Potlikkery

Ponchatoula is (bone fide) alright with me

Wouldn't you know that as soon as I bowed to the common ingredient list including box cake mix and strawberry flavored gelatin in the making of my strawberry cupcakes, that I'd come across a bone fide strawberry cupcake recipe? Just my poor old luck, really. But sort of scary, too. Like somehow, months ago when Foose dreamed up this cookbook, she included this recipe just for my sake. To redeem my hurt feelings about whether my cupcakes were "from scratch," for real. It was predestined. 

Screen Doors and Sweet Tea arrived a day or two ago via our U.S. Postal Service. Couldn't help myself from browsing it immediately. The cover photo is super inviting; just completely appealing to my particular preference for food styling. And I'm the first fool in line handing over her credit card to buy almost any and every southern-themed cookbook. Now I don't call myself a fool because these cookbook authors are fooling me into something. No matter that they all have almost the same recipes inside.  There are always a few gems in each one. And certainly that is the cake with SCAST. 

I'm referring to her Ponchatoula Strawberry Cupcakes recipe. Batter made from scratch, and icing too, just what I dreamed of about a week ago. It's not too late though. There are still fresh, locally grown strawberries around. Must seek them out. Sadly, I barely used a whole pint of the gallon I bought. 

Frigid fruit and veggies taste terrible to me, so my berries sat out on my counter, and we're using that natural air conditioning a.k.a windows open. So they spoiled quicker than they should have if they were tucked into my fridge. Can you imagine knitted woolen strawberry cozies to keep each one warm inside that dreadful old icebox? I can.  The sad thing was throwing most of the lot out. Actually, the white fuzzy, almost projectile, mold forming on my berries reminded me of those fuzzy winter muffs that you see little girls of Currier & Ives era paintings carrying along on a sleigh ride, or an ice skating jaunt.

Foose covers a Delta meal from cocktails and appetizers on through magnificent, decadent traditional southern desserts. She grew up in the Mississippi Delta, then traveled a bit to work in big city kitchens. Then went off to cooking school in France, so her rendition of these southern favorites is well-informed. Right off her Cantaloupe daiquiri tempted me to throw caution to the wind about fetal alcohol syndrome and imbibe in such a delight. Yet, I shouldn't drink. And won't. But I'm keeping this one in mind for when I can have alcohol again. 

But I could have her Blackberry Limeade which looks refreshing and like it would soothe my nerves. The food photography/styling is delicious and enhances Foose's recipes. Unfortunately the scenic photography of the Delta, interspersed with those glimpses of heavenly southern food, appear more like stock photos and lack the intimacy and lushness of the latter.

Each recipe begins with a Foose anecdote. Readers learn about her great uncle Thompson alongside  Catfish Ceviche. Thompson preferred sleek cars to big old trucks so popular with all the Delta menfolk, and opened his catfish farming business in 1958.  A large sidebar following the recipe teaches the reader about the spawning and hatching of catfish.

There are lots of expected dishes like gumbo, turtle soup, cheese, grits, mac n cheese, country fried steak, and dumplings. Then there's the unexpected: Barq's Root Beer-Glazed Ham. This one, we'll have to try. Despite the kitsch factor of cooking meat in a soda pop brine, I declare that the end product tastes mighty good and receives rave reviews from our families.

The combination of her photo of egg salad and the recipe for Good Sandwich Loaf bread tempted my tummy, and pulled up to the Shamrock's drive-thru and bought an egg salad sandwich for lunch yesterday with eventual making of my own in mind. Already got lots of eggs for the egg salad and all the makings for the sandwich loaf. 

Those desserts...well, none of them jumped out at me like Sweet Tea Pie. Ooooooo-eee. I'll have to try that. Foose described it like so: 

The flavor tastes like state fair saltwater taffy, and the texture is like pecan pie without the pecans. I think you will enjoy it.

Last night on the phone I told Ian about the book and it's banana pudding recipe from scratch. Since we had a bad experience with the last from scratch banana pudding we made, um, we're reluctant to try it again. Another recipe that caught my eye was Brown Sugar Angel Food Cake. It takes 14 egg whites. Now that is a lot of cracking and separating of eggs. Though I don't ever yearn for angel food cake, that brown sugar twist might keep my interest long enough to try one. 

