Lent in the Gump: Week 3: Sunday Blues at the Capitol Oyster Bar, Tuesday Night Cantina Baseball and a Saturday Fall From the Wagon.

Yes, they serve PBR at the COB on feast days.

My head is throbbing as I write this.  I have always known that one should never blog with a hangover.  But since I am probably still a bit tipsy, I have paid that no heed. So here goes:

Sunday is a feast day, I am told. For those who observe Lent, that means you can have whatever you gave up for Lent.  As you know by now, for me that was alcohol.  I understand I am not alone.  I have heard that a Methodist pastor with a large flock challenged them all not only to give up alcohol for Lent but to donate the church the money they would have spent on booze during Lent.  I do not hold with the latter part of that equation.  It would be very embarrassing  for someone like me to write that check.  "Wow," the bursar would exclaim when the check arrived at the church office.  "Mr. Allpots just sent in a Lenten check for $[Here you can fill in some obscene number indicative of a slight alcohol problem]!"

No other restaurant in the Gump can offer this view....

Sunday at the Capitol Oyster Bar.

Anyway, back to the fable.  Where was I?  Yes, that's right. Sunday is a feast day. It is also "Blue's Sunday" at the Capitol Oyster Bar which is now located at the Montgomery Marina on the Alabama River. So it was with great pleasure that I accepted Precious's invitation to accompany her to a birthday party for one of her friends.  Normally, at such functions, I would serve much the same role as a parrot on a Pirate's shoulder.  But as the women huddled and completely tuned out the presence of the menfolk (except when their glasses were empty), I bellied up to the bar for a nice cold Pabst Blue Ribbon only to learn that if I could survive the women until 5 p.m., I would be able to enjoy live music by Bob Margolin. "What a capitol idea!," I remarked to the bar wench with a wink.  Alas, she did not get my pun so I took my cold bottle and strode the premises.  That is where I found the PBR sign near the basketball court. See picture above. It was a fine Sunday afternoon. A clear sky and mid-70s temperatures reminded me why I prefer the Gump to the County Down.

While waiting for the three-man band to assemble and set up, I took the opportunity to snag one of the best cheeseburgers in town.  I know the COB is known for its fried seafood and po-boys, but I have always been partial to their cheeseburgers and fries.  When the order arrived I was there in a corner (away from the prattle) with a cold PBR in my left hand and a warm juicy cheeseburger in my right gazing out across the Alabama River toward downtown.  My dream was disturbed only by a tap on the shoulder from Precious wanting another beer for herself and also wanting to know why I had not ordered her something to eat.  Oh well, back to reality.

Stealing Gasoline by Bob Margolin

I did prevail upon her to remain to see the show which featured some really fine blues guitar and harmonica playing. Why, I was so taken by the event that I actually reached into my own wallet for $20 to buy the CD "Stealing Gasoline." What a better way to spend a beautiful Sunday afternoon (after going to church of course) but to eat a fine cheeseburger, quaff a PBR and listen to some gritty blues at a bar on Shady Street.  Sounds like the makings of a good blues song title to me.

Tuesday at Cantina! and Riverwalk Stadium:


They have this little rivalry here in Alabama between two universities and they force you to choose which one you will support. They also have a game called baseball which they refer to as a national pastime.  And here in the Gump, they have a beautiful baseball stadium called Riverwalk near a pretty decent entertainment district called "The Alley." All of these are combined once a year when Auburn and Alabama play the Max Federal Credit Union Capitol City Classic.

I prevailed upon Precious to go with me.  A poor old Irishman trying to understand the local culture and just wanting to see his "first" baseball game?  Tears formed in the corner of her eyes...as she began to laugh.  "You don't fool me you old coot," she said. "I saw that Evan Longoria Montgomery Biscuits bobble head on your shelf."

 Foiled again!  But she agreed to go anyway.

Although the food at Riverwalk is surprisingly good (they have burgers cooked on a grill and some pretty mean bratwurst), Precious said she would like to try the Cantina which is located in the heart of the Alley.  I recalled that the LITG had been rather hard on the place when it opened but I agreed that we ought to try it out to see for ourselves.  It was a good call.

