Tag Archives: Food

I came. I saw. I’m sorry.

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Saturday’s weather was quite nice. Temperature in the mid-40s. Dry. Lots of sun. It was a great day for a parade so I went to one. Back in 2013 when the anti-LGBTQ slant of Cincinnati’s Saint Patrick’s Day Parade first surfaced, I noted that, “I hadn’t been paying attention.” I can honestly make the same claim this year, but I cannot claim the same ignorance I possessed six years ago. The post where I spoke about not paying attention is here. I returned the next year although I paid a lot more attention to events leading up to the parade. I think I hoped that 2013 was an anomaly but by the day of the parade I knew it wasn’t. I wrote a fairly normal post about the actual parade, but it had become apparent that the parade’s organizers, the Ancient Order of Hibernians, had views different than me and a lot of other people. My 2014 post is here.

I hadn’t forgotten my 2013 and 2014 thoughts, but I did kind of push them aside. The Saint Patrick’s Day Parade used to be one of my favorite Cincinnati events. I attended Saturday’s parade with a certain amount of curiosity but I also had some hope of just enjoying things like I used to. There was plenty of the familiar like pipe and drum groups and people being silly. I did not see any of the protests I saw five and six years ago. They may have been some — I did not go to the parade’s start point and there was a lot of the route I did not see — but I didn’t see any.

There were also plenty of differences. A shifting of the route had been a topic of discussion in 2013. It is now even farther from the city center and closer to the river on Mehring Way and Freedom Way. Some of the other changes can be measured. In 2013 and 2014 at least fifteen Irish built DeLoreans had participated. This year there were four. Multiple groups of Shriners in miniature cars have appeared in past parades. Each group might have ten or so cars of the same type such as Model Ts, Mustangs, or racers. This year there was only one group with just a few of each type and a total of ten or or so. Maybe that’s just normal attrition or maybe car owners are staying away on principle. I have no way of knowing.

I could not put numbers on other changes and can’t even say with certainty that they were real. I had a sense of fewer commercial entries and more informal groupings. There were quite a few families like the Donnellons and the Flynns. I think that their number was increased but I can’t be certain. Even if it’s true, I can’t say whether it comes from a desire to promote families and family values or a desire to maintain the size of the parade. It remains a respectably sized event with a length of about an hour. Maybe I’ll check on it again in five or six years. Maybe not. Articles like this make me sorry I was there this year.

My after parade activities included catching a little of the entertainment on Fountain Square, briefly watching a street juggler, and downing my annual Guinness at Arnold’s. As you can see, the parade day crowd at Arnold’s has not diminished even the slightest.

I also visited a place where the crowd has temporarily, I believe, diminished. Following Terry Carter’s, retirement amid some unpleasant publicity, Terry’s Turf Club has become The Turf Club and has been stripped of almost all of the neon signs that covered the building and the lawn beside it. When Terry sold his previous business, the very appropriately named Neons, all of its electric trim went with him and it became Neons Unplugged. It’s tempting to think of this place as Turf Club Unplugged, but that would be quite wrong. Including all those outdoor signs would have made the purchase financially impractical for new owners Tom and Marc Kunkemoeller, but that’s pretty much where the changes end. Inside all of the eye catching decor remains along with the menu and most of the staff. I was torn between a ‘burger or the ham sandwich I’ve come to love on my first post-Terry visit, but ultimately decided to test what they’re best known for. The Kunkemoellers know what they’re doing and retaining staff was crucial. The neon will be missed; The quality’s still there.

Fish Farm Fun

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I like fish… and I like shrimp… and I’ve lived my entire life in Ohio. Why, then, did it take me 17 years to get to the Ohio Fish & Shrimp Festival? Is a puzzlement. It becomes an even bigger puzzlement when you add in the fact that I like music and this is a festival with a reputation for putting some of the best local and regional entertainment available on its stage.

I don’t know about previous festivals but this year’s event covered three days. I made it on Saturday, the middle day, and I made it in time to catch part of the day’s opening performance. The very impressive Devil Doves are based in Columbus, Ohio.

I hung out near the stage until the set was finished then headed up the hill to check out the festival’s reason for being. There are multiple food vendors present but the Fresh Water Farms is the host and naturally has the biggest stand in the best location. I’m a sucker for coconut shrimp so that’s what I picked from an extensive bill of fare. That’s kale Caesar salad in the box and it was delicious. So was the shrimp.

I was eating at one of the tables when Mustards Retreat began their set. The group from Michigan served up some excellent vocal harmonies. This would be the last group I saw. The next group was still on their way when Mustards Retreat finished and I decided not to wait out the delay although I’m sure it was a short one. There would be a total of five bands on Saturday ending with the outstanding Teeny Tucker. Check out the full festival lineup here.

Beer and wine are available but there is an alcohol free zone that includes some of the food vendors and a children’s play area. Speakers at the back of the stage means the live music can be heard through much of this area.

Some of the actual farm facilities lie just beyond the play area and were open for exploring.

On the way back to the festival’s main area, I grabbed some pistachio gelato for dessert. I finished it as Mustards Retreat finished their set. Then, as mentioned earlier, I headed home happy to have added another fine Ohio festival to my experience.

18th Century Flashback

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The Ohio Renaissance Festival began its 2018 run on Saturday as did the Fair at New Boston some twenty-five mile to the north. The Festival will last two months, operating every weekend in September and October. The Fair will last two days. The Festival celebrates 16th century England. The Fair decidedly does not. The Fair represents a settlement in the Ohio territory in the year 1798 when the England of any century was anything but celebrated. The war that had ripped thirteen of England’s colonies away from her was a very fresh memory in the fledgling United States of America of the day.

I’d attended the Fair at New Boston once before, in 2010. As it did then, the day began with a parade…

…and some opening ceremonies. The flag was raised to the top of the pole then lowered to the halfway point in recognition of the 21st century death of Senator John McCain.

With the fair officially open, the entertainment commenced immediately. Pictured are Johnathon Hagee, Jack Salt & the Captain’s Daughter, and the Clockwork Clown.

I’d essentially jumped out of bed and headed straight to the fair, then followed the parade through town and paused to be entertained. It was now time for breakfast. Freshly peeled peaches and pound cake were just about perfect.

I then headed to Cheapside Theater for the world premier of Bard of New Boston, a play comprised of Shakespeare excerpts. Volunteers from the audience fill out the trio of witches from Macbeth. Complaining about the lack of a Romeo, Juliet begins the balcony scene by herself before the town rat-catcher steps up. This guy roams all about the fair with a couple of live rats in a cage and a stuffed one in his hands and in your face. His general griminess and very audible flatulence adds to the image. He spent the first half of the play heckling the actors before bringing a dash of romance to the stage. The whole company appears at the end in a curtain-less curtain call.

I completely missed out on the preparation and just barely arrived in time for the hot air balloon launch. A strong cord between balloon and owner kept the two from being separated as the former led the latter though the fairgrounds before cooling and landing.

Authenticity and historic accuracy is stressed at the fair and that includes the nearby Kispoko Town. I eavesdropped a bit on the fellow drying pumpkin rind and heard the two young observers getting what I suspect will be a rather memorable history lesson.

I missed out on this year’s historical speakers, which included Simon Kenton, Chief Blackhoof, and Daniel Boone, and I took off before the reenactment of the Battle of Picawey. Clouds were gathering and I had things to do so decided it was time to leave.    

A Week Late and Several Photos Short

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I planned on last week’s post to be primarily about the Tenderloin Throwdown in Greensburg, Indiana. I arrived in early afternoon and bought my set of four sample tickets. A fifth contestant was a no-show. I tried them all and took several pictures including one of each sample with the associated booth in the background. When I did the same thing at the homemade ice cream stand operated by the local historical society, the shutter wouldn’t cooperate.

There was an error message displayed on the camera’s screen, but there’s just no way I’m going to read those tiny letters without glasses. I don’t need no stinkin’ glasses, I may have said to myself. I went down the list of common problems. The mode dial was not out of position and the lens was securely seated. Must be something with the SD card. I popped it out and back in and clicked off a couple shots. The problem returned and I “fixed” it the same way. When It happened a third time, I began to get concerned but I was ready to leave so didn’t investigate.

I’d kind or forgotten all this until I moved the SD card to my laptop in preparation of producing a blog post. It contained just four pictures and one of those was of my feet. Subsequent tests have revealed no errors with either camera or card although I don’t intend to ever use the card again. Sure wish I knew what that error message said.

So last week you got a canned My Wheels post and this week you get one picture of the back of one of the tenderloin stands with the famous tree-in-tower in the background. It is the winner of the grilled category, so there’s that. Obviously four entrants does not a major showdown make, but all four were top notch and tasty, and the homemade ice cream was excellent.

Even when I anticipated a photo spread from the Tenderloin Throwdown, I was considering tacking on a paragraph about the one concert on my schedule. I ended up attending three concerts during the week and, in light of the Throwdown’s vanished visuals, I’m including cell phone photos of all three. Remember, if you want a picture real bad, I’ve got a real bad picture.

On Wednesday the 20th, it was the LSD (Lucinda Williams, Steve Earle, Dwight Yoakam) Tour at Riverbend. This is one I hadn’t planned on, but when a friend’s significant other fell ill the day before, I got her ticket. It really was almost like three concerts with each of the artists doing nearly hour long sets. That’s Steve and his band in the first picture. I didn’t get a picture of Lucinda during her own set but the second picture has her and Steve flanking Dwight for the Dim Lights, Thick Smoke (and Loud, Loud Music) finale.

Thursday’s concert was the one I had planned for a long time. I’ve been sort of focusing on long time legends I’ve never seen. I saw Jackson Browne last month and Steely Dan, Van Morrison, and Paul Simon over the last year or two. This time it was possibly the ultimate living legend with Tony Bennett at Fraze Pavilion.

The quartet opened with an instrumental then Tony’s daughter, Antonia, did three songs. At that point, Tony came on and for the next hour he was on the stage, on his feet, and singing essentially non-stop. He performed basically full songs for the first half then commenced doing one or two lines from hits like Rags to Riches, Fly Me to the Moon, and I Left My Heart in San Francisco. I can’t remember everything he did but there wasn’t one I didn’t recognize at the time. It’s kind of astounding to realize that this guy could do a full concert singing just a line or two from each hit and probably have enough left over for several encores. Yeah, he’s 91 and didn’t hold every note as long as he might have a decade or two back, but he hit them and he was having fun. The Good Life for sure.

The other unplanned concert was a freebie at Miami Valley Gaming held as part of their Rhythm and Brews Festival on Saturday the 23rd. Knowing friends would be there, I stopped by on the way home from the Tenderloin Throwdown and caught the performer I was most interested in, Tinsley Ellis. I also saw part of Lil’ Ed and the Blues Imperials’ set but don’t have even a real bad picture of that.

Fleetwood’s Mac

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I’m sorry. I am a punster. I make puns on a regular basic. If you’re the sort of person who believes that good puns do exist, you would likely call them bad puns. Others think the phrase “bad puns” is simply redundant. Sometimes I try to defend my puns and sometimes I just ignore the groans as if the pun was entirely accidental. Sometimes I apologize.

The “sorry” that leads off this post is not an apology. It describes the way I felt when I discovered that I’d missed one of the most obvious puns to ever come my way. I was catching up on Tripadvisor reviews earlier this week and pulled up my own trip journal to check dates and notes. It was close to two months ago that I stopped into Fleetwood’s on Front Street for a beer. The restaurant/lounge is owned by Fleetwood Mac’s drummer, Mick Fleetwood.

It was the day of the NCAA Championship game and I ended up watching the entire game there while listening to some very good live music. I got hungry. It was too early for the full dinner menu but a lounge menu was available with several very tempting items. I opted for the crab macaroni & cheese. It was terrific with small bits of crab meat in every bite. I praised it in my journal and I included a picture but somehow missed the pun that makes up today’s title. I didn’t miss it this time. I’m sorry.

French Toast and Battle Ax Plug

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Carl Graham Fisher, the primary mover and shaker behind the Indianapolis Motor Speedway and both the Lincoln and Dixie Highways, had lots of stories. One in particular is popular among road fans and was originally told by Fisher to partially explain his interest in improving roads and their marking. I’ve heard and read multiple versions of the story and am totally unequipped to distinguish embellishments from additional accurate details. So here’s a version of the story which I believe to be true at its core and possibly in some of the details, too.

Fisher and some friends had taken a day trip from Indianapolis and were returning in the dark and rain. They came to a point where three roads joined together but none of them could remember which they used earlier in the day. After some inconclusive discussion, they noticed a sign which they thought might indicate which road led back home. It was mounted high on a pole and unreadable in the dark and wet. It was somehow determined that Fisher would climb the pole to read the sign. Some say he climbed the pole once and had to return to the ground for matches. Some say that the first few matches sputtered or were doused by the rain. Some say that it was his very last match that provided a glimpse of the sign’s message. All versions agree on what that message was. Hoping for the name of a town or other landmark, all he saw was “Chew Battle Ax Plug”.