Be sure to read Fosse's notes to the left or the right of each recipe. She says to separate your eggs a day before making the Brown Sugar Angel Food Cake and that night-before step will result in a higher cake. When it comes to Angel Food, the higher, the better, you know, closer to the Pearly Gates and all those angels with their harps and halos. 

Come July Ian and I head west to Nashville and then south down the Natchez Trace, so I'm mostly hoping that we'll get a taste of good Mississippi cuisine, though it may not be Delta in origin, least not until we arrive at Natchez proper. Any recommendations, anyone?

food pairings

Normally I don't worry about pairing a beverage with food because my two beverages of choice, water and unsweet iced tea, go with everything. Almost forgot milk. I'm drinking my weight in milk these days. Nothing suits me better than hormone-free milk with every meal.  But there are plenty of folks out there who fret and send themselves into a tizzy trying to perfectly pair beverage to entree.

Now that He Said Beer, She Said Wine (2008) is on bookshelves, those folks can quit worrying and start enjoying life and eating and drinking a bit more. It's a slick book. Lots of colors, lots of photos. Wow.

It's written by Sam Calagione, the beer man, and Marnie Old, the sommelier. They duke it out round after round to prove that beer, or wine, is the best accompaniment to each dish presented in the book. Before they enter the ring, there are pages and pages that introduce the reader to each beverage, it's strengths, and weaknesses. Old deconstructs wine labels and informs the reader about what region is known for what kind of wine, as Calagione does with beer.

The authors then pair their respective beer or wine with cheese, vegetables, sandwiches, pizza and pasta, spicy food, shellfish, regular old fish, poultry, meat, desserts, and fruits. Following that up are specific guidelines for hosting your own wine vs. beer debate at home. It's a fabulous idea and surely great fun.

The only problem I foresee is procuring some of these beers and wines. If you don't live in a very, very urban area, finding the beer varieties Calagione touts, may be difficult. Likewise with the wine selections that Old makes.

Be sure to leave a comment. I'll pick one to send a copy of this book to.

a different kind of turkey

Ian has a taste for whiskey and bourbon. I don't. Still, he compelled me to taste from a bottle of Wild Turkey American Honey. He found it extraordinary. As soon as the taste hit my tongue, there went my gag reflex. It's not a pleasant taste to me. I prefer clear liquors like vodka and gin. I appreciate the lovely colors of whiskey and bourbon and all those amber liquors, but can't stomach them. Must only admire them from afar. If there was any doubt, not a drop of Wild Turkey American Honey touched my hot tea.

Speaking of turkey, we're on our own for T-day. And that's perfectly alright with us. Last year was low-key, just me and Ian at home, feasting on our turkey with trimmings. And this year will be a repeat. We can't wait. Holidays are anxiety-filled for me because there's so much to do and so many personalities to tolerate.  We scoured the latest issues of Saveur, Bon Appetit, and Gourmet for all their t-day suggestions and found lots of dishes that appeal to us individually. So making a decision on our final menu will be tricky.

florida's oldest restaurant

Last year while we spent a week at Flagler Beach, FL we popped up to Saint Augustine for a day. The city is one of our favorites, though the new bridge saddens us. The old one featuring the lions had such charm, such character. Now there's just the concrete and metal bridge.

That visit I searched for ceviche. Surely a Spanish restaurant served it. But no, the person at the host station at the Columbia said it was not on their menu, nor did they know any other restaurant in Saint Augustine that served it.

We left Columbia, but I can't recall where, or what, we ended up eating that day. All I remember is how inviting the Columbia was. It was cool. Tile under our feet, hand -painted tile decorating the walls.

So Saturday we ate at Columbia. Our waitress was great. She anticipated our requests. She served us Cuban bread along with great scoops of butter at exactly the right spreadable temperature.

My cheap sangria was okay. The trouble with sangria is that I cannot and should not drink a pitcher it alone. Ian enjoys the hard stuff, so fruity wine holds no appeal for him at all. The better sangria was imported and mixed at your table and priced at about $20 a pitcher. I sucked down my $5 glass in no time and then made do with tap water. That's right.

The Columbia is the oldest restaurant in Florida and though it got it's start in Ybor City, surely it is appropriate to operate in Saint Augustine as well. Something else I learned is that its in its fourth and fifth generation of family ownership and operation. The newest restaurant is in West Palm Beach, near where we're staying.

