The art of people watching
It’s time for Art Mart in San Francisco, the annual show where galleries come from all over the world to show their wares at Fort Mason. Gail wasn’t feeling well, so I went with our friend Harry Siter. Not only is Harry an artist himself, but he’s very personable and seems to know everyone in the Bay Area art world, so walking through a show with him is an experience all by itself.
As always, you like some of the art and hate some and are mostly indifferent to the bulk of it. Of course, I had to like this piece by Doug Schneider.
Doug just finished this piece this week, and he’s completely frazzled. I think it’s fantastic, full of life and hope and joy.
Susan Cogan is one of my favorite people, and her son Kim is a noted artist whose work was on display in booth #121. Be sure to pay attention.
This painting by Michal Lukasiewicz just grabs me. It probably has more color than Gail would tolerate, but I’d put this in the house in a heartbeat.
Meditation #2
The talent some people have always stuns me. I saw this drawing and had to look at the label to know that it wasn’t a photograph.
Vernell #2, by Joel Daniel Philips
Of course, in this election year there had to be at least one political statement:
The art hanging on the walls was in many ways the least of the show. As always, I was fascinated by the crowd and their choices of clothing. I most certainly did not get everyone or everything that was amazing, but here is a selection of what caught my eye in the passing parade.
Not everyone was as interested in people watching as I was. This pair were running a booth, and were just sitting transfixed staring at the screen on the laptop. I was starting to think they were brilliant hyper-realistic sculptures until one moved.
The show is excellent, both for the art and the people watching. It’s on through Sunday at Fort Mason.
After we wandered the aisles thoroughly, Harry and I went out to dinner in the City. Nothing fancy, we headed to In and Out in the vicinity of Fisherman’s Wharf. They must not have had sufficient staff in the kitchen, because there was no line at the cash register and yet there were over 20 people ahead of us waiting for their food to arrive.
A cheeseburger for me and a Double-Double for Harry.
The burger was acceptable, but I’m pretty spoiled by Mona’s near our house. The fries were not crisp or particularly tasty. The chocolate shake was sinfully good. I know it’s some kind of social sin to not rave about In and Out, but I calls ’em as I sees ’em.
More style than substance
Dinner Sunday night in Napa with the Rip (Mike Rippey). He chose a place he likes, Ca’ Momi. I don’t have any idea what that name means. It’s not the only thing I don’t understand about the place.
Ca’ Momi is painfully hip. Thick wooden tables, old fashioned incandescent lights, an over size menu written in impenetrable Italian, often lacking decent English explanations of what the food is. And this absurd statement on the bottom:
OUT OF RESPECT FOR ITALIAN GASTRONOMY
~AND OUR GRANDMAS~
WE RESPECTFULLY DECLINE REQUESTS FOR SUBSTITUTIONS & MODIFICATIONS.
What self respecting nonna wouldn’t substitute the sausage for the meatballs if her little darling wanted it? I can and do get menu substitutions in Italy, but not in Napa, it would seem. The absurd pretension of the menu had me in a twit even before the orders were taken.
The order taking was the best part. We had a delightful waitress who was full of however you say ‘joie de vivre’ in Italian. She raced over to our table to welcome us as we sat down, just to say hi. She was happy and excited and described and explained everything that the menu failed to.
I tried to order the gnudi as an appetizer, but our perky waitress didn’t believe me so she didn’t write it down. Gnudi were described as potato dumplings without the potato. So is a ham sandwich, I suppose. They were supposed to be composed of spinach and ricotta cheese, but I may never know now. If only I sounded more convincing when I said things like “We’ll try the gnudi to start.”
Mike had the ‘stinco al forno con patate; oven roasted pork shank with potatoes. Gotta love it when they’re brave enough to name a dish “stinco”
Pork Shank with roasted fingerling potatoes
Looked good. Gail stole one of his spuds and said it was great.
