I know I’ve been away for over a month and a half. Lots of stuff has been going on, and I’ll tell you about some of it in the coming days. But, I couldn’t let today pass without acknowledging that today was a big deal in our family for a very long time. Today was a day of celebration. It is now a day of remembrance. It’s been almost three years since we lost Beth, and I miss her every day.

Happy Birthday Sweetheart…wherever you are.

Roy Blount Jr. is the dean of American humorists and a modern day renaissance man. He is a reporter, an author, an actor, a lecturer, a rock’n’roll musician, an artist, an NPR panelist, a frequent guest on A Prairie Home Companion, and the epitome of a Southern gentleman. He has published some 22 nonfiction books and currently writes a monthly column for Guns and Garden Magazine, a publication to which I subscribe. Time Magazine said of Mr. Blount Jr. that he is in the “tradition of the great curmudgeons like H.L. Mencken and W.C. Fields.” Playboy called him “our next Mark Twain.” Garrison Keillor wrote that “Blount can be literate, uncouth, and soulful all in one sentence.”

Like all the people he has been compared to, Mr. Blount Jr. has a wonderful command of the English language. His descriptive prose can transport you to the very place he is writing about. You feel the heat and humidity of the Mississippi Delta and smell the human gumbo of New Orleans. When he writes about a person or event, you feel as if you know that person or attended that event. His humor can be subtle, biting, or self deprecating, depending on the point he wishes to make. These are qualities I wish I possessed.

Mr. Blount Jr. can insult a person without being insulting. While political correctness demands that someone be described as “mentally challenged,” RB Jr. might say in that charming Southern way that the person is “special.” I’m more apt to say they’re a fucking retard. How to be profane without using profanity? I’m sure Roy Blount Jr. knows how.

I’m working on it.

This is the first year since we purchased our Humble Little Cottage that Anne and I are attempting a serious garden. It’s also the first year that one or both of us hasn’t had to spend the planting period cruising up and down I-81 to the DC area for family or professional reasons. Add to that fact that practically everything we’re attempting from remodeling the house to managing the land, we’re having to learn as we do it.

Last night taught us the importance of understanding microclimates. We live in a “holler” which is defined as a small valley between mountains. Because of the topography, we have a half dozen or more microclimates. Last night we experienced what I hope was our last frost of the growing season. In some parts of our 3.25 acre mini-farm the frost was heavier than others. One part received no frost at all. After consulting the various weather services, which can only give general information, a few long term residents, and our weejee board, we covered what we could and hoped for the best. We’ll know in a day or two the effect the frost had on things like the tender iris blooms and our strawberry patch.

With rain predicted off and on for the rest of the week, the question we face today is whether or not it’s safe to start planting the dozens of vegetable and flower seedlings we’ve got stacked around inside the house and on the front porch. We’ve decided to cross our fingers and go for it. If we’re wrong, expect another profanity-laced post on the benefits a good cussin’ can have on stress relief.

strawberry blooms

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Elena Kagan, British Petroleum, and the Gulf Coast. What do these have to do with today’s post? Nothing except they’re 3 of the most popular google searches today. Big city folks aren’t the only ones who know how to manipulate the media.

Y’all have a good one.

Send a Pic of Your Left Tit to The Coochie
www.oag.state.va.us

Male or female, it doesn’t matter. A boob for a boob is still a boob. Help save the Commonwealth!! Send yours today!!

My Left Tit

Here’s a little Rodney Carrington to get you in the mood.

Post Edit Note: Apparently I violated someone’s term of service. YouTube’s I guess. You can try searching “Show Them to Me” at YouTube.com. It has been made unavailable to me.

Sorry folks, Ron

It’sthefirstdayofspring.It’sthefirstdayofspring.It’sthefirstdayofspring.It’sthefirstdayofspring.It’sthefirstdayofspring.It’sthefirstdayofspring.It’sthefirstdayofspring.It’sthefirstdayofspring.It’sthefirstdayofspring.It’sthefirstdayofspring.

Hey! Did I mention it’s the first day of spring? Wooooooooooooohoooooooooooooooo!

It’sthefirstdayofspring.It’sthefirstdayofspring. It’s the first day…….