Prior to Tuesday, that funny and revealing story supplied 100% of my knowledge of Battle Ax Plug. On Tuesday I was on my way to Greenville, Ohio, and had left home with enough time in the schedule to try out a new restaurant on the way. I jogged off of my normal path to reach the town of Arcanum. It is a small town in the county I grew up in but I don’t remember much about it and doubt I ever knew all that much. I’d heard good things about the restaurant’s food but knew almost nothing about it beyond that. It was quite a happy surprise to see the big Battle Ax sign that heads this article on the side of the building housing the restaurant. I’ve since learned a little more about the brand.

Battle Ax Plug was the very definition of a “loss leader”. Between 1895 and 1898, US tobacco companies were embroiled in the “Plug Wars”. Another aptly named combatant was the Scalp Knife brand from Liggett  and Meyers. The American Tobacco Company lost about a million dollars a year with their Battle Ax brand but emerged from the wars with approximately 90% market share. The fading slogan on the sign’s ax head is “A GREAT BIG PIECE FOR 10 CTS.” Those were, back in the day, fighting words.

The building behind the sign has its own story and it’s a great one. Built by John Smith in 1851, it housed the family store until 1985. At its closing it was the longest operating family owned business in Ohio. It began as a typical general store offering an assortment of dry goods but eventually meat, produce, and other grocery items were added as were men’s and women’s clothing.

Yes, I certainly got distracted but I did eventually make it to breakfast. One of the places where I’d heard good things about Old Arcana was Ohio Magazine which named their French Toast the best in the state. The magazine quotes co-owner Leslie Handshoe-Suter calling the toast “decadent” and it certainly is. The full name is Bourbon Praline French Toast. Following the meal — and some really good coffee — I chatted with chef and co-owner Jeff Besecker about the menu, the business, and the building. Jeff pointed out the building’s owner, Angie, sitting at one on the tables and I also chatted with her and a table mate who had worked in the store that once filled the entire building. Angie operates Smith’s Merchants which shares the building with the restaurant.

When I first saw the round windows in the Smith Building, they made me think of the round openings I had seen in electric train power stations. When I later learned that the electric powered Dayton & Union interurban once occupied the gravel path in the left half of this picture I’d have almost certainly grasped the power station theory even tighter if I didn’t already know that it wasn’t at all possible. Before I even spoke with Jeff, I’d learned from my waitress that the windows were original from the 1850s and from Jeff and Angie I learned that the building was in constant use as a store during the interurban’s coming and going in the early twentieth century. Headquarters for the Arcanum Historical Society is just out of frame to the left of that last picture. It’s open on some Saturday mornings so I think I’ll come back, learn some more about this town I grew up near, and try another item from that inviting breakfast menu.

A Tenderloin Tasting

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edi01I was invited to join a few road fans at a new-to-me drive-in on Wednesday and that’s just what I did. Although I was not even aware that Edward’s Drive-In existed it has long been an Indianapolis, Indiana, fixture. It opened in 1957 as a Dog ‘n’ Suds. When owner Herb Edwards later went independent he gave the restaurant his own name. A 1978 tornado and a 2006 fire led to significant changes and additions so that the place looks quite a bit different and is a whole lot bigger that the original root beer stand. However, the curb service that was available in 1957 is still offered today.

edi02Indiana is known for big pork tenderloin sandwiches and Edward’s was among the first to serve the popular bun busters. From the beginning the meat was pounded into shape and breaded on site and that’s still the case today. The current menu is fairly large but the three things in the picture are what people are most likely to associate with Edward’s Drive-In. The tenderloin is good and certainly holds a place in Indiana tenderloin history but it’s not the best I’ve ever had. The hand-dipped onion rings just might be. The tasty house made root beer is perfect for washing it all down.

edi03The neon trimmed entrance makes a nice spot to photograph dinner companions Dean Kennedy, Jenny McGinnis, and Jennifer & Pat Bremer. Good food tastes even better when seasoned with good conversation.

