So anyway, I always like those mussels but with the smelt roe sauce they were fabulous! And such a color, I think more food should be fluorescent. Flying fish roe is pretty neat too. And really, I don’t worry so much any more about the flukes. Ya gotta live, am I right? Can you friggin’ believe that they put it off yet another week? It’s like we don’t count for anything, no respect at all. We’re all just lackeys, monkeys in lab coats… and lowly female monkeys at that. I mean, what has to happen anyway? It makes you feel so insignificant, tiny little invisible specks, just nothings, you know… I mean why bother anymore…
Hey, did you ever try the shu mai?
With it nearing Christmas and all…
Cecil bless ye merry, Dopers.
And may the Angel of Cecil (Ed) come unto
Just so’s everyone is sure of this, you all get the general Christmas card-y wish for peace and happiness. The extra-added sentiment is just a little extra heap of goodwill. It’s not a lot, so if you didn’t get it, you’re not out anything. But if you are included, it’s like getting two cherries on your banana split instead of only one.
Everyone gets the standard banana split with the normal amount of cherry. Then some people get just a little more. It’s not fair, but then neither am I. I get pretty fair at the end of Winter, but one the sun comes back out, I tan back up pretty quick. A farmer tan anyway, just the back of my neck and my arms. And my legs too, I’ll wear shorts a lot. But not my tummy as a rule. I could, like, mow my grass with no shirt. Then my tummy would get some sun. But there’s kids in my neighborhood. They don’t need to see me without my shirt on.
Unless you don’t like banana splits. Then think of the Christmas greeting as something else. Something non-banana-y. I don’t care what. Whatever you like. Beer maybe. Which I don’t care for myself, but if you like it, knock yourself out.
But don’t really knock yourself out. It could hurt. And when you were knocked out, someone could steal your wallet. Or your purse, depending. But some people carry neither a wallet nor a purse. If you knocked yourself out someone could steal something you value, yet is easily portable. So don’t actually knock yourself out. Just have a good Holiday Season. Whatever holiday you celebrate.
Now I wonder if Buca di Beppo is a chain or what. think could be talking of a different restaurant altogether. He did spell it differently. But that could have just been an accident. I dunno. There’s a Buca di Beppo here in town. It has the Pope’s Table. Not that the Pope will actually come here for a nice Italian meal. He could if he wanted, but he lives in Rome so why would he? Technically it’s not Rome though. It’s the Vatican. That’s its own country. So it is Rome, and yet its not. But he could sent a Cardinal out for Italian take-away, no problem. The Pope’s Table at Buca di Beppo has a shrine to the Pope. Even a bust of the Pope right at the table. It spins around gracefully under glass. It would be cool if it winked at you, but it’s not animatronic. The real Pope might be. I dunno. I’ve never seen him wink.
Was anyone really surprised about the complete lack of organization when they opened my thread? I figure I’ve been around long enough everyone pretty much knows what they’re getting into when the wade into something I start. But you never know. There are new Newbies everyday. Hi Newbies! Hi new Lurkers! Hi Old Timers! Hi Cougarfang! It wasn’t me. I was over there.
-Rue. (the “-” means: “Yer pal”)
I’ve been to Buca di Beppo. It IS a chain, out of Minneapolis, of all places. Cute but I didn’t think the food was all that great. As for Denny’s-type establishments, Bob’s Big Boy trumps them in every department, IMHO. Wish there was one around here.
People say Minneapolis is a cool town, but I’ve never actually spent any time there, just rode through on a train once. That was the Empire Builder, back in the mid-70’s. What a pretentious name for a train.
My mother has never been more than about 300 miles from home, but I’ve ridden, driven or landed in every state in the lower 48. Michigan was the last; bagged it by having to stop over at the Detroit airport one time. Apparently there are some interesting railroads in the Upper Peninsula. Wanna get up there to photograph them one of these days.
Mmmmmm. . .Buca di Beppo. Aaaaggghhhhhhh.
Yep, it’s a chain Rue. I looked into buying a franchise awhile back. It’s gonna have to wait until I hit the lottery or Chase Manhattan stops insisting I pay them back the money I borrowed to buy a house with. Bastards. They’ll get nothing and like it!