The Alley itself was bopping.  I mean high energy like Bourbon Street bopping.  Not only was the pre-game crowd hanging out drinking beer at the outside bar for Dreamland and AlleyBAR, but there was also a crowd in the Alley eating before a performance by Ed Asner impersonating FDR at The Davis Theater. (I can't picture him as FDR myself.  Maybe John Adams or some other short, fat, bald president but not FDR).  Heard he was very good though.

The Cantini Cuban with garlic fries...Muy Bueno.

But back to the Cantina. I liked ordering at the bar and paying first (which is the way they do things in many civilized countries in Europe) and the food comes very fast, which is important when its only 30 minutes to the first pitch.  The Cuban Sandwich with garlic fries were the bomb!  Very fresh. Made to order. I do not understand why more places don't serve garlic fries here in the Gump. Would have tasted even better if I could have had a beer...like Precious with her fancy nachos.

Oh yes, Auburn won.

We even made it to our seats for the first pitch which I should more accurately describe as the "first pitches."  They were a hoot. Apparently, sponsors were allowed to designate persons to be recognized as they threw out a pitch 60 feet from the mound to home plate.  A child and teenage girl did well.  But poor Rich Thomas of Channel 12 did not.

Rich almost bit off his tongue during his attempt to hurl a small object 60 feet.

Not only did he look goofy, but he didn't even get the ball to the dirt surrounding home plate....a three-hopper. Threw like a girr.... (Ok, that sexist). Threw like a retar....(oops, insensitive). Let's just point out that some professional heckler, after seeing Rich's 45-foot pitch yelled in one of those voices that carries even in a crowed stadium: "Take her out coach!"

Again, the weather was perfect and the sell-out crowd was all happy until Auburn began pounding the Alabama starter and in the fifth inning the Alabama coach came to the mound. At that moment the same heckler, who must have been an Auburn fan, yelled: "Leave her in!" Even the Bama fans giggled.

Watching a game with friends at Riverwalk cries out for beer.  But I was good. I bought Precious her souvenir cup of Bud Light and I selected that farce of a beer called O'Douls.  As the urban dictionary says: "O'Douls is made for that poor suckka at the company Christmas party who can't be trusted with a real beer."  Actually, it was a waste of money and valuable stomach space which could have been better spent on some freshly-popped popcorn!  Regardless of my beerlessness, it was still a very enjoyable evening. The fireworks were spectacular.  Which reminds me, the Biscuits open April 15th and I've got to order a ticket package again this year.  Yes, Precious, you were right. I am a season ticket holder.

Saturday Engagement Party Ends Badly....

Which brings me to the end of this sad tale and the reason I am writing this with a headache: The Engagement Party.  Those of you natives know that the Gump is steeped in the tradition of hosting engagement parties for their children who actually bother to get married and do not elope.  Precious was hosting just such an event Saturday evening for The Younger and his ballerina bride, and she insisted I come not knowing that I would have gone to support one of our LITG gang members regardless.  Of course, I let her think she made me go and acted the part.  That was my first mistake.

My second mistake was striking up a conversation with a few party goers about our decisions to give up alcohol for Lent.  Soon we had convinced ourselves that we could substitute the Sunday feast day for a Saturday evening party with an open bar stocked with top-shelf selections.  What a brilliant idea.  Yes, they even had Crown Black and the "Big Fella."

After the first two whiskeys my lowered alcohol tolerance began to take its toll.  I do not remember much after that but it appears my mistakes began to cascade over the falls.

It is said that although I was not invited to give a toast, I insisted and proceeded to give a bawdy Irish toast in my native language. Unfortunately, the dirty words sound much the same in English. If that were not bad enough, I am told that I insisted in taking the Michael Collins bottle home with me only to find this morning that it was empty.  Hopefully I was not the only person drinking from that bottle.  However, my head tells me otherwise.