Inside there's a mixture of bright sunlight and delightful shade  to suit any diner. Our table was at the edge of a courtyard filled with light from the skylight overhead. The noise was bearable. The service was quick. Perhaps there was light Spanish music playing in the background, but I cannot exactly recall it.

We studied the menu. We both love plantains and don't get them often enough to suit our cravings for them. I eyed the Paella. I've never had good paella. But as I recalled, it's a large dish. And this was lunch. Something light maybe? I ordered the boliche: "Sliced eye round of beef prepared with chorizo and roasted in a flavorful gravy. Served with white rice, black beans, and platanos."

Yum. My meal was so good. Great flavor. The beef was tender. The chorizo was rather bland though. Didn't have the zing I'm used to from my local taqueria. White rice, black beans, and diced onions were marvelous. They gave me two pieces of plantains. I gave one to Ian and gobbled down the other. Aaaaahhhhhhh, heaven.

Ian chose the black bean soup. They ladle it table-side. A server approached our table and flipped over a small bowl containing rice into a larger bowl. Then she ladled three generous ladles full of black beans out of the blue speckled pot over top of Ian's rice. Sure, it was basic, but it, too, was darn good. All he needed was cornbread, which I didn't see on the menu.

Dessert. Naturally my eyes stuck to the guava cheesecake description. But cheesecake is so ubiquitous that I try not to order it anymore. The two items that I debated between was the flan or the bread pudding. Server said that the flan is the best, if you like flan. I can take it or leave it. Of late, bread pudding floats my boat. So we went with that.

It was unlike any bread pudding I'd ever had. I expected it in a ramekin. But no. It's appearance was more akin to french toast. There were no raisins or nuts. However, two sauces battled for dominance: a rich rum sauce and a white chocolate. The pudding was terribly dense, in only the very best sense of the phrase. It's made with Cuban bread. I asked our server if it was pound cake. And that's when I learned it's true identity. The things that the chefs at Columbia can do with Cuban bread is astonishing. We didn't eat it all. It was far too rich, but quite satisfying.

And there's a cookbook! Didn't buy it though. But maybe next time through Florida's oldest city, I'll stop by the Columbia gift shop and take one home with me. I checked its contents though. That bread pudding recipe is in there. But it calls for Cuban bread, and where exactly shall I find Cuban bread in upper east Tennessee? Not likely.

tea with miz scarlett

Quite despite the ongoing diet, which it seems as though I am none too strict about these days,  I had scones as part of lunch at a tearoom earlier this week. Chocolate scones. While chocolate is not something I live or die for, I can appreciate it. These scones had a marvelous texture, but the scant chips, say four or five per scone, gave it a chocolate flavor too strong for me to truly enjoy.  They arrived at our table served with cream and jam, both nice additions, tools, if you will, that I employed to cover the chocolate taste. Don't get me wrong, they were delightful scones. I'm just being silly, is all, and letting my anti-chocolate flag fly.

And scones in Johnson City? That's unusual. But not for a tearoom. And Miss Melanie's fits the bill for that alright. Lunch was served with tea and scones. I drank a hot apricot flavored tea with my scone and ordered the chicken salad croissant with a side of loaded potato salad.

The service was solicitous. It helped that we came late, after one o'clock and the tea room stops serving at two. So there was one other table. Being the center of attention can be nice. Daintily-embroidered linens bracketed each place setting. Amy and I were both anxious in the negative way about using them. The thought of staining one with my lipstick was unappealing. The decor was typical tearoom, with a Victorian flair. The menu had a GWTW theme, after all, it IS Miss Melanie's (Aunt Pitty-Pat's Lite Lunch, Rhett's Blockade Runner Sandwich, Prissy's Peanut Butter Pie, Bonnie Blue Blueberry Sour Cream Pie,  etc.).

The chicken salad was one of the best that I've had. Its flavor was light and fruity. Both cranberries and orange slices were in the mix. The chicken was sliced into an agreeable consistency and the ingredients were well-blended in a mayo/sour cream base. Chicken salad is one of those things I'm picky about. I don't eat just anyone's chicken salad, especially if there are too many pecans. Or celery, for that matter. I ordered it with trepidation, but in the end, the experience was pleasant, indeed. And one I'll likely repeat.

