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Cheers!

Welcome to 2012. 2012? WTF?!?

Cheers for the old and new years. I spent mine in various ports of call from San Francisco to Denver to New Orleans. Then New Orleans again just to make sure.

I'm getting old soon so if you have quick moment, raise a drink or 12.

Cheers.

The Artist Speaks

A little gem from LA artist Rick Robinson.

Is He Back?

Been Distracted, But Drinking Again Soon...

I apologize - I have been remiss in not touching the blog. But I've been sober and that will soon change.

Cheers.

Drinking at Altitude

Does not matter. It works everywhere.

Whether inhaling a Miller High Life while overlooking the waves lapping near the dock at Red's Java House on San Francisco's Embarcadero surrounded by longshoreman and yuppies at sea level, floating down the meandering 140 mile Truckee River slurping and spilling Mike's Hard Lemonade at 6,000 feet, holding down with the palm of your hand a double shot of Johnnie Walker Red Label at 37,000 feet through ass-warbling turbulence in a middle coach seat on a Continental Airlines flight out of Newark, New Jersey, or biting down on a 10 ounce can of Coors Light and a short dog of Jim Beam at the bottom of a 12 foot below sea level irrigation ditch not far from a failed levee outside of Opelousas, Louisiana, alcohol will do the trick.

Cheers.

Sushi And All That Goes With It

Sake and sake and beer and another large Sake. Somehow my place knows when I am ordering the drink or the salmon. Or maybe they know that the drink is simply the better odds.

Cheers.

Ahh... Barbados

Later that same afternoon I was sitting in a hammock sipping rum much as I had that morning. And all the previous. With similar plans for the rest of the week. The breeze was soft, the sky bright and water lapping slowly on the beach clear and warm. As least I thought it warm - I had yet to remove myself from the hammock to try it out.

I poured more rum and thought of Papa Hemingway writing -

"I was writing about up in Michigan and since it was a wild, cold, blowing day it was that sort of day in the story. I had already seen the end of fall come through boyhood, youth and young manhood, and in one place you could write about it better than in another. That was called transplanting yourself, I thought, and it could be as necessary with people as with other sorts of growing things. But in the story the boys were drinking and this made me thirsty and I ordered a rum St. James. This tasted wonderful on the cold day and I kept on writing, feeling very well and feeling the good Martinique rum warm me all through my body and my spirit." (Hemingway's "Moveable Feast")

I then thought of how nice it was here, not in the office. And thought of having another drink and of what to do next week.

All thoughts were answered quickly and easily. And liquidly.

Cheers.

Social Networking is Sitting in a Bar

Facebook, Twitter, Linked-In - all had me for a while... But no longer. I've cancelled all those accounts of social networking hell. And it was not because my MOM asked me to join her Facebook, or some nucklehead that I never liked constantly bugs the shit outta me or that Nigel in Medicine Hat is clipping his toenails...

But maybe it was some combination there of.

Right here will be my sole networking space for those who care, can take it for what its worth and in context, and those that will not get spun up over an off-handed remark or morally questionable sentiment from a rant caused by frustration, angst and alcohol.

So raise a glass to true social networking - sitting in a bar.

Cheers.

Louisiana Trippin' & Sippin'

Spent some time down South with my family and besides the heat and getting ill from over-eating (and maybe yes, over-drinking) I had a blast.

The family reunion I attended was a great history lesson for me and the current experiences I felt as an "adult" were at a level of appreciation I often lacked when "forced" to visit every two years while growing up.

I knew it was gonna be a great trip when my Aunt (we call 'em "Aint") Linda picked me up at the "sprawling" Lafayette Regional Airport and snow-con stand. On the passenger side floor of the car was a Cajun cooler with a bunch of 10 oz Coors Lights intended for me to brave the 20 minute ride to the house.The perfect Creole way to be welcomed.

As if that were not enough, my Mom prepared a late evening "snack" for me: Gumbo, Red Beans and Rice, Deep Fried Catfish and Perch, and of course, Crawfish Ettouffe. Wow.Needless to say, I ate it all...

I had lost nearly 15 pounds before my trip in anticipation of putting on 30lbs, but with the heat and site-seein' I actually left lighter than I arrived. Go figure. Perhaps it was all the "light" beer and 96 degrees + humidity sweating it all out.

The folks have a great home near the Bayou Teche in New Iberia, St. Martin Parish and not far from their hometown of historical and some say cursed St. Martinville down the 2 lane road past Civil War Confederate Camp Pratt and Spanish Lake.

In St. Martinville across the way from the steps of the Court House where Huey P. Long gave a speech and a stone's throw from the burial spot and Live Oak Tree of the "Evangeline" poem by Longfellow is a new restaurant called La Maison which houses the Elephant Bar.As a kid "of color" visiting from California we were told never to pass a certain street which delineated the border between the white and black parts of town. Needless to say it took nearly 40 years for me to come close to the building, let alone go inside and have a Dixie Beer (now brewed post-Katrina in Minneapolis). The shot of Jim Beam next to it helped.As did an entire tour of the building which housed a bakery in the bottom and upscale white living quarters upstairs with sitting rooms, wrap-around second story veranda with shading storm shutters and a back door servant's entrance.

Built in 1899, the new owners, Bob and his wife from Pennsyvalnia, are doing a stellar job restoring it to its original grandeur.And the personal tour was incredible especially when my Mom informed us that this was the bakery where her wedding day cake was ordered and made by the town baker and where my father would score free donuts on his newspaper delivery route; the only time non-whites were allowed in the place.The Elephant Bar at La Maison is a fave of mine now, but I could not call the trip complete without a stop in one of the clubs on the Black side of town. Dives with short dogs, shorter beers, smoking and kick ass, stomping music late into the night on occasion. This particular one on South Main Street, the Candlelight Club (home of a former funeral casket warehouse) across the street from my deceased Grandpa Lole's machine shop now run by my Uncles was another historical eye-opener.

Mom dated Dad there with orders of "set ups"; a small bottle of hooch, ice, cups and whatever mixer ya wanted - Coke, Dr Pepper, 7-Up, RC Cola, for about $4.And the tie-in to my family's history was a (well needed) visit to the "mens room." It still contains the original questionable "urinal" my Dad frequented years ago.Well, the feasting continued including a Crawfish Boil that was simply heaven - Budweisers, Beam and Mudbugs to burst the belly of a 12 foot alligator.Before:After:Much more happened than I care (or have the time) to write about here, but final events included a return to Main Street in New Iberia with a tour of the antebellum plantation homes, visits to James Lee Burke's haunts (New Iberia Sheriff's Lieutenant Dave Robicheaux in his fictional novels) including Bojangles, The Napoleon, and Pelicans for beers, bumps with eyeballing from local "Necks".

I visited the library, courthouse, Bayou Teche Park (where I could see across the rolling yellow water of the Bayou near the drawbridge on Bridge Street the saplings planted by my Ma and Aints for my passed brother Dave (Our Dave) and my Grandma Gladys who gave my Mom the gift of cuisine and tolerance and who made the best chicory coffee and warm milk.

And I even managed to get pulled over by the Iberia Parish PDfor a questionable right turn and was let off with a courteous warning, completing my James Lee Burke efforts (2 novels read while on the trip).

It was a trip.

And filling emotionally, historically, gastronomically, and liquordelically.

Cheers.