Ohio Predictions

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ghd2016_01If I’d had any confidence that I would actually attend a Groundhog Day event this year, I might have posted a canned article last week and saved the Happy Imbolc piece for today to be fleshed out with the latest news. But the truth is that I wasn’t sure I would make it to Buckeye Chuck‘s dawn pronouncement until just minutes before I was on the way. I was noncommittal when I went to bed on Monday. If I woke up in time and in the mood to go, I would, but I set no alarm clock and told myself that sleeping through the whole thing would be just fine. I awoke at 4:04, four minutes past what I had decided was the ideal departure time. There was slack in that ideal time but I waffled for a few minutes before finally deciding to go. I hit the shower and then the road and reached Marion, Ohio, right about 7:00. The photo of Buckeye Chuck in his cage was taken at 7:03.

ghd2016_02The gathering in Marion isn’t nearly as large as the one in Punxsutawney but it is respectable. Radio station WMRN has been offering localized groundhog predictions since the late 1970s when Charlie Evers started sharing those provided by groundhogs in the neighboring woods with listeners. That led to a naming contest that produced the name Buckeye Chuck and Evers was instrumental in getting the Ohio legislature to proclaim Buckeye Chuck the state’s official groundhog in 1979. The original Buckeye Chuck was present today, patiently posing for photos. Evers has moved on but is still a force in the area with a show on radio station WWGH.

ghd2016_04ghd2016_03A WMRN Groundhog Day tradition is providing free ground hog, in the form of Spam sandwiches, to everyone present. That’s Buckeye Chuck’s current partner and translator, Scott Shawver taking the first bite of his. I had my own which I consumed with less ceremony but possibly more enthusiasm.

ghd2016_05ghd2016_06Broadcasting from the stage near Buckeye Chuck went live at 7:15, just a few minutes before Shawver bit into that sandwich. Sunrise was at 7:41. The time in between was filled with the reading of a couple of proclamations, including one from Marion Mayor Scott Schertzer and assorted banter from Shawver and co-host Paul James. When they began wondering about who had come the farthest, I thought I might be in the running but the first question, “Anyone from out of state?”, turned up a couple from New Jersey. They visit a different groundhog each year. Last year it was General Beauregard Lee near Atlanta, Georgia, and they have been to Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania “many times”. Clouds continued moving steadily on and by the time the sun popped over the horizon the sky was pretty much clear. Buckeye Chuck saw his shadow, an indicator that six more weeks of winter should be expected, instantly.

ghd2016_07The mildly disappointed crowd dispersed rather quickly although some took advantage of the daylight to get a better view or a better picture of Buckeye Chuck while Shawver and James wrapped up the program. I dawdled a bit before walking to the car. Deciding to drive to Marion was as far as my morning planning had progressed. Just before climbing into the car, I asked the only person standing nearby if he knew of a good place for breakfast. “No,” he said with a laugh, “I’m from Cleveland.”

ghd2016_08Scanning signs and storefronts as I drove back through Marion,I spotted a likely looking place near the center of town. I took the photo as I left. The street in front of Baires Restaurant was completely empty when I arrived. A guy at the counter and another in a booth were drinking coffee and chatting with each other when I entered. Service was somewhat slow but the lone woman on the business side of the counter seemed pretty busy in the cooking area so I didn’t think too much of it. The first person to enter after me was a fellow on a walker. As he worked his way into the seat next to me and against the wall, I asked, thinking it might be easier, if he would rather sit where I was. “This one’s got my name on it,” he laughed and he meant it. He pointed to a small brass plate on the back of the swivel stool marking it as his regular seat. The cook/waitress immediately appeared with his grapefruit which I had noticed her preparing earlier. My food arrived as I chatted with my new neighbor and learned that the restaurant normally opened at 8:30. It was not yet a quarter past when I entered and what I took to be slow service was more than I had a right to expect. Now that the place was officially open, a number of people entered with new folks greeted, usually by name, by those already there. As I paid my bill, I joked with the person I now realized was cook/waitress/owner about me busting in early and she grinned. “Oh, you’re alright.” In case there is any question, I had sausage & eggs.

ghd2016_10ghd2016_09One of the reasons I had been so nonchalant about possibly sleeping through Buckeye Chuck’s emergence was that I had a Plan B. The day’s big event at Boonshoft Museum of Discovery, where I’d watched a groundhog named Rosie make her prediction in 2013, was aimed toward a much younger crowd and was scheduled for a comfortable 10:00 AM. I hadn’t even thought about it after starting toward Marion but I got curious as I was about to select “Home” on the GPS, and tapped Boonshoft instead. When I did, I realized that, without the breakfast stop, I probably could have worked in both Chuck and Rosie. Since it made the time to home only slightly longer, I proceeded to the museum. The last load of attending school children were about to climb aboard their bus when I arrived. Rosie’s appearance had taken place more than forty minutes earlier but I coud see the official result. She agreed with Chuck.

