you eyes and you're on the bank of the Ganges, sitar music floating along its waters, women in saris, singing while being rowed languorously in colorful vallams...   Something like that! 

More food and restaurant stuff, critiques and the like, perhaps to follow on a future date.  Maybe....  but...  

I'm getting hungry!!!...   "SweetHeart, do we have any nuts around here?..."       

Humbly Submitted 01-17-19 -- Joel K. 

    

Collecting Characters with Character!

Memoirs of a Geezer!

Reflections and Observations -- A Bright Passage from the Fantasies of Youth 

to Illuminations of Advanced Maturity!

This Episode:      Collecting Characters with Character...!

Certain collections cannot easily be given a definable value, such as the remarkably interesting characters met and "collected" along one's personal "La Strada."  Unlike precious coins or stamps, we store them in a vault of memory, and bring them out to brighten a mood or relive a funny moment in time.  (Laughter is sweet music!)         

The above is an ersatz
illustration of a man
shaving his ears!

A few Illustrations:    In spite of the punishing effects of strong drink, Mac was a fine-looking man who always dressed well, and kept himself groomed right up to shaving his ears regularly.  His essential diet consisted of bourbon and an occasional imported beer.  Those who knew him rarely saw him actually consume food.  On one occasion, with a group of friends having dinner at a fine restaurant, he ordered an enormous steak, held it aloft on his fork and announced, "Now isn't that is a beautiful thing to behold."  He put it down on his plate, never touched it again, turned to his right and boomed, "Garcon, more whiskey for Table Six."  

One of his companions belched, shoved his plate to one side -- it consisting only of the juice of his own former slab of porterhouse and some terrified-looking bones -- and asked, "Gonna eat that thing, Mac?"  The insatiable companion then devoured another enormous cut of meat as Mac looked on in admiration. 

"You're like a pack of wild dogs," said Mac.  He beamed at the man and added, "Save me a

Not exactly a "pack" of wild dogs...
but maybe you get the idea, eh?! 

bone! I got a big animal at home."  

In geezerhood, I think about the characters I know and those I've met.  Often I consider the taverns I frequented and "collected" over time, extraordinary characters "collected" as well.  Some during the hard drinking days of my youth and robust middle age, some of more recent vintage. The aforementioned "Mac" was part of that earlier collection.  As was Bill H. A group of us drank frequently at his home on an Air Force base near Tacoma, WA. When the table became crowded with empty beer and booze bottles, he'd order his patient wife,  Flo, "Un-ass this rig!"  (He had served in the Navy prior to making the Air Force his final career choice, always spoke like a sailor...  or a pirate, maybe!)  She ignored him saying, "Billy, you and the boys emptied 'em, you haul 'em to the bin." He'd grin at her affectionately, and dump down another beer.  Bill had an exceptional sense of funny; he shared his gift generously.
"Jere The Hair," lived in a complex that had a large swimming pool.  He and the manager were not good chums. They'd frequently had words! About to change lodgings, "The Hair" decided he would break every rule posted on the pool's gate, and he'd do it all in one remarkable gesture of defiance...  at midnight. "The Hair" dressed in full golf regalia, including plus-fours and two-tone cleated golf shoes, a glass of whiskey and a liverwurst sandwich in hand, a golf bag full of ancient clubs on his back.  "Fore," he yelled at the very top of his voice and jumped into the pool swinging a mashie niblick as he leapt.  The manager appeared, his face a purple mask of rage, and ordered "The Hair" to vacate his apartment without delay, to which my friend replied, "I'm already packed, you miserable cesspool of a...!" (The actual language Jere included, following the initial insult, has been omitted for the sake of propriety!)

This is not the saloon of which I write,
but it's a fair representation of
"The Shootin' Star"!

There was a great saloon in a small Western town frequented by two wonderful characters -- King Arthur and Kid Shimmel, both self-proclaimed "real cowboys."  King Arthur would enter each day and hand the bartender a brown paper sack.  The "King" would drink himself into another level of consciousness, and then proclaim, "Dod a'mighty, I had me a accident." ' The "King" would retrieve his paper sack.  He'd wobble to the men's room, clean himself up, change his underwear and then return to the bar for more of the nectar that carried him away, until he, himself, was carried away by his "fellow cowboys."
  
Kid Shimmel owned the oldest pickup truck anyone ever imagined could still function.  One memorable day, driving into town for supplies, "The Kid" stopped at a school crossing.  He didn't urge the pickup forward for what seemed like half an hour.  Finally, filled with irritation he stuck his head out the side window and shouted, "Get the hell outta the road, ya damn fool kid!" The "damn fool kid," as it happened, was an inanimate "Safety Susie" stop sign used at many school crossings.  When laughter subsided after someone told of the incident, one of the saloon's fellow habitues suggested that "The Kid" might want to consider prescription glasses,

Possibly an image of "The Kid's"
Pickup truck!  (Possibly not!)

even better, public transportation. 