Oh. I should also add that one of the sure signs that you have been over served is waking up in your bed with your feet at the headboard or assbackwards as you say.  Another is to see the answering machine blinking with an unusual amount of messages from Precious.  I hope the Dear Lord disabled all video capable cell-phones at the party and that I do not appear shortly as a viral video on YouTube. I can just see the caption: "Drunk Irishman Gives Dirty Toast in Gaelic."

Perhaps Precious will take me back and The Younger will forgive me.  I am, after all, suffering today for my misdeeds and steadfastly trying to climb back up on the wagon.  Wish me better fortune in week 4.

Oh no. I just realized that Saturday March 17th is St. Patty's Day.

Put me on your prayer list.

Lent in the Gump: Week 2 (Continued): Dinner at Central, Lunch at Green Papaya and the COA Men's Prayer Breakfast

Best breakfast for $2 in Gump is served here every Thursday.

As my mind clears from the effects of abstinence, I am more convinced that the practice of giving up "vices" for Lent is more ego-centric than it should be.  "Look at me," I say to the Cornbread Carp, "I have given up whiskey for Lent! (at least so far)."  Cornbread looks at me and replies with his trailer park wisdom: "Lent is not about you Allpots.  Have a beer."

"My word man, its 8:30 a.m.!" I say.

To which the Carp, cocks his head and raises his eyebrows and asks: "Scotch?"

Actually, I learned to think about this more clearly at the Church of the Ascension Men's Prayer Breakfast which occurs every Thursday at 7 a.m. in Ascension Hall.  It is relevant to these pages if for no reason other than it is where you can enjoy the finest breakfast in the Gump for $2.  Fresh biscuits, grits, sausage, cheesy eggs, all the coffee you can drink and some thoughtful conversation at no extra charge. Each visit confirms my belief that common men (i.e. untrained amateurs) are experts at only one meal: breakfast.  This one is cooked by attorneys, accountants and like-minded professionals and it is always delicious.  For $2 it cannot be beaten.

Yes, this is the River Jordan...which is nowhere near Lake Jordan.

Anyway, seeing pictures of the actual "wilderness" and the Jordan River brought home to me that 40 days in a desert is a true challenge and that the Jordan River looks a lot like Pintlala Creek except that after 40 days in a desert it would appear to be a most welcome sight. Giving up alcohol for Lent pales in comparison, although I do feel a tinge of joy as a walk near a bar.

Central decor compares with fine restaurants anywhere....

Speaking of which, on Thursday night I received a call from Precious (my new girlfriend), who invited me out to dinner at the new "Central Restaurant" in the Alley Station area of downtown.  I had previously received the following report from King Cotton about his visit to Central:


"Ladies and Gentlemen (and you too Allpots),

The missus and I went to Central last night.  It is the new restaurant downstairs at 129 Coosa (which is where we were married).  They have done a great job of decorating using old wooden beams from the building to make all the tables and such.

The atmosphere is dark but there is a good bar and a way to look into the kitchen from your table...seems to be the rage now.  We saw a lot of folks we know there...seems everyone is trying it out.  A Balch Bingham attorney was eating at the bar...he had been working late and had come over...his office is in the same block.

Entrees priced about comparable with other places in town.  Drinks were fine.  I had the hamburger which was okay.  Of course, the nice thing about a dark atmosphere is you can't see their mistakes.

We inquired about being able to seat our group and there are two options..one on the main level and one downstairs in the cellar which could be fun.  (Very clean and we saw no mice)

I would call for reservations 517-1155 and the preferred seating would be tables 52-56 which are round banquettes on the side where you can see everything going on.

I am amazed and encouraged by the rejuvenation downtown centered around the Alley.  The restaurant has an entrance from the Alley and now there is also a cut through from Coosa St. to the Alley.  As for how this restaurant compares to the other options in the Alley area...I would consider it the best place downtown...definitely better than Olive Room (and cheaper)

King Cotton"


Even on a Thursday night, this place was very crowded and it was fortunate we had reservations.  I tried to make an American funny (in homage to Yogi Berra) and said to Precious "Nobody comes here anymore, the place is too crowded."  But my remark soared over her head into oblivion. She looked puzzled and replied.  "Looks pretty popular to me."

