Table of Contents

Hello World, Merciful heavens! Can it really be true that we've gotten to the last weekend in June already, and for those of us going on vacation in July, to say that the clock is ticking and time's a-wasting would be an understatement of epic proportions, believe me. Even more alarming, the summer solstice pranced in right on schedule, earlier this week on Wednesday, and astoundingly, this means that the days have already started getting shorter, when poor summer hasn't really even had a chance to get off the ground yet, heaven knows. It should be obvious to anyone of even the meanest intelligence that we're all going to have to get a move on, if we're ever going to make the most of all that lemonade, watermelon, hammocks and beach balls before it's time for the jolly old elf himself and his 8 tiny reindeer at the most wonderful time of the year - and which, at this rate, will be here before you know it, I dare say. Candy canes and egg nog, anyone? In other seasonal news, I was confronted with a curious sight around town last week, which I found both surprising and ingenious all at the same time. Of course, there are many fine establishments that offer dining al fresco to their patrons in nice weather (al freso is Italian for "gritty food with car exhaust and hold onto your napkins") giving them a chance to enjoy the great outdoors and watch the world go by. This makes sense for waterside venues with a captivating view, or spacious eateries with a patio to spread out tables under shady trees. But suppose you're a tiny ethnic joint crammed into a storefront on a busy street, with only a sliver of sidewalk to work with, and nowhere else to go, whether up, down, or sideways? What to do, oh, what to do? [Please insert cartoon chef with elaborate hand-wringing here.] It turns out that someone's got you covered (literally) after all, and figured out that not everybody has room to fit large tables and big umbrellas for outdoor dining, even if they wanted to, without giving up on the idea completely. Outside of a local Peruvian restaurant, they have small tables on the sidewalk with colorful half-umbrellas that only open up on one side, so you can push them right up against the building. These aren't regular umbrellas that have been squashed into a small space out of necessity - you can tell by looking at the spokes that they have been specifically designed to open only on one side, so they can be placed flush against a wall in the back, and still provide plenty of shade in the front. I thought that was so brilliant. What won't they think of next, I ask you. Speaking of food, we have Bill to thank for the following tidbit from his online calendar: ======================== ON YOU VILL ENJOY IT Home and Garden Calendar Today From the Garden to the Table Nancy Brown will demonstrate how to make a delicious Gestapo with herbs and veggies from your own garden ========================= Honestly, sometimes you just don't know whether to laugh or cry, and I don't mind saying that wailing and gnashing of teeth might not be out of the question either. One can only presume that what Nancy was attempting to demonstrate would have been more along the lines of gazpacho, and less in the way of Gestapo - and hopefully a whole lot less of the latter, while we're at it. Seriously, you wouldn't think it would take much of an editor to realize that the elite German military forces, though technically spelled correctly, would still be the glaringly wrong word in an article about food, nein danke. That also reminds me of a recent Facebook post from a former co-worker, who was enjoying a meal at the locally famous Sedona Tap House, and where they invited me to take advantage of what they described as their "pre-fix menu." I admit that curious phrase has me over the proverbial barrel, and all that springs to mind is perhaps a selection of broken items before they have been repaired, or alternatively, a rigged sporting event before the fix has been put in for shysters and bookies. Here again, one can only suppose that what they meant to recommend would be their "prix fixe menu" instead, which has a long culinary history of simplifying meal options, and involves nothing broken or illegal whatsoever. It might be too much to hope that our friends at Sedona Tap House would be conversant with a somewhat obscure French term not in widespread use even in the hospitality business - but it would be a welcome improvement if people didn't just bandy about words or expressions that they obviously do not begin to understand. At this point, any normal person would be forgiven for assuming that would have been all of our table talk for one week, but not so! Alert readers may recall that just about a year ago at this time, Bill was invited (along with about 300 other satisfied customers) to a patient appreciation dinner hosted by one of the premier medical institutions in our midst, and held at the plush DoubleTree Hotel in Elmsford. This time around, the annual shindig was being tossed at the even more lavish Renaissance Hotel in the bucolic woods of West Harrison, and they didn't have to ask us twice, I can tell you that. Although the weather was sloppy, it didn't seem to cut down on the crowds at all, or dampen their spirits, and unlike last year, the parking was a lot more convenient besides. We were prepared to sit through a bumper crop of boring speeches in exchange for our free meal, but it turned out that the keynote address was not only relatively brief, but also actually pretty interesting. On the other side of that coin, however, was the musical entertainment for the evening (and I use that term in the loosest possible interpretation of the phrase, heaven knows) who was a young man noodling away randomly on an electronic keyboard, sounding for all the world like the vapid synthesized music behind countless video games, and I ought to know. But we had a very nice pasta primavera dinner, including salad, rolls, coffee, and a decadent triple chocolate mousse for dessert, so we weren't going to quibble about a few sour notes along the way. Last year, we were seated at a large table with several other couples, who turned out to be a very convivial bunch that we enjoyed very much. This time, our tablemates were a more subdued group, but still nice enough, I'm sure. My favorite part of the whole event was out in the hallway, where they had set up a photo station where you could have your picture taken - including a comical assortment of goofy props like silly hats, feather boas, pennants, and costume eyeglasses - and then they would hand you a print of it right on the spot. I was all decked out in pink, so I picked the glasses with rabbit ears and cute pink bunny nose, while Bill (a veritable fashion statement in brand new sport coat and coordinating shirt and tie) opted for the pirate glasses with mustache and one dark lens so it looked like an eye patch. The whole effect was pretty darned funny, all things considered, and for anyone who elects to doubt the veracity of that observation, please be advised that I actually have that picture and I'm not afraid to use it, by golly. It goes without saying that a fine time was had by all, and we left full and happy, and not a bit averse to going again next year, should the occasion arise. As for the Gestapo, they'll just have to fend for themselves, and that goes double for the feather boas. Say, who let Sinter Klaus in here? Elle