Gail had the rigatoni con coda alla vaccinara, ox tail stew on rigatoni with red sauce.
Ox Tail stew and rigatoni.
By sheer coincidence I made an ox tail stew last week. This one was hugely better. Maybe not great, but good enough to take home the leftovers.
I ordered the gnocchi al gorgonzola, speck & noci, potato gnocchi with ham and walnuts and gorgonzola cream sauce. I asked in advance to be sure that I was getting gnocchi with some sauce, not a bowl of sauce with a couple of gnocchi, and the proportions were just right.
Gnocchi with ham and walnuts
I liked the sauce and the ham and the walnuts. The gnocchi themselves had very little texture, tasting more like creamy mashed Idahos formed into little marshmallow shapes. Getting them right is an art, one of the hardest things in Italian cooking.
You can get either black or green ice tea. But the only sweetener is Stevia, in keeping with the foodie/green/hip/slick/cool trendy pretensions of this restaurant. I love it when they think they have to give me their idea of what is good for me, not what I want. Kind of like being in the 2nd grade all over again.
Overall, I guess I like the place, but I’m not wild about it. I think they need to put more effort into the food and less into the psychobabble/newspeak hifalutin’ wordiness of their menu and mission statement. Presentation beats pretension every day of the week.
Moments from life
Brad’s daughter Brittnee married her husband Jordan in a quiet ceremony a couple of years ago when there was less money and perhaps she was a tiny bit pregnant, anyway, she was able to wear a beautiful dress from the best wedding shop. Yesterday, they did it all over again, with all the pomp and circumstance that can be arranged in Madera.
The wedding was held outdoors in a lovely space at the Cru Winery, the reception/dinner was in a large adjoining room.
They had a professional photographer, of course. I only took a few photos, of particular moments during the day. Quiet moments that felt meaningful or beautiful, that’s what I want to share with you.
It was a big wedding. Nine bridesmaids, nine groomsmen and one beautiful flower girl standing attentively with the grown-ups.
Checking in with mommy.
Brad has always been a caring and involved father. Kate is right there with him.
Kate loves being a grandmother. There was plenty of competition to hold the baby, but she was winning.
A very well dressed young man loves his gran.
Styles and traditions change with time. Instead of a huge formal cake, there were trays of fantastic cupcakes, and a small cake for the bride and groom to ceremonially cut. I felt compelled to try a couple of different cupcakes so I could report accurately. They were excellent.
Wedding, dinner, friends and family and we drove home. Not a bad way to spend a Saturday.
Living the High Life
Sunday night we took Carol Scott and went to the Bay Area Cabaret, in the fabled Venetian Room of the Fairmont Hotel.
Normally, cabaret singers present ultra-hip jazz and soulful blues. I expect serious New York hipsters either crooning or scatting in a mellow, über-cool manner.
Not this time.
Stephanie O’Brien (the Redhead), Marcella Puppini (the Brunette) and Kate Mullins (the Blonde) onstage at the Fairmont
The Puppini Sisters, who aren’t sisters, are loud, brassy, bawdy and frequently hilarious. They also sing well, featuring close harmony in the style of the Andrews Sisters.
Their costumes are ridiculous, pink, yellow and blue outfits covered in absurd pom-poms. The Blonde plays a silly looking instrument that sounds like a harmonica but has a keyboard. The show is more English vaudeville than serious cabaret, but it’s entertaining as hell–the Bay Area Cabaret sold so many tickets they were able to add a second show.
The show runs about 1:15, including the obligatory and perfectly rehearsed encore. Their big finish is Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy, to the surprise of no one. The Andrews Sisters did it better, but not in silly costumes.
After the show, we made our traditional trek across the street to the Top of the Mark, which was quite a letdown this time as they were grossly understaffed–we had to wait for a table; although there were many tables available there were no servers to work them. Then I got a bill including items we didn’t order, including $10 for “postcards”. I wasn’t amused. There isn’t any excuse for the management failure to properly staff, and I’ll hope the issue with the bill was just sloppiness.
The view was perfect, though.
Sun setting slowly in the West
We always enjoy the Bay Area Cabaret. The Puppini Sisters are not what I expected but I have an open mind and enjoyed myself nonetheless.
Cruising the Main
Back in high school, the cool kids all wanted to spend Friday and Saturday night cruising the Main, driving endlessly in a big circle in Walnut Creek, seeing and being seen in whatever car they could lay their hands on.
That isn’t legal or cool anymore around here, but it’s still the thing to do in Pigeon Forge, especially on the five or six weekends a year when they have car shows. People come from hundreds of miles around with their restored and unrestored hot rods. Some drive up and down the parkway, some just park their cars, raise the hoods, bring out lawn chairs and watch the passing parade.
I left Gatlinburg on Friday (the subject of a future post) and headed for the airport hotel in Knoxville. Having plenty of time, I decided to bump along with the crowd through Pigeon Forge and look at the cars and the people.
Mom and Pop just watching the passing parade.
I saw many interesting things, but was most taken with this, the ultimate example of the South I saw the entire week:
The Stars and Bars on one side, Don’t Tread on Me on the other.
The cars were interesting, the people just as much:
I’ve never seen a hot-rod wagon for the kiddie to ride in before.
Not all the cars were restored:
Some of the cars were truly classic:
I’m not sure what year this is–I think it’s older than I am.
There were many cars for sale:
Everything becomes collectible if it lives long enough. And doesn’t blow up.
This is the one I’d like to have:
The taxi we’ll all ride in sooner or later.
Some things have to be seen, they can’t be explained:
People bring the bicycles to get around while their car is on display.
We had a Lincoln like this for a while:
Droptop and suicide doors. One of the greatest designs ever.
There were thousands of cars, ranging from a few modern supercars like a Ferrari and an Audi R8 to ancient rattletraps that could barely move. It took me about an hour to drive the 4 miles through town, gawking all the way. The road was completely lined with lawn chair so people could spend all day Saturday watching the cars go by.
Not every car was American made, but most were. Still, no car show could be complete without a custom Beetle:
I don’t know where you find a surf shop in Tennessee
Cruising the main was different without teenage hormones raging through me, but I still enjoyed the ride. There is more to do in this area than eat fried chicken and visit Dollywood.
The Opry is Smokin’
I like theater, of pretty much any kind. Drama, comedy, musical, ballet,magic, review, if it’s onstage I’m up for it. The Smoky Mountain Opry was like nothing I’ve ever seen before, and it was a pleasant way to spend an evening.
Tickets are $44, $2 off for seniors and $5 off for veterans. We’re all seniors and Bill spent 4 years in the Air Force keeping Abilene TX safe from enemy invasion, so with tax it cost $151 for three of us to see the show. They weren’t busy on a Wednesday early in the season so I sweet talked our way into second row seats.
The theater is a large modern facility, although it was perhaps 15% full. Our seats were perfect, and the show started right on time. They have 3 shows a day here, a morning variety show, an afternoon magic show and the evening Opry. Everything is run professionally. I wasn’t pleased to have to wait to get in because they were busy taking photos of everyone, trying to increase revenue just like the cruise ships do, but less efficiently. The gift shop offers the usual hats, t-shirts and tacky souvenirs, along with a selection of ties with the ten commandments and other biblical injunctions.
Promptly at 8, the emcee comes out, spends a few minutes selling, selling, selling for the other shows (including other theaters that are affiliated, such as the Hatfields and McCoys dinner show) and the photo packages, then the music starts.
Big time music. Professional music, professionally presented on a state of the art stage with lasers, hydraulics, flames and all the tricks, like the musicians flying in from the wings. The sound system is rich, filling the room without blasting your ears out (I still had ear plugs, though).
The look is spectacular
Nothing like towers of flame to emphasize “The Devil went down to Georgia”
There was more than just music. I was completely entranced by the juggler/comedian, “Slim Chance”. He did some of the finest juggling I’ve ever seen, all the while keeping up a country corny patter.
Juggling saw blades on sticks.
Slim capped off this act by balancing a flaming barbecue on his chin while spinning a rope with one hand and spinning a disk with the other.
After Slim there was country music, then a delightful acrobat act, verging on ballet.
Following an intermission, the second act began with a tribute to Broadway musicals. They did Seasons of Love, from Rent, then an impressive medley from The Lion King. The costumes were stunning, as well as the music.
Then followed a segment with music from the 60’s. This show has something for everyone.
The acrobats from the first act add background atmosphere.
Coming out into the audience to bring the music to the crowd.
The next segment was all about Tina Turner.
You can’t have a show in the South without some Gospel music. Long white beaded dress, bright white light and How Great Thou Art seems about right.
I hear Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah performed by almost everyone. This show provided a version with entirely different lyrics, the sort you would expect in a Baptist church. I guess you have to know your audience.
For the ending, the show turned patriotic. All veterans were asked to stand for a round of applause, then, without any sort of introduction, on a mostly dark stage with just the background screen, the various singers began to sing the Star Spangled Banner. I’ve never thought of the national anthem as a song you would make part of the performance before.
Singing the national anthem
The show winds up with a flashy red, white and blue finish, leaving everyone feeling energetic and uplifted.
At precisely 2 hours and 15 minutes, the show is over. The entire cast is in the lobby to shake hands, sign autographs and greet the customers.
The Smoky Mountain Opry wouldn’t make it on Broadway, but Pigeon Forge is a long was from New York and for what it is you get one hell of a good show for your $50. We surely enjoyed it.
Mid-week report
There is good news and bad from Gatlinburg.
Bruce Tuttle got here Sunday, and left Monday without ever turning a card. His 98 year old mother was in hospice, and took a turn for the worse. The magic of cellphones let me find a flight for him and book a ticket while standing in front of the convention center. Bill drove him straight to Knoxville and he was home before she passed quietly Tuesday morning.
The five of us have continued playing, one player sitting out. We won the opening KO event, and the Tuesday-Wednesday morning Swiss teams. It’s a marvelous way to begin a tournament.
Wednesday afternoon we began another KO, and lost miserably in the first round. Since none of us wanted to play that evening, I thought we should go to Pigeon Forge (10 miles away) and try one of the dinner theaters, places that serve a vast dinner of fried chicken and pulled pork and follow with a wholesome, good-old-boy show full of clean humor and country music.
Okay, nobody wanted to do that.
Eventually, I managed to convince Bill and Danny to go to the Smoky Mountain Opry show, a 2 hour review with music and dance.
For dinner, I looked online for “best restaurant Pigeon Forge”, but didn’t want to go to the Pigeon Forge Deli. We settled on the Old Mill, a restaurant built adjoining an 1830 grist mill. Happily, Mike and Bob agreed to join us for dinner, so I called for a reservation. Silly me. “We don’t take reservations honey, it’s first come first served. But don’t you worry, we’re not busy tonight.”
Driving into Pigeon Forge, we noticed a vast number of old cars parked facing the road–it’s the weekend of the annual car show, where people from all over the US arrive with their restored (or not) old cars to see and be seen, buy, sell and swap.
The restaurant is huge, with a long zig-zag ramp that I expect is filled with expectant diners in the busy season. We were promptly seated, given ginormous menus to choose from and drink orders taken. The key to these places is fast turnover–you don’t sit around waiting for service, ever.
The decor is, well, southern. Perhaps it is best described by the salt and pepper shakers–they are perfectly fitting with everything else in the joint:
Yes you can buy a set on the way out.
To get us in the mood, a plate of corn fritters hit the table–they are included in every meal.
Fried cornmeal, served with maple butter.