Popular and cramped compared to other restaurants in Montgomery (except perhaps the bar at Chophouse VY) but I like cramped. It is the way restaurants are in Dublin, New York and New Orleans.  The decor here rivals restaurants in any of those cities.  What about the food?

Well, the food is a work in progress, as is the service.  But I must say there are clear signs that the food will soon exceed expectations at very reasonable prices.  The complimentary bread was warm and the butter/cream cheese spread was different and delicious. Precious had the beet salad and raved about it. I chose the "wedge" (which is actually about a 1 1/2 slice of lettuce laid on its side) which had a very nice bleu cheese dressing with fruit slices on top.  Much easier to eat served in this fashion rather than when you receive a wedge-shaped quarter of a head of lettuce.

Precious was concerned she had made a mistake ordering Amberjack because it is not her favorite fish to begin with.  However, she devoured the ample portion and gave the presentation and flavor high marks.  It is easy to overcook Amberjack and she reported it was perfectly prepared.

I ordered my favorite dish in general: The duck breast.  As for temperature I ordered "chef's choice" because I find the usual requests for medium or medium rare do not do duck justice.  I was not disappointed. The duck breast came sliced to reveal the tender red center which turned out to be the perfect temperature for that particular duck breast.  The potatoes were also prepared well.  So, as far as the food is concerned, we were very pleased and the tab (she had one Martini and I sampled the non-alcoholic and freshly prepared Ginger Beer), came to a rather reasonable $72 without dessert.  Thankfully, she picked up the tab although I reached with T-Rex arms in a show of possible payment.

The only real negative point was that conversations (and you know I am not a great favorite of having them with women) sounded like this:

"How was your Amberj...chowder is not right?"

She looked up and said: "It's delicious...send it back."

You see, the seats for two are so close together that your conversations combine with those around you to they form a cacophony of babble.  The couple next to us overheard Precious tell the waiter the decor reminded her of a restaurant in New York she had just visited and the male member of the couple began having a conversation with Precious about other neighborhood restaurants in Soho.  Of course, I tuned them out and pretended to focus on my duck so as to avoid having to speak with the woman next to me who could not possibly hear the conversation from her vantage point.

Next time I will take King Cotton's advice and request tables a little further apart.  However, there is no doubt I will go back to Central and may,  I said may, actually offer to pay.

Green Papaya offers a variety of Lao and Thai cuisine.

Friday for lunch the Gumphone rang for a gang visit to Green Papaya.  We have reviewed this popular Forest Hills restaurant before in 2010 and it was time for a quality control follow-up review.  The Younger and Squeak ordered staples like Pud Thai.  I however, saw the garlic pepper stir fry and went for it "Medium" spicy with beef.  What a meal. It cleared my sinuses and forced me to drink about a gallon of water during the meal but it was soooo good I ate every bit.  The group confirmed that we consider Green Papaya to be one of the best places for lunch in the Gump.

The only real problem was that Precious, whom I am almost sure has never actually smelled a goat, complained Friday evening while at her lake place that I, Chase Allpots esq., smelled like one.  After two showers and multiple flossings, the only thing that "cured" the problem was a large glass of milk.  I guess the moral is ...why I can think of not a single moral.  The point is that when they say something is spicy or has garlic at Green Papaya, they are not kidding.  Apparently Laotians don't play around.  Its the meal that keeps on giving, if you know what I mean.

Which gets me back to Lent in the Gump.  Week 2 almost in the book and so far so good.  I have stopped feeling sorry for myself and am looking forward to a Sunday respite from abstinence.

Lent in the Gump: Week 2: The Saga Continues at Commerce Street Soda Shop and Bushwood

Shakes for the shakes.

Monday Lunch: Lent Week 2:

Astrophysicists have located a black hole at 15 Commerce Street that has sucked many a new restaurant into its spinning vortex down into oblivion and beyond.  Remember Bama Bistro?  Gone.  Santa Fe Express? Kaput. Uncle Bimbos Bar-B-Que and tattoo parlor? Poof.