But hey, when I open my Buca di Beppo you get a free appetizer. Just tell 'em you’re a friend of mine. Or better yet, send me a photo and you can be one of the folks immortalized as “Miss Buca.”
Till then I have to drive about a hundred miles to have dinner there. But my folks live near that one so it’s an excuse to visit them. I love my folks. They’re not perfect, but then who is? You know, I read somewhere that if your parents don’t have children the chances are good that you won’t either.
But there’s no comparison between Buca and the Olive Garden, though. Comparing Buca and the Olive Garden is like contrasting Morton’s and McDonald’s.
And I should know, 'coz I’m Italian. Well, a quarter Italian anyway. And a quarter Sicilian. Don’t ever confuse the two. Especially around a Sicilian. My dad’s mother is Torinese and my dad’s dad was Sigi. That’s slang for Sicilian.
BTW, if you want to blend in next time you’re in Little Italy (or Big Italy for that matter) pronounce Sicilian as “Sij-a-le-AHN.” Then you’ll confuse the locals. They’ll think you’re Sigi. See, they look for the people that pronounce it “See-see-lee-an” because they know they’re 'Metagons. That means “whitebread” in Italian-American. Then they do stuff like put pineapple on pizza and tell you it’s good.
Don’t worry. I know my way around here. Stick with me and you’ll be OK. Just don’t wander off.
On my mom’s side I’m German, Welsh, English, and Pennsylvania Dutch, which is sort of German but not quite. It’s hard being like this, though. Whenever I watch “Sink The Bismarck” I don’t know who to root for. OTOH, since I’m Welsh I can tell folks I’m related to Tom Jones and they can’t disprove it. When I do that most folks ask if all Welsh people are related to Tom Jones. I usually tell them, “It’s not unusual.”
Speaking of Italian, did you know that Buca di Beppo is Italian for “Big Joe’s Basement?” Really. It is.
I have a basement. And it has a really neat finished part that is going to be a kickass rumpus room. A friend of mine owns an antique store and I’ve bought some stuff from her over the past month or so. When I get the stuff in there it’s gonna be great.
The rumpus room has light wood paneling and a vinyl tile floor. It was built in the ‘60s and looks it, so I’m going for a swingin’ mojo-room theme. Think Austin Powers’ jet but underground. Not the jet, the rumpus room. It’ll be cool, baby! But the one thing I really want to get is a bearskin rug with the head and paws still attached. Preferably a white one, as it’ll set the right swingin’ tone. Does anybody have one that you want to get rid of? If so, email me.
What really frosts my shorts, though, is that Rue didn’t give me one of his double-cherry bananna splits. I like bananna splits. And cherries. But I didn’t get one. I thought I was one of his pals, but I guess I know where I stand, though.
That’s OK. When I go to the Dopefest next week I’ll just remember who my pals are when I have to apportion the bail money.
Don’t have a hissy fit Zap. Are you currently going through some crisis we don’t know about? Are you one of my Special Friends? Are you organizing a DopeFest near me? Are you deepbluesea? (I threw her in 'cause I wanted to see if she was still around without doing a search. And if she is just lurking, a search wouldn’t help anyway. Hi deep!)
But to make you happy, I’ll set you up with your own Flan of Peace. Just for you. Your very own. Not everyone can say that. “I have my own Flan of Peace.” Well, I guess just about anyone can say it. It’s not like it’s a hard bunch of sylables to spit out. But to mean it? Very few.
Very few people can say the have frosted shorts either. Would that be your loins are girded with very cold fabric? Or they have cake icing in 'em? Either way, if that’s what you like, who am I to judge?
But about your own Flan. It’s the least I can do, us being nearly related and all. Yeah, I’m partly Welsh too. The Little Woman didn’t have any Welsh in her til she met me. Now she does occasionally.
And I’ve got the German descent thing goin’ on too. Bavarian German, so you know what that means. Or you don’t. I’m not exactly sure what it means myself, but if you say it right it sounds vaguely ominous.
I have a lock on all of Western Europe in the family tree. Except, oddly Ireland. You know how “everyone’s Irish on St. Patty’s Day?” Not me. That’s the one day a year I don’t wear green. I wear a lot of green. I have on a green short right now. A mock turtleneck. That would be a beefneck I guess since mock turtle soup is made with beef.
