Vaulted Memories

Someday I will be an old man. I will wear cowboy boots with my shorts and I'll blither blather about past meals. I'll begin all of my stories, "One time I ate (fill in the blank). I'll talk Delta tamales, beer mimosas, fried pies, oysters, piles of crawfish, schnapps, goulash, sausage, onion burgers, bowls of whipped butter, and on and on and on. Some people will look at me strangely Some will ignore me and walk away. Some will listen, but they will doubt me. For those doubters, I will say, "Check out my blog." There I will offer evidence of past repasts, like the meals I experienced on a recent trip along the Lake Superior coast of Minnesota.

At Russ Kendall's Smokehouse in Knife River, I ate smoked white fish, the North Shore's equivalent of BBQ.

At the Duluth Grill I ate cinnamon roll French toast, and the pasty pictured below:


A mandatory stop along the North Shore is Betty's Pies. We stopped twice. The second trip I slurped a shake that contained an entire slice of key lime pie.

I ate peach caprese at the New Scenic Cafe.

I slurped another malt at The Portland Malt Shoppe in Duluth.



I ate a plate of corned beef hash at Hell's Kitchen.


We stopped in the town of Hinkley, where we ate at Cassidy's Restaurant. I ate a meatloaf sandwich smothered in gravy.

They had a read station with seven kinds of bread, and (drum roll)
two big bowls of whipped butter.
I finished the meal with one of these giant cinnamon rolls (only a $1.49).


I didn't eat one of the caramel pecan rolls because that would have been gluttonous.
These are just a few of the meals I enjoyed.

some will simply understand,
muddywaters

PS. . . Next year I want to participate in a Minnesota meat raffle.

Famers' Market Treasures: Onions from ?????

I had no intention of buying onions at the farmers' market on Saturday, but the smelled lured me. Most people would describe the wild, pungent odor as unappealing, but the scent of onions reminds me of earth and my childhood. A time when my hair was bleached blonde because I didn't come inside until the street lights glowed. A time when I tugged wild onions from the dirt and that earthly scent covered me head to toe and I didn't mind what others thought of that. I'm reminded of a time when I measured the productivity of a day by the dirt ring that remained in the tub after a bath.

forever young,
muddy

ps. . . I don't remember the name of the farmer I purchased the onions from, but I will find out and update that info.

The onions contributed to a wonderful stir-fry.

Quintessentially Lawrence: Drivable Art

Too cold to start a fire
I'm burning diesel, burning dinosaur bones
I'll take the river down to still water
And ride a pack of dogsI'm gonna break
I'm gonna break my
I'm gonna break my rusty cage and run

***"Rusty Cage" by Soundgarden

Three weeks ago my mood was soured, so I went to the library to sweeten my disposition. I found a little sugar in the parking lot. This made my day: