halt, who goes there?

We are spending the week on the shores of Lake Champlain, very near (.5 miles) to the Canada border on the Vermont side. There is I-87 exit 22*, where we're staying, immediately followed by the border. If you happen to miss the exit you are rewarded by sitting in line to cross into Canada. If you are two young lads on their way back to the lake house from a day/dinner in Burlington, Vermont, sans passports, and slip by the exit you get a free hour long 'mini-vacation' having a long, interesting discussion with Canadian border guards: Where do you live? Where are you staying? Where were you born? What is your business? Hand me your passports. Answers to these questions were along the lines of America, on the lake in a house, I think Vermont, no idea, we don't have any. They had their car searched by the great northerners and then told to take the quick u-turn, no doubt in place for just these more-than-often events, and pointed back to the US border shack on the southbound side. Whatever the procedure at the border, and I'm sure it's well worn for accidental tourists, the Americans weren't so much interested as they watch them come down the "lane of shame" heading back to their homeland. We are thinking that if they go out alone again we'll pin a big note on each of them with their names, place of birth, lake cabin address, and their mother's phone number.

*Vermont must be the only state in the Union where the interstate highways don't have exits numbered by mile marker. You might come into Vermont from the south thinking, "We are getting off at exit 10 which is in about ten miles." Funny that. Exit 10 could be 112, or 5, miles away - there is no math or knowledge that can help you.

to the finish

On Wednesday night I headed up to Hagerstown, MD with my friend Brian for a meeting (the sixth of ten nights) of the Pennsylvania Sprint CarSpeedweek. Don’t know what you know about racing, but the 410 sprint cars are what they run in the World of Outlaws – 410 cubic inch, 6.7 liter engine, 900 horsepower/9000 rpm, triple-winged, open cockpit cars that turn 15-18 second ½ mile laps on dirt. Huge dual wings on the top, big wing on the front. Well, just look at the opening picture – that’s easier.

When I was young we often enough went out west of Omaha (at least west at the time) to Sunset Speedway for Sunday night late model modified racing. These were the days when everyone seems to be driving a modified Camaro, and the period when Bob Kosiski and family dominated the circuits in Nebraska. It probably cost us $5 to get in, $1 for a soda, and I’m pretty sure my Mom would drop us off and pick us up after racing in her Pontiac Executive. Those summer nights were my first exposure to racing and they carried me through Bill Elliot in the 80s and early 90s, Mark Martin in the 90s and early 2000s, and Michael Schumacher from the mid-90s to the mid-00s. Truthfully, I’ll watch just about anybody race anything – circles or circuits. Over the last eight months I’ve taken to following Kyle Larson (#42 Target car / Chip Ganassi owned) after the Brian scored us some pit lane tickets for his team at last year’s autumn race at Richmond International Speedway. Larson finished second that night and qualified for his first Chase. Larson, from California, looks about 16 years-old, and seems to really shine on restarts – I think he went from about eighth to second in Richmond on a green/white/checkered restart at the end. He’s leading the NASCAR standings right now.

(If you want to know about his restarts, here at the final two laps from the race we were at in Richmond last year. Larson is the red #42 Target car that opens the two-lap shootout way on the outside behind the white car, and then runs on the outside all the way to the finish two laps later.)

This brings us to Hagerstown. Kyle Larson started in sprint cars out West and apparently at 24 years-old he feels the need to race every night, if possible. They ran NASCAR in Daytona last Saturday night and they’ll be in Kentucky this Saturday night, but he still up racing sprints in Pennsylvania on Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday nights (they were rained out last night). It’s purely happenstance that we ended up on Hagerstown because of last year’s race and the fact that Brian now follows Kyle Larson on Twitter so we knew he’d be up there. (By the way, Kasey Kahne and Dave Blaney of NASCAR were also running Speedweek.) Larson had won six straight sprint car features, three in the Midwest and three in Speedweek, so there was some excitement to see if the streak would continue*. Just for some math-y background, the fastest lap during the free practice was 15.3 seconds for the ½-mile lap. In qualifying, the fastest ran in the low 15.8s. Each heat is over in about 3 minutes, the feature in about 10-11 minutes. It’s loud, it’s fast, there’s loads of counter-steering in turns, and lots of acceleration over the 900-foot straightaways. Larson didn’t qualify well and ended up pretty deep in the pack for his heat, but he moved to the feature, where he started 18^th out of 24 cars. He finished 11th,with local Lance Dewease killing it from 10th to win – that dude can drive. As I pointed out to Brian before heading up, there’s nothing like dirt track racing and this was the first time I’d seen the sprint cars live. Great stuff. By the end of the night I was ready to plan for next year’s events – with an RV and racing all week. I’m sure I can save up five days of leave and traipse around southeast Pennsylvania drinking beer and watching them turn laps.

If you’re wondering, “where did they eat?” the answer is that we ate a Nick’s Airport Inn. Classic. I mean classic – restaurant AND lounge. We choose the lounge where we probably should have been drinking bourbon with the half-dozen locals at the bar, but stuck with beer and Millionaire burgers (sans foie gras). By the way, one of the two or three best burgers I’ve ever had.

*Each meeting has about 30-36 cars that run timed qualifying laps, 4 x 9-car heats (10 laps) with the top five through the A feature, a B feature (12 laps) that has the #6-#9 cars from the heats and puts the top four back into the A feature, and the final 24-car A feature (30 laps). There is some inverting within the starting positions for the heats and features, but we don’t need to talk about that now.

the great southwest

My weekend in Tucson was lovely. Even the long flights worked out well enough with only my final return leg from DFW to DCA being a big uncomforable (leg room issues). I'd certainly fly American again before considering another airline for cross-country travel.

I had cocktails and dinner with Mr. and Mrs. Smith on Saturday night at Scott &  Co. (return visit) before dinner at Poca Casa across the street (another return visit). Hopefully, it was welcome break for the Mister, who is in the midst of working loads of hours while piling on 12 or 16 hours of college - admirable, if debilitating. Company and cocktails were excellent; I'd been longing for some Campari and/or bitters so the Lying Bastard served me just fine. Dinner was good, if not as excellent as it was during our December visit - my tamale was good, not great; service wasn't up to par. I won't not go back, but they get one more chance to tip the scales. On Sunday the missus and I met at the Heirloom Farmers Market for some coffee, brunch-y stuff, and a bit of shopping; we had a nice long chat over her waffle and my coffee. I actually did some wandering and shopping before we met: great Mexican chocolate, bags of heirloom beans, hand ground flour, some pepper, and a fine locally roasted bag of decaf French Roast beans. I always forget the limits on volume when flying - I managed to get everything in my bag along with the two bottles of Arizona Stronghold wine which is nearly impossible to find here (they also don't ship to Virginia.) Sunday night we did a melodrama - impossible to find just about anywhere in America these days - at the Gaslight Theatre. It was a wonderful visit and an enjoyable journey that I'd let slip over away over the years.

Oh, there they are:

I stay two nights in the Catalina House at the Azure Gate Bed and Breakfast - top marks. The house had a loft bedroom over a comfortable living room and half kitchen. Fantastic breakfasts created by chef/owner Dennis complemented a beautifully conceived layout and accessories. It will certainly be my base of operations for future Tucson trips.

omar's coming!

A quick follow up to our Wilmington trip. Wilmington has its issues like any number of older East Coast cities, but it also has a great vibe. In particular, the North Market Street area that is home to the Grand Opera House where we saw our show, and the Queen which hosts Wilmington’s World Café Live shows. There are also loads of restaurants, a great bookstore, and any number of new shops and cafes opening that are clearly tapping into what appears to be a new growth area. It is also not white – yes, people white. You learn quickly in Wilmington that it has a history of culture and music, a lot of which falls under not only rock and roll, but blues, soul, and a questionable claim to Bob Marley. As I was writing some Yelp! Review – yes, I do those – there was a review for The Grand from two days after we were there. Here is an excerpt:

“I am saying this because this venue has no parking what so ever. We witnessed several open air drug transactions as we looked for parking.  I was afraid to park my car and walk blocks to the door in broad daylight.  I can only imagine how scary it would be in the dark at night.”

He gave it one star. And they turned around and went home, eating their tickets.  I passed this nugget along to X who immediately dropped something along the lines of, “What? I felt perfectly safe and we there at night.” And then the coup de grace on this guy, “What exactly does an ‘open air’ drug deal look like?” Well, it looks like non-white people on street corners, apparently. Or, it looked like this, and this guy was all in the know on drug deals. Open air drug deals – MULTIPLE open air drugs deals. During the day!

Come to think of it, it’s probably time to go back and watch the entire run.

round of applause

I’m constantly awed by performance, even if I misunderstood it before this weekend. More precisely, on our drive back from Wilmington, as we were talking about the Carolina Chocolate Drops show, X used a turn of phrase that truly described what I couldn’t ever quite put my finger on.  It’s not a show , nor is it for us. There’s a massive difference in my mind between a show and a performance – a show is 5,000 people; a performance is far fewer in attendance. The connection between those on stage and those on the floor is lost once we cross a certain number. Think of a Lion King show in the West End – thousands crammed in attendance – to something like The Hostage in the 100-seat Keegan Theatre in DC. It’s not a matter that the performers in The Lion King aren’t immensely talented, it’s that I neither see nor feel the effort and skill that I should understand.  It’s all very distant and shallow. When you can see faces and really feel the flow of music and instruments washing over you, be it in a bar or club, then you are there. That’s performance.

We are there to not to take but to acknowledge the craft before us – we aren’t an audience in the sense of “give me something”, we are there to pass along our wonder and awe at what we witness. The best music shows have been small affairs, from a cramped 7^th Street Entry where Slobberbone blew off the doors, to something like our Saturday night in an historic theatre; feeling a musical history being duly recognized. Yes, they are up on the stage performing, but it’s our presence in cherishing the skill that is at the core of the emotion.

Okay, let that go for a minute.

On Sunday, as we were looking at a DuPont exhibit and awaiting entry to Downton Abbey stuff, X and I both looked at a few portraits of olden times women (I didn’t read the blurbs so I have no idea who there were – I’m like that at times) and wondered, aloud (museum aloud) to each other:

Me: “Did that artist only know how to paint George Washington’s face? Because it look looks like he just painted George’s face on that poor woman.”

X: “Yeah, he could have at least done her the favor of making her look a bit more attractive. As the ‘artist’ it seems like the best thing to do. Sort of and early airbrushing.”

We wandered a few more feet examining some silver, broad cloth, and other artifacts.

X: .” I just had a thought. Maybe that painting does make her look better. Yikes.”

See? She’s like that.

Weather was garbage today. And, our furnace is broken. You can’t have it all.

the first state

Sometimes you misfire. There are moments when JCD* doesn't quite get things right - not horribly wrong, but not quite right. The Eleven ended up having coffee at La Fia in Wilmington, Delaware early Saturday evening. We were killing time before our dinner reservation at 6p and while wandering North Market St., noted that La Fia was about the only option for time killing. Great lattes, excellent service, fresh and amazing gougeres. There was an inkling that we should maybe stay and eat there instead of the pub up the street, but with reservations in hand, we headed out for a middling dinner. We did return, post-dinner, for some nice cocktails at La Fia's bar before our show - we should have stayed if the lattes, pastries, and cocktails were any indication of the food quality. Based on watching the kitchen and checking out the plates while cocktailing, I'm pretty sure dinner there would have been much better. Sometimes you miss.

We were in Wilmington for the Carolina Chocolate Drops show on Saturday night at the Grand. Both the venue and the band lived up to expectations - part history, part musicology, all drop dead talent. More on them in another post.

I did mange all of our other meals and activities at my higher standard - if only I'd trusted La Fia. It eats at me. Well, it doesn't, but I like it all to be perfect. The brunch that stood out was at Fresh Thymes on Saturday morning - something that violated my normally strong desire to not eat in any place named after an herb or spice. This place is a very small, limited menu, three-employee joint that does natural, healthy foods - and breakfast/brunch seems to be the specialty. We both had massive stacks of banana buckwheat pancakes to go with the excellent coffee on tap. Not a lot of tables, we had to wait about 10 minutes, but it was worth it. When you're next in Wilmington...

Sunday we did the Winterthur House and Garden on the way out of town and it was an excellent visit all around. We actually walked from the visitor center to the house which gave us loads of quiet and empty gardens/lands to take in on the first really nice weekend of they year. There was a bit of a bite in the air so most visitors took the trams instead of walking. It's a bit early for any full bloom, but the March bank was blanketed:

We didn't do the proper house tour since you can't wander unattended and the crowd was a bit large, but we did (not by accident) visit the Downton Abbey exhibit. They've brought over about forty pieces of historical costume from the show and the exhibit was well thought out, with timed tickets that actually maintained some semblance of space within the exhibit. Hey, I only watch Downton to maintain continuity with Mr. Carson.

And, "Oh, there they are..."

Love and kisses, 

* Julie the Cruise Director

reset

The Eleven spent last Saturday night in Baltimore. I know what your thinking about our tours of east coast blue-collar, hardworking, formerly (and future) great cities (more on that later). What with Pittsburgh in February and Wilmington, DE next weekend you might offer us a grander vacation on a beach or mountainside somewhere else; we’d decline that offer.

Baltimore is a city that appears on the edge of becoming quite alluring. (This is the later part, see above.) It went through a first re-invention in the early 1980s (?) when it redid the Inner Harbor area and anchored it with the National Aquarium. Just down the road a piece from the Inner Harbor sit Camden Yards, which spawned the entire retro-baseball park idea, and M&T Bank Stadium (the NFL’s Ravens’ home). These fairly specific areas draw lots of tourism and spending, but I feel the Inner Harbor, at over 30 years old, is fading a bit; and, this brings me to where the city seems to be now. With its various universities, neighborhoods, water access, I-95 access, and a lower cost of living than DC it may be poised to make some noise. The museums are great and I sense a hipster vibe just on the doorstep – hipsters ain’t bad – with places like the old Union Mill popping up. If played correctly, the attraction of areas like Mount Vernon could pull the city up quite a bit. We’ll see – revisit this post in five years’ time.

