Text 28351, 94 rader
Skriven 2009-09-05 20:03:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: end of IPT trip 130
===========================
Robbie came over for breakfast. He brought a dozen superfresh eggs
from the farmers' market, so we had eggs over easy, along with
fried green tomatoes, Jones scrapple (the same as Habbersett's and
Rapa, in a different package), and Amish toast.

Not my kind of food at all, except for the scrapple, of which
there was 1/2 lb per person, just the right amount: less, you're
still hungry, more, too much starch. I had a pile of tomatoes;
these tasted fine if a bit sour (I am becoming increasingly sensitive
to acidy tastes), but I unloaded them almost immediately, as soon as
the meal was over. The Amish toast was made with low-salt bread, but
I couldn't eat but one slice.

Robbie ran off to do some errands, and we gathered round the TV to
watch Canada lose to Mexico in extra innings on a throwing error,
Georgia whup New York, and Chula Vista, CA annihilate Russellville,
KY 15-0, with half a dozen homers and almost flawless play. In
between, we had a surf 'n' turf dinner (Robbie came back for this)
- gambas al ajillo, 2 ribeyes medium-rare, 2 12-oz strips extra
rare, tricolor roast peppers, portobellos marinated in wine vinegar
and grilled, regular mushrooms with garlic, and a totally supernumerary
blueberry pie made by Annie. I was feted as though I were Bocuse or
someone. The secret is to make fresh food with integrity and to not be
shy with the BTUs. tttt, it's a pleasure to make Billy happy, as a year
ago it was unclear that he would even be around this time of this year.

After the last game I watched some of The Best Thing I Ever Ate,
in which Aida Someone, Giada DeLaurentiis (hot!), Guy Fieri (silly
ass), Susan Feniger, and others revisit the best dishes they'd ever
consumed, other than what they made themselves, of course. None of
these dishes could hold a candle to anything I made or ate this day.

Midnight snack: two eggs nuked (a fairly worthy way of making eggs
as it turns out, if you are careful) with Melinda's hot sauce and
a milk chocolate Dove ice cream bar with many pills. A glass each
of Knob Creek and Maker's Mark. Knob Creek is better.

=

We finally got to Market Street for lunch: I had a burger rare
(yay) with sweet tater fries; Billy got a BBQ burger with loaded
Market chips; and Annie got the seared ahi sandwich with unloaded
chips. All were very nice, done as ordered, which is always a
pleasant surprise. I had a taster of the seasonal, a peach wheat,
which, as you can guess, was peachy and banana-y and clovey, and
I hated it. Followed by their pretty good porter, their okay red a
la Killian, and a glass of the Konstantin Frank semi-dry Riesling,
which did an excellent imitation of a mass-market Mosel Kabinett
at about twice the price.

There was plenty of time, so we repaired to the Bottle & Cork,
where Annie picked up a case of odd wines, including a bottle of
Dr. Frank semi-dry. Then to Wegmans for a case of Sapporo oil
cans, a half case of Sapporo regulars, and a case of Singha.
You can't apparently get Asian beer in Pennsylvania.

I got dropped off at the airport an hour before the flight:
security had just been opened (it apparently closes between flights).

US4103 ELM PHL 1514 1620 DH8 4A

This portly lady was causing trouble at the gate just by sheer
incompetency, not having her boarding pass, oh here it is, and
having too much carryon, that sort of thing, and her younger
?relative was giving her a hard time ... I rolled my eyes and
wondered about the traveling public. Eventually she was allowed
to board, and I discovered to my horror that she had been given
the exit row aisle (how she could be expected to operate the
emergency exit I have no idea), and me with the window. So she
laboriously attempted to get up, whereupon her companion, back in
row 99 or so, said, "want to switch?," to which the icy response
was in the negative - I will not give up the best seat in the
house for the worst, especially when there appeared to be malice
aforethought in the younger one's behavior. Eventually, someone
(an extremely pretty young Italianate girl) switched her rotten
seat for the exit row aisle, so those two could sit together.
Other than that, a perfectly fine flight in a filthy old Dash-8.

US 751 PHL BOS 1715 1839 319 2A

My seatmate was another quite pretty lady, about my age, but
with a rock worth more than me on her finger, who, when I
ordered a double Jack straight up, acknowledged that she was
afraid of flying. I chatted with her briefly, and then she went
to work to keep her mind off the fact that she was in an aluminum
cylinder five miles above the earth. It was a perfectly normal
flight, with an inland reroute and a few extra bumps along the
way owing to Hurricane Bill, but owing to the miracle of
schedule padding, we landed on time.


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