As my efforts to move past the shakes continued (see first post below), I, along with several of the gang [BBMAK, The Younger, Big Easy Slim and Finnekey Eater] passed the Commerce Street Soda Shop (spelled Shoppe in some advertisements/news reports) Monday looking for lunch in all the wrong places. (The Olive Room no longer serves lunch).  So what is more appropriate for a drying-out Irishman with the shakes?  Why a chocolate shake at a soda shop of course. So, we decided to try it out.

Although other wags, like Bama Bing or Tojo, have set the "over and under" life for any restaurant in this location at 150 days, we noted as we waded into the narrow space that the "first dollar" on the wall was dated December 11, 2011, which means this place has already passed the 90-day mark.  Time to load up on the "over" for this place.

BBMAK ordered the Philly cheese steak.  One thumb up.

The Younger placed a complex order for chicken fingers and a cherry coke.  Despite his demanding and refined taste, he was pleased with the results. Two thumbs up.

Big Easy Slim, who is in the midst of some humiliating thing called "boot camp" ordered a salad.  Our ambassador from New Orleans declared it "outstanding."  Three for three.

As for myself, the old Irish prose, I ordered the steak fajita wrap with blue cheese and homemade chips.  Wow!  The chips were right out of the fryer and very good.  The wrap was ample and the blue cheese sauce a different but pleasant flavor combo.  But the cherry on top was the chocolate shake with a real cherry on top of some whipped cream and chocolate sauce.  A very tasty treat and meal for just a few cents under $10.  Four in a row.

Finally, all eyes turned to Mr. Finnekey.  There was a hushed silence, except for the hokey 50's tune running in the background.  After devouring the "special" (a chicken sandwich on Texas toast covered with chipolte sauce) with french fries, Finnekey looked up and announced: "You may put in your little blog the following: 'My companion marveled at having a fresh tomato on his sandwich in February.'"  Well, that's about as high a rating as he ever gives thus making it official: One for the Thumb!

As we left, I made a mental note to pay a visit to 'my man' and lay some on the over for The Commerce Street Cafe.  They may be the first success story in this location in a long time.

Monday Evening: Annual Meeting at Bushwood CC:


If you are trying to cut down on your alcohol consumption, or are a recovering alcoholic, the last place you should visit is an open bar with complimentary prime rib banquet at Bushwood CC.  Monday was their annual meeting and, of course, I ignored my own advice and attended.  After learning that more members had died than joined during the past year, I scurried into the buffet line for some really fine salmon and prime rib both cooked to the correct temperatures and delicious.  At my table were the captains of the legal, securities, real estate and civil engineering professions all enjoying either ice-cold beer or vodka drinks from an open bar nearby.  Fearing temptation, I wolfed down my meal and quickly departed for the festivities in the "Men's Grille" downstairs from the meeting.

There one could enjoy some friendly wagering on dice and cards among other members (for amusement purposes only of course) while our local Doctors of Mixology kept everyone's glasses full.  Cigar smoke filled the air along with the laughter of those whose tongues had been loosened by the truth serum being dispensed from an open bar.  It was not the temptation of the wilderness, but, for a besotted old Irishman who could see the lonely unopened bottle of Michael Collins Irish Whiskey on the top shelf, there for the asking, it was some temptation nevertheless.

To fight off the urge to say: "Reggie, just one of the 'Big Fella' for me my good man!," I immersed myself in a game of Texas Hold-Em with an "Arnold Palmer" as my only liquid refreshment.  Soon I found myself thinking more about what was on "the river" than what was in the cabinet.  My pangs subsided and, actually, I found myself playing cards slightly better than normal.  I actually won some....chips.

After the game broke up I even enjoyed an Arturo Fuente on the porch during a lovely Montgomery evening for a February.  All in all a fine evening for one proud to have stared a small temptation in the bloodshot eye and bested it.  Perhaps it will be downhill from here.