One thing about tea rooms that I've never liked is that they serve tea-room-sized portions. Yet, my scone, sandwich, and loaded potato salad filled me up. I didn't need dessert, but I couldn't turn it down, either. Amy and I shared a dessert sampler where you choose three desserts. I chose the peanut butter pie, Amy chose the key lime pie, and then  we agreed that the lemon cake & fruit parfait would be a light choice.

The lemon cake and fruit parfait could easily be considered wonderful if it was not in the company of the other two. Both peanut butter pie and key lime pie were two of the best I've ever eaten. Actually, the peanut butter pie was perfect, except for the chocolate bits. It's a slice that I've dreamed of but never eaten. I find most peanut butter pies too light and subtle in their flavor. Prissy's Peanut Butter Pie was thick, rich, creamy and very peanut buttery. I can't quite find a word to better describe it's texture, other than substantial.

Key lime pie is often unassuming and easily dismissed for there are far too many chocolate lovers out there. Surely I am within the minority of diners who prefer an alternative to chocolate-heavy dessert menus. With all that chocolate, the pleasure that key lime offers is lost. It's at least my second or third favorite type of pie. Miss Melanie's key lime pie recipe was given to her by her grandmother. It is excellent. Perfect consistency and tangy flavor. Yes, some pie bakers don't put enough key lime juice in their pies and they come out mealy-mouthed; rather blah and pointless.

And so, Miss Melanie's Tea Room did not disappoint. Granted, it is a tea room, and those menus are usually limited to lighter items. They also serve a daily soup and quiche. Amy had the Fiesta Quiche which included black beans and peppers. Miss Melanie stopped by our table several times and on the last visit we talked about her peanut butter pie. Sadly, she has peanut allergies and cannot eat the pie that she makes.

it's a roast

Friday I made a roast. Ian went to work around 9 pm,  so I pulled it from the oven a bit early and sliced a few bits of meat off for him. Also gave him some organic yellow potatoes, turnips, carrots, garlic, and onions.

I combined two different recipes, of sorts. The meat was a bottom round roast, or some such. I can't recall. It lingered in the freezer a bit too long and was tough to eat, but I'd rather eat tough meat of my own making than out. I rarely use a recipe like I'm supposed to. I check the list of ingredients and then throw them in as I see fit. Now, if I'm baking, or making something ethnic that I have no experience with, I follow recipes exactly.

First I rubbed the roast with salt and let that soak in a few minutes. Then I thew the meat into a pan for it to brown. Ian cut the carrots, onion, and turnip. We used four or five long carrots, half a turnip and half a yellow onion. I threw in four or five garlic cloves. Salted and peppered it a bit. Poured half a box of organic chicken stock in the bottom along with half a bottle of red wine. Only it was too sweet. 

It was Bully Hill Love My Goat. How can you not buy wine that features a goat on it's label. I know so little about wine, that I totally judge it by it's label. Also got some Red Truck wine a while, also because I liked the truck on its label. I also judge books by their covers, too. And then there was Worcestershire sauce. And a bit of fresh thyme that I clipped from my flower box. Always gratifying to use something I grew myself.

Oh yeah,  Ian bought a meat thermometer, probably at the evil mega-store where I don't shop, so we could cook the roast to a medium 160 degrees.  Meat was great, but the veggies were undercooked. Crisp, like.

And, it made for great leftovers. Am thinking, am wondering, whether the broth is too strong to recycle into a soupy-stew-like concoction.

soda. pop.

A few years ago I stopped drinking pop. Or soda. Or sodie dope. Or Cokes, as I've used the trademark name to refer to any carbonated beverage. I might have a sip of a diet coke on occasion, but I love water. Love unsweet iced tea. More often than not, I've heard those drinks called all manner of names over the years by the adults in my life. Most were specific when they asked, "You want a Pepsi?" "You want a Coke." Then sometimes it would be soda. Cola. Drink. There's a survey that geographically maps responses to questions (by county/state) about what generic term you say when speaking of carbonated beverages. Found via boingboing this morning.

Funny things is, I remember Pepsi being the drink of choice at the homes of my grandparents. There's something about drinking a refrigerated soda out of a tall, cold, weeping, glass bottle that the feel of cans and plastic cannot replicate. It's all about childhood experiences to me. And what about when the convenience store kept their drinks case just a little colder than what they should and the tiniest bit of ice formed at the top after you popped off the bottlecap? I could drink one now. If only I could find one.

