Last week was exhausting. My woes were completely work-related. In addition to working in a highly volatile environment (Pulaski Co. Courthouse), I had to deal with an erratic, demanding boss, do some office spring cleaning, and plan for a co-worker's retirement party. There simply wasn't enough time to do all that was demanded of me, and some of it didn't get done, but thanks to my workmate, I managed. I had some perfectly timed niceties sprinkled throughout, thankfully. For instance, attorney Bobby Price brought me some raw honey from his bee hives. I immediately ran into the kitchenette and procured a spoon to eat it straight from the jar. Of course it was the best I've ever had. I let the others have a taste and then greedily stowed it away in my bag to take home.
ATM and I tried white asparagus for the first time this week, too. I prepared them in browned butter with bread crumbs. It wasn't really different from the green varieties as far as taste goes, but I have a quasi-sentimental attachment to them. John Mark gave me Hotel Bemelmans by Ludwig Bemelmans a couple of years ago; I really liked it, but one passage really stuck with me:
'I don't know what to choose,' said the Professor.
Fritzl announced to the Professor and me that we were his guests. He put the big menus away and called the proprietor and explained to him that we wanted a good dinner. We wanted some caviar, some truites au bleu, and a poularde rotie, with some compote.
'Ah, yes, but certainly,' said the proprietor, 'but the price, mein Herr?'
"The price,' Fritzl continued, 'usually appears on the bill at the end of the meal.
'After the poularde,' Fritzl continued, 'we want some asparagus with hollandaise.'
Now the proprietor clasped his hands together hard, and let them remain in the position of prayer. Asparagus, he said, a thousand apologies, asparagus he had not, he could not afford to keep it.
Fritzl complained about the kind of restaurant he was running. The man looked stupid, hopeless, and embarrassed, and I told him he could send someone to Dallmeyer's, Munich's de luxe delicatessen store which is located close to the Feldherrnhalle, and ask for the best they had; large, fat, white Belgian asparagus - enough for three people.
The proprietor almost kicked the piccolo through the door, to hurry him to Dallmeyer's shop. In the meantime we ate the caviar, very small portions of it.
Professor Hellsang sat between us, silent and uncomfortable. He looked into the wineglasses as they were filled and then he moistened the tip of a finger and with it picked up bread crumbs that lay about his butter plate. He wolfed his food down and nibbled clean every bone of the poularde, holding a leg in his hands. When the asparagus came, we each had six stalks, nice and white and large, with excellent hollandaise of just the right consistency. The Herr Professor ate one, then one more, and after a while a third.
Suddenly he paused and looked around. Fritzl looked at me. Now, I thought, the time is ripe. Fritzl leaned across the table and said, 'Herr Professor -- He repeated, 'Oh -- Herr Professor,' and reached to touch him. But Professor Hellsang did not hear him.
The Herr Professor tried to catch the eye of the waiter; then he asked to be excused. He walked into the kitchen entrance, and as he took two steps up to the service door, I saw that the Herr Professor had holes in his socks, and a disorderly pair of trousers with frayed cuffs. Fritzl looked after him and said to me, 'My God, this cannot be - look at Professor Hellsang, a German professor, with holes in his socks and torn trousers.'
The Professor had disappeared into the kitchen. Presently he returned with a piece of wrapping paper. He sat down at the table and his eyes were on his three remaining asparagus stalks. He took them one after another, and carefully wrapped them up in the paper he had brought. Then he tucked them away inside his coat.
At last he said, talking down to the table, without raising his eyes, in a toneless voice and with much clearing of his throat, "This asparagus is for my wife.'...He said too that neither Frau Professor Hellsang nor he had had asparagus since before the war, or for that matter coffee or tea...that this little gift would make his return from Munich a double joy...that she would be so grateful to us for having made it possible.
We ordered coffee and cigars. Out of his waistcoat pocket the Professor produced a pair of scissors and offered to clip the ends of our cigars. He smoked his very slowly, and we sat and waited until it was time for his train to Regensburg.
Of course, it is impossible for me to understand what it is like to be without. But, for a lot of people in the world, past and present, something simple like asparagus represents normalcy and peace time. I try to remember this every damn day. Running water, food, and no one knocking down the front door.
-s-e-g-u-e-w-a-y------
O.K., I'm going to ask you, dear reader, to use your imagination and creativity when viewing the following photos. You see, KMHD and I found our ideal location in Hot Springs for our motel.
The idea is to start small to ensure quality and specialness:
The parking area is overgrown, which is good because we have grand ideas for a lovely courtyard/green space.
Yeah, man! We've got our work cut out for us! Our first order of business is to find out who owns this and what their legal (tax) status is. Say what you will, but I think this is progress. KMHD & I are just ecstatic, but with reservations. If we can find the owner, convince them that we are willing to take this off of their hands, we will need to bring someone (Probably Zach. Sorry, Zach!) to accompany us to look at it and see if it's worth it.
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I'm trying to get the house in order today because I will be too busy next week getting ready for the marathon. I won't have time to clean or cook, so I'm trying to make some headway today. That includes blogging and writing.
I'll wrap up here by posting a recipe from my friend Amy's blog. I implore you to make this vegetarian chili and do not omit a single ingredient! The only thing I changed was that I added more cayenne. It's the only chili that doesn't make me feel horrible after ingesting. Seriously, chilis of yore made me violently ill.
Graham's (delicious) Dirty Hippie Vegetarian Chili from LocalEyes blog.
And finally, an email from my boss, in it's entirety, regarding our throwing our co-worker a retirement party on his dime. I'm "AL":
You guys really worked hard on the party and its success far exceeded my expectations. The food quantity estimate was pretty close and, Anne, you were right about the sweets, they were the biggest food hit. AL, you may have been in on that but Anne was the one ragging me. It doesn't matter, you were both great. I mean, running the vacuum before and after. Now that I start thinking about it, maybe you're both a little daft. Anyway, congratulate yourselves. It was a tremendous success and it goes without saying that if had been in charge of what the two of you accomplished, it just wouldn't have been done.
Sincere thanks, and remember,
Uncle Collins wants you on his team.
Blessed be the Lord.