I don’t like wearing red shirts. It makes me feel all vulnerable. I wouldn’t want my last words to be “Aaaaaaaaaagh!”. “Where’s that guy in the red shirt?” “Over there I think. I haven’t seen him since we beamed down.” “Aaaaaaaaaagh!” “That would be the red shirt guy. What was his name anyway?” “I dunno. I’d never seen him before we all got together in the transporter room.” So I don’t like to wear red shirts.
I do have a nice red shirt. It’s flannel. But I’m always way careful when I wear it. You can’t be too careful with a red shirt on.
Far be it from me to chortle at typos, but this got me t’gigglin.’
I’m wearing a red shirt - should I be worried?!?
Aww, Rue, how could I be mad at you? I just thought you forgot about me was all. I’m still your Pal.
FTR, I wasn’t having a hissy fit. I was just stamping my feet and shaking my fists. So maybe it’s a fisty fit. But it ain’t hissy. I don’t hiss. Well, maybe I hiss a little bit after I have a lot of chili and beer, but I think that’s TMI.
And I’ll bail you out if you need bailing. But I’d rather not have to. We’ll just check that your seams are adequately sealed before you go down the ramp into the water.
Woohoo! I get my own Flan of Peace. Thanks! That’s neato-keano-chilibeano, but I don’t want to be a hog. Tell ya what. . .can we cut it up into three peaces (see? little joke there. . .that shows I’m paying attention) and send it to our friends who can’t be with us?
No, I don’t mean they’re dead. I mean they’re not here. I was thinking of Sophie and Snickers and maybe Medea’s Child. It won’t be the same without 'em but they can have their own mini-Dopefests at home with genuine Flan Of Peace! Hey, it’s the spirit of the season and all that.
I don’t like turtlenecks, so you can have mine. Here, put it on. No, that’s not red. I’d call it more of a magenta. Don’t worry, the away team doesn’t leave for another five minutes. Plenty of time to change.
That’s right, don’t judge the frosted shorts. They’re very comfortable in the summertime.
Woo hoo!! Big news!!! I can eat tuna fish again! The doctor okayed me for soft foods after my surgery (and I am SOOOOOOOOOOOO sick of chicken broth - offer me some and I’ll have to run and barf), and I just love tuna.
And my shirt is burgundy, with a little tuna stain on the front placket. (But I certainly can’t mow the grass without a shirt on.)
Maybe the local Buca di Beppo’s has linguini with tuna and alfredo sauce. So you folks after lunch!
Great thread, btw. I’ve never been to the Olive Garden. It’s always so crowded when I get there so I’ve lost all interest in checking it out.
dwyr, funny you should mention mussels and roe. I had sushi for dinner Monday night. You know, the California rolls with orange roe on them. Yum. I really love sushi. I think the squid sushi is my favorite. It’s really funny how I can eat raw fish and fish eggs, but I just can’t stomach the thought of eating rare beef. Well, with sushi, the wasabi and the soy sauce actually help in killing any bacteria left and in digesting the fish, or so my Japanese friend tells me. But, I digress. Monday, as I was eating my sushi, I really got to wondering what it is about fish eggs that is so alluring for folks. You know? I mean really. Folks will spend hundreds of dollars for Beluga caviar. They’re eating fish eggs, for chrissakes. Fish eggs really don’t have that much taste. Well, they’re salty, and they have an interesting texture and just that fish egg je ne c’est pas. Hmmm. I’ll have to think about that some more. I guess the combination of salty fish eggs with a sweet wine or champagne would be a wonderful combination. But now, mussels. I was watching “Cooking Live” last night. I really like this show. It is far, far better than Martha Stewart’s show. Martha’s just a poser. She’s always trying to be exact and measure out stuff. Sarah Moulton’s a REAL cook because she doesn’t really measure stuff. I mean, she’ll give measurements so the viewers will know what she’s doing, but she doesn’t really measure stuff. I’m amazed at how she can cook and take calls at the same time. How does she keep straight what she’s doing? Anyway, I got tickled last night when Sarah asked her British guest how long to cook the second dish they fixed, and the guest was all vague, saying cook it until the meat’s tender and “it starts to smell good.” My mom, who can tho’ down in the kitchen, frustrates me no end when I’m trying to get instructions out of her. When I ask her how long to cook something, she says: “You can smell it and tell when it’s done.” My mom, also doesn’t measure anything. She just throws stuff in a pot, and it comes out great everytime. Needless to say, I’m not at her level of cooking yet. Anyway, Sarah Moulton was doing a show with a British cook on food and wine. They did a lot of French dishes, and one was mussels steamed in wine. It looked DIVINE. I’ve not really had mussels that much. One time I had them was when I went to NY. I had them at a Chinese restaurant in Chinatown where some friends of mine and I went for dim sum. They were great. I wish I could remember the name of the restaurant where we had dim sum. I’d like to go back there.