There was a time when my sodas were restricted, maybe when I was 5 or 6. Somehow I drank too many and it caused urinary infections? Who knows. So staying away from the fridge was such a pain.

There was so much ritual around sodas in bottles. After my grandfather finished mowing the yard, I'd take him out a tall, cool, Pepsi. My other grandparents mixed their Pepsi's with Jack. The clinking together of those bottles is a joyous sound to my ears. But the closest approximation these days is when I'm toting home wine from the package store.

All this growing up on Pepsi, and then somehow things changed. My mom drank Coca-Cola, and that's what she bought. What I got used to. Then when diet sodas came around we exclusively drank Diet Coke. And when New Coke came out? Oh, that was horrible. Such a bad bad thing.

To me, The Real Thing is sugar. I don't want high fructose corn syrup in my sodas. My pops. And so that's the real reason I boycott the carbonated products.

eating the choo choo + g&t rambling

Somehow my visit to Chattanooga a few weeks back completely slipped my mind. There was good eating to be found in that city, for sure.

I was there for "business," my state library association met there. When I picked up my registration stuff, I got a great tote bag that has a mesh side pocket perfect for carrying bottled water or any other bottled drink. It was on the outside, so your papers wouldn't get damp.

Mine came with a Moon Pie; other people got Hershey's bars. Though I'm not a Moon Pie fan, I kept the treat inside the bag as an emergency snack. At conferences I don't usually eat while I'm at the conference center. Have you consumed conference center food of late? It's nothing to write home about. At conferences, I go and go and somehow forget about eating and end up at a critical point where I'm desperate for food. That's just inside the center. If I'm at a national conference and walking from hotel to hotel in a major city, I usually stop, sit, and treat myself to a fine meal. I deserve it after all the walking I do.

First night in Chattanooga my colleagues and I ate at our hotel, the Marriott. Earlier we walked down toward the Aquarium and talked about eating at Thai Smile. But neither colleague would commit because we had a late lunch at the Bass Pro Outlet place, what's it called, Islamorada Fish something? At the Sevierville exit.  I should have forced the issue. Ian said I should have told them that I was eating at the Thai place and let them go on back to the hotel, or whatever. But I try to get along. You know? When Jerry, another colleague, found us eating at the hotel he told me later that he was surprised to find me there. He knows I'm a foodie and don't normally dine at a hotel restaurant unless it's something outstanding. All that said, I had a great Angus burger.

Breakfast was at same Marriott in the convention center. I attended the Intellectual Freedom breakfast. There was no choice about the meal. It stank. Pancakes covered with cinnamon apples. That cinnamon apple flavor, probably my least favorite of any, would not come away from the pancakes. Two slices of bacon, that were okay, but cold. And greasy. Sometimes that happens with bacon. Then what else? Oh orange juice. My glass of orange juice was the best part of the meal. Yum.

Lunch that day was dicey. I waffled between getting lunch and not. There were several great choices. I'm a Mellow Mushroom fan, but didn't stop there. Also looked at a few places across the river,  Mudpie Cafe, North Shore Grille, or near the river in the case of the Back End Cafe.

In the interest of maintaining my momentum and seeing all I could see, I chose instead to get a scoop of ice cream. Clumpies is great. There were at least twenty different flavors. I sampled Pistachio and  Coconut Flake? Coconut Chip?  Had to go for the coconut, though the pistachio was a contender. There were enough flavors listed on their board to appeal to the most discerning customer. Seems like they had a Chai-flavored ice cream, too.

Is there justification for eating ice cream for lunch? Surely in this case, there was. I had a crappy breakfast, of which I finished less than half. I walked several miles from downtown to UTC and  then across the Walnut Street Pedestrian Bridge. It was warm and sunny. I got slightly sweaty. I burned enough calories with my walking tour of the city and thus an ice cream lunch was a perfect treat. Clumpies is a definite stop on my next trip through the Choo Choo. Strolling back across the Walnut Pedestrian Bridge while licking a cone of Clumpies ice cream is an essential Chattanooga experience. The breeze buffeting the river  kept my hair out of my ice cream at all the critical moments.