We did the normal thing for us and wandered around Fells Point for a bit with the weather throwing out a beautiful 70 degrees and sunshine. We bought G. what should be a highly cherished, actual top hat at Hats in the Belfry. I managed any number of CDs at Sound Garden, we did some coffee at Daily Grind, and patted some of the gazillion dogs out for the day before heading to our digs. Julie the Cruise Director booked us into the BlancNoir in Little Italy, and JCD will get a very nice comment card for said actions. We stayed in the New York room which was perfectly lovely – massive king bed with great linens, coffee, water (free; well, you know what I mean), great HDTV (we will watch trashy TV in hotels), slippers, robes, excellent temp control, and a massive bath with Jacuzzi and a two person, 12-head shower. Great place. Breakfast was almost over the top (we were the only visitors that night) with fresh everything: fruit, muesli (homemade), yoghurt, bread, cheeses, eggs to order, and veg sausage (they knew we were coming). As far as rooms and B&Bs go – about the best I’ve seen.

We then met up with my Baltimore-based cousin for dinner at Helmand in Mount Vernon - our second visit intended to verify just how great we find the food. With a near repeat on the selections we have confirmation that it’s fantastic. We had a long and wonderful conversation as we worked through the courses, wine, and dessert. I count it as a great success in my attempt this year of keeping touch with people in my life.

Sunday morning took us to coffee to Artifact Coffee in another part of town, and then back Mount Vernon for the Walker Art Center. I’m not sure how to summarize the Walker aside from saying it may be the best museum (layout, crowds [very small], admission [free], exhibitions, and tone) I’ve ever been to. We spent a nice chunk of time in the lower galleries and the 19th century collection before calling our normal hour-and-a-half eye candy limit. We will no doubt be back to cover the other 80% of the museum, including an entire Asian art building next door. With kids. Very pleasant, indeed. I think my next entry may address the lack of umph provided by the Pittsburgh Museum of Art…

Seven days to Wilmington.

Peace.

american rolling

Post-Labor Day and the summer hiatus is over – whether it was planned or not. We spent the long weekend visiting family in Ohio. There’s a lovely bed-and-breakfast with a stunning native garden that hosted a few rooms of visitors. Heather came down from Seattle for the weekend, Jen, Dave, and family live nearby; and Connie played hostess. It was such a great three days of relaxing, farmers marketing, high school soccer watching, and catching up. More on the Ohio-specific stuff to come.

The Eleven headed out Friday afternoon from D.C. and immediately (though not surprisingly) moved into our place in the massive exodus from the nation’s capital on the last holiday weekend of the summer. No worries though, we were clear of traffic about ten miles west of Hagerstown, MD (feel free to locate Hagerstown on a map). Our plan was to stop in Frostburg, MD for dinner – it worked out timing wise for the trip, plus X’s grandparents and uncle lived / grew up there so we had a chance to flashback to her youth. Our enquiries to the internet and familynet as we approached the Metropolis indicated that Frostburg isn’t much known for anything to eat, so X pointed her finger to Dante’s, a bar / restaurant, right downtown. The restaurant part, The Red Giant, has been there for a few years and the food is served in the bar area so you have a very pleasant experience of the bar itself – full of character – while stuffing your face with amazing Red Giant food. We were awed by the food and between us we had the watermelon gazpacho; goat cheese, apple, green onion, bleu cheese crostini; Caesar salad with grilled cheese croutons; and white bean Panini. It was so good that X was unwilling to leave behind (or wrap up) the huge plate of crostini…eat eat eat. The vibe in the place is cool and laid back so if you find yourself on I-68 in western Maryland, swing on in – with our high recommendation in hand.

We traced nearly the same route home on Monday, but stopped in Clarksburg, WV for a bite to eat. Once again, based on some crazy reviews we decided venture into what can only be described as the old, dark, and uninhabited former industrial area of town. We are talking an old, beat-up, hard on its luck, former mining town. Our destination was Tomaro’s ItalianBakery and their customer-declared, badass pepperoni rolls. I didn’t even know what a pepperoni roll was until yesterday – at about 1:15pm. I don’t eat meat any more, but there was no way I wasn’t eating what they handed us in exchange for our measly six dollars: four piping hot pepperoni rolls. What you have here is a freshly baked, Italian bread roll with hunks of pepperoni in the middle – unbelievable. We kept two for the boys (they were lucky) and I gobbled down two while they were still steaming their wondrous aroma all over the car. It’s sort of true that once you have a Tomaro’s pepperoni roll you can die happy. If you are rolling out the way, stop in and get a bag load. STOP. GET ROLLS!

X didn’t get a chance to eat rolls – hey, it’s her choice – so we made once more stop at…wait for it….Panera. Where, as expected, they fucked up her order. I have no idea what to say.

The journey both ways was pretty straightforward. The food was a discovery.