 

Lent in the Gump: A Continuing Tale of a Search for Temporary Sobriety at Wahoo's Grill, Sinclair's and Michael's Table

Begging your pardon, but we do not take Mardi Gras very seriously in this here Gump.  Down in Mobile and NOLA they have been on holiday for almost a week with nothing getting done from the standpoint of serious business which is slightly less than what normally is accomplished there. Let them continue to take perverse pride in making a mockery of themselves, the solemn approach of the season of Lent and fine neckware. We concede their long tradition of excess and debauchery regardless of which city truly originated copying "Carnivale" in the Northern hemisphere. They win at Mardi Gras celebrations preceding Lent. We give them that.  Good for them.

We here in the Gump, however, have perfected an approach to surviving the Lenten season which has no equal among mid-major markets. Here in the Gump we observe the "Montgomery Rules" of Lent.  Rather than give up frivolous things like chocolate, candy, popcorn or poker, those observing the "Montgomery Rules" give up something that Whiskapalians hold dear to our livers a/k/a "The Devil's Brew of John Barleycorn." For those of you in Wetumpka, that would be alcohol.  For those of you in Tallassee, that would be beer, wine, whiskey and moonshine. To our friends on Fairview, that'll be drank.

Yes, despite the positive effects of the "Oil of Conversation" which can turn a comely but affable lass into a bombshell and a boorish fool into a self-proclaimed genius, true Gumpers choose to shun alcoholic beverages during the forty dark and dry days of lent which begins tonight at midnight and runs through April 8th. An eternity for a serious drinking man or woman but, more importantly, a true sacrifice to remind us of the reason for Lent.

During this time there will be Spring Training baseball games, the opening day of Biscuits Baseball, new fine restaurants to visit (such as Central) and at least six Friday happy hours at The Pine or Alley Bars where almost interesting people will gather to enjoy adult beverages while those observing the Montgomery Rules of Lent will sulk away, alone, to try to engage their better half in a game of Canasta or, worse yet, clear-headed conversation.

But there is hope in even a strict adherence to the Montgomery Rules of Lent.  Established back in the dark past when the Enchanta missionaries tamed the natives on the shores of the Alabama River where the Renaissance now stands, the Montgomery Rules have helped many a flawed soul survive the 40 days of Lent giving up alcohol being the principal penance.  For those of you unaware of this time-honored tradition, I will enlighten you as to the rules of the Montgomery Rules of Lent. They are fiendishly simple:

During Lent one must not touch a drop of alcohol for 40 days...except as follows:


1.  During Sunday.
2.  While outside the City Limits of the Gump i.e. at Lake Martin or the Beach or on business travel.

The origin for Rule 1 is simple.  One takes communion during Lent and at most respectable churches, real wine is used for communion in conformance with the scripture.  Accordingly, it is reasoned that on that day, on Sundays with communion, one can enjoy a tot or two or twelve to brace oneself for the next six days of abstinence. There is also the argument that Sundays are excluded from the 40 days between Ash Wednesday and Easter (so that the actual number of days can exceed 40).  Many theologians ascribe to this view of Rule 1. Pardon me but I may have been being caned by the Sisters when this subject was being discussed in school.

The origin for Rule 2 is shrouded in the murky dark of stark murkiness.  No one claims to be or know the source: Beach or Lake or Business travel.  But it is oft said during the first boat rides of April, when the sun is warming and the water is rising at Lake Martin, that enjoying a beer is not a repudiation of Lenten vows but rather a recognized exception which has become known as Montgomery Rule No. 2.  Granted, frequent visitors to the Beach and Lake may reduce the total number of days of abstinence by a dozen or more during lent but, as with so much we see from our political friends, its the thought that counts.  And, you will have to admit that it makes a heck of a lot more sense than hiding the eggs of a Bunny to celebrate Easter.

At least two of us will endeavor to complete the mission and will be keeping you updated with our successes or foibles. Reginald and I will report on almost a daily basis.  Come back for more content as we progress.

So join us, literally or figuratively, in our observance of the Montgomery Rules....of Lent in the Gump.

We hope we are better off by April.

Cheers!

