Wouldn’t go so far as to say a pox on this day, because that’s a bit much. You don’t want to make a big deal about something that can be easily scaled up or down without altering its essence. I’ve more to say about the day, but it will wait until Friday’s column.
Scant work yesterday here Bleatwise, because I was in Fargo. Again! Again up Highway Ten, this time with family. Headed up to see Dad and sis and the rest while the tree was still up and decorated.
The drive up was cold and bleak and sunny. One lane half the way, since the left lane had shiny welts of ice. Stopped at Treasure City, which was a GREAT AMAZING PLACE two years ago but is BORING now because it’s just full of junk.
Really?
I still like it, for its timeless Roadside America kitschy glory, its faded sign, wolf-heads poking out of the snow, honest simple claims – Clean Bathrooms! Free Ice! Level Floors! Temperatures in Fahrenheit! Every visit I find some new piece of krep with a long cultural pedigree. Like this:
Might not make sense in a few years, but there was a time when “Texas” set the standard for things that were Pointlessly Big. They liked everything big in Texas! Yee Hah! (gunfire) What makes this an artifact of the 60s, I believe, is the pointless addition of a woman’s head. Just for sex appeal. A fella might balk at the giant fly, but the purty girl would mighten help him along to the cash register.
Back on the road, back to home – same as always, except everyone keeps changing houses. Visited sis’s new house: the tree was white, festooned entirely in white, topped with what appeared to be an albino peacock, spotlit, and rotating. Really: walked into sister’s new house, and there was a white tree in the middle of the foyer, rotating. I wanted to say “we were thinking of doing a dizzy-fir this year too; where’d you get yours?” but I let it go for a while. There had to be a reason her tree was revolving.
Came with the house, she said. Ah! They’d bought the model for a new development in Fargo. Gorgeous place, ultra modern, with a basement home theater. Alas: only one row of leather seats in the second elevated row of the home theater were electric, and would deploy footrests when the correct button was pressed. The seats on the lower tier required you to slump manually. The projection HD picture was nice; the subwoofer made the dogs upstairs empty their bowels. It was all quite lovely. A fellow can live well in Fargo – the same price in New York would get you a second-story room in an apartment in a distant borough. Ah, but you’re in Fargo, and in New York many very interesting people would be on that train that rattled past outside your window. This I grant.
Right now as I write this I’m in the Holiday Inn, which is overrun by the wrestlers here for the state tourney.
So it’s pretty much nothing but alpha males and bruiser-gals from the small towns in our favorite rectangular state. Well-behaved, but loud, and unable to close a door without slamming it. JUST TO SHOW THE DOOR WHO’S BOSS AROUND HERE.
We had dinner at a place called “Spitfire,” which was not some Hooters-type joint built around the concept of ill-tempered minxy waitresses, or a plane. It meant meat, over a fire, in a spit. Everything was hand-rubbed and slow-roasted or hand-roasted and slow-rubbed. (Trust me, that would be a cooking trend if someone pushed it on the Food Network. Slow rubbed! Yes, we take entry-level chefs, fill them full of cough syrup, turn up bass-heavy music, and let them work on a piece of brisket for 16 hours.) The place smelled of sweet BBQ sauce, so I asked if I could try some before they dumped it all over my meal. It was remarkably good, if you like the piquant tangy vinegar-based varieties, instead of the sauces composed mostly of high-fructose corn syrup. Put on the desiccated brisket, which had apparently been hand-rubbed by someone who’d been a 1940s boxing masseur in a previous life, it soaked into the meat without issuing a peep, and was never heard from again.
Afterwards we went to our cars and did not die, which was good; the temperature was a generous 9 degrees, but the mean wind pushed it down below zero, and damn, it was cold. This place was settled by very curious people. Either they came in here in the winter and were so pleasantly surprised by summer they couldn’t believe a place so cruel could be so kind, or they arrived in summer, and lied about the winter to lure others west and provide company. Or at least someone to bury them. Misery loves company, but it needs pallbearers.
—
Got up, had a hearty breakfast, started the car. Dropped off wife & child at the mall for a bit while I got gas and warmed up the car. The fellow on the radio said the high tomorrow would be two below, but “Friday it really gets cold, with a low of minus 21.” I rethought the argument I’d had with my dad the previous night, about whether 5 above was really cold. He said it wasn’t. It was brisk. It was nippy. But cold? C’mon, Dad! With the windchill it’s fifteen below. FIFTEEN. BELOW. Yes, he admitted, that was a bit on the cool side.
Did he have a hat or gloves when he went to his car after dinner? Of course not. Then again, neither did I. Heck, by the time you put them on you’d be where you were going to go.
Stating the obvious, at a CENEX station:
Turned around, and this is the view:
It goes on like that, in all directions, forever. You can look at 2010 as something that starts like this and returns to this, I suppose. Another reason for starting the new year May First. But you go to war with the calendar you have, no?
Happy New Year!
Pass it along, if you wish
65 Responses to Thursday, Dec. 31: end of 09
Host with the Most
sshhhh! somebody might remember that server is still powered. shhh!
You guys aren’t inmates – you’re ghosts. (Wow, just like the Sixth Sense)
My chili only has one “l” in it. That’s a new regionalism on me. My chili is made in VA, but it is Texas-style, with no beans, diced beef, lots of scorched, soaked and pureed ancho chilies, a little chipotle en adobo, some masa harina, and some Carta Blanc or Negra Modelo.