As far as Dopefests, I’ll be attending my first one in NY in January, but since I can barely count to ten without the aid of my fingers and toes, I can’t figure out how many miles I will have travelled. I really hate math. It makes my head hurt. I was trying to do a simple calculation yesterday, and every time I tried to multiply–the same numbers, mind you–I’d get a different answer. The secretary finally took pity on me, and loaned me her calculator. [giggle] I plugged in the numbers, and I think I got the first answer I came up with after doing my first calculation by hand, but I’m not sure because by then my sheet of paper was covered with calculations. I confess I’m a little nervous about attending this Dopefest in January because I’ve got so many friends to see and places to go. I’m really looking forward to seeing my friends and making new ones. I hope someone gets a more definitive itinerary together so I’ll know how to plan, or I might never get to meet any Dopers. It’s amazing how much time one can waste riding the subway in NY. No wonder folks read or crochet or something on the trains. I wonder if anyone’s ever figured how much time on average folks spend riding the trains in a given year. But I guess we could say the same for cars too. Some folks just live in their cars. They eat, sleep, get dressed, get undressed, and so on in their cars. It’s really kind of frightening, when you think about it.
ejolen, you said you had asteroids and found it difficult to sit down after your adventure with chili. My, my, my. You poor dear. I guess it would be difficult to sit down if you had asteroids coming out of your ass after eating chili. If you haven’t already, you should post this experience to the thread asking folks what’s the strangest thing they’ve ever had come out of their asses.
Okay. I need to get out of this thread now. Y’all have a nice day.
Hey, there’s a Buce di Beppo in my town too…i kinda liked it, once I got used to their style. The waitress had a real Italian accent, which was fun.
This Wild Cherry Pepsi is pretty good. I could use the caffeine anyway.
Boy, it’s chilly in here. Warm for December, but the house is kinda cold. Well, if it really bothers me, I’ll put on a sweater. I don’t want to turn up the heat if I’m the only one here.
I can’t wait to tell my wife about how the cat got pissed off at that other cat this morning. Her tail was puffed out like a bottle brush! Serves the other cat right for interloping on Fido’s porch. Eternal vigilance isn’t easy.
Man, I gotta get a haircut before Saturday. And buy some razor blades, too. I’m down to my last one.
No Olive Garden here but rumor keeps going around about one coming here. I was in Tuscaloosa, AL bout a month ago. They have an Olive Garden there. Partner and I wanted to eat there but some other friends of ours and a couple of their friends who we had never met wanted to go to Ruby Tuesday’s so we went there. It was really stormy that night. Ruby Tuesday’s was good but the waitress was real snotty. I had to go to the manager and ask the manager if the waitress was ever going to come take our orders. She didn’t but they sent a waiter. He was nice. He got a tip. The waitress would have been as tipless as she was clueless :). I mean that was a big storm. We saw a lightning bolt hit in the parking lot. It didn’t hit near any of our cars though. Banana splits are good! DQ has good ones. I like to make em at home sometimes. They’re good. Know what’s really good? DQ Blizzards! With real oreos, or real m&m’s especially! Course nothing beats an ice cold beer at the end of the work day! Sometimes I like to do this with a beer. Take a swig then pour in some V8 juice and a shot or two of tobasco sauce. I call it a “Bloody Bubba.” I live in the south so we think that name’s funny.
I got in my hottub last night. Didn’t have a beer or bloody bubba while I was in there but I did drink a Dr. Pepper. Temp was in the low 50s so it was nice. It’s going to be near 80 today. Warm for even south GA in December.
I need a smoke. Gonna post this and go smoke. Going to lunch soon too. Don’t know what I want but I’m hungry. Maybe I’ll just go home and make a sandwich. OK gonna post and gonna smoke.
Bucca DeBeppo or Buca di Beppo, it’s still good eats. They have one, literally, next to the Bluejackets arena in Columbus. Last year, the inaugural season, you couldn’t get a reservation on a game night unless you happened to have called it in months ahead of time. Like four months.
I wasn’t going to say anything, since it’s the thought that counts, but about this Flan of Peace: does it have actual flan in it? Flan is fish, right? I might have to defer my piece of the Peace, else risk coating the table with it moments later. It’s almost certainly psychosomatic, but it goes back to my parents force-feeding me fish as a child and throwing up at the age of eight. I never had to eat fish again, though.
I did try some lobster tail a few years ago- I was in a friends wedding and those of us at the head-table got that as one of the 7 courses. Later that year, I tried shrimp when I was in Florida SCUBA diving. About a month after that, I tried crab, freshly boiled, down the coast in NC. I haven’t revisited the shell-fish or other water-living food, though, I don’t care for the taste. I didn’t throw-up or feel queasy, I just would prefer a nice steak or maybe even ostrich.
I had ostrich in Dallas once. It was very good. You know I thought it was good because I used italics. I also picked up some Fat Tire in Dallas. You can’t get it in the Mid West, but I’ve brought back a few cases of the stuff over the years on my journeys out West. fat Tire and Sunshine Wheat…good stuff.
No fish in flan, and with good reason, I think…
Mitzi is more of a dingbat name. Or maybe kinda seductive.
Remember Mitzi Kapture, star of the critically-acclaimed
Silk Stalkings? She was really gorgeous. Why do I suppose
“Mitzi Kapture” was not her God-given name?
Whatever happened to her, anyway?
Whatever happened to CHandra Levy, for that matter?
I am not Jewish (not that I would have to be) but I LOVE
the word schmeckle. Schmeckle schmeckle schmeckle. Would have posted it in the funniest words thread but its not English, its Yiddish.
Superdude, are you listening? Did you ever tell us the story about what happened with the rise and fall of the recent relationship? I am curious. Or is it none of our beeswax?
Our stupid cafeteria is out of honey. Gotta put Equal in my green tea. Yuck.
Finished decorating the mantle last night in all crystal, cream candles, a mirror, fresh greenery from the yard, and holly from the yard. Its a good thing.
Is Martha Stewart really dating Anthony Hopkins or is that
a big rumor?
Here it is, Wednesday already, and I won’t be able to watch West Wing tonight. Stupid cable company. “We’ll get to it when we get it it.” Dude, if I ran this place that way…yuck.
The baby, I’m pretty sure, has an ear infection to match the likes of Godzilla. This means it’s big and bad. Unless it’s good, as in when Godzilla kicked Mothra’s ass. Then it’s good, but I’m pretty sure that now it’s bad.
I bought Vince Gurrrr-aldi’s (sp?) Peanuts holiday cd, and my two year old loves it. I also bought Stevie Wonder Does Christmas or whatever it’s called, and I’ll bet her skinny little butt will be shakin’ it somethin’ fierce all around the tree. But we haven’t listened to it yet.
I want some new shoes. I got a shoe shopping itch that I need to scratch.
I’d like to buy my husband a new guitar for Christmas.
I wish I had a watermelon.
Flan is an egg custard. So flan is made from eggs, milk and sugar. The carmelized sugar is what makes the brown topping. No one other than Rue is really sure what a flan of peace is, although I am very familiar with a piece of flan.
I assume that flannel shirts are also made from eggs.
Sophie-dear, e-mail me an address and I’ll send you a tape of tonight’s West Wing tomorrow. Hopefully you’ll get it before next week’s episode.
I don’t get the watermelon thing, but if you find a nice one I’ll take a piece.