I want to make it clear that I use the term "character" not in any pejorative sense, but in the most respectful of ways.  I love and admire interesting and colorful people...  characters! My own parents and those of my wife were characters -- fun, colorful, ideosyncratic, eccentric. Our lives, today, are filled with marvelous characters.  We no longer "collect" them from saloons, but rather from coffee houses, private homes, movie palaces and other personal and "cultural" enclaves.     Examples!?...

See how happy the broccoli is!
I like to eat broccoli (but in
smaller chunks)!

SwH makes me laugh like almost no one I've ever known. We're dining in a fine Italian restaurant. I'm enjoying minestrone, an Italian vegetable soup that has a large portion of broccoli floating on top.  I like broccoli.  I try to cut it into pieces to enjoy with, not just one, but a few mouths-full of soup.  I use my spoon to hold the thing in place, a standard butter knife to cut. She watches me, a look on her face that suggests, "Are you a completely ineffectual buffoon?" I don't succeed in severing the mass of broccoli.  She stabs it with her fork and stuffs it into my mouth. I'm laughing so hard the patrons on either side begin to cringe away from us. I fear they'll summon the management.  Oh...  and she has a way of doing funny weird things to my ears!  It tickles! 

Alie is among the funniest, goofiest persons I've ever known.  She finds humor in nearly every conceivable thing, person, event and circumstance, no matter how mundane. We're sitting in a coffee house discussing "Buff-Colored 'White-Out' " and possible alternatives.  A friend just had a book of poetry printed on tan or ecru or buff-colored paper, and sadly found typos in the copies.  We offer to help, and try to find a product to obliterate the errors.  Our quest includes a

spirited discussion as to the exact color of the paper; it also includes a visit to our local art supply store, having been told they might offer a "buff-colored" paint-marker or some other product for our purpose. They didn't. SwH and I were walking homeward; Alie was driving. She arrived at our home ahead of us having had to pick up something she'd left there.  Upon our arrival we find the house papered with sticky notes, each carrying a message or object lesson suggestive of the elusive poetry-book paper color.  Hours later we're still finding sticky notes!...  "This is possibly ecru... This might be pale lemon... This could be a shade of light camel, or possibly timid tan...  This hat has a hue of pale gold-ey yellow..." and on and on... 

I feel I must add Rob C. and Bill W. to the list of our favorite characters.  Both have brilliant
minds. Rob is largely self-taught, a voracious reader and consumer of information, obscure and otherwise.  I ask him, to cite an example, about crisscrossed, overhead electrical cables perched over a rural roadway.  I receive an astonishing dissertation on "dirty grids," efficient rural usage of power distribution and much more!  Bill collects films, currently films that feature

Rob knows about Power and
Electrical Stuff...  like Dirty Grids!

mirrors and reflection.  He's a scholar on many levels, and happily shares his world view and esoteric ideas with those of us in his spheres of influence.  Apart from being smart beyond my poor level of comprehension, both men are exceptionally funny.  

Time to bring this edition to a close!  I'll save others for subsequent entries in these memoir postings. Here's the point: Characters -- whether or not one likes the use of the word or accepts it as complimentary and affectionate -- color, edify, brighten, even strengthen our lives.  We need them to populate our experience, to broaden our vision.  In my callow youth, I collected bars and taverns and their often rum-affected denizens whose words and deeds delighted me, though unfortunately I recall too little of their banter and behavior.  

Today, mired in robust if hoary "geezerhood," I'm grateful for those with whom I happily interact and whose company I thoroughly enjoy.  This episode is merely an homage to those delightful and colorful characters whom I hope to continue to enjoy and benefit from as I wander deeper into advancing spheres of consciousness.  Suggestions for future topics are always welcome.  Oh, and I have a book in print...  just in case you're interested!!  Thank you, and good day or good morrow or good night!                 
Special Note:  This episode of "Memoirs of a Geezer" is dedicated to...  well, is a kind of homage to marvelous characters, especially those of exceptional character as well.  With apologies, only a very few were able to be sketched herein, but future entries may well include others who have made lasting impressions on the perpetrator.  I'll try to warn you in advance, and will endeavor to use fictitious names to avoid embarrassment and lawsuits!  Thank you!  Oh...  and Good Night to All...

Humbly Submitted 05-23-16 -- Joel K.