Dinner was excellent. Jerry, my two roomies, and I ate at 212 Market.  Four or five years ago when TLA was last in Chattanooga,  three colleagues and I set out to find 212 Market because we'd been told it was the best downtown restaurant. We never found it, never knew it's exact name, I guess, just that it had a number in it's name, and ended up at Mellow Mushroom, which suited me fine. We arrived a few minutes early for our reservation and sniffed around the dessert tray adjacent to the hostesses desk. And while in Chattanooga on this trip three or four librarians, independent of one another, sang the praises of 212 Market.

The bar makes excellent gin and tonics; my standard drink of choice, and the first illegally had mixed drink I ordered (and they served underaged me) in public. I was in Baltimore on a school (college) trip and one of my acquaintances told me I should order a G & T because it tasted like a tree, and I was a bit of a tree hugger then, so it sounded like perfection to me. There are so many reasons to love Baltimore, but my first gin and tonic combined with being allowed to walk around a Harbor-side shopping area with your beer in a go-cup endeared me to the city where my mother was born. That and crabcakes to die for.

Probably one of the best ones I've had in a long time. I didn't feel slighted on the amount of gin in my glass. I prefer Beefeater, if you must know.  Several years ago in Philadelphia, Marie and I sat in our hotel bar, while other non-librarians watched the Super Bowl, and we taste tested between Beefeater and Tanqueray. I love the Tanqueray bottle and have been a bit of a gin snob, but we both preferred the taste of Beefeater. Maybe the bar didn't have Bombay Sapphire. And Hendricks, my new favorite gin? Doubt it was on the market at that point, or introduced to my region at that time (can't find the est. date on their website).

Appetizers? Yes, please. Jerry, Amy, and I ordered appetizers to share. Jerry got the fried green tomatoes (Bulgarian sheep's cheese, Dueling sauces, and pickled pink onions), I got the three cheese plate (dutch gouda, Tn chevre, Spanish machengo and candied garlic), and Amy got the Mediterranean trio featuring pita, tahini, hummus, artichoke hearts, and an olives. Everything was delicious. Divine. Yummmmmmmmy.

Jerry and I ordered the seafood bisque quite without knowing that 212 Market is famous for it. Our waitress said that the seafood bisque has won some kind of city-wide food contest several years running. It was exquisite. I've never had seafood bisque quite this good. I could eat a bowl everyday. After devouring my cup of bisque, I declared to our waitress that she must reveal the ingredients. I felt sure there was wine in there, but she said sherry and something else. It's terrible how I've forgotten that now. Because I planned to replicate it, not quite exactly, but this could be an ongoing experiment in my kitchen. Several kinds of seafood including salmon, crab, shrimp, etc. Then the typical veggies. Sigh. Thinking about it gets me worked up.

Then dinner. I wanted the New Zealand lambchops, the Bison strip steak, or the Black Skillet Duck breast, but ended up going for the Mushroom ravioli. I was slightly displeased with mine. Just slightly. It was much better than anything I can order at home. The duck was my furst choice, but Jerry ordered that. I'm silly, but I don't like to order the same thing as someone else at my table.  This was mostly in the spirit of sharing.  For Jerry and Amy let me taste their dishes and I did the same with mine. Amy had the Smoked Cheddar chicken: green pepper mole, golden grits, and greens. I stayed away from the Bison steak and Lamp chops because they were two of the three most expensive entrees on the menu. I didn't want to go hog wild, you see.

Nobody had room for dessert, really, after such bounty. We decided to split two desserts amongst ourselves. I would have chosen the bread pudding because I've become such a bread pudding fan of late. There was creme brule, highly overrated in my estimation. A key lime tart, that looked good, but I'm so over key lime. Surely there was an apple something. That's fairly standard on most dessert menus. And two chocolate things. Naturally they chose the two chocolate things, when I am not a fan of chocolate at all. One was a decadently rich flourless chocolate cake with chocolate icing between it's layers. It was so rich that when I put a bit in my mouth, I had an unusual reaction: My jaws tingled in shock. That doesn't happen everyday. They offered me more, but I declined. The other chocolate was a surprisingly fine German Chocolate cake. I love GCC, but most times it's way overdone and terribly sweet. Not this one. It was perfect. Neither cake nor icing was over the top sweet, so I had several bites of this sleeper of a dessert.

Jerry and I split a taxi back to the hotel, about 10 blocks. Not because we were so full that waddling home was an issue. But Jerry was battling walking pneumonia and I had blistered feet to contend with from all the walking of the past two days.

