We had dinner there recently and I fought my usual mental battle that starts something like this: “I’m NOT having the stuffed grouper again, I get that every time. I’m going to try the steak.” And it ends something like this, “I guess I’ll have the stuffed grouper.”
This time, I vocalized my quandary and our waitress offered that there was a special, a new item. Special and new are magic words for the consumer, you know, so I had to hear it. She mentioned something about shrimp and said they were served in seasoned grits. When she got to the fourth type of cheese in the grits, I’d heard enough: “I’ll take it!”
Best shrimp dish I’ve had in many years.
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We had visits from Theo, Jimmy and Nick Patronis during the meal, all politely inquiring if the food was good and if my credit card had been reinstated. The place was packed,
And then Theo, God bless him, heard me asking why there wasn’t chocolate cheesecake on the menu — and about a week later he called to say he had a surprise for me if I could stop by. He presented me with a chocolate cheesecake!
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While we’re talking about food, there was harrowing news on breakfast front early last week: Charlie Coram’s Place on 23rd Street was closing until 6 a.m. today. What? I need at least one Heavenly Hash a week and I had breakfast there Saturday and would be out of town this Saturday. I might have to go 10 days without it?
Charlie said they’re moving the cook line out and doing some “extensive” repair work, but expected to be back open sometime today. My belly hopes so.
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A little common sense will go a long way as it goes to the everyone enjoying Panama City’s new dog park on Balboa Avenue, just north of the waking track. My English cockerBuddy loves to go there and run for up to an hour, alert only to the possibility that a bird might fall out of the sky and he could bring it to me.
We go a couple of times a week and it’s an absolute blast ... except for when “that guy” shows up. You don’t have to have met him to know “that guy.” He’s the one with the aggressive dog that ends up tangling with other dogs every single time until he apologizes and finally leaves, usually after others have removed their dogs.
Folks, if your dogs can’t play nice, don’t bring them to the doggie park.
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Saw a sign that I really liked and that really struck a nerve with me the other day on my way to work. Right there on Mulberry Avenue was a highly visible sign in someone’s yard saying, “Drive like your kids live here.”
I’ve driven up and down that road 5 times a week for some 30 years and while cognizant of it being residential, had been guilty of being in a hurry on the way to some breaking news assignment or another. But that sign caught my attention and has stuck with me.
We should all drive through any neighborhood as if our kids lived there, because I know I drive awfully slow through my own neighborhood. I’ve got to ask where they got that sign.
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I was socializing recently with a group of folks, including a gaggle of ladies who had spent a few hours at Club La Vela on Thomas Drive. During ensuing conversations, one of the ladies – I’d never met her – struck up a conversation after we were introduced.
“Caz,” she said. “You look just like my third husband!”
“Good grief,” I said, “how many times have you been married?”
“Twice,” she said.
Slick.
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