First Week of Lent:

Wahoo's Grill, Friday Night:

Although outside the city limits I chose to try the Wahoo's Grill near Lake Martin without the aid of wine or whiskey. After all, my date assured me that she had visited this place a few months earlier and had enjoyed delicious barbecued shrimp. Also, when I called for reservations, I was informed that they only accepted them on Friday nights between 4 p.m. and 6 p.m. because after then, all hell broke loose and it was every man for themselves. Accordingly, I was secure in the thought that I was in store for a decent seafood feast. Boy was I mistaken.

I should have noticed that the menu provided no ability to order wahoo, grouper, snapper or other variety of gulf seafood.  I should also have noticed that the "Catch of the Day" involved chicken gumbo.

Nevertheless, tempted by a "Special" described as chicken gumbo, cornbread and fried shrimp, I bit...hook, line and bobber.  Unfortunately, I decided to forgo my own fortification as did my lovely escort who ordered the aforementioned barbecued variety of shrimp.

So it was I, stone cold sober, who (after what was too long a wait) was presented a bowl of what can only be described as "soup" surrounded by about five lightly breaded fried shrimp and a square of lukewarm, corncake. The "soup" consisted of a tasteless concoction of onions, green peppers (not okra) and a few shapeless gray globs of egg-drop soup-like tofu bits that I can only presume were supposed to be the ingredient represented to be chicken.

Who ever said that alcohol increased the enjoyment of food must have eaten at the Wahoo Grill--or some semblance of such a place. Without the assistance of a glass of even a cheap chardonnay, I was left to experience the full and vast waste of protein that comprised my "Seafood Special."

In all fairness, the pre-made and almost frozen salad was edible and the fried shrimp was decent--if not meager in size and quantity. And my date did recommend the sauce for the barbecued shrimp while decrying the fact that the garlic toast was missing.  However, the meal--although reasonably priced, left such a bad taste in my mouth that I had to stop by "Nails" on the way home to obtain a "Blue Bell" ice cream bar to neutralize the bland taste lingering in my palate.

When we paid at the Wahoo's Grill I was presented with a coupon that said that after another 11 meals I would be entitled to one free. While I desperately want to see more choices up at Lake Martin, unfortunately I must report that the Wahoo's Grill needs to get their act together if they expect this old Irishman to return anytime soon.  If you want my coupon, you are welcome to it.

Saturday Lunch: Sinclair's at Kowliga:

That's poor old Kowliga in the glass box on the front porch.

After a morning of clearing brush and other types of honest labor, I enticed my date for a lunch at "ole-reliable" at Sinclair's at Kowliga overlooking beautiful Lake Martin.  I have enjoyed many a decent meal there but, honestly, all involved large quantities of beer or whiskey either before, during or after, as well as the company of the heiress or one of my other previous female entanglements.

It was a beautiful clear and cold day at Lake Martin. A few brave souls were boating on the lake despite the wind. Again, I kept my vow to avoid alcohol during Lent.  No ice cold Bud Lite or vodka and water for me as I ordered the shrimp po'boy available only during lunch on Friday through Sunday. Hopeful for a good meal but wary of a mediocre one, I poured the remoulade sauce upon the shrimp and folded over the hoagie into the eating position.

Damn!  The hoagie was stale.  Damn, damn, damn.

Perhaps a heavy dose of vodka would have masked the inadequacies of the meal I was presented.  But, alas, I had not chosen that path.  All I was left to deal with was what was there before me on the plate overlooking a beautiful lake panorama. And it was not great, not good, but very average. Very average.

As we left, unimpressed, we saw the throng of bikers pile in for their reward for a short trip from some city over winding roads in fairly cold weather. They were happy. They were ordering a round of ice cold beer.

We left, unfulfilled.

However, unlike the Wahoo Grill, we will return. Because we know that as the weather improves and the lake fills, the quality of Kowliga at Lake Martin improves.  There is a rule in the restaurant business that goes like this: With quantify there is quality.  High turnover means better food quality. Of course, I am positing that McDonald's should have high quality.  That is not what I am saying. I am saying that McDonald's has fresher food than a local restaurant with low turnover that does not rotate its stock religiously.  Perhaps, that is the only problem at Kowliga this Saturday at lunch. I sincerely hope that was the case.