@hpoulter
Chili-One day i’ll lern to speel.
It’s amazing that other regions can now actually cook (and cook well!) what was once considered regional faire. It wasn’t that long ago that eating Mexican food/ Tex-Mex in places other than Mexico/ near the border was a letdown. I think the wider availability of ingredients and the rise of things like “The Food Network,” other cooking shows on TV is part of the reason.
Anyway, well, Bleatniks. That was one farged-up decade — on that I think we all agree (no matter who we blame.) Here’s to a better 2010′s, full of peace, prosperity, and justice (hope we’re still agreeing!) … and equality (okay, argue about that later)–
Anyway, here’s to that great 21st Century we all dreamed of when we were kids. Let’s each do our bit to make it, & hope it comes out in the wash.
cheers, madCanada
Man, that last picture looks like Thule, Greenland, where I spent a year of my life. I know it must be cold in N.D. because when some SAC guys came up to Thule from Minot in 1968 to help clean up that B=52 that crashed on the ice they told me it was warmer in Thule than in Minot, N.D.
That last photo and comment reminds me of the first time I saw “Fargo”. The scene where Steve Buscemi buries the suitcase of cash and sticks the window scraper in as marker, had (and still does) me rolling on the floor.
Treasure City looks like a fun place to kill a couple of hours, but for real roadside America you just can’t beat the real Roadside America:
http://www.roadsideamericainc.com/
I’m with Di, though-having spent my entire life in Pennsylvania, I can’t comprehend living somewhere the horizon doesn’t undulate. That being said I’ve always wanted to visit Minneapolis and Our Gracious Host has only heightened my interest in the better known Twin City, as well as Fargo. On my next road trip I’m taking the northern route to hit both places.
Anyway, Happy New Year to all and to all a good night.
@ swschrad:
“Bob W’s Qzarks. maybe that’s why the large hadron supercollider is having trouble, it generates too many Qzarks.”
Excellent, I think you’ve put your finger on it!
A happy, healthy, and prosperous 2010 to one and all.
And for what it’s worth, we won’t have two zeroes next to each other for 90 years. Not sure what that bit of trivia does for you, but there it is.
Happy Gnu Year 2010, y’all! (Gnu’s Not UNIX ya know…)
Santa Maria, CA may be famous for it’s Tri-tip Barbecue, but just up Highway 101 in the next town North, is Nipomo, home of Jocko’s Steakhouse. Not much to see from the outside, the interior is a bit time-worn, but they have the best steaks there, and reasonably priced, too. The typical 2 to 3 hour wait is testimony to it’s meaty goodness. We usually try to visit there when we’re in the area. Highly recommended.
We had an Ed Debevic’s here in Los Angeles, but it closed down about 10 years ago. Dunno why, the times I went there, the place was always full up, its decor is 50′s diner style, and the wait staff were “characters”. They always played fun music in there, and the staff would jump upon the counters and dance and sing certain musical numbers, like YMCA by the Village People, etc. It was quite an experience. Food was okay, nothing to write home to mama about. Shame to see it go away, it was a change from ordinary restaurants.
I sure hope 2010 is better than 2009, that’s a year I really don’t want to live through again. Best wishes for the future…
Here in western Iowa, it’s “Cookie’s Barbecue Sauce”,
a family enterprise in Wall Lake.
That’s Wall Lake, Iowa—home of Andy Williams.
Sauce is great on beef/pork ribs. Or do an economical
chuck roast in the oven, peel off most of the
disgusting fat and chop chunks into slivers. It’s
a sweet, smooth sauce.
Happy new year to James and all of the Bleat followers! It’s midnight and everyone”s asleep in my house, so my midnight kiss goes to all of you. Muah.
FYI, on this side of the Pond, “chilli” IS spelt (or do you say “spelled”?) with two Ls.
Never mind the fact that is is invariably served over rice and seasoned with curry!! :-p
Hey you people! Since I was born and grew up there, Santa Maria Barbecue must be defended! Santa Maria Barbecue is not barbecue as in ribs and pulled pork sandwiches. It’s steaks – tri-tips, to be specific. The term barbecue is a bit of a misnomer to me. I wouldn’t say “Let’s go have a barbecued steak.” True, one barbecues steak in the backyard but I think the correct term is “grill.” Barbecue to me is a southern thing or a Kansas City thing, not grilled steals.
Besides Jocko’s (we used to go there all the time when we were kids), there are some other great steak places in the area. Drive out to the Far Western in Guadalupe (a poor little town directly west of Santa Maria). Or the Hitching Post in Casmalia (hardly even a town), down Highway 1 toward Vandenberg AFB. Then there’s the Hitching Post II of “Sideways” fame in Buellton (probably the best steaks in the Santa Ynez Valley (about 30 miles south of Santa Maria), or the Red Barn in the town of Santa Ynez. None of these places are fancy, but the steaks are delicious.
Somehow, this article reminded me of a post in Merrill Markoe’s blog about a visit to a museum in Kentucky. (Link below). Especially the Treasure City stop. The two places have nothing in common, but still ….
Ive always been intrigued by Fargo, ever since the movie, “Fargo”.
Anyway-
http://merrillmarkoe.com/on-the-road-i-got-recognized-but-it-was-here