Emeril Lagasse before he was EMERIL! BAM! sat with us after preparing one of the five best meals I’ve ever eaten. We drank a little wine and talked about the vagaries of a chef’s life. Another night we sat sipping beer in the darkened bar at the Chester Hotel in New Jersey while the flugelhorn and lead trumpet player for the Benny Goodman Orchestra gave us a private after-hours  concert. Following a party for Congressman Charlie Wilson (Charlie Wilson’s War) at a club in Georgetown, The Kingston Trio tried to convince us, well mostly Anne, to go to New York with them.

Our dinner Wednesday night at Chef Michael Gucciardo’s new restaurant in Floyd, Mickey G’s Bistro and Pizzeria, now joins our list of memories. Prior to Wednesday, I had never met Michael, but I knew him by reputation. My aunt and uncle, Hilda and Buck Melton who live Fayetteville, N.C., still talk about the meal they had years ago when he was the chef at the Pine Tavern. Michael is the real deal: a trained chef with over three decades of experience in the restaurant business.

Michael and son, Luca

We had been warned to get there early if we wanted a table in the small, 35-seat dining room, so we got there at 4:15 Wednesday afternoon. A few minutes later we were joined by our friend Doug Thompson, and sure enough, the place was full by 4:45. Our charming and very efficient server, Nicolas, delivered our drink order within minutes of seating, and the three of us chatted while we awaited the arrival of Doug’s wife Amy. Looking around, I saw people eating, laughing, greeting friends, standing and chatting while they waited for tables or takeout orders, so I took the opportunity to stroll around and take a few pictures.

As you can see, the restaurant contained a pretty good cross section of Floydians. Around 5 p.m., Amy called to say she was running late, so we ordered some garlic knots to snack on and placed our dinner orders. Shortly after the delicious little garlicky morsels of herbaceous pizza dough, which we topped with freshly grated Parmesan, were delivered hot from the oven, the fun began.

Earlier I had introduced myself to Chef Michael, and both he and Nicolas remembered my name from a comment I left on BlueRidgeMuse a couple of weeks ago. Doug has known Michael for years and is a huge fan of his food. There was a lot of give and take from our table as Michael came out of the kitchen occasionally to greet customers and inquire after their meals. Nicolas and I had established a pretty good rapport and joked with each other, one pro to another, as he went about his duties.

Around 5:15 p.m., Nicolas sheepishly approached our table to tell us that the kitchen would be unable to prepare the rest of our meal because they had run out of propane. He said, “I wanted to inform you first because I knew you’d be the most understanding, and I need to practice what I have to tell the rest of our guests.”

After a few moments of initial disappointment, Anne and I shrugged at each other and decided to go with the flow. Doug had to leave to cover the local high school basketball game for the Floyd Press, but as he went out the door, Amy came in and took his place at the table.  Amy is one of the more adventurous people we know, so she was pretty nonplussed when we explained the situation.

The restaurant slowly emptied out as the lucky people who had received their food finished and left, and most of the people arriving elected to come back another time.We decided to order from the cold side of the menu and devoured a Caesar Salad and cold antipasto when they arrived. Michael sent out some pizza slices and focaccia warmed by residual heat in the pizza oven. We finished up with espresso and a couple of house-made desserts.

What made this evening so special was the warmth and conviviality we experienced from Chef Michael and his staff under some very trying conditions. I was struck, and I must admit envious, at how quickly Floyd has embraced this restaurant and how quickly it has become THE gathering place in town for both locals and visitors alike.Where else could I have a discussion with a member of the infamous Pagan MC about the difficulties of dealing with an aging parent? Amy was floored, but not exactly surprised, when she discovered the lady at the next table turned out to be from her hometown of Belleview, Il. Her best friend was Amy’s first cousin, and she was in the same class as Amy’s best friend. They knew nothing about each other until that night. By the time we were ready to leave, an emergency propane delivery had been made, and the restaurant started to fill up again. As we went out the door, Michael had the kitchen ready to turn and burn, and folks were buzzing with anticipation.

My review of the food we did have? Michael makes a kick-ass Caesar Salad. His pizza and foccacia  are hands down the best I’ve had in Southwest Virginia. The picture of the cold antipasto speaks for itself. We can hardly wait for the weather to clear, so we can go back for a proper meal. I urge those of you who can to get to Mickey G’s before the weather warms. Otherwise, you’re going to have to pack a lunch just to have lunch.

Buon Appetito!