In any event, we headed back to the Gump for some decent food.

Saturday Night: Michael's Table:

I could look but could not touch....

My current date and I invited some friends to join us for dinner back in the Gump.  We tried getting reservations at the new Central, but saw the earliest available seating was at 9 p.m.  Way too late for experienced diners of our age. Therefore, we chose a steady purveyor of fine food: Michael's Table in Z-Red.  We were able to obtain reservation for 7:15 p.m. and found our old-favorite well-attended but not crowded. Although some of the specials were already exhausted, our waiter was very knowledgeable and helpful.  My companions chose from the very reasonably priced by the glass wine list while I held to my Lenten promise secure that good food would triumph over the absence of wine.

I was not disappointed. I ordered the wedge salad.  I would argue that Michael's Table has the best around, if not anywhere else. Do not be concerned that it comes with a dressing that appears to be Thousand Island.  It is actually a very fine blue cheese with some sort of mix that compliments the normally lighter dressing color you would be expecting.

The delicious jager schnitzel saves the week!

As an entree I went with a dish I had enjoyed previously: The Jager Schnitzel.  Outstanding!  For $18 it is a fine dining experience regardless of your culinary persuasion.  Even without the aid vino it was primo.  My belief in fine dining was renewed. You do not, after all, have to imbibe a delicious wine to enjoy a well-crafted meal. There is hope for me yet.

Conecuh Ridge Brunch at Hank Williams' Grave

My father was friends with Hank Williams after they both dropped out of junior high school. By that I do not mean acquaintances. I mean close friends. Earlobe thumping friends. So close in fact that, fortunately for me, Williams scolded him about dating any girl but (eventually) my mother when they double-dated. They remained friends through the short but brilliant music career that tragically ended in a baby-blue Cadillac convertible January 1, 1953 at 10 a.m. This is written in the context of respect and affection for the man that made it possible for me to be here writing this blog about a visit to his grave on January 1, 2012 at 10 a.m. with the Lunch in the Gump Gang.

In case you did not know, there is a ceremony sponsored by the Hank Williams Museum every New Year's Day at 10 a.m. at the top of the hill in the 'new' or 'annex' part of Oakwood Cemetery. Hank Williams' fans from all over the world attend. It occurs at Hank Williams' grave which sits overlooking north Montgomery immediately beside the graves of the British and French officers and enlisted men who died in Montgomery during WWII trying to learn how to fly planes at Maxwell AFB.

It is a moving service they hold. A brief sermon and then the crowd sings "I saw the light" accompanied by old Gibson guitars strummed by talented musicians.



At the last "amen" our gang pulled cups filled with Conecuh Ridge from under our jackets and slugged them down in unison. It was a nice pairing for the occasion.

You see, our LITG entourage was there not only to pay homage to my father's friend, but to ensure that all of us would have good fortune in 2012. It is a strongly held belief among some members of LITG that having a shot of Bourbon on New Year's Day at Hank Williams' grave will bring you good luck in the new year. For proof you will have to accept anecdotal evidence.

Two years ago one of our member was invited to attend the ceremonies. Like for many of us, it had been for them a bad year, financially and to some extent personally. Having your name in the paper related to a foreclosure notice is never pleasant and rarely ends well. However, he believes the bourbon that burned his throat on Jan. 1, 2010, turned his luck around. There is no doubt that his fortunes have improved since then.

So, this year, we all piled into his SUV at 9:15 a.m. and rode up to Oakwood to see the crowd standing before the grave of a departed country music icon who grew up on Conecuh Ridge in Conecuh County but whom we in the Gump claim as our own. We poured our shots of Conecuh Ridge-Alabama's Official Whiskey-in our shot glasses and somberly joined the multitude. There, after the refrain of "Praise the Lord, I saw the light" rolled over the headstones of 18-23 year-old "only" British sons containing the engraved messages from their parents, we toasted the Gump's own Hank Williams and we wished each other and all of you a prosperous and happy new year for 2012.
It was a brunch in the Gump unique to the Gump.