Wanting to have the full experience, I opted for the chicken pot pie. First came salad, then a cup of corn chowder. Then the pot pie:
When I was a kid I always preferred the Banquet frozen pies to the Swanson because the former had both a top and bottom crust. I would have preferred that this one have a bottom crust as well, but it was still pretty darn good. Lots of chicken, lots of veggies. No mushrooms. A thick crust that was like they covered the dish in biscuit dough and baked it.
A large dish of mashed potatoes and one of green beans were placed on the table, family style. Mike ate his green beans, but that’s the kind of guy he is. He’s going to live forever or die trying.
Danny had the chicken and dumplings, which he said he enjoyed although it wasn’t all that appetizing to look at:
Those are the dumplings. The chicken was buried below.
This dish had plenty of stringy white chicken meat, some small amount of veggies and lots of creamy sauce. The dumplings, like my crust, tasted like biscuit dough. I think they just make one batch of dough every day and use it for everything.
Dessert was included. Most of us had the blackberry cobbler, Dan had the pecan pie. Everything comes with ice cream on top. The cobbler was the better choice.
We were talking with our server, and I asked her what they paid her. I had heard that some places paid the federal minimum to tipped staff and wanted to know if anyone really did so. Indeed, she said she made $2.13 an hour. That partly explained the insanely low prices.
My dinner–soup, salad, drink, entree, biscuits, fritters and dessert, came to $23.96. If I tipped 15%, I would have left an additional $3.60. I don’t know how the restaurant can possibly make a profit on that, and I surely don’t understand how the waitress can make a living. I would be ashamed to pay anyone that little.
The whole operation is built to get the customers in and out and turn the tables as often as possible. Part of that is that you don’t pay your waitstaff, you pay the cashier on the way out. I left the kind of tip one would leave after a meal in San Francisco, and I think my compatriots did pretty much the same. I hope we made that young woman’s night.
The Old Mill is quite the experience. The food is decent, the service is lightning fast, the portions are huge and the prices are tiny. It’s the perfect Pigeon Forge experience. Go early and tip lavishly.
Great service in G’burg
The man in charge of the diet Coke
The convention center where we play cards in Gatlinburg puts out a fast lunch for $8. Your choice of sandwich, a bag of chips and a cold drink. We’ve been playing morning Swiss teams and there isn’t really enough time to go back to the house for a meal so it’s a perfect solution.
Yesterday, I noticed that my drink tasted “off”. Checking the pull date on the bottom of the can, the answer was easy–the soda was out of date by 9 months. This doesn’t make the soda dangerous, just bad tasting.
I took the can back, and showed it to this guy (he doesn’t seem to have a name. I asked, and got smart answers. All the other employees wear name badges, not him. hmmm) Something great happened. He didn’t argue, he just went immediately to the barrel with the rest of the cold diet Coke to see if it was all outdated. It was. He promptly rolled the entire ice chest into the back and returned with one full of fresh cans.
That’s the way things are supposed to work, but so rarely do. Most of the time, I get my soda replaced but the store just keeps selling the old one. If you don’t know enough to complain, you’re screwed.
Good for the convention center, and good for this nameless wonder. That’s what Southern hospitality ought to be.
How to tell you’re in redneck country
Sign on the door to the convention center.
Dallas 5:45 am
Gourmet breakfast in Texas
It’s that time of year again. Gatlinburg is calling and the Unit 499 traveling squad is on our way once again to the fried food capital of the universe for a week of bridge, ice cream and talking basketball.
Bob, Danny, Bruce and bill flew to Nashville yesterday and drive across the state. I caught a red eye to DFW at midnight and will meet Micky here this morning. He has been here for the weekend visiting his daughter and grandsons
It’s strange to see this place so quiet. Most of the food outlets don’t open until 6, so McDonald’s and Starbucks are jammed.
The airport is slowly coming to life, Mike just got here, it must be time to board and start the annual marathon. Stay tuned.
Totally Unauthorized 