Not My Fault
August 26, 2009
I swear it’s not my fault, really. Some weeks ago I received a rather disconcerting letter in the mail, insinuating as it were, that I was somehow to blame for the imminent shortage in one of Kentucky’s native spirits. Apparently, I drank the distillery out of Knob Creek. Or at least that’s how I interpreted the correspondence. Had I really been consuming that much bourbon? I mean, the economy has been tough, work was stressful, and I had been enjoying a Wednesday night cocktail more often than in times past. I had even, on the occasional night out, enjoyed a second. But could one person have really made that much of an impact on the bourbon supply chain? Was I one of those people who had crossed the line from indulgence to addiction? Did I need, (gasp), intervention?
You can bury me on Deadwood Mountain
By my brother Wild Bill and sister Calamity Jane
Don’t bring me no flowers
Just a six gun smokin
Put me eight feet down
When you bury me
“Deadwood Mountain” by Big & Rich
It became painfully obvious last week that the whole real time blogging while watching a TV show idea might be wearing thin. The Jimmy Buffett inspired “Here We Are” post drew more viewers than the Thailand show blog, which would have told a more intelligent or perceptive writer a thing or two. However, with only 3 more episodes left in the summer season after tonight, I have decided to see the enterprise through until the bitter, painful, discombobulated end. More on that later.
I have tickets to see Anthony Bourdain in Louisville on September 25th. His appearance is part of the IdeaFestival (for more info check out www.ideafestival.com). I’m a little worried, because as the trailers for tonight’s show make clear, there was a bit of a “military situation” while NR was filming in Thailand. Add that to what happened in Beruit, and one might say Tony is maybe not the harbinger of joy and good tidings. The last thing Louisville, Kentucky needs right now is conflict and fighting amongst rival factions. That’s what the debate over the fate of the Louisville basketball coach is for.
Here We Are
August 18, 2009
Who would have thought this game,
this flame would still be burning
Who would have guessed that all these blenders
would still be churning
Not even we on our bended knees
could have ever blessed it
Not even I with my head in the sky
could have ever guessed it
“Here We Are”, lyrics by Jimmy Buffett from Take The Weather With You
In the heat of summer and the midst of the madness, I sat back for a moment to drink it all in. Kevin probably said it best, decked out in his Hawaiian shirt with a beer in his hand surrounded by 20,000 like minded individuals. “This is my happy place.”
Week 4 of the play by play blog experience is history. Tony Bourdain and the “No Reservations” crew landed in San Francisco. We hope you tuned in, turnd on and dropped dumplings. The recap is below. Enjoy.
I have no emotional or cultural attachment to hippies, counter-culture or the Summer of Love. Being born in 1971 I missed the whole thing. I suppose if I had been born three years earlier I might have been named after Timothy Leary or Jerry Garcia. Instead, I was named after Neil Diamond as my mother spun Hot August Night on the record player over and over again. She told my father she wanted to name me after Neil Armstrong, the astronaut, but let’s just say there were no Neil Armstrong records in the house when I was a kid, and the only concert my mother ever attended without my father featured a greater display of gold and chest hair than a bearded women’s convention. Besides, my parents’ upbringing was a lot more Happy Days than Haight-Ashbury. In short, I’ve never been to San Francisco, and I don’t know what I’m missing. The closest I’ve come is singing the opening lines to Jimmy Buffett’s “Come Monday”.
Real Time blogging during “No Reservations – Down on the Street”, tonight at 10pm EDT
August 3, 2009
Week 3 of this little creative experiment has wrapped up. If it’s not blatantly apparent by now, Monday nights are kind of slow around here. Tonight, Tony Bourdain indulges in one of his favorite indulgences – street food. A recent article in the local paper belabored the lack of street food in Lexington, KY. So even if you live where you can’t enjoy the various delicacies of mystery meat in tube form, hopefully you still enjoyed the show and our commentary as well. Think of all this as a culinary version of Mystery Science Theater 3000, only without the robots. However, I am considering adding a talking Cuisinart as a side-kick.
Twenty Years Ago
August 1, 2009
“Twenty years ago I struck out on my own
Couldn’t tell me nothing I didn’t already know.”
Twenty Years Ago by Montgomery Gentry
Food changes. And food changes people. When we’re young there are foods we would never dream of eating, and things we ate then that we haven’t tasted again in years. Food changes how people interact with each other. Put a roomful of people together without food or drink, and the conversation seems forced, with no one being sure why they are there. Produce – as if by magic – a platter of hors d’oeuvres, or a bottle of wine, and people immediately loosen up. Friendship flows as freely as the wine. Now they know why they are here. Maybe it’s not for the food, but for each other. However, for that evening, the meal is what binds them all together.