Breakfast on the day we left Chattnooga was at the Choo Choo. They have a delightful buffet. Lots of variety. Amy and I got the buffet. Their biscuits and gravy are the best I've had from a buffet. I'm not a fan of buffets. But this one, I'd return to again and again. There were several meats, potatoes, eggs, fruits, and pancake/french toast items to choose from.

The drive home was not the best. I was carsick. Somewhere, a few hours out of Chattanooga, we stopped on I-40 at one of those mega convenience-type stores. I got a hot dog, chips, and red velvet cake. I hoped that the cake was edible. You never know, really, until you unwrap the cling-film and dig in. Quite honestly this was the best, most moist, red velvet cake I've ever put in my mouth. The icing was just right, too.

conditions in car unconducive to blur-free photography

A perfect combination. I highly recommend that the next chance you get, stop in a convenience store and check the refrigerated area for products sporting the Ne-Mo's Bakery label. They're out of Escondido, Calif. Who knew they could make such delectable RVC in California? The carrot cake tempted me, too. And somehow I didn't see a banana cake square at my store, but they offered plenty of chocolate.

By national sales volume, the carrot cake square is their best seller, with banana second, and chocolate third. Cannot believe why RVC doesn't make the list. I'd say that folks outside the south don't stock the cake because they're not familiar with it. Poor RVC. When will that cake get a fair shake?

wine education before its time

An editorial assistant at Simon & Schuster sent me a copy of Educating Peter: How I Taught a Famous Movie Critic the Difference Between Cabernet and Merlot or How Anybody Can Become an (Almost) Instant Wine Expert (2007). I started reading it right away, but haven't finished it yet.

The premise is that Lettie Teague, wine editor for Food & Wine, hopes to teach her friend Peter, a film critic, about wine. Who knew there was so much to learn about wine? I know what I like, and that's about it. So I was excited to learn about the different grapes, different regions, and all that. I love acquiring new skills and steeping my brain with information.

There's a lot of information in the book. Much of it is easy to understand, but difficult to sensually understand. What I mean is that without tasting the wines that Teague introduces Peter to, I can't quite wrap my tongue around oaky or buttery or steely as terms to describe the taste of certain wines.

Without the book in front of me,  I can't quite recall it's organization. There's an introduction and then Teague takes Peter through the countries. I read the chapter on France and then next up is Italy; there are several more to follow. At the back of the book, which I'm really eager to look at, is a section on What to Look for at the Wine Store. It's not that exact title, but I think that chapter may very well be the part I use most from the book.

This turned out to be a half-review, and when I finish the book I'll give a heads up on it.

reading southern cooking

LLA introduced me to the Lee Bros. a few weeks, or months ago, I forget. Because she lives in Atlanta where they have a newspaper of any account. Maybe even two. And since these Lee Bros. are popular in Up North, and it takes ten years for culinary trends to filter down south, I had not seen or heard the first bit about them anywhere local-like. It was a 19 October 2006 story called "Matt and Ted's excellent adventure."

They got their start appealing to the palates of southern expats. When you live where I do, the goods they sell are easy to come by. Perhaps that explains my ignorance on the subject.

I'm reading their cookbook. Looks interesting. Lots of reading in it, so that's a change from the typical. But it's big and thick and that doesn't translate to portability. The first section deals with drinks. There are sweet tea recipes, punches, and the regularly expected drinks like juleps and sazarecs. Then there's the unexpected: Cheerwine Cocktails. I suspect that's why I bought the cookbook, for the unexpected.

In the introduction they talk about Tennessee. They've visited the state, and found a man who makes corn cob liqueur or wine, I can't recall now. But he lives in Pigeon Forge, best I recall. They've been to East Tennessee. I searched in the index for state listings, but the cookbook isn't indexed that way. Guess I'll have to read the whole thing to pick out anything familiar to me.

In two weeks they'll be in Asheville, but there are no Tennessee stops planned on their whirlwind tour of the south. They give a culinary demonstration at The Biltmore Estate, in the Winery's Demonstration  kitchen on 10 April at 7:00 PM, reservations required. And then on the eleventh they have a book signing at Malaprop's.

Tommorrow I'll be in Savannah, hoping to eat my way through the city and then some. After that, it's diet time. I've put on six pounds in the last two months.