Not many did. Punxsutawney Phil predicted an early spring as did all the other U.S. groundhogs on my short list consisting of Staten Island’s Charles G. Hogg, Illinois’ Woodstock Willie, and Georgia’s General Beauregard Lee. The only groundhog of note that I found agreeing with Chuck and Rosie lives in Canada but not all Canadians are of the same mind, either. In Ontario, Wiarton Willie sided with the Ohio rodents in predicting more winter while Shubenacadie Sam claims an early spring is on the way in Nova Scotia.

imbolc2016As stated in last week’s post, I had no plans to be awake at 4:30 AM Thursday. That was when Imbolc, the midpoint between Winter Solstice and Vernal Equinox, occurred this year. Neither did I have plans to assure that I was asleep at that time but that seemed the most likely and it is indeed what transpired. I didn’t miss it by too much, though. The picture at left was taken at 5:22, a mere fifty-two minutes past Imbolc. Admitedly I can’t prove it but I strongly suspect that the view from my bed was pretty much the same at the magic moment as it was less than an hour later.

Happy Imbolc

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gknob2010Groundhog Day has long been one of my favorite holidays. In fact, attending America’s biggest Groundhog Day event in Punxsutawney, PA, was among the first things I did with the newly available time that retirement brought. The photo at right was taken at 4:58 AM, February 2, 2010. Sunrise was more than two hours away and the temperature was four degrees Fahrenheit. I had a good time and I’m glad I went but the experience did not lead to plans for an annual return. Standing outside in pre-dawn single-digit temperatures is something I prefer to discuss in past tense only.

I credited my original fondness for Groundhog Day to a belief that it had no religious connections and was basically folklore that had been adopted by some Pennsylvanians largely to promote silliness. While both of those claims are sort of true, there is more to it. I started to doubt the “no religious connections” when I discovered that America’s Groundhog Day shares its February 2 date with Christianity’s Candlemas. But sharing a date does not a connection make and there are no direct ties apparent between Groundhog Day and any of the three events (presentation of the child Jesus, Jesus’ entry into the temple, and Mary’s purification) Christians attribute to the day.

February 1 is also a day recognized by Christians. It is the day that Saint Brigid of Ireland is reported to have died and is celebrated as her feast day. Before Saint Brigid was born (in 451 they say) a Gaelic festival was celebrated about this time to honor a goddess also named, perhaps by coincidence though probably not, Brigid. I have to say “about this time” because man-made calendars had not yet taken over and feast days were not yet tied to specific numbers on pages. Brigid’s was associated with a point halfway between Winter Solstice and Vernal Equinox called Imbolc which happens near the beginning of what we call February. In 2016 it occurs at 4:30 EST February 4.

Without donut shops and corner diners, it isn’t clear where ancient Irish farmers gathered to talk about the weather but it’s a safe bet that they did. Around Imbolc, the coming spring would have been a big topic. Farmers without donut shops and cable television are quite observant of their environment and they no doubt noticed that bright clear days in the middle of winter were usually a little colder than cloudy ones. With Imbolc being the most “middle of winter” you can get, giving some special significance to the weather on that day was likely fairly natural. That’s about as close to science that the groundhog and shadow story gets.

I’m guessing that making a determination at sunrise was also fairly natural. Even if those early farmers were capable of determining Imbolc’s exact moment — and I’m not saying they weren’t — in those years when it did not occur during the daytime they weren’t about to get up in the middle of the night to see if the sun was shining. The crack of dawn probably seemed about right.

So there really are no direct connections between Groundhog Day and religion and there is plenty of silliness in its fairly recent (1887) use to bring fame to a small Pennsylvania town but its timing is firmly linked to the workings of the solar system and there is a tiny bit of logic in it being a day to make weather predictions. If nothing else, the days around Imbolc are most likely the coldest of the year meaning there’s a good chance that it’s all up-thermometer from here.

My 2010 Punxsutawney visit is here. I will, as usual, celebrate Groundhog Day on Tuesday by consuming pork sausage at some point. I have no plans to be awake at 4:30 Thursday to observe Imbolc.

Road Crew in the Fork

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pgsPuckett’s Grocery & Restaurant is the target of this trip but there will be some stops along the way. Puckett’s is in Leiper’s Fork, Tennessee, which, for me, is a little beyond Nashville. I have Music City evenings planned for the Bluebird Cafe and the Grand Ol’ Opry at Ryman Theater before my evening with “America’s Route 66 Band”, The Road Crew, at Puckett’s. You know the saying, “When you come to a Road Crew in the Fork, take it.”

The journal for the trip is here. This entry is to let blog subscribers know of the trip and to provide a place for comments.